A Stud at Art College Ch. 03

Cole looked around at the mall, feeling distinctly out of place among the high-end storefronts and well-dressed customers who flittered between them like butterflies wielding credit cards. A domed glass ceiling, three stories above, let in sunlight and no less than three water fountains filled the space with merry tinkling.

The young art student didn't shop in places like this. He frequented big box stores and factory outlets when not hunting for bargains online. His humble origins couldn't afford the price tags these designer stores demanded.

Not until recently, at least.

He flinched when something cold pressed against his cheek.

"Stop acting so glum, big guy." Krystal lowered the fruit smoothie with a grin. "It's a shopping trip, not a funeral march. We're here to relax and have fun."

"Yeah, boo. Turn that frown upside down." Lita backed her friend, sporting an equally cheeky smirk. "If you behave, I'll buy something sexy for bedtime tonight."

Cole marveled at his two girlfriends. Faithful partners in mischief despite appearing utterly different. One was a luscious brunette garbed in the long skirts and blouses of the classic bohemian artist. The other was a spiky-haired blonde who embodied punk rocker vibes in ripped jeans and a faded band t-shirt.

They were a study in contrasts and the closest of companions.

"I don't understand what's wrong with my regular wardrobe." He argued, plucking at his black turtleneck. "Why waste the money when these are perfectly functional?"

"Ugh, you're such a guy sometimes, Cole." Lita rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You've got a rocking bod under that Steve Jobs Halloween costume. Why hide it? When you've smoking hotties like us on each arm, you need to look the part."

"What part? A shameless philanderer?!" He spluttered, a tad louder than intended.

A gaggle of up-town housewives shot him appraising glances over their Gucci sunglasses, giggling as they passed. Cole's cheeks burned when a peroxide blonde his mother's age winked at him.

His ever-supportive lovers collapsed in peals of laughter.

"Oh, that was precious. But seriously, big guy." Krystal blotted a tear. "You're not a poor, struggling artist anymore. The scholarship stipend will cover a few nicer outfits for formal events. Exhibition openings, gallery galas, the list goes on. Lita also makes a good point regarding your... physique. Like any work of art, it should be properly framed."

Cole was definitely not sulking as he considered her reasoning.

Was he trapped in a poverty mindset?

The monthly allowance Von Glute's Academy afforded him was a frankly staggering amount of money. He'd nearly choked on his morning cigarette when the first deposit arrived in his banking app. His family wasn't exactly poor, but his parents had always kept the purse strings tight, saving when and where they could.

"There's nothing wrong with being frugal, boo." Lita read him like an open book. That was her superpower. "But celebrate the windfalls when they come. Squirreling nuts for winter is great, but it can't be your whole life."

Squirreling nuts... there was a dirty joke there, which Cole didn't have the heart to crack after the feisty blonde pecked him on the lips.

"Aw, that's sweet." Krystal stole a kiss too, smooshing her generous tits into his bicep. "Let's grab a bite to eat, then window shop. I've heard good things about a new boutique that opened last month. We should check it out."

"Who wants sushi?" Lita asked, linking elbows with them. "There's a Japanese joint that totally slays in the food court."

________________

"Gotta admit, that wasn't half bad for raw fish." Cole sat back, patting his stomach.

Lita's chopsticks froze in mid-bite, and Krystal looked stricken.

"Please tell me this isn't the first time you've tried sushi." She asked in disbelief.

Cole let them stew for a moment before laughing to break the tension. Lita chucked a balled napkin at him.

"Jerk!"

"Sorry, sorry. I couldn't resist. You're both convinced I grew up with nothing." He waved in surrender. "I was raised on the Lower East Side, not in a slum. Of course I've eaten sushi."

The food court buzzed with activity. Despite the modernist architecture and ritzy decore, there was a Mickey D's, which somehow comforted Cole. If you could still order a Big Mac, the rest of the place wouldn't be too expensive, right?

"He's making that face again," Krystal told Lita. "Let's talk about tonight. That should distract Mr Broody Pants."

It certainly sounded interesting. Cole perked up in more ways than one.

"Tonight? What's happening tonight?" He asked.

"We thought if today went well and everyone had a good time," Lita said leadingly. "Maybe Krys and I could do something special for you after dinner."

"Or during dinner." Krystal purred.

"Miss Laurier, I am shocked! For a teacher to proposition her student. Scandalous!" Cole clutched at his chest.

The week since the photoshoot had been busy. College classes and workshops filled his days with endless creativity while nights spent with one or both of his girlfriends kept the hung freshman up late.

They were insatiable size queens who couldn't get enough of Cole's giant dick--often cornering him for a lunchtime quickie or sneaking into his morning shower.

Not that he'd complained. Krystal was full-figured bombshell MILF under those lengthy skirts and shawls, and Lita was a tattooed goddess with a butt so big and perfect it often applauded itself.

Cole wouldn't lie, he was an ass man, and his ladies possessed juicier peaches than all the orchids in Georgia.

However, there were logistics to consider.

"I'm considering buying a bigger bed." He said, scratching his chin. "It's awful crowded when you two stay the night, but I don't know campus policy regarding the furniture."

"I like the snuggling. It's wonderfully intimate." Krystal pouted, then sighed. "However, I understand your point. Each residence is outfitted with a queen-sized bed to maximize the utility of the limited space. We pack quite a lot into those modular units. You can make aesthetic changes as you deem fit, but the base layout is fixed."

"Meaning, even if you upgraded to a double or a king, where would you put it?" Lita translated around a mouthful of rice.

"You'd honestly be better off seeking larger accommodations. The school has other options, though they are scarce." Krystal continued, falling into college administrator mode. "Teachers get private cottages that can house small families. I live alone in mine. The spare bedrooms serve as office and storage space. I rarely use the second bathroom."

Cole stared. Was his MILF professor dropping unsubtle hints that he could move in with her? Surely, it was too soon. Especially given the primary reason for the change in lodgings would be to facilitate more comfortable sleeping arrangements for their throuple.

Krystal met his gaze. Challenge gleamed behind those glasses. She was a woman on a mission who knew what she wanted. He coughed, breaking eye contact.

"I'll think about it. Perhaps investigate some off-campus housing." Cole shifted the subject. "Didn't you mention visiting a new boutique? Shall we check it out?"

Lita visibly brightened while Krystal simply smirked.

"We shall. Brace yourself, big guy. We're about to give you the make-over of the year."

________________

Le Elite Mode wasn't what Cole had imagined, given the curly calligraphy on the signage.

Externally, the boutique radiated haute couture. Velvet curtains bordered the front picture window, burgundy carpets covered the floor and polished brass fittings sparkled under warm lighting. Quiet violin music wafted from the doorway.

It could have been transplanted from the streets of Paris.

The interior was identically swanky, but the muted color palette and artful arrangement of clothing racks amid the shelves and tables made the store feel cozy and familiar rather than intimidating.

The choices on offer were eclectic, ranging from black-tie formal wear to casual street fashion for men and women. The small group they encountered upon entering was similarly diverse.

Four of Cole's freshman classmates were chatting around the service counter. They fell silent when he stepped in with Krystal and Lita. Fortunately, not arm-in-arm, yet eyebrows were raised.

Rachael and Ebony, he recognized straight away. The vivacious blonde short-stack wore hip-hugging jeggings, a pink crop top that bared a belly button piercing, and a shit-eating grin.

Her doll-like partner was reserved, as usual. Gracefully attired in another black frilly gown that could have time-traveled from the Victorian era were it not for the work boots sticking out beneath the long ruffled skirts and the swooping neckline that publicized her ample porcelain cleavage.

She arched a plucked brow at him.

Cole took a moment to place the other two breath-taking beauties.

The pretty redhead with curves to rival Krystal was Bella; the dance major. Not clad in a form-fitting leotard for once, a fetching off-the-shoulder A-line dress emphasized her rich endowments while staying classy. Her gaze darted from Cole to the women beside him and back.

He nearly didn't recognize her study partner, Farrah, who stood behind the till in a beige skirt suit that masterfully highlighted her dusky skin, midnight hair and aristocratic features, which were presently neutral.

Rachael swung to the rescue, breaking the ice in a barrage of cheery greetings.

"Hi, Cole. Hi, Miss Laurier. Hi, there other girl--sorry we haven't been introduced. I'm Rachael." She vibrated with glee, jiggling most distractingly. "OMG, isn't this place the best? It's blowing up the scene like you wouldn't believe!"

"Hi, I'm Lita. It's actually my first time shopping here--" Lita began before Rachael singlehandedly dogpiled her like a pack of golden retrievers.

"You're first time? No freaking way! This boutique has something for everyone. Unlike other snobby retailers who thumb their noses at us fun-loving girls. Come on, I'll show you." Rachael latched onto Lita's arm and dragged her deeper into the maze of clothing. Firing questions non-stop. "Love your ink, by the way. Haven't I seen you around campus? How do you know mule boy?"

Lita mouthed a silent "help me" to Cole before they disappeared, leaving him and Krystal to face the proverbial music. Three pairs of eyes drilled into them.

"Greetings Miss Laurier. Hello Cole. Welcome to Le Elite Mode." Farrah said formally. "Should you require assistance finding anything or have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask."

A silver name pin on her jacket read "Store Manager."

"Wait, you work here?" Cole blurted. "In the shop?"

He'd always assumed she came from wealth. Her clothing was designer and she flashed plenty of bling.

"Farrah's family owns the franchise." Bella laughed at his outburst. "Her mother is the CEO and opened this branch so her daughter could gain ground-level management experience. I work here too. Helping out part-time as a good friend should. The store gets busy, but it's a sweet gig."

Cole had trouble reconciling the image of the detached Bedouin princess working a cash register.

Blessedly, Krystal stepped up like a champ.

"We're here to update Cole's wardrobe and heard this was the place to do it." She explained. "Formal slacks, a few new button-downs, a dinner jacket or two... you get the idea."

"And this is part of your role as his... mentor?" Ebony asked suspiciously. Her expression unreadable.

"Precisely. While Cole's talent as an artist is unquestionable, I cannot allow his limited taste in fashion to cripple future opportunities. First impressions are important, sadly. And a man is judged by the quality of his attire."

Ouch. Cole suppressed a wince.

"I can take him to the menswear and help pick a selection if you like." Farrah volunteered. "We offer onsite fitting and same-day tailoring at no extra charge on formal wear."

"Delightful! I had hoped to browse for myself. You'll be doing me a kindness." Krystal chimed, turning on the remaining coeds. "Hey, why don't the rest of us shop together? We can swap ideas and maybe arrange a fun runway show at the end."

Ebony and Bella shared uncertain glances as Farrah led Cole away.

________________

"Miss Laurier is a very different woman off college grounds. Less stuffy. Not as uptight. You two seem to be getting along fine."

