Girly Bait for the Jock

When my best friend’s crush gets cheated on again, I slip into something slutty and set the perfect trap at the house party.

That afternoon, after the final bell rang and the hallways emptied out into the usual chaos of lockers slamming and kids shouting plans for the weekend, I could tell Finn was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He stood by our bikes in the far corner of the parking lot, shoulders slumped, messy brown curls falling into his bright blue eyes that usually sparkled with some dumb joke or quick comeback. Today, though, they looked dull. Olivia had gone back to Henry—again. The guy had pulled one of his classic moves, showing up with flowers and some half-assed apology about how he’d “messed up” and “couldn’t live without her,” and just like that, she’d melted. Finn had spent weeks working up the nerve to finally talk to her properly, and now it was all dust.

I hated seeing him like that. He was my best friend—the one who always had my back, who laughed at my lame impressions and never judged the secret shit I kept hidden under my clothes. So when we were finally alone behind the old storage shed, the brick wall warm from the sun and the overgrown bushes giving us perfect cover, I didn’t even hesitate. I glanced around once to make sure no one was watching, then dropped right to my knees on the cracked pavement, my skinny jeans stretching tight over the generous flare of my curvy hips and the thick, rounded swell of my chunky ass. My loose t-shirt draped softly over the gentle conical push of my chest, the black thong underneath already teasing against my smooth, hairless skin as I settled in. My high-top sneakers scraped the ground, backpack resting nearby like it was just another normal afternoon.

Finn’s eyes widened, but he didn’t stop me. “Dude… you don’t have to—”

“Shh,” I whispered, my voice already breathy with that familiar thrill. My large brown eyes looked up at him through my long lashes, dark chin-length wavy hair falling across one side of my round, feminine face. “You’re my best friend. Let me make you feel better.” I reached up with both soft hands, unzipping his jeans and tugging them down just enough along with his boxers. His six-inch cock sprang free, already half-hard and curving slightly upward, the flushed head glistening at the tip. It wasn’t the biggest I’d ever seen, but it was familiar, warm, and right now it was exactly what he needed.

I started slow, leaning in to press my full, pouty lips against his heavy balls. They were warm and full in my mouth as I sucked one gently between my lips, rolling it with my tongue in slow, wet circles while my right hand wrapped around his thickening shaft. I stroked him firmly from base to head, twisting my wrist just a little at the top the way I knew he liked, feeling the velvety skin slide over the steel-hard core beneath. My left hand cupped the other ball, massaging it gently as I switched, sucking the second one deeper, my tongue laving every inch of the loose, sensitive skin until it was shiny and slick with my spit. Finn let out a low groan, one hand coming down to rest in my wavy hair, fingers tightening just enough to send a spark straight down my spine.

“Fuck… your mouth is unreal,” he muttered, voice rough already. I hummed around his sac, the vibration making his cock twitch hard in my grip, a bead of precum welling at the slit. I dragged my tongue flat up the underside of his shaft, tracing the thick vein all the way to the head before parting my glossy lips wide and taking him in. The stretch felt perfect—my cheeks hollowing as I sucked firmly, tongue pressing flat along the bottom while I bobbed deeper. I relaxed my throat inch by inch until my nose brushed the soft patch of hair at his base, gagging softly but pushing through it, the wet, sloppy sounds filling the quiet space behind the shed. Saliva built up fast, dripping from the corners of my mouth in shiny strings that ran down my chin and soaked into the front of my t-shirt, making the thin fabric cling to the soft, conical swells of my chest.

I kept going, head moving in a steady rhythm—up and down, twisting slightly on the upstroke, my hand stroking what my lips couldn’t take while my tongue swirled relentlessly. Every time the head nudged the back of my throat I let out a needy little gag, eyes watering but never pulling away, because I could feel how much he needed this. Finn’s hips started rocking forward, gentle at first, then with more urgency, fucking my mouth in shallow thrusts that made my wavy hair bounce and my thick ass shift on my heels. “Shit, you’re so good at this,” he groaned, fingers tightening in my hair. “Taking me like that… swallowing around me… fuck.”

