Samantha was, undoubtedly, the most beautiful girl in school. She was tall, sleek, and strong. Her stomach was flat, and her E-cup breasts bulged out prominently in whatever top she wore. Her rich, black hair trailed down her back, tied in a high ponytail. Her eyes were a cold blue. She was gorgeous, and she knew it.
She loved to flaunt herself, knowing full well that she was nigh untouchable. She knew boys wanted her, but she chose who got her and when. She'd always been queen of the nth grade, and 12th grade, senior year, was no exception. As usual, after cheer practice, she came out of the locker rooms, dressed her best; in a tight red shirt that molded to the shape of her spherical breasts, crop pants, and 3" heels. Her gym bag was slung over her shoulder. She scarcely looked about, putting on her customary air of confidence and superiority as she strutted out through the gym.
She loved to flaunt herself, knowing full well that she was nigh untouchable. She knew boys wanted her, but she chose who got her and when. She'd always been queen of the nth grade, and 12th grade, senior year, was no exception. As usual, after cheer practice, she came out of the locker rooms, dressed her best; in a tight red shirt that molded to the shape of her spherical breasts, crop pants, and 3" heels. Her gym bag was slung over her shoulder. She scarcely looked about, putting on her customary air of confidence and superiority as she strutted out through the gym.