Total Woman World

Soiree

The small ballroom was aquiver as the half-dozen Total Woman Academy seniors, all made up and flaunting sexy sequins and glittery party dresses, exchanged bawdy gossip about lessons they had practiced with the staff and guest coach tutors over the previous years of this exclusive educational institution. They were assembled in gala style for the Father-Daughter Weekend kickoff dance, the last requisite hostess event of their long matriculation at the elite college.

Their attention was diverted to the main portal where six men, dressed in tuxedos, mostly their fathers, but a few Pledge Contributor substitutes, entered for the weekend's initial meet and greet

The ladies broke off their chatter and moved into a closely dispersed sextet of sexiness. Each assumed a model deportment: a bright smile on a cosmetically perfect face, standing tall on fashionable high heels, and a body forward stance displaying boosted cleavage and long legs in short hems or waist-high split skirt gowns. Most of the party dresses were either bandeau tight across their tits or spaghetti straps with low cuts, showing inner boob swells. Each wanted to make a stunning first impression, to be attractive to the newly arrived men, one of whom would join her as this Friday night's bedmate.

The men didn't hesitate but moved among the collection of loveliness, choosing their first lady for conversation. For some, this was not their first meet-up, thus not truly their first impression. As Pledge Contributors all, they had attended previous events: freshmen, sophomore, and junior hookups as guest coach tutors.

But a reunion with a previous sexual playmate did not dampen their enthusiasm now. The coeds would have continued to prime their talents, and promising new adventures could lie ahead.

Casey saw her father nod her way but veer off to ponder his interest in another gentleman attendee's daughter. Lars was a tall blonde Danish man and looked quite different from his daughter. Casey reflected a mélange of ethnicities, her darker complexion reminiscent of her Afro-Viet mother, a war-baby refugee. Casey had assimilated her mother's curly brown hair, high cheekbones, and slender stature.

But the European gene for breast size had broken through, and she mounted a firm, buxom C cup on her chest. It was now on display in her drooping dress top, showing the inner swells of her rounded boobs. A long leg peeked forward through the gown's waist high skirt slit.

Her presentation attracted the attention of an older gentleman. Casey was chatted up and then led to the floor for her first dance. Her heels gave her a head-to-head height. He pulled her into the classic ballroom stance, hand in hand, her hand on his shoulder and his hand on her low back. His hand was warm against her bare skin, exposed by the risqué backless cocktail dress.

He hummed with the music as he gracefully moved her across the floor, sliding into free spaces, passing other couples stepping about in similar modes.

The song ended, and he gallantly kissed her hand, guiding her to the outer edge of the dance floor, mouthing a silent 'hope to see you later' with a conspiratorial wink. He moved away, engaging another coed in brief conversation until the next song began, and he led his second dance partner to the floor.

Casey spied her father also leading one of her sister coeds to the floor, his second engagement of the evening. She knew the other girl well; a real outgoing firecracker, especially in bed. Coed Riley stepped confidently beside her man. Her dress was a strapless bandeau style, short-skirted to show off her muscular legs, a useful feature of her body for vigorous cowgirl bounces or hip-clutching bedroom rollicks. Lars seemed smitten by the young lass and commenced a rather spirited dance with her.

Just then, a man approached Casey, and she turned her thoughts and attention to her second guest of the evening. He was middle-aged, appropriate to the time needed for his probably first-born daughter to enter and complete the four-year TWA curriculum.

"Good evening, darling. Shall we dance?"

"Of course, sir. It would be my pleasure."

She took his hand as he walked her to the floor. He pushed her into a twirl before drawing her in, bouncing her loose boobs against his chest. She expressed a faux familiarity with this stranger, circling her arms around his shoulders and neck, her cheek against his ear, looking past him at the other couples. He stepped slowly, moving enough so that she felt his bundle of manhood rubbing against her groin.

One of his arms crossed her upper back, hugging her boobs to his chest. The other descended to hold a dress-covered ass cheek, pressing her groin against his erection. He slid his hips side to side, apparently using the slow dance sway as foreplay. The rules of the evening did not assure she would be mated to him overnight, but he probably didn't care. He simply enjoyed percolating his arousal.

