Although Americans appear to the rest of the world as frank and open people, the truth is often the opposite when relating on a personal basis. This is particularly true regarding sexual matters.
The fact is, Americans are only now beginning to learn to discuss sex and sexuality with candor, and usually that is within the limits of marital sex.
While no one is advocating sex as the main topic of conversation, and while sexual privacy is very important, many adults harbor fears about themselves and their sexual behavior that could be erased if they were more aware of other people's behavior. Most of us have been brought up to be at least slightly ashamed of anything sexual, and it is frequently reassuring to discover that we are not different, naughty, or even perverted in our sexual practices. In discussing sex with others, people find out how truly normal they are.
And in this novel, as is so often the case, it takes the younger generation to lead the way in opening the eyes of their elders.
High School Sluts-a shocking story, certainly, but one which may not be as unbelievable as it first appears, one which could hold many valuable lessons for a large segment of our diverse population.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
Jennie Jamieson had been nicknamed "Jugs" ever since the seventh grade when her tits had measured a bra-busting thirty-eight triple-C. That had been almost five years ago.
Now, as she unbuttoned her sweater top, at the fragile age of sweet sixteen, she was exposing a set of tits that measured at least six inches from base to nipple (or at least that's what they looked like to Johnny Whipple as he was getting ready to fuck her). Jennie had really grown up in a lot of different ways since those seventh-grade years-outward at the hips and bust, inward at the waist, upward to a height of five and a half feet. And yet all that wonderful fleshy growth weighed no more than a trim, fat-free 118 pounds of truly fuckable, eatable womanly flesh.
Johnny Whipple had grown too since those days of playing doctor with Jennie in the seventh grade. He was tall, lanky, muscular-and he had a big cock. Not the biggest prick in Weedsdale High, hell no, not by a long three inches-that honor belonged to Harold "Slinky" Maggert-but Johnny knew that Harold had had a head start on jerking his cock. And everyone knew that fist-fucking always added inches to a prick.
Hell, Slinky was the oldest guy in the senior class. He had almost run out of teenage years-in fact, some people suspected that Harold was nearly drinking age.
But Harold's age didn't interest Johnny Whipple now. He was only interested in what was pointing at him at that moment-Jennie's jugs.
Her sweater was gone, her bra, that huge contraption that looked like two giant jockstraps instead of a Maidenform, was on the floor of the classroom and her huge tits were out in the open.
Shit, Johnny had seen her tits zillions of times before. It seemed to him that in the last five years he had seen Jennie Jamieson's tits more than she had herself. And what's more, he had had a helping hand in their growth-of that, he was sure. Everybody knew that tittie-fondling added inches to the tits.
Now he was going to help them grow some more. He reached out for those huge titties, his palms sweaty, his nine-inch cock tingling.
"Gee, Johnny, you sure like to play with my titties."
Johnny grinned devilishly. "Oh baby! I could play with your titties all day and all night. In fact, I could play with them most of the time. Don't you like for me to play with them?"
Jennie frowned. "Well, sure, Johnny. It feels good when you play with my titties. But there's more to me than just tits. I have a face, and good-looking legs, and I have a personality. Don't you like other things about me besides my titties?"
Johnny's cheek was nuzzling against her titties, and sweat was running off his forehead and down that vast canyon of a cleavage.
"Well, sure I like all them other things you said," Johnny replied, moving his cheek up and down the slope of Jennie's right tit. "But it's like my cock, Jennie. I mean, don't you love my cock and what it does for you?"
Jennie nodded, running her hand through Johnny's hair, pressing his face deeper into the fat meat of her tit.
"Sure, I love your cock, Johnny. But that's not the same thing."
Johnny's tongue was almost falling out of his mouth as he licked her breast. Shit, he didn't want to talk now; why did Jennie always want to talk when he had a face full of her big tits?
"But your tits are just like my cock, Jennie. Look, don't you think your tits are the biggest in school?"
Jennie laughed, her tits jiggling against his hot face. "Well, Marcie Cummings says that my tits are the biggest she's ever seen. And her dad owns a dairy farm."
Johnny's hands were on Jennie's asscheeks-firm, delicious-feeling balls of meat that wriggled every which way when Jennie moved against him.
"Well, Jennie, everybody knows that you got the biggest set of tits on campus. And all the guys know that I got one of the biggest cocks on campus. Now, I love big tits, and you love big cocks. See how we love each other?"
Jennie wanted to pull away from Johnny, throw a quizzical expression on her face and say: "Huh?" But she couldn't because Johnny's grip on her ass was as tight as her grandmother's corset, and his lips were now attacking her titties like a swarm of flies surrounding a pile of shit.
Her tits were getting bigger. Not only bigger, but hotter as Johnny sucked in her inch-long right nipple.
"Ooooooohhhhhh!" Jennie moaned, sensing that climax-crazy feeling in the tip of her sucked tittie. She spread her legs, which was an easy thing to do since she had been doing it since sixth grade, and held Johnny's head close to her tit, trying to suffocate him in that mass of mammary flesh.
Johnny was drowning in her tit-flesh. God, nothing was better than committing suicide by drowning on tit-flesh. What a way to die.
Johnny's tongue slurped all over Jennie's nipple, and her nipple kept springing back at his nibbling lips. Her tits were red hot, and becoming hotter. Shit, so was his prick. It was standing out poker-stiff against his jeans, waiting eagerly to be freed for fucking.
Jennie knew what to do next. Shit, they hadn't been fucking and sucking like whirling dervishes for the last five years without picking up something about the ins and outs of fucking.
Her hand fumbled with the buckle of his belt. Then she unsnapped the button.
Zzzzzziiiiippppp!
She reached into his fly. God, his prick was oozing cream onto her cupped hand as she drew his cock out into the open. All nine inches, hard and erect, were fondled and felt and fingered as Jennie ran her hand up and down the long shank of his cockshaft.
Johnny was going crazy with her tits. His head bobbed, ducked, moved horizontally, vertically, trying to cover what seemed like acres of tit-flesh with his lips and tongue. His hands surrounded her left tittie, drew it up and outward away from her chest, guiding the turgid nipple into his sucking mouth.
While her hand was holding onto his dribbling prick, Jennie reached behind her and unbuttoned her miniskirt. The slinky garment billowed to the floor.
She never wore panties; in fact, none of the senior girls at Weedsdale High wore panties.
She had to raise up on her tiptoes in order to rub the cum-covered head of Johnny's prick against the hot lips of her cunt. But when she rose, so did her titties, and the one he was sucking popped out of Johnny's mouth.
Johnny grabbed the retreating tittie before it got out of sucking range. He grabbed it and forced the tip of her tit back into his hungry, tit-thirsting throat.
"Oooooohhhhh!" Jennie moaned as she felt her tittie being titillated by the twirling actions of his wet tongue.
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh," Johnny groaned as his hand-held prick was being rubbed up and down, up and down, the greasy slit of Jennie's fuck-hungry cunt.
"Oooooohhhhh! Johnny, we can't fuck here, can We?"
They were in Miss Arnold's classroom, empty now because all the kids had gone home because of the false bomb scare that Johnny had phoned in during his study hour.
"I know, Jennie. Let's go fuck on Miss Arnold's desk. We'll be more comfortable."
Jennie tried to shake her head, but the hot sucking grip on her nipple and the hot hard prick between her sweating thighs overcame what she was about to say. Which was: "What I meant is, Johnny, shouldn't we go fuck somewhere else?"
Joined together tits to chest, cunt to cock, Johnny tried to steer their glued-together bodies between the row of desks as he kept sucking at her left tittie and dry-fucking her between the thighs.
They stumbled and grappled their way to Miss Arnold's desk, knocking over the world globe as they made a left at the corner of the desk.
"Aaaaaiiiieeee!" Jennie screamed as her asshole was nearly punctured by the corner of a partially opened drawer. "Jesus, Johnny, can't you be more gentle? Shit, why can't you be careful?"
"I will, Jennie, I will. Now get your ass on that desk. Here, let's get some of this shit cleared off before you squat down and really fuck things up."
With Jennie clinging tightly to his neck, not wanting to lose contact with his cock, Johnny tried desperately to sweep Miss Arnold's books and history lessons to one side.
The papers went sliding off the edge of the desk. Johnny peered over Jennie's writhing shoulder and saw next Tuesday's Revolutionary War quiz gliding to the floor. Then his attention returned to Jennie.
She was backing up to the desk, holding him tightly, then her arms released him in order to hoist herself up onto the edge of the desk.
Johnny just about shot his cum all over Jennie even before her ass was perched on the desk.
Christ, what a sight! With huge firm titties pointing up to the cracked ceiling, with legs spreading wide and spreading wider with every fraction of a second, with her cunt right there in front of him, opening up to expose the drooling insides, Johnny knew that he was the luckiest senior at Weedsdale.
Shit, nobody had a girl like his girl.
Johnny's eyes were bulging with lust, sweat was streaming off his face, his breath came in ragged gasps, his cock was lurching and twitching not more than a foot from that beautiful-looking piece of cunt-flesh.
"Christ, Johnny, hurry! I wanta be fucked! Please fuck me now!"
Johnny wanted to fuck now, too, but he also wanted to take in as much of her beautiful body as he could. And there was a lot to take in.
Jennie's lips were constantly wetting down her luscious lips, lips that had embraced the head of Johnny's cock more times than he had been kissed by them. Her beautiful auburn hair was splayed out all over the desk, the long strands silky and shiny-looking.
Her tits-God, where could a guy start describing her tits-so firm, so ripe and blossomy, were moving up and down hard and fast with every surging breath she took.
Her legs were sleek and tawny-looking, long enough to wrap around his waist as he fucked her, yet supple enough to be bent back toward her head until her ankles touched her ears. Her thighs were firm and sleek-looking, powerful when they crushed against his hunching hips when he was powering his cock into her pussy, yet soft like the skin of a newborn babe.
That's what Johnny saw as he peered down at Jennie "Jugs" Jamieson as she was spread wide on Miss Arnold's desk, eager to fuck and be fucked.
Now Johnny was ready to put the cock to her.
CHAPTER TWO
"Aaaaaaiiiieeee!" Jennie screamed when Johnny's nine-inch prick slithered all the way into her tight cunt. It was only natural that she screamed, because she always screamed whenever Johnny drove his prick into her cunt.
"Shut the fuck up, Jennie! Why the hell do you always scream when I shove my prick into your pussy?"
"I-I can't help it, Johnny," Jennie gasped as she started into the fucking rhythm for the zillionth time in her young life.
Women! Shit! As old as he was, Johnny just couldn't figure out why women did such corny-shit things. Like bawl when they were happy and scream when they felt pleasure.
"Come on, Johnny! Fuck your cock into me! Come on! I NEED YOUR PRICK! MOVE YOUR COCK, DAMNIT! MOVE YOUR PRICK!"
Johnny moved his prick, shoved with all his might into her tight writhing pussy. Christ, her cunt felt so goddamn wet and hot. He could never understand why every time he fucked her it always felt like the first time-it must have been because he loved this cock-hungry girl with the huge floppy titties.
Jennie's thighs moved back and forth against Johnny's sides, her ankles moving higher on his asscheeks, riding where his low-slung beltline should have been. Her titties were rock hard, erect and stiff as she moved the flat of her hands over them.
"Ugh! Uuuunnnhhhh! Ooooohhhh!" Johnny couldn't believe the way her cunt gripped his cock. Shit, it was like thrusting his prick into the hot skin of a fat sausage with its insides missing.
He shoved harder, fucked faster, his balls making wet and slushy noises as they slapped against Jennie's asshole.
Flat on her back, Jennie had a hard time moving her pussy in the direction that she wanted. But that was okay with her, because she didn't mind, having her pussy fucked. She lay there and got fucked-it was fun just lying there and letting Johnny sweat and labor while he did most of the work as he tried to cram as much cock-meat into her cunt as he could.
Johnny closed his eyes, unbelieving of the sweet ecstasy that bathed his body. Fucking beat the shit out of everything! There was nothing like fucking Jennie's cunt near the end of the school day in the last classroom that they shared together. Shit, it sure was better than taking that fuddy-duddy test that Miss Arnold had planned to give them today.
Johnny moaned, felt the jism swirling in his uptight balls, ready to move through the nine-inch tube of his cock.
"Oh, Johnny! You're ready to come! Your cock's getting bigger! Jesus, Johnny! I never felt your cock getting this big before!"
Suddenly it felt as if he had only seven inches of skin covering his nine inches of prick as his cock stretched to the bursting point.
"Oh! It's so hard, Johnny. YOUR COCK'S SO HOT AND HARD! GIVE IT TO ME, JOHNNY! FUCK ME HARD! AAAAAAIIIIIEEEEE!"
Suddenly Jennie's arms were around his neck as she grabbed him and forced his sweating face into her heaving tits. She gripped him hard as her orgasm rippled up and down her cunt. Her tits tingled as they were smashed flat by Johnny's chest.
"Aaaaarrrrggghhh!" Johnny was coming, coming hard and fast. Spurts of jism were shooting out like hot lava into the clutches of Jennie's eager cunt.
Jennie hunched her hips as best she could, grinding her pubic bone against his groin hairs. She could feel every pulsating shot of his cum as it spewed from his cockhead. His cock seemed to be expanding her cunt, bulging out her wet cuntlips, and the shaft was rubbing crazily over her clit.
"Aaaaiiieeeeee! More, baby, more! Give me some more of your cock-juice!"
Johnny gave it to her as he got it; meaning whatever his balls delivered up, he happily surrendered. God, this was the moment that always drove him crazy. The moment of coming. That minute of spewing and spraying cum that would make him clench his asshole, tighten up his thighs, that would make him drive as far and as deep into Jennie's tight cunt as he could.
Three more cum shots in succession; then came little dribbles; then nothing.
Johnny gasped. He was all fucked out.
Jennie's arms fell limply to her sides, her tits ballooning against Johnny's sweating chest with every gasp of breath.
She closed her eyes and relaxed every weary muscle in her body.
Johnny's muscle was starting to relax too, shriveling up inside Jennie's cunt. Now, as his cock slowly diminished, the cum started to flow around the shaft and pour out of Jennie's pussy.
Cum drops rained on the hardwood floor, then bigger and bigger drops splashed down until Johnny could feel the pool of his juices soaking into his tennis shoes.
"Shit, what a mess. It's a good thing that dumb Harold cleans up after school. He'll probably think that it's Elmer's glue or something."
Jennie giggled, then gasped as Johnny pulled his prick out of her clenching cunt.
"Ooooohhhh, Johnny, why do you always pull your cock out so fast? You never let it stay inside my cunt and just let it soak."
Johnny shook his head. Christ, Jennie sure asked some dumb questions sometimes.
"Well, I only do that 'cause Ernie Beasly told me that a girl has less chance of gettin' pregnant that way."
"Oh."
* * *
The day that Johnny Whipple had called in the false bomb threat was the day that Carver Gruble, the new principal of Weedsdale, was having a meeting with two members of the school board. They were getting ready to make a fire-safety inspection of the school grounds when Alice Grindle, Mr. Gruble's secretary, received the call, screamed: "Bombs! Some asshole's planted a bomb in the building!" then flung her two-hundred and thirty pounds of flesh into the cramped confines beneath her typewriter desk.
Immediately, as was Mr. Gruble's way of doing things, Carver got into action. He pulled the fire alarm, and kids came pouring out of Weedsdale High, laughing and giggling, fondling and petting as they headed home-shit, every kid in the school knew that Johnny Whipple was going to pull the old bomb trick just to get out of that two-hundred-question quiz that Miss Arnold had lined up.
"Now, Carver," the pious Reverend Amos Jamieson implored. "I'm sure that it's just another bomb scare."
Carver nervously cleaned his wire-rim glasses, perched them back on his hawk nose and smiled weakly. "You mean, these kids have done this before?"
"They sure have!" Everett Whipple said between puffs on a foot-long Havana. "Shit, these little snot-nosed kids are 'bout the worst bunch of brats that's ever been at good old Weedsdale High. Why just last year Miss Arnold had to be sent to Doc Crowley because of them."
Carver wiped his glasses again. "Gee, Mr. Whipple, what happened?"
"Well, them little cock suckers, er, excuse me, Reverend-but you know how these little cock-suckers affect me."
Reverend Jamieson waved a hand and shook his head at Everett Whipple. "Now, you just never mind the language, Everett. Even good Christian soldiers talk like today's Army."
"Why thank you, Reverend. Well, anyway, Carver, these asshole kids had sneaked a pornographic picture onto Miss Arnold's pull-down map when she wasn't looking. Then, when she was in the midst of the Civil War, she pulled down the map of the good old USA and . . . lo and behold, there was a picture of a naked man and a naked woman doing something that only dirty dogs in heat do."
Carver gasped. He had only been there one week and in that seven days he was starting to understand why the man who had occupied his position before him had suddenly died of a heart attack. He had never, in twenty distinguished years as an administrator of education, heard of such atrocious behavior.
Reverend Jamieson patted Carver on the shoulder. "I'm sure that you'll be able to handle everything, Carver. I just knew that our prayers were answered when a fine, upstanding man like you answered our ad."
Carver shrugged his shoulders. Yeah, he remembered that ad in the Los Angeles Times, how wonderful it sounded to be away from the smog, sniffing the country air in the wilderness of Northern California. He couldn't resist all those tempting words when he had read the ad:
Principal wanted. Fine, upstanding man to guide Christian students in fine, upstanding community of 5,000 God-fearing souls in Weedsdale. Salary commensurate with skills. Only Christians need apply.
So, God-loving man that he was, Carver Gruble had applied, brought his home and his wife Mavis some six hundred miles north into God's country.
"Er, don't you think we ought to call the sheriff?" Carver asked, the sting of Everett's cigar smoke bringing him back to the present.
Everett Whipple sucked in his hefty forty-four-inch waist and said: "Naw, we're men. We can handle a thing like this. Come on, let's go and make sure that there ain't any bomb in the building."
The three men left the room, and Alice Grindle crawled cautiously out of her makeshift bomb shelter.
CHAPTER THREE
"Now, dog-style fucking is the only way that really turns a woman on," Ernie Beasly said as he steered his old man's pickup down Cherry Tree Lane.
Scrunched in beside him, rubbing her tits all over his elbow as he shifted through the five-speed transmission that Ernie had stolen from Harold "Slinky" Maggert's '52 Chevy, was Marcie Cummings, a senior just like Ernie and the girl sitting next to her, Shelly Hoxworth.
They had been discussing which position was the best for fucking, and since all of them had been fucking since eighth grade, they considered themselves experts on the art of joining loins.
"Look, Ernie, the only thing bad about gettin' cock from the rear," Marcie stated teasingly, "is that a chick doesn't get to rub her nipples against anything."
"Oh fuck if she don't," Ernie replied, feeling that hot nipple striking against his elbow as he downshifted to take another tire-screeching corner. "A guy can always bend down and grab them jugs, two at a time."
"Oh, bullshit," Shelly interrupted, lighting up a cigarette and throwing the match out the window. "A guy don't give a shit-ass damn about making a girl feel good, no matter what position they're in."
"Wanta bet?" Eddie shouted. "You're just one of them high-and-mighty type women that wants a lot of feeling up before she fucks. But that's bullshit. All women wanta get fucked, but because they aren't as aggressive as men, they just don't let it be known!"
Now Marcie was pissed.
"Bull balls! Ernie, you think you know a lot about turning women on, when half the time you fuck you're aarrrggghhiinnngg away so bad that you don't even know what the hell's happening."
"Are you saying," Eddie said defiantly, "that I'm not a good fucker?"
The Ranchero pickup came to a screaming halt in the middle of the street. Eddie stared at the two chicks in the cab. Boy, was he pissed. They had just challenged his manliness, given his balls a kick, and he was pissed!
"That's not what I'm saying," Marcie grumbled.
"That's what she's saying," Shelly mumbled.
"You keep your cocksucking mouth out of this, Shelly!" Ernie said.
"How the fuck would you know I've been sucking cock, Ernie?"
" 'Cause all women dig suckin' cocks."
Marcie's face turned red with anger and she grabbed Shelly's hand before her friend could use Eddie's eye as an ashtray.
"Now, let's all calm down," Marcie pleaded. "There's one simple way of proving whether Ernie's a good fuck or not, and whether he turns chicks on or not. We'll just fuck him now."
"Bullshit!" Shelly blurted out, flicking the cigarette out the window. "I ain't fuckin' your boy friend, Marcie."
Ernie laughed. "What's a matter, pussy-face. Can't stand the sight of my seven-incher."
Marcie took a deep breath to control her anger.
Shelly wanted to choke Ernie's throat to control his ability to breathe.
"Now, listen, Shelly. Go ahead and fuck Ernie. I promise I won't tell. Besides, what have you got to lose-your cherry?"
They all burst out laughing. There wasn't a senior girl at Weedsdale High who still had her cherry.
"All right," Shelly giggled. "I'll fuck Ernie, but you better not tell Werner. Boy, he was really pissed the last time he caught me fucking another boy. You'd think that dumb Kraut boy friend of mine would learn to love and let love with anybody who's willing."
"Shit," Ernie said with an eager grin. "Let's get the fuck out of here!"
"Holy shit!" Shelly blurted. "I forgot about Wexel."
Shit, everybody had forgotten about Wexel Hoxworth, Shelly's younger brother.
They turned their heads in the cab and peered out the back window into the bed of the truck. Yeah, Wexel Hoxworth, Shelly's brainy brother, still had his nose buried in his senior trigonometry book as he leaned against the side rail of the Ranchero.
"Aw fuck him," Shelly said. "We'll just take him along and let him watch us fuck if he wants to."
"Anything you say, pussy-face," Ernie beamed as he started up the engine.
When all four hundred cubic inches were gassed to the hilt, like Ernie was doing now, and all three hundred horses started roaring into life, the '57 Ranchero could turn a quarter-mile in under twelve seconds.
Ernie made it to the banks of Lake Weed, a quarter mile from town, in fifteen seconds because he had almost run Doc Crowley's '74 Camaro off the road.
They came to a slip-sliding, dust-curling halt. They piled out of the cab and picked a nice patch of weed-free grass to do their fucking in.
"Now are you sure your brother ain't going to bother us?" Marcie asked as she unbuttoned her tit-filled blouse.
"Shit, the asshole still thinks that cocks are only used for pissin', " Shelly replied as she beat Marcie in removing her bra.
"Oh, bugger balls! Shelly, I didn't know you had such a good set of tits," Ernie said as the drool formed at the corners of his mouth.
Shelly's hands formed cups to hold each of her pouting titties out to Ernie.
"They ain't nothing to be real proud of-like that cock-hungry Jennie Jamieson-but they ain't bad for sucking or fucking."
Ernie said: "Wow!"
Shelly was already starting to groan as she moved her hands over her titties, getting her nipples into great erect shape. Jesus, what a feeling it was to have her nipples eager for sucking and her tits hot to be fondled.
Marcie glanced at Shelly's tits. Shit, she knew hers were a lot bigger than Shelly's; but she didn't want to say anything to her for fear of offending her best friend. Besides, they had already gone nipple to nipple way back when they were sophomores and their boy friends were out hitting the hootch before playing football. '
Marcie turned her head and saw that Eddie was getting out of his letterman's jacket, Levi's, shirts, socks and shoes; not in that order of course, but the goddamn hot fucker was moving so fast that he looked like a clothesline in a hurricane.
Marcie whistled.
Shelly was ready to get her rocks off with her titty-rubbing when she heard Marcie. She looked at Ernie. Holy bull's balls! What a prick! What a fine, upstanding prick! Wow!
Ernie's eyes were glazed with lust, and his body was covered with sweat as he approached Shelly with an I'm-gonna-fuck-the-shit-out-of-you expression on his face.
Shelly was ready to be fucked, wanted to be fucked, knew she had to have cock now. She tugged down her miniskirt and her bare ass seemed to glisten in the rays of the hot sun as she bent over and slipped the garment off her feet.
Marcie whistled-this time at the marvelous display of ass-flesh that Shelly was putting on.
