Halloween costume helps fat girl find love

Posted:Arnold padibudi
Halloween costume helps fat girl find love

It smelled of harsh cleaners and mold in the custodian's closet. Deidre Whitehead knelt down, sucking and stroking the young man's five inch erection. If they'd been in a more discrete location, she would have been making loud slurping and sucking noises; boys liked when she made noise while sucking their cocks.

But noise could alert anyone walking past that something was going on the other side of the unlocked door. If a teacher opened the door, both Deidre and Tommy would be expelled. Holding hands was strictly forbidden in the Cabrini Catholic High School students' handbook. If hand-holding earned a student a detention; then sucking cock would be far worse.

If they'd been in more comfortable surroundings, Deidre would have been rubbing her pussy; she loved sucking cock. She loved the taste of a man's flesh, his sweat mixed in with traces of soap, even a tinge of urine. She loved the taste of their excitement as it leaked from the tip of their cocks, loved the taste and texture of their semen as it jetted into her hungry mouth.

But smelling Mr. Sammy's old gray, almost blackened mop strands, the harsh chemicals the man used was not romantic. Deidre's pussy was not wet as she sucked the popular boy's cock.

And she had a reason to be in the closet, sucking with purpose. She had something she wanted from Tommy Dawson. And he had agreed, for a little mouth action up front, then a little pussy afterward.

"Ugh, aw shit," Tommy hissed as Deidre's cheeks hollowed.

At the first spurts of Tommy's spunk, Deidre did feel a little moisture seep into her panties. She really loved the taste of semen. She swallowed the first three thick spurts, then held the fourth and fifth spurts, savoring the salty bitter semen before finally swallowing it down.

"All right, you come over tonight and I can measure you," Deidre whispered as Tommy zipped up his khaki trousers.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, that," Tommy smirked. "Uh, no."

"Uh no? What you mean..." Deidre hissed as she got to her feet, smoothing her pleated skirt down.

"Taking Lauren, but, uh, thanks for the blow job, Piggy," Tommy smirked and flung open the door of the closet.

"You, but I..." Deidre stuttered, angered, and hurt.

Four minutes after swallowing Tommy Dawson's sperm, Deidre sat on a commode, sniffling softly. She wiped at her eyes, then put her horn rimmed glasses back on.

Megan Anders came into the girls' restroom and heard the snuffling sounds coming from the last stall. She ducked into the stall next to that stall and did her business. The sniffling continued as she sat.

"Hey," Megan said softly. "You all right? Can I do anything?"

"No," Deidre said sullenly.

"You sure? Deidre? That you?" Megan asked as she flushed.

Deidre blotted her eyes again, then blew her nose. She opened the door and stepped out.

"What's wrong?" Megan asked the short, plump girl.

"I need a date for the Halloween Dance!" Deidre wailed. "It's in two weeks; I already got the tickets and everything, but..."

"Good grief! It's in two weeks! So you got two weeks find someone," Megan encouraged.

"No! No, no, no! I got to make their costume and everything," Deidre shrilled.

"Oooh," Megan said, nodding her head in understanding. "Got it."

She smiled as they washed their hands. Deidre did not smile as she wet the lenses of her thick glasses.

"Well, I'd go with you, but I'm already going with Pat," Megan said.

"I uh, really? Pat? And you?" Deidre asked, more than a little surprised.

"Uh huh; kind of keep it to yourself, huh?" Megan smiled as she dried her hands.

"I uh, yeah, I mean, who I'm going tell, huh?" Deidre said bitterly. "Not like anyone ever talks to Piggy anyway."

"I'm talking to you," Megan pointed out.

The tall cheerleader and the short, pudgy nerd left the bathroom and hustled toward their homeroom. Sitting together, Deidre told Megan of giving Tommy a blow job earlier that morning, only to be rebuffed afterward.

Megan glared over Deidre's shoulder at the smirking Tommy. Then she smiled sympathetically at Deidre.

"And Roy done the same thing," Deidre continued her tale of woe. "And David, oh, and Chad-O, and..."

"Give me your phone number," Megan said as Sister Catherine came in to the room. "Girl, I promise you, by tonight? You going have you a date, hear?"

(By lunch-time, Pat and Megan told Lauren about Tommy's extra-curricular activities in the custodian's closet. They also informed Rebecca about Roy's dalliance with Deidre, as well as Roy's attempted dalliance with Megan. Ashley shrugged her shoulders when she was informed of David's throat fucking Deidre; as long as she didn't have to suck dick, Ashley was fine with David getting that done elsewhere. Pam was less inclined to forgive than Ashley had been, but was angry with Deidre, not Chad-Oh. Debbie and Charlene were likewise angered with 'Piggy' and not with their boyfriends. Pat had to point out to the three that if their boyfriends had not lied, had not manipulated Deidre, had kept their zippers firmly up? Then they'd have no cause to be angry with Deidre.)