I moaned around his length, the sound vibrating straight through him, and doubled down—sucking harder, gagging wetter, spit now running in thick rivulets down my neck and onto the gentle curves beneath my shirt. My own five-inch circumcised cock strained hard against the front of my black thong, the full sac beneath it drawn tight and heavy, but I ignored it, focused entirely on him. I cupped his balls again with both hands, rolling and tugging them gently while my mouth worked him faster, throat convulsing around the head on every deep bob. Finn’s thighs started trembling, his breathing ragged.

“I’m close—really close,” he warned, but I didn’t pull off. I took him all the way down one last time, nose pressed flush to his groin, and swallowed around him in tight, rhythmic pulses. That did it. He groaned deep and low, hips stuttering as thick, hot ropes of cum flooded straight down my throat. I swallowed every drop greedily, milking him with my lips and tongue until he was spent and softening. Only then did I pull back slowly, licking him clean with long, lazy strokes, a satisfied little smile on my swollen, shiny lips. A thin string of spit and the last trace of his load connected us for a second before I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and stood up like nothing had happened, brushing the dirt off my knees.

Finn let out a shaky laugh, zipping himself up and clapping me on the shoulder. “You’re a fucking lifesaver, man. Seriously. I feel… way better.” His usual easy grin was back, bright blue eyes sparkling again as we grabbed our bikes and headed out of the lot.

Later that evening, Finn texted me about a house party at one of our classmate’s place—someone’s parents were out of town, and the whole thing sounded like the kind of wild chaos that could either be amazing or a total mess. I showed up in the same boyish outfit I’d worn all day: skinny jeans hugging every curve of my shapely thighs and the generous flare of my curvy hips, the denim stretched taut over the thick, rounded swell of my chunky ass. A loose t-shirt draped softly over my lean frame, the black thong hidden underneath teasing against my smooth, hairless skin with every step. High-top sneakers on my feet, backpack slung over one shoulder with a couple of things I’d snuck from home tucked inside. At sixteen, I was used to the way people sometimes did double-takes at my round, feminine face—large brown eyes framed by long lashes, narrow nose, and naturally pouty lips—but tonight I wasn’t trying to draw attention. I just wanted to hang with Finn and maybe help him forget about Olivia for a few hours.

The party was already in full swing when we got there. Music thumped through the crowded rooms, bass vibrating the walls as bodies packed the living room and spilled out onto the makeshift dance floor by the pool. Red cups littered every surface, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer, weed, and too much body spray. Finn and I stuck close, grabbing drinks and jumping into a couple of drinking games at the kitchen island. The buzz hit me warm and fuzzy after the third beer, loosening the edges of everything and making my hips sway a little easier when we moved out to the pool area to dance. My light brown skin felt flushed under the string lights, dark wavy hair sticking slightly to the back of my neck as I laughed at Finn’s terrible dance moves.

Then Henry and Olivia walked in.

Finn’s mood crashed instantly. I saw it in the way his shoulders tensed, the easy grin fading as he watched them. Henry was the textbook jock—tall and broad-shouldered, with a cocky square jaw, short-cropped blond hair, and a smug grin that never quite reached his sharp green eyes. He wore a fitted black tank top that showed off his gym-honed arms and loose cargo shorts with a silver chain wallet dangling from one pocket. Olivia looked sweet and a little out of place—petite with long straight auburn hair, soft freckled cheeks, big hazel eyes, and a curvy figure she kept modest under a white sundress and simple sandals. She clung to Henry’s arm at first, laughing at something he said, but then her phone rang. She stepped outside for a call from her dad, face worried, and left in a hurry after a quick kiss on his cheek.

With Olivia gone, Henry didn’t waste a second. He drifted toward a girl from another class by the pool, flirting shamelessly—hand already sliding to her waist, that cocky laugh carrying over the music as he leaned in close. Finn clenched his fists at his sides, jaw tight. “That asshole,” he muttered under his breath. “After everything he pulled, he’s already moving on like she doesn’t even exist.”

