Forced to Perform a Public Sex Show as a Slutty Cheerleader at Half Time.

The crowd wanted a good show, so I had to entertain them by taking off my clothes, but I didn’t expect to get fucked in front of everyone!

I was at a Halloween party dressed like a cheerleader. Suddenly, though, I’m in a completely different place and time.

I’m wearing the same cheerleader costume that I wore to the Morgansboro Ball, but that’s about where the similarities end.

Now I’m on a football field, in the middle of a group of real, actual cheerleaders.

I’m doing a move that I somehow know is called “sexy hips” and I’m counting in my head “Step 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 dip 8.”

Music is playing, and a crowd in a very large football stadium is going wild.

We — I guess I’m part of the cheerleading squad in whatever crazy world this is — finish our set and jog over towards the sidelines, our breasts bouncing every step of the way.

“Good job, ladies!” says a woman I assume is our cheerleading coach, and everyone giggles and smiles at each other.

The football game picks back up, and the cheerleader standing beside me nudges my shoulder and says, “And there’s Scott Attleman, dreamy as ever.”

Scott?

Upon hearing his name, my heart rate picks up. I stare straight at the field where he’s the quarterback of this professional football team!

I pinch myself, thinking I must be dreaming. But the pinch hurts, so I guess I’m not.

I would almost think we were back in high school, except that this is much larger scale. It’s a professional stadium, a professional football team, and apparently I’m on a professional cheerleading team.

As crazy as this is, I decide to just go with it. Scott throws a perfect pass and his team makes a first down. I cheer as loudly as all the rest of the cheerleaders, and kick my leg up in the air, hoping maybe Scott will notice.

“Monica!” one of the cheerleaders, who looks like she’s Head Bitch, hisses at me.

Oops.

I guess there’s some rule against drawing too much attention to yourself. I throw her an apologetic smile and get back in line, making sure to only copy what the other girls do — which, somehow, I know how to do, as if I’ve been a cheerleader my whole life, even though this is the first time I’ve had any actual cheerleading experience, and I have no idea how or why I’m doing it.

Scott’s team makes its way down the field but unfortunately they finally come up short on third and six without converting. (I have no idea how I know what’s going on, since I’ve never paid attention to football, but somehow, I just know). They do get a field goal, and the crowd goes wild.

“And now,” a voice booms over the loudspeaker, “it’s time for a very special half-time show.”

Even though I can’t see all the way up into the booth, somehow I know it’s Mr. Morgan’s voice.

“One of the star cheerleaders, Monica Pierson, is going to come to the middle of the field and show off her special talents.”

“What?!” There’s a chorus of disgruntled outrage among the other cheerleaders and the same Head Bitch who had previously yelled at me for breaking rank exclaims, “What the hell is going on, Monica?”

“I… don’t know,” I stammer honestly. I was just surprised to be fitting in with these girls on this cheerleading squad I could never possibly be a member of in real life, and now, thanks to old Mr. Morgan, I’m being ostracized.

Suddenly, someone pulls on my hand, and I look over to find that it’s Mr. Morgan, even though I’m 100% positive that his voice is still on the loudspeaker way up above.

“One second, folks,” booms the loudspeaker. “We’re having some technical difficulties.”

At the same time, the Mr. Morgan that is on the field with me pulls me out of earshot of the other cheerleaders and says, “Come on Monica, now’s your chance.”

“Now’s my chance to what? Have all the other cheerleaders hate me? On this team I didn’t even know I was part of? What is even going on?”

“Don’t ask questions, Monica. Just take advantage of this opportunity to be the girl you really want to be.”

“Huh?” I ask, wondering what he is talking about and who the girl that I really want to be is.

But before I’m given any answers, he’s dragged me to the center of the field, and seemingly disappeared, except for his voice, which is still booming from the loudspeaker above.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the lovely cheerleader Miss Monica Pierson.”

The crowd goes wild, as if I myself am a quarterback. I smile and nod, hoping I’m not blushing so much that they can see it from the bleachers.

“Miss Pierson is a prized cheerleader on the squad. She has many talents, and a very hot body that she would love to show off to you.”

What? I turn back towards the cheerleaders, to see if this is a normal thing or not, but I can’t really see them from where I’m standing. All I know is that the crowd is still going wild.

They start chanting something over and over, but I can’t tell what it is. Soon I make out the words “Do a cheer, do a cheer, do a cheer.”

So I start doing the same cheer I was just doing with the squad, counting it out to myself and shaking my hips in what I hope is a seductive manner.

