I guess the problem is this. I don't have a whole lot of self-control. Sometimes I act on impulse, and when I do I can often end up doing things that I feel sorry for later.

I guess Alison Holmes comes under that heading.

Alison was in her first year at one of the Oxford colleges, studying English Literature. She used to come into the coffee bar where I work most days, and I have to say I really fancied her. A petite blonde with very large breasts, a slender waist and full hips, her huge blue eyes and heart-shaped face made her look a lot younger than her eighteen years. But then I guess you are still young at eighteen. Certainly, Alison was naïve about some things - and it got her into a lot of trouble in the end. Or, if you look at it another way, I did.

I do read a lot and I try to keep up to date with reviews and stuff, so when the lit crowd were in I could usually keep up with their discussions. I got to know most of them by name, and although I'm a high school drop-out in my early thirties I had a sort of honorary status at the edge of the crowd.

Alison wrote her own stuff - poems, mostly - and she used to talk about it a lot without ever showing it to anyone. She had a thick, soft-covered notebook with IDEAS written on the cover that she took with her everywhere.

Anyway one day she came in by herself when the place was quiet and I coaxed her to read me one of her poems. At last she agreed. It was shit - a load of sentimental arse about how her heart was a locked silver box - but I pretended to be really impressed and I told her that she should get herself an agent. She was pleased and flattered, and she went out of the café really happy.

She'd have been a lot less happy if she'd known what was in my mind.

After that I worked on her gradually over the course of a month or so. Whenever she was in I'd ask her to read me something, and whatever old cobblers it was I'd always say I loved it. And I banged on about how she should get herself an agent and start to get her work published.

"But I don't know anyone," Alison protested. "I wouldn't even know where to start."

"Well I'm having a party at my place tonight," I told her one day. "And one of the guests is a literary agent up from London. I'm not saying he'd take you on, but he could look at your stuff and give you an opinion."

Alison was really excited. I gave her the address and an approximate time to arrive, and I emphasised that the place would be full so she'd have to come alone. No boyfriends or mates. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug as she left, and thanked me about ten times for being such a good friend.

Well, it was good that I was getting my thanks up front. I seriously doubted she'd be thanking me once the eveing was over.

I called up a few mates and told them what was going down. Steve was into it right away, because we've done similar tricks in the past and he enjoys the set-up almost as much as the party. He promised to be there early and I told him to spread the word.

In the event he turned up at half past seven and then Alison rang the doorbell dead on eight.

"Blimey, you're keen," I said as I looked her up and down. I'd said casual, but she was wearing what must have been her best white blouse and tartan skirt, and one of those floppy bow tie thing that girls wear sometimes. She looked like a schoolgirl on a day trip.

I led her through to the living room, where Steve was sitting on the sofa. I introduced them, telling Alison that Steve was the agent I'd talked to her about. Then I left them to talk while I fixed her a drink.

Steve listened to a couple of her poems, nodding solemnly. "Great imagery," he'd say, or "yeah, love the rhyme scheme there." Alison still hadn't smelled a rat. She was glowing under this praise, and it didn't occur to her as funny that the party was still just the three of us when I'd told her the place would be packed to bursting.

Finally Steve took Alison's IDEAS notebook out of her hands, stopping her in mid-flow, and put it down on the table. "Alison," he said solemnly, "I can call you Alison, can't I?"

"Oh yes," she blurted, "please."

"Well here's the thing. And there's good news and bad news, as it were. The bad news is, there's a shit lot of poetry around at the moment. A glut, really. The market is saturated. You see what I mean?"

Alison nodded, looking almost comically serious. She was waiting for the good news.

"But I do have an opening," Steve said, "and I think you'd be perfect for it. But you'd have to prove to me that you're flexible and open."

"I am," said Alison. "I really am, very."

"And that you can take on big things when they're put in front of you."

"Oh yes. I'm happy to do that."

"Okay, here's the thing, then. I've got a mate who's producing a film, and they need a leading lady for it. Would you be interested?"

