Lisa and Friend - Part 5 (Patreon)

On her knees and elbows, her head lolling above a tropical-themed bedspread, Lisa barely registers the camcorder pointed at her. The camera pans from her face…sweat dripping from the tip of her nose, black eyeliner streaked across flushed cheeks…to tan-lined breasts gyrating in rapid circles beneath her. The camera zooms out to show the blonde in her entirety, her come-crisscrossed body jouncing and lurching, a set of white-gloved hands grasping her by the hips as she‘s hammered from behind.

The jittery image tilts up to find PJ, pausing to mug for the camera…sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth while throwing up a 'V for victory' gesture. The image swings back to the blonde's face, Lisa letting out a halting moan when the rotund young man resumes his pistoning.

The shaky camera pans downward to find a smirking redhead, her come-splattered face and chest filling the viewfinder as she kneels before the novice videographer. Though not as sizable as Lisa’s, Ginger’s perky breasts make for a good backdrop as she wraps her fingers around the base of the wannabe filmmaker's extensive shaft. With one smooth motion and not a single utterance of protest, the whole of his rod disappears down the redhead’s throat.

As if on cue, the opening instrumentals of The Who’s ’Baba O’Riley' (aka ‘Teenage Wasteland’) begin to play in the background, the sound of Lisa's voice narrates over the low-quality video.

Lisa: Yep, that's us…the two hottest, most popular girls in school...getting fucked by the two biggest dorks in Spoonerville. How did it come to this, you may ask?

The camera jerks back to Lisa, the image going in and out of focus as the blonde gives the cameraman a dazed smirk of a grin.

Lisa: Well, let me tell you how.

It’s been a solid week since they got off the plane in Daytona, the girls putting on a little show for Max and PJ on the very first day. Since then they haven’t given the pair of voyeuristic nerds a second thought….a week-long blur of beer bongs, wet t-shirt contests, all-night raves, and groping one another at every opportune moment.

It isn’t until early in the morning on their last day, bouncing and giggling their way back to the hotel…a little rave-acquired ‘x’ still fresh in their systems…when it suddenly occurs to Ginger…

Ginger: Wait, have we…? Have we gotten laid yet?

Lisa simply stares at her, blinking, unsure of the answer. There was that finger bang with a couple of cute undergrads in the hotel pool followed by a blowjob behind the tiki bar, but that totally doesn’t count. Getting laid on Spring Break is not just a must…it’s a right of passage. At three o’clock in the morning and their flight departing in twelve hours, their choices are pretty limited. Most of the men have passed out...and those who are still vertical are either running on empty or too drunk to fuck.

The two cross A1A in front of their hotel, a passing car full of drunken freshmen, its occupants catcalling and whistling at the scantly clad women as they pass them by.…the pair wearing little but string bikinis and flip flops. No sooner has the carload of inebriated youngsters passed when the two just happen to look up. Save for a few late-night party goes out on their balconies, all of the lights are out in the hotel opposite theirs…save for one.

The two young women stop and stare at one another, a smirk crossing Ginger's face, Lisa wrinkling her nose in return.

Lisa: Are you serious? Those two dorks? Are we, like, really that desperate?

Ginger: C'mon... You've heard the rumors... Miss Marpole, Miss Pennypacker, the fat one's uber-hot real estate mom. All the girls talking about 'monsters' lurking in the locker room after gym class. You've seen 'Revenge of the Nerds', right?

Lisa: Uhh, yeah...of course. What's that got to do with it?

Ginger: All jocks ever think about is sports. All nerds ever think about is sex.

Another carload of inebriated jocks rumbles past. Neither woman bother to turn and look, its occupants yelling obscene comments about 'showing tits' and 'ass for days'. Ginger raises an eyebrow while nodding her head in the direction of the offending vehicle as if to say "See? I told you so." Lisa doesn't have to say a word, reluctantly agreeing with her redheaded bestie with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

A few moments and an elevator ride later, Lisa pauses before knocking on the two nerd's hotel room door. Glancing at Ginger with more of a scowl than a smirk, the blonde silently mouths 'Are we really doing this?' Ginger says nothing, grinning at the hesitant blonde while tugging at her bikini top...a little areola now peeking out from behind the tiny pieces of fabric.

Lisa: (thinking) Ohh well... Why not.

Lisa, mimicking her bestie, reaches down and pulls her g-string straps high onto her hips. After adjusting her upstairs cleavage for maximum exposure, she lets out a long exhale and extends an arm to knock on the door. Just as her knuckles are about to rap on the door...it opens.

Max: Dude, I going out to get more ice.

Max, ice bucket in hand, turns away from his best friend...PJ, parked on the bed and engrossed in an adult film on pay-per-view, barely acknowledges him. Max suddenly jolts to a stop, wide-eyed with surprise. Nose-to-nose with an equally surprised Lisa, Max's eyes dart from Lisa to her bestie and back again.

An hour and quite a few absurdly large umbrella drinks later, the camera zooms in on Lisa and Ginger. Long gone are the bikinis, the naked pair kneeling atop the bed, breasts pressed against the others, fingers searching for purchase as their tongues dart into one another's mouths. Neither could care less about the watchful eye of the camera...the pair stealing the occasional glance as the two young men part ways with their clothing.

Lisa blinks repeatedly, her hesitancy and apprehension forgotten...the rumors of 'monsters' in the locker room are definitely true.

The camcorder switches from handheld to tripod, the cassette inside catching every thrust and cry of ecstasy. Ginger's toothy grin as she takes simultaneous loads to the face. PJ's laugh, watching as Lisa is unable to mouth his (substantially larger than Max's) weighty girth. Lisa, pleading for more and more as she receives her first double penetration...the pleading quieted when she receives her first spit-roast. Ginger's priceless, oh-face expression...and Lisa's look of pure shock...as the entirety of PJ's fourteen inches plunges into the redhead's ass.

Hours pass, the sun having coming up over the Atlantic some time ago. Again and again, the camera beeps for more batteries or a fresh cassette. Max obliges it, down to the very last blank tape....and just in time.

The blonde lets out a wavering moan of sheer delight, her eyelids fluttering as PJ thrusts into her one last time. Jamming his massive totality deep inside, Lisa stifles a scream of ecstasy, her entire body quivering as wave after wave of pleasure rockets through her. What seems like gallons of warm ooze gushes into her, filling her, running down her inner thighs.

The image jostles and bounces, the camera coming to rest on the nightstand with a clatter. In the frame, Max grabs two handfuls of red hair, Ginger smiling around his colossus as it disappears from sight. Come bubbles forming under her nose, her face already splattered and crisscrossed by Max and PJ's previous emissions, the ginger happily gulks away at the rod thrusting down her throat. It doesn't take long...Max jerks the redhead towards him, Ginger's nose smooshing against his pubic bone as her lips reach the hilt. Ginger swallows and swallows again, Max shivering and moaning all the while.

In the background, Pete Townshend croons the chorus: Don't cry, Don't raise your eye, It's only teenage wasteland.

Download it here.

Original Art by Hackman23

Commissioned by Phillipthe2