"We've been working closely the last couple of weeks." Cole hedged, standing like a mannequin before the mirror. Farrah's reflection rifled through some hangers while Greta; the middle-aged store tailor, took measurements. "She's inspired me to new heights of creation."

They'd outfitted him in charcoal pleated trousers and a white Oxford shirt complimented his broad shoulders. Greta's gaze remained glued to them as she wrapped the tape measure around his chest. She had the aura of a jolly aunty with the rotund figure to match.

"Arms up, please. Higher." The matronly seamstress instructed. "My, you are a handsome one, dear. You remind me of a young Gene Kelly--no, Frank Sinatra."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"So polite too! I had such a crush ol' Blue Eyes when I was a girl."

"Do you sing or dance, Cole? Play any instruments?" Farrah inquired, shaking out a creme wool knit sweater. "Try this on."

He had to concede she had a keen sense of what made his track-and-field-honed frame pop. The dusky-skinned princess hadn't been shy, asking him to undress in her presence. Farrah armored herself in cool professionalism, turning away when he stepped out of his pants.

"I can carry a tune and boogie a bit." Cole quipped, unbuttoning the Oxford. "Dad gave me music lessons, not that I've made much use of the instrument he taught me."

"A guitar, no doubt. American men think mastering six strings an accomplishment." Farrah watched dispassionately as he stripped off the shirt. Greta hummed her appreciation.

"Piano, actually. He was considered a child prodigy, but Gramps decided that it wasn't a worthwhile pursuit. The passion never left him, though. Dad has an old Casio keyboard and still loves tickling the keys. You should hear him bang out the jazz classics."

Farrah's reflection twitched, a spark of interest kindled. Cole doubled down with a question of his own, pulling on the sweater.

"What do you play? I saw your instrument case on orientation day but couldn't fathom what it contained."

"The trousers are loose. I'll have to take them in." Greta remarked, marking notes in a pocketbook. "Don't mind me."

"A Qanun. It's a type of zither that has twenty-six courses of strings with three strings per course. Twice as many as a harp." Farrah stated proudly--her cold exterior cracking. "Mine is a family heirloom with traditional fish skin on the bridge. A priceless treasure passed down for generations."

Cole was impressed. The imperious beauty must indeed have dexterous fingers to play something that complex--a serious piece of history in the hands of a gifted musician. He was about to compliment her when Bella burst into the fitting room in a panic.

"Farrah! Thank god. You're needed on the sales floor. Miss Laurier is--oh!" She slowed her roll upon spotting Cole. "Well, don't you clean up nice. Lookin' good, hot stuff."

The bodacious redhead had switched out her modest dress for more... scintillating attire. An embroidered black body stocking made love to her sumptuous contours with cutouts showcasing her flat midriff and mountainous bosom. Spiked platform heels adorned her dainty feet, boosting her thick thighs and bubble butt to stratospheric heights of sex appeal.

She was stage-ready to appear in a Cardi B music video with an inviting soft booty that nearly equaled Lita's magnificence.

It was an inopportune time to sprout a semi but Cole couldn't fight the primal response. Bella smirked cheekily, clocking his reaction.

"You got any moves, Cole?" She strutted forward, swinging her wide hips until she was right in his face. "They say foreplay starts on the dancefloor."

"Might surprise you." He met her sizzling gaze, catching a whiff of her wild cherry perfume.

"Miss Laurier wasn't lying. You're not shy around women at all."

"Yeah, especially not beautiful women." That drew a giggle from the redhead.

Farrah coughed, a polite reminder of her presence. "Bella, You were saying I am needed on the sales floor?"

The moment shattered. Bella shook herself like a dreamer waking from sleep.

"What? Um, yes! Miss Laurier has whipped our classmates into a frenzy!" She spun on her friend. "They're setting up a fashion contest, and she keeps telling everyone that the winner gets a date with Cole. It's a rodeo out there!"

Cole wanted to facepalm upon hearing Krystal's antics. Then, something stroked up the inside of his leg, bumping his unfurling length.

"Oh! Ah, goodness... excuse me." Everyone turned towards the flustered voice. Greta squatted at Cole's feet, measuring his inseam. The hand holding her tape measure butted against the bulge prodding his knee. "You're... uh, wow. That's... that's... gosh! Don't suppose a young lad like you would mind taking tea with an old spinster? Life can get lonely, and a lady has--"

"Greta!" Farrah snapped before visibly taking a calming breath. "He's a customer. Control yourself."

The motherly seamstress blushed beet red, clearly as mortified as Cole. All eyes fixed on the obscene outline in his trousers.

"My apologies! I--I'll get started on the alterations." Greta fanned her cheeks, on the verge of swooning. "Please excuse me."

She bustled off. Cole called a belated "thank you" to her retreating back. He felt bad. She'd been nice but he was spoken for. Not that the young artist had anything against older women. He had a history...

"Sorry about that." Farrah performed a formal half-bow, hands clasped. "She's very good at her job. If she offended--"

"No, no. It's fine." Cole waved away the awkward encounter. "Forget it ever happened. We should probably stop whatever madness Kryst--I mean, Miss Laurier has instigated."

Both girls shot him suspicious glances at the slip but didn't comment as they left the fitting room.

________________

"What on earth is happening here?" Farrah growled.

The attendant's counter outside the women's changing rooms was burdened with a mountain of discarded clothing and accessories. Short skirts, skinny jeans, slinky minidresses, scanty sportswear, and even some racy lingerie teetered in a precarious heap.

"Miss Laurier happened." Bella announced helpfully. "She can be very... persuasive."

Farrah gave her a judgmental glare, wordlessly pointing out the redhead's translucent body sheath.

"Did somebody say my name?" A curtain drew back and Krystal saunted out of a stall. "My word, is that Cole? Farrah dear, you did a fantastic job. He looks like a movie star."

Cole could only gape.

His MILF lover had evidently opted for a glow-up too--trading her typical bohemian attire for a sharp (if somewhat short) business dress cut in the style of a grey double-breasted suit. It was sleeveless with two ranks of buttons down the front. The jacket lapels formed a plunging neckline that framed her mouth-watering cleavage. Shadowy stockings clung to her silky legs, capped in silver pumps that couldn't be office-friendly.

... not with those four-inch stiletto heels.

"Thank you, Miss--" Farrah didn't get much further before Krstal bore down her like a warship under full steam.

"You have such an incredible range of stock, dear. No wonder everyone is talking about this store. I simply had to find something for myself. Simply had to! We girls can't let Cole hog all the fun, can we? In fact, we're putting on a little runway show. Just for funsies. You should join us!"

"About that--" Farrah tried again, but Krystal looped an arm through hers with a comforting pat on the shoulder.

"I'll help you pick something out, dear. It will be fine. Better than fine, it'll be a blast. You won't regret it, dear." The older brunette assured, guiding Farrah away. "You embody regal elegance. Ooze it from every pore. But have you considered something more casual, dear? A break from the stuffy formalwear is as good as a holiday. Believe me, I know."

Cole's jaw couldn't hang any lower.

He recognized the persona, though. This wasn't Krystal; the doting lover--nor Krystal; the prim college admin. That was Krystal, the photographer steamrolling the poor girl--a professional who could maneuver people before they understood what was happening.

"Whoa, she's a handful." Bella chortled, elbowing him in the ribs.

"You have no idea." Cole sighed.

"What I don't understand is youse guys dynamic." The buxom redhead continued. "Figured you were boning when you walked in together. And hey, nothing wrong with that. We're all consenting adults here. Or are you banging the punk chick? Lita, wasn't it? There's chemistry there too.

"But then Miss Laurier offers to pimp you out with this fashion competition hoopla and Lita was the first onboard. That's not standard girlfriend behavior. I'm confused yet intrigued."

Cole really didn't want to explain how Krystal was the ringmaster of the circus his love life had become and didn't have too. Their relationship was private. It was no one's business but their own.

Also, he suspected Krystal got off on sneaking around and playing the naughty teacher. He kinda enjoyed it too. His biggest concern was what she might cook up with this latest scheme.

"I don't know what to tell you. Honestly, I can't believe she's dragged everyone into whatever this is, myself included." Cole shrugged in mock defeat. "She lured me here to buy a few new shirts. I'm as helpless as the rest of you."

Bella laughed, slinging a slender arm around his waist. The movement brought them hip-to-hip and her barely concealed tits brushed his bicep. Cole caught another whiff of her cherry perfume, his cock instantly stiffened at her warm presence.

"You're alright, hot stuff." She laughed. "Let's grab a seat in the boyfriend and husband's waiting area. This might take a while."

"Is that Cole?" Rachael's cheerful face poked out from a privacy curtain, spotting him. "It is! Don't go anywhere, mule boy. I've got this in the bag. That date is mine!"

________________

Cole was surprised to discover that Le Elite Mode had a small runway. The short raised platform--which usually housed mannequins--ran from the rear stockroom doors to the middle of the sales floor.

It wasn't a catwalk one would find in Paris or Milan, but cleared of its plastic residents, it was more than enough for their six-woman fashion week.

Well, he presumed they numbered six until Krystal took the stage.

"Welcome, welcome, everyone! And thank you for participating in this little fashion show. What fun!" She gushed, beaming at her small audience. "I must say, you ladies are brilliant diamonds. I'm proud of each and every one of you."

Folding chairs had been positioned at the end of the impromptu runway. Cole sat in the center, flanked by three fellow freshmen on either side. They wore button-down trenchcoats, concealing them from neck to mid-calf like cartoon secret agents.

Even Farrah, who appeared mildly uncomfortable, applauded.

"Before we begin," Krystal raised an index finger. "Let's get a sample of our prize. Cole, kindly join me on stage."

She beckoned to him. Cole's heart hammered, uncertain of her intentions.

"Here, put this on." Bella tossed him a black leather jacket with too many buckles and zippers. "Strut for us, hot stuff!"

Sliding it on, he stepped beside Krystal, flashing her a quizzical 'what the hell?' glare.

"Whoa, are you girls feeling the heat?" She fanned herself while slyly pinching his ass. "You heard them, Cole. C'mon, give us your best imitation of a peacock."

Not one to back down from a challenge, Cole combed fingers through his dark hair, then strode his way to the rear of the catwalk. Whispered comments and giggles dogged his steps before he spun with a flourish, capturing the audience's attention with an overdramatic pose.

"Holy cheese balls. He's a natural." Someone breathed, likely Rachael. "Check out his posture."

"Shhh! Don't ruin this for me. Where's the music?"

On cue, a peppy tune emanated from the store sound system. Not quite dance music but a beat he could move to.

With one hand in a pocket and the other loose at his side, Cole swaggered. Unhurried and in time with the rhythm, he swung his shoulders, affecting the disinterested expression of every model he'd ever seen on television.

