Austin Williams - Widespread whore

Tuesday stood up and pulled her panties off. She placed them on his desk. How beautiful her flesh was… rose-colored in the right places. She held her skirt up around her waist so that he could see her delicate thighs, and the furred area of her cunt. On

the backside, where her legs swept upward and flared into her rosy and firm buttocks, Whitley traced the outline of her ass with a cupped hand.

"Get back up on the desk," he said hornily. "Sit upon it this time. I want to…uh…well, I must check the inside of your vagina."

"Okay," she agreed. "It was pretty sore for a long time, but it's all right now. I haven't played with it or anything since that last time. I'm trying to be a good girl."

"I know you are," he said, fastening his lecherous old eyes on the red slash of her pussy. "Just lie back there on the desk," he ordered, shoving all his papers onto the floor.

"Now, spread your legs apart. That's it… Oooooh!"

"What's the matter?" she asked anxiously.

"Nothing! Noting!" he said. "It's just fine." He pushed the pouting lips of her pussy apart and looked up into the gash as far as he could. She felt the sharpness of his fingernails against her tender cuntlips and flinched slightly.

"Tuesday," he said. "Before I give you a clean bill of health, I must check the inside of your vagina. There is only one way to be certain you are not permanently impaired. I must go into it just as the others have, but in this case, purely as an experiment to assist you to feel good again. We have to know the conditions inside."

She was horrified at the prospect, and yet, her cunt was in need. Tuesday, nevertheless, acquiesced quickly. "Yes, sir, Mr. Whitley. I'm

willing for you to do anything if you can just tell me I'm all right, and can be a nice girl again."

He stood up, and she could plainly see the imprint of his cock. Golly, he did have a big one, but it was probably not much longer than Hobo's, and no bigger around than Tony's. And best of all, he was not going to stick his prick in her in a sinful way. He was just going to check her out.

"Pull my zipper down," he ordered as he allowed his glasses to fall off, and suspend themselves on the ribbon about his neck. He stood up close to the desk so that Tuesday could reach his fly without raising up.

She jerked his zipper to the bottom, and fished inside to bring out his cock. It was tangled up in the old-fashioned, one-piece underwear which he wore. As Tuesday continued her effort to remove his cock, a rank and offensive odor struck her nostrils. It was the smell of unwashed and sweaty flesh.

She knew without being told that Whitley's balls were sweaty, and that he had not bathed his crotch area in perhaps weeks. Nevertheless, she persisted, fighting down her revulsion for his unclean body.

Finally, as he backed his ass away and caused his dick to free itself from the folds of his piss-stained underwear, Tuesday was able to pull his cock out into the light. God Almighty! What a horrible piece of meat it was! Not only did it exude a highly offensive odor, but it had a dangling, pendulous foreskin the likes of which Tuesday had never seen before.

As soon as she saw how indescribably ugly his

cock was, she dropped it from her hand, and without thinking, wiped the palm off on her dress.

The motion was not lost on Whitley, but he didn't take offense. He was not concerned at what she thought. All he wanted was to ram his rusty old cock into her fresh pussy and to feel the hot meat of her cunt bite down on it. He was not a great cunt lover; he preferred the throb of a cock in his mouth, but when he was aroused, he could fuck any hole.

"Now, Tuesday," he said. "Will you guide it into your vagina?"

She spread her legs, opening her pussy as wide as it would go. He walked into the opening, and Tuesday grabbed his horrible old cock again, and tried to skin it back and forth to loosen it up. Then she discovered that the foreskin was grown over the head, and that it would not skin back. More disconcerting was the fact that his cock was dry, and her pussy was not producing cooze oil.

Tuesday decided to do her best under the circumstances. She parted her pussy lips then, and guided the head of his cock into the mouth of the opening with her other hand. As soon as Whitley felt his cock in the hole, he seized the desk and began to push. He wiggled and she twisted, and they both shoved as hard as they could, but the damn cock was too big and too dry to go in.

"Maybe if you would suck me some, it would get wet and go in," Tuesday suggested.

"Please," he gasped, backing away horrified. "I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. It's a crime against nature to put one's mouth on a vagina. We

must think of something else."

Tuesday could not think of anything else, so she remained silent.

Then Whitley, whose cock had dropped to about half-mast, clapped his hand on the desk. "If we can't get into your pussy," he said, "there is one other way."

"What?"

"Let me get Bobo Wilder here in the office." He depressed a key on his communications box, and told the girl in the outer office to send for Bobo.

While they waited for Bobo to arrive, Whitley suggested that Tuesday stroke his dick and balls until he was once again fully erected.

There was a knock on the door. Whitley sat down in his chair, hiding his nasty old, cheese-laden cock. He motioned for Tuesday to remain on the desk with her cunt bared. "Who is it?" he demanded.

"Bobo Wilder."

"Come in," Whitley ordered. "And close the door."

To say that Bobo was surprised when he saw Tuesday bare-assed on the desk would be the understatement of the century. He was struck dumb.

Mr. Whitley, inspirational leader that he was, moved to put the guy at ease.

"Come over here, Bobo," he said. "You know Tuesday Noir, I believe?"

Bobo nodded silently, as he fixed his gaze at Tuesday's exposed pussy. He was a little afraid, but since he had not had any pussy or even beat his

meat for nearly a week, he had to be interested in what he saw from a sexual standpoint. No matter how unusual or bizarre the circumstances, a monster-cocked, guy has got to be intrigued by a bare pussy.

"Tuesday tells me that you have had intercourse with her."

Bobo looked at Whitley blinking, and then for some reason, he was nodding his head truthfully.

"Well then, you know that she has been badly disturbed by it all, and she has come to me for reassurance. I am trying to ascertain if her physical well being has been disturbed. There is only one way I can be sure. I want you to get your clothes off, and probe into her vagina for me with your prick."

Bobo was scared. Goddamn, people don't fuck in a school principal's office! He stood immobile. Then he noted that Whitley was sitting in a peculiar position, and in a flash it came to him that the old son of a bitch had his own cock out. This revelation was further borne out in Bobo's mind by the smell which permeated the room. Tuesday's cunt did not smell. It had to be Whitley's cock.

What the hell was the old bastard up to? Well, it really didn't matter. Bobo knew he had to do what he was told. If he didn't, God knows what Whitley would do about his fucking Tuesday. Expel him? Send him to a reform school? Tell Tuesday's mother?

Bobo began to get his clothes off.. When he was naked from the waist down, Whitley motioned for him to come to the side of the desk where his cock

would be clearly visible. Tuesday lay back down on the desk.

Bobo's cock was a beautiful thing compared to the gnarled old stink pole concealed in Whitley's lap. Bobo's legs were firm and well muscled, and his balls were symmetrical. Whitley licked his lips in appreciation of a fine cock. But it was not hard.

In fact, Tuesday began to wonder. She had never seen Bobo's dick soft. Golly, it had a certain helpless quality about it which made her pussy juice at the sight. No! No! She must not let herself be aroused. Bobo had caused her enough trouble.