Your cheerleading bag (you're a preppy cheerleader)

You grab your gym bag, containing your cheerleading outfit, and sling it over your shoulder. There are still traces on the strap where an embroidery once had spelled out "Sarah" before you had angrily removed it, mad at your doting mother for making you look like a child. You slam the door of the Porsche your daddy had bought you for your 17th birthday shut and make your way up to the house.

The drive home from school is only a few minutes, but today it had felt a lot longer to you. Since it's your eighteenth birthday today, your friends were all excitedly buzzing around you at school. Despite all the excitement however, you are annoyed. The way your parents treated you this morning had left you in a foul mood. When you left the house your mother had sternly ordered you to come straight home after school. What's worse, it's like she didn't even acknowledge that it was your birthday. As if you wouldn't have plans of your own! She can be so inconsiderate.

Your step-dad was no help as ever, he just meekly wished you a good day at school. He always seems so whipped around her. Your dad is only a year older than your mom, but has always appeared rather plain, old and unimpressive next to the sexy, blonde bombshell that is your mother. Recently however, he too has put on a youthful glow and lost a lot of weight. Both of them attribute their great looks to the intense exercise regimen they maintain. For the last ten years, your mom has worked out at an exclusive gym and ever since she got dad to join her, they spend a few hours almost every day in there. You have long begged them to take you along, but the place has a strict adults-only policy.

Still fuming about your parent's injustices, you eye the black Hummer parked in front of your house with a growing frown. You had almost crashed into it when you had pulled into the driveway, not expecting the surprising obstacle. The car didn't belong to any of your family members or friends and the idea that your parents had invited some of their friends over on YOUR birthday did not help to lighten your mood.

Pissed at mom, you're still thinking about how you would rather be going out with the girls from the squad tonight than doing some lame family activity. After all you had bought a bunch of incredibly cute and sexy outfits the week before, so you could look exceptionally hot during your birthday party, but now it feels like wasted effort. You have absolutely no interest wearing any of your new outfits for your family and the thought that you won't get to show off your beautiful new dress you had picked out with your friend Veronica makes you sigh in disappointment. You absentmindedly tug at the tight fitting exercise clothes you are wearing, a pink tank top and black yoga pants, which tightly cling to your skin and show off your great, nubile curves.

With your nice, curvy body, sweet, innocent looking face with its full, lush lips and your beautiful, long, straw blonde hair that is usually kept in a ponytail by a pink scrunchie and is falling down to the middle of your back, you have no trouble getting the attention of any guy you like. As a result, you and your clique of popular girls basically run the social life of your school.

At 5'2" and only 90 lbs, you are one of the shortest girls in your circle. That is not to say the *smallest* as your perky C-cups are envied by many of your friends. You constantly catch the boys at school staring, your incredibly good looks apparently stunning them into stupidity, which gives you quite an entertaining sense of power over them. Some boys have written poems to you about your deep blue eyes, "like pools they could drown in", as if that would get your attention. You've never been very interested in any of the guys, mostly because none you have met really impressed you. Your current boyfriend Adam is the quarterback of the football team, but you still feel like you can do better. One of the reasons you've maintained your virginity at 18 is that you feel the boys your age are beneath you, you need a real man. You've given Adam a few handjobs and even the odd blowjob, but other than that your actual sexual experience is minimal.

As you pass the car, you inspect the gym bag next to the open rear door of the mysterious Hummer. There is no sign of who it could belong to, but evidently someone got this out then forgot to close it; must be pretty forgetful. As you lean in closer to it, you feel a scent tickle your nose that sends a shiver through your whole body. Without thinking you push the bag open, inhaling the masculine smell of the basketball clothes within. The deep musky odor sends a wave of heat through your body and you feel your pussy suddenly get wet and hot with desire. Quickly looking up, you make sure no one had seen your embarrassing slip up.

You head up to the door and pull out your key. When you go to slide it into the lock, you find the door already unlocked and slightly ajar. You push on it and it swings open without a sound. The music coming from inside the house is now even louder, and you notice it's the same hip-hop tunes your friends from school play at parties. The aggressive ghetto beats always make you nervous, but now you are not with the squad and your boyfriend.