4 comments/ 93631 views/ 51 favorites Miss Davenport's Prom Night By: Jackson Blacke So, on this particular Tuesday morning in April, toward the end of third period to be exact, I was kneeling astride a phys ed teacher and football coach, Lance Lightsaber (better known as "Jumbo"), who was flat on his back behind a pile of Monday's dirty laundry in the back corner of the War Memorial High School weight training room. And I was about to do what I had gone there to do. And what he had been wanting to do all week. But time out. Let me tell you a little about me first. Because, in the end, it really is all about me anyway. My name is Denise Davenport. I'm a high school English teacher, mostly for senior and AP English. Guys tend to notice me because of my long, thick, blond hair, my huge blue eyes and the fact that I have the kind of body they've only seen in their soggiest wet dream. Oh, and also because I always, and I mean always, dress in a way that screams, This is what I got. Now show me yours!! If you want to know exactly how big a black cock slut I am, or precisely how gorgeous all men, but especially those of the Negro persuasion, find me, you might want to take a look at my little chronicle of the day I arrived here at War Memorial High. But suffice it to say that I have never met a black cock I didn't like, and damn few I didn't fuck. And I have certainly never met a black cock that didn't want to nestle snugly into my cute little tight, tender, wet, white pussy. I'm writing this history of the night I went to the Prom for the same reason I wrote about what happened on my first day of school - because I enjoy it. And I enjoy it for two reasons, first because I like writing. I am an English teacher after all. But more importantly because I really, really get off on writing about sex, especially when I'm describing my own sexual exploits. It's like my grandfather getting his own firewood for his wood stove. He used to say that the same wood warmed him up twice - once when he cut and split it, and again when he burned it. Well, I obviously enjoy fucking when I fuck. But then the same sex gets me hot all over again when I write about it. Am I sitting here and fingering myself to orgasm as I write? I'll leave you guessing about that. A girl has to have some secrets after all. Anyway, as I was saying, on that particular Tuesday morning in April, I was kneeling astride Lance "Jumbo" Lightsaber, and we were hiding behind a pile of dirty laundry in a corner of the school's weight training room. And, despite my taste for dark meat, Jumbo was (and I'm sure still is) completely and totally Caucasian. So, on that particular Tuesday morning, I slowly raised my hips, then paused dramatically. I was preparing to administer the coup de grace which would release us both from the enthralling, agonizing erotic tension which gripped us like the sweaty bear-hug of a half-crazed wrestler. I stared at him, my wild eyes and gasping mouth wide open in frenzied anticipation of the orgasmic tsunami which was about to sweep over us, freeing us, if only briefly, from our near-constant, intense sexual longings. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he bit down hard on his lower lip in a sweet, gallant attempt to hold off his climax until I reached mine. However, it wasn't really his choice. I was in complete control. My hot love sauce slid thickly down the long, fat shaft of his aching dick. My smoldering cunt squeezed the tip tightly as I waited for exactly the right moment to make my move, the moment when that erotic tension peaked and the impact and satisfaction of our orgasmic release would be maximized. "Aaggggghhrrrrrrr," he growled, tossing his head back and forth like an enraged beast, and still I waited. Seconds passed and I squeezed the tip of his bloated cock while making small, slow circles with my hips, like an aircraft in a holding pattern. "AAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRR," he growled, more loudly. "OoooooOOOOhhhhOOOOOO." I answered immediately, and drove my hips suddenly downward with all the force and velocity that desperation brings, stabbing myself repeatedly with his pulsing cock. He matched my pace, thrusting back with equal ardor and urgency, pumping me full of his steaming man juice. Orgasmic ecstasy rolled over us both in throbbing waves of acute pleasure, leaving us squealing and grunting, bucking and twitching until we were swept out upon calm sea of glowing satisfaction. Oh, forgive me if my prose sometimes turns a little purple and my style just a tad florid. I love the English language nearly as much as I love sex. And I do have a tendency to get carried away - always by the erotic opportunities inherent in senior classes overcrowded with oversexed, oversized and overeager young black men and a school with a faculty of equally eager and well-equipped, mostly black, male colleagues. And sometimes I also get carried away by my enthusiastic attempts to record my adventures here. I find it particularly stimulating to try to reproduce the noises of sexual ecstasy, the OOOs and the AAAAHs and all the other ancient animal noises we make when we fornicate. I, myself, am a very loud fuck. I also have an incredible range. I can go from growling guttural to soprano shriek in a heartbeat. And I pride myself on also evoking an extremely high volume and completely inarticulate response from each and every one of my many partners. So I take real pleasure in reporting the vigor and the incoherence of our vocalizations. Think of it as a kind of boasting. Anyway, I try not to overdo it. But as frenzied and out-of-control as my lovers and I may sometimes get, and as embellished as my English may occasionally become, the events I describe are always 100 percent true and factual - except, of course, when I include my fantasies, the exploits I think should have happened but didn't, and my contrived justifications for the things I really shouldn't have done, but did anyway. But other than that, every word is gospel truth. So on that Tuesday morning in April, after floating contentedly for a few minutes on the aforesaid calm sea of glowing satisfaction conveniently located behind the pile of dirty laundry in the back corner of the school weight training room, I sat up a little and looked down at Jumbo Lightsaber, the head of the physical education department. "Wow," I said, in my eloquent, English teacher kind of way. "Yeah, totally neurotic" he replied in his malaprop-ish, English-challenged phys ed teacher/football coach kind of way. But it wasn't the size of his intellect which attracted me to him in the first place. "I think you mean 'erotic' Jumbo," I corrected. (A good English teacher is never off duty.) "Probably," he grinned. He was one of the few white men on the faculty at War Memorial, but I didn't hold that against him. His nickname was more than appropriate and, when it comes to well-endowed men, I'm definitely an equal opportunity kind of slut. I'll fuck the brains out of any good-looking, hung stud, regardless of race, creed, color, national origin or sexual preference. Well, maybe not regardless of sexual preference. They need to prefer sex, and they'd damn well better prefer it with me. It's just that the pool of well-endowed, big, strong, sexy black men is so much larger that your odds are better if you go with the dark meat. But that doesn't mean that you turn up your nose at a macho, brawny guy sporting a big, tasty slab of white meat either. I gave him a big tongue-probing kiss, then suddenly stood up. As I did, his shrinking prick popped out of my cunt and at least a quarter of a cup of his cum drooled out onto his bare stomach. When a man has a physique like Jumbo, I won't fuck him until he takes his shirt off. If he refuses, I rip it off him myself, which gets me so hot, I fuck him twice. "Oh shit," he complained with some degree of real annoyance as he watched the sticky semen spread across his belly. "Why do you always do that?" "I guess because it's the only way I've got to measure how much you really love me," I answered with a smirk. "And how much do I?" he asked, having already forgiven me. "Apparently a little less than half as much as Joey does," I replied, giving him my best comic look of reproach. "Not fair!" he protested. "I'm 35 and that kid's - what? - 18? There's no way I could emasculate the way Joey does." he grumbled, his annoyance returning. "Do you mean 'ejaculate', Jumbo?