Alison was floored for a moment, but she bounced back. "Well, yes," she said, "I would. I suppose you've got to do whatever offers, at first, haven't you? To get yourself better known."

"Exactly," said Steve. "Now this film is a sequel to one that's already on release, so I thought I'd show you that first. Okay?"

Alison nodded earnestly, and Steve picked up the remote which was on the table. He pressed PLAY, because we'd already set this up and the DVD was in the machine, cued up to the scene that he wanted.

The TV screen jumped into life with a shot of a schoolgirl in uniform - a pretty little thing of about fourteen, blonde like Alison - walking down a city street. She walked past a van that was parked at the kerb, and three men jumped out of it. In spite of her struggles they dragged her inside.

"You'll need to emote a lot," Steve said, deadpan. "It's a very demanding role."

I stole a glance at Alison's face. The penny was dropping, and the expression on her face was worth a tenner.

On the screen, the girl was now kneeling on the floor of the van as the three men got their dicks out. Her face was shoved down into the crotch of the first guy and he forced his hard-on into her mouth.

Alison tried to get up at this point, but Steve and I held her down.

"I'm not interested," she said, her voice tight and tense.

"Still," said Steve, "I'd like you to watch before you make up your mind."

"No thank you," Alison said, and she made a second attempt to stand. Steve got a good handful of her hair and pulled her down again, then gripped her shoulder and shoved her hard against the back of the couch.

"Fucking stay where you're put," he said sternly, "or I'll smack you one."

Alison looked at me, for a moment expecting me to jump to her defence. But one glance at my amused expression must have been enough to make her realise that I was in on the joke.

By now the little schoolgirl on the screen was getting her mouth used by all three of the guys, pretty roughly. And there was a lot of accompanying dialogue to bring the point home, like "take it in the throat, you bitch" and "eat my cock, whore". Alison stared at the scene, her face pale. She was beginning to guess where the evening was going.

We watched the scene out. It was one of Steve's DVDs, and it was new to me. It was pretty bloody arousing stuff - the kind of rape film that they don't sell in shops because at least some of the stuff is obviously real. There was a mattress in the van, and the three guys proceeded to use it to give this little kid a very comprehensive sex education. Alison watched with a tear trickling down her cheek.

At one point the kid was lying on her back on the mattress: there's one guy kneeling on her chest, humping away at her face, and a second guy buggering her with a cock the size of a rolling pin. The third guy is squeezing and mauling her little tits. That was when Steve paused the film and turned to Alison.

"Okay," he said, "now you know how it is, Alison. The sequel's always got to be better than the original. So you can see what we've got to beat..."

Alison looked at me, her tear-stained eyes pleading.

"Please don't do this, Joe," she said in a tiny voice. "Please don't do this to me."

"Alison," I told her gently. "We're about to rape the shit out of you. You'll be lucky if you can walk out of here tonight. But I'd hate to think that what we're doing wasn't okay with you. So tell me you want to be raped."

"Please..." she tried again, and I reached out and grabbed her by the throat, squeezing hard. She tried to draw a breath and failed.

"Tell me," I repeated, only loosening my grip a fraction.

"I - - I want - - " she choked, her voice barely audible.

"Yes...?"

"T... to be raped!"

"By both of us?"

"B... by both of you!"

"That's great." I let go of her and unzipped my flies, pulling out my painfully stiff cock. "But before we start, you can give me a bit of a blow job." Alison stared at my hard-on like a lost soul staring at Satan's pitchfork.

"Suck it, you little whore" I said, giving her a light smack in the face to emphasise that I wasn't kidding. She flinched and yelped, but she still didn't move. She just couldn't make herself do it: she was still paralysed with shock.

"Use your mouth, you stupid slut," Steve growled. He pushed her head down into my crotch and she opened her mouth, trembling. She was breathing hard. Her tongue touched my swollen glans, just for a second, then again - terrified, gingerly flicks, involving the smallest amount of contact she could manage.

"Alison," I said, "suck me like you mean it, or you'll have to do it with Steve's fist up your cunt."

