DILF 》fp jones

4.

Cherry hadn't got the chance to make friends at Riverdale High, not like she cared. So she spent most of her lunches sat with Cheryl and her pathetic minions or sat on the bleachers watching Jason play football.

On that crisp, Winter noon, she got tired of listening to her cousin pretend to be someone she wasn't around people who really didn't care. So she quietly got up and decided to go find Jason, maybe the sweaty boys in tight pants would satisfy her boredom for a while. She was definitely wrong, when at her arrival Reggie decided to stop playing and instead turn all his attention to the older Blossom student.

"How much do you cost, Cherry? Is it just lap dances or can a get a little something extra?" His voice shouted from the pitch. A few of the jocks laughed at his comment. She rolled her eyes and stood up off her seat.

"Get ready boys! She's giving us a show!"  She lifted her middle finger up at Reggie and left the field.

"Who calls their kid Cherry anyway, it's like they wanted her to become a stripper." The boy's laughter was all she heard as she left, and she was pretty sure she heard Jason join in aswell. But of course he had to, the whole school knew that the Blossom family wasn't meant to like the girl.

The school bell rang through the yard and Cherry contemplated wasting her time in class, until Cheryl appeared out of nowhere and linked her arm into her cousins. "Can we go out tonight?" Cheryl grinned. "We need to make every day last before you leave." Cherry sighed as they entered the corridor and made their way to their lockers.

"I don't know, Red. I'm not working today and I don't fancy going in." Cheryl leaned against her locker waiting for Cherry to pull out her books.

"That's not the only place that will serve is though." Cheryl wiggled her eyebrows and her smile grew wider.

Cherry slammed her locker and faced her cousin. "The Hoe Zone is already deep enough into the southside, you think I'm going to risk getting murdered by your parents if I take you to the Whyte Wyrm?!"

Cheryl stuck her bottom lip out, but Cherry shook her head and walked past her to go to her next lesson.

"Cherry, please!" Cheryl whined, running after the older Blossom.

Cherry let out a heavy breath and glanced at the red head beside her. "Wear something slutty, something leather, you've got to blend in! We want nobody knowing you're a Blossom."

"You mean the Blossom name that we share." The distance between them was expanding as Cherry carried on walking backwards down the hall and Cheryl stood outside the classroom she was about to enter. Cheryl didn't understand the family's hatred of her cousin and vice versa, but Cherry wasn't about to spew the gory details, it was bad enough that Jason now knew everything.

"Trust me, Red. I'm anything but what our family would call a Blossom."

●●●

Cheryl Blossom kept her word. A tight, black, leather dress. Cherry had no idea where her cousin had been hiding it all these years. "Where's the iconic red?" Cherry smirked when she saw her cousin emerge from her bedroom.

"

You said not to show myself up as a Blossom." Cheryl smirked back.

Cherry didn't understand why Cheryl was so adamant on going to the Whyte Wyrm, she understand the stubbornness of wanting to drink, but in the south side? Girls like Cheryl should be afraid of that sound of town. The little girls of Riverdale's northside were  raised on the stories of danger and warnings of the nasty men that lived there. But Cheryl was the only dangerous one tonight, dressed up to kill.

Cheryl leaned against the sticky bar, loving the feel of the surface, it just made everything real. She didn't mind the sticky bar, or the smell of piss radiating from the men's toilets like nuclear pollution, or the drunken, old men  eyeing the girls up as their dresses rode up their thighs.

Cheryl downed her first drink like she had been deprived of water for days, and ordered another quicker than it took Cherry to even pick up her drink.

The girls leaned against the bar, surveying the surrounding men, coated in leather and denim and smoke.

"How often do you come here then?" Cheryl sipped her drink.

Cherry eyed the redhead. "What makes you ask that?" She raised an eyebrow, chewing on an ice cube that had flowed into her mouth.

"Because there's a man over there who hasn't kept his eyes off you since we walked in." Cheryl subtly motioned to a man across the room but Cherry didn't look.

"And how does that make it look like I've been here before?"

"Because the way he's looking at you, Cherry, he's mentally undressing you and it certainly looks like it's not the first time." Cheryl wiggled her eyebrows and giggled, half joking. But the girl wasn't wrong. Cherry looked over to see FP Jones hunched over his beer in a booth with several other important figures in the south side gang, but he wasn't listening to anything the group was saying, he was, just like Cheryl had joked, mentally undressing her, and it was certainly something he had done multiple times before.

Cherry rolled her eyes and turned her back to him, ordering another drink.

Cheryl nudged the girl. "Don't be embarrassed! He's a proper DILF!"

Cherry downed her drink, just like Cheryl had done with her first. "Oh, Red. Trust me, I'm not embarrassed. That there, is FP Jones, leader of the southside serpents." Cheryl's gaze flickered from her cousin to the oldest Jones boy and back again. "And he's done more than mentally undress me." Cherry chuckled. Cheryl's mouth dropped open.

Cherry turned back round to face the flooring of the pub again. "You're right you know. Let's make every day worth it, let's make these next few weeks worth remembering?" Cheryl faced her cousin, intrigued as to what her relative was about to say. "Let's make a bet!" Cherry's eyes sieved through every face in the bar. "I bet I can fuck all the DILFs in this town before I leave."

Cheryl laughed. "You're on!" She held out her glass and the two clashed their glasses together.

"Starting. With. Him." Cherry's eyes fell upon a serpent playing pool, clearly in the view of FP.

Cheryl watched as her cousin drifted through the biker's with ease and leaned against the pool table. The game immediately stopped at the sight of the girl. She pulled on the leather jacket of a man reaching his fifties, his hair long and straggly, his nose pierced, and wrinkles etched into his skin. Cherry whispered something short and sweet into the man's ear and the two slipped away from the busy crowd so quickly that Cheryl's gaze lost track of their direction. But she wasn't the only one watching and she didn't need to worry because he had seen perfectly where they pair had disappeared to.