After school, after cheerleading practice, Megan called Matthew, her older brother. Matthew lived in McNamara Bridge, a college apartment complex. The building was a four story tall building with four bedrooms, a common living room and kitchen, along with two bathrooms on each floor. Matthew preferred to pay three seventy five a month to share a bathroom with one other young man, and a living room and kitchen with three other young men than live at home for free. But as long as Matthew kept up his4.0 GPA, Mr. and Mrs. Anders gladly paid the three hundred and seventy five a month.

"Hey dork face," Megan cheerfully greeted Matthew when he answered his phone.

"Hi, lowly high school student," Matthew cheerfully retorted.

"Listen, got a friend, needs a date for the Halloween Dance," Megan said.

"Hmm? When is it?" Matthew asked.

"Um, it is...the twenty seventh. Saturday the twenty seventh," Megan said, checking her phone to verify this.

"Aw, damn, I can't," Matthew said. "Got that display in Shreveport that day."

"Mattie!" Megan whined. "But I promised her..."

"Hey, let me call you back; uh, give me five," Matthew offered.

Matthew walked out of his bedroom and rapped smartly on the door of his neighbor, Harold Doucet. He could hear the steady, rhythmic clank of metal touching metal from inside Harold's room and knew Harold was doing his leg curls. He rapped a little harder.

"Hmm? Yeah?" Harold called out.

"Harold, my man, old buddy old pal," Matthew put his smarmiest expression on his face.

"Deck, don't make me kill you, please? Ruins my whole day people do that shit," Harold grunted, relaxing his left leg, bringing the bar down.

"Damn, how much you got on there?" Matthew asked, looking at the large disks mounted on the padded bar.

"Enough. Come on, Deck, get to it, huh?" Harold said, wiping his face.

"My sister's got a friend needs a date for some Halloween Dance, uh, on the twenty seventh," Matthew said. "I can't; going be up in Shreveport that day."

"Your sister? Isn't she like in high school?" Harold asked and started doing his exercises with his right leg.

"Damn, I bet I couldn't even do that once," Matthew said, watching Harold's almost effortless leg lifts. "Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah, she's in high school."

"Come on, man, really?" Harold asked. "Really? High School?"

"Dude, do this and I'll owe you, huh?" Matthew wheedled.

"Twenty seventh? Yeah, shit, guess so," Harold said. "Nothing going on I know of."

"Awe. Some. And, like I said, I'll owe you big time," Matthew said and watched for another few minutes as Harold hefted the large disks. "Hmm, unbelievable, dude."

Harold looked up when the flash from Matthew's cell phone let him know his picture had been taken. He threw the sweaty towel at Matthew.

"Ew!" Matthew mock-screeched. "Dead skin cells touched me!"

Megan squealed when Matthew called her and let her know he'd managed to get a very handsome date for her friend. When Harold's picture came over, Megan joked and said she'd take Harold instead; Deidre could have Pat.

"Hello?" a dejected Deidre answered her phone.

"I got you a date with, oh my God, Matthew? My brother? He sent me this picture? Guy's name is Harold, anyway, girl? He's gorgeous, I swear," Megan enthused.

"You're joking," Deidre said, brightening.

Harold finished his cool-down reps then wiped off his sweaty face and chest. He looked over when his phone started playing AC/DC's 'Back In Black.'

"Hello? I don't need my credit card interest rates lowered, I've never stayed at your resort, and I'm so thrilled I won a cruise but I get sea sick so just send me the money instead," Harold answered when he did not recognize the phone number.

"Huh? I uh, hello? I, this Harold Doucet?" a female voice asked.

"I am. Who's this?" Harold asked genially.

"I uh, hi, uh, this is Deidre Whitehead," Deidre stammered.

"Who? Oh, oh, wait, Matthew's sister's friend?" Harold asked. "Wow, that was quick; he just left out of here five seconds ago."

Harold got the girl's address and promised he'd be there in thirty minutes when she explained that she needed to measure him for the costume. He smiled and ended the call.

"Deck!" Harold yelled, rapping on Matthew's door. "Owe me big time, hear?"

"Uh huh," Matthew yelled in reply.

Harold made quick work of showering; using Matthew's soap and shampoo. If Matthew was lazy enough to leave his shower products behind, when the rules said quite clearly that you were not supposed to leave your items in the bathroom, then Harold saw nothing wrong in using Matthew's shampoo and soap. He also helped himself to Matthew's toothpaste before leaving the bathroom.

