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Strawberry Hill Elementary School
by Vivian Darkbloom
Principal Anvilstrich, dark brown hair tied back in a neat bun,
explained as she led me down the flight of dark stairs: "Ever
since the 69th amendment established pedophilia as a protected
form of sexual expression, many schools have been, shall we say
--" she adjusted her black-rimmed glasses "-- less than efficient
in reaching accessibility compliance. Well, here at Strawberry
Hill Girl's Elementary, you'll find we're way ahead of the curve.
Quite an exciting time to be running an all-girl's elementary
school."
"Especially," I chimed in, "with the new studies that have shown
conclusively how essential is unbridled sexual expression to the
psychological health and academic success of young girls."
"Exactly," she smiled. "I'm glad to see you've been keeping up
with the literature." She flattened her lazy herringbone grey
wool dress which, honestly, made no pretense even at descending
her slender thighs to keep her knees warm.
"Part of my duties as an accessibility-compliance inspector," I
replied humbly, scribbling on my notepad. I noted that she must
have been young, maybe 17 or 18 or so.
She ushered me through a sleek, modern doorway. "Here we have the
main playground observation room." As we stepped in, the blue sky
light embraced us from panes above. Deluxe padded lounge chairs
here and there awaited patiently. Looking up, I could see that
many regions of the ceiling were transparent, and through them I
could see the diverse array of various jungle-gyms and hoops and
so on.
"A popular spot," she said, gesturing for me to try out one of
the loungers. I lay down on the plush padding. "Here are the
controls," she handed me a remote. I pushed a button and the
lounger silently elevated for better viewing angle. Looking up, I
saw the swinging-bars.
"Would you like some ginseng tea?" she asked.
"Um, sure." She poured me a cup from a teapot sitting atop a
frilly lace cloth on a table nearby.
"The android staff always keep the supply fresh," she said
handing me the steaming ceramic cup. "Dear me," she examined a
smudge on the upper surface of the ceiling-window, and laughed.
"Some of the girls get a bit carried away when they see someone
they like down here, and press their little flowers right up
against the glass."
"Very impressive," I said, sipping my tea, knowing that the
silence was one of class now in session. I could imagine the
cacophonous imagery during recess.
"While it is, of course, permissible for the girls to go without
clothing altogether, most of them prefer their little outfits.
The Goth vogue is generally big, though the second-graders went
through a french-maid outfit craze a few weeks ago. At any rate,
very few of them wear panties, at least out here on the
playground."
"Quite progressive," I commented. Turning my head, I caught a
glimpse of her cleavage in an accidentally unbuttoned gap in her
pressed white dress shirt. Lips moist, she smiled, putting one
hand in the pocket of her matching herring-bone dress-jacket that
stretched across her slender shoulders. In the enclosed room, the
feminine sweat-smell caressed my nostrils.
"Would you like to see the private rooms now?"
A movement caught my eye from above. A blonde girl in white lace
dress with petticoats prepared to cross the bars.
Principal Anvilstrich frowned. "A truant. Wait here while I go
have a word with her."
"Sure," I replied, but she had vanished. I sipped my tea, looking
at my watch, thinking about the other schools on my list for
inspection that afternoon. An average day in the life of a 69th
amendment accessibility-compliance inspector. The tea was a
nicely added extra touch, though.
Poised on the ladder, the girl looked down and, seeing me
watching, grinned widely. Her gaze then focused upwards as she
proceeded in spidery swings from one bar to the next. At first,
as she started swinging, I was disappointed that she seemed to be
wearing under-coverings, but as she swung closer and closer to my
zenith, I realized that it was an optical illusion from the folds
of the petticoats. My eyes were glued to the tiny red lips
flitting in and out between the folds of fancy fabric above me
between dangling toes, when abruptly the swinging halted, almost
directly above.
I heard the pert clicking of Principal Anvilstrich's high heels
on the glass, above me, and watched from beneath as the Principal
stepped over to the girl on the bars. The footprints the pointed
toes and high heels paced above me, textured with tiny pieces of
lint and grit, until she stood almost directly above my face, and
from that perspective I found myself staring straight up the long
curve of her graceful legs. It turned out the the principal
herself was unadorned underneath, so I pleasantly stroked my
awakening desire as I watched the two pairs of lips, one bearded,
the other bare.
I couldn't hear what they were saying, so it came a bit
unexpected when the Principal leaned over and kissed the girl,
full front of the mouth. Not a little peck, either, but an
unhurried and deep luscious spelunking.