"Jesus! Shelly, have you no shame?" Marcie said.
"Yeah, well look who s talking!" Shelly replied as she stood up and exposed all of her naked flesh to Ernie and Marcie.
"Shelly," Marcie said. "Why didn't you tell us you were on the rag?"
Marcie pointed to the white string that dangled from Shelly's cunt-hole.
"Oh shit, I guess I was so hot and horny for a fucking that I.. . well, I just forgot!" , "What a fuckin' dingbat cunt!" Ernie screamed to the sky, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "Here I break my balls getting us out here for a real fucking and sucking orgy, and the dumb-ass cunt's got the curse!"
Shelly clenched her fists. "Who the fuck are you callin' a dumb-ass cunt? Look, I came here to fuck, and I just forgot that I'm in my period."
"Shelly, do you have shit for brains?" Ernie asked. Christ, his lust was dying as fast as his now-limp prick.
"Hold it," Marcie announced. "Hold it. Shelly will just have to blow your prick, Ernie. Come on, be a sport and let her blow your cock."
Ernie shook his head slowly. Shit, here he wanted to fuck the shit out of Shelly and there she stood with a goddamn cotton harpoon stuck up her bleeding cunt.
"What makes you think I wanta suck your boy friend's prick, Marcie?" Shelly asked angrily. "I ain't doing him no special favors."
"Goddamn it, Shelly," Marcie said. "Would you please just get on your fucking knees and suck Ernie's prick? I'll let you fuck him another time. How 'bout on Twirp Day?"
Shelly stared at Ernie's limp-looking cock. Christ, she couldn't blame the guy-she had just forgotten, in the heat of the moment, to tell them that she was on the rag. Shit, and Ernie had been kind enough to drive her and Wexel home from school. Shit, that was reason enough to suck Ernie's prick-otherwise, she would have had to walk two miles home with a brother who talked about as much as a fucking mule's ass.
"All right. If Ernie's willing to get it up, I'm willing to suck his cock."
Ernie smiled forgivingly. Shit, maybe he had pushed Shelly too far today. Christ, he knew how sensitive women were-they had feelings, too. Hell, he knew it was her fault for having her period today, but it had also been his fault for treating her like yesterday's dog shit.
"Okay, pussy-face. Sorry about gettin' all pissed off."
"All right," Marcie interrupted. "Get the cocksucking show on the road. I just love to watch cocksucking scenes!"
Ernie squinched his eyes shut. He concentrated. Ernie's prick started to rise. First it quivered falteringly as his lust-filled thoughts were bothered by the sewage stench that wafted in from Lake Weed, but then his prick started to fill with blood, his cock started pulsing and twitching, a drop of oil emerging from the piss-slit before dropping to the ground.
"Oooooohhhhh, Ernie!" Shelly moaned. "Look at your cock. Look how big it's getting! Wow!"
Ernie didn't want to look. He was concentrating too hard on the cunts that filled his mind. But he sure could feel his cock rising, becoming rock hard and red hot.
"Marcie, look at Ernie's prick! Would you look at that mother-fucker's cock! Shhheeeeiiiittt! I can't wait to suck it!"
Marcie was looking and drooling as hard as Shelly was. Shit, it didn't make any sense to her now to have Shelly suck Ernie's prick-what the fuck had she done that for?
Shelly got down on her knees, raised her arms out to Ernie. "Come here, Ernie baby! Bring me your cock!"
Marcie rolled her eyes. Oh fuck, how wishy-washy can you get?
Ernie didn't think that Shelly's actions were wishy-washy at all. He didn't think so because he couldn't think. All his brains seemed to be in his balls and they were doing the thinking for him. He walked over to Shelly's kneeling form, held his cock and aimed it at her pursed lips.
"Uuuuuummmmm!" Shelly moaned as her lips gobbled up the head of Ernie's hard prick. "Uuuuummmm!"
Ernie just about shit when his prickhead came into contact with Shelly's luscious lips. He couldn't believe the wonderful sensation that filled every sensitive nerve-ending in his cock.
Shelly gorged herself on Ernie's cock, swallowed the glans, then half the shaft, then her nose was buried in his pubic hair. She munched her way back to the tip, then went down on him again. Her head was moving slowly, but she felt Ernie's hands grabbing bunches of her hair and urging her to suck harder and faster.
Shelly took her fucking time. She always took her time when it came to sucking a guy's prick. Other chicks gobbled so fast that their bellies were bloated with jism before the third stroke. Then they always complained that their guy couldn't hold his juice. But Shelly knew how to cocksuck 'em slow and easy.
Corny as it may have sounded, Ernie wanted to die of pleasure. Shelly's lips gripped his cockhead hard every time she went down on his cock, and Ernie would moan as she bit down gently on the base of his prick. Then Emie would groan as her lips formed a suctioning vacuum as she retreated back up to the taut glans that was oozing so much hot oil.
"Oh shit, Shelly! What a cocksucking girl you are! Jesus! I never felt lips like that! Oh Christ, my balls are killing me! God, I gotta come! Come on, Shelly! Please make me come!"
If Ernie's balls were killing him, Marcie was glad, because now her face was suffused with red-hot jealousy. That lousy mother-fucking boy friend of hers was calling her best friend a better cocksucker than she was!
Shelly's tongue was getting into the action now, teasing the cock-slit, lapping up all that dear juice that tasted like crushed walnuts, driving Ernie into crazy hunching motions that tried to force his cock down her throat. No way, Ernie baby, not until old Shelly had really shown him a thing or two about sucking cocks.
As Shelly sucked all of his seven inches, Ernie's balls were drawing up tighter against his crotch. Christ, his balls never felt so fucking blue in his life. He had to ram his cock into Shelly's throat, just had to!
"Shelly! Goddamn, quit fuckin' around! Take all of my prick and suck out that jizz! Come on, Shelly! Aaaaaiiieeeee!"
Shelly had sucked in all of his cock down to the hairs, but she had also brought her hand up between his spread legs and grabbed his balls, prevented them from drawing up into his crotch, cutting off the first flow of jism that threatened to burst from his cock.
Marcie watched her pig of a girl friend sucking in all that delicious meat-she was getting pissed off! And that fucking Ernie. Shit, he never looked like that when she sucked his prick!
Shelly was a great cocksucker all right, no doubt in any man's mind. Ernie would have been the first to tell any doubters about that. The pain of his pent-up jism as it churned in his balls was a pleasure that he had never known before. And the way her hand gripped his fuck-sac, helping to hold off his load, was like no other feeling he had experienced before.
Shelly's fingers kept applying pressure between his balls and his crotch as her lips and tongue and teeth went crazy over his cock. Now was the time that all true cock suckers came to the aid of ready-to-burst pricks.
She sucked and licked up and down the tight-skinned shaft of Ernie's prick. She covered every square inch of cock with her hot mouth and wet tongue. She teased his throbbing cockhead with lusty lashes of her tongue before once more diving down and sucking in the rest of his prick.
"Oooooohhhhh!" Ernie moaned, his hips fucking back and forth in time to Shelly's cocksucking rhythm. "Jesus! Shelly, you are the greatest! God, can you give head! Oh shit, please let me come, Shelly! My balls are gonna bust in your hand if you don't let me shoot!"
Marcie stood by with one toe tapping the ground, one hand placed on her outthrust hip, and the other hand tucked into the crotch of her jeans fingering her cunt. She would never understand how she could be so angry and yet so turned on by what was happening before her.
Shelly let go of Ernie's balls.
Ernie gasped.
It was as if someone had let the cork out of his ass, and all kinds of good feelings were being let out of his body.
"Aaaaaiiieeeee!"
Shelly maintained a two-fisted grip on Ernie's cockshaft as her lips maintained a grip on his trembling cockhead. She was ready for anything he was going to give her.
Ernie gave her cum.
Lots of cum. Cum that fountained into her throat. Cum that hurled against the roof of her mouth before settling into the basement of her belly. Cum that gagged her.
"Ugh. Arrrggghh! Ooooggghhh! Uuuummm!"
It was the best part of cocksucking. Shit, she had learned that years ago. The part where the guy comes off in her mouth gave her a sense of power, like she could control when she wanted his cock to spew out cum.
But Christ, didn't Marcie ever fuck this prick? Shit, there was just too much cum to swallow.
Ernie was going blind with passion. He saw stars, felt a sizzling heat in his prick that raised him onto the balls of his feet and forced Shelly's head hard against his heaving groin.
God, there were only a few spurts left, but the passion increased with every drop of cum that left his cock and entered Shelly's throat.
He shot more cum into her constricting throat.
Shelly was turning blue in the face. Shit, she was going to need some air, not more cum. She was going to drown if Ernie didn't stop shooting his slimy jism into her throat.
She gagged, coughing out his cum through whatever escape route his sticky juice could find.
The last wad of Ernie's cock-juice shot out, arced into the air and landed on the back of Shelly's head as she coughed his jism onto the ground.
Marcie was going wild-with anger, with pent-up frustration, with the finger on her clit. Her titties felt as hard as rocks. Goddamn, she just had to fuck or suck or do something. But what the hell was there to do? Ernie's prick looked like a slug that lay dying in a rain puddle. Fuck, there wasn't anything to fuck except her fingers.
Shelly said: "Aaaaacccckkkk!" as she tried to hack up the cum that was stuck in her throat.
Ernie had slumped to his knees in puddles of white jizz, shaking his prick to get rid of the few stubborn drops of cum that stuck to his prickhead.
Ernie whispered hoarsely: "Goddamn, what a cocksucking job!"
And Marcie screamed: "You mother-fucker, Ernie. You better have some starch left in that noodle of a prick, or you'll never get any more of this!"
She was standing with her ankles hobbled by her jeans, trying to spread her legs as wide as possible, holding her cuntlips open with one hand while the other pointed directly at the gaping red meat of her cunt-hole.
CHAPTER FOUR
It's funny how some men react when they see their daughters, those sweet little babes made of sugar and spice, fucking and sucking for the first time. Shocking? Horrible? Nasty? Yeah, it's all of those and more.
Revulsion was what Reverend Amos Jamieson felt when he saw Johnny Whipple standing hot and sweaty between his daughter's widespread legs while she lay like a sow in heat on Miss Arnold's desk.
Disbelief was what registered in Carver Gruble's mind as he gazed at the awesome scene in Miss
Arnold's classroom. God, in one week he had seen enough vandalizing and orgying to put the Blackboard Jungle to shame. And these kids weren't even niggers-they were white kids, bred in fine, upstanding homes. Where had America gone wrong?
Pride was what Everett Whipple felt when he saw how long his son's prick was as it hung there between the teenager's thighs, dripping with snatch-juice and jism. But he quickly remembered to act just as shocked as the two other irate men that stood beside him.
"JEEENNNIIIEEE! God save your soul!" Reverend Jamieson roared, storming into the room. "Fornicators! Fornicators!"
Johnny looked up, saw the new principal, his father and Reverend Jamieson-most of all he saw Reverend Jamieson, because he was approaching the desk with fire and brimstone burning in his eyes.
"N-now, wait a minute, Reverend," Johnny said fearfully, bending over and trying to pull up his pants.
Jennie had heard her father's voice, but it seemed to come from so far away. Her titties were still tingly, and her clit was still erect even though Johnny had just pulled his cock out of her fast-in order to prevent knocking her up, of course. And now as she writhed her asscheeks against Miss Arnold's desk pad, she thought she had heard her father's voice.
She opened her eyes, saw the damning look on her father's face as he leaned over her.
"Oh father, is that you?"
Reverend Jamieson didn't know what to say. He was speechless, there weren't any quotables to quote, no parables that would cover something as God-awful as what he had just witnessed.
Johnny had his cock tucked back into his pants. "Now, Reverend Jamieson, it may look awfully bad to you. But it wasn't half as bad as it was for us-er, well, you know what I mean. Don't you, Reverend?"
Reverend Jamieson lifted his head and stared into Johnny's eyes. Were his ears deceiving him? Had he heard correctly? Yes, he had heard Johnny correctly-so what they had done wasn't so bad, eh?
"Son, you are going to hell! You are going to go to hell real soon! Because I'm going to pray that you go to hell!"
Cigar smoke drifted between Johnny and the irate Reverend Jamieson. "Reverend Jamieson, aren't you being just a mite too harsh on my boy? After all, he's got the feelings of a man, and the way your daughter looks . . . well, I'd have to say that when a man gets an itch, he scratches it."
Carver Gruble rolled his eyes, took off his glasses nervously and wiped them with his handkerchief.
Reverend Jamieson looked down between his daughter's splayed legs, saw the cum oozing out of the lips of her cunt.
"Everett Whipple, don't you give me any teachings about what a man should do and shouldn't do. Look there, Everett!" Reverend Jamieson pointed at the jism that was frothing all over Jennie's pussy. "Look at that seed! That's the work of the Devil, Everett! That devil there!" Now the finger pointed right at Johnny's nose.
Johnny backed away, Everett puffed nervously, Jennie closed her eyes, and Carver put his glasses back on.
Johnny backed away because he didn't feel as if he had done anything wrong, but he sure couldn't argue with that accusing finger of God.
Everett was puffing nervously because he had seen all that cum smeared all over Jennie's pussy. He didn't mind the cum, but he sure had his mind on that pussy. Hot damn, he had never seen such a beautiful-looking cunt in all his life. And when he glanced at Jennie's tits, he was awed. But since he was a member of the school board, he tried his best to hide his emotions behind another puff of cigar smoke. Too bad he couldn't hide the huge bulge of his hard-on.
Jennie had closed her eyes because it made her feel like the ostrich with its head in the sand-what you can't see, just doesn't exist. But everything existed, because she could hear all that talk and argument all around her naked body.
Carver had put on his glasses because he was ready to interrupt the scandalous scene and bring order back to the universe.
"Reverend Whipple, Everett," he began, "I feel that as principal of Weedsdale I have no choice but to expel these two students."
"What the fuck did you say?! " Everett gasped.
"You can't do that to my daughter!" the Reverend shouted. "Why, in my eyes and the Lord's, she's still an innocent child who's simply been led astray by the Devil!"
Everett grabbed Reverend Jamieson by the shoulder and urged him toward the door where Carver was standing. This was something that would have to be discussed in private.
Johnny sighed. God, that accusing finger could have put his eye out, but now it was gone. He helped Jennie to her feet.
Jennie felt dizzy, didn't feel as if her feet could support her. Her tits were still tingling and her clit was still ready for another workout.
"Let's get out of here, Jennie," Johnny whispered, pointing toward the huddle of three men as they argued and debated about what the punishment should be for the devil and the tainted angel.
Jennie nodded. "What's going to happen to us, Johnny?"
"I don't know, Jennie. We might be expelled."
Jennie started to sob. Expulsion would mean no high school diploma. And no high school diploma meant she couldn't go to Oral Roberts University. Oh, boo-hoo!
* * *
After Harold Maggert had swept every room clean in Weedsdale High, he bicycled home, which wasn't any short distance-ten miles as the crow flies. He had to clean out the pig shit, have dinner with Bessie before he fed the corn-slop to the hogs so they could make some more pig shit for him to clean out tomorrow. Life was hard.
"Slinky, it's been at least a coon's age since we last fucked. Let's fuck now, and then again, and then some more."
Harold was in no mood for fucking. Those porkers would be hock-high in shit if he didn't start shoveling.
Bessie's hands roved up and down his cock, outlining his ten-inch prick through his floppy coveralls.
"Slinky, you got the biggest prick in high school. I know, 'cause I hear all the boys talk about your prick when I take the pigs to town. Did you know that, Slinky?"
Harold shook his head. "Nope."
"Well you do, Slinky. My God, just feel that big old slab of meat! Don't it feel good when I'm a'rubbin' it like this?"
Sure Bessie's hand felt good when she was a'rubbin' his prick. It always felt good, but he had a man's chores to do.
"Cain't fuck now, Bessie."
"Cain too."
"Cain't not."
"Wanna bet?"
Bessie unbuttoned his coveralls before Harold could make a move to stop her. She was always faster than him.
Bessie reached in and brought out her brother's prick. Jesus, ten inches of cock when it was soft, but now it was getting hard. Bessie got down on her knees. She loved to watch her brother's cock get hard in her hands.
"Bessie, what about the hogs?"
"Oh, fuck the hogs. Oooohhhhh! Slinky! Just look how your prick grows and grows when I grip it like this!"
"Aaaarrggghhh," Harold groaned.
Bessie's hands clapped around Harold's cock as if she were ready to pray, but the fat cock kept her from joining palms. Now here hands were moving toward the head of his cock, stretching lots of loose foreskin over the dribbling glans.
"Aaarrrgggghhhh," Harold groaned again.
Bessie's lips were on his cockhead, trying to engulf the tip of his twelve-inch prick. The head threatened to bust her mouth wide open. But she had a good-sized mouth, plenty of spit and the kind of stretchable lips that only get that way from sucking huge cocks.
" Aaaaarrrgghhh!"
Her hands were on his balls, cradling each huge nut in her hot palms. Now his prick was a tad short of fourteen inches; it was fully erect. Bessie's mouth looked a long ways away as she gorged on the plum-shaped cockhead.
Harold had to bend down and reach out to grab the back of her head. Fuck the hogs. Let them sleep in their own shit tonight. He'd just do double duty tomorrow.
Bessie's mouth popped off his cockhead. She licked her lips and looked up at Harold's sweaty face.
"Now can we fuck, Harold."
"Get bare, Sis."
"Yaaaahhoooo!"
Harold watched his thirteen-year-old sister get bare, which wasalways a cock-stiffening sight to see. She ditched the blue denim shirt and her spritely titties bobbed before his lust-filled eyes, she skinned out of her blue denim jeans, shucking them off her well-rounded ass and tossing them into a comer.
God, she could really move. Like some electrified nymph, always dancing and moving around so goddamn fast.
Now Bessie was jumping up and down, fingering her cunt with one hand while tweaking her tit with the other.
"How should we do it, Slinky? How should we do it."
"Well-"
"Sheeiiitttt! Let's do it doggie-style, Slinky! Let's do it doggie-style!" Harold nodded, dropped his coveralls to the floor.
Bessie reached down and grabbed her ankles, pointed her ass at her brother's big cock.
"Come and get it, Slinky! Come and get it!"
Harold moved his ass into position, slowly gripping his prick and trying to find the elusive target of her tight pussy.
But goddamn, she was a'jumpin' and a'movin' so goddamn fast that he was having a hard time trying to locate her juicy cunt. Her ass was moving from side to side, then up and down.
"Hold still, Bessie!"
"I just cain't. I just feel so itchy good in my cunt. Come on, Slinky! Come and get it! Come and get it!"
Harold knew the moment he'd get it in he would be coming. But goddamn, it was so fucking hard to try and stick his fourteen-inch cock into his thirteen-year-old sister when she moved her ass tornado-fashion.
"Bessie, you just got to hold still."
Bessie was fingering her clit, looking between her legs in a doubled-over posture and getting an eyeful of Harold's swinging balls and bloated prick.
"Come and get it, Slinky! Come and get it!"
Her ass was weaving back and forth, hula-hooping without the hoop. How the fuck was he supposed to fuck if she didn't fucking stand still? Slowly, as most things came to Harold, he figured out how to do it.
He let go of his prick, placed his ham-sized hands on her hips and dug his fingers into his sister's firm flesh.
"Oooooooohhhh, Slinky! Now you're gonna get it! Now you're gonna get it!"
Harold hunched forward, all fourteen inches of hard prick trying to stab into his sister's tight snatch in one fell swoop. He missed. His cock grazed off her knuckles as Bessie fingered her clit.
"Hah-hah, Slinky! You missed! You missed! Come and get it, Slinky! Come and get it!"
She was driving him crazy. Every time they fucked she always drove him crazy 'cause she never helped him guide his huge cock into her cunt.
Harold fucked forward again. He missed. Too high. Wrong hole.
"Hah-hah, Slinky! Wrong hole! Wrong hole! Come and get it, Slinky! Come and get it!"
Goddamn! If Harold had known that asses could take cocks he would have shoved his prick into her shit chute until she squealed like a stuck pig. But being that his knowledge of fucking was limited to cunts, he tried to find her pussy again.
This time he took a tight grip on her hips. This time he bunched all the muscles in his two hundred and eighty pound body and shoved his cock forward hard.
"Aaaaaiiieeeeee! You got it, Slinky! That's the right hole, Brother! Ooooowwwweeeee! Fuck me, Slinky!"
Now Harold let his sister's hips go. He liked it when she jumped around working up a sweat. His cock was only halfway in, but shit, he could never get all that meat into her tight cunt on the first stab.
Bessie's nubile body was moving like a run-over rattlesnake. She writhed and wriggled, her pussy moving up and down the top seven inches of her brother's cock. Soon, more and more of the hot shaft began disappearing into her cunt.
"You got it, Slinky! You got it! Now start coming, baby! Start coming!"
Harold's balls were in a turmoil. The jism felt like lava as it gathered in his nuts like a brewing storm.
His cock felt as if it were stuck into their champion sow. Jesus, his sister sure had a tight cunt. He was amazed that such a small tight slit could take so much cock. Christ, his prick had to be up to her belly button by now.
Bessie's cunt muscles were clenching and unclenching, gripping his cock into the sandwiched lips of her cunt. Now she started slipping and sliding her pussy all over his cock. Moving first back and forth in long thrusts, then moving from side to side in a circular fashion that rubbed her clit all over the topside of his cock.
Then she couldn't move at all-well, she could move, but Harold's hands were moving her for her.
She felt like a rag doll in his hands, as if she were just some gigantic jack-off tool as Harold forced her cunt back and forth on his cock.
To Harold, she wasn't any jack-off tool. She had a nice warm cunt that he could control now as he pulled her ass back against him and shoved with all his might.
"Oooohhhhhh! Slinky! Come in me! Come in me!"
Harold was getting there. He knew he was near because his balls felt like they were going to bust out with all that juice in nothing flat.
"Oooooohhhhh! I can feel your cock gettin' so big, Slinky! Stick me! Fuck the goddamn shit out of me! Oooohhhhh, Slinky! Cain't you feel how big that porker of yours is gettin'? "
Harold shoved harder and harder, fucked faster and faster. The storm brewing in his balls was ready to burst. Then the storm hit and lightning-like pleasure streaked out of his cock.
"Aaaarrrrgggghhhh!" Harold bellowed, shaking the beams and rafters.
Shit, it felt like the whole world was coming apart to Bessie. Nothing felt better than her brother's fourteen-inch cock fucking into her cunt, driving her pussy wild with pleasure.
She fingered her clit as she felt the first blast of explosive cum shooting out of his prick.
Harold came. The fuck-fever that blanketed his body made him break out in a sweat. The fuck-feeling in his prick made his balls break loose with every ounce of jism they contained. He shot and shot, came and came, holding his sister's ass tight against him.
When Harold collapsed on his sister's back, they fell to the floor, his huge body pinning her down, his prick coming halfway out of her pussy.
"Ooooohhhh, Slinky! Now ain't fuckin' me better than fuckin' them stupid pigs?"
"Yep."
CHAPTER FIVE
Mavis Gruble was one of the finest-looking foxes to ever come out of L.A. She was the type of woman that made men drool, made their cocks stiff and hard whenever they gazed at her curvaceous figure. She was tall, hefty in the tits, pinched in at the waist, had hips that were made to cushion the blows of any man who could fuck her.
Throughout her life, Mavis had only been fucked by two men. Which was phenomenal when everyone knows that women just fuck like rabbits with any strange hare that comes wandering into the hutch. But she was a rare breed of woman. She was Welsh, which accounted for her fair skin and dark-blonde hair. She was also a lesbian which accounted for the fact that she had only been fucked by two men in her life.
The first man to fuck her was her brother Lucas Cogswell. Her cherry had been taken when Lucas was ready to leave home and join the Marines. Lucas and a couple of his buddies were going to celebrate his leaving them for the Marines. Well, they weren't really his buddies, they were just some fuck-off kids who didn't give a shit about Lucas but felt bad because they had never even talked to him in high school. But Lucas thought they were his friends.