That inspired her to more sincere efforts. It probably wasn't the first cock she'd sucked - I imagined she'd had a few boyfriends at college, and whether or not she was a virgin she'd have to have gotten involved in some sex play at some point - and although she was very reluctant she knew what it was she was meant to do. She sucked on my shaft, her tongue rasping very pleasantly over my knob.

By this time Steve had got his own cock out and was wanking it slowly as he watched.

"You're ignoring my friend," I told Alison, after a minute or so of her head bobbing on my knob. "What kind of selfish bitch are you? Give him some plate before I lose my temper with you."

Blinking away more tears, Alison straightened up and then went down on Steve. "Oh fuck, yeah!" he groaned as her lips went around his glans. "That's great!" Alison sucked and slurped on him, wretchedly unhappy but diligent, and a broad grin spread across his face.

"Hey," he said after a minute or so of this. "You're leaving Joe out, you self-centred little cunt. What are you like?"

With an involuntary moan of dismay, Alison once more turned her attention to me and started sucking my cock again. I grunted in pleasure. I felt a little sad that I'd be losing Alison's friendship tonight, but at that moment, with her lips wrapped around my prong and her tongue lashing my helmet, it seemed like a very fair exchange.

But it was still early in the evening, and we had a lot to get through.

"What the fuck?" I said sternly. "Steve, is this little slut blanking you?"

"It's like I'm not even here," said Steve mournfully.

"Well that's unacceptable," I said, shaking my head. Alison raised her head and looked at us, terrified and at a loss. "I'm sorry," she faltered, genuinely scared. "I'll - - "

That was all she had time for before we grabbed her. We didn't hit her hard, but we roughed her up quite enjoyably. I grabbed her by the hair and shook her head around, and Steve punched her in the stomach twice. Then I ripped her blouse open and tore it off her while he held her by the throat. She was crying hysterically now, too scared even to defend herself, staggering and almost tripping as we hauled her skirt down and off. This left her just in her underwear, stockings and shoes.

"Get the shoes off!" Steve yelled at her, giving her a mighty slap across the face. Sobbing and flinching, she stepped out of her shoes. "Bitch!" Steve growled, and punched her a lot harder in the stomach, making her double up and collapse moaning at our feet.

"Now the bra and pants," I said, more gently, and winded as she was Alison hastily struggled out of her underwear.

She was now naked, more or less, and we feasted our eyes on her very lovely body. Obviously we were going to feast our cocks, too - but we're men of strong aesthetic leanings.

"Get up the fucking stairs," Steve said. "We're gonna fuck you on the bed."

Trembling and sobbing, Alison walked in front of us to the stairs, Steve occasionally shoving and pushing her to make her move faster. We enjoyed the view of her shapely arse as she walked up the stairs ahead of us. At the top we took over again, manhandling her into the bedroom and throwing her roughly down on the big double bed.

We shrugged off our own clothes under her terrified eyes.

For whatever reason, she decided to try one more appeal to me.

"I - - I thought we were friends, Joe," she half-whispered.

"We are friends," I agreed. "I don't do this sort of thing with just anybody, Alison. I think after tonight we'll know each other a lot better."

We climbed onto the bed with her and started to enjoy ourselves. Pete is a tit man, so he began by sucking and licking on Alison's big breasts. I shoved a finger up her cunt and started to frig her roughly, enjoying the gasps and moans this elicited from her.

A beautiful woman is the best toy in the world, as I'm sure all you guys will agree. Before long Pete was making Alison cry and squeal as he gave up sucking on her nipples and started chewing and biting on them instead. By that time I'd gone from having one finger inside her gash to two and then three, and I was using them to give the inside of her cunt a fairly rough mauling. She was lying between us on the bed with her eyes tight shut as if she couldn't bear to look, breathing in shallow gasps as we got our jollies on her beautiful body.

Soon we were good and ready to fuck her. Stone paper scissors gave Pete the first go up her cunt, so I shinnied up the bed and shoved my dick at Alison's lovely, tear-stained face.

"Suck my cock," I ordered her. Shooting me a glance full of misery and reproach, Alison opened her mouth and I shoved my swollen knob between her lips. It felt great. She made a muffled sound of protest as I forced several inches of shaft into her mouth, but I ignored it. This was about my pleasure, not her comfort.

