Summa Cum Laude

byadam applebiter©

"I..." She sniffed back the last of the tears. "I knew you'd misunderstand."

"So explain it to me. I'll listen."

And I did listen as Helen told me the whole story: How her father had discovered her working in a nude chat room, how he'd become her best customer and how she'd discovered that. How her shock had quickly turned into arousal and she'd blackmailed him into bedding her. How their relationship had grown, how she'd shared B with him, how she'd first spied on then seduced her mother too. I listened to all the graphic details.

When Helen finished her story, I was rock hard -- all the proof she needed that she'd done the right thing in confessing her sins. Absolution comes only from confession and penance. Penitent, Helen got on her knees.

* * * * *

With that big secret out of the way, the floodgates opened and I found myself the custodian of Helen's video collection. She insisted on showing me her one time with my father. I really didn't want to see my late father having that much fun but I watched it because Helen asked me to.

I should tell you that my father only paid Helen for sex once, not because she in any way fell short of his expectations in bed, but because the discretion he expected afterwards failed to materialize. When I used a compromising photograph to renegotiate my allowance, he figured out that I knew 'the devious little whore' -- an epithet Helen still delights in -- and when I took Helen along as my date for his fiftieth birthday -- well, I'm surprised the weak blood vessel that killed him didn't burst that bit sooner. There was... a scene. Father told me to get the whore out of his house and I obliged by introducing Helen to my stepmother. It wasn't the story about sodomy and semen drinking that got Stepmom's attention so much as a copy of the same photograph I'd used as leverage, showing my father's credit card between Helen's labia with his open wallet between her legs showing his driver's license and a picture of my dear Stepmom herself. When Helen said "I can prove that's my cunt if you want." And reached for the hem of her cocktail dress, Stepmom just walked away from us. Next day, she found herself a divorce lawyer but not before I re-enacted my father's perversion with Helen against the soundtrack of my parents' extremely noisy break-up.

It came as a revelation to me, just how many men Helen had rented out to. There were hundreds of hours of hidden video footage and a fair bit of more conventional camcorder stuff taken during what Helen called her summer of love, last year, when she seduced her mother into an incestuous lesbian affair that culminated in her persuading her Mom to sneak into Helen's room after sex with her husband, just so Helen could 'taste Daddy's seed' -- Which Daddy was supposedly oblivious to, but actually got to watch on video, courtesy of Helen's little spy camera.

I asked Helen if she actually had any unfulfilled fantasies, thinking there must be something even she hasn't done yet. There were two: Being gangbanged by the entire fraternity -- the original version of her fantasy was her high school football team -- and a threesome with Mom and Daddy. She also claimed she'd stop renting out her cunt when it had earned a million dollars.

* * * * *

"Honey B?" I was having breakfast in bed with my ladies the morning after the night of revelations.

"Mmm?" Her eyes gave me their full attention over the rim of a glass of OJ. "Yes?" She repeated.

"But you don't know what I'm going to ask you yet."

"The answer's still yes. Whatever you ask me." B really means that too.

"Do you have any unfulfilled fantasies?" The same question I'd asked Helen late last night while B was down the hall with the new President of Phi Kappa Delta.

"Lots. I wanna be there when Helen fucks the whole fraternity, to lick up the mess. I really really want to get a crack at her Mom because then I've had the whole family. I want my pussy to become the most famous in the world. I want to be spit roasted by Brad Pitt and George Clooney So I know who's the best fucker, then have Angelina Jolie for desert because that mouth of hers makes so many promises. I want a perversion named after me... Lots of fantasies."

"What about your fantasies, Eric?" Helen asked. "You've heard ours."

"Not many of mine are unfulfilled. I used to fantasize about anal sex a lot -- then I met you to. I always thought it'd be cool to have more than one girlfriend -- which I have. I always wanted a virgin. Perhaps now I'm rich, I can buy a hymen or two."

"The record is a hundred and fourteen." B said.


"A hundred and fourteen cherries plucked in one night."

"The things you know!" Helen exclaimed, "Who did the plucking?"

"Some Chinese emperor was given a hundred and twenty virgins as concubines and tried to do them all in one night."

"Did he run out of time?"

"After a hundred and fourteen girls, who cares?" I have stamina, but I wouldn't last a tenth long enough.

"Oh, he didn't fuck them all, just poked through their hymens and moved on to the next girl."

