Olivia dug the wallet out of my pocket. “Bryan, ‘eh?” she said. “Yeah, Bryan Buttface!” she laughed. She read all of my information aloud...and said I wouldn’t be getting back my student I.D. card right away.The other girls all took turns. One after another, seven high school cheerleaders in skirts and thin panties took turns sitting on my face and triumphing that they were rich girls smothering a West-Sider with their asses and proving their preeminence. And each time they exalted. I've always known that Mom was pretty, because it was easy to compare her with all the other women who visited the house, who walked around the mall or the school. She looked more like a woman on television. And I'd heard enough friends and strangers make murmuring noises when they saw her, accompanying those noises with words like, 'she's hot' or 'I'd love to do her' or 'bang her'. Without even knowing the meaning of those words, I could tell that they were complimentary about her looks.But. More

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