"Hope I got my hair all over your bar of soap," Harold yelled through Matthew's door. "Going meet with your sister's friend now. Bitch, you going owe me big time, hear?"

"Damn it; I left it in there again?" Matthew complained, getting out of his bed.

"Uh huh, and, bitch, quit getting the Dial, huh? I like Irish Spring a lot better," Harold said, shutting his bedroom door.

"Why you think I get Dial, huh?" Matthew said, gathering up his shower supplies.

Harold got his bicycle down, strapped on his helmet and pedaled to the Wesley Street address Deidre had given him. The houses were large, palatial houses in a neatly manicured neighborhood. Harold shrugged his shoulders as he looked at the opulent homes.

He had grown up in a home much like these in Benhurst, Colorado. Dr. Stanley Doucet was a skilled neurosurgeon that made a fortune in his profession. His money bought him cars and a large fancy home and a string of trophy wives that he never had time to enjoy.

The first Mrs. Doucet, Harold's mother was a professional shopper. She did not buy for anyone other than herself, but she had the finest in jewelry, the finest in haute couture, the neatly manicured lawn, the highly polished furniture.

Thankfully, her pancreatic cancer took Kimberly Deborah Ziegler Doucet quickly. It took her before she had time to squander her trinkets and real estate holdings and stocks and diversified treasury notes, frantically searching for a cure that would not stop the disease. Harold had been eleven when his mother passed and lived with his father and his father's wife of the day until he left Colorado for the University of Louisiana at DeGarde.

So, Harold was not impressed with the homes, or the luxury automobiles, the gleaming sports cars as he pedaled up to the address.

"Now, who would that me?" Dr. Maurice Whitehead asked as he looked up from his latest sketches.

"I got it! I got it!" Deidre screamed, thundering down the stairs.

"Slow down before you break your neck," Maurice ordered.

"Deedee, really!" Maria Whitehead, Deidre's step-mother chided as Deidre barreled toward the door.

"Hi! You Harold?" Deidre shrilled, yanking the door open.

"Aw. Damn," Harold said, looking down at the five foot, two inch Deidre Whitehead.

The girl's face was puffy; she weighed one sixty. Her brown hair was shoulder length, and looked unkempt. Her big brown eyes were magnified by her thick horn rimmed glasses.

Her nose had an upturned tilt to it; this gave her a slightly piggish appearance. Deidre's lips were pouting, light pink on her pale face. Peering up at Harold, her pouting lips were open in a look of astonishment.

"Man, told Deck he was going owe me big time for this," Harold smiled down at the chubby girl.

"Deck?" Deidre asked, frowning at the muscled giant. "And why's he owe you?"

"Deck. It's short for 'Pointdexter.' We call him that because he's a total dork," Harold smiled, holding out his hand. "Told him he was going owe me, setting me up with you. But now? Man! I owe him, big time owe him for this."

Deidre blushed when she realized she'd just been given a compliment by the handsome man. She took his hand and reflected how much larger his hand was than hers.

"Deidre, who's your friend?" Maurice Whitehead asked, coming to stand behind his daughter.

"Harold Doucet, sir, nice to meet you," Harold said brightly. "By the way, beautiful home you got here."

"Thanks. I like it," Maurice smirked. "What I especially like about it? Keeps all the mosquitoes out. But you two are letting them all in, standing there with the door all open."

"Sorry," Harold said. "Uh, there somewhere I can put my bike?"

"Gate's open; put it back there," Maurice offered, pointing in the general direction of the gate.

"Thanks. Be right back," Harold said.

"And, uh, where'd you meet him?" Maurice asked his daughter as she watched the handsome man jog around to the back gate.

"Megan's brother knows him," Deidre offered.

"And I know this Megan?" Maurice continued. "Or her brother?"

"I'm back," Harold said brightly.

When Deidre turned, Harold looked at the girl's large buttocks, bursting out the bottom of her cutoff jeans. He followed the two magnificent globes of flesh that stretched and undulated as she led the way to the living room.

"Hey, wait a minute; I know you," Harold smiled, extending his hand to Maurice. "You're Dr. Whitehead! Dean of graphic design, right?"

"Mm-hmm," the man agreed, taking the offered hand. "And right now? Worried father of an eighteen year old high school girl."

"That's understandable," Harold agreed. "But, like I was telling Deidre? My neighbor Deck, Matthew? His sister asked him to ask me to ask Deidre out; you've got a Halloween dance or something?"

"Yes, God, going have get a bunch more orange," Deidre agreed. "How tall you is?"

