teenagers fucking because

The way to school was muddy. Same walk she made every day clad in blue jeans, t-shirts emblazoned with labels and non-clever statements she never read nor had any intent to. Her backpack slung over one shoulder, light with only her scribble-filled agenda inside. Sherry spotted a boy across the street shouldering a pack full to burst and a bagged lunch to boot. She smiled at him, snickering to herself. “I don’t even know where my books are anymore.” She raised her eyebrows and grinned wider when he noticed her. A deliberate gaze of sheer mania that made him round the corner quickly and take a much longer way to school.
	Gray skies welcomed darker clouds, shrouding the early morning with chilled winds and a building drizzle. Sherry stopped at the same sight she always did to and from school. Where she stood facing the Lossless suburbs, rows on rows of lower-middle class houses of every color in strictly-enforced shades of bland. The overcast sky changing nothing that Sherry ever cared to notice. The curb and streets, always freshly laid and paved as if they’d always been. On the corner she swerved in place to see: “The South.” Sherry called it, because that’s all it seemed to be. All along the sidewalk for a half-dozen blocks, where elsewhere there were houses was only a solid 10 foot drop. She peered over the edge, beneath the sidewalk – tightly compacted dirt and rocks matching at the base with the start of an endless field of pitch-green grass. Absolutely perfect, and she never saw anybody mow it or water it or anyone ever even stand on it. Where elsewhere the grass was spotty, patchy, sometimes dead and most-times normal, here it was flawless well beyond the point of being eerie and unnatural. And there was nothing there, no buildings, never birds, planes, nor anything to tie the scale down. “It could go on forever before you reach the horizon.” Sherry commented. “A million miles or maybe more. And look at that the sky’s even the same all the way to the end. Like it’s not more but just a copy/paste over and over. Why else would the grass never even get wet?” It was that perpetuity of the place that Sherry stared at on her to and from, pondering her feelings about it. Not glee for certain, not anything good. The sight was all too riddled with peace to be comfortable for her. “It’s more like the far-off opposite, you know?” She tried to explain as best she could. “It’s like: someone else’s vague discomfort that I have a time-share in. . . .”

	Fort Midd High School was 4 or so blocks down the road, around a long curve interspersed with ‘South-front’ property and spotty sights between the houses. Sometimes she’d turn her head and see The South, other times just backyards and further streets. At the corner before the school was another grand view: Fort Midd High, designed to look like a fusion of rectangles covered in brick, laced with bright yellow pipes all over. Each wall and even the roof splattered with supposedly tasteful splotches of primary colors and painting, portraits and some just rectangles with random shapes. The entire campus was a self-inflicted Art-Deco nightmare so bafflingly vapid and meaningless it was the first listed reason in Ms. DeSilva’s suicide note that got read to the whole school last month. “It was hella tight.” Sherry commented with her arms dangling by her sides. “And like apparently last year’s Art Teacher started fucking and eating small children because of it too. That’s why I like it.” Sherry snickered.
	It all sat at the base of a steep hill surrounded by a big flat asphalt lot not even marked with proper parking. Past that the sports-fields – Football, Soccer, Lacrosse and past that even on such a muggy day was plain to see the endlessness of perfect grass – but what caught Sherry’s spastic ire was the lonely boy leaning over the wall. That pointless waist-high wall built of stone that served as a barrier between the hill’s sidewalk and the grassy downhill into The South. “Like it’s all just hill anyways.” Sherry started talking at him when she got close, leaning over it just like him to see if he was looking at anything. “The cars getting fucked would probably be better off if they just let ‘em vrooom right into the grass, ya know.”
	“Yeah.” This boy replied like a fish taking the bait just to have something.
