cheerleaders

WARNING: This is one of three alternate endings to the Catching Mommy saga. You can also read Catching Mommy: Victoria Wins (for the TEAM VICTORIA fans) and Catching Mommy: Win Win For All (for the kinky romantics at heart).



Note 1: A great, big, super thanks goes to MAB7991, Robert and Goamz86 for their dedicated copy-editing.



Note 2: Another thanks goes to Goamz86, LaRascasse and MAB7991 for plot suggestions earlier in the series.



Note 3: Lastly, a thank you to all my readers who voted, and left comments for this story so far. Part 5 is the highest rated of the series and with over 275 comments is my most commented on story. The debate of Victoria or Olivia has warmed my heart and pussy, surprised me greatly and pushed me to write an epic story that both is erotic and keeps you guessing…an erotic thriller of sorts. Part 6 disappointed some because I didn’t end the series as promised..well here is the ending (or endings if you choose to read all three) and I feel I came up with three fun, sexy and fulfilling endings to this crazy series.



Note 4: Because two of the characters are English, I will sometimes use English words like arse (for ass…it sounds so much dirtier), knickers (for panties…which also somehow sounds naughtier), shag (for fuck…I just imagine the English accent and get wet), slag (for slut…which I think sounds so much worse), snog (for kiss…which I find hard to say with a straight face), bugger (for fuck…also makes sex sound dirtier), rodgering (for arse fucking which again is nasty as hell), dogging (which is public outdoor sex), fancy (which is a way to say I like you).



Catching Up! A crash course reminder of what happened previously in the Catching Mommy series:



Part 1: A Shocking Secret: An 18-year-old English girl transplanted to Boston, Victoria, stays home sick one day and accidentally learns that her proud, dignified, lawyer Mom is a submissive lesbian to another 18-year-old girl. To make matters worse her Mom’s Mistress is none other than Victoria’s arch-enemy. (Don’t deny it, if you are a female you had one in high school too!!)



Part 2: Blackmailing a MILF: Shocked by Olivia’s attack on her mother and her disgusting attitude, Victoria decides to get revenge by blackmailing her arch-enemy’s Mother and making her a lesbian sub. (They say revenge is a dish best served sweaty and hot!!)



Part 3: Creating a Slut: Victoria announces to her Mom, she is a lesbian, as she begins to set up her Mother for the inevitable seduction. Meanwhile, her Mom begins her own plan to seduce her daughter. Lastly, Victoria continues the training of her new pet…her arch enemy’s Mother and her own mother’s Mistress.



Part 4: Daughter’s Domme: Victoria confronts her mother about her dark secret and makes her Mother her personal submissive.



Part 5: Housewife Lesbians: Victoria is betrayed by her mother; Victoria briefly weakens when confronted at school by Olivia; Victoria learns her best friend is also a submissive plaything to Olivia; after seeing her mother again dominated by her nemesis, Victoria seeks revenge by videotaping Olivia’s mother and another MILF in very compromising positions.



Part 6: Protecting Slut-Mom: Victoria forces her mother to make a choice; Victoria party crashes Olivia’s father’s birthday supper with erotic and surprising results; Olivia is briefly made speechless; a MILF sub is gangbanged at a frat house in front of many; Olivia and Victoria meet face to face both confident they can turn the other.



And now…finally… the exciting conclusion(s) of Catching Mommy: Olivia Wins.



During the drive to Becka’s house I must have bounced a dozen offensive strategies to stand up to Olivia. Yet, even as I reached Becka’s, I took a deep breath; I was still unsure which approach I was going to take. Walking into Becka’s house ready for the confrontation that had to happen, I opted for aggressive, “I’m here, bitch.”



“So you are,” Olivia called back, her ‘who cares’ tone obvious.



I walked into the living room and was surprised to see a lesbian orgy of sorts occurring. Four of Olivia’s cheerleader posse were all sitting with their legs spread on a couch, a chair, and love seat with someone between their legs. Between Olivia’s legs was her mom, my pet.



“By the way, thank you very much,” Olivia scoffed, her hands going through her mother’s hair.



“For what?” I asked, my tone ice cold.



“Well I accidentally set you up with your own live in Mommy-slut and I figured I should have one for myself,” she grinned.



“You’re thanking me for seducing your dim-witted mother and making her a rug munching submissive?” I asked, trying to be obnoxious and extreme.



“No, no,” she said. “I always knew she was a cunt-licker, Sandrine long ago told me about her adventures didn’t you, slut?”



“Yes, Mistress,” Olivia’s black maid answered, as she looked up from between Angela’s legs.



I finally took a closer look at the array of submissive sluts on their knees. Besides Lauren between her daughter’s legs and Sandrine between Angela’s, I recognized Becka eagerly licking away at the chubby cheerleader Betty, her massive udders bigger than my head, and apparently incest was the new ‘in’ thing as Katrina had her mother between her legs. Both my pets were now being used by their daughters.



Katrina smiled, “Thanks bitch. Mom and I have never really gotten along all that well, but that is changing thanks to you. Isn’t that right, Mom?”



June’s hair was pulled and she looked up at her daughter and replied, clearly mortified by her predicament, “Yes, Mistress Daughter.”



I couldn’t believe that all my work had somehow helped these bitches. I could feel myself getting frustrated even as I tried to figure out who the last submissive currently between Carrie’s legs was.



“Don’t recognize the slut between Carrie’s legs?” Olivia asked.



I shrugged, “That is not why I’m here.”



“Say hi, Miss Watkins,” Olivia said.



My mouth dropped open at hearing who the unknown submissive was.



Miss Watkins looked up, her face red with shame, as she said, “Hi, Victoria.” She quickly returned to her task at hand. I tried to figure out how our first year English teacher, and easily the prettiest woman in our school had ended up another of Olivia’s playthings. She was from England too and her accent had the boys drooling. Rumour had, she was dating, our football coach, Mr. Hammersmith, and didn’t seem like someone who would sexually submit to anyone. Yet, there she was between Carrie’s legs and I assumed she had been between Olivia’s as well.



It seemed that nobody could say no to Olivia. Yet, I knew I had to…not only for mom, but for me.



“This thing with you and my mother ends now,” I firmly said, returning my icy glare to the ice queen.



“Oh really,” Olivia smiled amused by my threat.



“Or I out your mother,” I threatened.



“Yes, you blackmailed my mother, who submitted to you in order to protect me, her loving daughter, and our family name. While your mother submitted to me like a dirty lesbian slut willing to do anything to please me…including seducing her dyke daughter,” she said, her smug smile pissing me off.



I glared back, realizing she was right about the difference in our mothers, but I responded, “She never tried to seduce me, she lied to you. She is not as obedient as you think.” I knew it was a weak counter, but it was all I had.



Again she laughed, seemingly amused by this whole conversation. “Yes, I learned that. Instead of her seducing you, you took her. Now that is fucked up. I mean, sure, I love to seduce, train and dominate older lonely women, but you took your mom while vulnerable and confused with her sexuality and took advantage of her.”



I could feel my house of cards crumbling around me…as I realized I had inadvertently done exactly what Olivia accused me of. I had been the one to commit incest first, not Olivia.



Just then, as my head spun trying to find a way out of this crazy web of sin being woven all around me, and by me as well, Olivia said, “Speaking of the slut.”



I turned around and saw Mom behind me.



I said tersely, “I told you to stay home.”



“And I told her to come,” Olivia countered. “Not cum as in orgasm,” she laughed, before adding, “Although that will happen in time, but to come as come to me.”



“Thanks for the clarification, bitch,” I snapped, pissed off that my mother had again disobeyed me, and had once again chosen Olivia over me. I was hurt by my mother’s betrayal, but I hid my pain.



“She will always choose me over you, Victoria,” Olivia smiled. “Just like every other cunt licking submissive here. I am the queen bee and you are just another of my servants. You’re a disobedient servant, one that needs some very stern discipline, but a servant none-the-less.”



“That will never happen,” I shot back, still grasping at straws of strength.



“Oh denial is so adorable,” Olivia said. “Watching the final moments of strength usurped from you as you accept your place on your knees begging to please me is so adorable.”



“Fuck you,” I said with defiance, even as I glanced down at her mother between her legs.



She saw my quick glimpse and asked, “Do you want to replace your submissive?”



“Never,” I said, turning to my own mom and saying, “We’re leaving.”



“Slut, don’t you dare move,” Olivia sternly demanded.



I froze against my will.



Olivia laughed, “I was talking to your mother, but your obedience is a pleasant surprise.”



I cursed myself for stopping; showing a sign of weakness to a vulture like Olivia was not good.



Mom finally spoke. “I’m sorry Victoria, but as I told you before I can’t resist Olivia. I love her.”



“You love being used as a submissive plaything?” I asked, furious and yet near tears.



“Yes,” Mom admitted, her tone and inability to look me in the eye implying that she was ashamed by her answer.



“You love your eighteen year old, heartless Mistress over your own daughter?” I asked, tears beginning to form.



“Don’t put it like that. It is not that black and white Victoria,” Mom tried to rationalize her betrayal to me, while talking to me like a mother scolding her daughter.



Olivia chipped in, adding fuel to the already out of control fire, “Slut Kate, who is prettier, me or your daughter?”



I looked at Mom who paled instantly. “Please, don’t make me answer that,” Mom pleaded.



Olivia’s smile turned as she looked down and ordered, “Mom, move away.”



Lauren crawled out from between her daughter’s legs, and Olivia opened her legs wide to showcase her cunt. I knew I shouldn’t look, but I could feel a magnetic pull drawing my eyes directly to my enemy’s cunt.



Olivia said, “So slut Kate, take a good look at your Mistress’s cunt.”



I tore my thoughts away from Olivia’s inviting cunt to see my mother staring between Olivia’s legs in an almost hypnotic trance.



“I’ll ask you again, my submissive little British slut. Who is prettier? You’re Mistress or your daughter?” Olivia asked, her fingers moving to her pussy.



Again, I was being drawn in by the completely, frustrating, undeniable beauty of Olivia. Yes, she is a bitch. Yes, she is a stuck-up whore. And yes, I hated her. Yet, I couldn’t pull my eyes away from her beautiful cunt.



I heard Mom say, “I’m so sorry, Victoria.”



I pulled my gaze away from Olivia’s pussy, my own pussy betraying me as it burned with hunger, to find my mother near tears. Unfortunately, I knew her answer before she even spoke it. Her answer was obvious from all her earlier betrayals leading up to this moment, as well as the look of guilt on her face.



Mom broke eye contact with me and turned her gaze to Olivia. Although I already knew what she was going to say before the words left her mouth, a piece of me still died when she said them out loud. “You are, Mistress.”



“I am what, my good little pet,” Olivia asked, wanting to add to my humiliation.



“You are prettier than my daughter,” Mom answered, refusing to look at me.



“Are you sure?” Olivia asked, snapping her fingers and pointing at her cunt.



“Without a doubt,” Mom answered, moving towards Olivia and seemingly forgetting her only daughter was watching and hearing her submission.



“Look at your daughter and tell her who is more beautiful,” Olivia instructed, before adding, “Then you will receive your reward.”



“Please, leave my daughter out of this,” Mom pleaded.



I am sure Olivia was about to scold her, or threaten her, but I said, “Go ahead Mom, do what you have to do.”



Mom looked at me with such guilt I could almost feel her pain inside me, yet that didn’t make her words hurt any less. “Victoria, Mistress Olivia is prettier than you.”



Tears began streaming down my face, even as I tried to will them not to. I shouldn’t have shown such weakness in front of Olivia, yet the tears were streaming freely.



Olivia snapped her fingers again and Mom turned around, dropped to her knees and buried her face in Olivia’s cunt.



I wanted to pull her out from her submissive position and drag her out of there. Yet, it was obvious, like an alcoholic who refuses to seek help, that she didn’t want saving.



I looked around, dazed, bewildered and, for the first time ever, lost.



Olivia said, “Let it out, Victoria, understanding your position is the first step to acceptance.”



“My position?” I questioned with spite, although I could feel my strength and resolve were not as strong as they once were.



“Yes, like the social hierarchy of high school, there is a sexual hierarchy too,” Olivia explained, before being interrupted by Betty’s screams.



I laughed, “A sexual hierarchy?”



“Oh shit, yes, fuuuuuck,” Betty bellowed as Becka made her come.



Olivia smiled, “You see, Becka is a perfect example of my theory. Becka is near the bottom of the social hierarchy and thus is eager to be accepted. Thus her submission was one of accepting her role in both hierarchies and eagerly becoming the submissive pet she was born to be.”



“We are born into the sexual hierarchy?” I asked, actually laughing at her bizarre logic, forgetting my previous hurt.



“Often,” Olivia shrugged. “For some they are born submissive, for others they see it in their mother to their father, for others it’s a stressful job like your cunt-licking mother, for others it’s about race like Sandrine who is meant to serve at work and at play. Yet,



for others they don’t yet know they are submissive, often trying to play a role they were never meant to play…girls like that…girls like you…are in denial.”



“I’m in denial that I’m really just a submissive?” I laughed. The suggestion was absurd. “I didn’t feel much like a submissive when I turned your mother into a dyke.”



Olivia shrugged, “Like I said before, you blackmailed her. The only submissive I blackmailed was Sandrine and I am sure she too could have been turned but I really wanted to have a live-in cunt licker, plus I liked the idea of having a black submissive.”



Angela interrupted the conversation as she moaned, “That’s it cunt licker, soooo close.”



I glanced over to watch Angela grabbing Sandrine by the back of her head and grinding her cunt on the black maid’s face. The contrast between black and white was hot.



“Yes, yes, yeeeees,” Angela bellowed as she came.



Olivia continued, “It’s obvious you are in denial right now, Victoria.”



Returning my gaze to her, trying to ignore the reality that my mother was licking her cunt while we chatted, “Is that so?” I asked, realizing I was playing right into her game. Yet, I couldn’t leave, my feet felt magnetically held to the floor.



Katrina interrupted, “Thanks Victoria. I have my own live-in cunt licker now.”



“You’re welcome,” I replied, adding, “At least now you have someone you’re in charge of unlike being the bimbo follower you’re to Olivia.”



“Bitch,” Katrina weakly shot back.



“Oh, that hurts coming from a bimbo bitch,” I countered.



Carrie interrupted our ridiculous banter as she screamed, “Yessssssss.”



I again looked over to see Carrie coming, seemingly a squirter, as she sprayed everywhere coating Miss Watkins’ face.



Olivia purred, “So Victoria, are you ready to join your mother?”



“As a submissive to you?” I scoffed, even though my pussy was burning for attention.



“Of course, it is obvious you want to,” she said, as she put her hands through my mom’s hair. “Like mother, like daughter.”



Katrina screamed over dramatically, “Yes, Mommy, lick my cunt.”



“Don’t you see, Victoria, even when you thought you were winning, all you were doing was making me stronger,” Olivia said.



My cunt was soaking wet and my head was in a fog. I still wanted to crush Olivia, yet I couldn’t deny I was curious what all the fuss was about. Why couldn’t my strong-willed mother resist her? Why were these other smart women on their knees serving Olivia’s friends? Why was my cunt so wet?



“Becka, come take off my blouse,” Olivia ordered, still wearing the blouse and thigh highs she had been wearing at the frat house, but with her plaid skirt on the floor.



“Of course, Mistress,” Becka agreed, getting off her knees and moving to Olivia.



I said, “Becka, don’t.”



Becka ignored me completely as she unbuttoned Olivia’s blouse.



“And my bra,” Olivia added.



Becka obeyed, releasing Olivia’s firm breasts. I knew I shouldn’t look, yet I allowed myself to look, all the while sensing I was being drawn in to Olivia’s magnetic pull.



“Slut Kate, come suck on your Mistress’s tits,” Olivia ordered.



Mom got off her knees and went directly to Olivia’s right breast.



Olivia said, “Come join your Mom, Victoria, I know you want to, it is in your eyes.”



I scoffed again determined to stay strong, even though I was beginning to sense she was right, “My eyes tell you I want to be your submissive?”



“Yes, as does your posture,” Olivia added.



I laughed, “I’m not on my knees like the rest of your playthings,” I countered.



“Not yet,” Olivia said confidently.



“Not ever,” I countered.



Ignoring my refusal, Olivia ordered, “Becka, go feel your friend’s cunt and see if it’s wet.”



“Yes, Mistress,” Becka nodded, although her facial expression showed grave concern at the task she had just been ordered to perform.



“Don’t even think about it, Becka,” I said firmly as she reached me.



Olivia said, “Becka if you don’t do as I tell you, you will be punished.”



“Please Olivia,” Becka pleaded, her eyes so full of fear I felt bad for her.



“Stand up for yourself,” I said, grabbing her hands.



“It’s not that easy,” Becka pleaded.



“I’ll help you,” I said.



“You couldn’t protect your mom,” Becka said, “and she is a lot stronger than me.”



I glanced at my mom, who was stilling nursing hungrily, it seemed, on Olivia’s breast.



Olivia, looking directly at me ordered, “Switch,” and mom moved to the neglected breast.



“Isn’t that ass of yours still untouched?” Olivia asked looking directly at Becka.



“Yes, Mistress,” Becka admitted, her eyes going even bigger with fear.



“And I was thinking, I bet Jackson is still a virgin,” Olivia added, her threat disgusting. Jackson was a three hundred pound, acne covered, loser who never showered.



“You can’t be serious?” I asked with disdain.



“Miss Watkins, tell my pet-to-be how serious I am,” Olivia instructed.

My cunt frustratingly tingled at the words ‘pet-to-be’, my cunt again trying to betray me.



Miss Watkins on the floor, now licking the stocking-clad feet of Angela, said, her tone implying she still hadn’t recovered from her punishment, “She isn’t bluffing.”



I was curious what sort of punishment Olivia had given our pretty teacher, but I didn’t ask.



Olivia said, “And why were you punished?”



“I wouldn’t lick you after school in my classroom,” Miss Watkins admitted.



“You do now though, don’t you?” Olivia said.



“Almost every day, Mistress, including today,” Miss Watkins admitted.



“Why do you obey now?” Olivia continued, clearly wanting to show me her mystic power to control.



“Because you made it very clear that disobedience has consequences,” Miss Watkins answered.



“What was your punishment?” Olivia asked.



“I was the basketball team’s cum bucket after their city finals victory last month,” Miss Watkins admitted, her face red with shame.



“You’re one sick fuck,” I said, glaring at Olivia.



“Obedience has its rewards and disobedience has its consequences,” Olivia replied, rather matter-of-factly.



“This isn’t fucking Stalinist Russia,” I quipped.



“It is pretty close,” Olivia smiled. “It is a pretty clear dictatorship.”



“You risked Miss Watkins job,” I said.



“I am not that sinister, at least on the first punishment. She was on the other side of a glory hole as she swallowed half a dozen loads and took another half dozen in her cunt and one final load in her ass,” Olivia said.



The visual was undeniably hot; a glory hole being a fantasy of mine.



Olivia instructed, getting us back on topic, “Becka, finish your task or it is punishment time.”



Becka pleaded, “Please Victoria, just let me touch your pussy.”



“Ten seconds or Becka’s ass is Jackson’s,” Olivia threatened.



“Please, please, please, I’ll do anything,” Becka begged, totally petrified of Olivia’s threat.



I glanced to Olivia who was smiling victoriously, which pissed me off even more. Yet I knew I had to allow Becka to obey as ordered. My conscience couldn’t allow Becka’s sodomy at the hands of the most repulsive guy at school. I sighed dramatically to let Olivia know clearly I wasn’t impressed, “Go ahead.”



Becka instantly dropped to her knees, which wasn’t necessary, put her hand under my leather skirt, and put her fingers on my cunt lips. I was still in my crotchless pantyhose and sans knickers. She surprised me as she announced to everyone there, “She is soaking wet, Mistress and not wearing any underwear.”



“Becka!” I gasped, surprised, angered, and embarrassed by her declaration.



“Sorry, Victoria, but it’s true. Your cunt is practically begging for attention,” Becka replied, shocking me again, the shy girl using the ‘c’ word.



“Please, Becka,” I pleaded, wanting her to stop.



Olivia intervened, “Victoria, the evidence in favour of my hypothesis is compounding.”



“Because I’m wet?” I sneered.



“That, the look in your eyes, your posture, your mother and the fact that you are still here,” Olivia smiled.



I instantly wondered why I hadn’t walked out already. I had clearly lost the battle over my mother, lost my MILF pets to their daughters, and had just been sexually assaulted by my best friend in front of a dozen people. Yet, there I remained, humiliated, frustrated and overwhelmed.



“Pussy got your tongue?” Olivia asked, trying to be witty. Frustrated I didn’t have a witty comeback to her accusations, I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks burning red, I could still feel Becka’s finger on my cunt and I could feel the final checkmate in a game I had thought I could win.



“On your knees, Victoria,” Olivia instructed.



I didn’t obey, but I could literally feel the strength in my legs going away and suddenly, standing up was difficult to do.