"How tall I is?" Harold asked, blue eyes twinkling. "Glad to see our educational system is alive and well, huh?"

"Thank you, young man," Maurice chuckled.

Maria also chuckled. Harold nodded politely to the attractive young woman. The Latin woman came and put a loving arm on Maurice's arm.

"How tall are you?" Deidre repeated, glaring at both her father and the young man.

"Six feet, five inches and two hundred and forty one pounds," Harold smiled, flexing slightly. "Was two ninety four, but been doing that Ketosis diet? Works, you hear? Soon as I'm down to two twenty plan on cutting back on it."

"And I know you," Maurice said suddenly. "Played free safety for the Storm."

"Yes sir," Harold agreed. "Even went to the Browns as a walk-on."

"What happened?" Maurice asked.

"Defensive coordinator said I was good," Harold shrugged. "Problem is? They don't need good. They need great and they just didn't have the time train me to be great."

"Well, that's stupid," Deidre declared.

"Deidre, when they're paying millions of dollars? It's not stupid," Harold patiently explained. "It's their money."

"Young man? I think I like you," Maurice smiled.

"What. Ever," Deidre said. "Now, I need measure you, okay?"

Harold and Maurice chatted pleasantly while Deidre left the room. Harold resisted the urge to watch Deidre's buttocks when she walked out of the room. He resisted the urge to look at her quite impressive chest when she came back into the living room, holding a cloth tape measurer.

"Hey! I'm taller than you!" Deidre teased as she stood on a dining room chair.

"Not for long," Harold said and stood on his tiptoes.

After Deidre had measured Harold twice, making sure to have the accurate measurements, Harold shocked her when he asked her if she'd like to go to Cowboy's BBQ for dinner the following evening.

"I mean, if that's all right with you, sir?" Harold quickly asked Maurice. "I mean, I know I'm twenty three, but..."

"No, no, that's fine," Maurice agreed.

Maurice hugged Maria around her waist. The Latin beauty smiled at him.

"I'm fifty six; Maria here's nineteen," Maurice joked.

"Maury, quit!" she laughed. "I'm thirty four and you know it."

"That all right with you? If we go get some barbeque? Then after, maybe I'll let you win at golf?" Harold asked Deidre.

"Let me? LET ME?" Deidre hooted. "Last time I was there? Got a sixty six."

"Wow!" Harold said. "And what'd you get on the second hole?"

"Oh, shut up," Deidre laughed.

Harold took his leave and pedaled back to his communal apartment. Once inside his bedroom, he unzipped his shorts and freed his aching eight inches of thick meat.

Deidre Whitehead wasn't beautiful; at best she was cute. But her puffy, pouty lips would look beautiful wrapped around his cock. Her impressive chest, Harold deduced she had at least a 36DD, possibly even a 36E set, would look beautiful wrapped around his throbbing meat.

And just thinking of spreading her magnificent globes, licking at her sweet little rosebud, then spearing that tight little hole with his thick cock had Harold spurting heavily into his wadded up towel. Harold groaned and stroked out a few more spurts, imagining squirting deep into Deidre's bowels.

The next morning at Cabrini, Megan laughed happily when Deidre bounded over and hugged her tightly. Pat just smiled and walked away. From front door to locker to homeroom, Deidre babbled on and on about meeting Harold the previous evening, and about having a date for that evening.

"He's going feed you? Hope he's got a bunch of money," Roy snapped, angered at Piggy for tattling to Rebecca about the blow job he'd received from the pudgy girl.

Pat's foot caught Roy unaware and everyone laughed when Roy tumbled to the floor. Even Rebecca giggled as her boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend got to his feet.

At lunchtime, Megan surprised Deidre, and Pat, when she waved Deidre over to the cheerleaders' table. Now that Darlene wasn't going to the Halloween Dance with him, Brent plopped down in the seat next to Deidre and offered to go with her to the dance. After all, he did owe it to Deidre for the earth shattering blow job she'd given him.

"Thanks, but I've already got a date," Deidre smugly told the loutish youth.

"Yeah, right, Piggy. What the fuck ever," Brent smirked. "Hey Megan? What about you, huh?"

Megan 'scratched her nose with her middle finger. Then she smiled sweetly and told Brent she'd rather give herself an enema with Crystal's Hot Sauce than go anywhere with him.

At Cowboy's, Harold impressed Deidre when he told her he was going to the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, working on his Master's in Business Administration. He made her laugh with stories of dormitory life.

"So, why'd you move right back in, then?" she asked, pushing her glasses up her nose.

"Cheap," Harold admitted. "But the McNamara Bridge isn't exactly a dorm."

