Peter Priper Ch. 04

Peter and Millie were swimming in the lake, and Retta was showering. Millie was naked, and kept playing with his boner and trying to distract him, but Retta could see that he was sneaking glances at her.

Wow, thought Retta. He really likes me. She let the shampoo soak into her hair, and spent a long time slowly washing her pussy and ass, and her breasts. They didn't need all that cleaning, but Peter certainly liked it. His penis was rock-hard and twitching. She washed Trudy, too. Peter also liked that.

Millie's gonna fuck Peter, thought Retta. First chance she gets. I can't complain - I am showering off other men's come, after all. I don't mind if Peter has some fun with my friends.

But then she started to worry. She was really gullible, and no matter how she tried, she always seemed to get tricked into fucking random men. How was she going to have a boyfriend, especially one like him? He was a lot older than her - he was like a real adult. He was in great shape, but his hairline was a bit high, and there was a little grey on his temples and in his chest hair. He wasn't going to have time for a twitty girl who got buttfucked by kids she barely knew.

As Retta scrubbed the last of Frank's semen out of her hair, she thought: Peter is the sweetest man I ever met - the only one who didn't just want to fuck me and run off. I need to keep him. I need to get more smart.

She borrowed a little dress from Trudy and ran off down the sidewalk. It was pretty short, but she was in too much of a hurry to complain. Retta was on her way to college.

*

Trudy sighed. "So nobody's going to tell her that's actually a shirt?"

*

The college was in a big wooden building with a front porch that extended across the front. The sign read:

GENERAL COLLEGE.

Dry classes and sundry.

All sorts of useful knowledge imparted.

Saloon and hot bath for extra charge.

Dr. Wm. G. Buttzfuchte, proprietor.

A pair of old men were sitting in rocking chairs on the porch, drinking from a jug marked with an "X". Retta figured they were probably professors, so she smoothed back her hair to look more respectable. When she climbed up on the porch, one of them said, "Excuse me, miss, but you dropped something."

"Really?"

"It's just over there to your right."

She bent over and looked. "That's so strange," she said. "I wasn't even carrying anything." When she straightened up, she saw the two men grinning. Oh, right, she thought. This dress is way too short and I'm not wearing panties. I am so stupid. But that's what I'm here to fix, right?

She went in. Behind the front desk was a tall young man with dark hair. He greeted her with a "May I help you?" His eyes drifted downward, checking her out, like everyone did.

"My name is Henrietta Bergson. I need to get more smart."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not smart. I'm gullible, and men are always using me. You can fix that, can't you?"

The man behind the counter had been staring at her breasts the entire time. "Oh, sure," he said. "We have a wide range of course offerings." He slapped a pamphlet on the counter.

"Great," said Retta. "You also teach classes, right?"

"I just said - you know what, you just bend over a little bit more and look at this pamphlet."

Retta sighed. For a smart person in a college, he was not doing a good job of hiding the fact that he was looking down her dress.

"Let me tell you about our calendar," said the man. He pointed to the pamphlet. "You can see here, we teach chemistry."

"I should study that. Peter and I have lots of chemistry."

"Then there's biology, and all the branches of physics: mechanics, thermodynamics, quantum physics, microphysics, nanophysics, biophysics, metaphysics, physic, and phys. ed."

"I've done mechanics," said Retta. "I like them. It takes them forever to come and there are always extra parts involved. But I think I want to learn some science. Do you teach science?"

The man sighed. "You might be better suited to the liberal arts. Or if you prefer, the conservative arts."

"What's the difference?"

"Liberal arts is mostly French and taking offense. Conservative arts is shooting guns and rimming out rich white men."

"I'm good at shooting," said Retta. "I was at the fair once and I went to the sharpshooting booth and on my first try I hit the secret lower-left corner target. Instead of a stuffed animal my prize was a threesome with the carnie and his friend - ohhhhh." She groaned and slumped on the counter. "I am so, so stupid." One strap of her dress came off her shoulder, and her nipple peeked out.

The man at the counter licked his lips. "If you don't like either of those," he said, "there's independent studies."

"What's that?"

"Two hours a day of masturbation."

