Megan's Summer Education Ch. 01

She was thinking about whether or not Mick had enjoyed her performance. Obviously he had cum and seemed to like it. But she remembered his instructions to her to slow down. She had tried, but looking back, she felt like she had failed. She hadn't been able to control herself. Had she rushed him too much?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Harry's booming voice, "When you're ready, come downstairs. Thong and heels only. I'll be in the office."

"Coming, daddy!" Megan called down. She dropped her skirt, adjusted her thong and walked downstairs. She wondered why he wanted her to come to her mom's office. Her mom had an office on the first floor and her dad had his "man-cave" in the basement. The office was plenty big, holding a desktop computer, small flat screen TV mounted on the wall, a leather office chair, a big L-shaped desk and a leather love seat with a coffee table.

She went to the office and found Harry sitting on the love seat, completely naked. He was so big and fat and wrinkly. She should have been repulsed. Instead, she was excited by the lusty look on his face and the half-hard cock in his hand.

"You wanted to see me, daddy?" she said in a sweet, way-too-naughty girly voice.

"Yes, my little slut," Harry said. "I want to see you riding up and down on this."

"Mmm, of course, daddy," Megan said. "I'd love to do that. May I please suck it first to get it really big and hard?"

"Yes, you may," Harry said.

"Thank you, daddy," Megan said. She knelt down between his legs, locked her eyes on his, and took him into her mouth.

It took only a minute of her working her tongue on the head of his cock to make him hard. She licked his shaft and sucked his balls, just like she had done with Mick, and expected him to give her the order to hop on. But then he took her head in his hands and pushed her mouth down on his cock. Not too hard, but hard enough that she had no choice as he pushed over half his fat cock into her mouth. She coughed and sputtered as he pulled it out.

"Stand up," he said. She did and he grabbed her thong and pulled it down her long legs. She stepped out of it and he motioned for her to take off her heels. "Get on, bitch."

Megan climbed onto the love seat, straddling him. Her perky breasts were in his face as she lowered herself onto his waiting shaft. She gritted her teeth as his big round head parted her lips and his beastly thick cock eased into her wet and willing pussy. His mouth went to her breasts, kissing and sucking on her nipples. His hands were on her slender waist, holding her, guiding her as she slowly started riding up and down.

"Fuck, you are a tight little thing," he grunted. "Mick was right. He said you have some pretty good cunt muscles too. Show me."

"Yes, daddy," Megan grunted. She felt so full. She squeezed hard, trying to make sure he felt it.

"Oh, that's nice, baby," he said. She rode him a few more minutes and again her pussy was tingling with every thrust. His cock was throbbing and he was breathing hard. This wasn't going to last much longer for either of them.

"Get up," Harry said, pushing her away. She eased up off his cock and stood up, wobbly and confused. "You are too damn hot, girl. You gotta slow down. There are times when a quickie is good. But most of the time, we want to play with you for a while. That pussy is just so damn tight it's hard to hold back."

"Um, thank you?" she said, not sure if it was meant as a compliment. "I'm sorry for going too fast, daddy."

"You will learn," Harry said. "Put your heels back on and bend over the end of the couch."

Megan slipped her heels back on and bent over the end of the love seat. "Keep you legs straight. Spread 'em. Heels on the floor. Ass up. Head down. Further, down into the leather."

Megan followed the instructions as best she could. Apparently, it was close enough as Harry stepped between her legs and thrust his cock deep inside her once again.

"This is doggy style, bitch," he grunted. "On your hands and knees or bent over the fucking couch. The main thing is that you're face down and your ass is up. Now hold on because I'm gonna pound you like the little whore you're meant to be."

He grabbed her hips and pulled him roughly against him as he slammed into her, hard and fast. So much for taking our time, she thought. Again and again he buried himself to the hilt, his pace impressive for a man of his age and fitness. He leaned forward over her. She felt his fat belly on her back. He had his hands on either side of her head on the love seat. Then he put them on the back of her head and pushed her face hard into the leather. She turned her head just enough to the side to be able to breath. She was being pounded and fucked harder than she ever had before. Her tender pussy was on fire as his cock churned relentlessly. He grabbed her hair and pulled her up, forcing her to arch her back and stick out her tits. His pace never wavered. She came as he grabbed her breast and kissed her neck all while pulling her hair. In the middle of her orgasm, he slapped her ass. Then he back up, pulling her up by the hair.

