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I get off on the feeling I'm not supposed to be there, not supposed to be alone with Lissa Brewer's boyfriend, not supposed to spread my legs for his ...therwise-denied hard-on. I've always hated supposed-tos.Once we're inside his bedroom, his big hands seize and squeeze my boobs through the tight sweater. His kisses begin at my lips, quick but nice."Tastes good, Hotcakes, but lose the gum, huh?"It's bland by now anyway. I turn and spit into the trash can. "Tryin' to quit smoking. Gimme a break.". They pushed herinto a fish pond. "That'll clean her up. Those fishwill eat anything."As she stood there in waist-deep water, unseencatfish swirled around her legs, their whiskersstroking her skin, penetrating the clefts of her body,as they ate the filth from her skin. She staggered inthe mud of the bottom, bent over and vomited theawful mixtures from her swollen stomach, and triedto find a way out of the pond. As she tried to climbthe bank, her rump was exposed enough that thecrowd could. ‘I’m having a beer,’ Spencer said directly in my ear, his breath fanning across my ear, cheek and neck, sending delicious shivers through my body. ‘Do you want something to drink?’ he continued and leant down so I could answer him without yelling. ‘Beer,’ I replied. He gave me an exasperated look. I always asked for beer but never told him which one. I knew it annoyed him, so I did it all the time. He continued to look at me expectantly while I smiled sweetly. ‘Which one, Edie?’ he finally. It was the first pep rally of the season, and Whitehill needed all the pep and luck it could get. Whitehill was typically the laughingstock of high school football. Brett wasn't a particularly adept quarterback, and the rest of the team was even worse. However, the school promised that this year would be different. In fact, they announced there would be a surprise at the pep rally. Kristen was very excited that Whitehill could potentially end its losing ways.The school bell rang at 2:00, and.
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