“Kate, go help your daughter,” Olivia instructed.



“Yes, Mistress,” Mom agreed, as she finally stopped sucking on Olivia’s tits and walked towards me, her face still riddled with guilt.



Olivia instructed, “Pets, rotate.”



As my mother reached me, I watched as a group of very, very different women all on their knees, each moved to their right and between the legs of a new girl. Becka moved to Angela, Sandrine to Carrie, Miss Watkins to Olivia, my pet Lauren to Katrina and my other lost pet June, crawled a distance to big titted Betty. Each submissive buried their face between the legs of the new teenage girl in front of them, except Olivia who instructed, “Suck my toes, Miss Watkins, I want to make sure my pet-to-be has a clear view of my cunt.”



“Of course, my goddess,” Miss Watkins said, which somehow turned me on more, as did, beyond logical comprehension, the words ‘pet to be’ and the obvious implication that went with it.



I could feel my brittle shell of resistance shattering, and when mom put her hands on my shoulders and gently pushed me down, whispering, “Just give in, Victoria, this is where you were meant to be,” I didn’t resist, although her words ricocheted in my head. Did mom really believe I was born to sexually serve a bitch like Olivia? Did mom want her only daughter to become a submissive slut like her? Yet, even as my mind logically argued against such submission, my body betrayed me at every turn. My cunt was soaked, my mouth watered and my legs gave way.



“Good girl,” Olivia said, as my knees hit the carpet. “Now crawl to me, my new pet.”



I looked up to my mom, my eyes pleading for help and strength to resist the irresistible pull that had transformed me from a strong-willed woman to a submissive-hungry pet. That word was never suppose to be used on me; yet, hearing myself called a pet only enhanced my desire to submit even though I couldn’t possibly explain why.



Mom whispered, “Submit, Victoria, join me in submission.”



Mom’s words were the final straw that broke me. I had lost my mother to Olivia, but if I submitted to Olivia I could still be with my mother, albeit not in the way I had envisioned. We would again be together like we were before this crazy, crazy chain of events. The logic was absurd but that the only way to continue to have a relationship with my mother was to submit to my enemy, but at the moment logic wasn’t part of the equation. I felt alone, lost and horny, a mixture that would push me to a place I never thought I would go.



Lowering my head, I crawled the few feet to Olivia. I expected sarcastic remarks from the bimbo squad but none came as I obeyed her order. Reaching Olivia, I paused, unsure what to do, so unfamiliar with being in this position. I could see her pussy, slightly glistening, and I wanted to taste it, to get her off. It occurred to me, that if I licked her I would be in control, I could control the orgasm, and thus her pleasure.



Olivia looked down at me, a smile so big that part of me still wanted to slap her in the face, yet another part of me suddenly saw the allure of her beauty. There was something unexplainable about her, something irresistible and I wondered how I had resisted so long. “Are you ready to begin your life as my pet,” she asked, before adding, “our pet.”



I stuttered, “‘Our’ p-p-pet?”



“Yes, since you have been such a bitch, such a handful, you will not only be my pet, but you will be the cheerleading team’s pet, our mascot per se. You will come on trips as our trainer and service all of us as we request?” Olivia revealed.



Their mascot? The idea was degrading, the thought was repulsive, although submitting to Olivia seemed inevitable and somehow turned me on, the thought of having to obey Katrina, Angela and the other members of the bimbo squad was incomprehensible. Yet, I didn’t see a simple way out of this.



I wasn’t able to speak, there were no words to properly get me out of this predicament, as Olivia moved her hand to her pussy and asked, “Are you hungry, my pet?”



I stared at her cunt, suddenly unable to focus on anything else. I didn’t want to answer, to admit my weakness, my hunger, but I also wanted to taste her, to see if she tasted as exotically addicting as she must to have so many women obey her every order.



“Answer me, Victoria, or your first punishment will be very unpleasant,” Olivia threatened.



I instantly thought of all the twisted things Olivia had done that I knew of and replied without even thinking about the words coming out of my mouth, “yes, I am famished.”



“Yes, I am famished, what?” Olivia asked, as her finger slid inside her cunt.



I froze. I knew the word she wanted to hear, I knew exactly the game she was playing and unfortunately I was unable to resist playing her game. “Yes, I am famished, Mistress Olivia.” Strangely, just saying the word, one that had been exclusive to me when used up to this moment, felt liberating. I had spent so much time standing strong against Olivia, fought so hard to protect my mother with devastating results. That the thought of just letting go, giving in to my inner lust that was now bubbling to the surface came surprisingly natural.



“Good girl,” Olivia purred, as if she were talking to a child.



My face flushed at the condescending comment, yet my pussy tingled. Although I had reveled in the power over her mother, and Katrina’s, I never felt more at home, than I did at this moment, on my knees, in front of Olivia, waiting to be instructed. “Thank you, Mistress Olivia,” I replied absurdly, the words rolling off my tongue.



“Checkmate,” Olivia proudly announced.



“Yes, Queen Olivia,” I replied, trying to tie my response to the game of chess.



“Queen Olivia, I like that,” Olivia smiled, “Although aren’t you named after a queen?”



I had been named after Queen Victoria, one of my mom’s heroes. Assumedly, mother had given her that piece of trivia. “Yes, Queen Olivia, I was, but now I am just a peasant ready to serve her queen.” I couldn’t believe the words I was saying. They were so corny, so absurd and yet in the moment they were exactly how I felt. I was ready to worship her, serve her and obey her.



“So you want to eat my cunt in front of all of these, what did you call them, my bimbo posse?” Olivia asked, pulling her finger out of her cunt and moving it to me. I opened my mouth automatically and felt a rush of disappointment when she said, “Miss Watkins, want a treat?”



“Oh yes, Mistress,” the pretty teacher replied, opening her mouth and sucking Olivia’s wetness from her finger.



Olivia asked again, “So you want to serve me in front of my posse?”



“Yes, I do, Queen Olivia,” I admitted, ashamed, excited, confused, and overwhelmed.



“And you want to eat all the cunts of my bimbo squad, as I believe I remember you also calling them,” she continued.



Desperate to taste her, knowing that the longer I took to answer, the longer I denied my unconditional surrender to not only Olivia but all her posse, the longer it would be before I finally got to taste her, I answered, “I am your peasant, Queen, I do as I am told. After all, I AM their mascot.”



“So to clarify, you will suck on Betty’s big tits, lick Angela’s cunt, lick Carrie’s butthole, take a strap-on in the ass by Katrina who, by the way, can’t wait to train you and make you serve every member of the senior cheerleading team?” She asked, the list disgusting, yet enthralling; humiliating…my new reality.



“My cunt-licking mouth, my wet pussy and my virgin arse are all yours, my Queen,” I answered, shocked at the words that came out of my mouth. I had just degraded myself and announced to the deviant, twisted Olivia that I was an anal virgin, while agreeing to take it up the ass by that bitch Katrina.



“She’s an anal virgin,” Katrina said, finally speaking. “That makes this so much more delicious.”



I sighed to myself both at the reality of what was assumedly bound to happen and by her atrocious use of the English language. I would have mocked her any other time, yet this time I remained silent.



“That is a pleasant surprise,” Olivia concurred, before continuing my slow personal humiliation, “but I thought you said that being on your knees begging to belong to me would never happen.”



Recalling the conversation from just a few hours ago, when I still thought I was in control, even though my mom was being gangbanged at a frat party, I replied, “I was in denial.”



“Of what?” Olivia asked.



“Of everything I guess,” I said, unsure how to answer the question, not knowing the answer myself.



“You’re a smart girl,” Olivia said, her finger going back into her cunt, slowly pumping in and out, as I suddenly felt like I was watching a hypnotist’s watch. “Explain how you were in denial.”



I sighed, just wanting to taste her, lick her, make her cum, yet I had to play her game first. “I thought I could beat you at your own game; I thought you were just a privileged bitch who needed to be put in her place and I thought I could pull my mother out of the twisted fucked up hold you had on her,” I admitted honestly.



“And yet now you are willing to join your mother in this twisted fucked up situation,” Olivia said.



“Yes,” I admitted, ashamed by the truth of her words, at having lost completely.



“Beg to be my pet, my slut, my cunt-licker, my slave, my peasant,” she rattled off, each name both demeaning and erotic at the same time.



My mind a muddled mess, my desire to please and come myself overriding dignity or common sense, I suddenly understood my mother’s weakness and unconditional loyalty to Olivia. I turned to Mom, who was behind me watching my submission, and said, “Mom, I forgive you, I understand now.”



“Oh honey,” Mom said, breaking into a smile for the first time since she arrived here, which somehow made me happy.



“I love you, Mom,” I said, before adding, “and I can’t wait to join you in servitude to our Mistress.”



“Oh, I love you too, Victoria,” she replied, tears welling in her eyes. Her words sounded so sincere, and yet were so absurd considering our current situation.



“Beg, bitch,” Katrina ordered, breaking the strange moment of intimacy in a night that couldn’t spell the word.



I turned to her, wanting to bite her head off, but instead replied, “Yes, Mistress.”



“I’m not a queen?” She asked.



“A princess, maybe but there is only one queen,” I answered, turning my gaze back to Olivia. I said, my words still seeming to come from some unknown part of my subconscious, “Mistress, Queen, Goddess, may I bow down to you?”



“You may,” Olivia said, looking down at me with curiosity.



I bowed down and kissed her foot, Miss Watkins having moved back a few minutes before. Olivia lifted it up and I put her nylon-clad toes in my mouth one at a time. The act, one of complete submission, turned me on as I just wanted to please her like no one, including my mother, had ever pleased her.



Olivia asked, “You like nylons, too?”



“I love them,” I answered, as I licked the sole of her foot, a mixture of sweet sweat and nylon.



“Ever fucked yourself on a nylon foot?” she asked.



The thought was instantly a naughty visual in my mind and I replied, “No, my Queen.”



Lifting her stocking-clad foot up, Olivia instructed, “Ride my foot.”



“Oh, yes Mistress,” I agreed, way too eagerly. I stood up, my knees a bit numb, and straddled her foot, suddenly noticing that everyone, including the pets, were watching me. I felt self-conscious, but ignored the brief insecurity, my need to obey and to come taking over. I lowered my cunt onto her foot and began rubbing myself on her foot. It felt so naughty and yet so good that in only a few seconds I could feel a burning inside.



Olivia scolded, “I didn’t say rub yourself, I said fuck yourself.”



I stopped and asked, “You want to foot fuck me?”



“No, you silly slut, I want you to fuck yourself with my foot,” she explained.



I stared at her foot, which was dangling over her left leg and tried to figure out how to get it in my cunt while standing.



Mom touched my back and said, “Turn around and face our Mistress.”



“Okay, Mommy,” I said, never having used the term ‘Mommy’ before except to put her in her place.



I almost tripped turning around and straddling the foot the other way as Mom asked, “Mistress Olivia, may I assist?”



“You want to help your daughter fuck herself on my foot?” Olivia asked, obviously loving her victory.



“Yes, Mistress,” Mom answered.



“You can help her get my foot inside that slut box of hers, but then I want her to fuck herself,” Olivia said.



“Of course, Mistress,” Mom nodded, as she knelt down and grabbed Olivia’s foot. Looking up at me, she instructed, “Now lower your slut box slowly as I hold our beautiful Mistress’s foot.”



“Yes, Mommy,” I moaned, as I lowered my cunt and felt the nylon covered toes in between my pussy lips.



Mom moved Olivia’s foot up and down a few times, making me super fucking horny, before she pushed Olivia’s toes into my cunt.



“Oh fuuuuck, Mommy,” I moaned, my cunt stretching open wider than it ever had before.



“Now slowly bend your knees down and up until you are riding Olivia’s foot like the submissive little slut you are,” Mom ordered.



“Oh ooh yes Mommy,” I whimpered, not used to being ordered by Mom, although it, too, turned me on.



Olivia, noticing my submissive nature to my mother, said, “Slut Kate, you may get your own live-in submissive yet.”



I closed my eyes and focused on trying to ride Olivia’s foot and give myself a much needed orgasm. My moans began to increase as I slowly fucked myself on Olivia’s toes. I don’t know if it was the widening of my cunt, the feeling of the nylon, the complete act of submission or just how horny I was, but in only a minute I was beginning to feel my orgasm rise.



Olivia laughed, “Are you close to coming already?”



“Yeeeees,” I moaned.



“Don’t you dare come without permission,” Olivia threatened.



“Okaaaay,” I agreed, even as the orgasm continued to rise.



“You are such a condescending slut,” Katrina said.



Angela added, “A pretentious little bitch.”



“I didn’t even know you knew such wooooords,” I whimpered, unable to not be the condescending, pretentious bitch they said I was as I realized she had her camera directed at me.



“Please don’t,” I begged, suddenly stopping riding Olivia’s foot.



Olivia scolded, “Don’t you dare stop without permission, you fucking cunt.”



“S-s-sorry,” I stuttered, feeling overwhelming guilt at upsetting Olivia which was illogical, as I continued fucking myself while assumedly being filmed, which mortified me…yet my orgasm was too close to care about the potential public humiliation at the hands of that bitch.



“Don’t let her come, Olivia,” Katrina said.



A few more seconds and I was ready to explode and begged, “Queen Olivia, please let your dumb slut come.” Why did I call myself dumb?



Her foot moved out of my cunt as she said, “On your knees.”



“Please, Mistress,” I pleaded even as I obeyed the command.



“No bitch of mine gets to come before I or my guests do,” Olivia said, snapping her fingers and pointing to her cunt. “Get to work, Victoria, it is time for ‘never’ to occur.”



I smiled internally at her witty ‘never’ quip, as I quickly thrust my face between her legs and into her cunt. I licked and was instantly taken aback by her taste. It was surprisingly tangy and I knew that any morning after regret and guilt would be dissipated by the reality that I would drop to my knees and lick her cunt anytime or anyplace. I was addicted. I explored her pussy lips, her clit and, eventually, my tongue darted in and out of her pussy as her moans increased. My own cunt was leaking and begging to be finished off, yet I focused on Olivia’s cunt, hoping that getting her off would eventually get me off.



I have no idea how long, I licked, nibbled and explored Olivia’s cunt, but her hand on the back of my head, implied she was close. I sucked her clit between my lips and heard her moan, “Don’t stop, my slut.”

I had no intention of stopping, dying to taste the full blast of her come on my lips and tongue.



I felt hands on my ass and I stopped, startled, but felt my head pushed deeper into Olivia’s cunt as I returned to the task at hand. I felt fingers playing with my pussy and then without warning I felt something big, a fist I thought shoved into my cunt. I screamed into Olivia’s cunt, feeling a mixture of pleasure and pain, as my cunt was unnaturally widened. I quickly learned it was indeed a fist as I felt fingers wiggling inside me.



With my own cunt being violated, it was hard to stay focused on Olivia’s cunt, but I literally had no choice as she began grinding her cunt up and down my face. I extended my tongue and just tried to please her as she fucked my face. I was moaning into her cunt and my mouth was wide open when the gush of pussy cum exploded into my mouth and all over my face. She held my face so tight against her cunt, I couldn’t breathe anything but her heavenly scent.



I was just beginning to struggle to breathe when she let go of my head and I screamed, “Oh fuck. I’m so full.”



“Do you want to come from Carrie’s fist?” Olivia asked.



I didn’t even look to confirm it was Carrie as I begged, my breathing so erratic, the sentence took forever to finish, “Oh yes, my Queen…please…let Carrie…fist fuuuuuck… me to…orgasm.”



“You can come on five,” Olivia said.



“Ooooh, thank you, Mistress,” I moaned, thrilled that the long denied orgasm was finally going to occur.



“One, tell me who owns you, Victoria Jones,” Olivia started the countdown.



A chill went up my spine at hearing my full name. “Olivia Phillips owns my tongue, cunt and aaaaaaaaaass,” I declared, as Carrie filled my cunt again.



“Two, tell us what you are.”



“A condescending bitch that has finally learned her place as your slave,” I declared, wishing Carrie would fuck my cunt with her hand instead of teasing me.



“Three, tell me something you will do to earn my trust.”



“Anythiiiing,” I screamed, as Carrie fist fucked me quickly three times.



“I want you to bring me an offering, one of your loser friends,” Olivia said.



“Okaaaay, which one do you want,” I asked, so far gone I would sell my mother to a Sheik to come.



“Tamara,” Olivia said.



Tamara was the minister’s daughter and definitely a virgin. She hadn’t been on a date, or even kissed a boy. She was cute in a nerdy way; although, she hid her body well with baggy sweaters and long skirts. “She is yours,” I offered, although I really had no idea how I would possibly make it happen.



“Four, pull out, Carrie,” Olivia instructed. Carrie did as ordered and my whole body quivered with broken anticipation, shaking like an addict who had not had a drink or smoke in a week.



“Oh please…Mistress, you…own me, please,” I begged, my brain foggy with self lust.



“All in good time,” Olivia shrugged. “I just realized it would be very wrong for you to come before your other Mistresses do, don’t you think?”



“Of course, Mistress, that…is…very reasonable,” I struggled to say through stunted breath.



“Go finger fuck Betty to orgasm,” Olivia instructed.



I reluctantly, with pussy juice running down my legs, crawled to the chubby, huge titted cheerleader who opened her legs and ordered, “Suck my clit while fingering me, bitch.”



“Yes, Mistress Betty,” I agreed as I leaned forward and took her clit between my lips while I slid two fingers easily inside her. Wanting to get this over with, her scent way less appealing than Olivia’s, I finger fucked her fast and hard. Thankfully, in only a couple of minutes I felt her grab my head as she came all over my face.



Backing away, a minute later, I heard Olivia say, “Ready for your punishment, Mother?”



“Please, Olivia, I won’t ever betray you again. I’m your Mother.”



“Yes, that is why I called you Mother,” Olivia sarcastically said, as I turned around to see Olivia was wearing a huge strap-on cock, at least eight inches in length and thick.



Katrina added, also wearing an identical big strap-on cock, “Are you ready, Mother dearest?”



June, my ex-pet saw me watching and glared at me before suggesting, “Why don’t you fuck that bitch’s ass first?”



“All in good time. She wasn’t the one who betrayed me, you were,” Katrina replied coldly.



“Both of you, on all fours and stop fucking trying to negotiate or I will really give you a punishment worth complaining out,” Olivia threatened, slapping her mother’s ass hard.



Both mothers reluctantly obeyed, now each naked except thigh highs, getting on all fours side by side.



Olivia and Katrina got behind their respective mothers as Becka poured lube on Lauren’s ass cheeks and Sandrine did the same to June.



“Finger fuck their asses my pets, get their asses lubed really well,” Olivia instructed, as she moved to the front of her mother and shoved the plastic cock in her mom’s mouth; Katrina, like the follower she was, quickly followed suit.



Both Becka and Sandrine obeyed, coating their fingers with lube and sliding them, rather easily, into the MILF bitches asses.



“Two fingers,” Katrina instructed, as she fucked her mom’s face with the plastic cock.



Both pets obeyed as they slid a second finger in and began finger fucking them. The MILF’s moans were muffled by the cocks fucking their faces, which was undeniably hot.



A couple minutes of face fucking and ass fingering and Olivia pulled out, moved behind her mom and without warning slammed her cock into her mom’s ass, all eight inches filling the surprised mom.



“Holy shiiiiiit, pull it out,” Lauren screamed and begged, her facial expression priceless.



“Sure,” Olivia said, pulling out and then slamming it back in again.



“Please, stoooooooop, you’re tearing me apart,” Lauren pleaded through tears.



June’s eyes were big with fear as her daughter pulled the cock out of her mouth and moved behind her. She begged, “Honey, I’m so sorry, I will never betray yooooooooou.” She didn’t finish her sentence as Katrina replicated Olivia’s harsh entry into her mother’s ass.



“Will you ever betray me again?” Olivia asked, as she roughly and literally fucked the shit out of her mom.



“N…n…nev…nev…er,” Lauren struggled to get out as the pain in her ass burned through her.



“Please take it out Katrina,” June begged. “I will pay you.”



“How much?” Katrina asked, stopping with her cock buried deep in her mom’s ass.



“Whatever you want,” June said.



“I don’t know,” Katrina said, before pulling out as though she was letting her mom off and then slamming into her again and beginning to fuck her hard while holding her mom’s hips.



“Nooooo, fuck, Noooooo, shiiiit,” June babbled.



Lauren echoed similar babble as she screamed through clenched teeth, “Olivia, please noooo, I’m so sorrrrry.”



Olivia snapped her fingers a few strokes later, they both pulled out, swapped places and started fucking each other’s mom.



“We’re going to continue to fuck your asses until both of you Mommy-sluts come. You both fucking submitted to that bitch and now you both will pay the price together,” Olivia said, really fucking June hard.



“And bitch, what are you doing watching? Do you want some anal discipline too?” Olivia asked me.



“N-n-no,” I stuttered, “I was just awaiting your instructions.”



“Go eat Angela’s asshole while Miss Watkins eats her cunt,” Olivia instructed.



