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From: Vivian Darkbloom <vdkblm-OBLITERATE-SPAM!@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Therapy (fmff oral anal)
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Date: Sat, 10 Sep 2005 03:10:03 -0400
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                                 Therapy

                          by Vivian Darkbloom

   Ms. Camphor led me down the drab middle-school hallway to her
   office. As I followed behind her, unwillingly feeling myself
   coaxed by the undulation of her large, but well-proportioned
   buttocks, the scent that emerged from the swish of her thin,
   almost see-through cotton print dress of lavender soap with sweet
   traces of her personal aroma factored in.

   My eyes narrowed in irritation at having been summoned from my
   English class by one of her little square green slips, and I
   scuffed my rubber sneakers along the waxed brown floor, making a
   suitably annoying screeching sound with every step I took.
   Nonetheless, she smiled with her usual unruffled composure,
   casually waving at one of the other counselors, who curiously
   watched as Ms. Camphor unlocked the door.

   I blinked as my senses were plunged into the alternate reality of
   her office. The first shock was the change in surroundings. From
   a harsh and hard institutionally boring turd-brown hallway,
   coated with sickening shades that only a half-braindead school
   administrator would think of choosing to torture any surface
   with, into a soft and subtly shaded room, carpeted and
   tapestried, minimally and tastefully adorned. Kokopelli peered
   out at me from the wall, as did Jerry Garcia and Mohandes Gandhi,
   along with a dozen other faces I barely recognized. There was a
   gigantic poster of someone hang-gliding over a breathtaking
   mountainscape.

   The second surprise was that I had company. Three girls sat
   around a partial circle, with two open spaces, presumably for me
   and Ms. Camphor. Tracy, Sahara, and Kailani who I knew from
   various of my classes. All were smiling welcomingly, yet shyly,
   as I entered, and none spoke. Ms. Camphor, also still smiling,
   with therapeutically sympathetic kindness, sat, and invited me
   with her eyes to join them. Although she was older, and time
   graced her black hair with brush-strokes of grey, she was still
   quite attractive, I thought. In fact, she had been the object of
   several, um, romantic fantasies earlier that week.

   My heart pounded. What kind of trouble am I in now? I wondered.
   It was kinda weird, being in a room with all those girls and
   stuff, `cause I'm not even sure girls are from the same planet
   sometimes, they're so weird.

   "Now, that we're all here, would anyone like to start?" offered
   Ms. Camphor.

   All were too timid.

   "Ok, how about if I break the ice. Orion," she faced me, looking
   into my eyes. "These girls have each come to me individually to
   complain that they can't concentrate on their classes while
   you're around, so I thought it might be good for us all to get
   together and see if we can resolve some of the underlying
   psychological issues, in order to co-create a helpful and
   supportive academic environment."

   I rolled my eyes. Oh brother, not more of this touchy-feely
   counseling bullshit.

   "Would any of you like to start?" asked Ms. Camphor.

   Momentary silence, then Tracy, Miss Prim and Proper straight-A
   Priss, raised her hand. "Might as well get it out of the way."
   Her long curly brown hair was done up in a pair of braids, and
   her dozens of freckles momentarily faded as she blushed. "My
   fantasy was that you were, um, you know. Inside of me, from
   behind, and like, the story I shared with you guys before. . ."

   Redhaired Sahara finished for her: "She imagined that I was
   underneath, licking her clitoris while she had an, um, orgasm." I
   turned to look at Sahara the beautiful (each girl in the room was
   smashingly beautiful, in fact). Like Tracy, she was also
   pale-skinned and freckle-faced, only her long hair was fiery red
   with golden-blonde highlights. All natural, too. How many times I
   had thought about, um, being with her.

   I shifted uneasily in the plastic school-chair, not wanting to
   reveal the hard-on that was beginning to form. The more I tried
   not to think about it, the worse it became. I resisted the
   tormenting urge to reach down and reposition it more comfortably.

   Unnoticing, Ms. Camphor turned to Kailani. "Are you ready to
   share?"

   Kailani, the thin blonde, smiled shyly. Of the three younger
   girls, she was the only one wearing a dress, a light pastel
   colored spring thing. "Um sure. I had a couple of different
   fantasies. Like, pretending I was a man and screwing your butt
   with a dildo."

