Little Harley Staxxx

Harley was new to the school, having turned eighteen less than a fortnight earlier, and Ian had personally expedited her application, recognising her instantly upon meeting her as a genius cocksucker, with incredible potential in the sloppy blowjob stakes, and completely uninhibited slut to boot. How she had achieved that level of aptitude at her age was anyone’s guess. Perhaps she was a natural. He’d been so drained by the encounter with the teen whore’s slurping, sucking lips and constrictive throatsleeve that Nurse Pennyweather had asked if he wanted to be attached to a drip that afternoon (how she had articulated that question with Ian’s immense dickbrawn stuffed in her mouth was another matter for science).

By the looks of it, Harley was enjoying her newfound freedom in the school.

The little slut was in a slingshot bikini. A hot pink one. And clear stripper sandals. And nothing else. She had both arms with colourful floral sleeve tattoos, which, if one squinted, gave her at least the appearance of being more beclothed than she was. But Ian didn’t want to hang anything on that. She came down the hallway in a glorious stripper strut, tits the size of bowling balls. The material that covered the middle of her enormous cans was stretched tightly in the air, suspended between her shoulder and her melons.

Ian stole a glance at Ginni, and saw, magnified by the lenses of her glasses, that her eyes were boggling. Inwardly, something dropped inside of him. The jig was most certainly up now. This little cockgobbler Harley was a loose cannon for sure, and could say – or do – anything.

Harley slinked towards Ian and Ginni with elite level sexual poise and skill. Ian dreaded to think of all the dicks she had sucked already that morning.

‘Mr White, I’ve been looking for you all morning! They said you were with a school inspector!’

The eighteen year old make that sentence sound ridiculously whoreish.

‘That’s right, Harley,’ Ian said. ‘I don’t really have time to chat now, I’m afraid.’

‘But I wanted to speak you yoooooouuuu!!!’ Harley pouted, lips plumping up even further and massive knockers wobbling behind their constraints.

‘Harley I’m sorry, I just don’t have the time…’

But Harley was not to be deterred from speaking, and set about putting her case in the same way any teen airhead bimbo would when they wanted to borrow the car from Daddy.

‘Puh-leeeease? It won’t take a sec. Listen. The boys in my class are being so mean! They’re saying I’m only good at one thing. They’re saying I can only do oral –‘

‘French,’ Ian interjected, for the benefit of clarity. ‘Definitely French.’

‘But I can do so much more! I can do everything all the other girls can do, but they don’t see that because everyone always wants oral from me! And what I really like, what I want to do just as well as my oral is a-’

‘A-Levels!!!!!’ Ian said, as emphatically as he could.

‘That’s it yaaah!!’ Harley said, patting her hands together delightedly, ‘I want my A-levels, if you know what I mean Mr Wang.’

‘White-‘

‘Mr White –‘

‘Mr White,’ Harley corrected herself, ‘thank you so much! I can’t wait for you to give them to meeeeeeeee!!!’

The way that Harley sucked, Ian reflected briefly, it wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that she could demonstrate her oral talents and get the anal experience she so craved at exactly the same time. Some of the swinging dicks of the first years in the class he’d put her in had to be seen to be believed.

Ian used the manilla file as a protective shield to prevent Harley from twirling her hand over the massive bulge in his trouser as a thank you, and Ian tried incredibly hard not to turn his head to watch the supple glutes of her insane teenage bubble ass pop as she strutted away.

‘And another one!’ Ginni said, ‘Mr White, I’m afraid I must demand an explanation for what I am witnessing here. There are students running around in a state of undress!’

Ian resumed walking, doing anything to get to the next class where there might be a chance of reprieve from someone sensible.

He thought harder than he’d ever thought in his life.

‘Ginni, are you aware of a film called Barbie?’

‘I’m aware of the film Barbie, yes.’

‘Well,’ Ian said, ‘I haven’t seen it myself…’

This was a lie. There had, of course, been a school trip to see Barbie. All the female staff and students had dressed up like whores – which made little difference from their usual attire, but a few of them had amped up their versions of gorgeous nympho hyper-femininity. Laura turned up with tiny pink slivers of tape in X’s over her nipples - just her nipples, mind you, not her areolas – and hot pink gauze pair of bikini bottoms with a slit in the middle. Huge white vinyl thigh lengths completed the look. It had been quite an outing.

‘But as I understand it,’ Ian continued, ‘the message of the film is that female empowerment can take many forms, that women can choose to express themselves how they want without being judged, that their self image is important to them, and has to be preserved respectfully. And if someone chooses to embrace a stereotype, who are we to say that’s bad or wrong? Perhaps their acceptance of the stereotype is ironic, in some sense, a knowing wink to the way women are perceived however they choose to dress?’

He held the door open to the science lab.

‘I think some of the female students took it to heart. But I’d hate to discourage their aspirations. Wouldn’t you?’