I saw it too. Boys like Henry didn’t deserve someone genuine like Olivia—especially not when she was the girl Finn had been crushing on for months. An idea clicked into place, sharp and reckless. I leaned over to Finn, voice low. “Wait here a minute. I’ve got an idea.” Before he could ask what I meant, I grabbed my backpack from the corner where I’d stashed it with a pile of others and slipped upstairs.

The second floor was quieter, most of the bedrooms locked or occupied. I found an empty one at the end of the hall, locked the door behind me, and dumped the backpack on the bed. My heart was already racing as I stripped out of my boy clothes right there in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door. Skinny jeans and t-shirt hit the floor, leaving me in just the black thong, high-top sneakers, and white short socks. My light brown body looked soft and inviting in the low light—lean through the torso but curved where it counted most, the gentle conical swells of my chest rising and falling faster with nerves, the narrow dip of my waist flaring out into wide, shapely hips, and that thick, chunky ass that jiggled slightly as I moved.

From the backpack I pulled the clothes I’d packed that evening on a whim: tiny black short shorts that barely covered half my ass, the fabric so tight and high-cut it would ride up with every step, and a cropped Metallica t-shirt that ended just below my chest, leaving my smooth midriff completely bare. I kept the black thong underneath, the high-tops, and the short socks. Standing in front of the mirror, I applied makeup with quick, practiced strokes—smoky shadow that made my large brown eyes look even bigger and more alluring, a soft flush across my round cheeks, and a glossy tint that turned my naturally pouty lips into something plump and shiny. Then I pulled on the long dark wig, the soft waves cascading past my shoulders with gentle bangs framing my feminine features. I stuffed my boy clothes into the backpack, zipped it tight, and took one last look.

The reflection staring back was stunning—a gorgeous, slutty schoolgirl ready to turn heads and cause absolute chaos. The tiny black short shorts clung to the generous curves of my hips and left the lush lower swell of my thick ass on full display, the cropped Metallica t-shirt riding high to show off the smooth expanse of my midriff and the subtle push of my soft chest beneath. My dark wavy hair—now long and flowing—framed my round face perfectly, those large brown eyes sparkling under the smoky makeup, pouty lips glistening. At sixteen, I looked every bit the tempting little tease I wanted to be.

I took a deep breath, adjusted the wig one more time, and headed back downstairs, the soles of my high-tops thudding softly on the steps. The party noise grew louder as I reached the bottom, and I scanned the crowd until I spotted Finn still by the pool. I tapped him on the shoulder, and Finn turned around so fast I thought he might spill his drink. His bright blue eyes went wide behind those messy brown curls, the red cup freezing halfway to his mouth as he took me in from head to toe. The long dark wig fell in soft waves past my shoulders, bangs framing my round feminine face just right, while the smoky shadow made my large brown eyes look even bigger and more inviting under the string lights. My glossy lips curved into a small, confident smile, the cropped Metallica t-shirt hugging the gentle conical swells of my soft chest and ending high enough to bare the smooth, narrow dip of my midriff. Those tiny black short shorts clung like a second skin to the generous flare of my curvy hips, the hem riding so high that the lush lower curves of my thick, rounded backside peeked out with every shift of my weight. The high-top sneakers and white short socks kept the look sporty and slutty all at once, and the black thong underneath pressed teasingly against my smooth, hairless skin.

Finn coughed hard, nearly choking on his beer. “Holy shit,” he hissed, stepping closer so no one else could hear. His voice dropped to a frantic whisper, eyes darting around the crowded backyard. “You’ve lost your mind. What the hell are you doing? Someone’s gonna recognize you. This is insane—even for you.”

I just smiled wider, tilting my head so the long waves of the wig brushed my light brown shoulder. “Do I not look passable as a girl?” I asked, voice soft and breathy but laced with that playful edge I knew would calm him. At sixteen, I’d gotten plenty of practice turning heads without trying, but tonight I’d gone all in—the makeup, the clothes, the way the tiny shorts made my shapely thighs look endless and my plush rear sway invitingly. “Come on, be honest. I spent time on this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks flushing under the party lights, but his gaze lingered a second too long on the way the cropped shirt rode up when I shifted my hips. “Yeah… you look way too good. Like, scarily good. But still—this is risky as hell. For me? You don’t have to do this.”

