6 Times a Day

'Someone' Special [ 3 / 12 ] 3K

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Alan's conversation with Sean didn't take as long as expected, After Kim left, he felt it was good to leave soon thereafter, for maximum dramatic effect. As a result, he got to his first-period class a few minutes before the bell was due to ring.

Christine had also just arrived. As soon as they were both seated and they said their usual hellos to each other, she just sat there and stared at him for some long moments.

Finally, he asked, "What?"

She asked cryptically, "You tell me."

"What does that mean?" He spoke in hushed tones typical for their private talk in class, so the others around them wouldn't hear.

She gave him a sour face, and waved a hand in his direction. "You! You're, well... you're weird. You've got this slap-happy expression on your face, which has become the new normal, only it's even more pronounced today."

He teased, "Maybe I'm just happy to see you. Both of you." He stared obviously at her breasts. They were thoroughly covered, as usual, but his mind ran free imagining them fully bared, also as usual.

She sighed in frustration. "Nice try, but you can't distract me with your usual offensive breast talk. What is going on in your mind?! What are you thinking about all the time that puts that look on your face? That blissed out, dreamy look?"

He forced himself to maintain a straight face as he thought as if he was talking out lout to her, If you only knew! I just fucked Sis in the ass for the first time, less than half an hour ago. And before that, Mom AND Sis sucked me off together. And let's not forgot how Kim was giving me a handjob in front of Sean, like, three minutes ago! Plus, that's just for starters! My sex life is so insane that it... well, let's just say it would totally blow your mind. So yeah, I am blissed out all the time. You would be too if it happened to you!

Since he obviously couldn't really say any of that, he tried another attempt at distraction. "Okay, you got me. The truth is... I've been thinking about this... problem."

"Problem?" She frowned in concern.

"Yes. It involves this dumb blonde girl I know and her many futile efforts to screw in a light bulb. Why?! Why does she keep trying?! And how many blonde friends would it take to successfully help her?!"

Christine sighed again. "Ugh! You had me going there for a minute. Come on, I'm kind of a friend, aren't I?"

"You definitely are," he said.

"Okay, then why won't you tell me what's really going on?"

He winced. "I wish I could, I really do. But it's private stuff. I can't kiss and tell. And yes, it involves kissing and stuff like that, if you didn't know already. But... if I was sexually intimate with you, and you didn't want anyone else to know that, wouldn't you want me to respect that and not tell a soul, not even good friends?"

She was frustrated, because she had no choice but to say, "Obviously." Furthermore, his answer made it pointless for her to ask who he was intimate with.

While she was still thinking over what else to say, he muttered, "By the way, the best answer I could come up with is two."

"Excuse me?"

"Two. You know, when it comes to how many blondes it takes to screw in a lightbulb. One to hold the light bulb, and the other one to spin the ladder around."

Christine couldn't resist but snicker at that. Then, grinning, she joked right back, "A-ha! That proves blonde girls are much smarter than dumb brunette boys like yourself, because you know how many brunette boys it takes to screw in a light bulb?"

"How many?"

"One hundred! One to hold the light bulb, and the other 99 to rotate the house!"

He had a good but quiet laugh at that.

Just then, the bell rang. So he leaned forward and quietly muttered, 'You win this round. but the blonde vs. brunette war has just begun!"

She put her hands on her hips and sat up straight in a defiant pose. "Bring it on!" Not by accident, the pose caused her huge tits to thrust forward enticingly.

He looked her over, and nearly gasped. Holy fuck! She's so sexy! And stacked! He turned in place to face the front of the class. He was grateful that he'd been "saved by the bell" from having to say anything, because he didn't know what to say.

Christine smirked. She'd seen the lusty and astonished look on his face just from her brief change of pose, and that made her very glad. She thought, I didn't learn anything new here. He has lots of lovers, obviously. I've known that a long time now. And it's just as obvious that's what keeps that silly grin on his face all the time. But I'm going to wear him down and get some real answers one of these days. Meanwhile, let him think about MY body for the rest of class! That'll serve him right for all those dumb jokes!

— — —

Alan walked out of his first-period class feeling wary. He worried about Heather ambushing him because he felt certain she'd have some new demands.

But he hadn't gone far when he was ambushed by someone else: Heather's old boyfriend, Rockwell. Just like the unnamed football player who harassed him yesterday, the star quarterback Rockwell was surrounded by several flunkies. And just like yesterday, Alan was pushed back into a locker before he even knew what was happening. Except Rockwell seemed far angrier than Alan's tormentors had been yesterday.

