I was a Teenage Sex God Ch. 09

"So I heard you did good tonight," she told him after their kiss wound down.

"Yeah, I guess."

"You guess?" she chuckled. "I'd say a football scholarship beats flipping burgers."

"Football bores the fuck out of me."

"Well, I'm proud of you, Lance," Nicole said softly.

"Thanks," he muttered. "And I do like the cheerleaders."

Nicole poked him affectionately in the ribs.

"I'm sure you do," she giggled. "But I bet those Gen Z skanks can't please you like a mature female can."

The cougar stroked Lance's supersized schlong nice and slow.

"No, you need a real woman for that," she continued in a whisper. "Has anyone else ever taken the whole thing?"

"Never," he murmured. Lance was almost telling the truth. It was actually pretty rare. Less than one in twenty chicks could take him to the hilt.

"So let me show you what you've been missing out on tonight," Nicole cooed seductively.

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!

Lance again forgot to mute his phone. He instinctively picked it up to read the text. "Get your big dick over here now!😈🍑"

Lance cringed. It was Morgan, the one woman on the planet he was not allowed to fuck. Nicole felt him become rigid.

"What's that?" she asked of the text. "Another cheerleader?"

"Yup, just another cheerleader," he replied nonchalantly.

"Then how come you look so tense?"

"Huh?"

"Your pecs are twitching. They always twitch when you're upset."

Lance decided to spill. He told her lots of crazy shit but she never judged him. His stepmother was as close as he had to a confidante.

"I got sort of an ethical dilemma, babe..."

"Damn!" she gushed.

"What do you mean 'damn'?" he asked confusedly.

"That you knew how to use the word 'ethical' in a sentence. That's a pretty fancy word for a guy that never took the SAT."

They both chuckled.

"Anyway," continued Lance. "I had a little ménage à trois action tonight."

Nicole's eyes widened.

"With those girls you took to prom?" she asked.

"No," he explained. "I had a threesome with them last month, not the threesome I had tonight."

"Okay," she replied with a look of bemusement. "So who were the lucky ladies tonight?"

"Two cheerleaders named Tanya and Kate. And they forced me to vow that I would not have sex with another girl on the squad. They don't like her."

"How did they force you? You're a dude."

"Well, they didn't exactly force me," he explained, a little ashamed of what he was about to say. "They said we could continue having threesomes together if I stopped having sex with Morgan."

"Who's Morgan?" asked Nicole.

"The head cheerleader."

"Is she cute?" Nicole asked in a flirtatious voice. She did this every time a new name came up.

"Cuter than me?" she pouted.

"No, babe, not even close," Lance reassured her.

Nicole remained silent for a moment, evidently processing the information.

"So why don't you just keep your word and not do it?" she eventually asked.

"Because it seems unfair to Morgan," he said. "Like I'm betraying her. But if I don't keep my word, I'm betraying Tanya and Kate."

Nicole nodded in understanding.

"What do you think I should do?" he finally asked.

"I think," she said, placing a gentle hand on his cheek, "You should follow your heart and do what you think is right, Studly."

"Fuck it," he said after a few moments of thought. "I'm not gonna let anyone control me like that. I'm gonna go see Morgan."

Nicole gave his balls an affectionate squeeze.

"I said to follow your heart," she warned him. "Not your dick."

THE NEXT DAY

Lance and Morgan had been going at it all afternoon. Her parents had gone to Florida for the weekend so they had her place to themselves. Since he arrived at noon, the teen stud had dropped three loads in her pussy (or inside his Magnum XL condom to be precise). The lovers then gossiped for a bit until Lance felt ready to work on his fourth orgasm. Morgan first treated him to a world-class blow job and now he was going to give her the big D.

Firmly balanced on his hands and knees, the champion cocksman slowly lowered himself on top of her slender frame. With casual familiarity, he angled his hips, perfectly aiming the tip of his prick at the mouth of her cunt -- Lance seldom needed to insert himself manually anymore. The virtuoso had excellent muscle memory.

The bed frame creaked under their combined weight as Morgan's body began to quiver beneath him.

"Oh, that's good, champ," the 18-year old senior confessed in a low, throaty moan. Her head tossed from side to side as her voice rose to a passionate plea: "God, yes! Pound me!"

Lance obliged, delivering slow but powerful thrusts into the molten core of her wet womanhood. He could feel Morgan squirming underneath him in ecstasy, her hard pointy nipples prickling against his chest. Sooner than later, her left leg began to shake in a way that only could mean one thing...