I reached out and squeezed his arm, my soft fingers lingering just a moment. “You’re my best friend, Finn. I’ve watched you pine after Olivia for months, and Henry doesn’t deserve her. Not after pulling that same crap again. This is how we fix it—get him on camera being exactly the asshole he is. Then we send it to her anonymously. No one gets hurt except the guy who keeps breaking her heart.” I slipped the backpack off my shoulder and pressed it into his hands, the zipper still warm from my quick change upstairs. “Keep an eye on me. Phone camera ready, okay? Film everything you can without getting caught. I trust you.”

He took the bag, still looking half-shocked but nodding slowly, that familiar spark of mischief creeping back into his eyes. “You’re crazy. But… yeah. I’ve got you. Just be careful.”

I gave him one last grin, then turned toward the pool where the music pulsed louder and bodies moved under the colored lights. The buzz from the beers earlier made everything feel electric—the cool night air on my bare midriff, the way the tiny black short shorts rode up with each step so the thick, rounded swell of my chunky ass shifted and jiggled just enough to draw stares. I could feel eyes on me already, the long wig swaying against my back as I moved through the crowd like I belonged there.

I started dancing right at the edge of the pool deck, hips rolling slow and deliberate, the kind of motion that screamed total slut without saying a word. The cropped Metallica t-shirt rode higher with every sway, flashing more of my smooth light brown skin, while the short shorts clung tight to my curvy hips and let the plush lower curves of my rear peek out teasingly. My shapely thighs brushed together, high-top sneakers planted firm as I arched my back a little, letting the long dark waves tumble over one shoulder. Boys swarmed almost immediately—guys from our class, a couple of older ones I didn’t recognize—calling out compliments and trying to grind up behind me. I brushed them off with a flirty laugh and a shake of my head, keeping my large brown eyes scanning until they locked on Henry.

He was mid-dance with that girl from the other class, his hand low on her waist, smug grin flashing under the lights. But the second his sharp green eyes found me, everything changed. He ditched her right there in the middle of the song, muttering something I couldn’t hear over the music as he cut straight through the crowd toward me. Up close he was even more the classic jock—tall and broad-shouldered, that cocky square jaw set in a confident tilt, short-cropped blond hair still perfect despite the party sweat. The fitted black tank top stretched across his toned chest and gym-honed arms, the loose cargo shorts hanging low on his hips with that silver chain wallet catching the light.

“Hey,” he said, voice smooth and full of that effortless charm as he stepped into my space. “You’re new here, right? I’d remember a face like yours if you went to our school. You look… damn. Really pretty.”

I played along, letting my glossy lips curve into a shy-but-interested smile while my hips kept rolling to the beat. “Yeah, I’m from across town. Came with a friend who knows someone here.” My large brown eyes met his green ones, the smoky shadow making them pop as I tilted my head, long wig brushing my bare shoulder. “Didn’t expect the party to be this wild, but I’m not complaining.”

He laughed, that smug grin widening as he moved closer, matching my rhythm. “Good. Means I get to meet you before anyone else steals you away.” He tried hard to impress—flexing those arms when he reached up to run a hand through his blond hair, cracking jokes about the terrible playlist, leaning in so I could smell the faint mix of cologne and beer on him. I kept him chasing, laughing at the right moments but never giving too much, letting my body do the talking as I swayed closer then pulled back just enough to keep him hooked.

Soon we were dancing together properly, the crowd fading around us. His hands started testing the waters—first resting on my curvy hips, fingers warm against my bare midriff where the cropped shirt had ridden up. Then they slid lower, bold and sure, cupping the thick, rounded swell of my chunky ass through the tiny black short shorts. I responded exactly how he wanted, grinding back against his crotch with slow, deliberate rolls of my hips, feeling him harden fast through the thin fabric of his cargo shorts. The thick length pressed against the plush curve of my rear, and I pushed into it harder, letting my soft conical swells thrust out as I arched my back.