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "Whatever," he shrugged. "But I think you're missing the real point here. We're teachers. We're not supposed to be fucking the students. It's against the law and it's against any code of teachers' ethics." "I mean take Anjellika," he continued. "And the rest of the cheerleaders, too. They're always flirting with me during games, flipping their little skirts back and forth and showing me their frilly panties. They know I can see that their nipples are hard as anything under their tight little tops. And they come up to me all innocent and say, 'Is it true your nickname is "Jumbo", Coach Lightsaber?' And, 'Why do they call you that, Coach Lightsaber?' And they're even worse in gym class. I get so stiff it hurts, and, of course, it shows and then they start giggling and pointing." And then he demonstrated by giggling the cutest little falsetto giggle. "I know they fuck their boyfriends. I've caught them doing it. And some of them fuck that janitor, what's his name? McKinnon? And I know they want to fuck me, too. And it's not because they're black. I love black women. You know I respect people of all colors of the rectum." " 'Spectrum', Lance. 'All colors of the spectrum'," I interrupted. "All the colors of the spectrum?" Lance asked, scowling his confusion. "Yup," I assured him. "No kidding?" he asked. "No kidding," I assured him. "But anyway," he continued, "Fucking those cheerleaders just wouldn't be right, and I won't do it. You, on the other hand....", he trailed off suggestively. Jumbo may not be the brightest bulb, but he has all the Boy Scout virtues, including integrity and decency, and I adore the hell out of him for that. Actually, there's nothing not to like about Jumbo, except the way he mangles the English language. The first time I met him, my "slut sense" went off like a desperate alarm clock which has just realized that it overslept by an hour or so. And that was before I discovered his ethical virtues. (Oh yeah, my slut sense, let me tell you about that. It's a little gift, a sixth sense I have, like Spiderman's "spider sense", except it's located in my clit and goes off whenever I'm in the presence of a well-endowed stud, even if I haven't had a chance to check out his equipment yet.) "I used to agree with you, Lance" I said, getting a little serious. I mostly call him "Jumbo" when we're fucking, or flirting or just screwing around, "Lance" when I'm being formal or want him to know I'm angry or being sincere. The issue of sex with students was something I had actually agonized over when I first arrived at the school - but not for very long. Being cooped up in a little classroom with fifteen or so big, strong, black, randy, pheromone-spewing 18-year old guys had the little girl between my legs singing and dancing and demanding attention all day long. And how about brushing against dozens of them passing through the crowded school corridors? And having a couple of hundred of them turn to stare at me and make comments under their breath whenever I walk through the lunch room? Fact is, at this school, my panties are soaking wet all day, every day. "At the schools before, and for a very short time, when I first came here, I swore I would never fuck a student," I continued. "Then, when I got here, I gave in, but felt guilty about it at first. Joey, however, taught me not to feel guilty. I would still never fuck a child, but he's no child. He's 18. And he's a smart, responsible and mature 18, too. And so is Anjellika - and a lot of the other cheerleaders. Besides, I'll bet you were 18 once. I know I was and I had sex with every male teacher in my high school. They loved it; I loved it; and no one got hurt, except for maybe a couple of fat, ugly, bitch wives. "If you never fucked any of your teachers, I'm sure you wanted to. Think back to when you were a teenager. Think of the sexiest teacher you ever had." "Miss Gorney," he sighed. "Our personal health teacher. We all called her 'Miss Horny', because that's what she did to us. She was incredibly voluminous." "The word you want is probably 'voluptuous'," I interrupted gently. "Yeah, voluptuous," he continued. "She had the biggest tits and the longest legs and she wore those tight, low-cut v-neck sweaters. I could get hard just thinking about her. In fact, I used to fantasize about her when I was beating off. Then, one day she caught me doing it behind the gym, and it took me a good 10 seconds to realize it was really her, not part of my fantasy, so I just kept on masticating." "You probably mean 'masturbating'," I said. "Probably," he replied. "Anyway, point is, I had such a crush on her." "Okay," I said. "Would it have been so terrible if, when she caught you out there behind the gym, she gave you a blow job, or fucked your brains out, and then maybe met you back there to do it again the week after that? Wouldn't that have been exactly what you wanted? Wouldn't you have learned something from it? And if she said, 'Hey Lance, enough with the nutrient-dense diet and adolescent-appropriate value structure. I'm going to teach you a little something about real women and grown-up relationships,' weren't you mature enough to know that she was like a developmental guide for you, and that she wasn't going to marry you or be your girlfriend forever? And wouldn't you have been grateful to her for the rest of your life? Wouldn't that be a memory you would still cherish?" "Well, if you put it that way..." His voice trailed off as he once more graphically imagined doing with Miss Gorney all the things he had fantasized about 17 years before. "Well, that's all I'm doing with Joey," I said, mostly meaning it. "A little volunteer, after-class, extra-credit instructional assistance." "I don't know," he drawled slowly (the same speed at which he thinks). "I guess I see what you're saying, but maybe we'll just have to agree to disagree." "No one I'd rather disagree with," I replied, noticing that he hadn't wiped the cum off his stomach yet. "Let me take care of that for you," I cooed, and began to sensuously lick the syrupy seed off his 6-pack abs. As I did, I could see his shriveled dick begin to twitch and bloat. I worked my way down to it and turned to face his feet, then swung my leg over his head, aiming my stiffening clit for his talented lips and tongue. Within seconds his big cock was down my throat and quickly getting bigger. His chin was pressed firmly against my pubic tattoo, a small, lacy red heart inscribed with the words "INSERT COCK(S) BELOW." He