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This is one of several stories I’ve written in the style of, and in tribute to, one of my favorite erotic authors, Phil Phantoms. I enjoy writing in his style from time to time… I can’t match some of his intensity or non-linear structure, and it’s filtered by my own preferred themes of course, but it’s fun to just let myself go to places I can’t when I’m writing as myself. So, enjoy.

### Paperwork – A Phil Phantom Tribute by AnonyMPC (M+fg, MF, FF, best, bd, inc, reluc, ped, anal, preg, oral, gang)

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I got quite a shock when I opened that e-mail from my daughters’ summer camp. It was my daily selection of pictures of my kids’ activities over the last twenty-four hours, a service I’d signed up for a few days ago. To my surprise, the fifth picture was of my eldest daughter Emily lying on her back and somebody else’s bare chest. A hard cock was buried in her ass, and another dangled towards her cunt, which by now looked well-used, spread out, and covered in cum.

The shock wasn’t the realization that she’d been having sex at the camp… that she’d be turned into a fuck toy was made very clear to me, and I’d come to terms with it, although the sight of it coming to pass sent me from lazily stroking the outside of my slit to full-on finger-fucking myself in the computer chair. No, the surprise came from how soon it had happened, at least with Emily. She was always shy about her body, even prudish, and swore she wouldn’t become a slut, and now, after only three days, she’d gotten into an orgy. The pictures from the first two days had her sulking grumpily in the way only a thirteen-year-old girl could, still stubbornly trying to wear her clothes, or frowning and keeping closed-mouthed while cocks rubbed up against her face leaving slime trails. When she left home, she hated the thought of a dick in her mouth, much less anywhere else.

Now, she’d clearly been well-fucked in at least two holes, and I had to wonder if somebody at the camp broke their promise. If she’d braved through the humiliation and spankings of the last few days, maybe the counselors finally just got fed up and decided maybe she’d learn to love sex if they forced her to try. By the glazy-eye look on her face, I couldn’t be sure if it worked. That look could either be passion, or trauma. If it was trauma, I’d be very disappointed, but if she really did wind up enjoying it, then I couldn’t fault them if the staff at Camp Cumoniwanalaya decided to just rape the girl and make her love it.

There was no question of rape in the case of her little sister, who was the star of the first four pictures and was visible at one corner of this one, watching and grinning smugly. At least, no rape except the statutory kind, which I never thought counted. Kari was a slut at heart before she tasted her first cock, and did that before the bus left town. If left to their own devices, I’d have placed bets that Kari would probably still have lost her cherry this summer at the tender age of eleven, and Emily would have hung on to hers until sixteen.

I’m sure many people would consider me a horrible mother, digging into my cunt while watching my daughters being fucked by men I don’t even really know, at a summer camp I sent them to. I didn’t send them there intending for this to happen… but as the old saying goes, if rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it, and it turns out that’s even easier advice when it’s not you getting raped, and it’s mostly just statutory. I found out pretty quickly I could lie back and enjoy it, or sit naked in a chair with a dildo and enjoy it very much, especially when they were thoughtful enough to send pictures of every step in the process.
Maybe that does make me a bad mother, but I know that my intentions were completely innocent. It was just that they tricked me into signing the paperwork, and once all that was done, I knew I’d be sending two virgins out to Camp Cumoniwanalaya for two weeks with dozens of horny men who were going to use them for their every deviant desire and do their best to return them pregnant and with every hole ready, willing, and able to accommodate any size cock. Admittedly, I caught on to their real intentions a little late, but that’s naivety, not malice. The camp was free and it seemed rude to look a gift horse in the mouth, and clearly they were experts with this scheme of taking innocent daughters away from their mothers and turning them into sluts.

I’m not lying when I say my intentions were innocent, though… more than innocent, in fact, I’d argue they were downright noble. I saw the way my neighbor Bradley looked at Kari, ever since she’d just started to develop an ass, and Emily told me he’d made passes at her over the last two years, lewd ones, graphic ones that included demonstrating exactly what motions his tongue was capable of, or baring an erection from the window and pointing at it. Unlike her sister, Kari wasn’t the type of girl who’d keep turning those passes down, no matter how lewd, and with me working, him not, and both kids out of school, sooner or later he’d make a neighborly visit to check in on them, and boom, our home would be down one cherry. So when I got a letter offering a free summer camp for daughters of single mothers, I jumped at the chance. It would give me time to put a scare in Brad, or buy him off with some adult pussy in exchange for leaving my daughters alone, and the whole camp experience might get Emily out of her shell.

I had some selfish reasons too… it would be nice to have the kids out of my hair for a couple weeks, and I could invite men over and be fucked like I hadn’t been fucked in a long time, by multiple partners at once. I’ve always had a weakness for gangbangs, which is probably why I’m unable to name the father of either of my kids... but my personal failings aside, I’ve always tried to do right by Emily and Kari. I only ever brought home one man at a time, to make me look respectable in their eyes. I’m not perfect, but I really thought the summer camp would be good for both of them. They could make new friends and form memories that would last a lifetime.

I flipped to the next picture in the set and had to smile, both my girls together, faces pressed together, each sucking on a cock jutting out from one side of the frame. They certainly seemed to be making new friends, although the wrong kind, at least according to the protective type of mother I used to be, should have been, before I signed away that side of me… and the memories of these two weeks would either last a lifetime, or be deeply repressed. Kari I thought would remember, enjoy remembering, and get off to those memories still when she was the kinkiest grandmother in the old folks home. She looked like she loved the dick in her mouth. I was still a little worried about Emily, she might go the repression route. She looked a little like she was rolling her eyes with disdain. That’s a common expression on Emily… and anyone raising a teenager would recognize it, I bet, and I thought it was an act this time. At least she had it in her mouth, which was a step up from the day before.

Something had happened to turn her around fast, and I was eager to see how far she’d turned, so I scrolled down to the next picture. Emily was tied up and suspended in some kind of swing contraption. Her legs were held far apart, secured by ropes, and you could see a line-up of guys waiting for their turn at her pussy, while one guy was walking off, having just taken his. A circle of young, feminine forms could be seen in the background, watching the vulgar spectacle. One of them was probably Kari, but they were out of focus and nude, so I couldn’t really tell which one.

Emily did not look happy in this one… she wasn’t crying and she didn’t look scared, but she wasn’t in that queer state of possibly-ecstasy-or-possibly-trauma either, like in the first picture, and like I would be in that situation (with ecstasy, not trauma). She just looked like she was enduring it. I was told Endurance was one of the camp’s core values, the last in an acronym that spelled out MORE. Motherhood, Obedience, Restraint, and Endurance, and by the looks of things they’d gotten Obedience, even if they had to use the Restraint and tie her up a little to get it, were testing her on Endurance, and building up towards Motherhood. I had to admire that, they kept their word. I just wish Happiness had been a core value too, but you can’t have everything, and that would have made a shitty acronym. Unless maybe you found a way to chance the M to a W and celebrated Womanhood and just assumed Motherhood was a subset.

Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought, anyway. The next picture in, she still didn’t look like she was having fun, but then you couldn’t see her expression. What you could see was two men lowering Kari on Emily’s face. She was eating her sister’s cunt. You could tell that even if with Kari’s legs and pussy in the way of the action, because Kari’s expression was unmistakable. You don’t get an orgasm like that rubbing your cunt on a stubbornly closed mouth, you only get one with a willing and active tongue… believe me, I’ve tried both ways. Even a half-hearted licking doesn’t usually inspire a look of wild abandon like I saw on my little darling… I had to assume Emily was putting effort into it, confirming at least that the lessons of Obedience had taken hold, and giving me a smidge of hope that Happiness was working its way in there.

If that picture was encouraging, the next was positively heart-warming. I finally saw it, that rare, satisfied, post-climax, expression, on Emily’s sweaty face. In this one she was surrounded by girls, mostly unknown to me, giving her a tongue-bath, hug, or massage, depending on the girl. Twelve-year-old Margaret from up the street was licking one of her cum-drenched nipples, and Kari had one tongue out on the edge of a very spermy cunt, looking a little like she was trying to usher it where it belonged. Emily looked serene, like she was completely exhausted but what she did to get that way was totally worth it, and she was watching her sister’s efforts lovingly. It was nice to see them getting along, my girls were very different in temperament and often argued, usually Emily complaining Kari was acting like a slut or Kari complaining Emily was too much of a stuck up bitch. A mother’s not supposed to play favorites, but I was secretly on Kari’s side.

After that last picture, the focus seemed to shift to back to Kari. The next one had her on top of some guy, his cock buried to the hilt inside of her, while she deeply tongue-kissed another man like they were long time lovers. The one she was kissing was the only one at the camp I could put a name to, even if it was probably a pseudonym. It wasn’t until after he left that I put together the double entendre... he introduced himself as Mister Lester, and then later invited me to call him Moe. Molester, get it? The kids certainly did, by this point, they’d know him as Moe Lester if he never introduced himself, although I still wondered if Emily might call him Ray Pist. That she looked satisfied in that last picture didn’t prove that no rape occurred, just that it was effective, and so, in the end, forgivable.

I suppose I might as well trust that no real rape was involved… I had to give him credit; aside from his real name, Moe Lester never lied to me about what was going to go on at the camp. Sure, he left certain details out until it was too late, and sometimes he let me come to my own, incorrect, conclusions and didn’t correct me, but that was my own fault, wasn’t it? If I’d thought to ask right up front if they were going to molest my daughters, I don’t doubt he would have not only admitted it, but showed off the muscular cock he’d use to fuck them and invited me to sample it first.

He seemed like such a nice, mild, unassuming man when we met. That was the very day the girls left. I received the invitation for the camp in the mail, and signed my girls up online, so he was the first human face I ever dealt with, and that was when the yellow bus pulled up in front of my house. Mr. Lester strolled out, and my first thought was that he looked like an accountant on his day off. He was tall, bald on top, not especially attractive but not ugly either, dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt, and carrying a small backpack slung over one shoulder. As he got closer to my door, I noticed that he was a little buffer than I would expect from an accountant, and he carried himself with such a self-assured look that I considered him… I wasn’t wet, but I made that little mental calculation that all woman do and decided, yes, if he came on to me right, I’d fuck him. Not that I’m that picky, mostly I need to be pursued and taken like it’s a man’s right, rather than begged like he knows he doesn’t deserve me… most men don’t, I’ve got an hourglass figure and a face, I’m told, that could be a model’s. I have done some professional modeling, in fact, just flyers for a local clothes shop, some in lingerie, nothing to crow about, but it makes some men intimidated, and I don’t like fucking intimidated men.

Moe wasn’t intimidated… he didn’t even seem especially interested. He knocked at the door, and called my name, and I went out to meet him, the girls behind me. As usual, the girls were a study in contrasts. Emily has blonde hair, Kari dark, Kari’s short, even for her age, Emily’s tall and a little gangly, Emily’s got perky softball-sized breasts that she tried to disguise under loose t-shirts, Kari’s flat-chested but wore shirts so tight you can make out nipple dents, Kari’s pussy is hairless and looks like a tight little skin clam, Emily’s looks like a flower growing in a light field of blonde grass. Personality-wise, the trend continues. Kari’s always smiling and plays with friends outside, Emily’s sullen and solitary and prefers a book to being with others, Emily’s quiet and shy, Kari’s boisterous and loud, Kari’s a bit of a lazy slob, while Emily is studious and cleans up after others… and here on their way to camp, Emily was practically dragging her feet while Kari was almost skipping. Kari was excited about camp, almost as though she knew what was coming. Maybe she recognized the pun in the name "Camp Cumoniwanalaya" ... Come On, I Wanna Lay Ya.... I swear that I didn't, not until after they were gone. I don't think Emily knew what was coming, but she certainly didn’t want to go away to camp and had told me on many occasions, but I insisted that it would be good for her.

Mr. Lester smiled brightly at the girls, crouching a little to be eye level with Kari. “Well, aren’t the two of you just the loveliest little things,” he said sweetly. Normally somebody saying that gets my antenna up about possible abusers, but he was smooth about it and I didn’t even notice. “I’m Mister Lester, and I’m sure you both are going to have a lot of fun in the next two weeks. Now, before we go, I need to get some paperwork out of the way with your mother here, so why don’t you run along to the bus and start making some new friends. Okay?”

“Okay,” Kari agreed brightly. Emily just said “Whatever,” but she went too. After they passed, Lester looked after them for a little while, eyes on their little rears, which I suppose should have been my first clue, considering he hadn’t yet looked at me, but I was a little distracted, worried about this business with the paperwork. The camp was supposed to be free, but friends had warned me that it might be a scam, that as soon as they were ready to go they’d start adding surprise charges and pressure me into agreeing without giving me any time to think, and that they’d be counting on me not wanting to disappoint my children and change all my plans at the last minute.

By now, I was prepared for the possibility, actually expecting it. I told myself that, as long as the cost wasn’t too high, I’d pay it. I had a checkbook ready. “So, about this paperwork,” I said.

“All perfectly standard forms,” Lester insisted, pulling out a folder from his backpack.

