THE PRICE OF TRUANCY

College girl, young and old, insertion, spanking,

Miss Price looked over the rim of her glasses. A complete show of authority, practised to make junior private college girls squirm, confess and plead not to be suspended.

Trouble was I was a senior, and there was her assistant-principals desk between us.

"Just what do you think you'll do when you fail, Miss Munroe?"

My future was already well planned; I knew I would be a high-class call girl and very good at it.

I stared ahead. Teachers hate dumb insolence. She only wanted to trip me up with semantics.

She tried again; "Don't you like school, Penelope?"

That was the funny part of my truancy; I was still in school.

Well, not Our Immaculate Ladies, but St Xavier's down the road.

I deserved credit, actually, for keeping senior boys in school.

Hell, they wanted to be at school to see me.

And they were nicely developing my repertoire of kinky skills.

I was already a head job princess at eighteen, a sweet pussy diva and a hardcore anal bitch in the making.

Oh, never let a girl's tender years fool you.

And I was so confident I could fool this sour-shrivelled, obviously sex-starved frigid vixen who looked like she was past retirement age. But truthfully, I never looked closely at any girl or guy over thirty.

I suppose Pricey was about fifty.

Oh, I was playing moron, dullard, near cretin to annoy the hell out of Pricey.

I could see the vein at the side of her head throb as she looked to teach me a lesson.

It came on cue, "Well, then silence won't help you, and you need to learn a lesson here."

I was expecting a week of after-school detention, which I wouldn't go to and then a week's suspension, which would give me time with the Xavier guys.

"Mmm, still playing dumb insolence," she said as she moved around her desk.

I assumed she was getting the immediate suspension notice from her filing cabinet.

I was off my guard, ignoring her because she was behind me.

I felt like a winner.

"Orrgh shit," I went, then "Mmm, Ah, Oh yeah, Orrgh, Ah, Ah, Ah!"

I would never underestimate an older woman's interest in me ever again.

The cunning lewd bitch had instantly defiled my arsehole, catching me unprepared but too easily aroused.

Her finger had pressed straight under my short plaid skirt, taking my cotton knickers with her finger directly into my quickly expanding pucker slot.

The tug of my underwear into my crack dragged my skimpy panties into my shaved slit — pleasurably simultaneously.

The crass bitch was a buggeriser in disguise.

My panties were yanked deep into my crack and slit, and the vulgar whore had two fingers invading my arsehole before I caught my breath.

"Ooh, aargh, fuck yeah, ooh, ooh, aargh!"

It was a rapid, deep, effective incursion.

I was leaning over her desk, moaning in arse-assaulted pleasure.

Yeah, I loved the unexpected.

I got the unexpected as her thumb pressed in and around my clitty, upping my edginess for new fun.

"Uh, uh, uh," I said, "Mmm, mmm, that's nice."

I saw her whisk a large glue stick off the table but didn't process her intent.

Hell, I thought over fifty single women were sexless or dried prunes between their legs.

New fun was unexpected as the trashy madam assaulted my needy arse with the glue stick.

She rammed the base end in and out of my puckered pink starfish.

God, it was good. It was disgustingly perfect in size for my debasement.

My arse was ideally defiled. It was outrageously faultless in its building pleasure sensation. The object made it seemed to fit my arse.

"Uugh, fuck, yeah, oh, yeah, sweet Jesus, uugh, uugh, uugh!"

I was putty under her frigging repeated pummelling of my happy arsehole.

I was in this for the long haul.

Pricey could tell I was enjoying it too much.

Maybe she knew what kind of girl I was. I was undoubtedly finding out what kind of woman she was.

She didn't care about the paperwork on her desk as it was scattered and rumpled under my arse as she urged me over and up on the table, deftly removed my knickers, spread my legs wide, and fingered my pussy basely with three fingers straight away.

No subtle foreplay here. She was brusque, curt and crude.