"I pretty much already do that."

"And I," said the man, "will be doing some homework as soon as you leave." Retta pulled her dress strap back up. He went on, "We also offer courses in the social sciences: cunnilinguistics, sociopathy, misanthropology, history, hertory, and itstory."

"What's the difference between those last ones?"

He rolled his eyes. "It depends on whose tory it is. Obviously. And we teach math and maths. Maths is the British version."

"I didn't know math was different between countries."

"Oh, there are huge differences! For instance, how old are you?"

"Eighteen," said Retta.

"If this story was Japanese, you'd only be sixteen. Speaking of which, we offer courses in several foreign languages: Spanisho, Begoodgermantalking, La French, and La Tin."

"I'd rather learn to speak English more good."

He sighed. "We have a range of courses in English liquorature."

"Only English liquor? No Scotch?"

"What do you think this is, Harvard? We can't afford Scotch."

"What about..." Retta thought. She couldn't quite remember the word. "English grams? Grammars?"

"All I can get you in a gram size is B.C. Hydro."

That didn't sound like what she was thinking of. "Any other classes?"

"There's psychology. We teach both abnormal psychology and normal psychology. If you do both you get a degree in a parapsychology."

"Okay."

"Lastly, we have an annex that teaches religious studies and theology. For that I would need to know: how many men have you had sex with?"

She counted on her fingers. "Four."

"Only four? A beautiful girl like you?"

"I've had a busy day."

He raised his eyebrows. "You mean four today."

She nodded.

"It's one-thirty in the afternoon."

"I said, I've been busy."

"Yeah, I don't think religion is right for you."

Retta sighed. "Even so, there are too many classes. How am I going to decide?"

"Well, you need to do it fast," said the man. "There's a big lineup."

"Since when?" The place had been empty when Retta arrived. She turned around and saw a crowd of about a dozen men standing behind her. The ones in the back were craning their necks to see.

Oh, right, she thought. I've been leaning against this counter all this time in this tiny dress with no panties. So stupid. She tried to pull down her dress in the back, which just made one of her straps fall off so her breast hung out. "I wish I could take all the classes. I need to be way smarter."

"That might get pricey," said the man at the counter.

"Why? How much are they?"

"Ninety-nine euros each."

"That's expensive," said Retta.

"But then there's the textbook fee, the registration fee, the ancillary fee, the auxiliary fee, the ancillary levy, the levy fee, the other levy fee, and birth control."

"How much with all those?"

"Six hundred and twenty euros per class."

Retta gasped. "I don't have that kind of money. I can't even take one class." She thought she might cry.

"If I might be so bold," said a voice from the crowd, "perhaps I can help." A thin middle-aged man with a goatee and glasses came out. He was wearing a black vest and suspenders that held up his unbuttoned pants. His erection was poking out the front. "I'm Dr. Hertztinkle, chairman of the mathematics department."

Wow, thought Retta. There are even priper professors.

He took her by the elbow. "My dear, I was in the saloon at the time, so I might have overheard incorrectly. Did you say you wanted to come to college because you were too gullible?"

"Yes," she said. "I need to be more smart, so men don't keep tricking me into having sex with them."

"Very interesting," said the professor. "Have you ever heard of learning by osmosis?"

Retta shook her head.

"It's a marvelous system. You see, by ingesting material from an educated person, you yourself can become educated. Of course, it needs to be genetic material. That way, you take in the learning that the person would have transmitted to his offspring in accordance with the laws of Lamarckian inheritance."

Retta was sure of only three things there: she could get smarter, what the professor said had to be true because there were so many big words in it, and it was some sort of law. She certainly didn't want to break the law her first day in college.

"And the best part is," Professor Hertztinkle said, "this institution doesn't charge any fee for that sort of learning."

"Where do I get this material?"

"Well, the genetic material intended for the offspring is found in the semen."

"I have to drink semen?"

The professor laughed. "You'll need to get it out the old-fashioned way. It can't be stored, you see. The learning evaporates if it's not ingested immediately."

"Okay," said Retta. "Whose semen do I need?"

