Stacy’s senior year

"I don’t think so," he answered. "At least not right away. We don’t want to burn her out. Let’s leave it for something special. We are selling them this tape though; they’re paying another hundred bucks for it."

"That’s five hundred bucks." Neil tore his attention away from the screen. "A lot of money." He looked up at Gary.

"Don’t worry," his friend answered, smiling his strange smile. "You’ll get a share. Sharon gave forty dollars to Stacy, so that leaves $460 to split three ways."

Neil raised his eyebrows. "Forty dollars to Stacy?"

"Well," Sharon laughed, "she deserved something. She did all the work."

The three friends laughed and went back to watching the video. It was coming to the end now, and Stacy was being simultaneously fucked by three guys, one in the ass, one in her cunt and one in her mouth. She moaned and wriggled as her body was filled with cock from three different angles. Finally, the three cocks came, each spurting sperm into its particular orifice as Stacy orgasmed twice more. The video faded to black as Stacy, wet and crusty with cum, curled up on the damp, sticky mattress, still moaning and sucking the sperm from her fingers.

"That was great!" Neil leaned forward and shut of the television. "Just like being there."

"Well, I hope the guys on the football team are happy with it. They’re paying for it." Sharon stopped the video and pushed the rewind button on the remote. The tape began to whirl backwards in the video machine.

Neil got to his feet and began to pace.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, "we could make a lot more money out of this if we wanted. I bet there are people who would pay big bucks for this tape; I mean besides the guys from the college."

"Not this tape," Gary answered. "It’s just for the guys at BCN. The last thing we need is the bloody college football team coming after us. But I have given that some thought."

Sharon looked over at him, surprised. This was the first that she had heard of it.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," he told her, "why not make a little money selling some pictures?"

"Like the video?" Neil asked.

"No. I don’t think that we can put together a professional enough product for that. This tape was OK as a souvenir for the guys at the college, but we have no way of editing it or anything else. I mean still pictures." He looked over at Sharon. "You’re uncle let you use his studio last year, right?"

Sharon nodded her agreement, begi

"So, with the studio and darkroom…"

"We can take professional shots!" Neil completed the sentence. "It’s fuckin' perfect."

"But what about selling them?" Sharon was sceptical. There was more to this than just taking the pictures.

"I’ve been communicating with some photographers over a BBS," Gary told her.

Neil looked confused. "BBS?"

Gary ignored him. "I expect I can get some contacts through them. Or at least some addresses. I’m sure there are lots of magazines which would pay good money for pictures of someone like Stacy."

"And what do we tell Stacy?" Sharon was still sceptical. "We told her we’d keep this all a secret if she played along." Sharon was more curious than concerned. Their promise to Stacy meant nothing to her.

"No." Gary smiled."We told her that we wouldn’t release the tapes of her cheating on the English exam and fucking with Neil. We said nothing about any pictures we might take in the future. Besides, we won’t be selling these pictures to mainstream magazines. I doubt anyone in town will see them. Including Stacy. Probably."

"Well… OK." Sharon was convinced. "I’ll set it up with my uncle for later this week."

"Fuckin A!" Neil was excited. "I can’t wait."

Stacy’s short skirt was once again bunched up around her waist. Her sleek legs were spread wide, and wrapped around the bulky form of Bob Pearson as he pistoned his cock brutally in and out of her dry pussy. They were in one of the supply rooms at Greenwood; Stacy’s ass was propped up on a narrow shelf and her back was against the wall as Barry fucked her. In vain, she tried to re-discover some of the excitement of the previous weekend up at BCN. Her responses that night had been more than a little degrading, but at least she had been able to deal with the sex without this pain; perhaps even get a little enjoyment out of it.

No matter how hard she tried, however, she was unable to feel anything other than the intense pain of the ordeal, as Barry’s large cock sawed in and out of her raw pussy.

Please, she thought wearily as he panted and grunted his lust, please come!

Just let it be over.

As instructed, Stacy showed up at the photography studio at 8:00 PM two nights later. The mid-December weather was unusually cold, and she was wearing a heavy denim jacket over her jeans and sweater. She was, however, carrying a duffel bag which contained some clothing of a less practical nature. Sharon had ordered Stacy to bring along various items of apparel, such as underwear, stockings, short skirts and, in particular, a couple of swimsuits from last year’s swim team. Stacy had been apprehensive, but she was now pretty much past the stage of arguing or pleading. It never did any good. All that mattered was that she reach number sixty-five before the end of the year. She had managed number fifteen earlier that day (her pussy still ached); only fifty more to go! At her wrist, the rapidly filling charm bracelet attested to her "success".

The studio itself was basically a large, high-ceilinged single room with a cloth backdrop against the rear wall. The backdrop was a neutral white, designed to take on the hue of whatever colored light was being directed at it. There was a long metal bar on the ceiling which held a number of different lights set there for this purpose. The floor in front of the backdrop was covered by a dark mat. In front of this mat was another bank of lights, not colored, and a camera. At the back of the room was a wooden door with a red light hanging above it; a small sign identified it as the darkroom.

"Stacy."

Gary walked up to her as she stood by the door, put his arm over her shoulder, and directed her into the room. Stacy shuddered slightly at his touch, but allowed herself to be led. Sharon, standing behind the camera, looked over and smirked. There was a belch from the back of the room; Stacy looked over and saw Neil, sitting back against the wall with his feet propped up on a small table and a beer in his hand. He gri

Sharon made a small adjustment to the camera, and then walked over to where Gary had begun emptying out the contents of Stacy’s duffel bag onto the floor.

"Let’s see what we’ve got," she muttered, sorting through the clothes. Stacy watched, numb and frightened, as Sharon and Gary sorted through the various items of apparel, rejecting some and laughing at others.

"Don’t forget this stuff." Neil had left his seat and was approaching with another bag, the contents of which he dumped onto the floor beside Stacy’s clothes. It contained a number of leather and rubber outfits, including, Stacy noted queasily, the outfit she had worn up at BCN last weekend. She swallowed, fighting to keep her features impassive; she had resolved not to let them see her cry again.

Finally, they were done. Gary looked up at her.

"You know what’s going on?" He gestured towards the camera.

Stacy nodded reluctantly.