Pete was spreading her legs and getting into position between them. Looking down, I saw his massive cock nudging against the entrance to her cunt. "This might hurt a little," he said, with a grin - and he shoved hard, getting half his huge organ up her gash in one thrust. Alison stiffened with a strangled grunt, and her back arched slightly from the shock and the pain. Then she had a lot more to contend with as Pete started to rape her snatch with deep, hard thrusts, groaning in pleasure.

"Tight?" I asked.

"Very tight," gasped Pete, appreciatively. "She hasn't done much of this!"

"Well tonight's the night," I said. I started to thrust in and out of her mouth. The pain from Pete screwing her dry vagina had made her forget to suck on me, but in any case I wasn't interested in a straight blow job - I could get that anywhere. I fully intended to rape Alison's face.

At first what was going on between her legs distracted her from my increasingly passionate shafting of her mouth. But as I started to make my strokes deeper, her gag reflex was triggered and her eyes rolled in panic. She tried to pull back from me, and I responded by gripping her head tightly in my hands, holding her in place as I continued to thrust.

"Sorry, Alison," I panted, "it's gonna get worse before it gets better."

She gave an urgent but muffled moan around my plunging dick, which was cut off as I forced more of my length into her face. Then she made a choking, gagging sound, her face going red. I fed her another inch or so, my knob well into her gullet now, my balls dangling on her chin.

I fucked her throat, and Pete fucked her twathole. And fantastic as it was, it was just the start...

I can fuck for a long time without coming, even when I'm enjoying myself as much as I was then - so five minutes later I was still violating Alison's pretty face just as energetically, panting hard as I drove my massive, engorged cock deep into the velvet warmth of her throat. The desperate gagging noises she was making were turning me on even more, so that the more she fought for air, the harder I humped her face and the less air she got - a little awkward for her, but hugely erotic for me.

Pete seemed to be having an equally good time between her legs. His cock is about nine inches long when it's fully erect, and he had every last inch buried in Alison's pretty little snatch as he deflowered her with groans of delight.

But it's not a picnic if all you eat is cake. We were soon ready to swap ends, which was accomplished with the minimum of fuss as Alison was half-unconscious from the throat-fucking and in no position to object.

I think Pete shoved his massive phallus into her mouth just as she was starting to recover her senses. Certainly her eyes went wide and she gave an urgent "Mmmph!" around his shaft.

"Ding dong!" said Pete. "Rapist calling!"

Then he started to make energetic love to Alison's lovely face, at exactly the same time that I shoved my blood-heavy prong up her twatgash.

Once again we raped our beautiful girlfriend at both ends, ignoring her discomfort as we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves with her irresistible orifices. If anything, Pete was being more brutal with her mouth than I'd been: he kept most of his dick in her mouth the whole time, thrusting into her face with short but forceful strokes, the sound of her muffled gagging music to his lustful ears.

Her cunt was fantastic - every bit as tight as Pete had said it was, but somewhat lubed up now by her body's natural response to the vigorous fucking she'd already received. It was a tunnel of velvet, and I raped it with great delight.

Then suddenly Pete pulled out of her mouth and gave me a look - an excited, eager look.

"Pull her round," he said.

I didn't get what he meant at first, but he started to haul our limp, dazed fuck-toy around so that she was lying cross-ways on the bed, her head dangling over the edge.

"As you were," Pete said with a grin, climbing off the bed and straddling Alison's head.

I shoved my cock back into her twatgash with a grunt of delight - but I didn't thrust for a moment, wanting to see what Pete had on his mind.

He was thinking about ease of access. With Alison's head now lolling off the edge of the bed, her throat was one straight line leading from her mouth to her stomach. Pete shoved his cock into her face again, but this time he didn't stop - he just kept feeding it in.

