Post by Bebe on Jul 21, 2010 16:42:35 GMT -5
(Glad you liked The Fall. Here's another Crew story.
Coercion
Britt had been in a state at breakfast that morning. She was afraid she was going to fail her life drawing class.
Britt is a brilliant artist and she can flat-out draw from life. But she had made the mistake of signing up for an 8 a.m. class which she rarely attended, thanks to the amount of late-night activity around our place. She was sure Professor Helbroner was going to fail her, which would mean an end to her scholarship.
"Helbroner?" Cat asked. "Sounds familiar. Let me think about this awhile."
We all went our separate ways, Britt to the art building, Sass and I to the Media Center, Cat to the psychology building. Cat and I were the first to return home that afternoon. Being the horny sluts we are, we went into Cat's bedroom for a little cunnilingus.
"I've been thinking about Britt's problem and I think I've got the answer," Cat told me as we lay basking in a post-carnal glow.
It turns out Cat had been having a cup at a nearby coffee shop when she met an older woman and fell into conversation with her. The woman still looked pretty good and was in good shape, but she was a whiney type who complained she wasn't getting enough attention from her husband. She had messed around in an "experimental" way with other girls when she was in college, and now she realized she was a full-blown lesbian. Her husband had no idea and he would be devastated if he found out, she told Cat. It was obvious to Cat the woman was putting the moves on her. Cat told me the bitch really wasn't her type, but that she'd been horny that afternoon and this lady was convenient, so she'd taken her home for an hour of pussy play.
"And guess what her name was?" Cat asked me. "Misty Helbroner. She said her husband taught at the university."
We had no idea if her husband was Britt's life drawing instructor, but I thought of a way we might be able to find out.
You've heard of that book, Who's Who, where they list the names of prominent people and all their biographical data? It turns out they have other editions for different fields. I found that out one day when I stumbled across Who's Who in Radio, Television and Film at the media library. I figured there would be an edition for artists.
"Great idea, Poison," Cat said. We found Cat's cell, called Britt, and told her to check the art library. She called back a few minutes later. They had the book, Who's Who in American Art, and thanks to exhibitions he'd had at galleries in a couple of small cities, our Professor Hubert Helbroner was listed. Born in Akron, Ohio, Jan. 23, 1955. B.A., University of Ohio. MFA, University of California at Los Angeles, etc. Wife: Misty Helbroner.
"Well," I said, "We know who she is, but how do we find her?"
"We know she cruises the coffee shops," Cat said. "Shouldn't be too hard."
Cat went to her closet and put together a "come on" outfit. We fiddled around the laptop in her bedroom and checked its intranet connection before she left the house.
About an hour later, I spotted Cat and an older woman approaching the house on the sidewalk. I went into my own bedroom, shut the door, and turned on my iMac's monitor.
Through the intranet connection and the laptop's cam, I could see Cat's bed squarely in the middle of my screen. I saw Cat and Misty enter the room. Cat sprawled on her bed and the older woman came to sit beside her. They began by touching each other, arms, thighs, finally tits. Cat pulled Misty down and began soul-kissing her.
They parted so they each could take off their clothes. Cat was right; Misty had kept her shape. Her breasts were full and didn't sag. Her ass was tight. Even through the monitor, I could see the older woman's pussy was moist and ready for sex.
They embraced again and Misty trailed kisses down Cat's shoulders, her breasts, her belly. By the time she had reached Cat's cunt, I had undressed myself and laid back on the pillows on my bed, my fingers playing with my clitty.
I was really turned on. Cat, with her blonde hair, her teacup breasts with the perfect nipples, that cute little sneer of hers, is one of my favorite playmates. Misty, in addition to that great body, had a profile that would not have been out of place on an ancient Greek coin.
On the screen, Cat and Misty had moved into a 69 position. Cat broke off licking Misty's clit and demanded: "You love young pussy? Say it! I love young pussy!"
"I love young pussy," Misty said.
"Say it louder!"
"I LOVE YOUNG PUSSY!" Misty yelled.
