Alex Is 18 Naked in School Alex and Beth Chapter 8 Sunday
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Alex Is 18 (Naked In School / Alex And Beth)Chapter 7: Saturday free porn video
Alex — Early Morning
I woke up early Saturday. Too early and too suddenly. It took a minute to piece together everything. There was light — streetlights outside my window — because I was in a hotel room not my basement bedroom at home. That funny smell was the hotel sheets. The weight on my back was the left tackle who fucked me last night.
And if you think that's not an odd thought to have as you are waking up, try it tomorrow morning.
I lay there and just, well, lay there. Donté MacDonald was heavy but not uncomfortably so and there was something nice about the feeling of someone warm wrapped around you. Even if he did play offense. I had had no idea that he was gay but given the way he all but broke down when he confessed it at, like, 2am, I suspected I might have been his first. A very hesitant reasonable request had become very happily, very unreasonable before either of us got any sleep. I could feel his dick pressed against my crack and a slight flex of my cheeks told me I wasn't the only one with morning wood. I wondered if he was planning to use it.
He was not. He didn't wake up until the phone rang with our 8am wake up call and he immediately ran for the bathroom. When I heard the shower, I tried the door. Locked.
When he finally came out, he was wrapped in a towel and looking sheepish. "Uh, McElroy," Last night it had been 'oh Alex'. "uh, look. 'bout — about — uh..."
"Dude, save it. You ain't Out an' I ain't either. If you think Ima be the love of yo' life, get over it." He looked stunned. "I ain't sayin' we can't, y'know, hit in on the down low every once in a while. But if you lookin' for uh boyfriend or some shit, it ain't me. Cool?"
"Uhh..."
I went into the bathroom before he could get any further than that. Ok, harsh maybe but true nonetheless. Better he hear it now than leave this room expecting something that's never gonna happen. By the time I got out of the shower myself, he'd left the room. I saw him again at breakfast; he was laughing with Trucker, Davis and a couple other offense guys. I nodded to the table, got a tray and grabbed some breakfast. Carol smiled at me, TC whistled and Davis recommended we use Mr. Happy as a goal post. Apart from the naked references, it wasn't all that different from any other team breakfast before an away game.
As we were finishing, I saw Jiao and Mike come in, hand in hand. Mike waved; I waved back. That was the end of it.
Beth — Early Morning
I woke up early — before the alarm clock — and couldn't go back to sleep so I got up and did all my morning stuff. It was a warm morning and there were early morning birds singing. My favorite cable knit sweater smelled fresh. I caught myself humming. I guess I was in a good mood.
Dinner at Granddad's had been ... wonderful. Just wonderful. We had ... something; probably fish and some vegetables. I know Grandma Rachael was there because she's very pregnant — less than a month to her due date — and everyone spent the evening telling her to sit down. Everyone consisted of ... people, family members I was sure but I couldn't begin to say who. Hank. Hank had been there, holding my hand, stealing a kiss when we thought no one was looking, and never doing anything else he couldn't do in front of my Father. Who actually liked him! Daddy and Hank got along; that was virtually a miracle in and of itself.
I drifted down stairs, grabbed my purse and Mom's car keys and headed out. It was only 4:30am but there was no reason I couldn't get to my shift on the dock early. Besides, I found myself musing, the stars are lovely.
Ever since I was eight years old — tall enough and strong enough to throw a ring over the top rail — I've been working on the family dock at least once a month. I cut bait and showed tourists how to bait their hooks. It's been once a week for the last few years and full-time most summers. All my siblings and cousins do; the family always has for as long as anybody can remember. Even my Great Grand Father said that his Grandfather had worked the boats as a child. I didn't mind doing it — apart from the pre-dawn hours at least — because I planned to work for the Fishery when I graduated from college anyway. I like the fact that I was one more McElroy in a legacy of them. My Father worked for the company, my Grandfather did, even Grandma Rachael did until she couldn't fit a lifejacket any more. I didn't plan on working on the boats forever; somebody needed to be CEO and I was planning on it being me.
