Chapter 5
It had been a dull evening for Miss Prunella Garfield. She had not particularly enjoyed the play, and regretted accepting Grant Dexter's invitation. But he was, after all, dean of Beechers, and she could not afford to offend him.
It was gloomy in the woods. With anybody but the dean Miss Garfield would have been nervous, afraid for her safety. Men were such beasts. She would have preferred to take the long way back to college, or engage a cab. But the dean wanted to stretch his legs.
They walked briskly, discussing the play, teaching schedules, vacation plans. Phyllis Dexter was doing well in Italy, Miss Garfield learned. The dean did not refer to Miss Tremaine, and Miss Garfield did not ask about her.
Wind rustled the foliage, creating eerie sounds. Owls hooted. Birds darted, swooping low. A bat veered close, startling Miss Garfield, drifted erratically away. The winding path was deserted, quiet, seemingly endless.
Beside a low, broken fence Miss Garfield paused to rest, complaining of breathlessness. As she expanded her chest her ripe, mature breasts strained against the restraint of her dark blue dress. She bent forward to remove her left shoe, massaged her aching instep. The broad cheeks of her gorgeous bottom spread beneath the tight garment like the two halves of an enormous plum, full and smoothly rounded, rich with succulent promise.
The intimate exposure was not wasted on the dean. He gazed, entranced, coughed discreetly and looked away, sighed. He did not altogether approve of such phenomenal physical development in a female person whose sole function was to teach highly impressionable teenagers. It was disturbing to the older students and to the staff. Very disturbing. Miss Garfield, Prunella, always made him feel awkward and self-conscious in her presence. He was acutely aware of her charms, and her strange philosophy, yet felt cheated and resentful, knowing the extreme folly of ever allowing himself to contemplate any form of sexual approach.
Grant Dexter was a normal man with ordinary desires, neither too old to appreciate the beauty of the female form, especially a figure as ravishingly alluring as Prunella Garfield's, nor too dried up to experience lust. Prunella's sexual aura was almost overpowering. At times Dexter had difficulty restraining his natural impulses. To Miss Garfield and the rest of the college staff he was a tolerant but stubborn, mildly inoffensive little man without chronic vices or really bad habits, as much a pillar of respectability as Prunella Garfield was a paragon of virtue. Nobody suspected him of harboring immoral thoughts. Prunella would have been horrified had she been able to read his mind.
He sighed again, risked another glance, breathed out slowly and heavily when Miss Garfield stooped lower. The temptation to touch her regal posterior, to thrust his hand up her clothing, was frighteningly strong, the urge to press his lips to the bulging prominence of her sweetly fascinating bottom almost more than he could bear.
Miss Garfield straightened, turned, her jutting breasts shuddering in a way that dried the dean's mouth. He passed his tongue round his lips, wondering how Miss Garfield could avoid noticing the ridged protrusion at the front of his immaculate pants. He voiced a startled exclamation when a tall figure suddenly stepped out from the bushes onto the path. His eyes widened in surprise when he recognized Fletcher Boone.
Other figures emerged from the thickets, youths and girls, giggling, insolently smirking. They surrounded the dean and his companion. Looking round at their grimacing faces, Dexter felt acute apprehension. Miss Garfield sucked in her breath sharply.
"Boone!" the dean exclaimed. "What is the meaning of this? I thought-"
"Surprised?" Boone jeered. "No more than I am, you old ram. You and "Gorgeous" Garfield tramping through the woods. Shame on you, old man."
Miss Garfield uttered an indignant gasp.
"You disgusting lout!" she snapped. "I'm absolutely astounded that you have the nerve to return after that disgraceful episode. The police—"
"Balls to the police," Boone retorted derisively. The dean tensed.
"Moderate your language, Boone," he protested. "There's no need for that. I am surprised. Astonished. I never thought to have the misfortune of seeing any of you again. And you girls. Preen. Ross. Maxwell. What are you doing in the company of these moral degenerates? They are nothing more than common hoodlums."
Daphne tittered. Connie hung back. Janet looked anxiously at Mason, smiled when Boone laughed mockingly.
"What do you want, Boone?" the dean asked.
"You'd never believe it if I told you," Boone answered. "So well just have to show you. Before we're through you 11 realize how bad a mistake you made—sir. I warned you what to expect when I got out, both of you. I said I'd get even. Well, you're about to be convinced I meant what I said. And as for you, Miss fucking Garfield, you fat cunt, I've got something special lined up for you. I'm going to do something I've waited for and thought about all those months in Borstal and a long time before that. Grab them, gang!"
