Jenna And Celeste In The Movies free porn video

A hot June sun glittered on the water’s surface, but the Pacific breeze cooled Jenna and Celeste, as they settled with their drinks at Armando’s Venice Beach cafe.

“You might need something stronger than a Frappuchino to get through this afternoon,” Jenna said, and she chugged on the neck of her beer as if to reinforce the point.

Celeste eyed her, sipping nervously through her straw. “You think?” She had little doubt, however, as to what had been in Tony’s mind at their meeting the previous day. It won’t cost you a cent, he had said. You girls come party at the shack tomorrow with me and my buddies, you’ll both leave with what you need.

Not exactly awash with ambiguity, what with the cheerily wicked smile he flashed them. Jenna looked on the point of slapping him. Celeste’s own face burned with embarrassment, but neither actually objected. Well they weren’t in a position to object, were they?

“Did you know he’d suggest this?” Celeste inquired of her lunch-partner. “You kind of knew him after all.”

“Friend of a friend,” Jenna replied, her voice thick with irony. “I met him at a couple of beach parties and of course I know him by reputation, but that’s all. It doesn’t surprise me. He knows he’s got what we want and he’s never struck me as the type to give anything away cheaply.”

”What about your boyfriend?” Celeste asked, as if suddenly grasping around for an out. “Surely he’s not going to let this happen. He can talk to Tony, he set this up in the first place, right?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend.” Jenna grimaced. “Just some idiot I was dating, that’s all. I told him all about what Tony suggested and you know what he said? He said, “Well babe, every guy’s gotta have his price.”

“Wow, you’ve ended up dating some real charmers, Jenna Clarkeson,” Celeste said with distaste. “Whatever happened to you?” She eyed her fellow Fairfax High graduate curiously. Who would have believed that Jenna, the bookish student with the grunge-leanings—too studious to hang with the misfits, too poor to be embraced by the Fashionistas—would have squandered her College prospects dating losers?

The girl had changed in all sorts of ways. She walked straighter, that was for sure, and had abandoned the self-conscious slouch, along with most of her grungy affectations. The raven-black hair was pulled back from her dark eyes and pale, delicate features. The rock T-shirt was still in place, but a tighter fit, its hang showing off the upturned pertness of its wearer’s small tits. And the shorts revealed, it also had to be said, a pair of long, elegantly smooth runner’s legs. Jenna had emerged from her High School shell. Result—her academic work had gone to shit, as she spent her UCLA Freshman year slutting around LA’s beach haunts. Who’d’ve called that?

“Never mind what happened to me,” Jenna snapped in response to Celeste’s appraising stare. “We’re in this together now, so we back each other up. Your studies haven’t exactly taken off, have they? Only this time Daddy’s not going to bail you out.”

“Jenna, that’s mean!”

“‘Mean’ doesn’t enter into it. Forget High School, that’s ancient history! You and I are on a level now. You’ll be cut off and I’ll never pay my way through a repeat year. We flunk these finals and we’re both fucked!” She stared back at her bosomy companion and felt no surprise at how things had worked out for Celeste DuPont. Once a Prom Queen, always a Prom Queen, right? She knew how this girl had spent the past twelve months—primping and step-classing her body to taut perfection, swanning around the boutiques on Rodeo Drive, making appearances at only the most exclusive events on the social calendar, with whichever sorority sisters she deemed worthy of her companionship. Oh, and paying minor attention to the education her father had insisted she pursue in order to retain her extravagant allowance.

This was the girl ‘most likely to marry money’, although that unofficial tag had not quite made it into the High School yearbook. There she sat, the loose golden-blond waves of her hair tossed in a neat cascade over one shoulder, the natural sapphire of those big-lashed eyes staring disconcertedly across at her. Prom Night’s toothpaste-commercial smile had been replaced by her default sulky pout, but those big buoyant breasts still thrust against the tight-stretched material of her little print-dress. However much duress she might be under, the dress appeared to be suffering greater.

“I know, Jenna, I know,” Celeste conceded. “It’s like fate, right? We’ve got to see this thing through together, the way everything’s worked out.”

And so it seemed—both girls taking Sociology, both in serious danger of flunking their finals, neither having attended classes all year. What were the odds? But then had come the revelation of their joint, dubious salvation. Anthony Jensen—errant son of the Sociology department head.

“He’s not shitting us, right?” Celeste pursued.

“You know as much as I do. He claims he can get to the papers—knows where his dad keeps the access codes. At any rate we’ll know very shortly. And if he can’t produce the goods, we’re outta there.”

“And if he can?” Celeste’s doubts were rising again.

“Look,” Jenna said, weighing up her partner-in-crime, “you want those questions as much as I do. And we’re kind of short on options, aren’t we? Unless you want to stake everything on a come-on to daddy Jensen instead?” Celeste’s expression was gloomy. Even if the girl had been able to stomach the notion of making sexual overtures to the middle-aged academic, she could have no certainty that he’d take the bait. “Exactly. This has fallen in our laps, so I suggest we see it through.”

“I’m ready to see it through,” Celeste snapped, “but cut me some slack here! I don’t do as much of Tony’s type of partying as it seems you …” Jenna’s raised eyebrow dared her to finish the sentence. “Look, Jenna, I’m not judging you, it’s your life. But I’ve only had steady boyfriends, I don’t do casual!”

“Bobby Matheson being the exception?”

Celeste’s golden-brown skin showed a touch of crimson and she cast her eyes down, as Jenna smiled coolly. They were both recalling the same moment in time—Celeste on her knees, the blue-satin designer Prom dress that matched her eyes stripped down to her waist, displaying her big round tits, her mouth sucking hungrily on the tuxedoed Bobby’s sturdy cock. The two of them spied in flagrante between the books stacks of Fairfax High library.

“That just happened,” Celeste said quietly, unable to meet Jenna’s eye. “It was a mistake.”

“Well we all make those,” Jenna replied, her voice kinder. “I’m sorry, that was a cheap-shot. Look, finish off your drink and we’ll head for the shack. It’s nearly time.”

“How come we have to meet him there?” Celeste asked, her voice reverting to its usual petulance.

“Well we’re kind of short on time,” Jenna reminded her, “and you did insist on having tonight free.”

“I’ve got a date! Guy Danton, his dad might be running for the Senate, he’s a real catch, Jenna.”

“Yeah, well he sounds better than Randal,” Jenna said darkly. Celeste looked at her inquiringly. “My ex-idiot. Who’s kindly passed me on to his buddy. Look—we’ll get this over with and then get you cleaned up for tonight.” She laid her hand on Celeste’s, and a sisterly moment seemed to pass between them. “Come on, Cee, let’s hit the hut.”

Five minutes’ weaving through Venice Beach’s lively rabble of hawkers, performers and political agitators took them to the fateful location. It was whitewashed with lowered green awnings, Tony’s Surf Shack splashed in red-on-white on a wood-plank sign above the entrance. A hand-written notice on the door announced that the establishment was temporarily closed.

