I have to admit it; she was just what I wanted, my dream girl, my jerk-off fantasy. I could hardly believe it. But there she was in her tiny plaid skirt and tight white shirt, her half bra showing through, her pink nipples jutting and stretching the thin cloth and even a plaid ribbon holding back her long, blonde hair. Perfect, the porn-maker's Catholic schoolgirl. My cock jerked.

Her legs were long and shapely, her thighs perhaps a bit heavy but her round ass was prime, incredible, and the little skirt swayed when she walked, swishing from side to side. It might have been twelve inches long, a kilt. Her shoes were hardly standard, spike heels, about four-inch ones.

"Sir," she said with a tremble in her voice, Barbie-pink lips pouting, "they said you might help me. I was late registering, missed the train yesterday." She did not seem to be able to stop wiggling and her big jugs jiggled wonderfully, bouncing in and out of her lacy bra. She knew how to stand, how to arch her back and bend her spine and thus display her fine and exciting assets.

"Pity. Perhaps I can help. Let me see your form and unbutton your shirt." The goal of our school, unstated of course, is to produce competent sluts, females who love to be loved, who can give pleasure in a multitude of ways. It is why so many men send so many daughters to be trained. We take them as young as 12 and graduate all of them by 18, most in a year or so, prime sex partners, eager to give and take. We have had, over our twenty-some years, no complaints and many repeat customers. Cock Suck U. they call us and Pussy Prep.

"Sir!" she said loudly, blinking big, blue eyes, her hard young breasts rising, inviting. I felt my ram trembling, eager to impale this luscious piece.

"It's much too tight. Did it fit last year when you were just thirteen?" I walked around the desk and quickly undid her buttons, rubbing her mounds with the back of my hands and noting how firm they were. "Doesn't that feel better?" I asked as I spread it over her slim shoulders, unsnapped her tiny center- closing half-bra and tore it from her, leaving her jugs dancing.

"There. I'm sure that feels better. You will not need this. They are so beautiful; it's a shame to cover them up." I stuffed the little bra in my pocket; I had a girl who would look very good in it, a very young one, a private student pupil of mine, one who really squealed when I boned her and was so young that she could only take half of what I had.

"Please," she said, trying to pull the front of her shirt back together over her jutting mounds with their puffy tits.

"Yes, Sylvia, I can help you. I can put you in every course you want, even advanced cunnilingus, in every section, but first I want to put you in my bed and fuck you until your eyes cross. It will take a few hours. Let's call it an admissions test, shall we?"

She shook her head. "Oh, I can't. You wouldn't. I'm a vaginal virgin, no boy has ever. My Daddy's only used my, my, you know, my backside."

"I don't believe it," I told her. "Come around here and get down on your knees and show me your talents. Let me see how much you want to enter our school and get started on your program." I looked at her entry forms. "Who is paying, your uncle?"

She sniffed and walked around, her big jugs bobbling in and out of her open shirt and went down on one knee before me. I tore her white shirt away, popping off two buttons. Her breasts were quite young, jutting out, not fully globular yet, but made for sucking, a big pair, D-cups surely, more than a handful. "Dig it out, girl, dig it out and make love to it." I reached down and squeezed them firmly and she winced. Some girls like pain you know.