I Am Superman Ch. 03

SSSSSSSSSMMMMACK!!!!!

Her right hand whipped out like a coiled rattlesnake as she slapped the ever lovin' shit out of me. I felt the icey cold tingle of her fingers just an instant before my cheek started burning.

"Clark!", she frowned.

"Where...", more frowning.

"...are...", yet more frowning.

"...my...", she was starting to turn a little red.

"...clothes?", oh, yeah, she's pissed.

I sat there, face burning, trying to figure out how I was going to explain the sale of her panties to some freshman. I mean, it’s not a subject they teach you in Sex-Ed--how to explain selling your girlfriend's panties to her, after she regains consciousness.

I suspected I was in some trouble.

. . .. ... .....

My parents were half asleep in the living room, watching the Late Show with Letterman--a family tradition, really. I could come and go, mostly, as I pleased because I was a good son and never did anything wrong. But how I was going to drag my potentially deceased girlfriend out of the hedges, through the yard, and up to my room without them noticing was beyond me.

I needed a plan.

Moving a body? How do people move bodies, usually?

I looked around as I made my way outside, trying to catch my own attention with anything that would prove useful. And there, behind the lawnmower, in the garage, perfectly on the way to the hedges under my second-story window, where Paula fell...

...construction bags.

30mm of heavy duty garbage carriers... seventy gallon capacity... perfect.

I grabbed one on my way to the side of the house and saw her as I turned the corner. Even dirty, with a bit of a scraped knee, without a shirt, and tangled sideways and pivoted forty degrees to the aft hanging in a hedge... mmmm-mmm, my girlfriend was hot.

I mean, don't get me wrong, she's a total bitch.

But a hot bitch. Even I can't deny that.

I looked at the situation with confusion and glee. Her ass was in the air, the skirt up over her moist panties, one leg sticking out of the side of the large bush and the other hanging down. Her arms were pointing up and down, and you couldn't see her head.

She was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen.

Now, if only the entire cheerleading team could be here for /this/. Mmm-hmm. My jacking off under the bleachers is nothing compared to the head cheerleader rubbing her clit for the first time on a second-story ledge and then cumming so hard she fell off into a bush and ended up looking like a really, really impressionistic sculpture.

They'd forget all about my jacking off to them under the bleachers.

The upper hand, and my pride, was returned!

. . .. ... .....

I slung my girlfriend-in-a-sack over my shoulder and made for the front door... hoping my parents wouldn't think too hard about me taking the trash "in" instead of "out", tonight. I was grateful that Paula was unconscious, not dead, because I'm not sure if the picture I took would have been more wrong.

In retrospect, it would have been wise to take a pulse before taking a Polaroid... but high school is one rough neighborhood, and I wasn't going to bog myself down with the details. Its war. And she was my Manhattan Project.

I dumped her out on my floor and looked at her curled up like a sweet girl--anyone looking at her would think she was out playing with some kids or just got back from a rough outdoor practice and was sleeping innocently on the floor... poor thing.

I knew better.

She was the devil... sent from Hell to destroy me.

Inside that lithe, tanned, athletic, hot body was the soul of pure prudish evil. The sort of evil that will rub her ass on your crotch at a school dance, but give no nooky. The kind of evil that gnaws at the hearts of men.

I should put her back in the sack.

But... you can't fight evil with evil... or, maybe you can, but you can't fight this kind of evil with its own kind of evil. That's just ensuring nobody gets laid, y'know? I had plans. I proved, tonight, that my girlfriend was curious about sex with me. I needed to push her a little further. I needed to unleash the good.

Out with the evil, you horrible woman, and in with the good.

I sat down, and found a magic marker on my desk, writing the word "Good" on my still semi-erect cock. I'd like to say I did it because it was a cool idea, but it was probably because it was late and I was tired and I was starting to let my imagination run my life.

So, me and Goodcock picked up Paula, and took her to my bathroom. If I was going to have sex with her, tonight, I might as well get her cleaned up for it. Besides, I had no way of knowing how she'd react to waking up in my room, and wanted to give her as little ammunition as possible. Abducted? That was bad. Abducted and dirty? Knowing Paula, she'd have had me shot.

Fast fact... did you know that cheerleading uniforms are easier to take off than most formalwear? It’s true. A zipper up top, a zipper on the skirt, a zipper on the sports bra... I mean, damn. How Cheerleaders aren't a metaphor for easy access is beyond me.

I took off Paula's skirt just after the bathwater got warm enough. That wasn't so strange. I'd seen her in this skirt so many times, during games and pep rallies... and everyone had seen what was under it, as Paula was the most gymnastic one the team.

I took her sneakers off, carefully, and her socks. I even massaged her feet a little, but if she was having any reaction to it, I couldn't tell. I began to get a bit worried... what if this was a coma? Or brain damage? Should I call a hospital? How would it look if they found her without her shirt (which I couldn't find)?

All in all, brain damage would just have to be risked. I'm not letting my leverage get away that easily. Paula with brain damage was a small price to pay for NOT being considered a pervert by the whole school.

...teenage logic at its finest.

So, there I was, holding my girlfriend in my arms, her gorgeous face resting on my shoulder. I took care unzipping her sports bra... this was going to be one of the moments I was waiting for. The first male to see Paula's tits. I could hear the chorus of teenage boys singing, in anticipation.

Z-zzzzzzzzip.