“I hope he hasn’t changed his mind about … about numbers,” Celeste said, trying to swallow down her reservations. “If he has, I’m not hanging around. There’s only so many sweaty surfer-dudes I’m willing to deal with!”

“Let’s take it as we find it,” Jenna replied grimly, rapping on the door.

Tony opened up, his grin as amiably devilish as when they had parted company the previous day. Here was a guy assured that he was about to get his.

“Ladies, so glad you could make it.” The sun-bleached waves of his hair had been raked back from his forehead his Pacific-blue eyes sparkled with expectation. At over six feet his naturally hefty frame was hardened by physical pursuit, his scant body hair bleached blond in the Californian outdoors. A robust image of young manhood (Celeste was forced to admit it), in wide-open shirt and Bermudas. Just way not her type. “Please,” he said, ushering them inside with a sweeping show of magnanimity, “enter the surf emporium. Only two chicks as bitchin’ as you could make me shut up shop at the height of the season.”

The door closed behind them and Jenna and Celeste stared around the shack. Lacking in any kind of ostentation, this was a place for diehard surfers, illumined by a strip-light, now that daylight had been shut out. At the far end a tall fan stirred the sluggish air. The walls were crammed with upended surfboards and wet-gear, shelves stacked with gloves, footwear and tins of wax. The wood floorboards crunched with sand tramped in by numerous customers.

Behind the long, wooden counter, the wall was stuck with postcards, pin-up bikini-girls and one dog-eared photograph snipped from a newspaper—a family group at some black-tie dinner party, it seemed. The silver-haired patriarch was unmistakable to the girls—Arthur Jensen, esteemed head of UCLA’s Sociology department. And to the right of his austere-seeming wife, alongside other assorted siblings, was Tony. He was clean-shaven, hair gelled back and tamed for the occasion, at one with the image of white-collar respectability.

“Hey, checkin’ out Tony with Mom and Pops?” The laid-back voice spoke out of a darkened corner. “Dude scrubs up well, doncha think?” The speaker was lounging in a beach chair, his blond hair tamed into a ponytail. Late-twenties like Tony, he was clad in only beach shorts, his body hairless, musculature as pumped as his buddy’s. His features were broad and affably handsome. The joint on which he was toking accounted for the sickly aroma that permeated the room.

“Gotta show pride in family,” Tony said, alluding dryly to the photograph. “This dude’s idea of a joke, puttin’ that up. Oh yeah …” He indicated his associate in the corner. “Ladies, Chad. The main man at the shack when I’m not here. Chad, these gorgeous girls are Jenna and Celeste.” Chad gave a vague but friendly wave and looked quietly delighted to see them. The girls nodded back, radiating unease. “The other guys should be here anytime—you girls are a little over-punctual. I’m guessing that shows eagerness, right Chad?”

“Certainly hope so,” Chad responded with an easy grin.

“But hey, why don’t you two relax?” Tony moved to the chill-cabinet at the end of the counter. “What do you want to drink—water, soda? Got some beers …”

“Water,” Jenna said brusquely, and Celeste concurred with a silent nod. “And before we even think of going any further, let’s see the papers.”

“Very business-like,” Tony said, handing them both a bottled water. “But hey, that’s only fair.” He went behind the counter, unlocked and burrowed into a low drawer and withdrew two Cellophane-wrapped sheaves of paper. “A copy for each of you,” he said, holding both packages by the top, so Jenna and Celeste could lean in and look.

Sociology Paper One - Fundamentals of Sociology

Monday 17th June, 2013

He plucked one set of sheets from its plastic folder and flipped through it, thoroughly displaying the exam questions and confirming the presence of a Paper Two. Then he replaced the papers in their cover and locked both packs back in the drawer. Jenna and Celeste exchanged glances, each mirroring the other’s look of scared hope.

“All yours for a little downtime with me and the guys.” Tony smiled, strolling out from behind the counter. Chad was laying down his joint, rising from his seat to join them. Even the bagginess of the guys’ shorts could not conceal the substantive stirrings beneath.

“I hope you appreciate the risk involved in procuring that item. My credit’s none too good with the old pater familias as it stands, without adding a criminal charge on top. The things we guys do for a piece of …” Rather than finish the sentence, he reached out expansively, resting a big hand on each girl’s upper arm. “What I’m saying is, I went out on a limb for you two chicks.”

“We know,” Celeste said , smiling tentatively and thrusting out her naturally protruding chest a little further, “and we appreciate it. We’re going to show you how much, right, Jenna?”

Jenna looked at her busty companion, amazed at the speed with which the proffered test papers had altered the girl’s mood. Celeste appeared to have made an instant switch to ‘brazen’.

Not to be left behind, she drew her fingers lightly down the hem of Tony’s open shirt. “Sure we are,” she said, adopting a huskier tone. Chad was closing in on Celeste, trailing surf-coarsened fingers down her lower arm, while Tony ran his fingers through Jenna’s hair.

“Pretty pair we’ve got here,” Tony said with a relaxed smile. “A feisty grunge-muffin and an all-American Prom Queen.”

Celeste shot Jenna a sharp How does he know? glance, although she was instantly distracted by Chad cupping her breasts beneath the thin material of her dress. “I guess I let that slip.” Jenna shrugged apologetically, before becoming preoccupied with Tony’s looming closeness. “When I was talking to Randal.”

“Speaking of which …” Tony said, checking over his shoulder to where a further pair of guys were bustling enthusiastically through the shack’s back entrance, propping their boards against the wall and tugging at their wetsuits. They were dishevelled from recent immersion in the ocean. The foremost was particularly tall, some ten years older than the others—a touch more grizzled and weathered by the surf, but no less bulked out and athletic. Behind him was his swarthy, dark-haired buddy, revealed to be hard and lean of torso, as he stripped his wets down around his waist along with his fellow-surfer. The guy looked like a male fashion model, it occurred to Celeste, minus the grooming.

Jenna, however, registered instant recognition and sounded none too happy. “Randal? What the hell …”

“Hey baby, didn’t I say I was coming along?” he grinned, striding up to her and planting a salty kiss on her lips. “I didn’t want to miss out on you and your Prom Queen girlfriend.” He gave Celeste the same briny face-on-face treatment as Jenna, but thrust his tongue into her shocked mouth for added effect, then utterly ignored the outrage on both girls’ face. “Surf’s great by the way!” he announced to Tony.

“Fuck yeah,” his companion agreed. “Dude, we ripped some of the best moves of the summer.” Then he was crowding the girls along with his buddies. “I am so freakin’ buzzed, baby!” He caught Celeste around the waist and squeezed her close.

“This is Mike, by the way,” Tony said, indicating the elder statesman of the group, “and Randal, Jenna already knows.”