"Hey, you little fuck," Rockwell started. He looked around to see if others in the busy hallway were watching, but his friends created a tight seal around Alan. No one could see past the big football players.

"What?" Alan asked dumbly. "What are you doing?"

"This!" Rockwell punched Alan in the chest, hard.

Alan fell to his knees, clutching at the blow.

"Get him up!" Rockwell ordered, and a couple of his flunkies roughly pulled Alan back to his feet and then held him with his arms behind his back.

Alan was now helpless to do anything. "What the hell?" he said in great confusion. He looked around frantically for a way out, and briefly noticed that his chief tormentor from the day before was now leering at him, a couple of bodies away from Rockwell.

"You shit, acting all innocent; I know what you've been doing! You've been fucking my girlfriend Heather! And don't play stupid. Everybody's been talking about it since yesterday afternoon. Apparently you were doing her again, and treating her like shit, I might add!" As if to emphasize that point, Rockwell pulled a fist back and swung into Alan's face, hitting him on the chin.

Alan reeled, but was only able to squirm. He futilely tried to break free from the two flunkies holding his arms behind his back. "What are you talking about?" he cried with great indignation. "Anyway, Heather isn't your girlfriend anymore! I heard you broke up over the weekend. The word has been all over the school."please visit panda-:)ɴᴏᴠᴇ1.co)m

"Yeah, thanks to you, you fuck! You played me for a fool, but who's laughing now?"

Rockwell was accurate in a way he didn't realize. Heather had broke up with him because Alan had asked her to. She'd done it right as Alan's deadline for her to do so ran out. It was ironic that Alan was being attacked after the breakup, because Alan wanted her to break up with Rock precisely because he was afraid of being attacked by the quarterback for cheating with Heather behind his back.

Rockwell swung again, and his muscular fist connected with Alan's nose (although Alan luckily turned his head at the last minute and managed to deflect much of the force). Then he hit his face with two more short jabs.

The only reason Alan still stood was because he was being held up by the goons. He cried out, "You don't know what you're talking about! Heather must be telling lies about me, framing me! She does that! Find out. Ask around. She's the one playing you for a fool, not me!" Alan thought that was pretty good thinking on his feet, considering everything.

But Rockwell wasn't impressed. "How would you know? Why would she even talk to some loser nerd like you, unless the rumors about you fucking everybody are true? Well, here's what I think about your prick!" He looked both ways, but even though the hallway was full of students, no one could see what was happening inside the circle of seven or eight big football players. Seeing that it was safe, he kicked Alan right in the nuts.

Alan cried out a gut-wrenching scream. It went on and on, filling the hallway like a police siren. He saw Rockwell looking about nervously, and he got some minor satisfaction from that. But that was the last thing he saw as he fell to the floor and passed out.

When Alan woke up, he found himself in what appeared to be a hospital bed. He slowly opened his eyes and saw Mrs. Haggerty, the old school nurse, and Mr. Mifflin, the vice principal. He realized he was still in school, in the infirmary. The nurse was looking at him with kind concern, while Mr. Mifflin sat farther back, more detached from the scene.

"How are you feeling, Alan?" the kindly, white-haired, bespectacled nurse asked him.

"Ugh," Alan groaned. He rubbed his head and felt a pounding headache.

He heard some sounds coming from the other direction and turned. To his delight, he saw Katherine and Amy getting up from where they'd been sitting. They moved to his side.

Katherine grasped his hand tightly.

He felt greatly reassured to have them there, and almost cried for joy to see their friendly faces. Amy's hand joined Katherine's, so now his hand nearest to them was shared with both girls.

Their reactions were telling. Katherine looked despondent, as if Alan was on a life-support system, hovering between life and death. Amy, on the other hand, was maintaining a positive attitude. While not actually smiling, she had a hopeful look on her face. Their difference in clothing was telling as well. Katherine wore a plain and heavy T-shirt, typical of the clothing she wore outside the house and designed to prevent attention from other males. Amy wore a shirt that showed off her shoulders and a bit more of her chest, almost reaching down to her cleavage. She just couldn't bear to go about so fully covered as Katherine.

Mr. Mifflin coughed, and Alan turned back in that direction. "You feeling all right?" he asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Nothing broken, if that's what you mean."

"Good. Strictly speaking I shouldn't have let your sister and girlfriend in here and have them miss class, but they were very insistent."

Alan turned back to the two girls briefly, and was warmed by their loving smiles.

Mr. Mifflin continued. "Alan, before the nurse takes over, let me be brief. You obviously were beaten up in the hallway by that gang of football players who were yelling rude things at you. That much we know from witnesses, according to the teacher first on the scene. I won't stand for that kind of behavior here at this school. I want to know who's responsible right now and get to work on them. Can you tell me who they were now, or do you want me to come back later?" The vice-principal was obviously antsy to do something right away.

