Date: Wed, 17 Oct 2007 00:34:29 -0400
From: majalistic@gmail.com
Subject: Bookworm - Part 1 (TG)

     He was the envy of the whole school.  I was a nobody, a loner, and
nobody would notice if I disappeared.  I used that to my advantage.  His
name was Trevor, and mine was Alex.  I told him my name was Sara.  But I'm
getting ahead of myself.

     It was just after he broke up with Jennifer Kidwick, prom-queen-to-be.
She was too strong for him, I think.  Trevor spent a lot of time in the
library, surprising for a jock, sitting in the west wing, which was almost
partitioned away from the school, in a little walled off section with only
three windows, all facing to the west, where there was a downward slope, so
while the library was on the first floor of the building, there was nothing
but sky if you looked out the window.  There was one computer there, in the
corner, completely hidden.  Before Trevor took it over, that area (and the
computer) was my haven.  I spent two or more hours after school every day
just reading in books or on the internet, and he took that from me.  What
did he spend his time looking at?

     Porn.

     To be precise, "schoolgirl" porn.  All innocent, all thigh-highs and
pigtails. I could tell because he left a digital trail, even if he deleted
the history, I could still tell by the cookies what sites he had visited,
what videos he had streamed.  I could tell that he had a particular
interest in the girls that "passed" for innocent moreso than the
thirty-something full-bodied whores with caked mascara and a plaid skirt.

     Everyone in the school knew that Jennifer wouldn't put out for him, or
anybody, and that, despite his previous success with women (on numerous
occasions), poor Trevor hadn't had any for months.  Eventually, she broke
it off.

     I didn't hate Trevor, persay, but I was glad to see him put in his
place, somewhat.  He wasn't a meathead; on the contrary, he was actually
pretty intelligent for an athlete.  He didn't spend all his time looking at
porn in the library, as he did have a genuine interest in reading and
researching things that interested him.  I noticed that he stopped going to
his usual hangouts after school in lieu of visiting the library once him
and Jennifer broke up, to avoid seeing her.  It was then that I came up
with a plan to get my haven back.

     I didn't think it was going to work, but if anything happened, I had
my anonymity, and with that gone, my conspicuousness to save me.  Nobody at
school ever took notice of me.  It was, in that way, the perfect crime.  I
found out his username was "TomcatDreams," and one day, while he was busy
in the back wing of the library, I sat down at one of the other computers
and made my move.

     "Hi," I said, using the username "BookKitty."  It was all I could
think of at the time.  He didn't respond for a bit, and I followed up with
"sorry to bother you."

     "No, it's fine.  Who is this?"

     I paused to think.  "You wouldn't know me.  I'm an aide working in the
library, but I try to hide myself if I can."

     "Oh?  What's your name?"

     I was prepared for this. "Sara."

     "Hello, Sara.  What's up?"

     "I was just wondering...  Are you doing anything tomorrow, after
school?  I was hoping maybe we could sit in the west wing and, ya know,
talk."

     There was a long pause.  I took out a pen and paper and started to
write, minimized the window so if he came over to look at the other
computers scattered about, he wouldn't suspect me.  Eventually, he
responded.

     "Sure.  I was gonna be here anyway."

     And with that, the trap was set.

     I figured if Trevor had a fallout with another girl who wouldn't put
out, he'd want to avoid her common hangout.  And so, Sara, the library aide
came to be.  I had it all worked out.  If any teacher asked, I'd simply say
that I was observing the class without credit, and then I'd hand things in
with my name.  No teachers used verbal attendance, just attendance sheets
(which led to people cutting and forging for their friends), and so no
teacher knew who I was.  All the while, I'd be dressed like a nerdy,
book-loving library girl.  Not too far off from the truth, anyway.

     "All right, thanks!  Um... I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

     "Wait, why don't we talk right now?" he said, and I could hear him
stumble out of his chair.  I gathered up my things and ran out of the
library in a hurry before he could make it out.  I'm sure he was scratching
his head, wondering how he never saw a cute library aide before.

     When I get home, my mother is asleep in her room, like she always was.
She doesn't do much, not since my father died (he was a veteran, so she
gets a check in the mail once a month), and so I rarely see her.

     I steady myself to the task ahead.

     I'm short, and I don't have much musculature to me, and I'm not very
weighty.  I do have somewhat wide hips, and if I do have any fat on my
body, it's in my butt, which is an odd thing for a boy.  I don't have much
body hair, but what I do have, I need to shave, which I take to first.  I
figure if I need to act feminine, I'll need to feel feminine, so I remove
the hair even in the places it won't matter.  I bathe to wash it all off
and clean myself, and lay out my clothes for the morning.  When I wake up,
I'll shower again, and take my time to get dressed.