Jenna appeared mutinous in the face of Randal’s unexpected arrival on the scene, but her look to Celeste confirmed to the ex-Prom Queen that they were seeing the operation through. The prim blonde swallowed down her unease and anger, as relaxed weed-smoker Chad stroked her face and neck on one side, while from the other, adrenalized, oak-solid Mike palmed her stomach and lower abdomen. Feet away Jenna was having her neck kissed from behind by Randal, the ex who had drawn from her so much horror. Tony, instigator of the whole sordid liaison, was up close and in her face, drawing his hands upwards from her thighs, over her svelte, athletic body.

“So are we all down with this?” he was asking.

Jenna arched backwards, as if reluctantly giving in to the effect of Randal’s lips, while offering up her breasts to Tony. “Uh-huh,” she said, and this time Celeste took Jenna’s cue, resigning herself to the low-key molestation and the tingling sensation it was unexpectedly producing in her pussy.

“In that case,” Tony said, “there’s one more bit of business. A task for you both, to spice things up.” He moved from the stricken Jenna and went behind the counter, returning with a small box-like device, not much bigger than the hand in which it was held. “Neat, isn’t it? Perfect for capturing the party.”

Jenna and Celeste both spluttered in sudden defiance, faced with a digital camera, their sexually-induced calm shattered. “What the fuck do you want with that?” the brunette snapped, wresting herself from Randal’s attentions. “Nobody’s filming anything here!”

“Oh they are,” Tony said affably. “You’re gonna shoot each other. Hey, it’ll be fun.”

“The fuck we are!” Celeste had broken free from her two guys’ physical attentions and stood, elbows crooked, palms outstretched in protest. “Do you really think I’m going to let myself be filmed doing any of this? Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Hey, chill girls.” Tony was smiling, unphazed. “It’s a little memento, that’s all. No one is gonna see it outside this room.”

“How stupid do you think we are?” Jenna stormed. “You film this, you could do anything with it! Sell copies to your buddies, put it on the internet … Well you can lock up that camera or the deal’s off. Right Celeste?”

“Damn right,” the blonde answered, though she looked torn by the sudden receding of her exam hopes. “Deal’s off, and we’re out of here.”

“Look,” Tony said, “I can see why you’d think that way, but trust me, there’ll be one copy and it’ll stay with me. I won’t want it out there any more than you do. My old man’s not too hot on my chosen lifestyle, he almost disowned me when I dropped out and he would for sure if any of my private DVD collection went public. Goodbye Jensen family fortune! I’ve taped all my girls and I’ve never fucked over one of them.”

Celeste looked fraught, trapped between rebellion and desperation. “You tape all your girls?”

“He does,” Jenna said sourly, “I’ve heard all about his ‘collection’.” She glared disgustedly at Randal. “Apparently a few of the guys get special screenings.”

“It’s an exclusive group,” said Randal cheerily. “The dudes are pretty much all here.”

“Sorry, ladies,” Tony shrugged, “but it’s part of the deal. No keepsake, no test papers.”

The girls both bristled visibly. “I still say we walk,” Jenna said, eyeing Tony viciously.

“Well yeah, but … I…” Celeste was bewildered, in crisis. “I need those papers! We both do!”

“Look, baby,” Mike broke in, pressing himself into Celeste’s bountiful curves, but addressing Jenna, “I’m gonna get to the point here. All us dudes are freakin’ horned up and if we don’t get to fuck you chicks silly, we know plenty of other girls who are good to go and do it all for the camera, no test papers needed to make a deal.”

“He’s not lyin’,” Tony said laconically. “We’ve been lookin’ forward to you girls, but we’re not too choosy. Make your choice and make it fast, ‘cos we got other options and I’m losing business.”

Jenna looked at the door and back at Randall, who was teasing a fingertip across her shoulder blade, a ‘watcha say, babe?’ expression on his face. Celeste was glancing back and forth at her prospective lovers, wildly contradictory emotions flitting across her face.

Tony jabbed a button on the disc player. The jangling intro to The Beach Boys’ Surfin’ USA pumped instantly out of the shack’s wall-mounted speakers. He cranked it up as Brian Wilson’s vocals kicked in. “Decision time, baby. No one’s standing in your way if you wanna go. Question is, how much do you want to ace that test?”

Jenna remained frozen, looking to the desperate Celeste, who already seemed to have submitted to her fate without even trying to negotiate further. There was an extended aching silence, filled only by The Beach Boys’ soaring harmonies, as Celeste watched the war between self-respect and necessity play itself out on Jenna’s face. Her ex-grunge-girl’s teeth were clenched when she finally responded. “Okay, okay, what-fucking-ever. Shoot you damned movie. Let’s get this done.”

“Great!” Tony was fulsome in his enthusiasm. “And for that, you Jenna can take the camera first.” He held the device in front of her. “Easy as shit. Look through the viewfinder, click here and let it roll.” She waited in a posture of defeated fury for him to hand it to her. “Oh yeah, and strip off first, baby. You’re going do your filming butt naked.”

Jenna looked only momentarily shocked. There was little point, it occurred to Celeste, in clinging to modesty at this stage. She watched in silent astonishment as her companion peeled her T-shirt over her head and stepped out of her shorts, flinging both garments contemptuously to the floor. Even in her turmoil of emotions, she could not help but feel gratified. Look what Little Miss Bookworm had come to. She had always acted so po-faced when Celeste and her friends ribbed her amiably about her appearance, had stared witheringly like she was better than them! Who the hell did the skinny grunge-nerd ever think she was? In a few brief instants Jenna the fucking misfit had unsnapped and unwrapped her black sports bra and whisked down the matching panties and she stood naked, however defiant, in the middle of the shack.

The baggy grunge-wear of High School had disguised it, but Jenna cut an impressive nude. She was a long- and smooth-limbed 5’8” in her sandals, slightly taller than the blonde, her body contoured in gentle curves. Her high, pear-sized breasts had dark-red, protruding nipples—which were, Celeste noticed, unmistakably spiking, despite her angry show of resistance—and her pale loins contrasted with a dark, neatly-trimmed pubic triangle. She was sweating in the heat, as Tony planted the digi-cam in her hands. Celeste’s dress clung to her curves and, what with Chad and Mike hovering either side of her, she sensed her own denuding was moments away.

“And listen, girls,” Tony said, cheerfully applying a whack to Jenna’s bare ass and strolling up to Celeste with similarly disrespectful intent, “once you’re on camera, make like you’re having fun.” He groped the blonde girl’s breasts shamelessly through the damp fabric of her dress and stared, his eyes laughing, into her reddening face. “Then maybe you’ll start to get into it. Roll ‘em!”

As Jenna peered through the viewfinder, getting a fix on the helpless Celeste, Tony rejoined her and guided her nude form closer to the rapidly unfolding action. The Fairfax High Queen of the Prom 2012, framed by two scruffy yet sculpted surfer dudes, was displaying a vulnerability very far from the fashion-conscious flaunting of herself around school corridors. Her fingers were scrunching the thin material of her dress around her thighs in contained panic, as Mike and Chad closed in—rushing back her hair so they could slaver over her face and neck, massaging one large breast apiece, grinding their crotches into the generous swell of her hips.

