How I Became an Ivy League Whore [Chapters 1-5]
I guess my journey into debauchery began like many others: from desperation.
Deep down, I had always known I was a very attractive young girl, but I guess I hid it behind textbooks and nerdy big-framed glasses, sacrificing a normal teen experience in order to trudge through academics and secure an acceptance in one of the nation's most esteemed universities. I didn't mind being the pretty, petite bookworm seeing that I was an only chìld to a single parent who couldn't afford to buy groceries every week let alone a college tuition. Or maybe I did, but simply buried my frustration of a lack of a social life in calculus and literature homework.
My high school habits carried on through university as I found myself excelling in class, but extremely bored outside of it. Despite my immaculate GPA, the realities of paying my way thorugh Ivy League schooling on a limited scholarship was beginning to hit hard. My first inclination was to seek additional financial aid from the university through the Dean of Academics. I first saw him when he gave a motivational speech at my freshmen orientation, where I perceived him to be a charismatic but benevolent man. I knew it would be a long shot, but I made an appointment to see him anyway.
I arrived at the office to meet with him, already intimidated by the lofty opulence of a 400 year old historical building in which it was located. However, I was disappointed to hear that the dean was unable to see me, probably due to the trivial nature of my request compared to the other concerns of running the top university in the country. Instead, I was directed to a lesser associate of his of whom I had never met. He introduced himself as Mr. Krupp, and agreed to field my request for an audience.
Within our meeting, I started off boasting of my pristine collegiate school record. Soon, it spiraled into more of sob story as I almost begged for additional scholarship opportunities. Something left me uncomfortable with Mr. Krupp. He seemingly grew jovial as I grew upset and desperate with my situation. He was nothing like the clean-cut professional dean I was hoping to see. Rather, he looked disheveled and sinister. Mr. Krupp was a short but stout man, barely taller than my own diminutive height. What he lacked in height, he made up in width with a sloppy frame that made it difficult to hide an exposed bulging belly from under his shirt. His hair was frayed like a mad scientist with matching unkempt clothing that smelled stale and musty.
After finishing my sheepish pleas for financial aid, there was a long awkward silence. Mr. Krupp remained still, staring at me as if he were intently listening despite my own silence. Finally, he told me what I was hoping to hear. I was going to receive additional financial aid. I literally let a long sigh of relief before being met with yet another moment of awkward silence. Mr. Krupp was still staring at me with a peculiar smirk.
"But first you have to earn it," he said cryptically with an almost teasing tone.
Deep down, I had my suspicions as to what he wanted, but continued to play with the idea of additional academic work or an extracurricular thesis project of some sort in order to calm myself. Unfortunately, it was going to be neither of that.
"Come here," Mr. Krupp requested with his gesturing finger as well.
I stood up from my seat on the opposite end of his antique wooden desk, still uncertain as to what he was requesting.
"Come over here," he demanded with a little more conviction.
I sheepishly walked around his desk toward his large black leather chair. As I arrived before him, he stood from his own seat while signaling for me to take his place on the chair. I obliged, but sat tense as a block of stone as he casually strolled away to the end of his office. The more shy I appeared, the more confident he became. Mr. Krupp made his way to a small cabinet where he pulled out a glass and bottle of amber liquor of some sort. He poured himself a glass before casually pacing to and fro. He then turned off the lights in the room, creating a dim setting in the old Victorian office.
"What should you do... what should you do... to earn this scholarship?" he asked rhetorically as if he were playing with me. "This must be a... challenging... assignment for you to earn this scholarship."
He had toyed with me long enough. Mr. Krupp glided back to his desk, glass of liquor in hand, where I was seated in his office chair. He stood imposingly before me, his exposed belly fat now in front of my nose. I froze. He reached down and took my hand with his own, placing it on crotch of his pants, forcing me to rub its contents. I could already feel the bulge in my palm as I simply gave in to his demand. Finally, he unzipped and revealed himself, letting out a semi-flaccid monster with the girth of a soda can just under my nose. He poked the very tip of it on my sealed lips which were still unwilling to take it in. It wasn't until he ran his strong hand under my chin that I gave in to his demands. Mr. Krupp immediately slipped in his cock into my mouth as I squeamed from the bitter taste of his flesh on my tongue and the prickly press of his hairy pubic region onto my face.