Cat had made sure that in their maneuvering on her bed, Misty faced directly into the laptop's cam. The cam caught her look of ecstasy perfectly as she screamed about how much young pussy meant to her.
I was getting closer and closer to my own climax by now. I grabbed a vibrator from my night stand, turned it on and slid it inside my cunt. My clit throbbed.
I was on the verge of cumming when I looked up at the monitor again. There was Cat with a strap-on, banging into Misty.
"I'm a whore for pussy!" Cat yelled. "Say it: I'm a whore for pussy!"
"I'M A WHORE FOR PUSSY!" Misty yelled back.
That did it for me. My climax hit and I squirted vaginal juice onto the bedspread between my splayed legs. It felt like I squirted gallons.
On the monitor, Cat and Misty appeared to be wrapping up as I stripped the spread from my bed. I took the thumb drive out of my own computer and started for Cat's bedroom.
I suppose Misty thought I was coming to join the party, since I was still naked. Instead, I walked up to Cat's laptop, inserted the thumb drive and brought the screen to life.
Misty had a confused look on her face while I did all this. I selected an icon on the computer's desktop and brought the media player to life. I made a selection, then turned around to watch the expression on Misty's face.
The media player showed Cat and the older woman entering Cat's bedroom, then their initial embraces.
Misty's mouth dropped open, but she said nothing, just stared at the screen in shock.
"My favorite part is where she says what a whore she is for pussy," I said to Cat.
"Mine, too," Cat said, smiling with that little sneer of hers.
"You didn't --" Misty began. She turned to look at Cat. "Why? What's this all about?"
"Hubert's computer has a thumb drive, doesn't it?" Cat asked, feigning an innocent expression.
"No, you wouldn't!" Misty exclaimed. "It would kill him."
"It doesn't have to," Cat said, settling back on her pillows. "Here's what we want you to do..."
We never knew how Misty managed it -- a wife has her ways. And anyway, who cares?
All we cared about is that Britt passed her life drawing course. Her scholarship was safe.
She'll just have to remember not to sign up for any 8 o'clock classes in the future.
Coercion
Britt had been in a state at breakfast that morning. She was afraid she was going to fail her life drawing class.
Britt is a brilliant artist and she can flat-out draw from life. But she had made the mistake of signing up for an 8 a.m. class which she rarely attended, thanks to the amount of late-night activity around our place. She was sure Professor Helbroner was going to fail her, which would mean an end to her scholarship.
"Helbroner?" Cat asked. "Sounds familiar. Let me think about this awhile."
We all went our separate ways, Britt to the art building, Sass and I to the Media Center, Cat to the psychology building. Cat and I were the first to return home that afternoon. Being the horny sluts we are, we went into Cat's bedroom for a little cunnilingus.
"I've been thinking about Britt's problem and I think I've got the answer," Cat told me as we lay basking in a post-carnal glow.
It turns out Cat had been having a cup at a nearby coffee shop when she met an older woman and fell into conversation with her. The woman still looked pretty good and was in good shape, but she was a whiney type who complained she wasn't getting enough attention from her husband. She had messed around in an "experimental" way with other girls when she was in college, and now she realized she was a full-blown lesbian. Her husband had no idea and he would be devastated if he found out, she told Cat. It was obvious to Cat the woman was putting the moves on her. Cat told me the bitch really wasn't her type, but that she'd been horny that afternoon and this lady was convenient, so she'd taken her home for an hour of pussy play.
"And guess what her name was?" Cat asked me. "Misty Helbroner. She said her husband taught at the university."
We had no idea if her husband was Britt's life drawing instructor, but I thought of a way we might be able to find out.
You've heard of that book, Who's Who, where they list the names of prominent people and all their biographical data? It turns out they have other editions for different fields. I found that out one day when I stumbled across Who's Who in Radio, Television and Film at the media library. I figured there would be an edition for artists.
