A Game of Consequences Ch. 06

"Oh FUCK! Oh yah, Richard! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! Pound my pussy! Oh yah! Fill me with your cock!"

There's something particularly horny about having a 'posh' girl use filthy language during sex. Jill's use of the word 'cunt' almost made me fill the condom. Phoebe's rather clichéd 'Chelsea' accent - the way she said 'yah' instead of 'yes', and the way she mangled some of the vowels - might have irritated me under other circumstances. But the way she gasped and moaned every time my cock pounded into her, the way she pronounced the word 'fuck' so it sounded more like 'fack' - there was something in my rebellious young mind that relished the thought of quite literally sticking it up the upper classes.

Her encouragement sounded like "Oh yah! YAH! Fack me! Fack me harder! Fack my slatty pussy!" That's something a guy can't ignore, no matter how mangled the vowel sounds are. And it's also something that would encourage a guy to come quickly. Too quickly.

I closed my eyes, focusing on the opening sentences of the American Declaration of Independence.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." Equally horny, equally inclined to fuck a pretty girl. "That they are endowed," well endowed, "by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of fucking pretty girls with Chelsea accents, tiny tits, puffy nipples and a dirty vocabulary." Yes, by then I'd decided that Phoebe was pretty. Her huge glasses were on the bedside table and, without them, she looked - well, prettier. Or maybe it's that old thing that, if you want to see a woman at her most gorgeous, give her an orgasm.

And that, I realised, was a task I needed to accomplish pretty soon. I arched my back, took a big mouthful of nipple and moved my hand across her hip to allow my thumb access to her clit. A gentle back-and-forth motion made her moans ramp up in volume and intensity. A more insistent, circular movement ratcheted it up a little more. And then increasing the frequency and force of my thrusts, using my tongue to flick the tip of the nipple I held captive between my lips had her legs thrashing around, pounding my shoulders, and her mouth uttering a stream of moans and delicious obscenities. I was sure I'd felt her pussy pulse when the first wave hit her.

It was absolute torment, but I knew I needed to hold on, to keep hammering away at that tight, slick tunnel, keep rubbing her little nub of a clitoris, keep suckling on that puffy little cone until she started begging.

"OH FUCK! OH FUCKFUCKFUCK! OH COME! PLEASE COME! I CAN'T - CAN'T TAKE - ANY OH! OH! OH! OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK! PLEASE - PLEASE STOP! PLEASE COME! PLEEEEEEEASE!" She tailed off into something approaching a scream.

When a lady asks you so nicely, how can you refuse? Yes, I came. I felt like I might burst the condom, I came so hard. My usual preference for orgasm is to embed myself balls-deep in the receiving orifice and relish every orgasmic throb, feeling the sensations bounce from my cock-head to the top of my head to my toes. But on this occasion, I accompanied each spurt with another deep, almost brutal thrust, as if I wanted to teach Phoebe a lesson. And I clearly did.

"Oh my God! I thought you'd be a good fuck, and you didn't let me down," she smiled up at me, her long, skinny legs still over my shoulders, my slowly-softening cock still deep inside her. She lifted her head off the pillow, grabbed the back of my head and kissed me, hungrily. "Where did you learn to fuck like that?" she asked as she settled back again. Maybe it was the post-orgasmic glow, but her face seemed to have gone from 'interesting' to 'pretty' to 'pretty gorgeous'.

"Oh, I had a very good teacher," I said.

"Who was she? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Well, if you must know - my teacher."

"What? As in 'a woman who taught you'? In school?"

"Yes. I wasn't a virgin, and it was quite recently, on a school trip. I mean, it's not like it was in the classroom during a sex-ed lesson."

She laughed. It was a sound I liked. And I'd also liked the other sounds she'd just made. "Wow! I mean, that's almost like a sex-fantasy cliché. Schoolboy fucks his teacher. I always thought that they were so terrified - you know, the teachers - of getting dismissed and disgraced if they ever did it, that they'd never fuck a pupil."

"There were, shall we say, special circumstances. But if you don't mind me asking, you said you'd only fucked one guy before me. Your tutor? He obviously made you want to fuck some more."

"Yes, my tutor. If you get off me - I think you need to pull out before the condom starts to leak - I'll explain. And then you can tell me more about your teacher and these 'special circumstances'."

I kissed her again, climbed off her and headed to the bathroom to dispose of the knotted condom and clean my pubic area.