“Okay, look into the camera,” Tony instructed, and he brought Jenna up close, so that the blonde girl’s fraught face was caught perfectly through the view. “Now introduce yourself, babe.” Celeste looked harried and confused. “Say your name for the camera. Full name.”

“I’m – I’m Celeste,” she managed, as the two guys continued to molest her through her clothing. “Celeste DuPont.”

“And tell me a bit about yourself, Celeste. Go on, don’t be shy.”

“What? I’m – I’m a student, I’m a Sociology student …”

“Wow, Celeste, you must be pretty smart. Who are your friends here?”

Celeste had Chad’s tongue in one ear, while on the other side Mike was pinching and twisting her nipple through the fabric. “They - they - I can’t remember their names,” she panicked. “We just kinda met …”

“Wow, you get friendly real fast. What’s your program for this afternoon?”

Celeste struggled to focus, as her two brawny playmates set about tugging the straps of her dress away from her shoulders. “Well, I guess we’re gonna fool around some.”

“‘Fool around some’? Say what you mean, Celeste. What do you think these dudes have got planned for you? Say it on camera.”

Celeste was squirming both from the guys’ robust attentions and from the glowing red light on the camera that let her know it was all being captured. The boys were letting the wet fabric of her dress cling to her boobs, while they sucked on her graceful neck and explored her stomach and thighs. She was being reduced to porn-slut status by the tawdry pre-copulative interview and two-on-one groping, but was also excited—disconcertingly so. “They’re gonna fuck me,” she confided helplessly to the lens. “I guess they’re gonna fuck me real good.”

“Gentlemen, is that right?” the interviewer pursued.

“Oh yeah,” Mike affirmed salaciously. “She nailed it, like we’re gonna nail her. She’s a full-on college hottie and we’re gonna make the most of this opportunity.”

With help from Chad he ripped Celeste’s dress down around her waist, exposing her preternaturally high, round breasts to the camera. The girl had big bubblegum-pink nipples with areolas swollen into bumpy hubs by her unsought-for arousal. It was these hubs to which Mike then Chad attached themselves, grabbing a tit each and orally latching onto her.

Celeste cried out in alarm, as her proud, sensitive peaks were vacuumed up into the guys’ greedy mouths and she was suckled hard. “Oh my god, ohhhhh …” They were tearing her dress down further as they acted out the milking of her tits, revealing her firm though quivering thighs and her luscious loins clad only in a tiny white-lace thong. Even this garment was being bypassed, Mike’s fingers slithering under it and searching between her legs. His middle digit could be seen wriggling its way between folds of exposed, rose-pink cunt. She uttered a series of high-pitched squeaks as she was fingered. Then Mike dropped to his knees—leaving Chad to revel alone in the bountiful pleasures of Celeste’s bosom—and rapidly divested her of the panties altogether. The camera caught a brief glimpse of her blonde pubic tufts, before Mike grabbed her ass, pressed his face into her V and thrust his tongue so deep it made her squeal.

Celeste was quite a picture, Jenna thought, every young, straight guy’s masturbatory joy. The air-brushed swimsuit model, the over-developed cheerleader whose chest had to be tightly strapped in. The tanned and healthy all-American blonde—plucked from a shampoo commercial, stripped nude and worked over by a pair of horny surfers. This girl could only stand and quake and moan as though ruing the sacrifice of her dignity, while Chad fed on one breast and massaged the other, Mike noisily eating out her pussy. The whole thing accompanied by the jaunty summertime backing of Barbara Ann. These boys would rock and reel shortly, with this girl as their plaything.

“You getting all this?” Tony encouraged the amateur camera-operator, guiding her around, so she could home in on Mike’s deep and rigorous tonguing of Celeste’s cunt. “Man, I’ll be jerking off on this shit till Christmas!”

“Dude, I could play with these funbags all freakin’ day,” Chad announced with a relish very far from his stoner’s reverie of earlier. His strong hands were molding Celeste’s tits like they were play-dough and he seemed to marvel at how they sprang back to their original shape however much he stretched and squeezed and sucked on them. Mike appeared to be attempting auto-suffocation, as he grappled her ass and pulled her further into his face. Any camera-shyness Celeste had previously exhibited was gone, lost in the lustful feeding-frenzy to which her body was being subjected. Her eyes were shut, head dropped back so that her hair was a blonde free-fall behind, her entire body rigid with desire beyond her prim control.

Tony put himself into shot, standing behind Celeste, so he could stroke her face and extended graceful neck. “Oh yeah, I think our girl’s getting into this,” he narrated excitedly. “How you doin’ there, baby? You look like you’re gonna pop. Tell me what you’re feelin’ …”

“Oh god, oh god, I’m gonna come …”

“That’s right, baby,” Tony encouraged, pressing in close, pushing his face against hers, as his comrades continued their unsubtle exploration of her body. “You’re gonna come hard. Say it.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna come hard, I’m gonna fucking explode!” The final word extended into a wailing moan, as Celeste was consumed by orgasm. If Fairfax High could see her now, Jenna thought. The regal bearing and sunny, wholesome grin of Prom Night were way gone, revealing in its place something akin to the after-Prom library party. Here was Celeste DuPont’s inner freak on full display, as she shuddered and jiggled her shameful ecstasy in the clutch of these three hulking guys, her groin thrusting into Mike’s happily accepting face.

“You’re next, baby,” Randal whispered quietly into Jenna’s ear. She had almost forgotten he was there, but now he was right next to her, wet-gear stripped off, right hand palming his extended cock as the porn-shoot unfolded.

“Shut up, you prick, I’m filming,” she hissed in annoyance, and tried to refocus on her task.

Celeste was being given no quarter, as her throes finally expended themselves. She continued to be manhandled by her original two paramours, both of whom seemed deeply impressed by her enthusiasm. Mike had removed his soaked visage from her cunt and appeared to be slapping her rear as a display of appreciation. “Damn, baby, your pussy’s all set to party hard! But I gotta pay some attention to this ass!” He spanked her a couple more times, as she yelped and stumbled, knees threatening to buckle in her post-orgasmic state. The guys alone prevented her from tumbling. Mike disentangled her from the garments which had fallen around her feet, leaving her in strapped black sandals alone. On an apparent impulse he propelled her with Chad’s help to one of the surfboards racked in standing position against the wall.

“Hold tight to that, baby,” he told her, crushing her into the board’s hard surface and guiding her head away from the thrust-out fin. Then he slapped her solidly on the ass, leaving plenty of room so Jenna’s camera could catch the move. Chad instantly joined in from the blonde’s other side, applying his own palm heftily to her squirming buttocks.

