Allison's Tuition By Mouth

(Part 1 from 1)

For as long as she could remember, pretty Allison had had one unfaltering dream… to study Literature and History at a small Eastern University. She even knew which university she wanted, one she had seen a brochure about one day at the library. She immediately went to the library computer to check out the school’s website. As if calling out directly to her, the site had picture after picture of the campus… an amazingly beautiful campus with old reddish stone and brick buildings, endless green space, a large duck pond and several stately old churches along the perimeter. The school was small, just a few thousand students… and it was known for the foremost quality of its teaching. The town, too, was quaint and small, filled with stately old buildings. And each picture showed smiling, beautiful people. Allison desperately wanted to go there, to be among them.

Her Mom and older brothers laughed. Sure, she was smart enough… none would deny that… top of her class in many subjects. But she was poor. She’d be best to just accept her lot and get a job. Her brothers kept reminding her how all their friends thought she was pretty, and laughingly suggested she’d make a perfect little prostitute. “Hey! Do that for a few years, and then maybe you COULD go to your fancy-pants school,” they said. Allison had wanted to tell them to shut up; but that was not in her nature. Instead, she would prove to them that she could find a way to go to the school of her dreams. But how?

One day, just days after receiving acceptance to the university, but having her request for student loans declined because of her family’s non-existent assets, and with her brothers’ meant-to-be-unkind words in her head, Allison made a phone call and arranged a meeting for her at the home of her town’s most notorious bachelor. Mr. Balson was rich… filthy rich. At 78, he also was old… but he never acted old. Though mostly bald except for a rim of white hair around his ears, he nonetheless maintained the body of a 25-year old, working out for several hours daily in the gym in his home and jogging daily through town, his eyes continuously scoping out pretty girls. Most of the prettiest girls over 18 had, at one point or another, kneeled at his feet to give him a blowjob, in exchange for money or a summer job or something… that was just how things worked in this town. Having just turned 18 herself, Allison figured that it was her turn to ask for a favor, though she realized that the price likely would be steep. Over a red brassiere and matching red nylon bikini panties, she put on a cute red top, a tight pair of short white shorts, white ankle socks and white sneakers. She then combed her long blonde hair until it was perfect, flowing straight and free down to the middle of her back like a waterfall. Finally, she carefully applied make-up, including bright red lipstick she thought the old man would like. He apparently liked girls to leave lipstick stains on the crotch of his white fruit-of-the-loom underwear, and she certainly would oblige, if that is what he required of her. She then set out. Her brothers both wondered why she had dolled herself up so much. Unlike most of the girls in town, guys generally did not know about Mr. Balson; the girls kept that a secret.

A butler let Allison in and told her to wait. A moment later, he led her down one long hall and then another, finally opening the door to a big library room, where seven remote-controlled cameras on tripods already were set up. Mr. Balson was sitting in a big arm chair reading. He looked up over his book and his reading glasses to regard Allison.

“My! You ARE pretty!” he said, earnestly. And Allison was. Just like no one ever doubted how smart she was, even all the girls at her school acknowledged that Allison was a true beauty… with the sweetest face, the most amazing smile, the most gorgeous big, brown eyes, and a perfectly proportioned petite figure: 34-24-34. In jeans, pants or shorts, her ass turned every guy’s head. And, even though not busty, her breasts certainly were flattering to her.

“Thanks,” Allison replied, demonstrating that even her voice was perfectly sweet.

“So, Allison,” Mr. Balson asked, already having some idea. “What can I do for you?”

About two hours later, Allison emerged from the mansion, satisfied that she would, after all, be attending the school of her dreams. Mr. B. had agreed to front the considerable $15,000 first year tuition for a provincial non-resident, to pay for her first year residence and meal fees, and to provide her with a generous allowance for books, supplies, clothes and make-up, all-in-all up to $25,000. But, as the last two items (clothes and make-up) reminded her, the cost had been steep. In exchange for all this, Allison had agreed that, from now on until the day he died (which, given the 100-year longevity of both his parents and his own exquisite condition did not seem at all imminent), Allison’s mouth belonged to him. So long as it did not directly interfere with her school or ultimate career, if he wanted a blowjob from her… she would provide her. If he wanted to use her mouth as a urinal… she would allow it. If he wanted her to eat his sh#@… she would eat it. That was his price. To emphasize the point, he had had her kneel to blow him several times, as well as his butler, his cook and his gardener (the first blowjobs of her life), and swallow everything, all in front of a myriad of cameras.