"Nice choice of outfit, Farrah. He looks scrummy as hell."

"Thank you. I'll admit I may have outdone myself today."

Overhead lights blinded Cole to who was speaking, but they sounded impressed. He executed a half-turn at the end and pulled a silly face, puckering his lips.

Nobody laughed.

Instead, they cheered, which was embarrassing. He released a long sigh like a deflating tire.

"Bravo. Bravo!"

"More! Make him do it again!"

"Someone fetch me a bucket of iced water! I need to cool off!"

"A fine effort. Well done."

"Thank you, Cole." Krystal approached, her outwardly calm facade marred by a predatory twist of her lips. She was a tigress ready to pounce. "Let's sit and give the ladies a chance to shine. Who's first?"

"May as well be me." Bella volunteered, taking their place on stage. "No surprise what I'm wearing, y'all saw it already."

"Shake it, baby!" Rachael hooted, bouncing in her seat.

The voluptuous redhead made a show of opening her trenchcoat. Swaying to the music like a burlesque dancer, she popped one button after the other. Slipping a slim shoulder free, she unveiled the uppermost swell of her chest.

The overcoat flared like a cape when she twirled, falling to the floor and revealing her gloriously thicc figure clad in the embellished black body stocking. She positively pranced up the runway in those platform heels, her bubbly booty swishing, tossing her mane of coppery hair with every step.

Cole sat dumbstruck by the sight. Krystal stood behind him, bending to murmur in his ear.

"Bella has won national dance championships and is highly sought-after by record labels to star in their music videos. She turned them all down, choosing art school over the lucrative life of a star backup dancer. The girl has admirable... merits."

Cole was fascinated by those dick-hardening merits as she undulated to the rhythm while casting him smoldering stares.

Bella finished her performance by cartwheeling offstage, exhibiting the agility of an Olympic gymnast. She stuck the landing by planting her heart-shaped toosh squarely in his lap.

"Um, hi?" He said when she leaned against his chest to smile up at him.

"Hi yourself, hot stuff." She purred, swiveling her round hips on his stiffness. "Wanted you to know... I'm interested."

Unsure how to respond, Cole sat stunned as she rocked that perfectly toned ass on his trouser tent. She leaned forward, gripping his knees as if about to rise, then stole the opportunity to twerk on him some more before reluctantly departing with another wink.

"Ahem! Thank you, Bella." Krystal coughed, her voice hitching. "Who would like--"

"Nobody wants to follow that strip tease. "Farrah sniffed, annoyed at her friend.

"You call that a strip tease?" Rachael guffawed. "You're coddled, sister."

"I'll take the bait," Lita said, climbing onto the catwalk. "I'm no dancer but possess my own charms."

The upbeat pop music wasn't the blonde punk's scene. That was evident in the brisk manner she disrobed. Discarding the trench coat to reveal her tanned, inked flesh in a daisy yellow swimsuit. The tiny two-piece number was asymmetrical, trimmed in a psychedelically colorful lining, covering her small chest yet highlighting her showstopping heinie.

She didn't prance or preen, choosing instead to turn slowly under the spotlights, displaying her body art to the astonished onlookers.

"Good god above, the tiger looks alive!"

"The floral arrangements are striking. Very tasteful."

Cole remained entranced by her confidence and beauty--so bold and untamable. She finished the spin with fingers laced over her taut tummy, stepping down to take his hand and push up his sleeve.

On Lita's midsection was a stylized padlock shaped like a thorny heart. Reds and blacks swirled together. A similar design was etched into Cole's wrist, less than a week old. His skin was still tender around an ornate brass key surrounded by shadows.

She'd tattooed both pieces to symbolize their connection days after the fateful photo shoot.

Pressing his key to her lock, Lita whispered, "I'll never forget the day you claimed me as yours."

Cole's cock lurched at the lurid reminder. A part of her would forever be his.

"Let's get this over with." Ebony stood, tottering unsteadily onto the runway. "Can't believe I'm doing this."

Cole frowned, watching her stumble, then realized the problem. Poking out from under her overcoat was a pair of black leather boots including terrifyingly tall heels. He'd only known the steampunk goth to wear workman-like flat soles or steel caps.

After cursing at the buttons, Ebony flung the jacket away with an adorable little grunt, and Cole gaped at her transformation.

The doll-like cutie was flashing a lot more porcelain flesh and far less frilly skirts than usual in skin-tight black leather pants, a lace-up corset of the same shiny material, and a see-through mesh top doing nothing to obscure her fulsome breasts.

She looked like a pint-sized badass with curves to spare, though her smoky makeup and dense obsidian curls remained pristine--welding goggles nestled atop her tiny head.

"Work it, girlfriend!" Rachael hollered. "You've got this. Woohoo!"

Summoning her determination, Ebony stalked across the stage, wobbling occasionally. It wasn't graceful, but her sheer grit was endearing. As was the knockout bod she'd hidden under those Victorian dresses. Every step added oomph to her buoyant chest and broad hips. The pants could have been painted on her thick behind.

"She's got spunk and a will of iron, that girl. Impressive." Krystal whispered, nipping at Cole's ear. "Did you know she's considered the next Banksy by the street art community? A true aficionado of the blowtorch and wrench. People have trouble reconciling her outward appearance with the jagged rawness in her exhibits. Great tits too."

Cole didn't need that last part; he drank in every inch of Ebony's hourglass allure. His cock, an iron pillar.

Her ankle twisted when she reached the edge. Alarm contorted her schooled expression as she lost her balance and began to topple. The audience shrieked...

"Whoa, I've got you!"

Cole sprang, catching the tumbling hottie before falling back into his chair. She curled up in his strong arms, an awkward ball of leather-bound relief, her pulse racing.

"You--you saved me." Ebony mumbled through a tangle of hair. Her goggles askew. "I could have broken my neck, but you rescued me."

"It's not a big deal." Cole patted her gingerly. He was highly conscious of a stiff part of his anatomy poking her bare midriff. "Anyone would have done the same. Are you okay?"

She was so small in his embrace. Delicate as fine china. Shifting, she gazed up at him with wide, vulnerable eyes ringed in mascara. A very different creature to the unflappable stoic he'd met in passing.

"Th-thank you, yes. Please put me down now."

Crisis averted, Cole gently helped Ebony find her feet to the applause of her fellow students. A touch of rouge colored her pale cheeks when Rachael swept her into a bear hug.

"My, how thrilling. Nothing like a spot of drama to spice things up." Krystal proclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. "What a gentleman! What a prize! However, the show must go on--"

"I'm next. This is my store. You are my clients." Farrah declared in a no-nonsense tone. "It would be remiss of me not to join in the proceedings."

Before anyone could object, the dusky-skinned musician glided onto the catwalk like a supermodel. Stately as an empress, she slowly unfastened her trenchcoat, letting it pool on the floor.

Cole was taken aback to discover her not in a ritzy gown or this season's latest craze but a stylishly ripped pair of three-quarter jeans, a gray long-sleeved crop top, and strappy gladiator sandals with no heel to speak of. Every piece of her ensemble was undoubtedly designer, but she looked relaxed. More approachable.

Like a sexy college coed rather than a visiting dignitary.

Farrah owned the runway as though she were born for it, sweeping across the raised platform with supreme elegance. Her feet crossing in front of swaying hips and shoulders back, jutting out her firm bosom.

The girls went nuts and Bella wolf-whistled.

"Our bedouin princess is exactly that. A princess. Well, mostly." Krystal cooed. "Her father is a prominent Emirati--a financial magnate with multiple wives from a notable bloodline. Farrah is the favorite daughter. She'd never been allowed to leave Dubia otherwise. She's also a musical prodigy on the sitar."

"It's a Qunan." Cole corrected, distracted by Farrah's approach. "My god..."

"Gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Someone told me a change is as good as a holiday." Farrah called from the stage, shaking out her midnight tresses. "To let loose a little. What do you think, Cole?"

One particular part of Cole desperately wanted to be let loose. Presently, it was drilling a hole in his new slacks.

She had the figure of a belly dancer with the refined features of a Persian goddess. Lush and round in some places. Slender and taut in others. A vision of femininity that ancient Sultans would've paid fortunes to possess or made war to win her as their Saltanah.

"Looks good on you." He managed to croak through dry lips. "You should let your hair down more often."

"Ha! He's lost his silver tongue in the presence of such radiance." Rachael cackled. "Kudos to you, Farrah!"

"Perhaps our date will entail the playing instruments over discussion since he is so easily tongue-tied." Farrah's glittering eyes darted to Cole's distended pant leg, then away. "If I grant him the honor..."

"Nah-uh! This contest isn't over yet." The effervescent blonde snorted, shooing her offstage. "Y'all are gonna be crying into tubs of ice cream, watching chick flicks after I snatch this victory."

Farrah relented, her chin held high as Rachael stole the spotlight.

"Hold onto your seat, mule boy. I'm about to knock those fancy socks off!" She announced, violently ripping her trenchcoat open in a shower of busted buttons. "Ta-da!"

Cole's heart almost seized at her big reveal. The short-statured bombshell wore nothing besides a white string bikini, tennis shoes, and a pink crochet micro skirt slung low on her waspish waist.

Every inch of her buxom five-foot-nothing frame was out on display, altogether racked and stacked. A fun-sized party girl hunting for a good time with her sights locked on him.

Rachael giggled at his slack expression, performing a pirouette before she began to move to the music...

Her motions were sinuous and suggestive. Popping her globular rump out while running small hands over her phenomenal upper body. She literally shook her fat tits at Cole and tossed her golden locks in a blatant invitation.

Eye-fucking him hotly, she dismounted the catwalk in a hop that made everything bounce, not hiding her interest in the massive bulge straining his inseam when she straddled his leg.

"Like my outfit, mule boy?" Rachael asked coyly, squeezing his trapped member between her soft thighs. "I picked it out special."

"Uh-huh." He grunted articulately. "Looks great."

"Touching him shouldn't be allowed."

"Why not? Bella basically jumped in his lap."

"Yeah, I kinda did."

Rachael continued dancing, snaking her arms above her head and thrusting out her spectacular chest, flexing her thigh grip all the while. Cole was embarrassed and aroused in equal measure.

"I'm super happy to hear that." She crooned, gnawing her plump bottom lip as she grinded on him. "I've wanted your attention since orientation. You're so fucking handsome we could run a side hustle selling prints of you on campus."

Cole didn't know how to respond to that. He didn't care either. Not with how close she had him to blasting off.

"I can feel you... down there. You really are like a mule." She bent in to whisper. "That's sooo~ fucking hot."

