tagFetishTrailer Trash Teen Hates Rules Ch. 04

Trailer Trash Teen Hates Rules Ch. 04


INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - Please enjoy your trip back in time to 1994 as you read the fourth installment of kinky sexual comedy "Trailer Trash Teen Hates Rules". In this chapter, can Breanna make amendments to her former teacher for whom she made life a living hell when she was at high school?

This story contains strong language and adult themes, with coarse humor both sexual and non-sexual. Only characters aged 18 and over engage in sexual activity, and all characters and situations are fictional. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental and unintentional.


Breanna's punishment for impersonating her Aunt Anna and inviting swingers to the house and the fight with her cousin Kate was washing every glass, plate, dish, bowl and item of cutlery in the house. This took until well into the evening, and Breanna overslept the next morning, until her aunt ordered her awake.

Kate had long gone by this time, stopping at the gymnasium for a fitness class before. With an essential part of her college education being her field hockey scholarship, Kate needed to maintain her fitness over the summer. John also had left early. He needed to drive out further into the country to visit some farming clients.

The absence of Kate prevented her and Breanna fighting over the toilet like the previous day, and Breanna used the toilet and took a shower without major drama. However, Breanna would have created a major drama had she known what Dylan was up to in the downstairs room she was using as a bedroom.

Feeding the cats and dogs, and alone on the first floor with his nubile cousin naked under the shower upstairs, Dylan took his chance and snuck into Breanna's room. No searching was required; his slutty cousin had simply discarded her panties from yesterday onto the floor, the white cotton bikini panties with hearts on them.

With trembling fingers Dylan picked up Breanna's panties, fondling the soft white cotton in his fingers and imagining them covering his cousin's pubic hair, vagina and her firm bottom. He examined the saddle. Breanna's panties were pretty dirty. In the crotch, there was a small yellow stain courtesy of some stray drops of urine and some bigger, dried, creamy pussy stains over the cotton that would have rested against Breanna's vagina. Breanna must have been really horny to make such a mess of her panties, Dylan thought. Of course he had no idea that his friends Wayne and Kenny had nailed her pussy and ass yesterday.

His erection growing harder and harder, Dylan raised Breanna's panties to his nose, absorbing her feminine smell with deep sniffs. The musty smell of his cousin's cunt going deep into his nostrils, Dylan could feel his dick throbbing. He moved his nose to the back of the panties, sniffing the cotton that would have rested against Breanna's anus during the previous day.

Dylan wanted to jerk off more than anything now, but time and practicality were problems. Reluctantly, Dylan returned Breanna's panties to the floor and reflected on all of the girls' panties he had sniffed. In the months since he turned 18, he seemed to be presented with endless opportunities to sniff the panties of pretty girls. There were his sister's friends; beautiful blonde Polish girl Andrea, black beauty Sonia, cute studious Asian girl Penny, pretty red-haired Irish-American Bridget and the stunning Italian-American Katrina.

Then there was the school wilderness camp, where the perverted little pest had gotten into his hot gym teacher Jessica Adams' tent and sniffed the pretty teacher's panties when she had gone into the woods with a roll of toilet paper in one hand and a spade in the other. Closer to home, Dylan had sniffed his cousin Holly's panties on many occasions, doing the same to his hot Aunt Kirsty's panties and pantyhose when opportunities presented themselves. Then of course there was his spoiled rich New York cousin Madison, where stealing a pair the hot blonde teenager's panties on the recent camping trip was the jewel in the crown of his voyeurism.

About the only hot girl Dylan was in regular contact with whom he had not sniffed the panties of was John's girlfriend Samantha. Dylan knew how protective John was with his childhood sweetheart, which he could understand given Samantha was sick in her pre-teen years and the difficulties presented by her severely handicapped brother. John was protective although not possessive of Samantha with the two having a mature, trusting and well-balanced relationship but if anybody hurt Samantha then watch out. Dylan knew that if his brother caught him with Samantha's underwear, John would kick his ass so hard that Dylan would probably find himself in London or the South African city of Cape Town when he landed.

