The Secret Life of Darla Ensington

Buck's stereo alarm clock cranked out Duran Duran's "View to a Kill" sharply at 7 a.m.

The young man could hardly keep his eyes open.

Trudging his way to school, he soon saw his best friend, also appearing overly fatigued.

"How much sleep did you get?" Buck asked.

He didn't need to hear the answer. Instead, Buck just looked at his bud, pillow-case-sized bags hanging under his eyes.

"Was watching 'Moonlighting' as I tried to study," Dylan muttered. "just kept thinking about Ms. K's big ass..."

"Lucky you. For some reason, I couldn't stop thinking about that dude's massive third leg," Buck mused. "Thing looked like the frickin radiator on my bro's '78 Nova..."

Dylan tried to find amusement with his analogy, just to lighten the mood. But it was difficult.

"Well, whatever the case, we're in deep shit," he had to accept.

"You got that right," Buck fired back.

"It serves us right, I guess," he further contemplated.

"What do you mean?" the friend questioned.

"For trying to steal the test," Buck explained.

Funny, the prospect of stealing the test seemed like a distant memory given what the two opportunistic, 18-year-old men wound up seeing, and experiencing.

"Thing is," Buck went on. "I don't know if what we went through was a punishment...or a reward..."

***********

It was 'Field Day' at Silver Lake High, the time every kid in school was decked out in either maroon or gold, depending on which side they played for. The two teams would battle each other in a whole variety of games and activities on the various athletic fields. The final score would be given at afternoon's end, causing an eruption of cheers from the winning side.

The teachers were also casual, including Ms. K, who sported a snug pair of maroon, satin jogging shorts that showed off her legs, the same legs that haunted Dylan and Buck the past few days.

The atmosphere in the room that day - shortly before the activities began - was loose and easy. But just as the students raced outside to begin their various activities, Dylan and Buck were requested to stay behind.

Ms. K asked the two to have a seat in the front, in the pair of seats closest to her. She sat on her desk, legs crossed sexily, unavoidably putting her wonderful, thick thighs on display.

"Guys," she began abruptly. "What the heck happened?"

She used the word 'heck' so firmly, suggesting she'd rather use a harsher term but she remained discreet.

Dylan and Buck were silent.

"What on Earth has gotten into you two?" she pressed further.

Dylan gulped, nervously. Anxiety raced through Buck's worried mind as well.

"Your test scores!?" she finally belted out.

The two country boys were somewhat relieved. Panic-stricken, they thought maybe Ms. K had somehow, some way, discovered they were in her closet days earlier.

"Dylan, a 43?! Buck, you were even worse. A 36!?" she went on, both shocked and disappointed.

"Gentlemen, this is unacceptable."

"We're so sorry, Ms. K," Buck pleaded, a hint of submission detectable in his voice.

"Sorry doesn't cover it, mister," she fired back.

"Did you two go to the Deep Purple concert? I know a lot of students did," she wondered, neither condemning nor condoning the premise, just offering it as a possible reason for the lapse in their studies.

"Uh, no..." Dylan managed.

"We just...had a lot on our mind," Buck chimed in.

"I guess so," she said, a slight tickle of amusement in her voice.

She sighed.

"You know I can't give you a passing grade after this, right?" she said.

They both nodded.

"So...what I've come up with," she suggested, uncrossing and crossing her legs again, hardly aware the stir she was causing in both Dylan and Buck's shorts - Dylan had maroon ones, gold for Buck.

"You will not only take the test again, and PASS," she persisted, "but also do a small three-to-five page essay on a random topic. The topic is hardly important. It'll be more of an exercise in showing you can properly research a subject and do an adequate, concise report."

"Yes, mam," Dylan replied dutifully.

Ms. K fluttered her lips.

"Pffffwww. Well...lemme see. How 'bout you just pick one of these," she suggested, holding up a stack of various cards depicting animals and plants native to Kansas.

Buck picked first.

"Black Walnut," he said, speaking of the Black Walnut tree, that is.

"Perfect," she gushed. "A little bit of a nature report there for ya..."

"And Dylan, you next, good, sir," she followed up.

He picked a good one.

"Ah, the Gophersnake," Ms. K announced upon seeing his card.

"Largest snake in Kansas..." she said innocently.

Given the events of a few days earlier, Dylan and Buck couldn't help but think of something else.