Sticking out her tongue, Rachael let a ribbon of drool dribble onto her rich valley of boob-flesh. It glistened in droplets, giving her skin extra shine before dripping onto his pants.

Cole's aching cock bucked like a bronco, and he grabbed her wrists in a bid to regain a semblance of control.

"We should end it here." He said, despite his protesting balls. "This has been... entertaining. However, other shoppers need Bella and Farrah's assistance. We can't leave them waiting."

As though a spell had broken, the outside world crashed back into existence around them. The sounds of customers browsing the shelves and people walking by the store reminded everyone they were in public.

Krystal politely cleared her throat. "Ahem, yes! An excellent show, ladies and gent. Very stirring. But Cole is correct; we have places to be. Let's gather our purchases and head to the register."

Cole sighed in relief and disappointment when Rachael released him, his dignity intact. Standing was a tad awkward, but somehow he managed. The MILF professor shepherded their group towards the service counter and prepared to make a speedy exit when Rachael suddenly stopped dead in her tracks.

"Hold up a sec! Who won the goddamn competition?"

________________

"You gave it to her? You awarded that titty-goblin the win?!" Cole snarled for the umpteenth time, pounding furiously into Krystal's sodden snatch. "After engineering that whole farce?"

"Yes, big guy. Fuck, yes! Keep punishing me!" She howled, her cushiony ass rippling from the violent impacts with her ankles propped up around his ears. "Vent all that frustration on my wicked pussy!"

The drive back to his studio had been a fraught journey; Krystal steering her Prius one-handed (the other up her skirt), half-watching the road while Lita gave Cole a loud, frantic blowjob in the backseat. The punk princess gagged eagerly as her friend fingered herself.

They'd stumbled from the parking space, pawing and kissing like a trio of horny drunks. Thankfully, the walk wasn't long, and the college grounds were blessedly quiet on the weekend. Cole's unflagging manpole had seen daylight on the home stretch, his girlfriends joining forces in jacking his turgid length until they reached their destination.

It'd taken Krystal three tries to punch in the door code as Cole clawed madly at her and Lita's thick-cut rumps.

That had been four hours ago...

"You. Are. A disgraceful. Teacher!" He punctuated each word with a cunt-crushing thrust. Folding the wailing MILF in two, Cole shoved her knees into her massive tits to hammer in deeper. "Show some fucking remorse already!"

A naked body painted itself across his back, Lita's warmth bleeding into him as she reached around to trace his muscular torso.

"She'll never apologize if you keep fucking her so hard. The brazen whore wants to be broken on your monster cock, just like me."

The instant his door was open, Cole had savaged the seductive co-conspirators, dragging them to his bed and tearing off their new outfits. He'd been a caveman, a primitive beast, throwing them onto the sheets before attacking...

"God, yes! Bite my neck and fuck me harder!" Krystal howled, quivering through another epic climax. Her throat, shoulders and breasts were defiled by countless toothmarks. "Do it... hyaa~! Give me more!"

Cole couldn't resist raking his incisors across her pulse before claiming her plush lips again. Jamming himself into the shameless brunette's cervix, he released more of the pent-up desire and humiliation he'd accumulated during their lunchtime outing, flooding her with sticky seed.

"MMYEEEESSSSS!!" She screamed into their kiss, clenching convulsively around him. "Hmmmmnph~!"

The mattress was saturated in their combined juices, soaked as a sponge. Lita chewed on his earlobe, smearing her wet pussy against his spasming rear and whining piteously.

"It's my turn again, right? I need you in control, boo. Every inch of me is on fire. Treat me like your personal fuckpet. Pleeeease... hold me down and use me!"

Exiting Krystal with a moist shlorp, Cole's preposterous prong spat salty spend onto her smooth tummy before he turned to face the tattooed blonde.

She'd begged for his forceful hand, allowing him to take her in any way he wished. Submitting to Cole as his willing bed slave and fuckdoll. Her darkest, most secret desire was to relinquish control to someone she could trust. A role that came with a heady rush of power, a truckload of responsibility, and a safeword.

Cole's immense size and her tiny pussy still presented a roadblock but they'd enjoyed plenty of other carnal delights together. Lita was a true blowjob queen--swallowing more of his throat-clogging manmeat than anyone before, and her ass jobs were second to none.

He'd blown multiple wads between those brilliantly clapping cheeks, defacing the mystical tiger on her back, and wouldn't tire of it any time soon, if ever.

Probably never. Cole decided, turning to cock-slap her petite chest. Her pretty pink nipples gathered a wet sheen from his drizzling tip. Lita's eyelids fluttered when he grabbed her collar.

The band of black leather was something Krystal advised him to buy at the mall while she and the dick-sucking savant browsed lingerie. A silver C sparkled on the clasp.

Cole had marked his property.

She fairly hyperventilated when he presented it earlier.

"Clean me, pet." Cole commanded, tugging roughly on the collar. "I want to feel those soft lips wrapped around me again."

"Yessir. Thank you, sir." Lita moaned, dipping her head before pausing to gaze up at him beseechingly. "Am I a good fuckpet, sir? Am I your good obedient throat-slut?"

"You're a very good fucktoy." He combed affection fingers through her spiky golden mohawk. "Now, do as you're told and suck."

She shivered in pleasure, lunging forward to gulp down Cole's robust rigidity with greedy gusto. Hands disappeared between her splayed thighs as she took him deep into her constricting throat.

His fist clenched in Lita's hair, groaning and guiding her face-fucking pace.

"She truly loves it when you do that." Krystal purred, reclining on a pillow with a self-satisfied expression. A river of cum sluiced from her battered slit. She looked like a Roman empress basking after a particularly orgiastic bacchanal. "However, I promised you a special reward for enduring the shopping trip. Remember?"

Cole stared blankly at her, neurons misfiring as Lita attempted to suction his brains out through his dick. The brunette MILF giggled, crawling languorously towards them with a mischievous glint in her gaze.

"I realize you're presently preoccupied and adore watching the two of you together, but a promise is a promise." Krystal docked her heavenly tits into Cole's side. "And you won't want to miss this."

"Mlurgh... Ack... Ugh!"

"Mi-miss what?" Cole stammered, losing himself in Lita's gargling esophagus.

"Flip her over, big guy. Your reward is at the other end."

Any reference to the tanned blonde's world-class caboose would capture a dead man's attention. He was already staring at it as she hungrily deep-throated him. Two excellent hemispheres of inked flesh jiggling hypnotically, glossed to a sheen with his copious cum.

Cole didn't hesitate. Unsheathing himself from Lita's suckling maw, he tossed her onto all fours and pried her thick cheeks open to discover a glittering glass button in her holiest of holes.

"Holy shit." He whispered, awestruck. "Is that--"

"It's for you, boo." Lita panted, clutching the sheets. "I want you to take every bit of me. Claim me inside and out."

"We've been training her to receive that giant hog." Krystal moved beside Lita to spread her further. "I couldn't say no after she pleaded for help. Give that plug a tug and see what happens."

Entranced, Cole tapped on the glass button, wrenching a whimper from the prone blonde. Gripping it between thumb and forefinger, he pulled, watching in disbelief as a string of silicone spheres the size of golf balls plopped out one by one.

"FAA-AA-AA-AARK!!"

Lita let out a hitched wail as he extracted a foot-long chain of anal beads from her sphincter, squirting girly juices from the overwhelming stimulation. Krystal steadied her friend's shaking hips, grinning wider than a Cheshire cat.

"What do you think, big guy? Can she handle that monster cramming her back passage?"

"Please, sir. Pleeeease, boo. Stretch me out." Lita husked, lowering her face to the mattress. "Plunder my ass and make me squeal. I want it so bad."

If Cole's cock was iron before, it hardened to adamantine. Still, he hesitated, swimming in an unfathomable ocean of lust but concerned for his lover. "I'll go slow, plus she'll want lubrication--"

"Like this?" Krystal asked, dipping down to slather her moist tongue along Lita's clean crack, maintaining smoldering eye contact as she rimmed the blonde's cinnamon pucker. "Hmmmm?"

Something snapped within Cole, the last tethers restraining his inner beast. With unerring aim, he sank into Lita's readied rectum, feeling the ring of muscle expand to accommodate his tremendous girth.

"Oh fuck... FUCK!" She cried, tearing at the bedding. "You're gonna split me apart. Aaaah~... Don't stop!"

"Jesus, you're so goddamn tight, pet." He grunted, easing himself in despite the powerful impulse to brutally impale her. "Your ass is pure heaven. I'm barely holding on here."

"Don't be gentle, sir. Hnnnngh! Give it to me rough. I need it!"

"Listen to her, big guy." Krystal crooned, resting her face on Lita's beefy behind to observe the action from a front-row seat. "Let yourself go."

That said, she released the punk princess's generous glutes to smother the rest of Cole's veiny shaft in pillowy nirvana.

"Shit--fuck!" The sinful combination of her constricting hole and squeezing buns almost finished him. "Brace yourself and remember the safeword!"

He thrust slowly, introducing his rectum-wrecking weapon by an inch with each blow. Lita met the assault with encouraging moans and gasps, clapping her firm cheeks around his base.

"More... Mmmmff~! I can take... more!" She sobbed, backing onto him.

"Sweet Jesus," Krystal breathed, so close that Cole felt it wash against his abs. "She really can. You two look incredible together."

The MILF's hands were suspiciously absent and the blush that reached her ears was all the evidence he needed to read her excitement. She was knuckle-deep in her overstuffed snatch again.

Cole didn't care. A barrage of nerve-searing bliss bombarded his entire being as he pounded harder into Lita's luscious rear, setting her tiger tail tattoos to wagging.

The punk princess screamed into the sheets, shaking like a maraca, spraying more feminine nectar onto his swinging balls. Cole didn't relent, rutting her ripe rump like a feral animal, barely holding back lest he ruptured something.

"Call me a bitch, sir!" Lita begged once she regained her faculties. "Tie me up and ride me every day! Abuse me like a chew toy and put me away wet!"

"You're my bitch. Mine!" Cole growled, slapping her fleshy hindquarter before grabbing the back of her collar possessively. "This ass in mine. This pussy is mine." His free hand savagely flicked her clit. "Every part of you belongs to me, understood?"

"YEEESSSSSS!!" She exploded, her insides clamping down with vise-like strength. "I'm yours!"

Shocking pleasure toppled them backward. Lita landed atop Cole in a reverse cowgirl position, jamming his final few inches straight into her spasming bowels.

She let out an earsplitting cry but didn't stop moving atop him. Grabbing her tiny titties, she pogoed madly on his pole. Cole dashed sweat out of his eyes to watch her perfectly spherical ass-globes ricochet wildly off their crashing hips.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours!" She repeated the mantra in sync with her clapping glutes. Tattooed flesh rippled and slapped together while her insides gripped and spasmed around him. "I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours..."

