Everyone Loves My Ass Ch. 01

Note: All characters in this story are at least eighteen years of age.

I have this heartless bastard of an internet buddy whose nic here on Literotica is EldridgeinOO. He's the deeply afflicted author of "Conflicted," a story which tells of the delightfully daft albeit painfully nubile cheerleaders who spend many an extended lunch hour plowing the living bejeezus out of each other in the bathrooms and bleachers of the happiest place on earth, Teen Fucktoy High School.

As it turns out, his bout of all too public dementia strides like an Ecstasy-addled colossus atop Literotica's Incest/Taboo stories category. Check it out, but don't blame me if you later hate yourself. If you should also find yourself in your garage trying to build your own version of a Japanese Fuckbot 3000 cheerleader, it's not my problem. Take it up with him.

Anyway, one day this morally gangrenous freak and I got to joking around about how great it would be to have an ass model as a girlfriend or wife; an ass model, i.e., a woman who makes her living by being the go-to girl whenever some ad campaign or film production requires a perfect, best-in-the-business ass to sell its wares.

A 'stunt ass,' of sorts; like a hand model who does those Palmolive dish soap ads, only instead of her hands we're treated to loving shots of her perfect ass.

In joking around, we came up with all sorts of funny and stupid scenarios for an ass model.

"You should write 'Ass Model.' That'd be a perfect story for you," he suddenly blurted out.

Hmmm. That got me to thinking, which usually isn't a good thing.

'Yep, I should,' I concluded, a scant day later.

"And while you're at it, go ahead and make it an incest story so lots of people will read it," he added.

E-mails flew back and forth, ridiculous ideas were tossed around, the basic character-groundwork was laid, and bam, here we are.

We've all seen this girl. We all want this girl. Now it's time to read her story.

~ ~ ~

'We're definitely not in Kansas anymore,' I thought, with only a hint of irony.

There I was, standing at the edge of the Santa Monica Pier with Paul, my eighteen-year-old younger brother, and we literally are from Kansas. We're both eighteen, actually, but I'm the older sibling by ten months, the fact of which I never fail to remind my "baby brother."

Anyway, our family lives in Lawrence. Dad is a professor at the university, while Mom works in the administrative office. Just a couple of months ago I was kicking back at the house, and life was good. One hot summer day, everything changed for me. I have to say, life is still good, but it sure became...different.

High school was finished, so I had some time to enjoy myself before starting college in the fall, and I was being lazy. Since there wasn't a cloud in the sky, I'd decided to chill out by the pool. I'd been sunning myself for an hour and was just starting to doze off when I heard Mom call from the kitchen, "Dawn, could you come inside for a minute, please? We need to talk."

It's never good when Mom says, "We need to talk." That phrase usually means, "You need to listen, and you probably won't like what you'll hear."

I love my parents to death, but they're kind of predictable that way.

Hopping up from my sun lounger, I reluctantly went into the house. Mom and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table, and they weren't eating. They were simply waiting for me.

'Yep, this must be something really serious,' I thought.

When I walked into the kitchen, however, Mom's slight frown of concern gave way to a warm smile, and she had me come stand before her. "Let me see my beautiful girl," she grinned. Tenderly running her hands up and down my hips and thighs, she was fairly beaming. "God, look at you, baby...your bikini is so skimpy on you now. Sweetie, just a suggestion, but if you're at all concerned about modesty then you may want to start thinking about whether you still want to wear such a revealing bikini in front of your father and the boys."

Mom was always funny like that, and Dad just smirked. Guffawing at his reaction, she smacked him on the shoulder. "Hush, you. She walks around the house this way in front of you too, even when she's wet," she said, giving him a knowing grin.

Dad held his hands up in a silly gesture of surrender. "I didn't say nuthin'. Don't bring me into this," he chuckled.

I jumped in then. "Mom, it's no big deal. The boys see me in my bikini all the time."

"Yes, I know they do. I'm sure they wouldn't miss it for the world," she smiled.

Paul and his two best friends, Rick and Donny, have seen me in my bikini lots of times. Rick and Donny are eighteen, too. We've been friends for so long, they're pretty much like family to us now. We often hang out together, and it'd only been two days since Rick had come over to go swimming. They all saw me, Dad included.

Returning her smile, I said, "So? Mom, it's not like they haven't seen girls in bikinis before. I'm not showing them anything they haven't already seen a million times."

