The Ceremony

The Ceremony

"Okay, class. Pay attention to the demonstration." Mr. Mason's booming voice echoed around the school gymnasium. The whistle around his neck was a pendulum, swinging ominously over the ass of the cute, blonde-haired teenager that was bent over in front of him. "Your friend here is gonna show you all how this is supposed to be done. Are you ready, sweetheart?"

The young girl's voice warbled nervously in reply. "Y-yes Mr. Mason."

Her name was Chloe; she'd been my best friend for eighteen years. We had been inseparable since were kids, so we knew each other inside and out. I could tell her anything in the world, no matter how weird it was. Even with that familiarity between us, she was unrecognizable in her current position.

Chloe was on her on her hands and knees waiting for Mr. Mason--our homeroom teacher, thirty years her senior--to introduce her to the unique ritual that made our quaint village so prosperous. It was called, quite simply, "The Ceremony."

I sat on the sidelines with my other classmates, as though we were watching a basketball game. Most of us had never ventured further than a kiss with our significant others, but thanks to The Ceremony,, that abstinence was inevitably temporary.

The boys were excited, as expected. Some of the girls were excited, too, but most of us cringed at the thought of such an intimate act taking place while our long-time schoolmates gawked. Since our village was small, we had all known each other since we were very young. The tight-knit bonds we'd formed were being tested by that historically tumultuous day.

Inside the gymnasium, there were twelve blue leather mats neatly arranged in a row by the sidelines in front of us. Chloe and Mr. Mason were on the center mat, putting the spotlight directly on my anxious friend with nowhere for her to hide. The whole point of the demonstration was to allow our inexperienced eyes some guidance on how to proceed when it was our turn.

The partner that had been assigned to Chloe, Thomas, was unable to attend The Ceremony. With her original partner unavailable, Mr. Mason became her only option. Naturally, he'd decided to use his expertise to give us a formal demonstration. Unlike us, he knew what he was doing.

Some of the girls held each other's hands, unified in their apprehension, while the more rambunctious boys shoved each other with unrestrained enthusiasm. They were so eager for their turn that they were ready to leap out of their skins.

I knew Chloe hated having so many prying eyes watching her, but it was something every woman in my village had gone through. If we wanted to prosper in accordance with the Elder's instructions, we had to learn.

My nails drew blood from the heel of my palm as I watched Mr. Mason approached the mat, dribbling lube into his hand. He spread the slimy goo onto the angry, flared mushroom that bulged from the end of his cock and knelt behind Chloe's quivering thighs. Mr. Mason asked her if she was ready, prompting me to ask myself the same question.

Am I ready for this? How am I going to feel after? Will my boyfriend--who's ten feet away and avoiding any eye contact--feel the same about me afterwards?

I did not know what to believe. Hoping for anything to distract me from watching an older man fuck my best friend, I thought back to the story my mom had told me at breakfast that morning - and then, as it turned out, to everything that had happened afterwards that had led me to that moment.

"You're going to love it!" Mom cooed, spooning scrambled eggs onto my plate. "I was nervous; so were all my friends. Everybody is!"

"But you did it anyway?" I asked, sipping my smoothie. For obvious reasons, solid food was heavily discouraged the night before and the morning of The Ceremony, so I was on a liquid diet.

"We all did, honey. Every woman in this village has been in your shoes. It's tradition!" Mom pushed her glasses up her nose. "Besides, that's where I met your father. Remember?"

Of course I did. The Ceremony had been in effect long before my parents' time, and even their parents' time before that, etcetera.

There was once a time when our village, typically prosperous and affluent despite its relatively small population, had seen its numbers dwindle inexplicably. That unprecedented population decline had caused our abundant blessings, whether gold or resources, to run dry before a solution had been found. People had simply stopped having children, growing shrewd and pious beyond repair, thus setting our home into a downward spiral of lowering population which it could not have recovered on its own.

From a very early age, children being told the story learned not to ask an obvious question: "What about fresh blood from outside?"

It had remained like that for a very long time, the story told us. Exhausted and without recourse, the Elders had gathered together with other prominent members of our community to pray to our Gods for a solution. The mighty beings above had toiled for days before they'd answered our prayers and showed us the way forward. Despite their perceived omnipotence, of which the entire community had been convinced, their solution had not initially been taken well.

The Council told of the Gods' fury - their rage - as bloodlines of their devout worshippers had extinguished themselves. They would not accept that our people--who'd once prayed to them in such enormous numbers--would roll over and perish, leaving the powerful entities without a flock to shepherd. In the face of extinction, their solution had been clear and concise. They'd demanded that the veil of secrecy we'd placed over sex - the hushed taboo that had ensnared our village - be cast away.

Many had been against it, but many more had been for it. Things had gotten truly desperate, and those who'd objected hadn't come forth with any better ideas. The deciding factor, so the story goes, had been a concession to traditionalism. There would be no vaginal sex during the sex education program; in fact, from that point onward, vaginal intercourse would only be legal between a husband and a wife.

What sex had that left for the hands-on training, then? Why, anal: the closest thing to vaginal sex, so that young people would develop an interest in penetrative sex generally, which would presumably then lead to married couples making lots of babies.

Over one hundred years later, my friends and I were to follow in the footsteps of our mothers, and grandmothers, and their mothers before them. The Ceremony had unified our village with a communal goal that we could all strive towards. I felt duty-bound to do my part to secure the future of the village and keep us on the path towards a brighter future.

Still, though, I was nervous.

"If it weren't for The Ceremony, I never would have met your Father." Mom was happily awash in nostalgia. "And look at us now! We have you and your brother thanks to that blessed day. Oh, Glory Be!"

"I guess so, but Michael is pretty upset that we didn't get paired up." I hung my head thinking about my boyfriend.

We had been dating for about a year, and I felt closer to him that I ever had with another person--besides Chloe. I had already accepted the hard truth that we were not paired together, but he was having a much harder time doing so.

The whole point of the day was to increase sexual expression and excite the incoming generation about the prospect of procreating. To ensure that nobody was left out, or picked last, however, the pairing process was randomized. Everybody had an equal chance of experiencing the "joy" of sex.

How many boyfriends and girlfriends were sad about that? How many were secretly excited? It's hard to say. I was sad. I was hardly the first woman to be in that situation, though; many villagers knew the emotional strain that such mandatory cuckolding could put on a relationship. Some couples survived the ordeal and came out stronger; others did not.

"So, who did you get?" Mom bit her lower lip. "I know we aren't supposed to gossip, but come on! You can tell me; your secret is safe."

I grimaced. "Well, uh, okay. You know Mrs. Conway?"

"From book club?" Mom clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, she's a peach. I adore her!"

"Great news, then." I forced my queasy stomach to accept a small sip of smoothie. "Because her son, John, is gonna have his dick in my ass in just a few hours."

"Emily Jane!" Mom smacked the wooden table top with an open palm, nearly spilling my breakfast. "The Ceremony is a very important event. I won't allow you to treat it so frivolously!"

"Sorry, Mom." I blushed and hurried to change the subject. "So, what happened with the guy you were seeing when you were my age?"

Mom cocked her head and gazed aimlessly into the sky as though the ceiling did not exist. "I ended up falling for your father during The Ceremony and I never looked back. You're young, Em. Don't worry about one relationship when you likely have so many ahead of you."

I don't think she intended for that to make my stomach drop so viciously. "So you dumped him?"

"Not exactly," Mom corrected me. "I just don't think he could look at me the same way after seeing me with another man. It was amicable, and I was happy to end up with your father because of it."

"You didn't like him, this other guy?" I was searching for any glimmer of hope that would alleviate my guilt. "Like, Dad was nicer or something? Because Michael is really nice and--"

"Honey," Mom interrupted me, "if it's meant to last, then it will. He was a sweet boy; I remember that much, but he didn't have, uh, what your father has."

"Oh, Gods." I scrunched my face in disgust. "Gross, Mom!"

"Just being honest, honey!" Mom had never been one to recognize when she had stepped over the line with one of her comments, and she sought to one-up herself in record time. "Maybe John will have the perfect-sized wiener for your cute little bottom and you'll end up having a great time."

"Mom, stop!" I wanted to shrivel into a ball and disappear. "Can we stop talking about this? Please?"

"Fine, fine. You know I'm just looking out for you. Did you do your enemas this morning?"

"Mom, please!" I whined, burying my face in my hands. I had, in fact, done five or six of them to prepare for The Ceremony.

It was not mandatory, but every girl knew the horror stories of women before them who had been lazy with their cleaning. To avoid that embarrassment, I'd made sure to double the recommended cleaning routine. I hadn't liked the way the water felt going in or out of me, so it was not a topic I wanted to broach over the breakfast table.

By the grace of Gods we were interrupted by the sound of my twin brother, Shaun, bouncing down the stairs. He could be heard whistling well before he entered the kitchen, but he dropped the tune as soon as he laid eyes on us.

"Good morning, good morning, good morning!" Shaun sung happily as he strolled across the black and white tile to grab an apple from the counter. He was in an unusually chipper mood that morning, and eager to rub it in my face. "Glory Be! Isn't it a great day to be alive, family?"

"Speak for yourself," I grumbled, stirring my pale green smoothie.

"Boy, that sure looks delicious. Do you mind if I have a sip, Em?" Shaun's big, stupid grin revealed the punchline before he had a chance to hit me with it. "Or is that smoothie only for people that are going to get fucked in the ass today?"

Mom threw a balled-up hand towel at him and hit him square in the nose. "Shaun, I swear to the Gods if you don't show your sister a little more respect I'm gonna call the school and say you're too sick to attend today."

"But, Mom-"

"No buts!" Mom snapped. "Be nice to Emily. She's not as excited about today as you are."

I stuck my tongue out at Shaun and blew a raspberry. "He's just happy that he got paired with Tracy Jenkins. They've probably been giggling about it all week."

"Listen, just because Tracy is an adventurous-"

"Whore?" I offered, narrowing my eyes at Shaun.

"Rude," he replied, "but yes, that's fair. She is very... well, let's just keep it at 'adventurous.'"

"I said 'whore.'"

"I heard you, Emily. Damn." He rolled his eyes. "You don't have to be such a spoilsport."

He was right, though I would never admit that to him. I was in a bad mood and I wanted to spread it to him to dampen his enthusiasm, but that wasn't fair. He and I were the only twins in the whole village, putting us in a unique predicament where we would be in the same room for The Ceremony. He seemingly refused to acknowledge the awkwardness of that fact, which made me second guess whether or not my inhibitions were valid to begin with.

I was rather annoyed that other girls my age could be excited for something that I found so stressful. I hated that I felt that way. They were comfortable with their bodies, so why was I such a prude?

I swallowed my pride and apologized to my brother. In the end, I was happy for him that he was so excited. It was not uncommon for the boys to feel equally bashful about The Ceremony, and despite how I envied his joy, I knew it was better for him to enter it with confidence.

"Do you have your special shorts, honey?" Mom took my half-empty smoothie glass from me and gestured to the clock. We only had a few minutes left before I had to head out the door.

I patted the front of my backpack. "Got them right here. They don't really fit, though."

"Too loose?" Mom asked.

"No," I whined. "I wish. They're actually so tight that they made my thighs look all pudgy from how tight the leg holes are."

Mom smirked. "Well, lucky you. That's gonna drive John wild; guys love that kind of stuff."

"Er, thanks, Mom. I'll keep that in mind." My heart leapt into my throat as I turned to leave the house. I could not bring myself to leave just yet, hoping to find a single shred of comfort that would alleviate my racing heart. "Um, Mom? What does it, you know... feel like?"

"Having a penis in your bum?" Mom asked, her warm smile offset by the bluntness of her question. Her aura was calming, but her words were not. "Well, once you get past the initial stretching, there's this pressure deep in your belly that's almost like a pleasurable ache. Does that make sense?"

"Not really. Is it gonna hurt?"

"Maybe, honey. It's a strange feeling to get used to, but if you're anything like me, you're gonna be loving it before you know it!" Mom gave me one last hug; it was meant to be reassuring, I know.

My asshole instinctively clenched up, entertaining the concept that it might actually enjoy the impending invasion. Still my mind wasn't completely on board. How the hell is anyone supposed to get their dick in something so small? My virgin butthole was tight enough to turn a speck of coal into a diamond, and the idea of an entire penis somehow fitting inside did not compute.

"It's gonna be so weird with Shaun there," I groaned along with the creaky doorframe as I leaned against it. Mom knew I was stalling, but she did not rush me out. "Oh, Gods - Chloe, too!"

"You'll be fine; you guys are best friends!"

"She's so shy, Mom. She tried to kiss Alan Connor last month and almost had a panic attack!"

Mom shrugged. "In my experience, those girls are the biggest freaks in the sack."

"Okay, Mom. Thanks for trying." I sighed, then forced my feet to leave the house. "Glory Be."

"Glory Be, honey. Good luck." Mom swooned with pride, saying goodbye to her little girl for the last time before she became a woman.

Dad and Shaun were in the driveway cackling about something, but they quieted down in a hurry when I got closer. Dad opened the car door for me and forced a weak smile. "Ready to go, Em?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

I slumped into the back and ignored Shaun teasing me from the passenger seat. I laid my head against the window and exhaled the stale air from my lungs. I wanted to run back inside and leap under the covers where nobody would find me, but to be the first woman in a century to deny her place in The Ceremony would be unacceptable.

I swallowed the knot in my throat and tried to distract myself with the trees passing by the window as Dad took off down the road. He honked at Mom, who was waving from the front door, then sped off towards the school.

It was quiet at first - awkwardly so. Dad interrupted the silence with a pep talk the way only a father can.

"Look at you kids, so grown up already. This is a big day for both of you. It seems like only yesterday I was bringing the two of you home from Dr. Schubert's clinic and putting you in your cribs."

"And now..." I trailed off, unsure of why I'd piped up to begin with.

"And now you're growing up. The Ceremony is a very important day. Your mother and I are so proud of you both. We should celebrate tonight! Steaks on the fire pit, maybe?"

"If I have an appetite," I lamented.

"Still a bit nervous, Em?" Dad peered at me in the rear view mirror. I nodded my head. "Sounds like you gotta be more like your brother. Experience new things with an open mind, and all that."

Shaun took the mention of his name as an indication to chime in. "Yeah, Emily. Experience new things, like letting John Conway power-wash your guts with baby butter."

"You're such an asshole!" I yelped, then socked him in the shoulder.

"Shaun, listen to me." Dad's voice was stern. "What your sister is doing--what the women of this village have done for over a century--has earned them your respect. You treat them like gold, or you'll be looking at double chore duty for a month."

I admired Dad standing up for me like that. At the end of the day I was still his little girl and he wanted to protect me from my dickhead brother.

"Apologize to your sister," Dad demanded. "When your mother was her age she had to do the same thing. Would you insult her like that?"

"No, sir." Shaun twiddled his thumbs. "I'm sorry, Em. I didn't mean anything by it."

I forgave him, unwilling to let myself be weighed down by any more baggage than necessary. Dad hummed gospel music to himself for the rest of the drive, and had my stomach not be threatening to empty itself, I might have joined him.

