She Had a Secret

This is one of a few stories in BlackDarwin's journal and describes experiences with one of his closest friends and first lovers in High School.

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I wasn't the kind of kid who beat off to Wonder Woman on the Superfriends. I appreciated the real-woman curves of ElektraWoman and Linda Carter. My first carnal stirrings were compliments of Yvonne Craig as Batgirl...but you couldn't label me as a "metaphile" (what comic writers refer to as a lover of superheroines) until a very real, very beautiful woman exhibited her own fetish to bring out my own.

It was the start of my senior year in high school in Laurel, Maryland. New from the barren wastes of Idaho, I was still a little awkward, but got along with the geeks and the theater types. I was even a supporting lead in the fall musical the year I turned 18.

My girlfriend at the time was named Cara, a tall, dark-haired volleyball player at my high school. She was one of those gorgeous, athletic types who should have been strutting around with the popular crowd, ignoring all beneath their station. She was bright and clever…funny as a toppled Congressman.

We met at a volleyball game after I – no kidding – jammed my crotch into her ass on the volleyball court seconds before a game-defining serve against the Hagerstown team. I was on the run from some mook with a can of silly string. I was wearing a vampire costume and he a Ghostbusters jumpsuit. Don’t laugh it was Halloween. Hilarity ensued down the hallways and I made a quick turn into the gym, looking behind me for the pint size Dan Aykroyd with the aerosol can when I literally bum rushed Cara, sending her skidding onto the court, face flat on the boards.

My reaction to suddenly seeing about a hundred people stop their activities to see what punk-ass bastard just moshed their star player was quick and absolutely ludicrous. I lifted the beautiful young woman to her feet and, after making sure she wasn’t hurt, held her against me as a hostage against the incoming Ghostbuster.

Yes, I know…but trust me, it actually happened.

As I held her close to me, I felt her struggle. I pulled her tight against my chest and wrapped an arm around her waist. She gasped, letting out a little whimper. I bellowed in the world’s worst Hungarian accent, “I vill keeeeel her, Meeester Go-Go-Ghostbuster Eef you DARE come any closer.”

Dan Aykroyd did what any self-respecting ghostbuster would do in that situation: He sprayed us both down with two cans of red and green silly string from two fresh aerosol cans. Cara screamed so loud, my left ear rang! My pudgy 180-pound Dungeons-and-Dragons-playing ass hefted her muscular 123-pound frame onto my shoulder and carried her up the bleachers as Aykroyd gave chase, sliming anyone in his path. The crowd cheered and the players fumed as their moment of glory was muted by the next three minutes of cross-gym antics. Cara roared with laughter as I taunted the Ghostbuster, climbing back down and exiting the far doors of the gym.

That’s where Mr. Rickles, the coach, stopped me in my tracks. I won’t get into specifics, but there was no joy in Laurel Senior after that moment. Cara didn’t stop laughing for several minutes which irritated Rickles to no end. She made me laugh, too, despite my best efforts. Her eyes were almost cliché in their blue-ness and sparkle. Her teeth were perfect. Her face was known to me from many pictures in the trophy case, but they never did her justice. I was so excited by the sight of her that I asked her to dinner right there, not considering the political ramifications of the act.

So as Dan Aykroyd got his tongue lashing from Rickles, I took a step into a larger world by asking this beautiful local girl out. She looked over my talc-covered, sweaty face and agreed.

Today, I imagine, I would have to go to gender-issue classes or be reprogrammed in sensitivity classes about fondling volleyball players in the middle of a point serve, but it was Old School back in the day so I was sentenced to 3 days in-school suspension. Each of those days, I would see Cara peeking in on me as she passed for class. Sometimes, her friends would look in on me and look me over. Suddenly I was someone to be judged and examined whereas before I was one of the anonymous transfer students. Some looked approvingly while others examined me like pondscum in a specimen dish. I didn’t realize that I had asked out one of the inner-circle of Laurel High’s “in crowd”.

At dinner, she said she was a woman of secrets. She spoke slowly, articulately. She, too, was a transfer student whose mother divorced her father two years earlier while stationed in Annapolis. He was a submarine commander, I believe, and neither she nor her mother were particularly keen on the idea of missing him for six to nine months out of the year. She said that if he couldn’t choose them over the service, she wouldn’t spend her life or support her mother dedicating her time to waiting for him to resurface.