“Fuck, you’re trouble,” he muttered against my ear, voice rougher now, that cocky square jaw brushing my cheek. “I need your number. We gotta keep this going after tonight.”

I turned my head just enough so my pouty lips were close to his, the long dark waves of the wig framing my round feminine face. “I’ve got a boyfriend,” I said softly, watching the quick flash of disappointment cross his sharp green eyes. Then I added, voice dropping lower and breathier, “But he’s not here… and he doesn’t need to know. We could still have some fun.”

Henry’s grin returned, sharper this time, hunger lighting up his face. “I’m always up for fun.” His hands squeezed my ass harder for a second, pulling me flush against him so I could feel exactly how much he meant it. “Lead the way? Or should I?”

I glanced over my shoulder once, catching Finn’s eye across the pool where he stood half-hidden by the crowd, phone already up like he was just recording the party vibes. He gave the tiniest nod. “You lead,” I told Henry, my expressive tone light and teasing. “I like a guy who knows what he wants.”

He didn’t waste time. His hand stayed possessively on my hip as he guided me across the backyard, past the glowing pool and the clusters of people laughing and grinding under the string lights. We slipped behind some thick bushes at the far corner where a small toolshed stood hidden in the shadows. The door creaked open when he pushed it, and he flicked on the single overhead lightbulb inside. The dim glow cast long shadows over rakes, shelves of paint cans, and scattered tools, the air smelling faintly of dust and cut grass. It felt private enough—isolated, quiet except for the muffled thump of music from the house.

The second the door clicked shut, Henry was on me. His mouth crashed against mine in a rough, hungry kiss, tongue sliding in deep and demanding as his big hands roamed over my body. I kissed him back just as hard, my soft fingers tugging at the hem of his black tank top while his palms slid under the cropped Metallica shirt and cupped the gentle conical swells of my chest, thumbs brushing over my sensitive nipples until they tightened. He yanked the shirt up and off in one impatient motion, tossing it aside onto a dusty shelf, then lowered his head and sucked greedily on one soft swell, lips closing tight around the peak while his tongue swirled and his teeth grazed just enough to make me gasp into his mouth.

I reached down and pulled his tank top over his head, revealing the toned lines of his torso—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, muscles flexing under warm skin. My hands explored the firm planes of his chest as I dropped to my knees right there on the dusty concrete floor, still wearing the tiny black short shorts, black thong, high-top sneakers, and the long dark wig that framed my flushed round face. My large brown eyes looked up at him through long lashes as I freed his thick seven-inch cock from his cargo shorts. It sprang out heavy and veined, the flushed head already glistening as it curved slightly upward.

I leaned in and wrapped my glossy lips around the head first, sucking firmly while my tongue swirled around the sensitive underside. Then I took him deeper, relaxing my throat inch by inch until the thick length filled my mouth completely. I bobbed my head with sloppy enthusiasm, cheeks hollowing on every downstroke as wet gagging sounds filled the small shed. Saliva built up fast and spilled from the corners of my stretched pouty lips, running in shiny trails down my chin and dripping onto the soft swells of my bare chest. I pulled back just enough to catch a breath, strings of spit connecting my lips to his cock, then dove down again, taking him even deeper until my nose pressed against the short blond hair at his base and my throat convulsed around him.

Henry groaned low, one hand coming down to fist the long waves of my wig. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he muttered, hips starting to rock forward. I moaned around his thickness, the vibration traveling straight through him as I cupped his heavy balls with my soft hand, rolling them gently while I sucked harder. Then I pulled off with a wet pop, dragging my tongue flat down the underside until I reached his sac. I sucked one full ball into my warm mouth, tongue laving it slowly and thoroughly, lips stretching around the smooth weight while my other hand stroked his slick shaft in firm, twisting pulls. I switched to the other ball, bathing both in long, messy licks and gentle sucks, nuzzling my face deeper into him as more precum leaked from the head and coated my fingers.