Thoroughly galvanised by panic, Alison struggled wildly. I dropped my weight down onto her and pinned her hands by her sides. Without breaking rhythm, Pete continued to shove his immense, fat cock inch by inch down her gullet. I could actually see the thickness of his shaft bulging out her throat. He didn't stop until his balls were lying on the bridge of her nose, and his cock was root-deep in her face. Alison's hands were trembling at her sides, fighting against me, but I was a lot stronger than her especially as the oxygen starvation kicked in.

"How does it feel?" I asked Pete.

"Fucking lovely," he groaned.

"She's going to die, though," I pointed out tactfully.

"I know, I know," he grunted, and pulled part-way out again. Alison inhaled noisily around the great shaft that was still embedded in her face. Then with one accord we both started humping her again.

I couldn't hold back any more. With a yell of delight, I blasted Alison's womb with my pent-up seed - and a moment later, Pete gave an almost agonised groan as he abruptly froze with his cock deep in Alison's face. I saw her throat work desperately as she struggled to cope with the generous flood of semen he was pumping down her gullet. She must have felt like she was drowning in it, and Pete's huge, thick organ filled her mouth too completely for any of the stuff to escape, so there was only one place for it to go.

Thoroughly satisfied, at least for the moment, we climbed off Alison and let her get her breath back. She was moaning and whimpering, curled up into a foetal ball on the bed, so we ignored her for a few minutes and shared a can of lager.

"What's the most times you've done it in a night?" Pete asked me conversationally.

"Four," I said. "That was a rape, too, funnily enough. Down in Cheshunt."

"Was I there for that?" he asked.

"Don't think so. Swedish au pair from the estate where Mick was living. Silver blonde. Tasty number she was."

"Petra?"

"Yeah, that was her name. How'd you know?"

"Mick told me about that one. He made her suck off his dog."

"Yeah." I grinned, remembering. "Fucking amazing. Mind you, no-one wanted to use her mouth again afterwards."

"When are the other guys getting here?" I asked Pete, and there was a wail of despair from Alison. Weak as she was, she tumbled off the bed and made a limping run for the door. Pete tripped her up and she went down heavily. We carried her back to the bed and dumped her unceremoniously down on it.

"I said it was going to be a big party, Alison," I reminded her. "And I told all the blokes what I told you - no partners. So I hope you don't mind if they all have a go on you."

Talking about past rapes had got us good and horny, so we made her go down on us again. In no time we were as strainingly erect as we'd been the first time around. A rape will do that for you - it inspires you to efforts you didn't know you could make.

This time we decided to sample the delights of Alison's arsehole. So I anointed her bum with KY jelly as Pete vigorously raped her face. Then I held her down on the bed while he shoved his prong up her arse.

Alison's face was a picture. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" she gasped. "Oh god!" Then she became inaudible and incoherent, just babbling whispered half-words as Pete's monstrous dick pounded away at her guts.

Then I got my turn. She was insanely tight down there, and I almost came again after only a few minutes of rampageously buggering her. I had to pull out and take a breather.

It was at this point that the doorbell rang. It was Mick and John, and they were well impressed when they saw Alison.

"Nice tits!" said John approvingly.

"Whoa! Me next up her arse!" said Mick.

Pete was buggering her again, but her mouth was free so John got his cock out and shoved it into her face. "Oh yeaaaah!" he groaned. "That's fucking lovely!" Soon he was crudely humping Alison's flushed, dazed face as Pete mercilessly reamed out her bum.

They both came at the same time, John hosing her tonsils with his first load of the evening while Pete planted a packet deep up in her back passage.

By this time me and John were extremely aroused from watching them, and we fell on Alison like a pair of wild animals. John ferociously screwed her face while I fucked her cunt and her arse alternately, finally spending my load in her bumhole. John held out a few minutes longer, but soon enough he was pressing Alison's face tightly to his crotch as he orgasmed explosively right down her throat.

Then it was another round of Alison licking and sucking us hard while we played with her tits and her cunt. She was looking a bit the worse for wear by this time - her face bruised both from the slaps she'd got and from hard sexual usage, her tits red and sore where we'd chewed on them, her hair plastered to her face with drying cum. She looked like a well-used whore, and we all felt a surge of pride and arousal just looking at her. The way she looked was the result of all our efforts.

