Head Games at School Ch. 01

I had actually reddened her ass with just two smacks. I ran my hand over my handiwork. Those panties had to go. It was a shame to be hitting them. They were innocent. I slid the panties part way down. A few rubs and then...smack!

Another slight jump. This really was some fun! A pause to sip the good stuff. A few more rubs over her really beautiful ass. "You know Trish, You have been such a bad girl that I think you should tell me all about it." Smack! Not any harder, just a little lower, down towards the top off her legs. Panties still in the way! Down they went, around her knees.

"I've been ever so naughty. I don't know where to start. I wanted a new toy and I chose you. Please don't be too upset." Smack, and then again, not as hard but and followed by some real ass rubbing.

"Oh. Oh my. That's my bum!" She pretended to squirm in indignity, giving my penis a special thrill.

"Tell me more you naughty, naughty girl!" A few more smacks and a lot of ass rubbing, a little spreading of her cheeks this time.

"Oh my, not that. Not there."

"You have been ever so naughty. Yes. There!" I pushed a finger tip to her asshole, and she squealed.

"Please. I'll be good. Please!" I let the pressure build and I felt my finger tip ease in a bit. "Oh my, oh my. Not there. Anywhere but there!"

"Trish, very naughty Trish, be still. I'm giving your backside the spanking it deserves." I gave her about ten reasonable smacks and the movement of her on my penis was heaven. I then rubbed her ever reddening cheeks and she was starting to move on me on her own.

"What's that? I feel a bump. Under me I feel a bump." She was having as much fun as I was. I went back to pressing her ass and in slipped a fingertip again. She really squirmed this time. "No. Not there. Anything but that!" I pressed in a bit more and she was rocking over me. "Stop. Please stop. Not there. Oh my, please stop. I'll do anything. Anything." I wondered. Anything?

"Trish, if I stop, will you do what ever I ask?" She simply nodded her head, yes, emphatically. "Okay, naughty Trish, I'll stop what I was doing, and you can show me how sorry you are."

"Yes, I will. Thank you for stopping. That was just too, too naughty."

"Trish, naughty, naughty Trish, I want you to see what you have done. Up you get." She got up. "Look what you have done." I undid my zipper, and then thinking a bit I slipped off my pants entirely. Off came my shorts, And Trish looked at me like a small child, with one finger in her mouth.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to my fully erect penis.

"It's my pee-pee and you have made it much too hard. Now you need to make it better."

"How do I do that?" We were like a couple of eight year olds, playing the doctor game.

"Well, you could try to kiss it better."

"Okay." And Trish got down on her knees and started to plant little girl kisses on my penis.

"Is that helping your pee-pee?"

"Just keep kissing it better, naughty Trish. Do as you're told." What I really wanted her to do was get on and ride.

"Trish, take your panties off, all the way."

"Okay." She did.

"My pee-pee wants to say 'Hi' to your pee-pee."

"Okay." She straddled me and I put my penis into her wet vagina. She slowly eased herself down. As my penis entered her vagina, she kept looking at me with childlike wonder in her eyes. "Is this how my pee-pee says hi to your pee-pee?"

"Yes, naughty girl, it is. Do you think you can do a little dance for me?" Her eyes lit up. She nodded yes. "Dance, Naughty Trish. Do your special dance for me." She did.

She danced for me and looked at me like she was on a middle school stage, twelve years old, barely pubescent and innocent as all hell. Her eyes were bright and she danced away, occasionally putting a finger in her mouth to ponder. She was playing along like a trooper. Kiddie porn was the theme right now, and I thought I could never get off on that but I was. Trish was my twelve year old Lolita and I wanted to fuck this little girl so hard. I held her to me, stood up and got us to the bed without coming out of her vagina and I fucked that little girl silly. "Oh my. Oh my. Are you dancing for me? Thank you." I was pounding into her like there was no tomorrow.

So this was the theme. I could almost see a young girl in pigtails instead of a young woman in stockings and garter. She was a young girl. She was twelve years old and I was violating her. I didn't see Trish's gorgeous, full breasts under her blouse. I saw a flat chest on a girl with not much beyond nipples. God it was powerful. Gone were Trish's womanly hips, replaced by the thin, narrow childish hips of a girl who's vagina was still small and tight. Shit! Shit! I was lost in the fantasy. Trish was barely adolescent and I was destroying her innocence.