I recalled reading a recent child-rearing self-help paperback
(I'm sorry, but I can't remember the author's name) that
advocates french-kissing of misbehaving children as a
disciplinary technique. I'm not sure that their research was
sound, but it was hardly objectionable.
As the kiss continued, the Principal took the girl in her arms,
lifting her down from the bars. The older woman's hips gave an
impulsive erotic twitch, and I blinked as a tiny droplet from her
moist, mustachioed lower lips hurtled towards me, to splatter the
glass inches in front of my eyes.
____________________________________________________________
The dimpled white-petticoated young truant of blonde curls who, I
discovered, bore the name Angelique, accompanied us on the
remainder of our tour.
"She felt a need to enhance her academic success, didn't we
princess?" explained Principal Anvilstrich. Angelique nodded
solemnly, then gestured to the Principal, who bent down so
Angelique could whisper something in her ear. As she bent down,
the lower hem of the herringbone wool crept dangerously up to
reveal the slightest hint of bearded red lips between her curving
buttocks, until unfortunately she stood up straight again.
"That's OK," assured the Principal. "I'll show you how." She
leaned close to me to confide softly: "She's never given oral sex
to a man before." Her cheeks flushed as she said it.
Then she resumed public volume of her conversation. "So, tell me
about the history of the amendment again. I'm too young to
remember."
"Well, it all started with the hog flu, which killed off an
enormous percentage of the population. Seems it reacted to the
chemicals released in the body of those who are habitual liars."
"And that's what wiped out the Republican party?"
"Well, they didn't have any candidates left to run for office.
Then there was the deer-antler flu, so-named because some hunter
from the midwest contracted it from a deer antler. A white stag,
actually. Very Arthurian, somehow."
"That was the one that hit people with a low IQ?"
"Not exactly. It attacked those who were not using their brains,
independent of mental capacity. That took care of anybody who
would have even thought of voting Republican. On further
investigation, scientists discovered that thoughtfulness leads to
consideration for others, resulting in an alteration of body
chemistry which was completely lacking in Republicans. But by
then it was too late.
"The following year, the Green Party won a landslide victory, and
we were able to end all wars on the planet, completely end
starvation, hunger, and poverty everywhere on the planet,
demolish the nuclear arms stockpiles, eliminate pesticide use,
eliminate greenhouse emissions, cease entirely the use of
petroleum products by massive conservation and converting to a
largely solar-based fuel economy, properly fund all schools,
including programs in art, music, sculpture, and dance, save all
the remaining rainforests, end all whaling and overfishing, and
basically bringing about basic peace and contentment planet-wide
while ceasing all forms of environmental destruction."
She turned to me intensely, and her icy blue eyes locked on mine
with savage desire. "I love it when you talk politics," she
whispered lustily.
Unable to respond verbally, I attempted to clear my throat.
"Here we are," she said. "We provide these rooms for the privacy
of any pedophiles who wish to spend more time getting to know our
students more closely. Here's the Arabian Nights suite," the door
was open a crack, and she pushed it ajar. "Being cleaned," she
explained. Peeking inside, I could see that the decor was done in
the style of the interior of a tent, with a window revealing
3-dimensional Trompe de L'Oeil of Middle-Eastern turrets and
minarets. These I duly recorded on my notepad.
An android in a maid's outfit worked diligently, cleaning. Or at
least, I suspected it was an android, although she appeared fully
human, about eleven years old, with dark skin, but sandy blonde
hair and eyes the color of a tropical ocean. "Did you require my
services?" she asked, noticing our presence.
"All of our robot staff are fully equipped for sexual
procedures," boasted the Principal. "Yes Cecily, can you tell us
which of these rooms are ready for use?"
"The Tudor room is prepared and available, ma'am."
"Will you accompany us?" the Principal commanded.
"Certainly, ma'am." Cecily, our android guide, brushed by as she
ushered us to another doorway. This room had a canopied bed,
tapestried wall hangings of intricate Celtic design, laced with
golden threads, ornately carved cabinets and dressers, a marble
statue of Venus, and the window (on the opposite side) revealed
the realistic 3-dimensional simulation of a hazy distant township
set in an afternoon of the Elizabethan era. A vase with fresh red
roses sat on the small round table in the doorway.