At the Golf-O-Rama, Deidre looked over, actually alarmed when Harold let out a slight groan. She smiled at his embarrassed smile, then bent over again to put her bright yellow ball onto the tee."What?" Deidre demanded when Harold let out a second groan.

"Damn, girl, you bend over like that?" Harold said. "I mean, damn! You know you got a fine butt, but you don't got do that, huh?"

"It's too big," Deidre stated.

"It is big," Harold agreed. "And juicy, and gorgeous and..."

"Shut up!" Deidre squealed.

Harold surprised her by stepping up behind her and pulling her tightly against him. He then put his lips to her ear.

"And sexy and hot and..." Harold continued his assault.

Deidre made him groan again when she wiggled her luscious buttocks against his thigh. With a giggle, she then gently pushed him away.

"Ha! Beat that, huh?" Deidre hooted when she managed to get a Par 4 in just three strokes.

"Okay," Harold said when he'd managed it in just two strokes.

At the second hole, Deidre made a display of bending over. Harold smiled at her cheeky little smirk. She lost the smirk when she went one stroke over.

"How about a little bet, keep this interesting?" Harold asked as he prepared to putt.

"Like what?" Deidre asked, immediately on guard.

She was very attracted to Harold; he was handsome in a rugged way. He also dressed well, had his blonde hair cut in a flattering style. He was smart and funny.

It also didn't hurt that he seemed to find her attractive. He had even said that she was sexy. Well, he had said she had a sexy butt.

Deidre looked at Harold's large hands. She could imagine how those hands would feel as they grasped, squeezed her 35E breasts. She could imagine how those hands would feel pinching, twisting her nipples, making her gasp out.

Deidre would gladly suck his cock; she loved the looks of the lump in his nice dress slacks. She would love to fuck him, feel him fill her pussy up.

But Deidre didn't want to be pressured into it. She didn't want to be coerced, tricked into blowing him, or fucking him. For once, she'd like to have a choice, or at least feel like she had a choice in the matter.

"A kiss for each hole I win?" Harold asked.

"And what if I win?" Deidre asked, stomach muscles unknotting.

"What would you like?" Harold asked. "I mean, I know this is only our first date, but I'd really like to kiss those beautiful lips of yours."

"A kiss sounds nice," Deidre agreed.

She then squealed in indignation when he managed a hole in one. Their first kiss was a sullen quick little peck on the lips.

"Aw, come on, huh?" Harold laughed.

"That's all you get," Deidre grumbled.

But by the seventh hole, their kisses were long, heated lip locks. Deidre could feel her juices soaking through her cotton panties as her fingers rubbed his muscled arms through his pullover shirt.

"Sixty four to what?" Harold teased when they returned the putters to the counter.

"Shut up; I let you win," Deidre declared.

"All that whining you was doing? Then you a mighty sore winner," Harold teased.

He then drove them to Yum Yum Ice Cream for sundaes. He didn't offer any comments when Deidre ordered the large hot fudge. Over their sundaes, Harold asked about the costumes, asked about the dance.

Deidre told Harold about her hated nickname of 'Piggy,' of always being the fat kid. She told him about being an 'oops' baby; her father had been thirty eight and her mother had been forty when she'd been born. She told him about her mother abandoning her and her father when she was just three years old. Deidre told Harold about her step-mother Claudette French, told Harold how, in front of Maurice, Claudette would smile and say sweet things to Deidre, but when Maurice was not around, Claudette would call Deidre a fat, ugly brat.

And then, one day, Claudette too just walked away from the marriage, from Deidre. According to Maurice, there'd been no arguments, no sign that Claudette was unhappy. She just simply walked away.

Deidre definitely had abandonment issues, suffered from low self-esteem. Harold had taken a few psychology classes in his undergraduate studies and figured that the girl was ripe for people to take advantage of her. Her overeating was most likely a symptom of her issues.

"And I said to myself, 'this year? You a senior. You not going sit at home no more.' Of course? Homecoming Dance? Where was I?" Deidre continued.

At home?" Harold asked gently.

"Uh huh," Deidre mumbled.

"Well, wish I'd known you then," Harold said.

He smiled when she reached across the table and linked fingers with him. Her stubby little fingers were lost in his large hand.

Her soaked panties became sodden when Harold took her hand and kissed her fingers. She blinked back some tears as he squeezed her hand again.

"So, uh, what you doing tomorrow?" Harold asked as they left the ice cream shop.

"Working on our costumes," Deidre reminded him. "Oh! And I got a paper to do for History. We're in the American Revolution."