“Get a good shot of this!” Tony was back at Jenna’s side to spur on her efforts. She zoomed in on Celeste’s golden-brown, aerobically-muscled ass, as Mike and Chad alternated hearty whacks on its smooth surface. Celeste was squealing aloud on every impact, the boys apparently vying for who could elicit the loudest cry. They sped up their game, paddling her cheeks harder and faster, till despite years of toning exercises the twin globes quivered visibly within the camera frame. The spanking did not stop till a reddish bloom was added to the sun-tanned gold.

“Dude,” Mike was saying in the state of advanced lust induced by the spank-session, “I gotta get me inside of that.” Whether he meant Celeste in general or a specifically intended hole was not yet clear. What became apparent was Mike’s none-too-mature sense of fun. “Get the board,” he instructed Chad, who seemed happy to be a part of whatever horny developments arose. “Hold on, baby, don’t let go.”

Jenna backed out of the way, as the guys heaved the surfboard from the wall; Celeste was still pressed flat against it (her large tits pancaked from bracing herself against the ass-whipping), and they laid both it and her on to the floor. Jenna zoomed out, taking in the view of Mike wrenching off his boots and wet-gear, Chad following suit with his shorts. Two big engorged dicks loomed into frame, as the guys topped and tailed Celeste on the board, Mike taking the rear position.

“Shit, dude, it - is - time!” the older surfer proclaimed, dragging the prostrate Celeste up into a kneeling position.

The Prom Queen’s once immaculately-brushed hair had fallen in straggling drapes over her face, but Chad swept it clear, so he could thrust his diagonally-pointing cock in her face. “Come on, babe,” he encouraged, “take a nice, big mouthful.” Celeste appeared in a state of some confusion, but she opened up her full-lipped mouth and accepted Chad’s smooth, thick extension nonetheless. Her mind had obviously retained the nature of the task, for she guzzled in several inches and began slurping hard. It wasn’t, Jenna thought, as if fellatio was a skill the girl hadn’t already mastered.

Celeste had little time to adapt to her oral task, before Mike slotted himself manfully into place from behind. Jenna missed it, so focused had she become on the cock-sucking action. The first she knew was when Celeste was dramatically shunted forward, swallowing a couple more inches of Chad’s shaft than she had intended as Mike ploughed her pussy. She wriggled free of her mouthful, so she could cry out her shock at being penetrated so suddenly from behind and peer around in remonstrance at the perpetrator.

“Come on, baby, get your mouth around that cock,” Tony told her calmly from the sidelines, as her body jolted from Mike’s hard attentions. “You’re here to be fucked good, like you said.” So she refocused on Chad, gobbling him up once more and getting down to some serious sucking, despite the fact that she was now being heartily rammed from the rear. “Get down low,” Tony instructed Jenna, “get in close—catch it all.” Nude, she crouched down so she was level with Celeste; the camera captured a perfect image of the beautiful sun-goddess as she was nailed fore and aft. Her suspended tits bounced in their firmness, as she absorbed the repeated thrusting of Mike’s pole. Good Vibrations was playing over the speakers now, the lyric’s subtlety-level on a par with these real-life surfers’ efforts.

“How you doin’ there, Mike?” Tony inquired, as if to heap further indignity on the blonde Freshman.

“Fuckin’ A, dude!” the interviewee responded, as though he couldn’t manage a great deal of conversation in the midst of his exertions. “You really want to throw a few strokes into this!”

“Trust me I will.” Celeste’s eyes flicked inquiringly his direction as he said it. “What about you Chad, how’s that lip action?”

“Sweet.” Chad curled his fingers into Celeste’s locks and drew her further down onto his shaft, making her mouth squelch around him. “She sucks dick like every Prom Queen should. Any of you want to try?”

And so began the carousel of cock.

Chad made way for Randal, whose thick wedge of manhood stretched Celeste’s lips wide and her eyes hardly less so in response. While she nearly choked on Randal, Mike gripped her ass tight and upped his work-rate to a full-on hammering; then he vacated the premises for Chad. The most laid-back member of the group took position and launched his recently-sucked length cheerfully into her. Mike added his cunt-marinaded cock to Randal’s, the two buddies alternating long sword-thrusts into the juicy back of Celeste’s throat.

Now it was Randal’s turn at her pussy, Chad generously making way for his swarthier friend—the latter slamming himself inside her and making her gurgle a long groan on Mike’s oral invader. Tony finally joined the action, whipping off shirt and shorts, letting his impressively elevated, even more impressively proportioned member swing free. He waited till Mike had extracted himself from her mouth and then plunged into her throat. Having given her a good facial pumping he retreating to her rear, so that he could replace the valiantly thrusting Mike and direct a hard fuck into her pussy.

So it revolved, every sordid second recorded on digital.

Jenna could not help but be impressed by Celeste’s commitment to the project. She was sure the girl had never applied this level of industry to academic work. Last year’s Queen of Fairfax High was shifting her hard, tanned beach-buns in reverse, meeting those cock-thrusts zealously. She sucked and slobbered on whoever happened to be filling her at the front and when the oral dick-action overwhelmed her spluttering mouth, spat herself saliva-free and went gobbling all over again. The girl was possessed, it seemed, with the hope of those exam papers; a whole year of procrastination and skiving could be paid off with one summer afternoon of sucking and fucking. Small price. Although by the rebalancing of herself on one hand and the creep of the other to her clit, it appeared she was enjoying herself rather more than she had expected.

Until, perhaps, Mike went for the tube of sun lotion. The other guys appeared to know his intentions, because they allowed him to get on with it—leaving Celeste free at the back, so he could crouch behind her and shove the uncapped tube between her cheeks.

“Oh my god, what are you doing?” Celeste had struggled her mouth free of Chad’s cock to protest. Jenna could not quite see through the lens, though she knew where Mike was squirting the cream, knew too from the fevered work of his wrist that at least one finger was applying it deeper. “Oh god, oh my god, you’re not gonna …” From the tone of her voice Celeste knew that Mike most certainly was.

“Come on, get her face on this,” Tony urged Jenna, returning to his camerawoman. “Close in.” She did so, perfectly framing the girl’s flushed, sweat-soaked and utterly confused visage.

Tony crouched close to Celeste, off camera. He had taken the opportunity, once Chad and Mike returned to their starter positions, to retrieve one of the exam scripts from the counter drawer. “So what do you think happens next?” he enquired wickedly, holding up the coveted papers within her view.

Celeste took his meaning and her cue. “He’s – He’s gonna stick his cock in my ass.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“I … I want it.” Her eyes were on the package of test papers as she spoke, but she then turned her head to address Mike directly. “Go on, do it, do it, fuck my ... Oh - oh – oh …”

Mike, it transpired, was already obliging, dropping the tube and inserting himself. Trusting that the lotion would do its job, he delivered a hearty thrust; if Celeste’s reaction was any basis for judgement, it must have speared her utterly.