"I'm gonna come!" the blonde cried out. With that, her whole body stiffened, sweat beading from every pore, head tilted back, mouth open in a silent scream...

Lance drew no small satisfaction from her impassioned response. Despite his disinterest in the various cliques and social hierarchies of Peoria Tech, he still took pride in banging the school's most popular girl.

Morgan reigned over the student body as 'the queen of mean.' Her Machiavellian intrigues were the stuff of legend. The cheerleader knew just how to play people off against one other.

When they first met, Morgan originally intended for Lance to be her pawn. She slept with him to get back at her ex-boyfriend Steve. After their first encounter, she promptly texted her ex a photo of Lance's massive schlong. But Morgan was only getting started. She also leaked the image anonymously on Telegram and most of the school had seen his notorious organ by Monday morning classes. That was the stroke of genius, if evil can be called genius. For a mean girl like Morgan, it wasn't enough for Steve to know her new boytoy had a big dick. The whole school also had to know. His endowment spiced up the rumor she would spread about their rendez-vous.

However, Lance turned out to be so good in bed that Morgan kept seeing him, long after he outlived his usefulness in her anti-Steve campaign. No matter what she said in public, this chick just could not quit his cock. And after his smashing performance on the gridiron, she had been texting him non-stop for a hookup.

"Come on my cock, babe," he snarled in her face. Lance enjoyed how her eyes rolled back and her vaginal muscles gave him 'the squeeze.' Watching Miss Popularity lose her cool never got old.

"Uuhh! Uuhh! UUUUHHH!!!" she groaned in a guttural cadence. The sounds that poured out of her mouth became savage and primal. Lost in a world of physical euphoria, the alpha babe completely dropped her pretty princess act and surrendered to the moment. Lance felt her tense and quiver as wave after wave of orgasm surged through her nervous system, his name a moaned mantra on her glossy beestung lips.

Minutes passed. She lay limply beneath him, her mouth hanging open in an expression of cock-drunk bliss. After coming this hard, Morgan would be out cold for at least another half-hour. He finally removed his still-erect cock from inside of her and rolled over.

"Lance," she said out of nowhere. He turned to her with mild surprise.

"What is it?" he said, his voice neutral. Morgan could have mood swings after sex. Sometimes she'd be sweet, sometimes bitchy, sometimes just sulky.

"Would you like to go steady with me?"

"I thought we decided not to put a label on our thing," he answered carefully.

"That's true," she agreed. "But your situation is changing. Now that you are a football star, your social status is increasing so we could make an appropriate couple."

Lance felt really conflicted. His lust for Morgan was inexhaustible. The blonde was like Pamela Anderson and Anna Nicole Smith fused into the ultimate blonde bombshell. But the stuff that came out of her mouth sounded utterly bogus. What did he care about 'social status'?! Lance hooked up with a woman if she was hot and could show her a good time. Worrying about her position in a high school social hierarchy seemed almost... shallow.

"Let me think about it," he said finally. "I'm not sure if I'm ready yet."

Morgan's gorgeous face contorted into a scowl. "Don't you want us to be together?"

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!

Lance picked up his cell to answer the call.

"Leo!" yelled an aggrieved Coach Walker. "Where have you been? I've been calling for two days!"

"Aw, sorry," he apologized. "It's been a busy weekend."

"We need to talk about something important. Get your ass down to the school on the double. I'll meet you in my office."

"Uhhhh, OK."

Lance was less than thrilled with what appeared to be an imminent chew-out from Walker but it did give him an out with Morgan.

"Hey," he told Morgan. "That's the coach. He told me I have to see him pronto."

His announcement did not please Morgan. "So Walker is more important than me?" she snarked.

The head cheerleader glared at Lance as he got dressed. The blonde had a look in her eye that made him uncomfortable. It felt like she was studying him in the way that a lioness observes her prey.

TWO HOURS LATER

Lance stepped outside the coach's office, his cheeks flushed with uncharacteristic embarrassment. Walker had just given him a three-hour lecture about inappropriate behavior on social media. Even though he was 18, the school still frowned upon his illicit relations with older females.

He headed directly to the parking lot, ready to hop on his Harley and forget the whole day had ever happened. But as he prepared to kickstart his bike, something small and white stuck to the rearview mirror caught his eye.

"What is this?" he thought to himself, picking up the folded piece of paper. He opened it to read the message:

Lance,

You don't know us but we know you. If you're free tonight, meet us at the Cobra Lounge at 10pm.

xoxo

In lieu of a signature, the writer had marked the bottom of the note with a lipstick kiss. Whoever his secret admirers might be, Lance knew they were goths. Cheerleaders did not wear black lipstick.