The music died, and she was returned to the lineup area. Three more men took their turns with her. She got the same treatment as a sex object to plump their verve and egos.

As one was holding her in close embrace, his hand pressed on her ass, with his cock rubbing against her middle, he asked her a question meant mostly for shaping his current fantasy of later that evening.

"Do you suck cock?"

She was a bit taken aback. After four years of poise conditioning, two of the latter filled with fellatio training, it was a foregone conclusion.

"Of course, sir. It would be my pleasure to demonstrate to you the many ways I know, that is, if we are together tonight."

But the men's weren't the only libidos gaining excitement. With each successive man that rubbed her body to his, she was gaining a higher inner warmth. Her nipples were firming up, giving and getting added stimulus. She sensed the stickiness forming on her pussy lips; her brimming lubricating oils were oozing, teeming to escape out her vaginal orifice. She could smell her own musk as must her perceptive alpha male dancer.

Lottery

The prelude auditions were over; it was time to reveal who she would host in her campus dorm suite this first night. It wouldn't be her father. That incestuous event was reserved for tomorrow: Saturday afternoon through Monday morning.

She found her assignment envelope on the side table and opened it. Inside was a satin choker with a ring suspending an onyx medallion. It had the calligraphy number 3 engraved on the disk. She donned her neckband just as her other coed companions did. Checking each other's numbers, they shuffled into a loose lineup of nubile flesh, standing one through six, prepared to accept the decisions of fate.

Fate transpired in the form of the Housemother, who had reviewed the survey requests submitted by the invited gentlemen. She reviewed their written preferences for this first night's overture activity: hair color, skin tone, tit size, and level of willing disposition.

The willing disposition was a 'no-brainer'. After four years of the Poise training that set TWA apart as an exceptional female scholastic institution, every graduate or pending graduate had been thoroughly attuned to discovering the male's sexual peccadillos and meeting or exceeding those expectations to maximize her partner's gratification every time.

The fathers and Pledge Contributor fill-ins pulled the numbered tags from their coat pockets and, showing restrained anticipation, scanned the young women to seek his number dangling from his impending night lady's pretty throat.

As with all men, especially fathers of daughters, the innate bonds of family were strong. The alpha males eyed each other surreptitiously, trying to decipher disk numbers, confirming which of the other men was to be accorded with his daughter's charms tonight.

They suspected that some of these men may have already enjoyed her heightened sexual charisma in earlier training trysts during her years of the intensive TWA curriculum. But those rendezvous had been out of sight and anonymous; this night was so blatantly in their face.

Their protective instincts had to be held in check. It was a part of the process and, besides, they were about to fuck one of the other men's female offspring.

After all, fair is fair and sharing is caring.

They had acknowledged upon her freshman matriculation that she would be carnally shared with a cornucopia of cock. Lars himself had dabbled with dozens of coeds over the past few years, but he didn't recognize, or at least recall, dalliances with any of Casey's coed colleagues attending here tonight.

So, he suppressed his primal parental urges. With that machismo tension behind them, he took up the remaining evening's primary task with gusto.

Casey watched the hustled movement as each man shuffled and bumped against each other to beeline towards his matching number. The younger handsome man drew to her front, fingered the tag on her neck, compared it to his own, and smiled brightly.

She saw his eager expression and assumed he was one of the Pledge Contributors who had sponsored the scholarship of one of her classmates. She flipped through her memory and settled on Tina, who was shy but honest in confessing that she was an orphan who lucked into this TWA educational opportunity.

Tonight, she would fuck another man, not her sponsor. But tomorrow night, her sponsor would certainly garner the carnal bounty of his long-term investment when Tina showed him the fullness of her learning. The training and coaching she had endured, discovering the best ways to achieve her mate's complete ecstatic satisfaction, would be put to the test, on each of the many times her scholarship sponsor might be able to manage over those available 24 hours.

But tonight, it was Casey's calling to take the edge off his overwrought arousal through her own execution of all she had learned.

"Good evening, sir. Are you enjoying your evening?"

