Cheerleader in the Darkroom

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This story is re-write of my very first Literotica submission ‘Cheerleader in the Darkroom.’ A number of commentators said the story was unfinished. I always had longer story in mind so I’ve completed it.


I attended high school in the 70’s, it was the height of the disco era and I was the quintessential nerd. I played tuba in the marching band, I was in the science club, the only sport I participated in was the chess team, and as if that weren’t nerdy enough I was a photographer on the high school yearbook staff.

Today, many decades later, I don’t miss disco, I haven’t played tuba since high school, and I rarely play chess. I still do photography, but I miss film. I miss the feel of it, the tactile sensation of loading it in a camera and snapping the back shut. I miss turning the advance lever before taking the next shot. I miss working in the darkroom, watching the images magically appear under the orange glow of the safe light. And most of all, I miss the day that I was king of the world, I was eighteen and a high school senior, the day I lost my virginity, in the darkroom to the most beautiful girl in school.

Her name was Stacy Tiernan, she was a bit older than most of us in the senior class and had turned eighteen over the summer. I am sure that every boy, and most male faculty members in my school had fantasies about her. Stacy was tall, about 5′ 8″ with hair that was sort of in between blond and brown. In a day when most of the girls were wearing their hair long, she wore her hair short in a style I think they called a pixie cut. Combined with big brown eyes and an ever-present smile, Stacy had a face you could stare into all day. Seated across the lab bench from her every day in Chemistry class, I often found myself doing just that, staring. Sometimes she would catch me I would see a little sparkle in her eye and a little smile.

Since Stacy was the most beautiful girl at Columbia North High School (Go Tigers!!!) she was of course, a cheerleader. In those days cheerleaders wore sweaters with the school initials, CNHS, across the chest. At the time I wouldn’t have known a B-cup from a beehive, looking back now, I would say she was about C-cup. I especially loved Friday game days because the cheerleaders were required to wear their uniforms to class. I loved watching the fabric of that sweater stretched tight over what I imagined were perfect breasts. Of course, I had no idea what perfect breasts were, this was long before the days of internet porn, so my experience with breasts consisted of ‘borrowing’ the Playboys my big brother kept under his bed when he was away at college and reading National Geographic, don’t judge … it was the 70’s.

And did I mention cheer skirts? Stacy’s cheer skirt really accentuated her legs, they were very athletic looking with good muscle definition, and as I was to find out later, they were smooth and soft to the touch. The way that skirt curved over her behind never failed to make my heart skip a beat.

I know this sounds kind of corny but the sexiest thing about Stacy Tiernan was that she was actually nice. Not like some of the other cheerleaders who were stuck up and cliquish. Even though I was a nerd she often said hello to me and was never rude or mean. Since we were in math class together we sometimes compared notes on homework problems. When Stacy talked to me, it was as if I were the most important person in the whole world, she would look at me with those brown eyes and I would just melt inside.

Of course I was not delusional, it wasn’t that I was somehow special, rather she treated everyone as if they were special. But the reality did not prevent me from fantasizing. Seeing those beautiful brown eyes looking at me and hanging on my every word, I imagined myself brushing a hand across her cheek. I imagined her sighing and leaning in to my touch as I gathered up the courage to kiss her. My devotion to, my reverence for Stacy was so strong I could hardly imagine doing anything more than kissing her. Those breasts were too perfect, those legs too enticing, that derriere too divine, to even imagine being handled by a mere mortal like me.

At football games, during one of our marching sets, Stacy and another cheerleader would do a series of handsprings in front of the tuba section. It always seemed like she would do it in slow motion. How did I ever play my part up to tempo? Even today I can picture her running, breasts bouncing with every stride, before placing her hands on the grass for the first handspring. As she went through the air, it seemed I could see her leg muscles flex and her cheerleader panties first come into view then disappear with each handspring.

In many of these stories about nerdy guys and hot girls, the nerd is really some sort of Adonis who just needs a change of wardrobe and a trip to the barber to come out of his shell. The obligatory narrative describes him as having a ‘six-pack’ or maybe a nine-inch penis. Well, none of those things describe me. The closest I ever came to a six-pack illegal bahis was when my older brother would sneak me a can of beer. As for my penis, well let’s just say that in my case, you can judge a book by its cover. My penis is not tiny just, based on what I had seen in the locker room, depressingly average.