     In the morning, dressing is a challenge.  I decide to wear a bra,
somewhat padded but without anything extra, as I assume he won't mind a
small-breasted girl.  I wear a white cotton blouse, and a plaid, knee-high
skirt, over full-bottomed white panties, which I find a bit uncomfortable.
Thigh high stockings underneath, with bows on the end, bows in my hair to
tie it into pigtails, and a bow at the back of my skirt.  I try not to go
overboard.  I decide to go unperfumed, as I think that will ruin it for
him.  My shoes are small, and fit fine, and only have a bit of a flat heel.
I look into the mirror, blush, and bite my lip, and try to look innocent
for the person looking back. I say in a cute, somewhat academic, somewhat
bubbly voice, "Hi, I'm Sara!"  I think I'll do it!

     The date goes as planned, and I see him waiting, book in hand, when I
walk into the west wing.  He looks up at me and smiles, and I see him once,
twice me over, obviously surprised.  I worry that he realizes the game.

     "Hey there!" he says, and gets up.  He reaches out to shake my hand,
and when I give it to him, palm down, he takes me by the fingers and lifts
them up to his face, but being the gentleman, he doesn't kiss.  He lets me
have my hand back and I'm sure his smile is because of my beet-red cheeks.

     We have a seat together and talk about a lot of things, but most
importantly, we talk about Jennifer.  I maintain that she's a nice girl,
but she doesn't know what she wants.  He asks me if I know what I want, and
I say "yes," but I'm quick to bring up schoolwork and book titles.

     At the end of the chat, I get up to leave, and he asks me to stay.  I
tell him I have to get home to cook for my mother, and he accepts that.
Before I leave, he calls out my name.

     "Sara!"  I turn around.  "So, I mean, was that good for you?"

     An idea comes to mind and I blush again and look frantically around.
He laughs a bit, and I say, "yeah, that was fun."

     "Same time tomorrow then?" he asks.

     "Sure."

     He still didn't seem satisfied. "And the day after that?"

     "Yes, I'd like that," I say, politely.  I can see him watching me as I
leave.

     And we continue on like that for two weeks.  By now, everybody knows
that I'm dating the great Trevor Lebon, and some girls ask me where we
date.  I tell them it's a secret.  The only other people who know aren't
exactly part of the high social circles, so they'll never ask them, and
they'll never know to tell.  He occasionally leans in for a kiss, and I
pretend not to notice and get excited about something else.  I figure a
month of the too-innocent-for-play game, and he'll crack, and I can get him
out of the library forever.

     One day, I'm talking with him about "how girls hint."  I try to come
up with ways girls drop subtle and less-subtle hints that they're
interested in a guy, or want something from a guy, etc etc, mostly stuff
I've seen in movies and anime.  He seems intensely interested in this, when
suddenly I hear the librarian calling for my name.  My real name.  I've
carefully avoided her until now, and I'm worried she might recognize me, so
without explaining to Trevor why, I hide under the desk.

     "Oh, I'm sorry, I was just looking for a student, have you seen him?
Alex?"

     "Nope, sorry ma'am," says Trevor, perturbed by my presence under the
desk He's worried the librarian will get the wrong idea, I guess, so he
makes sure I'm hidden.

     "I thought I heard voices... oh well.  Ah, I see you're reading
Butler," she says, and sits opposite him, pulling my book over to flip
through it, I assume.

     "Yes, yes," says Trevor.  The hand on his leg moves slightly over, and
to my horror, I see him pull down his zipper.  I nudge on his pants, trying
to demand an explanation, and in response, he reaches in and pulls himself
out.  I almost yell, but swallow my scream.  It could be the most "massive"
penis I've ever seen, and I have seen a fair share of pornography.  It's
not strange looking, but it is wide and long, and cut; it's like a larger
version of what people think of when they think of "penis."  I wonder why
he's taking this chance, and then I realize our previous conversation.
I've sent him a signal, and he's interpreting it.  By getting under the
desk, I was asking "let me see it."  By tugging at his leg, I was saying
"hurry."

     I look away from his trouser-serpent, and look back to see that the
librarian is stretching her legs out.  I quietly shimmy myself away from
her, closer to Trevor and I try not to think of it, closer to his member,
which is semi-erect.  The librarian keeps stretching her legs, and I keep
moving closer to avoid it, until I must move in between Trevor's legs.  I
am on my knees, and I've craned my neck to the side to avoid touching it.
He squeezes his legs closer together, and moves my shoulders, and, in a
moment of utter panic, his penis lays across my cheek.  The second it
touches my skin, I feel it jump, and it starts to grow, until it passes my
ear.  I've never been so embarrassed.  I try not to think about it.