The next afternoon, Allison’s first stop on her way home from school was to the library to check out the website Mr. B. had assured her would be up and running within 24 hours. Sure enough, it was.

As amazed as she was that everything was up on line so quickly, was exactly what Mr. Balson said it would be, with over 600 pictures of Allison on her knees blowing the four men, as well as an almost 2-hour video and 23 short videos that viewers could download quickly so they could save their favorite 5-minute segments. The multiple cameras provided a seemingly unlimited number of views, from close-ups of Allison’s virgin mouth sliding down each of the men… on several occasions alternating between two of them; to side and rear views capturing her from tip to toe, including her sweet, sweet ass in those tight, white shorts. Often, Allison had been asked to turn her eyes towards a camera, so she would be looking right at it; there could be no doubting that she was the one having her mouth porked by all these men. There were at least 100 pictures like that… including some with Allison gagging as she tried to deep throat. Throughout everything, Allison remained dressed; though, in later pictures, Mr. B. had her strip off her shorts to kneel in just her panties; and later had her strip off her top to reveal her bra. Her socks and sneakers also remained on.

Allison’s second stop after school was Mr. B’s huge garage, where over 15 luxury cars were parked, and more cameras set up. Mr. B was there, along with his chauffeur. Allison was wearing black pants and a white short-sleeved sweater today, along with black platform shoes. Dutifully, she kneeled to blow Mr. B. and his driver (more pictures and video footage for the website, she was told), before they all climbed into the car to drive downtown to buy Allison clothes and make-up ‘for school and work’. This, of course, reminded Allison of another part of her ‘deal’ with the millionaire, a deal that would help her to earn money to pay her own tuition and other expenses after the first year.

Allison would be going to school more than 20 hours drive away and, therefore, couldn’t see Mr. B. every day while attending school. She would come home one long weekend each month, during which time she’d stay with Mr. B., and he would do his best to ‘entertain’ her. Otherwise, while at school, she would work part-time to raise money for the next year’s tuition and fees, as well as for several charities Mr. Balson now decided to support… as a prostitute. She, in fact, would be this small town’s one and only prostitute, a fact already clarified with and approved by the local sheriff, thanks to VERY generous donations to the police station, city and university (you see, with Mr. Balson, it never really is about money… it’s about paying your debts). Anyway, since it was illegal for anyone to ask for money for sex, a clever loophole had been found which not only would free the pretty blonde from all prosecution, it also would advertise her services. Regardless of whatever tight jeans or pants or short shorts and heels she was wearing, every day Allison would wear one of a series of special, tight, form-fitting t-shirts and, for colder weather, sweaters that Mr. B. was having Allison measured for today… one each in at least 10 different colors… and each would have a little ad on the front and back, advertising Allison’s services. For example: “I’m a prostitute” might be on the front and “Blowjobs - $20 each - Discounts for groups” on the back. That way, Allison never would have to ‘say’ anything. The sheriff even agreed to let Mr. B. know if Allison ever was caught not wearing one of her custom t-shirts; so she knew she WOULD have to wear them. The $20 price was decided upon because Mr. B. wanted Allison to remain affordable in a college town, and busy.

At that first meeting, Allison almost pulled the plug on the whole arrangement and all her dreams over the t-shirt. But when she was reminded that most people would just think it was a joke, and that this truly was the only way for her to drum up the necessary business without being arrested and, consequently, expelled from school… she agreed. She would trust in the fact that most of her classmates would think it just was a silly shirt; at least until word of her services became well enough known around the small town that it hardly even mattered.

That day, Mr. B. bought her 7 pairs of expensive designer jeans, based largely upon his own tastes, but accepting some feedback from the wearer herself… all had 5 pockets, all were exceedingly tight; and all had some recognizable logo or design on the seat. Three were dark navy blue, two a lighter blue, one white and one pink. He also bought her an array of tight pants, again all in a design her liked… two front pockets with front pleats and no back pockets… two white pairs (with thin enough material that her panties showed through), two black pairs, one light blue pair, one light pink pair, one camel-colored pair, one chocolate brown pair and one bright red pair; he bought her several pairs of short shorts; about a dozen different sexy belts, from chain belts to wide white belts to various others; three dozen pairs of satin bikini panties (she’d wear only satin panties from now on, he told her); twelve sexy bras; and 12 pairs of spiked, high-heeled shoes. It was near midnight, long past the usual closing time of the elite store to which she’d been brought, when Allison found herself on the sidewalk outside the store’s Main Street entrance, on her knees blowing Mr. B. again and the store manager for the first time, while Emil, the chauffeur took more pix and video coverage for Allison Escort.