"On your knees, slut," he barked. She was so weak and rattled she could barely keep her senses. But she dropped instinctively to the floor and looked up at him, eyes open, mouth closed. "I'm gonna paint your cute little face."

And that he did. The two biggest blasts hit her forehead and right between her eyes, but several more drops and spurts followed. Then he pushed his cock against her lips and she opened up, sucking out the remaining drops just as Mick had taught her to do earlier. And just like Mick, Harry took pictures of his artwork, his canvas the face of a gorgeous 18-year-old neighbor. You didn't have to be an art connoisseur to see that it was a masterpiece.

Harry sent her off to her room to clean up and instructed her to be back downstairs in 10 minutes, nude except for some heels. Megan was disappointed she didn't have more time but dutifully cleaned up and came back downstairs. There, she found Mick sound asleep in a recliner. Harry was sitting at the kitchen counter, waiting for you.

"As you can see, it's a good time to rest," Harry said. "I'm probably going to take a little nap too. You have two hours. I want you to write a poem about why you want to be a slut. You have time to take a shower and get freshened up. Then, put on those new white thigh highs, a clean thong and maybe a little crop top or tank top -- I'll leave the top to you. Pick out something sexy that shows your cleavage or midriff. No bra. Stay in your room until once of us comes to get you."

"Yes, sir," Megan said. "I hope you have a good nap. May I take some water upstairs with me?"

"Of course," Harry said. "Get refreshed and ready. We're going to have a fun night."

Megan was happy to have the break and she took her time with a long hot bath. She soaked in the tub while she worked on her poem on her tablet, finding it very odd but also kind of fun to talk about such things and use so many dirty words for a "school" project. She had always respected her elders -- teachers, parents, coaches -- and done her best to comply with their instructions and demands. Now, to have two authoritarian figures endorsing and, in fact, demanding, this naughty behavior was eye-opening. The idea that these types of things were OK for her to think, say and do was so foreign to her. She had done more "bad" today than she had the whole rest of her life combined. Yet, she didn't feel guilty. She felt free. And naughty. And like a whole new world was opening up to her.

After she got out of the tub, she wrapped in a towel and sorted through her closet. She didn't really see anything that she thought the guys would think was sexy enough to go with the thigh highs, thong and heels. She had some tight t-shirts but they weren't really that revealing. She had green thong she was going to wear so she picked out a plain green t-shirt. She put it on and then used a marker to draw a line at the bottom of her breasts. She took the shirt off and used some scissors, cutting about an inch above the line. She put the altered shirt on and was pleased that the top now rested just below her nipples, revealing the bottoms of her breasts.

She had plenty of time, so she tossed her outfit to the side, threw her towel on the bed and lay down naked on top of it while she went back to her poem. She finished it with half an hour to spare and then got dressed. She had no idea what the night had in store, but she was as ready as she could be.

A few minutes later she received a text from Harry: "Come down. We're awake and ready to hear your poem." She texted back a thumbs up emoji and went downstairs carrying her tablet. Both men were in the kitchen getting beer out of the fridge.

"Time to drink!" Harry said. "What's your pleasure? Beer? Wine? We'll get to the hard stuff later."

"Um, wine please," Megan said.

Harry poured her a glass and he held it out to her. "Good job on your attire," he nodded. "I like this little top."

"Thank you," Megan said. "I just altered it a little while ago. Is it short enough?"

"Perfect," Mick said. "Just covers those little nips. Sexy. Very naughty."

"You both look very well rested," Megan said.

"Yes, you never sleep better than after a couple of good orgasms," Harry said. "Guess I'll have to have a couple more before bed."

"I'll be happy to help with that," Megan said.

"That's a good attitude," Harry said. "I trust you completed your assignment?"

"Yes, sir," Megan said. "I hope you like it."

"One way to find out," Harry said. He and Mick sat on stools at the kitchen counter and Megan stood in front of the, holding her tablet.

