The Fate of Sex at Ridgemont Futa High (Futa on male, Series)

Story by Gilgamesh

Some notes. Although it's not a direct continuation of my first futa story (see here), it is set in the same setting and related. Reading that first (including the side story) will be helpful to get an idea of the setting.

It's a tiny bit more serious and their will be more plot. I'll just say 'obsession' and leave it at that. (Don't expect anything dark or direly serious though, all good fun.)

The series will be in this thread, so check every so often. (Please.) Also, not everything is planned out to the finest detail, so it may take a little longer then my first one did.

Male fucking futa

Futa fucking male (no penetration)

Enjoy and please post comments if you have them. It's helpful.

“In the latter days of the Cold War, Dr. Edward X. Glaser saw only ruin in humanity’s future. Predicting a nuclear apocalypse within a decade, he and a few hundred similarly fearful followers relocated to a small island off the coast of southwestern Canada. Dr. Glaser was an expert geneticist, a pioneer of his field. To ensure mankind’s survival…he performed genetic experiments on his followers. The one success and incredible success at that. was that the…”

In the middle of my rambling, Anne stopped me with a raised hand and a skeptical raised eyebrow. “Cliff, how much of this is true?”

I grinned guiltily. “It could be the real history.”

“No, it is not.” She said matter-of-factly, shooting down my attempt at humor. “Our island is nowhere near Canada.

Some people just don’t appreciate the subtle joy that can be found in an improvised inane story. My name is Cliff and that’s one of my talents, which has little to do with anything. …Or does it? (No.)

Studying is something that needs to be done when your in high school, some people don’t do it, they’re either brilliant, lazy or both. Having an attractive studying partner is both a godsend and a curse. It’s a curse as you ain’t paying attention to studying, but rather her long legs, or her fine breasts, or occasionally when I’m in a certain romantic mood, her lips or maybe her fiery red hair. It’s a godsend as your grades suffer, so it’s insisted by teachers and parents alike that you study more, and again, getting to gawk and be with a beautiful girl, in her room. Alone.

Now just because Anne and I go to Ridgemont High, do not think that we are not studying as in textbooks, but rather ‘studying’ as in having sex. Anne is a very rare, almost unique specimen of this strange and foreign concept called modesty. Unlike the rest of the student body, which have no qualms about sating their bodily urges (having sex), Anne…does not have sex. Ask around, and no one knows what she looks like naked or how she is in the sack.

While I absentmindedly sifted through far too heavy textbooks on the floor, Anne sat on the end of her bed, her legs crossed and drawing my eyes like a moth to flame. Yeah, it’ll probably get me killed, but damn it all, they’re beautiful works of art.

However, as I tried to avert my gaze, she uncrossed her legs, and paused with her legs apart for a second, giving me a full and prefect view of her pink underwear, before crossing them again after another awkward moment.

The sight of her panties got me all in a tizzy. Seeing the panties got me thinking about what was underneath them, thinking about what was underneath them got me to thinking about her butt, then the butt got me thinking about other sexual areas, as in her breasts and legs, then just straight to sex, and all the fun stuff that can be done. Now, ideally, my mind would think of the fact that she was my friend, rather then a person I sexually desire and my reason and valuing of her friendship would override my cock. But then again, as all guys know, the cock kind of overrules all reason. It’s powerful like that.

Basically, in short, I got an erection.

Anne was almost the stereotypical good girl and was blushing, even mildly disgusted at me as she turned away embarrassed.

“I’m sorry!” I exclaimed as I grabbed a textbook and tried to cover my lap up. “It’s just that…your legs…”

She peeked out of the corner of her eye. “Is that my math book?”

“That’s not important.” I said back. “I can’t control it…your legs…pink, the constant urges a guy gets, y‘know. It’s impossible to control.”

“Does that mean…you find me sexy?”

There’s things you expect people to say. If you walking into an English class, you would expect English to be spoken. But if all you hear is Esperanto and Swahili, you will be confused, in many ways. That’s exactly how I felt as Anne asked me if I found her sexy. However, I did answer her question despite my confusion. “Obviously.”

Anne stood up and with cheeks as red as they could plausibly be, reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down t

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