Sensing my reluctance to give him a blowjob, Mr. Krupp took command himself, cupping the back of my head with a förceful hand. He began thrusting into my mouth until I could feel his cock grow harder within my gums. It grew even larger, forcing my lips to stretch around it each time it plunged in and out of my mouth. Mr. Krupp grew more aggressive, leaving me gagging in tears as he roughly fucked the back of my throat. He finally removed himself from my mouth, allowing the pints of saliva to sloppily dribble down my chin.
He was not done with me though as he grabbed me by the arm to raise me from the chair. There, he bent me over his large wooden desk, and began tearing away my pants. He was so clumsy and violent in undressing me that I could feel the burn of my denim jeans as it was ripped against my bare flesh. When I was completely naked from the waist down, he pressed my upper body down onto the face of the desk, keeping the weight of his hands on my shoulder to pin me down securely. With little hesitation, he slammed his cock hard inside of me with not even so much of a warning. Bent over before him, Mr. Krupp wasted no time in going full throttle on my tight virgin opening.
I felt the brunt of my insides being stretched open and torn by a fat cock while my hips painfully bruised each time I was rammed into the edge of the desk. I could hear him hollering like an anìmal as he pumped into me over and over. I could smell his pungent odor as he began sweating profusely from exerting himself relentlessly behind me. He rammed harder and harder with the rhythmic thumping sound of his waist striking my rear filling the room loudly as it bounced off the old stone walls of his office.
I wanted to cry. I could have cried. Instead, I retreated deep within myself as this ogre of a man enjoyed every bit of my body. In a way, I almost convinced myself I liked it too. Finally, I felt him explode inside me, his cum filling every inch inside of me until it ran down the inside of my thighs. What seemed like hours was only a 14 minute meeting. Even though I couldn't wait to run away, I staggered to clothe myself as Mr. Krupp slumped back into is chair, exhausted but proud.
"So about your situation..." he continued smugly.
I was still rolling my pants up, refusing to look him in the face while listening to his offer for compensation. I was to be given one semester of free board at the dormitory. That's it. Not even a free meal ticket to the campus dining hall. It was a paltry amount when compared to other academic and living expenses I was burdened with. By then, I couldn't argue. I took it, and left, hoping I'd never have to deal with this again.
Months had gone by since that meeting, but I remained resilient and determined to stay in school here. I had taken numerous menial jobs in addition to a full course load just to pay for the basics, but still dreaded next semester's bill. Going through the campus paper, I had stumbled across a few ads for tutoring which I was more than happy to inquire about. It fit my capabilities while giving me a small payment I could certainly use. The first few tutoring requests were easy enough to which I was properly paid by students with wealthy backgrounds. However, the requests soon dwindled until I found myself scråping for work again.
Finally, another ad requesting tutoring services popped up, this time on a discarded paper flyer I had come across rolling around on the campus quad. Though, this ad was very obscure, almost speaking in code with requests to pay in roses for tutoring in Greek or oral along with numerous other unrecognized abbreviations. I assumed that meant something in regards to fraternity culture or lecturing, and decided to inquire anyway.
After calling about the ad, I was summoned by another student well beyond the campus dormitories. He was living the large Camford Apartments, just as old and historical as the university itself, just outside of campus. These apartments were typically occupied by the affluent student body so I was both anxious and optimistic at the same time. I rang the intercom to the building, and was immediately greeted with a deep and commanding voice. I was buzzed inside, and made my way to apartment number 1226b. An unbelievably handsome man opened the door with a huge smile on his face, and I immediately grew red with timidity. This only made the man's smile grow wider as he welcomed me into his lavish apartment which overlooked the campus's historic bell tower.
I attempted to introduce myself, but for whatever reason, he put me off as if he were uninterested in names. This baffled me which had me retreat even further into my own shy personality. With neither an introduction nor a discussion about tutoring, he began talking numbers to which I recognized as prices after the fact.
"Understand?" he questioned with a raised eyebrow after sensing my confusion.
