tagIllustratedClique Ch. 03

Clique Ch. 03


(All characters are 18+)


(L to R) Hailey Radclyffe, Henry Bridge, Sofia Lorenzini, Carlos Lorenzini,
Trista Dory, Paulie Westwood, May March, Vinton Gray

Chapter 3: The Prude

I've always liked watching Vinton and Paulie talk to each other. It didn't matter what they were talking about; it always went pretty much the same way. This time, at lunch, Paulie was asking Vinton to explain a joke he heard. Vinton explained and explained in that calm funny way he has, pointing his thin fingers in the air as if he were drawing diagrams, then explained some more, until the joke wasn't funny anymore.

Paulie nodded along, smiling mouth open, like a puppy might. He gave encouraging grunts as he listened, and at the conclusion said, "Oh, I get it, it's because his butt was too big!"

. . . which wasn't the point of the joke at all. But it was funnier. Vinton looked over at me with this familiar disbelieving look, like he was asking me for help. "May?" I just smiled and ate my olive sandwich. They were so cute.

I looked past them toward the parking lot, my head tilted, noticing Carlos and Hailey walking our way. Henry Bridge stopped them both for a second on their path. Carlos and Bridge said something to one another and laughed, then gave each other a quick silly handshake. Eventually Hailey reached the bleachers and sat down beside me.

I handed her an apple slice. "Carlos and Bridge are getting along?" I whispered.

"Boys. They're simpler than you think." Hailey muttered, just to me.

"And Trista?"

"Not around. Not for either of them. Which means, May. . ." Hailey gave me a cheeky little look, ". . . that if you were interested in someone—"

"Hailey!" My cheeks burned. "Don't. . . I . . .don't be silly."

"Oh come on," Hailey teased. "Don't even pretend there isn't anyone you think about -you know - at night?"

It was so hard to keep anything from beautiful Hailey.

"Maaaaaaybe," I admitted as softly as I could.

"I knew it! Who is it? Tellme tellme tellme now."

"No, stop it!" I hid my face. "I'll never tell!"

Hailey laughed with a sneaky little smile. "Fine, keep your secrets. There's no reason to wait around, May. You should just grab the one you like while you can, before some slut comes by and takes the pick of the litter."

"You're awful. Besides, I wouldn't even know how to start."

Hailey's eyes shone a little, and she blushed. "Well, obviously, what I recommend is running up and kissing the person you like. What's the worst that could happen?"

I was so happy Hailey was making a joke out of our little kiss. For a day or so she had looked sad and embarrassed about it, and that is the last thing in the world that I wanted.

Hailey looked at her feet. "I mean it. What happened Monday was, like, worst-case scenario for me, but because you've been so.... I just mean I don't regret it now."

"I'm glad." I leaned onto Hailey's shoulder. "I... it's just that I don't know what he would want me to do... or if he would even want me to."

"Oh, whoever 'he' is, I'll bet he wants you to."

I started to argue, but Hailey stopped me, and pulled some strands of hair off my face and tucked them behind my ear. "Just. . . trust me. I would know."

Hailey got a sneaky look on her face again. "Watch this."

"Hey Vint! May and I were just telling each other that we like your hair long like that."

Vinton put a hand up to his blond head. Actually, it was shaggier than I'd ever seen it before. He looked confused. "You do?"

Hailey smirked and turned back to me. "I'll bet that now he doesn't get his hair cut for months. Listen, May, if you can just be bold for like ten seconds out of your entire life, take the initiative and let this mystery guy know that you like him? I promise that you won't regret it. And as for what to do. . . Whatever you do, just make sure it's obvious. Like I said before, boys are simpler than you think."


My last class that day was Honors English. My stomach had been flip-flopping all afternoon and I felt flush just thinking about it. Hailey was right. I knew it in my heart and I had decided that I could do it. I was going to let him know and right at the end of school was the perfect time.

I can be bold.

It was almost time for the final bell.

I am strong. I am brave.

The final bell rang. I felt like I was going to barf.

Everyone started gathering their things, getting up and turning in the papers due that day. Vinton stood from his seat behind me and walked just past.

"Hey, May, want me to turn in your paper for you?"

I squeaked, "What!? Oh, right. Here. Thank you!" I handed it over. Vinton walked across the room and placed both papers in the inbox on our teacher's desk.