"Well, George Washington was pretty tall for that time period," Harold said, opening his truck door for Deidre.

He bent and kissed her. He could taste the hot fudge on her lips. She smiled up at him.

He chanced a quick fondle of her delectable buttocks as she climbed up into his F150. Again, he was rewarded with a smile.

"But I bet none of the soldiers at Valley Forge asked him 'how tall you is?'" Harold teased, then closed the door on Deidre's indignant squeal.

"You a big old butt hole!" she yelled when he got into the driver's seat.

"Uh huh," he laughed and leaned over his console to kiss her.

"No, nuh uh, go away," Deidre grumbled, pushing at him.

She laughed when he grabbed her flailing hands and kissed her. She wrapped her chubby arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

"Go down Nineteen," Deidre ordered.

"Okay," Harold shrugged.

"Um...there, go behind that church," Deidre ordered, pointing.

Fellowship Baptist Church in Baylor Lake, Louisiana was empty on a Friday evening. So, the back parking lot was empty. On Wednesday evenings and Sundays, the front and rear parking lots filled quickly and late comers often had to park along Highway 19.

Harold parked and turned the truck off. Deidre twisted in her seat and kissed him. She took her glasses off and put them into the cup holder on his console. After a few more kisses, she wiggled out of her blouse.

"Damn, aw damn," Harold enthused, looking at Deidre's lacy bra and large breasts.

Her shoulders, chest and belly were pale. In the weak light from the church building, her flesh looked almost sickly white.

Deidre unclasped the bra and let her large breasts tumble. She peered, nearly blind without her glasses, trying to gauge Harold's reaction.

"Come on, get over on this side, huh?" Deidre suggested, easing the seat back as far as it would go.

Harold gave her another kiss, then got out of the truck. Deidre twisted around and slid to the floor of the truck.

Harold got into the truck and Deidre pushed his long legs apart so she could kneel between them. She reached up and began to fumble with is belt. Harold's large hands began to fondle and caress Deidre's large breasts.

"Ah!" Deidre gasped as she freed Harold's eight inches of thick meat.

Even without her glasses on, Deidre could see that Harold's cock was substantial in length and girth. Her hands wrapped around the thick rod and stroked it for a moment.

Harold's fingers had found Deidre's nipples and he pinched and twisted them until Deidre grunted. She pulled Harold's cock toward her mouth and slobbered noisily over the head of his cock. Then when she had his meat coated with spittle, she slid her mouth over the knob. Her hands jacked his spittle laden length as she bobbed her head along the first few inches. Her tongue lapped at his cockhead, tasting his excitement as it oozed from the tip.

"Mm-hmm," Deidre moaned as Harold's hands continued to tease her breasts.

"Mm-hmm, aw damn," Harold moaned as Deidre now had over half his cock in her hot mouth.

Harold could tell that this was not the first cock the eighteen year old girl had ever sucked. Her hand action and tongue action and throat action were too good, too practiced to be beginner's luck. And it was obvious that Deidre Whitehead liked sucking cock. She had one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the other hand jammed down the front of her unzipped jeans.

"Mmph!" she screamed around his cock and Harold could feel her pudgy body shuddering in orgasm.

Then she increased the noise level of her blow job. She moaned and slurped as she bobbed her head up and down the full length of his cock. Then she stiffened and moaned as a second orgasm racked her body.

"Damn, girl, here, ugh, here it..." Harold groaned as the sperm bubbled up from his balls.

"Mm-hmm," Deidre encouraged.

She swallowed his thick ropes of semen, holding the last two spurts in her mouth for just a moment, savoring the taste. Then she swallowed his semen and bobbed her head up and down the length of his cock, cleaning it.

"Damn," Harold groaned, slumping back.

Deidre giggled happily. Then she squealed as Harold lifted her from floorboard to sit on his leg. Harold cuddled her for a moment, right hand gently rubbing her nude back and jeans covered buttocks, his left hand bobbling her breasts. His thumb circled her areolae, then he pinched her right nipple. She groaned in pleasure as he stretched the nipple out from her chest.

Harold Doucet surprised, shocked Deidre. He bent and kissed her gasping mouth. He put his lips to her lips, then thrust his tongue into her mouth as his thumb and forefinger teased her nipples.

No boy had ever kissed her after she'd sucked their cocks. Very few boys had ever kissed her anyway. They groped her breasts. They grabbed her pussy. They grabbed the back of her head as they fucked her mouth. But they did not kiss her.

Deidre grabbed Harold in a fierce hug as they kissed. She twisted around and straddled him and kissed him hotly.

"Mm-hmm," she moaned when his large hands now fondled her large ass.