So, how did I end up living the dream of every guy at CNHS? It started with the yearbook. Stacy was the yearbook editor and I was the head photographer. Our advisor Mr. Maxwell suggested that Stacy learn more about photography to help in the design of the yearbook. So, she signed up for Mr. Maxwell’s Introduction to Photography class. This wasn’t a regular class, technically it was independent study and students took it during their study hall or after school. In reality, I had the run of the darkroom and Mr. Max, as we called him, let me do most of the teaching, as he was busy with the rest of his schedule.

So, that’s how I found myself, one Friday afternoon during fifth period, alone in the darkroom with the girl of my dreams. Our school darkroom was rather large; it used to be a storage area for the theater before they built the new auditorium. It had a large main room with enlargers, chemicals, sinks, drying racks for prints, and a work table for matting and framing. It also had something that was a real luxury, a film loading room. Most darkrooms have special red or orange safelights that can be used when making and developing prints. But film is much more light sensitive, it needs total darkness or it will be ruined. The film loading room was separate from the rest of the darkroom and sealed off with double doors to guarantee that it was light proof.

That Friday, I was in the film loading room, showing Stacy how to remove film from the little 35mm canisters and put it on a reel and into a developing can. We had been practicing with some old, exposed film and it was time to try it for real. Stacy had a roll of film that she had taken some people shots on and it was time to try and load it in the dark. I turned off the light and the room was pitch black. I tried to remind her, in a soothing voice, of the steps she needed to carry out in order. She deftly loaded the film and handed me the developing can to verify that it was properly sealed. I felt around the edges and it seemed good to me.

That’s when it happened. With all the film safely loaded, I went to turn on the light. As I reached out in the dark, my hand found itself not on the light switch, but holding one of those perfect breasts! I am sure it lasted no more than a second, but I could hear Stacy suck in a breath. I could feel the material of that sweater that had filled my fantasies for so long. I marveled at how round and firm it was. But, I quickly came to my senses. I was mortified! I stumbled out an apology. I must have said I’m sorry seven or eight times. When I finally got the lights turned on, Stacy looked a little flushed, but she smiled at me and said, “It’s OK, it was just an accident, right?”

“Of course,” I said, “I didn’t mean to …”

Stacy cut me off with a cute little smile and a giggle and said, “That’s OK.”

Coming from anyone else, that smile and giggle would have been condescension, from Stacy, it seemed more like absolution. I was still incredibly nervous and now I had a pretty good erection to hide. Somehow I made it through the rest of the lesson, with the lights on. Stacy had developed her negatives and we hung them up in the dryer until our next session.

The next time we met in the darkroom we were making prints. It was not a game day so Stacy was wearing bell-bottom jeans (remember it was the 70’s) and what we called a ‘peasant top.’ A peasant top is a loose fitting white blouse with billowy sleeves, Stacy’s was cropped a little short so you could see a hint of abdomen and her belly button in the gap between the top and her jeans. The blouse had laces down the front that gave a pretty good view of her cleavage. The material was gauze-like and in the light, somewhat translucent.

Since photo paper is not as sensitive as film, we were able to do this with the safelight on so there was little chance of repeating the previous week’s accident. It was hard to concentrate looking at Stacy’s bare midriff and trying not to get caught. I found myself imagining that the material of her top was transparent in in the orange glow of the safe light.

I wasn’t sure whether it was my imagination, but it seemed as if Stacy was pressing herself up against me a little more than necessary as we focused the enlarger. As we hung up her prints to dry, I may have imagined it but I thought she may have deliberately rubbed her breast against my arm. Once again, I had an erection, but this time I had thought to put on one of the darkroom aprons so I was able to hide it.

One of the prints was of her best friend Michelle. After taking it out of the enlarger, we put it in the chemical developer. When the picture started to appear she was very excited. She said, “Michi is going to love this picture.”

I illegal bahis siteleri said, “That’s a really cool photo. I like the way you captured Michell’s smile. You did a great job with the backlighting too.”