"Oh, I highly doubt that, little one. Girls who look like you do in that bikini don't exactly grow on trees," Dad said, still chuckling.

"He's right, dear. There are girls wearing bikinis, then there'syou wearingthat bikini. They're not the same thing," said Mom, adding a wry little smirk. "Don't think your brother, his friends, and even your father haven't noticed, especially with the way you've filled out. That old bikini used to be cute and girly on you, and that was fine. You were fourteen then. Now you're eighteen, and look at you. Baby, you're built like a Playboy Bunny. Your bikini barely even covers you anymore, and it's become so thin and threadbare that it's basically transparent. Honey, we can see every perfect inch of your beautiful body, including the parts bikinis are designed to cover."

Pausing for effect, she gave me another warm smile. "We can seeeverything, baby."

Taking my hands, she kissed my knuckles. "Sweetie, I don't have any problem with you wearing your bikini around the house, either here inside or out at the pool. Really, I don't mind. If you want to drive our men completely crazy, that's entirely up to you. I just want you to be aware of how much you're showing, that's all."

"God, Mom, you make it sound like I'm flouncing around in a g-string and stripper heels, showing off for all the boys in the neighborhood. It's just a bikini. Besides, Paul doesn't care what I wear. He barely even knows I exist. As far as he's concerned, I'm just his boring older sister, and that's about it. You know, I don't even think he likes me. He tolerates me, sure, but only because he has to. Otherwise, I'm just a big pain in the you-know-what to him," I grinned.

Smiling to myself, I recalled how flustered I'd made Paul only a few days earlier.

~ ~ ~

Having just gotten home from school, I was heading toward my bedroom when I happened to hear sexy sounding girly-stuff coming from Paul's bedroom. He'd been a real jerk to me that morning, laughing and running away after sticking his fingers in my bowl of cereal. So, naturally, I wasn't feeling very charitable toward him. With the sounds coming from his room, I had a pretty good idea that he was again watching internet sex stuff. Giggling to myself, I casually knocked on his door, which was open about six inches. At the same time I was knocking, I poked my head inside. "Whatcha doing?" I asked, all sweetness and innocence, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Dawn! Get outta here!" he shouted, covering his crotch with a beach towel while jumping up from his chair.

"Okay, okay! Jeez, don't spaz out. I just wanted to let you know I was home, and to say hi. I'll let you get back to, ummm...whatever you were doing," I said teasingly, shooting him a goofy grin.

Busted! Oh, yeah, I got him good.

Later that day I found him in the living room, watching TV. Deciding to join him, I offered to get us some snacks. He wouldn't make eye contact with me. Instead, he just shook his head while mumbling, "I'm good." It was really cute, the way he started blushing. When I plopped myself next to him on the couch, he finally glanced over at me.

"Pervert," I giggled.

His eyes got so big! I jumped over the back of the couch and took off up the stairs, with Paul tearing after me like a maniac. I was laughing like crazy when I got to my room. Just in time, I closed and locked the door behind me.

"Not cool, Dawn! Very not cool!" he yelled through the door, yet I could tell that he was laughing, too.

We were always doing stupid things like that, and I'm certain he thought of me as just a constant nuisance. He never said a single word to me about my bikini, though, or about anything else I ever wore. I often had the feeling that he really didn't think of me as a girl. Even if he did, I probably still wasn't his type, besides being his sister.

In fact, I was sure of it, because one day I overheard Paul and Rick in the kitchen having a discussion about girls. Being the little sneak that I am, I hid in the dining room and heard Rick ask, "So, what's your favorite type?"

"Blondes, with huge tits. I definitely like blondes with long hair and big tits. The bigger the better," was Paul's answer.

It was true, too. I'd seen his dirty magazines and the posters on his wall. It was always bionic blondes for him. I almost couldn't be less of his type, which he shortly confirmed.

First, however, he threw the question back to Rick.

"Megan Fox, dude," Rick answered. "Megan Fox, absolutely. Give me a sexy brunette with a wicked face and an incredible ass. I don't need her tits to betoo huge; they just have to be pretty, and fit her body. The main things are her legs and stomach, and especially her ass. She's gotta have a tight, curvy ass, with perfect legs, and a sexy stomach."

"Megan Fox? I thought you said you hated tattoos on a girl, and you hate conceited, snotty girls who are all full of themselves."