“Ohhh god! Ohhh-ohhh-ohhh-fuck-fuck-fuck …” As Mike stroked her, every expletive, every sob of painful ecstasy was soaked up by the camera’s built-in mic.

“What does that feel like, Celeste?” It was Tony again, right in her face. “Go on, tell the camera.”

“Oh god, oh fuck, he’s right up my ass, oh shit—he feels so fucking big!”

“And are you liking it?”

“God yes—it feels so good, so fucking good! Oh shit, oh fuck …”

“Yeah, right, we get the point,” Tony said dismissively. “Chad, stick your cock back in her mouth.”

Chad complied, harder this time, as though infected by the hedonistic glee of his buddies. He stood up, hauling her upper body with him, then he gripped her blonde locks and properly fucked her face, while at the other end Mike built up to an unrestrained anal ploughing. Jenna backed off on Tony’s instruction, till she had a medium shot that took in the whole pornographic scene …

There she knelt, the disdainfully aloof High School princess (how recently she had floated around the halls of Fairfax with the other untouchable royalty), helpless in her whorishness. She was being rutted on by a pair of sweaty, unkempt surfers, her grapefruit-sized tits a-bounce, and—judging by how frantically she was frigging herself—loving the hell out of it.

She was still self-abusing when the guys came. Mike was first, his low-key grunting developing into a full, animalistic bellow, as he slammed her savagely and let go his load somewhere deep in her rectum. Chad pulled out from between her lips and pummelled his stout length with his fist to push himself the distance. On Tony’s suggestion Jenna closed in again to catch what promised to be a spectacular moment. Chad reached it in seconds, firing off great white streamers, which arced through the air before exploding in Celeste’s screwed-up face, frosting her features liberally. Even after the two guys were done, she continued to work herself helplessly, until she had slid into a sweat-stewed, orgasmic heap on the surfboard.

It was a hazy Celeste DuPont who moments later hauled herself back to her knees in the middle of the surf shack. She wiped sperm from her face, her body still simmering post-climax, her asshole on fire from the reaming it had just undergone. Fixed in her mind was the knowledge that she was earning those illicit exam papers. She had simply not expected to find herself entering into the proceedings quite so wholeheartedly. Not caught on a digital camera, with Jenna Clarkeson the other side of it.

Anger welled up along with her shame. She did not care how many times these scummy surfers jerked off to the replay of her debasement at their hands, but Jenna fucking Clarkeson—that Greebo Grunge-girl freak, who couldn’t even fit in with her own kind—sticking the lens in her face while she said God knew what, witness to Celeste’s most secret self …

She gazed around and took in a sight that warmed her malicious heart. Tony and Randal were grappling Jenna down onto her knees on the hard-wood floor, their unrelieved cocks swaying in front of her like twin flagpoles. The recently spent Mike and Chad had retained enough fire to be urging them on. Clarkeson was about to get fucked stupid by her ex and the guy he had passed her on to like a piece of trash and Celeste did not want to miss a second. She clambered achingly to her feet, scooping more of Chad’s clinging muck from her face to see better and wiping it off on her own thighs for lack of anywhere else. Where was that camera? She stumbled weak but determined in the direction of the guys, and her question was answered before she even had to voice it.

“That’s right, you do the honors this time.” Mike was pressing the little apparatus into her hands, leading her to where Jenna was being put firmly in her place.

Operating the device turned out a no-brainer; all she had to do was point and then play about with the range if she wanted to home in on any facet of the action. Celeste was unsteady on her feet, but she was going to catch every nasty detail.

“Your turn, bitch,” she breathed to herself.

Jenna’s submissive pose was fully enforced, hands wrapped around one thick shaft a-piece, cranking both erections with vigor. She spat copiously when she had to, easing the friction of her palms on the two rigid lengths.

“Hey, and who’s this I got, yankin’ my chain?” Tony asked, reprising his interview shtick. “What’s your name baby?”

“Jenna.” The one-word response reeked of humiliation, Celeste thought, and happily it wasn’t enough for Tony.

“Jenna who?”

“Jenna Clarkeson.” Her voice was even darker than before.

“And what are you best at, Jenna?”

“Jerking off fucking jerk-offs,” she spat, angrily working the two poles.

“I might have to paddle your tight ass for that, babe!”

Jenna glared at Tony with savagery, her hands all but working up a froth as they pumped from base to tip. “Oh my god, I don’t know why you ditched her, dude, if she sucks as well as she jerks!”

“Go on,” Celeste was muttering to herself, the lens drinking in all the angry resentment of Jenna’s face. “Spit-shine those cocks, you fucking whore …” She watched with exultation, as Tony bore the skinny girl face down onto his fuck-rod and made her take it into her throat. Then Randal had his shot, pressing her further down than Tony had, as if trying to outdo his buddy. Turn-about she went, being made to jack and suck, kept way too busy to cast her disdainful glances. She choked and drooled, but tried to work over what she was given even so; she slurped on the balls fed into her mouth, waggling her head and making extravagant grating-noises in the very back of her throat when the engorged cock-heads were rammed deep. That’s right, learn the drill, you sad freak, you’ll pay for those test papers like I did. Celeste could only hope the other guys would regain wood quickly enough to abuse the bitch as well.

Her joy increased as Tony threw a beach towel on the floor and settled himself on it, drawing Jenna on top of him, so she straddled his loins. He bore up the girl’s slender form, so that she was poised above his impressive column. He even waited till Celeste had placed herself for the shot, till she could catch all Jenna’s pre-plunge trepidation. Look scared, girlfriend, he’s gonna fuck you raw.

“Ready?” Tony grinned gleefully. “Then surf this, baby.” Down Jenna went, her cunt lips slithering all the way to the base of his pole, right until he had filled her up. She cut loose a raucous wail and he obviously dug it, because he grabbed her hips and commenced bouncing her hard on himself, sending shivers all the way through her to the hard tips of her neat breasts.

“C’mon, keep sucking,” he urged, as Randal closed in on her face and reslotted himself. In the background Mike and Chad were swigging beers from the fridge, shouting encouragements. “Give it to her, Tony. Fuckin’ wreck that pussy!”

Where are your book smarts now, Jenna? You’re just one more slut sucking and fucking her way to a pass grade. Celeste’s gaze feasted on Jenna as she slobbered on one cock, while riding the other in a frenzy. The blonde was scarcely aware any longer that her own naked ass and tits were on display, or that she was leaking cum from her sore anus, so fixated was she on the filling being taken by her brunette co-conspirator. Bookworm-turned-fuck-bunny, how sweet was that? Come on, Jenna Clarkeson, take what you’re given! She wanted to frig herself silly, but not so much she would dream of letting go the camera. And however hard Jenna bucked from Tony’s upward-thrusting, however hard she gagged from her ex-boyfriend’s assault on her throat, Celeste wanted to see her done harder.