"That's enough dancing," she cried out in an injured child's voice. "It hurts! You're hurting me so! Take your pee-pee away from me! Please, please stop. I want my mommy!"

I could almost see a young girl under me, my adult penis impaled into her tiny vagina. Trish was looking up at me with childlike eyes full of pain and fear. I wanted to hurt her all over again. Twelve or twenty; I wanted her to feel pain...sexual pain. I half wished she was twelve again, having her virginity torn from her along with her innocence. I held her down with one hand to her seemingly tiny breasts, leaning on her hard enough to pin her securely. I saw the young girl put her hand to her mouth and bite, as if stifling a scream. For a moment I felt like a paedophilic monster, with visions of my penis tearing into her tiny ass, blood pouring and staining the sheets. Sex was forgotten. This was destruction. A wave of euphoria swept over me. Then it happened. I saw this for what it was. A twelve year old girl being savagely raped by a sex offender. A sex offender of the worst order. I began to feel sick. I also started to come.

I had started to come. God, it was happening again. One of those ones. A body melt orgasm. A brain melt orgasm. Trish knew it! She fucking well knew! She knew I was off in a sinister sex fantasy and she was feeding off it. She kept calling for her mother. I started to come in that poor young girl's shattered vagina and Trish knew. By the look on my face, she knew I was sickened at my fantasy. I filled that little vagina with my adult load of semen and it could see it spilling all over the young, thin, twelve year old legs. Trish was holding me to her, not letting me give that poor girl respite. I collapsed on Trish, heaving and sick.

"Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you." Over and over I said it. "Fuck you..." Trish was killing me. She was killing my very soul.

"Fuck you, Ken. If you can't handle the game, get off the ice. Leave. Now. Get the fuck out of here."

I left. Somehow I got up, got my clothes together and left. I walk around a bit, trying to get some composure, then headed back to the guys. Someone had got some more beer. I opened one and tried to join in the banter. It was going to take some effort. It was also going to be useless. I needed some air. I needed to get out. I needed to walk. By myself. I did.

Walking late at night in a strange city. By myself. Christ, don't get lost. I walked along one street and didn't make any turns. That sounded safe.

"If you can't handle the game, get off the ice." It was so simple. I mentally kicked my butt from here to Tuesday. I wasn't fucking a twelve year old girl. I was fucking Trish who was pretending to be a twelve year old girl! And she had been doing that for me. I had tried to rape Trish in her ass. She had made me angry because she wanted me in her ass! I hadn't forced Trish to blow me. She was hoping she could blow me! It was why she was on her knees.

You stupid, stupid, dumb fuck! I said to myself. She came all this way, figured out how to find you, invited you to try a little harmless spanking fun, and you went with it and then what? Ken, you brain dead piece of shit. You complete idiot. You wouldn't know an opportunity for playing out your deepest, wildest, darkest, most evil and delicious fantasies if it jumped up and bit you on the ass! She had taken a bite of your ass. What were you thinking? I turned and walked back. If I was lucky, she was still there. What I deserved was an empty room and a partial bottle of scotch to drown my miserable sorrows.

"Hey buddy. Got any spare change?" What? Now? The panhandler was a real piece of street art. As in dirty, unshaven and he smelled bad.

"Sorry, not now. You probably have more cash than I do." It was likely true. I was dressed better, but he had a source of income. Shit. He had pulled a knife. What the fuck was this?

"Hey, buddy, take it easy. I really don't have any money." It was true. I didn't think he believed me. He moved a little closer, the knife pointed at my neck.

"Think I'm stupid? Want to die?" This guy was serious. He wanted money. I had none. I didn't even have on my watch. Cheap Timex. Fat lot of good it would have done.

"Okay, now listen. Back off. I really don't have anything for you." I patted my pockets. "See?. No wallet. No watch. Nothing"

"Too bad. Then I'll take your eyes." What the hell? He moved in closer. The knife was still pointed at me. Now at my face. He lunged. Fuck!