Anyway, those "buddies" of his had told him that they were going to set him up with a chick-a chick who knew how to fuck and suck like crazy. What Lucas didn't know was that they had fed some Spanish fly to his sister Mavis, tied her down on the bed of an old truck and had backed it into a pitch-black garage.
The way they figured it, what Lucas didn't know wouldn't hurt him anyway. Besides, they figured that he would discover that it was his own sister he was about fo fuck before he actually put the prick to her.
Well, if Lucas was dumb for falling in with a couple of boys who'd never even talked to him before, then Mavis also knew she was a dumb shit for falling for their ploy.
Later, Mavis just couldn't believe that she had fallen for that old line about stopping by the soda shop after school with two fellows from the varsity football team. Hell, she had even watched them put the packet of Spanish fly powder in her chocolate fizz; she just figured they were joshing her when they told her that it would help to get rid of some of her zits.
Well, shit, she was only fourteen at the time. And everyone knows that when a girl's fourteen she's usually dumber than shit and just getting the itch to fuck anything in pants. Remember now that this took place in the good old days when guys wore pants and chicks wore skirts.
So she had swallowed all of her chocolate fizz, and five minutes later she was crawling the walls of Doc Embry's Soda Parlor. Christ, her almost hairless cunt felt like it was on fire, like there was an itch down there that just wouldn't stop. She had tried to push as many layers of her petticoats as she could between her thighs to stop the goddamn itching, but she couldn't stop it.
Then, when she looked as if she were having an epileptic seizure, the boys, Jeffrey Morris and Melvin Basehart, took her out of the soda shop and drove her out to Melvin's garage.
So for the past four hours, she had been spread-eagled on the bed of a dirty, grimy flatbed truck, with a goddamn itch between her legs that was driving her crazy.
Where the hell were those two boys? They had promised they'd come right back with a cure for the itch in her cunt.
Mavis writhed, tried to move her hands down to the fuzzy feeling that invaded her cunt. But the boys had tied her down too tightly, she couldn't move her hands at all. Hell, she couldn't even moan because the goddamn cotton ball they had stuffed into her mouth was halfway down her throat.
When Lucas entered the garage, he could hear somebody shifting around on the bed of the truck. He tried to remember what Jeffrey had told him.
Let's see-oh yeah, the whore was a young one with a tight cunt, she liked to go the bondage route, she would do a lot of pretending about how hurt she was, and he was to remove the cotton-ball gag at the moment when he started shooting his cum.
Jesus! Was he lucky to have friends like Jeffrey and Melvin. Hell, it was the first time they had ever asked him to go anywhere with them. Shit, and now he was joining the goddamn Marine Corps right when he was getting popular.
Lucas approached the whore carefully. Shit, it was his first piece of ass. He was already naked and he didn't make a sound until he was near the flopped-down tailgate. Then he hoisted himself up onto the bed of the truck.
Mavis wanted to scream, but couldn't. She wanted to see, but it was too goddamn dark. She wanted to scratch the itch in her pussy, but someone else was going to do it for her-wasn't that what Jeffrey and Melvin had told her?
She didn't have to spread her legs, because they were clotheslined at the ankles and tied to opposite sides of the flatbed. Jesus, her pussy felt like-like those times that her foot would go to sleep, when her foot felt like fizzing root beer-that was what her pussy felt like.
Lucas said: "Are you there?"
Where had she heard that voice?
"Boy, are your legs really hot. Uh, this is my first time, but Jeffrey and Melvin, my buddies, told me what to do. I got my cock ready."
No! NO! NO! NOOOOOO!
It was Lucas' voice! It was her brother! Her own brother was feeling up her legs!
She screamed: "Uuuughghghhhhmmmm!"
"Jeffrey and Melvin said you did a lot of weird screaming, but they said you were going to fuck me. Where's your cunt.. . oh, there it is."
Mavis' thighs tensed. Nobody, nobody, but nobody had ever touched her cunt-except herself, of course. But now there was somebody touching her cunt, fiddling around with her cunt-hole and diddling the shit out of her itchy clit. And that somebody was her own brother-who was a nobody as far as she was concerned.
"Jesus! I didn't know cunts were so tight! Did you know that?"
No, Lucas! No! How the hell could she tell him that? Christ, his fingers were going into her pussy! Oh, no Lucas! Don't! You dumb shit! Don't touch there!
"Jesus! I can barely get my finger in there! Are you sure I can get my prick into that tight cunt of yours? Holy cow! Women are really amazing, don't you think?"
What could she say? What could she do? Her brother was minutes away from fucking her. This was crazy. Brothers just don't go around raping their younger sisters. Mavis knew that was called ingest, or invest or something taboo-sounding.
"Well, I'm gonna try and get my prick in there. But, gosh, it's awfully tight. Ooooohhhh! Did you feel that? My prick actually touched your cunt!"
Did she feel it? Hell, she just about died when she felt the hot meat of his cockhead divide her tight cuntlips.
"What do I do? Just shove with all my might? Christ, it sure seems like your pussy ought to be a lot looser than this-for a whore, I mean."
Mavis began to cry, half-sobbing, half-gagging on the cotton ball. It wasn't fair. A girl shouldn't get her cherry taken by her own brother. It should be by her steady beau, maybe even her future husband, but not her own brother.
Then her eyes shot open as Lucas' cock slammed into the narrow channel of her pussy. His cock burned her cunt-flesh, scraped against the tight tunnel of her snatch, and her virgin blood spilled out of her ripped cunt.
He was getting fucked! Lucas couldn't believe it. He was getting fucked!
Mavis couldn't believe it either, didn't want to believe that she was getting her first fuck on the bed of an old truck, her cherry being raped from her cunt by her own brother. Shit, life wasn't worth living now. She would never be able to look herself in the eye again.
Lucas was in high gear now. His ass was moving like a piston, his cock was speeding up as it fucked in and out of his sister's pussy. Shit, the whore's cunt was real juicy-just like all those fuck books described. Juicy and red hot.
Naturally the juice wasn't the lube job that most cunts give a cock-it was Mavis' cherry blood. And as for being red hot, shit, Lucas could have been fucking a dead woman's cunt and called it red hot. The only reason it was red hot was because of the fast and furious friction he was causing as he pumped in and out of Mavis' pussy.
When that jizzy feeling started to flood his balls, Lucas remembered Jeffrey's instructions. He didn't know whether he could yank that gag out and shoot off at the same time, but he knew he would give it his best shot.
He was more on his side than his belly as his cock worked back and forth in Mavis' cunt. One hand was on her mouth ready to yank out the ball of cotton, the other was behind her head.
Then he knew he had to yank it out. His prick was on the verge of spewing wads of cum. His balls were on the edge of providing power behind every forceful shot of jism.
"I'm c-coooommminnnnng!" he screamed.
He yanked.
Mavis screamed.
Spurts of jism flew from his prick.
"LUCAS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?! "
He was coming, that's what he was doing. Coming, and then suddenly trying not to come when he recognized his sister's voice. But it was no use -he just had to shoot his wad into his sister's raped cunt. There wasn't any holding back as his cock surged into her pussy again and again, firing loads of cock-juice deep into his sister's cunt.
"Oh God, Lucas," Mavis moaned as tears flooded her eyes and jism flooded her cunt. "You rotten brother!"
* * *
They never told anybody. Not a soul. Mavis never forgave Lucas even when he tried to explain how everything happened.
Now Mavis shuddered as she set the dinner table for Carver. She always shuddered whenever she remembered that awful scene. In twenty years she had tried to forget; but lately Carver had been bringing up Lucas' name at least once a day, and that was making it really hard to forget.
"Now, Mavis, I know you don't care for your brother. And I still don't understand the reason why. He hasn't bothered us for twenty years."
Mavis said: "Eat your dinner, Carver."
"I take it you don't want to talk about him," Carver said between mouthfuls of cornbread.
"There's cherry pie for dessert."
"All right, Mavis, I get the picture. But there's one thing I want you to understand. We need help at that high school. The kind of help that could be provided by a man like Lucas-his drill-instructor training has really shaped up a lot of young men's lives. And now that he's retired, I know he can help us at Weedsdale High. That's why I've hired your brother to be a counselor at the school. If anybody can straighten out those kids, he can!"
Mavis was in the midst of cutting the cherry pie. She slammed the knife on the table, the glinting blade pointing straight up.
"Sit on this, Carver!"
Carver choked on his cornbread. "M-Mavis!"
CHAPTER SIX
The whole gang was gathered on the football field. Marcie Cummings had told everybody to meet after school on the football field to discuss what the hell was happening at their alma mater.
"Look, gang," she said loudly as several seniors started pairing off in order to grope each other in the end zone. "This is ridiculous. I can't believe that Johnny Whipple and Jugs have been expelled by that asshole Mr. Gruble."
Shelly Hoxworth slapped Werner Greenberger's hand as he tried to get a free feel of pussy. "You know why they were expelled. Jugs was expelled for loitering and Johnny got shit-canned because of Uttering. That's a bunch of bullshit!"
Everybody nodded their heads and agreed with Shelly.
Everybody but Harlan Cafferty and Sue Ann Delong. They couldn't nod their heads because they were sixty-nining on the fifty-yard line.
"I say we ought to burn down the school!" Ernie Beasly shouted.
"Yeah, good idea, Ernie!"
"Hey, great! Wow!"
"Wait a minute. That's a fucked idea," Marcie said. "If we burned down the school, the teachers would be just as happy as us. And I don't want those fucked-up teachers to be happy at all."
"Then what can we do?" Shelly asked. "What we need is some brains to come up with good ideas."
"Good idea," Harold Maggert said, chewing on a plug of tobacco.
"Well, shit, that's easily solved," Ernie said with a triumphant smile. "We'll just get the smartest person in the senior class to come up with some real good terror tactics-me!"
"Oh, Ernie, you'd come up with the same old bag of shit tricks like you always do!" Shelly said, slapping Werner's hand away from her tittie.
"Yeah, Ernie, I'm afraid Shelly's right. What we need is some new blood, some new brains to come up with some fuckin' good ideas on how we can fuck over good old Weedsdale High."
"Hey," Harold mumbled. "How 'bout Wexel. I think he's the smartest kid since Eisenstein." At first everybody was stunned by Harold's ss suggestion. They were stunned because it was the first time they had ever heard the twenty-year-old senior speak more than four words in one sitting, and stunned that his suggestion sounded better and better the more they discussed it.
"I think," Marcie said with a twinkle in her eye, "if we work really hard on your brother, Shelly, he'd come up with some fuckin' good brainstorms."
* * *
Wexel Hoxworth was the kind of kid who was scary and weird. People were scared of him because of his brains, and they knew he was weird because he actually read Time and Newsweek from cover to cover.
And he was a loner. That they knew because anybody passing the Hoxworth house would see that lone light coming from Wexel's bedroom on a Saturday night when other teenagers were fucking and sucking all over Weedsdale.
Being that Wexel had an IQ of 184, he wasn't blind to what was happening at school these days. Shit, everybody was real chummy with him. Girls were throwing beaver shots at him every time he looked up from his books.
Christ, Sue Ann Delong had even stuffed a wiener into her cunt while she sat across from him in the school cafeteria. She had made sure that he could see that wiener being roasted by her hot cunt before she walked very stiff-legged over to him and asked if he wanted to share her hot dog with her.
And it seemed that every time he got home, Polaroid pictures of Marcie Cummings sucking on Ernie Beasly's cock would be pasted somewhere in his textbooks.
Shit, his trig book looked more like a collection of photographic angles of Marcie's cocksucking lips than equations and theorems.
His history book was filled with telephone numbers and little messages like: "Sue Ann sucks brainy cocks. If interested, please call Lexington 3-4343. Hang up if man answers."
Nasty messages were scribbled all over the margins of his Latin book. Like: "Cuntum Quo Cuntum."
Phone calls at night. Sexy voices whispering: "Oh, Wexel. Your lips would feel so good on my titties. And my titties would feel so good on your lips. Let's fuck!" Then he would hear obscene noises in the background, somebody farting, others giggling insanely.
Even his personal bathroom was no longer his private domain. One early morning, he was on his way to dumping last night's dinner when he glanced up and saw Marcie's lips sucking a prick. Somebody had scrawled beneath the photo: "This is your cock, Wexel, and I love it! Love, Marcie."
And he no longer had to walk with Shelly to and from school. Ernie Beasly would pick them up promptly at eight, Shelly and Marcie would get back into the bed of the Ranchero and ask how his studying was going, and could he help them with their English lessons. Of course, it was hard to answer because their tits were gouging him all over, and their hands were all over him as they pretended to get comfortable in order to listen to him practicing his Latin.
Even Harold Maggert spoke to him: "How's books?"
"What did you say, Harold?"
"I'm fine too."
"What? Listen, Harold, you're just not communicating with me."
"Yes."
"Huh."
"See ya."
Well after one week of being the most popular boy on campus, even a brainy kid like Wexel was starting to notice the change within himself.
Instead of backing away from all those gouging titties, he actually tried to cautiously move his body closer to all that tit-flesh.
Naturally his personality wasn't the only thing that changed. Wexel noticed a change in his metabolism every time some erotic happening took place. Pulse rate noticeably higher. Heartbeats less constant, more fluctuating, cock vibrating more, swelling of the balls, and several moments of personal discomfort when he experienced an emission of jism.
What Wexel described as a condition of sexual response, Ernie Beasly described as the hots for cunt.
Yeah, Wexel had the hots for cunt all right. Shit, what boy with balls between his legs wouldn't have hots for cunt with all those pussies being thrown in his face all the time.
Then the day of reckoning came.
Ernie, with Harold's help, had taken off the signs over the rest-room doors. In a matter of minutes the girls' John became the boys' and vice versa. Of course it took a while to straighten out Harold's handiwork because he had screwed the GIRLS sign upside down over the door that led to the boys' rest room.
They waited patiently in the hallway, the girls tittering and rubbing their titties up against the boys as the boys leaned against the walls, one foot propped up so that they could get their knees between the girls' legs.
Then they saw Wexel coming.
His face was obscured by his history book. His mind was filled with musket fire, George Washington's wooden teeth, the midnight ride. As he turned the page and continued down the hallway, he knew that he would only have about two minutes to finish up the Revolutionary War, take a shit, and wash his hands before getting to study nail.
He never could understand why his mother fed him so many prunes for breakfast. She always called them brain food. But hell, why was he always spilling out his brains at ten o'clock in the morning?
He was about to make a left into the boys'John. But he saw the sign overhead: GIRLS. Hmmm? It seemed as if he always turned left down the hallway when he wanted to get rid of some more brain food.
He turned around and saw the sign over the opposite bathroom: BOYS. Then he saw Werner Greenberger strolling out of the johnny, zipping up his pants. Well, maybe he had been wrong. There had been times when Wexel was wrong, but usually those were with things having to do with common sense and trivial day-to-day things.
He headed for the John, plunging back into the Revolutionary War as he walked through the swinging door. He headed for the last stall.
He opened the door to the stall. He didn't even notice the Kotex vending machine just outside the door.
He shucked his pants and sat down, starting to grunt even before his warm ass settled onto the cold toilet seat.
Plop! Plop! Plop! Fffffaaaarrrrtttt!
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!"
Fffffaaaarrrrtttt! Plop! Plop! Plop!
If prunes were brain food, Wexel wondered if everything he had digested about the Revolutionary War was going down the toilet. He set the fat book down and started to grab for some pull-out sheets of toilet paper.
There wasn't any!
Oh God!
No common sense. Always a dummy when it comes to things like checking to see if there was any toilet paper in the stall before taking a shit!
Crap!
Wexel bent way down and saw a pair of hairless, quite well-formed legs beneath the partition separating his stall and the one to his right.
He knocked on the wall to his right.
"Say, would you mind handing me some toilet paper?"
"Huh-uh."
A long finger-nailed hand and a braceleted wrist appeared. Three sheets of toilet paper wadded up in a ball. "Thanks."
Wexel carefully smoothed out the three tissues. Hell, there was brain food stuck all over his ass and now he had only three sheets of tissue paper to wipe with. He was too embarrassed to ask for more.
As Wexel ran the first thin sheet of toilet paper through his ass-groove, something clicked in his brain.
Hairless legs? Bracelet on the wrist? Long red fingernails?
He flushed. No, not the toilet, but his face. Very red flush.
He bent over again, looked beneath the partition.
There was a girl's face looking back at him from the same upside down position. He knew it was a girl because the lips had lipstick, and now he could smell perfume (the odor of brain food had diminished slightly).
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"
"Quiet, Wexel," Marcie said, putting a finger to her luscious lips. "Do you want Mr. Gruble to find out that you're a sex pervert for taking a shit in the girls' bathroom?"
"But this is the boys' bathroom," Wexel whispered back, sweat breaking out on his face.
"Wexel, did you see any piss trenches as you walked in here?"
"I-I didn't notice. I was too busy-"
Suddenly the clamor of giggling girls shocked Wexel. He wanted to flush himself down with the brain food as he heard Shelly and Sue Ann laughing outside his toilet stall door.
"Oh, Wexel-boy!" Marcie yoohooed from the stall next to his. "Do you think this is the boys' rest room now?" Her voice sounded like a warbling mocking bird.
"Is that you, Marcie?" Shelly asked with a giggle.
"It sure is, Shelly," Marcie answered, trying to hold back the laughter that threatened to split her open.
"And who were you talking to."
"Your brother Wexel."
"Wexel? What's he doing in the girls' bathroom?" Sue Ann asked in mock astonishment.
Wexel wanted to shit in his pants. But his pants were down around his ankles, and his shit was floating in the toilet. He wiped the sweat from his brow, then he saw the two pairs of feet standing just outside his stall door.
OH GOD!
There was a knock on the door, accompanied by laughter.
"Yoohoo! Is that you in there, Wexel?"
Silence. A strained silence that became unbearable for Wexel. What could he do?
Then he saw panties on the floor beneath his stall door. One pink pair and one yellow pair.
Shelly and Sue Ann giggled. They weren't used to wearing panties to school, but it sure was worth the yuks wearing them today.
Then Wexel could see the feet stepping out of the flimsy panties.
Two skirts came floating down, settling in a cloud of cotton around the ankles.
God! What were they doing out there? What the fuck was he doing in here?
Now two sweaters plopped beside the skirts. Laughter rang in his ears. Two bras drifted down from above.
Then Wexel looked up and saw the slide latch moving on the door to his stall.
He tried to make a grab for it, lock those crazy girls out of the stall.
But a hand shot out from underneath the partition and tripped him up.
The door swung open.
And Wexel dove between the two beautiful nymphs who were holding their cunts open to his astonished eyes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Wexel felt like an ass. He had never felt so embarrassed in his whole life. There he was, sprawled across the cold tile floor of the girls' rest room, the lower part of his body still inside the stall.
When he tried to get up, the naked girls pinned him to the floor. Sue Ann was kneeling down on his right arm, whispering sweet nothings in his ear-he knew they were sweet because Sue Ann had such a seductive-sounding voice, and he knew they were nothings because his mind was so muddled he couldn't pay attention to what she was whispering.
Shelly had his other arm pinned to the cold tile, and he could feel his sister's tits rubbing against his left ear. Jesus! With sweet nothings coming from the right and sweet somethings coming from the left, Wexel was beginning to sweat.
"Please," Wexel begged. "Please let me go. I didn't mean to use the girls' rest room."
Marcie stood with her feet right in front of Wexel's distraught face. "Wexel, you are a bad boy. You wouldn't want us to tell on you, would you?"
"N-no!" Wexel groaned, trying to move his arms.
"Brother-dear," Shelly cooed. "Don't try and get away or things'll just get worse. You wouldn't want me to tell Mama on you, would you?"
Sue Ann giggled, started running her tongue all over Wexel's ear.
Wexel tried to move his legs, but his damn pants were hobbling his efforts.
"P-please don't hurt me," Wexel implored. God, he could feel that metabolic change again-his cock was establishing an erection, his asshole tingled, his balls felt very full, and Wexel felt very foolish as he experienced another embarrassing emission of jism.
"We aren't going to hurt you, Wexel," Marcie teased. "We're just going to fuck you."
Wexel shook his head again and again. No, he didn't want to be fucked! He had to get to study hall, bone up on the Revolutionary War. What would Miss Arnold think?
"Please let me go!" Wexel begged. "I'll do anything you say-but please 'et me go!"
"Would you suck your sister's titties?" Shelly asked tauntingly, winking at Marcie.
Silence. Terrible silence. Lasting ten seconds. Wexel struggled with the question.
"Yes."
"YOU PERVERT!" Shelly screamed. "My brother's a fucking pervert! He wants to suck my tits-his sister's tits!"
"Oh, Wexel," Marcie said in a pseudo-sympathetic tone of voice. "You are sick."
Wexel tried to shake his head, tried to deny that he was sick, but that licking tongue in his ear was making it hard for him to do anything, it was making it hard to concentrate. It was making his cock hard too.
"I bet you peek at me through the keyhole when I'm pissing," Shelly said in mock anger. "I bet you're one of those pervert brothers that jacks off while sneaking peeks at their sisters."
Wexel had done no such thing. No, Wexel knew that was wrong.
Marcie kneeled down. Wexel looked up.
Right into her pussy. That luscious-looking meat of her pussy. Opened up for his gaze by Marcie's fingers. Opened really wide, because he could see past the inner lips into the drooling heart of that funky-looking slit.
He wanted to die.
"Wexel," Marcie said. "Don't turn your head away."
Shelly grabbed her brother's chin and forced him to look back into Marcie's cunt.
Marcie began fingering her clit. Started moving her fingers all around the lips of her cunt, up and down. Then she grabbed the fat pulpy outer lips and really spread her cunt wide. Wexel gasped.
A walnutty aroma came from that wide-open cunt.
His eyeballs seemed to bulge. He stared. Never had he seen anything like that in his whole life'. Everything he had heard in locker rooms about cunts was right-they were wet-looking, tight-looking, really good-looking.
And Wexel was taking a good look. He had to. Shelly was digging her fingernails into his eyelids to make sure they never closed over his eyeballs.
"Do you see my cunt?" Marcie asked, trying to suppress a giggle.
DID HE SEE HER CUNT?
How could he miss it?
Her pussy was no farther than a breath away from him. Shit, the smell of her cunt-juice was deep in his nose.
Shelly moved his head up and down, nodding his head for him.
"He says yes, Marcie," Shelly said.
"Can you see my clit, Wexel?" Marcie asked teasingly.
What the hell was a clit? Oh yeah, from his one lesson in sex education taught by Miss Arnold, he remembered that the proper anatomical word was clitoris.
Shelly nodded his head.
"Would you like to taste my cunt and clit, Wexel?"
Wexel's eyes couldn't bulge like he wanted them to. His eyeballs were already past the straining point. He tried to fight the hands that had a good grip on his head; tried to counteract the forced nodding motions of his head with shaking movements.
He was about to scream out: "No! NO! NO! I don't want to taste your cunt and clit!" when Marcie slid her cunt forward, surrounding his face with her hot cunt.
"You pervert, Wexel!" Marcie groaned. "Oooo-ohhhh, you delicious pervert. God, your lips are driving me crazy!"
Wexel had almost drowned when Marcie's cunt had come crashing against his open mouth. But now he was moving his lips, trying to blubber out that he didn't want to taste her cunt.
But he was tasting her cunt. Couldn't help tasting her cunt. Because with every word that he tried to mumble, his lips would graze across those puffy cuntlips, and the taste of pussy and the smell of cunt would invade his senses.
Wexel really began to writhe now, and the girls were having a hard time holding him down. Every girl except Marcie. She hadn't expected such delicious thrills from a mouth that could pronounce all those funny Latin words.
God, for a boy who had never eaten pussy, Wexel's mouth was really gobbling up her cunt. She shoved her pussy against his face, tried to get his nose to rub against her clit, urged him to stick his tongue deep into her cunt.
