Isaac Byrne - Tolerance

It went on for some time before he paused; she heard a disappointed pouty noise from Lauren above her. “Moment of truth, Laur,” he said, panting. “I can keep going and cum in this bitch, or you can find out what you’ve been missing. Up to you.”

“I don’t know…” she said hesitantly.

His voice address the whole group. “Girls, tell her what you think she should do. Be honest.”

“Oooh! Oooh ooh ooh!” Kylee cried out, like she was eager to give an answer in class. “You totally should! He’s got a nice cock, and like, you’re not actually related or anything so big whoop. I totally made out with my cousin whose dad married my aunt once and it was totally OK!”

God, you somehow still manage to sound even dumber than I can pull off.

“I say go for it,” said Evelyn. “I’d be lying if I said he was the best lay I’ve ever had, but always better to risk regretting trying something than to risk regretting not trying it, right? Go wild, doll.”

My turn. “And like, Taylortits totally wants his cum in her! So no, you shouldn’t because his cock is the bestest and she wants it all for her slutty self!”

“Well that settles it,” Lauren said. “I’ll do it, if for no other reason than to spite this cunt.”

She practically leapt off Taylor’s back, tackling DJ backwards onto the cold tile floor. She impaled herself on him almost immediately, sitting up and riding him in a steady rhythm as she thrashed her hair from side to side.

“Holy FUCK DJ, I finally fucking get it. You’re… you’re… you’re fucking amazing,” she moaned.

DJ snapped his fingers to the other girls, who quickly came over to surround the happy couple. At his direction, Kylee and Evelyn took a boob apiece and started sucking and squeezing and fondling. Lauren’s whole body quivered from the overload of it all.

“Um, like, what about Taylortits?” she asked, feeling a bit wounded at being overlooked. He pointed, and her heart dropped into her gut as she saw where. Still, even though it was her hated rival… some things just had to be tolerated.

Taylor dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled around behind Lauren’s back, then leaned down and started licking at her ass. It was horrible and degrading and disgusting and humiliating and she would never ever be able to look Lauren in the eye ever again. She’d definitely never be able to look at Lauren from behind again.

Lauren, however, shrieked at the added sensation and started bouncing and rocking herself with wild abandon, relying almost entirely on her trio of cheerleader sluts to keep her aloft. Soon—or maybe it was an hour, she couldn’t tell how long she was tongueing the bitch’s ass—Lauren and DJ came in unison, though she still trembled and gyrated for some time after until he was finally too soft to be of any more good to her. The four girls, exhausted from their respective labors, all fell backwards onto the tile floor, panting alongside DJ.

Once they recovered, he guided them to the locker room’s shower area; he personally washed each of them one by one. Kylee and Evelyn kept making out when they weren’t being attended to, then he had the four of them group up to wash him. When they eventually finished, they went back to the locker room area where the four girls sat around naked, taking shifts of a few minutes at a time licking and sucking at DJ’s cock while someone’s hands—his, another girl’s, whoever’s—probed around at their tits and pussies. Everyone lost count of their orgasms.

There was a commotion at the door, and suddenly, there was the rest of the squad. Even knowing there had been an orgy in the planning here, they gaped at the site of their captain—Taylor, not Lauren, she reminded herself—and three of their senior members engaged in it.

“So who won?” Lauren asked, and the naked girls all fell to giggling.

“You’re looking at him,” said DJ.

The party that happened at Morgan’s house that night was as incomprehensible in its inception as it was in DJ’s hazy memories of it—which is to say, he couldn’t begin to understand how such a thing had happened.

Some of it he remembered. After the orgy with the cheerleading squad, he’d been more or less drunk with power. Someone on the squad had asked someone else within his hearing if there was anything exciting going on after the game, and DJ spontaneously interjected to tell them all there was a big party happening at his house.

Of course, no one had been excited for it—tolerated was nowhere near the same as legitimate popularity—but Lauren had enough pull to convince the girls (at his urging) to come, and invite friends. When he got back out of the locker room, he found Brittney waiting for him looking to be practicing a little tolerance of her own towards the swarm of horny high school boys who had surrounded her in his absence. As DJ slipped an arm around her waist and extricated her, he told her admirers if they wanted more Brittney, to swing by Morgan’s address.

In the parking lot, he was distracted by the long legs and short skirts of the away team’s own squad; on impulse, he hopped aboard their bus before it departed and, with a little nudging, commandeered it. The morale of the sweaty, demoralized cheerleaders and football players seemed buoyed a bit by his promises of an epic party ahead.

As the bus made its way towards his house, he had the driver swing by the liquor store, where he and a few sturdy linemen made off with a couple thousand dollars in booze, courtesy of the newly-tolerant staff. With his largesse flowing down the gullets and aisles of the bus, they made their way home.

There were already more than a hundred people there, from Lauren and her squadmates, Jody and Brianne and their friends, and myriad boyfriends and hopefuls; his bus doubled it, and it continued growing through the evening. DJ was beyond buzzed by the time he arrived and the encouragement of grateful cheerleaders had him good and hammered soon after that.

What he remembered came in flashes, largely courtesy of Morgan, whom he half-recalled appointing as his official photographer of the evening. She went through the footage with him over breakfast as she nursed him through his hangover.

There was a picture of him holding Jody up by her ass in the pool, her legs wrapped around him and her bikini pulled to the side with his faced buried in the endless cleavage. It was unclear if he was fucking her due to the water blurring their lower halves.

A shot of an equally innebriated Lauren leading Taylor Strehan around the party with a leash clipped around her captain’s neck. Taylor wore nothing but a g-string. The word “bad bitch” was drawn on her back, and in the shot, red handprints on her ass made it clear that her trainer took her job seriously.

Another picture gave evidence of a best-breast competition DJ had thought he’d only dreamed; more than a dozen girls were standing side-by-side in the backyard, all topless, most with scores written on their tummies. In the foreground there were DJ, Brittney, and three guys from the away football team who’d apparently made a good impression on him, serving as judges. He didn’t recognize any of the contestants.

A series of images taken from the foyer aimed at the front door. A police officer and her partner were standing just inside the door; DJ was wearing the male officer’s gun belt as he watched his partner finish unbuttoning her uniform. Each image showed more of the woman’s skin until her small breasts were completely exposed. The second-to-last image was of him doing a body shot off of her; the final one was him kicking the male officer in the butt as they walked out.

(DJ presently had no idea what happened to the gun-belt; it didn’t seem to be anywhere in the house in the morning.)