So while Dylan would engage in voyeurism with Samantha if an opportunity presented itself, such as sneaking a glance at her panties if she crossed or uncrossed her legs while wearing a dress or skirt and her undies came into view; looking at her cleavage; admiring her ass in her stirrup pants when she had been working out; fantasizing about her sitting on the toilet with her panties around her ankles or naked under the shower when Samantha used the bathroom while visiting their house; and jerking off in bed at night over his fantasies about Samantha's bank teller uniform, her panties were safe from his voyeurism.

His erection still throbbing but fortunately with nobody to see it but the dogs and cats, Dylan went and got some cereal and sat at the kitchen table. As he ate, Dylan thought about the smells of each vagina of the women whose panties he had sniffed; Andrea, Sonia, Penny, Katrina, Bridget, Jessica, Kirsty, Holly, Madison and now Breanna.

Fantasizing about the feminine smells of his voyeurism targets did not help his erection subside, nor did the sight of Breanna appearing in the kitchen in a black heavy metal tee-shirt and jeans so tight that they must have cut deep into her crotch, pushing her panties up into her cunt. As usual her feet were bare.

"Hi Breanna," said Dylan.

Breanna glowered at him. "What's so fucking good about it?" she grumbled. To Dylan, it was clear that Breanna was not a morning person, so he said nothing more.

Dylan's erection only subsided when his mother and father, still clearly in bad moods over Breanna's practical joke with the swingers last night, entered the kitchen to have breakfast. Anna sharply reprimanded Dylan for his failure to drop off the negatives from the camping trip to be developed at the one hour photo booth, saying he had one thing to do and how could he forget it? Then the grumpy Bob had words with Dylan about how John and Kate were doing productive things with their lives, and how Dylan had wasted his time hanging out with his moron friends Kenny and Wayne, rather than studying and training hard like his twin sister or getting a good job and studying part time at community college like both John and Samantha.

By the time Dylan made his way out of the house to catch his bus to work after heavy criticism from both of his parents, his penis had contracted in size so much it was like he had been swimming in the Baltic sea in the middle of January.


When Bob and Anna left for work Breanna, now wearing sneakers, was left to resume the gardening from yesterday at Anna's parents' house. Her house-key confiscated for her prank and causing the fight with Kate, Breanna now had to ask Anna's elderly parents Alice and Tom for permission to get a drink, or use their bathroom.

Breanna fumed at doing something that now topped her list of the many things the sulky teenager despised; gardening. She saw Anna's parents inside, drinking their coffee and reading their newspapers and wondered why they didn't do their own fucking gardening. That Alice and Tom worked hard on the family farm, now run by their eldest son for many years, raising three boys and three girls in the process, and now was the time for them to relax in retirement, did not occur to the recalcitrant teenager.

They constantly looked down upon her. When Breanna took her first cigarette break, squatting down inhaling the smoke, tar and nicotine into her lungs, she saw them staring at her through the window complaining about 'proper up-bringing'. Her pussy-cutting jeans made gardening uncomfortable. By just 10 o'clock, Breanna had had enough of this shit, and the rules enforced by her aunt and uncle.

Neither of her Aunt Anna's parents were looking outside as Breanna downed tools and walked off the job, collecting her purse and cigarettes on the way. Even if they had seen her and challenged her about it, what the fuck were they going to do about it?

Breanna walked down the street to the bus stop, intending to catch a bus into the main part of town, then catch a second bus back to her part of town where she belonged to spend the day. She would have to come back in the afternoon, but spending some time in her own territory than spending the day in suburban hell.

On the way past one house, two women were trying to get their small children organized for a car trip, the mothers handing small lollipops to the toddlers to keep them quiet and occupied. With the two women occupied with getting a baby into the car, the passing Breanna set her eyes on a lollipop held by a boy of about three, which he had not licked as yet.

With quiet footsteps and nimble fingers, Breanna slid by and gently relieved him of the lollipop, before walking casually down the road, hearing the voice of one of the women behind her. "Matthew, where is your lollipop? I'm sure I gave you one with the other kids." She looked at the other mother with a puzzled expression. "Maybe I didn't, I'll get him another one." The mother reached into her bag and collected a replacement lollipop.