"This will do just fine." The principal led us all into the room,
and shut the door behind us. She pulled the black enameled
chopstick that had been holding her hair bun in place, and shook
her head slightly as she released it to splash across her
shoulders and down her back.
She freed the notepad and pen from my clinging grasp, and set it
down on the table beside the rose vase. Blonde-curled Angelique
curiously reached over, picked up the pen, and aimlessly began to
doodle a little picture on my neatly manicured notes. However I
was unable to prevent it, as Principal Anvilstrich had wrapped
her arms around me in a savage hug that pressed twin hot
cushioned pebbles against my chest, brutally inhaling my lips
into her mouth has she thrust her tongue into mine. The roughness
of her tongue tasted of onions and coffee grounds, with remnants
of minty freshness as she explored.
Impressive indeed, as my notes would record when I once more
regained control of the pad and pen. Not only would Strawberry
Hill Elementary achieve full certification status, they would
additionally be awarded many extra points towards a special
medallion of merit.
I felt a hand slide to caress the warmth in my public arch.
"It's not necessary for the extra points you know," I informed
her. "Your school has passed with flying colors."
She blinked. "Extra points. We get extra points for this? Cool. I
just felt the overwhelming need for a screaming orgasm with your
throbbing swollen member thrusting deep inside of me, tearing
asunder the scarlet depths of my interior waterfall of passion as
I ride the scorching flame of your volcanically engorged horn."
She put her finger to her lips, as if to bite the nail of her
index finger. "If it's not too much trouble, that is."
I shrugged. "It would make for a more thorough investigation, I
suppose."
At this point, I decided to continue my research by completing
the upper-unbuttoning of her white dress shirt, and slid my hand
between the bra and the soft skin inside, enjoying the little
gasps from between her moist, full lips as my fingers one-by-one
slid over the knobby buttons.
Angelique was still sketching on my notes, but casting sideways
glances at the rising front of my pants. She put the pen down and
came over to put her hand on it, caressing it gently, then
grinned up at me with yellow-curl dimples.
Angelique's hand remained, squeezing and caressing as the
Principal kissed me once more. Simultaneously, she completed the
unbuttoning, and the shirt, then the bra fell onto the soft,
cushiony carpeted rug. Hardly in authentic Tudor style, but oh
well.
With the shirt no longer holding it in, the acrid female
sweat-smell now stung my nostrils, sinking spurs of desperate
desire, barbs of blissful agony deep into the heart of my groin.
"Principal," I whimpered quietly, cupping my hands around her
small, upturned breasts, gently enjoying their pliant, soft
smooth squishiness. Like butter.
"Valencia," she whispered. "Call me Valencia."
"Principal," repeated Angelique, as I felt tiny fingers on the
head and shaft. I looked down to see that the little girl had
thrust her pudgy little arm between the elastic and skin, and was
now rummaging around, with effects of which I would express
general approbation in my notes, at the soonest possible
opportunity.
"I believe your pupil had requested lessons," I pointed out.
"Of course."
All the while, brown-skinned Cecily stood obediently still,
apparently with a blank stare at the far wall, though android
sensors are sensitive in ways that human eyes are not.
Valencia knelt on the soft crimson carpet and undid my trousers.
Angelique smiled gleefully, working her fingers and eyebrows, and
otherwise squirming with anticipation. She watched in fascination
as the cloth parted to reveal my partially extended glory.
Revealed were hairy bare legs, as more clothing dropped
carelessly to the floor.
"Like this," said Valencia, instructing her eager young student.
She held me with her right hand as my tip rested on her tongue.
She touched the very end, to enjoy the little drop, and then
thrust the whole tip into her mouth, twisting in the most
viciously delightful turn with her teeth, then spit me out and
offered the slimy tip to Angelique.
Now I felt timid fingers guiding me into the soft, innocent
opening, between smooth, untouched lips and tiny teeth, as
Angelique eagerly gobbled and bubbled, drooling and cooing and
chewing in even more delightful ways, gazing upward questioning
me with crystalline grey eyes. I nodded in definite affirmative
approval, as I settled into a comfortable pelvic rhythm echoed by
bobbing curls.
The Principal sat on the carpet, leaned back against the bed, and
watched smiling as her work progressed, aimlessly running her
hands over her naked breasts, then leaned forward and began
running her tongue along my shaft. She beckoned to seeming
11-year-old Cecily, whom she told to sit underneath, delicately
tonguing my pendulae. Cecily produced a bottle of lubricant,
which she employed for the purpose of working her finger into my
rear opening, with most pleasant results, as she and the other
two continued creatively tonguing.