"Stick your tongue in there, Wexel! Ooooo-hhhhh, you delicious pervert!"
Wexel could barely breathe, but when he could inhale a good gust of air, the odor of cunt made him heady with passion.
Shelly was starting in with the nodding motions of Wexel's head. Wexel tightened up the muscles of his neck. Christ, his whole face was moving up and down through-the trough of Marcie's cunt!
Marcie had a good grip on her tits. She was going ape shit over what Wexel was doing to her pussy with his face.
"God, Wexel! You delicious pervert! Ooooo-hhhh, you're eating my cunt soooo goooood!"
Sue Ann stopped wiggling her tongue inside Wexel's ear-she had to stop because the ear was moving so fast as Shelly started bobbing her brother's head against the floor as his face fucked Marcie's cunt.
"Way to go, Wexel!" Sue Ann screamed. Jesus, every time Shelly would lift his head up, Sue Ann could see pussy-juice glistening from his forehead to his chin.
Sue Ann was getting hot watching Marcie getting her rocks off. And when Sue Ann got hot, she always needed cock. She knew they were supposed to make it a slow and easy seduction, but Christ, she had to get something in her pussy.
She reached between her legs and grabbed Wexel's flopping hand. She shoved his palm against her pussy, and started feeling her cunt up-or rather, Wexel started feeling her cunt up with her help.
Wexel couldn't believe it. He was eating pussy! He was fingering pussy! He never felt or tasted anything more delicious in his life.
He moved his hand all over Sue Ann's cunt, digging his fingers into her gash, tweaking her clit.
Shelly's arms felt as if they were going to fall off. Wexel had a heavy head, and she just couldn't keep up the up-and-down motions any more. She lifted his head, then let it go.
Wexel groaned as his chin hit the floor. But his lips were still smashed tightly against those ruby-red lips of Marcie's hot cunt.
Marcie screamed, hunching as best she could, tried to wrap her thighs around Wexel's head, but Shelly and Sue Ann were in the way.
"Ooooohhhh, Wexel! You're the best cunt-eater in school! Oooooohhhhh! Oh God! I think I'm gonna come! Oh, Shelly, I really think I'm coming! Sue Ann, I feel like I'm coming! WEXEL! OH, WEXEL! YOU'RE MAKING ME COME! AAAAII-IIEEEE!"
Wexel didn't know what had made Marcie come. Maybe it was when he had stuck out his tongue and swirled it all around that delicious meat. Maybe it was when he had bumped his nose three times on the bump of her clit. He didn't know how he had done it, but now he didn't care. He just kept eating like a madman, devouring as much cunt-flesh as he could get into his hungry mouth.
Wexel's fingers were driving Sue Ann up the wall. In fact, she was up the wall. She was clinging to the swinging door, trying to squat as much of her cunt down on Wexel's fucking fingers as she could. God, the brainy asshole could really finger a cunt! She couldn't believe it. What fingers! She couldn't have done better if it were her own hand fucking away in her cunt.
Shelly blinked her eyes. Shit, those girls weren't pretending. She knew the signs when a chick was getting off. Marcie's nipples were as hard as thimbles. Sue Ann's nipples looked like overripe grapes. The smell of cunt-juice and the sound of screams was in the air.
"WEXEL! OH GOD! KEEP EATING MY PUSSY! OH GOD! OHHHHHH! I'M COMING AGAIN! MAKE ME COME AGAIN, YOU PUSSY-EATER!"
"Keep fingering my pussy, Wexel! Your hand! Get your whole fucking hand into my cunt! Oh God, Wexel! Just like that! Just like that! You mother-fucking finger-fucker! I'm coming! I'm coming! I'M COOOMMMIIINNNGGG!"
Wexel's prick had never felt so good in his life. He was trying to drive an eight-inch hole into the tile of the rest-room floor. And there was no way that something as flat and as cold as a piece of tile could compare to something as hot and as meaty as a piece of cunt.
Christ! Jism was spreading all over his writhing belly.
Shelly couldn't stand it any more. Her fingers were already in her twat, but why have four fingers in a cunt when she could have a cock-even if it was her brother's cock?
Shelly pushed Marcie back, did the same to Sue Ann.
Wexel's face plopped into a puddle of cunt-juice. Shelly grabbed his arm and hip and turned him over.
"Wow! Look at that cock! Would you look at that cock! It's got to be at least eight inches!" Shelly was amazed. She never realized that her brother was so well hung.
Marcie did a double take. Which was a hard thing to do because it felt as if that creepy crawly orgasm was still bathing her body. But any orgasming chick would do a double take if they saw Wexel's cock. Everyone knows that chicks are very impressed by big pricks.
Sue Ann stopped moaning. She had to stop moaning. She wanted to see what the others were gasping about. She saw. She gasped.
Wexel was stunned. What was wrong with his penis? Why were they looking at his penis like that? Every male has a penis, and he knew that these girls had seen lots of penises before. So what was wrong with his penis? He couldn't help it if he had a big penis-was there something bad about having a big penis?
Had they been ordinary cock-hungry American girls, they would have fought over Wexel's prick. But Marcie and Sue Ann had already gotten their rocks off, and Shelly hadn't.
Shelly opened up her cuntlips, spread her kneeling legs wide.
"Now look what you've done to me, you pervert brother!"
Wexel looked at Shelly, looked at his sister opening up the very wet, very squishy lips of her cunt. The red meat of the inner core was drooling with juices. The clit was emerging from the hooded flaps and it was pink and delectable-looking.
"See how you got me all hot and bothered, you pervert brother!"
Wexel started to raise up, but Marcie's hands were on his shoulders pulling him down. Sue Ann was already squatting on his chest facing him, her tits bobbing only inches away from his face. He had tried to move because he saw that fuck-hungry look on his sister's face. He had watched her make a move toward him. And he had reacted. And so had the other girls.
So now Sue Ann was sitting on his chest, her cunt rubbing up and down, with her knees pinning his arms down, and her tits wobbling in front of his face.
So now Marcie was moving around him, crawling over his arm to take a good look at his eight-inch prick.
So now Shelly was straddling his hips, holding her cuntlips wide open as she slowly descended. And descended. Then touched.
"Aaaaiiieeee!" Something wet and oozy had touched the twitching head of his prick.
Something tight and warm was nibbling at his cockhead.
At the two-inch mark of his cock, Shelly was already starting to groan. God, her brother's cock was very thick, very wide, and her cunt really had to stretch just to make it over the bulge of that pulsing cockhead.
"Aaaaaiiiieeee!" Wexel wanted to shove up and stick his prick into that something wet and warm and tight and nibbling. But somebody was holding his hips down.
At the five-inch point of Wexel's cock, Shelly was starting little hunching motions, moving up and down, allowing her cunt to soak his cock with more juices before she went sliding all the way down on her screaming, perverted brother's prick.
Her perverted brother screamed: "Aaaaaiiiieeee!"
Shelly slid down on his cock, oozingly, very slowly, grasping every inch of cock that entered her cunt. Then her cuntlips flattened out against her brother's pubic hair.
"Aaaaaiiiieeee-aghghhssss!" Wexel had tried to scream, but in midstream Sue Ann's hot tittie entered his mouth, the nipple moving back and forth across his tongue. ^
Now Wexel couldn't scream-his mouth was full of hot tit. But that didn't matter because Sue Ann and Shelly were doing the screaming for him.
Sue Ann screamed: "OH SUCK! OH, SUCKING GOOD! AAAAIIIIEEEE!"
All Wexel could do was to suck and fuck. God, he couldn't believe it. His first piece of ass was in the plural. His first fuck got to be with his first suck. He was sucking and fucking! GOD, HE WAS SUCKING AND FUCKING! FUCKING AND SUCKING!
The girls had been back to back on top of Wexel's hunching body, but now they were only ass to ass because Sue Ann had to bend over to get her tit into Wexel's mouth.
When Marcie saw how everybody was so busy getting Wexel to suck and fuck, there sure wasn't much left of him to keep her occupied. She settled for his toe.
Now she was getting toe-fucked, slamming Wexel's big toe into her cunt in time with Shelly's up-and-down motions over Wexel's eight-inch cock.
Marcie hadn't meant to get toe-fucked. She was just vying for a better view of Wexel's prick fucking his sister's cunt. She did have a good view because she was no more than three inches from Wexel's prick as he fucked his sister pervertedly.
And because she had to bend down so low, it was only natural that Wexel's feet were brushing against her asshole and cunt. And it was even more natural for Marcie to rub her cunt against anything that would stimulate her. Everyone knows that girls who can't get cock will stick anything up their pussies-candles, cucumbers, and even toes.
Now they were one writhing mass of flesh, joined together at various places. Sweat and cunt-juice dripped from their bodies.
Soon Wexel was going to shoot, shoot his nasty old perverted cum deep into Shelly's pussy.
Wexel's balls tightened up. Something was tickling his balls and tickling his asshole in alternate strokes.
Marcie loved to tongue-tickle balls. Every cocksucking girl worth her salt always tickled a guy's balls with her tongue. And she was tasting a lot of salt on Wexel's balls. There was a different taste when she tongue-fucked his asshole, like prunes.
Wexel started to come. Shelly could feel it. That cockhead of his was stretched to the bursting point.
Shelly started fucking faster, rising to the very tip of Wexel's eight-inch prick before coming down on a collision course with his up-thrusting groin.
Then the spurts of cum started exploding.
"He's coming! Wexel's coming! MY BROTHER'S COMING! OH GOD! I'M COMING TOO! CHRIST! HIS COCK'S FLOODING MY
CUNT! DO YOU SEE, MARCIE? HE'S FLOODING MY CUNT! AAAAIIIIEEEE!"
Marcie could see the cum all right. Because only moments before she had noticed that the shaft of Wexel's cock was a deep red and very huge, but now it was coated with the slime of his jism and it was starting to diminish in size. Then everything became very blurry, because she could feel the orgasm running through her cunt, tingling in her tits, before it cast a red-hot haze over her lust-filled mind.
"AAAIIIEEEE! YOUR TOE FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD!"
"AARRRRGGGGHHHH! OH! WHAT A FUCKER YOU ARE! MY OWN BROTHER IS THE GREATEST FUCKER IN THE WORLD! AAAIIIEEE!"
"KEEP SUCKING, WEXEL! MY TITS FEEL SO GODDAMN GOOD! YOUR MOUTH FEELS SO GODDAMN GOOD! OOOOHHHH, WEXEL! AAAAIIIIEEEE!"
Then everything went limp. His cock, his mouth, his toe, and slowly the girls slid off his belly and fell in heaps next to him. Only Marcie remained somewhat active-she was licking his cock, gathering up the mixture of brother/sister juices with her tongue.
Marcie sat up. She looked at Wexel. He had his eyes closed.
"Wexel? Are you all right?"
Wexel nodded, and it was a strain to nod his tired head. He felt fucked out and didn't want to move for the rest of his life.
"Y-yes, I feel. . . fine."
"Did you like it, Wexel?" Sue Ann whispered in a hoarse voice, wiping the perspiration from her brow.
"God, I never felt anything so good in my whole life."
"Do you want to do it again sometime?" Marcie asked. "Sure!"
Shelly sat up, glanced down at her brother's sweaty, hard-breathing body. "Would you do anything for us if we fucked you any time you wanted, Wexel?"
"Sure! Anything you say!"
The girls smiled.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lucas Cogswell hated to fuck. He loved to have his cock sucked. But as for fucking a chick in the cunt-he just hadn't been able to bring himself to do that ever since that day in the garage with his own sister.
But having his cock sucked, well, that was a pleasurable act that he always looked forward to.
And now, seated in his chair in his Los Angeles apartment, surrounded by mementos of the Marine Corps, he was looking forward to getting his cock sucked by Rosy Ramirez.
Rosy was no ordinary cocksucking girl, he could tell that by the way she jacked his cock off to the very verge of ejaculation before she pinched off his pent-up orgasm by squeezing tightly near the base of his seven-inch prick.
No, Rosy was an experienced cocksucker. But what seventeen-year-old Mexican girl who went to that convent school next to his apartment wasn't? Everyone knows that Mexican girls eat a lot of chilis and a lot of cocks. Shit, it had been almost too easy luring this taco-babe into his apartment.
She had been walking home from Saint Mary's when he opened his door, flopped out his prick and asked: "Leetle girl, you want suck-suck?"
It wasn't the best line that he had thrown at a girl, but it was just one of many that had never failed him in countless overseas tours with the Marine Corps. It was like a universal language.
"You wanta suckee-suckee?" in the Orient.
"Suck my wee-wee?" in France.
"Suck?" in the U.S.A.
Anyway, that's how former Lance Corporal Lucas Cogswell had enticed this luscious-looking taco-babe into his house to suck his cock.
He looked down at Rosy's rat-nest hair as she bent over his lap, slurping up his cock.
"Ooooohhhh, Rosy. Get down on it, babe! Eat it up!"
Rosy got down on it and ate up his cock. She loved eating cock. Next to jalapenos nothing cured a hangover better than cock-juice. And that's what she had just confessed to Father McGovern at Saint Mary's, that some boys had gotten her drunk last night and fucked her twenty times and made her suck their cocks. Father McGovern had listened very intently, his breath blowing hot and hard against that dark curtain.
Lucas smiled, leaned back in his easy chair, fed more prick to the Mexican slut. "Jesus, watch the teeth, Rosy! Aaaaahhhh, that's better."
Slurp, slurp, slurp.
Lucas relaxed. It always took him a long time to come. It had taken years of discipline to get his balls trained right. He could almost come at will. He had total command of the situation. And there wasn't any situation he couldn't command when it came to having balls to do the task right.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Slurp, slurp, slurp.
"Hello, Cogswell here. Oh, hello, Carver. Yes, I'll be up there by oh-six-hundred. Have you got everything coordinated? Good. Why don't we go over the strategy as soon as I get up there?"
Slurp, slurp, slurp.
"No, Carver, no. I want to get right to the task. After you brief me, I'll have that situation cleared up in a week. By the way, how's Sis?"
Slurp, slurp, slurp.
"Oh, well thanks, Carver. Just give her my regards. All right. Yeah, I'll take care-I always do. Goodbye, Carver."
Lucas hung up, watched Rosy taking all of his cock deep into her throat. Christ, chicks these days were something. Not like the good old days of leather necking, when the Marines would land in some foreign town and have to pay high school girls for what Rosy was doing for free. Shit, only in America could one really feel free. He loved America, and he wasn't ever going to leave her again. Not as long as there were girls who would do what Rosy was doing.
"Ooooohhhh, Rosy. Do you want my cum now? Do you want me to shoot all my hot cum down your throat?"
Rosy nodded, his prick bending slightly with the motion.
"All right, Rosy-baby, here it comes!"
Lucas' brow was furrowed in concentration. He sweated, made his balls draw up tight against his crotch, made his cum move from his balls to his cock, made his cock get big and hard in Rosy's juicy mouth. He was making himself come!
"Aaaaarrrggghhh! Swallow that jizz, Rosy! Swallow all that cum! Don't spill a drop! You little whore!"
Rosy couldn't swallow all that cum, because his prick was spewing in the air, and Rosy had a good grip on it. She was laughing, watching Lucas' cock quivering with each shot of jism that landed on her pretty dress. No hangover cure was worth sucking a fucking white man's prick all the way. Shit, she liked brown cocks, the browner the better.
Lucas started screaming as Rosy gripped his cock tighter and tighter, her fingernails digging into his cock as she laughed crazily. He was losing control of the situation.
The cum that was in the top half of his prick was shooting all over her fist, but the cum in the lower half was causing him so much pain that Lucas had to scream.
"You fucking whore! Aaaaiiieee! Let me come! Let me come! Please! Aaaaiiieee! Please, you're hurting me!"
Rosy smiled, kept that tight grip with one hand on his cock while she grabbed his balls with the other. She clamped down, squeezing those huge balls hard.
"Aaaaaiiieeee! MY BALLS! YOU'RE HURTING MY BALLS!"
Lucas tried to get up, but every time he made a move to try and wring Rosy's neck, she would squeeze his balls and cock at the same time, viciously.
"Aaaiiiieeee!"
* * *
Eloise Arnold felt as if she were fifty-seven instead of twenty-seven. She was opening up a can of pork and beans in the kitchen of her apartment. God, it was late. The faculty meeting had been late and it had been very depressing-the bulk of the meeting had to do with why the kids had been acting so good lately.
Everyone in the administration had been wary for a week. But nothing unusual had happened. None of the kids were farting in class, or pinching her ass, or drawing obscene pictures on the wall.
Throughout the whole week she had been super careful about pulling down the maps and opening up drawers, always mindful of those days when the kids would manage to sneak a pornographic picture in the oddest places. One year she had pulled open her drawer and found a used rubber inside. The class had tittered at her red face when Marcie Cummings peered over her shoulder and pointed at the obscene-looking object.
"There's a used rubber in your desk! And it's full of jizz!"
Titter, titter, titter.
Eloise had just about shit in her panties, but she had managed to control herself as she casually lifted the icky-looking thing by its reservoir tip and dropped it in her wastebasket.
But this whole past week had been very peaceful. Oh, Harold Maggert had caused a commotion when he walked into her history class with an inch-long piece of snot hanging out of his nose, but that was such a mild incident compared to all those other nasty things those asshole kids had done to her in the past four years.
Eloise had dreaded this school year with a passion. She had watched these same seniors when they were freshmen, and four years ago she had been shocked by their behavior. Four years ago, this same class was doing mild things as compared to the activities of this year.
She recalled the time the freshmen sponsored the Sadie Hawkins dance. And all the freshmen girls showed up in calico dresses with gigantic holes in the laps of those dresses-holes big enough for freshmen boys dressed in Farmer John outfits to stick their cocks into so that they could fuck standing up while pretending to dance.
That was the year that Weedsdale broke the record for so many fire drills. There were constant fire drills, and all the teachers wondered why the principal was pulling the fire alarm so many times. Then Eloise had discovered the fishing line that was used as a trip wire as it led from her doorknob to the lever of the nearest fire alarm.
Then the sophomore year came and went very slowly. The first bomb scares had started erupting. To her embarrassment, Eloise had sat on a dildo that year. The ugly-looking false cock had been secreted in her chair, ready to launch up through a small hole that had been cut through the chair bottom. With a loaded spring behind the base of the dildo, the artificial cock had shot into her pan tied cunt just as soon as she had sat down.
Titter, titter, titter.
Then they became juniors. Got their driving licenses. Got their imagine pick-up trucks. Got their chicks into those pick-up trucks between classes and fucked the living shit out of each other. That was the year that the principal had assigned her to parking-lot duty, and she couldn't stand to peer into the cabs of those pick-up trucks, afraid of what she would find there.
And she found plenty.
A gang-bang in Harlan Cafferty's Eldorado. The victim was a young freshman girl who was laid end to end on the front seat so that she had to suck a cock from the driver's side while getting fucked from the passenger side.
She found Marcie Cummings alone in Ernie Beasly's Ranchero stuffing the eight-ball gearshift knob deep into her cunt. When Eloise had demanded that she remove herself from the cab, Marcie had asked if she wanted to see her shift into all five gears in less than ten seconds without using her hands.
She found Harold Maggert alone in his flatbed truck. Well, not really alone. Because he had one of his champion sows in there for company. The sow was on his lap and his fourteen-inch prick was into the bacon. When she had demanded that he remove himself from the cab, Harold had said: "Sure is a hot day."
And now those same assholes were seniors, and she hated them, hated every one of their cocks and cunts (she had seen enough of those), hated what they did to a fine, upstanding institution like Weedsdale High. And that was why she was glad they had had a faculty meeting today.
Because she knew it was always calmest before the storm.
Her pork and beans were boiling over now. Eloise shut off the gas, spooned the mess out onto a plate and started eating.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Eloise swallowed down the beans, hurried to the phone.
"I saw you eating those beans," a voice tittered. "What?"
"I saw you eating those beans," the voice said in the same tittering tone. "Who is this?"
"T bet you're going to fart now." Titter, titter, titter.
"WHO IS THIS?"
Titter, titter, titter. Click.
Now there was only a buzz to answer Eloise's irate questions about who the caller was. Eloise slammed down the phone. Crank callers!
She returned to the kitchen, was ready to pour another nutritious serving of pork and beans into her plate. How did they know she was eating beans? Fearfully, Eloise looked out her kitchen window, spread the lace curtain apart carefully. It was too dark to see.
Someone had obviously been looking at her as she ate her pork and beans. How else would they know that she was eating pork and beans for supper.
And now she did have to fart. A big one. Pressure fought with pressure as Eloise clenched her asscheeks and tried to prevent giving birth to the fart. She sweated. God, no. No! NO!
Fffffaaaanrrtttt!
Ring! Ring! Ring!
Eloise picked up the phone violently.
"I suppose you're going to tell me that you heard me fart?! "
"WHAT?! " It was a woman's non-tittering voice, very sweet and mature sounding.
"Oh, forgive me-uh, I'm terribly sorry. I-I just received a crank call, and I thought that you were the crank calling me back."
God, Eloise felt like dying. Her heart was still fluttering with embarrassment and fear.
"Oh, that's all right, Eloise. This is Mavis, Mavis Gruble, and I'm just calling to find out if you'd like to come over and share some coffee cake with me tonight. Carver's had to rush over to Redding to pick up my brother at the airport."
"Yes, Mr. Gruble told us about all the wonderful things that your brother's going to do for Weedsdale High."
"I'm sure he will. Would you like to come over and keep me company until Carver gets back?"
"I'd be very happy to," Eloise replied, trying her hardest to hold back another fart.
"About eight, then."
"Be there at eight sharp." Click. Click.
Fffaaarrrttt!
CHAPTER NINE
As Carver Gruble drove out of town, dusk was just settling over the land. He leaned back, it was going to be a long drive, at least four hours up and back to Redding.
He was about to turn on the radio when he saw the billboard on the right hand side of the road. He couldn't believe it. He was sure he was seeing things.
The billboard was one of those fine, upstanding advertisements that thanked tourists for passing through Weedsdale. Instead of its usual "SEE YA AGAIN, FOLKS" statement, someone had painted in big red letters: "AREN'T YOU GLAD YOU DON'T SMELL HOG SHIT NO MORE?"
Carver almost hit a car coming the opposite way. He rubbed his eyes and looked into the rear-view mirror, but all he could see were two figures giving him the finger as they crouched beneath the billboard.
* * *
Jennie "Jugs" Jamieson and Johnny Whipple, the two students who had started the chaos (well, the real chaos hadn't started yet, but it will, oh yes, it will) at Weedsdale High when they had been caught fucking in Miss Arnold's classroom, were naked in Johnny's father's car.
Jennie's huge tits seemed to radiate sex as they were bathed in the moonlight. God, those tits were just about the best in the world. And now that Jennie was rubbing her hands all over them, lifting them up and flopping them all around, moaning like a sow in heat, Johnny began jacking his cock.
They were playing teasing time.
They were trying to see who could tease the other into making the first move toward fucking.
"No fair, Jennie!" Johnny almost bawled. "You gotta have your eyes open and lookin' at my cock. How the hell are you supposed to get hot if you don't look at my prick?"
Jennie stopped caressing her huge titties.
"Oh," she said.
Then she started caressing her tits again, moaning and looking wide-eyed at Johnny as he ran his hand up and down the stiff prick.
Her titties were almost down to her knees as she sat opposite Johnny in the cramped quarters of the front seat. God, her hands were lifting her breasts up, her palms gathering up all that tit-flesh, scooping them up and out toward him. And he could see her licking her lips like a cock-hungry bitch as she stared at his cock.
Now those beautiful hands were on the very tips of her tits, and she was offering those nipples to his lips. God, one nipple wasn't more than six inches away; yet he knew if he reached over and grabbed her tittie and started sucking her tit-tip, he'd lose.
Naturally he wasn't losing. No guy could ever be a loser in a game like this.
Then the tit began rising, and the nipple that was only six inches away from him was moving upward. And Jennie's head was coming downward. Her nipple and her mouth met, and Johnny just had to whip his cock like crazy because he could hear Jennie sucking her own tittie just like she would suck his cock. Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!
