Hey folks, so this is the first of a short series based on events referred to in my first 'Cumslut Cup' story. You can check that one out here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

This one builds fairly slowly but will turn a bit dark in part 2 (no spoilers, you'll have to wait and see...) This first part is more creepy than dark, but I didn't want anyone to start the series and get caught out when I publish the next part.

All characters are over 18

***

So this is Edmonton Priory Girls’ School…

Impressive. Not quite the den of iniquity I’d been led to expect, though… It all looks pretty normal from the outside - from this distance at least, looming on the horizon as my limo makes its way up the long drive to the main house.

A typical British ‘statement’ pile; all Cotswold sandstone arches and columns. The place practically oozes entitlement… I can see why Europe’s elite send their daughters here. Enjoying the cache that comes with sending your darling girl to one of the most prestigious private schools in the world.

The place had certainly captured the imagination of my employers anyway – wanting somewhere a bit different to funnel a bunch of Connecticut old money when their youngest Lucia was old enough for high school. Something to impress the neighbors – blue-green plaid of an Edmonton uniform able to set tongues wagging at the country club when the poor girl was paraded about in her skirt/blazer combo ahead of her first term in the UK.

That had been a while ago though... Over seven years since that sweet innocent had flown over to England on daddy’s private jet. Coming back to the US this fall with a worldly look in her eye and a bun in the oven… Neither of which had gone down well with the folks back home.

Hence why I’m here, putting the final touches to my law firm’s case against the school – Durrant family eager to sue someone for what had befallen their daughter, however much it had been a problem of her own making.

“Do you want me to drop you at the entrance, sir?” The posh drawl of my chauffeur cuts into my train of thought.

“No – anywhere here’s fine.” I reply absently.

I can walk the rest. Get a sense of the place. Try and piece together what the fuck’s going on here. Why these plummy Brits and their swanky school couldn’t stop six horny eighteen and nineteen year-old school-leavers getting knocked up at some hippy music festival…

A solitary figure trots out from the impressive entrance, looking tiny before the glowering, vaulted archway and huge door behind. I’d been told to meet her here. Headmistress of Edmonton kindly offering to cut short her holiday and meet with me before the start of the new term.

But the woman carefully walking up the gravel drive looks far too young to be the headmistress at such a prestigious school. I was sure I’d be dealing with someone in their forties at the very least.

Still, I like what I see… Who am I to judge what smoking hot piece of ass they put in charge of a posh girls’ boarding school, anyway?

“Mr Gable!” She calls out, smiling as she navigates the deep gravel in heels. I smile back, trying to avoid staring at her shapely figure, impressive bust bouncing under her tight blouse with each step. She’s taking it slow, stride checked by a tight pencil skirt closely hugging her wide hips.

“Veronica Templeton, I presume?” I answer, wincing at my attempt at an English accent. Mercifully, my mangled effort at humor is overlooked, a polite nod her only acknowledgement. I chalk my awkwardness up to surprise – not expecting to discover a fine creature such as this in deepest rural Worcestershire.

“So lovely to meet you.” She holds out her hand in greeting as I close the last few feet between us. “Though you should have had the driver bring you to the door – no sense walking all this way on a cold day like today.”

I shake her hand, careful to keep my eyes north of her neckline, for now at least. Plenty of time for perving later. Cold day? It’s a fresh 50 out, but seems fine to me - for early March at least. Guess she might be feeling it in that thin blouse…

“You here on your own?” I ask, noting the lack of cars or any other signs of life.

“Just myself and the grounds-keeper.” She answers, waving in the general direction of the lush gardens and sports fields in the distance. “Though I wish I’d told Cook to come in this week too – bloody inconvenience having to mess around in that big kitchen when it’s just the two of us.”

I murmur a sympathetic agreement - as if I somehow know what it’s like to have catering staff on hand... I’m more a TV dinner kind of guy.

We exchange some pleasantries as she walks me to the main house, Veronica surprised by my lack of luggage. She must have assumed I was staying longer when I took her up on the offer of a spare dorm room - school still empty until after the Easter break.

“Oh, this shouldn’t take long, Ms Templeton.” I answer. “The majority of our time will be watching the video testimony of the girls, Lucia’s as well as others.”

“How’s she getting on?” The fresh-faced headmistress turns to ask, her tight blond bun incongruous with her youthful looks. “Is she coping well with the pregnancy?”

