(Usual Disclaimer Time: All the characters in this story are 18 years old or older, and since we're living in the wide wonderful world of porno-land here, where clichés roam free and things might get a little unrealistic from time to time (often in regards to a character's proportions), please remember it's all in good fun.)
Author's Note: This story requires a little explanation before we get too deep into it. Spring Break Memories is a much-requested spin-off tale from my long-running Senior Year Memories, taking place between chapters 50 and 51 of that tale. All of you who have read that far in the story will hopefully enjoy the continuation of various storylines and returning characters, but as for the rest of you, I want to let you know now that it is NOT necessary to be a Senior Year Memories expert to enjoy this story. I'm doing my best to write it as both a continuation, and a story that will stand on its own for the reading pleasure of those who might not want to go through all 50+ chapters of the main series. I like to keep things light, fun, thoroughly cliched and more than a little unrealistic, so I hope you all enjoy!
Further, I would like to thank the readers whose votes helped determine some of the action of this story and picked the majority of the girls who would make appearances in it, including the leading lady of this chapter, the delightfully impossibly stacked Haley Campbell; you guys are, as ever, the best!)
***
I want to make one thing clear when I begin this side-jaunt of a story: none of this was supposed to happen. If you've read this far in my other tales like Senior Year Memories or Book Club Memories, you know how improbable a year I'd had already, but if this is your first time dipping into my particularly peculiar senior year, that's the announcement I want to start you off with: none of this was supposed to happen. No, if everything had gone according to plan, I, 18-year-old Ryan Collins, would have spent my senior year at Regan Hills High School a scrawny, nearly friendless and thoroughly bullied 5'11" nerd who wore glasses and had a respectable head of tousled brown hair and lived a perfectly average and thoroughly boring life, with each day indistinguishable from the days that had come before.
My story was *supposed* to be boring, but as I soon found out what my year would actually be like, there was very little about my life in Regan Hills, California that was boring. Sure, I'd always known that our fair town had an above-average number of gorgeous women with the kinds of bodies you'd mostly think you'd find in porn flicks, but I never thought that I'd get to do anything more than just admire them from afar... I just wasn't that kind of guy.
All it took was the right cheerleader finding out that I was packing a sizable cock, her leaking that information out to our school's rumor mill after she'd seduced me and helped relieve me of my virginity, and my year had become anything *but* boring. My year had been filled with crazy sex and friendship, I'd gained some girlfriends, and even managed to get in respectable enough shape that I doubted I could be called scrawny anymore. Though the year had had some speed bumps, for the most part it was a fulfilling and thrilling period full of joy and excitement and so very much sex with many, many beautiful women.
I think back on many of those memories now, from the frightful and sexy fun of Halloween to my hurried efforts to get Christmas presents to all the women who'd improved my life this year... from the cheerleader orgy at New Year's to the MILF orgy later in March... but now I'd really like to tell you all about Spring Break.
Now, as a guy who hadn't had many friends before this school year, Spring Break was one of those periods that had previously never meant a lot to me. Occasionally Dad and I would take a road trip, but more often than not work would keep him busy during my Spring Break period, forcing me to fend for myself when it came to keeping entertained, which for a kid who wanted to do nothing more than play video games was usually fine by me.
Spring Break in senior year, though... that was something else entirely. While most of my friends and all of my girlfriends would be out of town for the majority of the break, there were enough girls sticking around who wanted to spend time with me that I was going to have a *very* busy week indeed, and oh what fun we had together.
Alright, that's enough setup and exposition... why don't we get to the fun stuff?
***
One of the most common jokes I heard growing up in Regan Hills was that our town, in spite of its name, wasn't particularly hilly. Oh, sure, there *were* hills to be found, but they weren't terribly impressive, and wouldn't be gracing any scenic calendars anytime soon. That didn't mean they were completely lacking in notability, though, as they did feature our town's tall, white water tower with REGAN HILLS written across the side of it in big, blocky letters. The water tower hadn't actually been used for that purpose in a long time, admittedly, and in its abandonment was now more a place where local teens and college students snuck off to make out or get high at, with many viewing it as something of a rite of passage to graduating seniors to climb its ladder and graffiti their name up top, though whether you did that before or after making out and/or getting high was up to you.
The one other noteworthy thing about the hills of Regan Hills was that it was where our town's richer families lived. As families in the LA area went, they were hardly the richest, of course, but for our small town they had their way of making a splash. Some were old money, some were new money, but with names like Shaw, Campbell, Berriman, Lewis and Bowman carrying a lot of weight around town, they had their own way of giving the hills of Regan Hills a reputation.
And, as it happened, on the Monday of my senior year Spring Break, they just so happened to be the reason I rode my bike up the winding roads toward the Campbell house, my excitement for what the day promised pushing aside any difficulty the hills might have offered my aging bicycle.
Though I was promised a day of fun by the poolside, I had a reasonable expectation that we wouldn't actually be spending *that* much time in the pool. Nevertheless, I came prepared, dressed in a t-shirt, swim trunks and sneakers, backpack slung over my shoulder containing everything I thought the day might need: towel, sunscreen, phone, lube.
The essentials, of course.
The hills may not have been all that impressive from a distance, but as I made my way up the twisting road to the Campbell house, I was happy that they weren't rich enough to be any higher up the road, pedaling up to their gated driveway and looking on the... I guess you'd call it an estate? I didn't know if it was big enough to be a mansion, but by its aesthetics I knew you could definitely call it a "McMansion", with all the palatial taste that early 1980s architecture had to offer. It may not have been my style, but it was impressive in its scope, and nearly as imposing as the girl I was going to meet inside.
I scrolled through my texts to find the one she'd sent that included the gate code and punched it in, enjoying the satisfying hum as the heavy wrought iron gate slid to the side and let me in.
Following the instructions I'd been given, I wheeled my bike around the side of the house. Faintly, I could hear some pleasant, if forgettable, pop song playing over a Bluetooth speaker, getting louder the closer I got. As I parked my bike against the side of the house, I kept walking, pack slung over my shoulder, until I got to the expansive backyard and took it in.
It was, as could be expected, impressive, mostly built around a large, pristine blue swimming pool, surrounded by well-maintained and perfectly green grass. There were your appropriate islands for a suburban, well to do family, surrounding the pool, with a gazebo and a barbeque, and an honest to god guest house at the rear of the yard. Having spent my share of time having fun in a similar guest house a few months ago, I could feel my cock swelling at those particular memories... not that I wasn't already pretty fucking hard with the understanding of why I'd been invited here in the first place.
"Took you long enough," an annoyed voice said from just out of my field of vision.
I knew that voice, that mix of bitchy superiority that hid sultry submission that I had become *very* familiar with over the course of senior year.
