Hungry Cheerleader

PROLOGUE

Hi! I’m Angela, I’m eighteen years old and I’ve been studying at North West State University for the last five months. I’m living in a student dorm after leaving home last September and I’ve met a bevy of great female friends. There’s Becky, Caroline, Daphne and Emma, and the five of us make up the college cheerleading squad.

At home, it never really occurred to me that I was beautiful, although I guess I’m conventionally good-looking, maybe even great-looking, in fact: I have long, brown, wavy hair, medium-sized 34C breasts, an athletic body, and long, smooth legs, plus a tight butt that sticks out when I wear the short cheerleading skirt I need to wear.

Now, though, I have discovered the joys of being desired, popular, the center of attention and the male gaze, where guys all across campus look at me and dream to be with me — to date me, kiss me, love me, and eff me; and all this has transformed my opinion of myself.

Now I have the confidence to flirt, banter and attract all kinds of men, plus I have really begun to explore my body as a sexual being. I have used my time in the dorm to explore my body, my breasts, my pussy; and have had many hot self-sessions in the dorm showers.

It helps to be surrounded by four other gorgeous women cheerleaders, too. Becky is tall, blond, with fabulous 34D breasts, complete with wide areolae and pointed, luscious nipples, an athletic body slightly curvier than mine, and equally long legs; Caroline is dark-haired, with a curvy body, somewhat shorter, but with big, round breasts and long nipples, plus thicker legs; Daphne is a lighter, ash blonde with a more willowy frame, smaller breasts, maybe 32B, but perfectly formed and firm, with a long torso, slim hips and the longest legs among us; while Emma is a redhead, with dead straight hair, pale, white skin, bright pink nipples, fleshy, yummy breasts, wide hips and muscled legs.

I know all this about their bodies because we have come to exploring each other’s bodies in the dorm room, and now I know their bodies almost as well as I do my own.

Six weeks ago, all five of us attended a small party in the football clubhouse over by the college stadium, where we met the team of jocks representing NWSU’s football team. Things went well until one of the shyer guys drank too much beer and bumped his head when he passed out on the floor. He went to hospital to be treated for concussion.

That was bad for him, but it was great for me, since I had a major crush on Coach Jake Saxon, who was a senior just last year and had come back this year to informally coach the team. I’m only eighteen, so he dismissed me as just some ditzy freshman, but after I marshaled the players and cheerleaders and helped one of his players at the hospital, he’d been impressed by the maturity I had displayed. One thing had led to another, and we had ended up in bed together back at his place and had had THE. BEST. SEX. EVER.

However, just two weeks later, Jake yelled at my friends when they refused to join a competitive cheerleading competition held in the civic center downtown. I decided this was a red flag, and we had an argument and split up. I still went to the competition alone, though. The civic center was under repair, and when I accidentally walked into the men’s toilets because some dufus construction worker had taken the signs off the door, I had come face-to-face with Patrick, one of the male cheerleaders in another team. He had flirted, and we agreed to meet up at the gym in the same building at twelve, where we had a fantastic, incredible sex session, helped by his well-endowed status.

We went out for a month, before he suddenly told me that his team had qualified to go on a national tour. I was thrilled for him, but not when he told me he would be away for four weeks. We agreed that it would be unfair on both of us to expect absolute fidelity from each other while apart, after dating for such a short time, and instead agreed to make up for lost time by him getting together with all five of us for some personal time when he got back.

I had felt down about his departure, but a chance meeting with a somewhat hardcore lesbian in the college canteen had transformed me in both attitude and opinion. I raced back to the dorm and, after purchasing a dildo at a sex store, the five of us cheerleaders had the best sex session we’d ever experienced.

Well, now the four weeks are almost over, and Patrick’s coming back. The other four girls are totally excited to experience his huge manhood. I, on the other hand, am curious to know whether he scored with any other woman while he was away on tour with the guys…

CHAPTER ONE

“Well, he should be here any minute,” I announced to the four other women across the dorm. “He said he would be arriving at 2:30.”

“It’s 2:10 now,” said Emma, looking at her watch.

Daphne sidled up to me. “Looking forward to reacquainting yourself with your man, Ange?” she smirked.

“And his huge cock?” asked Caroline, with a grin.

I raised one hand. “Enough already. The fact is, I wanna know what he’s been up to.”

“Cheerleading, like us, silly,” said our head cheerleader, Becky, walking towards me.

I bit my lower lip. “I know.” I paused.

