For the first time she realized she couldn't see outside and felt a lump in her throat. Jenny's eyes scanned the room while clutching the bedcover to her nose. Without her head moving, her eyes looked up to the ceiling and then back down to the wall in front of her and then to the right and left. Raising her chin and digging the back of her head into the pillow, still gripping the cover tightly pressed to her mouth, she glanced behind her, eyes darting side to side. Releasing the breath she unconsciously held, her body went limp. She tried to feel the presence ... shutting her eyes tight ... straining so hard her head throbbed ... but she felt nothing. What the hell happened last night? Was it a dream? Did Professor Hill molest me? She shivered remembering the professor's look when he and the others stood in her room, staring between her spread legs. But there were two of them. I think there were. I don't know what to think anymore. Jenny finally settled for the simple answer -- that. She loved the feeling of a greasy strangers cock sliding into her tight 14-year old pussy and the feeling of him leaving his cum behind as a symbol of the unrighteous union. I had heard sometimes she would scoop the cum using her long nailed fingers and suck the cum lustily from her fingers, savouring the taste. I loved how much of a slut she was. I wanted her. Perhaps I should have recognised right then and there something was wrong with me, from the first day I jacked myself off thinking about her own father fucking her slutty ass-hole over the dinner table as I heard he often did. Eventually, we grew to be somewhat secret friends. She told no-one, as she knew if she did she would lose me. We spoke on occasion, she seemed normal, not the filthy cum guzzling slut I had always heard about. I was disappointed. This “friendship” continued for about one month. Then everything changed, she invited me to her home. I was crazy with lust at just the thought. I remember jacking my cock so.
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