THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE DICK - THE WOLFPACK - Sex Stories

THE ADVENTURES OF LITTLE DICK - THE WOLFPACK

THE WOLFPACK It started with a Reader's Digest article: Earn A Living Writing Romance Novels. I was just thirteen but, according to the article, publishers would pay anyone who could follow their format. I was so stoked I dumped my father's porn for my mom's romance novels. I spent hours writing paragraphs longhand and then rewriting them from memory. I was convinced I could do this. I was going to get paid! The Bet "I'm telling you man, she's a dyke!" Buck was emphatic, his voice filling the locker room like the voice of God. His pride was at stake. He was a high school all-american linebacker; girls were lining up to fuck him, but Debra McCormac wouldn't even acknowledge his exisistence. He had plenty of company; Debra hadn't dated anybody in three years of high school. Yet her apple bottom and prominent camel toe kept calling the faithful. Buck had vowed to bring us back tales from the Promised Land. "You're going about it all wrong," I said. It seemed to take me forever to get my shoulder pads off. I was aching all over. I was proud of the fact that I was the only sophomore to make varsity, but two games into the season I was beginning to think I was in way over my head. "What? Who said that?" Buck asked. "You've got to get up here first," I said pointing to my temple after stepping into his line of sight. "What the fuck do you know about it, Professor? You ain't had pussy since pussy had you." My nickname wasn't meant as a compliment; I had an opinion about everything. ...

... And now, once again, I'd opened by big yap and pissed someone off. Buck was right, though. I didn't know shit. I was still a virgin. But If I backed down, I was going to be his doormat for the rest of the season. "I'll show you what I know about it." She hasn't given you the time of day, right?" "Right." "If you do what I tell you, within a month she'll agree to have lunch with you. If she doesn't, I'll do the "Go! Go! Get 'em!" cheer in front of the whole locker room. If she does, you have to do it. Bet?" "Wait. First I gotta know what I gotta to do." "You gotta leave her alone. Don't go near her. I'll write her notes(if you don't know, ask your parents. This was in the olden times before text messaging.), you copy them in your own handwriting. I'll deliver the notes to her, and then bring her's back here for us all to verify." Then I turned and shouted, "And nobody breathes a fucking word said in here!" I stuck out my hand. "Bet?" "Bet." There was a buzz all over the locker room. My heart was in my throat. All I had going for me was what I had learned in my mom's romance novels. That shit had better work in real life or I was fucked. The Birth of Cyrano It didn't take a month. It took just over two weeks. Notes turned into letters and I was writing and rewriting shit late into the night. But It was all worth it. Buck not only did the cheer, he did it with enthusiasm, cracking us all up. A teammate started calling me Cyrano after that and it stuck. Then this guy asked me to ...