"Uuh, uuh, uuh," I mouthed.

"You like your cunt splayed, don't you, you whore," she said.

All I could do was thrash about, wriggle and flex my hips in utter enjoyment.

Yeah, I liked a bold, brazen and cheeky approach to my girly bits.

"Orrgh Fuck you, you bitch, you dirty old bitch," I mouthed, then I was lost in ahs and ohs of pussy magic as my sweet cunny delivered an overload of filled satisfaction.

I was moving to a grudging respect for her talent with objects at hand.

A small flashlight, slimline and black but broader at the head, was jagged and stuffed into my spread cunt and filled in damn near flawlessly.

The head of the flashlight caught my sensitive pussy rim flesh like a hard cock knob.

I was ecstatic with her choice of insertion. My pussy got so wet so fast. I knew I was leaking girly fluid as it dribbled and oozed around my still-expanded puckered arsehole.

"Woh, Wow, My, oh Christ!"

Talk about compact and having found its real purpose in life. The bloody flashlight might have been off, but it lit up my insides quickly.

I knew I would cum; that's how exciting and deliciously filling it was in me.

Pricey had me in her hands as she pressed and shoved the flashlight deeper, and she spat on the fingers of her other hand, massaged my pussy lips, and poked out my clitty; my soft fleshy girly tissue was all tacky and shiny.

But when she bent over and shoved her tongue into my arse while pile-driving my slit with the flashlight, I frickin screamed and yelped in previously unknown pleasure.

"Raah, aah, raah, Orrrhh, Ah!"

Her tongue on my arse was so wet, mushy, warm and moist. It was in my groove; her tongue and my arse were sleekly, slutty sliding together.

I was grinding my arse up into her tongue. The more I pushed, the more she delved with her tip. I wanted all the satisfaction. I liked everything my arse gave me in overload —combined with my saturated happy torch-filled pussy.

"Frickin' Hell, you dirty old cow, that is good, so frickin good!"

We want, crave, and desire, then we have it and take it, take it, and try to take it all and keep it in the glorious human moments of fleshy touch.

I had it, and it exploded through me courtesy of an older woman.

My climax surged like a massive download from a high-speed internet connection, sending my body into an orgasmic meltdown.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh," my voice slushed.

I writhed. I twisted under her hold, but she didn't release me; she made sure I was flooded with happiness before she sensed I had fully peaked and started to relax.

I was surprised as she finally had a tender moment, giving me a big sloppy tongue dab into my over-sensitive anus and then pursing her lips around my sated clitty.

Pricey maybe had a sensitive side, after all.

Perhaps she deserved body attention in return. I was having a post-orgasm moment of weakness here.

A bitch remains a bitch.

"Oh, you minx, "she launched, "The price of truancy isn't that easy ", as she brusquely leaned me over a swivel chair and started spanking my bare bum cheeks, somewhat hard actually.

Whack!

Palm birched

"Ouch!" from me.

Smack!

Finger flayed.

Whack!

Smack!

Whack!

"Oh God, Orrgh, Ah, OH my frickin God, you dirty, dirty bitch," I managed before I was lost again in new levels of cascading debauched anal revelry.

Like all teachers, Miss Price had a seemingly endless repertoire of possible objects to assail an arsehole and my whole body into submission as she forcefully inserted a fat bulbous permanent marker pen into my tight but over-sensitive anus.

She seemed intent on permanently making her office part of my weekly truancy schedule.

No doubt about it, and my arse, not my mind, was already planning a re-visit to the assistant principal's office.

I could manage the risque pleasure and an ounce of ouch!

Then, Oh God, the Price of Truancy…

I moaned and groaned;

"Oh Christ, that's a tad on the big side, ooh, my, oh, my, ooh, ooff, oof!"

I swooned and crooned as the chunky pen was replaced by the metal handle of the heavy-duty stapler, flexing, gouging and prodding into my demanding but battered arsehole.