My nerves only grew when the front of our school pulled into view. The crisp spring breeze felt nice against my skin, which was hot to the touch. I thought about faking a fever, but I knew that the shame in running away from The Ceremony would haunt me forever. My throat, dry as a desert, forcefully swallowed as much of my anxiety as I could.

"Good luck today! I love you two. Glory Be!" Dad beamed with pride as Shaun and I climbed out of the car. My legs were quivering, but I managed to stand atop those pillars of pudding. Dad disappeared out of sight a few seconds later, leaving Shaun and me on the pavement. I turned to walk inside, but Shaun grabbed my sleeve.

"Emily?" He called to me. "I know you're really nervous about today, and I'm sorry I was a jerk. I didn't...I wasn't...aw, forget it. You're gonna be fine, okay? I promise. You're, like, the strongest person I know."

The corner of my mouth cracked a faint smile. "Thanks. I really hope you're right."

"I know I am. I guess I'll see you in there?" He shrugged at his own pointless question. "Good luck, Em. 'Glory Be' and all that."

"Same to you." My voice was as hollow as my chest, which felt poised to cave in at any moment.

I was happy for the space Shaun gave me to be alone and collect myself. That space lasted for exactly six steps before Chloe came bounding around the corner. She had probably been looking for me for the last twenty minutes or so; she always arrived to school much earlier than me.

"Finally!" the dainty blonde cried. "You picked today to be late?" At a lowly five foot one, Chloe was the smallest person in our year. I considered myself to be on the short side, but even I was a few inches taller than her mousy frame.

"Uh-huh, Glory Be to you too, Sister Chloe." I curtsied dramatically and bowed my head.

"Oh, please. I can't deal with the 'Glory Be' stuff today. I'm dying over here!" Chloe swung me side to side in a big bear hug. "The Ceremony starts in, like, twenty minutes! You need to get your shorts on!"

I squeezed the front pouch of my bag and winced. I gestured to the short blue garment tightly hugging Chloe's backside. "Are they comfy?"

"They're a bit tight. Well, they're tight everywhere but here." Chloe spun around and pointed to the large, loose-fitting flap which was secured by two metal clips at the top.

The fabric veil was the only thing separating her ass from prying eyes. Once the clips were undone, it would fall off to reveal a large window that gave those same eyes uninhibited access to her most intimate place. The shorts were mandatory for The Ceremony, and the cut-out hole around our butts made it easy for the boys to get inside of us, while allowing us to retain a modicum of modesty.

The shorts, and our tops, were to stay on all day. It was a day dedicated to sex, but there was also a clinical element to it. We were there to learn, not necessarily to enjoy ourselves. As such, excess nudity was not permitted in the interest of keeping the day pure. That said, the sizable opening at the back of our shorts was--once opened--more than capable of arousing our randomly selected suitors. It wasn't much, but it was better than being naked.

I had been dating Michael for a while by then, but even he had never seen me fully exposed. He had fondled my breasts while we'd kissed a few times, but he had never been given the opportunity to come face to face with my vagina. The thought John would instead be the first to see me like that--especially displayed framed in a window designed for him to stare--was humiliating, to say the least.

"I hate how loose the flap is," Chloe complained. "I feel like everyone can see my pussy when I bend over, so I'm walking like a statue."

I begged Chloe to come with me to get changed, and she happily agreed. We rushed inside the school washroom and found an empty stall for me. Chloe sat in the only other stall to make sure nobody would interrupt us. She was a good friend, which is why I felt so bad for what she would have to go through that day.

"Hey, are you, like, nervous at all?" I asked over the top of the stall.

"A little bit, yeah." She shuffled her feet. "But I'm paired with Thomas, and I've heard from a couple people that he has a really small dick. Maybe it won't be so bad? The size is the thing that scared me the most; I put a finger back there one time and almost snapped it off."

I snorted, failing to hold back an eruption of laughter. "You did that?"

"I dunno, I tried it!" I could hear in her voice the deep shade of red she had turned. "I wanted to see if I could do it. All I can say is; thank the Gods for Thomas's tiny ding-a-ling!"

The two of us burst out laughing together. Our hearty chortling echoed around the tiny washroom; it sounded like we had an entire auditorium praising our boundless wit.

I chuckled one last time. "I dare you to call it that to his face."

"Maybe if the moment's right," Chloe replied. "We'll see. Anyway, let me see how you look! We've still got a few minutes."

I exited the stall and did a glamorous runway twirl to show off my new wardrobe. The identical white, cotton shirt and blue, flap-covered shorts united us both. I opted to remove my bra on a whim; it wasn't the day to prioritize modesty over comfort.. "How do I look?" I asked.

"Like every other girl in our year," Chloe said with a sigh. "Ready?"

I looked at myself in the mirror and organized a couple loose strands of hair. "I guess we'll find out," I said to the girl staring back at me with trepidation in her eyes.

You can do this, I told her. Every woman before you has done this; you can, too.

The bravado I summoned in the bathroom disappeared like sand through my fingers when I left the bathroom and stumbled face-first into Michael. He was staring at the floor, but his head snapped forward as soon as he heard my footsteps.

"Gah! Boyfriend!" My stream of consciousness ran unchecked and spilled forth the first thought that had entered my brain.

"Um, girlfriend?" Michael arched an eyebrow. "Oh, hey, Chloe."

Chloe offered my boyfriend a half-hearted greeting as she exited a few steps behind me. "What the hell was that? Why did you just yell 'boyfriend' at the top of your lungs?"

"I-I just got startled, I guess. Like oh hey, there's my boyfriend. There he is!" I probably showed too many teeth for my smile to be convincing.

"Okay, that's new." Michael sighed before puffing up his chest. "Chloe, could we have a minute?"

Chloe said she would meet me at the gymnasium, offering a reassuring squeeze on my shoulder before she took off. The second she left I felt isolated, even though Michael was still with me. I wanted her to stay by my side until the whole ordeal was over, and I assured myself that we would find neighbouring mats to comfort each other from during The Ceremony. I knew we weren't supposed to interfere with other couples, but I didn't see the harm in letting us hold hands or something to take the edge off.

"So, what's up?" Michael asked with his hands in his pockets. "You good?"

"I'm good, yeah. How about you?" I folded my arms over my chest to hide how small I felt.

"I don't know. I guess so? Just feeling a little weird about today, that's all." He struggled to make eye contact with me.

"I know what you mean." My voice was hollow. "It feels like everyone else thinks this is so normal, and I'm the only one freaking out."

"You're freaking out, too?" Michael was shocked, but his surprise quickly melted to a fierce snarl that he had to wipe from his face. "Whose name did you get?"

He would have seen for himself momentarily; the hour was close at hand and there was no turning back. He wanted me to admit it to him like it was a secret. I knew which name he had drawn, but I asked about her anyway to try and distract him. "Well, who did you draw?"

"Amanda Sigler." He shrugged; it was an appropriate response.

Amanda was attractive, but she looked like nothing like me. I'm not trying to toot my own horn, but I knew I was exactly Michael's type. Amanda had her own thing going on, but Michael would have surely been more excited to spend the day with me instead of her.

"Tell me again why we didn't just do this ourselves?" Michael asked, exasperated. We had been through that argument before, and I felt slighted that he would choose that very moment to rehash it. "I could have been the one to take your virginity! Instead you're letting some guy--whose name you won't even tell me--be the first one inside of you."

"First of all, it's not my real virginity. And second; it's John Conway, if you must know." I averted my gaze. My arms were crossed over my chest like a shield, hiding the way I dug my nails into my elbows to make some of my emotional pain physical. "It's not like I asked for this. It's random; it always has been."

"Then why didn't you want to spend the night with me last week? This special moment could have been ours!"

The last time we had that fight, I'd made up a lame excuse about sticking to tradition: it was what the elders demanded; it had made the village successful for generations, so who were we to question the method? The evidence was all around us.

I threw my hands in the air, unwilling to think of a clever lie. "I'm not ready yet. That's the truth." It was a relief to get it off my chest, but it's is not how or when I'd wanted to do it. "This is clinical; it's removed. It's just a process I have to go through. But with you I'm choosing to take a step, which means making commitments that I'm not ready for yet."

He spat venom back at me. "But you're ready to take that step with John?"

"I-I guess so. You have to understand, Michael: it's not like that to me. It's not about him." I tried to find the right combination of words that would put his heart at ease, but I could hardly explain my own feelings.

"What is it about, then?" he snarled.

"What John and I are going to do today doesn't change how I feel about you." I stepped closer to him to caress his cheek, but he grabbed me by the wrist before I could touch him. "I know you're upset; I'm sorry. When you and I do this, I want it to be special. John isn't special to me, he's just-"

"A guy with a gigantic dick?" he offered, interrupting me.

My pulse started to race. "W-what are you... no, no. Where did you hear that?"

"You haven't heard?" Michael found a sick pleasure in breaking the news to me. "Apparently John's packing, but I guess you'll know about that any minute now."

"Why are you being so nasty to me?" My voice quivered, but I was firm in my assertion. "You know I don't want any of this. The one thing I was hoping for was that--at the end of today--you and I could hang out like we always do and talk about how weird it was."

"Right, with John's cum still inside of you?" He'd graduated from venom to laced bullets. He was firing horrible accusations at me, one after the other, and they hurt.

They also made me mad, though, and I decided that I'd had enough. I didn't want to be there any more than he did, yet he was putting me down like I had volunteered. I'm not proud of what I said next, but I wanted to hurt him like he was hurting me.

"No, probably not. I'm gonna push all his cum out of me as soon as we're finished. The thing is; if he's as big as you say he is, then I'm going to have to spend an awfully long time trying to squeeze his hot, sticky load out of my ass. Just pushing, and pushing, and pushing--"

"My Gods, Emily!" Michael snapped and pushed me away from him. "What is wrong with you?"

That was the last thing he said before he stormed off. I felt guilty the second I saw the pain crack across his face; it was like he'd been struck by lightning.. All at once, I had turned his anger into fear, and I immediately worried that his fear might make him do something stupid.

Full of regret, I tried to make amends. "Remember we said no kissing, right?" I called out. He did not respond.

"Michael?" I called to an empty hallway, telling myself he would turn around and make things right before it was too late. "R-right, Michael?"

He was gone.

My heart was in a full sprint. I hated fighting with him; it gave me anxiety like nothing else. Not only that, but uttering such dirty, forbidden words was not something I made a habit of. I had never spoken like that--especially not to Michael, and especially not at school.

The loudspeaker overhead crackled to life, warbling instructions for everyone to make their way to the gymnasium. The Ceremony was only fifteen minutes away.

Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I looked around, hoping to see a familiar face, but my friends had abandoned me. I leaned against the brick wall behind me and closed my eyes. The muffled voices of various students carried down the halls like a backing track to my self-imposed isolation. I didn't want to be alone, but going to meet my friends came hand in hand with meeting my fate head on. I was frozen in place, but knew I could not wait around forever.

I summoned the will to dash into the bathroom, filling my cupped hands with cool water from the sink. I doused my face, staring at my unblinking reflection as water ran down my cheeks like icy tears. I fixed my hair in the mirror as best I could, but nothing I did made me feel like the girl in the reflection. I'm not her; I can't be. She won't make it through this. I knew I had to become a version of myself that could withstand the journey ahead.

The girl in the mirror possessed the same reluctance that I had earlier, but it was tempered with a fury I did not recognize. She was a warrior, and the fire in her belly refused to yield. Michael had ignited something primal in me, and I decided to let it burn. My people needed me--The Ceremony needed me. I would not let them, or it, down.

I exited the bathroom like a phoenix, reborn from the ashes of a charred husk. My heartbeat roared in my ears, every step a booming bass drum announcing my arrival. I heroically swung open the double doors of the gym with both hands and triumphantly crossed the threshold.

It did not take more than a couple steps inside before my bravado, and the faux confidence I'd used it to erect, crumbled into dust.

Classmates I had known for my entire life, who were usually identifiable by their unique choice of fashion, had become identical pawns, each waiting for instructions. They were dressed for a day playing dodgeball, or practicing their lay ups, but one look at the backside of any uniformed girl was all one would have needed to discern that something about that was different.

The gym was alive with the roaring echoes of a dozen different conversations. I tried to shut out the noise and eavesdrop for any meaningful hint that someone else was feeling the nerves that I was, but much of what I heard was infused with excitement. Some of the girls were so relaxed in their chatter that I was convinced that some of them had just come from a leisurely picnic.

Michael was on a mat in the far left corner of the room. He was talking with Amanda already, who had a shameless smile plastered across her face. Michael was turned away from me, which was a blessing. I don't think I could have taken another dose of the hurt he flashed me in the hallway.

Shaun and Tracy, on the far right side, were in a competition to see who could do a better impression of a child on their birthday. They were equally enthused by the opportunity presented by The Ceremony. Though I was happy for my brother, I envied Tracy for being able to rid herself of the worries that I could not shake. For all I knew, she'd never felt them to begin with.

Chloe was perched by herself on a mat in the middle of the gym. She gazed around the room looking for Thomas, but he was nowhere to be seen. Her dark brown eyes met mine and lit up. She pointed to the mat next to her with a cheesy grin, directing my attention to the tall, dark-haired behemoth stretching his calves upon it.

My jaw clenched so tight that my teeth squeaked together. The muscular giant before me was none other than John. He had yet to spot me, so I took a moment to admire him in a light I never had before.

He was certainly handsome; that was undeniable. He was more than a foot taller than I was, so even from his position on the floor I could tell how tiny I would be when he stood up. His powerful arms, darkly toned from days working in the summer sun, were tree trunks rooted to his bulky torso. He could have lifted me up with one hand.

When John turned and caught me gawking at his bulging collarbones, my attention was immediately drawn to his eyes. They were dark and soft, but most notably, they were kind.

As expected, I felt more than a few butterflies in my stomach when he met my gaze for the first time. The swarm of frightened bugs did not hesitate to make their presence known, yet they quickly settled down under the command of John's warm, affectionate smile.

"Glory Be, Emily! I'm so happy you're here!" It had been weeks since I'd received a welcome so sincere. "I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

"Yeah, I thought about it." I rolled my eyes. My arms were crossed defensively across my chest, and despite Chloe coaxing me with her eyes, I could not be convinced to unfold them.

"I'm sorry to hear that." The corner of John's mouth dipped into a frown, but he could not hold back his grin for very long. "But I think you made the right choice. Come on, this'll be fun!"

I shuffled my feet. "I guess I'm just a little nervous."

"Everyone is; they just aren't showing it." John used his chin to point at a couple two mats down from us. "Isaac had a full-on breakdown this morning, but he's come around since. To be honest, it wold be weird if you weren't a little nervous."

"I guess you're right." It did feel nice to know that John, a man twice my size, was as apprehensive as I was. "Are we supposed to be doing anything? I feel like they're gonna give us the green light any second, but everyone is still goofing off."

"I think most of them stretched already," he said. "It kind of helps to get the early jitters out."