I had never tasted an asshole before, nor did I want to, I was really enjoying watching the sodomy of those two bitches who had betrayed me as well, but I obeyed praying I was one step closer to being allowed to come.



Miss Watkins lay on the couch, Angela straddled her and I got behind her, pulled her ass cheeks apart and stared at her small rosebud.



“Switch,” I heard Olivia announce again and took a peek at the incestuous action, before returning to the humiliating, disgusting task at hand.



I was about to lean forward when Angela scolded, “Stop staring at my ass and fucking eat it, you fucking British bitch.”



Startled and turned on by the usually quiet Angela, I leaned forward between her ass cheeks and began licking her rose bud. “That’s better,” Angela said, adding, “I expect that tongue in my ass.”



“Yes, Mistress Angela,” I said, just accepting I was the plaything tonight, and until who knew when, for all of Olivia’s bitch friends.



Unlike sucking a cock, or a tit, or licking a cunt, eating an ass, such a twisted, dirty phrase, was completely different. The smell at first was non-existent, but as my tongue slowly bathed her rosebud, the slightest scent, not pungent, but definitely ass was undeniable.



I licked and eventually Angela’s rosebud softened and I began to try to use my tongue as a cock. It was awkward, difficult and degrading, but strangely, I loved it.



I would have loved to have watched the incest scene, but I did get to hear it.



Olivia and Katrina switched three more times and their moms’ painful screams and whimpers had begun to shift to moans.



Olivia asked, “Is Mommy finally enjoying a cock in her ass?”



“Yeeeees,” Lauren moaned.



Angela began grinding her cunt on Miss Watkins’ face, her ass bouncing into my face with each backwards movement. Her breathing increased and she screamed a few moments later, “Oooooooh, yes.”



I kept licking her butthole as she came on Miss Watkins’ face.



I felt my head pulled back as Carrie pushed me onto my back, straddled my face and lowered her trimmed cunt onto my face. I had no choice but to lick her cunt. Awkwardly, I licked her already very wet pussy, although I couldn’t move much to explore. Also, her legs covered my ears, so I couldn’t really hear the incest scene other their moans. After a couple of minutes, I moved my head up as far as I could, found her clit and began flicking it repetitively. Her legs twitched each time I flicked her clit and suddenly she began bouncing up and down on my face. My head was bounced around like a Raggedy Ann doll as Carrie came all over my face. I was just along for the ride as her pussy juice coated my face.



Thankfully, she got off me, just as I was beginning to have trouble breathing.



“I can’t take much more of this,” Lauren whimpered.



“Then come,” Olivia instructed.



“I caaaan’t,” Lauren replied frustrated.



“Want your cunt licked?” Olivia asked.



“God, yes,” Lauren replied, as her daughter continued to ream her ass.



“Becka and Kate get over here, crawl under these Mommy ass sluts and eat their old wrinkled cunts,” I heard Olivia order.



“Yes, Mistress,” both pets answered in unison.



I watched, only having Katrina left to service, who was currently preoccupied with fucking her mom’s ass.



Soon both of my former pets were breathing heavy, Becka and Mom pushing the new ass sluts to the edge of euphoria, creating a double sensation of pleasure.



“Come, Mommy-sluts,” Olivia ordered.



“Eat my cunnnnt,” June demanded, obviously close to orgasmic bliss.



“My clit, swallow my fucking clit,” Lauren moaned.



Both well trained pets did an excellent job as the two MILF ass sluts sounded like hyenas as they screamed, howled and moaned as the double pleasure brought them close to volcanic eruption, but not over the top.



Eventually June screamed, “Fuuuuuck,” as she collapsed onto the floor shaking uncontrollably. Katrina continued fucking her ass because Lauren hadn’t come yet.



Lauren moaned, “So close.”



June begged, the pleasure too much, “Please stop fucking meee.”



“Not until your partner in betrayal comes too,” Olivia said.



“Fucking come, Lauren,” June snapped, her body still trembling uncontrollably as her daughter continued thrusting deep into her.



Lauren, desperate to come, began bucking her ass back to meet the powerful thrusts of her Mistress daughter even as her breathing got more erratic. The scene was hot as hell, as was the continual drilling of June, who was begging her daughter to stop. “I can’t take it any moooooore.”



Finally, it happened. “Oh God, oh God, oh God, yeeeeees Mistress,” Lauren screamed as the inevitable orgasm ripped through her very being, although unlike June who collapsed, Lauren, being the insatiable slut she is, continued fucking herself on the plastic cock filling her back door.



“Pull out, pull out, pull out,” June pleaded and Katrina obliged. June immediately rolled over onto her back. Her breathing was still erratic and made worse by the fact that Betty straddled her face.



Katrina looked at me and said, “Ready for your training to start, slut?”



“Yes, Mistress,” I agreed.



“But I thought I was a bimbo?” she asked.



“Teach me my place,” I replied.



“Oh, that I plan to do,” Katrina smiled, her facial expression and tone implying she had already considered this moment. “But first, fucking my Mom really got me revved up. Crawl to me and eat me like I have envisioned you doing for such a long fucking time.”



“Yummy,” I said, like a bimbo, as I crawled to her, passed a still self-fucking Lauren which was very impressive, as Katrina took off the strap-on cock.



“Get licking bitch,” Katrina ordered when I reached her.



“Yes, Mistress,” I eagerly agreed, no longer seeing the bimbo bitch I hated, but rather another cunt to please on my journey to final submission to Olivia.



It was awkward, licking her while she was standing, yet I just focused on getting her off as quickly as possible with the hope I would be allowed to come.



“You look really good eating cunt, Victoria,” Katrina said, as I began licking her very wet pussy lips.



“Thank you,” I replied, as ludicrous as it sounded, her taste surprisingly sweet.



For a few minutes, I just licked and licked, her moans slowly increasing in intensity, when suddenly she grabbed the back of my head and began to use my face to spank her clit. My face bounced into her cunt and then was pulled away and then pushed back in her cunt.



“Oh yes, do you like face fuuucking me,” Katrina said.



“Yes,” I answered awkwardly as I was moved back and forth like a yoyo.



Then she held my head hard against her wetness as she came seconds later. I eagerly lapped her cum as it streamed out of her and into my mouth. Finally she pushed me away, making me fall backwards onto my ass.



Olivia was back on the couch with a video camera while everybody else was wearing strap-on cocks. I immediately knew I was about to be in for one long ride, both metaphorically and physically.



“Still want to come?” Olivia asked.



“Yes, Mistress,” I replied, despite the realization that my lesbian gangbang was going to be filmed.



“All three holes?” Olivia asked.



“Are yours,” I replied, finishing her sentence.



“Even your virgin ass?” she asked.



“They’re yours to do with as you please,” I answered, giving myself mind and body to someone who just over an hour ago I had come to crush.



Betty laid on the ground and ordered, “Straddle me, slut.”



I quickly crawled to her and devoured the plastic cock with my cunt.



“Holy shit, you are more obedient than your whore mother,” Olivia laughed.



I felt hands on my ass and turned to see that Lauren was pouring lube on my ass crack. She said, “Payback is a bitch.”



My head was grabbed and a cock was shoved in my mouth as Angela said, “Let’s keep this cock in your mouth to avoid hearing you scream,” as she began slowly moving her cock in and out of my mouth.



I felt the warm lube between my ass cheeks, fingers poking inside my ass, creating a small burn. Then Olivia said, “Just fuck her, Mom. Her ass will get used to it…eventually.”



My eyes went wide as I prepared for the pain I knew was about to come. I felt a cock in-between my ass cheeks, and then, slowly, Lauren began pushing forward, widening my tight virgin ass, before suddenly slamming forward just as the cock in my mouth pushed forward too and I gagged as my screams of intense pain were indeed muffled by the big cock choking me. I had assumed a cock in my ass would hurt, but as Lauren began pumping the cock in and out of my searing back door, I thought I was going to die. There was no pleasure, just an undeniable pain. Suddenly, Betty began bucking up, timing her thrusts with Lauren and soon I was being fucked by three cocks simultaneously.



Thankfully, Betty fucking my cunt created some pleasure down below and by rekindling the fire in my cunt; it began to distract me from the pain in my ass.



Olivia asked, “Enjoying yourself, my slut?”



Angela pulled the cock out of my mouth and I struggled to answer, “God, yes.”



Laughter echoed around me as I was sodomized and humiliated by the cheerleaders and my ex-MILF pet as the plastic cock was shoved roughly back in my mouth.



The next few minutes, all three cocks pumped in and out of me and the longer I was fucked in the ass the more accustomed I got to it. The pain still hadn’t faded, but slowly a tingling pleasure began to build.



Suddenly Olivia yelled, “Next.”



The cocks were pulled out of my ass and my mouth. Then just as quickly, new cocks filled both of my briefly empty holes. Betty stopped bucking her cock in my cunt, as the other cocks slowly moved in and out, as if slowing down to deliberately deny me the orgasm that had just begun rising in me.



Olivia instructed, “No orgasm until everyone has had a turn.”



I sighed on the cock, knowing there were eleven women here and only five had had a turn in me.



For a couple more minutes, I was slowly fucked, which was frustrating as it was a constant tease, bringing me slight pleasure and yet not enough to build up to a fevered frenzy. The pain in my ass, thankfully, was almost non-existent now.



“Switch,” Olivia said, and quickly two cocks left and two more cocks replaced them.



This time they both slammed forward filling both my ass and mouth completely causing me to gag again and reviving the blunt pain in my ass. They kept their cocks buried in me before pulling out, waiting a few excruciating seconds, before slamming into me again, repeating the hard, deep rough thrusts, and then waiting anywhere from three to ten seconds before pulling out. After a few deep strokes, Betty joined in and again I was being deeply filled by three cocks. The pleasure began to rise slowly but not enough to do more than fan the flames.



“Switch,” Olivia called out again as I realized, seven down only four to go.



As the cock was pulled out of my mouth, I saw that Mom was pleasuring Angela and it was Becka who was now going to fuck my face. I again felt hands on my ass and heard the undeniable British accent of Miss Watkins order, “Fuck yourself on my cock, time for a good dogging.”



I pondered the use of dogging, a British term for sex in a public place, usually outside, yet I guess being ass fucked and used by eleven women was pretty public, particularly as it was being videotaped. I, of course, obeyed, and slowly began moving back on the cock onto my ass and then moving forward to swallow Becka’s cock in front of me.



I slowly got in a rhythm as I buried one cock in my ass and then the other in my mouth, the whole while the cock in my cunt continuing to tease me.



“Faster, slut,” Becka ordered, surprising the shit out of me, but I obeyed, beginning to really fuck myself on both the plastic cocks.



I was just getting into a perfect rhythm, just beginning to really enjoy myself, getting ass fucked now all pleasure, my ass finally accustomed to being so full, when Olivia announced, “Final switch.”



As the cocks left my burning, hungry holes, I felt my hair grabbed and saw that it was Katrina who was about to drag me to the couch. I tried to follow as best I could as she threw me on my back, my head bouncing off the side of the couch. Katrina ordered, “Move up so your head is resting on the top of the arm.”



I quickly obeyed.

Short Story: The Chronicles Of Benjamin Merriman #01



Author Note: This story is an original work of fiction. All characters featured herein are at least eighteen, if not expressly stated, and certain characters may also be found in other works by the authors, published or forthcoming. Feedback is desired and greatly appreciated. Email comments to the address in our profile. Thank you for reading.



Copyright 2011 by Jack and Josephine Cutter.



This story stars: Benjamin Merriman, and features Caroline Cassidy, Courtney Daly, Jacquelyn Atkinson, Robert Phelps, Melissa Golding (unnamed), and Frank Merriman.



This story contains: male-female erotic couplings, fellatio, cunnilingus, anal and analingus, cheerleaders, bikinis, male dominance, deadbeat dads, socialite brides, philandering fiancés, beautiful women, and a budding private detective with significant sexual skill.



This story begins on Friday, September 9th.




* * * * *



It goes without saying that my high school life was not what you might call normal. I was eighteen and a senior, and that is where much of the normalcy ended; typical high school seniors do not have the kinds of experiences that marked my first year of official adulthood.



They do not have to deal with crime rings, sleazy politicians, wealthy socialites, corrupt cops, dangerous criminals, deadbeat dads, missing persons, corrupt cops, illicit dealings, breaking-and-entering, infidelity, secret gambling halls, drugs, high-priced escorts, underground brothels, etcetera, etcetera. I’ve dealt with those things and more, and all before I graduated.



My name is Benjamin Merriman . . . and these are my stories.



The Chronicles of Benjamin Merriman, Volume the First



It is my belief that each person in the world is blessed with some definable characteristic that sets them apart from the rest. An inherent advantage, above and beyond the norm. Some might be blessed with unusual speed or strength. Others might find they possess heightened intellectual. Some such talents are easily discovered, but many are difficult and thus never fully realized. Mathematical skill, brute power, keen wit, an artistic eye; these things are definable blessings, and if you look back through the annals of history, you’ll find plenty of folks who had them.



I’m going to go right ahead and be honest with everyone from the beginning, and likewise throughout; I’ve got a few special talents myself, but there is one above the rest: it seems I’m blessed with an inordinate amount of luck. Simply stated, I’m a pretty lucky guy; things always seem to work out well for me, no matter how difficult they might seem.



Take high school, for example.



It did not begin well, let me tell you: my first two years were not the best. I was invisible, a tall, gangly kid with skin troubles and a warbling voice. Girls, therefore, were a complete non-starter. Introverted, shy, unexceptional in every way, and with limited fashion sense, I was the typical invisible high school male, quietly walking the fringes. It was what I knew, however, and I was content with my situation because I knew nothing different.



The summer between my sophomore and junior years, however, changed everything. Physically, I sprouted: my body filled in, my gangly limbs took on definite shape, my skin cleared up, and my voice deepened into its adult range. A series of interesting and rather fortunate events, which shall be later revealed, really did a positive number on my self-esteem, too: my confidence grew by leaps and bounds, to the point where by the time I returned to school the following September for the start of junior year, I was a completely new person.



High school is high school, however, and once established roles and reputations die hard; my transformation went largely unnoticed at first by the students at my school. While I did start to get my fair share of odd, who-is-that-guy-and-where-did-he-come-from looks from a few of the more astute girls as junior year wound down, I remained mostly a fringe-guy, content to slip through the high school cracks. I can honestly say it did not bother me, for while the girls inside my own school did not pay much attention to me, girls outside the school certainly did — and those girls had no knowledge of my unimpressive formative years. Let’s just say my confidence was high.



It wasn’t always this way, however.



Like I said, before that fateful summer times were tough, and not just at school. My mother passed away when I was eight years old, leaving me and my father and my older sister to figure things out as best we could.



My father is Frank Merriman, forty-six years old, and he owns Discretion Investigations, a private investigative firm here in my beautiful home city of Los Angeles. We’re based out of Beverly Hills, which is nice as it provides my father plenty of wealthy-person business. My dad is an ex-cop, which means he is well-informed, well-connected, knows his way around, and is very good at what he does.



My sister’s name is Keri. She’s twenty-two years old and will soon be graduating from the University of Southern California, and she’s going to be a lawyer. She is currently applying to lots of big-name law schools. My father says she looks exactly like her mother, which must have been awesome for dad because everyone pretty much agrees that my sister is one of the hottest females on the planet. For a pair of opposite-sex siblings not too far apart in age, I have to say the two of us have always been close, which is really nice and has helped me greatly over the years.



After nearly a decade, Dad finally remarried last year, which is an interesting story and worth recounting. My mom and dad were sweethearts from a very young age, and he’s always made no bones about the fact that my mother was the one true love of his life; this, of course, turned many women away from a man who was, to use a rather overused cliché, the most eligible bachelor on the block.



While some women might (and did) feel threatened by or uncomfortable with a man who puts such information out there, Angela proved a different sort right from the start. She’s thirty-six with an early twenties body, blonde, beautiful, and pampered, and that’s exactly the way she wants it. My father has money, she wants money, neither is looking for love everlasting, she gets the creature comforts, and my dad gets a gorgeous wife in the sack every night. It’s a fantastic arrangement. In fairness, Angela is also a nice woman, very easygoing if a little spoiled, and she and my father make each other very happy.



Heather, however, is another story all together. Angela’s eighteen year-old daughter is a real piece of work: hot and blonde (just like her mother), but a total bitch. She’s not only hot, she’s hot and she knows it, and she acts like she knows it. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve talked to her for longer than two minutes in the past year. She couldn’t care less about unimportant people, which is practically everyone, and lets the unimportant people know it.



Back to me for a bit.



It’s well-known that ever since I was old enough to walk, I’ve wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps. While my father has not tried to encourage my interest in private detection and investigation, allowing me the luxury of deciding for myself, he has not discouraged it, either, and I know he is excited by the prospect of having his son follow him into the family business.



One of my counselors at school once asked me how I thought a shy and introverted guy such as myself could possibly become a private detective, where it would seem such qualities would be a hindrance. They are a hindrance, of course, but not for me; you know how some people act and feel in different ways given the circumstances? That’s me. In school, my school, I’m still the shy and introverted guy I’ve always been. Like I said, it’s hard to shake reps in high school once they’ve stuck. Outside school, however, I’m the complete opposite: no problem talking to girls, outgoing, aggressive, confident.



It’s an interesting dichotomy.



The deal with my dad was this: when I turned eighteen and it became legal for me to do several things important to investigative work but not permissible by law for minors, I could begin training on an official basis with my father’s firm — I’d be unofficially training for years, of course. He also did this to ensure I got decent grades, which I could have gotten standing on my head in the corner all day long; school was always just an easy thing for me.



Well, the bottom line is I turned eighteen on August 09, and as such that is when my story begins to unfold. The speed at which things began to happen truly amazes me, thinking back on it, and I doubt anyone would have guessed that one year later, I’d be where I am right now.



The Discretion Investigations team is as follows: Veronica Thompson, 28, a member of the investigative team who has been with the firm for six years; Beau Nivens, 38, one of my dad’s best friends, has been with the firm for twelve years, and became a family friend after my dad busted him as a kid trying to boost car stereos in South Los Angeles; Harriet Edmonds, gray-haired and grandmotherly, the firm’s administrative and secretarial person; and last, but certainly not least, is Caroline Cassidy.



Caroline deserves her own special paragraph, because throughout my most important teenage years (fourteen, my age when she was hired, to eighteen, my current age), she has held the distinction of “Go-To Fantasy Girl”. In other words, most fantasies I’ve had growing up, as long as I have been having fantasies, have involved Caroline Cassidy.



When I turned eighteen, Caroline was a newly minted twenty-four year-old. Perhaps I should describe her for you: take Marisa Miller’s body, add Brooklyn Decker’s fantastic tits, and the incredibly sculpted ass of Jessica Alba, and then imagine the hottest chick you’ve ever seen with natural, golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and maybe you have an idea of just how smoking hot Caroline is. The woman is a fucking Barbie doll come to life.



A goddess, in other words.



Which is why, of course, she is a complete and utter ice queen. Not a bitch, mind you, because she does not go out of her way to be mean to people, but an ice queen. When you’re that hot, you’re allowed to be. To clarify further just to make sure you understand the distinction, she is not a bitch like Heather, who feels superior and acts like it; Caroline is simply not interested in dealing with the crap of other people, nor making pleasant chit-chat with them, nor pretending to be interested in talking to them.



However, she is very intelligent and very perceptive, and an excellent detective (not to mention an excellent writer who has done some free-lance work for the Los Angeles Times and uses information connections there to help with her tougher cases).



Everyone at Discretion knew my eighteenth birthday meant I was joining the team. Unfortunately, the only one who was not that excited about it was the one person I was most perpetually excited about. My father had told Caroline some time ago that she would be primarily responsible (along with himself, of course) for overseeing my training. It was the way at Discretion: the youngest member of the team trains the rookie. I, of course, was thrilled, since it meant spending more time than I’d ever thought possible with Caroline.



Basically, I was to act as her shadow, which was fine by me.



Case File #001: The Case of the Deadbeat Dad



My first real day on the job came one month to the day after I turned eighteen, late on a Friday night in early September. I remember this clearly because when Caroline called, there was warm flesh next to me and I had to leave it behind.



The girl’s name was Courtney and she was a senior at West Mountain School, one of several ritzy elite private high schools in the Los Angeles area. My school, Rembrandt, had played its first varsity football game of the year against West Mountain earlier that night and I, being a football enthusiast, attended the game along with several hundred other fans.



I noticed her almost immediately (she was an opposing team cheerleader, after all, and it is requisite at games to size up the opposing talent) and could not take my eyes off her. She was a petite brunette with perky breasts and lovely light brown eyes, but that was not what hooked me; cheerleading outfits leave very little to the imagination these days, to the delight of all males in attendance, and this girl had an excellent rump, apple-shaped and very tight.



I’ll admit it openly, I ogled her ass all night long.



