Aprils return
- 2 years ago
- 35
- 0
This one’s a change for me. It’s in a different category than my previous work. And it’s currently a one-off short story. I see some potential in it for more—either elaboration or continuation—but I haven’t decided yet whether I’ll do either.
I value your comments and feedback. Circumstances permitting, I’ll respond to either—eventually.
—CarlusMagnus
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The Norns had woven the web of my weird, and there could be no escape. She walked into my classroom on the first day of classes in August of 1994. She caught my eye immediately.
I didn’t know, then, that my doom had come upon me. I didn’t even suspect. It was a first-semester advanced calculus class of about twenty students. I was to be the professor, she was to be one of my students. I was fifty, she was twenty-three. I was a stuffy, pompous, foolish, middle-aged (to be charitable) man, she was a vibrant, unaffected, judicious young woman.
It was her body that attracted me, naturally. (Double meaning fully intended.) I’ve just admitted to being an old fool, and what could be more foolish than for a mathematics professor of nearly thirty years’ experience teaching to allow the physical attributes of one of his female students to influence him?
An academic I am and have always been, but my experience did extend to things outside the ivory tower—including women. I was a mathematician, not a monk. Nor was I a saint—certainly not a saint!
There had been young women when I myself was young and a student, and there had been older women when I myself was older. Some of those women were beautiful, some of them not. Some of them I’d bedded, some of them not. Some of them I’d loved, some of them not. Some of them had loved me, some of them not. The four divisions hadn’t been the same, needless to say. Except maybe for the last two. When I was younger, those two had lined up with each other almost perfectly—but the wrong way!
I’d been married to the one exception to that alignment at the beginning of my academic career—back when I was a young Ph.D. Married briefly. Disastrously. Oh, we’d been deeply in love with each other—before that marriage, and during it. And, sad to say—indeed, almost too sad for words—after it. That we loved each other had made our breakup exquisitely painful for us both. In spite of the pain—or maybe because of it—our settlement had been amicable. In fact, I still lived in the house that she and I had bought early in that ill-starred marriage. As part of that settlement, I took sole possession in return for a few years’ monthly payments to compensate her for her share of the small equity we’d built in it.
But the only other good thing either of us could say about that divorce was that there were no children whose lives our disaster would blight.
She’d needed more from me than I could supply. I was a young man dedicated to an academic life—a life of doing research in an obscure and esoteric corner of mathematics. Research, essential for earning tenure, requires devotion—even more devotion than a spouse requires. As it turned out, my mathematics didn’t leave enough of me for a wife.
There had been other women after the divorce, but there’d been no more love—not on my part, anyway. I had discovered, back when I was a graduate student, that university language departments (particularly, and fittingly, the Romance language departments!) were full of single—and libidinous—women. It was a discovery that had served me well as a young man and continued to serve me after my divorce. The most recent connection had been a couple of years ago with a woman, about my own age, in the French Department.
None of those attachments had lasted for more than a year or so, and they all ended without rancor. In some cases an end to a relationship had probably been a good thing, in others, maybe not. But I’d been burned, and I wasn’t going to be burned again. After all, a cat that sits on a hot stove will not do so again. But it won’t sit on a cold stove, either.
And then…
And then she walked into my classroom.
I fell in love with her—immediately! Well, I fell in lust with her immediately.
I’m not sure why. Objectively speaking, her appearance wasn’t especially striking—she was an average-looking, healthy young woman. Her body had all of the standard female equipment, of course, and it seemed to be in the usual places on a moderately athletic figure. Her clothing wasn’t particularly revealing—though it wasn’t particularly modest, either. But there was an air about her—something in the way she carried herself that spoke to me, saying I am Femininity!
Falling in lust with a female student had happened to me before. It’s something of an occupational hazard. University professors, even of a male-dominated subject like mathematics, encounter quite a few stunningly attractive young women in the normal course of their work. After all, the campus of any university of reasonable size is populated largely by young people—thousands of young people—at least half of whom are women.