The knife came at me. This guy wanted to cut me. He wanted to cut my face, maybe really take an eye. I have no idea how I did it. Pure survival mode. His wrist was in my hand. I caught it like I could catch a pass. My other hand made a fist and hit him square on the nose. I felt bones cracking. His nose was gone and few things hurt more than that.

He was a skinny little runt and I was able to twist his wrist down and I grabbed it with both of my hands, twisting and forcing it back. It broke like it was a pretzel. He was unable to hold the knife and it fell to the ground. He was blind from the pain of his crushed nose, tears welling up, he was unarmed and down to one hand. Before I really knew what I was doing, his neck was in both of my hands and I was crushing my thumbs into his larynx. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't fight back. A few more seconds and his neck would snap. I was certain. I could snap this neck and end his life. He was grabbing at my hands with his one good hand but it was like trying to stop an oncoming train. He was close to death. He was starting to go limp.

I let him go and he collapsed. I just stood there, heaving, trying to come to grips with the situation. The guy tried to kill me. Shit. He really tried to kill me. Too bloody right! I looked down. He was gasping, trying to get air past his bruised and possibly broken larynx.

This was real. Hot shit, I just about killed the guy. The knife lay on the ground. I picked it up. Stupid. Fingerprints. It was a switchblade. Weren't these things illegal? I had to laugh at that. This was too funny. I pushed the little button and the blade easily was put back in the handle. I pushed it again. The blade leapt straight out and locked. Cool. I couldn't just leave the guy like this, so I squatted down and held his chin in my hand and said, "Don't do this again. You're not very good at it."

Maybe he was and he was just having a bad day. It happened. My side lost tonight. It happened. I had blown it with Trish. But then this guy had tried to really hurt me. The knife was in my hand. I put the tip of the blade into a nostril and flicked my wrist. His now open nose just bled a little more. I put the blade back, slipped the switchblade into my pocket and walked away. If there were any witnesses, they left me alone. I walked back to the hotel and walked in the front door.

I wondered if Trish would believe this. I wondered if she was still here. I went to my room and walked in. Only a few of the guys were left. There were more beer cans than Coach would care to see. It's what happened when the senior players don't do their job. "Hey guys, party's over. Get rid of the evidence." A few grumbles but no real protest. It was late. The guys were tired and sleep really was a good idea. After they had left I said to my roomie, "If I don't come back for a while, don't worry. I met an old friend."

"How much does she cost?"

"Fuck off, Twinkie."

Room 604. I knocked. It took a while, but the door opened. The lights were off. Except for a sliver of light from the bathroom. Trish was in a nightgown. She looked only half awake. She looked at me in a curious way, then let me in. "Let's not talk," I said. "I'm tired and I've had a hell of a night. I'll tell you about it in the morning."

Trish just got back into bed. I undressed down to my shorts, and got in beside her. Thank God she was still here. She was already starting to breathe evenly, falling back to sleep. I cuddled up against her and was not long in following. No bad dreams. No skinny, bad smelling Boogie Men. It was more than I deserved.

I woke up early. Trish was still asleep. It was barely light, about six am. The bus left at eight. I lay there and for the one hundredth time, wondered if I was still on my usual planet. As gently as I could I got out of bed and did my morning necessity. As I stood in the bathroom, emptying my bladder, Trish, who was now behind me said, "Why is it that guys are so quiet getting out of bed and then make such a racket in the bathroom?"

She was smiling in a very straightforward way. So I said, "I'll work on that."

"You have to go, don't you?"

"I do. Team breakfast in half an hour, then game analysis and then it's back on onto the bus." She gave me a quick kiss.

"Okay, I'm going back to bed."

I went back to my room to shower and pack my few things. My roomie just raised his eyebrows. "Not one word, Twinkie. To anyone."

It was an eight hour bus trip back home. I wasn't interested in the usual banter, snooze, read routine. I pretended to be studying a textbook so I could think about this incredible situation I was in. I was smart enough to understand that Trish had not put me into it; she had merely invited me into it. It was a good place to start. Where was I?