I took it off and pulled it over her head and was confronted with two perfect breasts... I moved my hand over them and they filled my palm. They were firm and tanned (so, she tanned... nude?), they were smooth and I had to fight the urge to start nuzzling and nibbling at them. I wanted to suck on her perfect nipples so badly, it took everything I had not to.

I was not a molester.

I was a pervert.

There is, apparently, a difference.

Her panties, however, were another story. Moist, white, cotton... they would have to come off, but I wasn't sure if I was ready to naked-ify my unconscious girlfriend just yet. I mean, Chrissake, tits are one thing... exposing her nether regions was just, I dunno, a little much.

I thought over the whole thing for a few minutes. The pros, the cons. I wanted to make an intelligent decision on the matter. However, I found that instead of making intelligent decisions on the matter, I discovered that my hand had made it all the way back to my cock before I knew it.

Reason just got ass-raped by instinct.

This may be the only chance I'll ever have to see Paula naked. Might as well not let it go to waste. I have the rest of my life to regret this decision, but there's no telling how long she'll be out.

I slid my thumbs to either side of her panties and began tugging them down. Inch by inch, tug by tug. I got them to her knees, trying not to look (savoring the moment, when I could gaze in full glory). I pulled them off of her and held them in my hand.

They were still damp, and they smelled exactly how sweet pussy should.

Time to take a look at my prize...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

My heart froze. I couldn't breath. I darted out of my bathroom with my girlfriend's wet panties balled up in my fist and saw, on the other side of my cum-splattered window, Todd and Ted. A couple of freshmen who lived across the street.

They were wiry, geeky little guys and they were sitting on my ledge looking at me, smiling. Ted had my girlfriend's cheerleading top on his head.

Fuck.

I strolled over and got close enough to ask them "What?" audibly.

"Where is she, man?", Todd asked with a horny-as-fuck look on his face.

"Who?"

"Paula, man... where is she? We saw her fall off your roof, man. Fuck, she's hot.", said Ted. I had to give these guys credit for the effort, but their conversational skills were seriously lacking... I mean... wait...

...wait...

...hold on...

"How did you know she was here?", I started getting angry.

"Oh", said Todd, "We... um... promise you won't get mad?"

"Promise", I lied. I was having visions of beating Todd in the face with my girlfriend-in-a-sack.

"We sort of... were following her..."

"Following her?"

"Yeah... see, uh, we were going to ask her for... uh..."

"Spit it out, Jesus... what are you talking about!?", I was really pissed now.

"Ted and I came up with a few hundred bucks and some sophomore told us that she'd sell us her panties if we asked.", he turned bright red at this.

Now, being a senior, I've heard this one before. Sounded like someone just wanted to make a fool out of these guys, and as much as I wanted to hurt them... I actually sympathized. I know how it feels for someone to toy with your sex drive.

Hell, they were kids.

"Alright... tell you what... here are her panties, now you all saw she was getting off while she fell, so these are fresh", I told them.

"They don't get fresher than this. This is pure Paula perfume, here. Two hundred and fifty bucks and its all yours.", I dangled them on my side of the mirror and watched their faces light up. These are some sick kids.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You sold your girlfriend's panties? You're thinking I'm sick. Well, I'm also smart. See, these guys are my alibi. I do them this favor and they'll do anything for me. Freshman are like that. They're my backdoor... if my parents come up here or Paula wakes up and freaks out or aliens abduct us all.

Well, I have two guys who'll swear that /she/ was being the pervert by groping herself outside /my/ window. Leverage. Leverage is always important.

They nodded quickly and pushed $250 under the crack I opened in the window. I slid the panties out. They scampered off, no doubt to take turns smelling them and working up the courage to tell the other one that they need some alone time with them.

Ah, to be young again.

I walked back into the bathroom and found Paula right where I left her. Somehow, in dealing with those guys for a few minutes, I was not as excited as I was... I was determined to just get her clean and put her to bed. No voyeurisms.

Oh, how I hated my girlfriend.

I picked her up, cradling her like gorgeous red-haired angel. Her pretty face sleeping gently, her arms folded in front of her and under her amazing breasts. She was an angel. An absolute angel.

I walked over to the bathtub and carefully pitched her evil, evil, evil prudish ass into the luke warm water, making a giant splash, and proceeded to hose her down.

I was going to get my fun out of this, if it was the last thing I did.

. . .. ... .....

After drying her off, and tucking her into my bed, I started to feel closer to Paula. I had just (in my own way, sure) taken care of her, cleaned her and put her to bed. I felt noble, majestic. I felt like maybe I'd been too harsh on her. Maybe we really could get along and find... perhaps... love?

SSSSSSSSSMMMMACK!!!!!

Her right hand whipped out like a coiled rattlesnake as she slapped the ever lovin' shit out of me. I felt the icey cold tingle of her fingers just an instant before my cheek started burning.

"Clark!", she frowned.

"Where...", more frowning.

"...are...", yet more frowning.

"...my...", she was starting to turn a little red.

"...clothes?", oh, yeah, she's pissed.

I sat there, face burning, trying to figure out how I was going to explain the sale of her panties to some freshman. I mean, it’s not a subject they teach you in Sex-Ed--how to explain selling your girlfriend's panties to her, after she regains consciousness.

I suspected I was in some trouble.

God, I hate this bitch. But Goodcock likes her. Why can’t my life be more simple?