A Fuck Toy Graduation Episode 03

Taylor wondered if the guy was going to say anything else but he didn't even offer. He just held the pen out to her suspended before the paper on the locker. She took it and with some difficulty signed it, the pen didn't want to work tilted down like that. When it was done, Doullan folded it up and walked away. He didn't say a word.

Taylor watched him go and wondered if she really should go to the office. She didn't. She went back to class.

"That was fast." Ash whispered. "What's going on?"

Taylor shrugged. She knew she was getting fucked by every spare adult dick in the school but she didn't understand why or who was behind it. Unless Ky had transformed into a world-class actress while Taylor was fucking every Tom, Dick and Penis in the school that was of age, Ky didn't know what was going on either.

She sat through class, her pussy tingling and boiling. It was then that she realized that she wasn't raw, wasn't sore, and wasn't sated. The last word bubbled up and mocked her. Would she ever be satiated? She ignored class and reviewed her morning. Three trips out of class and three sexual events, five cocks and plenty of orgasms to spread around them all. She wished she had a copy of the certificate because she wanted to know if she was signing off on orgasms she wasn't getting. That thought made her gasp. It was like the Taylor of yesteryear had vanished and she'd turned into this swaggering slut who graded male performances on her own private climax scale. Then she did feel ashamed because she didn't suck cock very well. Her ass tingled again, reminding her of her virgin ass and its lack of two-way traffic and she felt smaller, the swagger went out of her.

The bell rang.

Ash crowded up against her.

"What is going on? Why are you getting called to the office, every hour?"

"To be fucked." Taylor muttered. "The guys, they get me out of class and fuck me."

"It's Ky! It has to be!" Ash snarled. At odd times her dislike for Ky on Taylor's behalf appeared in spades and she made no attempt to hide it. The rest of the time, though, it was all sweetness and light.

Taylor didn't understand either but she didn't to get too close to the truth either, if it was Ky handing her pussy off to every spare adult dick in the world, who could it be?

"What's going on with you and Olson?" She asked, changing the subject.

Ash shrank. All the umbrage vanished in a puff of sweat and perfume.

"Nothing." She whispered. "We're seeing each other."

"He's fucking you, Ash. But something else is going on."

Ash smiled then, looking at Taylor out of the corner of her eyes.

"Yes, he's fucking me. He takes me when he wants me, however he wants me and he wants me a lot." She sighed, her eyes shining with the light of remembered ecstasy.

Taylor stared at her, wishing between her legs that she had someone to pine over. Even if it was Olson it was better than being the world's cum bucket. Her words, echoed in her mind. God, is that how she thought of herself? The world's cum bucket?

Olson appeared and took Ash away, pulling her into a clinch and mashing her against the wall a dozen feet away from Taylor. He was kissing Ash but his bleak blue eyes stared at Taylor. Taylor walked past them. Olson turned to watch her leave and Ash pulled his face back around to kiss him again. Whatever he had with her, Ash seemed to love it.

Taylor shook her head. She was definitely the pot calling the kettle black if she sniffed at Ash getting some. She went to lunch and got through 4th period without being called to the office. Fifth period hadn't even begun when Stanford Illes appeared with a note from the office and Taylor was dismissed. She followed Stanford out into the hall, bracing for what was to come next. Her, she hoped. Instead of becoming inured to orgasm, she was becoming addicted. Breathing seemed to be no longer enough. If she had to be alive, it seemed, she wanted to be approaching climax, climaxing or recovering from a climax. Everything else seemed to have depreciated down to having next to no value for her.

Stanford was a tall, slick looking guy, president of the class, rich as Croesus and mild in manner and attitude. He was the resident preppy. His orange blond hair was never out of place and never seemed to move but that meant nothing because he was stately as a butterfly. Lots of guys insisted he was gay but he dated girls and had a girlfriend from time to time but never anything or anyone that generated any heat. It was like his life was a modeling gig and all he had to do was look good and smile at the right times. He had no other responsibilities. He had a ticket to Harvard and planned to go to Law School at Stanford, giving him an eponymous law degree. He was one of the few Ky had invited to the Adult Parties who'd shown no interest. His arrival as a minion of the office made no sense. He never ran errands for anyone, other people ran errands for him.

