Flash Fiction: University Debauchery Club

They all cruelly laughed at her; University students can be so brutal. Their venomous barbs and unkind language were destined to gnaw at her confidence and smother her happiness. It was unacceptable.

But that’s how they saw her: sure she had more curves than her peers, but why was that always a bad thing? Why did the drunken behaviour towards the freshers always cause a number to be upset: we were the Debauchery Club not the Bastards Society: they did malevolence out of sadistic enjoyment. We were usually more blindly hedonistic and obsessed with sinful fun, except for the initiation weekend, when nobody had any restraint. It was the weekend of twattery, the party of men behaving like Piers Morgan on a drunken sugar rush.

Which is why poor Wendy had a sash in the swimsuit competition that just read “Whale.” Not “Fuckqueen” like the gorgeous blonde bombshell or “Erection causer” like the near-naked bubbly redhead, but Whale.

It was unkind.

It was unfair.

It was unnecessary.

It was driving her to tears.

Wendy was clearly not comfortable, and I tugged at her arm, wiping my hand over her teary eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” I soothed, watching the blonde Fuckqueen fall effortlessly to her knees in front of the nude compère. “This Society is all about having fun.” I opened the summer house door and left the lights on, as my hands touched her shoulders.

She melted with my massage: my firm fingers digging into her skin and kneading her muscles and I tugged gently at the bow on the back of the yellow swimsuit with my teeth; the skimpy garment tumbled free without comment.

She never flinched: all day she had been taunted and the butt of cheap jibes, but as the commotion outside our tranquillity roared louder and louder, she melted into my touch, running my fingers over her pendulous breasts as my erect cock pressed against the small of her back.

She was sexy; a real woman resplendent in her sexuality and wanting to join the most hallowed of University societies. She was gorgeously beautiful: her warm smile reflecting in the mirrors on the walls as she panted, watching my fingers explore the mass of curls guarding her intimate areas.

I could see in her eyes she wanted me to: she needed the affection and attention, the hot pleasure dripping from her cunt as I would coax a climax from her expectant opening. I pressed her shoulder over the small table and her hands instinctively gripped the top of the furniture. She was gaspingly desperate and guided my cock into her slick hole.

I slapped her buttocks as my cock rammed deep into her box; the subtle arousal replaced by vivid lust. Three hours we had been teased by the filthy flirting and rampant sexiness of the new girls and boys. Three hours we had seen them in provocative clothes, in transparent clothes or even no clothes. Three hours we had watched as they had performed their initiations into debauchery: signing a pact with the biggest bunch of perverts this side of the University campus.

Three hours waiting for this; wanting to slide my cock into an inexperienced débutante. Wanting to pound her thighs with mine as she screamed for me to go “harder”, “faster” and “deeper.”

And how Wendy did: the fox panted and squealed like she had never had doggy style sex before, writhing as her excitement soared towards her dramatic peak; she loved the feel of my cock against her G-Spot, jackhammering into her.

She was a hole, my hole, my personal orgasm coaxer at that moment. I cared not about her, or her story, just wanted to fuck the daylights from the minx as I rammed and thrusted my cock deep into her womanhood.

But how the little slut loved it; she adored the crazed actions and desperation, crying uncontrollably with lust-filled squeals.

She came on my cock; the quivering of her cunt fired a billion of glorious sensations along my shaft until I could resist no longer and filled her cunt with my cum.

She smiled: a warm, glowing, generous smile as we reached for the tissues and cleaned ourselves.

Come on,” I muttered as I opened the summer house door to a round of applause.

And well done to Jack for the first to fuck the whale this year,” the compère screeched into the microphone as the inside of the summer house flashed up on the big screen. I shrugged apologetically at Wendy, staring in horror at the “action replay” of our tryst, but she was worth 100 points and this year, I would win the Most Debauched trophy.

It would be mine.

Just like Wendy was.

The featured image comes from WikiCommons

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