Where there are that many young women, it would be surprising if there weren’t quite a few very sexy ones. Some of those young women, including some of the sexy ones, come to the offices of male professors and suggest—sometimes subtly, sometimes not—that they are willing to do anything in order to get a good grade. Or, in some cases, just to get a passing grade.
It must be understood that when they say anything, they really mean anything but study.
Why do I call that an occupational hazard? Because there’s nothing more hazardous to a professor’s occupation than getting caught trading a fuck for a grade—unless it’s enjoying the fuck but not delivering the grade.
Sex, like any other worthwhile activity, requires that, in order to be very good at it, one exercise discipline and practice thoughtfully. The young women who want to take the easy route to a grade are precisely the ones who are trying to avoid discipline and practice. That is, they’re exactly the ones who’re likely to be bum lays. So the odds are that what some of us call quim pro quo (meaning if I, the pro, can stick my quo into your quim, then you’ll be happier with your grade) isn’t really worth the risk.
I’d understood all of this from the time I’d first started teaching as a graduate student working on my doctoral degree. So I’d managed to resist the temptation to fuck with any students.
But then she walked into my advanced calculus classroom, and I was smitten. She took the center seat in the front row and looked up at me where I sat on the corner of the desk at the front of the room. And she smiled at me.
It seemed a perfectly innocent smile, of the kind we all exchange with each other when we meet someone we’ve never met before. If there was guile in it, or seduction, I didn’t see it. Later—much later—she denied that there had been any of either.
In the daze that resulted, I said something like ‘Good morning.’
Her smile deepened and she returned my greeting: ‘Good morning, Professor Harrison.’ Her voice, which, really, was just an unexceptional female voice, resonated with something deep in my groin.
As she spoke and I resonated, the bell in the clock tower just outside the classroom building tolled the beginning of the class hour. Maybe I should have sent to know for whom that bell tolled.
But it was time for the class to begin, so I read the roster aloud, calling off names and trying to form connections between names and faces. After half a dozen names, I came to ‘Fiore, April.’
‘Here,’ she said, simply. My groin resonated again. Now I knew her name. Somehow, I carried on.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
For the first couple of weeks of class, things went along almost routinely in that advanced calculus course. Almost routinely, that is. Usually, after the first few days of a semester were past, I
got to my classes just in the nick of time—if on time at all. This course, I found, was an exception to that rule, because I discovered that I loved watching April walk into the room and take her seat. I wanted to be there in time for that event. Of course, I had to watch everybody walk into the room and take their seats, lest people see how stricken I was with her.
There were several other young women in the class. A few of those women had bodies to die for, and I certainly appreciated watching those bodies walk into the classroom and take seats. But only the thought of watching April’s body could bring me into the classroom seven or eight minutes before class started.
Every time she seated herself in my classroom, she granted me another of her engaging smiles and greeted me warmly. Always, too, I was aware of commotion in my pants—not enough to cause embarrassment, but quite enough for me to be aware of it.
I must admit that I was almost disappointed, near the end of the second week of class, when I read the first homework papers from that class. I begin my advanced calculus course with a few weeks of ‘epsilon-delta arguments’ about ‘continuity’ and ‘limits.’ (Don’t worry about what these technical words mean—there won’t be a quiz.) Most students find this material very difficult at first. Many find it very difficult at second, at third, and so on down the line for quite a while. This class was no different in that respect. The notions these arguments involve caused the usual trouble.
April was different. Her work demonstrated that she grasped the ideas well and that she had unusual control of the algebra required. What she’d written was better, overall, than I expected most students to have accomplished with these matters by the end of the semester. Consistently, she presented all of the things needed for complete arguments, even for the most difficult of the problems I’d assigned. She had the necessary insight—extraordinary insight, in fact—and, on that count, these initial efforts easily deserved the A that I gave them.