"What's the point in that?" Helen frowned in distaste. "That's no fun for anyone."

"I don't want to set any records. I just want a virgin." I'd settle for one.

"We'll find you one for your birthday." B promised.

"Blonde, brunette or redhead?" Helen asked.

" long as she's gorgeous." I'm not fussy.

"A gorgeous virgin who didn't put out in high school but will give you her cherry just to satisfy your curiosity -- no problem." Helen was being sarcastic again.

"Don't be negative." B admonished. "It's easy. Just keep stuffing money into her panties until they fall down under the weight of it all. There're plenty of students who need money."

"And you two have an unlimited budget if you can pull it off." I pledged my newly acquired resources to their quest. "And I have a suggestion for you two too. It's not exactly the gangbang you wanted, Helen, but I'll pay you two grand for every Phi Kappa Delta boy you fuck. If you're going to carry on being a whore, I'd like you to be my whore from now on -- same deal for you B. What about it?"

"Sure." Helen hugged me and sealed our bargain with a kiss.

"Do I get paid for last night?" B asked.

"Of course!" I pulled B into a one armed embrace and we shared a three-way kiss. I'd been wondering how to give them money and this was a better way than just giving them an allowance each. "Just provide photo or video evidence of each new conquest, not because I don't trust you, but I want to see what you're up to."

"Alumni too?" Helen asked me.

"What? Oh yes. When you come to New York, I'll introduce you to some very influential Phi Kappa Deltas."

"Ok, Mister, you have a deal, now will you please shut up and fuck us? We have planes to catch this afternoon." B rolled me onto my back and straddled my thighs, stroking my cock with both hands. Helen followed her lead, straddling my face and shutting me up with the best gag in the world -- a mouthful of moist vulva.

B impaled herself on Moby and rode it hard while I tried my best to get Helen off with my tongue. I won by coming last of the three of us, with Helen gushing into my mouth and B squealing as her pussy contracted around my cock.

* * * * *

All that was last year.

I'm back in Boston to see the girls graduate, not that I've been absent from my alma mater that much. I've been here for all the high days and holidays, except when Helen and B flew to New York instead.

It's been a busy year for all of us: I've had to get used to having money and the girls have been earning it off me as if they're trying to bankrupt me. The deal we struck has cost me over four hundred thousand this last year. Do the math: that's two hundred and something frat boys laid in two hundred and something days: about two and a half per girl per week although Helen had the lion's share.

I've sold some of my father's properties. The rest I've had redecorated and refurnished, removing all trace of him from them. People in New York are already talking in disapproving, hushed tones about 'That boy' because I've made it my goal in life to be New York's Byron. Before I'm finished, my father's family name will be synonymous with sexual excess of all kinds.

And I've decided on a career. I'm going to exhibit my photography. It probably won't earn me a living but that hardly matters, does it? What it will do is publicly flaunt my sweet girls and, if it all works out, will make at least one of B's fantasies come true: I'm hoping to make her pussy the most famous in the world by making it the focus of my first exhibition.

* * * * *

"Mr Kennedy, Mrs Kennedy," I shook their hand's vigorously, "I'm Eric Kruppa. You must be so proud of B today." B's parents looked unbelievably average. How did these people produce such a beautiful creature?

"Eh? Oh, yes. We are. Of course we are. So you're Eric. B talks about you a lot." Mr Kennedy said.

"All the time." Mrs Kennedy added. Was her speech slurred? Had she been drinking already?

"Really?" I trust I looked smug. I looked at B, radiant in her cap and gown and inappropriately tight black trousers, whose camel toe gave anybody who glanced down reason enough to believe she was still not wearing panties.

"Well, Eric, it was so kind of you to pay my college fees." B smiled knowingly.

"Is the Kruppa scholarship a new thing?" Mr Kennedy asked me. "Only... you look somewhat young."

"I graduated last year. Yes, Mr Kennedy, the scholarship is a new thing. This was my first year as a sponsor. I wanted to give something back to my fraternity brothers." B was wearing her Phi Kappa Delta pin so I pointed to it then to mine, demonstrating the connection.

"Oh." Mrs Kennedy obviously didn't know her daughter was in a fraternity. "When B decided not to join a sorority in her first year, we thought that was that."