God, her tongue was running all over the nipple, making it stand erect and shiny in the moonlight. Then the other tit came to her mouth, and Jennie started sucking on that one too.
"NO FAIR! JENNIE! NO FAIR! YOU GOTTA LOOK AT MY COCK WHILE YOU'RE SUCKING YOUR TITTIES!"
Jennie opened one eye at Johnny, her mouth still pressed firmly on her tits. She winked at him, her tongue coming out and circling one inch-long nipple.
"You cockteaser, Jennie! You cockteaser!"
He was losing. It just didn't seem fair to him. Girls had so many ways to turn a guy on when they were playing teasing time. Shit, they could lick their own tits, finger their cunts and assholes, make moaning little cocksucking noises. While all he could do was beat his meat without coming.
He watched Jennie shove more of her tit into her mouth. Then he saw her other hand moving down her belly heading for her cunt.
Jennie turned toward him, winking at him just like a cockteaser, her mouth full of her own tit, and opened her legs.
Johnny gulped. He wailed on his cock. God, he just had to touch her, suck her, fuck her! Goddamn that cocksucking bitch! She was gonna get her ass reamed for this!
Jennie winked at Johnny again. Her hand was down near her cunt, and her fingers were spreading her cuntlips wide open for his eyes.
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!
Squish! Squish! Squish!
Johnny was gonna go blind if he didn't do something. His balls felt heavy and full of cum. He watched Jennie's hand play with her pussy, watched her thumb and forefinger pinch her clit and give it a twirl.
Johnny heard the slurp of her lips on her fat tit, heard the squishy sound that came from her finger-fucked cunt, heard her moan words between slurps of titty-flesh.
"Slurp. . . ummm, my tit is your cock, Johnny . . . slurp. Can't you feel.. . my mouth . . . slurp . . . on your cock!"
Johnny was as sweaty as a dirty jockstrap. He was going to lose in teasing time. Shit, ever since that first fucking and sucking that he had shared with Jennie back in the seventh grade, he had never won at teasing time.
He grabbed her tit, pulled it out of her mouth.
"Ha-ha, you lost again, Johnny Hot Pants! You lost again! Ooooohhhh, Johnny!"
Sure he had lost again. He knew that. But goddamn, he just couldn't resist getting his hungry mouth on that tit. His hungry mouth got on that tit, and Johnny rolled his tongue over as much of her tit-flesh as he could cover.
"Oooooohhhh, Johnny. Give 'em a good sucking! My tits love to be sucked!"
Johnny sucked the living shit out of her tits. His mouth felt like a Hoover upright as it sucked in the hot and firm meat of her tit-flesh.
"Ohhhhh, Johnny! Can you hear my cunt?"
Squish! Squish! Squish!
Johnny nodded, tweaking her nipple with his teeth.
Jennie put one foot up on the dashboard and nibbed her other leg against the hardness of Johnny's cock as he forced her to scoot down on the front seat.
He was thankful that they were in his father's car. A 1975 Lincoln that had just gotten a new set of shocks. His father had warned Johnny about driving recklessly on dirt roads. How could Johnny explain to him that the old shocks had just plumb been fucked out beneath the strain of Jennie's fuck-hungry body as she pounced on his prick those countless times they had fucked in his father's car?
Jennie got his cock into position. She had a grip on the shaft and was moving his supersensitive prickhead through the greased slit of her cunt.
"Isn't this fun?" Jennie said.
"Ummmm-hmmmm!" Johnny moaned, sucking harder and harder on Jennie's tit.
"Oooohhhh, your cock's so big tonight, Johnny! Don't you ever beat it off between fucks and sucks?"
Johnny moaned: "Hmmmm-ummmmm." Shit when they fucked every other day what was the use of beating his meat?
"Oooohhh, Johnny! Can you feel my clit with your cock! Right there! And right there! Oooohhhh!"
Johnny felt her clit all right. Jesus! His cock felt ready to burst out with all that hot cum that he had managed to store up since their last fuck.
"Now I'm gonna put your prick inside, Johnny. Oooohhhhh! It's going in soooo far! Ooooohhhh! Johnny, you're in there so deeeeeeeep!"
The reason Johnny was in so deep was because his feet were planted on the door paneling and he was shoving his cock into her cunt with all his might.
"Uuuummmmm!" Johnny said. He was such a lucky guy. God, he was probably the only guy who could suck on Jennie's tits while fucking comfortably. No straining of the neck to reach down to her tits. No bending of the spine while he tried to suck tit and fuck cunt. Her tits were just that huge. And her cunt was just that hot and wet and fuckable.
Jennie's head started slamming into the other door as Johnny powered his prick into her cunt.
The Lincoln was rocking from side to side, beginning to squeak and protest against the warranty of the new shocks.
Johnny's prick was getting bigger and bigger. Jennie opened her eyes with shock. He had never felt this big in her cunt before.
She hugged Johnny's hunching body, thrust her tits at his mouth while shoving her cunt at his withdrawing cock.
"Aaaarrrggghhh! I'm coming, Johnny! I'M COMING! GIVE ME THAT COCK! GIVE ME YOUR JUICE! FUCK ME!"
Johnny slammed his prick into her hot cunt, slammed it as far into her pussy as his balls would allow. His hairy nuts slapped against her clenching asshole, that's how far his balls would allow his prick to enter her cunt.
Johnny began coming.
No more teasing time.
He was coming! Shooting off!
Spitting, spewing and spouting his hot 'ism into the inferno of her clutching cunt.
The Lincoln stopped rocking. Stopped swaying.
Johnny gasped for breath, reached to roll down the window. Then he remembered they were power windows and he would have to switch on the ignition in order to roll them down.
He sat up. Looked down at Jennie as she tried to catch the cum that was oozing from her pussy.
"Johnny, what should I do with this mess?"
"Eat it."
"Eat it?"
"It's good for the pimples. Ernie Beasly told me
"Does he eat his own jizz."
"Don't be crazy, Jennie. Boys don't eat cum, just girls."
"Oh."
Slurp! Slurp! Slurp!
Johnny switched on the ignition, powered down the window. He stuck his head out the window and took in a deep breath of air that was tinged with hog shit.
"Jesus, it really stinks bad tonight."
"Your cum doesn't stink, Johnny. In fact it has a walnut flavor."
"Oh fuck."
"But I don't want to fuck so soon after we just did it."
"That's not what I meant, Jennie." Christ, Johnny needed a cigarette. Jesus, Jennie may have had a lot of tit but he sure wished that some of it had been exchanged for some brains-not too much though, just enough brains so she wouldn't ask dumb questions.
Johnny looked up and down Cherry Tree Lane. Then he saw Miss Arnold's VW pulling into Mr. Gruble's drive. Oh shit, time to get his ass in gear.
"Come on, Jennie, get your clothes on."
"But I still got lots of your jizz left."
"Fuck the jizz! Get your clothes on! And where the hell's that camera?"
Jennie reached over the seat, which was a pretty hard thing to do considering that her titties had to surmount the headrest, and got the camera with flash attachment and handed it to Johnny.
Johnny had already gotten his pants on, then he took the camera from Jennie.
"Oh fuck, Jennie. Look at this. You got jizz all over the goddamn lens. Fuck."
Jennie looked down at the camera. She saw a gluey drop of cum drip from the telescopic lens.
"Do you think it'll take a picture of all those cute little tadpole things that are in your cum, Johnny?"
"Oh fuck."
CHAPTER TEN
Harold Maggert was digging out shovelfuls of hog shit and piling it onto his flatbed truck. He had worked all day Saturday and half of Sunday to load down the flatbed truck with as much hog shit as it could hold. And since the truck was built for a five-ton load of squealing swine, Harold figured that he had at least four and a half tons of squishy pig shit loaded up.
Sheeeeiiittt! Would his daddy be turning in his grave if he could see what his son was doing now. Harold figured his mother had already turned in her grave when she saw what he had been doing to his baby sister. Harold wondered how corpses could turn in their graves.
Hell, when he had buried his ma and pa after the pig truck got side-swiped by a semi full of cattle, leaving his near kin dead, Harold had heaped tons of dirt on their graves. Shit, even he couldn't move all that dirt.
Harold went back to shoveling, whistling while he worked.
"Whattya doing, Slinky?" asked a nasally voice.
Harold turned around, shovel held high. He didn't want nobody knowing what he was up to. Wexel had told him that nobody should know. He put down the shovel.
It was Bessie.
She had a good grip on her nose.
"Whattya doing, Slinky?" she said again.
Harold stomped on the shit shovel. Shit, he would no sooner harm his younger sister than he would any of his little piglets. He loved both dearly.
"Shoveling shit."
"I know that, Slinky. Why're ya doin' it."
"Orders."
"Who ordered pig shit? Who's the fool's buyin' pig shit these days."
"Wexel."
"Why, Wexel ain't no fool. Why's he orderin' pig shit?"
"Don't ask nothin' 'bout it."
Bessie took a deep breath through her mouth. "Aw, come on, Slinky. Why's he orderin' all that pig shit?"
"No more talkin'. "
Bessie could tell that Slinky was getting pissed 'cause that was the second time he had told her to shut up. But she had to know.
"Come on, Slinky. You can tell me. I'm your sister."
Harold turned around, raised the shovel high-this time the shovel had a huge scoop of pig shit-and turned the shovel over atop Bessie's head.
"Bye, Bessie."
* * *
Reverend Jamieson was confronted with a problem. He was in his rectory and Marcie Cummings was sitting across from him offering him a tantalizing view of her cunt beneath her miniskirt.
"I just had to see you, Reverend," Marcie said with tears in her eyes. "I know I shoulda gone to Doc Crowley, but I just don't think it's right to go to a doctor who's also your uncle with a problem like mine."
"I understand perfectly, Marcie," Reverend Jamieson said as he opened his drawer to get a Cloret. Do anything so he wouldn't be tempted by the sight of that delicious-looking twat.
"Please help me," Marcie begged, opening her thighs until her knees were bumping against the arms of the chair.
"I will, my child, I will. Just tell me what your problem is."
Marcie pretended to be nervous by flapping her legs back and forth, creating a draft between her legs.
Reverend Jamieson gulped. Almost swallowed the Cloret.
"Well, that Harold Maggert, he-"
"You mean the pig farmer?"
"Yes. That Harold Maggert. He asked me for a date yesterday, and I went with him to the drive-in."
Reverend Jamieson had to tear his eyes away from Marcie's cunt in order to pretend interest in her story when Marcie looked up to see if he were listening.
"And he began making advances. I tried to resist the temptations of the flesh, Reverend. I really tried."
"You're a good girl, Marcie. And I believe you really tried to resist."
"But my flesh was real weak that night and . . . well, and, we went all the way!"
"Oh my child!" Reverend Jamieson gasped. God, what a cunt on this lovely child.
"It hurt at first."
"Yes, I suppose it did." Reverend Jamieson could envision that child's tight pussy getting torn and raped.
"And he used something so's I wouldn't get pregnant. And that's my problem."
Reverend Jamieson leaned forward in his chair, bent his ear to Marcie. "Er, I don't understand. What's your problem?"
"Well, dumb Harold didn't have any of those balloony things-you know, what do you call them?"
"Rub-er . . . you mean condoms."
"Yeah, them conundrums."
"So what did he use, my child?" Reverend Jamieson asked as his hands formed a steeple on his deskpad.
"Saran Wrap."
"Saran Wrap? I-I never heard of that brand of condom. W-well, what I mean is . . . I haven't heard of any brand of condom. I'm not familiar with them. So tell me, what did this Saran Wrap look like?"
"Oh, Reverend. You know. Saran Wrap is what you wrap sandwiches in. You know that real clear stuff that sticks to leftovers?"
Reverend Jamieson's jaw dropped. "He used that?"
"Yep. Saran Wrap. And that's what my problem's about."
"About Saran Wrap?"
"Yep. It's still stuck in my . . . er, my tiny little hole."
Now the pious reverend could not keep his eyes off that tiny little hole that looked like no more of a tiny little hole than he looked like the Devil. That hole looked like it could take on one big cock or two little ones the way it was gaping open and drooling cunt-juice all over the pious guest chair.
"I-I don't know if I can help you there, Marcie."
Marcie stood up, came around the side of the desk. "But you've got to, Reverend!"
She spun Reverend Jamieson around in his swivel chair and planted her compact body between his splayed legs.
There was no way the surprised Reverend Jamieson could hide his erect cock. It was bulging in his pants like a third leg that had been broken and was placed in an upright splint.
Marcie fell to her knees, her hands resting on Reverend Jamieson's hot thighs.
"Please, Reverend Jamieson. I have no one else to turn to."
Reverend Jamieson looked down at the poor child who had tears in her eyes. He looked down at her and saw her dip her head in shame, her forehead resting on his erect third leg.
Reverend Jamieson turned his eyes to Heaven and prayed that she could not feel how hot and hard his cock was.
And then Marcie was sobbing between his legs, her head nuzzling his tented crotch.
"You've got to help me, Reverend. I can't go to Doc Crowley. I can't go to my folks! I've come to you because I trust you and I know you won't tell a soul."
Thank God her tears were falling on the crotch of his pants. Now he had an excuse for all that cock-oil that was dribbling out of his prick. He almost started to pat her on the head, to soothe the troubled child, but realized that he would only force her head into closer contact with his hard-on.
"You can trust me, child. Just tell me how I can help you."
Marcie looked at the Reverend with sorrowful tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lips were quivering as she said: "P-pull out the Saran Wrap."
Reverend Jamieson felt as if the Devil had just goosed his ass. He clenched the arms of the chair to keep himself from shooting toward the ceiling.
"You mean, it's still stuck in . . . up there in that tiny little hole?"
Marcie nodded, her chin rubbing up and down on the tented bulge of his cock.
"And y-you want me to pull it out?"
"Reverend, you're the only person I can go to. I can't go to Mother, or she'll find out what I've been doing. And I can't go to my girl friends because they'll start rumors about me, and my reputation would be ruined! I'm a nice girl, Reverend, who just got into a teensy bit of trouble."
Reverend Jamieson thought hard. Why was there nothing in the Good Book to cover a situation like this? He placed his hand on Marcie's head, patted her on the head as she started to cry. Her hair was so smooth, so silky-feeling. And his cock was so hard and hot, and now he could feel her tears soaking through the crotch of his pants.
"P-please, Reverend. I have no one else to turn to."
"I have thought it over, Marcie, and I have decided to help you. After all, God helps those who help themselves."
"Oh goody, Reverend!" Marcie said joyously, clapping her hands before dropping them right on top of his cock.
Reverend Jamieson wanted to close his legs, but he couldn't. Marcie had her compact, firm body wedged between his widespread legs. God, her hands were right on top of his cock. Did she know what she was doing? No, of course not. She was just a poor innocent child.
He cupped his hand beneath Marcie's chin, lifted her head up to him. "How should we do it, Marcie? I've never done anything like this before."
"Well, I think I better get up on your desk on my back. Then I'll have to spread my legs real wide. Have you got any ointment, or grease, or something.. . er, you know, on account of my thing'll be so dry."
The Reverend thought hard. He shook his head. "No, Marcie. There's nothing in the rectory like that."
Marcie looked at him somewhat cheerfully. "I guess, we'll just have to rough it then. You will be gentle, won't you, Reverend?"
Reverend Jamieson nodded. He was beginning to be aware of what was going on. Marcie expected him, a man of the cloth, to put his fingers into her.. . her cunt! And dig out that Saran Wrap that Harold Maggert had used for a . . . a rubber!
He couldn't believe it.
But he had to believe it because Marcie was on top of his pious desk, using the King James version of the Bible for a pillow, spreading her legs all over tomorrow's sermon.
And her pussy was staring him right in the eye, or rather he was staring her pussy in the eye.
He rolled his eyes toward Heaven, thanking God that situations like this didn't come up every day. Then he looked down at the red meat of Marcie's cunt. It did look dry.
Marcie tried to suppress her laughter, but it was pretty hard to do because she had to concentrate on keeping her cunt as dry as possible, which was a very hard thing to do because she was in her favorite fucking position and her cunt usually oozed plenty of pussy-juice when it was ready to be fucked.
It helped to lie there as if frozen-stiff and not look at the Reverend's perspiring face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"I-I don't see the Saran Wrap," Reverend Jamieson stammered.
Marcie had covered her face with her hands, pretended to be fearful of the situation, but it was a good way to cover up the laughter and mirth.
"It's really deep in there, Reverend. Harold really had a big . . . er, well, he's really a big boy 'cause when he did it to me I began to have cramps in my stomach."
"Oh."
"Here, let me spread my legs as wide apart as possible."
Now Marcie's thighs were almost flat to the desk, and the lips of her cunt spread apart a little more, and the Reverend could see deeper into the core of her cunt.
"You'll probably have to work your fingers around in there for a little bit. . . you know, so it'll be, er, wet. Then it won't hurt so much."
Reverend Jamieson leaned forward in his swivel chair. His head was only a foot away from Marcie's spread-apart cunt. Oh God, all that beautiful silky hair that covered those pouting little lips!
God save his soul.
He touched her cuntlip. Barely touched it. God, her pussy had felt so warm.
Marcie had almost shot off the table when she had felt Reverend Jamieson's finger touch her cuntlip.
"I will try and be as gentle as possible, Marcie."
"Yes, Reverend."
So he began. His hands were back to back as his fingers spread open the tight, luscious hole of Marcie's cunt. It oozed open, the lips of her cunt trying to stick together as Reverend Jamieson pried them apart.
He couldn't see a damn thing. Well, he could see a lot of pussy, but he sure couldn't see any damn Saran Wrap.
"I still don't see the Saran Wrap, Marcie."
"Jt's really deep in there, Reverend. Please be gentle."
Reverend Jamieson probed her pussy as gently as possible. He tried to widen her cunt, his fingers slipping and sliding now as Marcie's cunt began to lubricate. God, the aroma of her cunt was getting to him.
He accidentally touched her clit.
"Oooooohhhh!" Marcie moaned.
The Reverend dropped his hands. "Did I hurt you, Marcie?"
"What? No, no, not at all."
He returned to her cunt. He dug his thumbs into the center of her slit then spread apart her cunt. Jesus, there was something deep inside. He needed more light.
"I need some light, Marcie."
"What about using the lamp?"
"Good idea, Marcie." He reached over and goose-necked the lamp down so that it shone into Marcie's widespread loins. Ahhhh, much better. Every man needed a light to guide the way.
Back to her pussy again.
He grabbed her cuntlips and spread Marcie's glistening pussy apart. Marcie was having a hard time holding back the moans and groans. God, the Reverend sure had long fingers.
"I think I see it, Marcie! I think I see it!"
"Ohhhhh,goooooooody!"
But there was no way he could reach into her cunt if he had to use both hands to hold it open.
"Marcie, do you think you can . . . er, hold open your thing. Uh, so I can reach in and get that thing?"
"Ooooohhhhhh, suuuurrrre!"
Marcie reached down between her legs, her fingers slithering into her hot cunt, began fucking her fingers in and out of her hole.
"Marcie, what are you doing?"
"Oooooohhhhh, Reverend! I-I just got to get it real juicy or it'll hurt when you put your finger inside."
"Oh."
Reverend Jamieson watched as Marcie got her cunt all juiced up for his penetrating finger. He waited five minutes, then ten minutes, then a quarter of an hour.
"Ooooohbhh! God! Does it look real juicy, Reverend?"
"Yes, it does, Marcie."
"Oooohhhh! I don't think so. It still hurts when I put my finger right there."
Reverend Jamieson watched as Marcie buried her middle finger into her tight cunt-hole.
"Ooooohhhh! I think my . . . my . . . thing's ready now, Reverend."
"Oh good."
Marcie grabbed the flaps of her outer cuntlips and spread them as far apart as she could. God, the guts of her cunt looked like the juicy insides of a half-cooked beef roast, and her clit was hanging out like a miniature prick.
Reverend Jamieson placed his thumb and forefinger within the hole, then he started moving them up deep into Marcie's cunt.
"Ohhhhhh! Reverend!"
"Does it hurt?"
"Ooooohhhh, noooo!"
His fingers went deeper into her cunt, and the farther he entered the more Marcie moaned. God, she was so hot inside there.
Then he could go no farther, but he didn't have to. Because he could feel something crinkly against the tips of his fingers. The damn thing was really slippery. He started moving his fingers, frustrated as the Saran Wrap kept slipping off his digits.
"Ooooohhhh! Aaaaaiiiieeee!"
He was going to get that bugger out if it killed him.
"Ooooohhhh! Aaaaaiiiieee!" Or if it killed Marcie.
"AAAIIIEEE! HARDER! HARDER! FIND THAT STUPID THING!"
He was trying! He was trying!
He got it. His fingers had managed to grab hold of a crinkly edge. He pulled.
It was like a dam that was holding back the flood waters.
"Aaaaaiiieee!"
A four-inch square of Saran Wrap plopped out of her pussy, followed by stringy trails of white cum.
The Reverend gasped. He let the juiced-drenched cellophane drop to his desktop.
Marcie gasped, let go of her pussy lips. Jesus, what a crazy come!
She sat up, bounced down to the floor and threw her arms around a very sweaty and exhausted minister.
"Oh, thank you, Reverend! Thank you!" She kissed him-on the cheek.
The Reverend smiled, sweat beading on his curled lips. "It's my duty to help those who wish to help themselves."
Marcie smiled her thanks. "I'll never forget you, Reverend. Thanks so very much."
Reverend Jamieson smiled heroically back at Marcie.
"Well, I'd better get home now. I haven't done my Bible studying yet."
"Yes, my child, you'd better get home before your mother starts to worry. Can I give you a ride home?"
"Oh, no thanks. Ernie Beasly's waiting outside. He said he'd wait for me. He thinks I'm in here helping to plan the Young Women's Bible Reading Hour for next Sunday."
"Oh."
"Well, goodbye, Reverend. And thanks once again."
The Reverend waved and watched Marcie sashay her curvaceous ass out the door. He looked down at his desk and watched the jism slide off the corner of the Saran Wrap and drip to the floor.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Do you take cream with your coffee," Mavis asked, spooning two heaps of sugar into Eloise's cup.
"Yes, thank you," Eloise replied. Gosh, Mavis Gruble looked so beautiful, so sophisticated and ladylike. She watched her hostess serving the coffee. Her hands were so delicate-looking, and Mavis had such a genteel bearing.
Eloise looked down at her own figure, mentally comparing her sticks and bones of a body to the woman who sat across from her.
It was like night and day, black and white.
Eloise was frail and skinny, with tits that looked like they were ready to sprout but were always nipped in the bud by an all-year frost. Mavis' tits were firm for being so huge and jutting.
Mavis sized up Eloise as she handed the schoolteacher her coffee. She sure didn't look like any of her other lover girl friends that she had had in L.A. But Mavis knew that in a town like Weedsdale, the pickings were going to be slim-but why did the pickings have to be as slim as Eloise's scarecrow-thin body?
Well, pickers can't be choosers.
Mavis wished it was Janie Armstrong, or Cassandra "Butch" Cassady or Alexis Karras who was sitting across from her. God, all those wonderful girls with those wonderful lips-Mavis wondered what they were doing now. Probably doing double sucks and dildo tricks with each other, or maybe they were just waiting to scarf up on another Lezzie girl. God, she hated Carver for taking this job in this pisshole of a town.
"Would you like some coffee cake, Eloise?"
"Oh, I couldn't," Eloise warbled. "It's just too fattening."
Mavis got up and sat down next to Eloise, very close to Eloise, so that her minty breath was almost in Eloise's ear. God, Mavis hated playing the butch role.
She placed her hand on Eloise's skinny thigh.
Eloise wondered what was troubling Mavis. She looked so nervous.
"Is there something wrong, Mavis?"
"Oh, Eloise," Mavis said sadly. "I don't know where to start. I've been so lonesome this past week."
"Oh, poor Mavis," Eloise said sympathetically, knowing how hard it was to make friends in Weedsdale.