But she didn’t organize her facts into arguments. Reading her work on each problem was a bit like reading a recipe that gives all of the ingredients and explains all of the procedures needed for a dish, but lists those elements in random order—without regard to how one actually prepares the dish. I wrote a note on her paper saying that her observations were astute and complete, but that she needed to organize them. I told her that she couldn’t continue to get away without organization.
Still, her paper was, by far, the best in the class and she had earned that A.
Why did this almost disappoint me? Somewhere in the back of my mind I think I’d entertained the fantasy that she would need ‘help’ if she were to pass the course—’help’ that I would be happy to supply in a private setting: In a bed, say, with both of us naked! That fantasy hadn’t reached the level of my consciousness, but it must have been there and it couldn’t have been too far below that level. Well—I was conscious of the bed part and the naked part, but not in the context of ‘help.’
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I handed those papers back at the beginning of the next week. A day later, April appeared in my office during my regular office hours.
She wasn’t sure what I meant by ‘organization.’ She thought she’d presented complete arguments, she had difficulty understanding what I had meant when I had said that she hadn’t. She had brought her paper with her, and we went through her work, one problem at a time.
In doing so, we did something that’s very common when mathematics students consult with a professor. She sat in a second chair at my right side, and I pulled the leaf above the right-hand column of drawers out of my desk and placed her paper and a blank pad on it—where we could both see what we wrote as we talked about things.
There is absolutely nothing unusual or suspect about this, discussion of mathematics almost requires it—especially in offices like mine, which had no blackboard. It does, however, mean that a wise male professor who is consulting with a female student must leave his office door wide open. That was a practice I had observed conscientiously throughout my career.
Any observer would have said that it was an ordinary student-professor consultation. Our conversation was strictly about the mathematics and how she could arrange her insights to lead a reader through the points she had made in a way that would lead to an inescapable conclusion. I could see that she was beginning to understand what I saw as a problem with her writing.
But there are things that observer would have missed. The first was the resonance her voice again struck in my groin—this time from her position at my side!
The second was her scent—the delicate, female scent of her body that our proximity made inescapable. It whirled in my head through the entire session, bringing me fantasies of the delights that body might hold for me.
I knew that I must not stare at her—especially not at her most interesting parts. But that didn’t keep me from stealing glances when I knew that her eyes were on our work. Those glances did not, let us say, discourage my fantasies.
Nevertheless, I controlled myself.
Rigidly.
So to speak.
As we began discussing the last of the problems on the assignment, she leaned forward over the piece of paper we were writing on, and her knee pressed against my thigh! She gave no indication that the contact was anything but accidental—indeed, no indication that she was even aware of it. But that touch intoxicated me almost beyond reason, and it was all I could do to maintain enough of my concentration to make appropriate comments about the thoughts she was expressing. That is, I think that they were appropriate, though I don’t recall them—or the thoughts they were responses to—very well.
For the rest of our session, her knee continued to rest against me. Sometimes it pressed gently, other times, it thrust vigorously, on a few occasions it rubbed against me. I was nearly paralyzed with the fear that she would notice the contact, find it inappropriate, and chide me, or herself, or the two of us, for allowing it. Even worse, she might come to think me a lustful pervert—which, of course, I was, but she didn’t know that. (Did she?)
At last, we finished our discussion of her paper and what she could’ve done to improve it. She rose from the chair beside me, and her knee broke its contact with me. She gave no indication that she’d even noticed anything unusual about our conference, but she looked into my eyes and smiled warmly as she thanked me for my time. Although I usually rise politely at the close of such a consultation, I thought better of doing so this time. The embarrassing bulge in my crotch was well hidden by my desk, I thought it best that it remain so! When she had gotten her things together and added the work we’d produced to them, she smiled again and was gone.