By the way, I’m not a virgin. I reached my milestone of manhood at the hands my sister’s best friend, who sort of acted as my personal sex teacher with, surprisingly I would later discover, my sister’s consent. It happened in the midst of my physical transformation, and spurred my mental one. Since then, I’ve experienced two sorority girls at USC (also friends of my sister, who showed me even more of the ropes), plus a handful of high school girls. None of the those were from my own school, of course; the girls there would probably have died of shock if they knew how experienced I was, as my social status at Rembrandt at the time was one small step above invisible. Which, I must admit, was fine by me.



Back to Courtney, I waited for her in the parking lot after the game. Most of the cars were gone by the time the cheerleaders came out of the stadium side entrance, where the visiting locker rooms were. She was with three other girls, still in her cheerleading uniform, and they noticed me watching them right from the start.



I was leaning against my car (a black Range Rover, which girls love), dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, looking older than my age and feeling pretty good about it, I have to say, and smiling in a particularly mischievous way. West Mountain had crushed us, of course, which meant Courtney and her friends were in good spirits, which I felt could only help my chances.



The girls giggled and whispered as they walked toward me, but stopped a few feet away. One of them said, “Why are you staring at us?” There was a grin on her face.



“I’m not,” I said.



The girls giggled again. “Yes, you are,” another girl said.



I grinned and looked Courtney right in the eye. “I’m not staring at you,” I told them politely, “I’m staring at HER.”



Courtney blushed but her eyes, wide and wondering, never left mine, and I knew I had her. The other girls were a little disappointed, but continued the game for their friend, which I admired.



“At Courtney? She’s out of your league,” the first girl said. It was a good response, and I made a mental note to circle back to that girl, a redhead, sometime in the future. She was hot, too, after all, but right then I wanted Courtney, whose name I now knew.



“She’s out of most everyone’s league,” I replied, “but that might get very lonely. Every now and then, beauty needs to slum it.”



Courtney blushed again and the girls giggled.



Long story short, in a few minutes Courtney and I were in my car heading off to find a quiet place to park and talk. Which we did, because I am a gentleman, and I always get to know someone at least a little bit before engaging in carnal congress.



Twenty minutes after that, however, Courtney was squirming in her seat. She was a hot little piece, I have to admit, and very ready for what we both knew was coming. When I kissed her for the first time, she whimpered softly with need, and it only took a short time after that before she reached between my legs and easily found my zipper.



Clearly, despite being only eighteen herself, she was not unaccustomed to cock, which was excellent. I started the engine as she unzipped and reached in, her dainty French-tipped fingers trembling (all rich girls go French-tip) as she gently withdrew my manhood.



At which point she smiled happily, noting my size; it’s not a behemoth, but at just over seven hard inches it is longer than many, and decently thick, and definitely makes girls feel good. It also helps with my confidence; four inches limp is nothing to cry about.



Courtney’s fingers wrapped gently around the base of my shaft and it pulsed in her hand, and she giggled softly. It was a reaction I was not unaccustomed to. She worked her fingers slowly up the length, squeezing at intervals, more inspecting than trying to make feel good, and she could feel it beginning to grow in her hand. When she reached the mushroom head, she pinched it from various angles, and something clear and sticky dribbled out from the small opening.



With one hand firmly holding my rapidly stiffening shaft, Courtney cupped my sack in the other. My balls are large, too, and sensitive, and she began to probe and prod and press and squeeze each of my testicles between her fingers, which felt really good.



No blushing virgin she, the girl definitely knew her way around that region. I was hard in no time. She stroked it slowly a few times at its full length, and I sighed and struggled to focus on the road as she lowered her head into my lap.



I’ll tell you, there’s nothing like that moment right before a girl’s lips wrap around your cock. My heart was pounding and nearly burst from my chest when I felt her graze her mouth over the mushroom head, and I groaned loudly. A hot young slut in a cheerleading uniform I’d known for less than an hour was peppering my shaft with feather light kisses and blowing gently on it. She licked around the head, her tongue like a butterfly’s wings as it fluttered about the tip.



In moments Courtney took the head into her mouth and began to suckle it gently. I sighed again (what else to do besides sigh and drive) so she would know I was enjoying it. I had to admit she had excellent technique; when she began to swirl her tongue slowly around the head, I knew she was a real talent.



I put my hand on her as I drove and caressed the small of her back, where the uniform bared her flesh. Her skin was flawless and it felt good on the palm of my hand, but whatever she was doing with her mouth was even better, the most incredible feeling. I knew if she continued like she was, I would not last, which was fine by me. My hand went up to the back of her head and I gently pushed her head down, so she could take more of my cock into her mouth.



Courtney had likely not been ready to take me deeper, but she was so talented she did not resist. My cock slid inch-by-inch past her moist glossy lips and filled her warm, wet mouth. She firmly gripped the base of the shaft and started to lift her head up. I was having great difficulty concentrating, but steadfastly kept my gaze fixed on the road.



Courtney held the tip in her mouth and started her tongue around it again. She took me out of her mouth and began to lick the underside of my cock up and down in long sensuous stokes. This drove me wild, and soon I realized it would be all over. She must have realized it, too: her fingers started to work up and down my cock much faster.



She took me back to her lips and then, incredibly, and for what seemed like an instant and somehow endless moment, slowly slid her lips down my shaft until she had the entire length of my cock in her mouth. That, my friends, was incredible; seven inches of rigid manhood. She worked her lips and tongue vigorously up and down while she held the base, letting her fingers stroke my balls as she hummed softly to herself.



I was in heaven. Courtney was expertly sucking me towards climax, her brunette head bobbing up and down in my lap. She pretty much went to town at that point, sucking for all she was worth, and I felt the familiar stirrings.



Put a fork in me, I thought, I’m done.



I exploded into her mouth, which I am still not certain she was prepared for. She took it like a champ, though, after a moment of surprise, gulping down ropes of my cum like a newborn babe at the breast. Cum trickled down her chin, and once she was through with the main blast, she pulled back and wiped it onto her finger.

She looked at the sperm a long moment, then looked up at me and said, “You’re cum tastes good.” She sounded surprised. “Really good, actually.”



“I’ve heard that,” I told her, and that was the truth.



Then she sucked the last little bit from her finger and sat up, at which point I was pulling into the driveway of my house. We did zero-to-sixty from the car to the front door, and immediately I led her into my bedroom, practically devouring her as we went. Our hands and mouths were all over each other; in the end, we settled my clothing situation by me stripping off my jacket and her tugging on my jeans.



Courtney was all fired up again, scrambling to get me naked, begging for another taste, and once my cock popped out she fell to her knees and was all over it, licking and slurping. It was like she couldn’t get it in her mouth fast enough. Feeling the warm mouth suckle my cock yet again, I decided I simply could not wait to bury myself somewhere else. I grabbed her by the waist and lifted, and threw her bodily onto the bed.



“Clothes,” I ordered. I was in charge, and we both knew it. As Courtney stripped, I hit the iPod stereo and set it to a soft reggae mix, the perfect score for fucking, in my opinion.



I turned back to the bed to find the girl almost completely naked, her legs splayed wide; she still wore her short white cheerleading skirt, which covered nothing and looked incredible. She was gazing hungrily at me, waiting. Her pussy was pink and puffy, and soaked. Her swath of brown pubic hair was trimmed into a cute little letter “V”.



“Get your ass in the air,” I told her, and she willingly complied. After all, the ass was what had gotten me to notice her in the first place, I might as well fuck her from behind first, right?



A moment later she was on her hands and knees, hair tousled and tossed about her head, and glanced back at me over her shoulder, over her sleek and sexy back, and over the rounded curve of her ass. Her eyes were like little daggers of lust and sexiness.



I went to her.



“UNNNNNNNHHHHH!” she groaned as I grabbed her by the hips and impaled her with my shaft. She was incredibly tight, but also incredibly wet, and I bottomed out instantly, my hips smashing into her ass.



That first hard thrust gave me the greatest pleasure, feeling the girl quiver beneath me as she squealed at the feel of seven thick inches invading her depths. I gave it to her, hard, everything I had from the very beginning, my strokes deep and long.



My hips slapped up against her over and over, sending thin little ripples down the taut flesh of her ass. My hands were like wild animals running over her body, down her back, around the front to palm her wonderfully pert breasts, all over her smooth well-tanned skin.



Mostly, though, I slapped and grabbed her ass as I pounded her, my favorite part of her body, and she moaned and gasped and whimpered with each ferocious thrust. The walls of her vagina sucked at me, tightly gripping my shaft, milking me, and every time I withdrew I could see some of her interiors come with me before I shoved them back deep inside her.



It was indescribable, truly fantastic.



Courtney wiggled and rocked and squirmed beneath my grasp, but I did not stop. I fucked her steady, letting her have it for a very long time, using her yielding, responsive body in every way I could imagine. We changed positions often and always at my suggestion: after I fucked her like a dog, slapping her ass, she rode me like a stallion, working her hips as I bounced her tits up and down in my palms; I flipped her onto her back and threw her legs over my shoulders, and bent her in half as I hammered home; and on and on it went.



Courtney never refused me, eagerly and enthusiastically complying with my every request, no matter how kinky, and she became more and more submissive as the night wore on. I groped her, fondled her, twisted her, curled her, and fucked her as I saw fit, and she begged for it.



Orgasm flowed into orgasm for her, and I lost count very early on how many she had. And in between every session, she would suckle gentle on my cock until I was ready to go again. I came four more times (four!) after that first time in the car: inside her pussy, across her breasts, in her face and hair, plus a fourth place.



It was after one o’clock when I saved the best for last, deciding it was the perfect time to try something new. I decided to fuck her ass, my first full-on intercourse anal experience, and who better to butt-fuck than a cheerleader (still in her skirt) with a perfect ass? She closed her eyes at my command to return to her hands and knees, knowing instinctually what was coming. Again, I do not think it was the first time someone had gone down that particular canal; she was far too willing to let me up there.



I slathered lubrication from a tube onto my shaft, and then her ass, pushing a finger past the tight ring of her anus. She mewed as I touched her, wiggled her hips just a bit from the sensations. When everything seemed ready, I placed the tip of my cock at the entrance to her rear passage and pushed forward, easing myself past the wrinkled pink skin of her back hole. Several inches buried into her ass on that first try, another indication that this was nothing new for her.



“AAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!” Courtney cried as her ass was penetrated.



I fucked her vigorously for as long as I could, taking as much pleasure as I could in my first foray inside a woman’s rump, and it swiftly grew too much to bear. It was Courtney’s sudden stillness, however, followed by a shriek and spastic convulsions as orgasm overtook her yet again, that sent me hurtling over the edge after her.



And with that, I was an anal addict for life.



I pulled my cock out, preferring to splash warm white jizz all over her undulating back as she continued to shriek and moan beneath me.



“Wow,” I managed in-between ragged breaths.



Courtney smiled lazily and moaned as her legs buckled, then sprawled forward onto the mattress on her stomach. I slapped her roughly on the bottom (couldn’t resist) and a red-hand print appeared above the already flushed and battered flesh. The toll was taken, and physically and mentally exhausted, I collapsed onto the bed next to her.



The next thing I knew the phone was ringing. Courtney was asleep next to me, naked and warm, cum caked onto her back as she slept soundly on her stomach. I murmured something into the receiver and the voice on the other end of the line instantly woke me up.



“Get up, Benjamin,” Caroline said without greeting of any kind. “You’re grunting for me tonight.” Grunting was the term Caroline used to describe grunt work.



“Where are you?” I asked, and Courtney stirred beside me.



“Is someone on the phone?” she asked sleepily, and there was a long and silent moment on the other end of the line before Caroline asked, “Are you with someone right now?”



Honesty is always the best course. “Yes,” I told her, “but it’s ok, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”



Another silence. “225 Ridge Water Drive, Santa Monica. And bring me coffee, hot and black,” she added, and with that, hung up the phone.



I turned to Courtney. “I have to go somewhere, sweetness,” I said. “Sleep tight, I’ll be back before you wake up.”



“M’kay,” she murmured, and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.



And so, twenty minutes later, I found myself, weary but quite satisfied despite being very sore in the groin, pulling my black Range Rover up behind Caroline’s black Mercedes SL 500 (dark cars are not as conspicuous, you see) with her coffee (hot and black) in tow.



I climbed into her passenger seat and was treated to an appraising stare, which I always seemed to come up on the lacking end of. She was dressed all in black: tight black spandex that went down to mid-thigh, a tight black shirt, black socks, and dark tennis shoes. Obviously, a little sneaking around was on the docket.



“I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important,” she said in her usual lofty manner.



I grinned. “No, we were done,” I said, and her eyes widened with momentary outrage. She turned away and said nothing. “What’s the story here?” I asked, trying to change the subject, and with Caroline, you always changed the subject to work. The girl lived for her job.



“Deadbeat dad skipped out on his ex-wife. She wants him located so the authorities can be brought in and force him to pay. Low stakes stuff, but we have to treat it the same way as we would a high-profile celebrity case: with honesty and integrity, and hard work. We’re waiting for activity in Unit Three.”



She pointed at an apartment complex across the street. Unit Three was downstairs in the southwest corner, and the door was plainly visible from the car. And so we sat there for over thirty minutes, and the whole time she was at best polite, at worst condescending in her haughty way as she explained some of the nuts and bolts of the business, much of which I already knew, but that she had to go over again to make absolutely sure I knew what I was doing.



When the car pulled up and two people got out, a man and a woman, and went into the right apartment, Caroline for the first time since I had known her appeared energized and excited. It was like a switch had been flipped; she was no longer an ice queen, but giddy and jazzed and anxious like she was about to play competitive sports. The job is what did it for her, I realized; thrilled her to the max, while the rest of the time she was just bored.



“Come on,” she said, “we need pictures.”



And so I followed her as she crept across the street, which was fine by me because I just kept my eyes trained on her spandex-clad ass the whole time, which was, amazingly, even better than the one I had just spent the majority of the night with.



We hopped a short fence and moved into some bushes just outside one of the windows that looked into the apartment, and when we peered inside, we were treated with quite the shock: the two were already naked and fucking like jackrabbits on the sofa.



“Christ,” Caroline muttered in a low voice. She took out her camera and snapped a few photos.



“This type of thing happen often?” I asked. “Watching people have sex, I mean?”



Caroline turned to me and pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Sometimes,” was all she said, then went back to her photography.



I grinned. “I’ve got déjà vu,” I whispered.



It was meant as a joke, and a little bit of a risk given Caroline’s penchant for seriousness and a not-so-slow-burning temper, but ultimately it was as if I hadn’t said anything; she pretended like she didn’t hear.



“Back to the car, grunt,” she ordered, and back we went.



And that was, in a nutshell, my first night on the job, helping Caroline take photographs of some deadbeat dad. Not too shabby, in my opinion, since it meant spending time with her. While not an actual case of my own, it was a nice little intro into the actual actions of a private investigative detective.



I went to my house and crept into my room, and found Courtney right where I’d left her, still soundly sleeping. I crawled into bed and snuggled up next to her warmness, and fell asleep myself, and my last thought was of just how long I would eat her the next morning, and of how many times in the process I would imagine it was Caroline I was tasting.



Case File #002: The Case of the Bride-To-Be



Six weeks after my birthday, ten days after the deadbeat dad, my father pronounced me ready to try my hand at a case of my own. Beautiful Caroline had been instructing me incessantly, taking me with her to observe her on more assignments, grilling me non-stop on protocols and procedures, quizzing me with hypothetical situations to see how I would handle myself; you name the teaching method, and she employed it at some point.



Although way ahead of the normal curve at the outset (having grown up with my father and learned much by proximal osmosis), I have to admit she was very effective filling in specific details and gaps, not to mention good at setting a blistering pace. Life had basically stopped for me. It was study for school (easy) and study for Caroline (hard), and all other activities ground to a halt. Courtney called me twice wanting to get together, but I reluctantly took rain checks. It was hard, but I knew everything would be worth it in the end.



Which is why, when my father told me I was ready, I was so excited I jumped up and wrapped my arms around Caroline in a big bear hug, which she was completely not expecting and not altogether happy about. Instantly, I became aware of the way her fabulous breasts squished against me. I was also made aware (less instantly) of her great distaste for public displays of affection, as she jammed her palms square into my chest and shoved me away.



My father cautioned, “Now that you are a junior member of the team, however — and I stress the junior part — that doesn’t mean you stop studying. You cannot know everything in a few weeks. You can’t know everything in a few years. Hell, I myself still don’t know everything.”



The three of us were in the conference room of the Discretion offices in Beverly Hills, just off Santa Monica Boulevard. It was after school on a Tuesday.



“Caroline will continue to act as your handler,” my father went on as we took seats at the conference table. Handler was what they called the person training you. “She will assist you on your cases, and I expect you to follow her recommendations when provided. Understood?”



My father, the boss, was far less friendly than my father, the father. I nodded obediently, and punctuated the sentiment with a word, “Completely.”



“Good,” he said, at which point, seemingly on cue, Veronica knocked on the glass door and entered with three files in her hand.



Women in the investigative field were all supremely attractive, or so it seemed to me, and Veronica Thompson was no different. The woman was an absolute knockout: high cheekbones, luscious red lips, enchanting brown eyes, shoulder-length light brown hair that cascaded off her head in waves, wafer-thin limbs, and generous curves in the right places. She was a sharp and conservative dresser, very business-like, and very good at her job.



“The Atkinson woman is here, Frank,” she said as she set the files down on the conference table.



“Good,” my father repeated, with new reason. He looked up at his first female pupil and smiled. “Are you off?”



She nodded. “My flight leaves at eight tonight.” Veronica was working a hush-hush celebrity case based in Scottsdale, Arizona. The client was a big-ticket actress, but I had no idea what the details of the job were. “I’ll update you on the situation and status tomorrow morning. The background work and profiles are on your desk.”



My father nodded. “Have a safe trip,” he said, and when she was gone, he turned his attention back to us. He passed me one of the files, handed the second to Caroline, and flipped the third copy open in his own hands.



“Jacquelyn Atkinson,” he said, reading, “twenty-five years old. Engaged to be married to Bobby Phelps, twenty-eight, son of wealthy software tycoon Richard Phelps. The wedding is Saturday. The bride-to-be has doubts. We did some work for her father, Edward, a couple of years back. She called us and arranged today’s meeting. Let’s hear what she has to say.”



It was clear from the moment she walked into the conference room: Jacquelyn Atkinson was a spoiled, pampered little princess. Much of this assessment was spurred by her appearance; she was dolled up in the immaculate sort of way reserved for very wealthy, very vain women. Every platinum blonde hair was in its proper place, every item of clothing in complete coordination — bright yellow sun dress, large beige belt, beige designer clogs, and a ridiculously large white hat with yellow trim — and every hint of makeup perfectly applied. Her breasts, mounds of flesh that jutted off her chest, were assuredly fake, and her cleavage was a perfect display of tasteful exposure. The rest of her body was tight and toned; personal chefs, nutritionists, and trainers tended to have that effect.



My father rose to his feet and Caroline and I followed suit. “Miss Atkinson,” he said warmly, “so good to see you again. Please, have a seat.”



The woman regarded the three of us as we all sat down again. She was clearly someone used to getting her way. She was also clearly someone used to setting the tone in any conversation.



“I do not have time for small talk,” she said, her voice light and feminine. I was fully expecting her to say something about an important salon appointment, but she did not. “You did some work for my father and he spoke highly of your firm, and now it is I with need of your services.”



“How can we help?” my father asked.



“You are aware of my impending wedding.” It was not a question, but we all nodded. “You are also aware, I’m sure, of the groom and his family.” More nods. “It will be an important union in more ways than one.”



I struggled not to laugh. It sounded like she was talking about a business venture. Which, as it so happens, was exactly how she viewed it.



“Let me be frank with you,” the woman said, leaning forward. “I do not love my fiancé, and it is unlikely that he loves me. He wants an undemanding wife and I want his money. It is a perfect arrangement.”



“But . . .” my father said, guiding.



Jacquelyn smiled thinly. “But every arrangement has its sticking points. Mine happens to be infidelity. If I am to marry him and share his bed — the one thing he does want from me, and often — and do things with him that I do with no one else, I require that he remain completely faithful to me. He knows this; I have made it perfectly clear. He can have my body and no other.”



The woman was definitely a ball-breaker.



“And you do not think he is keeping up his side of the bargain?” my father asked.



“No,” she said coldly, and for a moment real anger flashed across her face, “I do not. I would like you to prove it and provide me with lots of visual evidence, both before and after the wedding. If Bobby is cheating on me, he and his family will pay through the nose.”



My father nodded. “Very well,” he said, “we can do that for you. Caroline and my son Benjamin here will be the associates handling this case for you. If you would come with me, we can discuss the terms of our contract in my office.”



When the two were gone, Caroline turned to me with a cold smile and said, “Get to work, grunt.”



And that is how my first case began, with a pissed-off rich chick. Of course, I would come to realize that the majority of our cases, no matter what directions they might lead us in, begin with pissed-off rich people.