Alan replied, "Well, the main guy is named Rockwell. He usually goes by 'Rock.' He's the one who did all the punching. He even kicked me in the nuts! God, that still hurts. Oops, pardon my language. How long have I been out?"

The nurse looked at her watch and answered, "Oh, about fifteen minutes."

"Is that all? Anyways, I don't know Rockwell's last name, but I'm sure you know him. He's the star quarterback and all. He really did everything and the other guys just stood around and blocked my way. I don't know the other guys at all, but if you show me some pictures, maybe I could recognize a few of them."

"I'll do that," Mr. Mifflin said firmly. "I'll go get some pictures and be back shortly. And rest assured that this Rockwell is going to be expelled. I don't care if he is the star of the team, and I don't care what he or his friends have to say. Your wounds speak for themselves, and this school has a zero-tolerance policy for violence. This is not the first time we've seen this kind of behavior from Rock, so he's definitely gone. We've covered up some of his transgressions in the past, I must admit, but no more free passes. May I ask though what this is about?"

"He accused me of sleeping with his girlfriend. Only they already broke up over the weekend! She can do whatever she wants now and he should just butt out." Alan figured that was basically true, even if he was sleeping with Heather before she and Rockwell broke up.

In actual fact, Rockwell had good reason to complain. Heather had broken up with him just hours after Alan fucked her in the ass on Friday, and she did it as a direct result of Alan's disdain over her going out with the obviously lumberheaded, sexually inadequate, self-centered boy. Alan hadn't talked to Heather about it, but he'd noticed the timing and suspected a connection.

The vice-principal patted Alan on the knee. "Typical jock. Those guys think they own the school and unfortunately too often we've let things slide. I've never agreed with that but sometimes my hands are tied. Don't worry though, I'll get this all sorted out. You just get better."

Mr. Mifflin left, after which Mrs. Haggerty tended to Alan's wounds. Alan's groin surprisingly wasn't too bad once the effects of the kick wore off. But his face looked horrible. His left eye was threatening to turn into a black eye, and his cheeks and nose were red and swollen. The nurse kept an ice pack on him while Katherine and Amy commiserated and held his hands as if holding on for dear life.

After a while the nurse left, and Alan was free to voice his thoughts to the two girls. He said, "I'll be okay. My biggest wound is gonna be on my butt where I'll be kicking myself. That and the wound to my ego. I kind of feel like I deserve this."

"No!" Amy gasped. "Totally not! Don't say that."

"No, it's true. I've been too cocky. This was pretty much inevitable, because I wasn't keeping my ear to the ground and listening to what people were saying. And my security standards grew lax. Amy, I should never have let you speak so freely about sexual stuff."

Amy was going to say something.

But Alan preempted. "Don't worry, Aims. It's all right. If not for you, it would have come out anyways. Heather and a couple of other cheerleaders were talking too, I'm sure. You know how it is: you tell just one best friend in top secrecy, but then that person tells just one, and so on. It gets around if it's interesting enough, and my case is too interesting."

That was true, but he also felt Amy exacerbated things by talking so freely. He didn't want her to feel bad about it though. He also suspected Simone of starting a whole new round of rumors about his sexual prowess after he fucked her yesterday. He cursed himself as well for getting drawn in to Simone and the others the afternoon before.

He continued, "The question is, what am I going to do now? They may expel Rock - I imagine he'll get bounced to some other high school - but the other guys will still be around after whatever punishments they get, and madder than ever. Plus, now I'm considered a rat for naming names. AND, if the football team loses, everyone's gonna blame me for the loss of the school's best quarterback. I have enemies, and I'll be getting more." He sighed.

Katherine caressed his upper arm lovingly. "Don't worry, Bro. It'll be all right. I have one idea, though you're not gonna like it. I even don't like it."

"What?"

"Get Heather to help. Have her do the tricky, backstabbing stuff she does so well. She knows and fucks most of those football players. I'm sure she can do something to keep them in line and away from you. They act like they own the school, especially since the football jocks are generally the basketball jocks in winter and the baseball jocks in the spring. If they back off, everyone else will."

pαпdα-ňᴏνê|·сóМ Alan thought about it and sighed some more. "Maybe. But then I'll be beholden to Heather. And that sucks."

Amy and Katherine both nodded in agreement to that thought.

He thought to himself, Besides, I don't like the idea of her fucking random jocks. Not only is there a huge sexual disease risk there, but I feel like I own her ass!

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