"Ummm, I'm sorry. This is for tutoring right?" I asked ignorantly.
He laughed at my naivety before elaborating more. "Tutoring... suuuuure. That's just what we call it to round up the sluts with campus police unable to say otherwise, not that they care enough to stop us guys."
Sluts? I was so lost. If he didn't need a tutor, what could he possibly want with me? He continued rambling about money and services that I still could not catch up with. Finally, I interrupted him.
"Ummmm, I'm sorry. I think there has been a mistake," I squeaked out.
He stared back at me with stern brown eyes, no longer amused by my innocence.
"You mean you're not here to give me what I asked for?" his voice slightly raising.
"What are you asking for?" I asked.
"A fuckin' blowjob, you whore."
"But... I'm not..." I couldn't even finish my sentence. I was far too embarrassed to be appalled. The shame of a moment too good to be true filled me as this man who I thought would have nothing to do with a shy girl like me believed me to be nothing more than a paid prostitute. I backed away with the intention of leaving, but the young man made one more gesture to demand what he was asking for, regardless if I was who he thought I was. He reached in his back pocket, and pulled out a rather large wad of bills, folded neatly under a gold money clip.
I halted my departure. That brief hesitation was all the young man needed. He knew he had me. I don't know if it was the money offered or his refined manicured appearance that won me over, but it wasn't long until he had grabbed me firmly with both hands and pulled me to his living room. I didn't fight, but rather glided behind him in somewhat of a trance. When we reached his supple leather couch, he sat down and laid back while undoing his belt and pants button. With his large hand, he reached into his boxers and flung out his veiny dick, swaying it side to side in front of me like a pendulum.
"Do it. Do it, bitch," he ordered in a degrading manner.
I still didn't know what to do as I waited for his guidance. He was rough with his cues, reaching out to grab me before pulling me förcibly to my knees. With strong hands latched onto both sides of head, he yanked me forward until my thick glasses shifted diagonally and my mouth descended upon his penis.
"Fuck yeah. Fuck yeah, you nerdy slut," he continued as my head bobbed up and down following the motions of his förceful hands. I labored in taking him entirely in my mouth, slowly improving in technique as a means to impress the handsome stranger.
"Actually suck it, you whore. Don't just move your mouth. If you want to be paid, suck it you fucking whore."
He continued to dominate and degrade me. But I did as he asked, slurping his entire rod as if I wanted to pull it from his own body. I began using my tongue, discovering that it made him quiver when I dragged it along the underside of his shaft. In time, I was able to go deeper, then deeper, then deeper until I could feel the very tip of his cock graze my tonsils. The more zealous I became with his blowjob, the more he gave himself up to me.
It wasn't long until he was unable to shout anything coherent let alone call me another degrading name as he groaned and whimpered before me. That only made me suck harder and harder until the entire length of his dick was coated in a thick froth of saliva. Finally, he erupted with no warning, spewing warm streams of thick semen into my mouth, each ejaculation more powerful than the last. The bitter taste was unsavory, but I refused to take the squirming man out from my mouth as the shear volume of cum began pouring out from the sides of my lips.
It was he who had to finally push my face away from his cock, a thick gooey spittle of cum and saliva still bridged between the tip of his cock and my lower lip. His entire shaft was still sloppy with sperm and slobber that dripped down and pooled on his ball sac. He laid there for a long moment with his eyes rolled into the back of his head, looking utterly spent.
With no direction this time around, I took his cock right back into my mouth in one huge gulp. He squirmed once more as if attempting to retreat, still overcharged from his last orgasm. I was the dominant one this time, swallowing his still hard shaft over and over regardless of what he wanted. The more he shuffled on the couch, the more I tugged and blew. Never had I been in this position with the tables turned. He was now the vulnerable one.
I refused to stop until I got another cumshot. The second one was more of a slow oozing rather than a violent ejaculation, allowing me to sensuously lick his slit clean as I squeezed out more cream firmly with my hand. He was nearly comatose when I continued to give him his third blowjob, simply lying there like dead weight as I gorged on his fat schlong relentlessly. And once again, I refused to release him until I tasted the salty spunk coat the inside of my mouth for a third time.
