A different measure

Ms Jay returned home after another tiring afternoon of flaunting herself in front of strangers, to find two young ladies in similar states of undress, bouncing upon her sofa. To be honest, she was just glad to find someone here… after Mark didn’t come home last night. Seeing there was a new and pretty addition to the group just made her feel that little bit more stable that what had happened with Stacy hadn’t ruined everything. She paused for a moment, in the hallway, just to watch their perky breasts bounce and listen to their lilting voices.

“Oh my god… you were right! He feels… huge!” Lydia gasped, taking no pause in lowering herself down onto Pete’s extensive shaft nonetheless.

“Told ya!” Chuckled Stacy, already riding Mark’s lap like the well practiced cowgirl she was.

“I’d never actually had anyone else inside me… until today…” The cheerleader admitted, already panting and breathless, yet without a hint she was likely to stop her descent. “I bet I’m going to be sore tomorrow…”

The two boys were just sat back and flummoxed, pinned down by the thighs and vision of these two teenage goddesses towering over them. Neither had expected to turn up at the clubhouse that day and find Stacy pouring her tongue into the girl she’d so recently ambushed. Nor that the more conventionally popular beauty would proceed to come home with them. They were almost tongue-tied in the way they’d traditionally got around the girls that highschool society stated were far beyond their league. Except Stacy was chatting away as if the two of them were old war buddies... When she had just casually suggested that Lydia ‘try Peter on for size’, it was beyond belief. Yet, here they now were, watching her wiggle her way down to rest her outer womanhood against Pete’s balls.

For her part… the outsider was also finding this all a bit awkward. She didn’t like the idea of any of these oddballs knowing the other side of her existence. But her most precious, private educator had told her to lay herself at their mercy… so there was no question that was what she’d do. The casual way Stacy treated them like just extensions of her own body… helped actually. Whatever else lay between them, she had grown to respect this other slut’s unwavering will to just follow her own desires. Stacy had been a chaotic, disjointing shock entry into her secret life of servitude… but she had certainly made things more interesting. There were new lessons to be learned here, else Mr Gregory would never have let all this slide. So his diligent little sex-pet would settle herself down to study.

That is... until another new face appeared in the doorway. Ms Jay announced herself with a casual, friendly “Hi guys”, before moving on to pretend she’d only just noticed the newcomer:

“Oh! And hello there, sweetie… Haven’t met you before, what’s your name?”

Lydia looked around at the smiling faces in every direction with abject confusion. Here she was, invaded up to the hilt by some nerd’s meat-stick, right in the middle of someone else’s living room… and when the presumed adult owner of said room made an appearance… no-one was panicking.

All those who had dealt with this exact scenario previously, including the homeowner herself, took some secret glee in watching the changing shades of it splash over the naed cheerleader’s face. She blushed beetroot red and could barely bring herself to meet the older woman’s eye as she stumbled out the words:

“Umm… I’m Lydia… Mrs… I’m sorry I… Is this...?”

The homeowner stepped in to help the poor thing, before she tied herself in too many more knots.

“It’s fine, dear. We don’t mind guests making themselves comfortable in this house… I’m Mark’s Mom, by the way, but you can call me Melanie. Will you be staying the night?”

“U-um… I guess?” The girl finally seemed to wake up and catch on to where she actually was in space and time. “I was supposed to be going to a party tonight... but… don’t really feel like it anymore…”

The idea of propping herself up, heading back home and painting on the face of an average, everyday eighteen year old suddenly seemed utterly beyond reach. Sitting in some corner of a suburban house, listening to Scarlett bitching about everyone else’s outfits and shrugging off the steadily more drunken advances of every other moron who thought tonight would be the night he’d win her over. It all just seemed utterly pointless. At least here, with these weirdos… she could be herself. The submissive, little sex-slave that she considered far less faked and plastic.

“Great!” Smiled Ms jay, widely. “I’ll order some pizza then.”