"Bring me some wine on your way back," she shouted. I poured two glasses and went back to bed, and we sat, side by side, leaning back against the headboard, the pillows cushioning us against the unforgiving wood. And talking of unforgiving wood, I was getting hard again, sitting next to this strange, skinny girl as she told me about her experience.

"I went to an all-girls school. Most of the teachers were women, except for a few men close to retirement. The boys I'd met all seemed very naïve and immature. Then, after Christmas, Daddy got me a tutor to help me through the Oxford admissions process. Damian's a post-grad - he's just waiting for the award of his PhD - and he knows the University and the way it selects students very well, so he was a great choice. He's also very good-looking; chiselled features, big, dark eyes, high cheekbones and a fit body. He's tall - quite a bit taller than you - and he just seemed sophisticated and mature. We spent several months with him just coaching me for the exam, all seemingly quite innocent. But I started flirting outrageously with him, and he - disappointingly - seemed to be ignoring my advances. And I can be very persuasive."

"I've noticed," I replied.

She took a sip of her wine. "I was a virgin at the time, and I so wanted not to be. One of my friends bought me a cheap vibrator as a saucy joke present for my eighteenth birthday in November, and I'd experimented with inserting it. You see, my hymen broke when I was doing ballet lessons when I was fourteen, so there was no pain or resistance. It felt good, but it didn't match up to the idea of having a handsome boy between my legs. All that anyone seemed to talk about in the Sixth Form was sex, and I was desperate to try it for myself. And all the ballet training, the flexing and splits and holding your leg up against your face; your pussy keeps getting opened and it rubs against your panties or your leotard and - well, after a few hours at the barre, I could be dripping. And I don't mean sweat."

"So how long have you been doing ballet?"

"Oh, since I was four or five. I can't really remember. It seems like forever. I wanted to make it into a prestigious company and be a prima ballerina, but I grew too tall. Even though I stayed skinny, the male dancers would find me awkward to lift, and I was already taller than some of the boys at ballet school. But it has made me very flexible. As you've seen."

"Oh yes. That was a surprise. And fun."

"More of that to come - I hope. But, you see, I was a virgin until just two months ago. It was so frustrating. Seeing Damian several times a week and desperately wanting him to take me - even on my desk or the dining room table if necessary - was driving me crazy."

She took a sip of her wine. "My friend Beatrice was boasting that a friend of her brother had taken her virginity at Easter. 'And it was so, so special,' she kept saying. 'It felt so wonderful when he was inside me, and when he was licking my pussy.'" Phoebe put on a squeaky, sing-song voice, which made me smile. "And Louise, who's, like really pretty, told everyone that she'd had a boy at her father's golf club. 'Oh, he has such a big cock. It hurt a little at first, but then it was so amazing! And, like, we fucked for hours!' Well, we weren't in the habit of using language like that at my school, and I was shocked at first. But then my friend Alethia surreptitiously gave me a book about a young woman going to a sex club, and every time they did it, the language was really dirty and sexual. And I started getting aroused by the thought of asking someone to fuck me. When I used my vibrator, I'd put a pillow between my legs and keep whispering 'Oh yes! Fuck me harder!' It made me come so strongly."

I could've accused Phoebe of over-sharing; I mean, I had no intention of telling her about the times I'd wanked off into the washbasin, fantasising about Michelle Pfieffer or Mrs Dawson. But hearing a girl's sexual experiences certainly wasn't preventing my cock from hardening again.

"And I was, like, so, annoyed and frustrated. It seemed I was the only virgin over eighteen in my class, so I decided that I had to increase the pressure on Damian. Next time my parents went up to London for a show and Damian came around to tutor me, I pretended I'd been practising my ballet and had forgotten about our lesson. I was wearing a skimpy leotard. It should have had padding at the top, but I'd removed it. And the bottom was tiny; it was meant to be worn with tights, but I wasn't wearing anything under it. It was quite minimal around my bottom and not exactly modest at the front or between my legs. I think Damian was a little surprised when he saw me. And that was the day that he confirmed that I'd aced my entrance exam."

"What? How did he know that?"

