Senior Year Memories Ch. 28


(Usual Disclaimer Time: Even though this story almost entirely takes place in a high school setting, all the characters in this story are 18 years old or older, and since we’re living in the wide wonderful world of porno-land here, where clichés roam free and things might get a little unrealistic from time to time, please remember it’s all in good fun. This story is highly serialized, and though it’s not 100% necessary to have read the whole story up until this point to enjoy the content of the chapter, it’s definitely advisable to understand some of the ongoing plots.)

Previously, on Senior Year Memories: After a days-long New Year’s orgy with a good chunk of the senior cheer squad, 18-year-old Ryan Collins was ready to spend some time relaxing, however, the lovely ladies of Regan Hills had other plans in mind. Mysterious and beautiful new neighbor, Alice Talbot, borrowed him to show her the sites around town, and as they got to know each other in person for once, Ryan couldn’t help but be smitten by her. Their tour was cut short, however, when Ryan’s girlfriend Josie Wong, currently away on a family trip in Hawaii, asked him to move some large packages at her house. Ryan took on this chore, only to be surprised by the presence of Josie’s gorgeous friend, the track star Fatima Hassan. After a little bit of time getting to know each other, the two of them had steamy sex in Josie’s bed. Though exhilarated, with school’s return around the corner, Ryan was a little nervous over the fact that he was starting to develop serious feelings for multiple girls, seeking the advice of Rachel McNeil for help.


Josie Wong was naked and in my bedroom. Her firm, full tits with the single pierced nipple, her pale skin with her few tattoos, her black hair and makeup… fuck she was beautiful. Ever since she’d left to visit her grandmother in Hawaii right after Christmas, there was nothing I wanted more than to see her like this, even if I hadn’t expected her to be back so soon.

The only problem was, she was pissed.

“You said you loved me,” she accused.

“I do,” I said.

“Then what’s with them? Why are they here too?” she asked.

We weren’t alone.

“I thought we were all, like, fun and games, but that’s not how it is, is it? That ain’t how I feel now, it ain’t how you feel now, and now things are totally fucked up?” Brooke King asked. Beautiful and petite and blonde and also very naked, I’d never seen her this angry before.

Angry wasn’t a look I liked on such a perky friend.

“I don’t know why you roped me in with them. Are you really this confused?” Alice Talbot asked. My new neighbor, she was as beautiful as any of the others, only wearing much more in the way of clothes. Probably because I hadn’t seen her naked (yet), but she shared anger in common with these other girls.

I tried to defend myself lamely, “It’s not like that. It’s not like any of this. You’ve got it all wrong, you’ve-“

“And what about me? I found you first, and all I rank is fourth best, at best? What kind of a nightmare is this?” Kaitlyn Pruitt accused, her huge bare breasts bouncing angrily as she crossed her arms beneath them.

This was all so fucked up, everything out of control, everything… wrong.

I looked in the corner of my room, and saw Tori McNeil, naked and laughing and sitting in a chair smoking a joint. She seemed to be having a pretty good time with my discomfort which… well, would’ve seemed about right whether we were friends or not.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” I asked her, some vague imitation of logic finally grasping me.

“Bingo,” she replied, blowing out a puff of smoke.

“Then why are you here? Why are you… with them?” I asked.

“Because you loved me once, and that seems to be this dream’s confused theme. That’s probably why Rachel’s lurking around here somewhere in the shadows too, though I think you’d be happier to see her, wouldn’t you?” Tori asked.

“Rachel’s here too?” I asked, more confused than ever.

“Not like the others, but, yeah,” Tori said, her joint suddenly replaced by a bucket of popcorn.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“I’m just looking out for the reviews to see how many people still get angry whenever I show up in a scene,” she said.

“What?” I asked.

“Just a little fourth wall humor,” she explained. “Sort your shit out soon, Ryan; it’s not gonna get any better on its own.”


I woke up in my bed, panting and sweating. My heart was beating rapidly, but my room was mercifully empty just this once. It was dark, the middle of the night. Somewhere down the hall Dad was snoring.

It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

Having the occasional nightmare the night before school was set to start again was nothing new, but this was a little more on the nose than usual.

Rolling back over on my pillow and forcing my eyes shut, I said, “Fucking back to school.”