   My hard-on progressed further, and I blushed with shame, thinking
   that the girls might notice it. I shifted in my seat, trying
   unsuccessfully to make it more comfortable. Maybe I could pretend
   I had to go to the bathroom? But then I would have to stand up,
   and it would stick out, and they would see it for sure. Out of
   the corner of my eye, I saw Tracy's erect nipples poking out
   through her blue cross-striped shirt.

   Ms. Camphor exhaled, "Alright, then. I have been studying up on
   this phenomenon, and I came across a group of researchers who
   devised an experimental technique for dealing with the situation.
   I've been authorized by the administration to give it a try. I'll
   need you to agree to co-operate with me as best you can, and if
   at any time you feel that you feel as though something is
   inappropriate or makes you uncomfortable, please let me know.
   Agreed?"

   We gave the overwhelming response which we, as middle-school
   students, were proudly the most talented at giving, basically
   dumbfounded silent stupor.

   Fortunately, Ms. Camphor was experienced enough not to press the
   issue, and apparently took our enthusiasm as an answer in the
   affirmative, for in any event she kept right on rolling: "For the
   next part of the process, I'd like us to all close our eyes."

   With a flood of relief, I observed that all had their eyes
   closed, then surreptitiously leaned forward and elbowed my
   tormented member into a better position. Only Kailani hadn't had
   her eyes entirely closed, and she opened them again and winked at
   me, and then closed them again.

   "I'd like you to imagine a bright golden light, entering the top
   of your head, and pouring down into every part of your body. Your
   shoulders, your upper arms, your breasts, your forearms and
   hands, down to your belly, your reproductive organs, your thighs
   and down your legs. Now imagine the light being drawn into the
   center of the earth, and feel yourself sinking into a state of
   perfect relaxation." She continued to prattle on in this sort of
   manner, with all this weirdo touchy-feely trash.

   About the last thing I felt was perfectly relaxed, and the harder
   I tried, the more agitated I found myself becoming, until finally
   she said, "And now open your eyes."

   As I did, I thought I noticed Tracy and Sahara staring at my
   crotch, which had subsided but a little.

   "Next," continued Ms. Camphor, as she got up from her chair, and
   twisted the doorknob lock until it clicked, "I've been studying
   cases that most resemble this one and there are some techniques
   that I'd like to try." She returned to her seat. "First of all, I
   need to have each one of you swear to the confidentiality of
   everything that goes on in this room."

   She went around and had each one of us swear to it.

   "All right," she said. "The basis of the technique is that the
   way to regain the ability to concentrate on academic subjects is
   not to avoid the object of fascination, but rather to confront it
   directly, and see that it has no power. So often when we face
   these things, we discover that they have no power at all. So,
   does anyone have a suggestion as to how we should begin?"

   Tracy raised her hand. Ms. Camphor nodded. "Maybe if we could
   actually see his, um, private parts, since that would be the
   object of fascination?"

   "Excellent," replied Ms. Camphor. "Only we need to apply the
   reciprocal principle. You will need to show him your genitals as
   well. But we need to take it carefully, and be sure that each one
   of you has equal access."

   She turned to me. Fortunately, my hard-on had subsided by now, so
   I was feeling less self-conscious. "How about it? Are you willing
   to participate in the process?"

   I shrugged reluctantly. "I guess. Whatever will help them be able
   to study better."

   "All right then, let's each one of us turn around, so we're
   facing away from the circle. We'll take off all of our clothes,
   then when I give the signal, we'll all turn back around at once,
   so we can confront the reality of having physical bodies. Ok?
   Everyone turn around."

   I turned, and followed her instructions, slipping off my trousers
   and underpants and shirt, silently thanking the stars that my
   hard-on had finally subsided. Then I stood, as I heard the snap
   and rustle of elastic and cloth behind me, felt the unexpectedly
   sexual feeling triggered by the brush of Tracy's dress against my
   buttocks as she tossed it on the floor.

   "Oops. Sorry!" she muttered.

   Finally, the commotion quieted. "Everyone ready?" asked Ms.
   Camphor.