"Carver's been so busy lately, and I've been so.. . so uptight."
"I know just how you feel, Mavis."
"You do?"
Eloise put her arm around Mavis, felt Mavis' huge tit bump against her armpit. God, such a beautiful lady with such a beautiful figure.
Their arms were crossed as they both patted each other on the thigh.
"Yes, I do, Mavis. I know how lonely it can be in a town like Weedsdale. Have you tried to join the Ladies' Auxiliary?"
"What? Oh, I mean, well.. . well, Eloise, I'm just not suited for social doings. My problem is more . . . er, personal."
Eloise glanced at Mavis' face. Were those tears coming from those pretty doe-like eyes?
"Is there something I can do for you, Mavis?"
"Yes, hold me tight. Hold me very tight."
Eloise didn't understand, but she held Mavis very tight. Mrs. Gruble looked so forlorn, so lonely and desperate. God, she must really have a bad problem.
"Is that tight enough, Mavis?"
Mavis wrapped her arms around Eloise's neck, rubbing her tits against the bumps of Eloise's breasts.
"Oh God, Eloise. My problem is so personal; and I wish that you were my real and true friend. Will you be my loyal friend, Eloise?"
Eloise could barely breathe. She tried to hold Mavis as tight as Mavis was embracing her. It was like a double bear hug as Eloise tried her best to console her troubled friend.
"Oh, I will! I do want to be your best friend!"
"God, thank you so very much, Eloise." A harder hug that mashed her nipples against Eloise's tits. Mavis brushed her lips across Eloise's ear, wanted to lick and kiss there but knew it was too early. Jesus, she hated being the butch.
"Gosh!" Eloise gasped, feeling those firm titties jutting into her own. "I feel so sorry for you, Mavis. How long have you had this problem?"
Mavis whispered sensuously in Eloise's ear: "All my life."
Eloise gasped. She was getting warm, and perspiration was beginning to stain the collar of her blouse.
"All your life? My goodness, you poor, poor thing."
Mavis began rubbing her hand all over Eloise's back, down her spine to her bony ass.
"Oh, Eloise, I love you so much for being my friend. And I do want to tell you about my problem."
Eloise really felt good about being such a close friend with Mavis Gruble. She felt as if some of Mrs. Gruble's sophisticated charm would rub off on her.
"Tell me, Mavis. Tell me what your problem is."
"Let's go to bed."
"Go to bed? Whatever for."
"I mean let's go to my bedroom," Mavis sobbed. "I mean what would people think if they saw us hugging like close friends. I mean Carver or just about anybody might come barging in on us-and, well, you know, don't you, Eloise?"
"Oh yes, Mavis. Whatever it takes for you to tell me your problem. I do want to be your friend. You see, I'm probably just as lonely as you are."
They got up and started to go toward the bedroom.
Eloise stopped. "Should I bring my purse."
"Purse? Why would you want to bring your purse?"
"B-because if your problem is too sad, I'll start to cry. And I've got Kleenex in my purse."
Mavis held Eloise's hand. "Come, Eloise. I've got plenty of Kleenex in the bedroom."
It was dark in the bedroom, and Mavis led Eloise to the bed, sat her down on the edge.
Mavis went back and shut the door. Now the bedroom was pitch black.
"M-Mavis, aren't you going to turn on the lights?"
"No, I can't," Mavis began to sob. "I don't want my. close friend to see me cry when I tell her what my problem is."
Eloise began to cry. God, the poor woman must have some horrible problem, some huge albatross around her neck that has burdened her for years. She got some Kleenex out of her purse, found her nose in the dark and cleaned away what she had sniffled up.
Mavis slipped off her shoes. Then her dress. Now she was naked and padding quietly to the side of the bed.
"Are you sure you want to hear my terrible problem, Eloise?"
Eloise had thought that Mavis was still standing near the dresser. She almost died of shock when Mavis' sweet voice seemed to boom in her ear. God, the woman was standing right in front of her. Eloise recomposed herself.
"Oh yes, Mavis. Yes. As a true and loyal friend, I beg you to let me share your problem."
Mavis reached out into the pitch black and placed her hands on Eloise's frail shoulders.
"The problem is, Eloise, I'm a lesbian."
"Oh."
Silence.
Mavis pushed her tits out, could feel her nipples touching Eloise's face. "Oh . . . NO!"
But it was too late for oh-no's. Mavis was falling forward in the darkness, pinning Eloise to the bed, her huge tits flopping against the struggling woman's face.
Eloise was stunned. What woman wouldn't be? Or rather, what normal woman wouldn't be? And Eloise considered herself pretty damn normal.
Or at least she thought so.
But those luscious tits rubbing all over her face interfered with her thinking.
And that hand between her thighs, fucking up her dress and pulling down her white cotton panties wasn't helping any either.
HAND BETWEEN HER THIGHS? PULLING DOWN HER PANTIES?
"Oh please, Mrs. Gruble. I-I've never done anything like this. I don't think I'd be very good at it."
Mavis smiled, wished she could see Eloise's terrified face in the darkness. Hell, maybe playing the butch part wasn't so bad.
"There's always a first time for every chick."
Eloise couldn't believe how Mavis' voice had changed-it sounded so dominant, so commanding, so much lower in tone and higher in passion.
"Please, Mrs. Gruble. I don't do things like this! I know I'd just hate it."
Mavis tore Eloise's panties off, started fumbling with the buttons on Eloise's blouse.
"You'll love it, chickie-babe. You'll just scream with hot passion when I get my lips on your cunt!"
LIPS ON HER CUNT?! NOOOOOOO!
Eloise tried to fight back now. But how could a ninety-pound weakling take on an Amazon without having some sand kicked in her face. It was useless. Mavis was too strong, too overpowering.
Eloise started to cry, lying there as limp as a rag doll.
"Oh, Eloise. You won't be crying for very long. My lips'll feel so good on your cunt. And I can't wait until you put your lips on my cunt! We'll have a fucking ball!"
Eloise gasped. No way! No way was she going to put her lips on Mavis' pussy. That was nasty!
Hands that felt like hot shackles grabbed Eloise's thin legs, spread them apart. Movement on the bed that made the bedsprings squeak.
Then Mavis' lips were on Eloise's cunt. God, and she hadn't really washed there! Eloise hadn't known when she had showered that her cunt was going to be kissed by such a sophisticated lady like
Mavis Gruble, or she would have been more careful when she had bathed.
Mavis was like a rutting, snorting pig trying to hog the last kernel of corn in the crib. She jabbed her tongue into Eloise's tight cunt, maintained that iron grip on Eloise's thighs, spreading her apart so that she could get deeper into that honey-slick cunt.
God, Eloise could feel her cream oozing out of her cunt-hole. And as fast as her cunt-juice flowed, Mavis' tongue would slop up all the gooey mess. A couple times she tried to close her legs, but she couldn't. They were being wedged apart by a relentless tongue and steel-hard hands.
Then there was more movement on the bed. Eloise could feel Mavis turning around, could feel the bed sag in different places.
"You'll love the taste of my cunt, Eloise. God, if mine tastes like yours, you'll be eating my cunt all the way to my asshole."
Something hot and smelly and hairy mashed Eloise's nose before sliding down to her mouth. Eloise wanted to scream. She opened her mouth, then realized how stupid that was when all kinds of hot and wriggly cunt-meat filled her mouth.
Mavis couldn't believe how really good it felt to have a woman's body beneath hers. Couldn't believe the ecstasy that overcame her and made her shudder and force more of her cunt down on Eloise's face. She started licking faster and faster, tonguing harder and harder, until Eloise's cunt was a cauldron of frothy spit and bubbling cunt-juice.
Eloise couldn't stand it. Her cunt was on fire. She had never felt so fucking hot in all her life. Her clit was being ravaged by a tongue that flicked countless times over her supersensitive organ. Her pussy lips were opening up of their own accord, to allow that tongue to enter more deeply, to allow more of her juices to flow out of her spasming cunt.
Eloise started humping her cunt up to Mavis' mouth, urging her to take more of the cunt into her mouth.
Mavis started hunching her cunt down to Eloise's mouth, urging the neophyte sister of Sappho to start licking as she was doing now.
Eloise started licking, licking just like the tongue in her own cunt was licking. She located Mavis' clitoris, swirled the taut bud before fucking deeply into Mavis' cunt with her tongue.
Now their hands came into play, caressing and gripping each other's asscheeks.
"Uuuuummmm!"
"Uuuuummmm!"
They were coming! They were coming together, hunching and writhing, eating each other out as if pussy were the last edible item left on earth.
They came. They knew they came because their mouths could not hold all that cunt-juice.
Mavis slumped to one side.
Then lightning seemed to bathe the room with a stark white explosion.
FLASH!
They looked toward the window. FLASH!
They were blinded, but they could hear a boy's voice saying: "Goddamn, Jennie, give me another flashcube!"
FLASH!
Titter, titter, titter.
* * *
"Well goodbye, Lucas. See you tomorrow."
"Goodbye, Carver. Be there at oh-six-hundred."
Lucas closed the door on Carver. He looked around the spacious duplex. Shit, not a bad layout for a rental.
Lucas had felt bad when Carver had told him that his sister didn't want him staying in their house, so Carver had arranged to put him up in a duplex on the corner of Cherry Tree Lane and Daffodil Drive.
Shit! Lucas scratched his crotch. His balls still ached and his cock still pained him whenever he had to do things like bend over and unpack his suitcase. He slammed the lid down on the suitcase.
That fucking little Rosy. Shit, he had never met a chick who did kinky things like suck his cock only halfway then go running out the door with his prized military sabre.
Fucking little bitch.
Lucas lit up a Lucky. He looked around for an ashtray. There weren't any. He went outside.
The night air felt cool as he smoked on the porch.
He was about to go inside when he saw her. A young-looking chick standing beneath the streetlamp.
She looked delicious, cocksuckable. She looked like she was also waiting for a ride.
His cock was already erect when he pulled it out of his pants and opened the screen door.
"Hey, chickie, wanta suck-suck!"
The girl spun around in surprise, could barely make out the lanky length of Lucas' prick as it flopped between his thighs.
She stuck out her tongue, then pulled up her dress, pooched out her cunt at Lucas and said: "Hey, asshole, wanta eat-eat!"
Lucas was stunned. His prick went limp. He was just about ready to make a banzai charge when a car screeched to a stop and the girl got in.
As they spun around the corner, he could see the girl throwing her bare ass out the window, her asshole pointing right at him.
So this was the kind of welcome that Weedsdale had for him, huh?!
CHAPTER TWELVE
The time was oh-five-hundred and there were a lot of sleepy-eyed seniors gathering in Wexel Hoxworth's garage. Everyone had sand in their eyes except Harold Maggert. That's because Harold always got up with the pigs to make sure they had eaten all the corn he had put out last night.
"What's that smell?" Harlan Cafferty yawned.
"Hog shit," Ernie Beasly replied, rubbing his eyes. "Harold's got all the hog shit piled on his flatbed."
Harold smiled a toothy grin.
Wexel came walking in. Everything had changed about Wexel since he had been invited, or rather, lured into being the brains behind the antics they had planned. He had leadership in his eye, a stead walk that bordered on arrogance. He didn't even say hello to everyone, just started right in explaining.
"Everything's going according to plan. We got the hog shit, thanks to Harold's outstanding weekend efforts."
Harold grinned toothily again. "Shucks."
"We got pictures of Miss Arnold and Reverend Jamieson. I need some volunteers to take care of Mr. Whipple. Two boys, one cocksucking girl and one of Harold's sows."
Ernie Beasly and Werner Greenberger volunteered to be the boys. All the girls wanted to be the cocksucker. Wexel chose his sister Shelly.
"All right, the rest of you know what you have to do. The ones I've chosen meet me after school."
Everybody was laughing and chortling as they left for school.
Wexel stayed behind to double check his plans. He pulled out a wallet calendar and circled Friday of that week, which was just an ordinary Friday as far as the world was concerned, but which was a very important day for Weedsdale's number-one commercial product. The day was filled with all things relative to pigs.
The senior breakfast would be sausage and eggs; the senior lunch would be ham and French fries with pigs' feet on a side dish. But the most important event took place at 2:30 in the afternoon, when all the kids in school gathered together for the greased pig contest (which had been won three years in a row by one Harold Maggert).
Yes, Hog's Day was a very important day, and Wexel had everything coordinated for the coming Friday.
* * *
Eloise hated Mondays But this Monday proved to be just pure hell. She had just about shit bricks when those flashbulbs had gone off, and when she had gotten home late that Saturday night, she had stayed up until the wee hours of the morning shivering with fear.
When Sunday came, she had listened fearfully as Reverend Jamieson's fire-and-brimstone eyes searched the thirty-two people in the congregation looking for sinners. Eloise had run home, gone through the Bible twice looking for some parable about lesbianism. But all the evils were in the male's domain-Thou shalt not covet another man's wife. That Commandment wasn't meant for her was it? Wasn't that meant for men only?
Now it was Monday, and she dreaded the thought of facing her senior history class. She knew that one of those assholes had some very scandalous photos of her-but which one?
Eloise knew she would be too nervous to talk today, so she had planned to skip the War of 1812 and go immediately to the Civil War, because then she could show slides of famous battle scenes that had been photographed by Matthew Brady.
She was so relieved when her students didn't mind seeing slides.
Ernie Beasly didn't mind because that meant he could fuck around with Marcie's tits and cunt in the darkness as she fondled his cock as their eyes focused on the screen.
Harold Maggert didn't mind because it meant that he could sleep after that exhausting weekend of shoveling hog shit.
Wexel didn't mind because he liked slide presentations, and being that he was the smartest kid in class, he always got to run the slide projector.
Wexel dropped the circular slide holder into place, Miss Arnold turned off the lights, Ernie and Marcie started fucking around, and Harold had already started to snore.
Twenty slides later, Harlan Cafferty had his finger in Sue Ann Delong's cunt, but she slapped his hand away and told him she was on the rag. He moved his hand lower and settled for finger-fucking her asshole as she jacked off his cock.
Thirty slides later, Harold Maggert slid off his chair.
On the forty-second slide, Harold Maggert woke up because everyone was tittering around him and pointing at the screen.
There, in front of the whole class, was a fuzzy, but still identifiable photo of Miss Arnold and Mavis Gruble in a sixty-nine position with their eyes bugging out of their heads as they stared at the camera.
Eloise fainted.
The class went into an uproar. Wexel grinned. Shelly tittered. And Howard Maggert farted. "Now we know what we've got to do!" Wexel shouted, and immediately the kids quieted down.
They gathered around Eloise's collapsed form, pairing off.
Wexel pointed to the door, and Harold moved his body sluggishly to keep watch.
Shelly was down on her knees first. She took out Harlan Cafferty's prick and started sucking like mad. She didn't have to get him erect because Sue Ann had already done that for her.
Sue Ann was down on her knees between Ernie's spread-apart legs. She was licking her lips eagerly. Then she was licking his prick eagerly.
Marcie's mouth was already full of Wexel's cock, bobbing her head back and forth, feeling his cockhead jabbing against her throat.
Other kids paired off in various places-fucking and sucking on Miss Arnold's desk, on their own desks, anyplace they could.
Moans and groans, sighs and gasps, and many slurps and squishes filled the air.
Poor Harold was looking out the crack in the door trying to watch for intruders.
Eloise's eyes fluttered. She opened them, then wanted to refaint. She couldn't believe what was happening!
The kids were fucking and sucking in her classroom! In her history class!
She rubbed her eyes, trying to make the horrible, depraved scene go away. But it didn't, and neither did the scene on the screen go away-the slide photo of her and Mavis Gruble staring blurry-eyed into the camera with cunt-juice smeared all over their faces.
Then she could hear Wexel-Wexel, her favorite student, a boy destined for an Ivy-League school-shouting at her.
"Miss Arnold? Can you hear me, Miss Arnold?"
Eloise nodded dizzily.
"Miss Arnold, this is a civil war between the oppressed students of Weedsdale High and the oppressors-the fucking faculty! We have decided that life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are the issues here. Now, Miss Arnold, would you come over here and suck my cock . . . please?"
* * *
Everett Whipple really went crazy down at the Buckeroo Bar on Monday nights. Shit, spaghetti was a buck for all you could eat, free peanuts and popcorn, and a gigantic TV set for watching Happy Howard, Asinine Alex and Spiffy Giffy announce the Bills-Chargers game.
Now, with Ragu sauce on his shirt, popcorn stuck between his dentures, peanut shells sticking to his crotch, he waddled drunkenly out of the Buckeroo Bar laughing at the Bills for getting ass-kicked to the tune of 52 to nothing.
He ambled to his Lincoln, opened the door and then almost shit in his pants when he saw cunt.
Nobody could miss Shelly's cunt, even in the darkness, even being piss-assed drunk as he was. Shit, she had her pussy spread out like peanut butter, one leg crooked around the steering wheel, the other over the headrest.
"S-Shelly . . . Hoxworth?"
"I sure ain't your mama. Come on, Evie-baby, me and you got a lot of fuckin' and suckin' to do!"
"W-what are you doin't here?! "
"What are you doin' out there?"
"I-I was just gettin' ready to-"
"Fuck me," Shelly interrupted. "I know how you cunt-hungry men are. So come on, I'm ready any time you are. Here it is, come and get it!"
Shelly opened up her cunt, fingering the lips and oozing cunt-juice all over the leather upholstery.
"B-but, I . . . "
"Listen, Evie-baby, if you don't get your cock in this car, I'm gonna scream rape, and all your asshole buddies in the old Buckeroo are gonna think something's mighty fishy when they see the bank president out here with a jailbait cunt."
Evie-baby glanced around, spotted Homer Ainsley coming out of the Buckeroo. He got his ass in gear.
"Move over, Shelly!"
"Well, that's more like it, Evie-baby!"
Everett pushed Shelly over so that he could get enough clearance to get the key into the ignition. Pussy was the farthest thing from his mind, although it was still pretty close at hand. Hell, if Homer Ainsley, the town's richest hog farmer, saw him out here with a young under-age cunt like Shelly Hoxworth . . .shit! He had to get out of there!
The Lincoln almost barreled into Homer when it shot out of the parking lot. Everett had a hard time trying to push Shelly down into the seat, drive his luxury car and wave goodbye to Homer. It was doubly hard because Shelly's toes were fiddling around with his prick. He smiled hastily at Homer, then left him in a cloud of dust and gravel.
"Now, young lady, I'm talcing you straight home. And please remove your feet." If Everett sounded sober, that was because his heart was beating so fast that the alcohol had already made two roundtrips through his sweating body.
"But, I can't go home. I haven't got any clothes on. You can't just leave me bare-assed naked at the door. Unless you want my daddy to see you dropping me off bare-assed naked."
Wexel Hoxworth, Sr., was the only lawyer in town; shit, only Homer Ainsley's account was bigger at the bank.
"N-no, we don't want to do that! Where are your clothes?"
"In my car."
"Where's your damn car?! "
"Near Harold Maggert's place." Shelly resumed tickling Everett Whipple's cock with her toe.
Everett squirmed. "What's it doing out there?"
"I left it there." Now Shelly removed her foot and sat up next to Everett. Naturally her hand was on his cock, feeling for the zipper.
Everett tried to take his hand off the steering wheel, but Shelly was too quick for him. She pinned his hand where it was by leaning forward and smashing it between her fat tittie and the steering wheel.
"Goddamn, Shelly! You wanta cause an accident?"
She rubbed his cock, unzipped the zipper. "Yeah, I wanta feel an accident right in my hand."
Everett couldn't believe it. What the hell was the world coming to?
He squirmed, tried to prevent her from getting his cock out into the open.
She got his cock out into the open.
She frigged it. She ran her hot hand up and down the bloated head of his prick.
The Lincoln was swerving all over the road. Which way was the shortest to Harold Maggert's pig farm? He didn't know whether he was going to make it.
"Now, what were you saying about my car?" Shelly teased, reaching deep into his gaping fly and massaging his balls. His cock was getting very slippery in her hand.
"I-I wanted t-to know . . . w-why you LEFT YOUR CAR OUT THERE!" He had to say it fast or he would never have gotten it all out. Jesus, the little cocksucker was really giving his prick a work-out. Her hand was jacking like crazy over his prick, and cock-juice was coming out.
"Well," Shelly murmured into Everett's ear, giving it a good tongue swipe before continuing on in sensuous tones, "me and a couple of other kids were playing teasing time."
Everett's face was getting redder with every passing second. "W-what's t-teasin' time?"
Shelly fondled his cock, rolled his balls in the hot warmth of her hand. "Well, teasing time is when you tease the other person into making a grab for you. Whoever grabs first loses. It's fun, wanta try it?"
"No!"
Shelly jacked his prick very fast and very hard now. Besides the ball massage, she had managed to worm her hand under his sweating crotch to get at his asshole. Holding his balls with her left hand, her index finger sank into the tight hot hole of his ass. Her right hand maintained the crazy jack-off movements.
She whispered in his ear: "Evie-baby, you'd really be good at teasing time 'cause you can really hold back your cock-juice. I can feel your asshole really tightening up. Boy, can you really hold back your cum-drops!"
Everett had never been fingered in the ass while a chick was stroking his cock in a tight-fisted grip. Come to think of it, he had never had his cock jerked off by a chick before-not even his wife Norma would do a nasty, perverted thing like that.
As for his asshole tensing up, well that was certainly true. Everett felt like he was trying to force out a gigantic turd; yet, he was trying to hold back at the same time, tried to keep that jism from oozing out of his cock.
He missed the dirt road that led to Harold Maggert's farm. Shit! Now he'd have to turn around!
Screeeecccchhhh!
"Boy, Evie-baby, you can really hold back all that jism! And your balls feel so full! Don't they feel full to you?"
Everett nodded his head, sweat pouring off his face. He could barely drive. He could barely see. It felt as if the cum was backed up to his head, up to eye-level. God, he wanted to come so bad! Yet, he couldn't come-no, that would make him just as perverted as this teasing cocksucker beside him who was shifting around on the seat and starting to suck his cock.
SUCK HIS COCK?!
"NO! NO, DON'T! OH GOD, PLEASE! DONT SUCK IT! IT'LL COME ALL OVER THE GODDAMN CAR!"
Shelly's lips clamped tightly over the jizz-drooling head of Everett's quivering cock. Then she went down on him. Sucking all the way down to the hairs Of his groin. She stuck out her tongue, teased his balls momentarily before she sucked back up the shaft.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? GET AWAY FROM THERE! YOU'RE SICK, SHELLY! GIRLS DON'T PUT THEIR MOUTHS ON A MAN'S PEE-PEE!"
Shelly laughed, blowing hot air all over his wet cock.
Everett tensed his thighs.
She quit laughing and started cocksucking again. Same old teasing routine, moving her lips and tongue all over the hard shaft and harder head of his prick. Tickling his balls with her tongue before moving back up the shaft.
Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!
Everett prayed, prayed that he wouldn't shoot all his cum into her mouth. The cocksucking bitch was driving him crazy.
Damn! He missed the dirt road to Harold Maggert's farm again!
SCREEEECCCCHHHH!
Now Shelly was bobbing her head so fast that she was hitting the horn on every upstroke. HONK! HONK! HONK! SCREEEECCCCHHHH!!
Shelly was going crazy. She had never sucked such a stubborn cock. Shit, by this time Ernie
Beasly would have been on his second come. Johnny Whipple would have already been completely sucked dry. Harlan Cafferty would have already been lighting up a cigarette, watching her clean the jism off his prick.
But this cock was really stubborn! When the fuck was he going to come?
Shelly redoubled her efforts, went even faster as she sucked and sucked on his prick.
HONK! HONK! HONK!
Everett was going to die. Just going to die. The jism was already in the shaft of his cock. The ecstasy was building in his balls.
HONK! HONK! HONK!
* * *
Ernie Beasly and Werner Greenberger were amazed. Usually the sight of pigs in heat was a common every-day event in a rural pig-growing town like Weedsdale. But they were amazed that Harold Maggert could actually fuck a sow for over an hour and a half.