"They can grow up to 88 inches and weigh up to EIGHT pounds," she said with both fascination and amusement, not purposely trying to give Dylan a head start on his project but rather just displaying her enthusiasm for all things Kansas.

"Eighty eight inches. I believe it," Dylan remarked, again his mind drifting back to the things he and Buck saw from Ms. K's cramped closet.

"What is that, hon?" she asked lightly.

"Oh, nothing, Ms. K. Sorry," he said.

"So...," she said, rising from the desk. "I expect you boys to retake the test on Monday, have your reports in by Tuesday. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ms. K," they said in unison.

***********

It was a gorgeous afternoon in Silver Lake, hardly the time to be stuck in the library.

"Check this out, check this out," Dylan said as he combed through material on his chosen subject.

"This thing eats rabbits, ground squirrels, birds and bird eggs," he laughed.

After giving it some thought...

"Dude, you think that guy has to feed his dork?" he joked.

"I don't wanna think about it," Buck replied.

"Did you or did you not get a stiffy with her laying down the law like that?" he had to ask.

"Dude, you're nuts," Dylan said.

"I'm just glad this happened LATE in the year," he reasoned.

***********

They passed their tests, handed their projects in as planned.

They had to admit to each other, it was an enjoyable process, simply getting to spend more time with Ms. K, albeit a few minutes after class.

"Dylan, Buck, stay after?" she requested again one day.

"Yes, mam," they said in unison.

"What up, Ms. K," Buck said slickly.

"Your projects. They were..." she began, reaching for them in a pile of reports.

"Excellent," she gushed.

"They were good, really good actually," she insisted.

"So, given your efforts, this should pull both of your grades up to a respectable C," she declared.

"Thank you, Ms. K," they whooped.

"I trust I'll see you both at graduation," she figured.

"Yes, Mam," they insisted, as they could hear the sound of school-bus engines rumbling through the parking lot.

"Well, good work, fellas," she said.

"Thank you, Goddess - uh, I mean, Ms. K," Buck said, catching his own verbal slip-up just in time.

The teacher gave him a surprised look then simply laughed it off.

"Well, boys, if you don't mind. I have papers to grade," she informed them, returning to her desk.

The young men reluctantly exited the room.

"You are such an ass," Dylan scolded his friend.

"I can't keep my mind off that day," he admitted.

***********

His heart racing, Buck snuck back into the closet.

He was surprised to see someone else beat him to it. It was Dylan.

He gasped.

"What are you doing here?!" he asked, shocked.

"What are YOU doing here?!" his best friend countered.

They had, in essence, returned to the scene of the crime. They had gotten away with their casual spying the first time. Now, much like the game show, they were pressing their luck, hoping a whammy wasn't waiting around the corner.

"Aw, dude, we're both addicts," Buck admitted.

"I had to see her again," Dylan confessed. "Her sexy, bossy demeanor...that big ass..."

"What is wrong with us?" Buck asked rhetorically.

They could hear the doorbell ring off in the distance.

The front door to the house whooshed open and the rooms were soon filled with giddy chatter.

"Trish, you were right about the salmon," Darla told her dear friend.

"That's Trish, dude," Buck raved.

"Yeah, I figured that out, Sherlock," Dylan laughed.

They were surprised to see Trish. They were even more surprised to see Trish was twice Darla's age, yet sexy as all get-out.

"Jesus, dude, she's like a sexy grandma," Buck marveled, whispering to his friend.

The slender blonde bounced energetically around the room before sliding down onto the sofa. She had a petite frame yet - much to Buck's delight - sported a rather large rack.

Plus...

"She's got a Quiet Riot shirt on, dude," Buck pointed out. "How cool is this chick?!"

"So...where is our three-legged friend?" Trish boldly announced.

"Ohf," Darla laughed, having to compose herself before she began. "I believe he's sleeping."

"Well go wake him up," Trish countered.

Buck and Dylan remained quiet at this point, their attention focused on the theatrics that were about to unfold.

They heard the footsteps coming up out of the basement, growing louder as they drew nearer.

It was Darla, followed closely by a brawny, middle-aged man, who was completely nude. It was the same gentlemen as before.

"Well look at that thing just FLOP around between your legs," Trish noticed with a delightful guffaw.

Darla looked behind her, and she too, had a laugh. It was the slave's outrageously huge member that had stolen their attention.

Darla broke the silence.

"Why don't you take a few laps around, to get warmed up," she suggested, moreover, demanded.

He did just that, and the big gentlemen's swinging package was soon the bud of their jabs and jokes.