“So, level with me, how much is this trip really going to cost me?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“There’s no surprise gas fee for the bus, or a camp maintenance surcharge, something like that?”

He seemed offended. “Oh, no, Miss. We are a charitable organization, and we take that very seriously. We, and our financial backers, love single mothers, and we want to do our best to help them out. All of your girls needs will be provided for, on the house, until they return to you. However….”

I interrupted him. “Here it comes.”

He smiled. “So suspicious. I was just going to say that, in order to keep costs down, we do have a few practices that might seem odd, and we need to protect ourselves as much as possible. That’s why we have all this paperwork to do. So many litigious parents, you understand. Do we have a place you can write?”

I waved him inside, and we walked towards the table in the kitchen. He pulled out the first form from a folder. “Now, we’ll start with this one. This grants us authority over your children, to act in their own best interests as we see them, and make decisions that a parent might make.” He handed it over, along with a pen.

I skimmed over it, but not very carefully. It was one of my weaknesses, I didn’t usually read forms closely, especially not when somebody was talking to me at the same time… it was distracting! I always thought I did a good job of pretending to read everything through though, which usually was good enough… if someone got nervous about how closely I seemed to scrutinize a form, they were probably hiding something. It didn’t always work… that modeling job I mentioned? In the fine print of the contract was that I had to agree to any photo in any position and any stage of undress to get my money, and most of the photos we took involved me masturbating and never made it into the flyer. But most of the time people get nervous when they try to slip something past you.

Not Moe, though, he seemed cool as a cucumber, as the saying goes. When I looked up at him, eyebrow raised, as though I might not trust him, he confidently continued, “Mostly it’s for the kids benefit, there. It really helps us to maintain discipline to be able to say ‘Your mother gave us permission to make decisions for you.’” I didn’t imagine then that he’d be holding up the form and telling a girl that their mother said they should listen to him when he said they should suck his cock, but now I could imagine it quite easily.
“I see,” I said. It was a short form, but nothing bad jumped out at me and he didn’t seem to be nervous, so I leaned forward and signed at the bottom. Leaned probably isn’t the best word for it. I bent forward, almost at the waist. I admit it, I was showing off. It was a warm summer day, and I wore a short skirt that was a little shorter than was modest, and a tight halter top. Bending over gave him a good view, and an opportunity to make a move.

He did, and to my pleasure, it wasn’t a shy one, either. He came right up beside me and let his hand drift over to rest on my ass, like we were old friends. He didn’t grab, not right away, but it was the kind of familiarity some women would have slapped for. I didn’t slap, I just let him be, and didn’t even straighten up after signing, which probably made me look the fool, until he saved me by putting another form in front of me.

As I pretended to read that one the hand stopped resting and started to gently cup my ass cheek. I acted like I didn’t notice. “What’s this one?”

“This one just says you agree with our meal plan. It’s designed to meet all your child’s nutritional needs, and there’s no junk food, but it’s not fancy by any means. We do rely on a special, all-natural, locally produced nut butter as a staple of the diet.” Okay, I admit it, I giggled. I have a bit of a dirty mind, but I guess it wasn’t quite dirty enough, because I thought there was no way he seriously meant what I imagined, but I imagined it nonetheless and wanted to laugh. Even more when he added, “Some of them complain about it first, but they get used to it, and most grow to enjoy it.”

“I’ll bet.” However, I knew he couldn’t possibly have meant semen, so I signed. Now I know he quite literally meant cum was a big part of meals, an all-you-can-eat-buffet. In fact, it was hard to avoid it. If you didn’t drink it straight from the tap, it was provided as a sauce on your dinner. One of the first photos I received of Emily was her turning her nose up at a salad with a suspicious looking goo on top. Emily loves salad. Cum, it seemed, was an acquired taste, and Emily still hadn’t acquired it.

I don’t know why not… it’s not like it was the first cum she’s eaten. Ever since I took it upon myself to help Emily’s self-esteem by feeding her some of my lovers' semen, she hasn’t had a big problem with it. She was a bit of a late bloomer, and wants bigger breasts and softer skin just like any girl, and we both knew that was how to get it. She was difficult about it, of course, just like a teenager… she wouldn’t help to produce it or be willing to drink it right from the source. She wouldn’t even lick it out of my twat and give her mother a little thrill in exchange for the right to drink premium titty-growing seed from her man. No, apparently that was too undignified for her tastes, so I had to stroke off the men into a glass and then pass it to her to slurp down, while pinching her nose with two fingers, before she retreated into her room. She always complained about the disgusting taste and texture… so that’s certainly why she refused the salad. To her, cum was ruining a perfectly good meal. She couldn’t get around it, though, it was on everything. If you ask me, she was lucky they didn’t just provide her a bowl of it and made her lap it up like a dog, with no utensils, like I would have done if I was an abuser, but they stuck to her word and provided a full, albeit contaminated, meal.

That was another way my daughters differed, by the way. Kari not only had no trouble drinking cum from the source, sometimes when I brought a lover home and left the room, I’d return to find Kari and the guy, with her trying her damndest to suck it from his tap. I never let her get very far though, which might surprise you, considering I all but encouraged Emily to swallow loads fresh from the cock, so I’ll explain. Semen is well-known as the medication of choice for the flat-chested, but like all medication you have to be sure you need it, and we didn’t know that yet. Kari might have inherited my mother’s bust. Mom had double D’s practically in middle school, and never once sucked a cock, according to my father, who told me this fact in a long overdue heart to heart about sex, after I became pregnant and didn’t need it anymore. She never did anal, either, so that was when I started to take pity on Daddy and give him regular access to the two holes he was missing out on, but that’s not my point.

The only reason I started giving Emily the semen booster shots was because she didn’t seem like she was developing any boobs by the age of twelve, but Kari hadn’t even started growing pubic hairs yet. Emily, it seemed, got slow-to-blossom tits from my Dad’s side of the family, and prudery from my Mom. If Kari was the reverse, inheriting intense sexual curiosity and enormous hooters, then she just needed to wait for puberty to kick in, and I didn’t want to feed her cum and risk overmedicating her while they were developing and making them too big. If she wound up with lifelong back problems because I let her guzzle too much ball-butter too early, and I knew a girl that happened to, what kind of mother would I be then? So whenever I caught Kari trying to suck out some semen from a guy’s tap, I got all Tiger Mom and shooed them apart. The guy got sent packing and Kari got a spanking she’d remember. Not that it stopped her, but it worked out well for me in another way… it kept me from looking like a total slut. Whenever I wanted to bring a new guy in, I arranged there to be a few minutes where Kari was left alone with my soon-to-be-ex-guy, and then caught her with his dick bulging out a preteen cheek, which gave me the perfect excuse for a changeup. I never had to bring the same lover home for longer than a week. What can I say? I get bored easily.

