Cheerleader Locker Room – JS Stark

Raven’s fingers slid to my throat, a gentle pressure, her lips brushing my ear, her breath a hot gust that prickled my skin. “You’re deep in it, Jake,” she whispered, her voice a low ember. “Give us everything.” I groaned, my voice a raw scrape. “I’m trying,” I said, my hips thrusting up, my cock buried in the redhead’s tight heat, her cry a wail as she ground harder, her sweat dripping onto my chest, salty on my lips. The redhead laughed. “More, lamb,” she snarled, her voice a whip, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her cunt a relentless pulse.

“Fuck me till I break.” Dominique knelt behind her, her hands spreading the redhead’s ass, her tongue lapping at her hole, a wet intrusion that made the redhead shudder, her moans a jagged chant. “Taste her, Jake,” Dominique said, her voice a growl, her fingers joining mine on the redhead’s hips, guiding her rhythm, our knuckles brushing, slick with sweat. The blonde crawled beside me, her breasts swaying, her scent a mix of musk and soap, her lips claiming my mouth, a kiss sloppy and fierce, her tongue probing, her teeth nipping my lip till it stung.

“You’re sweet,” she murmured, her voice high, her fingers sliding to her own cunt, plunging deep, her moans vibrating against my lips. Her other hand found my balls, squeezing gently, a heat that spiked through me, my groan muffled by her kiss. “Feel me, Jake,” she said, her voice a plea.

Another girl, her hair loose, knelt beside her, her fingers probing her ass, a slow rhythm that made her moan, her scent overwhelming, a mix of salt and need. The woman with coiled hair lay beside me, her fingers circling her clit, her eyes on mine, her breath a soft pant. “Again,” she said, her voice a command, and I turned, my lips finding her cunt, my tongue lapping her folds, her clit a treasure, her taste a flood of salt and heat.

She gripped my hair, pulling tight, her cry a wail as she came, her body arching against my mouth.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. 1kitap1.com/en 1 1kitap1.com/en I CHAPTER 1 walked the dim halls of Lusthaven University, a shadow among shadows, my boots scuffing the worn linoleum, my mop and bucket a burden I carried like a man condemned.

Twenty-two years I bore, lean and unremarkable, my face plain, my eyes skittish under a frayed cap. The janitor’s life was mine, a rhythm of bleach and sweat, of floors scoured under no one’s gaze. The campus sprawled wide, its brick and ivy a monument to knowledge, but in Erosia, where shame was a forgotten thing, it was desire that thrummed beneath the stone. Night had settled, the sky a bruise above the stadium lights, their hum a faint echo as I made my rounds.

The air hung warm, heavy with cut grass, the town of Lusthaven alive with murmurs of the game. The Scarlet Vixens, cheerleaders of fierce renown, had danced their wild rites on the field, their scarlet skirts flaring, their cries a flame that roused the crowd. I’d seen them from a distance, a pantheon of women unbound, their laughter sharp, their bodies a tongue I could not speak. Raven, their leader, tall and sharp-boned, her hair a black river, her eyes like chipped flint.

A redhead, slight, her curls a wild blaze, her grin a honed edge. Dominique, broad, her skin a map of black ink, her presence a weight. They were legends, and I was nothing, a man who swept their world clean. My shift neared its close, the locker room my final labor. I pushed through the heavy door, the air within a slap of steam and soap, the tiles slick underfoot. The place was a vault, its lockers pitted steel, its benches worn oak, the showers hissing faint in the dark.

I set my bucket down, the clank loud in the quiet, and took to my work, the mop a slow pendulum, my thoughts drifting to the life I knew. In Erosia, where rules were but whispers, folk lived bold, their desires worn open as wounds. I’d seen it in the streets, in the taverns where bodies pressed close, in the campus groves where lovers lay under starlight. But I stood apart, my days a cycle of toil, my nights a solitude unbroken.

I’d known women, brief and clumsy, but none like the Vixens, whose name alone stirred heat in my blood. The game had ended hours past, the stadium emptied, yet the locker room held a restlessness, as if the air recalled the Vixens’ fire.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: c0aaa5ed065f2006
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 608,094 bytes (0.58 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 62
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 82.47 minutes
• Total Words: 16,493
• Total Characters: 93,380
• Average Words per Page: 266.02
• Average Characters per Page: 1506.13

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