	Both of them were leaning full-body over the wall. Sherry glared with suspicion after realizing he wasn’t actually looking at anything, or at least nothing she could see. He, didn’t even turn to notice her. Too obviously despondent to really look at anything with his reddened, worn-dry eyes. His soaking wet metallic blonde hair. He was wearing a baseball uniform, off-white with blue stripes and stained with dirt and rain and sweat and pain. Sherry didn’t know, but easily guess he’d been out, sleepless and wandering, on what may have been the worst night of his life. “You know, like,” Sherry smacked her lips and pointed out the obviously with a bite of snark. “If you jump from here you’re not gonna die, it’s like: 3 feet not even.” She chuckled.
	He didn’t.
	“Look,” She took her tone down and spoke as professionally as she could muster. Scooting awkwardly along the wall to get closer to him. “I’m gonna chase you to the cut: I have a time-share I’m looking to sell. Real cheap. Only 75 cents. And it’s deep in the heart of the Bermuda Quintangle. You’ll love it. It’s a Sherry Blattan T-M guarantee.”
	“Sure.” He answered, still not noticing her. He shifted to take his wallet out and then he dropped it at her.
	Sherry watched it hit the grass, displacing it gently. She swung herself around and hopped the wall and landed into a squat. Picked it up, popped it open and snagged what was in it. “Hm.” Sherry furrowed her brow. Shuffled through counting was amount to 300  dollars in cash. She looked back up at him, wondered wordlessly why he had so much.
	“Keep it.” He insisted, still not looking at her. “I don’t care anymore.”
	Sherry sneered at him. “Why are you acting like such a faggot, Phil?”
	“My name isn’t Phil.” He snapped at her.
	“Whatever, Collins.”
	“And I’m not gay.”
	“Yeah okay.” Sherry slid her back to the wall. Pocketed the cash and tried to pass the wallet back up to him but he didn’t take it. “Take it, homo, Geez.” She insisted, but he still refused. So she flung it down the hill, in a moment lost amidst the perfect green. “I’m not getting it.” Sherry added.
	“I don’t care.”
	“You are such a bitch, holy hell.” She said exasperated. Looked up at him and added. “Real talk: Why are you such a little bitch?”
	“Because I’m a fucking cuck.”
	Sherry laughed, so hard she toppled over backwards nearly rolling down the hill. She sat herself back up, unable to stop laughing. Tears rolling down her face as she buried her head in her arms in complete hysterics. The next thing she knew she got hit 10 times harder than her mother ever hit her and twice as hard as she’d ever been in her whole life. Both of them went rolling down the hill together.
	They both hit the bottom at the same time and nearly bounced off each-other. Before Sherry had a chance to stop laughing, he reached for her neck and slammed her into the ground. Squeezing the life out of her as best he could.
	Sherry panicked, grabbed his hands and tried to pry them off her neck in total vain. His grip was immovable, his eyes glazed over with a vindictive frenzy. So she knee’d him in his balls and he winced and released his grip.
	But he had it back before she had a chance to react, pinning her down by her neck with his left and raising his right to start bludgeoning her face in – but he didn’t. He hesitated and just – stared at her, seemingly impassive.
	Sherry finally got a good look at him in that moment, the boy looking down at her with such a mix of emotions in his baby blue eyes. She suddenly didn’t know what to make of him. She bit her lips finally seeing his dirty, tear-stained, Aryan features. He looked straight out of a Nazi Propaganda poster. Illuminated faintly by the shrouded morning sun. She reached her hand up and tried to touch his face, but his right hand grabbed her wrist and pinned it to the ground. So she reached out with her left hand and got him, placing an empty palm on his cheek with her thumb pressing in. A quiet moment passed before she gently ran her fingers to his chin, squeezed his lips from the sides to make him make a kissy face. She giggled and he gave up a smile and pulled away all serious again, releasing her and tossing himself onto the grass beside her.
	Sherry had half a mind to take a moment to think, but the sun peeked from behind the clouds just as he moved and got in her eyes. So instead of thinking, she climbed on top of him, felt him tense up as she let her weight sit on his groin. “You know,” Sherry started, glaring down at him with supreme judgment, reeling him in with simple eye-contact, her hands on his chest. She gave up a toothy smirk when she finally commented: “You’re real nervous for a guy who was half-about to murder me.”