The activity form was next, and it didn’t sound like boredom would be a problem for the girls. “We offer a wide range of activities,” he said. “In addition to vigorous exercise, we have a farm so the children can be exposed to animals, from dogs right up to horses.” I pictured a petting zoo at the time, or maybe getting used to milking cows. Exposed to sex with animals is what he meant. I’d already seen pictures of my Kari sucking off a goat, a dog, and a pig and holding a horse penis with an astonished grin on her face, probably because it wouldn’t fit in her mouth. That was the first day. I guess she had learned to milk some animals, but they were male. I hadn’t seen her actually fuck an animal yet, but I knew it was coming and couldn’t wait. If I’d known then, what was planned, I might have stopped it, but Mr. Lester kept slipping hints for what was to come past me. “We provide also provide facials, water sports, and of course, there’s the egg hunt.”

“Isn’t it a little late for Easter?” I asked while signing. Whatever they were doing was probably all right, and even though I’m not a practicing Christian, I certainly didn’t want to be the uncool mom who kept her children out of one of the activities for silly religious reasons.

“It’s not an Easter egg hunt. It’s kind of a special tradition, a game. The girls have eggs, and everybody tries to claim as many as they can.” I now suspect that Emily had participated in the egg hunt… her tied up in a swing, and every able-bodied man lining up for his shot at her egg, hidden deep inside her womb. Judging by the last time she had her period, she’d have been at her most fertile yesterday, too.

Needless to say, I didn’t pick up on the hint back then, though. “Do the girls hide the eggs, or do they search for the eggs?” I asked innocently.
“There’s no sense wasting a lot of time explaining it. I’m sure you’ll get the idea of it when the pictures come out. Oh, that reminds me.” Another form was dropped in front of me. “This is the photo consent form. You see, we provide a service to the mothers, every day we take pictures of your children enjoying the camp’s activities. If you provide an e-mail address, they’ll be sent to you daily, if not, we mail the whole lot to you at the end of the term.”

“Oh, that sounds just lovely,” I said, forgetting all about the egg hunt, and immediately looked for the line where I sign and provide my e-mail address. Meanwhile, Mister Lester boldly flipped up the back of my skirt. Once again I pretended not to notice, I was wearing a thong underneath, but it didn’t leave much to the imagination, I’ve got a bit of a plump ass, and the back of the thong practically disappears inside. “I wouldn’t think you’d need a consent form for taking pictures.”

He waited until I’d already signed before answering, which might come back to haunt me some day, but I’ve made my peace with it. “Well, as I’m sure you noticed as you read it, the form also gives us the right to use the photos in our own publications, to promote the camp and help solicit donations, and to sell the footage if we need to. We also usually like to send some of the choicer the pictures to the local schools, to show off everything they’ve learned to do over the summer, so that they can see your girls in a new light. Some parents can be sensitive about such things.”

“I don’t see why they would be,” I said. After my modeling experience, where shots of me nude and with two fingers buried in my cunt were given away free to anybody buying lingerie, I probably should have been a little warier. At the very least, I should have been a little sensitive about giving unrestricted use of the pictures of my children, but I’d already signed by this point, and everything else sounded reasonable.

Of course, at the time I didn’t know that the pictures would be of my daughters being stuffed in every hole, filled with cum in every hole, engaged in acts of lesbian sex, involving every hole, and interracial sex, in every hole, not to mention, fingers crossed, animal sex with a variety of animals and a variety of orifices. In the case of my children, the incestuous twist could be added to the mix. Those weren’t the kind of things you wanted to be photographed and sent to every school in the neighborhood. At least, I thought I didn’t, but as I looked at the pictures while I frigged my cunt like a woman possessed, I also wanted to share them with as many people as possible, show off my daughters like a proud mother. “See that girl taking that doberman’s knot like a pro? That’s my daughter. That camp really taught her to embrace MORE. And speaking of MORE, my youngest... she swallowed more cum than anybody else at camp. She’s quite good at oral sex now, like a professional porn star or hooker twice her age. Would you like me to get her to demonstrate?”

“Oh, I wish all mothers were as easygoing as you,” he said. “It would make my job so much easier.” Mister Lester’s hand now rubbed each of my bare butt cheeks, and gave a little squeeze. It was hard to pretend not to notice that, and it was all but impossible when he suddenly, boldly, pulled the thong first out and then aside, and stuck two long, strong fingers in my rapidly slickening hole. “Not to mention more fun.”

“Why Mister Lester...”

“Oh, please, call me Moe.”

I might have picked up on the double entendre, were I clear-minded, but I was too distracted by my warm and slimy twat, and to make matters worse, that was when the phone rang. By the ring tone, I could tell it was Emily. I could have slapped her, if I could reach her. She had to pick the worst times. I thought about just ignoring it, she was probably just going to complain, but maybe she’d forgotten to pack something and wanted me to bring it before she left. I let out a little groan, which caused Moe to withdraw, which made me want to groan again, but instead I answered the phone. “What is it, Emily?”

“Mom, this camp is messed up. The counselors are all men and one of them said to Kari that…” She didn’t get to finish. Her voice rapidly diminished in volume until I could no longer make out the words.

Another voice, a man’s, could be heard instead. “I’m sorry, the camp doesn’t allow cell phones. No exceptions.” The line went dead.

“Problem?” Moe asked. His hand returned between my legs, although now he didn’t venture inside. Instead, he stroked the outside of my labia, the tips of his fingers brushing against my clit, making me all rubbery-legged.

“Emily tried to call, but one of your people took the phone away.”

“Yes, we have a very firm rule about that. Discipline is very important. Which reminds me…” The hand disappeared again, and another form was put in front of me. “This form gives your consent to discipline your child if the need arises.”
“What kind of discipline do you mean?” My voice was a little shaky, I guess I was starting to catch on that this was no normal camp, but I was already stimulated and a little weak-kneed, especially when he stuck a thumb between my ass cheeks and teased around my sphincter.

“Mostly social disciplines work best. You’d be surprised how often the loss of the privileges that everybody else gets can induce proper behavior, particularly if everybody else knows. In extreme cases, we do use restraint and corporal punishment.”

“Corporal punishment?”

“Spankings,” he said. His fingers were in my cunt again, and that thumb teasing my rectum, and so he couldn’t help feel me get wetter at the suggestion, and my pussy lips clenched around the fingers to show him what kind of fit I could give any other part of his body he wanted to insert. That wasn’t intentional, it was a reaction to what he said. Spankings were one of my big weaknesses. I did spank my children, from time to time, and shortly afterwards I did have to retreat to my room and lock the door. I told them it was because I had to be alone and think about how they’d disappointed me, but in truth, I had to masturbate… mostly because I was picturing myself in the place of my kids, but having them in my power and knowing the pleasure that can accompany the sharp, loving application of pain also got me wet.

