Meagan thought the cheerleading practice had been a disaster. She’d really lived up to the blonde stereotype. She’d forgotten to wear a bra, so every jump and twirl had made her very large breasts bounce painfully. Twice they had popped out of her cute cheerleading top into public view, and Meagan had wanted to die of humiliation. And then at the end when the squad were supposed to count to 21 to celebrate the team’s 21st victory of the season, Meagan had gone blank and forgotten how to count past 10, and just stood there blushing.
But someone had clearly liked her performance, because after the practice a man had come over to her, introduced himself as John, and given him her business card. “You’re amazing,” he told her. “You could be a model. Can I buy you a drink?”
He took her to a seedy diner on the far side of town. Meagan was nervous, but excited. Models were glamorous and beautiful. She could picture the envy of her friends at her new modelling career. She fiddled anxiously with her long blonde hair as they travelled.
When they got to the diner, he sat her in a shadowed corner booth, and said, “Show me your whore-melons.”
Meagan blushed. Had she heard him right? “What?” she asked.
“Show me your whore-melons. Your fuckbags.” He sighed. “Don’t be more of a small-town bimbo than you can help. No one in the world of modelling calls them ‘breasts’. Take out your whore-melons, so I can see if they’re right for modelling. I need to know if you have this season’s shape.”
Meagan blushed deeper. “But we’re in public!” she whispered nervously.
“I don’t have time to fuck around, Meagan,” said John. “There are other girls who want to be models.”
Meagan made a little whining sound of humiliation – but she’d already accidentally exposed them twice today, and she *desperately* wanted to please John and become a model. Slowly, she lifted her top to expose her large breasts.
John looked at them, smiled, then got out his phone and started taking pictures of her. Meagan wanted to cover herself, but was scared John would leave if she did. She looked around to see if anyone could see. A waitress was staring at them, and frowning disapprovingly. A man at another cubicle could see too. Meagan wasn’t sure if she recognised him but thought he might be a friend of her father.
“Please, can I cover…. cover my whore-melons?” she begged.
“No, leave them out,” said John. “A lot of the latest fashions are pretty sheer, you know. Shy girls can’t be models.”
Meagan sat there, unhappy. The man in the next booth was still staring at her tits.
“We’ll need photos of your fuckhole, too,” said John.
“What?” exclaimed Meagan, distressed. “Why?”
“Swimsuits and lingerie,” said John. “Designers aren’t going to hire a model who’s furry down there. Are you shaved?”
“Yes,” said Meagan in a quiet voice. She had let one of her fellow cheerleaders shave her pussy on a drunken dare only a few nights ago, and felt like a slut afterwards.
“Good. And we need to see the size of your pussy lips,” added John. “We’ll need to know if your cunt lips are accidentally going to spread and give you camel toe in the middle of an important shoot. Go to the toilets and take some pictures of your twat. I want to see it in its natural state, one of it spread open – oh, and masturbate till you’re wet, we need to see how much it enlarges when you’re in heat. Do them in the mirror and be sure to include your face.”
“Do I have to?” whined Meagan in distress.
“No,” said John. “If you’re going to be a difficult bitch, you can walk out now and I’ll find some other girl.”
“Sorry,” said Meagan.
“And use the men’s toilets. You don’t want one of your cheerleading pals coming into the women’s and seeing you, right?” said John. “Be fast. If you’re not back in ten minutes I’m leaving.”
Meagan wasn’t sure John’s logic made sense but she was too flustered and ashamed to argue. She ran to the men’s bathrooms, whore-melons still exposed, and made her way inside.
The restroom was blessedly empty. She felt strange being in a men’s toilets, particularly with her breasts exposed. She saw herself in the mirror – she looked like a slut. Her face was bright red, and her nipples were erect and perky.
Quickly, she pulled off her cheerleading skirt and wiggled her panties down her legs, placing both on one of the sinks near the mirror. She spread her legs slightly, aimed her phone at herself in the mirror, and took a photo of her nearly-nude body. She then zoomed in on her pussy and took a second.
Next, she used one hand to part her pussy lips and expose her pink vaginal flesh, fuckhole and clitoris. Again, she took a photo that showed her whole body, and a close up on her groin. She noticed she was already a little wet – what kind of whore was she, to be wet from this embarrassment? – and hoped it wouldn’t spoil the photos.
Then, blushing even brighter red, she began to stroke her clitoris, thinking sexy thoughts about certain handsome footballers she had fantasies about.
Suddenly the door banged open and a man walked in. It was the one who had been staring at her, and she did recognise him now – his name was Clyde, and he worked with her father at the bank. She froze in horror as he looked at her, nude and masturbating in the men’s toilets.
Then she remembered that she only had 10 minutes to finish taking her photos and get back to John – she couldn’t afford to stop. Wishing she were dead, she slowly resumed masturbating as Clyde stared at her.
“Please,” she begged as she rubbed her pussy. “Please don’t tell my father.”
Clyde grinned. “I always knew your father raised a slut,” he said. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock – thick and erect, with pre-cum already glistening at the tip. “I tell you what – if you please this, I might think about keeping my silence.”
Meagan mewled with distress – but she had no options. She slowly knelt on the sticky bathroom floor – still masturbating – leaned forward, and took Clyde’s cock into her mouth.
She knew time was against her. She had to satisfy Clyde and then take a photo of her wet pussy within the ten-minute deadline. So she immediately began vigorously throatfucking Clyde’s dick. She’d never given oral sex before, but apparently she was sufficiently talented, because Clyde groaned happily, gripped her long blonde hair tightly, and within only a few minutes he was ejaculating forcefully into her mouth.
Meagan choked as her mouth flooded with cum. Some dribbled out of her mouth and dripped onto her tits before she composed herself and managed to swallow the rest. She looked up at Clyde hopefully, still rubbing her cunt.
“Good girl,” he told her. He wiped his cock clean on her cheek, leaving a smear of cum, and then headed to the stalls, chuckling to himself.
Quickly, Meagan stood, spread her now dripping-wet pussy, and photographed herself. There was cum on her face and on her tits but she didn’t have time to wipe it off. Then she sent the photos to the address on John’s business card.
Only after she was done did she see the extra photos. While she had been sucking Clyde’s cock, he had picked up her phone and photographed her. She had just sent John photos of herself with her mouth full of cock, plus one from just after he ejaculated with sperm visibly drooling from her still-open mouth.
Without realising she was doing it, Meagan gave her exposed clitoris one final flick… and as the shame and humiliation and violation of her recent experiences raced through her, she felt herself orgasm…
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