I was disappointed when our session ended. Not because nothing—nothing of an overtly sexual nature, that is—had happened, I hadn’t expected that with a student as talented as she. I was disappointed that the opportunity to spend time in thoughtful discussion with her was over. Later, when I was no longer spellbound by her physical presence, I reflected on the incident. I was surprised to find that it didn’t matter to me that we’d been talking about mathematics, anything would’ve done. With other students, the subject matter formed the bases of our relationships, with April, it was something else. That something else surely included the sexual attraction she held for me, but I then began to understand—though dimly—that there might be more to it than that.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Several weeks passed, and April’s work improved. The course material got deeper and harder, but her insights were becoming deeper. They penetrated in ways that continued to impress
me. More importantly, the way she organized her thoughts in her writing changed for the better. She was taking big steps toward abandoning chaotic lists of observations in favor of real arguments.
Most of the responsibility for that improvement came from her own efforts. But those efforts included weekly visits to my office, where we discussed ways of writing arguments. We soon had an informal standing appointment—three o’clock in the afternoon on Wednesdays—and our meetings usually lasted for an hour or so. I keenly anticipated those meetings. April’s presence invigorated me.
She was an unusual student. I’ve always been willing—eager, in fact—to discuss mathematics with anyone who will sit still long enough. April was not only willing to sit still, she was eager to learn how to do and how to write mathematics. I think it was about then that I began to think that she might have both the talent and the interest needed to become a real mathematician herself.
In some ways, our weekly conferences proceeded much as our first had. She was always thoroughly prepared, and she always sat at my right, facing the same way I faced, as I pulled the leaf out from my desk and placed a pad of paper on it so that each of us could write out thoughts where both could inspect the results. But our discussions deepened and the topics we investigated grew further afield, as I learned that she very much wanted to pursue avenues that were not an official part of the course she was taking. I found myself actually preparing mathematical explorations to discuss with her.
April’s body continued to allure me, too. The appearance of her rounded shapes, their imagined softness, the subtle, natural perfume of her body—all of these things aroused me, and not just figuratively.
By the end of those first few sessions, her knee usually pressed against me as we carried on our discussion. She seemed wholly unaware of the contact, and I did my best not to reveal the transports of delight her touch brought me. As the semester’s end approached, that accidental (?) contact grew deeper and broader. By December, three-quarters of the length of her thigh would come to rest against mine well before the end of each meeting.
She seemed completely unaware. Fearing that the touching would end if she became aware of it, I maintained a pretense of ignorant indifference.
Always, when we concluded our business, she looked into my eyes and smiled her warm smile. As the semester progressed, I thought that those looks deepened and the smiles got warmer. But, I guessed, that was my imagination. She was, as I’ve already said, young, vital, and my student, I was middle-aged, stodgy, and her professor. Nevertheless, I found myself returning her looks more fervently and her smiles in a way that I hoped was warmer.
The semester ended, and April earned an A in the course. From the first assignment, I’d had little doubt that she would, and I was pleased to be able to assign her that grade. I was especially pleased at the improvement I’d seen in how she wrote arguments. There were two or three other As in the class, but none as solid as hers. Those other folks had done good work, but they didn’t have the same feel for what they were doing that April had.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The month-long winter break between semesters seemed interminable. I did have my research to keep me company—it had been a while since I had published a paper, and before long my department chair would be nagging me. (Not that there was much else that he would, or even could, do about it—I was tenured and effectively immune from any action he could undertake.) I also had my preparation for courses during the coming semester to work on. I’d be offering the second semester of advanced calculus, along with another upper division course—Numerical Analysis I. So I had plenty to do.
Fuck me! Fuck me!” April’s words made my cock pulse as she hissed into my ear, her finger nails digging deeper into my back with each thrust of my hips. The room filled with the wet slapping sound of our sweaty bodies colliding as she urged me on. “Harder,” she moaned, her legs wrapped tightly around my body. I raised myself up with my arms in an attempt to gain better leverage as I repeatedly slammed my hips into hers, driving my cock deep with each forceful descent. Her eyes were...
