Of course!

"Fuck yeah!" Damien called. The two others roared their appreciation. Here we go again, I thought with a smile to myself.

"Dee," Tina said wickedly. "Why don't you find our little Catholic schoolgirl something to wear?" I frowned, not sure what she meant, but Dee giggled and scampered off, while the other two closed in on me.

"So Katie," Stephanie said, as she and Tina began rubbing their hands over my breasts and midriff. "Walking through the university dressed like that, I figure that all you really want is to get fucked." She spat the last word, nastily. She moved her left hand under my skirt and began flicking my exposed clitty. As she slowly inserted her middle finger into my aching gash, she leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. Then she whispered right into my ear: "Do you want to get fucked, Katie?"

I closed my eyes and moaned. "Uh-huh. Fuck yeah." I couldn't believe I was saying it, but I really did. Despite everything else that had happened that night, I really did want to get violated, one more time.

"That's good," said Tina. "Because we don't take well to little bitches spying on us."

"I wasn't spying," I said softly. "I was trying to get hooomme..." The last word came out as a moan as Stephanie began circling her finger deep inside my cunt, and Tina pushed my blouse aside and took my right nipple into her mouth.

"Awww, the little Catholic school-slut is trying to get home," Stephanie teased mercilessly. She was working her finger in and out of me like a cock now, and Tina had moved around behind me. She gently pulled off my blouse and let it fall to the cobblestones below. She reached around and cupped my breasts in her hands, then dragged her fingernails over them, down my flat stomach, and to my skirt line. Suddenly, with her left hand, she reached across to Stephanie and grabbed her by the hair. In one swift tug she pulled the curvy vixen to her knees and rammed her face up against my quim.

"Suck her clit you little whore," she ordered.

Stephanie complied, and I felt my knees buckle as I felt her tongue snake over my clitoris and up into my throbbing box.

As I moaned long and loud, I noticed—with some trepidation—that Dee was returning, holding a knockoff Gucci handbag. Her hips swayed as she sauntered towards me, and her delightful little pigtails bounced up and down. I knew she was much older, but she looked like a fourteen-year-old little Grade 9 gutterslut.

"Lookie what we have here!" she said wickedly.