“For a woman of secrets,” I replied. “That’s pretty telling.” She smiled. Some of those secrets involved driving to Fredericksburg – 15 miles away – to meet friends to play Dungeons and Dragons or blow twenty bucks on video games. On our second date, she revealed a pair of nerdy, but cute glasses that betrayed her as one of the geeks instead of the athletic preps she circled with. She preserved her life with the in crowd because she understood the practical use of networking with people who could be of use, but made time for everyone. We talked Palladins and ‘+3 Avenger’ broadswords and comic books with equal enthusiasm, mourned the death of "X-Man" Jean Grey and went to see "Dreamscape" twice. She told me, after the burn of our first long, wet kiss how my hands around her felt “perfect…solid and commanding” and that she wondered what I tasted like. Her mouth was small, but her tongue was powerful and talented. Her body wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. She had soft arms and skin that begged to be caressed. We made out in the back row of the dollar theater during a showing of the Helen Slater pseudo-classic, “Supergirl.”

That’s where I discovered my fetish.

Somewhere in the first half-hour of the movie, I felt my cock swell up in my jeans. Cara was in my lap at the time, in a miniskirt. She was watching the movie with one eye and making out with me. It wasn’t automatic, or distracted. She seemed to be getting off on the movie. Helen Slater, blond, perky and overacting, strode across the screen in her skintight blue leotard, red miniskirt and go-go boots. She stopped in the middle of the screen and struck a pose. I felt a hand on my zipper. Cara turned to me and kissed me. “Take it out,” she said.

“Here?!”

“Fuck me, Alex!” She snarled. She centered her ass on my lap and I removed my erect cock from my jeans. I placed it between her thighs and it pressed back against her pussy. I had been with a girl before, but this was the first time in a semi-public place. I wanted her so bad, but I didn’t have a condom. I rubbed back and forth. She grabbed the shaft sharply. There were electric sparks and explosions on screen, but I could only see a wall of thick, dark hair, smell perfume and pussy, and feel the tight fingers constricting around my cock. I clutched her left breast hard and she squeaked…yes squeaked…a little louder than she wanted to.

What would the in-crowd think? There were families present and about twenty people turned to see this woman, three buttons undone, my hand on her tit, sitting on my lap. For all they knew I just blew my wad into her. We both tensed up ducked behind the seats and scrambled for the exit which, mercifully, was also located at the top of the ramp beside the lobby doors.

We ran and ran and didn’t stop until we were down fifteen blocks and behind the junior high. We ducked into a doorway and broke out laughing again. She looked down at my pants. My cock was still poking out of my jeans. She smiled, kissed me and took it in her hands. Soon I was hard again, looking out over an empty ball field as she went down on me, wrapping her tiny mouth around my cock. One thought crossed my mind as the tip entered her warm wet hole…her tongue was exquisite. I remember the skill and strength she used to excite me. I was powerless in her hands (so to speak) and she pumped my cock in and out, drooling just enough to provide excellent lubrication. She lapped up my precum, moaning, slipping a finger under her skirt and fingering herself. She hummed as she sucked me, splitting the warm throbbing with seconds of sharp cool breeze as she came up for air. She kissed me hard and I tasted myself on her. She slid a finger in to my mouth as she went back down on me and I tasted her…the first time I had ever tasted pussy. In a moment, I was ready to go and she knew I was going to cum. She put a hand around my shaft at the base and began shoving the entire length down her throat in short hard thrusts. I felt her throat tighten around the top and I nearly panicked, knowing she was going to choke…but her squeezed hard at the base and I felt this wave of absolute intensity that was nothing like a regular orgasm. I spasmed, My body clenched and relaxed. She kept squeezing me at the brink and I called out a long gasping OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! And she clamped a hand over my mouth. She rose back up and out, licking my shaft and suddenly taking the head between her teeth and lapped at it, jerking me off as she did. In that second, I felt a final wave and I came…oh GOD I came. I felt recoil as I shot my load into her mouth. It was a full minute of cumming, unmatched before or since, even after the seed was spent, I lay shattered, limp on the gold cement, the only warmth centered on my spasming member in her tiny mouth.

The next thing I know, she was lying on top of me, the sweat cooling on my brow and her body warming me. She kissed me hard, gliding a finger over my shrinking cock.