“Go on, go on you guys, fuck that bitch!” She’d not even intended to speak aloud; the words seemed to spring involuntarily from her mouth.

“What was that?” Tony panted as he thrust.

Well she’d started, so she might as well go on. “I said fuck that bitch, fuck her hard!”

“What, you think she’s not getting it hard enough?” Even in the middle of his thrusting, Tony managed to sound offended.

“No, I want to see you pound the shit out of her!” The venom was boiling up within Celeste and with it the words poured out. “Fuck her like you fucking mean it!”

“What, you mean like this?” Tony pulled Jenna off himself and from Randal; then he flung her onto all fours, grabbed her lithe form from behind and surged back inside her from the rear. He banged her fluidly, harshly, the pounding slap of his groin on her ass and the screams he was eliciting from her mouth threatening once more to drown out The Beach Boys. Jenna was yowling like a mating panther, clawing the towel on which she had been tossed so casually, her long, smooth body absorbing the fuck Tony was throwing into her. “You getting all this, Celeste?”

“Damn straight I am.” Celeste felt like she had found her new profession, watching stupid-ass superior nerds like Jenna Clarkeson getting fucked to hell and left like squished bugs on the floor. So they’d both have the exam papers. That’s all Jenna would have—no connections, no money, just her slut self and a life that was going down the toilet. Fuck you, bitch, fuck you! “Go on, Tony,” she spat with relish, “why don’t you fuck her in the ass?”

“Why don’t I do that?” Randal asked. He had been left jacking himself, once Tony set about Jenna in revised position.

“You already dated her, dude,” Tony reminded his buddy, without slacking off. “I’m having my turn now. You find your own fun!”

“Yeah, fuck your ex-girlfriend’s face one last time!” Celeste urged him, without breaking from the viewfinder. “Go on, do it! Fuck her slutty throat!”

“Got a way better idea,” she heard Randal say, and suddenly he was tearing the camera from her grasp and setting it on the floor so that it aimed directly at Jenna’s gasping face. Then he grabbed hold of Celeste, twisting her around.

Celeste was stunned at the sudden tide change. “What the fuck are you doing?” she yelled in outrage, as he shoved her against the counter and bent her over it. One hand gripped her tousled hair to hold her down against the counterpane, compressing her tits against the hard surface. Somewhere not far from her, Tony was reaching orgasm, Jenna matching him groan for groan, emptying every sound into the recording camera. “It was my turn to film!” Celeste protested. “It was my turn to fucking film!” It galled her in the extreme that she could not witness Tony busting his nut inside Jenna, while the girl screamed like a sorry whore.

Randal ignored her objections. With his free hand he parted her ass cheeks so that he could fit his cock against her yielding anus. Then with hardly a second’s hesitation he gripped her buttocks and drove himself recklessly to her depths. Every nerve-ending in her rectum screamed with the brutal intrusion and so did she—screaming so that every other noise in the shack was blotted out, screaming as though it would counter the savage thrusting into her back-tunnel, screaming until Randal had slam-fucked his way to orgasm and pumped himself empty of boiling sperm somewhere not far short of her colon. In her not-quite-twenty years, even with the dubious High School attentions of Bobby Matheson and the more recent ones of surfer Mike, it was an ass-fucking of supreme vigor.

At least it was over.

Maybe the whole thing was over.

Some five minutes later the boys had donned what scant clothing the summer afternoon required. Jenna and Celeste found themselves kneeling side by side on the beach towel still naked, awaiting some pronouncement Tony seemed on the point of making. Jenna’s scowl portrayed a contempt that they be humiliated to the last, having carried out their task so fully. Celeste’s anger was mingled with embarrassment at the way in which she had turned on her partner in this shady enterprise. Neither girl looked at the other.

“We’re waiting for what, exactly?” Jenna demanded. “You all had your fun. There’s no need to fuck with us, a deal’s a deal.”

“Yeah,” a rather subdued Celeste mumbled. “Now we get the papers like we all planned, right?”

“Yeah, you’ll get the papers,” Tony said, flashing his trademark grin. “Only not quite yet.”

“Not yet?” Jenna’s voice suggested there would be murder done. “And just what the fuck does that imply?”

Tony grinned once again and the other guys laughed. “I’ve done you girls such a big favor, and I can’t help thinking you’re a bit underused. Particularly you, Jenna. It seems a shame not to play more with that tight, toned ass of yours.”

Jenna seemed unable to force out any words. Celeste said feebly, “But I got a date, I’m meeting him for dinner at eight …”

“I’m your date tonight, baby.” Mike laughed with cheerful cruelty. “While he’s waiting with his thumb up his ass, my cock’ll be back up yours. And meanwhile your skinny friend here will be swallowing around a quart of quality surfer jism.”

Celeste was mute in her outrage. Beside her Jenna exhibited similar speechless mutiny.

“Hey girls,” Tony said happily, as they stared furiously, helplessly up at him, “it’s what long hot summer nights are for, right?”

*

The morning of the first sociology paper was a hot one. Three days had passed, three days of furious cramming, in which Celeste DuPont had nailed answers to every one of those questions. Walking into the exam hall she knew she was going to sail through. Admittedly the soreness in both her nether passages had been a distraction for the first couple of days, but she had popped her Tylenol and knuckled down to the hardest studying—pretty much the only studying—she had done all year.

This day, she mused as she entered the examination hall, would vindicate both the hard work she had done learning those answers and the awfulness of three days prior—the seedy surf shack madness and all that had followed. An entire evening in the company of the surfer dudes and their relentlessly thrusting cocks. They had worked her over thoroughly, made her serve drinks and snacks—naked!—while they watched a ball game, then done it all over again. It made her pussy and asshole throb sore just to remember it. And it made her soaking-wet—how could she deny it?—the way it had done on the night. A further three times she had come for those horny bastards.

Most of the horny bastards at any rate, she thought slyly. It gave Celeste an ignoble rush of satisfaction that three of the group had gone with her to Randal’s place to service her all night. They knew a prime all-American hottie when they saw one and as red-blooded guys they could only be expected to seize the opportunity. Only dumb Tony had remained behind to reopen the shack and then do Jenna again once he’d shut up shop, but if he preferred girls as flat as his surfboard, that was his fucking sickness. At any rate, she was all ready for this test. And she had salvaged the Guy Danton situation, putting down her no-show at their date to an automobile/cellphone double-failure.

Yes indeed—once again, life was pretty sweet.

She checked the ranks of desks to look for her unlikely recent associate and felt a certain relief when she could not spy Jenna. Once these finals were past, she hoped she would never have to deal with the girl again, even if that meant actually studying during her Sophomore year. She walked to the top of the hall, found her number-marked place and sat down to prepare herself mentally for the three-hour task ahead.

The lean, bony-faced invigilator took her by surprise. She had scarcely got composed when he brushed past her, leaning in and confiding: “Good luck with the test, Celeste. I’m sure if you flunk you got a big future in the movies. I hear you’re quite a star.” Then he continued on his way down the line.

