Miss Davenport's Prom Night

Since I only have three holes, it was a little bit like Musical Chairs, except two of the cops usually ended up crowding into the same hole, or at least trying to. And it was obviously a lot like "Twister", the classic party game. But I had to keep reminding the officers that I'm neither double-jointed, nor a professional contortionist. Still, having too many men, and especially too many black dicks, earerly competing to fuck me has always been my very favorite game.

The guys watching were laughing and clapping, making wisecracks and having a great time. But, to my massive frustration, each time, as soon as the cops had pretty much sorted things out and were beginning to actually fuck me, Joey would call for a restart. Sometimes, I really hate him.

Joey, however, enjoyed it so much that his poetic muse once again inspired him to a little spontaneous rap: "She don' care who bend or twist 'er, Jus' keep on fuckin' twisted sister."

Doggerel aside, Joey and his friends, of course, found watching the constables and me working our way through dozens of positions and combinations to be hugely stimulating. And by the time Joey finally stopped calling restarts and allowed the strong arms of the law to get down to some serious bitch-boning, and eventually to pulsing and twitching and filling me with their sticky sperm, every member of the posse was as stiff as steel again and in dire and immediate need of a third round. And I think a few of them needed more after that, too. And probably a couple of the band members came back as well. But by then I had completely lost track.

Anyway, I was out in that alley for close to three hours before Joey finally looked at his watch and said, "We'd better get her back inside before someone calls the cops again. I'm not sure any of us want anything more to do with Carol tonight."

But I wouldn't go until they did what I had wanted them to do a couple of hours earlier. Joey, Denzel, Robert, Cedric, Reginald, Jamal and Terrance all circled around me and I sucked and licked and stroked their long black rods until they all exploded one more time, spraying me with buckets of their hot, slimey jism. It soaked my hair and covered my face. And, exactly as Joey had predicted, my makeup ran like a river. The thick, black mascara streaked down over my cheeks. My eye shadow turned their cum purple as it dripped heavily from my chin. And I looked like a complete gorgeous, blissful mess.

But it went with my outfit. By now, my dress was in tatters. My stockings were ripped to shreds. And I had broken the heel off of one shoe. I was the perfect picture of a black cum slut.

"I can wipe my face off, but I still can't go back in there looking like this," I said, spreading my arms.

But even before I was done speaking, Joey reached behind one of the dumpsters and pulled out a clean, shiny shopping bag decorated with the Trampwear logo.

"Anjellika thought of everything," he said.

It was almost true. In the bag was an exact duplicate of my dress and another pair of stockings. There was another towel so I could clean up and a makeup kit from my favorite brand of cosmetics - FloozyFace. No shoes, unfortunately, but I would just have to limp around the rest of the evening.

"This is great," I said, "but the other chaperones will have noticed that I was missing for a couple of hours."

"Not a problem," smirked Joey. "Anjellika arranged for one of her friends to tell Vice Principal Harwood that she saw you and Mr. Lightsaber headed toward the front desk. So they'll just figure that the two of you took a room to do the same thing you do every Tuesday behind the dirty laundry in the back corner of the weight training room during third period."

I briefly tried to scowl, but just couldn't hold back a little smile. I wondered how many people knew what Jumbo and I thought we were carefully keeping so secret.

We couldn't all go back in at the same time, so I went first and then, a few minutes later, a couple of the guys, and then a few minutes after that, a couple more.

As I limped across the dance floor, I tried to figure out how many orgasms had been packed into that three hours. My best estimate was that the 16 men had cum a total of something over 40 times. And, as you might have guessed, I came a lot more than that, a lot more. I guessed that I must have had at least 80 orgasms, only counting the big ones. I also tried to work out how many gallons of man goo I collected that night. But you know I'm hopeless in math.

What I do know is that I've never felt as much like a black cock whore as I did that night, and it was a good feeling - a very good feeling.

Never before or since have I had so much sex in such a short period of time. It was probably just as well that I had broken a heel. It covered up the fact that I was so sore I couldn't walk right. However, there was no hiding the fact that I was so happy I couldn't stop grinning. I was floating in slut heaven.

As I approached the chaperone's table, Maggie jumped up.

"Oh, thank goodness. We were worried about you," she said.

Harwood rolled his eyes as if to say, She was worried about you. I knew you were off fucking Lance.

Camille, of course, was scowling.

"But where is Lance?" Constance asked anxiously.

"How would I know?" I replied, carefully trying to give the impression that I knew very well where he was, but wasn't about to say.

"And where were you all this time?" asked Maggie.

"Oh, that would be telling," I answered with an intentionally cryptic smile.

Just then, Jumbo Lightsaber emerged from a door at the far end of the hall.

"Oh look," I pointed, "There's Lance, now."

He had a slight weak-kneed wobble as he weaved his way across the dance floor, and he was totally unable to hide his little, shit-eating smirk. But I knew he wasn't drunk. I recognized the symptoms. Hell, I shared the symptoms. And I knew the cause - too much sex - waaaay too much sex.

Of course, for me, too much sex isn't even close to enough, at least on most occasions. But that night, for the first, and so far, the only time ever, I had had enough sex and enough black cock. Finally. At the end of that night, for the first time in my life, if you had given me a choice between a big, stiff black cock up my ass and a nice glass of, say, a dry pinot grigio, I would have held out my wine glass and said, "Fill 'er up."

Jumbo sat down gingerly in the chair next to me. I leaned over to whisper in his ear. I wanted for us to look intimate so that the other chaperones would believe that Jumbo and I had been in a room at the hotel, fucking each other for the last three hours.

"How was your night?" I whispered.

He leaned over to whisper his reply into my ear. "I think you were right about Anjellika and the others. And I'm really, really glad we have so many school-spirited 18 year-old cheerleaders," he said. "And now I truly feel like I have equal regard for all colors of the..." He hesitated, gave me a sidelong glance. "All colors of the...speculum?" he finished uncertainly.

I began to laugh loudly.

"That's not right?" he asked, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, it right, sweety. It's just so right," I said and laughed some more, because Jumbo Lightsaber really is a sweetheart and because, for the first time in my life, I was truly satisfied. I had finally had enough black cock, at least for one night.