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April May by Dennis C. Lee Chapter One - Tramp On The Run There was a girl running through the forest. Poor thing. She had shoes, thatwasn't the problem, although they were a pair of white four inch heels, whichcertainly made the running difficult. She had clothes, a loose grey sweat shirtcut at midriff and cutoff blue jean shorts, tailored so tight at the crotchthat even a camel would've cried for a size larger. I mean, they were comfortablefor running. But she wasn't comfortable. For...
Introduction: I have had the pleasure of sniffing Nicolas panties on many occasions and had recently had the pleasure of using her body as a toy I could not wait to get round to my sisters house again to sit for Nicola my niece and her best friend April. I have had the pleasure of sniffing Nicolas panties on many occasions and had recently had the pleasure of using her body as a toy. I had lots of fantasies about her little friend April Whos tiny little body was heaven sent, her long very...
Rob and April lay in April's bed, lost in their own post-coital thoughts. They had assured one another that this would be a no-strings-attached relationship, and the two of them would be simply friends with benefits. Neither of them wanted to hurt Ines, Rob's wife, nor did they want the drama associated with a busted marriage. April thought she might start feeling guilty later, once the sexual high wore off, because Ines was a friend of hers and would be hurt if she ever found out. Rob...
Rob and April lay in April's bed, lost in their own post-coital thoughts. They had assured one another that this would be a no-strings-attached relationship, and the two of them would be simply friends with benefits. Neither of them wanted to hurt Ines, Rob's wife, nor did they want the drama associated with a busted marriage. April thought she might start feeling guilty later, once the sexual high wore off, because Ines was a friend of hers and would be hurt if she ever found out. Rob didn't...
April Fleeter clenched her thighs together as she stood at the sink. That didn’t help. The need deep inside her would not go away. She had expected this when three-times-a-week lover, Jake, had given her the news.“Bastard!” she yelled at the ceiling now. Jake knew husband Jeff’s ship was in Singapore, two months from a homecoming. He also knew damned well about her physical needs. Three days without a man and she was anybody’s. Jake had been willing to fill in for Jeff. Better than nothing,...
Wife LoversApril sat morosely in front of her salon. She was a hair-stylist and after the death of her husband had started to operate from home. It was very good for her, She could look after her baby daughter and earn for them. Now after five years her life was crumbling around her. May, her daughter, now nine has a wild streak in her and has left to stay with Grandpa a few days back. The depression has affected her business too. It was not as good as it was and she had the additional headache of...
PERSIAN STYLE VENGEACE April O Neil? SHREDDER?S SLAVE By [email protected] Synopsis: April O Neil is captured by Shredder and ends up as his slave. Shredder is the main villain from the hit comic book and animated t.v. series TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES. Story: ??????????? It was a rainy night in Manhattan. The Foot was the world?s largest corporation. It was run by a Japanese big businessman called Oroko Saki. He was also known as Shredder, dressed as a ninja warlord...
I was one of the smart ones. School was easy without effort. I barely spent time on homework, never studied, kept straight A’s. Lacrosse and martial arts kept me in great athletic shape despite my utter lack of talent for the former, it allowed me to cross social groups between the nerds and jocks easily. My first girlfriend for 2 years had never let me past 2nd base, and maybe I overcorrected by losing my virginity after my first date with the second girlfriend. We had a short but passionate...
A little about myself, my name is Elisabeth and I grew up in Vail. I am nineteen now and have had a great life. My parents were very wealthy and I was very popular. I am only five feet tall and weigh ninety five pounds. I have brown hair and beautiful green eyes. I am a double zero waste with a nice ass and thirty four d boobs, a true vail snow bunny. I meet my husband when I was sixteen and he was nineteen. We got married right after I graduated high school and he college. He is the only...
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. I groaned, reaching a hand out from under my blanket and slapped the button on top of my alarm. With a heavy groan I pulled myself out from the covers and staggered over to the bathroom. Another dull, boring, tedious day, I thought to myself as I looked in the mirror. My eyes went wide. I felt the long brown hair that fell past my shoulders. I raised a hand to my smooth hairless cheeks. And I placed a hand on my breasts. "No... no way..." I...