I don't consider myself to be a dense person. When John said "stretching" I thought he was talking about lunges and arm rotations. Clearly, based on the way he and Chloe snickered at my innocence, that was not the kind of stretching that he'd meant. John stopped laughing when he realized I was not joking, which made Chloe laugh even harder.

"Sorry, Emily, I meant like stretching stretching, you know?" He raised an eyebrow, hoping that would sell me on the innuendo. "I didn't mean to be crass, just that--"

I held up my hand like stop sign, cutting him short. "It's all good. I know what you meant. How exactly do we... I don't know. Stretch me out?"

John looked like somebody had given him a shot of heroin. "Uh, well, uh, well, uh..." The poor boy was stuck. For a man of his size, he wasn't all that intimidating.

The two of us girls exchanged a knowing look, tickled by John's stammer. Chloe clapped her hands near his face to snap him out of it. Nobody so much as turned their head to investigate the loud clap. They were too enthralled in their own little worlds.

"I guess we could go look at the table, if you want to," John offered, gesturing to a folding table near the door to the gymnasium as he climbed off the leather mat. When he stood up, the revelation of his true height put my assumptions to shame. The top of my head sat below his chin, reminding me exactly who was going to be dominating whom. I usually felt put off by men who were taller than me, but not so with John, then.

I didn't know what he was talking about, but I agreed anyway. Given what I knew was in store for me, a trip to some random table seemed like a baby step.

The table John had referred to was on the other side of the room. Upon it was an assortment--no, an army--of dildos, plugs, and lube with syringes to inject it into us. At first glance the tabletop was chaotic, but a pattern soon presented itself. The organization of the toys made it easy to tell when one of them was missing from its row of identical siblings. I said as much out loud - probably unnecessarily.

My eyes darted around the room, shamelessly zeroing in on the loosely covered backsides of my classmates. I'd been too wrapped up in my own thoughts to notice it before, but it quickly became obvious that most, if not all, of the girls in the gym were walking around with plugs inside of them.

The way they hobbled when they walked, or leaned on a strange angle to shift the toy into a comfortable spot, became clear as day. The wincing on their faces was unmistakable, and some of them we wearing frowns - deep ones.

"Do... all of the girls have these in their butts right now?" I traced my finger over the fat rubber plugs that pointed to the sky like colourful missiles. I tried to imagine each one being pushed into my body, but with no frame of reference I could only speculate on how it might feel. "I've never put one in before."

"Me neither!" John joked. "That's what I'm here for; you don't have to worry."

"You're going to help me put it in?" I do not know what I'd expected, but apparently John was going to be a bigger part of the process than I'd thought.

"Of course I am. Today we're a team." He put a hand on my shoulder, infecting me with his confidence.

I found a cute little plug that felt soft when I squeezed it. I didn't want an unyielding piece of steel to be forced into me. I picked it up to show to John, but he had already made his choice.

In his hand was a menacing purple egg that was nearly double the size of mine, both in width and length. It made mine look like a keychain! He was about to pick up another plug that was even larger than the purple one, so I stepped in for the sake of my butthole.

"Why are you picking out all the huge ones?" I asked in a poorly disguised panic.

"Am I?" John turned the toys over in his hands. "I'm just looking for one that's close to my size."

"This?" My jaw hit the floor. I reached for the purple plug and lifted it like it was a live bomb. "This is how big you are?"

"Pretty close, yeah." His delivery contained more shame than pride, so I knew he was not trying to brag. "I mean, I'm a lot longer, but the girth is about the same."

"Oh, great." I rolled my eyes. He had unwittingly picked one of the largest plugs off the table, clearly mistaking my asshole for an elastic band. "That's very comforting to hear, John."

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to. The warmup is optional." He was trying to let me drive - how ironic - but the necessity of the step had just been hammered home to me.

I decided to go with the purple plug - which delighted John - if only to get through the worst of the pain before the real ceremonial activities began. He grabbed some lube, and a syringe to go with it, and met me back at the mat with goodies in hand.

John gestured to our makeshift bed. "Ready when you are."

I climbed aboard on my hands and knees. It was degrading to bend over for him, waiting for him to undress me. My focused stare burned holes into the mat, unwavering even when John got behind me and fit himself between my parted thighs.

John's hands were trembling, but he pressed forward. He pinched the metal clips that kept my body modest, dropping the blue curtain to expose my private place. Against the warmth between my legs, the chill of the gymnasium air made itself known. I seized up as its cool tendrils flicked my skin, teasing my pussy with a literal breath of fresh air.

I could not tell how close John was to me, and prayed he was not liberally soaking in the view like a pervert. Then again, I wouldn't have been able to blame him for doing so. Like most of the village boys his age, he had never been that close to a woman's bare vagina before. The heat rolling against the inside of my thighs told me exactly how wet I was. If his eyes--by some miracle--did not catch on to that fact, he surely picked up on the scent of my honey wafting his way. I had nowhere to hide.

John spoke without thinking - something I would be forgiving a lot that day. "Holy shit, Emily. You look amazing! I don't mean to be gross or anything. Just--wow, you're fucking beautiful." "

"Uh, thank you, I guess?" I muttered awkwardly. "Do you have the--oh!"

I was interrupted by his hands, like claws of stone, latching onto my ass cheeks. Though it was something I had disliked about my body when I was younger, I'd learned to be proud of the plump caboose I'd been blessed with. Despite the warnings that I had been given about men's fondness for a rear like mine, John's instant attraction still managed to take me by surprise.

John proved his enthusiasm by way of massage, kneading my doughy cheeks without another word. He squished them together, eclipsing my butthole. The tiny hole did not stay hidden for any significant length of time, however. It greeted him when he parted my cheeks again.

My butt was spread so far apart that my pussy could not help but follow suit. My lips peeled open like a blooming flower when he pried me open. He held me in place, digging into the soft, pliable flesh, which practically oozed through his tightly curled digits.

He let go with one hand so he could fiddle with something. I correctly assumed it to be a syringe filled with lube, which was soon pressed against my puckered anal ring.

"If it feels weird," he said, "just tell me and I'll stop."

"Okay..." I murmured quietly.

The tip of the syringe was thin enough to fit into my bum without causing any pain. John inserted a small portion of it and waited while I grew accustomed to the new sensation. To my surprise, I could barely feel the tiny thing. I knew I didn't deserve any credit for that--and also knew that the nozzle was thinner than my pinky finger--but I decided to call it a win. I needed one.

With a long, slow push on the plunger, John injected a steady stream of lube into my bowels. The cold goo slithered through my insides, creeping through the tiny tunnel and filling every nook and cranny on the way. I squirmed with discomfort as the slime oozed through me. The sensation, while not as uncomfortable as I expected, was nevertheless too foreign to enjoy. Maybe warm lube would have felt nicer.

"All done!" John popped the syringe out and patted my ass. "Good job, Emily."

"Is it over yet?" I groaned.

"I know you're kidding, but you should be impressed. You took that whole syringe like it was no problem!" John congratulated me with a playful swat on my ass, sending ripples through my porcelain skin.

I yelped instinctively when he hit me, then covered my mouth in shame. I looked around, expecting to see a million eyeballs staring at me, but everyone else was too preoccupied by their own warmup. My outcry was but a drop in the pond. Most couples had transitioned onto the mats as well, and many of the girls on their hands and knees were making the exact same noises I had.

Nobody was in a position to judge anybody. I made eye contact with a chubby brunette named Michelle--a girl who had always been keen to lord her popularity over peasants like me and Chloe--right as her partner popped a plug into her ass. The whites of her eyes grew to the size of saucers and her eyebrows hit the ceiling. A tight furrowing of her brow hinted at how difficult it was for her to accept the toy.

I nodded at her reassuringly sent my silent condolences. Michelle smiled weakly before burying her face in the mat and grunting, "Oh, Gods!" loud enough that I heard it across the room. We girls had a bond that was much stronger than that of the boys, none of whom could hide their enormous grins. Michelle and I may not have been close, but knowing exactly what she was going through made her easy to empathize with.

"Never been spanked?" John asked, redirecting my attention to the stinging on my bottom.

"Not like that, no." I didn't think a childhood scolding from my mother qualified. "Is it supposed to feel like that?"

"Like what?"

"Kind of... good?" I cringed at the admission, but it was true. I did not know what was considered normal, which had made it impossible to predict the way my pussy had tingled when he'd brought his hand down on me. "I got shivers all over. I don't know if that's supposed to happen."

John chuckled happily. "You liked that? Wow, Emily. You are gonna make some guy very happy one day."

My heart swelled. For a reason I did not understand, I wanted to earn John's respect--to prove to both of us that I could endure The Ceremony. I could not comprehend why I wanted to please him, but I wanted to be the one to make him happy.

A primal urge in my psyche longed for him to tell me again that I was doing a good job. Each compliment he had given me was bouncing around in my brain like a pinball machine, giving me a fresh hit of dopamine every time one of them ricocheted off the inside of my skull.

Another fat dollop of lube rained down on my asshole, which John promptly rubbed in, smothering every small fold of the wrinkled donut. He rested a firm hand on the small of my back and rubbed it reassuringly.

I'm sure that he asked me if I was ready for the plug, but for the life of me I cannot remember responding. I must have nodded my head, groaned an affirmation, or something else to encourage him, because the plug was knocking on my backdoor less than a second later.

"Are you sure you're ready?" John pried.

"I'm sure," I whined.

"Then you need to relax. Trust me."

I was growing impatient. "I am relaxed!" I snapped.

"Emily." John spoke my name calmly, his hand massaging the base of my spine in small circles. "We are a team. I'm not going to do this if it's going to hurt you, so I need you to relax."

"Okay, okay I'm sorry." I knew he was right; we needed to work together if I was going to have a prayer of getting through the main event. "What should I do?"

"Breathe in deep." He waited for me to obey before he continued. "Good. Now, slowly breathe out and let your body unwind. Once all the air is gone, try to keep your body in that relaxed state while you take another deep breath."

It actually kind of helped. I hadn't realized I had been tensing my lower body, but my muscles returned to their natural state as I focused on breathing out. Once I was cognizant of where I'd been locking up, I kept those same muscles loose while I filled my lungs with air a second time. I repeated the process, training my body to relax.

"I feel a bit better," I sighed. "Thank you for that."

"Teammates, remember? Do you think you're ready to try again?"

"Yeah, I think so. I can do it." I psyched myself up, and it worked all the way up to the moment the plug tapped against my asshole again. The butterflies resumed their frantic flight, but that time I was ready for them.

Josh pressed on the base of the plug with gentle force. It was hard to stop my body from seizing up, and it didn't get easier when my ass began to open under the pressure of the round toy. Slowly, but surely, the elastic ring caved and accept his advances, timidly allowing the intruder to stretch its limits. The swell grew larger as more of the toy entered me, forcing my nubile hole to accommodate its steadily increasing girth.

John promised me that we were halfway, and I believed him. Every gentle push into my bowels stretched me a little more as we neared the base of the plug. I wanted to call it quits before it got too big, but knew that I would have no hope of surviving John if I could not withstand the plug. He's longer. That's what he said.

Rather than obey my impulses to tighten up, I focused on pushing my butthole outwards in an effort to override its reflexive clenching, praying that John would find the space inside of me to fit the whole toy. The width reached its largest point, forcing my poor, puckered rim to strain around its enormous size. I was at the precipice; all I needed to do was hold on a little more.

With one final shove, John drove the toy to the base. My asshole closed around the swell, swallowing it in one gulp. With the plug fully immersed in my ass, I felt comfortable clenching a couple of times to get used to the sensation. My walls moulded around their new friend, making the bulge shift inside of me under the increased pressure.

"Oh, oh Gods, John. It feels really weird. I-I don't know if I can do this." I began to feel anxious, but my teammate was quick to console me.

John lay on his side next to me, propped up on his arm, and took hold of my hand. His other hand rubbed the small of my back like before - a calming ritual I was growing quite fond of.

No words were spoken, even when I dug my nails into his palm deep enough to leave a serious mark. He could only have sympathy, not empathy, but he was doing everything he could to help me through it. I held onto his hand with both of mine, clamping down with all my might.

I moaned softly, rhythmically clenching around the toy like my ass was nursing on it. With only the flat bottom of the toy poking out of me, it must have looked like a small, purple gopher was worming his way out of my butthole. The comparison made me laugh, which inadvertently made me constrict around the plug hard enough for a sharp pain to interrupt my giggles.

I had already been digging into his palm before; that sudden jolt made me pierce right through it. John cried out in pain and tried to pull his hand away for a brief second, but refused to break our tether. I apologized immediately, but he was quick to wave it off.

"It's okay, really. Do whatever you need to do. If you can handle it, then I can handle it. Give me your worst."

His words were dripping with sincerity, and no amount of pain could stop me from believing in them. If John thought I could handle it, then so did I.

I squirmed around for a few minutes in search of a comfortable spot for the plug to rest. I still felt like I was smuggling a boulder in my stomach, but clenching around its unforgiving mass became easier with every squeeze. My rigid anal muscles were being tenderized one constriction at a time, but there was still plenty of work to do.

"Is it feeling better?" John asked.

"I think so," I reported happily. "It feels weird when I tighten up; I can feel the shape so clearly."

"Can you try and push it out?" He requested it as casually as one may order a cup of coffee.

"Can I what?" The thought flashed through my mind that maybe playing deaf would get him to drop it.

"Push it out?" he asked again. "It'll help loosen you. Trust me; just try it."

"But... but it's huge!"

"So am I!" I did not have a response for that one. "Just try for me. Please, Em?"

I hated the way my spine shivered when he used my nickname. I only let family members - Chloe included - call me that. If anyone else used it, it usually made me feel gross. It was curious, then, that John calling me by such an intimate pet name made my clit throb instead. I don't know what part of my brain stopped me from scolding him, but it was clearly in control. I wanted more of the warm fuzzies that came from him doting over me.

"So I just... push?" I asked meekly, still hoping he was not requesting that I try to eject the large toy from my ass. "Like I'm--you know..."

John chuckled. "Exactly what you're thinking, yeah. Just like that."

"This is so embarrassing! Do I have to?" I was complaining, but by that point I was only doing it to bait him into giving me a more direct command. I wanted to force him into the dominant position, convinced that he would do a better job of steering the ship than me.

"Yes, you do." John patted my plump ass cheeks. He was reassuring, yet firm in his instruction. "Come on. Push for me."

I tried to obey, but the plug was so wide that it refused to budge. I bore down on his hand like I was trying to rip it off of his wrist, but he did not waver. His steel grip never faltered, holding me steady like an anchor in a storm.

"That's really good!" he said. "You're so close."

"How do you know that?" I picked my head off the mat and looked behind me, momentarily blinded by the bright gymnasium lights. When the white veil lifted, I saw John craning his neck to get a good view at how widely my asshole was stretched around the massive plug.

"John! What the hell? Are you watching it?" I felt deeply exposed.

"Fuck yeah I am." John was unable to pull his eyes away, even as he answered me. "I think it's kind of hot, actually. Maybe that's gross? I don't care; you look so fucking sexy right now, Em."