* * *



It was Tuesday when Miss Atkinson met with us. The wedding was Saturday, but the rehearsal dinner was Thursday night and a large family party was Friday night, which meant there was very little time to act.



Detective work usually begins with research, whatever form and fashion it may take. These days, the world is tech-happy, and I got on the computer and dug up some information on Robert “Bobby” Phelps, heir to the Phelps software fortune. I already had the information Miss Atkinson provided us with addresses to all his primary points of contact (house, work, gym, social club, etc.), but every little bit helps.



Caroline walked up and stared over my shoulder as I read an archived article from the Times about Bobby’s “hot bachelor” status. The article was two years old.



“No time for character background, grunt,” she said after a moment. She was close enough that I could smell her citrus perfume, which was lovely. An image flashed suddenly before my eyes: Caroline in black spandex, creeping across the street, her ass looking spectacular as I followed behind. “You’d better find the guy, and quick, and tail him.”

I grinned happily. “Character? No. Background? Yes. I dug up property records on the guy and discovered real estate not on the list given us by his fiancée. It’s on the beach in Malibu and he’s owned it for only a year, less than the span of his current relationship. And I know where he is — his wife says he has an important business dinner tonight.”



One of Caroline’s eyebrows arched thoughtfully. She studied me and I waited, wondering what exactly she would say. What she did say surprised me. “Ok, grunt, let’s go.”



I was somewhat confused. “What?” I asked lamely.



She smiled mirthlessly. “We’re going to check out the guy’s house.”



Which is why, one hour later, I was scaling a twelve foot wall covered in what looked like ivy, trying to sneak my way onto what looked to be Bobby Phelps expensive Malibu beachfront bungalow (or secret bachelor pad, as it were). Luckily, the guy was only twenty-eight and had not yet developed a need for security personnel, so once I was over and in, I opened the side gate to let Caroline in with me.



She had that glow about her, the same jazzed-up look she always got when the thrill of the chase was about her. “Amazing,” she said. “I thought this guy, being as wealthy as he is, would have armed guards and security cameras. The idiot is completely exposed. But we are technically still trespassing, you know.”



I shrugged. “Only if we get caught.”



She remained silent, which meant she was impressed against her will (the only time she does not speak) at my bravado. I scored it as a rare point for me in a very difficult game to score points in. The door was locked, but there was no alarm to be seen, so I bent and picked it clean, impressing her again.



I grinned at her shocked expression. “Dad taught me years ago,” I revealed.



It was the typical bachelor pad: the main room had a black shag rug over hardwood floors, leather couches, a massive plasma flat-screen television, and an extensive wet bar, among other things. Bobby had obviously read the How to Get Chicks Naked Once They’re Back in Your Room series and followed its decorating instructions to the letter, which meant the room was ridiculously childish, boyish, and tacky. I could only imagine what the bedroom looked like. Probably leopard sheets and a ceiling mirror.



“This guy must have lots of money,” Caroline said, looking around with obvious distaste, “if a woman like Jacquelyn is marrying him.”



“No arguments from me,” I agreed. “The guy is . . . a real catch.”



“Great location, great place, and he does this with it.” She actually seemed to be getting upset. Caroline was one of those people who deplored people with money who used their wealth wastefully or unproductively, and this guy probably used it heavily in both of those ways.



And so we began to look around, careful not to move anything out-of-place enough to arouse suspicion. For several minutes, it was completely worthless, until I ran across a tiny black telephone logbook in a drawer in the bedroom. Written across the front in gold letters were the words Little Black Book, which I thought I must have imagined because . . .



“Who the fuck actually has a little black book with the words ‘Little Black Book’ on the cover?” Caroline exclaimed disgustedly, reading over my shoulder and plucking the words right out my head. “This guy is a joke.”



I was busy flipping through the pages, thinking to myself how much money the idiot who owned the place would have to spend to clear his name and work his divorce. There were many, many names of women, few I had any real idea about — that is, until I got to a section titled H.S.



“Look at this,” I said. “What do you think?”



She stared at the page. “I don’t know,” she admitted, “could be lots of things, I guess.”



I pointed at one of the names. “Cindy Buck,” I recited. “She graduated from Rembrandt last year. I think the heading stands for High School, meaning girls this guy met who were in high school when he met them.”



“Jesus,” she whispered as she took the book. She studied it a moment. “Here’s a name I recognize: Hannah Sebastian. She’s an escort, as top-of-the-line and professional as they come. Gorgeous and insanely expensive. Makes over four hundred thousand a year. She’s done some work for us in the past.”



“Apparently, Miss Atkinson is right,” I said. “She definitely does not have the only hole on the green; this prick is sticking his flag into anything he can find.”



“He seems to like . . .” Caroline began, and then she trailed off. The sound of car could easily be heard, followed a moment later by the flash of headlights across the ceiling. She looked at me with a hard expression. “So much for the business dinner. Nice work, grunt. He’s home.”



“Closet?” I suggested, and Caroline cursed under her breath. I took that as a yes, and moments later she was shoving me into the small coat closet off to the side of the room.



I went face first into a plethora of thick winter coats (not pleasant) and spun around just in time to watch as Caroline followed me in. Her body pressed against mine (heaven!) and the closet door shut behind us. My hands instinctually went around her waist, while hers pressed into the wall behind me. We were, effectively, packed together like sardines.



“Ok?” I asked.



“Fine,” she whispered back, and the word was a bullet.



It was quite the situation. The closet was no more than four feet by four feet, and that was without the hanging clothes. Caroline, of course, smelled incredible, and her body felt fantastic pressed against mine.



Aside from how she felt, there was another thing worth noting: the closet door was not constructed of one solid piece of wood. A large section of the door employed the use of down-turned wooden slabs, running width-wise the door and set a very short distance apart. The effect of this design was to add a touch of the unique to the door itself and to allow the clothes within the closet to breathe. It also, as a curious but fortunate side effect of the angles of the slabs and the darkness of the closet, allowed a person inside to view the outside, but not vice versa.



We barely made it inside; mere moments after the closet door closed, the door to the bungalow opened and two people stumbled inside. One of them, the female, was speaking.



“What do you want to show me, huh?” the girl was asking, and she sounded young.



“In a minute,” Bobby Phelps said reprovingly. “I’ll show you in just a minute.”



I tilted my head down slightly and found myself staring directly in the eyes of Caroline Rae, our faces no more than six inches apart. I was struck, very suddenly, by how bright blue her eyes were, visible even in the relative darkness.



“Don’t make a sound,” the woman whispered in her softest voice. She inched forward until her face hovered over my left shoulder, her cheek just brushing mine, her breath was warm in my ear. “Give it a minute,” she suggested, “and when they hit the bedroom, we’ll leave.”



I nodded silently.



“Show me!” the girl outside chirped. “I really want to see!”



Bobby Phelps grinned. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”



The girl giggled. “Show you my what?”



“I think you know,” the man said. “I want to see.”



Caroline grunted under her breath. “Ridiculous,” she breathed.



The other woman in the room did not think so, apparently, and promptly stripped the thin black shirt she was wearing up and over her head. She was not wearing a bra, and a pair of grapefruit-sized breasts spilled out and bounced into position.



“Do you like them, Bobby?” the girl said, her voice all at once demure and submissive.



Phelps studied the girl thoroughly, seeming very intense and determined. “Put your hands behind your head,” he ordered suddenly, “and turn around.”



The girl complied, lacing her fingers behind her head and turning so that, coincidentally, she faced the closet. Her face held hints of apprehension and excitement, and clear indications of drug or alcohol use. Her skin was flushed, her eyes glazed. She also looked mildly familiar.



Of course, her position granted me a perfect view of her body, and never once to waste an opportunity, I took a moment to admire her breasts: round and moderately-sized, they were well-shaped with large pink nipples. They captured the attention of the other man, too; moving in behind her, he reached around each of her sides and slid his hands over her breasts, cupping them in his palms.



“Take a breath and hold it,” he told her, and the girl sucked in a deep breath, drawing air into her lungs, and held it, pushing her chest out. His hands began to move, his fingers kneading and squeezing the soft tit-flesh.



“Release,” he said, and she let the air out in a whoosh. “Again.” She sucked in another breath, holding it as he fondled her for long moments. “Release,” he said for a second time, and she let her breath out again in a heavy gasp. He gave her boobs one last good squeeze and said, “That’s a good girl, now get down on your knees.”



It was at this point that Caroline swore silently under her breath, and so it was that I realized what she had realized first just by listening: the two lovers would not be moving to the bedroom anytime soon.



They were stuck.



Caroline lifted her face, met my gaze, and an unspoken acknowledgement of our predicament passed between us. I nodded and she sighed, softly but with more than a little displeasure, and leaned forward to whisper once more in my ear.



“We may be here a while,” she said, her breath hot on my skin, “and this is not comfortable.”



This could be interesting, I thought, as I whispered back, “Straighten up and turn around, and you can use your arms to support yourself against the doorframe.”



The look she gave me then was quite clear: she wanted me to shut up. Even so, my suggestion had been a good one, and so slowly, very slowly, she twisted her body, her breasts pressed hard into my chest as they slid across its width, until finally she had maneuvered around. It worked, as far as I could tell: Caroline was facing the door and, therefore, much more comfortable.



The off-shoot of this action, however, was that I was suddenly now more uncomfortable. This was due entirely to one fact; Caroline’s incredibly firm bottom, the object of much of my youthful lust, was pressed against my groin. The worst-case scenario would be an erection in this instance, and so I struggled to keep myself as far from contact with her as possible.



“Shhh,” she whispered fiercely as I shuffled around behind her.



Outside, Phelps had wasted little time. His pants were around his ankles and the girl was on her knees before him, her head bobbing up and down. I could not see the graphic action, but it was clear what was happening; we could hear the slurping and sucking sounds.



“Tongue my balls,” Phelps told the girl, and for the first time I caught a glimpse of the action as the girl turned her head to the side and nuzzled her mouth up under the man’s scrotum. Her tongue traced the wrinkles it found there, and he shuddered at the sensations.



“Good girl,” he said with a sigh.



“What a prick,” Caroline whispered, her grip tightening on the doorframe. This had the unfortunate consequence of pushing her further back into me, and I struggled valiantly to keep my manhood in check. It was a little swollen, but nothing overbearing, and Caroline was showing no hint of being bothered by it, which I was sure she would do if she knew.



It was several minutes of sucking and tonguing before Phelps pulled the girl up by her hair and dragged her over to the couch. He pushed her down roughly over the wide leather armrest, bending her over, and reached under her dark red mini-skirt. Moments later, her panties were stripped down around her knees and his fingers were active upon what had been covered, although it was difficult for us to see the intimate touching from our position.



“Are you going to eat me?” the girl asked with eagerness in her voice, glancing back.



Phelps laughed. “Not a chance,” he laughed, and slapped her hard on the rump. She shrieked, and as she shrieked he forced her head back around to face front.



Caroline growled angrily, but did not move.



“Get ready,” he warned, and without further words, buried his cock deep inside the girl from behind, and began to fuck her mercilessly over the arm of the couch.



His hips slammed into the cheeks of her bottom, rippling its flesh, and he grunted and she whimpered with every stroke. She began to moan, although whether from pleasure or pain at the rough treatment, I could not be sure. Phelps reached around and clutched one of her breasts, and squeezed it hard, and the moaning for an instant turned to an undeniable whimper of pain.



It was then that I became aware of another sound, far quieter than his hips smacking into her, the squishing of his cock as it penetrated her, her moans and whimpers, or his loud grunts and groans; no, it was the sound a labored breathing, quiet but unmistakable, and coming from Caroline Cassidy. In short, she was kind of turned on, and the revelation that an ice queen like Caroline did, in fact, have a sexual side was one of the greatest moments of my young life.



I did not get to dwell on it long, however.



Phelps cried out and then pulled out, and sprayed a helping of white seed across the back and bottom of the girl splayed out before him, getting some of it on her skirt. I do not think she had achieved her own orgasm yet, but that did not stop the man, apparently.



He stumbled back and plopped down into a chair, his face contorted in a pleasured grimace. The girl pushed herself to her feet after a moment, and asked, “Bobby?”



He opened his eyes. “Clean yourself up and hop in the shower. I’ll be there in a minute.”



She was a little confused, but nodded and left the room. Phelps did not sit long, thankfully enough. As soon as we heard the shower burst to life in another room, he hauled himself up, shuffled forward, kicked his pants finally off his ankles, and walked out of the room.



When Caroline finally deemed it safe enough for us to exit the closet, with the man and his young slut enjoying more sex in the shower, we tumbled out of the closet and swiftly made our way out the door and back to the car, and sped safely away.



It was not long before the reprimand.



She reached into her pocket and, for the first time, I saw the little mini-camera in her hands. I’d been oblivious to it while we were in the closet, but apparently Caroline had taken the liberty of snatching a few photographs. I grinned happily, knowing our case was progressing nicely.



“We got some good photos,” she admitted, “which will prove very useful, both in satisfying our client and in helping her towards her ultimate goal. It was smart to search his real estate holdings; the revelation of the Malibu residence will also serve our client well.”



She turned to face me then, those beautiful eyes sharp as spinning drill-bits as they bored into me. At that moment, before she spoke, I realized one thing with crystal clarity: Caroline Cassidy was absolutely gorgeous when she was angry.



“But that does not,” she continued, “excuse what just happened. When you are skirting the edges of legality, you must know exactly what is going on around you. There can be no surprises. You must know the window of time you have to act. It’s partly my fault, but the responsibility is ultimately yours. Do you understand?”



I completely understood and agreed with her. “It won’t happen again,” I said.



Caroline nodded. “Good,” she said simply.



I grinned. “Do you forgive me?” I asked.



The beautiful blonde rolled her eyes. “Drive, grunt,” she said, and off we went.



* * *



Caroline had pressing work the next afternoon, so she sent me off by myself after school to develop the photos and present them to Miss Atkinson. Basically, I had no idea what to expect.



“Tell her the story,” Caroline said, prepping me. “Show her the photos. Ask her what she would like us to do. Make no commitments and tell her you have to speak to Frank to approve her requests. Thank her and come back here. Simple.”



Which is exactly what happened, as far as she knows.



Jacquelyn Atkinson lived in the Pacific Palisades, one of the most affluent sections of Los Angeles located in the hills above Santa Monica and Brentwood, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Her family mansion was gated with significant security personnel and vast, sprawling grounds. Her marriage to Bobby Phelps, however, was going to take her from a family with a small fortune ($50M) to one that was really, really big.



The guard stopped my Range Rover at the gate and I was allowed inside only after being thoroughly checked out. A cul-de-sac stood at the end of the long driveway with a fountain in the center of the circle, and a valet waiting to take my car. I hastened up the steps and knocked on the door, which was answered by an elderly, tuxedo-clad man who bowed and bade me follow.



Which is how I ended up by the Olympic-sized swimming pool mere moments after my arrival. I could not see my client anywhere, but that did not stop the butler from leaving.



“Hello?” I called out.



“Just a minute,” a mellifluous voice echoed from inside the pool house. “Like a drink?”



I grinned; she had no idea how young I was. “No, thanks,” I said, and soon she appeared.



Jacquelyn Atkinson looked nothing — and yet somehow everything — like she had the day before. She wore white Gucci sunglasses and another hat, this one wide-brimmed and white and made of finely stitched straw, and her white high heels made little clacking sounds on the concrete. But it was what lay in-between head and toe that stirred me in more ways than one. She wore a wispy see-through robe, open in front and hanging from her shoulders, which did little to hide the rest of her body.



And that amazing body, which had been hinted at subtly by her outfit the day before, was on full display in a tiny white string bikini. She was tan and trim with huge fake tits and long succulent legs, and the woman walked with a kind of a half-swoon, half-sashay that was whole-sexy, wiggling her hips and jiggling her breasts in mouth-watering ways.



She casually sipped from a margarita glass, filled to the brim, and walked right up and past me, heading back into the main house. I was rooted to the spot, however, unable to move, because when she passed I learned that her string bikini bottoms were actually thong bikini bottoms, and the woman’s scrumptious ass was right there to behold. It was an incredible sight.



“Coming?” she asked, knowing full well the power she had.



“Not far from it,” I said without thinking, and my ears went hot with sudden concern, until I heard her give the lightest little laugh. She did not even break stride.



She led me into the house, across the massive, marble-tiled entry hall, up the wide circular stairs, down one of several long and branching hallways, and into a room with broad double-doors. It was a bedroom, whether the master or not I had no idea, with a raised section for the four-post bed and a separate step-down lounge area, much like a fancy resort suite might have, with plush leather couches, glass coffee table, television, and floor-to-ceiling windows. There was also a balcony, accessible through one of those windows, overlooking the ocean. It was very swank and very stylish, and decorated almost exclusively in white and pink.



“Sit,” she said, waving her hand loosely in the direction of the couches as she walked towards a side-door. I seated myself and waited, and several minutes later she returned, still carrying her margarita glass, which was now only half-full. She seated herself on the couch across from me, legs crossly demurely in front of her, one arm stretched out along the cushions, the other bent to allow her to sip her drink. She looked very comfortable and very relaxed, and very much at home. Not to mention, smoking hot and very aware of it.

“Speak,” she said quietly, and in a manner that suggested she had expected me to know that the time was passed for me to begin.



I took a breath and took the plunge. “You were right, Miss Atkinson,” I told her. “Your fiancé is not a very faithful man.”



She did not move for a long moment. And then she took a sip from her drink. And then she slowly removed her white Gucci shades and set them next to her on the couch. Her eyes were brightest gray, like silver storm clouds, and very cold.



I continued, “We searched through his records and discovered real estate not mentioned on the list you provided. It seems he also owns a beach-front bungalow in Malibu, which we believe he purchased solely for the purpose of seducing young women unbeknownst to you.”



She caught my meaning immediately. “Young women?” she asked softly, and though her voice was also sweet, I knew better than to think, despite the tone, that the woman before me was in anywhere close to a sweet sort of mood.



My ears were burning and my pulse was racing. This conversation was very intense already, and hardly anything had been said. It was a hell of an introduction to client control, which I suppose is why Caroline had me go by myself in the first place.



“It appears your fiancé has a taste for younger women, college-age girls and high school girls, and also for professionals,” I replied.



Her stare was firm. “Hookers,” she clarified, and it was not a question.



“Yes,” I replied.



“And you have proof?”



I nodded and opened the manila envelope I was carrying, and handed her the photographs. “My partner and I observed your fiancé last night at the Malibu bungalow. He had a girl with him.”



Those gray eyes roamed over the photographs as she shuffled them around. “She’s only a girl,” she whispered, almost to herself.



“How would you like us to proceed, Miss Atkinson?” I asked, and for the first time, the woman’s eyes came up and actually seemed to see me. Where before I had been just one of her hired hands, for the first time it felt like the woman was seeing me, Ben Merriman.



“You are the owner’s son. Ben, is it?” she asked, her voice as soft as ever, and I nodded. “And you are how old?” Again, I responded truthfully. “In high school, I suspect?”



“A senior, Miss Atkinson,” I replied.



She waved another dismissive hand. “Please, call me Jacquelyn. After all, I am only a few years older than you, myself. If you would excuse me a moment . . .”



She did not wait for a reply. She rose and walked back to the bathroom, and everything was silent for a few blissful moments, until a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the room. I was on my feet instantly, ready to charge across the room and into the bathroom, ready to help Jacquelyn with whatever had happened, when the door to that very room opened, and the woman herself came through.



And she was grinning.



Not grinning happily as people sometimes do, not grinning at life or the absurdities therein, not grinning because of some funny joke. No, Jacquelyn Atkinson was grinning at me, and it was a grin I had seen before, but never would have expected to see on her.



It was the grin of a predator that knows it has found its prey, and the prey, it seemed, was me: those hard gray eyes were staring right at me.



“Was the girl last night attractive, Benjamin?” she asked, as nonchalantly as if she were asking about the weather, and she was walking again with that sashay-wiggle. Her use of my full name was not lost on me.



“Yes,” I answered truthfully; she seemed the kind of woman who could smell a lie. She was still moving in my direction, and I watched her come at me with growing concern, and a growing something else, as well.



“More attractive than me?” she asked, as sweetly as ever.



“No,” I answered, and again I was being truthful. The woman before me was a forest fire, the girl a mere candle beside it.



“Do you like what you see?” Jacquelyn asked, running her hands over the toned flesh of her stomach.



“How could I not,” I said. “You’re breathtaking.”



She walked right up to where I was standing. I could smell the traces of alcohol on her breath and the herbal scent of her hair. Even in heels, the top of her head was right at the level of my eyes.



“My husband-to-be underestimates me,” she said, and now her voice was sweet and cold and frightening as all hell, “if he thinks he can fuck around and not pay the consequences. And there will be consequences. You see, as I said, infidelity will be a major strike against him when I hit him with divorce. The courts do not look to kindly upon it. He will have to pay, and big. Once we’re married, of course.”



