Theater Class 2

 Managed to coax a continuation out of AI with a little post processing.

Of course today would be the day you missed school with a golf tournament. What should have been a fun day of golf with an excused absence was tampered by the fact your best friends Lisa and Kristen weren’t with you, and apparently there was no substitute for theater class. Lisa and Kristina were the only two in the theater room, and they were making the best of it- Drinking whiskey and smoking weed. The selfies Lisa sent of them made your wood hard-and not your golf club. 

You turned your phone off and concentrated on the game. Your game improved with the rapid play inspired by a longing to get back to school and join your two sexy 18 year old best friends. You were proud to lead your school to a win at the tournament. Afterwards, the ride on the bus back to campus seemed to take forever. 

Once on campus, you rushed to find your friends, your heart pounding in your chest. As you approached the theater room, you could hear their laughter and the sound of music blaring through the door.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and were greeted by a cloud of smoke and the sight of your friends lounging on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a joint in the other. They looked up at you, their eyes wide with surprise and amusement.

"Heyyyy therre, golf boy," Lisa said, a mischievous grin on her face.

"Hit any gooond shoss?"she added, taking a swing of whiskey.

 

Theater Room Shenanigans

You stood in the doorway, the haze of smoke curling around you like a scene from a rebellious teen movie. The theater room was brightly lit, the overhead lights casting a clear, almost clinical glow over the space, revealing every detail of the chaos within. The twang of a country music playlist filled the air, a steel guitar riff cutting through the scent of weed and whiskey. Lisa and Kristen sprawled across the old couch, their school uniforms slightly disheveled—ties loosened, shirts untucked—looking like they owned this makeshift honky-tonk hideout. For a moment, you felt like an intruder crashing their private rebellion.

Lisa’s mischievous grin widened as she leaned forward, her red hair falling messily over one eye, no longer in her earlier ponytail. “Well, look who’s back from chasing little white balls,” she teased, her voice carrying a slur from the whiskey. She held up the bottle, tilting her head playfully. “Sure you don’t want a sip, champ?”

Kristen, curled up with her legs tucked under her, giggled softly, her brown hair a mess and her cheeks flushed. She took a drag from the joint, exhaling a slow stream of smoke before passing it to Lisa. “Yeah, dude, you missed the best theater class ever,” she said, her voice light but laced with mischief. “No sub, no rules, just us and…” She gestured vaguely at the room, as if it explained everything.

You dropped your golf bag by the door, the adrenaline from the tournament still buzzing in your veins, now mixing with something else—something sparked by the sight of your friends, the lawless vibe of the room, and those damn selfies Lisa sent earlier, still burning in your mind. “Looks like I missed the party of the year,” you said, keeping your tone cool despite the way your pulse raced, as you locked the door.

Lisa patted the couch next to her, scooting over to make room. “Plenty of time to catch up, golf boy. Heard you killed it out there. School hero and all that.” Her eyes sparkled with pride and something more… daring. “You’re not gonna be all boring and responsible now, are you?”

You smirked, sitting down beside her, the couch creaking under your weight. You felt the warmth of her arm brushing against yours, sending a jolt through you. “Boring? Nah. Responsible? Maybe for like, five minutes.” You waved off the whiskey bottle she offered, shaking your head. “You know I don’t drink, Lisa. Or smoke. But I’m still down to hang.”

Kristen leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands, her amused smile widening. “So, tell us about the tournament. Did you, like, crush it out there or what?” she asked, her words punctuated by the upbeat strum of a country tune.

You laughed, leaning back into the couch, the tension from the day easing. “More like I was fueled by those pics you sent, Lisa. Nearly snapped my club trying to get back here faster.”

Lisa’s laugh was loud and unfiltered, her head tipping back. “Oh my God, you’re such a perv,” she teased, but her tone was all play, no judgment. She nudged you with her elbow, her body closer now, the air between you charged. “Guess we’ll have to make it worth your while then.”

Kristen giggled again, scooting closer on your other side, her knee brushing against yours. “Yeah, we can’t let our champion go unrewarded,” she said, her voice soft but teasing, her eyes glinting with mischief. She leaned in, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, “What’s your prize gonna be, huh?”

Your heart pounded, the room feeling smaller, warmer, despite the bright lights exposing every detail. Lisa’s hand rested lightly on your thigh, her fingers tracing lazy circles, while Kristen’s arm draped casually over your shoulder, her errant hair tickling your neck. You didn’t need the whiskey or the weed to feel the rush—their closeness, the way their laughter and teasing pulled you in, was more than enough.

“So,” Lisa said, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur, “no drinking, no smoking… but you’re not that innocent, right?” Her lips curved into a sly smile, and she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your cheek. “What’s the plan, golf boy? Ready to have some fun with us delinquents?”

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry but your grin steady. “Oh you bet,” you said, your voice low, meeting Lisa’s gaze before glancing at Kristen, who was biting her lip, her eyes locked on you.