What the fuck? A nightmare chill ran through Celeste to her toes. Who was that guy? She couldn’t remember seeing him before in her life. Why the hell had he said that? How did he know her name? Surely he couldn’t have … Shit, maybe this guy was some friend of Tony’s. Had he been invited around to watch? She was sweating, swivelling all about in her chair to see if she could spot Jenna. Perhaps something similar had been said to her. Perhaps they both had been betrayed somehow. Hell, where was that girl?

*

Several miles away under a duvet in a darkened Santa Monica apartment, Jenna Clarkeson was sucking on surfer Tony’s cock.

“You do that so nice, baby,” he said lazily, his head lolling on a pillow. “You can keep it up all day.”

“Not gonna happen,” she said, having surfaced momentarily. “I got a History test to prepare for.”

Good move, she thought, inhaling Tony’s handsome attachment once more, switching to History. She’d had her doubts about Sociology as her kind of subject, but bumping into Celeste DuPont on the department’s orientation day had sealed the deal. The memories of Queen Celeste’s mouth around Bobby Matheson’s hard dick still burned, more so the words she had overheard on quietly approaching the pair. “I bet Jenna Clarkeson doesn’t blow you this well. That’s who you came here to meet, wasn’t it?” Right there in Jenna and Bobby’s secret place, where they had indeed planned to liaise on Prom Night.

That look of feigned innocence on Celeste’s face, when she had tracked Jenna down later the same evening … “Jenna, it just happened, I didn’t even know you were still seeing him. You won’t tell anyone else, will you? You know they wouldn’t believe you anyway, they’d simply think you were being spiteful.”

So Jenna hadn’t said a word. She knew the truth of it all too well. That popularity contest had been won the day the two started at Fairfax High, based on cost of the clothes they wore. And then to compound the injury, Celeste Brains-in-her-tits DuPont had shown up on the UCLA campus, on the same damn course, all her false sweetness intact.

“Jenna? Wow, I can’t believe we’re doing this together. We can be study partners!” Still Miss Popularity, still no recourse to payback. Until that beautiful day …

“Jenna? Jenna! Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in class all year! Not that I’ve been to many myself … God, I’m in such shit over these finals. Are you ready for the Sociology papers? What do you think’s going to come up? Jenna, I’m so doomed!”

“Look, Celeste, I’m not the one to talk to.”

“Why not? You’ve always been so smart!”

“Because I didn’t …” Then came the dawning of—not an idea as such, more the awareness of an opportunity. “I didn’t attend any classes either. I’m in the same boat as you.”

Jenna took the news to Tony. An unlikely boyfriend, her High School friends would have thought, and not one she expected to be with for more than the briefest of evers, but he had taken a shine to her when she rested during a seafront jog one day, and the three months that followed had been some of the most fun she’d ever had. Certainly the wildest. She explained to him her history with Celeste and an impromptu brainstorming session ensued. A session that left no possibilities unexplored, that proved Tony’s imagination as deliciously twisted as her own.

“You want to set her up, baby, you’re gonna have to take part yourself.”

“Well wouldn’t that make all your fantasies come true, Anthony Luttrell?”

“So do you think this fishy’s so desperate she’ll bite all by herself? She thinks you’re in this trouble together and it’s gotta stay that way.”

Jenna knew the truth of it. The study session she arranged with Celeste proved to the panicking blonde that Jenna alone could not get her through; the former Grunge-chick exhibited a convincing level of cluelessness throughout. So when a gleam of hope appeared, a contact who could provide the test questions, what else was the hapless Queen of Fairfax High seriously going to do?

Deft manoeuvres were called for once the ‘fishy’ had taken the bait. Tony had a friend of a friend who could forge a fake ID for one Anthony Jensen, but it was up to Jenna to procure those other necessary items. Past papers were obtained from Sociology head Arthur Jensen directly (“I really think I made a mistake switching to History—could I check the kind of topics that are dealt with in Sociology?”—flutter eyelids on cue), so they could be doctored into this year’s paper.

The purloining of that family photo from his desk when he was searching through a filing cabinet, however, was a stroke of either genius or lunacy. At any rate she got away with it. And the same ‘friend’ who faked the passport and the test papers turned out to be a whiz at photo-shopping. Tidy up Tony for the day, snap him and insert his grinning person ingeniously into the family group—voila. All that was then required was the thorough briefing of Tony’s surf-buddies and a stellar performance from the man himself, one which would match Jenna’s own skill at dissembling.

He had pulled it off with aplomb, the cheeky bastard. This guy so deserved the attention she was lavishing on his cock that morning.

“You know Randal won’t shut the fuck up about that afternoon,” he said a touch sardonically, drawing her lips away from his erection so that it slapped heavily onto his stomach. “I think he’d like to date you for real now. You blew him way too well.”

“Yeah,” Jenna answered him with a smirk. “And like you didn’t enjoy porking the Prom Queen, you big hypocrite.”

Tony’s grin returned. “Babe, that was nothing but masturbation with a blow-up Barbie. You know my type.” He reached down and drew her naked form the length of his body, so he could kiss her.

“Hey,” she said excitedly, checking the overturned alarm clock close by the mattress, “she’ll be starting the exam any minute. You think Mike’s managed to bribe an invigilator?”

“If anyone can do it, Mike can.” Tony smiled, stroking her black hair. “He had fifty dollars and a DVD copy to bargain with.”

“Let’s put on our copy,” Jenna said impulsively. “I want to watch it while you fuck me. Right now. Right now.” They both scrambled eagerly from the mattress across the shambolic bedroom to the TV. The disc was still in the player, Jenna knew, from her compulsive watching of it the night before—every second of the amateur-porno she herself had shot. If only poor Celeste had known about the nifty swap following her own fucking—one identical camera for another. If she had known that all the Jenna-footage had been deleted by the star herself, once Celeste was taken off for a long, hard night with the other dudes … Jenna trusted Tony, but not so far that she would leave him in possession of a sex-film involving herself.

She knelt in front of the screen and pressed play, then rewound fervidly to her favorite part. Her body she stretched out in all its lissom tautness for Tony’s benefit, parting her legs and giving her ass an inviting shake. In front of her Celeste’s dubious virtue was being pillaged at both ends by Chad and Mike, the latter furiously pumping to a deep-anal climax. A devilish smile flickered on Jenna’s lips and it only broadened when Tony’s thunderously huge erection speared her from behind. “Ohhh god,” she cried out in delight, the on-screen shot homing in on Celeste’s fraught face, as Chad jerked his cock right in front of it.

“Oh shit, Tony, I take it back, you can fuck me all fucking day!” She wanted reminding of something, even in her building excitement. “How many people have we mailed this to?”

Tony reeled them off one more time, thrusting hard as he did so. “That’d be your High School friends, her entire sorority, the head of every frat house on campus, oh