"We voted B and her roommate, Helen -- have you met Helen? -- into Phi Kappa Delta when I was fraternity president. We've always stood for equality in Phi Kappa Delta. We were the first fraternity on this campus to initiate a black pledgeman, back in the sixties. We've never made any restrictions of our membership on grounds of race, creed or sexual preference and I felt it was high time that gender discrimination was consigned to the same history books as racism and homophobia.

And it's been a great success. The girls have been invaluable and active members of the fraternity and I'm sure they will be missed next year.

B, did you tell your parent's about our social development program?"


"Oh but you should have. May I?"

"Be my guest." B could see I was on a roll.

"Social development program?" Mrs Kennedy asked.

"A lot of young men who come to Harvard are... well, let's be frank, they're often a bit bookish. This institution prizes academic excellence above all else, so we get more than our fair share of socially inept young scholars. At Phi Kappa Delta, we believe our members should leave here with more than mere academic qualifications, but also with the social skills essential to success in the modern world. B and Helen have selflessly given of themselves to help this year's pledges develop their social skills. Many of our pledges had never had girlfriends and certainly never dreamt of dating a girl as pretty as B. Under her tutelage, and Helen's, they've learned self-confidence, how to make small talk, in short turning boys into gentlemen." I noticed B looking smug at my reference to her prettiness. Her father and mother looked impressed too.

"Bernadette never mentioned any of this." Her mother said, glancing questioningly at her daughter.

"I didn't want you thinking I was neglecting my college work to hang out with boys." B improvised with a straight face.

"Which she clearly wasn't. Summa cum laude." I reminded them that B had graduated with the highest of honours. "Are you staying in Boston?"

"No. We're flying home this afternoon." Mr Kennedy said.

"Such a pity, we could have all had dinner together. My treat. You're sure you can't stay longer?"

"I don't think our tickets are transferable." Mr Kennedy, in objecting, ignored his wife's obvious desire to stay.

"Is that all? No problem. My jet will take you home tomorrow. Tonight, you'll be my guests."

"Oh, we couldn't..." Mrs Kennedy put up token resistance.

"Of course you can. I insist. B, when you've finished here, would you take your parent's to my hotel and get them settled in? Be sure to tell Georges that they're VIP guests of Mr Kruppa and that he should extend every hospitality to them."

"No problem." B watched her parent's face at the VIP reference. Clearly, they'd never been VIP's before.

"Anything you need -- anything at all -- just charge to your suite." Yes yokels, the rich kid did say suite, not room. Gosh! But don't you look impressed right now? "Mr and Mrs Kennedy, its been a pleasure to finally meet you but I really must dash. I have promises to keep." I shook their hands again and left while they were still stunned.

"What a handsome young man," Mrs Kennedy said to B.

"Isn't he?" B hugged her mother's arm.

"Did he say 'his jet'?" Mr Kennedy found his voice.

"Yes, Pops. C'mon." B led them away.

* * * * *

"Call me Parry." Helen's Dad shook my hand.

"And I'm Meg." Her Mom was an older version of Helen. They were clearly far more sophisticated than the Kennedy's.

"Helen's told me so much about you both." And I've seen the videos. So you're Helen's favourite cock. "This must be a proud day for you."

"We're proud of our little girl every day." Meg said with the loyalty of a mother.

"That makes three of us, because I'm proud to know her. Helen is an inspiration." And that makes three of us because we've all fucked your daughter. And you know that, don't you Parry? Meg still doesn't suspect about you, though she's seen me in action.

"An inspiration?" Parry asked.

"Her work with Phi Kappa Delta's Social Development Program? She didn't tell you?" I know she told you, Parry. You've got all her earnings from it. "It takes more than just the best education money can buy to equip a man for the modern world. The Social Development Program helps those students whose social skills are lacking, teaching them self-confidence, social intercourse and gentlemanly behaviour."

"Oh, yes, Helen did mention something."

"Daddy, you heard about it last thanksgiving." Helen reminded him of a conversation in the dark after he'd spent the evening sodomizing her vigorously, to their mutual delight.

Anyway, I've just invited B's parent's -- have you met them? Lovely people -- invited them to dinner tonight. We're all staying in the same hotel so I'd be honoured if you three would join us."

"We'd be delighted." Meg voted for everyone. "We haven't met B's family yet, and it'll be a good opportunity to do so. Helen darling? Do B's parents know about you and ..."