“You’re allowed to do that?” I asked.

“If you sign the form, you allow us to. I know it seems harsh, but sometimes it helps, and our counselors aren’t cruel. I can demonstrate, if you’d like.”

“Please,” I said, trying to sound casually interested and not like I was begging. I don’t think I did very well.
He pushed the skirt up my back and then pulled down on the thong. “We don’t allow anything to get in the way between the hand and the rear end,” he told me. “So your child would be bared… I don’t want to hide anything from you. Don’t worry though, the spankings are always administered in public, in front of the whole camp, both to make sure nobody has any questions about what really happened behind closed doors, and also to serve as a lesson to others. The strokes are firm, but not cruel.” Without any warning, his hand connected to the cheeks of my ass with a hard slap, and a stinging sensation coursed through me, followed by an almost electric tingle. I cried out briefly… it had hurt, but the surprise was more of a factor. He had achieved the perfect balance of force, just enough pain to be noticed but not enough to make it an unpleasant experience. At least for someone like me.

After the stroke landed, he rubbed the area softly and squeezed gently. “We do it up to ten times, that’s usually enough to reinforce the lesson.” That first stroke would have served as a perfectly good demonstration, but Moe felt the need to go all the way, and hit me again, and again, and again, for a full ten times, each stroke mitigated by a little light groping that I thought was just for me, but now know was part of standard procedure. By the end, my bottom was red and super sensitive to any contact, which threatened a new blossom of pain, but I was also dripping wet. “You see? Now, that would certainly teach a lesson, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes,” I breathed, and looked back to him. “I certainly would have learned mine… except, what was the lesson I was supposed to be learning?”

He smiled widely at that, showing his teeth. “That you should sign the form,” he said. “All of them.”

“Yes sir,” I said, giving a mock-salute, and signed away the right for the camp counselors to spank my children on their naked ass.

I actually thought that Kari would be the one needing the spankings, and that Emily would be sullen but follow the rules scrupulously. Of course it turned out to be the opposite. Spankings were the closest I got to a sexual Emily picture in those first few days, her crimson ass over a man’s lap while, it seemed, the whole camp watched her get her punishment, and I could detect hints of red on her butt in the pictures where she was finally involved. Kari’s butt was lily-white and looked unmarked, which surprised me, I’d have put money down that she’d do something wrong just so she could get her cheeks warmed… I think that’s at least half the reason she kept getting caught sucking off my boyfriends. If she didn’t like getting spanked, she would have stopped doing it, or at least gotten better at hiding it.

While I was signing the form, I assumed that it would be a woman doing the spanking, like with searches at the airport. She might be a lesbian and get a thrill out of it, I didn’t mind, dykes needed their thrills too. It was only after I’d put my name down that I was reminded of something Emily said on the phone. “My daughter said all the counselors were men.”

“Yes,” Mister Lester said mildly, as though it was nothing. “Of course. What were you expecting? This is a camp for the daughters of single mothers. And what daughters of single mothers need most are strong male figures in their lives. Young women respond better to males providing disciplinary action, as well. So, every one of our counselors are men. So are the cooks and janitors. All of them have the right to discipline if they feel the need. The only women on staff are my secretary and the camp nurse. Besides, it’s safer with so many men. Men are much more capable in case of some kind of emergency like a fire, animal attack, or terrorists.”

“I suppose they are. And I can’t deny the girls need a good male influence, but… most all-girl camps would have female counselors… you know… you might get… a child abuser in there.” I didn’t know right then if I was scared or delighted by the prospect. I guess it was a little of both. I had my first sexual experience with a camp counselor at a mixed-sex camp. I was twelve, he was eighteen, and I sucked him off behind my cabin on a regular basis, and let him finger me. That was as far as I intended to go, but by the time the camp was over, I let him take my virginity, both vaginal and anal. I guess I wanted something similar to that to happen to Emily, let her loosen up. I was certainly loosened up, and became very popular in middle school once it got out that I put out.

I was popular in the high school before I even went to high school. I developed my taste for gangbangs when I was thirteen and proved to be far too popular at a party of high school seniors. My boyfriend at the time was a geek, although I didn’t realize it. I thought the world of him because he was older and so seemed more worldly. But he was definitely a geek, with geek friends, none too popular with the ladies. The boy/girl ratio at the party was way off, and my boy took matters into their own hands to make sure nobody left disappointed, or without pictures, including his father, who was chaperone. If I wasn’t loosened up before, I certainly was after, and a little light loosening might be exactly what Emily needed. Kari I thought would get there on her own with boys her own age, probably sooner than I’d like. She already wore thongs, and the only reason I went along with that is because I knew that if I didn’t let her wear the underwear she wanted, she’d wear none at all, and with skirts. Kari was already eager and ready to join the adult world, so I didn’t want to rush her, but I wouldn’t have minded if a male counselor seduced Emily on the trip. That accounted for my mixed feelings about men at the camp.

Moe shook his head, dismissing my concerns about child abusers without actually denying it. “I assure you, I know all of the men well enough to be sure that none of them would ever fool around with any of the girls behind my back.” That was another one of those completely truthful statements that misdirected me completely. He was so confident that I believed him, and he almost certainly could have passed a lie detector test, because he didn’t lie. None of the counselors would do it behind his back, they would molest the girls openly with his consent and approval, and maybe with him cheering from the sidelines. “Besides, we have the highest counselor-to-camper ratio in the state. There are no fewer than three men supervising for each girl. Everybody keeps everybody else honest.”

That was shocking and seemed improbable. Rich private schools didn’t have a percentage like that. “Three men per girl? That seems like a lot.” It was almost a perfect ratio, I’d later realize, each girl has three holes, thus allowing all of them to be filled, in a pinch. Certainly they wouldn’t be stuffed in every one all the time, and animals would pitch in when guys needed a break, but if the need arose, every man could be satisfied at once, and every girl could be triple-fucked. “The costs alone…”

“The men are all volunteers,” he said. “They love young girls and are dedicated to instilling them with the camp’s quartet of core values.”

“Core values?”

He leaned forward over me, pinning me between him and the table, and I could feel the bulge in his pants against my now oversensitive ass. One thick finger tapped the logo at the top of the form, and the slogan underneath. "We Want Our Girls To Leave With MORE." Beneath each letter of MORE was a core value, and he spoke softly into my ear, reading them off in reverse order. “See, they’re written right here. Endurance, Restraint, Obedience, Motherhood. These are the things we hold as the highest values, and by the time your children leave us, we hope to have instilled them with all four.”