The spunky blonde exerted immense pressure, taking Cole to the hilt on every plunge. She was manic with lust, crazed with desire, altogether abandoning her sense of self in pursuit of that ultimate peak and giving everything to him.

"That's right! Mine, all mine!" He bellowed, slamming upward to match her intensity. Her meaty rump rolled like a wave machine. "My beautiful fucktoy! My personal property who takes my hard dick whenever I demand it!"

Lita made an inarticulate gurgling sound. Cole's cock was a blur between her jostling cheeks.

They maintained that frantic rhythm until their hearts threatened to seize. Perspiration glistened on their skin and Cole's balls clamored for release. Lita jerked like an epileptic, splashing more pussy juices across his thighs, sending him soaring over the edge.

"MIIIIIIINE!!"

Roaring and pistoning madly into her clutching depths, Cole erupted. Spewing rope after rope of potent spunk into Lita's bouncing booty as she milked him for every drop. They quaked in unison for over a minute before she collapsed sideways.

Krystal caught her in a warm embrace. Stroking her friend's hair and smiled lovingly at both of them.

Cole needed a moment to clear the stars out of his vision.

"Is she okay?" He rasped, throat drier than sandpaper. "I didn't hurt her...?"

"She's fine, big guy." Krystal assured, blowing him a kiss. "You were perfect. Precisely what she needed, now rest. I'll tend to our pretty plaything. You'll need the energy for your upcoming date with Rachael."

Cole slung a forearm over his face and sank into the soaked bed, too exhausted to argue.

________________

R: Fancy AF dinner and a sculpting sesh at my studio, MB. The text message read.

That seemed reasonable. A tamer date than Cole expected from the guileless short-stack who'd hounded him at every opportunity. He hadn't realized Krystal had slipped Rachael his number until the chiming notifications started... and didn't stop.

R: Sup!

R: Got ur deets from Miss Laurier. Lady's sic as hell.

R: U O me 1 hot date, MB.

R: Pony up or put out!

R: I'm happy with either ;)

She'd sent him a farmers market's worth of eggplant and peach emojis before escalating to selfies.

The images were reasonably innocent initially: Rachael on the campus commons sharing bubble tea with Ebony. Rachael pulling a goofy expression with smudges of clay on her chin. Rachael winking while giving the victory sign like an anime character.

Then, abruptly, they grew more... provocative.

A shot of Rachael from above, tugging down the neckline of her tanktop for a nipple slip. Rachael with eyes crossed and tongue lolling in what could only be described as an ahegao face. A bathroom snap of the short blonde in skimpy jade underwear, too small to properly contain her prodigious figure, shielding her face with the phone.

She'd had the good sense to obscure her identity in that one, at least.

Cole didn't open picture messages after that. He was mightily tempted but recognized the images as bait. Krystal and Lita had thought it hilarious, prodding him to share.

Cole declined. He was a gentleman despite evidence to the contrary.

So Krystal texted Rachael instead and promptly received a string of replies that left his girlfriends giggling like naughty schoolgirls.

"She's perfect. You've got to bring her into the fold." The scheming brunette chortled, wiping away a mirthful tear. "Show the girl a good time and scope her out for us."

"I bet she'll be a bundle of fun." Lita remarked, thumbing the phone screen. "Wear the waistcoat and trouser combo Farrah picked out for you."

It had been betrayal most foul. Cole expected that sort of bad behavior from Krystal, not Lita. She'd smirked at his appalled expression.

"What? You're more than enough man for the two of us and take care of my... specific needs. This is me paying it forward and maybe getting some work done since you kept us in bed half the weekend."

"I am behind on grading assessments." Krystal solemnly agreed.

Instead of arguing, Cole decided to take a walk. Get some fresh air and clear his head. Girlfriends were great, but a guy occasionally wanted solitude. The campus grounds were idyllic if he ignored the phallic imagery scattered among the tended gardens and green spaces.

Cole avoided a copse of Pandanus palms with their distinctive root structures where a trio of pretty coeds sat sketching in the shade.

Wandering aimlessly, he tapped out an affirmative reply to Rachael's date request, enjoying a moment of peace when someone called his name.

"Cole! It's Cole, right? From freshman orientation?"

Glancing around, Cole found a gorgeous vision standing on the lawn, waving at him. He recalled the inky hair and full figure, her name springing to mind.

"That's me, and you're Vivian--no, Vivi." He corrected himself, returning the wave. "The post-impressionist and fan of Paul Cézanne. Nice to meet another finger-painter."

Vivi's hands flew to her mouth to cover a laugh. She was stunning in a pleated tartan skirt and crisp white blouse that reminded Cole of a high school uniform. Though, she filled it out far better than any teen.

The buttons of her top strained under the heavy burden held within, and the skirt barely maintained her decency, exposing firm thighs pinched by snowy stockings.

Cole was sure the slightest breeze would grant him a glimpse of Vivi's panties before banishing the traitorous thoughts with a grimace.

"You're too kind." She toed the grass with her black mary-janes. "How are you finding college life? Gelling well with your study partner?"

"It's great. We're getting along fine. How about you?"

"Um, Tahlia and I are... ah, we're doing our best. She's very... assertive. More so than me. There have been challenges."

Vivi's downcast gaze and bashful demeanor were all Cole needed to comprehend her situation. Standing before him was an introvert--beautiful and talented but cripplingly shy--who'd been paired with a spoiled egotist.

"Vivian, you're supposed to be assisting me!" Screeched an all-too-familiar voice from a nearby bandstand where the aforementioned egotist fiddled with a laptop. "What's taking so--oh, it's him."

Tahlia couldn't have piled more derision into her tone if she'd used a shovel.

The haughty brunette had dressed down from their first meeting in the auditorium, wearing white leggings and a flowy peasant blouse with billowing sleeves. The leggings clung to her shapely lower half like a second skin while the top hung from her conspicuous cleavage.

She might be a bitch, but she knew how to flaunt what she had. Hazelnut hair cascaded across bare shoulders while jewelry glinted on her ears and neck.

Tahlia was every bit the entitled rich girl, heaping indignity on those she deemed below her.

"Nice to see you too." Cole sighed, and Vivi sagged in disappointment. For her sake, he resolved to make an effort. "What are you two working on?"

The bandstand sheltered different geometric shapes cut from simple styrofoam carefully assembled into stacks. Wires coiled around the timber supports connected projectors affixed at various heights and angles pointed inward, amounting to what Cole guessed would eventually be a motion graphic exhibit.

"Not that I expect you to understand, meathead." Tahlia's nose couldn't rise any higher. "But I've devised a dynamic visual display using graphic technology to create art in motion. It's revolutionary."

Her laptop emitted an unhappy ding. The snobby brunette scowled at the screen.

"It's a work in progress," Vivi said meekly. "We're both putting in long hours, but I can offer so much given the medium..."

She trailed off, looking helpless, clearly out of her depth and comfort zone. Cole rested a supportive hand on her arm.

"She's your study partner, not your boss. Find your voice. Don't let her walk all over you." He murmured, pulling out his phone. "Here, let's trade digits. Message me whenever you feel unheard or overwhelmed. Us classicists gotta stick together, yeah?"

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes as she nodded. "I wish... I wish the pairings had gone differ--"

"Vivian! Stop wasting time on that hack and help me!" Tahlia snapped, jabbing at the keyboard. "Do I have to do everything myself?"

Vivi flinched but took a second to bump her phone against Cole's, sharing her contact information and activating his screen. It displayed a text notification featuring a preview of plump naked breasts, presumably Rachael's.

She flushed beetroot red before scurrying away.

"Talk soon. Thanks, Cole!"

Face-palming, he stalked off, praying his day wouldn't get more cringe-worthy.

________________

Giovanni's was a classy Italian joint, though utterly unrelated to the Renaissance painter.

The dining room combined rustic elegance with a cozy, welcoming atmosphere. Cole felt like an imposter, surrounded by warm wooden furniture, soft lighting, and a backdrop of exposed brick walls adorned with vintage Italian artwork and wine racks. To the right of the hostess's station was a quaint bar, including a bow-tied bartender mixing cocktails.

The Olive Garden, it was not.

Krystal had made the booking after Cole asked for 'fancy as fuck' dinner recommendations, him knowing squat about fine dining. The place had a weeks-long waiting list, but she was somehow acquainted with the owners, wrangling him a last-minute seating.

At some point, Cole ceased questioning how his MILF lover performed small miracles and went with the flow.

"Oh, oh, this is choice!" Rachael enthused, following the hostess to their table. "I read the reviews online. Everybody raves about the food. Not bad, Romeo, not bad."

The exuberant half-pint had put in the effort to dress for the venue. Her street clothes were swapped for a backless scarlet evening gown, slinky to the extreme with a low swooping neckline and side slits that ran high on her voluptuous hips.

Even her golden hair was different, gathering into a bouffant updo that Cole suspected Ebony may have fashioned. Fly-away strands deliberately framed her adorable face.

"Thank you, Miss." The hostess gave Rachael a genuine smile. Her name tag read 'Bianca' and she didn't seem to mind the younger woman's unrestrained chatter. "We take pride in our authentic cuisine. Please enjoy our hospitality and peruse the menu at your leisure. All the pasta is handmade. The chef recommends the truffle risotto. I have received instructions to begin your meal with our signature antipasto."

She pulled back a chair for the bubbly blonde, leaving Cole to take his seat.

"Wow, this is primo service. Thanks!" Rachael hopped up and let Bianca drape a linen napkin over her lap.

"It's our pleasure, Miss. May I compliment your lovely dress and how handsome your date looks tonight?"

"Compliment away. He's a total dreamboat, am I right?"

Cole blushed. He'd worn the waistcoat and slacks Lita had mentioned with a crisp ivory button-down. The outfit hugged his athletic build but didn't seem noteworthy.

Yet, several female customers tracked his path through the dining area with undisguised interest.

"As you say, Miss." Bianca tittered, passing Rachael a menu. "I'll fetch your aperitifs."

Champagne flutes filled with bubbly and sliced fruit were quickly delivered, followed by a platter of cured meats, pickled vegetables, and toasted bruschetta with a selection of cheeses and dips.

Taking his date's lead, Cole forked several appetizing morsels onto a plate. Rachael tucked in immediately, and the appreciative noises she made were borderline inappropriate.

"O. M. G. This is great!" She effused around a mouthful of prosciutto. "Bringing your A-game tonight, eh mule boy? Well, if you keep it up..." She winked lasciviously at her own innuendo, "Who knows where the night will end?"

A foot brushed his calf under the table, giving Cole a hint as though he needed one. Rachael had all the subtlety of an air-raid siren in a library.