Trish could hardly contain herself. She fought hard to produce words.

"Well look at that big donkey dick," she remarked with ease, her words causing Darla to crack up even more so.

Even Dylan and Buck were reduced to muffled laughter.

"That thing is so fucking ridiculous," Dylan could hardly get out, the sight of the slave's big, flopping wang creating nothing short of slapstick comedy.

Funny thing was, the slave didn't run around the house just a few times. He kept running and running and running, for 30 or so minutes.

Sometimes the women shouted out comments about his hefty, swinging penis. Sometimes, they didn't, as they were too engrossed in their conversation to even acknowledge him, or his cock.

Either way, he kept running.

Until he was told to stop.

***********

Out of breath, the slave stood silent, awaiting further instruction.

"Alright, buster, get that thing sturdy and erect for us," Trish demanded. "It's of no use to us soft and relaxed..."

As the slave's rapidly growing erection developed before him, Darla felt compelled to comment.

"We did measure it," she gushed, speaking of herself and the slave.

"Oh did you? Isn't that fun?" Trish replied.

"It was. It was," Darla raved. "We measured it soft, hard...and everything in between (laugh)..."

"It was funny," Darla persisted. "We took a LOT of measurements..."

"And what did you think?" Trish pressed further.

She rolled her eyes before answering.

"I was dumbfounded," Darla remarked, fascination giving way to bawdy chuckles.

They now both glanced over to see the slave's fully-grown, mammoth erection, the subject of their conversation.

"What a schlong," Darla teased.

"Did you use the ruler or the tape?" Trish asked.

"Huh?," Darla replied.

"Did you use the ru-"

"Oh, oh, oh, we used the ruler. Yeah, you were right. It was so much easier. The tape was too bendy," Darla commented.

"And the ruler was just big enough to get the job done, huh, slave?" she said with an adorable wink.

***********

"New rings!" Darla gladly announced.

"Oh, these are cute," Trish said as she studied the plastic toys.

"I got them at a thrift store," the younger one laughed.

It didn't take long for Dylan and Buck to figure out what the plastic rings were for.

"Where should we put the pole?" Darla inquired.

Trish clucked her tongue, considering the different options.

"Let's put it..."

She scanned the room.

"Over here..." she said.

Trish grabbed hold of the slave's arms and began to shove it towards the preferred corner.

"Come on, over here," she boldly instructed.

The slave's enormous erection bounced, jounced and recoiled with each forced step, making Trish giddy to the extent that she produced audible, girlish giggles.

"Grrrrreat," Darla approved, sounding an awful bit like "Tony the Tiger."

With that, the game unfolded. The first toss - a casual heave by Darla, which bounced off the slave's stomach - brought forth a victorious cackle, as things were underway.

Darla threw again, then gave way to two throws by Trish. Their early efforts lacked aim and focus, as they were simply warming up.

"Ooo, these are lightweight," Trish remarked.

"They are, which makes it - ," Darla said, throwing another ring, "a little bit tougher to control. They kinda fly all over the place. But this way you can kinda wing them with ease."

"And not as much strain on his pecker, once we start getting ringers," Trish pointed out.

"That's right," Darla laughed.

Casual conversation between the two took precedent, the game simply a backdrop to their unending chatter.

The only time they even acknowledged the slave and its "party pole," as they called it, was to congratulate each other on landing a well-placed toss of the ring around its lengthy stalk.

"Nice one," Darla laughed. "I like your throwing style, the way you just kinda..."

"I just kinda flick it," Trish further demonstrated, in fact landing another ringer around the slave's upstanding prick.

The game continued well into the afternoon. With the score deadlocked at 14 apiece, Darla's focus tightened and she grew more competitive, so much so that she wanted to make sure she wasn't cheated one iota.

"Slave, move this way," she demanded, demonstrating that he shift his body more towards her.

"Move your dick," she snapped at him. "You're drifting that way. We're over here."

He obliged, but not enough to her liking.

"Sweetie," she laughed, "move your dick. Your dick - make sure it's facing us directly. Kind of squat down a little bit too, like this..."

Darla's sexy pose provided a wonderful glimpse of her big, luscious ass, accentuated beautifully in her black and silver tights.

"They play to 21, dude?" Buck asked his friend.

"Dude, I don't know the rules for penis ring toss?!" Dylan fired back.

Darla landed a ringer, as did Trish. They cancelled each other out. The score was soon tied at 15.