“I see,” I said, trying to maintain my composure. I was this close to begging him to fuck me, and I never beg, except sometimes during gangbangs, but by that point it’s a foregone conclusion, we all know what we’re there for and begging is just play acting. What I mean is I’d never seriously begged a man I hadn’t yet fucked to fuck me, but something about him pushing up against me made me want to. I did spread my legs, as though I was inviting access, but I still felt the need to pretend to be casual about everything. “They seem like very strange values. When I went to camp the core values were Courage, Confidence, and Leadership, I think.”

I could feel him struggling behind me, one handed, to lower his shorts. The other hand was on my back, pushing me down to the table as he spoke softly. I now knew he was going to fuck me, my streak continued, no begging required. “Ours are much better, and tailored for girls. Nothing serves a young girl better than to be able to persist and keep trying, even when it’s hard, even when they’re tired. And every girl needs restraint now and then." He might have said 'restraints' now that I think about it. "It keeps them from going too far that they risk missing out on their potential. As for motherhood, well, that’s the ultimate goal, isn't it? Don’t you want to see your young girl become a mother?” I softly mumbled in the affirmative as I felt the bulbous head of his bare cock up against my hole. “And as for obedience… well, we just like obedience. Do you know how to be obedient?”

“I think so,” I said.

He threw a few more papers in front of me. “Then sign the rest of these while I fuck you. Don’t bother reading them.”

He pulled back, long enough for me to find the pen and arrange the papers in a way that I could easily get at them, but then thrust into me hard. He was big, far bigger than I’d imagined, and I felt completely full, like he was taking the wrinkles out of my cunt. I wanted to please him, so I squeezed back on him, not that much squeezing was necessary with his size, and meanwhile I flew through the rest of the forms, although my signature grew steadily less recognizable as the passion became to overwhelm me. The man at the bank who gave me a loan for the house might have recognized it, I suppose.

Finally, I was out of paper to sign, but there was still plenty of cock to enjoy, and it had been a while since I’d really been able to indulge with one this big, that it was only a few minutes before I felt my own climax approach. “I wish all mothers were like you, it would make what we do so much easier,” he said, without breaking his stride. “Are you on birth control?”

I wanted to lie and say yes, so that he wouldn’t pull out, but I didn’t think I should do that to him. “No.”

To my surprise, he just picked up the pace. “Good. What about your daughters?”

That was a surprise. “What?”

He stopped, holding me still by the hips. “Your daughters. Are they on birth control?”

“No.” Where was he going with this?

“Good.” He began to pick up the pace again. “It’s usually easy enough to get them off of it, but sometimes it takes time to get it out of their system, and we only have two weeks.”

“For what?” I think I knew then, but when that feeling washes over you, approaching climax, it makes you stupid.

“To instill motherhood, of course. That’s the point of Camp Cumoniwanalaya, to instill our core values, to get them ready for a life of MORE, and, the M comes first because it's most important... we're trying to make a new batch of single mothers. Why do you think we have so many volunteers to act as counselors? I suppose it’s not really volunteers, considering they pay us for the privilege of knocking up fertile schoolgirls… though I’m sure many are indifferent about knocking them up, and just like fucking their little mouths, asses, or pussies, or watching them perform.”

“Oh God.” I hoped he thought I was saying that in surprise about his diabolical plans, and not the truth… that it was because of how close I was to cumming. I’m an atheist, except when I’m fucking, and then I find religion… but not morality, apparently. “But they’re so young.”

“No, they’re just old enough. Kari might be a little young to conceive, but we’ll give it our best shot. If we’re lucky, you’ll have two more little bundles of joy in a few months.” He thrust again a few times. “Three, if I’m lucky. Twins run in my family. So, you could actually have four if I really luck out and knock up both of them myself, or me and my brother together do it... six if you’re fertile right now.”

“Oh God,” I said again. I wasn’t at my most fertile point, but I really wanted to be right then. My climax was approaching and I didn’t think anything would stop it… even if he pulled out, as long as he kept talking about knocking up my kids, I would have rubbed out an orgasm myself.

“Has Kari started having periods yet?”

“No,” I said. But I expected it any time, I was her age when I had my first. “Oh God.”

“Prayer might help. If God decides to let her first egg drop, we’ll promise that her womb will be filled with more than enough sperm to ensure one of them finds it. I hope you’re not too picky about the race of the father though, diversity isn’t one of our core values, but we don’t like to discriminate.”

“Oh God,” I repeated, and by this time I really was praying she’d get pregnant and get a baby with dark skin. I pictured her hairless cunt stretched out obscenely with a large black dick (a picture I would come to see a few days later), and the image just hit a nerve. Sometimes you get so turned on that nothing else matters, and things you’d normally find reprehensible only make you hotter.

Moe was starting to breathe more heavily, and I could tell he was close too, but he kept up the talk… he must have known what it was doing to me. “But even if we fail, it won’t be a wasted effort. We’ll have made sure she’s learned obedience and endurance and is experienced in restraint. You could tell her to keep fucking people until she gives you a baby, and she’ll do it. Or put her on birth control and whore her out to raise money for the hospital bills for her sister’s pregnancy. There’ll be no shortage of people willing to pay after they see the pictures of how obedient she’s learned to be.”

That thought send me over the edge, and I cried out a litany of “Oh Gods” while I had my own personal hallelujah. I collapsed on the table as waves of pleasure washed over me, and was dimly aware that the Moe Lester behind me had stiffened up and sent a flood of cum deep into my womb.

I didn’t quite black out, but remained foggy-headed for some time while my body began to come down from the high of sexual climax. I only snapped out of it when I heard Moe saying, “Well, I suppose I really should get going, we have a few more girls to pick up.”

All of what we’d been talking about came rushing back, and my motherly instincts kicked in. Tiger Mom began to rise and sharpen her claws. I looked over to him as he pulled his shorts up over his still impressive dick, and then pushed myself into a standing position. My skirt dropped to restore me to some imitation of modesty, which made me more confident, although the load of cum threatening to slip out of me and down my legs would ruin that at any moment. “You don’t think I’m going to let you go, do you?” I said. “That I’m just going to let you rape my daughters?”

He actually looked hurt as he put his hands up defensively. “Whoa there, lady. Who said anything about rape?”

“When you have sex with a thirteen-year-old, that’s rape.” I didn’t really believe that, after all I was thirteen once and very rarely felt raped, but that’s what people kept saying on TV.