He let me work him like that for a few long minutes, groaning and thrusting shallowly into my hand while my tongue worshipped every inch of his balls. But then he stopped me, fingers tightening in my wig as he pulled me off with a rough tug. “Wait—stop. I want to fuck you. You down for that?”

I stood up slowly on shaky legs, my light brown skin already flushed and glistening under the dim bulb. My large brown eyes met his as I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of the tiny black short shorts and pushed them down to mid-thigh, the fabric bunching there and leaving the black thong fully exposed. The thin material stretched tight over the front, clearly outlining the five-inch length of my circumcised cock and the full sac beneath it, the smooth bulge impossible to miss.

Henry’s green eyes went wide the second the tiny black short shorts dropped to mid-thigh, the dim bulb overhead throwing harsh shadows across the dusty floor of the toolshed. His square jaw tightened as he stared straight at the front of my black thong, where the thin fabric stretched tight over the unmistakable five-inch length of my circumcised cock and the full, smooth sac beneath it. The outline was impossible to miss—hard and straining, the head already leaking a small wet spot against the lace.

For a heartbeat the only sound was the muffled thump of music from the house outside. Then his face twisted into pure rage, sharp green eyes narrowing as his broad shoulders bunched under the fitted black tank top. “What the fuck?” he snarled, voice low and dangerous, stepping back like I’d burned him. “You’re a fucking guy? You tricked me, you little shit. Dressed up like some slutty schoolgirl, grinding on my dick out there, letting me think—” His hands clenched into fists at his sides, the silver chain wallet on his cargo shorts swinging as he glared down at me. “I should knock your teeth in for this. What the hell is wrong with you?”

My heart slammed against my ribs, but I kept my voice steady, large brown eyes locked on his through the long dark waves of the wig. The smoky shadow still made them look soft and alluring, my glossy pouty lips parted just enough to show I wasn’t scared. “No one needs to know,” I said quietly, my light brown skin prickling under his stare. “You can just walk out right now and forget it ever happened. Or… I can finish you with my mouth if you want. Your choice.” I stayed perfectly still, tiny shorts bunched around my thighs, t-shirt gone, my soft conical swells rising and falling with each breath. At sixteen I knew exactly how I looked—round feminine face framed by those cascading waves, narrow nose, full lips still shiny from earlier—and I let him take it all in.

Henry’s chest heaved, anger warring with something darker in his sharp green eyes. He raked that gaze over me again—lingering on the thick, rounded curves of my chunky ass still barely covered by the shorts, the smooth flare of my curvy hips, the gentle push of my chest. “Fuck,” he muttered, voice rough. “I’ve… wondered sometimes. What it’d be like to fuck a girly boy up the ass. Guess tonight’s as good a time as any.” He shoved a hand through his short-cropped blond hair, jaw still tight. “But you breathe a word of this to anyone and I’ll make sure the whole school knows what a pathetic little freak you are. Got it?”

I nodded, my expressive tone soft but clear. “I promise. Not a soul.” Inside, I knew Finn was already catching every second through the narrow transom vent above the door, phone steady and silent. Henry didn’t need to know that part.

He didn’t waste another second. His big hands grabbed my shoulders and shoved me forward against the sturdy wooden workbench, bending me over it roughly so my palms slapped down on the dusty surface for balance. My tiny black short shorts stayed bunched around my mid-thighs, high-top sneakers planted wide on the concrete floor, forcing my thick, chunky ass to push out invitingly. He hooked a finger into the back of my black thong and yanked the thin strip aside, exposing my smooth, hairless hole completely. I heard him spit once, thick and wet, then felt the blunt, hot head of his seven-inch cock press right against my entrance.

He slammed in with one brutal thrust, burying every thick inch to the hilt in a single punishing stroke. The stretch burned sharp and immediate, my inner walls yielding around the veined girth as a gasp tore from my glossy lips. “Oh fuck,” I whimpered, fingers digging harder into the workbench while the sudden fullness made my shapely thighs tremble. Henry groaned deep, hands immediately seizing the plush curves of my ass, fingers sinking deep into the soft, yielding flesh as he kneaded it roughly, spreading me wider so he could watch himself disappear inside me.