was trying to say something, but my pussy was jammed so hard against his mouth that he was a little hard to understand. He might have been saying, "Five minutes 'til the bell rings," but then again, it could have been, "I think I'm suffocating." I let his prick slide out of my throat and started tugging on it with both hands. "Plenty of time for me," I said, "But you might want to hurry up a bit." Then I re-filled my mouth with his thick love muscle and sucked as hard as I could. We both came again in less than two minutes. As we were dressing hurriedly, he suddenly stopped and, out of nowhere, asked, "Go to the Prom with me?" I was so surprised I wasn't sure I'd heard him right. I said, "The Prom? You mean that big party that all the seniors go to and the girls get all dressed up like teenage hookers and they dance for a little while and then go to someone's house where the parents get them drunk and let them have an all-night orgy? That Prom?" "I guess that's one way to describe it," he said. I still wasn't sure he was serious, but I decided to play along. "How romantic," I crooned. "I haven't been asked to a Prom since my senior year of high school, when six guys asked me, and I went with all six of them." "I'd really like you to come," he said. "Vice Principal Harwood, Maggie Dryden and I are the faculty chaperones, and we can bring dates. Harwood is bringing his wife, obviously. I assume Maggie's bringing Constance. And I'd like you to come with me. I know you think Maggie is a little prunish, but we don't have to hang out with her." " 'Prudish', Jumbo," I said. "I think you meant that Maggie is 'prudish'. But you know what? At her age and with her wrinkles, maybe 'prunish' works, too." Lance scowled a little. "Okay," I continued. "You're asking me to the Prom. That is sweet," I smiled. "I'd love to, of course. But I'll have to check my calendar to be sure." My real issue was that I was fucking "Jellyroll" Harwood a couple of times a week, and I didn't know if his wife suspected, or whether there might be some risk of confrontation. I've had some nasty scenes with some angry wives over the years, and survived them all. But from what I had heard, Camille Harwood was a big, strong, athletic lady, with a very serious attachment to her husband. And I didn't want this to be the year my luck ran out. So the next time I found myself pulling my panties back on in the Vice Principal's office, I told Jelly about Jumbo's invitation and asked about his wife. He assured me that she didn't have a clue what he was up to with me, and that, anyway, she had never killed or even seriously maimed another woman. So five minutes later, I accepted Jumbo's offer. A few days later, I realized that the Prom might offer a special opportunity to broaden Lance Lightsaber's world view and to enlarge his repertoire of educational techniques. So I asked Anjellika to stay a little after class. The truce between me and Anjellika was still pretty tense and somewhat tentative. Anjellica, you see, is Joey Jurgensen's girlfriend. Joey is the biggest stud in the senior class. Anjellica and I were both fucking Joey several times a week, she much more often than I. While I didn't particularly mind sharing, she wasn't thrilled with it. I think she might even be in love with him. But still, over the course of the school year, Anjellika and I had developed a special relationship, and in a strange way, we saw each other as kindred spirits - two gorgeous sluts with sharp minds and hearts of gold - or something like that. And our relationship had progressed from the spiteful hatred of bitter rivals, to a cautious truce and even to some degree of mutual admiration. So we hatched our little plot and made our Prom plans that day. But little did I know that Anjellika, that conniving, double-crossing, bitch-after-my-own-heart, also had her own little scheme. The two of us spent the next week shopping for Prom dresses together. Some girls like to wear long, flowing gowns to the Prom. But not at War Memorial High School, and not Anjellica, and certainly not yours truly. We looked online at websites like trampwear.com and nymphoflirt.net and we went to dozens of stores. By the time we were done, we knew we would have the two most spectacularly sexy outfits of the evening. My Prom frock was covered in bright, shiny purple sequins from the waist up. It was strapless and sleeveless and cut so low that it showed the tops of my areolae. And there was a heart-shaped cut-out in front which extended from the bottoms of my breasts to 2 inches below my navel.The skirt was multi-layered, puffy, hot pink chiffon, sort of like a tutu, and so short that it didn't even try to cover the bottom of my ass cheeks. My 7-inch stiletto platform pumps matched the purple of the bodice. And I finished it off with opera gloves which were the same pink as my skirt and seamed, fishnet stockings which stopped a few inches below my hemline. Miss Davenport's Prom Night In fact, my outfit was so slutty, I gave myself a huge pair of horns just getting dressed on Prom night. And my makeup, oh... my... god. When I was done, I stood and admired myself in the mirror for a very long time. I looked like a cross between a movie star and a street-walking nympho ballerina in high heels - very high heels. And then I started thinking about all those sex-hungry senior guys being driven crazy by all those senior girls in their flirtatious little dresses and vampy makeup. And me, I was going to drive them especially crazy. And then I started thinking about how big and hard all their black cocks would be, and I just kept getting hotter and wetter and hornier until I couldn't stand it anymore. Lance and I were supposed to be at the Gold Carpet Hotel, where the school had rented the old-fashioned ballroom for the Prom, by 6:00. It's only 10 minute from my place to the hotel, so Jumbo had said he'd pick me up at 5:45. But I got myself so worked up that I tried to call him to get him over early so he could fuck me a few times before we had to leave. I called him at 5:00 and again at 5:10, but I just got his damn answering machine both times. He does have a cell phone, but it's never turned on - never. I called him again at 5:15 and got the frigging recording again. I should have suspected something was up at that point. Jumbo hates talking on the phone. But I was too hot and bothered to spend much time wondering about it. Instead, I stretched out on the bed, spread my legs wide, reached into my panties and took matters into my own hands. I was careful about my best panties, though. They were a gift from an ardent, and very wealthy, admirer. They're made from nearly transparent fabric in the front, but the waist band and thong are real, quite large, high-grade, natural, Tahitian black pearls. I've seen similar ones for sale online, and they have always been priced at more than $5,000. Anyway, I don't think the masturbation helped much. In fact, I'm pretty sure that it simply made the situation worse. I was giving myself the kind of little orgasms that just whet my appetite and make me all the more desperate for the big, satisfying kind that comes from being well fucked by a real man, and especially by a big, black cock. So I quit after three or four, and went into the living room to spend the next 20 minutes watching the Disney Channel, sitting on my hands, legs crossed, waiting impatiently for Jumbo. When he finally knocked on my door, I rushed over, jerked it open and grabbed him by the