He looked her up and down, absorbing the fullness of her sexy presentation, from her coiffed hairdo to her bejeweled high heels and all the exposed tawny skin in between.

"Yes, very much so. And looking forward to enjoying a lot more of you as well."

She gave him her best TWA coed welcoming smile. She fingered the medallion hanging at her throat. Her other hand lifted his hand, revealing his numbered disk.

"It looks like we have a match. Would you please follow me now? I'll take you to my suite for the next phase of our preordained rendezvous."

Strangely, he made no move to acknowledge her invitation. She clasped his hand lightly in hers and stepped one small stride away. He finally moved when his arm was extended out long, taking a small step to stand at her side. She waited, but he didn't lead off. She looked him in the face, saw the same boyish expression of wonder, and presumed he wasn't the assertive type.

As she was sizing him up, she saw across the room that her father, Lars, had been matched with Riley. She hoped that the sexual hellion wouldn't completely drain her father. She wanted him delighted, not depleted, when she was called upon to accomplish the patronal sexual liaison.

She continued small, slow steps, leading her man, working her way across the room, exiting onto the covered walkway that connected to the one-story senior coed residence a short distance away. Down its interior hallway, she turned and stopped at her suite's doorway.

During the short journey to their campus destination, her thoughts churned, trying to come up with reasons for her unacquainted guest's docile manners. Maybe he was not the primary backer of Tina's scholarship after all. His weekend attendance may be a gift from the real scholarship sponsor. She had heard of such things; over her Academy years, some of her guest coach trainers had been beneficiaries of similar gratuities.

She warmed inside at the challenge and pride of enchanting this possible first timer. She would lead him through the activities any other knowledgeable alpha male guest at TWA would already expect. This was going to be fun.

He stood there, holding her hand, staring at her chest, her face, her legs. She opened the door and led him inward, where she would enact her plan for the next thrilling hours.

She turned to face him as the door closed and auto-locked them inside for the night. Taking both his hands, she leaned up on the toes of her heels, her loosely covered tits touching his tuxedo chest, and pressed his lips in a smooch. It was gentle. He shook her hands away and wrapped his arms around her body. He turned the gentle kiss into a passionate, tongue-lashed, hard kiss. Maybe he was finding his inner assertive nature. She hoped so.

Maybe he wasn't a first-timer. Maybe he was just accustomed to slow build-ups. She would gauge his temperament by his actions from here on in.

She used her hands to press back, gaining enough space to finger his pants zipper. He took the cue and began unbuttoning his coat and shirt, shrugging them off as Casey unclipped his belt. His pants dropped and pooled around his shoes. She knelt and untied his Oxfords, helping him remove everything below his ankles. She knew her squatting pose gave him a view down her billowed open dress, letting him coyly peek at her nubile tits. She figured he could enjoy the overture sight; he would soon see them full frontal naked.

Standing again, she saw her naked man still stoic and hesitant to push his will on the situation. No matter what, she would lead him through the unfolding show. Keeping him eye locked, both watching each other's smirking faces, she fiddled with the dress spaghetti shoulder straps, slipping them aside to fall on her biceps. The front floated forward, a flutter of her arms released it, and the dress fell away to the floor.

Casey had dressed for success; that is, the dress was her only body cover, save for her heels. She was exposed to his gaze, all of her from her neck, down to her breasts, her tight tummy, her shaved pussy, her plush thighs and long toned legs propped on the strappy dancer heels. She opened her arms in an invitation for him to draw near.

He stepped to her and pressed his lips to hers as his arms circled her back and crushed her firm boobs to his chest. She returned the smooch with some vigor, hopeful that this was the beginning of his taking up some initiative to fuck her. It seemed to be, as his cock stiffened and rose against her groin.

Her hand descended to finger his cock. She rubbed it into even greater stiffness. He kept the lip-lock going as he held her close and backed her to the bed. They fell in together and wiggled and jiggled into a position where his cock was poking at her pussy.

She opened her legs wider; her signal to continue, and he took the clue. He pushed and pulled, easing in until his erection was snuggly embedded in her cunt. They rocked and rolled, emitting moans and groans and whimpers of lust. That culminated in an outpouring of orgasmic cries and organic sperm. They caressed each other's bodies and pecked each other's faces.