It was bright and early on a Monday morning when I set off toward school. It was a kartal escort gray and overcast morning, but not one that threatened rain. As usual, I was riding my bike, barely balancing for the weight of my overstuffed backpack.

Less than usual, I wasn’t alone this time. Alice Talbot, my new neighbor and recent friend, rode along with me. Unlike me, her clothes were nicer, her bike was newer, and, well, she was fucking gorgeous. Soft dark skin, nice tight body, and a pretty face with an even prettier smile. The bike helmet did little justice to her impressive loose afro of curls she’d tied back, but you wouldn’t have thought she was inconvenienced just by looking at her.

We rode most of the way to school in silence, occasionally shooting a comment or two back and forth as I guided her through a few shortcuts to get there, but once we were a couple blocks away, she told me she wanted to get off and walk the rest of the way to rest a muscle in her leg. This was a lie, but one I understood; I wasn’t any more eager to get back to school than she was.

Then again, after last night’s dream, being with her was confusing in its own way.

“You need me to remind you that you can do this? Because I will if I have to,” I said, trying to make polite conversation and ignore my dream at the same time.

Alice laughed, responding, “I know I can do this; I’ve done it more times than I can count, it’s just one of those things in life that never gets any easier. And senior year…”

Her accent, a faint and lovely Australian from a childhood raised abroad (even though her teen years were spent stateside) had a way of hypnotizing me at the most unfortunate moments, and this was one of them. It took a moment for me to shake myself back to now and come up with something close to a response.

“Well, if there’s a place to have your senior year, I think Regan Hills High School is it,” I said.

“Really? That’s the best you’ve got?” she asked.

“…yes? Sorry, I’ve never been the motivational speech type,” I said.

Amused, Alice rolled her eyes. “At least there’s no uniforms at this school.”

I was back to being hypnotized by Alice, but mostly by the image of her in a naughty schoolgirl uniform. This wasn’t exactly helping, well, any of my confusion.

“You used to wear uniforms?” I asked.

“Oh, all the time. Dad was always trying to protect my virtue, almost always kept me in one private religious school or another to help keep me innocent and better than everyone else,” Alice said.

I laughed. “Did it work?”

Alice grinned. “Partially. I do have a sense of smug superiority about many a thing in life, but innocence… no, that never took. I’m glad for that, really.”

She looked into the distance, to some faraway place that I knew wasn’t here. “It let me see a lot of things about people I should’ve seen sooner. Things I should’ve known. It ended some things, but it started some new things too… Things I should’ve…”

She shook her head. “Enough of that. That’s then, this is now.”

That really didn’t seem to be the case. I asked, “Are you sure?”


She didn’t seem very positive. She seemed like she was steeling herself against something, something I couldn’t ignore.

“Because if you want to talk about it, you can talk to me. You can talk to me about anything, really, and I’ve got some experience with bizarre life changes,” I said.

“Not like mine,” Alice said, then amending, “similar, perhaps, but not the same.”

Now she really had me intrigued. “Look, I won’t pressure, but if you want to talk-“

“-I know where to find you,” she finished. It was a quick, curt response, but I sensed enough honesty in her voice that I knew she meant it, even if it was difficult to face.

That wasn’t the only difficult thing to face. I said, “We’re here.”

“We are,” Alice said nervously.

Tentatively, I reached out to her. I didn’t know what kind of contact was appropriate, welcome, or even wanted at a moment like this. I settled for a pat on the shoulder, which seemed to be enough.

“Come on; life hack of the day: best bike rack’s on the other side of the faculty lot, and we’re early enough to claim some easy real estate,” I said, guiding her toward the lot.

“You and I have very different ideas about what makes an interesting life hack,” Alice mused.

“I never said it was interesting, but it is practical,” I said.

“I… suppose you’re right, actually,” she said, taking her helmet off.

We’d gotten to school fairly early. Earlier than most of the students, who were still filtering in, but not earlier than most of the teachers. The faculty lot was packed, but we guided our bikes through the cars, carefully avoiding the few stray teachers pulling into the lot later than the rest.

Unfortunately, that didn’t keep us from accidentally stumbling into one of the teachers. Or one of the teachers from stumbling into us. It was often difficult to figure out with Ms. Montague.