Soon I felt a religious experience coming on, and found myself
down on my knees before the altar of pristine purity, as that
blessed pentecostal tongues ever poured forth in abundant
blessing. Valencia now knelt before me, snowy expanse of her
frosty white abdomen stretching downward to the tantalizingly
invisible bearded lips, still obscured by the narrow strip of
classy herringbone wool. The concealed wonder I had previously
glimpsed, so seemingly long ago. She squeezed forward her breast
so that the nipple touched my lips, and obediently I gave it a
home within the loving embrace of my lips and teeth.
Within short measure, I knew that a climax would soon arrive, but
I had meant to ask to be sure that Angelique was OK with the
disgusting fluid squirted into the pristine purity of her sweet
little heart-shaped mouth. Still she wore her frilly white dress,
snow-white as if a bride's on wedding day.
"God, I'm about to . . ." I said, in attempt to warn her, but too
late. The thought of defiling the privacy of her innocent oral
chamber pushed me over the edge, along with a devilishly deviant
twist from Cecily inside of me, and with three bright fresh young
pairs of eyes gazing in intimate fascination, I momentarily lost
control, let go the helm, and my cortex connected with infinity
and the white light of the ever-shining wisdom at the core of the
universe, as my pee-hole injected nasty goo between pure white
pearls swathed in bobbing curls, spewed seedy slime deep into the
center of the wedding-cake.
Wicked white globs, the glorious gunk of evolution, speeding
seminal sailors on their carnal tunnel voyage fleshwise,
unknowingly this time in vain.
Lovingly, I placed a hand on either side of her head to steady
myself for a final thrust, as she eagerly made yum-yum noises and
sucked up my yucky gross mucous frosting into the candy-drop
innocence of her pale dimpled buttery hot snowfall.
In spite of her enthusiastic slurping, a few milky drops dribbled
down her chin, and landed on the delicately embroidered white
fabric covering her flat young breast.
Her Principal quickly leaned over to prevent further stains by
deftly licking the errant drool from Angelique's chin with the
tip of her tongue, after which she rewarded Angelique with a
savage, probing kiss, unmindful of the soiling of her dark brown
locks as they lacing themselves around my slimy horn.
Soon, covers were thrown back, and I found myself collapsed with
exhaustion, drifting to dreamland nestled snugly between the
searing warmth of three heavenly bodies, filled with nurturing,
cooing, loving caresses.
____________________________________________________________
I awoke, lying on my back, to a flurry of hushed activity
centered around my midriff, some time later, I have no idea how
long. It was then I realized that the school inspection, which I
had believed to be complete, was completely lacking in report of
the climax which our Principal had so dutifully requested. It was
this project on which I interpreted the three demoness angels to
be intently at work.
Indeed, my estimate was close to its mark, though far from being
the end of the story, it was just the beginning.
I was unable to view the source of the tactile sensation that had
awoken me, the maddeningly delightful toothful and tongueful
teasing. I found my arms on top of the covers, and when I placed
my hands gently on one of the three spheroid sources of my
delight beneath the covers, the touch unleashed a flight of
giggles.
Soon, faces emerged, following which I found that my engorgement
had plunged deeply into the Principal's moist bearded canyon,
still shrouded by a strip of wool fabric, but now quite
distinctly present in my sensory realm. Valencia threw her head
back as she writhed atop me, lost in trancelike ecstasy, pelvis
thrusting this way and that in deviously delightful rhythm. I saw
that she had set Cecily to calmly stroking her breasts and
fingering her flower -- I could feel the robot-child's finger
between us, exploring slimy stimulation of the tiny trigger-point
of light with delicate precision.
Angelique, white wedding-dress still flowing around her, pounced
on my pillow. Placing a knee on either side of my head, she
lifted her dress to carefully lower her gorgeous red smooth lips
to mine. I parted her veils to find and lovingly kiss her dark
red pearl, evoking an astonished moan, which turned to a series
of erotic vocalizations as we fell into a rhythm, and I reached
to explore her various openings with my probing fingers, feasting
on the sweetness the lass's sticky, bitter molasses. Inserting a
finger into her miniature vagina, I found the cute ridges of her
little `g' spot, thus raising the pitch of her melodic
incantations by a notch or two.