arm. "Quick, fuck me, and fuck me good," I demanded. Me trying to pull Jumbo Lightsaber through a doorway is like that cartoon where Tweety Bird tries to fly away with an elephant, or like Tinkerbell trying to push Captain Hook overboard, or like...Well, you get the idea. It's a pretty fucking futile exercise. Jumbo held me at arms length to get a good look at me. His lips pursed into a silent whistle, then screwed up into a painful expression. I looked down and saw a large bulge growing quickly behind his zipper. I reached down to massage it gently. He groaned his appreciation. "You look like the Goddess of Sex herself - absolutely pejorative." [I was sure he meant 'provocative', but didn't interrupt him.] And there is nothing I would rather do than drag you down on the living room carpet and stick it in your angina and fuck you..." "Wait a sec, Jumbo," I interrupted. "Where, exactly, are you proposing to stick that lovely piece of man-muscle?" "I'm not p-p-proposing at all," he answered, obviously taken aback and somewhat panic-striken. "Yes, Lance, I know and I'm not interested in getting married, either. But I think you want to stick your cock in my 'vagina'. Va-gina." "Yeah exactly," he continued, obviously relieved. "I may have trouble finding the right words, but what I'd love to do is to fuck your pussy until you're so full of my hot cum that it begins to drool out of your cunt and mouth and ears and nose and every other damn edifice. [Whatever Jumbo lacks in eloquence he certainly makes up in delicate romantic spirit.] "But we have to be at the Prom by 6:00 and it's already 5:50. That damn Anjellika kept me on the phone for a half an hour with a shitload of silly questions - something about an article she is writing for the school newspaper about what it's like to be a Prom chaperon. "We just can't be late for the Prom. Harwood is counting on us. The school's counting on us. [There's that damn Boy Scout virtue again.] But I promise, after things get started and are going smoothly, we can leave Harwood and Maggie in charge and slip away for a little while. Maybe even rent a room. It is a hotel, after all." So there was nothing to be done about it. It was the first time in my life that I had asked a heterosexual man to fuck me and been turned down, but I would have to live with it. If the plan that Anjellika and I had hatched worked, I seriously doubted that Jumbo and I would "slip away" anywhere. And I assumed that Harwood would be pretty much spoken for. So I'd be on my own. It was beginning to look like a very long night. I wondered briefly why Anjellika had felt it necessary to keep Lance on the phone for so long. But I really had no idea and gave up quickly. Jellyroll and Camille were already at the Gold Carpet when we arrived, as were Maggie, an elderly spinster who teaches Latin, and her "date" and roommate, Constance, who teaches Human Ecology (which is what we used to call "Home Economics"). I briefly considered trying to make some excuse to pry Jelly loose for long enough to get his prick shoved into me. You know, some made up, confidential matter of student discipline, or something. But Camille was everything her reputation advertised - real good-looking, fashionably dressed, tall and wiry. And, as soon as she saw me, she grabbed her husband's arm and plastered herself all over him like Saran Wrap on Aunt Betsy's best meatloaf. Then she pointed her chin at me, narrowed her eyes and gave me a little smirk that said, "Just try it, white bitch." So I had to wait. I stood there within easy reach of Jumbo Lightsaber and Jellyroll Harwood and greeted the seniors as they came in - the girls looking like a troop of tricked-up bimbos, and the guys staring at me, giving me little winks and kissy-face pantomimes. At one point, Jumbo caught me returning Denzel's smoochy-face and shook his head and scowled at me disapprovingly. But I couldn't really help myself. I was getting hornier and hornier. My slut sense was going completely bonkers every time a halfway hung hunk walked by. And at least flirting with the studs allowed me to fool myself into thinking that I might get fucked some time soon. The alternative to was simply to start screaming in frustration. But then Anjellika and Joey arrived. She was wearing the dress we had picked out together. And it was even more devastatingly provocative than I had expected. It was bright red, which perfectly set off her cafe-au-lait complexion and bleached, honey-blond hair. It was every bit as short and low cut as my own. And the tight, lightweight fabric of the bodice allowed her stiff nipples to announce exactly how available she was for whatever kind of sex the boys might have in mind. Plus she had somehow managed to find shoes with heels that were even higher than mine. In fact, she looked like a walking (or more accurately, a strutting) porn site promo. However, it was Joey, of course, who grabbed my attention and held it like a dog with a bone. My slut sense was screeching and shouting and making my clit shimmy and twitch like a spastic break-dancer. I think I might actually have been drooling. But Anjellika, that scheming floozy, gave me a nudge and a wink to remind me that it was time for our little plot to come to fruition. So as soon as most of the seniors had arrived, Jelly and Camille and Jumbo and I headed for our seats at the faculty table, which was located at the far end of the large ballroom. But, on the way, I made what I thought would be a quick detour to the Ladies' Room. At a T intersection in the corridor there was a sign pointing left for the Men's Room, right for the Ladies'. As I turned right, I heard a jingling sound, accompanied by a familiar growl and groan from the other direction. I turned slowly and there was Joey, his pants around his ankles, head back and eyes squeezed tightly shut. Anjellika's fat, bright pink lips were wrapped tightly around his fat, black cock and her heavily-rouged cheeks were hollowed as she sucked hard on it. Joey's strong hands were under her thick, teased-up hair, gripping the back of head tightly. She was on her knees, her eyes open and staring up at him. The jingling I had heard was her long, heavy, rhinestone-studded, silver chandelier earrings bouncing as she moved her head vigorously up and down on Joey's huge boner. When she heard me, Anjellika quickly turned her head in my direction without letting her ebony fuck toy slip out of her gorgeous mouth. Her angry scowl said, 'What the fuck you doing here, bitch'? Before I had time to react, Joey's low groaning became a series of quick, loud grunts. Anjellika turned back toward him, took him even further into her gorgeous mouth and began swallowing as fast as she could. But Joey's outpouring of hot, sticky semen was too much for even an eager and experienced slut like Anjellika. Before long, she was choking quietly and Joey's syrupy seed was drooling from her mouth and dangling in long, viscous strings from her chin. I watched desperately, wanting to rush over and lap up as much of his pungent cum as possible. I would have licked it off Anjellika's pretty face if she would have let me. But I knew she wouldn't. And I knew she would bitterly resent the intrusion on her time with Joey. In any case, I was pretty sure that, if I didn't leave quickly and quietly, I was risking an all-out bitch battle with one of the toughest bitches at a school known throughout the city for having some of the fiercest floozies this side of the mythical Amazons. So