"Great idea, Poison," Cat said. We found Cat's cell, called Britt, and told her to check the art library. She called back a few minutes later. They had the book, Who's Who in American Art, and thanks to exhibitions he'd had at galleries in a couple of small cities, our Professor Hubert Helbroner was listed. Born in Akron, Ohio, Jan. 23, 1955. B.A., University of Ohio. MFA, University of California at Los Angeles, etc. Wife: Misty Helbroner.
"Well," I said, "We know who she is, but how do we find her?"
"We know she cruises the coffee shops," Cat said. "Shouldn't be too hard."
Cat went to her closet and put together a "come on" outfit. We fiddled around the laptop in her bedroom and checked its intranet connection before she left the house.
About an hour later, I spotted Cat and an older woman approaching the house on the sidewalk. I went into my own bedroom, shut the door, and turned on my iMac's monitor.
Through the intranet connection and the laptop's cam, I could see Cat's bed squarely in the middle of my screen. I saw Cat and Misty enter the room. Cat sprawled on her bed and the older woman came to sit beside her. They began by touching each other, arms, thighs, finally tits. Cat pulled Misty down and began soul-kissing her.
They parted so they each could take off their clothes. Cat was right; Misty had kept her shape. Her breasts were full and didn't sag. Her ass was tight. Even through the monitor, I could see the older woman's pussy was moist and ready for sex.
They embraced again and Misty trailed kisses down Cat's shoulders, her breasts, her belly. By the time she had reached Cat's cunt, I had undressed myself and laid back on the pillows on my bed, my fingers playing with my clitty.
I was really turned on. Cat, with her blonde hair, her teacup breasts with the perfect nipples, that cute little sneer of hers, is one of my favorite playmates. Misty, in addition to that great body, had a profile that would not have been out of place on an ancient Greek coin.
On the screen, Cat and Misty had moved into a 69 position. Cat broke off licking Misty's clit and demanded: "You love young pussy? Say it! I love young pussy!"
"I love young pussy," Misty said.
"Say it louder!"
"I LOVE YOUNG PUSSY!" Misty yelled.
Cat had made sure that in their maneuvering on her bed, Misty faced directly into the laptop's cam. The cam caught her look of ecstasy perfectly as she screamed about how much young pussy meant to her.
I was getting closer and closer to my own climax by now. I grabbed a vibrator from my night stand, turned it on and slid it inside my cunt. My clit throbbed.
I was on the verge of cumming when I looked up at the monitor again. There was Cat with a strap-on, banging into Misty.
"I'm a whore for pussy!" Cat yelled. "Say it: I'm a whore for pussy!"
"I'M A WHORE FOR PUSSY!" Misty yelled back.
That did it for me. My climax hit and I squirted vaginal juice onto the bedspread between my splayed legs. It felt like I squirted gallons.
On the monitor, Cat and Misty appeared to be wrapping up as I stripped the spread from my bed. I took the thumb drive out of my own computer and started for Cat's bedroom.
I suppose Misty thought I was coming to join the party, since I was still naked. Instead, I walked up to Cat's laptop, inserted the thumb drive and brought the screen to life.
Misty had a confused look on her face while I did all this. I selected an icon on the computer's desktop and brought the media player to life. I made a selection, then turned around to watch the expression on Misty's face.
The media player showed Cat and the older woman entering Cat's bedroom, then their initial embraces.
Misty's mouth dropped open, but she said nothing, just stared at the screen in shock.
"My favorite part is where she says what a whore she is for pussy," I said to Cat.
"Mine, too," Cat said, smiling with that little sneer of hers.
"You didn't --" Misty began. She turned to look at Cat. "Why? What's this all about?"
"Hubert's computer has a thumb drive, doesn't it?" Cat asked, feigning an innocent expression.
"No, you wouldn't!" Misty exclaimed. "It would kill him."
"It doesn't have to," Cat said, settling back on her pillows. "Here's what we want you to do..."
We never knew how Misty managed it -- a wife has her ways. And anyway, who cares?
All we cared about is that Britt passed her life drawing course. Her scholarship was safe.
She'll just have to remember not to sign up for any 8 o'clock classes in the future.