"Stand up good and straight," Mick said. "Legs a little wider. Shoulder width. Back straight, head up. Good. Proceed."

"This is a poem called, 'Why I want to be a slut' by Megan Brandt:

They say being good, polite and sweet is the way a girl should be.
I don't disagree, except, well, that simply isn't me.

I've been a good girl for 18 years, gotten good grades and made good choices.
Oh, but at night, I feel so naughty, my body betrays me and I hear those voices.

They tell me to give in to my urges, to touch myself, to fantasize about things taboo.
My mind says this is wrong, but my instincts, my body disagree. Oh, what's a girl to do?

Then one day it all seems so clear. The parents are gone. Total freedom for a week.
There are risks involved and anxiety is high. But this opportunity is not for the meek.

I make the decision and look next door
For two teachers I trust and adore.

"Teach me everything," I tell them. "There are no limits. Don't hold back."
Youth and desire I have. It is only knowledge and experience I lack.

My teachers answer the call. They are up to the challenge and come to my aid.
They will teach me everything a young girl should now, without getting paid.

They are masters at what they do. They show their respect for me.
They know me, both who I am and what I must be.

I have inner desires, inner needs that have been repressed far too long.
My inner self starts to come out, exposed by high heels and a thong.

Dressing this way is too naughty, my parents, my teachers, they would be horrified.
But oh, my mentors, they say my body is beautiful and should be glorified.

They teach me to please them with my mouth, my tongue and even my throat.
They tell me what I do right and what I do wrong. They want me to do better and I take note.

I swallow their cum just like they ask.
This, they say, is part of the task.

It tastes bitter, for sure, but I swallow every drop.
If cum hits the floor, it's my tongue that cleans it, not a mop.

I suppose I should feel dirty or degraded.
But the blowjobs leave me invigorated.

My thoughts are being confirmed. This is what I want to do. Every day.
Why have I waited so long? I'm young and horny and I need to play.

My mentors explain that my feelings are normal, that I'm not a disgrace.
It's OK to be sexy, be naughty and have cum on my face.

They prove my desires further still, pounding my pussy with their thick hard cocks.
I love it. The force. The strength. My pussy creams through orgasms my body rocks.

I ride them. I bend over for them. I drop to the floor.
They pound me hard and call me their whore.

I am not offended. In those moments it's a term of affection.
I accept the words, their cocks, their cum. And I await direction.

These mentors, these masters, these sexual guides.
They see through my exterior to where my true self hides.

They promise to continue to train me and help me become who I'm meant to be.
That means more fucking and sucking and other adventures I can't wait to see.

I want to try it all. I might be reluctant. I might be scared.
But my mentors will take me to places I never dared.

I want to learn how to tease. I want to learn how to please.
Cock and cum are the only cures for my disease.

They more I learn, the more I fuck, I can truly feel it in my gut.
At my core, I'm a little whore. Oh, how I want to be a good little slut.

"The end," Megan said, looking sheepishly up from her tablet. She had felt good writing the poem. But as she read it, she was worried that it was too much. That she had overcommitted after only half a day of being taught by these men. Did she really know that she wanted all that? Not really. She was just completing the assignment, saying what she thought they wanted to hear, the same way that she completed her papers for school. But she saw the men smiling, not in a dirty way. They seemed proud and impressed. She smiled.

"That was excellent!" Harry said. "I can see why you got such good grades."

"Very impressive," Mick added. "I'm proud of you for really thinking about what this all means and seeing the big picture for your future."

"Thank you," Megan said to them both. "I'm not sure what I want, but I know I need to find out. Thank you for not judging me."

"Fuck you, yes. Judge you, no," Mick said. "You're a good girl, Megan. You have nothing to be ashamed of."

"Well, my parents would be ashamed right now," she giggled.

"Maybe so," Harry said. "But you're 18. You're an adult. You will always have your parents but you also have to do what's best for you."

"And right now that's a week with you two, huh?" she laughed.

"Damn straight," Harry said.

"I'll drink to that," Mick said, raising his beer.