He scoffed. “Statutory. That doesn’t count. There will be no rape, at least not of the forcible kind. We prefer to seduce. Sometimes, in extreme cases, we apply pressure… but we always honor a no. If you have faith in your daughters and the way you raised them, they’ll keep their hymens. In fact, if you don’t let me take them to camp, you’re all but admitting that you think sex is wrong, and yet you haven’t raised them to resist a good seduction. Now, I don’t believe sex is wrong, but if you do, not preparing them for it would be negligence.”

My Tiger Mom side of me was a little confused by this tactic. He had me wondering if maybe he was right. I didn’t want to be negligent in my children’s upbringing. I still put up a brave front and lied shamelessly, saying, “You’re not going to twist me around, Mister Lester.” With his dick nowhere near my pussy, I felt no need to be informal. “They don’t know any better, and I’m not going to put them in a situation where you can put your plans into motion.”

“You signed the forms,” he said simply, and he had me there. I had signed the forms. “All of them say what we’re going to do, the last few in pretty explicit detail, and you agreed.”

“I can change my mind. I can withdraw my permission.”

“The truth is, we don’t need the forms, and we don’t need your permission. They just make things a little easier. They’re a game among the counselors, see how far we can push before the mothers catch on. But even if you hadn’t signed a single form, it doesn’t change a thing. We’re taking your daughters for a few weeks of fun, whether you agree or not. You couldn’t get out there to stop them before I can give them the signal to drive away.”

“I’ll call the police.”

“Fine, but we’ve done this before and never been caught yet. You’ll take the chance you’ll never see them again, or that you’ll be arrested as an accomplice. We have your signature, after all, and anybody caught will testify you were in on it all along, that you just chickened out at the last minute.” My stomach sank. “If you call the police, we’ll be too scared to bring your girls back on schedule, so we’ll probably keep them, at least until we’re bored with them, and then we’ll probably drop them off… nowhere near here, though. They’d show up bare-assed naked in the worst part of a city, not necessarily this one, in the middle of the night, without so much as a quarter to call home. I guess they could turn tricks to trade for a borrowed phone or a cab ride home, or they might get picked up by a gang who won’t tire of them for a few months longer. So, we would never deliberately hurt them, but calling the police has risks, and you take your chances.” He didn’t know it, but he was treading on one of my darkest fantasies, of my girls being abducted by an inner-city gang, forbidden to return but they could make occasional phone calls home because it amused the gang leader to hear my reaction to them being raped… maybe they’d tattoo them with words like “Whore” on their foreheads so that everyone would treat them that way for the rest of their lives. I thought about calling the cops just for the chance it might happen.

Then he gave me a more attractive option, tied to one of my other biggest fantasies… less dark, but more shameful in some ways. “But if you just go along with everything, the girls will be returned in two weeks, maybe pregnant, probably turned into sluts, but returned. You might find you like them better that way. Girls of previous years are a lot more sexually open, they’re already used to sharing men, so why not share with Mommy… and after a couple weeks of our care girls have no inhibition about eating pussy, even a mother’s.” He hit it, my ultimate weak spot, and my knees dipped as though in anticipation of buckling. “You like that idea, do you? I’ll tell you what, maybe you don’t want to be separated from your girls for two weeks. I can understand that.” I thought he was going to invite me to come along, and I was ready to say yes.

I was disappointed. He pulled out another form. “We have a special offer, for the mothers who are willing to do all the paperwork. A Parents Night.”

“Parents Night?”

“Yes, where our selected mothers are invited to see, up close, the skills our girls are learning. The location of our camp is a secret, of course, so we’ll have men break into your home, blindfold you, and take there you in a van. It’s a long ride, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun along the way. Then you can spend a day watching your daughters employ their new skills.”

I wanted to see it. Against all my better instincts, I wanted to see if they’d be ready to lick a mother’s pussy. Faced with that, Tiger Mom shrank back into her cage, perhaps never to be seen again. “What do I have to do?”

“Just write a brief paragraph about what you’d like us to do to your daughters, and sign at the bottom. Be explicit.”

So I wrote. I wrote, “I want you to take my two daughters, and train them to be perfect sluts. I want them to be able to take cocks of any size. I want you to do everything in your power to impregnate them. I want you to teach them to lick pussy, and that there’s no shame in doing it for Mommy. I want you to breed them to dogs, big dogs, with big cocks, I want them ready for MORE and I want pictures of all of it.” I got carried away, especially with the dogs, but if somebody’s offering to grant you your darkest wishes, you might as well ask for the things you really want. Finally, I signed at the bottom.

He read it over, smiled, and took it. “Very good. I think we can do all of this… but you know what might help?” I looked over to him ashamed, defeated, but willing to listen. “If you came out with me to the bus to say goodbye to your daughters and tell them to do what we say.”

In for a penny, in for a pound. So, moments later, with Moe Lester’s cum visibly running down my legs, I stepped up into the bus, where I beheld an impressive sight. Inside, there were a dozen men and four girls. Two of them were neighborhood girls, one sitting on a man’s lap as his bulge poked out obscenely between her legs… he must have been wearing spandex. She was held, but not tightly. The other, Margaret from up the street, had her shirt pulled up to her neck, and her little nipples were being playfully squeezed, by two different men. Her legs were spread wide enough that you could see her white panties under her skirt… but that wasn’t the impressive sight.

Towards the front, there was Emily, sitting and looking uncomfortable as a man had an arm around her and a hand on her leg. She wasn’t the impressive sight either, but she was looking at the sight, and that was Kari, my youngest. Her bottoms were off, and two men were fighting to get their fingers in her cunt as she bent over and sucked on the longest cock I’ve ever seen like it was a chocolate lollypop. Thank goodness that black gentleman’s endowments were focused on length, and he wasn’t similarly gifted in girth, or she’d never have fit it between her little lips. At least not then. At Camp Cumoniwanalaya she's learned to handle MORE.

Emily turned when she saw me enter and tried to stand, but the man with her grabbed her middle and pinning her arms to her waist, then pulled her back so that she had no choice but to sit on his lap. “Mom!” she said. “Look what Kari’s doing. You’ve got to get us out of here, these guys are total perverts.” Kari tried to pull off the dick, but a long-fingered black hand prevented it, and instead she just went with it and watched me out of the corner of her eye, waiting for Tiger Mom to appear and deny her the creamy medicine she wanted.

I hesitated a moment, but then I said what I had to. “Yes, I know. It’s a pervert camp. Now, you two have fun and you do everything these men ask.” Emily’s eyes widened in shock and betrayal, and my heart broke a little, but not enough to take it back. I thought I saw a hint of delight in Kari’s eyes, but it was hard to read her face with her mouth so full. “If you’re not good, they have permission to punish you.” I looked to Moe, said, “Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you on Parents Night?”

