I am so sick of Kawika.
It’s not just girls who fall over him, it’s the guys who want to be him, and the administration who regret not living life like him when they were 18, and everyone’s parents who wishes their kids were like him, and the college admissions workers who are in the process of sending him a free sweatshirt in the mail this very moment so they can repost his selfie onto their Instagram.
He’s been the darling of our high school since freshman year ever since he showed up with a surfboard and abs and a naturally low voice. It turned out he was great at basketball and was put on the Whitehawks varsity team in 10th grade, and it also turns out he was really smart and he got like a 5000 on his SATs or whatever, and it also turns out he was really charming and went to the senior prom three years in a row with the prettiest senior girl each time. They called him the fucking heart of our school in a newsletter that went out once. The heart of the school. Without him it all dies.
My friends have long since known my derision for Kawika. Every time he passes in the hall and waves a paw at us, every time he wins some stupid scholarship for being so smart and so great, every time it’s breaking news that he and his girlfriend ended it and she couldn’t find a single bad thing to say about him even after he broke her heart. They think he’s nice. He’s chill. He’s humble. They think I’m just jealous, which I totally am by the way, or that I just want him for myself, which I totally do, or that I’m crazy, which I totally might be after this.
The basketball team is having a blowout party tonight. Now that they’ve won the big match, the season is over and everyone’s going off to college. Anyone who manages to walk into Kawika’s house party without getting their eardrums exploded by the noise is invited. That means I’m invited.
The plan is to totally humiliate Kawika by getting him to have sex with a guy. With me.
It sounds absolutely crazy, I know. That’s why I didn’t tell any of my friends. This is just between me and myself. I’ve been planning it for weeks, for as long as Kawika’s been going around and telling people about his little get together.
His type in girls has long since been public knowledge – girls who emphasize how cute they are, who wear oversized sweaters that still show a little skin, tiny skirts and big socks, girls who will follow him around mindlessly until he finds the new one. I ordered a mishmash of all their outfits online, a tiny black skirt that barely goes to the bottom of my butt, a black bra, a colorful knit top. I’m gonna get him drunk, I’m gonna flirt with him, and I’m gonna get him to fuck me.
Standing in my bedroom now in this outfit, I only feel more fired up to do this. I’ve seen guys who look like me right now in porn. They’re always getting fucked in the ass, always getting slapped and tied up and kissed all over. I’ve jerked off hundreds of times to some variation of this outfit. But I never thought it would ever be me. I look damn good. I’ve always been on the smaller side, more feminine, but nothing like this. He’ll be hard launching me on his social media by the end of the night.
I rummage through my sister’s stuff to find something to hide the rest of my identity – I grab one of her knit hats and a pair of pink heart-shaped sunglasses and put them on. It’s amazing how little I look like myself. It helps I have a thin waist and a big butt, because I totally look like some random girl right now.
He lives in the nice part of town. I catch a bus over there and stare at the window with my headphones on, hoping nobody looks at me too hard. I don’t live in a particularly liberal area and most people on the bus have probably never seen a crossdressing boy before, so the fact that nobody even glances twice at me makes me feel great. I get off the bus and head over to his house.
Just about everybody I’ve known for the last four years is here. I spot half of the basketball boys cavorting on the front lawn before I’m even in front of the house. And when I go in, nobody notices.
Much like how I normally am in parties, I stalk around with no particular goal. Kawika must be here somewhere, but I spend 20 minutes getting trapped in conversations with nice girls from the grade below us and fratty guys who are roleplaying what they’ll be like when they get to Tulane. Nobody knows who the hell I am. I put my most feminine voice on and say I have someone I need to find and they all wish me good luck with a smile.
Through the front window, I watch the group of basketball boys grow. In the middle of them, Kawika is doing a damn kegstand. That’s right, he got 5s on all of his APs and he doesn’t throw up after drinking a pint of beer in 20 seconds. I watch him stumble away drunk and laughing and I know it’s my time to make my move.
I follow him up the stairs. The upstairs have seemed off-limits, maybe not officially but definitely socially. I have to squeeze through groups of vaping girls to follow him up. It’s his house and I’m trying to court him, so it’s fine I’m up here.