Once I was sure we were both done, I struggled to rise to my feet, my lower legs almost numb from kneeling on the hardwood floor for that long. The young man remained still, his legs still spread wide and naked in order to catch his breath. He then bent over and reached toward the pocket of his pants which were tied around his ankles to retrieve the clip of money he had shown me before. Without counting a single bill, he removed the entire contents from the clip and handed it to me.
I spent the next few days very much conflicted about what had happened. On one end, I was paid more than any of the other jobs I had to labor through. More compelling though was the attention of an attractive stranger, one I would not have had any opportunity meeting as a reclusive bookworm. On the other end, I was filled with shame, my strict upbringing convincing me as to just how filthy I was. And of course, it reminded me of Mr. Krupp, and how he had taken advantage of me. Soon enough, the regret outweighed the thrill even as I was once again facing more financial burdens after the money earned had dried out rather quickly.
I seemingly lowered myself with nothing to show for.
That Friday night, I was once again all alone in my dorm, half studying half sulking. My cell phone rang, startling me in the process. I became even more wary when I looked at the caller ID to see an unfamiliar number. I answered to yet another crass and misogynist stranger requesting sexual favors for pay, even more demanding and rude than the last young man. He brazenly stated his location, what he wished me to do and the rates he would pay me to do so before I could even refuse. Of course, I denied him. Feeling spurned, he left a few choice insults before I abruptly hung up the phone. My phone rattled a few more times with the same number before I finally turned it off for good.
My anger and frustration soon turned to humiliation. That abrasive stranger got my number from somewhere else. My name was being passed around among students with the promise of meeting some hooker that they could use as they wished. Nothing could have possibly made me feel even smaller as a person. Yet, for some reason, the information the stranger left me was not forgotten.
A few hours had passed until I had left my own dorm room. I couldn't tell you why I was doing it, but I found myself walking to the address that was given to me. It was within the same location of the Camford Apartments I had been to earlier. It brought me to another apartment complex, more contemporary than the others but still just as luxurious. I was brought to a loft on the top floor where I knocked on the door. A short, but well built young man with jet black hair slicked back with gel opened the door. He expressed a surprised but pleased look on his face which was more than confirmation that he was the one who had called earlier.
"Get in, bitch." Despite his pleasure in seeing me, he still seemed irked by me hanging up on him earlier.
With that as a lone pleasantry, he rushed me into his bedroom. I was marveling at the size of palatial suite when he hastily came up behind me, clumsily grabbing and rubbing his hands across the front side of my body. He was impatient, tearing and pulling at my clothes until I was completely nude with exception of my thick eyeglasses. He rushed in removing his pants as well, revealing a full erection already.
"You're all mine. I'm going to wreck you, bitch. You're nothing but my nerdy slut for the night," he continued to insult me.
He zealously pushed me on my back onto his bed, quickly following behind until he was leaning over me. He crawled upward until his pointed hard-on hovered just below my nose. I obliged, slurping the head of his cock while stroking the shaft with my right hand. He immediately cringed with pleasure, tilting his head back to moan a bit.
"Yeah, you like that. You like that like a filthy slut would like it," he continued to patronize me. "Suck that cock you useless cunt."
I hated him. I hated this man. I hated how an Ivy League education bought him nothing more than a sailor's language. I hated how he saw me as nothing but a fucktoy for him and his friends. I hated how I belonged to this sleazeball of a complete stranger for the night. But the more I hated him, the harder I sucked, believing this would be the only way in taming him. I choked myself on his cock while massaging his sac. I could feel by how tightly he tugged my hair that I was getting to him.
I felt his knees wobble and body tremble as I inhaled every inch of him that I could. He could have blown it right there. He had to förcibly wrestle my face away from his crotch. There he grabbed and aggressively turned me around until I was on all fours.
"You're just a dirty cunt. I'm going to teach you a lesson."