Taylor followed him, at first steeled against whatever he was going to do but as they neared the principle's office, she began to doubt he was going to use her for sex. She was disappointed, mildly at least, because it would have been a lark to see Stanford Illes face when he orgasmed. He led her into the outer office and waved to Mrs. Coyle and opened the door to Mr. G's office. Taylor stopped and the door banged closed.

"Taylor, you go on in." Mrs. Coyle said with a smile.

That gave Taylor pause in mind though she didn't hesitate in body and went through the door. It turned out it wasn't a door so much as a looking glass. The world turned upside down.

Stanford was folding up his pants. He wore tiddy whities and his legs were nearly as white as his underwear. He had on black socks, which, he didn't take off even after he shucked down his briefs. He turned to face Taylor even as he unbuttoned his shirt.

"I don't want to muss my clothing." He said, his mellifluous voice caressed Taylor's cheek.

"What are you doing, Stanford? This is Mr. G's office." He nodded.

"I know."

"So put your fucking pants back on, for Christ's sake. Mr. G could be back any time."

"No. Not for a few hours. He's handling something with the school board and won't be back until that's over." Stanford was naked, except for the socks.

Taylor finally stopped thinking about the situation and paid more attention to the equipment. Stanford Illes was hung like a horse. His huge cock drooped before him like an anteater's trunk, a long, languorous curve of cock that ended in a head that was smaller than the shaft. Taylor stared for a moment. She shook herself.

"Mrs. Coyle..." She began but Stanford cut her off.

"Leaving now. Has a dentist appointment or something."

Dentist appointment? Taylor wondered if the old biddy with the gray hair and huge tits was going to fuck Mr. Carter too. She shook herself.

"What are you doing?"

"We are going to have sex, Taylor. Honest, Mrs. Coyle is leaving and, if you don't scream too loud, no one will ever know you fucked me here."

"I fucked you?"

Stanford shrugged.

"Its just a matter of speaking. Look for yourself. She's gone."

His easy confidence inspired her to look but when she turned to the door, she noted that he scampered out of eye line with the office beyond. Sure enough, the light was out and Mrs. Coyle was nowhere to be seen. Taylor let the door clunk shut. She turned around. Stanford came out from behind the desk, his cock was swelling, but not the little bullet head, it looked more like a cap pulled onto the end of his mighty shaft than a cockhead.

"We invited you to join the Adult Club and you ignored us. Now you want to join?"

The guy shrugged his broad, bony shoulders. He had a hollow, sunken chest made more so by the hunch in his shoulders and his constant stoop. His cock was no longer stooping or drooping or anything else less than full erection. She stared down at him. Her mouth and vagina watered. His shrug wasn't much of an answer.

He gestured towards a paper on the desk, clearly a certificate of fucking Taylor Dillon.

"I need you to sign it and so we have to do it. Please take off your dress so we don't muss it. I want to go down on you before we copulate."

Taylor snickered.

"I'm afraid its been mussed already. Stanford, I'm bubbling full of cum. I have more cock juice in me than you have in you, I'll warrant."

At that he grinned.

"I know. I like the taste of cum sipped from a woman's jade chalice. I hope you don't mind. I'm told I am a master of the vagina kiss." Then he sighed. "I don't seem to have very good luck in finding the right woman who will consent to be the third in a male, male, female menage a tois. I manage to boff it up every time. There's nothing I enjoy more than having a man mount me while I am mounted in a woman." He shook his head. "I like to suck cock while she sucks my cock. I like to eat her pussy while he sucks my cock." He was perfectly erect now.

Taylor stared at it. He was huge. Not Kam huge but stretch Taylor's cunt huge, so huge enough then.

"She sucks on that?"

"Sandy Davis could suck my cock better than anyone, even Suzy, her sister who had a better reputation. She got all finicky when it was me with a cock in my mouth." He reached a hand and grasped his huge spear. He sounded so wistful, with a cock like that, it seemed just stupid. "Please Taylor, we only have this hour, then its someone else's turn."

Someone else's turn? Taylor thought, confused.

"What does that mean?"

"Do you want me to lay on the floor? Some women find it better to control how much of me goes in than when leaving it up to me. I'm afraid I become somewhat rambunctious. Do you want me to help you with your dress and bra? I know the zipper in the back can be a problem sometimes."

