Tracey was really hot after her exciting experience with Mr. Dalton, the way he had pumped off his enormous prick just to her, how his cock exploded, the lusty arch of his creamy load as it flew high through the air and showered her.
She went to the bathroom and used paper towels to clean the cum from her body, her skirt and her tits. She tried to get herself back together for the game. She wanted to be good at cheerleading.
Tracey put her hair into double ponytails, and they enhanced the round cameo of her beautiful face. She applied a thick red rouge to her cheeks, and glossed her precious lips with a cherry gloss. She straightened her short skirt, pulled her knee socks tight, and trotted to the football field.
Once she was out, performing with the girls to the heavy, brassy beat of the school band, she thought again about the way Mr. Dalton had whacked off to her.
The passion, the love, the complete captivation.
She bumped her hips to the right and to the left, exaggerating the movement. She spread her legs, set them apart as far as they would go, and did a front-dip, squatting down, knees cocked, skirt up.
She swayed left, swayed right, legs out, knees cocked, her skirt up.
"Wow," she said in a whisper. "I'm gettin' hot."
Indeed she was. Her royal blue bloomers gooshed with the flood of cuntjuice that seeped into the slick satin.
Tracey lifted high, her ass arched. A big, hot view of her ass. Her bloomers. She swayed right and left, wiggling her ass, working it with gusto, relishing the hot stares she was receiving from the boys and men seated in the bleachers.
The band played.
Tracey danced.
Her cunt creamed. She was a sex-starved darling. She wanted to fuck.
"I wanna screw!" she whispered to herself, a smile on her lips for the stands. "I wanna lay it down! I wanna make it! I wanna fuck! I wanna see someone jack-off!"
It thrilled her to show off like this. She loved seeing the reaction of the men and boys. She moved two wide steps forward, two back, put her hands on her hips, and did a set of high kicks, giving the bleachers a hot look at the squishy pull of her bloomers.
"Mmmmm, wow, look at 'em look at me," she whispered, still smiling, kicking her legs up higher than any of the other girls, so that a man in the top row, with a camera and telescopic lens, could take a juicy picture of her crotch.
She saw him up there, focusing on her, his camera pointing at her. Her legs kicked. He clicked.
"He's gonna jerk himself while he looks at those pictures. I just know he will," Tracey said to herself.
She came down, bent over, put her knowing hands on her knees, and swished them back and forth. Her huge tits splashed full and hot, pushing like two balloons of water against bet vest.
Tracey had her neck craned up, her face forward, and she moved her ass around and around. She looked straight up at the man with the camera. Her cunt quivered. She wanted to play with a good hard prick. She was one girl who appreciated a man who could sit and take pictures of her so blatantly. She rewarded him for his admiration. She put on an explosive show each time the thrilling high school cheerleaders took to the field to boogie with the band.
After the game, the excitement of the routines, the action, Tracey and the other girls were gathering their pom-poms, getting ready to leave the field, when the man with the camera came down.
Amid all the noise, the excitement of a win, he asked if he could take a picture of Tracey.
"Just me?" she asked.
"Uh-huh."
"Well, okay," she said, put one hand on her hip, threw her hip out, then stuck her arm straight forward in a rah-rah position. The man took several pictures.
"Thank you," he said.
Tracey saw the hard-on that bulged in his slacks. He was a man in his forties, a man who appreciated youthful beauty. He was polite, handsome, tall, and there was something magnetic about him.
"Okay," Tracey said.
"You were fantastic today," he said, putting his camera in a bag.
"Thank you."
"I shall come see you the next game here," he said, then turned and left.
"Hope you like all those pictures you took of me," Tracey yelled after him in a teasing voice.
He looked over his shoulder and smiled.
Tracey smiled back. She just loved being a cheerleader.
As she walked through the parking lot to the school, she was astonished to find Eugene sitting on the tender of his red pick-up.
"Hi," he said.
"Eeek! Eugene! What are you doing here," Tracey asked, putting on a little for him.
"Came to see you."
"I thought you were in college."
"I drove five hours to get here."
"I'm busy! I'm goin' with some of the girls to the pizza parlor!"
The girls were now standing in a group at the edge of the parking lot, waiting for Tracey.
"Tell 'em you'll meet 'em later," Eugene said.
"No!"
"Come on. I gotta see you."
"No you don't," she said. "Look, I brought some money. Here. How's this?" He pulled just the tip of a hundred from his pocket.
"Huh," Tracey said. "A hundred dollars?"
"Uh, yup."
"Well, okay then. You can see me for a little while. But just a little while," Tracey said. She yelled to the other cheerleaders and told them to go without her.