     He and the librarian keep talking, and I tap on his knee to try and
get him to loosen his grip. He interprets the signal.  He takes his hand,
and grabs himself.  I try not to fight him, as the librarian will certainly
now notice a struggle, even unintended, if I oppose his force.  He lifts it
up and centers it pointing up, almost touching my face, and then tries to
lower it, and nudges my shoulder back with his other hand so that I can
move my head back a bit to give him room.  I try to move my neck back as
far as I can, and he lowers the lever slowly, until he gets it horizontal.
The head is perhaps a centimeter from my lips, and my neck is killing me.
I have to move it forward, or I'll cramp and certainly make a noise.  I'm
nearly hyperventilating, and I inch my face a bit closer, and then, with
nowhere else to go, I part my lips and Trevor feels lip gloss, and then the
puckered lips of a cute girl kiss him affectionately, suckling on his
member gently.  I look around to try not to remind myself of what I am
kissing, perhaps it is his knee, when I feel a bit of salt on my lower lip,
drip down under my tongue.  I think for a second, and then nearly gag when
I realize what it is, but, again, I hide my reaction best I can.  I wonder
how long my first- and last- perverse make-out session with Trevor will
last, when his hand on my shoulder rises up my neck, and then onto the back
of my head.  I feel a pull, and my eyes widen wider than they've ever been.
I do a quick, puckered kiss on his tip, and then try to retract my lips,
but I cannot, as I try to signal "I just wanted to give you a kiss, that's
all!" but Trevor understands it as "I'm ready to blow you, baby."

     Again, I can't fight the force, which isn't too strong, but nothing I
can pretend not to notice.  It is determined.  I have to, I tell myself.
Resolved to my fate, I let myself lean forward, and my lips start to slide
around his shaft.  It is the strangest feeling imaginable. Past the head,
it is not so thin, and I need to open my jaw a bit to avoid touching him to
my teeth.  His hand massages the back of my head, as if to say "in
exchange," but a poor exchange it is, serving only to further humiliate me.
I realize I'm going to suck off Trevor Lebon, just to have the west wing
back to myself.  By the ways my cheeks are starting to puff out, I suppose
it's more appropriate to say that I'm going to "blow" him.  It could be
worse.  Just once, I'll fellate Trevor, and no one will know.

     I go further and further down, until eventually, he pushes my shoulder
a bit, and let's go of his cock.  He puts both hands on my shoulders, and I
start to lean back, off of him.  I get to the tip, and his shoulders stop
me from letting him slip out.  He is fully, terrifying erect now, and I see
the length that he expects of my mouth.  It's impossible.

     He massages my neck and my cheeks, and plays with my pigtails a bit.
The librarian is still chatting away, but he's suddenly silent.  He pulls
forward my face again, and I go a bit further than before, and he pulls me
off again.  I start to suckle on him, to try and get him to finish up
faster.  He interprets this as he wishes, as he "rewards" me with more
precum that falls on my tongue.

     I go deeper and deeper with each suck, until eventually I'm blowing
him shallow, which Trevor enjoys, but quickly tires of.  To make best use
of the situation we're in, he wants to utilize minimum movement and maximum
sensation.  With both hands on the back of my head, he firmly pulls my body
forward, along with my shoulders, and I struggle a bit instinctively,
trying to tell him that I don't love him, but he pulls me forward all the
way so that I can love him properly.  At a certain point, I have to open my
throat to allow him in deeper, and I do so, and suddenly, my face is in his
crotch, and I can't even see anything but him.  I feel the urge building up
in me, and I can't fight it, and I gag, loud and relieving.  I'm sure
Trevor, if he can still think at this point, realizes now that this is my
first blowjob, and is deeply satisfied by the idea, but the librarian stops
midsentence.  I can feel a splash of precum in my throat, which I swallow
automatically, and I wonder if Trevor imagines me the thirstiest girl alive
right now.  A single tear rolls down my cheek, as I want to be anywhere but
here, and my mouth is too full, my lips stretched wide, my throat forced
open, and I don't want to be found doing what I'm doing by anybody.

     The librarian seems to be confused, as her body turns this way and
that.

     "Did you hear that?"

     "No," he says, and pulls my head off a bit, so that it is horizontal
to the floor.  Instead of pulling me forward, he thrusts his hips forward a
bit, and I am confused by this for a moment until I realized that his has
moved his penis back down to the entrance of my throat, which I allow to
open, but not without some difficult, and a muffled gag escapes me again.

     "That!" says the librarian, and Trevor withdraws again.  He starts to
thrust in, just a bit now, and I try to remain quiet, but there are faint
sucking sounds, and I tear again.

     "Nope."

     "I must be losing it.  Well, good evening, Mr. Lebon.  Please keep
this area tidy, the previous, 'owner,' so to speak, was very dutiful in
keeping it clean."