"You really think so?" Nothing in the world would have led me to that conclusion on my own, but John was not a liar.

I felt disgusting to be crouched down on my knees with my holes pried open for all to see. Trying to push out a huge plug did not make the position any less shameful, so I tried to put myself in John's shoe's. He liked what he was seeing. More accurately, by the ecstatic glimmer in his eye, he loved it. Part of what he loved was me.

"I don't understand. You like it when I push?" I snorted at the absurdity. "But why? I don't feel sexy doing this."

I alternated pushing the plug in and out with my anal muscles, making the purple gopher dip its head in and out of his cozy home a couple of times. John groaned - exactly the response I had been looking for.

"Guys love that stuff, seriously," he assured me.

On the surface, I wanted to get better at sex for Michael's sake. When it came to our relationship, I did not want him to long for anything; I didn't want him thinking that some other girl could give him something that I couldn't, or wouldn't. I decided to change my perspective yet again - to view the warmup session with John as an opportunity to learn some tricks. What horrified me was the gnawing feeling that deep down--in the recesses of my brain where I refused to look--I was already longing for John's validation.

"O-okay, I'm gonna push again. Are you watching?" I made sure that he was. I did not want him to miss a single second.

I didn't understand how something so outlandishly lewd could turn him on, but I liked being able to push his buttons. Maybe it was the magic in the air that only comes around for Ceremony celebrations, but I wanted to see if I could bring myself to find the same depraved pleasure as he did. Call it "holiday spirit," if you want.

A devilish idea--equal parts practical and wicked--formed in my brain. I steadied my forehead on the mat to free up my hands. Once I found my balance, I pulled apart my ass cheeks.

I successfully put John under deep hypnosis. Fighting to give birth to the large hunk of purple plastic put a strain on the tiny ring, but I refused to quit. I was dedicated to delivering the enormous eggplant into his hands at any cost.

I sucked in a deep breath, drawing the plug further into my body. I summoned the will to eject the toy, knowing I would have to rid myself of shame to do so. I imagined I was pushing outward from my stomach. I clenched my core muscles, forcing them together to find the extra strength I needed.

I channeled every muscle towards the same goal. An ugly, guttural wail--the likes of which I had never produced before--came pouring out of me when I finally managed to push the bulky toy out.

I collapsed in a heap when the plug leapt out of me, announcing its departure with a lewd, gloopy POP!

In fact, I'd pushed harder than I'd intended and accidentally launched the plug all the way off the mat. Had it rolled away, it would have easily been found by following the long, slimy trail of lube that led from my asshole all the way to it. The plug had been cooking in the heat of my ass for so long that I imagined wisps of steam were curling off its surface.

A thin trickle of lube, like a leaking faucet, poured from my weakened hole. The drippings formed a small puddle on the mat. I clenched tightly to seal the doors, but they had been blown off their hinges. I wanted to trap the remaining goo inside, hoping to stop the slimy pool from growing any larger, but no matter how hard I tried I could not get my asshole to shrink back to normal.

"Holy crap, you did it! That was amazing, Emily. You did a really good job." John was brimming with pride. "You see? I told you she could stretch!"

"She?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, it's not a he, is it?" John bellowed.

I shrugged. "I guess not Silly me; I've never referred to my holes as women before."

I had to pause to reflect on the absurdity of the sentences I had already uttered that day. Almost all of them would have been unheard of on a normal day, but on the day of The Ceremony, they were right at home.

My eyes floated around the room as I basked in the relief, however short-lived it would be, of having accomplished such a milestone. I was feeling generally positive about trying even more new things with John, but old things have a way of appearing at the worst times.

Across the gym, on the final mat before the row ended, were Michael and Amanda. I knew they would be there, and I knew what they would be doing, but that didn't make it any less horrific to see Michael gently tugging a chain of fat, red anal beads from her backdoor.

Amanda was in the same position as me. I knew exactly what she was feeling when her butthole, which looked as puffy and loose as mine felt, regurgitated one round, lube-covered ball after another. My own hole clenched in solidarity.

I was appalled at the sheer enjoyment on Michael's face, but considering that it was an expression on the face of every guy in the room, I could hardly fault him. I could not bring myself to watch them any longer, and luckily I had the perfect distraction. I embroiled myself in the tiny world which John and I would inhabit until The Ceremony concluded, shutting out everything else.

"Is there anything else you want to do to me?" I asked John. "Er, to her?" I wagged my tail, clapping my cheeks together. I made my asshole wink at John a few times to keep her warmed up for the task ahead. It felt entirely different to do so without the giant bulge inside of me, but all I could think about was putting it back inside to see if it felt the same now that I was looser.

Whatever I was doing with my asshole must have put John in a trance again, because he forgot to answer me for a full ten seconds. I would have repeated myself sooner, but I was delighted with my newfound power of hypnosis and wanted to see how long I could keep him under my spell.

"I don't even know what it looks like back there," I complained. It's not like I wanted to share his view, but I was curious to know if it looked like it did in my mind. "Does it-uh, I mean, does she look good?"

John finally picked his tongue up off the floor. "She looks fucking amazing. You have such a beautiful asshole."

His words settled in, flushing my cheeks with warmth. It was one of the more earnest compliments I had received in a long time, and it had come from where I'd least expected it to.

John was slowly convincing me to be proud of my body - something I had never been able to do for myself. I was impressed that I had the power to intoxicate him so easily and enjoyed letting him fawn over me, even if it was still a bit embarrassing.

A sharp, piercing whistle pulled heads out from various clouds. Our famously jolly gym teacher, Coach Mason - affectionately referred to as "Coach" - entered the gym in an outfit that looked suspiciously like ours. Were he not fifty-five years old and sporting a grey peppered moustache, he would have blended right in.

Coach's whistle never left his neck, and we'd often joked as kids that the reason for its permanent place of pride was because it unlocked a secret vault under the school. All the answers to every test we'd ever taken or would ever take were inside, and anyone who could steal the "key" away from him would make a fortune selling the answers to other students.

Of course, that was just a story that older kids had passed down to their younger schoolmates over the years. It felt woefully juvenile in the face of what we were doing that, like it had been an entire lifetime ago.

"Thank you, everyone, for gathering here today," Coach announced to the class. "This is a very, very special day and you're all doing right by our community by being here.

"Unfortunately one of your classmates, a mister..." Coach scanned the clipboard, raising his eyebrows when he found what he was looking for. "Ah--Thomas Erik, that's right. Well, Mr. Erik is too sick to join us today, I'm afraid."

"What happened to him?" Chloe piped up.

"I think his mom said he got kicked in the head by a horse - something like that." Coach removed his hat and held it over his heart. "We will pray for him. Glory Be."

"Glory Be," The student body replied in unison.

I expected Chloe to be freaked out, but she was oddly relaxed despite the circumstances. Then it hit me: she must not have known the protocol for an absentee student. Maybe she thought she would be exempt from The Ceremony thanks to Thomas's absence, but that was not the case. I wanted her to stay suspended in that ignorant bliss forever--to run over and hug her before the news hit--but Coach beat me to the punch.

"As per the rules," Coach announced to a very uninterested class - with one notable exception - "because Chloe's partner did not attend and there is no male partner available to take his place, as head coach I will take responsibility for her education."

"Y-y-you what?" Chloe stammered. "No, no... but. But you're... you're..." The poor girl could not find the words.

"I'm what? An old man?" Coach slapped his knee and doubled over with laughter. "Sweetheart, age ain't nothing but a number! We're all adults here - me the same as you."

That may have been the case, but the age gap was substantial. Mr. Mason had been an adult long before Chloe. He was the man who'd taught us to throw a basketball, and had supervised us running around playing tag with our friends. Within that scope, it was insane that he did not see how the abrupt shift in role--from responsible authority figure to a domineering sexual partner--would be difficult for her to stomach.

"Tell you what, sweetheart," he said. "You and I will go first to set an example for all your little friends. You'll be the first one finished! Does that sound okay?"

Coach's words, and his body language, were so comforting that I almost said yes in her place. Were it not for the excitement I felt in John's hands, I would have gladly swapped partners to get everything over with as soon as possible. Something about his cadence made one feel safe around him, but I knew that all Chloe saw was a man literally twice her size and more than twice her age proposing that he take her anal virginity.

"M-Mr. Mason?" Chloe squeaked. "I was hoping that Thomas would be my partner? Isn't there some way we can postpone until he's better?"

"Can't do that, Missy. Now, be a good sport and get down on all fours." Coach ran through a checklist to confirm Chloe was prepared. "Did you have any solid food this morning, sweetheart?"

"No, sir," Chloe choked out as she slumped onto the mat. "Just a smoothie."

"That's good, that's good. You did your enemas this morning, yes?"

"Yes, sir. Four of them." Chloe was ruby red.

"That's great. Has anybody lubed you up yet?" Coach did not wait for a reply. He crouched down on one knees, bringing his face level with her rump. Without a pause, he unfastened the clasps and removed the flap to expose her naked skin.

Chloe was immobile, shell-shocked from whiplash. The poor girl had been lulled into a false sense of security, and had been basking in it all week. She'd thought she would be with Thomas and his tiny dick; that's something a girl can come to terms with fairly easily. Coach did not possess such a reputation.

"Well, somebody took care of you for me. Ain's that lucky?" Coach slid a finger through Chloe's ass crack and found it lubed to satisfaction. I figured she must have done it to herself while John had been pushing the plug into me. "Boys and girls, what is the most important part of anal sex?"

"Lube!" the class shouted in unison.

"That's right, that's right." He clapped his hands. "Miss Chloe is all slippery, so I won't hurt her when I go into her bum. You ready for a demonstration, sweetheart?"

"O-okay," Chloe whimpered.

I hated seeing my friend like that - not just on her hands and knees with her butt sticking up in the air. That was weird enough, but I had never so much as seen one of her breasts, so the visual of her submitting with her vagina and asshole exposed for a man three times her age was a striking one.

"You can do it, Chloe!" Michelle called out. Once a fan of mocking my friend in exchange for a lofty spot on the social totem pole, she was no longer her enemy. All of us women, friend or foe, were united in our duty, and felt unprecedented compassion for one another in the face of the challenge.

"Stay strong, Chloe!"

"You got this!"

"Good job, girl!"

Michelle's cheering brought forth support from other women, one by one coming to the realization of how lucky they were to be paired with someone their own age and their own size. Empathy spread across every face. Meanwhile, neither that - nor even concern - was anywhere to be found on the faces of our male peers.

Coach's demeanor had not changed. He was just as charming and jolly as ever. Still, with his large, authoritative frame looming menacingly overtop of Chloe, it felt hard not to see him as a villain intent on conquering her young body.

"Now, boys and girls," Coah said, "you can come get a better look if you want." He was already busy applying a thick coating of lube to his enormous erection like he was greasing up an angry, veiny baseball bat. "I'm gonna mount Miss Chloe, so you'll have a good view if you scoot around back."

Chloe flashed her eyes at me, stricken to her core with terror. Her body shook like a sheet in the wind as she awaited her fate.

Coach's legs were redwoods rooted in place on either side of Chloe's hips. He kept them in place and crouched down to her height, and also kept them legs arched so that he did not obstruct the view of the few girls who'd gathered excitedly to watch the show. The boys feigned indifference to the offer, but I caught a couple of them straining their necks to catch a peek of the impending insertion.

Coach towered above her like a cloud blocking out the sun, casting the small girl in an ominous dark shadow as he prepared to conquer her. I was nervous for her, but also a little jealous. She was going to be the first one to truly experience anal sex, and would be aware of its pains--and perhaps its pleasures--before any of us.

"Holy cow!" Our village's sole redhead, Hannah, piped up from behind Chloe. "Coach Mason's got a hog on him!"

"Shut up, Hannah!" My friend screeched, pounding her fist into the mat.

"Oh, sorry, Chloe."

Chloe pressed her face as deep into the mat as she could get it, but it was not enough to hide her from the world she wished to escape. "How many people are looking at my asshole right now?" came her muffled, mortified whimper.

"Don't worry, Chloe," Amber - one of Michelle's brutish friends - said. "Your pussy is, like, totally beautiful."

"Yeah, we're here for you, babe," Chimed in Tabitha, the smartest girl in the class "Your asshole is super adorable!" The three of them made quite a support group.

Coach Mason's cock, dripping with lube from balls to tip, hovered inches away from Chloe's butthole. The class went silent as he crouched down and leveled it with her backdoor, fitting the plump knob between her ass cheeks before addressing the crowd once more. His booming voice echoed around the gymnasium.

"Okay, class. Pay attention to the demonstration." The whistle around his neck swung back and forth like a pendulum, a mere handful of inches above the ass of the cute, blonde teenager bent over in front of him. "Your friend here is gonna show you all how this is supposed to be done. Are you ready, sweetheart?"

"Y-yes Mr. Mason," the young girl's voice warbled nervously.

Coach waited for Chloe to exhale. When her body was relaxed, he slowly descended between her cream-coloured ass cheeks. The lubricated piston flexed against Chloe's wrinkled knot, bending slightly in the middle when refused entry. As frustrated as he was determined, Coach grabbed her hips to pin her in place.

The head of his cock, nuzzled against her backdoor, began to cautiously worm inside. Chloe's body tensed up as soon as the seal was broken, her defences helpless to resist the greasy battering ram's tremendous strength.

"Oh my god, that's insane!" Amber said as she gawked, pushing her wide- framed glasses up her nose.

"You got this, Chloe!" both Hannah and Tabitha said again, encouraging the tiny, whimpering girl through her struggle. Chloe's feet kicked helplessly against the mat.

"You need to relax, sweetheart," Coach said. "Otherwise it's going to hurt." He grunted noisily and pulled himself back a little bit, but by the look on Chloe's face, most of it was still plugging her guts. "Take note of your partner's comfort level and ask them about how to proceed if you are unsure."

"Yes, Coach!" the class responded.

"Chloe?" Coach's tone was sickly sweet; he did not want to worry the poor girl any further. With the eyes of her classmates trained on her, she was under a lot of pressure. "Can I push inside a little bit more?"

"O-oh my G-Gods," Chloe squeaked out with a dull, hearty groan. She crossed her feet over each other and squeezed her knees together. "O-o-k-kay, sir."

Coach, perhaps overestimating how much room he had, eagerly slid another fat length of pipe into the slippery pocket. The poor girl yelped like someone had stepped on her tail, straightening her back when she leapt forward in a reflexive attempt to escape the sudden pain.

Coach's giant cock came flying out of her ass and slapped against his belly. The sudden release of tension threw a stream of lube in a wide arc towards the ceiling. Coach wiped a drop of the sticky goo off his cheek.

"That was really good, Chloe. You did such a good job. Didn't she, class?" Coach clapped for her efforts, encouraging us to do the same.

The whole room erupted with applause and congratulation. I don't know if it got through to Chloe, given that she was curled up in the fetal position with her legs quivering.

"I-I don't think I can do this," she whined.