She smiled and lay a gentle hand on my chest. This was no high school girl looking for sexual experience and experimentation; this was a well-trained seductress, an artist of highest degree.



Everything fell into place for me then. The question we’d been asking had been why the woman had chosen the man, which was completely wrong; it was quite obvious why she was with him, now. The question really was, why was the man, an obvious philanderer, had chosen a woman who demanded what he could not give, commitment?



The answer lay in the fantastic figure before me: the woman was built for sex.



“His payment will start with you, Benjamin,” she cooed, and suddenly she was close enough so that her wonderful breasts were grazing my chest. “He is off fucking high schools girls in his secret bachelor bungalow, but I will do him one better. I will fuck a high school boy right under his very nose, starting now.”



Heaven help me, I thought.



* * *



Jacquelyn Atkinson is a sexual talent of the highest order. When you have fortune on the sizable scale of her family, normal types of schooling seem irrelevant. She realized from a very young age what type of life she wanted to have and what types of skills she would need to secure it.



And so she spent her summer after high school graduation — quite unbeknownst to her parents, who thought she was on a European vacation — with one of the most renowned and reclusive madams in Paris, as well as the most expensive and highly sought gigolos in Venice, and had learned everything there is to know, and more, about how to please a man. Not only please, but to read and understand what each man desires without having to ask.



There is so much more going on inside her head than anyone could have possibly imagined. Cool, calm, and calculating, she knows exactly what she want and what will get her there.



Of course, fucking the boy standing before her at present will not necessarily gain her any kind of monetary bonus or practical advantage, nor would it further her social or political standing. It is revenge, pure and simple, the basest emotion.



It is revenge against the man who promised he would remain faithful if she agreed to marry him. It is revenge against the man who’d likely broken that promise the very next night, while she had remained steadfast and not fucked another in six months, which was an absolute eternity to survive on one cock alone for someone as sexual as she.



And here is fresh meat standing before her: an attractive young man with stars in his eyes. She comes to notice three things about Benjamin Merriman in that moment: first, that his eyes are a deep shade of gray, like hers, but dark where hers are light, dark like thundering storm clouds; second, that a lump quivers in the crotch of his jeans, and that it is a sizable lump; and, third, that his face is full of anticipation and appreciation, and she loves to be appreciated.



She will make his dreams come true.



Her pussy goes instantly wet and soaks the bikini bottoms taut between her legs. Without another word she reaches for the lump in his pants, her fingers trace the outline of his cock, and she grins.



“Very nice,” she purrs.



Sex is the only time she ever acts in any way soft, demure, or submissive. The rest of the time, she is hard as steel, a manner in part calculated to ensure that those who fucked her were that much happier having seen her so soft with them in bed. It was something she learned from the madam.



The boy starts to speak, but she silences him with a look. She does not want to talk; she wants to suck and fuck and orgasm, in that order. He will enjoy the process, she knows; she is not selfish in bed. She lifts his hand and slips a finger between her lips.



Jacquelyn knows exactly what men like; she studied the gigolo well. She sucks the finger with a sultry exaggeration no man can resist: pouting her lips, sucking her cheeks, swaying her body with eyes half-closed, as if the thought of having his cock there, instead of just a finger, has her completely on fire. She is on fire, but not for that.



She rubs his cock through his jeans, and feels the object of her affection grow harder and larger; she decides she must see it for herself. Deftly she undoes the zipper and reaches inside, gently drawing his cock out from its concealment. He moans lightly as she wraps her fingers around his shaft, one by one, and begins to stroke it up and down.



His cock is thick and hard, just the way she likes it, and large at what looked like more than seven inches. It’s a wonderful cock — and she had seen her fair share — which is one of the main reasons she expects she will fuck him more than just this once, doing things to him he has only dreamed of, paying Bobby back in spades for cheating on her and living down to her expectations. She might even bring a woman in, something she had never let happen with Bobby.



When the cock is fully hard, she releases it and steps back, letting fall her robe to the floor. Her bikini top follows shortly thereafter, leaving her in just her bottoms. Her body is fantastic, she knows, lean and tan and perfect, and her face is gorgeous. She is not one of the most powerful young women in the city for nothing. Her tits are on prominent display, and impressive: 34DD, augmented to perfection, and very full and round.



She steps forward and leans in, running her hands up his body, her face next to his. She is close enough to kiss him, but when he leans in to kiss her — boldly, which she likes — she slithers back down his body to her knees, her eyes locked on his, her hands trailing after her, until she comes face-to-face with his cock.



It is beautiful, she admits, and she admires it for long moments as she unbuttoned his pants; his underwear and jeans soon fall to the floor in a heap, leaving him naked below the waist. She reaches out and takes hold of his penis with both hands, gently rubbing it like a fire stick. Hunger overwhelms her, and she cannot wait any more.



She is, after all, a sexual creature, and simply has to have a taste; her tongue roams over his cock, moistening every inch, flittering over it with speed and surety even as she strokes it with one hand, pulling the skin up and back, stretching it tight.



Her mouth drops lower and goes for his testicles, which she knows men adore. She teases the heavy balls, running the tip of her tongue over the wrinkled sack and beneath to rarely touched places, and he moans for the first time. Few women bother with such spots, so far below, but she knows what men love, and will bestow it.



His fingers run through her long blonde hair and take hold of her head. He is not a novice, it seems, and she is thankful for that; such aggression might suit him well later, and perhaps she will get more pleasure from this than she expects. She laps at his balls, the flat of her tongue pressed up against them, and sucks first one, then the other into her mouth, all the while keeping her fingers on his shaft.



She glances up and catches his eye, and holds his gaze as she tilts her head and slowly presses the flat of her tongue to the underside of his shaft. She begins at the base and slurps a wet stripe from end to end, rounding the tip and closing her soft lips over the head. She holds there, the mushroom crown like a tootsie pop in her mouth, and proceeds to do what any normal person would do with a tootsie pop in their mouth: she suckles it, hard.



And rolls her tongue around it.



And purrs with pleasure.



Jacquelyn loves the power of sucking a man off. The common male perception is that they are in control in such a situation, with a woman on her knees, subservient, before them. Ha! She is the one with the power, not them. She is the one pulling the strings, and she can get anything, have anything she wants with a cock in her mouth. True power, she knows, lies between the lips and legs of a beautiful woman.



She feels his hands against her head, pushing her forward, urging more of his meat into her mouth. She complies willingly; aside from the power and control of it, she does actually like to suck dick, and knows she is talented.



She bobs her head up and down, taking more of his cock deeper with every stroke. Her free hand sweeps her luxurious blonde hair up and flips it back over her shoulder: she knows the boy will want to watch her suckling him, with her luscious red lips wrapped around his shaft.



Several strokes later she feels the purple head nudge against the back of her throat, and almost simultaneously his pubic hair tickles her nose; she very nearly has him completely inside her mouth. Only two inches left, but she would definitely finish the job. She pulls back and slides down again, and this time when she feels pressure at the back of her mouth, she swallows and lets the head of his cock slip down into the depths of her throat.



The boy moans and grips her hair tighter, pulling almost painfully at the roots. She holds him there, her tongue flittering about the shaft, her lips smacking at the base, her hand gently massaging his balls. She suckles him harder and faster now, her hair whipping furiously around her head as she bastes his meat with her mouth.



Surprisingly, the boy leans into her, bucking his hips at her. One of her darkest secrets is the pleasure she derives from having her face fucked, a truth unlocked and known only by the gigolo, but very few men were confident enough to initiate it themselves; this boy, she realizes, was no ordinary young lover.



He growls suddenly, a sure sign of an approaching male orgasm.



She is right, of course; she always was. His cum pours into her mouth and she eagerly gulps it down, taking all of what he gives her, and she feels it gush down her throat. She must have been good; the boy’s cock is like a geyser. She loves the feel of the sticky liquid as it fills her mouth and coats his cock with a thin layer of spunk.



As his climax subsides, she finally drops his cock from her mouth and tenderly cleans it with her tongue; all remnants of his seed must go. She does not mind, really; his syrup actually tastes quite good. His fingers ease their way again through her hair, stroking softly, and she gazes up into his grateful eyes as her tongue laps away.



He pats her head gently — oh, he is a bold one — as she takes his soft penis back into her mouth. This is a favorite of hers, and a challenge she gives herself: how fast can she rejuvenate him.



And so she works her wonders on him again, sucking him, teasing him, rolling her tongue over the limp appendage. She purrs as she works, lavishing her affections on him, and it is less than a minute before he slowly begins to stiffen again, and she smiled.



Benjamin groans and speaks for the first time since she began, and there is something new and different in his face, and in his eyes. “Well, Jacquelyn, aren’t you the talented slut.”



She is shocked by his words. Very few men would ever speak to her so, especially after she had just given them such a fantastic blowjob. This one, she can see clearly, is different; different, she knows, is either awful or intriguing. She does not answer, thinking more the latter, and not wanting to pause for even a moment in her oral ministrations.



He chuckles and lifts her chin with his fingers, forcing her to look up at him. The balance of power is shifting, she feels it keenly, and while not always her way, she goes with it this time and softens the look of her eyes; she will see what the boy has to offer.



His eyes widen as he notices the change; he is definitely a sharp one, and does not waste the opportunity she’s given him. “You love sucking cock,” he says. She nods, his cock in her mouth. “But that’s not what you really want, is it, Jackie?”



No one calls her Jackie, not ever, but his voice is commanding and his eyes so intense, his dominance so unexpected, that she allows him to have his way with her. His fingers tighten suddenly in her hair and pull upward, and she winces in pain as his cock falls from her mouth.



“No,” she whispers in her throaty post-blowjob voice.



He continues to pull her hair, dragging her to her feet. He leans in, his face barely an inch from hers, and says fiercely, “I’m going to fuck you, Jackie. Not on a bed, not on a couch, not on the floor. I’m going to fuck you on the desk, and I’m going to fuck you hard.”



He shoves her backward and she bumps up against a small writing desk. She nods obediently, and grins defiantly, and waits.



“You like it hard, don’t you?” he growls. His hand slips down her body and plucks aside her bikini bottoms, and his finger slips deep inside her without warning.



Her head drops back and a whimper breaks free. She can scarcely believe the change in the power dynamic; he’d been putty in her hands a few minutes ago. He is good, very good. Her eyes flutter shut as his finger explores her, expertly twisting and turning, and caressing her from the inside out.



“Time for a little taste,” the boy says, and with that he grabs her waist and spins her around, and with a hand between her shoulder blades, shoves her shoulders forward and down, bending her over the desk. The shoving hand trails down the curve of her back, past the dimples upon her back, and over her rump.



Whack!



The vicious blow he levels at her ass catches her off-guard, and she growls angrily. Then she feels his hand reverse course, sliding back up her side and over her neck to take firm hold of her hair once again, and she knows there is no time to complain. He is moving too fast, keeping her off her guard, and she can hardly think straight, which never, ever happens — and yet thrills her tremendously. He tugs at the strings of her bikini bottoms and lets them fall, deftly relieving her of the last of her clothes, everything but her high heels.



“Spread ‘em,” he orders, and she spreads her legs obediently.



He pushes her down against the table, her breasts flattening against the surface. She cannot see what is happening, but suddenly feels him fingering her sex. She tries to turn, but he holds her down. He is in command.



Again he runs a hand over the tight, toned curve of her bottom, and she shivers with desire. He slaps her ass then a second time, one swat only and hard on the butt, and she can feel the hand print tingling on her cheek.



She shrieks and growls again at him, but he pays her no mind.



His fingers trace up and down over her skin, his fingertips grazing ever so gently, tickling her, leaving no inch untouched. She purrs as he strokes her, anticipation nearly overwhelming her. She does not like to be teased, but this boy is doing a masterful job of it. She is bent over and displayed, and she loves it.



“Taste me,” she begs him, and cannot see him grin.



* * *



It was an unbelievable butt, I have to admit, and when she pleaded for me to taste her, I knew I had to get started, despite the torrent of wickedness running rampant through my mind, so fiercely it actually startled me. Ah, the things I could do to such a finely wrought rump.



Let me describe the sight.



Bent over at ninety degrees with her upper-half squished against the desk and her legs locked at the knees, nude except for her high heels, Jacquelyn Atkinson looked like a porn star placed in the prime position to allow viewing of her nether region, and it was an eyeful. A thin swath of fine blonde hair, neatly trimmed in a triangle small enough to hide beneath a string bikini, sat just above — or below, since it was upturned — the actual pink of her vagina, which was shorn completely clean. Her pussy lips were pursed tightly together, but the folds were wet and juice dribbled slowly from the slit.

*** This is part 2 of You’re mine and you know it.



Enjoy. Help from Kaylee in Arizona



P.s Feel free to email me.










I had just got done cleaning myself all over and putting my clothes back on when the door opened and in rushed a younger student. I hoped that it was Ashley or one of her friends but it wasn’t. So I walked to class a little disappointed. My teacher, Ms. Johnson let me off with a warning about being late because it was my first time being late to her class.



“Don’t let it happen again,” is all she said and then she just let me walk to my seat.



I couldn’t concentrate on my class work, I was just to anxious and excited to concentrate. I wanted the day to hurry up and be over but I knew I had to wait until lunch before I could see any of the girls. After lunch I had one more period before I could have some fun with them. I couldn’t help but daydream about what could happen when I got to Ashley’s house with them. Ashley grabbing me by my hair forcing me onto her bed, as her friends tied my wrists and legs to the bed. After that cutting off my clothes and underwear to get to my boobs and……



“Jennifer Coles!” My teacher Ms. Johnson was yelling my name. I guess I went to far in my dream and blocked everyone else out. When I looked up to her everyone was looking at me so I was a little embarrassed, but she spoke again and with a lot of authority.



“Come to my desk, right now.” Hearing her talk to me like that got me a little afraid so I quickly got up and crossed the room to her desk.



“Yes Ms. Johnson?” I said as if I didn’t know why she called me up there.



“What is wrong with you today, why haven’t you been doing your work, and why…………”



As she spoke to me I couldn’t help think how sexy she was when she was upset. She had only got upset with me when I feel asleep in her class during a test or something, but other than that I could never really see that side of her, unless it was towards someone else. She did have an adorable smile when she was happy though, but I liked her a lot better when she was upset with the class. I don’t know why, I guess that’s just me. Ms. Johnson was 26, slim, really big boobs, beautiful baby blue eyes and big, sexy, suckable lips that had stopped moving and were frowning at me.



“Well… are you going to answer me or just stand there.” She said with a hint of anger.



I hadn’t heard a word she said to me. “Umm, I’m sorry can you repeat the question.”



“Do… you… want… to… talk… about… what… has… got… you… so… out… of… it… today?” She said slowly so I wouldn’t miss it this time.



“No I’m fine just a little tired I guess,” I said lying horribly.



I guess she bought it because all she said was, “okay just do your work. Go back to your seat now.” I nodded and walked back to my seat thankful that I didn’t have to stand up there for much longer.



After my little “talk” with the teacher I sat down and did as much work that I could, and was more then happy when the bell rang signaling that second period was over.



***



Third period was just like the others just with an annoying old man. So I’m not going to get into much detail about it. I did get to see my friend Emilee though and that was good. Emilee is cute, but I don’t really look at her in anyway other then a friend should. She has short natural red hair, a little on the skinny side, and looks way younger than what she is but she still has lots of guys all over her. We talked about class movies and boys (she still didn’t know I was a lesbian). It felt like time was flying by when I talked to her, and soon the bell rung, and we left to go to lunch.



***



As me and Emilee walked to “our” table at lunch we noticed that Elizabeth wasn’t there. Elizabeth is one of our friends that sat with us, but she was not there and we wanted to go out for lunch.



She is about as tall as me but probably a bit taller, she has long dirty blonde hair, hourglass figure (like myself), 36C boobs I think, just right round ass and a beautiful face.



As we were getting up to leave Emilee spotted her talking to some girl, when I looked closer I realized that it was Ashley, and it looked as if they were getting a little to close and that made me jealous.



“Lets just go over there and ask if she’s goin to come with us,” Emilee said not noticing my smug look.



“Ok, but if she’s not coming we’ll just go anyways,” I said as we walked towards Elizabeth and Ashley.



When Ashley’s eyes met mine she smiled and said, “I’ll talk to you later Liz, bye girls.” With that she smiled at me winked and turned on her heels to walk away.



“What was she talking to you about,” I said finally braking out of my trance.



“Oh nothing. Just something that’s going to be eating away at me, later on today. Hey are we going out for lunch or not I’m hungry.”



I didn’t believe her but didn’t really think it mattered so I told them where we were going out to lunch and that we were taking my car. We had to hury and get back to school so we just went through the drive through.



After coming back to the school we talked, laughed, and ate our food and soon the bell rung. After saying we would call each other we went our separate ways.



***



As I walked to my next class, alone, I couldn’t help but think, ‘what was Ashley talking to Elizabeth about, and why wont she tell me?’ I was so deep in thought that I didn’t notice the person in front of me, and I bumped into them.



“Oh I’m so sorr……” I stopped in mid sentence when I looked up and saw who it was. I noticed that she was still holding on to me even though we weren’t falling.



“No problem, baby its alright,” she leaned in to my ear and whispered, “can’t wait to have your pink tongue in my slit babe, I’m going to have lots of fun with you.” Stacy said, still holding me close to her. Good thing no one was in the hallway at the time.



“I…I have to get to class,” I said trying to push away from her, kinda.



“Why? Why can’t we just have some fun now? You know, before I have to share you with the others.” She said, sliding her hand to my ass and squeezing it slightly. I was mush, it felt like I was in my own sexual haven.



“Damn! Don’t fall baby,” she laughed catching me from dropping down to my knees, “you’ll have plenty of time to be on your knees, trust me, I’ll make sure of it.”



“Please let me go,” I said in a soft wispier that was almost mute, “I really need to get to class, please stop.” I don’t think she cared about what I was saying, or even heard a word I said as she rubbed and grabbed my ass. I let out a small moan and cussed at myself for being such a horny girl.



“Doesn’t sound like you want me to stop, but I’ll stop anyways,” she let me go and I was a little disappointed that it ended even though that’s what I asked her to do. Good going dumb ass. “But we do need to talk, so come to the bathroom with me.” With that she turned and walked away, not waiting for my answer.



As we walked to the bathroom I didn’t look at her sexy little ass. That was swaying so nicely. Well, okay I’m lying, I was drooling and staring at her ass, like a horny teen boy.



I didn’t notice she had stopped and turned her head to look at me until I bumped into her…again, almost knocking myself onto my ass.



“You really like asses? Don’t you baby,” I nodded as I stared into her captivating neon blue/gray eyes as she stared into my hazel ones, licked my lips, and thought damn she’s so sexy. “Good. Then you might love what’s next.” She giggled as she pulled me into the bathroom, looked to see if anyone was in it. After finding no one she pushed me in a stall and followed me into it.



“Pull down your shorts and panties and then turn around.” I guess it was taking me to long because she yelled at me to hurry the fuck up, “I don’t have all fucking day! Damn.” I didn’t want her to get even more upset so I hurried up, and took my clothes off, and turned around naked from the waist down.



“Mmm, now that’s more like it,” Stacy said rubbing my ass, she moved away from me and I heard her looking for something in her purse. I heard a low squishing sound but thought nothing of it until something cold, hard, and slimy was pushing on my asshole. “This will hurt a lot less if you relax and let it happen. Do you know what a butt plug is?…. You do ok that’s good, at least you know what’s going in you’re ass.”



I tightened up and asked in a very small voice, “can you please go slow. I’ve never had anything in my ass.” You could hear my voice trembling as I spoke.



“Oh don’t worry baby, I wont go too hard… trust me.” I didn’t trust her, but I couldn’t really do nothing but stand there and let it happen. “Good girl I’ll remember how good you are later.” I just nodded and waited for her to push it into me and get it over with.



My anal cherry was popped, and it hurt like hell.



***



After being with Stacy for most of last period she let me go to class, which was hard because I was still walking funny from the butt plug. It was very uncomfortable. She gave me her phone number and took my number and told me she would text me Ashley’s address. My teacher even asked if I was ok when I walked into his class. I said I was fine and just hurt my leg a little. He looked at me for a bit but said nothing.



His class is very easy and fun so I completely forgot about my plans after school until I got a text from Stacy that said: B at 749 Brown street we all will be there B4 u so just cum in Lol that’s a pun. The door will b unlocked



Stacy.



I looked at my phone clock which read 2:15, 10 more minutes before the bell rung and I could be with the girls. Oh how I wished I could get this thing out of my ass, NOW! And I didn’t really get the pun, guess it went over my head.



***



RINGGG! RINGGG! RINGGG!



The last bell rung and I practical ran out of class and to my car, I couldn’t wait to get to Ashley and her friends. I was drooling and not from my mouth. I just needed to get there as fast as I could.



And the plug was hurting like hell.



***



It was a bit hard to keep from touching myself, but I had to unless I wanted to crash. As I got closer to the house, I got wetter as well. I finally pulled up to the house and it looked more like a mansion, it was so big, wish I lived there.