Mason and Roach rushed at the dean, gripped his arms and shoved them up behind his back. Dent and Boone seized Miss Garfield in a similar manner. Dexter struggled furiously but was helpless in the grip of the powerful youths. Miss Garfield cringed, white-faced.
"What are you doing?" Dexter shouted. "Are you mad?"
"Simmer down, old man," Boone told him. "Get them over to that clearing."
Miss Garfield wrenched angrily, trembling more with indignation than fear, at first.
"Let me go, you monsters!" she raved. "How DARE you?"
"Bring her," Boone instructed. He and Dent thrust Miss Garfield roughly toward the open glade. Shadows were lengthening, but enough daylight filtered through the trees to reveal details. Boone helped Miss Garfield along with a hand on her bottom, his fingers delving into soft flesh, chuckling when she bucked and squirmed frantically. Dent mauled her breasts painfully. Gasping, terrified now, Miss Garfield hung back, twisting and tugging, jerking desperately, but was dragged along and finally pushed down onto the massive trunk of a fallen tree, held there with an arm round her neck and her left arm doubled up. Boone gripped her other wrist.
The dean was thrown to the ground. Roach sat on him, knees grinding into the man's biceps, and grinned down into Dexter's frightened face. Mason sprawled across Dexter's legs. The three girls hovered close, giggling and capering, awed by the youths' boldness but emboldened by Boone's contempt for the dean's status and Miss Garfield's austere person, unwilling as yet to participate actively but quite prepared to watch and revel in anticipation of the ordeal, and to share in the reckless quartet's defiance of authority.
"Please!" Dexter pleaded. "Don't do this. Whatever your reasons, Boone. Have you gone completely berserk?"
Boone ignored him. He had a hand inside Miss Garfield's dress and was teasing her breasts, easing the lush globes away from the rigid confinement of her brassiere, and hefting them, pinching the nipples, jerking her head back every time she attempted an outcry.
"What are you going to do?" Daphne asked excitedly. "Are you going to have her, Fletch? I want to see the fat cow get it"
"Damn right I am, kid. But not here," Boone said. "Not right now. He He nodded his head toward the dean, laughed derisively.
"What are you waiting for?" he demanded. "Take his cock out Let's see what the bugger's got that "Gorgeous" Garfield is so interested in she took the old goat walking in the woods."
Miss Garfield managed a hoarse shout.
"You filthy animals!" she shrieked. "You vile fiends! Oh, dear God! Help me! HELP ME!"
Dexter heaved and writhed, but was still unable to grasp the odious fact that the youths actually intended to expose his genitals to Prunella Garfield's horrified gaze—until Mason adopted a squatting posture between the dean's wildly thrashing legs and, with a single swift jerk, ripped Dexter's fly wide open. Grinning wickedly, Mason groped into the gaping vent, seized the warm, gristly roll of Dexter's inert penis and pulled it out into plain view, leering triumphantly at Miss Garfield, who screamed and desperately renewed her struggles.
The girls moved closer, staring, tittering, exclaiming. The dean's organ was almost as big as Boone's, and exceptionally fat. Genuinely surprised, Mason held its flabby length, pulling at the circumcised glans and stretching the gross appendage like rubber. Daphne swore. She crouched lower. Janet leaned on Mason's shoulder. Connie, with both hands pressed against her vaginal mound, stood behind a tree, studying Miss Garfield's reactions.
"The old goat's bigger in the cock than me," Mason said grudgingly. "Hold still, you bastard! Take a good look, Con. Don't hide. Have a feel. He won't bite you. Come on, kid. Toss him off."
Connie shook her head.
"I will," Daphne declared. "I'll pull it out by the roots. I owe him something for what he told father about me."
The dean's face was red with effort. He mouthed vile threats, dignity and position forgotten. Saliva escaped the corners of his loose mouth. Mason unfastened Dexter's belt and opened his pants fully, pushed the flaps right back to reveal the man's testicles and the hairy roots of his thick penis which, under Mason's uncouth handling, showed signs of stiffening, symptoms that created considerable amusement among his captors.
Daphne pushed Mason's hand away. She seized the dean's penis boldly, tugged it viciously, held his balls and squeezed them in her other hand until he groaned and his whole body shuddered violently. His penis reared, jerking spasmodically erect, bloating, and the smirking girl applied more friction, whacking the wrinkled foreskin up and down, dragging it right back then forward over the throbbing knob, back again, rolling and stretching.
Connie emerged from hiding, gaping, pale-faced. Janet, on her knees, studied the fat prick with her face only inches from its pulsing, thickening mass.
"He's getting a hard-on!" she shouted delightedly. "Old Dexter's got a beat on! He likes it!"