He cleared his throat, opening a menu. "I'm glad you like the restaurant. Truthfully, I've never eaten anywhere like this. It's way outside what my parents could afford."

"Oh, yeah. You're the local boy who caught the lucky break, aren't ya? Dragged yourself outta the gutter by your bootstraps and all that jazz."

Her tone wasn't mocking or condescending, sounding genuinely interested. Glancing up from the frankly appalling prices on the menu, Cole found Rachael waiting attentively.

Despite her brash manner of speaking and lack of a verbal filter, the buxom blonde possessed an endearing openness and infectious energy.

"I'm nothing special--simply a guy who loves painting and got scooped up by an, um... eccentric college dean." He said sheepishly. "Nobody was more surprised than me when he offered the scholarship."

"Von Gloot is a top-tier creep, but he has a keen nose for talent." Rachael waggled a cheese knife at Cole. "If he bagged you, there must be a spark worth nurturing. Watch out, though. He's renowned for his indiscretions as much as for his art."

"How about you?" Cole asked, steering the conversation away from his dubious patron. "I know you sculpt in clay. What guided you to that medium?"

Rachael squirmed at the question, suddenly bashful. The unexpected change was beyond cute.

"It's silly, really. Growing up, Ma was a dancer. I was fascinated by the human form and tried capturing her movement however I could." She toyed with her food, avoiding his gaze. "We traveled a lot. Crayons, pencils, pens, you name it, nothing resonated with me. Until the day she took me to the Met in New York City. They were hosting a Neoclassical exhibition featuring history's most iconic sculptors. Sergel, Pajou, Schadow, and yes... Antonio Canova. That's when I realized my calling."

Cole remembered her mentioning Canova's 'Cupid and Psyche' at orientation. A powerful source of inspiration, but the masters she listed worked in marble, not clay. He said as much.

"Oh, I can chisel and shape stone now. Only, it's not something a little girl can hump across the country in the family station wagon. Ma bought me sticks of modeling clay instead. We didn't stay anywhere long." Rachael said, pushing food around her plate. "Had to go where the job took her, especially after Pops ditched us."

"I'm sorry--"

"I'm not. The bastard can rot for all I care. I had an awesome childhood. Life on the road, seeing new stuff every day. Ma was--and still is--a headlining exotic dancer." The feisty blonde's grin was a sunrise lighting up her cherubic features. "My school teachers were bouncers, club owners, bartenders, and showgirls. I got one hell of an education. We never went hungry and she scraped together my college fund fleecing randy rubes in high-end titty bars."

"She sounds amazing." Cole remarked, impressed. "Quite the fearsome lady."

"Ha! You don't the half of it." Rachael snorted, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially. "This one time, a club owner tried stiffing her on tips, so Ma staged a revolt. She led the entire staff outside and formed a picket line on the sidewalk. Most of the girls were half naked, but they invented chants about the douchebag's tiny prick and barred entry until he caved."

Cole nearly choked on a piece of cheese as he laughed. Rachael crossed her arms in satisfaction, pushing out her sumptuous breasts.

"Best of all, everyone received extra remuneration after the customers joined the protest. No one fucks with my Ma. We celebrated that victory with late-night pancakes. The next morning, she bought me my first block of pottery clay."

Any lingering tension was dispelled when they toasted Rachael's mother. Bianca returned to take their orders, and the discussion returned to safer topics.

The effervescent short-stack flirted brazenly, playing footsie beneath the table and drawing Cole's eye to her cleavage whenever possible. She chewed her bottom lip, shooting him smokey, boner-inducing stares.

He shifted in his seat, trying to ease the bulge extending down a trouser leg. Otherwise, the tension simmered, and their conversation devolved into small talk until their meals were delivered.

"Okay, dish already," Rachael demanded after cleaning her bowl of mushroom risotto. Cole's cacio e pepe had been excellent. "What's the sitch with Miss Laurier and Lita? Y'all are fucking, yeah? I recognize the signs."

The unexpected question almost had him spraying his drink across the room.

"P-pardon?" He spluttered.

"C'mon, Cole. I'm not blind. Ya waltzed into Farrah's store with a flower on each arm, pleased as punch. The others are naive, but I know better." She gave him a wink. "It's cool. I understand. You're a hot commodity, enjoying the attention. Nothing wrong with that. They're both outstanding women and artists."

"I have to agree, but it's not--"

"You don't need to hide anything from me, mule boy." Rachael's dainty foot tickled his knee, sliding higher. "I know a player when I see one. Ma attracted greaseballs like flies to honey, and you're nothing like them. I can see the respect and affection you hold for those ladies. I'm certain you ain't toying with their hearts because they'd rip off your nuts if you were."

Toes glided onto his thigh, not traveling far before curling over the outline of his bulbous tip.

Her grin turned vulpine as she purred, "Mule boy, indeed."

Cole rocketed to his feet, covering his stiffened state with a napkin. The square of fabric was entirely too small for the monumental task.

"I'll be right back." He croaked, limping away.

"Wait, where are you going?" Rachael called.

"To the restroom!"

________________

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" Cole groaned, knocking on the door again.

Giovanni's only had one bathroom. Segregated toilets were probably reserved for the unwashed masses who couldn't be trusted to relieve themselves in a civilized manner and not daub excrement on the walls.

He impatiently danced from foot to foot, replaying the date thus far in his head.

Rachael knew. She knew everything!

Well, strongly suspected might be more accurate, but that revelation alone sent him into a gut-clenching panic. At least his erection wasn't a problem anymore. That had wilted faster than a daisy in a blast furnace.

So she strongly suspected his involvement with two incredible women--including a faculty member--and came on the date to confront him?

No, no. That didn't align with her flirty behavior and airy demeanor.

Rachael hadn't condemned their plural relationship. In fact, she'd lauded Krystal and Lita's merits, then made a none-too-subtle pass of her own.

Cole's racing heart slowed. Was he overreacting?

Whatever the case, his bladder was fit to burst and...

A lock clicked, and the door swung open.

"Apologies for the wait!" A boisterous voice boomed. Cole goggled at the two figures exiting the washroom. "Cole? How serendipitous that we should cross paths. Good to see you, my boy. Good to see you!"

None other than Viktor Von Gloot stood before him.

The hawk-nosed stork of a man beamed, grasping Cole by the shoulders like a proud parent.

He noted the Dean's rumpled smoking jacket and unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, then eyed his companion, a stunningly full-figured matron with mussed silver hair smoothing a wrinkled evening gown back over her wide hips.

She dabbed the corners of her mouth where the lipstick had smudged.

"And what precious flower do you court tonight, lad?" Viktor wrapped a bony arm around Cole, spinning them to survey the restaurant. "I'm yet to receive a art piece from you. Has a muse finally presented herself or are you merely testing the waters? Men such as we should dip our toes into many pools... ah, I see young Rachael awaits your company. A fine choice, my boy! A very fine choice."

Cole squirmed under the ancient lecher's touch. "Hello, sir. Sorry, I urgently need to use the bathroom..."

"A moment, my boy, but a moment. Let us examine your companion's many fine qualities together." The Dean insisted. His grip was surprisingly strong. "Truly, she is a ripe fruit ready for sampling. Short yet juicy, like the sweetest melons, which she doesn't lack either, eh? A man's mouth does water at a vision of youthful beauty with a peach that tasty."

Cole wished he could evaporate into nothingness. Mortified by the old goat's horny summary of Rachael's... assets. Or being associated with him in any way, really.

His salvation appeared in the form of a voluptuous cougar.

"Vik, let the poor boy go. Can't you see he's about to burst?" Viktor's date batted her lashes at him. "Our meals will be getting cold after our... distraction."

"Certainly, my dear, certainly." The bombastic perv released Cole with a flourish towards the door. "Have at it, lad. Punish the porcelain. Show it who's boss. I have a flower of my own to entertain. A rose by any other name, as the bard once said. Shall we, my dear?"

"Oh, you charming devil."

Cole scrambled to escape, slamming the door behind him.

________________

Rachael looked subdued when he returned to their table. Her habitual vibrancy dimmed, her posture slumped.

Cole felt bad. He'd reacted poorly to an imagined threat and ruined the mood. After peeing away the anxiety, he recognized her actions as those of an interested party, not a hostile one. His knee-jerk reaction had spoiled their evening.

"Cole, I wanna say--" She began, but he dismissed the impending apology with a gesture.

"Please, it was entirely my fault. You did nothing wrong, Rachael. Can we forget my little freak-out and start over?"

Her expression lifted, that thousand-watt smile returning with a happy nod. "I'd like that. Hows about ya tell me what ignited your passion for painting?"

Another drink rested beside his empty plate, refilled in Cole's absence. He took a sip, pondering the request. The alcohol warmed his belly.

"It's not very interesting compared to your journey--no unionized showgirls or touring the countryside. My childhood was boring. Just school and the usual stuff. My parents are great; I love them to death, but art didn't feature until high school, when I met an incredible teacher."

"Oooh, is this gonna be like Good Will Hunting?" Rachael scrubbed her hands together excitedly. "Did a mentor discover your talent and take you under their wing? Spill the tea already."

"That movie is older than we are but you're not far off the mark." Cole chuckled.

"It's a classic! How do you like them apples? Quit stalling."

"Well, Ms Bennet was an artist turned teacher--a post-impressionist with definite opinions concerning the Renaissance. She taught me to work in oil paints and acrylics. Her devotion to the craft sparked something in my younger self. The desire to create. To capture life on the canvas."

"Was she hot?" The curvaceous short-stack leered, propping her elbows on the table. "Were you hot for teacher, mule boy?"

"She was my senior by thirty years. We're talking about high school, remember?"

"Yeah, where boys are horny and dumb. Driven by their raging hormones."

Cole couldn't muster a solid defense against that argument. Especially since she wasn't wrong.

"There were some... one-sided emotions." He admitted. "She never took advantage. Never crossed that line. No matter how much I wished she would."

Clara Bennet had been a blazing beacon of womanhood, even in her middle age. Brimming with vigor and energy, she outshone the girls in Cole's class like the sun blotting out the stars.

He'd been smitten as only a schoolboy could and studied diligently to earn her praise. Ms Bennet fostered his blossoming talent, gentle when turning down his clumsy advances. Looking back, Cole wasn't confident she didn't harbor some affection for him. If so, she'd hid it well.

That was for the best; he'd been a stupid teen and the power dynamics were unbalanced. However, part of his heart would always ache for Clara.

Her cushiony chest, slim waist and flaring butt--all her mature dimensions--had imprinted on his adolescent brain. Instilling the baseline by which he measured future love interests.

"Holy crap, I was right!" Rachael cheered, then stalled. "Wait, does that mean you're only into older..."