But I liked working the boats occasionally especially the commercial fishers without the tourists. Then it was just four or five of us, the water, the sea gulls and a whole lot of fish. The only down side today was that I wouldn't see Hank again until after we docked around 3 or 4 pm.
I got to the dock, still humming, checked in with my Aunt Candice, who's been Dock Master since 1957 (well officially, it wasn't until 1967 when she married Uncle Marcus but everyone who knew her back then says it's been her dock since the day she set foot on it.)
"You a bit early, Beth." She said mildly. She said everything mildly but nobody was fooled by that. Aunt Candice was one of those women who was tall and heavy but not actually fat. Thick, Uncle Marcus, always said. She was dark skinned and, unfortunately, often reminded me of Aunt Ester from Sanford and Son. But it was just proof that there's someone for everyone. "My goodness, we must have uh air leak round here somewhere." She grinned at me and I realized that I was sighing.
"Sorry." I blushed.
"No cause for it. You may as well get a move on. Good thing you early 'cause you got a trainee today an' I want you ta see he trained right."
I started to argue but the last time I did that, I got a month of charter boat assignments. "Yes, Ma'am." I sighed again and headed down to my ship.
Ron Conahan waved to me from the bow of McElroy's Joy, the middle sized of out three commercial fishers. It had six nets and a below deck big enough for a four-man crew to go out for a couple days without trying to kill each other. Since it was Saturday and we were really only going out for the restaurants that we fished for daily, there were only three of us — Ron, Capt. Phil and myself. Four with the trainee. Ron was in his fifties and was one of the hired hands that had been around long enough to earn corporate shares as part of his salary just like the family did. I'd known him, and Phil for that matter, my entire life. It was the only reason my Father wasn't worried about me spending a day on a boat in the middle of the bay with two self-described dirty old men. Of course, I got all the best dirty jokes from them.
"How's it look?" I asked as I swung myself over the rail. Yes, there was a gate but nobody used it.
"Fair ta midlin." He tilted his head toward below deck. "Trainee's makin' coffee. Oughta be bout ready you wanna cup."
"Thanks. Capt up yet?"
He pointed behind me with his chin. "Oughta get an early start this run." I glanced back and saw Phil sauntering up the dock.
"Cool." I clapped his shoulder. "I'll get the cabin boy strapped down then get the aft ropes."
Ron cracked a smile and shook his head. "Come ta think of it, I best have a word with him." He all but flipped over the rail and chuckled to himself has he headed to meet our captain du jour.
It was odd but not outrageous. I shrugged and went below. In addition to coffee brewing, I smelled eggs and bacon. I stepped into our small galley and nearly smacked into Hank and a spatula.
Hank. Or as his name tag proclaimed him "Trainee".
Alex — Morning
I'll put it like this: I used to have serious anger management problems. Serious. Fighting in school and at home. On the field and church were about the only two places I wasn't in some kind of trouble. Peter said he used to figure it was only a matter of time before I got arrested for something. Even on the field, I was responsible for more injured running backs than anybody would like to accuse me of. Full contact sport, right? Guys get hurt. When I hit Lisa, all of that ended. Peter took control of me and forced me to take control of myself. Turned out, he said, I needed to receive the pain more than I needed to dish it out. I didn't know if he was right, but it seemed to work.
But, as you may have noticed, Peter was about 130 miles away. Last season he was just as far but Lisa was around. This season, no Peter, no Lisa and today no Beth even. Just me and my ability to control myself.
Did I mention the 'high'? Playing football got me high. It was the rush — not drugs; even I'm not that stupid — the adrenaline, the endorphins, the hormones, that kind of shit. Sometimes, by like half-time, I can barely see or hear and I can't feel pain. I can play — that's the only thing I can do. It's like if it doesn't involve putting that guy with the ball wearing the wrong uniform into the ground, I can't understand it. On the one hand, the coach's love it when I'm like that because some of the other guys pick up the focus from me and we play better — when I'm in the zone like that, we usually win. On the other hand, injuries and penalties go up too.