I slunk silently over to the Ladies' Room and furiously masturbated one more time, knowing full well it wasn't really going to help, then found Lance at the faculty table. The poor, old Gold Carpet had seen better days. Over the years, the neighborhood in which it was located had gone steadily downhill. The expensive, little, high-end specialty shops had become pawn shops, strip joints and porno parlors. But on the plus side, you could get your welfare check cashed on any corner. No, the Gold Carpet is not the Ritz anymore, but it does have a big and formerly splendid ballroom and it was the best the school could do. The band was already up on the little stage. Apparently they had been instructed to start playing as soon as the faculty sat down, and I guess they were waiting for me. The sexual tension in that room was so electric, you could almost hear it sizzle and pop. The girls were hanging on the boys and the boys were groping the girls and they were all just waiting for the music to have an excuse to press their bodies against each other and take it to the next level. The band began their first number as I took my seat. They were a versatile, local five-man group, all black of course, and they were actually pretty good. The first tune was a nice, melodic, slow number, so I waited until Anjellika and Joey appeared, and then, as Anjellika and I had planned, I grabbed Jumbo and dragged him out onto the dance floor. He held me close and I could feel his cock quickly stiffen as I rubbed against it with my hips. He groaned and I spread my legs slightly and began to grind my clit against his thigh. I'm sure that every couple on the floor was doing pretty much the same thing. While Jumbo and I danced and did our best to keep our hands out from under each other's clothing, I saw Joey and Anjellika get up and begin to sway back and forth and kiss in an obscene ballet of grabbing and caressing, slobbering, snuggling and fondling. That sweet stud was already horny again. It was, I thought jealously, a real testament to Anjellica's charms. I ground my clit harder against Jumbo's leg, looked up at him and offered him my lips. He looked around to see if anyone was watching. He saw the Harwoods smiling at him and, turning back to me, shook his head slightly instead of accepting my offer. When the song was over, Jumbo acted as though he was ready to sit down, but I begged for one more dance. The next number was another slow one. Joey and Anjellika were still out there, too and, after a minute or so, we found ourselves right next to them. Joey loosened his tight embrace of Anjellika, stopped dancing (if that's what you can call the almost-fucking in which they had been engaged) and tapped Jumbo on his shoulder. Jumbo turned around in surprise. "Yes, Joey, what is it?" he asked cautiously. "This is what you call 'cutting in', isn't it?" he asked. "I've never done it before, but I've seen 'em do it in the old movies. I'd like to dance with Ms. Davenport, and that's how you do it, right?" "Dance with Ms. Davenport?" Jumbo seemed skeptical, and probably somewhat jealous - good old Jumbo. "She's a teacher. You can't do that. Not at the Prom." "Why not," Joey responded. "Yes, Lance, why not?" I asked. "Because he's probably going to try to maul you the way he was just molesting poor Anjellika," Jumbo shot back, staring at Joey, his initial caution having turned to outright suspicion. "You mean worse than the way you were mauling me?" I whispered, then added out loud, "Joey's a gentleman and he'd never embarrass me like that." I moved away from Jumbo. Reluctantly, he let go and handed me over to Joey, who smiled and held me politely, making only slight contact. We danced sedately toward the other side of the room, leaving Jumbo and Anjellika staring awkwardly at each other. Her red dress was so low cut, it seemed to be held up by some sort of feminine magic. But it was her long, shapely legs - nothing short of spectacular in that short dress - that really grabbed the boys' attention. And Jumbo certainly noticed them, because, although I was the initial inspiration for that big lump in his pants, it wasn't getting any smaller now that he was alone with Anjellika. Although I couldn't hear them, I could see that they were talking. She looked away from Jumbo as if somewhat mortified. But she made sure to thrust those small, pert tits and their big, stiff nipples in his direction. Anjellika had already told me what she would say: "That was pretty embarrassing. It looks like Joey just dumped me for an AP English teacher. Maybe you could dance with me for a little while, so it looks like maybe it was your idea, not his." Or something like that. Sure enough, before Joey and I were twenty feet from them, Jumbo was taking Anjellika politely in his arms and dancing respectfully. He was always a sucker for the "damsel in distress" routine. That's when I knew that the plan I had made with Anjellika was underway. What I didn't know was that Anjellika and Joey had also hatched their own double-crossing scheme, which was now in progress as well. But let me take a minute to tell you about Joey. He was one of the smartest and best students in my class. He was also a football star (the goalie or quarterback or something). But his best sport is basketball, and he had accepted a full athletic scholarship at UVA for the fall. He'd actually been accepted at Princeton, too, but they don't give athletic scholarships, and UVA was the academically strongest school to offer him a full ride. However, best of all from my point of view, Joey has an enormous slab of black meat between his legs, and he was a tender and compassionate lover - usually. But that day, as you'll see, not so much. "You and Anjellika are both looking super-hot tonight," Joey whispered softly. "You should shop together more often." His warm, sweet breath in my ear just stoked the sexual fires which had been smoldering for the last two hours or so. "I think Anjellika's going to be busy with Mr. Lightsaber for awhile," I whispered back. "Maybe you and I could slip away for a few minutes and scratch this little itch I've got." I straddled his right leg with all the subtlety I could muster and began to rub my clit against it. I could feel that he was pretty excited, too. I reached for his zipper, but he grabbed my wrist and prevented me from yanking it down right there on the dance floor. "Sorry, Ms. Davenport, ma'am," he grinned. "I promised Anjellica that I'd keep an eye on how things went with her.She wanted me to be available to keep her company in case Coach Lightsaber dumps her after the first dance" "But we can still have some fun while I keep my promise," he added. The faculty table was near the bandstand, and he turned so this back was to both of them and most of the other dancers. I could feel one hand slip under my short skirt, cup my ass cheek and pull me more tightly against his muscular leg. He leaned down and pressed his lips against mine. I opened my mouth eagerly and he thrust his tongue in and began to explore. Then the strong, thick fingers of his other hand found the pearls of my thong and began rolling one against my hungry anus. Instinctively, my asshole opened and swallowed the smooth pearl and the first two knuckles of his finger. I gasped with pleasure and ground my crotch harder against his thigh as I felt an orgasm begin to build. "Oh, God, no. Not here. Not like this. Take me someplace and fuck me properly," I groaned. My eyes darted quickly