Right before the professor opened his mouth, someone from the crowd behind him said, "The more you swallow, the more you learn."

"Yes," said the professor. "Each different instructor's semen is like taking a different class. But mathematics is the foundation of the sciences, so I'm first."

Retta was wide-eyed. She could maybe take all the classes after all. "When can I start?"

The professor turned to the crowd. "We can fit her in this afternoon, can't we?"

"I'm ready," said one.

"I'll clear my schedule," said another.

"Thank you," said Retta. "That's so kind."

"Our college is famous for the personal attention we pay to our students." The professor's hand drifted down to her ass and gave it a squeeze. "Shall we retire to the faculty lounge?" He pushed Retta's ass and led her along. She felt a little awkward with his hand on her ass, so she laid hers on his dick. It seemed fair.

Another hand, from someone behind her, started fondling her ass. The man from the counter came over with a bulge in his shorts. He glanced at her buttocks and saw they were taken, so he squeezed one of her breasts. She looked back at the gang of leering faces following her and thought, wait a second, this is starting to feel like me being stupid again.

"Are you absolutely sure this will make me smart?"

"Hang on." Professor Hertztinkle reached behind the reception desk, opened a drawer, and took out a ping-pong paddle. "Yes. Absolutely sure."

*

Dr. Wm. G. Buttzfuchte slid his cock back into his pants. It tingled when the head touched his trousers. It was always so sensitive after he came.

He watched another man take his place and push his cock into the girl.

Buttzfuchte was mildly annoyed that he hadn't been informed. He'd only gone by the faculty lounge because he could hear the moaning from his office. He was not fond of sloppy seconds. Actually, he was pretty sure he was eighth or ninth. But she was definitely sloppy.

Dr. Spitz-Svallov, from the cunnilinguistics department, pulled his cock out of the girl's mouth. He stroked it twice and blew his load right at her face. His aim was poor, though, and more than half of it went into her hair.

"Thank you, professor," the girl mumbled.

Spitz-Svallov was immediately followed by one of his graduate students. The girl opened her eyes and winced. "Henry? Fuck off. I'm not sucking your dick."

"I'm the, um, uh, nanophysics professor," Henry replied.

The girl sighed. "All right. I don't want to not know no physics." And Henry pushed into her mouth.

Buttzfuchte watched the two men fuck the girl. She was getting tired and limp, like a rag doll. She wouldn't be able to take much more.

It occurred to him that this could harm the reputation of his college-the faculty openly abusing a impressionable student for their own sexual gratification. He'd better keep her happy.

He went back to his office and rummaged around until he found a stack of Certified Naturopath diplomas. He peeled off the sticker that said SALE! ONLY €8.99!

*

An hour or two later they toweled her off and presented her with her diploma. Retta grinned, though her jaw ached from all those blowjobs. She held it away from her so it wouldn't get messy.

"We've called a carriage for you," said the college president.

A sudden worry came over Retta. "If I sucked off the math professor and learned math by osmosis, why can't I remember exactly how many guys fucked me?"

The president glanced at Dr. Hertztinkle, who quickly said, "It takes twelve hours for the learning to kick in." He put his hands on his hips. "Don't just think you can have a college education instantaneously, young lady! It comes overnight."

"Right," said Retta. "Sorry."

"Off you go then," said the president. "And remember us if you ever consider graduate school!"

Retta was sticky with come and ached all over. She could barely imagine ever fucking again. She was drifting off to sleep in the carriage, but happened to open her eyes just in time to see her friends.

Their clothes were in tatters, and they were covered in scratches, especially Peter. There was a blonde girl Retta didn't recognize holding Millie's hand. She was naked but she had bright tanlines, like she'd never gone out without a bikini before.

And Peter was barely at half mast. He must have had quite a fucking. Retta was glad she wasn't the only one.

She called to the driver to stop, and stumbled out of the carriage. "Guys! I went to college!" She waved her diploma in the air. "I'm a certified nature path!"

"A what?" said Trudy.

"A nature path. You know, like the breakfast cereal."

Peter took her by the shoulders. "You mostly look like you need a bath and a nap."

"Hell, yes. College is hard work, guys. Very hard work."