Psychology truly wasn't my strong point and this whole scenario just dripped of it. Lies, deceptions, fear tactics and very, very disturbing sex. I paused. Disturbing? To who? What was so disturbing? She had given me oral sex. We had sex together which included anal sex. Then we had a quickie and finally a mild spanking and vaginal intercourse. Put that way, what was disturbing? The only thing disturbing was the head games going on at the time. Okay, at first I didn't know there was a head game going on, then I was mislead, and it had led me to the most incredible orgasms of my life. Yes, Ken, there is a connection. I had gotten outside of my 'decent guy' and without hurting anyone so far, I'd had three of the most mind melting climaxes in history. No problem so far, except for Kris, and I was letting her stay on the back burner for now. Only Trish and I were involved and we both wanted to be. So, I was being pursued by a young woman who, for as yet, unknown reasons wanted to involve me in a game of sexual fantasies. Or was that just was my best guess?

Why me and why now? She had said something about power and passion, calling it heady stuff. Maybe she liked the way I played hockey, flat out, and thought it might apply in other parts of my life. I was an English Literature major, so maybe she thought that I understood creativity. Or maybe she was just bent. She was obviously serious about pursuing me. She had made a lengthy trip to surprise me at the hotel. She had initiative and resources. She also had more money than me, but that applied to pretty much everyone. She tossed me out after I gotten so cold to her after the child sex fantasy. Why did she do that? Another easy one. I had blamed Trish for turning me into a wannabe child molester. Trish knew I did that all by myself, almost. I must have broken some kind of a rule. As in, 'If you think your fantasy is sick, don't take it out on me'. This time Trish and I really needed to talk.

Kris. Onto the front burner now. I had talked to her and we agreed to be a couple. The question of 'committed' had not been raised, but that was irrelevant. I had sex with Trish the very next night. I had cheated on Kris. I had never cheated on a girlfriend before. I was a little surprised that I didn't feel all that sick at myself. Why? Maybe it was more like I was having sex with Trish first and then cheated on her with Kris. No. I couldn't talk myself into that one, but because rules had changed, at least with Trish, it was confusing. I had cheated on someone . And as my dad would say, that really meant I had cheated myself. Not good. It wasn't going to happen again. I was going to talk to Kris tonight.

Back at the campus arena, I got off with the guys, helped take care of the gear and headed back to my dorm, just in time for dinner. Right after that I called Kris.

We walked through the campus grounds to a quiet spot, sat on a bench and I told her everything. It took a while. From beginning to end, I tried to include everything. I even told her about the knife attack. I finished at the end, telling her of my thoughts on the bus trip home. There was a long silence. She didn't cry but her eyes were misted. I was prepared to accept any reaction but I had a bit of trouble with the one she gave me. "I don't want you to say anything more. I'm not going to say anything now. We can talk in a few days or so." And she walked away without looking back.

I sat there for about half an hour, thinking that no matter what the short term results were of anything, my life had changed. For better or worse, Trish had done something that was changing my life, at least on the inside. Stop. No. I had started a process. Trish was simply the one who opened the door. I was free to leave anytime.

I looked up at the sound of someone approaching. Trish was walking towards me, looking very calm. She sat down. "I'm not stalking you, Ken. Even if it looks that way. I was across the field and saw you with Kris. After she left I waited until you looked like you had finished talking to yourself. Are you okay?" Actually I was and said so.

"You?" I added.

"I'm okay. I know we have a lot of things to talk over Ken, but this isn't the time. How about if we leave each other alone for a while?" I just nodded yes. She gave me a squeeze on my shoulder and walked away.

Three days later Kris called and said she was ready to talk. Could we go to the apartment on Thursday night? We could. After Thursday supper I picked her up and we drove over.

"Let's not get into it until we get there, okay?" Fine by me. We chatted aimlessly on the way over. If she was furious, she was hiding it well. One more block to go and Kris said, "I talked to Trish Simpson." I wasn't surprised. I was surprised to see Trish standing outside the apartment. I glanced at Kris, who smiled and said, "I asked her to be here. This involves all of us. Besides, I like her. She says you're going to need a lot of work."Then she giggled.