around the ballroom. I got a quick peek at Jumbo and Anjellica. I was too excited to pay much attention to them, but I did notice that she had settled comfortably into his arms. And he was holding her tightly, apparently having already surrendered to her considerable sexual witchery. Joey and I had moved to the back edge of the dance floor, so Harwood and his wife and Maggie and her roommate couldn't see us, nor could most of the other dancers. But a few students, all black guys, and mostly close friends of Joey, were watching us. That didn't seem strange at first. I know what a bunch of voyeurs high school boys are. However, they could obviously see exactly what Joey and I were doing, and they were leering, laughing and whispering to each other. Later, I realized that the absence of their dates should have triggered suspicion on my part. But, at that point, I was too befuddled by frustrated lust to think clearly. "I need you to take me upstairs or outside or into a fucking broom closet and stick your cock up there, not your stupid fingers or a silly, little pearl," I whined quietly into his ear. But Joey ignored me as his fingers found another pearl and pushed it into my impatient asshole, along with two of his thick, strong fingers. The thong on which the pearls are strung has some elasticity, and I've always trusted Joey. But I still had a brief vision of him stretching the thong to the breaking point and $5,000 worth of Tahitian black pearls bouncing around on the Gold Carpet's worn dance floor, while some dancers tried to scoop them up, and others slipped on them, taking Chevy Chase pratfalls. But those fears were quickly washed away by my approaching climax. I groaned again and squeezed my eyes tightly shut, imagining that it was his hard cock crowding its way into my rectum, not a couple of pearls and his sturdy fingers. Meanwhile, Joey was fanning the flame of my passion by whispering really dirty suggestions into my ear. "You love black cock, don't you? Yeah, you know you do, you bitch. And the whole school knows it, too. Imagine me and my whole black-ass posse taking turns fucking your tight, bleached-white, little asshole with our bloated, black cocks," he said as he finger-and-pearl fucked it. Miss Davenport's Prom Night I was nearly swooning with excitement. I wanted to scream, Yes, do it! Stop talking and just do it! "Remember when four of us stuck you good in the third-floor boys room?" he continued. "Of course you do. It was the best day of your life, wasn't it? But we could do even better than that. It could be six or seven of us. All with huge, rock-hard, black monster-cocks. Maybe two in your ass at the same time, with more cocks in your sweet, pink pussy and in your greedy, drooling mouth. Imagine us blasting you with loads of our sticky, gooey, hot, black-stud semen. Then imagine us doing it all again." I vaguely noticed that several of the friends who had been watching before had now lined up between us and the other couples, completely blocking anyone at the tables or on the rest of the dance floor (but not the band, because they were up a little higher) from any view of Joey and me. Every one of those 18 year-old, black sex maniacs (a/k/a, Joey's "posse") was leering at me, with bulging trousers and a big, shit-eating grin on his faces, as if I were the sex-show-du-jour, which apparently I was. And judging from the snake dance going on behind the zippers of the jeans of every member of the band, they were enjoying the view just as much as Joey's friends. I just kept rutting on Joey's thigh, smearing my cunt juice all over his smooth pants. I opened my eyes wide as a moderately intense orgasm hit, then then closed them tight and clenched my teeth to muffle the grunts and gasps as it washed over me, wave after thrilling wave. Not the big one I needed, but still delicious, and providing at least some temporary relief from the frantic sex-frenzy which had gripped me for the last two hours. I was about to half-sarcastically thank Joey, when I noticed that the music had stopped and his posse had broken formation and were now wandering a little and talking quietly in little clumps, but still watching me closely. "What's going on?" I asked suspiciously. "Going on? Going on? Nothing's going on. We just had a pleasant dance and you came like a crazy, white nympho-whore, all over my leg. That's all," he said, through his own shit-eating smirk. "A spectacle like that deserves an appreciative audience, don't you think." But before I could reply, Denzel stepped up and tapped Joey on the shoulder. "May I have the next dance?" Denzel addressed me with exaggerated refinement. "That is, if your dance card is not already full." "I'd rather you take me upstairs and stick your cock into my cunt like a real man," I answered with a lot less refinement. "Oh, now, now, patience is a virtue, you know," Denzel scolded. "First things, first," Joey admonished. "I just need a little courtship, a little romance, before the sex feels right," Denzel added with feigned tenderness, taking me politely in his arms, as Joey walked away. "We call this next one 'Teacher's Pet'," the band leader crooned over the music, leering in our direction. "We wrote it in honor of National Pet-a-Teacher Day." With the phalanx of Joey's posse having temporarily scattered, Denzel and I danced in a restrained and almost courtly manner. I could see most of the room. Jumbo was now dancing with Ebonnie, one of the other cheerleaders. She's tall and slender with large breasts, fine features and a dark, luminous complexion. She was nuzzling him, apparently nibbling at his neck. She had a good grip on his butt with one hand. And she was fairly subtle about it, but I was pretty sure that she had his fly down and her other hand in his pants, yanking away at his big, adorable love-muscle. Jumbo was evidently enjoying it immensely. But, at the same time, he was obviously distracted by several other senior members of the cheerleading squad, each sexier than a men's mag fold-out, who were watching them and making suggestive eye contact with him. At the far end of the room I could see Camille watching Jumbo, then glancing at me, then looking back to Jumbo. She was clearly both confused and excited by what she saw. She grabbed Jelly's arm and began whispering to him in a very animated way, without looking away from Jumbo. The last thing I saw as Denzel held me tighter and the the posse resumed its position blocking my view of the rest of the room, was Camille staring at me and shoving Jelly toward the door. My assumption, later confirmed by the Vice Principal, was that Camille found what the seniors were doing with me and Jumbo so arousing that she needed him to take her out to their car to fuck her brains out. And, as Jelly said, "I never argue with a wet pussy, especially when it belongs to Camille." Denzel's politeness didn't last long after the screen of lustful, black studs was back in place. I don't know if you've ever seen a young couple doing the dance they call "the grind", but before the band got to the refrain of the song Denzel had us doing the grind on steroids. He stood between my legs and slipped both big hands under the back of my skirt, then grabbed my ass cheeks, pulling me tightly against his big, firm erection and began to rub it hard against my throbbing clit. I, of course, rubbed back enthusiastically. What else could a girl do under those circumstances? Then, holding my hips tightly against him with one arm, he