The real trouble for me personally comes after the game. The guys avoid me in the locker room until I've had time to come down. And even then, after I'm dressed and picking up Lisa — she was always waiting after a game, well before Doug anyway — I was aggressive; I had a hard time accepting 'no'. What I wanted was what I wanted.
I never said I was a nice guy. I've never pretended to be. I'm more like a mostly trained pit bull. Once of these days, I'm going to get lucky and someone's going to put me down.
No running, no jumping, no swimming. Peter's rule number one because I ran to a cliff, jumped and tried to drown myself. One of these days, I'm not going to remember that rule before I try it again.
Football. Right. Focus.
Coach Dutton was resolute about it — before the game, I was in the locker room with our guys, program rules or not. There's just stuff that happens before a game I needed to be there for even if I didn't have to suit up completely. Conversations, meetings, butt-slaps, shit like that. I always tape Jakobs' ankles. I always stretch out with Williams. I always lead prayer for the Defensive Line — yes, we pray before every game and the school board can get fucked if they don't like it. Most of the game got a little hazy after that.
I did see Mike, wearing the wrong uniform just before the starting kick off. That pissed me off. And the running back I was man-to-man with was almost totally naked. Flat shoulder pads instead of the bulky ones, a jock, elbow- and knee-pads, helmet and cleats. He out ran me twice. When I got to the sideline, I stripped off as much as Dutton would let me. If that sonovabitch thought he was going to run me all day, He'd better think again. If he was trying to run away, then he was the prey, which made me the predator. Which is the kind of mindset that takes out kneecaps — but it also shuts down the run. Next play, I took him down at the line. The play after, I nearly had the interception off him. That stopped the passing game to the right for a while.
Here's stuff I did know happened — although not necessarily the order in which it happened. We lost 21 — 18. That's no big surprise because we suck as a rule. I did get two interceptions — not out from under GazelleBoy — him I only managed to hold to one god damned touchdown — but they pulled him and Mike and put some limp-wrist-ed jackass in instead and made it easy for me. I know Mike was quarterback because the reason they pulled him for a while is that we sacked him twice in a row. When he came back, he hammered us like all hell but we got all three of our touchdowns while he was gone. Their second stringer couldn't move the ball for shit and our defense held for once. Our offense isn't all bad when they get going which is why we end most seasons 6-6 and how we managed two touchdowns back-to-back. I came twice on the field. The dry seizure kind. The first time, I was on the bottom of a stack of guys and had pretty well recovered before I had to stand up. The second, Hodges held me off the field for a couple plays because I was bleeding or some shit. When the whistle blew, Hodges sent me the opposite direction from the rest of the team. To the girls' locker room.
I walked into a room full of naked, sweaty pussy. I took off the helmet and dropped it. I wanted to get fucked — to bleed off all the adrenaline and whatever in the fastest most carnal way I could think of. I was hard, I was pumped up and I was naked in front of a dozen naked, hot, sweaty babes.
I'd really love to blame someone else for what happened next, but there's no one to blame but me.
Beth — Midday
We were empting the nets and sorting fish — big ones in the hold, little ones back in the water — when I couldn't take Hank looking at me and laughing to himself any more. "If you don't tell me what's so damn funny, Ima throw you ova!"
"I'm sorry." He grinned. "I just never imagined you lookin' like this."
"Like what?" I looked at myself. Jeans, sweater, knit hat, work gloves. My hair was mostly stuffed under the hat but it never all fit. I was a bit sweaty but then, it was noon so we'd been at it for a good six hours. I probably smelled like fish — which would make sense since I was standing in them most of the day. "I look like I been fishin' all day."
"That's the hard ta believe part." He laughed at my expression again. "I can't — couldn't — imagine you doing anythin' less lady-like than, I dunno, serving tea."
"Oh, please!"