Taylor turned her back to him and gathered her hair off the back of her neck. He unzipped her. His hands were shaking. She felt them on her back. With the zipper down at the crack of her ass, she turned around and very carefully took it off. Stanford took it from her and carefully folded it and lay it on one of the guest chairs, square, stolid things with scratchy cushions and wooden arms. She turned around and he unhooked his bra. Again she felt his shaking hands.

"What did you mean, someone else's turn?"

Stanford shrugged, his bony shoulders rose and fell. He grinned crookedly.

"I suppose," he gestured at her nearly naked body, "since you're going to fuck me, it doesn't matter. If you'd reported me to the Vice Principle, Miss Cummings would have blown me."

Taylor goggled, but then she noted the sense in her that there was far more to this than met the eye. She believed that sense because what was happening to her barely made any sense, if any at all. Still, she shucked her panties down, still damp from the mornings adventures. She stood in Mr. G's office naked, about to be fucked by Stanford Illes. She shuddered, suddenly feeling the chill of the office. "I'll never come in this office and feel the same way about it." She thought to herself. It made her want to laugh but only behind her ribs; it never rose higher then her throat so she remained quiet.

"So? How do you want to do it?" Stanford asked.

"You're the man. Why are you asking me?" Taylor snarked back.

The mild-mannered guy vanished. Stanford swept her up in his arms and plunked her down on Mr. G's desk, her legs dangling over the end. He got to his knees and pulled her ass close to the edge, putting her legs over his shoulders. He went down on her.

His self-assessment was far short of what his tongue did to her. Taylor felt it first as little flicks directly on her now well-used cunt. Stanford inhaled deeply, drawing in the mixed aroma of her cum and the various men who had deposited their cum inside her. Then he lapped lavishly at her pussy, his long tongue running up and down the cleft in her body. It was both strong and light at the same time, inveigling its way into the deepest folds of her pussy lips and caressing her suddenly erect little man in the boat until she had a short, crushing orgasm just from his tongue on her clit. It was like he was touching her with his tongue just as she touched herself with her fingers. He knew, he knew where to touch, how hard to press and when she responded, how to respond back, giving her tit for tat while she spiraled toward the sun, Icarus waiting for her wings to melt and begin the plummet to her little death!

After that first, introductory orgasm, he lavished praise on her cunt with his tongue, speaking the erotic language of a cunning linguist with artful ease, never hesitating, never balking at the occasional gush of foreign cum as her cunt muscles contracted around each new column of pleasure he was building in her body. The teasing flicks of his tongue, the studied burrowing against her increasingly sensitized flesh all constructed a grand cathedral of orgasmic anticipation that exploded when he penetrated her pussy with his long, artful tongue. She felt it spear into her, a hot poker thrust deep, searing her nerves with shocking waves of pleasure even as he worked his was from corner to corner to corner of her cunt, poking and prodding, nudging at her with loving expression, while his lips nibbled and sucked at the outer folds of her body.

Taylor bucked into a penetrating orgasm. Her mind was divided. Part of her wanted to sink beneath the Siren seas of pleasure and never be heard from again but another part, that irascible part that made her the Bitch Queen of Swanson High wanted to know what the fuck was going on! Someone was playing with her, using her sexually for something she had no idea what it meant and though she was surrendering time after time to each new sexual offering, and the pleasure swamped her again and again, more or less but always beguiling her to open her knees yet again to the next importuning cock that came her way, she still wanted to know what this all meant!

The orgasm was technically perfect yet her mind remained above it, surfing the giant waves of pleasure and trying to peer through them to the the purpose that she was serving, ignorant or blissful, it didn't matter, she wanted to know what was happening to her and why. Ky was no longer sufficient excuse or explanation.

Stanford's tongue needed no explanation. It was a fucking national treasure. She wanted so badly to clamp her thighs closed on his head and pop him like a pimple but she restrained herself, even as the great wave of ecstasy washed over her. She didn't want to disturb the great artist at work. His tongue lanced into her, now tongue-fucking her with great abandoned, giving her another taste of this perfect ecstasy that made her so suspicious. Her body bucked on the desk, her heels rapped out a rhythm on Stanford's back. He paid her feet no mind, licking and sucking and kissing her pussy to heights she never imagined.