She felt him sliding her jeans down, sliding her panties down. His hands cupped her nude buttocks, squeezed them quite forcefully.

A car's headlights swept the rear parking lot. Deidre squealed and frantically slithered down to the floorboard. She scrambled, trying to find her bra in the cramped darkness.

Harold stuffed his cock into his slacks and crawled over the console to the driver's seat. He started the truck and put it into gear.

"Who you think that was?" Roy asked Chad-Oh as he rolled a joint.

"Fuck if I know," Chad-Oh said. "Nice truck, though."

By the time Harold pulled in front of the Whitehead home, Deidre was again dressed, hair brushed, and sucking on a breath mint.

"Hmm, forty minutes early," Maurice commented when Deidre and Harold entered the house.

"Yes sir, well, you know DeGarde," Harold smiled. "The city that never wakes up."

"Should have seen it when I was your age," Maurice agreed.

Deidre and Harold contented themselves with a chaste kiss. Then Deidre watched his truck pull out of their driveway.

"Uh, he's gone now," Maurice teased his daughter. "Think you can go on up to bed?"

"Dad," Deidre whined.

"Maury, quit it," Maria said gently. "Deedee is happy."

The woman smiled at her step-daughter. Her smile widened when Deidre gave her a grudging smile of thanks.

Deidre had guessed correctly; she did have to get more orange satin from Wilson's Fabrics. Just to be safe, she also bought a few more yards of black felt.

Maurice watched his daughter as she scrambled around, cutting, pinning sections together, sewing.

"Deedee is happy," Maria smiled, taking Maurice's hand.

She leaned up and kissed his cheek. He smiled sadly at her.

"Come on. I make Daddy happy," Maria suggested, pulling Maurice toward their bedroom.

Harold and Deidre sent text messages back and forth throughout the week. But both Harold and Deidre had school assignments to keep up with. Burgeoning relationship or not, both had responsibilities to keep up with.

But Harold soiled a few towels, reliving Deidre's expert blow job. Harold had enjoyed a few blow jobs before. He'd been a football star in high school; cheerleaders were always willing to gobble down his schlong. In college, he'd had his share of cheerleaders and teacher's aides and even two professors suck his cock. He'd fucked most of them as well.

But he'd never masturbated to memories of any of those cheerleaders, or teacher's aides, or professors. There had been one girl in high school. She had not been a cheerleader, or a popular girl. She had been desperate for attention, desperate for acceptance. Before meeting Deidre Whitehead, Harold had soiled many a towel, thinking of her full buttocks, her tight little brown ring stretching to accommodate his fat meat.

Harold's first fuck had been a gorgeous blonde cheerleader with muscled legs and nearly flat backside. His second fuck had been a carbon copy of the first, the first having moved on to another football star.

His fifth fuck had been a short, chunky Asian-American with horrible acne. Harold had felt terrible about how he treated Donna Apple. It had been Donna that had turned him on to the naughty, nasty thrills of anal sex.

No matter what disgusting, degrading sex act he wanted, Donna was willing to let him do it to her. And then he had dumped her for another bone thin wisp, another cheerleader. The look of hurt in Donna's eyes when she saw Harold in the halls of their high school, parading Thelma, Velma, Mary, whatever that cheerleader's name had been still tore at Harold's guts.

He had seen Donna Apple, the last time he'd been home, Christmas of last year. She was still a short, fat little thing. Her skin still bore the scarring from her horrible acne and there were other splotches of pimples on her face.

Her eyes had looked directly at him, then looked through him as he stood in line at her checkout. She'd been polite, professional when she rang up his purchases.

"Donna, I'm sorry," Harold had said quietly.

"Yeah?" Donna had snarled. "Well, know what? Sometimes sorry just don't cut it."

"I was young and stupid," Harold had tried to defend as she dumped his items into a plastic bag.

"Obviously, I was too," Donna said and turned to the next customer in line.

After stroking himself to yet another juicy climax, remembering Deidre's noisy blow job, her large breasts and hard nipples, her full, juicy buttocks, Harold called Deidre's cell phone. She answered on the second ring.

"We're on for Friday night?" Harold asked Deidre.

"Yeah, but we're not playing golf again," Deidre said, still miffed about losing.

"Aw, but I love watching you bend over to tee up," Harold complained, smiling.

Mama's Po-boys fed them; Harold ordering two roast beef po-boys without the bread. He also declined the French fries that came with the meal.

Then they went to the Go-Cart Ranch in Elgee, Louisiana. When Deidre tired of driving, they spent a few minutes in the adjoining video arcade.

"You know, supposed let the girl win," Deidre complained after he'd destroyed her.