Lance pulled out his cellphone and checked the time. It was almost 9:30. Fortunately, the Cobra Lounge was just a few miles away. The rock'n'roll rebel fired up his Harley and sped off, the wind whipping through his hair as the vehicle roared into the magical unknown.

On Sundays, the Cobra Lounge held a "YA Night" when gothlings between the ages of 18 and 21 could dance at the club. The bar did not serve alcohol on 'all ages' nights so everyone snuck in hip flasks and Evian bottles with vodka.

Lance had never been to the Cobra. Dance clubs were not his scene. But when he entered the smoke-filled room of strobe lights and throbbing industrial techno, the stoner felt right at home. The heavy bass reverberated through his body almost sensually, adding to his adrenalized anticipation as he scanned the crowd for his secret admirers.

Suddenly, two figures emerged from the hazy smoke -- a tall emo babe with blue hair and a petite blonde number wearing thick eyeliner and a leather jacket. He observed she wore black lipstick.

Without a word, the trio weaved their way through a throng of teens in tight leather, eventually reaching a small alcove tucked away from the rest of the club. The babes shared the couch. Their new friend took the seat across the table from them.

"So you're THE Lance Leo, huh?" grinned the tall one.

"Guilty as charged," he smiled. "And who might you be?"

"Alice," she told him, then pointed to her shorter friend. "This is Nova."

"So how come you wrote an old-school note rather than just text me?" he asked with genuine curiosity.

"Because there's something magical about a handwritten message," Nova replied thoughtfully but spontaneously. "It's like a physical manifestation of someone's thoughts. It establishes an intimate connection."

The dumb stoner had no idea what she meant but he definitely liked the part about 'an intimate connection.' The women vibed art school sophistication. Lance suspected they studied at Bradley University. A lot of alt-babes from his school planned to enroll in its Fine Arts program.

"So, ladies" he smiled, trying to reset the convo. "Are you into polyamory?"

The girlfriends glanced at each other in astonishment before bursting into laughter.

"Oh my God!" Nova told Alice between gales of laughter. "Raven wasn't kidding. This dude is a total player!"

Lance flashed back to Raven. He had escorted the alt-model to prom along with her girlfriend Luna. Afterwards, the teenage Casanova initiated a steamy threesome with both seniors that occupied an entire weekend. Raven had become something of an influencer so when she posted an IG pic of herself with Lance and Luna, the risqué photo went semi-viral.

The last time Lance checked, the post had received 587 comments. Many of the comments praised Raven for opening up about her sexuality. However, the trolls soon took over the thread and began taking potshots at Lance.

"Beware of Lance Leo," read a typical comment. "He's a major manwhore."

However, another faction began to defend Leo, observing that the haters targeted him because he was rumored to have a 10.5-inch penis. Then still more posters disparaged him for having a 'donkey dick.' Lance shrugged off all the attention with a laugh. As P.T. Barnum always said, there was no such thing as bad publicity.

"So let me guess," he smirked. "You heard about me from the post."

"Have a seat with us, Lance," Nova flirted. "Let's talk about that."

The alt-girls moved to opposite ends of the sofa and patted a spot for him to sit between them. He settled on to the couch and draped his musclebound arms over their pale shoulders. Lance couldn't believe he was acting so familiar with these near-strangers. But they immediately snuggled against him, their body language screaming desire.

"So about that post," Alice whispered into his ear. "I hope it didn't upset you."

"Haters gonna hate, dig?" Nova whispered into the other.

"I think I'm gonna be alright," Lance chuckled.

"Because it's OK to be different," said Alice.

"And no one ought to be size-shamed," said Nova.

Lance's rakish visage lit up with a smile of mischievous delight. Here he was, sitting in the dimly lit back room in a dance club with two bewitching emo babes. And if the ladykiller played his cards right - which he invariably did, then he was going to score back-to-back threesomes this weekend! Banging Kate and Tanya at the same time was already a rare treat for the alpha male. And now he had a hot goth combo to play with.

"So ladies," he inquired casually. "Are you a couple?"

"We've experimented," remarked Alice. "I guess you'd say we're bi-curious."

"But tonight," Nova purred. "You might say we're guy-curious."

Lance felt his ego blowing up big time! But he tried to play it cool.

"And are you..." he paused. "Size curious?"

The goth babes nodded, their faces drifting closer to his, almost close enough to kiss.