"Bring Garfield over here," Mason urged, twisting his neck and looking at Boone. "Let her see what she's got coming. Make her suck it."
"Ooooh, yes!" Janet encouraged. "Make her."
She stretched out a pudgy hand and added her clammy grasp to Daphne's firmly clutching hold on the squirming victim's penis. His mouth hung open. His eyes were glassy, staring. Janet grimaced sardonically into his flushed, strained face.
Across the clearing, Boone and Dent had laid Miss Garfield over the fallen tree trunk.
"You bring Dexter," Boone instructed. "We've got her just right."
Dent held Miss Garfield in the obscene posture with rough bark gouging her soft belly and her dress lifted above her waist. He played with his exposed penis, stroking the turgidly throbbing organ while Boone, very gradually, pulled the sobbing teacher's white nylon panties down, sliding them over her rolling hips and alluring buttocks with deliberately provocative slowness, prolonging the delightful disclosure, baring the gently swelling mound where the cleft commenced, then the start of the dusky fissure and curving ovals of pink and white flesh, relentlessly uncovering more and more of the delectable cheeks until the whole perfect assembly was exposed to his lascivious gaze.
Boone also had his penis out, his original intention to refrain from raping Miss Garfield until she arrived at the old quarry having evaporated with the first sight and feel of her naked flesh. Dent had torn her dress from neckline to waist and her incomparable breasts protruded, white and quivering, the nipples standing out like dark red, tightly closed buds. Her brassiere lay among rank ferns together with one of her shoes and her handbag. Her spectacles had fallen off, and either Dent or Boone had trodden on them, splintering the lenses. She begged, raged, and indulged in hysterics, but her outbursts merely amused the youths and increased the fever of their lust.
As her bottom was fully revealed, Boone uttered a hoarse cry and, squatting, rammed his face into the shadowy cleft, burying his features completely, thrusting his nose into the tremulous, shrinking anus and curling his tongue into the sexily odorous recess below the bunched rolls of cringing flesh. He .wallowed, oblivious of Miss Garfield's frantic outcry, reveling in the musky smell of her secret parts until, eventually, alarmed by her wild shrieks, he stood up, wadded his handkerchief and stuffed it in her mouth, then resumed his depraved orgy, pulling the plump cheeks widely apart to bring the seemingly small vagina into pouting view—a tight, compact slit nestling among dense, almost-black hair curling in glistening tufts around the moist vulva and extending like a pointed beard below the exciting gash.
Roach shouted impatiently. Boone abandoned his lustful pursuit and mouthed a sarcastic retort, but got to his feet, impatiently dragged Miss Garfield's thighs apart and intruded his great stalk into the recess where buttocks and vagina merged. When the huge knob butted her nervous, quaking quim, Miss Garfield went berserk. Dent tightened his grip, used both hands to hold her down, but she freed one arm and struck out savagely, blindly, caught Boone high on the cheek bone with her clenched fist. The blow hurt but did not deter him, merely aroused his vicious streak.
"Hold her, you fat slob!" he shouted. "Leave your prick alone and keep her from kicking. You 11 get your turn. The bitch! She's cut my face. Ill really give her hell now."
He gripped Miss Garfield's shoulder and forced her down and across the log. Dent stretched both her arms painfully, increasing the acuteness of her draped posture. Boone thrust a hand between her thighs and grabbed a fistful of squashy vagina. He inserted his forefinger high into her cunt and probed avidly, withdrew the digit, and promptly forced it up the demented teacher's anus.
Daphne left Janet frigging the dean's stiffened, hugely jutting member, and approached Boone. Prompted by the urgency of her own sexual need she grasped his rampant penis and tried to pull him away from Miss Garfield. Boone flung her aside and she fell, got quickly to one knee and remained in that position, frowning, watching Boone's tremendous branch bursting into the helpless woman's vulnerable split. Shrugging, pouting, she returned to Mason and the prostrate dean, sidled up to Roach, who was still sitting on Dexter's chest and kneeling on the numbed arms. Janet, steadily whanking Dexter's penis, now enormously inflated, grinned derisively at her. Suddenly, Daphne raised her frock, pushed her panties down and removed them, then lifted the dress again so that Roach could see her vagina. She protruded her pelvis obscenely. She did not speak. There was no need.
Roach understood. He extended his neck, thrust out his tongue and licked the girl's hot, wet vagina. She stood with legs wide apart, pushing the dark folds against his mouth, but even in the heat of his lewd debauch Roach did not relax his punishing pressure on the dean's biceps.
Boone, grinding relentlessly, flogged his brutal rod ecstatically into the virgin cavity, grunting with pleasure and the tense, clawing friction of each convulsive spasm, but spunked before he completed more than a score of tempestuous strokes.