"Seriously! You always seems so ... girly. I would have never guessed you do this on your weekends. I wouldna even guessed you'd want ta."
"Well, I do." I looked away, trying not to blush. It was bad enough that he kept embarrassing me to myself but even worse that every time Phil or Ron caught him at it, they'd ring the deck bell. "And I'm good at it."
"I'm being trained by the best? Good!"
I heard that damn bell ring again. "Quit it, Ron!" I yelled out. I stopped myself before I started to called him what I wanted to call him; watching me work like a sailor might be more fun than hearing me swear like one.
I turned back to sorting fish. It was the last load of the day and Phil had already turned the boat toward Reedville. Ron was setting up a pair of huge crates for our two biggest customers. After we sort by size, two of us would actually get in the hold with the fish and start sorting by species. If we worked it right, we'd have 15 orders sorted by weight and species ready a good 45 minutes before we got to the dock.
"OK, Hank." I said when Ron got in the hold, "You stay up here. Ron and I will toss you a fish and tell you which bin to toss it in: Fionna's, Warf's or other. The others, just fill up, it doesn't matter what goes in them. Got it?"
He looked in the hold. "You're getting in there?" He shook his head. "No way. You sort the bins, I'll toss fish."
"What?"
"You gonna reek of fish all day. And anyway some of them fish damn heavy. I'll do the hard part, you stay up here."
I stared at him for a minute. Then I hit him. When he protested, I hit him again. "What?"
"Hey Ron!" I yelled, still glaring at Hank. "If I wanted ta pull rank on this boat, what I'm I?"
"Well, lesee. You own the boat, still, right?" Technically; there's a document in the office that states the commercial boats belong to me and my brothers if the fishery ever divests its assets. My Grandfather bought it; he decided who owned it. "Me an' Phil both officially first mates so you actually want it, officially you Captain. Senior Captain, come ta think of it — don't you outrank Al?"
I nodded. "Yes, I outrank Alex by a full year at sea. Phil's at the wheel 'cause I'd rather fish than steer but if anything goes down, it's on my watch. You may not care 'bout whether Fionna's get trout or bass but I damn sure do so unless you tellin' me you can tell the difference, you best shut up an' put the fish where I tell you to. Is that clear?"
Hank tried to suppress a grin and failed. "Aye, Captain."
I jump in the hold and heard that damn bell before I landed. Ron snickered then recovered himself and started throwing Hank our catch for the day.
Alex — Midday
More than anything else, I remember her heart beat against my chest. Pounding. I could feel it sometimes in tempo with mine, sometimes out of sync but nearly the whole time, primal. Like drums. No one choose drums for make out music Thursday. We all should have.
I'm not sure how we wound up alone in the locker room. She was wearing a towel around her body and a second one, turban style, around her hair. I pulled them both off. She looked like a goddess. Round and soft, her dark hair loose and wild.
She didn't say no. A lot of coy 'Alll-leexx' and 'someone will see us' and 'are you sure you should's. But never a definitive 'no', 'stop', 'quit', or 'that's not what I want'. I'm sure of that. If she had said 'no', I'd have stopped. If she said it and meant it. You know when they don't really mean it — when she says 'quit it' and giggles and doesn't pull away. When she says it while she's got your dick in her hand. I hate girls who play games. Say yes or say no; don't say maybe. What the fuck am I supposed to do with maybe? Maybe kiss me, maybe fuck me? I told Carol, "Say no, you wanna say no." and she didn't.
It wasn't like that. It wasn't. I'm sure it wasn't ... y'know... that. I'm not Burk; a girl says no, I stop. But she does have to say no — I'm not a mind reader.