"Of course you can, sweetheart." Coach patted her on the bottom. "Did it hurt?"

Chloe thought for a second, then shook her head. "Not really."

"Then, if you ask ol' Coach Mason, you've just got a bit of stage fright. You just need to be brave, Chloe. Look at all your friends. Can you be brave for them?"

The audience once again cheered to lift Chloe's morale. We reminded her of how strong she was, telling her she'd already gotten over the hard part, and promising that it would be over soon. Nobody wanted to see her panic, but we knew the end was yet to come.

"I-I can be brave," Chloe asserted, though her voice betrayed absolute terror. She climbed onto her hands and knees again. The class roared with pride as she submitted to Coach Mason once more, presenting her ass like a feast for him to dig into.

With all the patience that an excited man can offer, Coach mounted her and stuffed himself back into her bowels. Chloe bellyached like a wounded deer, groaning and wailing as Coach fed her another meaty inch. After a few repetitions Chloe began to noticeably hyperventilate, sharply drawing short, rapid breaths as the pressure in her stomach built to a crescendo.

"Deep breaths, Chloe," Coach instructed. "With me: in, and out."

The two of them breathed as one, following each other's lead. Coach was in no rush, and Chloe needed all the time in the world. Each time they took another deep breath together, he eased another inch into the young girl. She was quaking from head to toe, but Coach held her tightly.

One breath, another inch. One breath, another inch. It seemed we waited all morning for Coach to finish coaxing his cock into Chloe's asshole, though I scarcely breathed for the entire journey; I was transfixed.

We, too, would soon be subjected to the same internal exploration as our boys took their turns delving into us, but right then we could only watch as Chloe demonstrated just how toilsome such a journey could be.

"Do you feel that, Chloe?" Coach asked, gingerly prodding against something deep in her body that prevented him from going any deeper. Roughly half of his gigantic cock still waited to be let inside, but there was nowhere left to put it.

Chloe shook anxiously. "Y-y-yeah."

"That's the bottom of your asshole," he informed her. "If I was smaller I could probably fit more, but you're too tiny for me to get the rest inside."

"Oh, I-I'm sorry, Coach," Chloe whined.

"Oh, no, sweetheart." He soothed her with a rub on the back. "You did a great job for a first timer."

Chloe blabbered gibberish about how large Coach was--I could not understand a word she said other than "big cock"--but he was busy addressing the class.

"It feels really good to push your dicks against their tummies from the inside, boys, but you have to be gentle with these ladies." Coach checked in with the frail teen again. "Is it hurting too much, Chloe?"

"NooOOOooOO, sir," Chloe sung in a variety of different octaves. I noticed that she was subtly rocking her hips as Coach addressed the class. By the looks of things she was not squirming in discomfort, but grinding against him because it felt good. Her tightly furrowed brow broke into the first hint of a smile since she had been invaded.

"Now that she's comfortable," Coach announced triumphantly, "I'm going to fuck her!"

"Wh-what?" Chloe stammered. I'd never seen her so devoid of self-control. She was barely lucid, and even the announcement that she was going to be fucked did not pull her from her fantasy. "Fuck... me?"

"Don't be scared now," Coach calmly promised her, "I'm already pretty close to cumming, so you don't have to deal with this old man too much longer.

"Okay," he said, addressing the class again, rather than Chloe, "now, you're gonna want to push in as deep as you can when you cum, but you should ask your partner if they're okay with that first." Per the pattern he'd established, he refocused on my bewildered best friend. "Are you okay if I cum inside you, Chloe?"

"Cuuuummmmm, cuuuummm!" The dainty blonde hollered, peeling chunks of blue leather off of the mat with her fingernails.

Chloe's ass was still rocking back and forth. The way she drove Coach's cock to the bottom every time he laid into her was unmistakable; she was fucking him back.

"Does it, like, hurt more if he cums deep?" Michelle asked across the room. She was still in her doggy style position with her partner gently tugging at the plug in her butt.

"Not necessarily, no," the Coach answered, "but any of you ladies that let your partner dump too deep will be cleaning cum out for the rest of the day." He never wavered his strokes as he spoke, sawing his cock in and out of Chloe's asshole in an unbreakable rhythm.

The boys in the audience snickered, earning them a series of scornful looks that shut them right up. Chatter broke out amongst the class as couples argued back and forth about whether or not the aforementioned creampie would go as deep as the dick depositing it wished. Some girls wanted to try it; others did not want to be tasked with a day spent cleaning up the mess.

"Chloe," Coach, said, "for this demonstration I'm going to cum right by the entrance. Is that okay?" While he was focused on her again, his volume and tone clearly indicated that the class should heed his example.

Well of course she wants that, I thought to myself. She doesn't want to be feeling his swimmers slithering through her all day - not to mention leaking out!

Nothing I knew about Chloe could have prepared me for her following request, but she was steadfast in its utterance. "Deep!" she cried out with no hesitation, letting her instincts guide her every move.

Coach was silent for a second and brought his humping to a gradual standstill. "You want it... deep?" There was some genuine confusion in his voice, matching his obvious hesitation.

Chloe, seeking to prove the legitimacy of her request, did not pause her excited bouncing for a single second. She took full control, thrusting her ass back onto Coach's cock until it poked her belly again. The old man stared at her in amazement when she drove his cock to the bottom, using her body to convince him that she was dead serious.

"Deeper, deeper," Chloe chanted, unwilling to raise her head off the mat in case she met anybody's judgemental stare. She knew what she wanted.

Coach released a chuckle that came from within his soul. I could see it on his face: he was going to give my best friend exactly what she was asking for, and happily. He let her bounce for a few more seconds, allowing her to bring him to the edge.

"Oh, oh boy," Coach grunted, embedding his cock as far into Chloe's guts as he could. She squealed when he touched bottom, but did not resist his pull on her slender hips. "Here it comes, sweetheart. You're gonna make ol' Coach Mason cum!"

Chloe howled like a wolf at the moon, her impassioned wails bouncing around the gym like a one-woman orchestra, while Coach visibly struggled to stop himself from doing the same. I suppose he wanted to maintain some shred of professionalism, but having Chloe devotedly dropping into his lap for the final thrust was enough to eke out a low, satisfied growl.

The two writhed together, their bodies pressed as close as they could with six inches of dick still sticking out of Chloe's butt. My fellow students and I watched with bated breath as the tiny teen clenched around her elder's powerful piston, milking the cum out of him one virile spurt at a time.

Coach was then the one with shaky legs, the mighty trunks showing their first signs of vulnerability. He was held in place by his cock, still rooted in Chloe's tepid abyss, and he would have to lift the weight out of her stomach if he wanted to stand up straight. The tether connecting them slid out of her asshole and swung between the old man's legs like a fearsome hammer, beckoning for another challenger.

Coach wiped his brow with a cheerful whistle. "Chloe, I gotta tell you, I feel bad for Thomas for missing out on that."

I spotted a look of ecstasy on Chloe's face when she rolled onto her back and cast her empty gaze to the lights on the ceiling. I knew that if I'd seen it, then the rest of the class had, too.

As soon as Chloe remembered she was being watched, she realized how unbecoming it was to be basking in bliss while her teacher's cum slowly seeped from her well-worn butthole. Reality's intrusion put a look of horror on her face.

She curled into a protective ball with her eyes shamefully trained on the floor. "Can I be excused, please?" she begged with a sniffle. I did not envy her for the emotions she was surely suffering. One minute it had sounded like she'd been having the time of her life, but then everything had turned on a dime, and she was trying to disappear from the world.

Coach sighed, still trying to regain his composure. "Uh, yeah, okay. Go ahead, sweetheart."

Chloe was on her feet in a flash, but that was her ultimate undoing. Thanks to the way that Coach had inconsiderately stuffed air into her, the motion of standing up forced it out - and, quite obviously, the same way it had gone in.

We all heard it. It would've been impossible not to have, and the deafening silence afterwards was proof. Luckily for Chloe, it did not sound like she'd passed gas. That would have been so embarrassing that she would have had to have moved to a different village. It was more like the air had whooshed out when her insides had shifted back into place. It might not have made much noise at all, but thanks to the swamp of semen that Coach had left behind, the release of air came out as a vulgar, bubbly gurgle.

Chloe flicked her gaze to each of us, analyzing whether or not we had heard the lurid squelching. Sadly, nobody had missed it. Her face, redder than a freshly painted barn, hid behind one of her hands. I wondered why she did not use both, but only for an instant.

Chloe's other hand was wedged firmly between her cheeks, using her fingers to plug the leak between them while she shuffled out of the room. I thought the waddling was overkill, but again, only for an instant. We all saw - and even heard - the drippings that followed behind her. Left in the wake of her small, carefully placed steps were the remnants of Coach Mason's generous load. Small, white droplets of cum splattered on the ground by Chloe's feet as she walked. She passed me with her head hung low, desperate to avoid looking any of us in the eyes.

It was hard to ignore the heavy dose of cream oozing through her fingers, and even harder to ignore it dribbling down her thigh. A long, glistening trail of the stuff dripped freely down her leg. It ran well past her knee until it met the hem of her white sock. With nowhere left to go, it seeped into the cotton until it was soaked to her skin. How much more would have to leak out of her for her feet to get wet? I wondered.

As soon as she was out of the room, the class exploded with laughter. At the end of the day, funny sounds are funny no matter what age you are.

"Now, now, settle down. That's all my fault." Coach scratched his belly. "When I pulled out I must've pushed too much air inside. You'll all learn soon enough that it's always gonna go out, not in."

The guys continued laughing manically while the girls pondered the weight of his statement. Coach was not impressed at the half of us that continued chuckling.

"We are going to be mature about this," he said sternly - quite the change from his jolly norm. He wasn't rude, but the pack of horny hyenas quieted down in a hurry. "No more laughter. You will treat this ceremony, and its participants, with respect. Ladies, are you all lubed up?"

"Yes, sir," we echoed glumly. It had been nice to have a reprieve from the tension, but The Ceremony had to continue. There was nothing more to delay is arrival.

"Good! Glad to hear it!" Coach clapped his hands. "Now, let's get into position. Ladies, on all fours, please."

I wanted to chase after Chloe. I felt an overwhelming need to be there for her, but I had no choice. She would have to wait until I--or rather, John--was finished. The memory of her face, awash in pleasure, flashed before my eyes.

Had she been enjoying it all along, or did it start to feel good somewhere along the way? I tried to distract myself with that train of thought while John climbed behind me, the mat heaving under his weight.

"Girls, just tell your partner when you're ready. Boys, take the lead after that." We all responded with a resounding "Yes, sir," but more than half of the mouths saying so were already muffled by their respective leather mattress.

One by one, the girls down the line announced their consent and prepared for The Ceremony to begin. A solemn hush fell over the crowd - the calm before the storm. One by one, the girls around me broke that silence.

Gasps, shrieks, and squeals erupted down the line as my classmates simultaneously accepted dicks of varying sizes inside of them, being thrust into the throes of adulthood within the same four walls where they'd learned to play "Duck, Duck, Goose." Being that John was one of the largest ones, I was happy that he continued to show patience.

"I think it'll be easier if you spread yourself," John suggested. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the banshees wailing all around us.

"Do you really think so?" I arched an eyebrow, even though he could not see. "Or do you just want me to spread for you again?"

"Uh, both?" He chuckled. I could not deny his boyish charm, and felt inclined to indulge him.

"Hmm, you mean like this?" I submerged my fingers into my ass cheeks and pried them open to shine a spotlight on his tantalizing prize.

"That is fucking perfect!" John gushed happily as he nudged the tip of his cock against the fleshy circle.

John rubbed his frenulum back and forth over the bumpy surface, dragging the sensitive underside over every wrinkle. I felt him growing--both harder and larger--as he rubbed against me.

Once he was fully engorged, he straightened his cock to direct the swollen helmet flatly against my butthole. He gently asked for permission to enter, knowing full well that he would have to do more than simply ask to get inside.

I was clenching terribly hard, so I forced myself to go through the exercises. I inhaled, then exhaled, and let my muscles unwind. I was not relaxed by any means, but I produced just enough slack so that John--with a not-so-gentle push--was able to squeeze in half of the fat, spongy head.

He was firm, but if I squeezed my walls around him there was more give than there had been with the toy. It actually felt kind of nice to feel myself form to his shape if I clenched tightly enough. The heat of his cock, too, put the toy to shame. With only a portion of the head inside, I could not believe how thoroughly its warmth spread through my entire body.

The mushroom flared menacingly inside me, like it was trying to edge its way inside without having to push any harder. Each steady throb inflated the head with a rush of blood, stretching my rubbery ring until it lowered its defences. The attached vanguard of John's invader patiently pried my walls apart, stretching me in preparation for his deep descent.

The lube saturating us was the only thing that made it possible for him to ease the head into me. It did not feel as though John was pushing that hard; I noticed that if I tightened my ass it practically stopped him dead in his tracks until I loosened up again. I realized that he was waiting until I was fully ready before he began to enjoy himself. Until then, he was dedicated to making the experience as painless as possible. After watching Chloe and Coach Mason, I was grateful for that.

I pushed out with my anal muscles like we'd practiced, but with a different goal in mind. I knew that I could not push John out, but I'd put the pieces together: those same exercises would have the effect of loosening the chokehold that my stretched out ring had around his cock.

"Do it... when I... push," I instructed through my shallow breathing.

"Okay, Em." He had no idea what he did to me by calling me that, and I barely understood the feelings myself. I pushed down a litany of intoxicating thoughts--ones a woman should only have after marriage.

I sucked in a deep breath and bore down, breathing out slowly as I did. My elastic noose begrudgingly obeyed me, relaxing just enough to entirely engulf John's plump helmet. In an act foreshadowed by my best friend, I, too, kicked my feet in a petulant tantrum, loudly slamming them against the mat to drown out my guttural groaning.

"The head is in!" John declared in a state of wonder.

"I fucking know it is!" I screeched, curling my toes until every joint cracked. "It feels like there's a fist up my ass!"

"Should I take it out?"

"No! No, that's only gonna make it worse." I took deep breaths through my nose.

I rocked my hips back and forth to try to get used to the sensation of John's throbbing cock pushing my walls apart, but it was a slow process. It was incredibly foreign to feel something so large bulging inside of me, making its presence known every time I so much as hinted that I might clench up. I had taken it for granted in the past, but being empty was starting to sound pretty appealing.

It was like when you hurt your thumb and then realize, throughout the day, how often you actually use it. Whenever you do, you start to long for a time when you could freely move your digits around. I was feeling that in full force, fondly reminiscing over how freely I would jump in the air when startled by the horses in the barn. I felt as though if I were to tighten up that much right then, I would crush John's cock like a constricting python.

Once that visual entered my head, I felt an urge to run with it. I summoned a deep breath and forcefully squeezed under the ridge of John's cock head like I was trying to strangle it. The portion below the large swell of his helmet was a perfect fit for my rubbery ring. I squeezed around his frenulum with an assault of gentle, forceful squeezes.

