Cheerleader Confessions

I’d been on the squad for two seasons, but I still felt like the new girl every time we lined up for pyramids. My name’s Riley, nineteen, blonde ponytail, perpetual sunburn across my nose from outdoor practices. Everyone called me “Sunshine” because I smiled too much and never complained about the blisters. What they didn’t know, what I barely admitted to myself, was that I spent half of every practice trying not to stare at our captain, Jordan.

Jordan was everything I wasn’t: tall, dark-haired, olive skin, sharp jaw, sharper tongue. She moved like she owned gravity. When she barked orders, “Tighter formation, Riley, ass up!”, my stomach flipped every single time. I told myself it was nerves. I lied.

It was the night before regionals. We’d rented a cheap motel two hours from campus so we could rest, carb-load, and pretend we weren’t all wired on adrenaline and Red Bull. After lights-out, the room I shared with Jordan and two other girls turned into a whispered gossip pit. Someone suggested truth or dare. Someone else suggested shots. By midnight the other two were passed out on the pull-out couch, snoring softly under a pile of hoodies.

Jordan and I were still awake, sitting cross-legged on my bed in our tiny sleep shorts and sports bras, passing a half-empty bottle of peach vodka back and forth. The lamp cast long shadows across her collarbones. She caught me looking.

“You’re staring again, Sunshine,” she said, voice low so we wouldn’t wake the others.

Heat flooded my cheeks. “Sorry. You just… you look really pretty in this light.”

Her laugh was soft, surprised. “Pretty, huh?” She tilted her head. “You’ve been looking at me like that for months. Thought I was imagining it.”

My heart slammed against my ribs. “You weren’t.”

She set the bottle down. The mattress dipped as she shifted closer. Her knee brushed mine. “Truth or dare, Riley.”

“Truth,” I whispered.

“Do you want me to kiss you right now?”

I couldn’t breathe. “Yes.”

She didn’t hesitate. Her mouth found mine, slow at first, testing, lips soft and warm and tasting faintly of peach. I melted into it. My hands found her waist; hers slid into my hair, tugging the ponytail holder free so blonde strands spilled over my shoulders. The kiss deepened, tongues sliding, little hungry sounds escaping us both.

When we broke apart, she rested her forehead against mine. “Still want truth?”

I nodded.

“Tell me what you think about when you’re in the shower after practice.”

My voice shook. “I think about you. About… tasting you.”

Jordan’s pupils blew wide. “Fuck, Riley.” She kissed me again, harder this time, then pulled back just enough to murmur, “Dare me.”

“Dare you to let me.”

She grinned—wicked, beautiful. “Done.”

We moved quietly. She lay back against the pillows, legs parted just enough for me to settle between them. I hooked my fingers in the waistband of her sleep shorts and dragged them down slowly, savoring the way her breath hitched. No panties. Just smooth, dark curls and the prettiest pussy I’d ever seen, swollen lips already glistening, clit peeking out like it was begging.

I breathed. “Your pussy is so pretty.”

She laughed softly, a little embarrassed, a little proud. “Keep talking like that and I’m gonna cum before you even touch me.”

I couldn’t wait any longer. I lowered my head and dragged my tongue flat from her entrance to her clit in one long, slow lick. She tasted like salt and sweet and something uniquely her, addictive. Jordan’s hips jerked; one hand flew to her mouth to muffle the moan.

“Shh,” I teased against her folds. “Don’t wake them.”

“Then stop being so fucking good at this,” she hissed.

I smiled into her. I licked again, slower, circling her clit with the tip of my tongue before sucking it gently between my lips. Her thighs trembled around my ears. I flattened my tongue and lapped at her entrance, pushing inside just enough to feel her clench.

“Riley… fuck… right there,” she whispered, voice wrecked.

I slid two fingers into her, slow, careful, curling them up to stroke that spongy spot inside while my mouth stayed locked on her clit. She was so wet my fingers glided easily; the slick sounds were obscene in the quiet room. Jordan’s hand found my hair, gripping tight, guiding me without forcing.

“Like that,” she panted. “Don’t stop. Eat my pretty pussy just like that.”

I moaned against her, the vibration making her gasp. I sucked harder, flicked faster, fingers pumping in a steady rhythm. Her walls fluttered around me; her breathing turned ragged.

“I’m close,” she warned. “Riley, I’m gonna—”

I didn’t let up. I hooked my fingers deeper, pressed my tongue flat and firm against her clit, and rubbed in tight circles. Jordan’s whole body tensed. Her free hand clamped over her mouth as her back arched off the bed.

She came hard.

A gush of wetness flooded my mouth, hot, sweet, unstoppable. She squirted in short, pulsing waves, soaking my chin, my lips, dripping down my neck. I kept licking through it, gentler now, coaxing every tremor until she was whimpering and pushing weakly at my head.

“Too much—fuck—come here.”

I crawled up her body, kissing her stomach, her ribs, her throat. When I reached her mouth she pulled me down and kissed me deep, tasting herself on my tongue.

“You’re soaked,” she murmured, wiping her thumb across my chin. “My little Sunshine just made me squirt all over her pretty face.”

I blushed so hard I felt dizzy. “Was that… okay?”

She laughed quietly. “Okay? Riley, I’ve never cummed that hard in my life.”

We lay there tangled, hearts racing, skin sticky. She traced lazy patterns on my back while our breathing evened out.

“Confession,” she whispered after a while. “I’ve wanted you since tryouts. You smiled at me once and I forgot how to count beats for a whole routine.”

I buried my face in her neck. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I didn’t want to scare you off. You’re… bright. I didn’t want to dim that.”

“You didn’t.” I kissed her collarbone. “You made it brighter.”

She rolled us so she was on top, straddling my hips. Her dark hair curtained around us. “My turn to confess,” she said, voice husky again. “I’m not done with you tonight.”

Her hand slipped between my thighs, finding me drenched through my shorts. She grinned. “Your pretty pussy’s dripping for me, isn’t it?”

I nodded, biting my lip.

“Then spread for me, Sunshine. Let me taste how sweet you are.”

We spent the rest of the night trading slow, filthy confessions—mouths and fingers and whispered dares—until the sky outside turned pink and the alarm buzzed for morning practice. We dressed in silence, stealing glances, brushing fingers when no one was looking.

On the bus ride home after regionals—trophies in our laps, glitter still stuck to our skin—Jordan leaned over and murmured in my ear, “Next motel, I’m eating you until you squirt on my tongue.”

I squeezed her hand under the hoodie we shared.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

And just like that, the girl who used to smile too much finally had something worth screaming about.