"Yeah, I do. Dude, don't get all pissed off at me or anything, but you know who's perfect? I mean literally flawless? Dawn is perfect. She's exactly what I like. She looks just like Megan Fox, you know she does, yet she's the total opposite, personality-wise. She has no tattoos, plus she--"

"Thank god," Paul said, interrupting. "I'm totally with you there. I hate tattoos on a girl."

"Yeah, Dawn has no tattoos, and she looks exactly like Megan Fox. Same wicked blue eyes...same long, black, amazing hair. She has that same perfect chin and the prettiest, sexiest mouth, with the most dazzling knockout smile. She has that sleek, ridiculously perfect body, and her tits are a lot bigger. Megan Fox has great tits, don't get me wrong, but Dawn's are even better. Her ass is definitely way better. Seriously, her ass is the best ever, and you know how much I love Megan Fox's ass. Dude, don't lie, you know Dawn is perfect. Top to bottom, from any angle, face or body, that girl is absolutely flawless."

I could hear Paul hesitate before stammering, "You really think so? Dawn?"

"Are you serious? You've never noticed how hot your sister is? You don't see that she looks exactly like Megan Fox?"

"No, not really. I mean, sure, I can't say that she's not pretty or anything. I guess she is, but I never thought of her like that. I never realized how much she really does look like Megan Fox. I don't know, maybe that's because I don't even like Megan Fox. She seems like such a bitch."

"See, that's what's so great about your sister. That's exactly it. She looks identical to Megan Fox, only with an even hotter body, yet she's still the sweetest, nicest, most unconceited girl we've ever known. Dawn truly doesn't have a snotty bone in her entire body. She also has no idea how hot she is, and that makes her even hotter. Dude, your sister is perfect. She's everything that's amazing about Megan Fox, with none of that crappy, high-maintenance baggage. You know your sister is the nicest, least bitchy girl in our whole school."

"She's not always that nice," Paul said, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

'Serves you right, you butthead,' I thought, laughing to myself.

"Whatever, dude. Girls don't come any sweeter or nicer than your sister, and you know it. Jesus, she's even a straight-A student. Come on, what other knockout like her have you ever seen who wasn't also a spoiled rotten airhead, or a spoiled rotten airheadand a total bitch? Your sister seriously acts like she doesn't even know she's the hottest girl on the planet. She may as well be a nerdy fat chick, she's so down-to-earth and unconceited."

"She's definitely not conceited, I'll give you that. Yeah, she's okay, I guess. You really think she's that hot, though, like Megan Fox hot?"

"You must be completely blind. It's actually pretty admirable, the way you can't see that your sister is so crazy hot. Head to toe, there isn't an inch of her that could be any hotter. Seriously, think about it. Tell me, what part of her could possibly be any better?"

"She could be blonde, with ginormous knockers."

They both laughed, then Paul said, "Yeah, okay, maybe you're right. I can't come up with anything that's bad about her, or anything about her face or body that could be any better. Maybe I really am blind, because she's my sister. I guess I just don't see her that way."

"Dude, come on, if she wasn't your sister and you saw her walking through the halls at school in one of her killer little miniskirts, or especially if you ever saw her in that tiny bikini she always wears around the house? Jesus, you'd be sporting so much wood, you wouldn't know what to do."

"Hey, wait a minute! Does that mean you're sporting wood every time she goes swimming with us? That's my sister, you dirty fuck!"

Again they laughed, but Rick didn't actually respond.

"Holy shit! You are! You're totally popping boners in my pool! What a fag!" laughed Paul, then I heard a bunch of racket and even more laughter, like they were play-fighting.

Figuring that any second they could easily come stumbling through the doorway, I decided to duck out of there before they caught me eavesdropping on them.

Wow, that was really cool. I never even knew Rick noticed me. I had no idea he thought I was pretty. I mean, okay, I knew I was sort of pretty, and I wasn't fat or anything. Compared to the other cheerleaders in our squad, I knew I still looked decent enough. During the past year the other cheerleaders had even started teasing me about my butt. They never called it my "butt," though; it was always my "ass."

We'd be in the showers, or maybe in the locker room changing our clothes, and they would come up to me and "spank that ass," as they put it. It was almost like some of the girls couldn't stop, the way they kept spanking, pinching, and just plain helping themselves to my bottom! More and more they had begun to gang up on me, as if my bottom was a toy for their amusement.