Over the next few months, Allison visited the mansion daily for at least an hour, each day wearing whatever outfit Mr. B. had told her to the day before. Every day, at least two men (Mr. B. and someone else) received blowjobs from the pretty blonde as she posed for pictures and did her best to be entertaining for the video. Some days, as many as 20 men would be there, having been invited by Mr. B. as ‘guests’ to meet his ‘new friend’. Allison dutifully kneeled to blow them all, thankful that she’d not had to eat shit (though she had swallowed some piss), and that, except for her mouth and throat and, a few times, her ass, she’d never been fucked. Mr. B. actually wanted her to keep her clothes on. Ass-fucking, when it occurred, happened when he had her strip down from shorts to panties, at which time all he or whoever merely pulled the crotch of her panties aside. Initially, Allison had squealed with pain. But, by now, she was used enough to having her ass penetrated that it opened easily, so long as the invader went slowly. ass fucking invariably was followed immediately by mouth fucking… which was as close to eating shit that Allison ever got… for now.

All the while, her website grew and grew and grew. By the time she was ready to leave for school, tens of thousands visited the site daily to enjoy the more than 50,000 photos and hundreds of hours of videos. Allison’s pictures were all over the net on free sites as well, luring potential customers to where, amazingly, everything was free. Many of the scenes had been done to satisfy viewer requests, including several of Allison giving blowjobs fully exposed in public (for example, on Main Street, in a big public park, in the central court of a busy mall, and in a restaurant) where only Mr. B’s money and influence ensured the cooperation of those who might object and saved her from prosecution. One site visitor had asked if Allison would consider blowing a Great Dane or another big dog like that. Allison arrived at the mansion unawares a week later, wearing her white shorts and sneakers again, to find Mr. B. in his study with a new pet he’d just purchased.

“His name is Brutus,” he told Allison, introducing her to the huge animal. Allison, of course, knew immediately what was expected of her. But she couldn’t help but be amazed at Brutus’ size a few moments later when she was on her knees with Brutus standing on his hind legs, his front paws resting on the butler’s shoulders as he stood behind Allison. Like so many of us, Allison had had her legs ‘humped’ by dogs in the past. But, this time, her mouth was the intended target and Brutus was perfectly positioned to access it.

Allison also knew exactly what was coming a few weeks later when, thanks to another request from the same animal lover visiting her website, Mr. B. instructed her to wear tight jeans and heels suitable for a stable; but she came anyway, climbed into the back of the car with Mr. B. without question, and amiably petted both horses’ before kneeling on the towel placed near their hind ends when told. She’d worn a really nice pair of dark blue jeans and a bright white belt that seemed to capture the horses’ attention, because they both repeatedly turned to watch her sweet little ass as she worked their members.

The next day in the library, reviewing the new pictures and watching her new video posted on the website, she was pleased that she kept her eyes open the entire time, and that she’d worn the dark navy jeans she had, which looked VERY nice, as tight as they were against her ass as she leaned into each animal. She wasn’t at all surprised, a couple of weeks later, when her custom-made t-shirts arrived, and she noticed three or four that read: “Prostitute” on the front and “I Do Horses Too!” on the back. She laughed. The school she was going to definitely was located in a rural community. She wondered if the $20 per blowjob price would apply to ‘everyone’.

On the morning she left on the train for school, Mr. B. and all the male house staff, in three cars, accompanied Allison to the station, where she kneeled to blow them all. The pretty blonde on her knees - wearing black pants, a hot pink t-shirt that read “I’m a Professional Slut’ on the front and “Blowjobs $20’ on the back, and black 2 ½ inch heels – orally servicing a crowd of men making a semi-circle around her on the departure platform certainly received stares from all the other train-goers. But all the cameras, two big signs that read ‘Filming in Progress’, and the purchased ambivalence of the station staff stifled all objections. Many train-goers, especially men and pretty young women, pulled out their own cameras to capture Allison in action. It took her over an hour to blow Mr. B. (three times), the butler, the cook, the cook’s assistant, the chauffeur, the two gardeners, the maintenance man and both Mr. B’s accountant and his lawyer, during which time several trains arrived and departed, allowing thousands upon thousands to see Allison at work. But, by now, she was so used to being seen with a cock in her mouth that she didn’t care. This was the last time she’d get to blow any of these men in over a month, and she wanted them all to remember her fondly. Besides, it made no sense for her to try to hide her face, since two other signs, each featuring a big smiling picture of Allison and the name of her website on it, were positioned next to the first signs. So Allison just focused all her attention on earning her creamy rewards, reaching back with her hands to brush the seat of her black pants from time to time to remove any white lint that might float there (usually with a cock still in her mouth), and looking pretty for the cameras.