"You wanna take a break? Get an iced tea and sit out on the deck?" Darla posed.

"Sure," Trish answered.

"Don't go anywhere, slave," Darla instructed as the slave remained stoic, almost statuesque, cemented in the corner of the room.

Pre-come dripped - seemingly gushed - from his hardened, strained erection.

"Aw, the pole is getting awfully slick," Darla teased, finding utter joy in the slave's aroused yet tortured state.

"You're halfway there, slave, and then we'll give you release, okay?" Trish sympathized.

"Apparently, it's first one to 30 in penis ring toss, dude," Buck commented to his friend, both safe for the moment in the seclusion of the packed wall closet.

Darla and Trish retreated to the deck, their talk and jovial laughter spilling into the family room of the house, which contained not one, but three very hardened male members.

Dylan and Buck could feel themselves being sucked deeper and deeper into this world. Darla Kensington had no idea her dominant ways had such force, all the while pulling in Dylan and Buck, like two unseen planets far out of sight.

***********

The rest of the "game" was frantic and furious.

Trish and Darla started landing ringers in successive fashion, and celebrated at the end of each high-scoring round by pulling their play toys off the slave's tortured hard-on.

On one such occasion, Darla pulled down so hard and so far that - once released - the slave's unyielding erection slapped against his stomach with an audible wallop.

She simply giggled.

"Aouoooooooooooooo," moaned the slave in a haunting, resonating fashion.

Trish gave her friend a bemused look.

"Are we turning into a wolf now?" Trish further mocked him, the slave's unrelenting desire to come now leading to long, audible groans.

"What's the score now?" Darla said, double checking.

"It's...26-24," Trish confirmed.

Now, even when the gals didn't encircle their target with their round game pieces, they still slapped, stroked and smacked it to a higher degree of arousal, just enough to stimulate it more without giving it full release.

"I feel like I've gone to more rodeos this year than any other," Trish mentioned, speaking of she and her boyfriend, Mitch.

"Really," Darla fired back. "Now that's something I still have never experienced..."

Dylan and Buck, meanwhile, had each taken out their cocks. They simply couldn't help it.

An act of solidarity, they acted as each other's enabler. They sympathized with the other for his actions, given the atmosphere.

They playfully nodded to one another, in the moment not minding having to see the other's cock.

"Great dork, dude," Dylan commented.

"You two, man" Buck laughed.

They each stroked their modest but fully-aroused tools as the gals played on.

"This is amazing, dude," Buck raved.

Finally, Darla had won the contest with back-to-back ringers, landing the second one on the shaft of the slave's prick before it slid down ever so slightly and encircled the pole.

"Woo-hoo!" the teacher belted out in celebration.

The slave had held out as long as he possibly could.

Suddenly, and without warning, an unbroken rope of previously-repressed semen gushed from its source.

It caught darling Darla off guard, as the abounding deposit of man juice rocketed just past her.

"Holy cow," she quickly responded.

Rope after rope, the seemingly unending accumulation of come was unleashed upon the soon-to-be drenched carpet of Darla Kensington's family room.

"Jeez Louise," marveled Trish, as she stepped in closer to see the results of her and Darla's playful, hours-long teasing. "I hope you have flood insurance (laugh)..."

"I don't," Darla answered. "But maybe I'll have to consider getting some..."

Trish began to count aloud each huge burst.

"Eight, nine, 10, 11, twel-helve (laughing)..."

"Look at you go," Darla marveled.

And in turn she inspected the slave's spasming horse cock.

"Look, he's not even using his hands so his schlong is sort of jumping back each time another load comes out," she could hardly believe.

"I see, I see," Trish added, leaning in as far as she could without being hit by one of the copious blasts.

The two found it just so amusing - and empowering - how much tortured release they had produced.

Dylan and Buck, meanwhile, had fired off long before. They hoped their loads - much more reasonable in size than that of the slave - would not be found in the coming days by Darla, having landed somewhere in the concealed darkness of the closet.

Little did Trish and Darla know, they had brought three - not one - cocks to a blissful orgasm that afternoon.

When it was all over, Trish slapped the slave hard across the face. Darla giggled, as it was well within the parameters of what the slave enjoyed, and much to Trish's liking as well.

"Next time you come - listen to me, slave. Next time you come without permission, there is going to be serious -- and I mean serious - repercussions. I'm gonna make you go 28 days, not 14. Got it?"