   There was a chorus of `yes,' and she continued "Ok, on three.
   One, two, three. . .."

   And we all turned. I was facing three naked girls, and a naked
   counselor. With fascination, my eyes devoured the sights
   never-before seen, the soft fluffy silken pubescent hairs
   delicately encircling the fleshy folds, each forming a diaphanous
   wisp of texture to tantalizingly accentuate the hidden mystery at
   the point of the downward-facing triangle. The young breasts with
   nipples standing at attention all around me, in a variety of
   shapes and sizes, all equally beautiful. And Ms. Camphor's older
   body with more textures and wrinkles, intricate and more opaque
   tangles of hair around her vagina, with breasts slightly more
   weighted, but still attractively springy.

   I noticed the girls all staring not only at my penis, but also at
   each other's genitalia. Fortunately my little guy was behaving
   itself and hanging listlessly, but there was an embarrassing
   little drop of fluid at the tip, almost -- but not quite --
   enough to separate and splatter on the floor.

   "All right, everybody turn around again and put your clothes back
   on."

   I complied with the orders given, the images of the naked girls
   flitting unforgettably across my mind's eye. Soon we were all
   sitting down again facing each other.

   "Now who would like to go first, in sharing the feelings that we
   experienced in that exercise. Tracy?"

   "Sure, I'll go," she said.

   I confess I heard little of the conversation that ensued, as my
   mind drifted off into other places. Kailani's eyes met mine, a
   little wider and wilder twinkling.

   Finally, we had gone around the circle and everyone had shared,
   and Ms. Camphor was looking satisfied with the results, as the
   bell rang. "We'll meet again tomorrow," she said. "I've arranged
   an excused absence for everyone this period. You must promise not
   to speak to each other of these events outside of this room!" And
   before she allowed us to leave, she made us all vow to remain
   silent.

   I found myself surrounded by the three girls as we surged towards
   the exit, and when the door spring proved stronger than Kailani's
   tug, she halted abruptly causing Tracy's breasts to collide into
   my back as my crotch connected solidly with Kailani's soft butt.
   She looked around, knowingly, then pulled harder on the door
   (causing her butt to once more bump into me) and we all departed.
     ____________________________________________________________

   During classes the next day, the four of us would exchange
   smiling winks and glances, but we did keep our promise, and the
   next afternoon found us all in the circle again, safely out of
   the harsh institutional environment, in the soft and cozy
   cloth-shrouded cocoon of Ms. Camphor's therapy space. Today, she
   had made us all remove our shoes and socks.

   "To start us off today, I thought I would bring out an object for
   us to discuss." Ms. Camphor went over to the filing cabinet,
   turned the key in the lock, and pulled the drawer out fully.
   Reaching past the rows of file folders, she drew out an unusual
   item, and closed the drawer, placing the object on the floor in
   the center of the circle.

   "What's that?" asked pale redhead Sahara, though she was already
   guessing.

   "Can anyone guess?" asked Ms. Camphor.

   "A strap-on harness, with a double-dildo designed to be suitable
   for anal penetration," replied Kailani, eyes lit up with her
   fantasy of going inside my butt. My anus itched, but I dared not
   to think about it. Which, of course, only made it worse.

   Ms. Camphor continued: "I also brought some diagrams. Here is a
   cross-section of the female anatomy, illustrating the location of
   the G-spot," she passed around copies for each of us. "And a
   cross-section of the male anatomy, illustrating the stimulation
   of the prostate gland." Each drawing showed a finger inserted
   into the appropriate opening, in the correct position to
   stimulate the respective area of sensitivity.

   "Alright, I want everybody to close their eyes. Imagine a golden
   light. . ." As she prattled on, I imagined quite a few things,
   but that damned golden light wasn't one of them. Images of the
   soft young bodies I had seen the day before scurried across my
   inner movie-screen, one by one, then all together, dancing around
   me. Ms. Camphor's words wove in between the aching lust that I
   found growing in the center of my pelvis, until finally she said
   ". . .and now open your eyes."

   We all blinked and looked at each other. Today, freckle-faced
   Tracy had her long dark hair loose, and it fell in careless wavy
   strands around her neck and shoulders. At the center of the
   circle lay the icon of the event.