     I know Trevor is thinking about the trail of saliva and precum that is
spilling out of the corner of my lips, down my chin, and onto the floor.  I
feel another splash of precum.

     "I will, Miss."

     "Very good.  Be vigilant now!" she says, and I hear her walk away.
Trevor is now very vigilant.

     He pulls the chair back and pulls me forward, lips still sealed onto
his cock.  If the librarian walks back now, she'll see a cute girl on her
hands and knees, worshipping Trevor's massive cock, and she'd never
question the scene a second. He stands up and starts to thrust, his hands
on the back of my head.

     I look up at Trevor, my mouth full, and my eyes meet his, and I plead
with him.  All he sees is a girl asking for, begging for something, and he
starts to thrust more.  I feel him tense up, and I maintain eye contact
even though my face is on fire with embarrassment, hoping he'll take pity
on me, and every time I gag and muffle a sound, one eye squints, and he
seems to love that.  I cling to his shirt with both hands, and I'm lying my
body against his legs, up on my knees.  My cheeks are puffed out and my
eyes are making tears, hot and salty, flow down my face, taking a small
portion of my eye shadow with it.  I must have a mask of lust on, to him.
At one point, I am so desperate, I even try to say "please," but it comes
out "mmngh," and I feel more juice sprays into my mouth.

     I've teased him for two weeks and Jennifer held out on him for months,
and I can see that he's full of stress.  At first, I don't understand what
this means, until a minute or so later, when I feel him tensing, and he
insists on making eye contact.  He's going to feed me his pride.  I'm going
to swallow it, and feel proud.  I'm about to make all of Trevor's problems,
all of his anxieties, all of his worries, go away.  And he's going to fill
my mouth with them.  I think that no one will know but me and him, but this
is no consolation, as to him, I am the cute, shy girl that sucked his
satisfaction right out of him, and had the courtesy to burp a girly burp
after, to show my own satisfaction.  I can't let it happen.

     I try to pull my head away but his hands are too strong, and I can't
seem to close my eyes, though my body wants me too.  He looks me in the
eye, and "Oh, Sara, sorry!" as if he knows, and then his whole body tenses,
and my eyes are wide looking at his.  At first, nothing happens, and I feel
a great relief come over me.  Then, his cock twitches, and his stress
bursts out of it, filling my mouth, puffing out my cheeks, humiliating me,
and I'm crying full on now, though I can't sob or I'll choke, and I stop
pawing at his clothing and just hold on to it, breathless, and I've never
tasted it before but I know what it is, I know it tastes just like spunk.
It twitches again and more pours out, and I want to gag, but can't, and
instinctively, though I try to fight the reflex, I swallow hard, and feel
his load, thick in my belly.  I suckle on it because I have no choice, and
he twitches again, more and more, and I keep swallowing, and his eyes never
leave mine, and he must have fallen in love with this dutiful, clean girl,
but I want to vomit, though his eyes are a bit of a comfort, as I know he
doesn't see the boy in me at all.  No one will ever know.

     Eventually, he finishes, and pulls himself, semi-erect, from my mouth.
I gag, for a second, but nothing comes out, and then I burp, and he laughs
a hearty laugh, as he pulls me to my feet.  I can barely see straight, or
stand, and I see that he's having trouble himself.  He pats my head, and
then kisses me, full on my mouth, and then wipes his mouth clean.  I don't
wipe myself clean yet, not wanting to offend him.

     "Sara, I haven't cum in two months, so maybe that's it, but I don't
think so.  That was by far, the best orgasm I've ever had."  He pats my
head again, and hugs me to his chest, and I can't fight him off because I'm
too weary.  "How was that?" he asks me.

     I want to tell him the truth, that I'm going to go home, either force
myself to vomit or eat as much as I can, though I'm not really hungry now,
and then maybe cry myself to sleep.  Instead, I say, "I hope you liked it."

     He smiles.  He did, I can taste it in on my tongue, feel it on my
lips, and in my tummy.  I've finally stopped crying, though I don't feel
too much better.

     "Tomorrow, I'll return the favor, here," he says.

     There's an obvious complication.  If he wants to return the favor,
he's got to perform the very same act.  "No, that's all right.  I'll," and
I try to stop myself, but I say it anyway in a moment of panic, "I'll do it
again for you."

     He picks up his things, and seems almost nervous.  He takes my hand
and kisses it.  "It's a date then.  I promise I'll bring something nice,"
he says, and walks out, looking over his shoulder at me once, and I see
cheeriness in him.

     I gather my things, use a hand mirror to redo my make-up, and wipe my
face.  I untuck my shirt, and reach above my skirt to touch my belly.

     It feels full.  Ugh.  Tomorrow will not be a good day.

END Part 1