used the other hand to pull the bodice of my dress down over my painfully stiff nipples, and then began twirling my left nip while nibbling at the nape of my neck. I moaned as the warmth in my loins spread and nudged my cock-lust up from "urgent" to "desperate". I reached for Denzel's fly, but he grabbed my wrist and spun me around so that he was behind me. He reached around me with both strong, black arms, pinning my arms against my sides. Then he slid both hands under my skirt and into my panties and, with his stiff prick still in his pants, pressed it between the cheeks of my ass and against my sensitive anus. I gasped in sudden pleasure as the fingers of one of his powerful hands found and began to massage my swollen clit. Meanwhile, the fingers of his other hand searched for the opening of my love tunnel, which wasn't at all hard to find. At the same time, he continued his "dance", grinding his mighty rod against my ravenous asshole in time to the music. "Oh, please fuck me! Please, please, please," I pleaded. "I need your black cock shoved up my ass," I begged, leaning forward a little, as if he were about to jam it in. "And then I need another black cock stuffed into my sweet, little, white pussy. And then I need to be fucked by more black cocks after that. I really, really need it! I really do!!" I was getting louder and louder, but so was the band. Just to be sure no one could hear me, Joey moved over in front of me and pressed his lips against mine in a rough and sloppy kiss. He kept it up for awhile and then put his hand over my mouth until Terrance could take his place and continue the silencing smooch. After him came Reginald and then Jamal. In the meantime, Denzel had slipped two of his thick fingers into my cunt, and was thrusting them in and out with the rhythm of the song. "Not... just...two," I panted between Reginald's and Jamal's attacks on my lips, needing something larger in my manhole. "Squeeze in... three.. then.. four... Whole hand... will... fit." "Sorry, Miss. Davenport, ma'am," Denzel whispered in my ear. I couldn't see him, but I was sure he was grinning sadistically. "That would be too much like really getting fucked. And we're just not ready to do that for you yet......Miss Davenport, ma'am." And he kept squeezing, stroking, massaging my throbbing, rock-hard clit. I tried to scream in frustration, but Reginald and Jamal were there to muffle me, first with their cruel kisses, then by forcing me to lean forward even more and pressing their puffed-up pricks, still hidden in their pants, against my cock-craving mouth. And that's what put me over the edge. I was imagining Denzel's enormous brown bayonet stuck all the way up my ass, while fantasizing about swallowing Reginald's and Jamal's giant, dark dicks whole, as I alternated between trying to gnaw my way through their pants and attempting to pull their zippers down with my teeth. It snuck up on me. And suddenly, as the song reached its climax, I reached mine. Again orgasm rolled over me. But again, the black boys' callous refusal to give me their rigid, ebony hardons ultimately left me bitterly unsatisfied. I had barely finished cumming when the next song started. This one was a little more up-tempo. Denzel let go of me and Joey's brainy pal, Cedric, stepped in quickly and wrapped me up in his thick, dark arms. Through a brief opening in the posse-shield, I caught a glimpse of Jumbo taking a new dance partner, a cute, red-headed, Afro-Asian slut, named Jazz-min. Cedric stepped between my slightly spread legs and pressed his over-sized erection against my sopping panties, grinding in time to the music. Reflexively, I spread my legs further, but moaned, "Oh please! No more dancing! You've got to shove that hard, black thing into me. Please. We'll get a room and all go upstairs and fuck all night!" But Cedric just grinned, then said, "A room? For what? If I'm not mistaken, Miss Davenport, you're more of a back alley kind of slut." And pushing me firmly, but gently backward, he added, "Aren't you, Miss Davenport?" I had to admit he had a point. To me, the most romantic places in the world are dirty men's rooms reeking of stale urine, the back seats of old cars and dark, trash-strewn alleyways. As Cedric pushed me back, I found myself leaning against another well-muscled male body. He lifted my short, chiffon skirt and, although his large, stiff prick remained in his pants, I could feel it pressed hard between my ass cheeks. Ever since that first dance with Joey, the guys had been gradually moving me away from the bandstand, toward the far end of the ballroom, where a big set of doors, currently closed, led to the hotel lobby. Cedric crowded forward. I stumbled back and I felt the fellow behind me hit the wall next to one of the doors. I found myself delightfully crushed between the two big, strong, randy males with their rock hard slut-pleasers. They pressed hard, rubbing their erect monsters against my cunt and asshole, keeping rhythm with the band. But I still wasn't getting fucked. I spread my legs further, hoping it might inspire them to actually stick something into me. But no, they just kept grinding. Over Cedric's shoulder, I could see the band leader leering at me. In fact, all five of the band members continued to watch us intently, their tight pants still sporting conspicuous bulges. From the height and bulk of the guy behind me, I figured it was probably Joey's slightly dim friend, Robert, a gentle, coal-black giant, who at 6'4" and 250 pounds was a stalwart of the football team. "Robert? Robert? Is that you? You're a good kid, I know. You'll put me out of misery, right? Just take that big, hard cock out of your pants and stick it up my ass. It's not difficult. You've done it before. Your wonderful cock is so long, so thick, so shiny black, so gorgeous. I love your cock, I really do. Stick it all the way up, until you can't push it in any further. I know you want to. And you'll do it for me, won't you?" "Yes, Ms. Davenport, ma'am," came back Robert's deep voice. "You know there's nothing I like better than fucking you up your ass. I'll do it for you....when it's time. Right now, I'm kind of enjoying making you squirm, so you feel sort of like the way I feel before an English test, you know what I mean?" "JEEEEZ-USSSS," I wailed in frustration. "What's the matter with you perverted bastards? Just fuck me. Right here. Right now. All of you. Right out on the dance floor in front of everyone. Every hole I've got. I don't care anymore. Let everyone see what a slut I am. They all know already. Pleeeeeze! Pleeeeeze!!! I'm a teacher and I order you to fuck me. If you don't....." Cedric, interrupted me, "I've read the War Memorial High School Code of Conduct and Student Handbook from cover to cover, all 178 pages, and I don't think you can order us to fuck you. What are you going to do if we refuse? Send us to detention?" "And I don' think you can discipline us for this, either," he added, nodding to Robert, "because I'm afraid you're getting a little too loud." I felt Robert's gigantic hand slide carefully across my mouth to keep me quiet. "After all," Cedric continued, "given your repeated use of profanities and the volume at which you have insisted on expressing your opinions, we're merely implementing the requirement to 'maintain the civility and decorum necessary to pursue the academic and social goals of War Memorial High School at all times and all school functions' as set out at Section III, Chapter...." "Oh, shut