“I have one more secret to tell you,” she whispered. “But I have to go. Halloween party at Monica’s Saturday. We’re going?” It wasn’t so much a question as a statement. I nodded and tried to kiss her. She suddenly sat up and looked around. Suddenly panicked, I tried to, as well. She seemed to be looking for something or someone. Her eyes were narrow, almost haunted. She put a finger to my lips. “I have to go.” She repeated. I zipped up my pants as she turned a corner in full run. I tried to follow, but when I turned the corner, the open field beyond was empty.

The next few days were spent building and producing a Halloween play for the local elementary school. I had to rehearse and sing the Ghostbusters theme song with the rest of my drama group and run around getting chased by a bunch of Ghostbusters with more silly string while dressed like a Scooby Doo villain on mescaline.

Everyone in school wore costumes as these 7 and 8 year olds were led through a spooky auditorium. I found time every once and a while to steal a kiss from Cara in the dressing room. She wasn’t in costume, but she helped make them and helped hair and makeup. Between busloads of kids, a large group of us would hang out in the lighting room located high above the back row of seats. I was the only “outsider” allowed in the room and that was because of Cara. Here, she was a different person. I felt I might compromise her integrity as an “insider” but I soon realized that I was okay. Somehow, she had a way that didn’t suggest she was slumming, but elevating me to her level. By being a part of her life, I was able to infiltrate the minds and lives of some of the dullest, witless and superficial people I’ve ever met. This was a bad time to be part of the breakfast club. Their spirit was being amplified by the equally moronic and superfluous movies of John Hughes and his legion. But all I had to do was see the sparkle in Cara’s eyes and knew she was a genuine, beautiful and wonderful girl.

The night of Monica’s party, I got a call from Cara. I picked up the phone and after a long pause I heard, “Alex?”

“Yeah. Cara? That you?

Another pause. “I can’t talk long. I need your help. I need someplace safe to hide. Can I come over?”

I was suddenly nervous. “Yes, sure…you know where I live?”

The line went dead. The sun was going down over the mountains and the shadows were long. It was still early, but the cold wind was rising and I had a bad John Carpenter feeling about things. She sounded scared…hunted. I paced the ground floor of my stepdad’s house, hoping not to alert his suspicions. He was an asshole with a little too much lip and not enough sense. In another story I’ll tell you how God dealt with that asshole. In this case, let it be known that I avoided him for good reason.

Fifteen minutes went by. Twenty. Thirty. I tried her home. No answer. I tried Monca’s. After three times trying to remind her who I was, she admitted not seeing Cara since the Halloween gig at school. I was upstairs, scanning the street when I heard the knock at the back door. “FUCK!” I grunted as I heard my stepdad open the door. I stumbled to the stairs and down to the main floor, looking around to see my obese stepfather grilling Cara in the doorway. She looked perfectly normal. She smiled sweetly, wore a red-black flannel shirt and tight black jeans. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she wore a pair of thick-framed glasses. Suddenly, it was as if there were no problem at all. I expected the dickhead to give Cara a hard time, but he turned around and shouted my name before the bastard realized I was ten steps behind him.

“Oh! Alex…Um, Cara is here to see you.”

She stepped in and walked toward me past my stepdad. When she got in close she glared at me. “Is there somewhere we can go out of sight? I need to tell you something.”

I struggled to think. Dickhead ogled Cara’s ass for a few seconds and clearly had some dirty thoughts of his own, so I had no chance of getting her into my bedroom without issue and even the basement was suspect. The solution came in the form of a phone call.

Dickhead went down the hall to answer it in his office. I pulled Cara aside, and away from the door. Cara looked back over my shoulder and toward the back door. “Alex. I need you to help me. I need to trust you. Can I trust you?”

I nodded, desperately needed to know the trouble and why she chose me to help her instead of her mother or the police. I had a hundred thoughts going through my mind. I expected her to show up in disarray, maybe injured or sickly stoned…I thought the worst. She pulled me toward the center of the house.

I led her down the hall toward the basement steps. She practically pulled me downstairs once she knew where it led. I tried to ask her questions, but she only said, “Alex, the fate of the world depends on us right now. Please…just open your mind and listen to me.”

I suddenly stopped. “…the fate of the world?” I arched an eyebrow. “What’s this shit?”

She turned to me in the middle of the basement amidst the couch and chairs and big screen TV and my stepdad’s bar. She turned to me. “Look, Alex. I think you need to know this before we go any further. I’m not the girl you think I am.”