He grabbed my by the waist, digging his nails into my hips until my skin reddened. Once the head of his cock slipped inside me, he plunged deep until the inertia of his plunge sent the top of my skull right into the headboard with a large thud. He pumped away as if his life depended on it. I tried to bury my face in his pillow and raise my ass higher to lessen the blows and to hide my anguish. He would have none of that, painfully yanking at my hair until my face was smashed into the headboard with each violent forward thrust of his. My thick black frames from my eyeglasses were mangled from continuous blunt impacts into the wall until they barely hung off the bridge of my nose. I couldn't let him see me in pain. I couldn't let him see me cry. So I began moaning like the whore he had ordered.
Battered on both ends from being sandwiched between a brute and headboard, he finally flipped me over. He grabbed me powerfully by the ankles as if he wished to crush my lower legs, lifting them high over my head and behind my ears until I felt the strain of being overstretched. He penetrated me once more, using his own weight to slam even harder downward. I couldn't move as my agonizing posture and the weight of the assailant on top trapped me at the top of the bed. My own curling toes clung to the back my head as I was bent in ways I did not know I could bend. The man found new depths with his fat cock, stretching and battering each wall inside me. Yet, I continued to moan as if I wanted more.
"Errr... uhhh... Fuckin'.... Uhhhh mmmmm.... whore," he now spoke in tongues.
He then rolled over until I was now on top. This didn't give me one ounce of control, though, as he simply arched back and fucked upward with the rigor of a madman. He grabbed me by both wrists, and wrestled my arms into a knot behind my back, keeping me restrained as he assaulted my pussy from underneath. My naked breasts vigorously bounced, mimicking the humping from below. My entire lower body alternated between incredible ache to complete numbness. I scrunched my eyes tightly behind my now-deformed nerdy glasses which sparked a migraine. My moans had turned into an ear-piercing wail that must have resonated for miles. He pounded me as if he wanted to tear me in half. It hurt. And I loved it.
When he could take no longer, he physically threw me off of him back onto the bed, and hurried himself to his knees. With his left hand around my neck, he secured my head down into the sheets and stroked his twitching cock with his right hand. His first blast of cum was a violent eruption, coating the entire middle of my face and traveling up one nostril. He squeezed my throat harder as he emptied one load after another on my face, making sure to get every last drip of cum on my face rather than on his sheets which he believed to be more valuable than me. My broken glasses shielded only one eye, allowing the other to be consumed by a large flowing puddle of semen. After numerous shots to my face, he pushed his cock back into my mouth to ooze the last bit of fluids he had left.
I laid there, both eyes closed with my entire face feeling like one large warm and sticky pasting of white jizz. I could hear him get up and open the dresser's drawer to retrieve something. I felt a slight thump to my stomach as he had tossed a relatively heavy roll of money onto my abdomen. I was ordered to get dressed and leave immediately, but leave the mess on my face alone. I figured it was his sadistic way to marvel at his work for as long as he could.
And so I did. I left his apartment in the middle of the night, slowly and painfully hobbling back to my dorm in a noticeably weak and stiff limp with the mass of a stranger's sperm running down my face. I imagined the numerous university insomniacs were amused by my appearance as I strolled by, but I no longer cared. I was an Ivy League whore.
From then on, the calls began rolling in.
The following Friday night, I received another impromptu call which lead to me giving a blowjob from the passenger seat of a German luxury sedan in the parking lot of a fastfood restaurant. I sucked him off while he held his camera phone in one hand, an XL soft drink in the other.
Later, I learned how to ride a dick like a professional cowgirl in the tight quarters of the men's room toilet stall in the Science Department. The technician I was bouncing on had to chew on his own labcoat to keep from screaming as his colleagues were in and out of the adjacent stalls.
For the entire second week of March, my hands and knees were stained emerald green after a star lacrosse player pounded me doggy style right on the grass of the practice field for an hour. He had the biggest cock yet which matched the power in which he used it.
A steady client of mine was a liberal arts major who lived across the hall, which made his elaborate cosplay fetishes all the more easier to fulfill. I could dress as the slutty French maid or seductive nurse, and quickly scurry across his room with no one seeing.
On one random Monday night, I was paid to take the virginity of a literature major who tried to passionately seduce me with Shakespeare, but recklessly fucked me like Hemingway.