HumorMost people wouldn't tell of the stupid things they have done. I wanted to tell my story so that other men out there wouldn't make the same stupid mistakes that I have. I'm a forty-five year old man who has been married since I was nineteen. I have two grown children who are now married and on their own. I grew up in a small town, could be Anywhere, USA. I met my wife, Glenna, when we were kids. We started dating as teenagers. She got pregnant shortly before graduation. We got married...
"Look girls, I am not here looking to hook up with someone! If that's what you have in mind, count me out. I'll just hang out with you for awhile and then go back to my room.!" "Jackie's a party-poop, Jackie's a party-poop!" The other five women harmonized and teased me. "We're just going to have fun and flirt a little, if that happens!" Sandra said, trying to be helpful. We had been friends since high school and decided to meet in Las Vegas for a few days in celebration of our...
Chapter One Her first conscious thought was, I'm awake. She hadn't opened her eyes just yet, but was aware of sounds and that she was cold. The second conscious thought was that she had a Blacksmith using the inside of her head as an anvil and was hitting a particularly hard piece of metal with a four-pound lump hammer. She groaned and cursed red wine. She always got a hangover after drinking red wine and reminded herself of the often-made promise to stick to the voddy. April then realised...
Chapter One – Tramp On The Run There was a girl running through the forest. Poor thing. She had shoes, that wasn’t the problem, although they were a pair of white four inch heels, which certainly made the running difficult. She had clothes, a loose grey sweat shirt cut at midriff and cutoff blue jean shorts, tailored so tight at the crotch that even a camel would’ve cried for a size larger. I mean, they were comfortable for running. But she wasn’t comfortable. For one thing, she was being...
1. The room was silent, lit only by the bright arc lamp which shone its beam onto one side, that of April. Her body naked knelt upon the bed with her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders and back, her head bent forward, in hiding from the light. Then the music began, a slow soft drumbeat at first getting louder and rising in tempo with it her head began to raise in time to the rhythm. Then the music reached a crescendo and April flicked her head, sending the veil of soft flowing hair...
April has accepted her sexuality, she has a boyfriend, but that’s just for appearance. She knows she likes pussy, and she can’t deny it. She doesn’t have sex with her boyfriend; she tells him she wants to wait until marriage, in truth she doesn’t want to have sex with him at all. About once a week she posts an ad on craigslist and fulfils her lesbian needs that way. During one such encounter the girl she was with dominated her and she found she liked giving up all control to another girl....
I had lots of fantasies about her little friend April Who’s tiny little body was heaven sent, her long very blonde hair almost white with her peaches complexion and bright blue eyes always excited me and I normally ended up sniffing Nicola’s panties and masturbating as a result of her just being around. I knocked on the door and my sister Julie answered and greeted me as usual. I smirked to myself as I reminisced about the time when I cam back from a rave still high and managed to finger...
April and June Let me introduce myself, my name is Clifford, but you can call me Cliff. I'm just your average guy, single, work for a living, have a one bedroom apartment, and a cat. For most of my 38 years, I've been single. I love women, but have a pattern of becoming fast friends with them and when I want more, they don't. It is always the same, "I wouldn't want to do anything to ruin our friendship." Trouble is, the longer we stay friends, the more I feel for her, the...
April was about 5feet 9inches tall, big DD breasts, with a firm heart shaped ass and weighed about 130 pounds. She discovered she was attracted to other girls when she was 14. She was looking through her older brother’s bedroom for a pen and she stumbled on his Playboy magazine collection. The magazine fell on the ground open to one of the pictures of a woman naked. She told herself to look away and pretend she never saw it, but some part of her made her pick up the magazine and start...