Breanna laughed and sucked vigorously on the sweet, orange flavor as she waited at the bus stop. The larceny of a lollipop was fairly minor in Breanna's catalogue of kleptomania. Her shoplifting career began when she was a little girl with thieving food, mainly candy. She would still steal candy if she felt like it, but the items she stole now mainly consisted of alcohol, cigarettes, marijuana, clothing, spray-paint to be used for graffiti, electronic goods and cash. One night a few months ago she and Isabella had knowingly gone for a ride in a stolen car with the guys who took it. Breanna and Isabella had taken it in turns to have a drive, screaming around the corners at dangerous speeds. However, the act of stealing the lollipop from a small child gave her so much pleasure this morning. It was like the old adage of taking candy from a baby.


At the bank in town, Samantha as always looked a picture of pretty perfection in her teller uniform, the beautiful strawberry blonde serving customers with a friendly smile. Guys in particular loved to be served by the beautiful, friendly and helpful Samantha, who always made a point of keeping her sunny personality to the fore, even if like today things weren't going so great for her.

Like most cancer survivors, Samantha tried to look forward and not behind, but it was impossible for her to forget completely. Some things were deliberate, for example she actively supported a cancer charity, wanting to repay the support given to her and her family during that time. Other times something random would set off a memory. Samantha could no longer stomach tuna fish, as tuna mornay was the evening meal that was served to the kids in the oncology ward the first time she had chemotherapy. The smell alone of tuna from that point onwards made her sick to her stomach. And this morning, the customers she served reminded her of the good, bad and ugly aspects of her battle against cancer.

Her first customer was a man who wore a tee-shirt proclaiming he had seen Halley's Comet in 1986, these shirts very popular at the time. It brought back a touching memory of something nice John had done for her one night. Samantha had had a bad day confined to bed rest at home after a chemotherapy session earlier in the week, the side-effects of the treatment playing havoc with her digestive system. In addition, her muscles were tired to the point that walking across the hall to the bathroom and back made her feel like she had run a marathon. To top things off, the girl felt one minute like she was in the Sahara desert wearing winter clothes, the next like she was in mid-winter Greenland wearing summer clothes.

As Samantha lay in bed sick, nauseous, sore and tired that evening, John and his dad arrived for a quick visit, John carrying a small telescope. Opening the curtains and plumping up the pillows so Samantha could sit up in bed, John had directed Samantha in looking through the telescope in the cold, dark, starlit Pennsylvania night and through the lens, she had seen the blue comet in the sky so far away. This memory always raised her spirits, especially now given she and John were engaged, not that anybody else knew this yet.

The bad was the next customer, a lady who had a small son aged about three and a baby daughter. Samantha was dismayed to see that the boy had no hair at all on his head. Seeing the boy also reminded her of the children's oncology ward in Philadelphia. Diagnosed herself at age 11, Samantha and the other older kids were at least able to understand what was going on, but felt terrible for the really little kids who couldn't understand. However, there was an unexpected twist this morning that brought Samantha relief and amusement. The boy had complained that his head was itchy, and the mother replied that it served him right after cutting off all his hair while pretending to be a barber.

The ugly was the skinny, blonde, middle-aged woman Samantha was serving at this very moment, a Mrs. Hayes. She had clearly not wanted to be served by Samantha, and was horrified when Samantha pressed her buzzer and light to call her to her desk, and nobody was behind her to trade places with. She stood as far away from Samantha as far as she could, not looking at her, fretting that this teller was the one handling her pass book and the bills she was paying.

Samantha's first encounter with Mrs. Hayes, who at the time was new in town and had a son in the same year as Samantha, had taken place soon after Samantha returned to school after her second round of chemotherapy. She was keen to return to her friends when well enough following surgery and starting chemo, and a plan was worked out with her parents, principal, teacher, doctors and the school nurse so Samantha could attend school when well enough between treatments and receive all the support, comfort and privacy she needed. At this stage, Samantha's long hair had not fallen, so apart from always having a bottle of water at her desk to ease her thirst and being allowed to carry a purse containing everything she might need, she did not stand out as different from the other kids, all of whom were delighted to see her back.