“Thank you,” she said, “I had a good teacher!” Then she did something totally unexpected, she kissed me. Not the long sensual kiss of my dreams, just a peck on the cheek. A kiss from Stacy Tiernan! I decided there and then that I was never going to wash that cheek again. I was glad that we had just the safe light on, I prayed that in the subdued red light she would not be able to make out the bulge in my jeans.

We turned on the lights and used the tongs to take Stacy’s prints out of the final chemical bath. We then put them on the drying rack. She made a pretext of being formal and said, “Why thank you Mr. Rocher.” and went off to her next class as if nothing had happened. I guess that was fair enough. Nothing had happened, had it?

The next Friday was another game day, Stacy had some pictures of the girls cross-country team to develop. This time, I was going to let her do everything and I would just be an observer, at least as much of an observer as one can be in a darkroom.

Stacy and I went in to the film loading room and she loaded her film. I also had a roll from the honors assembly to do so she stepped back from the counter to get out of my way. As she did, she bumped into me and I instinctively reached out to steady her. There was nothing sexual about the contact. I was holding her arms from behind and she was pressed against me to prevent from falling. Fortunately the way she was leaning she couldn’t feel my now growing erection.

“Are you OK?” I said.

She replied, “Yes, go ahead and load your film.”

As I was loading my roll, I heard Stacy switch positions. There was some other sound that I couldn’t quite place. I thought maybe she was just moving my backpack further into the corner so she could stand out of the way.

After I was done, I was ready to turn the lights on. Darkroom etiquette demands that you get the OK from everyone in the room before turning on a light. “Are you ready for the lights?” I asked.

It sounded like Stacy’s voice was shaking a bit when she answered, “Yes, go ahead and turn the lights on.”

I reached for the switch and once again found my hand on Stacy’s breast instead. This time, it was different. I wasn’t feeling the fabric of her cheer sweater or even her bra, my hand was on Stacy Tiernan’s naked breast! Apparently the sound I had heard was her taking off her top. I had no idea what to do, even though it was pitch black, and I had never touched one before, I knew it was a breast. In the dark another thought hit me, I couldn’t see a thing, had she taken off all her clothes?

Before I could pull my hand away and process what had happened, Stacy grasped my hand and held it tight to her breast. It felt firm and warm and just plain amazing. In the center of my palm, I could feel her nipple hardening with my touch as her hands grasped mine closer. Both Stacy and I were breathing heavily, when she said the sexiest thing I have ever heard, even to this day, “Go ahead, it’s OK. I want you to touch me.”

Well, I could not say no to an invitation like that. I soon had both hands on Stacy’s breasts. Guided by her heavy breathing and the soft moans escaping from her lips, I began to explore her upper body, first her breasts and nipples, then her sides and finally I put my hands on her back and pulled her close to me.

“You, feel amazing,” I said. I could feel her breasts pressing into my t-shirt.

“You may kiss them,” she said. It was still dark but I found my way and began kissing her breast. I was trying to follow her lead listening and feeling her response to my touch. Apparently Stacy really like having me suck on one nipple while gently squeezing the other one in my fingers.

I was reluctant to stop but she soon pulled my upright and said, “Kiss me.” I had never kissed a girl before but that day, Stacy Tiernan the most beautiful girl at CNHS, topless and in total darkness gave me a graduate course in kissing.

I was surprised when her tongue entered my mouth. My penis grew so hard I thought it would bust out of my pants. Stacy pressed her hips into me as if she wanted to impale herself on it. When I returned the favor and began exploring her mouth with my tongue, she pressed herself against me in a frenzy.

My hands were on her back and without any conscious thought they drifted down towards her buttocks. As naive as I was in those days I would never have used the word ‘ass.’ The lower my hands went, the more she seemed to respond. I soon found the answer to my question; she was not naked, just topless.

Somehow it seems wrong to describe Stacy Tiernan as ‘just topless.’ It would be like saying ‘the Mona Lisa is just a painting’ or ‘St. Peters is just a church.’ Stacy was a goddess, not only was she topless, she wanted me to touch her, and she seemed to be enjoying canlı bahis siteleri it. I had arrived at a crucial juncture. My hands were at the top of the cheer skirt that was at the center of so many of my fantasies. Should I quit while I was ahead or should I try for more?