A lowly custodian offered a month's paycheck so that he could use his security access to stretch my insides with his monster black cock on the rooftop of one university building. The clear bird's eye view turned into a dizzy and spiraling vision as he made me squirt uncontrollably from orgasm in plain sight.
I even returned to an even heavier Mr. Krupp, whose weight had seemingly doubled since I last saw him. I felt the weight of the morbidly obese man as he pinned my knees to my chest while plunging deep and through me on the cold tile floor of his office, all for a free meal plan to the campus cafeteria.
Two tech geeks pooled their money to share me with each other, taking turns alternating from pinning me against the back wall in the computer lab and playing video games in between.
I was contracted by at least two women to seduce and fuck their boyfriends to prove that they were, in fact, cheaters within the relationship. They looked down at me more than the men as evidenced by their even more offensive insults, but I took their assignments and money nonetheless.
My services quickly expanded to the point where I was having multiple hardcore sessions per day, each occurring in the multiple alleys between university halls that I scheduled in between my daily class schedule. I'd start the morning in my Western Philosophy class in followed by a spirited suck and fuck behind a dumpster, then made it to my Mammalian Biology class on time with so much cum still in my hair.
During Spring break, I discreetly worked frat parties where I moved from one client to another, each drünk or high partygoer pounding me in a closet until he fell asleêp before I moved on to the next one.
Soon, it wasn't about the money. Male students ran their hands up my thigh, and fingered me in crowded lecture halls during exams for free.
I gave a handjob to a campus police officer in parking deck while his butch female partner watched as severance for not ending my illicit venture around campus.
My lonely quantum physics teacher gave me an A for the semester after I allowed him to suck and cum on my tits.
I couldn't use the archive library without deepthroating the librarian's assistant in the reference aisles as he continuously spit on my face.
I took to my new career at school the same way I excelled in school. I kept meek and quiet while keeping my head in between a book. Except instead of a book, it was in between a man's legs. In many ways, I lost myself in my first year of college. But the lone worthwhile benefit was that I was able to profit enough to pay my way through one of the country's most elite universities. I was a straight-A whore.
My freshman year had finally come to a close, and I finished my academic year with little issue regarding grades or tuition. However, I went through the year jaded, a slave going through a self-abusive routine. Only when the Spring semester had ended did I finally bother to reflect on the year.
I broke down.
As much as I had tried to remain in denial, I was still the same shy book nerd I was as a kìd. My convoluted recent past began to eat away at me. But my catharsis began when I received a letter of merit from the Dean of the Academics himself. I was personally invited to a ceremony at the famous Alumni Club where I was to be awarded for my academic excellence. I didn't even know they gave out such awards, but thought very little of the obscure letter, handwritten and informal in nature. I couldn't feel proud of this award, however, when I looked at how I got there. But I vowed to never ever return to my old line of work.
I posted the handwritten and signed letter atop my mirror as a trophy for a positive change. I readied myself for the awards ceremony, ignoring the lavish clothes I was able to afford only as a working girl. Instead, I put on the best clothes I came to college with, an off-white button down shirt with stains covered by a slightly tattered beige sweater with a few missing buttons, the only clothes my parent could afford beforehand. I wore a vintage fitted black dress skirt that extended to the middle of my shins, a hand-me-down from my mother. My shoes were a pair of polished stiletto heels which I saved a year's worth of allowance for in high school just to pay for. I put my hair up in a bun, put on my signature large framed glasses and put on just a little bit of lip gloss and eyeliner before heading to the Alumni's Club.
I arrived at the entrance of the Alumni's Club as directed by the letter. At first, I was self-conscious as I thought I was perhaps too early with no other students arriving. The lobby proved the same as I was seemingly the only one in the building. My anxieties were eased when I heard someone call me by name. An older gentleman cordially invited me to the lounge where he claims the ceremony had started. I vaguely recognized him as one of the university's administrative board members, and it excited me to know that he knew of my name. He kindly offered to valet my sweater to which I denied for embarrassment of the stains on my shirt underneath. Finally, he escòrted me down a long corridor filled with large oil paintings of famed alumni until we reached the large, ornate wooden double doors that lead to the lounge where the ceremony was to be held.