"He has contacts in the admissions team and he persuaded them to tell him my result. When he told me, I threw my arms around him - and my legs - and kissed him. I think he was surprised, but he soon kissed me back. I said 'Thank you so much, Damian. How can I ever thank you?' And he just said 'You don't need to thank me. It was a pleasure.' So, like, I kissed him again. And again. And he was there, with his arms around me, and my arms and legs around him, and it felt good. But not good enough. I knew this was my chance so I told him I'd like to give him a thank-you present, with a cherry on top. And he asked 'With a cherry on it?' And I said 'Yes. Mine.'"

"Very forward of you, young lady," I said, my cock now almost fully hard again. "And how did he take that?"

"My comment or my cherry? Well, the former with some amusement, the latter gently. He tried to put up some token resistance, but I just led him up to my room and then I undid the press studs on the gusset of my leotard and pulled up the front. I think I was trembling a little when I said 'This is for you.' He looked down at my pussy and said 'I'm not sure your father would approve,' and I said 'I'm not offering it to him. I'm offering it to you. Do you want it?' And, strangely, it turns out he did." She grinned.

"I'm not surprised. It's a very pretty pussy. Can I stroke it some more?"

"Be my guest. Ooh, yes! Anyway, Damian took things slowly. He kissed me and licked me and sucked my nipples and when he fucked me, he was so gentle. He was bigger than you, which could have been a problem for a skinny virgin like me but, somehow, it wasn't. It just felt so good when he slowly slid into me, with my legs spread wide - I think I was almost doing the splits - and looking into his handsome face. My friends said it had hurt on their first times but, maybe because I didn't have a hymen and he knew what he was doing, it just felt good and so exciting. He knew what to do, and he made me come. And then we did it twice more, in different positions, before we had to clean up because my parents were due home. And after that, we did it again at every opportunity. He loved me talking dirty to him, and he used to make me say and do such slutty things, and he'd say and do dirty things to me. The first time I told him to fuck my cunt, he came almost immediately, and he then had to eat my pussy to make me come. And the first time he tied me up - wow! That was awesome!"

"Is he your regular boyfriend?"

"No, he's engaged to an Asian girl he met at Oxford. She's so pretty, and I'm awfully jealous, but I know he's, like, just a fuck-buddy. He taught me so much about sex, and I love it so much now that I'm ready to try anything with anyone, as long as they're good-looking enough and know what they're doing."

"And do I fit that bill?"

"Hah! Definitely the first part. I wasn't sure about the second part when I first met you, but you were handsome enough for me to give you a chance. You passed the test." She kissed me again.

"I'm intrigued by your pussy," I said, continuing to stroke the area in question. "I've never seen one with so little hair."

"Yes. Do you like it?" She smiled broadly.

"It's very sexy. How come..."

"I plucked the hairs out. It was my ballet teacher's suggestion. She said a leotard fits better and looks neater when there isn't a pubic bush. I started as soon as the hair started to grow, around puberty. It hurt a little, but I soon got used to it. The girls at school thought I was weird, not having pubes, but I like how it looks, with just that little arrow pointing to the area requiring attention. I also like how it feels inside my panties. And, Richard, I appreciate the attention you've been giving it. Would you like a taste?"

"Absolutely. I'm a vaginarian. I love dining at the Y."

She laughed loudly. "Where did you get that from?"

"Vaginarian? All my own work. Dining at the Y? I heard it from someone at school. But as the adverts say, 'Don't talk, eat'."

I kissed her again, shuffled around between her legs and went in head first. I'd learned a few things from Jill, so I knew where to start and how to proceed, but Phoebe's pussy was neater than any I'd experienced before. Not only was it almost completely devoid of hair, but the outer lips were plump and full while the inner lips were small and neat. I explored the region with my tongue, all the while listening for those sounds, watching for the reactions that told me whether I'd found the right spot or not. After a minute or two, my neck was aching from having to bend it back fiercely, so I lifted Phoebe's skinny little arse and pushed a pillow underneath. (I'd have used a second one but there were only two on what was, after all, meant to be a single bed). This also allowed me to get a finger in play - only one, as Phoebe's little fuck-hole was still very tight. After a few minutes she was making suitably appreciative noises, so I dipped lower and ran my tongue over her dainty little pink starfish - something that I knew Jill enjoyed. Phoebe squealed and wriggled.

"Oh - naughty boy! That - that tickles a little."

"Stick with it. I think you might enjoy it."

"Do you? Licking my bum?"

"Yeah. I'm a bottom feeder."

She giggled - and then giggled and squirmed some more as I licked around the orifice in question. Once I felt it was wet enough, I slowly insinuated a finger into the tight ring. She shrieked.