I put my hands on her shoulders and tried to hug her but she broke my grasp sharply with more force than I expected. “Look!” she exclaimed. “I’m not like other girls. I’m about to be found out and I need someone to trust to help me. “

“Fine! Fine! What is it?”

She took a breath and steadied herself. She planted both feet on the floor. “Alex, I’m not just Cara Harring from Laurel. I’m not from here. I’m from another planet.”

I suppressed the urge to belch out a laugh.

“…and planet known as Krypton.”

With one hand she removed her glasses and with the other, she let her hair down in a long, flowing mane around her shoulders.

I stood there, aghast.

She began to unbutton her shirt as she continued, “I am the last survivor of that planet, rocketed here just before it was destroyed.” She undid the buttons and moved closer to me. “On Earth you know me as Cara Harring. You also know me as….”

She tore open the shirt. Her perfect breasts pressed tight against electric blue spandex. A large red and yellow “S” logo was sewn into the fabric. “…Supergirl.”

She glared at me, breathing heavily, waiting for my reaction. I felt my body trembling. Her expression was so genuine. Her plea so real….I could do nothing but reach out to her in her obvious psychosis. “What…what can I do to help you…. Supergirl?”

She kicked off her shoes and unbuttoned her jeans. Underneath, a crushed red skirt fell just below her hips. No cape, but I was staring at her large, amazing breasts. She lifted my face by the chin so I was looking at her eyes again. She held me with those gorgeous blue eyes. She snarled, “I need you to fuck me, Alex. I need you to make me cum….the way I made YOU cum.” My body reacted before my mind was able to comfortably wrap around the subject.

In that instant, an 18 year old geek from Idaho with little experience with girls, chose a path toward a lifetime fetish with the following exchange. My cock was rigid. So rigid I had to unzip my pants and let it out. I pulled Cara to me. I held her tight. I whispered in her ear. “Certainly, Supergirl. I will help you. I turned her around sharply, so my cock pressed between her ass cheeks. I led her to the pool table near the laundry room and bend her over sharply. I heard her gasp and moan as I kicked her feet apart and felt between her legs. Her leotard snapped at the crotch and I was quick to snap it open. My cock felt the wet, warm hole. I leaned into her and she moaned. I pressed her wrists down on the table and leaned into her neck. “Say my name, Supergirl.”

“Alex…” she moaned with pleasure. She pressed back against me and I resisted the urge to bury myself inside her. I cupped her breasts and squeezed. “Say my name…who will save you, Supergirl?”

“Aow…Alex…’Lex…please fuck me, Lex…” And I slowly pressed my rod into her pussy. It was so incredibly tight and tender. She moaned and whimpered. I forgot I wasn’t using protection, but it didn’t matter. I began fucking Cara with passion and strength. She moaned and fucked back fiercely, getting slicker and tighter as my cock buried itself over and over.

After several moments, I slowed, not wanting the moment to end in a sudden explosion. She stood up, bending my cock inside her. The sensation was incredible. I moaned with the strange pleasure. She arched her head back and whispered, “You’ve taken my virginity. I offer it to you. By saving me you make me your slave….I must serve you. Make me cum, Master.”

I began fucking her standing up, slowly, as not to suddenly pop out of her. The pressure was building inside her. I didn’t know if she was really a virgin or not, but this position drove her crazy. She panted and heaved. I tried not to cum. She was on the brink several times, heaving and clawing behind her into my back and messing my hair. I held her tits and clenched them in my grasp.

Finally, I had enough of the agony and bent her back over. I pounded her mercilessly, my hands slapping her naked ass as I felt the cum swelling inside. She tensed and balled her fists pressing against the table. I came in three short, powerful shots into her pussy. She let out a yelp and a series of long, jerky spasms. Her pussy clamped around my spent cock until I felt her go limp under me. In a moment, when all the tremors subsided, I turned her over.

Supergirl and Lex began laughing uncontrollably. They kissed. They never made it to Monica’s party.

Afters...

Nine glorious weeks later, Cara informed me of something I'd suspected a long time. Her mother and father were reconciling. This wasn't too bad for all concerned, but her dad was going to be stationed in Hawaii. Part of the "reconciliation" was a full scholarship to a school near Pearl. We had a great Christmas together, the usual "end-is-inevitable" talks and parted ways on worse terms than I would liked. But I hear she's now happily married, living in San Diego and part of the "scene" out there with her husband.