I could already hear the ruckus from behind the door which finally informed me that I was not alone. The double doors swung open, and revealed a party indeed. I was confused as it was not a formal ceremony in a lounge that looked more like a bar and gameroom than a presentation venue. A quick survey showed all the board members and administrative leaders with loosened ties and discarded blazers drinking heavily with younger students in polo shirts with flipped collars and ripped jeans.
They were all loud. They were all rowdy. They were all males.
"And now the party is here!" someone shouted with a familiar voice. I looked to my left, and saw Mr. Krupp raising a liquor bottle in one hand to grab the attention of the crowd. My heart jumped up to my throat, but the large double doors slammed shut behind me. There I stood. In the limelight of dozens and dozens of men all staring at me and only me.
The room began spinning as my senses heightened. I studied the expressions directed toward me, some looked eager, others vicious. What I could not find were a pair of eyes not fixated on me. But I couldn't. I was lured right into a trap that I had no way of getting out of. I promised myself I would never do this again. I made a life-changing vow. Even if I hadn't, I had never dealt with multiple men at the same. Maybe one after another, one at a time, but never anything close to this. My knees became weak as they all crowded around me.
Mr. Krupp made the first move, grabbing my favorite sweater and tearing it off. The others jumped in like piranhas with blòod in the water, cupping, grabbing, rubbing, stroking as they saw fit. In a matter of seconds, my arms were restrained and pulled wide to each side. My shirt buttons had all been ripped off, exposing my pink bra and abdomen. Supposed dignified men I was supposed to trust were on their knees sticking their mustaches between my legs with my dress skirt rolled all the way up. My stockings already began to shear at multiple places from the feeding frenzy.
"Stop! Hold on!" one man shouted what I have been saying in my head from among the masses . For a brief moment, I thought it would all end. I looked for my savior, but he was no where to be found. It was the Dean of Academics himself, who had disrobed from the below the waist.
"Stop! Let's have some order here. Starting with me first," he stated as alpha male of this party.
I was pushed to my knees from behind as he approached me from the front. With a few slaps of his old floppy cock on my lips, I closed my eyes and gave in one more time. I opened wide, and he happily inserted it into my mouth. The room filled with applause as that signaled my consent. The chaos resumed as the dozens of hands continued moving all over me once more. Soon, more dicks were shoved toward my face as I blew the dean. I could not see faces anymore, just an endless wave of veiny flesh of all shapes and sizes that poked and prodded, begging for their turn. And they all got theirs.
When I had finished off the dean, I barely had time for air before another man's stick was shoved back in my mouth. Then another. And another. And another. Sometimes two at a time, with the sides of my cheeks being stretch outward to accommodate multiple men at once. Both of my hands were förced to clutch and stroke those in waiting as the rotating carousel of blowjobs and handjobs persisted. The heavy drinking continued as I felt the drizzle of alcohol spray me as men guzzled from bottles while in line. They all took their turns groping with different hands on different regions until one brazen individual decided he wanted more.
With a cock still deep in my mouth, two hands grabbed me by the waist to raise me from my knees. Bent over, he didn't bother to remove my panties and rolled skirt, simply moving the strap aside to stuff my cunt with his dick. The crowd cheered again as two men thrusted into me from both ends to signal the beginning of the next phase: fucking me.
I was too consumed getting facefucked while bent over to ever see the men I was having sex with from behind. For some, I had to tippy toe even with high heels to accommodate the taller men as they nailed me from behind. For others, I had to squat slightly at the knees to allow the shorter men to nail me accordingly.
At some point during the frenzy, I was physically picked up, carried to one of the lounge chairs deeper into the room and laid onto my back. Only then was I know able to see each and every face of the individuals using me. The last remnants of my clothing were now completely shredded and torn off until it was only my eyeglasses and black stiletto heels left. A gang of frat students had now lined up in front of my spread eagle legs. In a uniform line, they each took their turn ravishing me in missionary style while more of the elder board members hovered around my head like a halo, waiting for me to suck on their old dicks.