I listen to him take a leak in the bathroom, then find a casual place to stand where he’ll see me when he comes out. I take a deep breath. I’ve been waiting weeks for this. Years, if you really think about it. I’m going to totally humiliate him in front of everyone and it will be great.
When he steps out of the bathroom, he looks down at me and gives me a smile. He’s in his basketball jersey with the Whitehawks logo over his chest and black basketball shorts barely pulled up over his hips. “Hey, girlie,” he growls drunkenly.
I hold onto the bottom of my skirt and smile back. I have him in the palm of my paw. “You’re Kawika?”
“I’m Kawika, yeah.” He stands right in front of me, putting barely any space between us and backing me against the wall. He flexes his muscles a little. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”
I smile. “I watched your game tonight. You were great.”
I have no idea if he did great. He could have been sitting on the bench the whole night for all I care. He grins anyway. “Yeah? You like what you saw?”
“I really did.”
“I like what I see too.” He puts a paw on my cheek. “Has anyone ever told you you’re really beautiful?”
Hook line and sinker. I hold my paws up and pretend to nervously shift them around. “Not anyone like you.”
“Mmmm.” His breath smells strongly of alcohol. He breathes it right onto my face as he moves his paw down onto my neck. “You’re a beautiful girl.”
“Thank you.”
He’s right in my face. It seems like he’s going in for a kiss and I have to grin. But then he looks right into my eyes and cocks his head. He’s staring at me like I’m not really in front of him, like I’m one-way-glass and he’s checking his hair in the mirror. At first I think he’s so drunk he’s not really in there anymore or he’s spacing out, but I think we both realize what he’s thinking at the same time.
He pulls away. “Cole?”
“Holy shit.” Somehow, I never accounted for him catching me. I thought he’d be so drunk and so horny that he’d just fuck me anyway, that I’d get to snap a good photo of him and let it spread throughout the school. What the hell is my escape plan here?
Before I have any more time to panic, he lets out a big laugh. Much bigger than the polite chuckles he’ll make at your jokes at school. He looks at me differently now, gives me a genuine smile. “Duuuuude. Cole? Fuck, I didn’t think that was you.”
“I didn’t…” I stumble over my words and genuinely start fumbling with my paws. “I…”
“Dude. You make a damn good girl. I was completely freakin’ convinced you were just some girl I never met before. Holy shit.”
“Oh,” I say. “Yeah.”
“Dude, were you trying to kiss me? You’re dressed up exactly like– like, shit, dude, I’d totally be making out with you right now if you were a girl. Like totally.”
I grin. Maybe there is a way to save this. “You still could.”
“Aw, fuck dude, no. I don’t do that gay shit.” He steps back and takes another look at me, this time like I’m really here. Despite what he said, he’s clearly giving me a once over. My little skirt, my midriff fully exposed, my soft fur all over. I give him a once over too. There’s clearly a bit of a chub in his gym shorts. He laughs. “Fuuuuck. You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?”
“Not a soul.”
He steps forward, presses me into the wall, and puts his paws on my hips as he gives me a kiss. His tiger tail whips back and forth. When he pulls back, there’s a little trail of spit between us already. “You make such a pretty girl.”
And that’s how I end up making out with Kawika. I’ve kissed a few guys before – nervously on the edge of the bed, a quick peck before he goes out on stage. It’s nothing like that. He is so aggressive, so forceful. None of that is a bad thing because I am happy to take all of it, but his paws go where they want and they go there quickly. It’s like kissing is a conduit for getting to put his paws where he wants. He quickly loses focus on kissing me intentionally, instead basically just licking my face as he puts his hands on my hips, as he pushes his paws up my skirt and under my panties.
He starts grinding up against me. I feel his hard cock pressing against my stomach – it’s a good thing we have the height difference, because otherwise he’d feel my own pulsing cock pressing back. He settles into an intense rhythm, like he’s trying his hardest to get himself inside of me. His pure aggression makes me leak a little, honestly. This is way way way too much to be doing inside of a public hallway, but he doesn’t stop and I don’t ask him to stop.
He pulls off of me and gives me another look. It’s the same look as the first time, like he’s never seen me before in his life. I like it that way. He gives me that same drunken smile and grabs my paw. He leads me into his bedroom.
Kawika falls onto the bed and turns himself over. I adjust my bulge in my panties as he gets himself ready, take a brief look around his room. There are basketball trophies on his shelf, open textbooks at his desk, thrown jockstraps on the floor. How many girls has he had sex with in his room just like this?