"Then I guess this is your lucky night," he said, staring directly into their eyes.

Their faces drew closer together until they practically touched. That was all the invitation Lance needed. Slowly but surely, he initiated a slow and scorching three-way kiss, his lips gently caressing Nova's, then Alice's in turn. His massively muscular arms scooped them into a passionate embrace and both of them shuddered a bit.

Nova moaned softly into his lips as he kissed her deeper, his tongue delving into her sweet depths. Meanwhile, Alice straddled his thigh, her impressive bust rubbing against Lance's chiseled pecs, and she joined the fray of tongues.

Lance quietly moaned as their steamy kiss intensified. Even for him, this make-out sesh was fucking hawt. Their bodies intertwined, hands roaming everywhere while their lips locked together in perpetual bliss. Suddenly, Alice's eyes sparkled with amusement and she began to giggle.

"Oh, my God!" she squealed. "Is that what I think it is?"

Straddling his thigh, Alice could feel Lance's love python pulsing beneath the denim of his jeans. Even through the dense fabric, the thick shaft gave off waves of heat like a lead pipe flowing with boiling water.

"Yeah, babe," Lance smirked. "I guess Raven told you about that too, huh?"

TWO HOURS LATER

Alice and Nova shared an efficiency studio not far from the club. Their pad epitomized the shabby chic that defined the pair's bohemian lifestyle. The walls were painted a deep burgundy and adorned with vintage movie posters. The lighting had been dimmed but a few candles illuminated the cavernous room.

Directly opposite the dated kitchenette stood an ancient Victorian couch strewn with colorful throw pillows. Lance sat on the edge of that couch, lit up a joint, and waited. Alice and Nova had convened in a nearby walk-in closet. Whatever they had planned for him, it involved a wardrobe change.

"Now close your eyes," sounded Nova's seductive voice from behind the door. "And no peeking."

As soon as Lance shut his eyes, the closet door creaked open. Then he heard the sound of a needle dropping on an old vinyl record. The opening chords of a highly-retro 1950s bump-and-grind tune played from the speakers. It sounded like one of those numbers that Bettie Page or Lily St. Cyr might have danced to, a steady, primal beat with a slow and sensual sax.

Lance finally opened his eyes. The girls had switched into full-on burlesque mode: Alice wore a red satin corset with black frills, patent leather stilettos, and a pair of opera gloves. Not to be outdone, Nova had donned a top hat with ostrich feathers that complimented her lacy lingerie and fishnets.

Alice and Nova swayed their hips, shook their tails, and twisted into suggestive poses only inches away from Lance's hungry gaze. As the music picked up tempo, Alice neared Nova and ran her gloved hands along her galpal's curves before flipping him a seductive wink.

Lance almost panted as he watched the pair go at it. The horny teen never saw a burlesque performance before but had become an instant fan. He dug hardcore porn as much as the next guy but these foxes had perfected the art of teasing, slowly unveiling themselves without giving away too much.

Sharing a smile, the alt-babes pranced their way over to Lance, not missing a beat of their sensual bump-and-grind as they climbed onto the couch. With a flourish, Alice reached for Nova's top hat and placed it atop his head.

The women rhythmically ground their curves against Lance's body, their mutual lust growing with each teasing movement.

"Does this feel good?" Alice purred, straddling his thigh and sliding her crotch back and forth against the massive bulge that ran beneath the denim of his jeans.

Lance groaned in pleasure. "Oh, yes."

"Then let's make it even better," suggested Nova, reaching for the buttons of his shirt, opening them up quickly. At the same time, Alice unzipped his pants and slid them down his thighs. Lance let out a deep moan as these babes undressed him. His anticipation was growing, his heart pounding in his chest as their mouths collided in an all-consuming kiss.

AN HOUR LATER

Even though their bohemian love pad had been sparsely furnished, Alice and Nova had splurged on an unusually large, stylish bed. The frame had been crafted from sturdy mahogany and detailed with gold leaf accents that glowed in the candlelight. A thick duvet was topped by an ornate velvet throw with silver thread embroidery. But, most importantly, the bed was big enough for three people to get it on!

Lance dedicated the first hour of their lovemaking session to oral. He had nibbled, licked, and sucked his way all around their bodies, devoting special attention to eating their pussies. A master of erotic innovation, the horny teen stacked Nova on top of Alice with both babes on their backs. With both sets of thighs open to him, he buried his face in their wet gashes, eagerly devouring a steamy double-helping of poontang.