A short walk away

A short, angry walk later… and after a scant few minutes of unnecessary pleasantries, Stacy felt right with the world again. Still angry. But on the upswing of having somewhere to throw those emotions. Mark slammed himself into her anus. She had demanded he did so. Nearly slapped him across the face when he pussied about asking stupid questions before he got started. He was just worried about her, she knew that… But what she needed most, RIGHT NOW, was to have at least one great, throbbing lump of meat forcing itself into the very deepest parts of her it could reach, as hard as it possibly could. If she had to upset a dear friend to get such… well so be it.

Peter was laid out in front of her. Looking ever so slightly anxious as she pumped a white knuckled fist up and down the great length of him. She pistoned that arm like a machine gun, but he need not worry: she wasn’t about to break her favourite toy. Not before it had given her her second course, at least. Her ass stung. The raw ache of it being driven open and into yet again still not feeling quite like a natural thing for it. Stacy didn’t mind. It would learn. Just like her pussy did. She almost enjoyed the pain. It helped centre her. It felt right that she should be punished in some way for all her excesses of twisted pleasure. She felt sick with herself. Angry at the world. Yet, at the same time, revelled in everything. Why had she let that disgusting old pervert have his way with her? ...For the same reason she would again next week… Because she wanted him too. She’d wanted him to go further. She’d wanted him to do it in the middle of class. Strip her down and show her true colours to all those assholes who already thought so little of her. What would Mark and Peter think, if they knew what was going through her head? If they knew what she had let happen just half an hour ago? Would they be surprised? Disgusted? Would they understand more the mess she wanted them to make of her? Would they finally stop being such good friends and just fuck her harder and harder and harder?! Rip her clothes off whenever they felt like it and just use her and use her and use her?! Pass her around their other friends like a cheap porno mag made of flesh and begging self-disgust?

Stacy felt her body gushing with raw, unkempt emotions. She had reached between her legs with her free hand and was furiously rubbing at her own clit. Her mouth was full of Peter and she gulped at him with such greedy glee. The head-rush of her exertions kept sending her mind around and around in these twisted delusions of paranoia and arousal. She was a dirty, grumpy, debased and damaged slut. A teenage nightmare of twisted hungers and sordid secrets. She hated and hated and hated to think too long about everything she was doing with her life… and loved every single second she was living it! She felt her closest friends throb and swell inside of her… then burst with salty slime. She felt that rain fall among her bowels and climb up the back of her throat. The smell swept up into the back of her nose and her sphincter gasped as it grabbed at the last of Marks sinking erection. All her anger fell away and she rode a wave of just purest bliss… She was floating among the clouds: far, far above. Looking down on this scene of a still half-dressed schoolgirl being spit-roasted in a dusty, little scrap of woodland. What a silly, wonky thing she looked: with her legs all a'splay and her panties in a bunch. Yet she couldn’t help but forgive the poor creature. It just looked so happy to be caught so… So perfectly where it belonged.