   "Today, I'd like to try an experiential exercise, as we move in
   the direction of resolving the difficulty in concentrating. For
   this portion, Orion, we need you to be at the center of the
   circle."

   "Uh, Ok." I got up and sat in the center, while Ms. Camphor
   placed the harness device on my chair.

   "Now get on your knees," instructed Ms. Camphor.

   "Is it prayer time?" I asked, belligerently falling to my knees
   on the rug, faking an evangelical preacher's voice: "So help me
   Jesus, forgive me in the name of the blood and the holy
   ghost. . . I feel a healin' comin' on!"

   "Very funny," said Ms. Camphor, as the girls all giggled. "Now,
   girls, I want you all to remember, the resolution must be
   distributed evenly among you. So whoever's mouth he ejaculates
   into, must kiss each of the others in order to share the male
   body fluid. Do you want to try a dry run right now, before we
   begin?"

   The hair stood up on the back of my neck as she said the word
   "ejaculated." I had never had an orgasm before. I had learned how
   to get my dick hard by gently stroking it, particularly the part
   right behind its little red head, and had seen the drops of fluid
   oozing out, but I had never had a full-on orgasm, so I didn't
   even know if I could yet.

   Dark-haired Tracy started by facing red-headed Sahara, who
   reciprocated by facing her friend, and they both leaned forward,
   lips meeting lightly at first, then more deeply as they embraced.

   Kailani looked at me. "Well, I could kiss you while I'm waiting,"
   she said to me. Ms. Camphor nodded. Kailani kneeled down on the
   floor in front of me, shuffling up until our knees all met on the
   floor, and awkwardly put my arms around her, hands behind her
   head, as her lips approached mine. I had never kissed a girl
   before! The sensations flew into my brain at a million miles an
   hour, the entire world cushioned in a blissful glow that
   descended as our lips and tongues made contact. As I noticed the
   unevenness of her eyeliner, my mind tried to recreate the moment
   when she had put it on, perhaps sitting half-naked in the privacy
   of her room, wondering what had been on her mind while she
   applied the minute strokes of black pigment as she did each day,
   perhaps awaiting breakfast whose smells had come wafting up the
   stairway (if she lived on the second floor, which for some reason
   I imagined she did).

   Her tongue felt odd, rough and yet gentle at the same time. Her
   cheeks tasted of chocolate, soft, slippery and pliant. I could
   feel her love through the gestures, as her pelvis quivered gently
   against my thigh, the points of her small breasts pressed into my
   chest. I lightly touched the surface of her eyelids, the fine
   silken strands of her beautiful, shoulder-length blonde hair.

   Together we noticed that the other two girls had finished, so we
   parted, Kailani jumped up onto Sahara's lap, and they began
   kissing, and as Kailani ran her fingers through the long strands
   of Sahara's flaming red hair I could see their breasts touching,
   kissing at the same time as their mouths were. The clean, bright
   smell of girl-sweat filled my nostrils.

   Tracy knelt down, smiling sheepishly, rosy-cheeked. Her firm
   young face was splashed with dozens of freckles, sharp and
   detailed with the blush of youth. She followed Kailani's example,
   and snugged up to me, but before we kissed, we gazed into each
   other's eyes for a few seconds. She reached up and brushed light
   fingers across my forehead. I reached forward and kissed her, the
   second girl I had ever kissed. Her mouth tasted of the minty
   freshness of toothpaste, as the sweetness of her little gasping
   moan belied the prudish attitude she generally put on, and we
   clutched each other passionately as our tongues probed and
   prodded and pushed.

   Finally, we parted with smiles, and Kailani dragged Tracy over
   and began to ravish her, as Sahara drew before me in full glory
   of her lioness-like strawberry-blonde hair. The golden highlights
   in her eyebrows herded the dark freckles splayed across her
   forehead, until the flowed down her nose and across her smiling
   cheeks, and before I knew it our lips had met in the fullness of
   my third kiss, the longest so far, as we took turns tantalizing
   each other with sweet sweeping flicks of lips and tongue.