"I'm trying," Harold lied.

"Are not!" Deidre laughed, pushing him.

Clark's Drive-In fed them each a banana split, then Deidre directed Harold to Huvall's Levee, another make-out spot in DeGarde, Louisiana.

Shortly after Deidre had sucked Harold to a knee buckling ejaculation, before Harold could get Deidre out of her snug jeans and panties, a DeGarde police officer rapped smartly on the window of the truck.

"Come on, move it, okay," the officer smirked as Deidre tried frantically to wiggle back into bra and blouse.

"Yes sir," Harold quickly said.

"Hmm, only twenty minutes early this time," Maurice commented when Deidre came in.

"Yes sir," Harold said. "The paint dried."

"Huh?" Maria asked, wrinkling her brow in confusion.

"There's nothing to do in DeGarde other than watching paint dry," Harold explained. "But it dried. What else we going do?"

"You're such a goof," Deidre laughed.

"See you next Friday?" Harold asked, bending to give her a kiss.

"Yeah. Oh! And Friday? Need try the costume! Dance's Saturday," Deidre said.

"Okay Dokey," Harold agreed.

"It dried," Maurice chuckled as Deidre again watched the truck backing out of the driveway.

"Deedee? I think maybe she is in love," Maria whispered, looking over Maurice's shoulder at Deidre.

"Un. Acceptable," Maurice said, getting to his feet.

Friday, right after his classes, Harold made sure to wash his set of pots and pans thoroughly. His three neighbors had a bad habit of 'borrowing' Harold's pots and pans; they were of excellent quality. He didn't mind them borrowing the pots and pans, but he objected strenuously to the lackluster manner in which the flat-mates cleaned them.

After cleaning them, Harold then put them into his room, behind locked door. He also made sure to have a clean set of sheets on his bed, and hid the towel that had become quite crusted with his Deidre-inspired semen.

"Hey, Harold? You seen the big frying pan?" Matt called out.

"Mean my large cast iron skillet?" Harold asked. "The one someone stuck into the dishwasher?"

"Oh, is it..." Matt asked, opening the small dishwasher.

"No, bitch, it's in my room," Harold said. "Use that big one right there."

"Teflon's flaking off it," Matt complained.

"Because some dumb ass keeps using the metal spoon on it," Harold said. "And clean off the stove when you finish, huh? Got Deidre coming over for supper tonight."

"Ooh, Harry," Matt teased.

Harold also cleaned the bathroom. He loudly complained to Matt, and to one of the other roommates that happened to come home. The fourth roommate was in class; did not have to endure Harold's commentary on the condition of their communal bathroom.

"Uh, nuh uh, dude, my bathroom's right over here," the third roommate stated.

"Uh huh, and saw your ass in here when Roberto had the flu other day," Harold pointed out.

While Harold was changing into slacks and dress shirt, Deidre was going through her ritual of finding, trying on, then discarding blouses and slacks. This had become a ritual since the first Friday she had a date with the handsome young man. She also checked, for the third time that hour, that she had breath mints in her purse. She did think to herself that she was possibly becoming addicted to sperm; she could think of nothing else but sucking Harold's delicious cock, coaxing out his delicious sperm, savoring the taste, then doing her best to coax more sperm from his fat balls.

"Now, what was wrong with that?" Maurice asked.

Deidre squeaked; she'd not heard her door open. She glared at the intruder.

"The red blouse; said he's making spaghetti? Red blouse won't show how sloppy you eat," Maurice teased.

"Got a rip in it," Deidre pointed out a miniscule tear in the arm hole.

"Oh my God! Call the police! Call the paramedics! A rip in the sleeve?" Maurice mocked-cried.

"Deedee, you sew it?" Maria suggested. "Take no time, zip-zip, you done."

"Hmm," Deidre mused, then did grab the blouse off the discard pile.

Harold's arrival did cement the decision. Maurice and Maria went downstairs and chatted with Harold while Deidre completed dressing for the date.

"Oh, when do we try on the costumes?" Harold asked as Deidre thundered down the stairs.

"Oh, yeah, now, I guess," Deidre said and thundered back up the stairs.

"Do I follow her, or wait down here?" Harold asked Maurice.

"Let's go," Maurice said and the trio trooped up the stairs.

Harold brought up the rear. He did notice that Maria had the typical Latin buttocks; an almost perfect upside down heart shape, with a nice swell to it. But he much preferred Deidre's buttocks. Two separate globes of full, jiggly buttocks.

"And, right here," Maurice said, indicating an open doorway.

"You. Are. Kidding. Me," Harold smiled as he saw their costumes for the first time.

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