The head was soft when I clenched up, his spongy dome flexing under the pressure of my snug tunnel. It was much, much more enjoyable than the rigid purple toy, and I actually liked the way it felt to have his warmth radiating through me from the inside.

"That feels really, really good," John sighed, drunk on lust. "Are you doing that on purpose?"

"The squeezing? Yeah, I am." I was proud that I'd found a way to manipulate my body to please him without being told how. I'd simply done what had come naturally, and he was in heaven for it. I gave him a few celebratory squeezes for good measure. "You like when I do that?"

"Fuck, yeah I do," he growled.

"Would it feel better if you were a little deeper when I squeezed?" I asked sweetly, seducing him into an answer I had perfectly predicted. Each squeeze made the next one hurt a little less, giving me hope that I would be able to make room for John without being ripped in half. I had a theory, and I wanted to test it.

As soon as the offer left my lips, John advanced. He fed me another inch, worming deeper into the tightly packed jungle of soft, wet ass meat.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"A little," I whimpered, kicking my feet a couple times. "It's more discomfort than pain. It just feels so strange. No matter how tightly I squeeze, you don't get any smaller! You're just there, throbbing."

We had been taught anatomy in preparation for The Ceremony, so I was not surprised when John poked against the muscular internal ring that resided an inch or so inside of my ass. No matter how many lessons we'd been given, nothing could have prepared me for the real thing.

Just like we'd been told, I was not able to manually control the inner ring as I could the outer one. The only thing I could do was relax and let John proceed with caution, hoping we had done enough to convince my body to open itself for him. The tip of John's cock nestled firmly into the mouth of the inner circle, awaiting permission to breach the barrier.

You would have thought we'd practiced that dance a thousand times with how smoothly we navigated each other's bodies. I was fearful that John, like many egotistical men our age, would haphazardly jam himself to the root and send me into a fit of tears. Instead, he focused intently on my reactions and noted every hint of resistance I offered.

More lube was generously donated to my stretched-out asshole, which he then eagerly massaged around the rim. It proved well worth the effort as he took his time easing through the small circle, stretching it methodically over his pulsing crown like a turtleneck that was two sizes too small.

As he pushed deeper inside, my insides shifted to make room for him. The head had been easy in comparison, but as he pushed deeper it became obvious that my ass would not be invaded without a fight.

John patiently pushed until he had sunk half of his length into me. I could not handle any more without violently stiffening up, giving him pause as he analyzed my reaction.

"Is that the bottom? I'm only halfway in." His voice was hollow and dejected, though I knew he did not mean it to be. I did not hold it against him to be disappointed. It occurred to me that if I were to lie to him right then, I could prevent my ass - more like my entire being - from being filled with twice the dick it already housed.

Eager to put his worries to rest, I may have overcorrected. "No, no! I can do it, I promise. The muscle inside is really tight, but I think I can take a bit more. I'm trying to relax, but you're huge, John!"

"Is there anything I can do?" He was full of hope again; go figure.

"Can you..." I trailed off, feeling embarrassed by my vulnerability.

"Hey." John rubbed the small of my back again, sedating my flurry of fears. "It's just you and me, okay? Talk to me."

"Can you hold my hand?" I whispered, but he heard me. The noises of boys and girls alike sounded like a roaring crowd, and it combined together with the sound of wet bodies slapping against each other. John had tuned it all out, somehow. I relieved my hands of their cheek-spreading duty and tucked my face into one of my elbows so my cheek would not rub against the mat. Then, I blindly waved my left hand in the air above my butt for John to take hold of.

Without another word he fit his hand--rough and dry from labouring in the sun, but comforting in its strength--on top of mine. He closed his fingers over my knuckles like a glove, intertwining our digits. I clung desperately to him like a lifeline, imparting through my grip a faint idea of the discomfort I was going through. Still, to my utter disbelief, I wanted more.

Oh, Gods, I need more.

Every inch he fed me was a memory I would cherish for years to come, relishing the feeling of his length filling me so fully, embroiled in the juxtaposition of pain and pleasure that I had never experienced before.

It felt good to do well by John. To hear his joyous reactions to parts of me that I never took pride in was a unique experience, but that was not all that felt good. The pain felt good, and I needed to know why.

I felt the pressure Mom had talked about. There was a bubble deep, deep inside me that grew bigger the deeper he ventured. I swallowed another greasy inch, followed by another, and another, until I had lost count of how much had I had consumed. What I did not lose track of--because it came rushing at me like a freight train--was the feeling I got in the pit of my stomach when John nudged the back wall for the first time.

It felt like I was going throw up, but the electricity sizzling in my pussy told me that it was, somehow, a good thing. I was as nervous to take more as I was curious, but I knew that giving up then would leave me wondering forever.

"Okay, okay," I sighed. "That's enough. That's the bottom." I rubbed my thumb over John's index finger. "Am I, uh... close?"

"You did really, really good. You almost got the whole thing!" He was genuinely proud of me.

"Hmm," I grumbled, dissatisfied with the verdict. "How much is left?"

"Of my dick?" John asked, to which I grunted in affirmative. He reached between our connected bodies and tapped something against my pussy. Lightning surged through me when he brushed my clit. I couldn't help but groan, ignorant of whether or not anyone was listening.

"W-what was that?" I cried.

"My balls." John said excitedly. "They're right there. That's how close I am to the bottom."

I thought for a second, running through my options, but only one satisfied me. "I want to try."

"Try what? I'm already in your butt!" He wiggled back and forth to prove it, scraping against my tender walls as though I had somehow forgotten he was back there despite his ceaseless throbbing.

"I want to fit all of him," I announced.

"Yeah?" There was a longing in his voice, though I don't know what for. I hoped it was for me, and I was going to do everything I could to make sure of it. "Okay, let's do it."

John eased his weight against me. I felt like the added pressure was going to burst the bubble in my tummy. My toes curled, doing almost nothing - but not absolutely nothing - to help me endure the pain. In time, that pain melted into full-bodied pleasure that vibrated through my whole body like radiation.

The turgid monster in my belly prodded around for a sliver of space to wedge into, hoping to stumble upon a cozy, unexplored corner. The head pushed aside my soft, buttery walls until his balls swung against my engorged clit.

John pulsed tenderly against the plushy back wall, his whole member enrobed in lavish, wet silk. His warmth spread through me like a nuclear rod, sending its heat all the way to my fingertips.

I squeezed him tightly--lovingly--and swooned as my insides moulded to the shape of his cock. I felt every bulging vein, every small bump and curve, flexing powerfully in my tummy. I firmly, and heroically, plopped my ass into John's lap to snuff out the last bit of space keeping us apart.

He's mine.

"Holy crap, Em. You did it! You're amazing!" I was awash with pride as he bathed me in praise.

"It feels like my stomach weighs a hundred pounds," I groaned, but I didn't let on how thoroughly I enjoyed carrying that burden.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Sort of. I think I need you to start moving." It came out as a humble requeste. "I want to feel- OH FUUUUUCK!"

The thick coil of pulsating meat slid out of my asshole like a spent artillery shell casing. I was in fucking ecstasy, completely unprepared for the way my sanity dissolved from the rush of instant relief. The squishy tunnel tried its best to seal itself behind him, but was too loose to return to normal. Every inch was a mile that he had to cross to finally free his cock.

When he pulled the head out of me, I couldn't stop myself from seizing up due to the litany of pins and needles tearing through my body. With my asshole finally empty, I curled up on the floor like Chloe did and stuffed a hand between my legs.

I had to plug myself so the lube did not dribble from its dishevelled home. I prodded around the rim and was amazed as how soft my flesh had become. My fingers sunk in like my walls were made of putty, effortlessly sliding into the soggy meat in a fashion typically reserved for my pussy when I was very, very horny.

John's exit left me feeling empty. I could feel the vacuous space when I clenched, but no matter how hard I tried I could not get my asshole to feel like it was "closed" since it had become accustomed to him.

"Are you okay?" John was transfixed watching my fingers delve into the hole which he had so generously widened.

"I got a little jumpy at the end, but I'm okay."

From my position on my side, I got my first look John's erect cock since it had entered me. I could not help but stare like it was made of solid gold, and in that moment it was worth twice as much to me. My mouth watered, enchanted by the thick glaze of lube that covered the entire length.

I fought the urge to put my mouth around him, using logic to overcome the raging hormones that screamed at me to shove him down my throat. The knowledge that he had just been in my butthole was the only thing keeping me from liberally slurping on him--and it was a close call. Had we not been surrounded by peers that would surely have judged me for acting so depraved, I would have tasted him while he was still steaming.

"That whole thing was inside of me?" I gawked in amazement, oddly impressed with the discovery of my hidden talent. I held a hand over my abdomen, fondly reliving the feeling of my insides shifting about to accommodate him.

I asked him if he wanted to try again, but it was nothing more than a formality.

I got onto my hands and knees, but took my time looking around the room before John rendered detailed observation impossible. I wanted to catch the expressions the other girls were making, and I was astonished to see such variation.

As expected, a couple of them were not enjoying themselves. Disgust was plastered on a few faces, almost like they wanted anyone watching to know how thoroughly they detested the experience.

Others were moaning like seasoned whores, driving themselves into their partner's laps with genuine excitement. Those were the women I admired, though John and I fell somewhere in the middle. I was surprised at how willing I was to try new things with him, but at the same time I could not shake my guilt over Michael.

My heart sank as I recalled our fight, cursing myself for being able to ignore him so easily simply because a cock was being shoved in my face - well, shoved in my bottom, technically. Either way, I felt sick knowing how easily I avoided thinking about him by replacing him with John.

I looked over, hoping that I would see him and Amanda sitting on the mat with their legs crossed. Fate had other plans.

To my horror, Michael--the one I had promised my heart to for over a year--was on top of Amanda. As a rule, very few people detoured from the suggested position, and the last person I had expected to do so was my boyfriend. Worse than that, against the rules we'd agreed on - though before our fight, where he'd refused to reaffirm that commitment - his tongue was violently dancing with hers. They sloppily exchanged kisses while he plowed into her from above, making me sick to my stomach.

Michael was not an idiot; he knew I would see him ravaging her and breaking our promise. He wanted to hurt me, and my Gods, he had succeeded. I was undeniably angry, but I let go of that rage and turned my attention to John. For all intents and purposes, he was my man, and that made him my best chance to ignore the intrinsic need to wallow.

I batted my eyelashes at him, shaking off the emotional hiccup. "Want somewhere warm and cozy to put that thing?"

John had certainly seen me witness Michael's indiscretion, and though he did not know of the promise Michael had broken, he knew immediately that something was wrong. He opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head. The less we talked about it, the less real it was.

"Answer me, John." I nodded encouragingly, trying to get him back in the mood I needed him to be in. He had a role to play. "Or do you need a little more encouragement?"

I turned away from him and waggled my ass in his face, roughly slapping one of my pudgy cheeks with an open palm. I branded the fat mound of dough with a bright pink handprint, making it wobble back and forth like a waterbed. The outline of my fingers burned into my skin.

"Can I try?" John begged, not waiting for a reply. He struck my other cheek with his larger, stronger hand. I yelped and recoiled, tightening my core as his mark of ownership seared into my behind. "That doesn't hurt?"

"Fuck yes, it hurts!" I peeked over my shoulder and winked at him, fully committing to the devilish grin that swept across my face. "Do it again."

Slap, slap, slap.

I could not hear anything over the sound of my bottom being battered with a flurry of swift smacks. If I ever were to think about acting out, John proved he had the power to thoroughly reprimand me.

Gods, why am I enjoying this so much? Am I truly a whore? Is there something wrong with me? The doubts crept in. Other things crept in too, though. If Michael's not going to sacrifice a whit of pleasure for me, why should I hold back for him?

I wanted to continue seducing John, but it was difficult to keep my tone steady while he spanked me so fiercely. I sung to him in between the staccato spankings, my voice leaping in pitch and volume every time his hand swatted me.

"She's--uh, ready--ooohh, when you--AH, are."

John needed no further instruction. He climbed into place and fell--not pushed--into my slackened asshole. The gaping maw swallowed John's cock with no hesitation. There was a small feeling of pressure when my ass stretched over the bulge of his head, but once it was snug, his cock sunk all the way to the bottom like a stone in mud. Within a few gloriously fulfilling seconds, John's balls were flush against my pussy once more.

I squealed happily and threw my head back with a sultry groan. "Gods, that feels amazing."

"It does?" I don't say this lightly: John was flabbergasted.

"I-I mean, yeah, it does. I just feel so full of... well, you. It's kind of nice." I hadn't intended to sound so slutty, but all I'd done was stopped trying so hard to filter the truth.

"Can I start moving now?" John was willing to wait, but he did not want to. I pleaded that he go slow, but I knew any deal he agreed to came with the risk of being broken immediately.

John's hips swung back, dragging his cock out of my soggy cave. He dug his fingers into my ass and used my curves as a handle to pull me into him from behind. His cock trudged through the soggy channel. No longer fighting such reluctance, thanks to our stretching practice, John's heavy cock was free to drill deep into my stomach at his whim.

I felt my inhibition, my ability to fight back, diminish the longer he pounded me. I wanted to be used -I wanted to be used by him.

Every alternating stroke felt entirely different--in and out were night and day-and I would have spent a lifetime trying to pick which one I preferred. John pushed inside of me, inflating the pressure bubble in my stomach. He touched the bottom and tickled my sweltering depths, his massive member throbbing mercilessly as they softly caressed him from all sides.

Pulling out, on the other hand, brought a long, continuous sense of relief as the vacancy allowed my body to decompress. The tunnel collapsed behind him, snuffing out the space he'd made as it tried to heal from his relentless beating. That relief was short-lived, and the cycle repeated with no end in sight.

In, out, in, out. The pressure built, then released, every time John hilted me. I was making abhorrent noises that were very unbecoming of a lady, but that's not what I was then: I was simply his.

The outer ring of my asshole was glued to him, clinging desperately to the shaft in protest of its removal. My asshole--once a tightly puckered knot of bumps and ridges--had all of its wrinkles smoothed out as I felt it bulge telescopically away from my body like John was literally dragging my insides out.

John's cock was so thick that my asshole simply could not let go of him, and was pulled outwards along with it every time he pulled out. The tube of distended meat hugged him on all sides, using every ounce of friction available to keep its snug grip. We could have used more lube, but I was freakishly enthralled with the sensation.

My towering suitor leaned over me and slid a hand under my shirt. It hung loose from my body, and I thanked my former self for having been wise enough to forgo a bra.

John filled his hand with my dangling breast, letting the soft dough ooze through his fingers. He massaged the yielding flesh with one hand while holding himself up with the other.

My nipples perked up when his fingers brushed over them, hardening like diamonds that poked into his palms. He gingerly twisted one of the tiny buttons as he lifted my breast, taking its weight into his hand.

Our bodies were pressed against each other. No space existed physically, or emotionally, between the two of us. He pressed his lips into the nape of my neck and breathed me in, exhaling with a soft groan. My scalp was a beehive, buzzing as the swarm took flight down my spine.