Lisa’s smile turned wicked, and with a slow, deliberate motion, she set the whiskey bottle down on the floor. “Well, let’s make this interesting,” she said, her fingers moving to the buttons of her school shirt. Under the bright lights, every movement was vivid as she undid the top few buttons, then tugged the shirt over her head, revealing a black lace bra that made your breath catch. She tossed the shirt aside, her eyes never leaving yours, daring you to react. “Better view than the golf course, right?”

Before you could respond, Kristen shifted closer, her hand sliding up to your jaw, gently turning your face toward her. “My turn,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the country music’s steady beat. She leaned in, her lips brushing against yours, soft at first, then deeper, a kiss that sent a shockwave through you. Her breath tasted of whiskey, and the warmth of her body pressed against yours made your head spin.

Lisa laughed softly, grabbing the whiskey bottle again and taking a long swig, the liquid glinting under the lights. “Damn, Kris, you’re not wasting any time,” she said, her tone teasing but her eyes dark with intent. She passed the bottle to Kristen, who broke the kiss to take a sip, giggling as a drop spilled down her chin. She wiped it away with the back of her hand, then leaned back in, kissing you again, her lips bolder now, her fingers tangling in your hair.

You were caught between them, Lisa’s hand still on your thigh, her touch firmer now, and Kristen’s kisses pulling you deeper into the moment. The country music twanged on, the bright lights leaving nothing to the imagination, and the night burned with a heat that had nothing to do with the whiskey or the weed they shared.

Lisa leaned back, taking another swig from the bottle, her cheeks flushed and her grin wild. “You know,” she said, setting the bottle down and scooting even closer, her bare shoulder brushing against you, “we’ve been cooped up in here all day, just the two of us. Gotta say, you’re making this a lot more fun.” She reached for the joint, taking a quick drag before passing it back to Kristen, who exhaled a plume of smoke with a playful smirk.

Kristen, still close enough that you could feel her breath on your neck, pulled back just enough to grab the whiskey bottle again. She took a long sip, her eyes locked on you, then handed it back to Lisa. “You’re too serious sometimes, golf boy,” she teased, her voice soft and slurred. She leaned in again, kissing you with a slow, deliberate intensity, her hand sliding down to rest on your chest, fingers curling into your shirt.

Lisa, not one to be outdone, shifted to face you fully, her knees tucked under her as she leaned in close. “Let’s see how much fun you can handle,” she whispered, her lips brushing your ear as she spoke. Her hand moved higher on your thigh, her touch bold and teasing, sending a jolt through you that made it hard to think straight. She grabbed the whiskey bottle one more time, taking a swig before setting it aside, her movements loose and carefree from the liquor.

The room pulsed with the raw energy of the moment—the bright lights, the twang of country music, the heat of their bodies so close to yours. Kristen’s kisses deepened, her lips soft but insistent, while Lisa’s fingers rubbed your swelling crouch, her bare skin glowing under the lights.

Suddenly, Kristen pulled back, her eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and daring. “Alright, let’s kick this up a notch,” she said, her voice slurring slightly as she set the whiskey bottle down. With a playful glance at you and Lisa, she grabbed the hem of her school shirt and tugged it over her head, revealing a white bra that stood out starkly under the bright lights. She tossed the shirt onto the pile with Lisa’s, her curls bouncing as she laughed. “There. Now we’re even,” she said, winking at Lisa before turning her gaze back to you.

Lisa clapped her hands, letting out a whoop. “That’s my girl!” she said, raising the whiskey bottle in a mock toast before taking another swig. She leaned in closer, her bare shoulder pressing against yours, her voice dropping low. “You’re not freaking out on us, are you, golf boy? ‘Cause we’re just getting started.”

Your heart was racing, the air thick with the scent of whiskey, weed, and their perfume. Kristen’s hand found yours, her fingers intertwining with yours as she leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, teasing, her lips brushing against yours with a deliberate softness that made your head spin. Lisa, meanwhile, slid even closer, her hand still on your thigh, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, “You’re handling this pretty well for a guy who doesn’t drink or smoke.”

The country music kept its steady rhythm, the bright lights casting sharp shadows across the room, and the energy between the three of you crackled like a live wire. You didn’t need their vices to feel the high—their laughter, their boldness, their closeness were more than enough to keep you right there, caught in the wild, reckless orbit of the moment.

Kristen, finally opening your pants and pulling out your hard cock through your pants, slurred, “Oh, I think he likes it this way.” 

“That I do-I love you two,” you told them. You pushed Lisa's bra away and grabbed her firm tits. 

“Lets get this party going,” she said in approval, and leaned back, giggling. Kristen meanwhile was sucking your cock.

The theater room pulsed with a reckless, intoxicating energy, the bright lights casting every detail in vivid relief—the glint of Lisa’s red hair now loose and wild, the flush on Kristen’s cheeks as she knelt before you, her brown curls bouncing with each movement. The twang of country music filled the air, a sultry ballad weaving through the haze of weed and whiskey, amplifying the heat of the moment. The locked door ensured your private rebellion stayed just that—private.

Kristen’s lips worked with a slow, deliberate rhythm, her breath warm and teasing, sending shivers through you as her hands rested lightly on your thighs. Her white bra glowed under the stark lights, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, a playful glint in them despite the whiskey-induced haze. “Mmm, told you he likes it,” she murmured, her voice slurred but dripping with mischief, her lips brushing against you as she spoke.