An hour or so later we'd all fucked Alison and come in her at least three times each. It was time for some games to spice up the sex and get us turned on again. We started off with the objects game. We made Alison lie down on the bed with her legs spread wide apart. She had to hook her hands behind her knees and keep her legs spread, otherwise she got a slap or a nipple twist from the guy who was nearest.

Then we each got out the objects we'd brought. The aim was to come up with something vaguely phallic, but outrageously long and thick. The objects would be lined up according to majority vote, and the biggest one that we could actually shove up Alison's cunt would win the guy who'd brought it a prize.

John had brought one of those fake Oscars that say WORLD'S GREATEST LOVER. He forced it up Alison's snatch without preamble, and though it made her moan and sob, she took it without too much trouble. Pete tried to argue that it didn't count unless John got the base inside her cunt too, but John appealed the decision and the vote went his way.

Mick produced - with a flourish - a huge cucumber (a perennial favourite) and artificially raped Alison with it to cheers and ribald comments about five helpings of vegetables. She was moaning "oh god! Oh god!" in a weak voice, over and over again, but she was too afraid of the consequences to try to close her legs, and ultimately Mick was able to cram the whole ridiculous length of the cucumber up her snatch.

Pete's offering was just a dildo - but it was a dildo about a foot long and proportionately thick. It took all his strength to get it rammed up her, and Alison actually fainted before he'd finished, but eventually the base of the massive thing was protruding only half an inch or so from her cunt lips.

That left me, but I wasn't quite ready yet. "I'll be showing you my object shortly," I assured them. "For now, we'll postpone the vote and go on to game two." There were protests, but they were good- natured. Everyone was enjoying themselves. Well, everyone except Alison, of course.

The second game was something I'd laid on specially for her.

"Now you may not know it," I said to the guys, "but our hostess tonight is a bit of a poet on the quiet, and she's brought some of her work along to read to us."

There were jeers and catcalls, and Alison turned a stricken face towards me. This was a kind of rape she hadn't imagined.

Ignoring her pleading eyes, I thrust the IDEAS book into her hands. "Read us a poem," I told her. "And make it good. I want lots of feeling and expression. Give it to me, or you're going to be really sorry."

The guys looked on, puzzled but interested. With trembling hands, Alison leafed through the book, and finally found a poem she felt she could deal with.

"In nature's touch," she recited, quavering but audible, "there is a script, That in full darkness must be read. And if we run our fingers down the lines..."

She didn't get any further, because I jumped onto the bed, crammed my hard-on into her mouth and began to violently fuck her face. She choked and gurgled, taken completely by surprise by the crude and brutal oral assault. I kept it up for about twenty seconds, really driving my dick into her throat, banging my balls on her chin at each thrust.

Then I pulled out again, and ignoring her coughing and her watering eyes I gave her an impatient wave.

"Keep going," I said - and when she didn't start reading again, I grabbed her bruised nipple and twisted it hard, eliciting a wail of anguish from her. "Keep going," I repeated, sternly. "We don't want any breaks."

"If - - if we run," Alison babbled, "our fingers down the lines, we see the gaps where reason's blind. We see - - "

Pete had got the point of the game by this time. He jumped onto the bed, force-fed Alison his massive prong, and started to hump her mouth with furious energy. Holding a double handful of her hair, he drove her face into his crotch, brutally slam-fucking her throat, Then he stopped as abruptly as I had, and backed off.

Alison was crying freely now, but she knew what was expected of her and she carried on. "We see the silent spaces fill with arguments we cannot choose but know. And each ellipsis says - - gwmmph ukkkk gwrrr!" This time she got a mouthful - and a throatful - of Mick's massive erection, and he proceeded to fuck her face so forcefully that I was sure she was going to choke to death on his cock.

By the time she got to the end of the poem, we'd all raped her mouth four or five times, and her face was flushed, her eyes glazed, her voice unsteady.

"B... by this world's bounty gent... gently kissed," she whispered, and floundered into silence.