After getting out of my daze I walked up to the door and rung the bell. After remembering that I was to just walk in that’s what I did. It was very pretty inside, but I just needed to find Ashley and the others, I really needed to find them.



‘Are they in this room?’… ‘They have to be in this one.’… ‘Okay I think this one could be it.’ I looked and looked but could not find a single person, so I just thought, fuck it. Guess it wasn’t meant to be. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder and almost had a heart attack.



“Damn calm down girl, I’m not going to kill you,” Alice smiled, “all we’re going to do is fuck that’s all.”



I had to smile at that, “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know where any of you were, so you kinda scared me when you came out.” I was eying her up and down the whole time I talked.



“No problem, but let’s go meet up with the other’s,” she grabbed my hand and started leading me to a room, “we thought you punked out or something.”



“No, I couldn’t. I was looking forward to this ever since you guys left me in the bathroom.” I think I sounded a little too desperate. But all she did was smile and nod.



It felt like we were walking for hours, but it was only about 1minute.



“Where are we going?” I thought I could ask questions until now.



SMACK “Don’t you ever talk to me like that bitch!” She had slapped me right across my face, and now was yelling in my face.



“I’m so sorry Alice I didn……..”



SMACK “Don’t fucking call me by my name slut. What do little, lesbian, slut slaves call their female owners!?” By this time the others have heard us, and were now surrounding us.



“Well,” Ashley started after the long pause, “what do they call their owners?”



“Umm,” everyone was looking at me. Waiting for my answer I so did not know, but I had to say something. “They… call… them… their mistress?” I closed my eyes, and clenched my teeth, I was preparing myself for another smack. What I got totally caught me off guard.



I was grabbed from behind, pushed against something hard, so I opened my eyes to see what was to happen next.



I was then pushed into a baby blue/black bedroom wall and pushed down onto the soft carpet. As I looked up into the eyes of the girls all I could see was: Hatred, Evil, Despite, and most of all Lust and Hunger. I saw it in all of their eyes but in some what different ways.



I just wish I knew what they were thinking… and if they would take this thing out of my ass. It would make things a lot easier, both of them.



***Inside Their Minds***



Stacy: “Oh the things I’m going to do to this girl.”



Heather: “I hope she’s into ass play… hahaha oh well if she isn’t.”



Alice: “I so want to fuck that tight little ass of hers. Fuck I’m so horny.”



Ashley: “Oh this little bitch don’t know what she got herself into. When she sees what I have for that little pussy, she’ll wish she never agreed to this.”



Me(Jennifer): “Why are they looking at me like that?”



***



“What the fuck are you doing!?” Someone said, sounded like it was Ashley but I wasn’t sure.



“I’m… I’m not doing anything,” I stuttered to whoever spoke to me.



“Exactly. Why aren’t you taking off you’re fucking clothes,” Ashley said clearing my doubts.



“I didn’t know I was supposed to Ash… I mean mistress, no one said I had to.”



Ashley started walking closer to me, she looked so sexy with that mean look on her face.



“Well, dumb bitch, now I’m saying take your clothes off now.” She had a look in her eyes that said ‘Don’t fuck with me bitch’ but I wanted to see if I could get some type of sexual punishment from her. I would really love that.



I didn’t move at all I just stared at her just like she was but I could see she was getting really upset.



“Didn’t I just say now you little whore!” She was walking closer to me and I was getting bold and even more horny.



“And your point is,” I had a smile on my face and Ashley and her friends faces dropped. Ashley’s didn’t stay down for long.



“What did you just say to me?” She was laughing when she asked me.



“I said and your poi… .”



Ashley was on top of me before I could say another word. She was grabbing, slapping, and yelling at me.



“Who the fuck do you think you are huh?!” She was really mad and I was loving it. “I will fuck you up slave bitch.” With that she started hitting me really hard and I was in some real pain. Like real pain.



“Please! Stop! I’m sorry, I’ll obey! Just stop hitting me please! I’ll do anything!” I was waving the white flag and hoped that she would stop.



She hit me once more then stopped and smiled down at me.



I could see the hate and power in her eyes and something else, I just don’t know what. Those beautiful hazel eyes. “Are you sure? ‘Cause I can keep going.” She raised her hand as if she was going to hit me again.



I flinched and tried to protect myself. “YES, I’m sure. Please just stop.” I was done playing that game.



“Take off your clothes….Now!” I jumped, but I managed to take them off rather fast. “Yeah, that is a good girl,” she was patting my head, like I was a dog…well isn’t that what I was? Someone’s property? Hell Yeah. “Are you going to do as your fucking told,” I nodded, “that’s what I thought now stand up.”



I basically jumped up. She was walking around me, touching me everywhere, and I was loving it all.



“Very nice…for a slut. But let’s take your underwear off so I can really get a good look at you.”



I started to do it fast but was stopped, “I think we all would like you to go slow,” Ashley said to me. “Am I right?” She asked the others. They all nodded.



So I did a slow strip tease, like they asked for, and really got hot from doing so. After I was done they all moved up to see my perky boobs, fit smooth tummy, nice round ass, plump juicy pussy and long sexy legs. They even had me spin around a few times. I felt like a piece of meat because of the way they were looking at me. But I was still loving it until Ashley told one of the others, “go get my strap-on….yes the 10inch one, Ima fuck the shit out this bitch.” My heart was in my throat. I had forgotten that I was a virgin. And I never told them I was one! This is not going to be good, not at all.



“Get that ass on the bed, and spread your legs. We want to see that pussy.” Heather said pushing me on the bed before I could think. “Spread your legs,” she was pushing at my knees but I would not, could not budge, I just knew this would make things worse.



“Wait, please, I don’t think I want to do this anymore I’m just going to leave.” They all just looked at me like I was crazy, so at that moment I got back up and stood in front of the bed. I was to busy getting my clothes to notice that Ashley wasn’t with the others, but when it felt like someone was behind me, and that I should move away it was to late. She grabbed me, and pulled me onto the bed with her. I was then rolled over and she was on top of me. I don’t know when she took off her clothes, but I was to scared to really admire her sexy body.



I didn’t like the look in her eyes. She was wedged in between my legs, and had my arms pinned with her hands.



And the fall made the plug go up my ass even more. Talk about pain.



“I think its a little to late for that baby. We all have been waiting to fuck you so, that’s what we’re going to do.” I could feel the soft rubber on my pussy as she pushed up on me. I had to do something, anything.



“I’M A VIRGIN!” It seemed like the whole world stopped as they looked at me. I could hear everyone breathing heavy. Or was it just me?



It was quite until Ashley chuckled, “you’re lying. You cannot be a virgin.”



“Then why don’t you check?” I knew she wouldn’t back down.



First she looked me in the eyes then down to my pussy. “Fine then,” she pushed her middle finger into my pussy (which made me moan because how good it felt) until she felt something blocking her way…my hymn. “What the fuck!” She said out loud. Her face was frozen and so was her finger, which was still in my pussy, “you really are a virgin?”



“You can feel my hymn right?” She nodded, unable to find the right words I guess. “Then that’s your answer.”



I thought that was the end of it and they would let me go home, but I still felt her pushing up on me and pinning me down. Then she finally spoke again.



“After to day you wont be a virgin no more, no where,” I didn’t like how she said ‘no where,’ and I didn’t really know if I heard her right.



“What do you mean by that?”



She smirked and said, “I mean that I’m going to pop your cherry, and your going to get fucked in the others two holes as well.” Then she looked down at the plug still stuck up my ass. “Well, I guess your only a virgin in two holes now, right?” I nodded my head. “And that’s about to change as well.”



I could hear my heart beating now, and I could feel myself getting wet even though I was scared as shit, my body was even going against me. Fuck!



Ashley moving made me get out of my state of shock. She wasn’t pinning my arms anymore but she was still between my legs, looking down at me with pure lust in her eyes. I wanted her but I didn’t want to feel any pain.



“Can you be gentle… please?” I whispered loud enough for only her to hear.



Ashley’s face softened when she heard me and looked into my eyes, and saw how much I really needed her to go easy on me. Then she leaned down and whispered in my ear, “I will, I promise.” Then she placed a tiny kiss on my ear, then my cheek, my neck, my collarbone, but when she got to my lips she stopped.



“Please keep going?” I was confused, I really didn’t want her to stop (yeah I’m bipolar, so what).

As Jeff and Kelly sat down on the bench, still breathing heavily from their exciting nylon fuck, my stepsister looked over to me, and I noticed a brief expression of pity moving across her face.



“You know what, Jeff,” she said then, “I think Mark has suffered enough for this time… How about we release him and let him join in the fun for some time…?”



Jeff was rather surprised by this suggestion from Kelly. He probably thought that there should not be any reward at all for me that night whatsoever. But then again, he just had experienced two of his most wonderful orgasms in a row with these magnificent hot cheerleader girls, so what the heck, should he enter an argument with my stepsister about something of such little importance? To everyone’s surprise, he agreed and asked Trevor to assist him to untie my neck, hands, ankles, and dick and also removed the hose from my mouth. Once I was free again, I felt great, ignoring the still lingering pain from my body parts that were tied up for quite a while, ready to finally experience some of what I had just seen and had not really been able to enjoy due to my bondage.



Kelly had the idea to re-activate the sock game they had done earlier, and the sequence of socks I would draw from the bag would determine the sequence of girls I would be allowed to enjoy for a while. The mood was very upbeat with everyone still walking on clouds after their multiple orgasms, and I sensed that the cheerleader girls were eager for more meat that night and were definitely up for some more naughty play.



To the cheers and laughs of the crowd I drew one girl’s sock after another from the bag and had no problem identifying the cheerleader it belonged to, after having watched the scene earlier. I would start out with Jenny, then engage with Brenda, afterwards with Mae, the Thai girl, and finally with my stepsister. I thought it was quite serendipitous that she would be last, almost like the ultimate prize for me, and I was sure she was looking forward to being fucked by me; after all, why would she have suggested freeing me from my bondage?



As I was done with the “sock lottery”, my stepsister told me to “hold on” for a minute before the steamy action would begin. She whispered something into her friends’ ears and the four cheerleaders went on to get dressed again in their uniforms, apparently to increase the turn-on for the two other guys and for me, as well. Of course, I didn’t mind in the least seeing them fully dressed again in their hot short skirts, uniform tops, and now also wearing their sexy white socks and sports shoes again, in addition to their tan tights, some of them already having been severely soiled by the football players’ cum. I noticed that Brenda and Kelly had gotten quite aroused when putting on their cum-stained tights again, as they were still wet from the male ejaculates, in particular in their crotch areas where they had been fucked by Trevor and Jeff while still wearing their nylons.



Jenny approached me and asked me to lie down on a bench in the middle of the changing room, my head facing up. The other cheerleaders and the two football players meanwhile sat down on the benches next to the lockers, ready to watch what naughty scenes were going to unfold in front of their lecherous eyes. I also noticed that my stepsister and Mae started to engage in some lesbian play again, kissing, touching each other’s breasts and private parts and working each other up for yet another climax that night. Mae evidently drove Kelly crazy by massaging her heavily cum-soiled crotch area of her nylons against her enlarged pussy lips and clit, making her moan and breathe heavily out of sexual arousal. Brenda enjoyed some attention from Jeff and Trevor, getting aroused by them playing with her tits and wet crotch, where her own pussy juices blended with Trevor’s sperm. She also used her hands with large dark skinned fingers and red painted fingernails to massage the athletes’ boners, teasing them and driving them crazy of lust.



Jenny started by squatting over my boner and rubbing her tights-encased crotch area over my hard-on that already emanated slimy translucent pre-cum that she happily rubbed over her smooth silky tan tights. Her hands played with her breasts and her lusty eyes locked with mine, increasing the level of my arousal to a yet higher point. She then encouraged me to take off her top, then her bra and pay attention to her soft firm young breasts and hardened nipples, until she went into a heavier breathing, moaning louder and louder of lustful arousal, her pussy lips still rubbing all over my boner, with her tights increasing the sensation and pleasure for both of us.



Jenny then moved first one, then both feet up on the bench and started to tease me all over the place, sometimes purposefully use more pressure then necessary to make it painful in addition to arousing for me. She asked me to lick her dirty shoes all over, which I gladly complied with, licking them and soaking up every little dirty spot, while still playing with her breasts, while she kept riding my harder and throbbing cock like crazy. She asked me to take off her shoes, n continued the same treatment with her feet, now just wearing her slightly smelly white socks on top of her tan tights. I got so crazy of sexual excitement and arousal that I had a hard time not to come already, but I wanted to fuck her so bad that I did everything in my power to hold off with an orgasm until later. Having her feet with her smooth white socks dancing across my face, over my eyes, cheeks, and mouth, was as magnificent as being in heaven and I sniffed them and soaked in every scent I could, licking them and sucking on them, and noticing her added arousal from this treatment. Finally I would take off her socks, too, and I was able to enjoy the ultimate prize of experiencing her tights-encased pretty feet for an extended period of time, with more licking and sucking of her soles, heels and toes, bringing me again almost over the edge. I was so hot at this point that I forgot myself and where I was, raising my upper body, making her get off my boner and turn her around with her ass facing me, raising up her cheerleader skirt and moving my stiff cock towards her wet pussy for a fuck.



“No way!” My stepsister exclaimed at this moment, annoying the shit out of me. “You are NOT going to have Jenny! You’re not going to fuck anyone of us tonight, you hear me?” And she had a dark and humiliating expression on her face. Apparently, her plan was not to allow me have all the fun I wanted, but rather frustrate my ultimate desires even more…? Whatever it was, I could tell from the menacing looks by Jeff and Trevor that they would not hesitate to enforce Kelly’s wishes at this point and that I had no choice but to abandon my plan to fuck Jenny…



Brenda was next, having been worked up all the way by Trevor and Jeff in the meantime and ready to engage with another guy. She ordered me on the floor and started to walk all over me with her hot white sports shoes, sometimes purposefully stepping on my hard boner to hurt me or on other sensitive spots on my body. I just loved the way her dark skin contrasted with the white socks and shoes, and her body walk was, as much pain as it caused me at times, definitely one of the highlights of this evening.



Brenda next lay down on a bench, spreading her legs wide and resting her feet on the sides of the bench. She fingered her crotch with both of her hands and her dark eyes had a very lecherous and lusty expression on them, enticing me to attempt to rape her right there and then, but I knew Kelly would no way allow for this to happen. Brenda asked me to help her “down there” and used her fingers to sensuously massage her nylon-encased crotch using Trevor’s cum from earlier as a convenient lubricant. I did not hesitate and lowered my head right on top of her crotch and tongued her enlarged very dark outer and inner pussy lips that were very wet from the blend of her pussy juices and Trevor’s sperm. I loved the sensation of her big black bush behind her tights and the slightly musky and pungent aroma of the mix of her own and Trevor’s juices and licked and sucked on Brenda’s private parts like crazy, while she used her hands to play with her small breasts and nipples, through her cheerleader top and her bra. From her breaths getting shorter and her body tensing up I could tell that orgasm wouldn’t be far away, and given that fucking her obviously did not seem to be an option that night, I did my best to bring her over the edge by moving all my tongue’s attention to her hardened clit, licking, rubbing and flicking it in rhythmic and circular motions. When Brenda came, it was quite the fireworks of sorts, with her whole body spasming and shuddering, her crying out loud several times, and her pussy squirting out juices all over my face, me licking and sucking them in, not missing a single drop. The crowd cheered us on and even applauded when Brenda climaxed, not sure if it was for me or for her or for both of us…



Brenda was so excited and high after her orgasm that she decided not to stop there yet and started to give my boner a wonderfully sensuous massage with her dark skinned feet, covered by her smooth tan tights. She was extremely skillful in this, in that she knew how to work me up to a high level of arousal, then taking off some of the stimulation and use her red toenails to inflict some pain on my sensitive organs. My cock would soon reach its maximum size, started to throb and ooze large amounts of pre-cum, which Brenda used to lubricate my boner all over the place. She made a wedge using her big and second toes of her right foot, grabbing my cock and massaging it up and down several times, looking me deep into my eyes. Then she used both of her feet to squeeze my steel rod and keep the massage going, also not ignoring my firm balls that were ready to shoot at any moment. Brenda was the perfect teaser in that whenever I was almost on the verge of coming and exploding all over her, she briefly withdrew, just enough to frustrate me, letting me hang in limbo, providing a kind of torturing play of stimulation and withdrawal that made me crazy of lust and desperation at the same time.



Finally, as she squeezed my cock with her nyloned soles even harder and used her toes with red painted toenails to exert a rubbing motion on its tip, I could not hold back any longer and exploded into my probably already fourth orgasm that night, shooting my cum jisms all over Brenda’s pretty nylon-clad feet and calves, then helping her to massage the hot ejaculate all the way into her smooth tan cheerleader nylons. Watching me cum all over her hot tan tights and feeling the sensation of my hot white cum on her skin brought her over the edge yet another time…



The third cheerleader I would have the pleasure enjoying that night was Mae, with about 5 feet the shortest of them, and I could barely hold back my excitement of being able to meet her intimately for the first time; the other three I had met previously after all, but not her yet. From seeing her nude body previously, my anticipation was at a very high level, in fact, almost to a point where I got a bit nervous about what would happen and if I would be able to satisfy her needs.



Mae had thought of something different in that she lay down on a bench in the middle of the room face up and asked me to gently massage her all over the place. “Take good care of your sweet little Thai girl!” She said to me, more teasingly than anything else. Of course this was the best opportunity I could have hoped for in terms of exploring her body in every and all ways, taking as much time as I thought I’d need. I started with her head, gently moving my finger cusps over her pretty mouth, making her smile briefly, her cheeks, and forehead, then playing with her stunning fine long black hair for a while. Then I would move my attention to her shoulders, down to her breasts, where I stayed for a long time, witnessing how her small tits grew firmer and larger inside of her bra and her dark nipples got erect. I gently squeezed her nipples, with her indicating her pleasure by soft sighs; only when I pinched them a bit too hard she moved my hands away from them, indicating that she felt too much pain.



My hands moved down over her belly towards her most private areas, and I lifted her cheerleader skirt up all the way to get better access to her sex. I enjoyed the sensation of massaging her hot young Asian pussy that was completely shaved, her pussy lips already being enlarged and showing a dark rim at their periphery. Mae was probably the most sensitive of all down there because she quivered and squirmed with my every touch of her pussy lips and clit, and her breathing got increasingly shorter, and her moans that were subdued and almost inaudible initially became louder and pronounced over time as her sexual pleasure and excitement was building up. I moved my face down there and continued by licking Mae’s hot pussy lips and lust Perl with my skilled tongue, soaking in all the flavors of this hot young Thai cheerleader girl, my cock having reached its maximum erection, its tip completely wet with glistening pre-cum, and my orgasm only being away by a gentle touch, which, of course, I had to avoid in order not to cut the experience short. The longer I licked Mae in her cute Asian sex, the hotter she got and the more sweet pussy juices soaked her crotch and smooth tan tights. She meanwhile had started massaging her breasts and nipples, as well, and I figured that she would be coming over the edge now any time. But to my surprise, she got up, facing me, and indicating that she wanted to do “something nice” for me.



Before I could consider the offer and say anything, she had moved her head down to my throbbing boner and started to lick and kiss it all over the place with her little soft juicy Asian lips. I couldn’t believe how lucky I was, still in kind of a surprise about these developments of suddenly her taking all the initiative. She also used her hands and fingers to pleasure my manhood, and soon went all the way giving me head, sucking my cock down her throat until it hit the end of her mouth, increasing the sucking and exerting more and more pressure on it with her skillful lips and tongue. Again, I was in heaven, hardly being able to imagine anything better than that. I grabbed her head, squeezing it even tighter into my crotch and her mouth firmer on my steel rod, moving my hands through her long black hair. Mae further increased the intensity of her cock-sucking, cheered on by the crowd watching us, and used her cute little hands to massage my firm balls, as well. Eventually I wasn’t able to hold back any longer, and I pushed into her mouth several times, until I exploded into one of the greatest orgasms I ever had, shooting my cum loads first deep inside of her throat, forcing her to swallow all of it, then pulling my cock out of her mouth and shooting more loads all over her face, beautiful black hair, uniform, and finally onto her nylon-encased crotch. As she experienced the sensation of my hot white cum first hitting her face, and then multiple shots of ejaculate hitting her sensitive pussy lips and erect clit, she went over the moon and climaxed as well, with rhythmic shaking of her pelvic area and copious amounts of orgasmic juices coming out of her lust hole, mixing with my sticky warm cum that had penetrated her silky smooth tan tights.