She walked to the car, leaned in close to Eugene, and said: "And if you come sneaking around here again with a hard-on, don't you dare ever tell any of those girls you're my cousin, got it?"
He nodded.
"So… here am I," Tracey said.
"Get in," Eugene said.
She jumped into the seat of the pick-up as he held the door open. He went around and climbed in.
"I can't be too long, Eugene. Whaddya want?"
He gunned the truck and drove out.
"Where we goin', Eugene? I told you, not too long."
"Out of here, somewhere private."
His hand slipped over the seat. He moved his fingers over her smooth thigh. He dipped under her pleated skirt.
"No, stop! Not in here," Tracey said, pulling away.
"Come on, lemme feel," Eugene said. "Uh-uh."
"You know what I want, don't you?"
"You probably wanna fuck me," Tracey said, leaning against the door, her legs crossed, her big tits pushing provocatively against her light-blue vest.
Her dark pleated skirt swirled on her legs, high up, affording Eugene lots of nice thigh.
"Yeah, I wanna fuck and do lots of things," he said.
"Well, I can't."
"Yes, yes you can, Tracey."
"No, you're my cousin, Eugene."
"So?"
"Well, I won't do anything."
"Ah, come on. I drove all the way up here and stuff."
"Here," he said, and pulled out his money. He handed it over. Tracey took it and examined the funny picture of Ben Franklin on the front. Then she put it in her purse.
"Pull your skirt up," he said.
"Like this?" Tracey asked, her chin low, a grin on her face. She kept her legs crossed on the seat and biked her cheerleading skirt up on her waist.
"Uncock your legs," Eugene said. "Oh, so you wanna see up my legs, huh, Eugene?"
"Yeah!"
"You got a big hard-on already!" Tracey whispered, a gleam in her eyes, her smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"I know."
"Uncross my legs like this?" she asked, lifting her crossed leg high, holding it up, giving Eugene a hot look at the crotch of her bright blue bloomers.
"Yeah!" he whispered huskily.
"And then pull my legs apart, like this?" she asked, throwing one leg up on the seat, the other planted on the floor of the truck. She leaned back, sliding down against the door.
"Oh, Tracey!" he gasped, unzipping his fly, yanking out his hot cock.
"Eugene! You shouldn't take your cock out like that," Tracey said, pointing a finger at him and wagging it.
"Yes, I should!"
"Turn here, Eugene, yeah, right here."
Eugene turned onto a side street.
"So what do you want me to do?" Tracey asked.
"Play with my cock!"
"Play with it like this?" she asked, moving over oh the seat, fluttering her fingers along his rigid prick.
"Yes!"
"Boy, you got a good hard-on here, Eugene."
"For you!"
He reached over and stuck his hand between her legs, dug his itchy, young fingers into the satin softness of her crotch.
"You're gonna feel my pussy, aren't you?"
"Yeah!" he gasped, pressing his fingertips into her cunt.
Tracey grasped his cock. She pumped it up and down. Eugene got his hand into her pants. He slid his fingers into the naughty nest of cunthair. She jerked his cock. Her hand flared. Eugene fingered into her pussy.
"Turn right here, Eugene," Tracey said, and bent over. She licked her tongue over the head of his hard cock.
He turned, fingerfucking her, his hand into the crotch of her bloomers.
"This is what you wanted!" she whispered sexily, her hand blazing on his cock. "You wanted me to give you a good hand-job, didn't you?"
"Yes!" he cried.
"That's what I'm doing, Eugene. I'm beatin' your meat for you!" she whispered, almost like a cheer as her hand hammered Eugene's prick. "Boy, your cock is getting big, Eugene. It's really bulging up here."
Then Eugene shot his wad. He sprayed the dash. Tracey jerked his hard cock with a speed that sent Eugene into a new dimension of pleasure. The creamy shower drenched the speedometer, splattered on the brakes. He shot off all over the truck, and Tracey didn't let up until she had milked him dry, then pumped out one more gob.
His finger had stopped, but now he picked up the beat. Tracey leaned back, thumbed her bloomers, pulled them down on her thigh, and watched him fuck his finger in and out of her sucking cunt.
"That-a-boy, Eugene, do it good for me!" she whispered, rolling her hips off the seat, humping up to his finger.
"Mmmmm!" he moaned.
"Now, Eugene, fuck my cunt with your finger now! Yeah, right – now!"
Tracey came.
When she finished tingling, she said: "U-turn here, then turn left, Eugene."
They drove down the street and ended up back at the school.
"Stop here," Tracey said, and opened the door.
She looked back up at Eugene, his cock still out, still hard.
"Come see me again sometime," she said.