“Oh maltepe escort bayan no, oh silly me, oh dear!” she exclaimed, dropping some of her armload of art supplies on the ground. Paintbrushes and boxes of charcoal and bottles of paint went spilling onto the parking lot, which was, not altogether an uncommon sight with our school’s new art teacher. Ms. Catherine Montague was about as sweet as they came, a mid-twentysomething blonde fresh out of college and eager to teach a lot of kids who had little interest in being taught. Her naiveté and optimism were only matched by her klutziness, and stories of what she’d messed up most recently were almost as common as hearing stories about the students catching more of a glimpse of her in her tight blouses and short skirts than she intended.

“You alright, Ms. Montague?” I asked, bending over to help her pick up her supplies.

“Oh yes, just running late, so very, very late,” she said quickly, bending over to help me.

“Sounds like you and the White Rabbit have something in common,” Alice said, joining us.

“What about rabbits?” Ms. Montague asked.

I quickly whispered to Alice, “Best not to confuse her.”

Alice got my meaning, changing the subject, “Quite a haul you’ve got here.”

“Oh, thank you, yes, I just wanted to make sure that we had everything ready for the first week back, and…” she trailed off, probably never to finish that sentence. I hadn’t had her this year so far, but was going to be starting an elective with her this semester, which promised to be interesting. Especially with the view I got down her blouse. I wasn’t looking on purpose, I swear, but at about half a size too small and not buttoned up all the way, it was hard to miss a good look at the top of her cream-colored bra.

She didn’t catch me staring. Alice did, but when she got a look down Ms. Montague’s top, she nodded in understanding.

We helped her gather up the last of her supplies, though rather than put them into the empty bags hanging around her elbow, Ms. Montague held them balanced in her arms at the same level of precariousness.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help getting those to class?” Alice asked.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine! I’m always fine! Thank you, thank you, thank you again for your help! I hope to see you both in my class!” she yipped, jogging off for school proper while somehow holding onto everything.

“She’s a disaster waiting to happen,” Alice commented.

“Tell me about it. You got her on your schedule too?” I asked.

“I’m not sure yet; I have to pick up my schedule still, but I’m hopeful. Like many disasters, it should be fun to watch at least,” Alice said.

“And which of our esteemed faculty have you two dubbed a disaster?” a voice asked from behind.

I don’t know if Alice’s heart jumped into her throat as quickly as mine did, but the look on her face said it was likely. The voice was familiar, but stern.

“Uh, no one, Mrs. Addams,” I said, laughing softly to hope I could put it off as a joke as we faced my English teacher.

On paper, Mrs. Janelle Addams was not an imposing woman. She had a pretty, youthful face that once held a smile for pretty much everyone in school, and at 5’5″ she had to look up to meet most male students’ eyes. In her late 30s, she was one of the hotter teachers in school that managed to get the boys’ attention, with a tight body, a nice big ass and tits that even put that ass to shame, all topped by a head of beautiful, wavy black hair. This should have been enough to warm any of the sharp edges, but for the past few months she’d lacked much of that warmth. Her bold blue eyes were now steely, her face tired and rarely smiling. Combined with her professional suits (even with how they tightly hugged her body), and she could look very intimidating when she wanted to.

Like now.

“Are you sure? Because I distinctly heard one of you call someone a disaster,” she said, eying us both like a hawk. One of her favorite techniques in class was the silent treatment, putting a statement out there and then just staring at the class until someone broke. There’s no way Mrs. Addams didn’t know that it was Alice that said the comment about Ms. Montague being a disaster, but she wanted one of us to admit it.

“It was me,” I said. “I’m the disaster. I always am after a long break from school. I’m probably gonna be a mess today, but I promise, promise, promise that I won’t fall asleep in your class again!”

Looking me up and down, Mrs. Addams nodded. “See that you do.”

“I will,” I said. “Come on, Alice, let’s lock up our bikes while we still can.”

“Okay!” Alice said, her voice high and full of false cheer as we walked our bikes over to the rack. Quieter, to me, she said, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” I replied as I locked up my bike.

“No, really, thank you; there’s probably not a worse way to start at a new school than by angering a teacher,” Alice said.

“She’s not angry. She’s just… stressed. escort pendik Has been for a while,” I said.

“What’s going on?” Alice asked.

“No idea, and not my place to ask. You headed over to pick up your schedule now?” I asked.