And especially when I'm like that — right off the field, naked, and she was just un-fucking-believable. I don't know why I hadn't noticed how absolutely, overwhelmingly, incredibly fuck-able Carol was. Everything about her was a turn on. The way she looked at me, eyes wide and bright. The hot, slick feel of her skin — I didn't know if it was sweat or water but she smelled like, like, like I didn't know what I just know I couldn't stop licking and kissing and sucking. Everything — her tits to her toes. She moaned while I sucked her toes. I almost stopped and plowed into her right then but it was always better if she's cum at least once before I do. Then they don't bitch if it's fast; I figured by the time I got in her, it wasn't going to last long. And I knew when she hit it. Shit, the way she screamed, the whole fucking stadium likely knew. I love the taste of pussy. I didn't used to but I must gotten used to it or something because now, I can't get enough of it. I didn't know how long I spent down there but I only stopped because she tried to rip my hair out.
"Too much." She panted.
"Cool." I whispered, sliding up the bench and over her. "Let's do sumethin' else." She gasped as I slid my rock hard dick into the hot pussy I'd just mopped up. Hot — oh my God hot — and way, way too tight; I've felt looser condoms. Even as wet as she was, it was a couple of strokes before I could move in her easily. She didn't respond at first, just a faint moan. I kissed her, deeply, and she seemed to join me eventually.
"Oh God!" she kept moaning. She'd say 'stop' but then she'd lift her hips to meet mine. I did stop moving for a couple of strokes but she pushed against me until I started again so, like I said, it wasn't like... that. I'm not like Burk. She wanted it.
She put her legs around my back — she wanted to, I'm sure. Then she slid her arms around me and dug her nails in. And that's what set me off. I hammered her so hard, we almost fell off the bench. A minute, maybe — two at the outside — and I came hard inside her. She shrieked in my ear so I think she hit it again too. I lay there with her long enough to catch my breath.
I'm not at all sure what Carol did next. I went and showered and slowly began discovering a whole bunch of aches, pains and newly forming bruises that I was probably going to have to show the team doctor. And Peter. Sure enough, I spent most of the bus ride home with Hodges taping my ribs because of a bruise that looked damn ugly even to me. It hurt like all fuck; he didn't ask about my boner and I didn't offer any explanations.
Beth — Evening
Stephanie's party was in full swing when I got there. Hank was waiting by the door for me. We had both gone home to shower and change.
"You're dressed." He observed.
Barely. A halter top and shorts. I wanted something sexy but definitely covered. "Disappointed?" I had spent an extra hour picking my outfit and doing my hair.
He grinned. "Of course not."
We went in together and I gasped. Half the room was naked. And not necessarily the good half. Teachers, parents, grandparents. There were some naked kids, of course, too but I had not expected to see quite so much flesh.
"Hey Beth! Hey Hank!" A naked Stephanie yelled out as she slipped through the crowd to us. "There's food out back, sodas in the kitchen, den's open in the basement and if you change your minds 'bout clothing optional, there's a rack all set up in my room upstairs. Have you seen Ms. Pat yet? She got this big ol' hand print tattooed on her ass!"
Stephanie's father was a doctor, a specialist in aging and development, and apparently a pretty well known one at that. The house was huge with a backyard big enough for a pool and a volleyball court and a barbeque and patio set between them so you could actually watch both without getting splashed or dusted with sand while you ate. Most of the volleyball girls were there and playing naked so there was a crowd watching the game. A naked Ms. Pat was whispering to a dressed Ms. Cates; and yes, there was a handprint on her butt.
"Talk about an embarrassing tattoo!" Hank chuckled in my ear.
Gail was lounging by the pool in a light blue wrap that was very transparent in the afternoon sun. It was clear she wasn't wearing a swimsuit under it. "Hi!" I sat next to her and Hank scooted in next to me. "Decided to go bare today?"
She blushed. "Stephanie told me that if I walked through the door naked, she'd have something Van would like for me to wear all day." She waved her hand at the wrap. "I should have known."
"Did Van like it?" Hank asked. "I would have." I pinched him.
Gail blushed a bit more. "Yeah. He kinda did."
There was a splash from the pool as Van popped out of the water. "Hey." He too was nearly nude. "I thought you two'd join the nudist."
Trish
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