And now the demonstration was coming to an end as Harold's cum spurted deep into the squealing swine.
Then Ernie could hear a car approaching. Werner heard it too. Shit, the whole county could hear it because either a Catholic wedding party was coming down that road or else it was Shelly and Everett Whipple. They knew it wasn't any Catholic wedding procession because there just weren't any Italians in Weedsdale.
"Sheeeeiiitttt! It's Shelly and old man
Whipple!" Ernie shouted, motioning to Werner and Harold to get behind Shelly's Mustang. HONK! HONK! HONK!
Harold was getting mad as he tried to hunker down between Ernie and Werner behind the Mustang. Shit, that Mr. Whipple was going to wake up all his pigs.
Wreathed in a cloud of dust, the Lincoln came to a rip-roaring stop not ten feet away from Shelly's Mustang.
The boys could hear screams and moans coming from inside the Lincoln.
"PLEASE GET YOUR MOUTH OFF MY THING! OH GOD! PLEASE, SHELLY! I JUST CAN'T DO IT IN YOUR MOUTH! THAT'S SICK, SHELLY! ONLY BAD GIRLS DO THAT! PLEASE, SHELLY!"
Then the door opened, and Everett Whipple tumbled out of the Lincoln with Shelly clinging to his cock.
Everett couldn't believe it. He was lying half in pigshit, half in the car, with a goddamned leech-lipped girl sucking on his prick. Shit, he was beginning to think that Shelly was a goddamn vampire that had missed his neck by about two feet.
Shelly's eyes were blazing with rage. No cock could be that stubborn! What the fuck did she have to do to get him to come?
She stuck her finger back into his asshole.
"Oooooooooooh!"
That was it. That's all it took; just the old finger-in-the-ass treatment was all it took.
Everett was coming! Jesus Christ! All that cum that had felt as if it were up to his eyes was flooding out of his cock and into . . . A GIRL'S MOUTH!
Oh God! He was coming in a girl's mouth! He could see it coming in her mouth. Christ, jism was frothing out of her mouth like half-cooked spaghetti strands. The cum was bubbling out of the corners of her lips even though she was trying to lick up as much as she could with her tongue.
Everett couldn't help it! He was actually hunching his hips, getting into the old fuck rhythm, forcing more prick into her mouth, shooting more cum into her mouth. Christ! He didn't want to believe it, but he was trying to shove his balls into her mouth!
And her finger was digging deeper and deeper into his asshole, running over his prostate like old Doc Crowley's rubbery finger. But this wasn't Doc Crowley! This was a girl who acted like she was going to starve if he didn't keep pumping jism into her mouth!
God! His cockhead was past her throat, and there wasn't as much jism drooling out of her mouth now.
SHE WAS SWALLOWING HIS SEED!
Then with one last heave of his hips, Everett Whipple knew that he had no more seed to give. She had swallowed the last drop.
His head hit the dust in exhaustion and his lower body slid out of the car like some fat slug oozing off the edge of the sidewalk.
But Shelly was still at his crotch, licking the last cum-drops from his prick, licking all over the shaft to get it super clean.
Everett shook his head. Where had America gone wrong?
"Hey, Mr. Whipple! Why're ya fuckin' on my farm fer?"
Everett's eyes shot open. He tried to turn over, but Shelly's cocksucking lips were now cleaning off his balls. Who the hell was that?
It was Harold Maggert. And he was standing over Everett's dust-covered head.
"I seen ya do it."
"Yeah!" Ernie Beasly shouted. "We seen ya rape Shelly! Seen ya do those perverted things to her!"
Werner laughed, then Ernie nudged him.
Oh yeah, the camera. He propped the Polaroid on the top of Shelly's Mustang and clicked the shutter.
FLASH!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The time was oh-five-hundred Tuesday. The sleepy-eyed seniors gathered in Wexel's garage. Everybody was on time except Shelly, and Wexel had excused his sister because of the cold sores that had developed on her lips.
"All right, let's hear it, Ernie," Wexel said. "How'd it go last night."
Ernie yawned. He handed over a dozen Polaroid pictures of Everett Whipple getting sucked off by Shelly. "Christ, he was ready to kill us, until Harold told him to cool it."
Harold grinned toothily. "Sure was."
Wexel shuffled through the photos. "Holy shit, look at this one!" He held the photo up for all the others to see.
Werner laughed.
Marcie couldn't believe the picture Wexel was holding up.
Everett Whipple was fucking a pig doggie-style.
"How'd you get him to fuck a pig?" Marcie asked in amazement.
"You mean," Werner laughed, "how'd we get a pig to fuck him?"
Ernie chuckled. "Well, you don't see Harold standing behind Mr. Whipple with a pitchfork in his hands."
Harold guffawed toothily.
"All right," Wexel said, leadership tingeing his voice. "Everybody should have gotten a good look at that Mr. Cogswell, the ex-Marine. He looks tough, and he's too new for us to set up something for him. We'll just have to play it by ear and maintain our original plan of attack. Everybody know what they have to do today?"
Everybody nodded, and Wexel crossed his fingers and hoped that Lucas Cogswell wasn't as mean as he looked.
* * *
After reconnoitering the campus on Monday, with Carver Gruble as his guide, Lucas Cogswell was ready to set up his command post inside the principal's office.
He looked over his battle plans. Today, after school, he was calling a strategy meeting of the faculty. He would assign them various tasks and areas of deployment.
He surveyed his material. Walkie-talkies, billyclubs for all the teachers, a hot line to the sheriffs office in case the reserves had to be called up, several high-powered binoculars. He was ready-now let those asshole kids start something.
He was itching to be the first to defend the halls of Weedsdale High.
Carver Gruble burst through the door, disaster clearly written on his face because he had his glasses off and his jowls were drenched with sweat.
Lucas, caught by surprise, spun around ready to do man-to-man. He eased very slowly out of his karate stance. "Don't ever sneak up on me again."
"W-we got trouble, Lucas! Some kids have run an-an awful-looking flag up the flagpole!"
Shit! The sonofabitches had gotten the jump on him.
Lucas jumped into action, picked up his favorite billyclub and headed for the front of the administration building.
Carver huffed and puffed behind him, cleaning his glasses nervously.
The flag that was flapping in the early-morning breeze definitely was not Old Glory. It was a huge, shit-brown flag with the words "FUCK YOU!" emblazoned in shocking yellow.
"Those motherfucking unpatriotic punks!" Lucas tore ass through the grass and reached the base of the flagpole with fury in his eyes.
He dropped his billyclub and started reeling in the shocking flag. Jesus Christ, but the ropes were sure as hell slippery. Lucas looked at his hands.
"Carver! Look at my hands! Look at them! What the fuck is all that stuff on my hands!? " Carver gasped. "I-it looks like shit!" Lucas gasped.
Those motherfuckers! Those cruddy cocksuckin' punks!
He reeled down the flag like a sailor pulling down the sails before the hurricane hit. The huge flag came tumbling down, settling flappingly over Lucas and Carver's heads.
Hog shit! That fucking flag was stained with hog shit!
Lucas and Carver fought like hell to get out of that suffocating hog-shit covered tent.
"YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! COME OUT AND FIGHT LIKE MEN!"
Lucas looked all over the lawn that spanned the front of the administration building. Someone was moving near the hedges that bordered the lawn.
Lucas started to run. "YOU MOTHERFUCKER! YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"
And that's when the sprinkler system, timed to go off at eight-thirty in the morning of every school day, went into operation. At first each sprinkler head had a hard time spewing out the water because someone had meticulously stuffed each spouting hole with hog shit.
Hog shit and water soaked into Lucas' clothes as he ran through the shitty spray.
Near the hedges, Lucas gave up. The assholes had gotten away cleanly. He looked back and watched Carver running through the shower of hog shit, trying his best to dodge the fountaining sprinkler heads.
THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS!
* * *
The morning mail arrived at Reverend Jamieson's office. The usual bills, donations and a copy of YOUR GUIDING LIGHT. And there was a neatly wrapped package addressed personally to him.
He opened the package.
Having received many Bibles in his years as God's left-hand man, the Reverend Jamieson knew that this was a Bible he was about to unwrap. But he hadn't ordered any new Bibles.
He gasped.
It was a Bible all right.
A Bible with a very unusual cover. Whereas most Bibles were usually printed with sin-black covers, this one had a bright-colored picture right in the center of the front cover. It was a picture of the Reverend Jamieson pulling a piece of Saran Wrap out of Marcie Cummings' cunt.
Beneath the photo were the hand-scribed words: "From your favorite lay student."
Reverend Jamieson trembled. He dropped the book.
The book fell on its edge against the rug, and like an overturned box of chocolates, hard and soft chunks of hog shit came tumbling out.
The Reverend crossed himself several times-which was surprising because he wasn't even Catholic.
* * *
Everett Whipple had had all night to think about Shelly Hoxworth sucking his prick. He couldn't sleep because he had what many proud cunt-hounds wished they had for a lifetime: an all-night hard-on.
He had had an all-night hard-on and an all-day fear of what was going to happen to him. Those photos . . . those God-awful photos of him getting his prick sucked by a human vacuum cleaner named Shelly Hoxworth, those photos of him sticking his prick into a pig!
He was married, had a good son, a fair wife, and lots of money from his position at the bank.
What did those kids want? What the hell were they going to do with those photos?
He found out when Shelly Hoxworth walked calmly into the bank, made straight for his open-air office and sat down in front of him with her legs spread wide.
It was obvious that sucking cocks wasn't the only thing she specialized in-her cunt looked like it was drooling as much as her mouth had last night.
Everett smiled fearfully. Secretaries and tellers were casting inquisitive glances his way. He straightened his tie, then announced in a very loud voice: "Well, Miss Hoxworth, I'm very glad you took my suggestion about depositing your piggy-bank money in our fine institution!"
Shelly leaned over, her tits ready to spill out of her minidress, and smiled forcefully. "You're lucky I'm under orders not to suck your prick off. I came to give you this bank book."
Everett breathed a sigh of relief. Out of the corners of his eyes he could see several tellers smiling at him.
"Why sure, Miss Hoxworth. Thank you for showing your interest in our bank." Everett opened the bank book and found a note inside.
These are our demands. Johnny Whipple, your son, and Jennie "Jugs" Jamieson are to be reinstated as students of Weedsdale High. We feel that they did no wrong and should not be punished. They must be reinstated by next Monday or all of Weedsdale will know about your mistress.
Everett looked up questioningly, sweat beading on his forehead. "What mistress?" he whispered to Shelly. "Oink-oink."
* * *
They had been suspended for one week and one day now, and Johnny Whipple was actually getting tired after having fucked Jennie "Jugs" Jamieson on seven of those eight days. The other day Jennie had just sucked him off.
Now they were parked in Johnny's Datsun pickup in front of the administration building watching all of their friends putting the screws to Lucas Cogswell and Mr. Gruble. They had never thought that there would come a day when they would miss school, but now they were beginning to yearn for their return to Weedsdale High. They talked.
Naturally they never had much of a conversation because it was hard for Johnny to talk to Jennie when she had her tits flopping out of her pulled-down sweater and her miniskirt was crawling up past her ass.
But now he wanted to talk.
Jennie wanted to fuck
So they talked about fucking.
"Why can't you get it up, Johnny? I really want to fuck today."
"You wanta fuck all the time. Don't you ever do anything else except fuck and suck?"
"I play with myself."
"Oh shit."
"Don't you ever play with yourself, Johnny?"
"The only time I have to play with myself is when you're not fucking or sucking my cock."
"Do you still like my titties?"
Johnny looked at Jennie, wondering where the hell those stupid questions came from. Then he really looked at Jennie. Her tits were wobbling like water balloons. The nipples were very hard and hot, probably because Jennie had crushed his hands over them. Shit, no one could hate Jennie's tits, but he didn't have to be a slave to them, did he?
"Yeah, I still love your fucking tits."
"That's what we've never tried."
"Huh?"
"You fucking my tits. I betcha that'll feel real neat!"
"You want me to fuck your tits right out here in broad day Ugh t?"
"I knew you didn't love me, Johnny Whipple!"
Jennie shoved his hands away from her tits and curled up poutingly on her side of the car.
Johnny shook his head. What the fuck was wrong with her? Shit, if she couldn't get his cock into her cunt or mouth, she wanted it between her tits! The next thing, she'd be telling him to put his cock up her ass, or in her ear, or between her toes. What a cock-hungry girl!
Jennie started to sob. "All you think about is yourself, Johnny Whipple. You and your prick. Don't I always fuck you when you ask me? Well, don't I?"
Johnny nodded.
"And don't I always fuck you real good?"
Johnny nodded again. "Yes, Jennie, yes! You fuck me real good!"
"Well how come we always fuck in the places where you wanta fuck? How come we never fuck where I wanta be fucked?"
Johnny sighed in exasperation. "We always fuck where we both wanta fuck. Your cunt wants to be fucked and my prick wants to be fucked-so my cock fucks your cunt and vicey-versa."
"But I want my titties fucked, Johnny. I'm asking you for the first time in my life to fuck my titties, yet you sit there like a limp cock. Don't you love me?"
Johnny knew he was going to end up fucking her titties. Shit, even he had a soft heart when Jennie turned on the pleading-tears bit. "All right, I'll fuck your titties."
"Oh good!"
* * *
At first Alice Grindle, Mr. Gruble's secretary, had laughed when she saw Lucas and Carver enter her office. Then she couldn't laugh because the stench of hog shit was burning her eyes.
The two irate men entered the command post.
"Those motherfuckers! Those motherfuckers!" Lucas ranted.
"Now do you see what we're up against, Lucas?" Carver wailed as he cleaned the specks of hog shit off his glasses. 'Those kids are just animals."
Lucas couldn't have agreed more. In frustration, he slammed his fist against the desk top, and the picture of his hero, Brigadier General Marshall "Westy" Westerlund, toppled over.
"This is war! Carver, this is war! All right, so they ambushed us; well, from here on we go on the offensive."
Carver walked over beside the desk. He had hoped that it wouldn't come down to this. He hated violence, but he knew that what Reverend Jamieson had said at the last board meeting was right: An eye for an eye.
But now his eyes were almost bulging out of his head. He rubbed them, pieces of hot shit flaking off his eyebrows. There! There in the street in front of Weedsdale High were a man and woman in a Datsun pickup bare-assed naked.
And the man looked like he was kneeling on top of the girl, ready to shove his prick into-God! He didn't want to believe his own eyes!
"L-Lucas, what's happening out there?"
Lucas stood beside Carver, his eyes following down the principal's shaking arm to the object he was pointing at.
Immediately he grabbed his binoculars. He focused on the action in the pickup.
'The guy's tittie-fucking some chick! Jesus! Look at the size of them tits!"
Carver whipped the glasses away from Lucas, almost strangling his brother-in-law on the strap. He adjusted the focus knob.
"Oh Lord. Oh Lord! That's Johnny Whipple and-" He couldn't see the girl's face but he knew by the size of those tits who the girl was. "-Jennie Jamieson!"
Lucas grabbed the binoculars.
Shit, that chick was pressing her titties together, nipple to nipple, while the kid ran his cock between the hand-held bridge of her tits. Jesus! Animals!
Carver spun away from the disgusting sight. "I'm going to go down there and put a stop to-"
Lucas grabbed his arm. "No, not yet. We'll ambush 'em. We'll catch 'em bare-assed right when they're coming! Come on, let's go!"
Alice Grindle pinched her nose as the two men scurried out of her outer office.
Lucas and Carver ran to the exit door. They opened it cautiously, making sure that no one had spotted them. Then they stayed low as they ran behind the hedges until they were no more than twenty feet from the swaying pickup.
Lucas put a finger to his lips. "Quiet now, Carver," Lucas whispered. "Here's what we'll do.
We'll get down on our bellies and crawl to the car. I'll lay low on the driver's side and make a grab for the kid right when he's coming. When you hear the door opening, you make a grab for the girl. All right, let's move!"
Crawling over hot asphalt was nothing to Lucas. Carver would have felt as if he were doing something awfully silly, if the goddamn blistering blacktop weren't burning the skin off his belly.
They got into position and waited. They could hear the moans and groans coming from inside the car.
"Oh Johnny! I can see your cock! Just look at your cock!"
Johnny looked down. Hell, it was hard to move his head because it was jammed up against the headliner of the car. But he could see his cock.
Shit, he wanted to shoot jism all over Jennie's pursing lips right now. But he had only been fucking her titties for ten minutes-shit, it usually took him that long just to get warmed up.
Jennie was intentionally spitting on his cock, providing a moist, pussylike lubricant for his prick. She mashed her tits together and watched Johnny's cock squeeze through her cleavage, his cock-hole oozing with cum.
She was in a cramped position. Her head was hitting against the door handle on the passenger side and one foot was up on the dashboard while the other was over the top of the front seat.
Jennie rubbed her nipples against each other, feeling her titties really heating up.
"Oooooohhhhh, Johnny! Don't my tits feel like a big fat cunt?"
"Whatever you say, baby," Johnny grunted as he could feel the cum building in his balls, making his asshole clench and unclench.
Lucas took a tight grip on his billyclub. Perverts! Perverts!
Carver's belly was on fire, but when he heard what those nasty kids were saying in the car, he could feel his prick becoming very long and very hard, and now it, too, was roasting on the blacktop.
"Ooooohhhh, Johnny! We gotta do this again! I love it! I love your cock fucking my titties! Don't you like it, Johnny?"
"I love it, baby," Johnny wheezed, hunching his hips back and forth, watching the spit and cock-juice dribbling off the long slopes of Jennie's hot titties.
"Oh, Johnny! Jesus! Your prick's getting so big! Look at your prick, Johnny! Oh God, you're gonna shoot! I can tell! Christ! Look at that stuff come out!"
" Aaaaaiiiieeeeee!"
Lucas screamed a blood-curdling yell. Those perverts! Those perverts! He opened the door viciously. Then he shoved his billyclub into the first asshole that he saw writhing before his angry-red eyes.
It was Jennie's asshole.
"Oh God, Johnny! You're even making my asshole come!"
Johnny couldn't stop the flow of jism that was spurting out of his prick. But he sure tried. He tried with all his might to stop fucking Jennie's titties because he knew that something was wrong.
He knew something was wrong when he heard, the door opening behind him. And he knew something was doubly wrong when Mr. Gruble opened the passenger door.
Horror filled his flesh!
Jennie screamed as her head flopped down and she had an upside-down view of Carver Gruble's asphalt-stained crotch.
"Johnny, what's that shitty smell?"
* * *
Lucas tapped the billyclub against the table, making Eloise very nervous with the steady rhythm that he beat against the wood.
Reverend Jamieson had just finished giving the invocation that had opened up Tuesday night's faculty and school board meeting.
There were a lot of absences. Coach Riley couldn't make it because at four-thirty that afternoon, he had just finished showering in his coach's office and was opening up his locker. Hog shit greeted his fingers instead of his clothes.
Jessica Trotter, the home economics teacher, couldn't make it because after having tasted one of her student's brownies, she had started getting the runny shits and she had been excused for the rest of the day.
Other teachers had been scared away because when they opened the doors to their cars, the wretched odor of hog shit had overcome them. The lucky ones fainted. The unlucky ones drove home sitting on hog shit, steering on hog shit and braking on hog shit.
*
Carver Gruble stood up. "Thank you very much, Reverend. Now, the reason I've called all of you to this meeting is because of the crisis at Weedsdale High."
"Oh, I think the kids are just having a little fun," Everett Whipple declared, memories of that bank meeting with Shelly still fresh in his mind.
"Sure," Eloise agreed. "Deep down inside, they're all very good students."
Carver couldn't believe it.
Then Reverend Jamieson spoke: "You know what, Carver? I've thought the whole situation over-you know that incident in Miss Arnold's class that led to the expulsion of my daughter and Everett's fine boy-and I've come to the conclusion that you may have acted hastily in expelling them from-"
"Now wait a minute," Carver interrupted. "What those two children were doing is not only a violation of school rules, but a violation of the law. Why, just today, Lucas and I-"
SWACK!
Everyone jumped in their seats. Lucas arose in their midst, brandishing the billyclub in his hands. For added emphasis, he slammed the billyclub down on the table again.
SWACK!
Everyone slowly and fearfully sat down.
"What I saw today would have been banned in a Saigon whorehouse! And those two kids not only should be kept expelled, but they should be drummed right out of America!"
Carver held up his hand. "Now, Lucas, I don't think-"
SWACK!
"That's right, Carver! You don't think because from here on I'll do the thinking for all of us! All of you hired me to do a job, and I'm gonna do it! Is that clear?"
SWACK!
Reverend Jamieson could envision himself being burned at the stake when those photos of him and the Saran Wrap and Marcie Cummings were passed around.
Eloise wanted to faint because she knew that she would never be allowed to teach again once everybody found out about her lesbian tendencies-she wondered if they would allow her to teach at an all-boys school.
Everett Whipple tried to light a cigar, but his hands were shaking so much that he couldn't set fire to the Havana. He was ruined. Those kids would smear his name all over Weedsdale.
"Now, here's what I got planned for those punks," Lucas said gruffly. "First of all Reverend Jamieson and Everett Whipple will guard the halls with billyclubs. You'll also be given walkie-talkies to coordinate your movements with the command post. Carver and I'll take the schoolyard. Is that clear?"
What could they do? They were caught between a threatening billyclub and blackmail.
Eloise raised her hand. "W-what is my assignment, Mr. Cogswell?"
Lucas smiled. "This is men's work, ma'am. Just give your moral support to the troops."
They were ready to rise from their seats, ready to go home and think about which way was the least painful to commit suicide.
Lucas stopped them. "Oh, one more thing, troops. Because of that incident today, I'm calling off that thing on Friday. Whaddya call it-oh yeah, Hog's Day."
* * *
Wednesday was a peaceful morning at Weedsdale High. No more hog shit because Harold Maggert had protested that he was running out of corn from which his pigs manufactured all that hog shit.
At noon, Lucas checked in with the sentries.
Fizz, crackle, pop. "Reverend Jamieson. Come in, Reverend Jamieson."
Bzzzzz. "Jamieson here."
"Where are you at now, Reverend?"
"I've taken up a position at the south end of the hallway. I can see Mr. Whipple at the north end with his walkie-talkie."
"Good. Check back in at thirteen-hundred."
Bzzzz. Crackle. Fizz. Pop.
Lucas turned off his walkie-talkie. "Everything looks good, Carver."
Carver spun around, narrowly missing Lucas' head with the antenna of his walkie-talkie. "I don't believe it, Lucas. All the kids are behaving so well. The whole campus sounds quiet."
Lucas snickered. "That's the time when the enemy's most likely to strike, Carver. Now, you take the perimeter around the schoolyard, and I'll cover the gym and the football field. Contact me at thirteen-hundred."
"Roger, Lucas."
From Miss Arnold's classroom Werner Greenberger could see the two men walk in opposite directions.
"All clear, Wexel!" he shouted, watching Mr. Cogswell heading for the football field.
The classroom exploded with laughter and applause.
Then they got back to what they were doing before Werner had spotted the two men outside the window.
They got back to fucking and sucking. Miss Arnold was in a shit fit, but every time she started to protest the orgy in her classroom, Wexel Hoxworth would yell out: "Thou shalt not covet another man's wife!"
Eloise knew that there wasn't much she could do. Reluctantly she lifted up her dress, squatted down on her desk and spread her legs as Ernie Beasly had commanded her to do.
"Aw shit, Miss Arnold, how d'you expect any chick to eat your cunt if you got those panties on?"
Eloise wanted to die, wanted to just melt into the Civil War book that she was lying on. Her face was very red, and getting redder as the class surrounded her, took positions all around her, to watch her as she dropped her panties.
She dropped her panties. She blushed. She flushed. She cussed-to herself because she didn't want to upset the perverts that were staring at her bared pussy.
"Woweeee!" Harlan Cafferty exclaimed, rubbing his cock until Marcie Cummings started doing it for him. "Miss Arnold, you got a tight-looking pussy."
