Educated by Ms. Futanari Book 2

By Olivia Kinx

Our sexy teacher Ms. Futanari still has LOTS of lessons to teach us, and this time she's going to be a bit more strict...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Olivia Kinx
• Release date: May 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224953493

Olivia Kinx

***NOW ACCEPTING REQUESTS FOR CUSTOM STORIES!***-- Hey babies, I'm now your writer-for-hire. Hit me up for customs and let me illuminate your naughtiest fantasies. I can work with (ALMOST) every kink. All you have to do is ask ;)Price: $.03 cents per word (or roughly $30 per 1000 words). You can expect a quality of work similar to the stories I publish here on Smashwords. Payment goes through Paypal.Email me at [e-mail] to discuss the details! I hope to hear from you soon :)**************************************************I write stuff that'll make you blush and clear your browser history :)

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Educated by Ms. Futanari

Lesson Two: Ashley

by Olivia Kinx

Copyright © 20124 by Olivia Kinx

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Chapter One

It’s funny how you can fall into a trap of defining yourself by other people. Take me, for instance. Since the day I met her almost four years ago, I’ve spent the bulk of my time hating Kylie.

I’m not just Ashley, the girl with the best grades in the school, lacrosse team captain, grade-A ‘Little Miss Perfect’ bordering on Blonde Prom Queen caricature. No, you ask anyone in this school about me, and they’ll mention some of those things, but mostly they’ll say, Oh yeah, Ashley hates Kylie.

Except it’s difficult to hate someone when you’re spreading your legs for them, as I am now.

I’m splayed out on Ms. Futanari’s desk, looking down at Kylie, watching our teacher fuck her from behind. I’m studying the blissful shades in Kylie’s eyes as Ms. Futanari yanks her hair back. When I shift my eyes upward, I catch Ms. Futanari’s desirous gaze, I hear the moist-wet sounds of her enormous cock hammering into my enemy, and my sex tingles as if Kylie’s cunt were my own.

As she gets fucked, I draw her face toward my pussy, gasp as her mouth descends to my sex, at the way her hands feel as they rest on my thighs, tightening, the way her tongue feels when it plunges into me.

And yet, not long ago—after recent events had me seeming like I’d begun to hate Ashley less, maybe even enjoy her—that hatred began to burn all over again.

I’d been jealous, you see. We’d been having all this fun with Ms. Futanari but for obvious reasons, our beautiful teacher harboring a cock of almost terrifying proportions chose to shower most of her attention on Kylie, treating me as an afterthought.

When I’m being honest with myself, I know that’s why I’ve always hated Kylie. It has little to do with her personality, although she does enjoy to run her mouth, and rarely seems to be able to complete a sentence with less than three ‘fucks’.

No, when I’m honest, I can admit that I’ve hated her for the reason no popular girl likes to even think about.

As I rock my hips, as I smother Kylie’s face with my dripping sex, as her tongue pushes deeper inside my walls, I wonder how many girls in this school assume that I feel in control, like I feel invulnerable.

Because I rarely feel like I’m in control and, at times, I feel more vulnerable than anyone. Vulnerable to Kylie, mostly.

I feel vulnerable now, especially more vulnerable than usual, in fact, even as Ms. Futanari hammers her cock into Kylie’s sweet cunt, even as Kylie devours me.

Kylie always seems so effortlessly cool. True, she doesn’t have quite as many friends as I do, but girls are drawn to me because they see me as a step up the social ladder. I’m influential. I know I’m beautiful, but I don’t find my beauty unique. In my worst moments, I feel like an archetype. Like I’ve been assigned a template for what a pretty blonde high school girl should be.

Then there’s Kylie, the dark-haired siren fucking my nook with her tongue. She’s eating my cunt better than anyone who I’ve ever let down there, all while our fearsome, yet stunningly beautiful teacher clutches her by the fabric of her white, standard-issue button-up shirt, driving in and out, so hard that I feel the heavy oaken desk trembling beneath me.

Kylie fits no stereotype. She’s confident