   "Excellent," exclaimed Ms. Camphor, clapping once as the girls
   fell into place kneeling around me. "Orion, do you find that your
   penis is uncomfortable in the position it's in? Because I notice
   that you seem bashful about adjusting it. Go ahead if you would
   like."

   "Ok," I did, under the girls' curious gazes.

   "Now, I need you to all participate in loosening his pants."
   Instantly, six hands were on me, unbuckling, unbuttoning,
   unzipping, and soon I was down to my underpants. Somehow in the
   process, each of the girls had curiously pushed or prodded my
   firmness. Kailani even met my eyes as she ran her finger up and
   down it, sending tingles up and down my spine.

   "Underpants too," persisted Ms. Camphor.

   Tracy obediently reached on either side of me and pulled down the
   elastic, revealing once more the sight they had all seen
   yesterday, only this time in the shape of things that come.

   "Now you'll each take turns kissing his reproductive organs. I'll
   be taking notes and keeping track with a timer, just to be
   certain that everyone has an equal chance. Who would like to
   start. Sahara?"

   Sahara walked on her knees over in front of me, and bent over,
   smiling, and when I felt a warm moistness closing around my tip
   it was a bit of a shock. When I heard the word kiss, I assumed
   she would just give it a little peck. It was as if the great
   puppetmaster had yanked on a string inside of me, I began
   thrusting and grunting with pleasure to see my dirty old pee-hole
   inside the red lips of such a beautiful red-maned face, knowing I
   could let go of my nasty stuff inside her mouth at any time, with
   the other two girls watching. I held her head gently with both
   hands, the strange fragrant strawlike texture of her beautiful
   curls caressing between my fingers as we undulated together.

   After awhile, Kailani leaned forward and kissed Sahara on the
   ear, on the cheek, and then Sahara let my unbelievably stiff
   organ out of her mouth, in order to kiss Kailani. I loved
   watching the two of them turn each other on, especially as
   Kailani slyly reached out to caress Sahara's breast with one
   hand, even as she wrapped her index finger around the base of my
   shaft. After a while, Kailani took over where Sahara had been,
   now taking my tip into her blonde headed chocolate-tasting mouth.
   But Sahara didn't leave -- she began exploring with her tongue in
   other places. Down the shaft, tracing the underside of my balls.

   Finally, Kailani relented and let me slide from between her lips.
   She turned and motioned to Tracy, who took my nasty stiff organ
   of urination into her hands, covered with the saliva of two other
   girls, and slowly began to immerse me in the delicate sparkling
   clean warmth of her oral cavity. I could feel the mintiness!
   Seeing my stiff organ ready to explode my naughty jelly inside
   the mouth of this beautiful innocent prude gave me shudders, as I
   bucked and thrusted, feeling her tongue on the hole, probing my
   tip searching for the sweet drops that were dripping out.

   From the corner of my eye, I saw Kailani pick up the strap-on,
   and Ms. Camphor nodded. Kailani was wearing a dress today, and
   she lifted it up, deftly removing her panties and sliding them
   over her ankles. Ms. Camphor produced a bottle of lubricant, and
   as Kailani worked out how to fasten the silly thing to herself,
   Ms. Camphor opened the bottle and began massaging between the
   crack of my buns. Sahara continued to probe with her tongue, up
   and down the shaft, as she caressed underneath my balls.

   Soon I felt a sensation similar to taking a shit, only in the
   inverse, as the smooth tip of the dildo forced its way into my
   anal cavity. Its stiffness echoed the stiffness of myself in
   Tracy's sweet innocent mouth, and I glanced behind me to see
   Kailani lost in a blissful moaning trance, eyes half-closed and
   mouth wide open as she released her inner being to the erotic
   forbiddeness of it all.

   The radiating neural electricity from front and back rose and
   fell in waves, rising higher each time until Kailani, behind me,
   jerked and convulsed all out of control, like she had been jolted
   by an electric shock or something, and the sparks of energy flew
   through my anal sphinctre, touching a forbidden dirty place deep
   inside of me. I felt a strange pulsing, stronger than I ever had
   before, and propelled by the nasty ass-fucking, I felt my body
   shooting spurts of hot filthy juice into Tracy's crystal-pure
   clean mouth, felt her tongue welcoming each spicy drop as it
   squirted, like a hand over the side of a boat as it glided along
   the ocean. Wow, I couldn't believe it! My first orgasm, right
   into her mouth.