Suddenly he was gone. That luscious tongue that licked the reason right out of her vanished and Taylor cursed not having clamped her legs down on his head to keep him in place, licking and kissing and sucking at her vagina while she came around him like a swirling hurricane.

He mounted her.

The thrust into her opened her eyes. She'd known he was moving her body this way and that, but the penetration still surprised her mind, which had regressed a few dozen genetic generations. She was nothing more than an animal with a cunt. His cock rammed into her and she came again, heroically and wildly. She cried out, finally finding her voice after so much panting and gasping for air she couldn't command in proper volume. He spitted her like the piece of meat she'd become, piercing her pussy with his giant prong and pulling her tight into it until she felt stretched like a hose pulled down over a thief's face. She felt the features of his cock sliding into her body, raking across the sides of her vagina and stimulating new and awful pleasure. She was consumed. She was insane with pleasure. Her entire body bucked over and over again, as wave after wave of ecstasy broke over her, rattling her teeth and bones and leaving her gasping for air. The day of foreplay was culminating in a geyser of orgasm for her.

Stanford erupted. She felt it. She swore she did, like a swelling, in increased pressure inside her, a growing tension that stretched her more but managed to coat her interior nerves with a spangling of awesome delight. She knew he was coming because his face clinched, his eyes closed, his aristocratic lips pulled tight over his perfect teeth. His hair was finally coming undone and was out of place, a sure sign that the guy had lost his shit and he was losing it deep in her. Taylor felt it then, the unfamiliar pride of being fucked and fucked well because it takes two for a good shagging. She locked her heels behind the man's back and twerked her ass up at him, begging to be filled and as he pumped into her, she was. In moments she welled up and overflowed, spewing cum between them like late arriving lubricant. She bucked, she jerked, her hands on his shoulders turned to claws and she was glad she had no real claws or she'd have raked him royally.

The cataclysm passed.

The bell rang signaling the end of the period and the beginning of the next was pending. They'd lain, sealed together, as though two disparate colors blending in a hard rain suddenly turned light. They sprang apart as the bell summoned them to the next class. They dressed each other and finally, looking nearly respectable except for the nuclear glow emanating from them as the telltale sign of their incandescent coupling, they parted ways in the wash of students and she barely arrived at her next class in time.

She sat, bubbling cum and feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm, orgasms, echoing in her body. Mrs. Stineway droned on and Taylor sat listening to her voice as though she were the summer song of locusts in August heat, meaningless music uncomposed and throbbing with pointless noise. The noise was her own throbbing sexual response. She felt it full inside her. She lay her head down on her desk, listening and not listening. Her first conscious thought was that she'd be summoned for sex to the office again but no notice arrived and she lazed in the afterglow of a full day of incredibly varied sexual coitus. Her body felt light and by the end of class, she was full of energy.

She was happy to go to dance class. She felt the other girls' eyes on her as she undressed. Cum ran down her legs each time she moved just right and she wore it as a badge of honor. She'd fucked what? Five, six, maybe seven guys that day? She'd been used and used and used sexually and yet there she was, stripping and showing the other girls her body, her pursed cunt, bubbling with the cum of men who fucked her.

"Cunt." One girl muttered when Taylor caught her staring at her bubbling pussy.

"Whore."

"Slut."

"Twat."

"Cum trough."

"Cum bucket.

"Scum bag slut."

It was as though they were all seeing her for the first time. The woman she'd been had vanished in the steam of her orgasmic copulation.

"God, Taylor, you smell like sex!" One snarled.

Dance practice was a mess.

No one wanted to touch Taylor but Ash. Even Ky shied away and she knew or thought she knew what was going on. Finally, Mrs. Dougherty clapped her hands after an hour and a half of clumsy uncoordinated awkwardness. They looked like they'd never danced together before.

"Okay, girls, what's the matter! You haven't gotten one solitary thing right all afternoon!" Mrs. Dougherty cried. "Gather in, something's going on and I want to know what it is!"

The girls all clustered together, all except Ash and Taylor. They stood apart. Ash looped an arm around Taylor's waist but out of the corner of her eyes, Taylor caught Ash's nose wrinkling. Taylor smelled.