I thought it would take me a while to recover from this wild and crazy experience, but my stepsister had obviously been aroused and excited by my three cheerleader encounters so much that she was not willing to wait for even a minute and threw me onto the bench almost with force, with my face down. She seemed to be inspired by Brenda who had walked over me earlier when I was lying on the floor face up, since Kelly also started out by walking over me, except that I was now on the bench, which made it a bit harder and trickier for her, and I was face down so I could not see anything that was happening which actually increased my sensation of sexual arousal since all the moves my stepsister made came to a surprise to me. I was quite amazed at how long she was able to walk over me without falling off the bench and I figured she liked that, too, probably, and rightly so, seeing it both as a punishment and as a reward. I experienced the hottest feelings when she trampled on my butt cheeks with her sports shoes and when she briefly rested there, squeezing my butt and playing with my butt muscles using her shoes. But she was not done with that, took off her shoes, and kept walking over me now wearing her hot white smooth sports socks. It was really exciting to feel her even more closely and intimately, experiencing the sensation of her heels, soles and toes, mediated by her socks and tights, all over my back, butt and legs. The other cheerleaders and the football players, certainly still engaged in lesbian and other naughty play, applauded and cheered Kelly on, as she did some tricky stunts on top of me, until she finally also took off her socks, and did a third body walk, now wearing just her tights. It felt absolutely magnificent and if it were me, she could have continued that dance forever, my hard cock already being aroused and excited to the max, and my fantasies going wild and crazy, involving her feet, her tights, her pussy and, yes, fucking her all the way in all ways as hard as I could.



When Kelly finally stepped off my back, I raised my head and noticed the other three cheerleaders and the two football players engaged in wild and steamy sex; Brenda and Mae were performing a mutual cunnilingus on a bench, eating each other’s wet pussies, their tongues licking, sucking and flicking across each other’s inner and outer pussy lips and their hard clits, while Jenny was sandwiched between Jeff and Trevor, Jeff fucking her pussy and Trevor banging her ass, while she was still wearing her cheerleader uniform and tan tights. First, the two cheerleader girls doing their lesbian play climaxed, crying out loud of lust and excitement, then Jeff and Trevor came almost simultaneously as they double-fucked Jenny’s ass and pussy, and finally Jenny got over the edge with both of the football guys exploding inside of her and filling her up with their hot cum, giving her an enormously arousing sensation in her lust hole and ass.



Kelly then sat down on the bench next to me, asking me to worship her feet and legs. She knew how much I would love this and I made sure that I exerted the utmost dedication to this “assignment” of hers, starting with a long, sensuous foot massage of my stepsister’s nylon-clad feet, massaging her cute heels, soles, and toes, then also raising them up to my face, rubbing them all over and across, inhaling their sweet sweaty girly scents, kissing and licking them all over, and then continuing my work up her calves, knees and thighs.



Finally, I reached her crotch area that featured a large wet spot from all of her pussy juices that had emanated from her lust hole earlier, mixed with Jeff’s cum, and I wasted no time using first my fingers and then my tongue to provide her as much pleasure by coming down on her as I could. I loved the combination of flavors from her own cunt juices and Trevor’s ejaculate merging together to a musky aroma and could not get enough of it. My stepsister’s sweet pussy lips were very much enlarged and more streams of hot sweet juices flowed out as I kept licking and kissing her with ever more intensity. Meanwhile, my stepsister took off her top and her bra, exposing her beautiful firm round breasts with dark erect nipples to all of us and working on pleasuring them with her fingers and hands.



Then, to my surprise, she suddenly bent down and whispered into my ear “I want you to fuck me”, making sure that no one else could here it in the room. What was that? I thought her plan had been to frustrate me all along and not allow my cock to fuck any of the cheerleader girls that night. Had she planned to be the only “lucky one” all along or was she just overcome with her sexual excitement and arousal that she herself had to go all the way and not leave out this last step? In any event, I was of course overwhelmed with happiness that I would be able to fuck my stepsister again and after a little more of pleasuring her pussy lips and erect lust Perl, I raised myself up, then kneeled in front of her, and to everyone’s surprise and amazement, slowly inserted my throbbing hard cock into my stepsister’s pussy, fully enjoying the sensation of the smooth silky soft fabric of her tights between my cock and her pussy wall. With Kelly’s pussy being completely lubricated with that mix of her own hot pussy juices and Jeff’s cum from earlier, my steel rod had no problem sliding in easily all the way. I relished the thought that this was already the second time my stepsister got fucked that night, now by a different cock, my own one….

Here is part four in this series and though it does NOT rush along to the sex very quickly, I hope you’ll find it satisfying.







I woke up a bit late, which is kind of early for me and rushed out the door. You would have thought the first day back to school would have been a bigger deal for a senior like me, but I’d been distracted. Mrs. Dixon kept popping into my head – her ass in the yoga pants, her giant rack and most of all her mouth wrapped around my cock. Obviously, the kind of thing ANY 18 year old guy wouldn’t mind getting distracted by, but it did make me late for school.



Scrambling to find the crumpled class list in the bottom of my backpack I almost missed the door for my homeroom. In past years I had paid attention ahead of time to who was in my classes and which of my friends I would be trying to sit by, but I guess senioritis was setting in and I was flying blind. I spun around and ducked into my homeroom class just before the bell rang.



The desks were all full and Mr. Worthington told the handful of us without seats to stand along the tables at the back of the class. I scanned the desks to see who I recognized as I edged back to find a spot to lean. I saw Mike and Matt, but before I could catch their attention I noticed Laurel peering at me. Laurel is Alex’s best friend, and also the one I suspected of being at the construction site the night before. Alex and I had ‘hooked up’ in the back seat of her family’s SUV and it seemed that Alex had been texting Laurel about what was going on, and possibly even taking a photo of my cock, just after I had shot my load.



Anyway, here in homeroom, Laurel leaned over to whisper to a couple of other girls all clustered together. One of them was a cheerleader like Laurel and they were all the ‘cool girls’ – far hotter than a guy like me could normally expect to interact with. The end of summer ‘activity’ with Alex Dixon and her mom had charged up my libido and started me thinking that maybe I could ‘fit in’ better than expected my senior year.



Just then, Laurel crossed her legs and I got a glimpse of her long legs and the short skirt she was wearing. The denim skirt was frayed around the edges and the view instantly sent a little extra blood pumping into my cock. The cheerleaders were not in uniform the first day of school, but it was clear that Laurel wanted to show off as much of her tanned legs as possible. Laurel caught me staring and she smiled a little bit as she leaned over to whisper something to one of her friends.



Mr. Worthington started calling roll and explaining how some of us would actually be doing homeroom down the hall with another teacher after things got straightened out. We had to fill out some paperwork and for a few minutes my cock deflated in my shorts as I wasn’t thinking about Laurel’s legs (or Alex’s tits or her mother’s lips wrapped around my cock). As I handed off my completed paperwork I looked over and saw …



Laurel showing something on the screen of her phone to the other girls. All their eyes were locked on the phone – then they all swiveled their heads to look over at me. My heart sank. That was when I knew, I KNEW, that Alex had taken that photo of my dick and she had sent it to Laurel. One of the girl’s grabbed the phone to get a closer look, but I turned my face away in shame. Obviously, in the time since then, I have come to realize how silly it is for me to be freaked out by hot girls essentially fighting over who got a closer look at my junk, but in that moment I felt like I would get shamed by all and be the talk of the school. Well, I was right about that last part. I WOULD be the talk of the school, but I had no idea how much fun that could be.



Later, at ‘Snack’ break between second and third periods, I was wandering down the hall when I saw two senior girls leaning against their lockers and staring at me. They were in the social circle of Laurel and Alex – so I could only guess that they had seen the photo as well. I was about to walk over and ask them what they were laughing at (they weren’t actually laughing) but before I could reach them, they giggled and scampered off. I quickly decided that running down the hallway after two girls to ask if they had seen the picture of my cock was a bad idea.



I felt a hand on my shoulder and I spun around – almost ready to be mad. But it was Laurel. And she was pressed up close to me. Very close. The hallways was crowded, but she didn’t have to be THAT close. I could feel her body, and especially the bare skin of her leg against mine. I was glad she was that close, at least until I contemplated what she was doing to my cock, and how I’d have to hide the erection to make it to third period.



“Hey,” Laurel said.



“Uhh. Hi.”



“Have you seen Alex this morning?”



“No. No, I haven’t,” I stuttered as Laurel shifted her stance just a bit so the curve of her hip pressed harder against my already over-stressed groin. Laurel smiled at my nervous reaction as her hand slipped lower, brushing against my shorts and the now throbbing boner inside.



“She said you guys met up last night.”



“She said that?!” I started to turn away, my voice cracking with anxiety. Then I realized that Laurel, and her purse pressed close to my body, were the only things keeping my now three-quarters hard cock from shoving my shorts out so much I’d be blocking traffic to the Humanities building.



“Yeah, and I’m pretty impressed.”



With that I knew she was talking about the photo and my embarrassment peaked. Laurel leaned even closer to whisper right in my ear – her firm breast brushing against my arm and doing nothing to lessen my now full-bore erection.



“See you later,” Laurel breathed before stepping back and turning to head off to her next class. The hem of her skirt rode up those toned, summer-tanned thighs and I swung my backpack over to hide the achingly hard shaft in my pants.



My cell phone buzzed in my pocket, letting me know I had a text message. I reached in for it, but my hard-on made everything twisted up. I sat on a bench and laid my backpack across my lap. A couple of other girls walked past and my eyes flashed to theirs – wondering if they were looking at me and if they had seen the photo Alex had taken.



I finally pulled out my cell and saw it was a text from Matt. There was an attachment. And there it was: the photo. Matt had added a ‘Dude, is this you?!?’ message – but all I could see was the image. It was Alex’s left hand wrapped part of the way around my glistening, wet shaft. It was the upholstery in her mom’s SUV and it was undeniably my cock, still damp from blasting a load into Alex’s mouth. I hurriedly stuffed the phone back into my pocket and looked around to see if I could find Alex.



I moved quickly down the halls – still unsure where Alex’s (or even my) next class was located. I had to see her and get her to stop this. Of course, the image had already leaked and there was no going back, but I was desperate to find some solution. What if teachers saw it? My parents?



I spotted Alex down the walkway and I rushed towards her, but Mrs. Roberts crossed my path and I had to slow down to avoid her. My eyes were on Alex and I knew she was looking back at me. My backpack slipped off my shoulder and grazed Mrs. Roberts and made her pull up short.



“Watch where you’re going with that thing,” Mrs. Roberts said. Her eyes flashed and knew that I couldn’t blow her off. She had been one of my favorite teachers when I was a sophomore, and now she was a guidance counselor at the school. Mrs. Roberts was dressed in a fitted skirt and professional blouse – but she’d always been my favorite older woman, at least until Mrs. Dixon had started giving me blowjobs.



“Let me see that schedule,” she said – and pointed me off in the other direction to my next class. I could feel Mrs. Roberts’ eyes on me as I left – but I was too wound up to understand what was going on.



The rest of my day was spent trying to figure out a way to contact or find Alex or Laurel. Even at lunch they were nowhere to be seen. By my P.E. class in sixth period I was edgy. In the locker-room, a couple of guys were off to the side watching me change. They weren’t gay – I think they just wanted to see if it was true, if the picture was me. I purposefully turned to face them in my underwear, and since I wasn’t hard – there was nothing for them to see.



As the guy’s gym class headed out to do some running on the track, Laurel appeared. She was dressed in her cheerleading skirt with a tank top. This was the ‘practice uniform’ the cheerleaders wore – and Laurel look incredible. Her chest wasn’t as full as Alex’s (or Alex’s mother’s) but her thin, dancer’s frame made the breasts she had look incredible. Her long limbs were honey brown from a summer of ‘the things hot girls do’ and I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her.



“Have you seen Alex since lunch?” I asked.



“She was just asking about you. Can you come talk in the Pad Room?”



The ‘Pad Room’ is a storage space where wrestling mats, gymnastic cushions and the high jump pit were stored out of the weather. It was hidden under the concrete steps of the football stadium, and I had heard about the stuff that some kids did in there. My cock twitched – getting partially hard for the 372nd time that day.



“I have to go run with my class,” I replied half-heartedly. I already knew I was powerless to resist going under the bleachers. It was my cock, but it seemed like it belonged to these women.



“I got your coach to let you help us move out the pads so we can work on some new tumbling. You want us to be safe, dontcha?”



I followed Laurel, still thinking that she was leading me to Alex so I could (magically?) end the school’s fascination with texted images of my dick. I was trying to get myself psyched up to confront Alex – but my eyes were drawn, as the eyes of all males must be, to the beautifully sculpted ass and legs of Laurel as they swayed from side to side in front of me.



She led me into the Pad Room, but Laurel was going deeper. She looked back as she moved behind the pole vault padding that reached almost to the ceiling – making sure I was still following. I was.



Laurel stopped. We were as deep in the Pad Room under the bleachers as I had ever been. There was nowhere else to go. I looked around. There was no Alex. We were alone. Laurel faced me and stepped closed – the tips of her Nikes resting on my own.



“I saw the picture,” Laurel said.



There was no one around and here I was with this hot 18-year old looking up into my eyes. My dick throbbed a bit – shoved sideways by the underwear I wore for gym class. All I could do was nod.



“Alex isn’t coming. But you know that, don’t you?”



More nodding and more of my prick expanding. Laurel stepped closer, her breasts touching my chest as my heart hammered like I WAS out on the track running 440 intervals.



Her fingertips brushed the waistband of my gym shorts. My cock surged again. She looked down, the crown of her head against my chest as she tugged the fabric away from my body. My dick was twisted up in my underwear for a moment, but I gasped as she pulled my shaft free and scooped my balls out to hang in the open – throbbing along with my meaty shaft.



I looked around – half nervous that Alex would arrive and she would be jealous. At this point I was still thinking that maybe Alex was my ‘girlfriend’ and that seeing me with Laurel would piss her off. I was foolish. And much luckier than that.



All concerns left my mind as Laurel wrapped both hands around my cock – pumping the loose skin up and down over the steel hard core of my prick. Laurel mumbled and kept moving her hands as I leaned back against a stack of mats and pads.



Laurel kneeled down, her skirt fanned out around her legs as she placed her mouth over just the tip of my cock. She sucked on just that much – like she was giving the head a hickey. I gasped in pleasure as she started to work her mouth down over more of the flaring head of my prick.



Laurel moaned and I moaned back. Her fingers dug under my balls, tugging and fluttering at times. My hips pushed forward as I tried to drive more of the cock down her throat. It really wouldn’t fit, but it was like my nervous system was taking over, seeking more pleasure. Laurel worker her hand on my shaft and I growled again before …



I looked up and Alex was standing right there. She was a few steps off to the side, watching Laurel’s mouth and hands work on my wet, hard prick. I was too shocked to even say anything for a moment.



“I told you that fucking thing was huge,” said Alex.



I tried to back up, but my cock was lodged in Laurel’s hungry, sucking mouth. I looked around for an escape, sure that one of these gorgeous women would be angry or jealous. Neither one of them was.



Laurel’s breath was raw and ragged as she pulled her mouth off the drooling tip of my prick. She exhaled and stood up, her fingers never leaving my soaked shaft.



“I can’t get much of him into my mouth,” gasped Laurel. She invited Alex closer and they both stared down at my bobbing prick.



Alex wordlessly grabbed Laurel by the shoulders and turned her around, so her skirt covered ass was right in front of my cock. Alex grabbed my shaft and looked me in the eye.



“This thing is not going inside her. Do you follow.”



I nodded as Laurel looked over her shoulder, backing up until my cock pressed against the back of her ass – pushing up under the skirt. I felt a jolt of pleasure as my dick slid along her panties and up the crack of her ass. I was still a virgin (assuming that ‘virgin’ is defined as never having been inside a pussy) and this moment was so intense my legs got a bit weak.



Without conscious thought I started to pump my hips, like I was fucking her from behind, but my cock slid between the cheeks of her firm, gymnast’s ass and each time pressed up under the skirt and lifted the pleated fabric. Laurel was moaning with each thrust and Alex stood back, observing for a moment.



Then Alex stepped forwards and unzipped Laurel’s skirt, pulling her away from me long enough to strip her down to just her boy-short style panties. Alex was now controlling the action, pressing Laurel back against me so my hard prick slapped against her ass crack.



Alex kissed me on the mouth and it was then that it really hit me. Here I was with two of the hottest girls in school and one of them was kissing me while she guided my cock towards her friend’s ass. A smile crept across my face.



“Fun, isn’t it?” Alex asked as she kissed me again.



I nodded and Alex reached out to slowly peel Laurel’s panties down. She never removed the panties all the way, they just edged down enough so that my bare cock was against the bare skin of Laurel’s flawless ass.



“You don’t want to spoil the fun by trying to put your dick inside her, do you?”



“No,” I said, “I am enjoying this.”



Just then, Laurel arched her back more so that more of her ass was tilted to line up with the underside of my throbbing ass. I thrust forward, dragging every inch of skin I could against Laurel’s body. Laurel moaned and pushed back as Alex stepped back to watch.



My hands reached out to grab Laurel’s hips as I thrust against her ass. My dick was outside her body, but this felt to me almost like fucking. I had never been inside a pussy, so how was I to know how much better it could be. That said, it was pretty damn exciting to slide my prick along the crack of the cheerleader’s ass with her panties pulled down juuust enough to give us that delicious skin-to-skin contact.



Laurel kept tilting her hips so that her pussy was almost pointed up. My balls slapped against her panty covered lips with every thrust. Laurel and I were both gasping for air as the Pad Room was filled with the scene of her wet pussy (and maybe Alex’s as well).



I was a lot bigger than Laurel, so her body was being tossed around with each forward movement of my hips. Alex stepped closer and looked down at my cock – it was laid out along Laurel’s back and I have to admit it did look pretty big against her petite frame.



“Getting a bit dry?” Alex asked – her face now only a few feet from my cock and her best friend’s upturned ass.



“Yeah!” Laurel grunted – the first words she had said in a while.



Without hesitating for an instant, Alex leaned down and sucked the tip of my prick as it arched up away from Laurel’s butt. Alex’s mouth felt incredible and she drooled and nearly spat all over my trembling dick. The moisture pooled under the shaft and made everything slippery.



I knew I wouldn’t last long now, and I started to thrust again. Laurel pushed back against me and Alex stepped back to soak it all in. My prick thrust forward faster and harder as I was practically tossing Laurel forward and then propelling her backwards onto my dick. My cock was still a few inches too high for going into her pussy, but that had been declared off limits and at this point I was so caught up in how good this was feeling, I hardly cared.



I started to grunt with each hammering thrust forward and Laurel was like a rag doll in my hands. My fingers dug into her lean but still soft hips as I raced towards my climax. My rock hard prick slid through the saliva-wet channel of Laurel’s ass crack again and again until it happen.



I tossed my head back and my eyes slammed shut. My throat vibrated with a howl I tried to hold back as I arched my own back. I was lifting Laurel off the ground now with each pump and I looked down at her back as …



A heavy line of thick white cum rocketed out of my cock and splashed up her spine. The jizz reached the back of her tank top, but most of the white, milky cum washed over her warm, suntanned skin.



“Fuck!”



Alex gasped as she leaned in closer. I pump again and again. My brain went fuzzy for a few moment and the skin of my body, everywhere except my throbbing, hyper-sensitive cock got clammy. My dick pumped out a few more jets of cum, then the airborne shots diminished to a slow, seeping drool across Laurel’s bare back.



I gulped in air as I rubbed my sloppy, wet cock a few more times against the slimy crack of Laurel’s ass. I looked over and saw Alex had her cell phone out and I knew what she was up to.



“No way are you taking another fucking picture!” I snapped.



“Why?” replied Alex, “Because the last one worked out soo poorly for you?”



The camera phone clicked on my thick, still mostly hard dick floating in a sea of jizz and spit in Laurel’s arched lower back. The photo was a close-up – just the cock, the cum and Laurel’s back and part of her ass. No one would know who it was, but I suspected everyone would have a guess or two.



Laurel now stepped away from me – tugging her panties up crookedly. Her legs were still a bit unstable as she reached for her discarded cheer skirt.



I nodded, agreeing that Alex had a point. The photo of my dick that she had taken the night before had already got every girl in school talking (or at least thinking) about what I had between my legs. Then there was this little encounter where two girls had teamed up to have me dry (wet-dry?) hump the tightest ass in school.



“Laurel, don’t put your skirt on over that mess!” cried Alex as she saw Laurel trying to pull her skirt up.



Alex grabbed my gym t-shirt and pulled it over my head. I didn’t even try to resist as Alex wiped the coating of jizz and spit off her best friend’s back. Laurel zipped up her skirt and turned to give me a kiss on the lips.



“I knew I’d enjoy the bumper boats,” giggled Laurel, referring to the start of this whole sexual adventure when Alex’s super-hot mother had, umm, ‘accosted’ me at my job running the bumper boats at our town’s amusement center.



“Now help us get these pads into the dance room, like you’re supposed to” Alex laughed. She tossed the damp shirt at me and managed to catch it before my face got soaked in my own jizz. Once again, I was left shirtless as my clothes got used as a cum-rag.

Categories
September 2014
M T W T F S S
« Feb    
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
2930  
Categories