"That we're lovers? Yes. B told them the first opportunity she had."

"Is that the girl who gave you such a hard time over the whole sorority thing?" Parry asked Helen. He was peering past me at Chrissy Deerborne and her father. Both of them were glancing towards our little group.

"That's the bitch." Helen confirmed. "And that's her father with her."

"Is she still giving you grief?" Parry asked his daughter. I'd heard about the first time he met Prissy Chrissy.

"Allow me to deal with it." I offered. "I'll see you at seven." I shook Parry's hand again, pecked both women on the cheek then went straight over to the Deerborne clique.

"Mr deerborne. Allow me to introduce myself. Eric Kruppa. You had some dealings with my father as I recall."

"Eh? Certainly. A terrible loss to us all." He shook my hand, still flustered at my intrusion.

"I have something you should see." I took out my I-phone and pulled up the video clip I'd loaded of him with Helen. I showed him the screen at an angle that prohibited Chrissy from sticking her nose in. Three seconds worth was all it took. He went pale.

"What is it?" Chrissy asked, straining to get a glimpse before I pocketed the phone.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about." I never pass up an opportunity to condescend to Chrissy. Then to the shell-shocked Deerborne, "I think we should talk in private, don't you?"

He followed me away from the throng, ignoring Chrissy's objections.

"How much do you want?" He hissed in a tone that made me think he was no stranger to blackmail.

"Does Chrissy know you want to fuck her?" I asked in a most conversational tone.

"What? Preposterous! I..."

"You pay prostitutes to call you Daddy and answer to the name Christabelle while they shit chocolate in your mouth. You saw the video, sir, let's not be coy."

"Very well. How much?"

"I don't want your money!" I laughed. "I just want Chrissy to go over to that young woman you were eyeballing a moment ago and apologise for being such a bitch."

"I can't make... Christabelle would never..."

"Would you prefer that I show Christabelle all the video I have of your sick little games?" I shook his hand as if we'd just concluded a deal and walked off.

* * * * *

"Eric, you should have been there!" Helen was telling me all about Christabelle's spontaneous apology. "I swear every syllable must have hurt like toothache. She looked so unhappy about it."

"I wonder how Francis Deerborne persuaded her to do it." It's not as if he could just tell Christabelle that he was being blackmailed with video of him pretending to eat her shit.

"We may never know." Helen hugged me. "But thanks all the same. That was a wonderful graduation present."

"You're welcome." I hugged her back. Helen and B were camping in my suite while they got dressed up for dinner with the parents.

"At least you got a graduation present." B hinted, not at all subtly.

"Actually, B, now you mention it." I dipped a hand into each pocket of my trousers and tossed them a set of car keys each. The black prancing horse on a yellow shield gave it away rather.

"No!" B was beaming.

"Ferraris?" Helen wanted to be sure.

"In the garage underneath us. Think of them as company cars. As of now, you're on my payroll. Also, I'm now the proud owner of a yacht called Honey B: Eighty feet of pure decadence. As soon as the jet gets back, tomorrow, we're all off to Antigua to collect her."

"If we're on the payroll, what're our job titles?"

"And how much do we get paid?" Helen asked.

"Your job title is the same one we agreed a year ago: You'll be my courtesans and what you get paid depends on how often I get laid. Basic will be a hundred grand a year each. You'll still get paid for fraternity alumni and anyone else I may need you to seduce.

Helen, you can still work freelance if you want but I do insist that your fee goes up to five grand a night. If you're going to be a whore, you're going to be a damned expensive one."

"Can I work freelance too?" B asked.

"Under the same conditions, of course. But I already have plans to make your pussy famous. It's going to star in my first photographic exhibition, next year. What are your plans for later?"

"We thought we'd come back here and thank you properly for our graduation presents." B jingled her new keys.

"Helen? Did you want to invite your Dad?" I asked.

"That might be difficult unless Mom's asleep."

"I'm sure I can find a business matter that he and I really should discuss, if you want to spend some time with your Mom. B? D'you fancy keeping Parry and me company until Helen's Mom nods off?"

"Do I? I haven't been properly DP'd in ages." B beamed at the prospect.

"Can we go and see our new toys now?" Helen tossed her car keys into the air and caught them.

"Sure." I offered them an arm each and we headed for the elevator.

* * * * *

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