“Pathetic cross-dressing whore,” he growled, voice thick with disgust and lust as he started pounding hard, hips snapping forward so his heavy balls slapped against me with every deep drive. “Dressed up like a slut just to get used in a fucking shed. Look at you—tiny black shorts around your legs, dolled up like a whore, pretending to be a girl.” His palms cracked across my chunky ass in sharp, stinging spanks, the impacts making the thick globes ripple and burn red under my light brown skin. Each slap echoed off the shed walls, the pain blooming hot and sharp, but it only made my hole clench tighter around his cock. “Disgusting little cock in that thong. You should be ashamed, tricking me out there. Nothing but a hole for real men.”

Despite the stream of verbal abuse pouring out of him, his hand reached around without slowing down. He shoved the front of my black thong aside roughly, freeing my five-inch circumcised cock and full sac to the cool air. His rough fingers wrapped around my shaft and started stroking me in firm, twisting pulls, matching the brutal rhythm of his hips. The mix of pain from the spanks and the sudden pleasure of his calloused hand flying over my leaking length had me moaning loud, pushing back onto him as best I could. “Yeah… just like that,” I gasped, voice expressive and needy, my long wig swaying with every thrust. “Harder—spank me harder.”

He obliged, slapping my reddened ass even more viciously, the smacks loud and relentless while he kept railing me from behind. Sweat dripped from his blond hair onto my bare back as he reached up with his other hand, fisting the long dark waves of my wig—thank god it stayed in place—and yanked my head back sharply. My pouty lips fell open wider as he shoved two thick fingers into my mouth, fucking them in and out in time with his cock. “Suck them, you worthless little slut,” he snarled, voice mean and low. “That’s all you are—a girly boy hole built for this.”

The new angle made everything more intense, my soft conical swells bouncing beneath me, nipples tight and aching as the workbench creaked under the force of his thrusts. I sucked greedily on his fingers, tongue swirling around them while saliva dripped down my chin, the burn in my stretched hole melting into deep, throbbing pleasure that had my own cock leaking steadily over the workbench.

Henry suddenly pulled out with a wet, obscene sound, leaving me gaping and whimpering at the sudden emptiness. He spun me around like I weighed nothing, yanking my tiny black short shorts and black thong completely off and tossing them aside. My high-top sneakers scraped the floor as he lifted me onto the workbench on my back, shoving my legs up and over his broad shoulders so my white short socks and sneakers dangled in the air, toes pointing toward the ceiling. My thick, chunky ass tilted upward perfectly as he lined up again and drove back inside in one deep, relentless glide. The fresh angle let him sink even farther, every thick inch dragging along my inner walls and grinding hard against that sensitive spot deep inside with each powerful downward thrust.

“Fuck, you feel even tighter like this,” he grunted, sweat sliding down his toned torso as he pounded into me harder. His hands roamed relentlessly over my body—groping and kneading the soft swells of my chest, pinching and twisting my sensitive nipples until sharp sparks shot straight down to where his cock slammed deep. He spat more filthy words between thrusts, calling me a worthless femboy cumdump built only for taking dick, a pathetic secret faggot who looked too pretty to be a boy. The rough sex turned meaner; he slapped my face lightly at first, then harder across my flushed cheeks, the sting blooming hot and sharp. His palm cracked against my shapely thighs next, leaving red handprints that made my skin burn while he kept driving into me, the pain sharpening every sensation until I was gasping and moaning, my large brown eyes half-lidded with overwhelmed pleasure.

He dragged me down to the floor after that, my sneakers scraping the concrete as he flipped me onto all fours right there in the dust. My palms and knees pressed into the gritty surface, back arched deep so my thick, chunky ass pushed high and inviting. Henry mounted me from behind like an animal, slamming back inside with a single brutal thrust that made my whole body jolt. One strong hand fisted the long dark waves of my wig again, yanking my head back sharply while the other cracked across my jiggling ass in rapid, stinging spanks. The smacks landed fast and hard, turning my light brown skin bright red as the plush flesh rippled under each impact. “Girly little slut,” he snarled, voice rough and cruel. “Cross-dressing toy. Pathetic secret faggot—dressed like this just to get fucked like a cheap whore.”