   She obediently released my dripping spear from her mouth, to kiss
   the anxiously waiting Sahara, and I could see Sahara eagerly
   sucking up the slimy snotlike substance that had just come out of
   my pee-hole, from between Tracy's lips.

   Then, as Tracy walked on her knees around behind me to kiss
   Kailani (now leaning back lazily), Sahara resumed where Tracy had
   left off, carefully licking up all of the disgusting fluid
   dripping from my still-hard penis, and smacking her lips with
   satisfaction, as I heard Kailani slurping my phlegm from between
   Tracy's lips.

   Man, was I exhausted! All I could do was collapse on the carpet,
   my heart pounding, and soon I found myself joined by the other
   warm bodies, and felt hands gently caressing my still-hard organ.

   I looked up and saw Ms. Camphor glancing at the stopwatch, pen
   spiraling frenetically as she scribbled. She looked over her
   glasses at us as she efficiently snapped the book shut.
   "Excellent progress," she commented. "In five minutes or so, I'd
   like you to all take out a sheet of paper and write some notes on
   your observations of this event. Maybe a page and a half or so."

   Collectively we rolled our eyes, but sure enough, the rush of the
   pounding heartbeats gradually subsided, as did the stiffness
   between my legs, and soon we were all sitting there with pen and
   paper in hand, writing in the most academically scholarly manner.
   At the end, Ms. Camphor collected the sheets, and we discussed
   the next meeting.

   "Could we do it after school instead tomorrow?" asked Tracy. "I
   have a test sixth period."

   "How is that for everybody?" asked Ms. Camphor.

   Everyone nodded. "Ok, let's meet right after school." The bell
   was ringing, so with our collective student instinct we packed up
   our bags and got up to leave.

   "I'd like everyone to bring a journal to write in tomorrow," Ms.
   Camphor called after us.

   "Ok," I heard a voice say. Sahara was in front this time, so
   there were no collisions, unfortunately.
     ____________________________________________________________

   As I was getting ready to get on my bike to ride home from
   school, I saw Tracy in the parkinglot. I rode over to her. "That
   was pretty cool," I said.

   She laughed, embarrassed.

   "You know," I continued, "I've never had an orgasm before. I
   guess that's what that was, wasn't it?"

   She laughed again. "I'd say so," she replied. "I've never had one
   either."

   "Well maybe I can help you get one," I said.

   "Ok. See you tomorrow!"

   She turned her head so that her long dark hair fell in front of
   her eyes, as she walked away.
     ____________________________________________________________

   Leave it to Tracy, I thought as the four of us filed into Ms.
   Camphor's office the next day. I mean, I liked ejaculating into
   her mouth (or however you call it) but she was such a goody-two
   shoes. Just because she had a test today, the rest of us couldn't
   skip sixth period like we had the last two days. I was hoping the
   next day we could go back to the previous idea of skipping class
   -- that is, if we kept on meeting. I wasn't sure how long the
   therapy was supposed to go on.

   We had been stuck outside the locked door of the office, standing
   in the hallway, and there was an awkward silence, punctuated only
   occasionally by bits of conversation between Tracy and Sahara,
   talking about stuff only girls seem to know about. Shucks, I was
   barely certain that girls were even human!

   So anyway, the door finally had opened, and these two like,
   really knockout girls walked out, leaving Ms. Camphor to hold the
   door open so we could file in.

   When we were all seated, she walked around, distributing the
   papers we had handed in the day before, only now all covered with
   red marks. "A few grammatical problems I noticed," she said. "Can
   anyone tell me the difference between the word `their,' a
   possessive, and `they're,' the contraction?"

   Like I cared about any of that rot. But Tracy's arm flew up,
   disturbing the long black curly locks, and she babbled some
   obscure English-grammar stuff I couldn't understand, and Ms.
   Camphor seemed satisfied.