Who am I? I ask myself.

I have never so much of even thought of being the center of attention — usually I hate that — and here I am lapping up all the admiration that I can get.

In the middle of my set — which I must admit I execute flawlessly — the crowd changes their chant, and it’s quite clearly “Lift up your skirt! Lift up your skirt!”

Well, okay, if they insist, I think, and, before I know it, I’m lifting up my skirt to show everyone in the entire football stadium my pink, lacy panties.

There are whistles, hoots and hollers from every direction.

“That’s the way we do it in the best city in the great state of Texas!” shouts Mr. Morgan, over the loudspeaker. “Now let’s see what else she’s got, shall we?”

Without even thinking about it now, I undo the small tie that holds my blue and white half-shirt together across my bra, and I whip it off, throwing it towards the crowd.

“Woo hoooooo!” shouts Mr. Morgan, and apparently the rest of the crowd.

If I could see the other cheerleaders, I’m quite sure they’d be downright scowling at me just about now, and I don’t even care. They’re not the ones the crowd wants to see naked. It’s me.

And so I continue kicking my legs — now that Head Bitch isn’t around to stop me — and shaking my ass, in my bra and with my skirt hitched up, for all the world (or at least that’s how it seems) to get a good look at me.

“And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” Mr. Morgan announces, and I assume that he’ll say I’m going to flash my tits or something, but instead, to my surprise, he says — “our star quarterback joins in on this slutty cheerleader’s little show.”

What? Can it really be?

I turn around to face Scott, who is smiling at me with a half-wink, as if we had planned this in advance. And maybe we had, for all I know. I just showed up to this scene, and have no idea how I got into it.

“I really love how you look in that costume,” Scott says, pulling me close to him and beginning to kiss me.

Thoroughly enthralled, I kiss him back. And it is just like how it was in high school when we dated. An electric pulse runs all the way through me, and I just want him to devour me.

Apparently, my wish is his command, because he continues to kiss me, passionately and deeply, while he says, “But I know that I love how you look out of that costume even better.”

He undoes my bra with a quick snap of his hand and it falls to the grass while the crowd stands and cheers. I look down to see my erect, hard nipples standing up quite noticeably.

“I just want to devour you,” says Scott, as if reading my thoughts, and he does chomp down on my nipples, as if enjoying a hearty feast. Meanwhile the crowd is standing and cheering as if he had just thrown a game-winning pass.

“Take off her skirt! Take off her skirt!” the crowd chants.

So Scott obliges them, ripping off my skirt with strength I’d forgotten he had, until my almost-bare ass is being shown off to the crowd.

“Well well well, ladies and gentleman,” says Mr. Morgan, on the loudspeaker. “It sure does look like we have a real Texas belle right here. A real southern beauty, with western spirt and spunk!”

Suddenly I feel a hard whap across my ass.

“Ouch!” I cry, looking at Scott in accusation, but he just winks at me and says, “They love it when we do this shit.”

My heart sinks, wondering if this is just a show he puts on with different cheerleaders each week. Some kind of new entertainment for the crowd, to draw fans to the stadium or something.

“Well how often do you do this?” I ask him, crestfallen.

“What?” he responds, looking at me genuinely innocent-seeming doe eyes. “Never. Have you?”

“No, never!” I’m quick to protest myself.

I don’t want him to think I always indulge in public exhibitionism. It’s only in this dream world that Mr. Morgan thrust me into.

“Well okay then,” he says, looking confused but also annoyed, and I see the fallacy in my logic: assuming that this isn’t the first time for him, while knowing it’s completely and for sure the first time for me.

“Well let’s give the girls something to look at, shall we?” I suggest, anxious to change the subject.

I lift his shirt over his head so that everyone is blessed with the sight of his six-pack abs and chiseled chest.

The crowd goes wild — it’s a deafening sound louder than anything I’ve ever heard — and when it finally calms down, I hear Mr. Morgan’s voice on the loudspeaker, saying, “That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. Here is the perfect mix, for your entertainment. The hottest cheerleader on the cheerleading squad, and the hottest football player on the football team, coming together and showing off their stuff, just for you.”

I blush at the mention of me being the hottest cheerleader, but it only inspires me to shake my ass while Scott pulls my thong to the side.

He most certainly is the hottest football player on the football team — that’s for sure.

“Bend over,” he whispers into my ear, and I lean down so that everyone can see my ass and pussy with my panties pulled over. “That’s so hot,” he says.

I’m so turned on that I pull off the pants portion of his football uniform and kneel in the grass with my ass sticking up in the air for everyone in the stadium to see.