The never ending supply of clients made it impossible to count. Soon, the numerous different faces and expressions all began to blur and look the same when framed between my open legs flaying in the air. Their cocks had all begun to give me the same exhilaration whether they were big, medium or small. My face and chest had grown sticky from the paste that the more "shy" men left from premature ejaculation. My hair had frizzed from my own sweat as well as others'.
After the umpteenth guy fucked my pussy in the missionary position, the dean reemerged from the crowd for another shot at me. He scurried away the four men currently using me, and pushed me off the lounge chair. He took my place on it, lying on his back while ordering me to mount him. I obeyed, swinging one leg over, bending over him and sliding his fat knob back inside. As I began bouncing, my breasts danced in front of his face giving him another spectacular show from below. The other men jumped back in again, one kneeling in front of me for me to suck while two men stood on each side, their cocks grabbed with both of my hands almost as support beams as I rhythmically bounced and sucked.
Apparently, four men were not enough as I felt another man creep up behind me as I continued riding the dean of the university. There was no way to tell who it was, but after just a few taps of his cock on the entry to my rear, he carelessly pushed it in and sunk it as deep as he could. I had never done anal. Among all my sexual exploits, I avoided it at all costs for fear of pain and what I believed to be a grotesque act to begin with. The tears I was holding in finally evaded me, rolling down my cheeks and onto the dean beneath me. I tried to shout and plead no, but all came out was a muffled shriek, impeded by the fat cock still in my mouth.
To lessen the pain from my ass, I must have squeezed harder with both of my hands. But the two men I was jerking off seemed to like it as their moans intensified. And so did the dean and the man I was blowing, each now playing off the rigor of the other until all five men were lively thrusting or jerking into me.
I could literally feel my tiny brown hole stretch. I could feel my insides churn as my ass was reamed relentlessly. Every hole and hand of mine was stuffed, and once that group had finished, the next gang of men filled their places leaving every bit of me filled and used. Yet, I moaned for those men. I moaned as if to let them know to keep on doing it. I moaned as if to let them know I was the whore they ordered. I hated it. But I loved it.
A father from the board of directors and his spoiled, entitled son sandwiched me, giving each other high fives in between smashing my face and ass at the same time.
My tongue became the official ballwasher for the senior members who had difficulties getting an erection.
Men would continue thrusting violently inside my ass even as they creampied deep inside, only to run around to my other end and have me clean their filthy cocks with my mouth.
After using me extensively, men would casually retreat to the bar for a break to have more drinks and salty snacks before returning to use me for another round.
I was couriered around the entire lounge, being fucked on every surface from pool tables, pinball machines, reclining chairs and stools, the carpet, the wooden floor, the brick, the bar itself.
Among the common names of bitch, slut and whore, men began calling me the other names of women I was unfamiliar with as they violently hate-fucked me, using me to take out their angst of other women they knew.
What started as a moment where time seemingly stood still turned into a rush where it had begun to fly by. I could feel the dozens and dozens of men tire before me, forcing me to work harder sucking. Stroking. Fucking. The room was slowly beginning to clear, but before departing from the party, they all made sure that to purge one last climax onto my cum drenched face, mouth and body. The few stragglers who made it this late into the party received a nastier and more willing version of myself, eager to surpass their deepest and darkest fantasies.
"Oh yes! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me like a whore. I'm your little cum slut. Fuck me! Fuck my ass! Fuck my asshole harder, deeper, faster! Stick it into my dirty cunt! Slap me. Spank me. Cum on me. I'm your slut. I'm your bitch. I'm your whore. Wreck me! Punish me! Use me!"
Words coming from my own mouth when it wasn't stuffed with a cock.
Finally, the last few marathon men were done. A few beams of light broke into the lounge from the window to reveal that morning had come. I didn't even notice that I was there for a whole night. The men put on their pants, and knotted their ties before leaving me alone on the floor of the empty lounge room, naked, bruised and basted in seemingly every known fluid. I reveled for a moment before finally rising. My clothes were too torn and shredded to wear. My underwear and shoes were stolen as fetish souvenirs. I gingerly limped through campus in broad daylight completely naked with exception of my eyeglasses and covered in semen and grime with a peculiar smile on my face.
While my journey into debauchery started with desperation, it only endured through pleasure. I was an Ivy League whore, and I loved it.