Then one morning, as the class was doing math, the fretting figure of Mrs. Hayes, burst in through the door, breathing heavily and on the verge of tears, her face a mask of stress. Her son sank down in his chair, horrified. Without introducing herself, the woman had yelled across the classroom, "I hear that there is a girl with cancer who is allowed to be in this class. Where is she?"

The other kids' eyes subconsciously drifted towards Samantha giving her away, and the woman had gone into her tirade, often pointing at Samantha while doing so, despite the best efforts of the middle-aged, female teacher to gain control. Why was a child undergoing cancer treatments allowed at the school, when the treatments were so dangerous to the other children? If the sick girl must be at school, why wasn't she sat to one side in the classroom away from the normal children? What if the sick child vomited; what procedures were in place to decontaminate the school? Did the girl with cancer handle the same objects, drink from the same water fountain and use the same bathroom facilities as the healthy kids, and was she allowed in the cafeteria where food was prepared and served?

The woman was making such a racket that the principal was alerted, and he and his deputy managed to get Mrs. Hayes, sobbing uncontrollably, out of the classroom and up the hall to the office. The school nurse and her class teacher took Samantha, shell-shocked like the rest of the kids, to the sick bay in case she was upset. As Samantha sat on the bed she was unsure if she should laugh or cry, but decided on the former, as the woman's behavior was so ridiculous all one could do was laugh. Samantha was certain that if she told people this story in years to come, they would never believe her because it was too unrealistic that any adult could be that ignorant, tactless and insensitive.

Later, Mrs. Hayes' mortified son apologized about his mother to Samantha, saying his mom was a neurotic hypochondriac who among other things refused to use a microwave oven due to radiation risk, and also refused to go to New Jersey as Three Mile Island was there.

It was clear from the way the woman was acting now that she thought Samantha still posed some kind of biochemical risk to her despite the passage of nearly nine years, that Samantha had grown into a fit and healthy young woman and that there was never any danger to anyone else anyway. When finished, Mrs. Hayes quickly collected her things and almost ran for the front door. "Have a nice day," Samantha smiled, keeping up her polite, professional demeanor.

The next person in the queue was somebody far more pleasant; Kate, the girl who would become her sister-in-law. Samantha pressed her buzzer and light and Kate approached the counter with the bank deposit.

"Hi Samantha," smiled Kate. She was enjoying Tuesday far better than she had Monday, and always liked talking with Samantha. From an early age, Samantha had often accompanied the Wilson family on outings such as picnics, her parents giving her a break from the trials of her autistic brother. To Kate, Samantha was like the big sister she had never had. Kate had noticed Mrs. Hayes and remembered the debacle at school years earlier given the fourth and fifth grade classes were just along the hall from the sixth grade, but decided it was best not to say anything.

"Hi Kate," said Samantha. Kate was also like a sister to her; with Chris's problems she had never had a sibling to interact with properly. Her ever-friendly smile on her pretty face, Samantha joked, "I hope your cashier hasn't set me another interesting puzzle for today?"

Kate laughed. "No, I think everything should be fine today."

"I haven't spoken to John today," said Samantha as she went through the checks. "Is everything okay at your house after last night?"

Kate gave a wry smile and shook her head. "One word, Breanna."

"Breanna." Samantha shook her head. "How long is she staying with you?"

"A couple of weeks so Mom and Dad were saying," said Kate. "But every day is a day too long where my cousins are concerned. First Madison on the camping trip in the Pine Barrens, then Breanna comes to stay at our house. I wish it was Holly that was staying with us, but Holly is normal so there wouldn't be any need for that."

"What does Breanna do all day when you're all at work?" asked Samantha.

"She's supposed to be working on Grandma and Grandpa's garden," said Kate. "But I hate to think how that is going."

"I don't think it's going at all," said Samantha, looking over Kate's shoulder, indicating for Kate to look out of the door. Kate turned and outside the main doors of the bank stood Breanna, dressed in her black heavy metal tee-shirt and ultra-tight jeans. Having finished the lollipop, Breanna threw the stick onto the ground and reached into her purse for her cigarettes and lighter. Lighting one up, Breanna continued on her way, blowing smoke everywhere as she sucked in the nicotine.

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