A Catholic schoolgirl in a plaid skirt asks for a favor

I have to admit it; she was just what I wanted, my
dream girl, my jerk-off fantasy. I could hardly
believe it. But there she was in her tiny plaid skirt
and tight white shirt, her half bra showing through,
her pink nipples jutting and stretching the thin cloth
and even a plaid ribbon holding back her long, blonde
hair. Perfect, the porn-maker’s Catholic schoolgirl.

Her legs were long and shapely, her thighs perhaps a
bit heavy but her round ass was prime, incredible, and
the little skirt swayed when she walked, swishing from
side to side. It might have been twelve inches long, a
kilt. Her shoes were hardly standard, spike heels,
about four-inch ones.

“Sir,” she said with a tremble in her voice, pink lips
pouting, “they said you might help me. I was late
registering, missed the train yesterday.” She did not
seem to be able to stop wiggling and her big jugs
jiggled wonderfully, bouncing in and out of her lacy
bra. She knew how to stand, how to arch her back and
bend her spine.

“Pity. Perhaps I can help. Let me see your form and
unbutton your shirt.” The goal of our school, unstated
of course, is to produce competent sluts, females who
love to be loved, who can give pleasure in a multitude
of ways. It is why so many men send so many daughters
to be trained. We take them as young as 18 and
graduate all of them by 21, most in a year or so,
prime sex partners, eager to give and take. We have
had, over our twenty-some years, no complaints and
many repeat customers. Cock Suck U. they call us and
Pussy Prep.

“Sir!” she said loudly, blinking big, blue eyes, her
hard young breasts rising, inviting. I felt my ram
trembling.

“It’s much too tight. Did it fit last year when you
were just twelve?” I walked around the desk and
quickly undid her buttons, rubbing her mounds with the
back of my hands and noting how firm they were.
“Doesn’t that feel better?” I asked as I spread it
over her slim shoulders, unsnapped her tiny center-
closing half-bra and tore it from her.

“There. I’m sure that feels better. You will not need
this. They are so beautiful; it’s a shame to cover
them up.” I stuffed the little bra in my pocket; I had
a girl who would look very good in it, a very young
one, a private student pupil of mine, one who really
squealed when I boned her and could only take half of
what I had.

“Please,” she said, trying to pull the front of her
shirt back together over her jutting mounds with their
puffy tits.

“Yes, Sylvia, I can help you. I can put you in every
course you want, even advanced cunnilingus, in every
section, but first I want to put you in my bed and
fuck you until your eyes cross. It will take a few
hours. Let’s call it an admissions test, shall we?”

She shook her head. “Oh, I can’t. You wouldn’t. I’m a
virgin, no boy has ever. My Daddy’s only used my, my,
you know, my backside.”

“I don’t believe it,” I told her. “Come around here
and get down on your knees and show me your talents.
Let me see how much you want to enter our school and
get your program.” I looked at her entry forms. “Who
is paying, your uncle?”

She sniffed and walked around, her big jugs bobbling
in and out of her open shirt and went down on one knee
before me. I tore her white shirt away, popping off
two buttons. Her breasts were quite young, jutting
out, not fully globular yet, but made for sucking, a
big pair, D-cups surely, more than a handful. “Dig it
out, girl, dig it out and make love to it.” I reached
down and squeezed them firmly and she winced. Some
girls like pain you know.

Her big blue eyes were full of tears as she looked up
at me and grasped my eager ram and dragged it out of
my pants. It jumped and reared, and she squealed and
backed away, looking up at me, properly horrified, for
I am, I must admit, really well hung. I extracted my
scotum.

Then I laughed and smacked it hard. It bounced back
and rose higher, thick and quivering, actually
dripping. I rubbed its huge head across her pouting
lips. She moaned, closing her eyes as her tongue tip
emerged.

I held it up, caressed it, my proud woman pleaser,
feeling it pulse and swell, and said, “Lick and suck
the balls, Sylvia, first things first.”

She whimpered, but she did it and, as usual, proved me
right. She knew what she was doing, pulling back
gently with each testicle in her mouth, shaking it
from side to side and licking between them before
trying to mouth the whole sack, sucking steadily. I
tousled her blonde hair, freed her ponytail and
praised her as she gobbled deeply, one ball at a time,
always keeping her blue eyes on me.

“Now the cock,” I demanded. It was iron hard by then,
jutting upward and oozing pre-cum.

“Please sir,” she begged, between licks of my hard-
ridged glans, “please don’t make me do it; don’t fuck
me. I don’t like it. It hurts; it scares me. You can
use my other hole.”

“That comes from playing with children, with boys
instead of men.” I pushed it into her mouth.

She whimpered and took perhaps three inches of my
thick prod and began bobbing, holding back her tangled
hair and looking up at me. Someone had taught her
well.

“Was your father your first?” I asked.

She shook her head, moved back until just her lips
were touching my crown, flicked it with her tongue and
said, “My brothers, both of them. Just last year. I
was twelve.”

“Well you are very good, and I’m sorry if they hurt
you.” She was good, a suction pump, and she was going
to be better, much better.

“I was twelve,” she said again, and my big cock slid
right down her throat. She gagged and looked up at me
in fright.

“Breath through your nose,” I told her as I made very
small moves in her gullet and her throat muscles tried
to pull me deeper. I felt it surging, pulled back a
bit, gritted my teeth and ejaculated in her mouth and
again and again. My spend oozed out of her lips and
dripped from her chin.

“That will do for your lunch I hope. Now lick it
clean.” I peeled her white cotton shirt off her arm
and tossed it aside and then played with her fat tits
while she worked, licking up the sides and gobbling
the head. I stretched out her large nipples. More
tears came to her eyes.

I pulled her to her feet, stripped off her wraparound
skirt and tore away her tiny thong, noted her
carefully shaved pudenda and then walked her around my
desk and leaned her across it, admiring her bulbous
ass. “Grasp those two handles,” I told her as I
stroked her tight-lipped peach with my huge horn,
enjoyng the feel of it in my hand. “Hold on tight.”

It took some effort to pop the slope-sided head into
her vagina, but once it was in, and the hard ridge
grabbed, and she was gasping… the fun began.

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