"Oh! Dirty, dirty boy!"

"Yes. And your point is?" I replied between licks.

Her arsehole and her fuck-hole were close enough together for me to get a finger from my right hand into each one, and then use the other hand to pull back the hood of her clitoris and apply my tongue. After about a minute of this, as well as using a pretty constant rhythmic finger-fucking in both holes - and getting my back bruised as her heels repeatedly kicked me - she came, noisily and energetically. Apart from the sounds she was making and the way her legs were thrashing about, I'd now learned to recognise the tell-tale throbbing in the arse that confirms that the girl isn't faking it. It's as well that I had a decent physique, including the muscles in my neck and shoulders, or she might have decapitated me as she writhed around.

"Wow, Richard, I chose correctly when I switched with Yolanda. Even Damian doesn't eat pussy that well. Congratulations, you've won the 'Best Fuck of Phoebe's Life So Far' award."

"I'm delighted to accept this award, but it's been a team effort," I replied. "I'd like to thank my teacher and the publishers of Penthouse magazine. And what's my prize?"

"Er - if you wait a moment for me to catch my breath, I'll suck your cock. Would that work for you?"

It worked very well for me. When I'd first set eyes on her, I'd thought that Phoebe's face was more 'interesting' than 'pretty'. OK, so since then, I'd found her more attractive, but her features were a little unusual. Her eyes were large and quite wide-set. Her nose was small and rather retroussé. She had a scattering of freckles over her cheeks, and her skin was quite pale. But I noticed that her mouth was wide with full lips. And, frankly, this is an excellent combination if, like me, you like a good blowjob. Jill's blowjobs indicated perhaps a decade or more of practice and were skilful enough to get the teenage me to come alarmingly quickly. What Phoebe lacked in experience, she more than compensated for with the physical equipment and sheer enthusiasm. Her teeth seemed to be quite small, or maybe she'd mastered the 'Cosmo technique' of covering them with her full lips in a way that Steph and the other teenage girls I'd known hadn't. Moreover, she didn't seem to have much of a gag reaction. Within less than a minute of Phoebe kneeling between my legs and lowering her mouth onto my cock, I felt her throat make contact with the head of my cock. OK, so she didn't take me through that tight portal to male paradise, but shit, this was the deepest that any girl had taken me, and I was hardly in a position to complain.

See, I'd never had unprotected sex in my short sexual experience, and the contact of something wet, hot and tight directly on the sensitive skin of my naked male member was rare and fleeting. Fleeting, in the sense that on the few occasions when I'd enjoyed unprotected oral sex with a female, I'd lasted maybe a minute. I mean, you're eighteen, you can count the number of times your cock has even been touched by a female on the fingers of both hands. Then you suddenly find it surrounded by hot, plump lips, teased and stimulated by a naughty wet tongue and pressing against a throat that maybe, someday, you might even get to penetrate. What do you do?

You come, of course. It took Phoebe less than two minutes to extract the creamy richness from my male cornucopia. When Americans want to denigrate something, they say that 'it sucks'. They've clearly never met Phoebe, who sucked so deliciously that I was soon as close to Heaven as you can get outside of a church. (And I've never yet tried sex inside a church).

And Phoebe wasn't squeamish. No spitting or pulling faces for her.

"Mmm. Your cum is quite tasty," she said, as some of it dribbled past her lips. "Damian's was slightly bitter, but yours is - OK."

"Oh, thanks for the compliment," I replied, feeling rather breathless. "And talking of compliments, can I say that that was the best blowjob I've ever had?"

"Why thank you, kind sir. I like to be of service. And perhaps it's time for you to service me again as soon as you've recovered. But first, I want to hear about this teacher of yours."

So I settled alongside her on the bed again and gave her the edited highlights; how I'd lusted after Jill for some time, about grasping the opportunity opened by a pack of Sobranis and a rather vulnerable lady's 'Oh, what the fuck?' attitude. And how it had developed, to the point where I didn't know what to do next.

"But Richard, she's married and in her mid-thirties. She's earning a reasonable living as a teacher. Apart from good sex, what do you have to offer her? It'll be at least three years before you'll be able to earn any sort of salary. You don't have anywhere to live. And she's old enough to be your mother. Unless she wants to be your sugar mummy and move to Oxford to be near you, I think your relationship with her has run its course, my friend."