He beamed and nodded, and I made my way towards the exit as Emily said, “I’m not doing anything, I know my rights, and I am not a slut. I’m never going to be a slut like you.”

I shrugged and said, “We’ll see,” then walked up the bus, gave Kari a kiss on her cheek while she the cock she was still sucking was bulging through it, another kiss for Emily, who was staring at me in disbelief, and one last kiss, open mouth and with tongue, for Mister Lester. “Don’t forget to send the pictures.”

At the computer, I came again remembering that scene, the last time I saw my daughters in the flesh, while I looked at the photos that proved my daughter a liar about becoming a slut. As I luxuriated in the pleasant exhaustion of post-climax, the phone rang.

“Hello?” a familiar voice said. “You wouldn’t believe what those fucking perverts did this time.” It was Cindy, Margaret’s mother. After recognizing Kari in one of the pictures, she’d been contacting me regularly to commiserate.

“What?” I asked lazily.

“They made my Margaret suck off a dog. A dog. Can you believe it?”

“Sure. Kari did that the first day. Today I watched her fuck one.” It was the last picture of the day, a two-for one, both Emily and Kari fucking dogs. What was funny was that Kari got the big dog and Emily got a little one that was more suited for my younger daughter. Then again, Emily was being fucked in the ass, so maybe a smaller doggy dick was called for.

“That’s disgusting.”

“Mmm,” I said. “Yes.” It was the worst thing about the discussions, pretending to be outraged. I didn’t think Cindy was as innocent as she claimed either, she seemed a little too breathless recounting the indignities she was watching and too easily dissuaded from her plans to call the cops… but I couldn’t quite be sure. I wondered if we were both just playing the part of the martyred mother and secretly getting off on it, but I could never break character and just ask. I guess this time, I wasn’t a very good actor. It’s hard to even fake outrage when you’re so sexually content.

“Are you…” she paused, and then came back again. “Are you getting off on this?”

Busted. Well, she knew I’d come, so I might as well come clean. “Well, it was pretty hot,” I admitted.

“You’re sick.” The words weren’t very convincing without the tone of voice to back it up.

“You know what they say, if rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy it. Come on, you signed the forms too, didn’t you?”

“Just up until the one that was an anal penetration permission form,” she protested. That was one of the ones I signed in a flurry during sex. “Then I called him on it and he threatened to never return my baby Margaret if I thought about going to the police.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think too many have fucked Margaret’s ass, they seem really focused on knocking the girls up.”
“It doesn’t make me feel better. This waiting is killing me. I wish I could just talk to her.”

“I can give her a message, if you want, when I visit.”

The line went so quiet I thought it was dead. “What? You’re actually going to Camp Cumoniwanalaya? Yourself?”

“For Parents Night. I signed all the forms, and that one was the last.”

“So you know where it is?”

“No, they’re going to come pick me up. Abduct me, really. Lots of men, a van in the middle of the night, it’s all very exciting. I don’t even know when it’s going to be, just that I’ll get to see the girls in action and I’ll probably have to service some of the men myself. So do you want me to give a message to Margaret?”

Another long silence, but then she said, “Just tell her I love her.”

“Will do. Do you want me to find out how good she is with her tongue? I would be happy to have her demonstrate her snatch-eating skills on me, and then report back.”

I thought I’d gone too far, but then I heard a little, muffled moan.

“Are you masturbating?” I knew she was, I just didn’t know if she’d admit it.

“Yes,” she gasped shamefully. “It’s like you said.”

“Are you answering my question about masturbating, or about me telling you how good she is at pussy-licking?”

“Oh God,” she said. “Both. God help me, I want to know. It’s like you said, I might as well enjoy it.”

“Absolutely. And I’d be happy to let your daughter eat me out. But if I do, I want something from you.”

“What?”

“Just a little paperwork. A signed consent form. Saying that you give me permission to use Margaret sexually in any way I see fit. I need to protect myself. Write it all longhand.”

“Okay,” she said after another few moans.

“And I want you to deliver it personally, wearing whatever you’re wearing now.”

“I just have a robe on.”

“That’s fine. It’s only a block.”

“But it’s very short, and it’s windy out.”

“I’ll keep the door open for a half an hour, but then I’m locking it and going to bed. Remember, I have no idea when Parents Night will be. It could be tonight, and if I don’t have that form, I won’t be able to tell you anything.” I hung up.

Twenty minutes later, Cindy slipped through the door, out of breath and red-faced, but with a paper in her hand that she turned over to me. Before she did, I snapped a picture of her holding the contract, just in case she tried to deny it later, and claim it was fraud, and then told her, “Okay, you can go.”

She didn’t move. I thought she just didn’t want to face the embarrassment of going out there again in that outfit. Instead, she said, “Wait. Do you think there might be any way I could come to Parents Night too?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “You didn’t sign the form, they won’t know to come get you.”

“But… suppose I stayed with you until they came.”

“You’d have to stay in the same bed.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“I don’t know if I am. My bed’s not free. You have to earn your keep.” I spread my legs and opened my own robe.

“I can do that.” Cindy got on her knees and showed me just how much she wanted to share my bed, and why she was considered a dyke all through high school at least until she finally got pregnant. I had no idea, either that she was that determined or that her tongue was that dexterous. She could have been the cunnilingus instructor at the camp, and I would later suggest as much only to find the job was already taken by the camp nurse.

It turned out Parents Night wasn’t for almost another week, but Cindy was willing to stay every night and, when the men broke into our house, I was able to convince them to let her come along.

As for the night itself? Well, I think the videos would tell the story better than I could. You’ll just have to fill out a few forms before I can release it to you. Where’s that pen? Oh, right, I forgot, I left it in Kari’s ass earlier. It’s probably still there. Go ahead and get it from her, she’s in the basement, entertaining two of her teachers, and by the sounds of things, they’re done for a while and won’t mind an interruption. Just watch out for the dog cum, there’ll probably be a lot of it and it can get pretty slippery.

The End

“CAUTION: Exercise caution and good sense before engaging in unsafe sex practices that involve any exchange of body fluid, even contact with open sores or small cuts. Scenes involving large objects, tattoos, bestial sex, body waste ingestion, bindings, devices and gadgets are the stuff of fantasy and are offered to promote the only safe sex there is - masturbation. Before you try anything, find out what the risks and hazards are because they can all be deadly. Read, enjoy, and remember - sex with minors should be left to other minors.” - Phil Phantom

This story is free to share and distribute so long as no money is charged.

Bonus!: Artist Danaume drew some art inspired by this story! (Warning: link is to NSFW drawn art of underage characters, which may in some countries be more illegal than stories involving underage characters, click at your own risk).

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