“Do you think they like this?” I ask, but the deafening claps and roar of the crowd answer my question for me.

“Are you kidding me?” he asks, as I take his erect penis into my mouth and begin sucking. “You and me, babe. That’s who they come to see.”

I lick his shaft up and down and then lick his balls. It reminds me of way back when in high school, and it turns me on so much that I can feel myself dripping wet in my panties.

“That feels so good, Monica,” he says, grabbing my breasts and fondling them. I love the way he says my name.

“And now,” says Mr. Morgan from up above. “Things get very interesting.”

Suddenly, Scott hits me with something hard and sharp across my ass.

Ouch! I jump, and want to cry. It hurts even more than his hand had. “Why did you do that?” I ask, saddened.

“Monica is only doing everything she wants to do,” says Mr. Morgan, as if he can hear my protests down here on the field, from all the way up there in the speaker box. “This is like everyone watching her private little fantasy. Aren’t you all so very lucky?”

What is crazy old Mr. Morgan talking about? I think. I’ve never wanted to be hit during sex. I’ve never even fantasized about it.

But as the searing pain ripples on my ass and an electric current ripples throughout my body, I realize that I feel like a new Monica: more alive, more authentic, more me.

“There you go,” says Scott, pushing his dick further into my mouth. “I need to punish my slutty little cheerleader.”

He sticks his dick into and out of my mouth and rubs it all around my face. I smile up at him, never realizing that being punished could feel like such a good thing.

Suddenly, he ties whatever he used to slap my ass around my neck, and starts pulling on me as if I’m a dog. I obediently follow him, on my hands and knees, over to the goal post. He whips my ass again twice in quick succession — ouch! ouch! — and then uses that same switch to tie me up to the goal post. My wrists are bound so that I can’t move away.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Morgan announces over the loudspeaker. “I think our star quarterback is about to score.”

All I can hear is cheering as Scott pulls my panties to the side and gets ready to take me from behind. This is not how I imagined that our sexual encounter — that I’d anticipated for so long — would go down.

“Scott, I really don’t want to have sex in front of all of these people,” I whisper to him plaintively.

Showing off my naked body and even sucking Scott’s cock for everyone is one thing, but sex to me is still private and special. Especially sex with my high school heartthrob….

“Shut up, whore,” says Scott, unexpectedly, and he pulls my hair roughly as his hard cock enters my pussy.

“Fuck the slut, fuck the slut,” chants the crowd.

“And he brings it home!” announces Mr. Morgan gleefully, and the crowd is on their feet, cheering and stomping.

At first, I’m incredulous. I can’t believe that Scott would just take me like this, and I also can’t believe that Mr. Morgan — who claims that all that Scott is doing is everything I want — is so nonchalant about it.

But then, as I feel Scott shoving his big cock in and out of me forcefully, and feel his strong hands grabbing my waist and keeping me still — as if tying me up to the goal post wasn’t enough — I realize that I really do like this. I never would have thought I would, but I do.

“Oh, my God, Scott, it feels so good,” I say, giving in to the pulsing of his dick and my pussy together. I arch my back as I come all over his big cock.

“And the hero makes our heroine come,” says Mr. Morgan.

At the same time, I feel Scott shooting his cum into my pussy, and I feel so strong and powerful myself — because I can make him feel so good and give himself over to complete release, just as I am — that I continue coming, right along with him.

I guess Mr. Morgan’s right, I think, as I sink my face into the grass and lay there panting for all the stadium to see me taken, spent, fulfilled, and naked.

There’s definitely someone different inside me who was just waiting for the right opportunity to come out and play. Thank goodness for costume parties. And thank goodness for Mr. Morgan’s magic mirror.

Thank you for reading! This is the second part of my erotic serial here on Medium called Gangraped by the Football Team. To continue on to the next installment, click here for Part 3: Gangbanged by the Football Team in Public. If you’d like to start at the beginning, click here for Part 1: Becoming a Cheerleader Slut. Or if you’ve missed any of the installments, here’s a list:

Part 1: Becoming a Cheerleader Slut

Part 2: Forced to Perform a Public Sex Show as a Slutty Cheerleader at Half Time

Part 3: Gangbanged by the Football Team in Public

Part 4: I Eat Pussy for My First Time as a Football Team Full of Men Fuck Me

Part 5: What I Learned from Being Gangbanged by an Entire Football Team

You can also see this article that contains a summary of the story, a list of kinks and content warnings, and links to all the parts in the story.

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