Lisa, sprawled back on the couch, let out a low, approving moan. Your hands traced the firm curve of her breasts. Her skin was warm, her nipples hardening under your touch, and she arched slightly, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. “Let’s get this party going,” she said, her voice husky, her red hair spilling over her shoulders as she leaned back, giving you full access. “Fuck, you’re bold, golf boy.”

You grinned, your pulse hammering, the dual sensations of Kristen’s mouth and Lisa’s body under your hands overwhelming. “Bold’s my middle name tonight,” you said, your voice low, rough with the heat coursing through you. Lisa’s laugh was sharp and delighted, her hand reaching out to tangle in your hair, pulling you toward her for a fierce, hungry kiss. Her lips tasted of whiskey, her tongue teasing yours as she pressed herself closer, her bare skin warm against your chest.

Kristen pulled back for a moment, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, her grin wicked as she watched you and Lisa. With practiced ease, she took off her bra. “Look at you two,” she teased, her voice thick with amusement and arousal. She reached for the whiskey bottle on the floor, taking a quick swig, the liquid glinting under the lights as a drop spilled down her chin. She didn’t bother wiping it this time, instead leaning forward to kiss you, her lips soft but insistent, the taste of whiskey mixing with the heat of her breath. Her hand slid back to your cock, stroking slowly, her touch confident and teasing.

Lisa, not one to be outdone, tugged her skirt up, revealing black lace panties that matched her bra. She straddled your lap, her thighs pressing against yours, her hands gripping your shoulders as she leaned in close. You pushed her panties aside, and your hard shaft entered her tight wet hole. “You’re not gonna forget this, champ,” she whispered, her lips brushing your ear, her voice a sultry promise. She rocked her hips slightly, the friction sending a jolt through you, her breasts brushing against your chest as she moved.

The bright lights left nothing to the imagination—the way Kristen’s brown hair fell over her face as she leaned in again, her lips returning to their earlier task with renewed intensity; the way Lisa’s body moved against yours, her red hair glowing like fire under the stark glow. The country music’s slow beat matched the rhythm of your racing heart, the lyrics about desire and reckless nights echoing the chaos unfolding.

Kristen’s hand moved to your chest, her fingers digging in slightly as she pulled back to catch her breath, her eyes locked on you and Lisa. “Fuck, this is hot,” she said, her voice slurring as she grabbed the joint from the ashtray, taking a quick drag before passing it to Lisa. Lisa took a hit, exhaling a plume of smoke that curled around you all, her hips still moving against you, her gaze never leaving yours.

“You’re handling us like a pro,” Lisa said, her voice low and teasing as she leaned in to kiss you again, her lips softer this time, lingering, her tongue tracing the edge of your mouth. She tossed the joint back to Kristen, who giggled and set it aside, her hands undoing Lisas bra, her lips brushing against your skin again.

The room felt like it was shrinking, the air thick with the scent of their perfume, the whiskey, the weed, and the raw, electric heat between you. Lisa’s hands moved to your shirt, tugging it up and over your head, her fingers tracing the lines of your chest as she leaned in, her lips finding your neck, kissing and nipping lightly. “You’re ours tonight, golf boy,” she murmured, her voice a mix of playfulness and possession.

Kristen, still kneeling, looked up at you with a smirk, her hands working with slow, deliberate precision. “Yeah, no escaping us now,” she said, her voice soft but dripping with intent. She leaned forward, her lips resuming their rhythm, her hands steady and confident, sending waves of pleasure through you that made it hard to think.

Lisa slid off your lap, her hands moving to the waistband of her skirt, pushing it down to reveal more of the black lace. She kicked the skirt aside, standing, swaying before you in just her panties, her body glowing under the bright lights. “Your move, champ,” she said, her grin daring you to take the lead.

You reached for her, pulling her back onto the couch beside, your hands finding her waist as you kissed her deeply, your tongue matching her earlier intensity. Kristen’s touch never faltered, her lips and hands keeping you on edge, the dual sensations of their bodies and attention overwhelming in the best way.

The country music shifted to a faster beat, the twang of guitars and lyrics about wild nights fueling the moment. The theater room, with its locked door and bright lights, felt like a world of its own—a reckless, heated bubble where nothing else mattered but the three of you, tangled in desire and the thrill of crossing lines.

Lisa’s fingers dug into your shoulders, her breath hitching as you kissed her neck, your hands exploring the curve of her hips. Kristen pulled back, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she stood, tugging her own skirt off to reveal matching white panties. “Alright, golf boy,” she said, her voice slurred but confident, “let’s see if you can keep up with both of us.”

She climbed onto the couch, straddling you, her hands finding your face as she kissed you, her lips soft and teasing, while your hands roamed Lisa's pussy, her lips brushing your ear. The heat of their bodies, the intensity of their touches, the bright lights exposing every moment—it was a high no whiskey or weed could match, and you were right where you wanted to be, caught in the wild, untamed orbit of Lisa and Kristen.