"We aren't--f-fuck, supposed to touch like this," I whispered haughtily.

"Then tell me to stop." He sounded like he was threatening me.

I had an idea, but I didn't want to break our bond to explain it to him. With John draped over me, his tummy flush with the small of my back, I allowed his body weight to slowly take us both to the floor. I sunk down until my stomach was on the ground, then stretched my legs out behind me.

John made me feel like an ant crushed under the thumb of a giant. His body surrounded me, holding me to the floor as he continued to thrust into me. I do not think he noticed the position change at first; he was too busy hastily planting kisses on my neck the entire time.

I raked my nails through his hair and turned my head, pulling him closer to my level so I could place a kiss on his temple. I breathed him in like his scent would bring me the vigor needed to withstand another bout of pounding. Perhaps the tingles across his scalp were what finally shook him from his stupor.

"Oh, Em!" he cried. "I'm crushing you!"

John, the gentleman, tried to pull away so I was not ground to dust. I did not need a gentleman, so I tightened my grip on his scalp and levelled my mouth with his ear.

"Stay close to me," I pleaded.

"W-what about Michael?" He was not resisting me. No, he wanted me to tell him I didn't care - that he was free to enjoy me to his heart's content with no guilt.

"Is his dick in my ass right now?" I treated him to a flurry of fluttery butt-hugs to sell my point.

"Uh, no, ma'am." He flexed, returning the message. I don't know which of us enjoyed it more.

"Good." I tucked my head back down to the mat. "Then shut up and keep fucking me."

John ground on top of me with his cock buried to the root, holding it as deep as he could be. With his weight on me, I imagined that he would feel his dick scraping against the mat below us when his enormous cock pressed into my tummy from the inside.

Arms like cables wrapped around me in a massive bear hug, smothering me in a cozy embrace that was as unrelenting as it was warm. It felt like he never wanted to let go of me, content to gyrate his hips and drive his dick into the furthest recesses of my body until the sun burned out.

It amazed me how I, traditionally claustrophobic, found such divine comfort in being swaddled by John's giant frame. He was heavy, but not uncomfortably so, bringing security where I so often found panic. I tucked my chin to plant kisses on the hulking bicep around my neck. He, in turn, placed one on the back of my head. I felt possessed - thrilled to be dominated.

The sound of wet skin slapping against lube-coated rumps filled the air. I didn't look around to see how many couples had graduated from a slow grind into full on butt-humping, but by the sounds of it, it was more than a few of them.

John must have heard it, too, because it didn't take long for him to ask if he could start moving "a bit faster." I was nervous - barely accustomed to his girth - but I was eager to see what else my precious backdoor could handle.

For some reason, I also found myself wanting to say yes for him. I didn't want to be a lame duck. On such a meaningful day in our lives, nobody wants to be paired up with somebody who doesn't want to be there. I wanted John to feel good. Not only that, but I wanted to be the one making him feel that way. I wanted to be the girl that made him cum harder than he ever had before.

"Here, lemme get on my hands and knees again." I reached back to tap on his leg like I was surrendering a fight, and he eased his body off of me. I shuffled into the doggy position. "Can you go faster like this?"

John withdrew, then plunged, his cock into my asshole to confirm my slutty hypothesis. "Ooooh, yeah," he groaned out. "That's better."

Despite the endless sea of noise around us, one sound rose above all others: men orgasming.

All around us, our male classmates popped one by one, loudly announcing their orgasms--through words and some truly lascivious moans--each ceremoniously filling the buttholes of their respective partners.

I watched a dozen of my childhood friends, boys and girls alike, writhe in pleasure before collapsing in an exhausted heap. The girls rolled onto their tummies and clenched their legs to stop the cum from running out, while the boys fell next to them. It was a few at first, but soon there were multiple finished pairs of excited couples gossiping about how their experience had gone.

It was a lot like being in the midst of a test and hearing people around you chatter about how easy it had been, and how long before you they'd finished. With that test, however, I was happy to take my time.

With John still relentlessly pounding me, I wondered if we would be the last couple remaining. It was hard for the finished couples to ignore their jubilation once the ordeal was over - and, for a few of the girls, that the ordeal was over - and the sounds of seduction that had once inhabited the gym were steadily disrupted by giggles and whispers.

I tried to keep my head down and focus on John's incessant throbbing, but could not shake the feeling that some of the gossiping girls had their eyes trained on me. I flicked my head up and caught a brief glimpse of some wandering eyes watching John hammering into me.

Michelle and her cohort, Kathy, shuffled towards us with their hands both plugging their leaky buttholes. It was cathartic to watch Chloe's and my shared annoyance waddling lamely with cum dripping from her fingers, but it felt even better to overhear that she was clearly less enthused about her experience than most. I took perverse pleasure in watching them struggle to walk with their tails--or rather, their hands--tucked between their legs. It humanized them, and I think they felt the same.

As Michelle passed me, she gave me an endearing look and encouraged me to stay strong, which was woefully out of character for her. Clearly The Ceremony did more for community bonding than I'd expected. "You're almost done, Emily. You got this!"

"T-thanks, Michelle." I choked out an ugly grunt, interrupted by a particularly strong thrust from John that made the words bunch up in my mouth.

I brushed a stray strand of hair over my ear, but John's turbulent pounding made another lock fall loose from the other side. No matter what I did to tidy myself, I looked as depraved as I felt.

Kathy stomped her foot. "It's getting all over my hands! Hurry up, Michelle! got filled way more!"

Michelle gasped. "As if! Look at this!" She pulled her paw from between her ass cheeks.

Michelle was a heavier girl, so she needed to stuff her whole hand between her gigantic ass cheeks to have a hope of plugging the leak. As a result, her entire mitt was glistening with a lurid concoction of cum and residual lube. It looked like she was wearing a thin, reflective glove that had slowly melted down her wrist.

"Ugh, I hate this," Kathy whined petulantly. "I can feel them, like, swimming around and stuff. It's so gross!"

"I dunno, I kind of like it." Michelle grimaced shyly, rolling her sticky fingers together. "Gah, I'm such a whore. But it is kind of hot! It's like I'm holding a big, sticky spider web."

The two girls teased each other for their differing positions on the pleasure of a full bottom, completely oblivious to the large chunk of white, buttery cum that splattered on the ground by Michelle's feet. I recoiled against a fat droplet that flew from the impact like sticky shrapnel, its remnants landing squarely against the corner of my mouth.

I did not consciously control what I did next, but I wonder to this day if was truly a reflex, or unrealized desire, that made me stick my tongue out of my mouth. As soon as the salty syrup hit my tongue, the realization of what I had done hit me like a truck.

I reminded me of the many nights prior ¬- late ones, namely - wherein I was so thoroughly exhausted from studying that my brain refused to work as requested. My only company on those lonely nights, besides a deluge of monotonous homework, was our family cat: Kris. Being the sole waking member of the family was a surefire way to buy his affection, but the friendship would not be fully earned until he was given a midnight snack straight from a freshly cracked can.

On those nights my brain, much as it had become thanks to John's prolific pounding, was comparable to mush--operating on instinct alone. After serving Kris his canned food, my diminished mental state had occasionally brought me dangerously close to licking the spoon clean. Thankfully, I had always been able to snap myself from my sleepy stupor and come to my senses before I actually put the cat food in my mouth. The day of The Ceremony, however, had my brain in a denser fog than all of those sleepless nights combined.

The hot cream sizzled on my tongue like battery acid. I should have spit it out; I did not even know whose cum I was tasting. I knew where it had come from, but was not what concerned me. I was ashamed that I was intrigued by the knowledge that I was tasting a stranger's cum. Worse yet, it was cum that had been kept warm in the freshly fucked asshole of a girl I did not even like. I had a dirty little secret all to myself, but felt so guilty for enjoying it that I did not even know if I would tell Chloe.

Much like Michelle, I, too, was ready to admit what I was: a whore, and growing proud of it. I cursed my brain for the rush of dopamine it gifted me once I accepted that fact. The hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention at the prospect that I would soon join my sisters in the ranks of women who had been gifted seed deep in their bellies.

"Are you, um...close?" I didn't want to sound like I was begging.

"Not really," John sighed. "I'm sorry. Usually it doesn't take this long."

"It's okay!" I squeaked. I looked around the room and concluded that John had outlasted every single one of his comrades, but I did not want to be the one to bring it up.

Michael had left without saying a word, but Amanda is still gabbing with her friends by the doors to the gym. Her butt flap was nowhere to be seen, and I spotted a thick spattering of cum nestled between her ass cheeks.

Oh my Gods, that's Michael's.

Unfortunately for me, Amanda did not feel the need to hide it like the other girls did.

I could feel John wince as he came to the same realization as me. "I think we're last. I'm sorry, this must be so embarrassing."

"I-it's fine. Just... don't worry about it." I wanted to block out the constant distractions and focus on John, but it was difficult knowing that so many eyes were watching us.

"Coach Mason?" John called to the elder between strokes. "Do I have to finish?"

"You mean orgasm, sport?" Coach asked with a puzzled expression. "I guess not. Nobody has really asked that before. I guess if you both want to stop-"

"No!" I yelped. "No I... I don't want to stop. Can I try something?"

I pulled myself off of John's cock and climbed to my feet, ignoring the hollow void he left in my core. I felt ten pounds lighter with his dick out of me, but all I could think about was getting him back inside at any cost.

I instructed him to lie down, allowing me to stand over top of him with a foot on either side of his waist. I beckoned for his hands and he presented them to me, allowing us to interlock our fingers with our palms together. John took my weight so I could drop into a low squat. I pulled the transition off like I had done it in my sleep, but froze in my tracks when his dick accidentally pushed through the lips of my vagina.

My plush petals, laden with juices, had peeled apart like a sticker when I crouched down. Their spreading had formed a creamy trench for the tip of his helmet to lodge, and we were dangerously close to crossing a serious boundary. If I simply sat down another few inches, my pussy would greedily engulf the engorged knob in one gulp. I would get to feel him in my most sacred place. Even though we were not married, I was seriously considering faking a misstep just to feel him in my pussy for a moment.

I looked down, hoping he would be the one to get us back on track. I lacked the willpower to stop myself and needed him to be the strong one. I tried to play off my nerves by saying, "If you want to go in there you have to marry me, you know?"

"What size ring do you wear?" John asked it so sincerely that I snorted like a duckling, but I was enthralled by the possibility that he was serious - or rather, that he still would be after he'd cum. In that moment, he was, completely. As Mom had explained to me during one of our more serious conversations, it was the great burden of women to know that a man who wanted to cum - especially in our vaginas - could practically be a different man from the one who thought he had no hope of ever doing so, and from the man who'd managed it without marrying us first. Of course, even that conversation had taken a left turn into why The Ceremony - and anal sex - were therefore so great.

Then he landed another killing blow of pure sweetness. "Gods, you have the cutest laugh."

"You're being sweet; there are pigs that sounds cuter than I do!"

He winked. "Yeah, but they're not even half as beautiful as you are."

There we were flirting like a couple on a first date. It was a scene that would have been believable had it not been for the pulsating weapon aimed at my vagina.

We stared at each other in silence for too long for it to be accidental. We were both thinking the same thing, but could not say it. The silence was not awkward the way it was with some people; I felt completely at ease with John.

"Should we get on with it?" John nodded towards his burgeoning erection. "Your legs must be getting tired."

Pity, but rules are rules, I guess. I knew I couldn't be too hard on John, even though missing out on such a romantic moment stung. Vaginal intercourse was only legal once a couple was legally married. A proposal, no matter how genuine, wasn't enough.

John took my full weight when I leaned forward, giving me the balance I needed to stay upright. His dick was so hard that we did not have to hold it steady for it to find its rightful place: the deep valley housed between the mountainous swell of my ass cheeks. That valley hugged John's spongy helmet on the sides, guiding him towards the hungry hole nestled at the bottom.

Smothered on both sides, the plump mushroom had nowhere to escape. My ass hovered over it like a space ship trying to abduct a fleshy grain silo. I dropped my weight and accepted him into my ass, easily fitting the loose, sagging ring over his inflated knob.

John's cock was white hot. I quenched his smoldering rod in my buttery depths as it burrowed towards its goal. The bulging arrowhead pierced through the densely packed pocket of crushed velvet, following the velour caress of my softened walls.

My ass flattened like a pancake when I reached the bottom, generously spilling over the sides of John's thighs. His dick was completely buried within me, nestled in the furthest reaches of my asshole. He was mine again.

I took my weight off my butt and legs and rested it on John's legs instead, leaving his cock submerged to the hilt. I leaned back and spread my legs wide open to give him a view like never before, provocatively presenting my untouched pussy to him like a gift for a king. My lips parted, my clit glistening at the apex of the pink curtains like a tiny, throbbing jewel.

I raised off his lap, forcefully narrowing the ring that strangled the base of his cock as I did. My whole body tensed up as I put every ounce of strength I had into tightening my asshole, bearing down for dear life in one long, unbroken contraction. It hurt to push my muscles to their limit, but it was worth it to see John in pure ecstasy.

I wanted to empty his cock like it was a tube of toothpaste. I pinched the tiny ring hugging the base of his cock, making an airtight seal. My muscles burned, but I demanded that they hold firm. I dragged the seal all the way up, from balls to tip, never once relenting my constriction. He flexed powerfully, but could not escape. I dutifully pulled his length through the ring of rigid muscle, milking him from the balls up.

As soon as I reached the swell of his beefy cock head, I released the vice. Without manually keeping myself clenched, my asshole was so loose that it greedily engulfed his entire shaft on the way down, driving the spear into my belly.

I endured the pleasure; I loved the pain. I was in control and I felt alive. I alone was taking John to a place reserved for drug overdoses, basting his brain with dopamine until it refused to function without me.

I leaned over top of him and secured my hands on his shoulders. I straddled him with one leg on the other side of his body, making my thighs a perfect resting place for his hands. I ground on top of him, gyrating back and forth to stir my insides with his enormous, veiny spoon. He had already pounded my insides into soup; there was no reason not to commit even more.

I leaned closer to him, mashing my breasts against his chest so I was close enough to kiss him. I closed my eyes, expecting him to meet me halfway.

"Em, are you sure?" he asked.

"I don't know." I opened my eyes. "Do I have to be sure?"

"I guess not, but... why? I mean, Michael-"

I finished his sentence, making it mine. "Is not here."

My lips were hovering over his, my tongue flicking against his so delicately that he may have mistaken it for the warmth of my breath. I was sick of pretending that I was not enjoying myself. I wanted to embody the spirit of the woman trying to claw her way out of my pious soul. I gave myself over, using my last modicum of control, ironically, to force myself to give it up, and to feed John the dirtiest encouragement I could conjure.

"I want to kiss the man whose fat fucking cock had been throbbing inside my asshole all morning. Is that okay with you?"

"W-whoa." His eyes were planets, invigorated by the sudden turn. "If you talk like that, I'm not gonna last long enough to kiss you."