That was only the beginning; they fucked twice more during the night: a doggie and a cowgirl.

The man was more aggressive during the doggie. He alighted from the bed, hauled her from her lying pose, and plopped her forcefully face down over the mattress edge. Slaps between her thighs and on her ass signaled unspoken commands for her to spread her legs for his coital access. He plowed her cunt as he pressed her body hard into the sheets and pulled her hair. He cried out his orgasm after pounding away, unheeding of her feelings during the act.

Later in the night, he ordered her to mount up. Her naked body was deeply penetrated by his solid erection. She moved her seated hips and ass in a random series of cycles: up and down, leaned over twerks, side to sides, and revolving circles, stirring his cockhead against her warm and wet innermost tissues.

He found his own ways of increasing his stimulus: tit slaps, nipple pinches, boob bites when she bent all the way forward in twerk mode.

He took longer this time. She was accustomed to extended sessions with the coach tutors who taught her stamina and control. But she was approaching her normal limit. At last, his breathing quickened and shallowed. She chose to join him this time. The pair reached the apex of passions together, and she vibrated on his manly muscle as it delivered its bounty of nature's seed.

In the morning, easing further strain on her feminine core, Casey delivered a gentle, soothing blowjob to temporarily exhaust his last bit of ball juice.

A joint shower felt heavenly on their weary bodies. Sudsy play, though fun to do, could not bring about any more sexual connections.

The morning brunch locale was the outside pool deck. The girls were topless; only colorful camel toe thongs and the obligatory heels were allowed. The men wore swim trunks, but no one was getting in the water. Most loafed under umbrella-shaded tables and chaises.

The inevitable re-arrangement of partners began about noon. It was no secret that the time had come for the traditional senior year finale: the pairing of fathers and daughters for the incestuous manifestations of TWA's incomparable tutoring.

Casey's father stayed in his chaise lounge, watched over by his topless mate from the preceding night.

Raucous Riley was loath to end their hours of fun together, but all things ran their course this weekend. When she spied her own daddy across the way, she rose and kissed Lars a weary farewell, whispering thanks for the intensive fucking he had provided her, and ambled away towards her parent.

Similarly, Casey arose from her lounge beside her overnight gentleman, and leaning over to give him a last look at her dangling tits, kissed his cheek in fond farewell.

"It was very nice getting to know you. Maybe we will meet again sometime. Bye for now."

She moved away, lightly dragging her fingers over his Speedo covered cock. It was a final tender touch to seal his remembrance of her.

She walked to her Daddy's lounge, performing high heeled model strides that jiggled her naked boobs, a proud display of her treasures for the benefit of any of the gathered men that might be watching, and her peripheral vision saw that many were.

Her shadow crossed over her Daddy's face when she arrived. He tilted his sunglasses onto his forehead and gave her a longing look. She was smiling down at him, and in that moment, his daughter had never looked so lovely.

"Casey, my darling, you are a vision of perfect beauty. And I am so proud of you for enduring these many years in the TWA program. Your dear departed mother must be smiling with joy from Heaven above. It was her insistence that you attend here and achieve this extraordinary chance for a very bright future."

Casey smiled more brightly at her adoring Daddy.

"Yes, I'm sure she is. And I know you miss her so much. Tonight, I hope I can make you feel again her loving ways. Shall we?"

She extended a hand and helped him to stand. His joints creaked as he folded to sit and then unfolded to stand. He rubbed his lower back and stretched.

"I hope I didn't overdo it last night. That Riley is exactly what they say: a 'firecracker' in bed."

Casey wondered if he had overdone it; she worried he might be too weary to perform as her incestuous entry into intimate family relations. She was ready to perform her final poise obligation: a sexual bond with her dear Daddy. She stretched her head up to his, pressed her bare tits against his arm and coyly pecked his cheek.

Then, she led him away from the gathered parental pack for some privacy. Hand-in-hand, they strolled away to her waiting dormitory suite; the site of their impending 24 hours of the TWA requisite incest and the beginning of an optimistically intimate relationship together for the many years to come.