Jack O' Lanterns

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned.

*.*.*

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.