They drank for the next hour, Megan slowly sipping her wine, careful not to drink too much too fast. She knew it would hit her fast, especially on an empty stomach. Mick soon addressed that issue, suggesting they order a pizza.

"I have an online account with Ted's," Megan said. "I can order for us."

She ordered and they continued to talk and drink. There was little talk about the training. They were talking about music, movies and television. Then Harry said, "Pizza should be here soon. You pay them, honey." He handed Megan more than enough cash for the pizza and tip."

"Um, can I go put on some shorts or something?" she asked, looking down at her tiny thong and the cut up shirt.

"Hmm," Harry said. "I suppose you can..."

"No way," Mick interrupted.

"Hold on," Harry said, holding up his hand. "Let's give her a choice. You can put on shorts, but you have to take off your shirt. Your choice."

Megan started to ask why it was necessary for her to make such a choice. They already had her in the clothing they wanted and unlimited access to her body. Why did they want to expose her to someone else? But she remembered their teacher-student agreement and bit her tongue.

"All right," she said. "I'll just answer the door like this."

"Fine," Mick said. "Now, you'll need two hands to carry the pizza, so tuck the money into your thong, like a stripper. He will hand you the pizza and you tell him to take the money out and then to put the change back in the same place."

"Yes, sir," Megan said.

"You're wondering why we're having you do this, aren't you?" Harry said.

"Well, I trust you, but yes, I am confused," Megan said. "If you like me so much, why do you want others to see me like this?"

"That's a good question," Harry nodded. "This is really good for you to understand. It's great that you look sexy and follow orders, but understanding why a man wants this makes you an advanced learner."

"We aren't trying to share you or embarrass you," Mick picked up the explanation. "But we are proud of you. We want you to be proud of yourself too. You work hard for that body, so show it off with pride. Also, understand that showing off and teasing is part of what helps us replenish. Remember, from a sex standpoint as a girlfriend or slut or wife, your job is to drain your man's balls, then tease him until they fill back up again. So, you're helping us with that."

"And the biggest thing is," Harry chimed in, "being sexy is all about having fun. This should be fun. It's silly and ridiculous for you to dress like that to answer the door and to stuff your money in your thong. Smile and laugh and have fun with it. We're happy. The pizza guy will be happy. You should be happy too. So don't look at this as a task or punishment or test -- this is just having fun. It's all about having the right mindset. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Megan said, smiling. "Thank you both. That makes sense. I was worried that you wanted to humiliate me. But I see now that it's a compliment and that it's just a fun thing. I like that. I'm still nervous, but more excited than scared."

"That's good," Harry said. "You're gorgeous. You're smart. You're sexy and fun. Embrace these gifts and share them."

Just then the doorbell rang. Harry took up a spot to the side of the door where he could record it without being seen. Mick stayed in the living room but positioned himself so the driver would be able to see that someone was sitting on the couch -- didn't want anyone to think that Megan was home alone. Of course, a woman didn't dress like that to entertain herself, but still, they wanted to make sure she was safe first and foremost.

Megan double checked the bills hanging out of the band on her hip, took a deep breath and opened the door. The man holding the pizzas looked to be in his mid-30s, a little chubby with glasses and thinning hair. He was looking down at his order slip, "Good evening, order for Brandt?"

"Yes, sir," Megan smiled. The man looked up and his eyes grew wide. Megan reached for the boxes -- two medium pizzas -- and said, "how are you tonight, sir?"

"Um, good, good," the man stammered. He was clearly nervous and a bit shy. "You're very polite ... and quite beautiful, if you don't mind me saying."

"Why would I mind that?" Megan said. "Thank you. You're making me blush. Um, how much do I owe you?"

"$22.50, please."

"OK. There's $40 down there," Megan said, her head tilting toward her hip. "I can't get it and hold these boxes. Will you get it, please?"

"Um, yes, yeah, sure," the man said. He reached slowly forward, his hands shaking. He looked behind her and saw Mick looking back at him, smiling, giving him a head nod and thumbs up.

"Just need 10 dollars back, honey!" Mick called out to her.

"OK, sir!" she replied. "Um, you probably heard him. Just a ten back will be fine."

"All I have is ones," the man apologized. "But I have ten."