"I'm into real women." Cole quickly clarified. "Women of substance and conviction. Women with ambitions and passion. Brains and personality trump age or anything else."

"I'd normally call that out as total cheese but you mean it, huh?" She wagged a breadstick at him before licking the end suggestively. "Helps that those girls of yours are also smoking hotties, though."

"I meant what I said, and won't deny there's a strong physical attraction."

"Oho! Things are about to get spicy." Rachael glanced about, pausing on something behind Cole with a frown. "Ugh, is that the Dean? What a crusty ol' weirdo."

Cole's blood turned to ice in his veins. "Probably, what's he doing?"

"He keeps waggling his eyebrows and nodding at me while pointing to you. Like he's trying to send signals." She sighed, dropping the breadstick in disgust. "Wanna get outta here? This place is schmick and all. Thanks for bringing me, but I know a joint around the corner that serves a killer desert."

Standing, Cole offered the buoyant blonde his hand, which she took with a lopsided grin.

"C'mon, let's blow this popsicle stand."

________________

"This is more my speed," Cole said, digging into his McFlurry. "Makes me a cheap date, I guess."

"Pffft... it doesn't have to be fancy to be good." Rachael crunched on an M&M. "Giovanni's was ritzy and the food was amazing, but that's more Farrah's style than mine. Too many different forks. Which do I choose? Let's get barbeque next time. Brisket and ribs, yummo!"

An image of the cutie tearing into a rack of pork ribs, sauce dripping from her chin, did things to Cole.

They were strolling through campus, the night veiling the gardens and exhibits in silver starlight. It was quiet, intimate, and far away from the daily hustle and bustle. Lampposts cast pools of illumination on the path at regular intervals; their glow glimmered in dew-kissed petals and leaves. A cool breeze carried the scent of jasmine and lavender.

It was undeniably romantic as they walked side by side.

"Next time?" He asked softly. "Still interested despite my... non-traditional arrangement?"

"Duh. Like you said, you're a cheap date and not half bad-looking." She snorted, hip-checking him. "Seriously though, how does it work between you three?"

Cole stared up at the moon, giving the question proper consideration.

"Honestly, I never dreamed of finding myself in this situation. I didn't seek out multiple partners. I was a one-woman man until recently..."

He laid everything out for her, from losing his first love, Lisa, to the following year of loneliness before his unforeseen enrollment in Von Gloot's Academy. Rachael listened intently, shedding a single tear for his pain.

He recounted meeting Miss Laurier--Krystal and their instant, turbulent physical chemistry and the inclusion of Lita in their budding relationship at the MILFs insistence.

Cole withheld the more intimate details. He wouldn't expose his girlfriends' deepest kinks or secrets, yet no lie passed his lips.

It was a relief to tell someone. Unburden himself to a sympathetic ear. Cole hadn't realized how much the emotional load wore on him until he--and the McFlurry--was done.

"Oh, mule boy. You're sort of a dolt when it comes to girls and feelings." Rachael sighed, caressing his cheek. "Lucky you're so handsome and earnest; otherwise, I'd call you a scrub. Let's take this chat indoors."

They stood outside a residency block. The multi-storied structure reflected the art-deco theme of the campus in brick, steel and glass. Large windows punctuated the façade, hinting at the vibrant activity inside. A decorative awning framed a central entrance. Above the door, a sign with the building's name in bold proclaimed it the 'Tally-ho Hall.'

He followed her, watching that thick booty sway enticingly in her slinky evening gown as she climbed the stairs. Cole's loins lurched at the sight.

Rachael led him through an empty foyer, up more flights of stairs then down a corridor to reach a plain timber door marked 3C. Inserting a key, she paused to look over her shoulder at Cole with an unexpectedly coy smile.

"FYI, Ebony's my roommate; however, she's cleared out for the night to give us some privacy. It's not much, but it's ours, so don't judge us too harshly. We're not on free-ride scholarships like you."

"I can be respectful." He promised, and she showed him in.

What greeted them resembled a loft apartment more than a college dorm. A shared common area held a kitchenette, a small dining set, a single sofa and loveseat combo. What dominated the space was the studio at the center.

Plastic sheeting protected the floors from the mix of heavy equipment and supplies the girls used in the pursuit of their crafts. A pottery wheel coated in clay, water tubs, dirty rags and a messy workbench littered with shaping implements represented Rachael's calling.

The other side of the studio held neatly arranged shelves and draws stuffed with screws, bolts, brackets, and god knew what else. There were power tools and a portable acetylene kit organized on a steel worktop beside a standing drop saw.

"This is remarkable." Cole could picture the unlikely duo squabbling amicably as they built, molded and designed together--a whirlwind of chaos and an agent of order clashing to create true wonders. "You get to work so closely. Swapping concepts and ideas as you go. In my studio, it's just me and maybe a model."

"Yeah? Well, we make do. Ebony is a smidge compulsive, so don't touch anything." Rachael flopped gracelessly onto the sofa, patting the cushion beside her. "Come sit, mule boy. I wanna talk about your... what'd you call it? Um, your non-traditional arrangement."

She kicked off her heels as he sat, then adopted a serious expression.

"You know Krystal, Lita and I have been texting since yesterday's shopping trip, right? Mainly girl talk and banter about our date." She asked. Cole nodded. "They weren't exactly subtle about it. Pressing me to 'take a shot' at you and giving me pointers on how to snag your interest. Krystal especially. That lady is more devious than anyone would believe."

"As I'm constantly learning," Cole muttered dryly.

"Wasn't difficult to decipher the puzzle." Rachael giggled, leaning into his side. "The way you look at them. How they act around you. The vibe y'all broadcast when together. If Krystal hadn't pimped you out like a john, our classmates would've cottoned on to everything already. As I said, she'd devious."

"It was quite the curveball." He agreed. "Caught me flat-footed too."

"What intrigues me is how easy y'all are around each other. There's no jealousy or cattiness. You don't swagger like the would-be Lotharios who hounded my Ma. Neither am I blind to the affection and regard you hold for those women, which they return in spades." The bodacious short-stack rested a dainty hand on Cole's leg. "Truthfully, I'm a little envious."

"You are?"

"Listen, mule boy. I told you about my childhood. The school of hard knocks and all. Love comes in various shapes and sizes. Some are toxic, others not. I've seen plural relationships that are sustainable because the parties involved communicate honestly and respectfully and deeply care for each other." Her hand quested to the growing lump in his pants. "If you can promise me that, I'm open to giving non-traditional a fair go."

Cole reeled as though struck.

This sexy bundle of fun had read him like a book, and--rather than condemning him as a narcissistic womanizer--she was offering a chance to prove his worth.

He could have kissed her, then did exactly that.

"Hmmmfff~!"

Rachael melted against him, her lush contours melding into the hard lines of his athletic body. She was so short Cole had to stoop to claim her rose-pedal lips. Tongues wrestled as their hands explored and ripped at suddenly restrictive clothing.

He tugged down the front of her crimson gown to grope at her big breasts. She moaned into his mouth before suddenly pulling away.

"Wait, not here. Ebony will pitch a fit if we soil the couch." The now bare-chested hottie whimpered, hauling Cole to his feet. "My room's this way."

She gave him the express tour of the apartment, which amounted to pointing out the bathroom "if you need it," then tugging him by the belt into her bedroom.

Her motions were aggressive. Needy. Those of a ravenous woman who'd fasted for days. She fumbled for the light switch, yanking him down to mash lips again.

Rather than hunching, Cole grabbed great handfuls of her abundant behind and lifted the horny little she-devil. At five foot nothing, she wasn't heavy, though her substantial assets had some heft. Ankles crossed behind his back as Rachael wrapped herself around him.

She moaned when he trapped her against the wall, freeing a hand to maul her creamy titflesh. Fingers disappeared in that springy softness, causing her to buck against his aching bulge.

"Aaah~... the bed... take me to the bed." She whispered, her plea urgent. "There's a bunch of fantasies I've dreamed of fulfilling since meeting you, mule boy."

Spinning unsteadily, Cole got his first sight of her room.

Rachael's tastes in decore were surprisingly girly. Pastel pinks and other unoffensive hues formed the color palette. A tasseled shade topped a lamp shaped like a swan on the nightstand beside a bed covered in plushies. There were even fairy lights strung around a tall mirror. The looking glass had photos tucked into the frame.

The pint-sized sex bomb wriggling in his arms continued to defy expectations.

"If you're gonna gawk, at least put me down." She growled, releasing her death grip. "I wanna tear your pants off with my teeth."

Cole nearly dropped her in his haste to comply. Rachael slid to the ground, dragging her glorious tits down him until she squatted on thick haunches, face level with his distended crotch.

True to her word, the gorgeous blonde clamped the fly of his new slacks between her teeth and unzipped it. Delicate hands found his belt, then unfastened the top clasp before yanking his trousers down.

Cole's sturdy stiffness sprang free. Over a foot of steely shaft almost punched her in the jaw.

"There he is." Rachael hissed, licking her chops like a lioness spotting prey. "The object of my obsession. The massive mule dick I felt yesterday. Fuck, I would cream my panties but I ain't wearing any."

"You-you're not?" Cole gasped when her warm breath washed over him. Precum gathered at his tip.

"Nope," she groaned, lapping up the gooey droplet. "Hmmm, wanna guess what I dreamed of doing with this bad boy while fingering myself stupid last night?"

"Tell me..."

"How's about I show you, stud."

Rachael straightened her legs but remained bent over, cherry lips teasing his beefy crown. The stance lifted her plush butt in the air, yet her diminutive height meant her torso, neck and head were aligned horizontally with his jutting cock at a perfect right angle.

"Holy shit, you aren't--" Cole's voice hitched when she pounced on him. "Oh fuck!"

Suctioning his girthy length directly into her throat, Rachael swallowed him whole. It shouldn't have been possible. The difference in their physical proportions was stark, but somehow she managed. Full tits swinging pendulously, the blonde nymphette took Cole to the root, gripping his naked thighs for support.

"How... How are you... hyaa~!" He cried, bone-shaking bolts of bliss short-circuiting his brain.

"Mmm-hmm!" Rachael gurgled, pulling back to his tingling tip before slamming herself forward again. "Gluuurk!"

She repeated the astonishing action several more times, giving Cole a full-body blowjob as though face-fucking herself on his monstrous tool was her magnum opus. He could see her gullet stretching around it. Feel each gulp and gag of that warm, wet throat-sheath delivering surges of dazzling pleasure straight from the source.

"Shit--fuck!" He cried, grabbing fistfuls of her golden tresses to stay upright. Rachael's sparkling eyes met his, ruby lips grinning around his impaling girth. "Don't stop... don't you dare stop!"