I decided to go for it! I gently slid my right hand into the waistband of her skirt and under her cheer panties until it was firmly on her ass. These many years later, I still cannot adequately describe the feeling of holding that perfect ass. It was muscular yet soft and every time I moved my hand it seemed her whole body responded.

“That feels good,” Stacy said, “please don’t stop!”

With the pleading in her voice, how could I? I slowly slid my hand around under her cheer panties to her front. I couldn’t believe it! I was touching Stacy Tiernan’s pubic hair! (Hey it was the 70s, no one shaved then!) Suddenly, Stacy pulled back from me and pulled my hand out of her panties. Since it was still pitch black, I couldn’t see the look on her face. I was confused when Stacy said, “Wait!” Had I gone too far? Hadn’t she just told me not to stop?

It seemed like an eternity in the silence and the darkness. I could hear our, still heavy breathing, and my own heart beating like bongo drums. Soon she pressed herself back up against me and started kissing me again. My hand once again slid down to her behind to pull her close and I discovered that she was naked. Stacy had taken the time to unzip and remove her cheer skirt and panties.

I never knew that you could smell a woman’s excitement but I could smell Stacy. Her scent was sweet and musky. In the darkness it added to the intensity of our desire. Once again I slid my hand around to Stacy’s front. This time, I ran my palm across her firm stomach. I gently massaged her inner thighs until she took hold of my hand and guided it up towards heaven. As my fingers made contact with her lips, I discovered that they were moist and warm. I rubbed them gently, unsure of how to proceed, enjoying both the unfamiliar slippery and wet feeling and the even more unfamiliar feeling of my dream girl humping against my hand.

At her urging, I slipped my finger inside of her and it was unlike any feeling I had ever known. I could feel her pushing to take more and more of my finger, then fingers inside her. She then guided my thumb onto what I later learned was her clitoris and I lightly rubbed rubbed as my fingers continued their exploration. When I rubbed too hard, Stacy’s body language was somewhere between pain and intense animal pleasure, so I reverted to a gentle feathery teasing of her clit.

It seemed like forever, but it probably didn’t take long before something magical happened. Stacy’s whole body began to convulse. It was intense. It was primal. Her moans became louder and less coherent. Apparently there was a little devilish side to this angel of my dreams. She held on so tight that I was afraid I might be crushed. She said, “I’m cumming, oh my god, I’m cumming!” And her whole body went limp. I had just brought Stacy Tiernan, the most beautiful girl in Columbia North High School to an earth shattering orgasm in my arms!

“Hold me,” she said softly, while laying her head on my chest, and I did. If my life had ended at that moment, I would have died a happy man with a smile on my face. Little did I know, that my darkroom adventure that day was just beginning. I held on until her body stopped shuddering and Stacy slowly began to run her hands through my hair.

Then Stacy did something totally unexpected, actually she had just finished doing several things that were unexpected, she reached behind her and turned on the light. As you might imagine, going from complete darkness to bright incandescent lighting with no warning is a shock. It took time for my eyes to adjust, but when my vision started to come back I saw Stacy Tiernan, cuddling naked in my arms. I wanted to step back not just to feel her breasts against my t-shirt I wanted to see them. I wanted to see the pussy that my hand had so recently become familiar with. I wanted to see the curve of the ass I had just held. Fortunately I knew enough just to keep on holding her and gently running my hand through her pixie cut hair while listening to our hearts beating.

I was about to say something when Stacy gently put her finger to my lips and said, “Shhh …” The smell of that finger was intoxicating and when she removed it I used my tongue to lick just a tiny bit of her juices from my upper and lower lip. Next she extricated herself from my arms and stood back a few feet from me. I think she could sense what I wanted because she stood there unashamed as my eyes drank in the sight before me.

Stacy was even more beautiful naked than I had imagined. Her breasts were so perfect round and firm. Her nipples were hard and situated in the center of large areolas. It’s funny the things you think of sometimes, looking at her breasts, I thought of the Three Bears, not too hard, not too soft, not too small and not too large — just right. The triangle of hair at the top of her thighs was glistening with sweat and her juices and I could just barely see a pair of pink lips peeking through looking for the world like they needed to be sucked and kissed.

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