the fuck up," growled Robert. "Okay," Cedric responded, but then kept on anyway. "We're not going to fuck you quite yet, But we can do this for you." And he stopped rubbing and started thrusting, pounding on my cunt and grunting as if he were really fucking me. Robert giggled a little and began to do the same from behind. That was too much and I sort of snapped. I began struggling, trying to get loose. I don't know what I thought I was going to do if I did get loose - yank all their pants off and impale myself on their hidden cocks, I suppose. Of course, I had zero chance of escaping from Cedric and Robert, but Joey must have become concerned that the little tussle might attract attention to this end of the room. I saw him nod his head to a little alcove to my right, and my dance partners dragged me over there, where we would be completely out of view from the bandstand end. The alcove looked like it had been a place for waiters to set up in the days when the ballroom sometimes doubled as a banquet hall. It was about 8 feet square. One side was open to the ballroom and there were doors on two of the other sides. One door probably led to the kitchen. The other had a bright red "EXIT" sign above it. At the time, It was hard to know for sure how many of those fine, young men were packed into that little alcove with me because my head was swimming with lust. But looking back, I'm pretty sure I remember Joey, Denzel, Jamal, Cedric, Robert, Reginald and Terrance all being there - a total of seven, or put another way, approximately 1,500 pounds of good-looking boy beef and, more importantly, almost exactly seven and a half feet of stiff, black love muscle. As soon as we were in the alcove, I saw Jumbo walk quickly past, Anjellika, Ebonnie and another dazzling slut, named Asia, hanging on his arms. Several other senior cheerleaders, including Jazz-min, were packed tightly around them. I made a token effort to pull the top of my dress back up to cover my tits. The girls I recognized as they passed were all the dates of guys who were ganging up on me. So I have to assume that Jumbo had seven little girlfriends, too. They were headed toward the hotel's elevators. The plan that Anjellica and I had hatched involved reserving a room at the hotel, and I had no doubt that is where the group was heading. Anjellika gave me a big grin which seemed to say, I'm enjoying the hell out of our plot. I hope you're enjoying mine. Jumbo also flashed me a quick, broad grin, and his seemed to say, Okay, I give up. You were right. Then he shouted over the music, "It's a Revlonation!" I was too distracted to give it much thought. I assumed, at the time, that he meant it was a "revelation'." But later I wondered if he might have been commenting on the amount of slutty makeup worn by his crew of little playmates. When I asked him about it the next day, he said he was so delirious with lust at the time that he didn't even remember what he said, and certainly not what he meant. As soon as Jumbo and his entourage of slutty little cheerleader-tramps had passed, Cedric pushed me back against one of the walls. The bodice of my skimpy dress had long since slid down over my pink nipples, which were as big and hard as .22 caliber bullets. The seven guys formed a tight semi-circle around me. Robert removed his hand from my mouth and Denzel began to smother it with wet, messy, tongue-lashing kisses. I kissed back eagerly and reached for his zipper, hoping that they had pulled me into the alcove to finally fuck me. Joey grabbed the waist band of my panties, and said quietly, "I'd better take charge of these." I stepped out of the pearl panties impatiently and Joey placed them carefully in his pocket. I thought, When a real gentleman fucks a lady, he takes good care of her pearl panties, and I also thought, YES, at last. They are going to fuck me. I may have been right about the former, but I was so very wrong about the latter. They proceeded to pass me around the semi-circle, each in turn pressing his mouth against mine with obscene abandon, thrusting his tongue deep into my mouth to wrestle with my tongue while grabbing, carressing and poking all my most private parts. Then that guy would turn me or swing me or spin me like a ballerina over to the next eager stud. And every few seconds, I would find myself smooching a different set of lips, experiencing a new nipple-sucking technique and being caressed and probed and stabbed in different places by new fingers. After a couple of times round, the semi-circle collapsed and they swarmed tightly around me. Jamal was sucking and nibbling on one of my stiff nipples. It was already so swollen it felt like it might burst, and his attentions only made it harder and bigger. Joey took the other nipple. Reginald slid his hand between my legs, firmly grasped my bloated clit and started twirling it gently with his sturdy fingers. I let out a muffled whoop of sudden pleasure. Meanwhile, Terrance reached behind me and poked two burly fingers past my tight, sensitive sphincter and into my rectum. And Robert squeezed his hand past Reginald's and forced a couple of his huge fingers into my slippery, cock-starved pussy. Cedric was nuzzling the nape of my neck and running his hands all over any part of my body he could reach around the others. I was completely surrounded by manly, hard, black flesh. It pressed against me from all sides, rubbing me, kissing me, fondling me. I no longer had any idea whose fingers were in my asshole or whose lips were teasing my earlobes. Those heartless, black bastards then proceeded to give me three or four more fast orgasms. I was too angry and too frustrated to count. I demanded that they stop screwing around and start screwing me properly by sticking their big, black cocks into me. "It's not fair," I whimpered. "I'm entitled to be fucked honestly, fucked the right way, fucked like a real man fucks a woman, without being subjected to this touchy, smoochy, lesbian finger-fucking crap." "You don't got no bitch rights tonight, bitch," Robert answered sternly. 'It's Prom night. Only seniors got rights. Only us. And we'll fuck you when we're good and ready to fuck you. And until then, you're just gonna hafta suffer! Got it, bitch?" Now I'm not generally the submissive type. I like to be in charge in my classroom. And I like to be in charge in the bedroom, the ballroom, the locker room, the men's room, the back seat of a car or wherever else the opportunity for sex presents itself. But on this particular night, in this particular place, placing myself in the hands of this particular gang of seven young, strong, handsome black men and submitting to their every smutty, sexual whim or impulse seemed so natural, so exciting so incandescently sensual, that I couldn't resist. I closed my eyes while they continued to crowd in upon me, smothering me with erotic pleasure and threatening to crush me like a fragile flower pressed between the pages of a hefty, black book. I pictured the macho horde of African studs as 14 disembodied hands, pawing and molesting me with 140 disembodied fingers violating all my most precious, intimate places. I imagined 7 thick sets of lips caressing every sensitive spot on my body and 7 wet, pink tongues licking all the places that needed to be licked. I drifted into an imaginary place place which was half heaven, half hell - half excitement and arousal beyond anything I had ever experienced, and half frustration and torment that was equally extreme.