The mix of verbal abuse, the burning sting of his palm, and the deep, relentless pounding finally pushed me over the edge. My hole clenched wildly around his thick cock as I came hard, thick ropes spilling onto the dusty floor beneath me while waves of pleasure crashed through every inch of my light brown body. The tight squeeze sent Henry over right after. He buried himself to the hilt with a deep groan, hot pulses flooding deep inside me—thick, heavy spurts painting my inner walls as he kept thrusting through it, the warm load leaking out around his shaft and dripping down my thighs in messy trails.

He stayed buried for a long moment, breathing heavy against my back, his toned chest pressed to my shoulders. Then he eased out slowly, a thick trickle following as he warned me again in a low growl. “Not a fucking word to anyone. Or I’ll ruin you.” He dressed quickly, pulling his black tank top back on and yanking up his cargo shorts, then slipped out the door without another glance.

I stayed on the floor for a second, legs shaky, before pulling my black thong, tiny black short shorts, and cropped Metallica t-shirt back on. I wiped the mess between my thighs as best I could with an old rag from the shelf, the pleasant ache already settling deep inside me. Stepping out into the cool night air, I spotted Finn waiting near the bushes, his bright blue eyes wide with excitement. He handed me a fresh beer, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“Got every second,” he whispered, phone still in his hand. “Dancing, grinding, the whole toolshed scene through the vent. You looked insane—like a girl just as hot as Olivia or any of them.”

Later that night, back at his place, Finn edited the footage down carefully. He kept only the parts where my cock and balls stayed hidden or out of frame, turning it into a tight five-minute clip: me dancing like a total tease by the pool, Henry ditching the other girl to grind on me, leading me to the shed, and then the raw, hidden-camera view of everything that happened inside. I looked every bit the slutty schoolgirl—long wig swaying, tiny shorts riding up, cropped shirt flashing skin—while Henry fucked me senseless. Finn messaged me the clip for approval, then sent it anonymously to Olivia.

The next day before class, the fight exploded in the hallway. Henry and Olivia screamed at each other in front of everyone, her big hazel eyes filling with tears as she shoved the phone with the video in his face. “We’re done,” she yelled, voice cracking. “For good this time.” Finn and I watched from the side of the crowd, quiet satisfaction settling over us both as Henry stormed off red-faced.

That same afternoon after class, Finn leaned against the lockers beside me, still buzzing. “That toolshed fuck is authentic sex-tape material. We should upload the full version to your OnlyFans—people would eat it up.”

I nodded, my large brown eyes sparkling as I adjusted the strap of my backpack. “Do it. But censor Henry’s face, obviously.”

That night my fourth video went online: a filthy twenty-minute hidden-camera-style tape showing every moment from the way I danced and ground against him by the pool, the high-angle view through the vent—the rough making out in the shed, the sloppy way I sucked and gagged on his thick cock, the intense penetration where he railed me without mercy, the relentless spanking that left my chunky ass glowing red, his hands groping and kneading my soft chest, the stream of humiliating dirty talk, and the final deep creampie that left me leaking and spent. Nothing was left to the imagination, yet the cross-dressing thrill stayed front and center—me looking every inch the gorgeous slutty girl who’d lured him in.

The views started climbing almost immediately. By the time I checked my phone the next morning, the numbers were already exploding, comments flooding in from subscribers who couldn’t get enough of the raw risk, the rough treatment, and the way my curvy body had taken everything. I sat on my bed, still feeling the faint, delicious ache between my shapely thighs, and grinned at the screen. The page was about to blow up for good—and at sixteen, with my light brown curves still flushed and aching in all the right places, that deep, filthy thrill pulsed hotter than ever beneath my smooth skin. I set the phone down, let my fingers drift lazily over the tender swell of my chest, and smiled into the dark as the first wave of new comments lit up the screen. Whatever twisted, hungry thing came next, I was already soaked and ready for it.