But blowing the last of these men, she couldn’t help but wonder if Brutus would be brought along so she could say ‘Goodbye’ to him. Of course, she needn’t have worried. She was in the process of deep-throating the lawyer when she heard his distinctive loud, low bark, and she suddenly looked to where the crowd around her seemed to be parting a bit.

“Hmm hmm?” she called, hopefully.

Brutus could hardly be contained as he pulled towards her. He remembered Allison and couldn’t wait to piston her mouth again.

On the train, a couple of young guys who’d read her t-shirt asked Allison if she really was a prostitute, and where she was going, and she said ‘Yes’ and told them where. They both lived in another town, but Allison gave them her cell phone number, told them about her website and told them to call. Clearly as horny as hell about the prospect of being blown by this amazingly cute blonde, they both promised they’d call her within the week (which they did).

Once in her new town, Allison quickly realized that she’d been wrong about her t-shirts and sweaters. Everyone noticed them. But she kept her cell phone off during the day at school and told men who came forward asking her in person for ‘a date’ that they needed to call her in the evening after ten, from Monday through Thursday, and on weekends when she was open for business. Somewhat surprisingly, many pretty college girls (including a disproportionate number of blondes) also approached her, again asking her if she really was a prostitute and then asking questions about what it was like, was it fun, did she make much money, and how could a girl like themselves get into it. Already swamped with work, even after one week in town, she encouraged them. And, very quickly, she noticed several other girls walking across campus obviously dressed to prostitute themselves – some wearing shorts so short and tight it was amazing they could get them on; others wearing similarly tight jeans; all wearing skimpy tops, 2 ½ inch or better spiked heels and a wee bit too much make-up. Allison had warned them not to ‘say’ anything; so they didn’t. Most just ended up on their knees blowing one or two guys behind some school building after being led there by the hand, and then accepting whatever ‘tip’ they were given. Sometimes, the tip provided for a blowjob and the swallowing of cum was a dime or less; but that was okay, because some guys tipped generously ($20 or more); plus, it was fun. It got to the point where you couldn’t walk through campus without seeing at least 2 or 3 girls on their knees somewhere. Allison called Mr. Balson to tell him about it. His only concern was that Allison might be losing business. But, when she told him she was working a downtown corner from 10 until 1 a.m. giving blowjobs to an average of 10 customers per night, and then blowing up to 50 customers every weekend, he was reasonably satisfied. So he called the sheriff again and then the university president to give another big donation to the school… and suddenly girls didn’t even have to hide behind buildings anymore. Most still found out of the way corners to practice their new craft; but if a girl ever had wanted to blow customers on the steps of the police station, the worst that would happen would be her being asked to move someplace else.

But Mr. Balson didn’t want to take chances with Allison’s earning potential. He knew that, to earn the money she needed to for the next year, the pretty young blonde needed to give at least 100 (101 actually) blowjobs each week she was at school. So, to ensure that she was kept busy, he volunteered her services to the university president and Board of Trustees, for half-price, AND called several local stable owners to alert them to Allison’s particular ‘talent’ with horses. Allison laughed and thanked him when he told her about the stable owners, since her only encounter with horses had been so much fun for her, and she was wondering if she would be so lucky here at school.

Sure enough, that very afternoon, she got a call from a local ranch owner asking her to come up and stay at the ranch over the upcoming long weekend. And when he told her he had eight ranch-hands and over one hundred horses that “needed attention”, she was VERY, VERY pleased. That next Friday, early in the afternoon, she excitedly rushed home to pack several pairs of her tightest, nicest jeans and a couple of nice dress pants for Sunday, plus her 3 ‘I do horses too’ tops, several pairs of heels and lots of make-up. She then dressed up herself, including her favorite pair of jeans and that same bright, white belt the other two horses seemed to really like last time, and fixed her make-up in the mirror, every so often turning to admire her bum in the mirror and saying to herself… ‘The horses will like this’. Finally, she went to wait for her ride outside her dorm building. And when the car drove up and the driver was a professional photographer whom Mr. Balson had hired for the whole weekend, she knew that she was in for an especially fun and busy next four days.

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