“Get on me, baby,” he says. “I need you so badly.”
I climb onto him and we begin the routine once again. He moans against my face as he takes my sweater off, he throws my glasses and my hat onto the bed, he feels everything he wants to under my skirt. There is absolutely nothing in my bra and he doesn’t care in the slightest. His grunts are so loud, so sloppy. He absolutely doesn’t care anymore.
“Fuck,” he whispers into my ear. “I need your pussy. I need your pussy right fucking now.”
I freeze at that. I don’t know how to explain to the drunken tiger in front of me that I don’t actually have a pussy for him to fuck, that I thought we were maybe going to do an awkward handjob or a toothy blowjob before someone walked in on us and the moment was over. But again, Kawika finds a way. He lowers my panties and presses his hard cock against my asshole like it’s nothing. He slaps around on his nightstand for some lotion, slathers it on himself, and presses right at the barrier. I press my forehead against his and wait in anticipation for him to enter me.
“It’s kinda nice you’re not a girl,” he barely whispers. “No need to wear a fuckin’ condom.”
He pushes down on my shoulders and pushes his cock right into me.
I let out a little yelp. It feels so good. I didn’t get a good look at his cock before he put it in me, just the feeling of it cooped up in his underwear against my butt, so I don’t know exactly what we’re working with. It doesn’t matter, because even drunk he knows exactly how to use it. He grabs my butt and works his cock deep into me. He jackhammers me a little and I have to clench every muscle inside of me to keep me together. He moans into my ear as he fucks me hard and I whimper back.
When he’s done with that, he slumps back onto the bed. It’s a big job for a drunk little cat. He catches his breath, still holding onto my hips like he’ll die if he doesn’t.
“I need you to do the work, baby,” he says with a bit of a burp. “Oh, I’m a little tired.”
That seems good to me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders and get myself into the exact position I need to be in, then start riding him. It’s much bigger motions than he was doing, basically his whole cock moving in and out of me. He slips out twice and has to push himself back in before I get into the swing of it. It feels great for me. I feel completely in control – his big cock pushes in and out of me and I’m taking it like a champ. I’m giving it like a fucking champ.
It looks like Kawika is using every ounce of energy to keep himself in this reality. He grips the bed sheets tight and basically shouts expletives into the air, moaning “Fuuuuck,” every time my ass hits his thighs. There’s no way other people can’t hear this. No way they can’t feel the swaying of the ceiling from downstairs. He shuts his eyes tight and tries to catch his breath in between each swear, only for me to beat him there and the whole thing to happen again.
Eventually, he grabs my hips tight. “I’m gonna cum,” he moans. “Ohhh, I’m gonna fucking cum in your tight pussy, aren’t I?” I basically can’t move now that he’s wrapped himself around me. My back is resting on his thighs, his face buried in my stomach. “Fuuuuuck,” he moans as his cock pulses cum deep inside my ass. “Fuuuuck fuck fuck. That’s a good girl. That’s a good fucking girl.”
He fills me up. I can feel his warmth deep in me as he falls back onto the bed, as his cock slips out of me and his cum starts leaking onto my panties. I slip off of him and sit on his sweaty bed sheets. Like that, he’s out cold. He’s snoring by the time I pull my panties back up.
So here we go. Here’s where I take the photo. His cock is not quite as big as I thought, probably about 5 inches even as it’s still pulsing with orgasm. There’s still spit from our kiss onto his chin. I pull my cock out of my panties and line it up with his cock, then slap around for my phone in my sweater. I take the photo in a matter of seconds.
But then I don’t know what to do. Sneak out of here and take the bus home, I guess. But that doesn’t feel right. And it’s not even just that his cum is in my ass right now.
My legs are sore. I try getting up and pulling my sweater back on, but I have to sit down before I get anywhere. I guess I might as well get the full experience.
I lie down next to him. He immediately flops over and wraps his arms around me. He pulls me in tight. I don’t even know if he’s awake, but he gives me a little kiss on the cheek.
Maybe my friends were nice. Maybe he is nice. Maybe he is chill. Maybe he’s pretty humble.
I guess we’ll see what happens with this photo. We’ll see in the morning.