Bingo.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me if I tell you how my poor, empty butthole is just waiting to swallow up your babies?" I donned the most sultry, alluring voice I could, trying to draw his orgasm out with my words like I was a witch at a cauldron. John groaned like someone had punched him in the stomach, and I knew that that noise was a wordless plea for to keep going - to say nothing of the veins in his neck doubling in size.

I cared about nothing more than pleasing him. I did not know how many people were listening to us, and I'm happy for that. If I'd been more aware that Coach Mason and a handful of remaining students had been gawking silently at our passionate display, I might not have had the courage to degrade myself for John's--or my-- enjoyment.

"I want every drop of that hot, bubbly fucking cum sloshing around my belly! Dump your cream in my fucking asshole! I wanna feel it melt!" My display of wanton lust would have seemed depraved to anyone spectating, but at that moment I did not care if the whole world was watching. All I needed was John's attention. "Use me, John. Fucking use me."

John had abandoned humanity entirely. He was a fuck machine devoid of brain activity save for the small piece he needed in order to understand my rampant pleading.

"My tight, little asshole needs to be filled all the way up. Make my belly bulge with all that gooey fucking cum." I did not know where I was pulling such a profane narrative from, but the stream of utterly filthy consciousness that John had somehow coaxed out of me was flowing freely.

John cried out, announcing that he could not take another second without exploding. My ass cheeks plummeted onto his cock with a final, thunderous clap, crashing the gelatinous tidal wave against him. I drove him deep into my center and held him in place against the spongy floor once he bottomed out. I wanted to memorize every miniscule detail of his orgasm, knowing I would be thinking about it for years to come.

With the neurons in his brain firing at a thousand miles a minute, the only thing he squeaked out was, "Kiss."

That was all I needed to hear. I brought my lips to his and closed my eyes, relishing how his body bucked and writhed beneath me. We passionately exchanged sloppy kisses, intertwining our tongues like it came as naturally as breathing.

John tethered me to his chest, holding me close. His hands roamed up and down my back like he, too, was trying to lock every detail of the moment into his brain. He didn't need to hold me so tightly - I wasn't going anywhere - but I deeply cherished being held like I was the only thing that existed in the world. What woman wouldn't have? I melted into John's arms, patiently waiting for him to orgasm.

We sounded like two wounded animals, groaning in unison as the first rope of John's load erupted into me. I jumped a little as the first hot, white stream of syrup basted the bottom of my asshole, instantly filling me with a surge of warmth. It felt like someone had poured lava into my belly, and I eagerly awaited another dose. I hadn't thought it would be so warm, but I loved it.

I'd also expected it to be watery, but his cum was thick like glue. The sticky paste clung to the walls clamping around his cock, drowning the throbbing helmet in a bath of butter that, despite the intense heat, was only half melted. I could feel the viscous goo drool over the head of John's quivering cock, marinating him in his own cum as he continued to pump into me.

The heat in my belly grew as John flooded my insides, dumping more and more cream into the pool of dense, bubbly magma. He kept the hole plugged, and had he not, I would have already lost control of the frothy sea of cum soaking into my tender walls. For the moment, the hefty donation was securely locked deep, deep within my bowels.

I slowly rotated my hips on him, making the mixture of lube and cum churn inside me, decorating every corner with a thick coat of paint. I had taken him so deep when he came that I feared (read: hoped) that I would feel his cum swimming around for days, longing for the sensation that made other girls uncomfortable. I wanted to know his cum was oozing through me while I walked about, marking me with an internal insignia that no man could hope to replicate. I was possessed.

We lay together, my weight on him, until the stars in my vision began to dim. My head was resting on his chest, rising and falling steadily with his breathing. It was meditative, lulling me into a dreamlike state of bliss. After what we had just gone through, I felt as though I needed some serious meditation.

John's cock eventually softened, but even when flaccid it was too big to slide out on its own. I pushed out a couple of times with my anal muscles, but not hard enough to dislodge it. I loved knowing that it was not going to come out without my help; he was so big I would have to manually drag him out of me before my juices soaked him into a prune.

He noticed the same thing I did, and said, "I think you're gonna have to push."

"Just like my training, huh?" I giggled, kissing his muscular chest.

I grunted and used the last of my strength to push out with my asshole, clenching the weakened muscles together and using them to force out John's steadily thumping cock. I sighed as the softened helmet fell out of me, giving me a second of relief. I sealed the exit to prevent a rush of hot, salty cum from spilling out of my ravaged hole.

"Are you two finally finished?" Coach shouted abruptly.

John and I shot to attention, flickering our eyes at the remaining students. There were not many, but I realized that having even one person gossip about what they'd just witnessed would be social suicide. The funny thing? I still did not care. John had been worth it.

My eyes darted around the room, checking to see if Chloe had come back to wait for me, but instead I was devastated to see Michael curled up in a ball in the corner of the room. He was staring intently at his shoes, playing with the ends of them aimlessly. There was no chance he had avoided seeing, and hearing, what John and I had just done.

I stood up and felt a sticky teardrop run down the inside of my thigh. No matter how tightly I squeezed, the damage John had done to my asshole made it impossible to stop his cum from seeping out. I knew then exactly why so many women had adopted Chloe's technique. I followed suit to stop from leaving a slimy snail trail in my wake.

I thought about using a finger or two in order to plug myself, but when I tried I was stunned to find that three fingers were not enough. The entire ring was loose and puffy like a marshmallow, beaten to a pulp by John's thorough fucking. I could not believe how sensitive and pliable my flesh was, and I'm not ashamed to say that my pussy grew wetter as my fingers rummaged around the rim of my blown-out butthole.

The once tightly secured vault had had its doors blown open, moulding my virgin asshole into a shrine devoutly worshipping the shape of John's cock long after it left. Between the lube and his cum, there was so much leaking out of me that I would have needed the gigantic purple plug to keep it all contained.

"If I don't go push this out of me I'm going to be leaking for the next two days," I said, equally aroused and ashamed of admitting that to him.

"I wish we could do this every day." John was still lying on his back, gazing happily at the ceiling like he could see the sky through it.

"Me too," I sighed mournfully.

All I could think about was how the next day, the day after that, and the day after that, John's cock would be off limits to me. All of him would be. There was no chance that Michael would let me even speak to him again without feelings of jealousy bubbling up. I hated that thought. I hated being forced to give up the man that had awoken something so wonderful in me.

I smiled bashfully. "I had a really, really good time."

John waved an imaginary white flag. "Okay, Em, you little people pleaser. We've already had sex; you don't have to keep sweet-talking me."

"Do you think I was just saying all that stuff for you?" I arched an eyebrow. "Well, maybe at first. It was all kind of weird at first. But then... I don't know. I feel fulfilled, if that makes sense?"

John laughed. "Oh, you're full alright!"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Please tell me there's a more intelligent answer coming soon."

John sat up on the mat. He cocked his head at me and scanned me up and down. "It makes sense, Em. Like I said, you're a cool girl and I wish I could be with, like..."

I perked up. "With...?"

John hung his head and shook it, rattling around the nuts and bolts we had knocked loose. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and scrunched his nose, pushing his mouth to the side of his face with his lips in a pout.

"Like I said, Emily." John stood up, his chest level with my eye line, and reached his hand out to me. "I think you're really cool, and any guy would be lucky to have you. Thank you for celebrating The Ceremony with me. Glory Be."

"Uh, Glory Be, I guess?" I timidly reached for his hand, thinking there would be some sort of twist, but there was no surprise. John shook my hand, thanked me, and turned to leave. "W-wait, what? That's it? John!"

I called after him, but he did not turn around to acknowledge me. My heart was racing faster than it had all day, and that was a high bar. Did I say something wrong? Did I upset him by taking control at the end? Why would he ruin such a beautiful memory by letting it end like this?

I watched him exit the gymnasium without a second look, then tried to pick the pieces of my heart off the floor to go and face the consequences of what I had done to Michael. I didn't know if he would be mad, or if he even had a reason to. We had both broken the rule we'd set, but it still did not feel equal. He'd started the betrayal, but I'd finished it strong.

"Hey." My voice was weak, devoid of any of the bravado it had possessed just minutes prior. "Can we talk?"

"I guess so." Michael looked like he wanted to be angry, but was too tired to be. "Didja have fun?"

"Uh, I guess so," I said flatly. "You?"

"I guess so," he sighed.

"Lots of guessing going on around here. Guess we're a couple of real detectives or... something." I tried to lighten the mood, but Michael was beyond consolation. "Are you mad?"

"I don't have a right to be."

"That isn't what I asked." I insisted he answer me, but he looked away. I stomped my feet to demand his attention. "Michael, look, today was rough on all of us. Nobody is getting away without a few battle scars. But I'm here now--with you! Isn't that enough?"

"I guess so," he grumbled.

It was going to take a lot of work to repair what we'd broken. He was hurting; I was mad; I was hurting; he was mad. It was not a situation I would wish on anyone, and all that was left to do was assemble the pieces - old, new, changed, remaining? - and see if they still made a picture that either us wanted to look at.

Michael drove me home, but it was a silent ride. I felt John's cum oozing out of me the whole way, but knew I could not say anything. I asked for a stack of napkins at one point and tried to discreetly stuff them into my shorts to plug my sopping butthole, but I'm sure he noticed.

It was a strange type of open secret. It felt like cheating, but we'd both done it at the behest of our community - everyone we'd ever been taught to respect and obey. Everything had been above board, and maybe that was the problem. It's tough to know the woman you love is trying not to spill another man's children onto the seat of your car. If I'd left a stain, I would have never gotten over the shame as long as I lived.

Michael dropped me off with nothing more than a "See you later" before he drove off at full speed. I hoped he was headed home, but knowing him, his destination could have been anywhere.

Chloe, with her arms folded in her lap, sat alone on my porch. The wind blew her hair like golden whips across her face. She surely heard the car pull up, but did not look up at me until Michael drove away.

"Hey," I called to her. "Are you leaking on the porch? Mom's gonna be pissed."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "No, I cleaned up already."

"Well," I plopped down next to her. "I haven't had that luxury yet. I had to clench the whole ride home so I wouldn't spill on Michael's seat."

Chloe rested her head on my shoulder. "Was he mad?"

"I think so, but I don't care. I had fun." I claimed proudly.

"Me too."

"We know," I scoffed. "You were pretty loud about it."

Chloe buried her face in my shoulder with a hearty groan. "I don't know how I'm going to live that down."

"I don't think you'll have to," I offered. "Nobody can make fun of you since they all went through the same thing."

"Yeah, but none of them did it with Coach Mason!" She wailed.

I could not help but laugh at her outburst. We had been through one hell of a day, but I could not deny the relief that I felt being beside my best friend at the end of it.

"What are you gonna say to Michael?" Chloe asked once my laughter calmed down.

I chewed my lip. "I have no idea."

"You'll figure it out. You just survived the biggest dick in the whole school being shoved into your butt; you can handle anything.

My butthole clenched instinctively at the mention, making me keenly aware of just how disastrously empty I felt. I thought about finding something that resembled the purple plug to stuff my bottom with so I didn't leak onto my sheets at night. It would serve the double duty of keeping my mattress clean, as well as stopping me from enduring the dreadful vacuum of empty space that John had so thoughtlessly created in my stomach.

I did not know what the next day, or the day after that, or even the next ten minutes would bring. What thoughts would cross my mind; what thoughts would not? What would weigh upon my conscience? What might lift? I went to bed with a heavy heart - not knowing what it was in store for, either - praying to the Gods that I would not awaken the same way.

I walked up to his house with my heart in my throat, and I hoped it would not obstruct the important things I had to tell him. With the way things had gone down the day before, I didn't know if he would even want to see me. I had mixed feelings about seeing him, too, but I knew I had to confront them.

The history behind us didn't matter. All that mattered was looking to the future. After all was said and done, he was the man I saw in my future, and I could not let another day go by without telling him the truth.

The gravel in the driveway crunched underfoot. The air, or perhaps just my soul, was ominously heavy. I trudged up to the front door and summoned the courage to knock. I used the last few moments alone to think of exactly what to say to him that would put everything in place - the way it was meant to be. I didn't know if I should apologise, cry, laugh it off, or scream to the heavens!

His shadowy frame appeared behind the doorway and he paused when he recognized me through the translucent glass. Even without a clear view of my face, he knew who I was immediately. The knob turned and his puzzled expression greeted me.

"Emily? What are you doing here?"

"I don't know, I really don't. The only thing I know is that I like you. I've been thinking about you non-stop, and I hate not being about to tell you that. If you don't feel what I feel, then I'll leave and never speak to you again. But if you do, then you need to tell me now." My eyes quivered, but the rest of me was as still as an oak.

He was silent, watching my hair blow in the wind. The ticking of an old grandfather clock told me it had been three...four...five...six...

"I think you should come inside," he said, allowing his trademark sincerity to glow behind his beautiful eyes. "I've been thinking about you a lot, too. I know it's barely been a whole day but I actually miss you."

"It's not crazy, not even a little bit." I stepped over the threshold into his home, and was wrapped in its warmth just seconds before he wrapped me in his own.

A pitchy, gravelly voice called from another room. "John? Who is that?"

"It's Emily, Mom - the girl I told you about." He refused to look away from me as his smile grew to unabashed glee. "I think you're really gonna like her."

John closed the door behind us, kissing me on the cheek like a gentleman. I sent him telepathic messages, begging him to shove his tongue down my throat with a firm hand around my neck. I wanted so badly to be dominated by him. Passing The Ceremony meant we had the blessing of the village Elders to pursue the physical intimacy that had previously been prohibited. I wanted to take advantage of that permission immediately.

Ever since leaving the gym, I had felt a sense of emptiness which demanded to be filled. It was a physical necessity. I needed to feel John inside me, stretching me to my limit, to feel satisfied again. I longed for his weight on my back pinning me to the mattress, my bowels rearranging themselves to make room for the pound of throbbing meat he would so graciously bury into them. I wanted his teeth on my neck, marking me as his own so that all lesser men would fold before they dared approached me - I was owned, and I would not be changing hands. Every day forward would demand that he empty his balls into my asshole, branding my guts with his internal signature so I would never forget who I belonged to.

The only thing we could not do was entertain vaginal intercourse. My body swooned at the thought of carrying his children, together contributing to the growing community that made us so prosperous. I accepted that my dreams now amounted to bringing John's children into the world, fulfilling my obligation to the village as my mother, and her mother before her, had done with such pride. No matter how badly I wanted it, I would not be permitted to invite him into the most sacred place in my entire body.

... Well, at least until we were married.

THE END

1. Chloe's nervous voice trembled as she replied, "Y-yes Mr. Mason, I'm ready."
2. Despite their familiarity, watching Chloe in this unfamiliar situation made me question, "Am I ready for this?"
3. I remembered my mother's words, "You're going to love it!"
4. I witnessed the older man spreading lube onto his penis and asked myself, "How am I going to feel after an anal creampie?"
5. In the days leading up to the event, I would often ponder, "What if John's penis isn't the perfect size for my ass?"

Read also:

• Analisa
• Illicit Romance: Part 11
• Hidden Romance: Part 10
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