   Finally, we were all sitting in a circle, and Ms. Camphor started
   off on her "I'd like you to close your eyes and imagine a golden
   light. . ." spiel. I simultaneously rolled and closed my eyes (a
   particular talent of mine) and endured the hypnotic prattling
   once more. Actually, I kinda had to admit it wasn't so bad, and
   finally she said ". . .and on the count of three, open your eyes.
   One, two, three."

   Blinking, I looked around me at the three smashingly lovely
   teenage girls around me, and our delightfully humored elder
   guide.

   "So, then. How did everybody feel about yesterday's session? Are
   we having an easier time concentrating on schoolwork?"

   Awkward silence. Finally, the blonde-haired Kailani raised her
   slender hand. "I'm having a little easier time concentrating, but
   I think we need to do more work still."

   Ms. Camphor surveyed the room. "Is that about how everybody
   feels?" All nodded, slightly, agreeing but not wanting to let on
   that one agreed with an adult.

   Tracy raised her hand. "How much more work will we have to
   complete, in order to, well you know. Recover our ability to
   concentrate."

   "Good question," replied Ms. Camphor. "It's difficult to predict
   exactly, but we still need to get through the coital sessions
   before you'll see any real results. We need to have him ejaculate
   inside each one of your vaginal orifices at least once before we
   can call it quits. Sometimes the anal orifice will suffice, but
   we may as well play it safe."

   "Ok," replied Tracy.

   Ms. Camphor turned to me. "All right, Orion, it's time to kneel
   on the floor again. This time, I'll permit you to undo your own
   trousers.

   I stepped forward, and knelt on the carpet, hesitating at first.
   I had never taken my clothes off in front of a girl before, let
   alone three of the most ravishing beauties in our entire school!
   But academia awaited my sacrifice, and I knew that if these poor
   girls were ever to succeed in their classes, I had to brace
   myself for the worst. So, I loosened my pants and yanked them
   down, though somehow they got all snarled around my knees, so I
   rolled over on my back to get them off of me, and they wound up
   flying across the room. This set the girls to giggling again.

   Finally I got back on my knees, dressed only in my underpants and
   shirt. My penis protruded embarrassingly, uncontrollably stiff,
   and all my efforts at concentration to call it off only made it
   harder. The tip of it even stuck out a little above the elastic!

   Eventually I gave in, and just pulled them down around my knees.

   Here Ms. Camphor chimed in, stopwatch and notebook in hand.
   "Tracy, since his ejaculation was into your mouth yesterday,
   we'll have you sit out today. But you can man the strap-on, if
   you like."

   Tracy nodded sycophantically, ever wanting to please. What a
   little suck-up primrose. She started obediently taking off her
   jeans, and examining the straps on the dildo, working out how to
   slip it around her.

   "Kailani, Sahara, would you like to kiss his reproductive
   organs?" Both in unison fell from their chairs, attacking my poor
   hardened pee-hose. I actually had forgotten to go pee before we
   started, and the nagging needfulness of my urinary tract only
   added to the stimulation, making me even stiffer. Man, would this
   hard-on ever end?

   Kailani and Sahara eagerly embraced their appointed task, and I
   soon found myself with blonde-haired and red-haired heads bobbing
   in front of me. They took turns, first one on the tip and the
   other on the shaft, then switching places. I placed my hands on a
   soft shoulder or beautiful head-top as available, in order to
   steady myself.

   I felt slippery fingers running up and down the crack of my butt.
   Swiveling my head, I saw that it was Tracy. "I saw Ms. Camphor do
   this yesterday," she smiled. "So I think I can figure out how it
   works." Her face was flush from the stimulation of the half of
   the dildo that was already inside of her.

   When she had spread enough of the lubricant liquid up and down my
   crack (she would stop to wiggle her fingertip in my shit-hole on
   the way) she slid my end of the dildo up from between my legs,
   until it was against the hole. Then she began to push
   rhythmically. I could tell from the corner of my eye, that the
   thrusting motion was having an effect on her, as her eyes glazed
   over and her head skewed slightly in surrender to the erotic
   sensations. What a rush, seeing a girl who was so ordinarily prim
   and self-controlled, lost in dirty thoughts, with her private
   personal special secret hole connected to my ass, even! As she
   pushed harder, her tip penetrated me further and further, until
   our connection was as solid as the hard-on in front of me.