One time four of the girls surrounded me at my locker, playfully spanking and touching me.

"Hey! Pick on someone else for once! I'm not the only girl here with a butt, you know! Go spank Christa or Carrie," I giggled.

"If Christa or Carrie had an ass like yours, we would!" giggled Michelle right back, pulling down my little panties from behind.

Michelle is my best friend, so she knew I loved the games they played with me and my bottom. Whenever the girls ganged up on me, she was usually the ringleader.

"Motorboat! Motorboat!" shouted the other girls, and I was laughing hysterically as Michelle took my bottom in her hands. Spreading me open before pressing her mouth into my crack, she made this funny 'bwooooooarrrr' sound while shaking my bare bottom all over her face.

Trish was pulling up my top, so I lifted my arms and let her take it all the way off, then she buried her face between my boobs and made the same motorboat sounds.

We were all laughing so hard that we finally collapsed onto the bench. Trish continued to motor boat my breasts, cupping them around her face, then she changed up and began squeezing, kissing, and sucking them.

God, it felt awesome. I had learned to love having my boobs played with by the girls, although it was hard to concentrate on my breasts when Michelle was busy between my legs, hungrily eating my pussy.

Nowthat felt totally amazing.

"Baby, I just have to..." Michelle would say, then she'd make me roll over onto my stomach, the way she'd done it that time. "Your ass is to die for," she said, grinning as she slapped it.

More and more she was always saying things like that to me, then she'd kiss and lick my ass...everywhere. Even with the other girls watching, she didn't care. It was like she couldn't get enough, the way she would feast on my bottom.

I'd almost become addicted to it. I just loved being eaten, and I especially loved when they would all attack me together.

Sometimes Trish would do it Michelle's way, although she was usually very specific in her approach. Michelle was more general about the things she did to me, kissing and licking all over my bottom. Besides eating my pussy, sometimes she'd even slip her tongue inside my bottom, deep into my tiniest hole, which always made me jump. I loved it--god, I loved it--but it always made me jump. I couldn't help it.

Trish? She just had to bite me down there. She always made the cutest growling sounds while nipping and biting my bottom. Sometimes she even bit my asshole, then she would open me up and slide her long tongue all the way inside. With Trish it wasn't so much about eating my pussy; she did that too, definitely, but it was usually much more about devouring my bottom.

I wasn't complaining about any of it, since I loved it, but I always wondered why they only seemed to gang up on me? I have a cute bottom, I guess, but so do the other girls. Michelle got me started on licking hers, then Trish recruited me too, and they're both awesome. Seriously, I could happily spend my whole day licking between their legs, I enjoy it that much. The thing is, whenever I went down on them, especially if I was on my stomach, at least one of the other girls would immediately attack my vulnerable bottom.

I just always wondered why they didn't attack each other the same way.

Before the final game of the season, the girls told me that in addition to the official awards ceremony our coach holds for us every year we were also going to have our own little team ceremony, which would be a private thing just between us cheerleaders.

"Once Coach goes home, meet us in the locker room tonight. Plan on eleven o'clock," instructed Michelle.

When I snuck into our locker room that night, all the lights were off. Apparently none of the other girls had made it back yet, and being alone there was really spooky.

"Hello? Michelle? Trish? Is anyone here? Lisa? Hello?" I called out in the darkness.

All around me, candles were suddenly lit. There were flickering lights on either side of me, each held up by one of the cheerleaders. They were lined up in two opposing rows, forming a lighted pathway.

From out of the pitch-black distance a five-pointed star of flickering lights appeared, and began slowly moving toward us. As the lights drew near, I saw that it was Michelle holding a cake decorated with an array of lit candles. Beside her was Trish, carrying a huge trophy. When they reached the two rows of girls, all the cheerleaders fanned out behind them to form a semi-circle around me.

Alhough I was still a bit spooked, the girls' welcoming smiles put me at ease, and I giggled, "What's all this? It's not my birthday, you know."

"We know," Michelle said, smiling warmly. "This isn't about your birthday. I told you, tonight is our private awards ceremony. As it turns out, there's only one award, and you're the winner. Tonight we give you your prize. Since you're leaving us to go out west to college, you big jerk, this is also sort of a going-away present. It's just a little something to help our gorgeous star remember us."