The girls smothered me in their sexual passion, and happily laden
with the weight of their driving desire, I sunk deeply into the
soft mattress and pillows. Juices, sweat, slime and secretions
dripped from and smeared all parts of our bodies, I no longer
knew whose or what, only that we were all now one in sharing of
our darkest, most intimate longings and fulfillment.
I could now see naught but white wedding-dress petticoat furls,
along with chubby-thin pale soft thighs and belly button, but I
could hear the melodic call and answer of the girl's duet, as
each vocalized a gradually rising scale, each spurred on by the
progressive trembling peak of the other. It was Angelique who
came first, followed shortly after by Valencia. In addition to
the lengthening release in her voice, I could feel the pulsating
contractions of her tiny flower against my lips and teeth.
Valencia called out loudly as her bucking convulsions thrust and
pulled.
"Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!"
Neither of my two lovelies were quitters. They were in it for the
full multiplicity of the event, so once again they sank into the
their determined duet, as my silent tactile gauges were screaming
higher and higher into the overload zone, as the two girls
prodded each other to still another set of pulsing convulsions.
But they kept at it, and persistence paid off, for the best yet
was the third. At this point, I felt Cecily's finger caressing my
orbs, then ever-so gently tracing an almost imperceptible line,
once more towards my rear aperture. So distracting were the
throbbing push and pull on my mouth and penis, that at first I
barely noticed the entry, the intrusion into that delicate nerve
center. The probing continued however, and soon that third volume
had risen to the level of the other two, and a third gauge was
screaming into overload.
After their second shared orgasm, the two girls' level of
intensity had fallen back only to about two thirds of full bore,
but they kept on climbing in alternating melodic moans, and soon
I felt that wonderful anticipation of inevitability as I slid
over the hump into the downhill glide of the climax. My visual
field blurred with a million galaxies as the force of my emotion
caused me to break my silence with loud repeated yells (muffled
by tiny Angelica's vagina). I reversed thrust, in order to fully
savor the peak, steering the starship carefully towards the
magnetic gravity of the swirling concentric oblivion of Nirvana.
Both girls could sense that I was near the bursting point, and I
could feel them both at once begin to intuitively coax my
impending explosion with unerring instinct.
"God, yes. Give it to me!" shouted Valencia, hovering and
squeezing me with her vagina, sweating and trembling. I could
feel little hot drops of her perspiration falling onto my chest
and abdomen, merging with my own.
Right then, Angelica burst forth in messy convulsions against my
mouth that sent fluid streaming down my chin. "Ga ga ga ga!" she
shouted, with articulate elocution.
I thrust my pelvis towards the heavens, into my angel Valencia,
once, twice and finally on the third time I felt the liquid
release begin burst forth deep inside of her with searing
clarity. She met my force with her own, crushing down on me with
impact as we both strove deeper into the other, and this time
there was no mistaking her distinct pulsations squeezing me. She
totally lost control, flailing all about, screaming with
complete, wild, primordial abandon. She trembled. She shook. Her
soul burst into flames, white hot as the heart of the virgin
mother, to subside only gradually, like the incrementally ebbing
tide after a full moon.
All this I could feel, through the shaft of light that connected
between us, as I shared her dissolution into madness, then slowly
her re-integration. I reached up gently to touch her taut
breasts, nipples tense. She gasped almost painfully with
electricity and overstimulation, then slowly lowered herself into
my loving arms, as Angelique slid aside, allowing me to breathe
once more. She crawled up onto my pillow to watch me hold and
caress Valencia, pressing her moist vagina against the top of my
head.
Oh how I loved these girls, as I held them in my arms and
tenderly stroked them, I wanted that glowing warmth of joined
friendship to last forever. And once again we collapsed into deep
dreams.
____________________________________________________________
On that day there was not much more to tell. We had sex only once
more, the four of us. This time, I fucked Angelique (me on top),
while opposite Cecily sucked Valencia (Cecily on the bottom),
positioned so that I was facing Valencia, and kissing her mouth
and breasts coaxed me to a delightfully climax inside of the
younger girl -- and vice versa for Valencia in the mouth of the
seemingly human girl-android.
Needless to say, the school passed inspection with a glowing
report, and furthermore, I cited this particular case study as
one which merited further investigation so that it could serve as
an exemplary model for other institutions. The very next day, I
returned to initiate an in-depth, detailed study over the course
of several decades, in which many various subjects were explored
and probed. It proved to be rewarding and spiritually satisfying
for every individual involved.
_______________________________________________________
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