I take a minute to marvel at her clipped consonants, my companion’s full lips mesmerizing as she executes such flawless elocution…

“Luce? Sure… yeah – she’s fine… Big as a house now! Only a few weeks to go…” I swear I see Veronica wince at my description of the young mother-to-be, so I press on quickly. “That’s one of the reasons Mr & Mrs Durrant were so keen for me to meet with you before term started. They want to enjoy the arrival of their grandchild without this thing hanging over everyone’s heads.”

“Ah yes…” Veronica answers, warmth from earlier missing now. “The lawsuit… Yes, best we get that wrapped up as soon as possible, I should think... For everyone’s benefit.”

*

I pace around her office while she goes to the faculty lounge to make tea for us, admiring the ornaments and first-editions that adorn her shelves. Idly, I pull out one of the well-worn titles from the book case, a copy of Lady Chatterley’s Lover - letting it fall open, pages parting each side of a defined break in the spine.

I scan over the text, eyebrows climbing as I take in the sense of the words – a woman, cumming intensely it would seem… Fucked and creampied in a forest… Huh - not exactly what I’d expected to find in such an illustrious, classic text...

I miss the sound of the door opening as I scan the pages – caught up in descriptions of the main character’s ‘exquisite melting’ amidst the ‘flapping overlapping of soft flames’ somewhere inside her; the young woman’s womb apparently ‘open …and softly clamouring’…   

What the fuck are they teaching them here?

“Do you enjoy reading D.H. Lawrence, Mr Gable?” The clipped tones of my host catch me off guard, making me blush and stammer as I quickly close the book and adjust my suit pants to hide my swelling bulge. She smiles knowingly at my silence, pouring tea from the pot. I can’t help but stare as she bends over the tea set, cut of her white blouse offering a perfect view of her deep cleavage…

I try to tough it out – regain my equilibrium. “Umm, well… Shall we get started? I think it’s best we get on with… With watching the footage.”

“Very well, Mr Gable… Guess we mustn’t dawdle.” She answers, sweetly smiling as she prepares a cup and saucer for me at her side. “Why don’t you pull up a chair? I’m afraid there’s only really one angle from which we can both see the television.”

 *

I wrestle with the VHS player while Veronica watches me try to coax the aging equipment to do my bidding. The TV’s a relic, a huge 1990s CRT buried in an oak frame TV unit, emitting an eerie ringing sound when I manage to get a picture up onscreen.

I sit next to her once I’ve started the tape, adjusting myself in the seat and reaching for my notepad. I swear her in and advise Veronica that she’s under oath, jotting the date and time in the corner of my yellow legal pad.

“We’re starting with Miss Wolsey’s account.” I explain, as the face of a bored looking 19 year-old blond appears on the TV screen. “She was deposed by a partner firm here in the UK two weeks ago.” Pointing my pen at the 26/02/08 timestamp, having to remind myself that the Brits  record dates differently.

“Amelia Wolsey, yes… Such a pretty thing. Pregnancy really suits her – she looks fantastic, don’t you think?” Veronica leans forward in her chair to inspect the footage as we listen to the legal team swear Miss Wolsey in.

Looking over to my host sat next to me, I can’t help but stare at the wide flare of this stunning woman’s hips, the perfect spread of her peach-like ass against the firm green leather base of her chair.

It’s been a while since I’ve been sat close with a woman like this. Especially one that looks this good. I should be trying to keep my mind on my work… but this meeting’s more of a formality. I can afford to indulge myself a little, especially after all the sacrifices I make for the Durrants. Getting that family out of all their legal tangles basically cost me my thirties - certainly any chance to enjoy myself.

The tape plays on, and I hear the interviewer’s questioning start. I’ve read the transcripts of these depositions, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen the footage.

The young woman on the video is far more confident than I’d imagined. Coolly describing how she and her friends had planned to take part in the now-infamous ‘Cumslut Cup’. I swallow hard when she talks the interviewing solicitor through the rules: An annual competition at Glastonbury festival for Edmonton school-leavers – the contestant who collects the most ejaculate in nine hours declared the ‘winner’.

“And how did you plan to collect the… The…” The interviewer stutters.

“Cum?” The blond siren on screen replies, tilting her head and smiling. “Any way I could… But ideally by the most enjoyable method…”

I sip my tea and glance to my right, expecting to see some sign of embarrassed discomfort in my prim and proper host.