Alice nodded. “I’m to pick it up at the office, then seal my fate.”

“Aw, it won’t be that bad,” I said.

“No?” Alice asked, smiling again.

“I promise,” I said.

Alice looked genuinely relieved. “Good, because I was about to-“

“Excuse me, Mr. Collins, a word, please?” Mrs. Addams called, still standing in the lot.

Uh oh.

Alice knew when to cut and run. “I’ll go grab my schedule; hopefully we’ll have some classes together!”

“Hopefully,” I said, watching her run off into the school. She was nervous, but I had no doubt that she would fit in here just fine. Even if she didn’t, it was only a matter of months before high school was over, so who really cared? Still, I hoped the best for her, and not just because she’d found a way to haunt my dreams.

I walked over to Mrs. Addams. “Hey, Mrs. Addams, what’s up?”

She looked me over, her eyes running over me in more than a way a teacher usually would. “A word of advice?”

“Sure,” I said.

Mrs. Addams sighed, “You’re cute when you pull the whole knight in shining armor routine, but don’t expect that to always rule the day; be sure to pick your battles. Not every teacher is as forgiving as I am, and even I have my… harsh moments.”

The way she put extra emphasis on the word “harsh” was curious, and for a moment I was taken with the image of her sitting on a desk, yardstick in hand and ready for some very non-school-friendly punishments.

Surely I was imagining this, right?

“Do I make myself clear?” she asked.

“Crystal,” I said, gulping.

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Good. Now, I’ve got a class to prepare for, and I’m sure you don’t want to be late.”

“No, being late is bad,” I said, suddenly quite uncomfortable around her. I’d been carrying my bicycle helmet so far, but brought it down to cover up my growing erection.

Her eyes darted downward, amused.

“I thought so. I’ll see you this afternoon, then!” Mrs. Addams said, turning on her heels and walking away from me.

Maybe I was reading too much into it, but I could’ve sworn she put a little extra sway into her walk the way her ass bounced from side to side as she walked away. Maybe I was reading too much into it.


My phone buzzed with a text. I pulled it from my pocket, found that the number was unrecognized. Since I really did want to get to class, I almost ignored it, but since it carried a picture attachment, I was curious. I opened the message.

On the screen was a pair of large breasts in a lacy black bra. This was new. Usually I knew the girls who were sending me these pictures. They were impressive, mouth-watering, even, but completely unknown to me. Scrolling past the picture, I saw the simple text beneath.

Unknown: Do you like?

I shook my head in disbelief. “Fucking back to school, man.”


As the morning went on, I was more and more convinced that I wasn’t reading too much into what was going on. The teachers were behaving differently around me, and though it was strange to take in, all in all I wasn’t sure that it was a bad thing.

First period Spanish was usually one of the classes I dreaded the most, mostly for my limited understanding of the language, less so for getting to watch Sra. Ana Lopez teach it. Not even clearing five feet tall, she managed an impressively curvy body on her small frame and a sharpness that helped her keep control of even the most rambunctious classes. As an introduction back to school, she called up a few students and asked them to describe to the class in their best Spanish what they did over the Christmas break.

I was the third one called up, and nervously stumbled around in my broken Spanish to make up a few lies about what I’d done over the break. I didn’t humiliate myself, too bad, though Sra. Lopez definitely looked amused with some of my clumsier word choices.

When my turn was up, she accidentally brushed her hand across her desk and knocked a few papers onto the floor. From my position next to her, I got a good view down her shirt into the deep valley of her cleavage, while she herself darted her eyes up to get a good look at my crotch. Bent down behind the desk like this, I could see her while nobody else could, and I swore I saw her smile and lick her lips.

Walking in the busy hallway between classes (and trying to fight back a massive erection that didn’t want to go away), I walked past the drama teacher, Mrs. Wanda Harker. In her late 20s, she was a favorite among the boys of school if just for the simple fact that she had some of the biggest tits in the world as far as we knew (I could swear they were bigger even than Haley’s), a lasting gift from her pregnancy she was off most of last year for. She’d regained her body and kept her tits, and all of us felt more fortunate for it.

It felt like it was my imagination, but as we passed in the hall I could’ve sworn she also darted her eyes to my bulge and smiled, nodding her head appreciatively.

I was reading too much into this, right?

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