Humming with wicked satisfaction, the short-statured minx resumed her cock-sucking pace, twisting her head side to side to attack from every angle. She was a maestro of fellatio, conducting a symphony of lust to Cole's carnal delight. Saliva dripped from his rumbling balls as she skillfully swallowed him completely.

"Hrrmmmph~!"

Matching her rhythm, Cole pumped his hips. Gripping Rachael's hair like reins in a desperate ride towards relief, plowing her eager esophagus. She mewled and shook, lost to raptures of her own.

They endured like that, locked together in a sweaty, sinful union. Drool and juices speckled the floor as their bodies clashed, her lips planting sloppy kisses around his base until Cole couldn't bear it any longer.

"I'm gonna... gonna cum." He wheezed, patting her head in warning.

Rather than disengaging, Rachael slurped him deep, just in time to guzzle his ludicrous load.

Cole's donkey dick fired volley after virile volley of sticky artillery directly into the blonde's famished tummy. His world turned into white noise, skull spinning as she milked him for every last drop with consummate expertise.

When Rachael eventually released him with a lip-smacking plop, his persistent prick hadn't wilted. It persevered, stiff and stalwart in the company of such extraordinary feminine sexuality.

"Wow. That was a lot, mule boy." She coughed, wiping at her mouth. "Glad to see you ain't spent yet. This girl's starving for more of that big, fat pussy-pounder."

Cole growled, scooping Rachael into his arms and tossing her onto the bed. She giggled, wiggling out of her dress, confirming the absence of underwear while he hastily stripped.

"Sure you can handle this?" He asked, waving his bludgeon-like erection. "You're not very big..."

"I'll make it fit, stud." She said, rolling onto her knees and dredging two fingers through her puffy holds. They came away glistening wet. "My cunt is drenched for you. C'mon and lie down. I wanna climb that mountain."

She looked so ravishing--all tits and ass and grabbable hips with flowing golden hair, resembling a scaled-down sex goddess. Cole couldn't resist. He leaped onto the bed, turning in mid-air to land on his back, cock flailing like a rubber truncheon.

Rachael laughed at his antics. Slinging a leg over him, she began to glide her slickness along his ribald rod, which extended to Cole's sternum. Pink lips parting, the buxom blonde hissed in pleasure, liberally lubricating him with her juices.

He latched onto her immense knockers again, kneading and massaging them, awestruck by their gravity-defying weight. Rachael's breathing grew ragged when he played with her rubbery nipples, even moreso when his turgid length throbbed against her sliding clit.

"Yo-you're too good with those hands... aaah!" She gasped, shuddering uncontrollably. "Can't cum yet. Need to feel you inside."

"You can cum as fast and often as you want," Cole grunted, but Rachael batted his hands away, then reversed her position into the classic cowgirl.

"A little birdie informed me you're a caboose connoisseur." She smirked, perching her pump posterior atop his pulsating pole. "Enjoy the view while I ride you, mule boy."

Grabbing his stupendous shaft, the fun-sized vixen wrangled it toward her sopping entrance, lodging the engorged tip there before sinking onto him.

"Holy crap," Coles grunted, feeling her heat and tightness struggling to accept his brutish width. "Go slow, girl. Don't injure yourself..."

"Shush! I-I know my limits... haaa~! Focus on not b-blowing too fast." Rachael stammered, easing further down at a snail's pace. "Gonna c-conquer this peak."

While the mountaineering dirty talk was decidedly different, he'd admit the vistas were grand. The celestial spheres of her show-stopping ass rippled with each additional inch she crammed in.

Cole lay there speechless, watching his gigantic fuck-staff gradually vanish into the sprightly coed's tiny hole. She was impossibly snug. Almost as tight as Lita, which had been a mixed blessing. That vise-like strictness felt incredible but pinched off his capacity to cum.

Heaven and hell co-mingled, flooding him with ecstasy while withholding final fruition.

"Almost... there. Gah! A little... more." Racheal rasped, grinding her way to Cole's root. "Want all of you... Mmmmff~! St-stretching my insides."

He had to be tickling a lung by the she bottomed out, crowing in victory. Then that ripe peach started to move--small shifts at first, barely rocking on his lap. Her drenched pussy clutched and tugged at him, dripping nectar on his balls.

"Dear fucking god," Cole grunted, lightning coursing along his straining rod. "How is that even possible?"

"Where there's... a will... ohhh! there's a... f-fucking way."

Rachael seemed impatient, rapidly gaining steam as she grew accustomed to his immensity. Soon, her round glutes were slapping Cole's abs, flexing and clapping as she bounced.

It would be painful if she weren't so damn lubricated. His cock ached within her crushing cunt, edging like crazy. The same restriction didn't hamper Rachael.

"Yes! Yes! Fuck yes! You're hitting every spot, stud!" The frantic blonde howled. "Fuck me harder, I'm gonna cum!"

Goaded to action, Cole palmed her careening buns to commence some thrusting of his own. They were firm and hefty. Malleable handholds for him to grip while hammering the manic fuck-bunny through her imminent climax.

Jesus, he loved slamming a fat ass and Rachael's was five-star perfection.

Cock blazing, he savaged her sloppy slit like an animal unchained. She collapsed backward, screaming and spasming with bliss.

"CUUUUUUUM MEEEEEE!!"

Cole didn't relent when her feet left the bed. Looping forearms under her knees, he lifted the thrashing short-stack into a full nelson and ruthlessly assailed her gushing snatch.

"That's right. Cum for me, beautiful." He growled in her ear. "Cum all over this donkey dick."

Rachael's head tucked under Cole's chin, presenting him with a blood-boiling view over her big jiggling tits to a bump that appeared in her flat tummy every time he plunged balls deep.

Her hands clawed at the sheets as he drove her through one apocalyptic orgasm straight into the next.

"I'm... I'm... OH GAWD!"

Pounding away, Cole swam in an ocean of sinful sensations, almost drowning in desire. He craved relief from his thundering loins yet was denied by Rachael's choking tightness.

He heaved, flipped her over to piston the insensate blonde from above, squishing her knees into that bountiful bosom. She flopped and flailed, trapped in his powerful grasp, barely mustering the strength to raise her head to reveal a flushed face with lips forming a soundless O.

"Too. Goddamn. Tight." Cole croaked, heart racing and balls churning. "Can't... cross... the finish line."

Rachael's slack expression morphed into genuine concern. She patted his cheek, signaling a pause in their bedroom gymnastics. He reluctantly eased on the breaks.

"Whoa, mule boy. You really can't get there, can ya? You're simply too huge." She panted, swiping hair out of her eyes. "That's some blessing-and-a-curse bullshit. Well, pass it here. I'll not have my man go unsatisfied. A girl's got pride, ya know?"

"You sure?" Cole asked.

"Certain. Whip that bad boy out."

Slowly, reluctantly, he withdrew. Rachael's skin-tight snatch clung as though unwilling to part with him. She'd give Cole pussy burn if he wasn't careful. They both groaned when he eventually plopped out but the effervescent blonde recovered fast and repositioned herself in front of his swaying manmeat.

"Holy shit, stud. It's even bigger up close." She exclaimed, grasping the slick length and giving it several skillful pumps. "Gotta use both hands just to hold ya. Dammit, you're getting me excited again and I'm already sore as a five-dollar whore."

"Um, sorry?" Cole tried; her soft hands and masterful ministrations were terribly distracting.

"Ha! Don't be. Short chicks love big dicks and this one's a keeper." Her hot gaze burned into him. "And I'm keeping you for the whole night. Now relax... Mmmlorp~!"

Rachael punctuated the point by slurping her juices off his bulbous crown while jacking him into her warm mouth. She never broke that smoldering eye contact, pulling back to spit pre-cum and saliva across his length before diving in for more.

There was an aspect of honesty behind the crass gesture. Sparkling strings connected his cock to her chin. Cole trembled as she expertly stroked with two hands, lips and tongue to drive him towards release--bawdy intent written large in every movement.

She wanted him, this gorgeous fun-sized belle. She desired him on a visceral level and wasn't afraid to show it. Utterly bereft of guile or an agenda, Rachael expressed her feelings, her attraction to him, in the lewdest manner possible.

Cole found that insanely sexy, though her superior knob-polishing talents maaay have influenced his judgment.

"C'mon, mule boy. Gimme that fat load." Rachael begged between long spunk-gargling sucks. "I wanna feel your manly heat on my face... on my titties... anywhere ya like. Paint me with it. Make me shine."

"I-I'm almost there..." He rasped, throat dry.

"Yeah, ya need more? I gotcha covered." Rearing up, the busty blonde enveloped Cole's base in her spongy cleavage. Squeezing those huge chest-pillows together. "How do ya like them apples?"

He bucked and groaned, spearing into Rachael's lips through the tender valley of her boobage. She squished and pressed, encompassing his cock in fantastic firmness, suckling hungrily on his tip.

"Oh shit! Oh god!" He cried.

Rachael intensified her erotic assault, hurling herself onto him with abandon. She slathered Cole's knob, smothering his knob in a titty sandwich, sliding up and down.

The sight of the bodacious half-pint staring at him, so desperate to get him off, was bone-melting. The way she plunged her slobbering face into her bouncing melons to deep-throat his thrumming tool had him primed.

Ball rumbling on the verge of eruption, Cole basked in her sensual adoration. Her stroking grip, soft breasts and welcoming wetness of her mouth. The way drool ran from her plump lips to splatter into her creamy cleavage. Jolts of soul-searing lust paralyzed him with heady bliss until he finally crumbled.

"FuuuUUCK!" Cole roared, splashing the back of her throat with his opening salvo of sticky seed. "Here it comes!"

Rachael didn't balk, swallowing with a gusty moan then pumping him faster. Her lips detached from his tip, widening into a gleeful grin. The next jet scorched across her cheeks and nose in a gloopy line as she wrestled his lurching length.

Blast after blast left Cole boneless, his golden-haired lover squealing in delight while he basted her slender neck, cushiony chest and smooth belly, an ungodly quantity of steamy cum. It drooped from her puckered nipples, sparkling on her skin.

Rachael rubbed it in like lotion, snickering impishly. "Jesus, that's the money shot, stud. You really know how to give a girl the royal treatment. Where have ya been all my life?"

Cole collapsed on the bed, momentarily spent. She joined him, resting her head on his shoulder as they snuggled.

"You're going to be trouble." He huffed, relishing the afterglow. Her fingers were already trailing down his abs.

"Trouble can be fun. Who wants boring?" Rachael replied dismissively, teasing his semi-flaccid wood. "We're in college. Let's be young and dumb and make rash decisions. Tomorrow will take care of itself. Tonight, you fuck me blind, then we'll see what the morning brings."

Cole had to admit there was some merit to her argument, especially after her tender touch coaxed him back to full mast.

________________

End of Chapter Three