Caroline put one hand on her hip. “If you’re concerned whether he’s seen any other women, you know the score.”

“Yeah, you told him straight yourself,” added Emma.

Daphne softened. “You said you didn’t need him to be faithful, because you didn’t think you would be able to yourself.”

I sighed, then looked at my four friends in turn. “It’s just that — I kind of hope in my heart that he was, even though I didn’t force him to be. You know? Like, he refrained because he thought I was amazing, he thought sex with me was the best he’d ever had, because he thought I was special, and more special than any other woman he’d met, or would ever meet.”

Becky put her hand on mine. “I know what you mean, hun; but you’ve been going out for FOUR WEEKS. You’re talking like you’re about to marry the guy and have six kids; plus you’re a freshman and all of eighteen years old. What do you wanna do — settle down in a country cottage like two peas in a pod, knitting woollen gloves in a rocking chair and talking about the good old days?”

“Yeah, babe,” said Emma. “Like, eighteen is wild — you’ve got a life of hot guys and even hotter sex to look forward to, amazing lovers to meet, places to go, countries to travel to, cultures to experience, sunsets to watch, kisses and hugs to enjoy from all manner of people, you name it; the sky’s the limit.”

“You can’t — and won’t — get all that from one guy, and it’s a disaster to think that he’s The One after just a month of dating,” said Caroline.

“Right! Look at all the poor girls who got knocked up as teenagers and had a shotgun wedding, with four kids by the age of twenty-five and working at some greasy-spoon diner to pay the rent,” said Daphne. “Is that what you want?”

I turned to look out of the window. “I guess not,” I said, quietly.

“All this angst for an eight-inch cock,” smiled Emma.

I burst out laughing. “It’s not like that!”

Caroline came over. “Yeah, but the way you’re acting, it’s not far off it.”

“No way!” I replied. “I don’t care what size his cock is.”

“Yeah, right!” cried Emma. “There are only thirty days in a month, babe, and you must have spent around eighteen of them effing that cock like your life depended on it; and on at least three occasions, twice a day. He’s built like an athlete, and can pound that thing into you like you’ve never seen before. Face up to it, babe — you couldn’t get enough of that thing when you had it.”

I thought back on my month of passion with Patrick. I guess there was some truth to what Emma was saying.

“So that’s why you’re feeling this way, I would venture,” said Caroline. “The fact is, if his cock was four inches and he didn’t have pecs and biceps and abs, and instead was some skinny dweeb with glasses and a beer belly, and was terrible in bed, would you feel the same way about his fidelity?”

I looked back out of the window again to think about that. The image of Patrick as an unattractive, sexually clueless dweeb declaring his undying fidelity to me filled me with apprehension.

“HA! I knew it,” declared Caroline, smirking. She walked off.

I turned back to my friends, and looked at them briefly, before burying my head in my hands. “Oh, wow, girls,” I stammered out. “You must think I’m so awful. I’m — so — shallow!”

They laughed good-naturedly.

“Don’t sweat it, babe,” smiled Daphne. “Every woman’s been there at least once in her life.”

“Or else she’s lying,” said Caroline.

“On top of that, can we mention something else?” added Emma. “A certain little session between ourselves that was super-wild, all thanks to Michelle the Sideboob Lesbian’s canteen advice? Does that count?”

“Well, that was between ourselves,” I said.

“It still counts, babe,” Daphne remonstrated. “You can hardly call him out for being unfaithful to one woman he might have met in a hotel room someplace, when you’ve already effed Becky with a seven-inch dildo and given all our thirsty pussies some serious lovin’.”

“Wow, that was awesome,” remarked Becky, her eyes sparkling at the memory.

I sighed once more, and looked at them all. “I guess so, girls. I can’t exactly yell at the guy if he has, can I?”

“No, you can’t,” replied Becky. “Especially when you actually told him he didn’t need to be faithful when you weren’t exactly planning to be either.”

“Right.” I paused, wondering whether I had been stupid to issue such a statement to him. Then I remembered how all this was because of his huge cock and his big balls and his pecs and abs and, and, and… “BUMMER! I’m so annoyed with myself! Was I born this shallow, or did he make me this way?”

“That’s what great sex can do to a girl,” smiled Caroline. “It’s addictive.”

“Yeah. Your brain just makes up excuses for the next fix,” agreed Emma.

“Maybe so,” I thought, out loud.

“Now, one more thing,” said Becky. “What about your promise to US? If I remember rightly, there was something about all five of us getting to share that yummy big cock of his.”