"That was lovely, Alison," I said, solemnly. "Now I'm going to critique it first." I gripped her head in my hands and drove her face down onto my cock, spearing her lips and driving my blood-gorged shaft deep into her throat. I fucked her gullet with no holds barred, groaning in delight, as she gagged and moaned around my invading member. I let my climax overtake me, felt my cock explode deep in her throat, and held her impaled on it as I hosed her tonsils with jet after jet of thick spunk. When I let go of her she slid limply down onto the bed, drooling cum from the corners of her mouth.

"Does anyone else have an opinion on Alison's poem?" I asked.

"Oh yeah," said Pete, with a wicked grin. He didn't bother to haul her upright - he just climbed on top of her and shoved his gigantic organ directly into her face as though her mouth was her cunt. He fucked her face so forcefully that her head was bouncing off the bed, and his swollen glans must have been slamming into her tonsils like a boxer's fist into a punchball. Her hands fluttered weakly, but there was nowhere to go to escape the cruel violation.

While Pete was enjoying Alison's pretty face, Mick got her legs apart and shoved his cock up her already violated arse. Soon they were shagging her in unison, and most of Alison's lovely body was out of sight under their bucking, humping backs. We cheered them on with glee.

Finally Pete came with a mighty yell, and Alison's throat bobbed as she desperately tried to cope with his outpouring seed before it choked her. A few seconds later, Mick groaned and filled her arsehole with his cum. Then they both reluctantly climbed off her, spent for the moment.

Alison was spent too. She just lay there with her eyes half-open, moaning in pain, cum oozing from her cunt and bumhole to pool on the bed between her legs.

"Now," I said, "I still have to produce my object for game one." There was a chorus of agreement, and then an expectant silence. Enjoying the anticipation I was creating, I picked up Alison's IDEAS notebook from the bed, where it had fallen as we took our pleasure on her. Slowly, deliberately, I rolled it into a tube.

Abused and broken as she was, Alison tried to sit upright when she saw what I was doing. Mick held her down, and Pete and John pulled her legs wide apart.

"No!" Alison gurgled, in a choking voice. "Joe, don't! Please don't!"

I gripped the rolled-up notebook tightly in my hand and positioned it at the fork of her crotch. "It was your poetry that first brought us together, Alison," I said. "So this feels very right, somehow." It took a lot of effort - even rolled up tight, the notebook was thick and unwieldy - but I managed to force a couple of inches of it up Alison's snatch, and after that it was a little easier. She wailed in agony, but that didn't stop me - I kept pushing, and when some internal barrier blocked my way I slammed the book with the heel of my hand, hammering it in.

This made Alison faint again, and since all our cocks were raw and tender from too much exercise it seemed a good place to bring the evening to a close. As per our usual tradition, we put her in the bath first and pissed all over her, which woke her up a little bit. Pete shoved his dick into her mouth and made her drink his piss, which is a bit of a fetish of his. The rest of us just hosed her face and tits, or in John's case her cunt. The IDEAS book was still sticking out between her legs at this point, so it got quite wet - but then we'd shot so much spunk into her hole between the four of us, the book was probably already pretty much ruined.

Then we carried her down to the car and dumped her in.

Pete drove and I sat in the back with her to make sure she didn't do anything crazy like jump out while we were moving. She was too weak for that, though: we'd fucked her half to death.

At one point she stirred, her eyes focused, and she looked up at me.

"Why, Joe?" she whispered, through cracked and swollen lips.

I shook my head, giving a half-shrug.

"Alison," I said, smiling fondly down at her, "it was your poems or your cunt. I think we made the right choice."

We dropped her off close to the campus, and threw her clothes out after her. The last I saw of her, she was trying to get her poetry book out of her cunthole one-handed, the other hand covering her breasts in an endearing instinct of modesty.

So there you go. The fuck to end all fucks, in many respects. And I'm not sorry we gang-raped Alison. But I do miss her sometimes, and I wonder what might have happened if I'd asked her out on a regular date.

Acting on impulse, you see. It leaves you with a lot of might-have-beens to ponder.

Now let me tell you about sweet little Jennifer...

The End