I stayed seated.

Oh holy heck. Oh my golly. Oh criminy! I'm going to do this. I can't do this. I'm going to do it. I can't do it.

After about three or four minutes, pretty much everyone had wandered out of the classroom. I finally stood from my desk and wandered toward the door. Vinton lingered back for a little while with me.

"May, you need a ride home again today?"

"No, not today, thank you."

Vinton hesitated a moment, then smiled. "Yeah, okay then, see you tomorrow."

Vinton left and I shut the door behind him. And locked it.

I turned around and looked at my teacher Mr. Dory, at his desk. Alone, at last.

He looked like a dream. So manly and serious, scratching the day's worth of stubble on his chin as he read through some papers.

His name was Albert. It was a beautiful name; the name of a thoughtful man. A poet. The name of Trista's father. I walked to the center of the room. Mr. Dory was still reading papers; unaware that I had stayed behind. I'd never called him by his first name before.

I'm going to do this.


"Oh, May! Hi, I didn't see you. . ."

One Mississippi.

I shut my eyes tight and opened my blouse wide. I had already undone the buttons down the front, my heart threatening to choke me dead.

Two Mississippi.

My bra clasp was simple. I could undo it with my eyes closed, even with hands trembling. So I did.

Three Mississippi.

So exposed. Oh golly. He must have been looking, staring at me now. I had to keep my eyes shut. My cheeks and ears were on fire, hotter than I'd ever felt. This could not be normal.

Four Mississippi.

The breeze of the school air conditioning was overwhelming my nipples. It hurt so much. They felt like tiny solid pieces of red-hot metal being placed in an ice bath. They were being tempered.

Five Mississippi.

Mr. Dory hadn't said anything yet! Was that possible? Or was it possible to go deaf from embarrassment? No, I heard my own breathing; loud and shaky.

Six Mississippi.

I thought I felt a drop of sweat run between my breasts. Which he could see. Which he could see!

Seven Mississippi.

I wanted to stay still, but I couldn't. I was holding my blouse open with a white knuckled grip, but my legs were all wobbly and I had to rub them together a little. I promised myself: Just a little!

Eight Mississippi.

Licking my lips. I was parched. Oh god this couldn't really be sexy, could it? I was making a terrible terrible mistake.

Nine Mississippi.

Oh no. So hot, so dizzy. That day at church camp when I got heatstroke.


I opened my eyes. Blurry, hopeless. I leaned against the nearest student desk and caught my breath. I wasn't sure I wanted to look at him, so I looked down and clasped and buttoned.

Courage. I had to look.

Oh wow. Mr Dory looked as disheveled as I felt. He was still sitting there, pen in hand, eyes wide. His mouth open and closed a bit, wordlessly. I wasn't worried about being in trouble, I realized. I was worried about him. About us. I needed to know. The look I gave him was the question in itself: eyebrows up with an expectant gaze into his eyes.

He understood. His mouth moved, ever so slightly, from bewildered -- to the hint of a wonderful and flattered smile at the corners of his lips.

I must have smiled back huge.

"May, I . . . I . . . I . . . I didn't mean. . ." Like I expected, he got scared. But that didn't matter any more. He liked me. He thought I was pretty.

I gathered my things messily, flushed and giddy. "Oh I know, Mr. Dory. It's okay! It wasn't you. You didn't do anything wrong. This was all me, all my fault, okay? Okay! Bye now!"

I raced away, dropping three pencils and a baby highlighter in my wake.


The next day, at the exact same time, I was angry.

At the end of class, I had hopped up and left moments after the final bell, hearing a couple of voices call my name to my back. I wanted to stay. I really wanted to stay. But there was something that I had to take care of, immediately.


I just knew that I wasn't allowed to skip fourth period on Monday. And the source of all evil, Trista Dory, was walking into the detention room just down the hall. I didn't think she was evil yesterday, I was just kind of upset at how she had treated her friends. But when Ms. Carlyle took me aside today and told me that I had detention? Detention? Me? Today of all days? Trista Dory was now evil, no matter how sky blue her daddy's eyes were.

I snuck into the detention room behind Trista, quick enough that she didn't notice me, and sat a couple of seats behind her, hiding behind an open book that I placed upright on my desk. I'm not sure if I looked silly. I looked over the top of the book, stared a hole in the back of her head, then dropped down and hid again.