It was late March and I was reading the newspaper and I found some interesting information from Wikipedia about April Fools’ Day I thought I’d share it before telling my story. April Fools’ Day is celebrated every year on the first day of April. Popular since the 19th century, the day is not a national holiday in any country, but it is well known in Canada, Europe, Australia, Brazil and the United States, and it is celebrated as a day when people play practical jokes and hoaxes on each other....
It was late March and I was reading the newspaper and I found some interesting information from Wikipedia about April Fools' Day I thought I'd share it before telling my story. April Fools' Day is celebrated every year on the first day of April. Popular since the 19th century, the day is not a national holiday in any country, but it is well known in Canada, Europe, Australia, Brazil and the United States, and it is celebrated as a day when people play practical jokes and hoaxes on each...
They walked along the beach, two of them -- one white-blonde while the other's hair was the colour of a raven's wing. Using the old pervs' trick, which was simply pretending not to look, I tracked them as they approached. The ruse probably had nobody fooled, but I couldn't help ogling.The pair drew level with my position and then passed by, the East Vietnam Sea swelling benignly just beyond them. I ignored the blue water and Cham Island in the distance because the view was much better close-in,...
April My Shemale LoveIt seems that I dream of April quite often. She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. April lives in my building, next door to me. She is incredible. Her face is gorgeous. Her brown eyes are striking. She sometimes wears her long brown hair in a ponytail. I love the way it sways from side to side as she walks by. I love watching her walk. Her body is amazing. You should see her breasts. She has a full bosom. And they bounce when she walks. I love to see her wear...
On the seventh day, Marshal Sean arrived to inform them that they were all due in court the next day for the hearing on the girls’ old Master. Jacob, Jason and both girls were required to be there. That night Jason required considerable time to calm the girls down as they still feared their old Master. The next day in court the charges were read aloud by the Royal Judge. “Master Daren, you are accused of punishing by whipping two underage slave girls without a hearing on at least four...
Thank you to hkf999 for a fine editing job! * Prologue – April and Kimber On the very first day of high school, two girls met and it was as if they’d known each other forever. April, the beautiful, popular girl with long blond hair and the promise of a nice figure, the girl with the big, bright blue eyes, who spoke incessantly of her horses and weekends at the stables. April’s family was very wealthy, very, very wealthy. Her new best friend, Kimber, was also beautiful and popular, with long...
It was a rainy night in Manhattan. The Foot was the world's largest corporation, run by a Japanese businessman called Oroko Saki. He was also known as Shredder, who dressed as a ninja warlord was responsible for many illegal activities like arms smuggling, drugs, and prostitution. The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles had been killed a long time ago and only the reporter, April O'Neil, still remained. She had filmed it all but his men infiltrated her apartment and kidnapped her and brought her and...
April was a bitchy debutante, a spoiled black haired skinny fashion diva with a bit of a deviant side and a qualified hatred for men. She had really gone to town with her daddy's money since the Emergency Depression Recovery laws of 2045 made reclaiming bankrupt citizens as slaves legal. Of course April still needed her ego stroked so she'd cruise the clubs for hot looking studs to fuck, but she liked her fucking at all hours, on her terms. So for a few months she bought a nice big dicked...
Introduction: Cheerleader Captain gets group raped by nerds April My name is April Caughman. This is a story of the day that changed my life. I was 18 when it happened. I am 510 with long brown hair. My 36c breast always caught the attention of most straight males. I have been involved with Cheerleading my whole life. So my body was lean with long muscular legs. I was the Cheerleading Captain for my high school. While most of my friends dated a lot I had only had a couple boyfriends. I had sex...
By PABLO DIABLO Copyright 2019 August and his wife sat at their oldest daughter’s wedding. April had dated Randy for over a year. She was giddy in love with him. Of course, her two sisters May and June also wanted Randy. He was tall, broad-shouldered, square-jawed and looked good with the tuxedo that he was getting married in. Each of the girls could easily imagine the goings on later to come that evening. Obviously, April will be on the receiving end of the deal, but May and June also...