"It sure looks awful dry to me," Shelly Hoxworth said, licking her lips excitedly.
Eloise felt as if she were in the gynecologist's office with ten new interns discussing the anatomical features of her cunt. In shame, she pulled her dress higher until her red face was hidden beneath the hem.
What she couldn't see was what she didn't want to see.
A tongue began licking her cunt. Slurping noises came from between her splayed thighs. Whose tongue? Did it matter now when the shame was so great?
Her face hidden beneath her dress, Eloise tried to concentrate on the Civil War, on Stonewall Jackson, on the Battle of Manassas Junction-anything to get her mind off of what that horrible tongue was doing to her pussy.
Wexel laughed, watched his history teacher writhing disgustedly on her desk. Shit, if only she knew that everybody was taking turns eating her cunt!
Everybody was lined up, eager to get a crack at Eloise's juicy cunt. They alternated-boy/girl/boy/ girl/cock/cunt/cock/cunt. That way the boys could have their pricks rubbed by the hot-assed girl in front of them.
Now it was Werner Greenberger's turn to eat his teacher's snatch. Jesus, the cunt looked all frothy with spit and juice. Hungrily, he ate her pussy, tickled her clit with his tongue before jabbing it into Miss Arnold's cunt-hole.
Now the dress was not only covering Eloise's embarrassed face, but wads of her cotton print dress were being stuffed into her mouth. She was biting down on the cloth like those old Rebels would bite down on bullets while their legs were being amputated. Eloise wished that someone were amputating her body from her head.
God, those tongues were driving her crazy. She couldn't help but raise her hips; her pussy was eager to be licked again.
Now it was Harold Maggert's turn to eat pussy. He didn't like to eat pussy because cunts always smelled so God-awful bad to him. Shelly Hoxworth had told him many times that cunts always smelled like crushed walnuts, but Harold knew they smelled like stale farts.
Wexel was pointing at Miss Arnold's pussy and motioning him to start eating her cunt. All for one and one for all.
Harold couldn't. He didn't want that stale-fart taste on his lips. He didn't want to eat his teacher's cunt!
"I don't wanna."
SHHHH! SHHHH! SHHHH! SHHHH!
Everybody was trying to hush him. They didn't want Miss Arnold to know whose tongue was reaming out her pussy.
Eloise heard Harold's voice, could recognize it by its twangy out-of-key tone.
Harold shook his head.
"Goddamnit," someone whispered. "He's holding up the whole fuckin' line."
Wexel was pointing adamantly now. Even went so far as to hold Miss Arnold's pussylips open, his index finger almost jabbing into her cunt as he motioned for Harold to start eating his teacher's pussy.
Harold decided to fuck her instead. He hated to go against Wexel and the others, but he had his own hang-ups and he was going to draw the line when it came to eating pussy. Cunt-eating just made him sick!
With his prick half-limp, he lumbered forward, then started bowing in the direction of Miss Arnold's smelly cunt.
Everybody smiled.
Everybody gasped.
Harold had suddenly shot upright and was now trying to force his monster cock into their lesbian history teacher's virgin cunt!
Eloise screamed: "AAAIIIIIEEEEE!"
She couldn't believe it! The pain, the agony, the insufferable torture as she felt her pussylips being split apart by something huge, something hard, something hot!
"AAAAIIIIEEEE!"
Harold grinned toothily. He liked women to scream passionately when he was fucking them. Shit, Bessie did it all the time. So did the sows.
Harold looked down, saw that he still had a good seven inches of cock to ram into Miss Arnold's pussy. He shoved hard, but he could only get in a couple more inches because hands were grabbing his massive body trying to pull him away from Miss Arnold.
Werner and Harlan had tackled Harold's tree-trunk thighs just as he started his second shove into Eloise's pussy. Shelly and Marcie were grabbing his shoulders, trying to pull the big ape off Miss Arnold.
Miss Arnold was trying to scoot backward and scream at the same time. She failed the first and accomplished the second.
"AAAIIIIEEEE!"
Wexel was trying to shove at Harold's barrel chest, trying to drive himself between Harold's massive bulk and Miss Arnold's raped body.
Everybody tried to do something.
But the person who tried the most was Harold.
And when Harold Maggert put his mind to something, nothing or no one could stop him. Harold was gonna fuck Miss Arnold. Harold was gonna fuck his history teacher!
"I'M GONNA FUCK! I'M GONNA FUCK!"
Now Eloise knew who that something hot, something hard, something huge belonged to. "NO, HAROLD! I'M YOUR TEACHER! YOU CANT FUCK YOUR TEACHER!"
Harold growled: "AAAARRRGGGHHHHH!"
He lunged forward and his huge cock broke through Miss Arnold's cherry and bathed his fourteen-inch cock with blood.
Harold grinned toothily, unmindful of the girls whc were biting and pinching and scratching at his hairy back. He fucked and fucked and fucked! He was thrusting his massive cock in and out of Eloise's pussy so hard that the solid oak desk was moving two feet with each lunge.
God! What a tight pussy! His teacher had a real tight pussy. Tighter than his sister's. Tighter than all those pigs he had been fucking for the last ten years.
His big balls began slamming into Miss Arnold's blood-drenched asshole, and his cock was running out of room in her tight cunt.
Wexel was sweating. Brains against brawn. Shit, he couldn't budge Harold. "Harold, you can't fuck the teacher! You can't fuck the teacher!"
Eloise was howling like a raped banshee: "AAAAIIIIEEEE! GOD! HE'S RIPPING ME OPEN! HE'S SPLITTING ME WIDE OPEN! S-SOMEBODY-P-PLEASE STOP HIM! AAAAIIIIEEEE!"
Werner and Ernie gave up. Their hands were sweaty and their arms were exhausted. It was like trying to move a mountain.
The girls gave up, falling limply to the floor.
Wexel fell to his knees in exhaustion and prayed that Miss Arnold wouldn't be killed by that massive prick.
Harold was fucking away happily in Miss Arnold's pussy. He had never felt a tighter cunt surrounding his cock. He loved the way his cockhead was being gripped by all that warm pussy. He loved the way his balls slammed into Miss Arnold's asshole. He loved the way Miss Arnold was screaming with joy. He loved Miss Arnold for being the best fuck he'd ever had.
"I'M GONNA COME! YOU'LL LOVE IT, MISS ARNOLD!"
Miss Arnold felt as if a newborn baby were trying to crawl back into Mommy's womb. Every thrust of Harold's big prick felt like the blows of a sledgehammer.
"AAAAIIIIEEEE!"
"YOU'LL LOVE MY CUM, MISS ARNOLD! YOU'LL LOVE IT!"
Eloise shook her head, gritted her teeth, didn't know whether she could bear any more pain and torture.
"GOD! GET IT OVER WITH! COME! JUST HURRY UP AND COME!"
Eloise's words seemed to echo throughout the room. Everybody was amazed that she was even alive-everybody that is except Everett Whipple, who had come barreling into the room to see what the commotion was all about. He was amazed to hear Miss Arnold urging Harold to come; of course that was after the initial amazement of seeing Miss Arnold getting fucked so ecstatically by that huge prick.
No one saw him there as he gazed wide-eyed upon the scene at Miss Arnold's desk. He was about to raise the walkie-talkie when he remembered how the kids would smear his name all over Weedsdale if he brought in the Marines now.
Fizz. Crackle. Pop. "Whipple? Are you there, Whipple?"
Everybody turned around, except Harold and Miss Arnold, and saw Everett Whipple standing by the door, the walkie-talkie blaring in his hand.
Buzz. Fizz. Crackle. "Whipple! Will you answer me, Whipple! This is Cogswell!"
Wexel motioned for silence.
Harold couldn't be silent. He was right in the midst of coming. His cum was right at the tip of his cock.
"AAARRRGGGHHHH!" Buzz. Crackle. Pop. "Whipple! Where the hell are you? Is something wrong?"
Wexel whispered into Mr. Whipple's ear: "Tell
Mr. Cogswell everything's fine and that you were in the toilet."
Everett's total concentration was on the scene at Miss Arnold's desk. He couldn't believe that Eloise Arnold, a fine and upstanding teacher, was urging one of her students to come in her cunt.
"Mr. Whipple!" Wexel whispered louder. "Did you hear me?"
Everett came out of his dazed world. Stunned, he lifted the walkie-talkie to his lips: "Whipple here."
"AAARRRGGGHHHH! I'M COMING!" Crackle. Pop. Fizz. "Whipple! What the hell was that?! "
"T-that was me, L-Lucas," Everett said in a frightened voice, his eyes still focusing on that fucking scene on Miss Arnold's desk. "J-just wanted t-to tell y-you that I was coming."
Fizz. Pop. Crackle. "Well, why the hell didn't you check in at thirteen-hundred."
"ARRRRRGGGHHHH!"
"AAAAIIIIEEEE! PLEASE STOP! PLEASE STOP! NO MORE! NO MORE!"
Fizz. Crackle. Pop. "What the fuck's happenin' over there?! What the hell is all that noise?! "
Everett began to sweat. His lips quivered. "Uh . . . uh, me a-and M-Miss Arnold are . . . uh, j-just breaking up a f-fight."
Pop. Crackle. Fizz. "Well, goddamn it use your billyclub! Hit some of those asshole punks over the head!"
"AAARRRGGGHHH!"
Fizz. Crackle. Pop. "Did you get that asshole?. Did you get him?"
"Y-yes sir. H-he got it all right," Everett gasped as he watched all that cum-coated cock retreating limply from the bloody mess that was Miss Arnold's pussy.
Fizz. Crackle. Pop. "Good! That'll teach those assholes to mess around!"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Thursday morning Carver Gruble woke up with a hard-on, one of the few that he ever got. It wasn't that he didn't have regularly functioning balls like any normal man; it's just that he was a very practical and easy-going man when it came to fucking his wife.
Mavis had told him often enough that he was a true gentleman for holding his passions in check, and that was one of the reasons why she had married him. He gave her respect, a decent home, and he never got fucking horny like all those other husbands who fucked their wives twice a week.
Mavis had said that she loved him because his affection was shown in other ways than in bed-and since Carver loved her very much, he didn't feel that he should lower himself to being an animal when it came to satisfying the urge in his balls.
But this morning he had a ball-aching hard-on that threatened to burst beneath the sheets. He nudged Mavis' sleeping body.
"Mavis? Mavis, are you awake?"
"Hmmmm? What?"
"Honey, would you like to make love to me."
"This morning? Now?"
Carver stroked his prick. God, so much juice was leaking out of his prick that he felt embarrassed, felt as if he were some kind of lowly animal for even fondling his cock.
"Well, I just thought that.. . well, we haven't done it since we moved to Weedsdale, and I was just wondering if you were . . . uh, getting the urge."
Mavis sighed, her tits pushing up the sheets. God, ever since that night she had been photographed with Eloise Arnold in the hot clutches of a classic lesbian embrace, she had been going out of her mind with fear. What could she do? Every day was turning out to be a twenty-four-hour horror. What could she tell Carver when he found out what he was married to?
She opened her eyes, looked at her husband. Carver was looking down at his crotch, at the tented sheet where his hand was obviously stroking his prick.
Mavis tapped him on the shoulder.
Carver nearly jumped out of bed. His hands moved quickly to his sides. Christ, he had thought that Mavis hadn't come fully awake yet.
Mavis licked her lips. "I think I do have an urge, Carver. Let's make love like we've never made love before."
Was she saying that because she was feeling guilty, hoping to give Carver some happiness before the crushing news hit him? She didn't know.
Carver turned toward Mavis. He closed his eyes and kissed his wife.
Mavis wrapped her arms around her husband, wanted to hold him hard, didn't want to let go.
Carver was taken by surprise. Mavis had never been so . . . so passionate before. His hand grazed her nightgown-covered tit and tried to move toward her back, but Mavis stopped him. She grabbed his hand and moved it back . . . back to her hot tit.
"Urnmmmm," Carver moaned as Mavis moved her tongue in delicious circles within his mouth. God, she really did have the urge!
Mavis was holding onto Carver so tightly that she didn't know if she was bruising his lips as she kissed him hotly. She didn't care-she only wanted happiness for Carver now before he discovered what she had done.
Mavis moved her warm thigh over his, and she could feel his cock bulging out his jockey shorts. She started dry-fucking against that bulge, moving her hips sensuously.
Carver groaned. God, his shorts were soaked with cum. His hands felt sweaty as he fondled Mavis' tit.
Mavis moaned, thrusting out her tit at his hand and thrusting out her loins at his cock. She planted kisses on his cheek, his closed eyes, his sweating forehead, before nibbling on his earlobe.
"Don't you think you ought to get out of your shorts, hon?" she whispered seductively.
"Ooh yeah, yes!"
Beneath the sheets, Carver lifted his ass up and shucked down his shorts. He turned to Mavis, was ready to take her in his aims again.
But Mavis stopped him. "Don't you want to take off my nightgown, hon?"
"Oh God, yes!"
Carver whipped the sheets off Mavis' body, gorged his eyes on her warm flesh beneath all that powder-blue silky nightgown. His eyes scanned her lithe legs, then he moved quickly, grabbing the hem of her nightgown, moving it up, exposing more leg, then more thigh, then her pantied loins.
He gasped. God, they had never done it so brazenly before! Mavis must really have the urge!
As he held up her nightgown, he watched Mavis' hands hooking into the waistband of her panties to skin the flimsy thing down those long lithe legs. Kicking off her panties, Mavis opened up her thighs to Carver's amazed gaze.
"Oh Mavis! God, I love you-all of you!"
Mavis took the hem away from Carver's trembling hands and she slithered out of the slinky nightgown. She tossed it over the side of the bed, then lay back, holding her arms out to her husband.
Carver was breathing hard. His eyes roved from her cunt to the fantastically firm titties that seemed to sprout before his eyes. His cock was drooling lots of cum now, and it was oozing against Mavis' thigh.
Mavis licked her lips. "Come on, Carver. Let's make love."
"Oh God, yes!" Carver gasped as he kneeled between Mavis' outstretched legs, ready to cushion his chest on those beautiful titties.
But Mavis' hands stopped him before he could lie down on top of her luscious tits. He watched her hands fondle his nipples, saw her palm running flat and smooth across his stomach, watched her fingers twine themselves in his pubic hair.
Carver groaned. God, she was playing with his cock now! Her fingernail scraped very gently across his piss-slit, then her hand tightened around his pulsing cockhead.
God! God! God! Carver had never felt anything so exciting in his whole life.
Her palm was smoothing down his foreskin, and her other hand was behind his head forcing him down to her titties.
As Mavis slowly jerked and tugged on his prick, she took in a deep breath of air and thrust her tit into Carver's mouth.
"Oooooooh, Carver! God, that feels so good! Keep licking my tits! Please! Don't stop! God! Keep licking my tits!"
Carver kept licking her tits, then he stopped. He started sucking in as much tit-flesh as he could, briefly wondering what made Mavis so hot and horny this morning. But then he didn't care because the feeling of ecstasy was in his cock and the wonderful feel of her taut nipple was in his mouth.
"Oh God, Carver! I love you so much! Please keep sucking my titties! You're making my cunt sooooo hot! Can you feel how hot my cunt is?"
Carver almost shot his wad. Mavis had guided his cock to her hot cunt, and she was running the sensitive head of his prick through the slick lips of her pussy.
"Carver, does that feel good to you? Doesn't my cunt really feel good to you?"
Mavis couldn't believe what she was saying. Was she so upset that she had become hysterical. She had never talked to a man like this, never taken a man's prick and rubbed it against her cuntlips.
But now she was rubbing Carver's cock over her taut clit and the sensitive piece of flesh became as tingly as her tits. God, his prick felt as good as a woman's tongue when it was running over her clit. She rubbed his cock faster and faster across her clit, and the cunt-juice was flooding out of her pussy. The juice was coming out as fast and as hard as the cock-oil leaked from Carver's quivering prick.
"G-God, Mavis! Put it in! Please put my cock into your cunt!"
Mavis worked the head of his cock over her clit several more times, then she moved his prickhead lower and pulled on the base of the shaft.
Carver's cock eased into her pussy, gently scraping over her clit as Mavis gritted her teeth, unbelieving of the passion that coursed through her body.
Carver's cock wasn't halfway home yet when Mavis lunged up and drove his cock into her pussy with one slick stroke.
"OOOOOH! CARVER! FUCK ME, CARVER! FUCK MY CUNT AS HARD AS YOU CAN!"
Carver's ass rose high, his muscles tense, then his cock spread her cuntlips wide as he drove it into her pussy. God, he had never fucked Mavis with such urgency before, with such brute force before. It was as if he wanted to jam his cock and his balls into the writhing meat of Mavis' pussy.
He fucked harder and faster, and Mavis was matching him stroke for stroke. They held onto each other as tightly as possible, as their loins slapped wetly together.
"I'M COMING, MAVIS! GOD, I'M COMING! GOD, I LOVE YOU, MAVIS!"
His cum hurled into her pussy, drenching her cunt canal.
Mavis' legs were wrapped around his hunching ass, urging him on, welcoming every spurt of jism into her grasping snatch.
"OOOOOH CARVER! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!"
* * *
Carver hummed as he got into his car-happy days were here again. He felt like a new man, and it wasn't because he had sprinkled Old Spice on his cleanly shaven face either. It was because of the ecstasy he had shared with his wife that morning.
He met the bright and cheery day with a smile, everything seemed so perfect now. The kids at school hadn't been pulling anything awful like that asinine hog shit stunt. His wife loved him with a fierce passion. God, what could be better!
Then he noticed the white envelope stuck under his windshield wiper. He got out of the car and retrieved the envelope, read the note on the outside:
To the principal of our school, You wouldn't believe what we saw your wife doing, so we hereby present you with proof of what we saw. Now, we don't want to prove to the fine community of Weedsdale that your wife is different than most wives, but unless you reinstate Jennie Jamieson and Johnny Whipple by Monday morning, you will have a very sad weekend.
Carver wiped his glasses nervously. He perched them back on his nose, then opened the envelope.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Wexel was proud. Everything was running according to plan-his plan. Oh, there had been some minor roadblocks, such as Everett Whipple barging in on their orgy the other day-but they had the old fart by the short hairs, and he knew it.
Wexel laughed. Pride was something that he had only attained in the world of textbooks and grades; but now he basked in the pride that he felt from having applied his brains to a real-life situation. He couldn't believe the wonderful sensation, the mind-boggling ecstasy that he felt when he saw teachers and reverends, husbands and wives, why even the Marines, yield to his superior mind.
But now was the proudest moment of his week-old career of ruining people's lives.
He listened carefully to Carver Gruble's faltering words when he announced on the microphone there in the auditorium, for all the world to hear, that Hog's Day would not be canceled, that Jennie Jamieson and Johnny Whipple were going to be reinstated, that his resignation was effective two weeks hence.
The kids applauded, hooted and howled, clapped Wexel on the back.
Lucas slammed his billyclub against the curtain as he watched his brother-in-law approaching him in the wings after having admitted defeat to the cheering student body and saddened faculty of Weedsdale High.
"Carver! Carver, you have no right to surrender without my approval! Carver! Do you hear me! I'll not surrender! You yellow-bellied bastard!"
But Carver kept moving, heading for the stage exit door, not wanting to listen, not wanting to salvage a soul from the hell he was walking away from.
* * * "OINK! OINK! OINK!"
Hog's Day at Weedsdale High was never like this. Kids were running around as bare-assed naked as the fifty greased pigs that Harold Maggert had let loose on the football field.
From her seat on the fifty-yard line, Eloise watched in shocked astonishment the orgy that was taking place on the gridiron.
Marcie Cummings was sucking Harlan Cafferty's prick as grease ran down both their heaving bodies.
Grease covered Shelly's face as she tried to kiss Wexel's asshole as he bent over to try and eat Sue Ann Delong's up-thrust cunt.
Harold Maggert was greasing his fourteen-inch cock and was ready to fuck his prize sow-if he could catch the goddamn animal!
Ernie Beasly and Werner Greenberger had sandwiched Bessie Maggert between their grease-slick bodies, one fucking her ass, the other fucking her cunt. And Harold Maggert's thirteen-year-old sister was squealing as bad as the hogs that were snorting and grunting from end zone to end zone.
Reverend Jamieson simply couldn't watch what was happening on the hallowed turf of Weedsdale High Stadium.
Everett Whipple was puffing nervously on his cigar, chomping the Havana in half when he saw Marcie Cummings lick all that jism off her face and go searching for another prick to suck. God, all those girls really swallowed that jism!
SWACK!
"OINK! OINK! OINK!"
SWACK! SWACK! SWACK!
From the north end of the football field, Lucas Cogswell charged the orgying kids with billyclubs in both wildly swinging hands. He clubbed pig after pig, swine after swine, determined to get through the sweltering herd of hogs and land a few billyclub blows on the enemy.
Harold Maggert withdrew his cock from his champion sow when he heard the squeals of his pigs in pain.
Anger, red-hot anger surged through his veins.
Nobody hurt Harold Maggert's pigs!
As Lucas approached from the north, and Harold lumbered in from the south, they collided on the fifty-yard line. And suddenly Lucas felt as if he were meeting Goliath without a slingshot.
He slowly gave ground to the huge pig-farmer. He was on the forty, trying to stave off those monstrous hands that threatened to crush his crewcut skull.
Everybody was up on their feet and cheering.
"Go, Harold, go! Get him, Harold! Get him!"
Lucas zigzagged all over the field. He was at the thirty. Harold was at the thirty-five.
The twenty, the ten-God, he had never run so fast and so hard in his life.
He could see the goal line ahead.
Now several pigs were running interference for him as he heard Harold stumbling over one of his hogs at the five-yard line.
SAFETY!
God, he had reached safety-Carver's car that he had parked beneath the scoreboard.
* * *
Mondays are usually blah days for most of America.
Hard hats have to wake their old ladies up to go make their lunch so they won't feel weak from hunger and fall off those huge erector sets that they constructed.
Ad men hustle back to the grinding rat race ready to spew out fucked-up commercial phrases like: "Does she, or doesn't she?"
But this Monday in Weedsdale was a very happy occasion.
Johnny Whipple and Jennie "Jugs" Jamieson had just finished fucking in his Datsun pickup before getting their sweaty asses off to school.
Harold Maggert was happy because none of his pigs had been injured during Hog's Day, and he was doubly happy because Wexel hadn't ordered any more hog shit.
All the seniors were happy now because they didn't have to wake up and meet in Wexel's garage and plan out all those intricately timed schemes at oh-five-hundred in the morning.
Carver Gruble was probably the happiest soul in town. Oh sure, it had been a fucked-up weekend of boozing it up at the Buckeroo Bar with Everett Whipple and Reverend Jamieson, but he sure learned a lot from their drunken confessions. And of course he had gone home soused Sunday night, and found Mavis packing her bags. But he had demanded an explanation out of her-and she had confessed everything to Carver. And now he hated Lucas Cogswell for all those things he did to her when she was a young and innocent girl. But now at least his hatred for Lucas was just as intense as his love and compassion for his wife.
Carver listened, learned, then loved Mavis more than the day they had exchanged vows.
Actually there were only two unhappy souls that Monday. And one was no longer in Weedsdale.
Lucas Cogswell was now in Los Angeles, taking on easier foes like the young Mexican girl he had just spotted as she passed by his house.
"Hey, taco-babe, wanta suck-suck?"
Lucas had decided to hell with all those spoiled white kids that were ruining America. He had decided to ruin the brown kids who had probably started the white kids on ruining America.
The other wretched soul was Wexel Hoxworth, who now had to return all those nasty pictures-after all, no kid could stand up to the whole senior class after they had told him that they had gotten pretty sick and tired of waking up at oh-five-hundred to gather hog shit and dirty pictures.
Now, Wexel was concentrating on the last page of his history book as he ignored Miss Arnold's lecture on World War I (shit, he was always way ahead of his class) and committed to memory the prophecy of America being the best country to raise your kids in.