Grrr, I just wanted to. . . wanted to. . . I don't know! I wanted to throw a ball of poopy at her! Right at the back of her head. I mean, so long as I didn't get the poopy on my hands, that's what I wanted. Or smell it. Yuck.

Hm, she was talking to someone. Someone evil I bet. I looked around my book. Oh wait, never mind. It was Paulie sitting next to her.

"Sofia Lorenzini, really?" I overheard Trista ask Paulie.

"Yeah. Shhhhh. Don't talk so loud." Paulie looked embarrassed.

Trista let out a snarf of a laugh. "Sofia's like a twig, if twigs grew in insane asylums. And you're so. . . Paulie, you could eat her, and I don't mean in the way she'd enjoy."

"She's always really nice to me. And funny."

"So, what, do you think she likes you?"

"I don't know. This one time, we were waiting for Carlos, and I was spinning a little bit in this office chair, and she climbed in my lap and made me spin faster, and it was really fun, and she was really cute and stuff."

Trista frowned. "I don't know, Paulie. Well, on the plus side, she is the one girl crazy enough to consider dating you."

Paulie played like he was angry, reached over with one big hand and messed up Trista's hair. I assumed she would flip out, but she just swatted him away and fixed it.

Trista shook her head. "Fucking Sofia. Okay, we'll figure it out, Paulie."

When Ms. Carlyle finally showed up in the detention room, I waved for her attention.


I locked the door behind me. Again.

"May?" He was sitting at his desk, like yesterday, pen in hand.

"Ms. Carlyle said I could spend my detention here with you, Mr. Dory. I told her there's something I needed to do for you."

He gulped.

"She said she trusted me and let me come. Do you trust me, Mr. Dory?" I dragged a student chair and placed it facing his big teacher's desk, a couple of feet away.

"May, listen. We really need to talk. It's not that I'm not—"

"Please, you don't need to talk." I sat down in the chair that I had moved in front of him. "It's better that you don't. You haven't done anything wrong, Mr. Dory. I don't think you could ever do anything wrong."

Still seated, I slouched down a bit to place my feet up onto his desk, wide apart. "I'm the bad girl here."

Mr. Dory rubbed his temple, so hesitant. But also, so hesitant to stop me. "What happened, May? What's going on?"

I wiggled my tushie and drew my skirt to my waist. It was so wonderful, the silence, the fluorescent lights, that school smell of photocopies, all of it. I took three fingers of my right hand and began to rub myself in circles over my white cotton panties.

"I found out I could be brave," I whispered.

After all my nights alone— in my bed, in the tub, just like this— I was finally looking him in the eyes as I touched pookie. There was that first little involuntary squeeze I felt from her down below, the internal roadflare telling me I was wet already, just in case my fingers couldn't tell my panties were already damp.

He sat back. Oh, thank god, he sat back. He was still wound clockwork tight, but it meant he wasn't going to leave, wasn't going to stop me. Whatever I did, this moment was mine. I sighed happily.

I rubbed tighter and harder. My lungs emptied then filled to capacity. I looked at pookie and her soaking little piece of cotton. It was time to move on, she told me.

I looked up again at Mr. Dory's eyes, through my eyelashes. He looked so intense. I took two fingers and gingerly peeled my panties to the side, leaving my pookie swelled and exposed. He saw so well.

I drew my middle finger up and down, ever so slightly parting my most secret of lips, pushing in a tiny bit as I reached the top once, twice, for the rush of contact with my little clitty. I was hot all over; I knew I could cum pretty quickly if I wanted. I didn't know if I could not cum if I tried to stop.

I imagined my finger was his finger. I drew it down, down, then pushed inside. Just a little inch, then a little more. Pookie held me so tightly, so sweetly. Mr. Dory gasped and I looked up.

"Mr. Dory, I can't see anything behind your desk. I don't think you're doing anything wrong. But if you wanted to be bad, you could. And nobody could see it, not even me."

"Oh, May."

"I'm the bad girl." I didn't recognize my own voice.

"You're not a bad girl, May. Never."

He shakily dropped his pen, then his hands went down below his desk, out of my view. Yes. Oh, yes.