But Veronica appears unflustered, keenly focused on the exchange we’re viewing. The tape plays on, Amelia explaining how she and her friends, including Lucia, had invited a group of young men to visit their tent.

“What did you tell these men would happen at your tent?”

“We said there’d be a competition.”

“What kind of competition?”

“A measuring competition…” The sultry young woman on camera smiles. “Guy with the biggest dick gets to fuck all six of us… If he can last… Course, we never told them there might be more than one winner…”

I loosen my collar and tie, suddenly conscious of the pulse in my neck. Swallowing hard, aware of Veronica breathing deeply next to me.

I risk another look over.

She’s leaning back now, lips parted, her attention rapt. She’s breathing heavily, and I can’t help but stare at her chest – those big tits heaving. Nipples visible now under the thin material – rising points that catch my eye. It’s not cold in here – much warmer than it was outside.

“And what happened then?” The interviewer’s question pulls my attention from the beauty at my side.

“We rewarded our first winner, of course…”

“Could you be more specific please, Miss Wolsey?”

There’s a sigh from the interviewee, followed by a knowing smile and a slow shake of the head before she answers. “Luce and I helped him strip off while the others watched. Then she fingered me while I sucked him off - kept telling me how I needed to be stretched out to take such a big boy… Fucked three fingers into my needy little cunt until I came all over her knuckles, howling round the thick dick in my-”

“Umm, that’s enough, thank you, Miss Wolsey. If you can avoid the profanity, I’d appreciate it.”

“Thought you needed specifics?”

I’m rock hard now. I’ve read these words so many times on the transcripts, but nothing’s prepared me for hearing them spoken like that… I feel hot. Sweating now, wishing I could remove my tie but fearing how it would look in front of Veronica. I drain the rest of the tea in my cup instead, swallowing hard before biting back a surprising aftertaste.

The woman at my side is panting, rocking almost imperceptibly in her seat, tiny creaks from the old wood frame the only giveaway…

Christ, is she as turned on as I am listening to this?

“Specifics, yes – profanity no… Please continue, Miss Wolsey.”

“Fine…” Amelia sighs before continuing. “The others helped me onto the bed and starting kissing my ti – my breasts. Then they spread my legs and touched me. I told Tyler I wanted him to fu – ahem, fornicate with me. And then he… Entered me…”

“Did he use protection?”

I watch Amelia Wolsey lean back and rub her hands over her swollen belly, the heavily pregnant teen raising her eyebrows before she answers. “I think that’s pretty bloody obvious, don’t you?”

“Mmmm….” Veronica’s shaky moan makes me look over, shocked to see the state she’s in. Hands clasped over her thighs, knuckles white while she grinds the heel of her hand into her lap. She’s biting her lip, cheeks flushed a deep red. A spread of crimson that soon paints her neck and the tops of her breasts too. Her nipples look almost painfully hard now… so suckable…

“Miss Wolsey, please… Answer the question.”

The tape rolls on relentlessly, despite the lust hammering through me. My notes all but forgotten, yellow legal pad now only good for shielding my throbbing hard-on from the gorgeous creature at my side.

“No… OK? Is that what you want to hear? No - that thick dick painted my fucking womb. Yeah, that's right... Tyler came so hard in my tight little pussy, I thought we’d need an fucking ambulance for him when he was done... Filled me up so much, it was leaking out when I- ”

“Miss Wolsey, that’s enough! You’ve been warned… Dammit, Ben, cut the tape – that’ll have to do…”

The screen goes blue, white bars rolling up until the recording ends and there’s a fuzz of static squirming over the glassy TV screen.

I’m so fucking turned on…

I can’t help but look to my right. Scared when I see my own hungry lust reflected back at me. A feral look in Veronica’s youthful face that’s shocking. I slowly slide my legal pad off my lap, revealing the tented bulge beneath – her eyes instantly drawn to my shameful arousal.

“Why, Mr Gable…” She exclaims breathlessly. “Would you like some help with that?”

I nod darkly, unbuckling my belt. Staring helplessly at her fantastic tits as Veronica stands and leans over me, trailing manicured fingers over my tie and down to my crotch.

This trip to England’s turning out better than I’d thought…

Hope you enjoyed this one - do let me know! Feedback always welcome. Part 2 available here