   Which would it be? Sahara or Kailani? Who would get the icky snot
   in their mouth today? I almost felt like I was going to pee
   inside one of their mouths, but I remember a book I read back in
   "Human Growth" education saying it was impossible, and I sure
   knew it was impossible to pee at all when my wee-wee was all
   stiff.

   Kailani, the blonde, lovingly swallowed me into her mouth, and
   her upper teeth rode along that killer spot, between the tip and
   the shaft on the top, until I felt like I couldn't even take it
   any more. She looked up at me with her enormous eyes, a
   steel-grey color with golden sparkles twinkling inside.

   Then with a little slurping noise, she let go and Sahara took
   over. Now my aching readiness was engulfed in a mane of red, and
   her long strawberry curls lightly caressed the front of my
   thighs, adding to the tantalizing sensation of stimulation. She
   smiled while she sucked on me (I didn't even know that was
   possible!) and gazed into my soul with her freckle-faced forehead
   and forever-blue eyes, the color of skies receding into infinite
   clouds.

   Then Kailani. . . Then Sahara. . . Then Kailani. . . Then
   Sahara. . . Tracy in the meantime moaning more urgently behind
   me, then without warning she torqued wildly, giving an
   involuntary yelp as she shivered and thrust uncontrollably. At
   that point, I had just exited Sahara's mouth, and was about to
   enter Kailani's, but the pulsing trigger solidly inside my behind
   set off a jerking repeated gush of snotlike drops from my
   pee-hole. The first few landed on Kailani's nose and left cheek,
   until she thought quickly enough to wrap her lips around me and
   suck up the rest of the yucky mucous spurting out of me. When I
   felt her upper teeth on that killer spot, I found myself bucking
   and thrusting even harder, almost to where I was afraid I was
   going to hurt her or something. Never mind, she was Ok.

   As Tracy, behind me, collapsed forward onto my back, still hard
   in my ass, with her tits poking into my shoulderblades, Kailani
   still had me in her mouth, as Sahara leaned over to carefully
   lick my milky white snot from Kailani's smooth pale cheeks and
   nose. Then Sahara smacked her lips, smiling, and Kailani let me
   slide from her lips into Sahara's, while Sahara explored my
   now-oversensitive tip for further drops that might have been
   missed, and Kailani thoughtfully walked around behind me on her
   knees to kiss Tracy.

   Turning my head, I watched Tracy suck and slurp my oozing slime
   from Kailani's mouth between her flushed red lips, like succulent
   strings spaghetti, and then she kissed Kailani in earnest, with
   newfound passion triggered by her first orgasm. The two girls who
   knew what it felt like to have an orgasm with their vaginas
   connected to my ass, were kissing with the comraderie of shared
   secrets.

   I couldn't comprehend what it was that the girls found so
   inviting about the gross icky gooey stuff that came out of the
   place I take a whiz from. I mean jeez, I know Ms. Camphor had
   told them they had to share it, but it seemed like they really
   took a liking to it. Whatever. It sure was fun to shoot it into
   their mouths, at least so far.

   Ms. Camphor clicked the stopwatch, and lay down her pen. "Did you
   all bring journals like I asked you to?"

   I rolled my eyes. "Um, no, I forgot," I said, while
   simultaneously the rest of the girls said something else. The
   best time to say something is while everybody else is talking, so
   that way you can't get corrected for saying the wrong thing.

   Unfortunately, Ms. Camphor had sharp ears, or at any rate sorted
   out the stories with the adeptness earned by hard years of
   experience. The lowdown was that I was the only one who had
   forgotten.

   "Well, today you can share with Tracy," said Ms. Camphor. "Is
   that all right with you?" she asked Tracy, who shrugged.

   So, still naked I waited while the other girls wrote, today
   nestled in a one of the several plush love-seats that sat against
   the wall of Ms. Camphor's room, next to the also-still-naked
   Tracy, who engraved slowly in unbelievably tidy curly cursive
   letters. We leaned against each other, her hair straggling down
   my shoulders, my hand in her lap, as I watched in hypnotic
   fascination while she detailed the entire story of the day's
   events from her perspective.


     ____________________________________________________________


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