I squeezed one still-clothed boobie and began rocking myself back and forth again, moving in and out, in and out, pressing down on my little button with the heel of my palm on each pulse. I heard the squelch of pookie's juices as they coated my hand, but then heard another wet squelch with a little echo.

As if it was coming from underneath a metal desk.

I smiled wildly at him as he stared back. A minute of this, squelch and pulse. And another minute? I didn't know. Our motions, our sounds, our smells acquired the same rhythm, and I was overjoyed.

All of a sudden, it wasn't his finger that I imagined inside me. No, of course not. My knees shook like never before. I felt a twitch in my belly, then another, at the... you know... the hole in my bottom. No, no! I needed to hold this. I needed this to last, for him.


I felt the surge travel my spine and I was drowning before I could ready myself. My fingers left my insides, but my hands still held pookie so close as she lost control of herself and I shut my eyes tight.

On and on and on. . .

I need to breathe! This isn't right. How long has it been? When will it stop?

"Shppppt. Shppppt," was the sound of a real man's cum hitting a thin sheet of metal desk, which kept my beautiful tremors from ending. No, no, if anything, they started anew.


Another day gone by. Be brave.

I could barely hint to Hailey that next day about my adventures without turning bright red and losing my train of thought. It was just as well. As much as I loved Hailey, those minutes were for us alone, and I could never speak a word.

I needed to plan quite perfectly for Honors English class that day, more intensely and thoroughly than I'd ever studied before.

As fifth period began, Mr. Dory entered class from the teachers' break room and scanned his students. Jillian was out sick, they said.

"And Miss March?" my man asked.

Vinton didn't know. "She was here at lunch."

"All right, maybe she'll join us later. Here are your papers back, take a quick look at what I've written, then find someone to trade papers with. You guys know what I'm looking for. Write a paragraph or two in critique, and they'd better be well-written paragraphs, too."

Mr. Dory sat down at his desk.

It's a curious thing, when a man realizes that a pale, redheaded girl is under his desk, between his legs, naked except for delicate silver lace panties that I'd carefully kept hidden from Mommy for months, saved for a very special day. I shifted forward just enough to look up at his face. I couldn't have predicted what his expression would be, but apparently it's an experience similar to lemonade without sugar.

His neck wrenched around, he puckered and coughed, and ever so slowly contained himself. He could not say anything, I knew, nor run and leave me to my doom. Mr. Dory cared about me too much; he wanted desperately to help me out of my mess. And if that meant keeping a straight face while I quietly unzipped him and reached inside his corduroy slacks, then so be it.

He lightly moved my hand away once, as I knew he would. I also knew he would not stop me again.

I fished around; an amusement park claw game retrieving my prize. His winky came up for air, and I leaned toward it, so close, eye to little eye. I stared, flopped it back to front, then left to right appreciating its every angle. It was lovely. I put it to my nose and inhaled deep enough for him to feel the intake of air -- I don't know why, but it was how I imagined a bear cave to smell, all heavy and dangerous.

I planned to taste, of course, so took my first few tentative nibbles and kisses. It moved on its own, backward then forward, a little inch, and had outgrown "winky" quite quickly in my head to a proper "penis", as this was truly a proper piece of the male anatomy, and deserved my respect.

My fingernails scraped lightly up and down the bottom of the shaft. His little twitches and jerks were fascinating, and the wrinkles smoothed out and disappeared forming taut skin and bulging veins.

He released a short, broken moan and his hand clenched one arm of his chair. Mr. Dory may have been enjoying this.

I wrapped one hand around his penis and began to slide my hand along the shaft, again and again. I noticed, even there in the shadows under his desk, streams of precum that ran all down its length, and found I could use it as a bit of lubrication. This was crazy, and I wouldn't have changed it for anything. I felt like I was smoldering, and a familiar buzzing roadflare down below let me know how wet I'd become.

I pulled his penis down from near vertical to near horizontal. From the sound of his gasp, I suppose that I should have done that part a little more slowly. It pulsed, and I worried for a second that he was going to make a mess of me already. The word was hidden away in my mind, only to be brought out for special occasions, but Mr. Dory's penis had just graduated to a full and heavy cock.

My cheeks tingled at the thought, the ever forbidden in my life: I knew cocks were made to be sucked. I don't know how I kept myself from giggling aloud.

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