	“I-”
	Sherry grabbed the end of her shirt, pulled it up over her head before he had a chance to kill the mood by apologizing. Bra-less, she made sure to lift her breasts up with her shirt so when they dropped they did so with a nice bounce. A bulge quickly formed in in his pants right below where she sat.
	He audibly gulped as she began to grind, struggling to actually pull her shirt over her head, getting her head half-out while her arms were still in their sleeves. Before she could fumble herself out the boy sat up beneath her. With one he held her in place by the small of her back, and with the other he lifted the shirt the rest of the way off her and tossed it aside.
	They were face-to-face, her bare breasts pressed against his still-clothed chest. Both waiting for the other to make the first move. Sherry taunted him. “What are you waiting for, faggot?”
	He kissed her. Too fast, desperate and aggressive.
	She closed her eyes and let his tongue enter his mouth. Let his hands grabs her breasts, butt, back, like he didn’t know what to do with her. He grabbed the rim of her pants and pulled them down. He did it fast, from beneath so she was suddenly lurched backward onto the grass. She watched him scoot back and tear her shoes off, standing up as he pulled off her pants before she had a chance to unbutton them.
	He stood over her. Gazing upon her nude body as if she were an alien, or maybe just something he’d never seen before. Then he undid the buttons of his shirt.
	Sherry laid back in waiting, watching his hands jitter as he undressed. Watching his dick throb behind pants that might tear apart if he didn’t remove them. Behind his silhouette as he unbuckled his belt, the rest of the world seemed much father away. The 10 foot drop seemed more like 10,000. Then he pulled his pants down, bending forward to lift each leg out at the same time with such haste that he forgot to take his shows off, tried and lost his balance.
	Sherry watched him slowly tip over and hit the ground with a thud. She double-blinked, pulled herself up slightly to see him about to tear his own feet off in desperation. So she got on all fours and crawled to him, causing pause when he noticed her advance. She put herself over him and gently pushed him on his back, sliding her hand into his underwear while she made them lock lips again, slower this time. She worked the full-mast erection that’d already pierced the hole in his boxers. Feeling him quiver and start to thrust with excitement got her going, that and the fact that he was easily twice the size of her step-dad. “Here,” She said. Releasing him and backing up, turning around to grab his ankle and start undoing his laces.
	He watched her undo a shoe for a minute, looking shell-shocked, for a moment only admiring her ass. But then his gaze drifted to her back, her shoulders and arms. Most girls were merely skinny, but this one had muscle and definition like she must play sports or even lift. Her body, face and everything was everything he ever dreamed of and that made him forget everything else. He sat up alongside her, saw her moving to do the other shoe. But he only needed the one. He pulled his free leg out and forced her to the ground in nearly the same motion. Held her hands down and pressed their naked bodies together. Frenzied, all of a sudden, by the feeling of her erect nipples against him.
	He didn’t completely look it, but he felt strong. He was a shaky frame on a solid foundation. A Young Man. ‘And he is here to claim me’, the rarely appearing voice in Sherry’s head confirmed right before he took her, or tried to. He thrust his hips to hers expecting to slide in but that’s just not how it works. Panting he looked down and grabbed his dick, pressed it against her vulva. Sherry made an intoxicated whimper, reached down and grabbed him saying “Hey” to get his attention. He looked to her and they kissed while she guided him in.
	Then he gripped her hips and filled her up.
	Sherry groaned, her eyes rolled back and she bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly, chewed-down fingernails barely making marks on his back. Then he began pumping, riling himself up into a frantic rhythm. His eyes lost their sadness now glazed over with lust and rage. Their kissing became a mutual gritting of teeth as he took out years of frustration out on her.
	It was as if she was no longer just one girl, but every woman in his life at the same time. Even behind the stupid look on her face Sherry could guess at what this was for him, and that realization, coupled in her head with every hostile and senseless action that led them both to a hot and awkward exchange of virginity wrought her to very first nearly mind-crushing orgasm.