Frustrated and resentful, he took out his spite on Miss Garfield, dragged her away from the tree and flung her to the ground near Mason and the dean. Mason promptly grabbed her and put his hand up her crumpled dress. Boone seized her long hair, forced her to her knees and savagely twisted her arm behind her back. He thrust her down until her hanging breasts were squashed against the fronts of her thighs and she could hardly breathe.
Daphne suddenly left Roach. The insides of her thighs were wet, her vagina throbbing and slimy. She felt tremendously excited. Roach, jerking his head round, lost his glasses. He retrieved them, but put them in his jacket pocket, then wrestled Dexter into submission again. Dent captured the dean's left wrist and bent the arm callously. He and Boone dragged her over the ground on her knees, and Mason, anticipating their intention, forced the dean's legs apart and held them wide while the youths pushed Miss Garfield, still on her knees, inside the spread of Dexter's limbs. \ As they held her down with bottom grotesquely thrust out and her anguished face close to the dean's genitals, fear and loathing activated her compressed bladder and she urinated, puddling the area and wetting her legs. The pools soaked rapidly into the sandy soil. Amid coarse, mocking laughter, Boone clutched the teacher's hair and forced her head still lower, bringing her mouth nearer to Dexter's jerking penis which, as Janet released it, reared and pulsed with tormented vigor.
"The poor bastard's really suffering," Janet remarked. "I don't know how we dare."
She thwarted Daphne's attempt to seize the dean's penis and grasped it herself, guided the straining glans toward the grimly compressed gash that was Miss Garfield's bloodless mouth. Sick with shock and horror, the captive teacher retched when the male smell of the throbbing organ invaded her flared nostrils. Then the knob touched her lips, and she recoiled from it as though burned by a white-hot iron. Her head whipped from side to side.
Boone exerted all his strength and the slimy, dribbling prick wiped several times across Miss Garfield's face and mouth, jabbing her nostrils and poking into her eyes, but she resisted its entry past her lips, and eventually Boone, defeated in his degrading objective, tired of the futile attempt and issued curt orders, hauled Miss Garfield erect and spun her round. With Dent supporting one thigh, a hand under her buttocks, and Mason the other, and Roach keeping the dean flat on his back, Miss Garfield was lifted bodily and held poised above Dexter's torrid shaft, facing his feet, then slowly lowered in accordance with Boone's concise directions until that jutting rod intruded into the extreme opening of her vagina.
Daphne guided the fat prick into the hairy gash, ignoring Janet's petulant cry of: "Let me put it in! I want to do it!"
The youths lowered Miss Garfield further, sitting her on the rigid shaft, impaling her yielding aperture, screwing the thick stalk cruelly in. Despite the wadded handkerchief gag, Miss Garfield voiced a gasping shriek that echoed resoundingly. She was raised and lowered awkwardly, ponderously, breasts flopping, distended vagina dragging, squelching, creating wet, sucking noises and leaving moist imprints against the spreadeagled dean's wrinkled pelvis and around the roots of his straining penis. There was a tinge of crimson in the sticky residue.
She was heaved remorselessly up and down, her captors lifting, thrusting, bearing down, maintaining the surging motion, doubling her voluptuous body into vulgar, incredible contortions. Sometimes when she was hoisted the slippery penis escaped. The dean, observing the spread of her magnificent buttocks, gazed right into the splayed fissure where cunt and anal cavity merged. The effect on the carnal senses was shattering, the burning tension in his tormented penis becoming unbearable. Completely dominated by the incredible sequence of events undermining his moral fiber, he arched his spine repeatedly, bucking his loins upward to meet each pounding descent of that slippery, gaping maw and straining desperately, groaning and panting in the throes of intense sexual excitement that was both ecstasy and shuddering torment.
Now, he too was all animal, ferociously aroused, the dominant, lusting male, still a captive but fiercely co-operative and savagely responsive. His frenzied movements delighted his teenage persecutors. Daphne especially demanded even greater exertion, agitating until Boone, grinning fiendishly, left off handling his penis and helped in the obscene performance.
The dean, sweating, teeth gritted, eyes hotly inflamed, stared fixedly at the broad expanse of Prunella's exquisite behind and the hairy cavern of her vagina, no longer small but a reddened, glistening pit into which his near-bursting branch slogged ravenously. The dean's innermost feelings defied description. The ordeal was entirely alien to his limited experience and conventional sex life. The infrequent and reluctant fornication permitted by his wife was insipid and uninspired by comparison. She had always made him feel degraded. But this... He experienced conflicting emotions that - .t to the very core—he was deliriously elated, gloating over his masculine accomplishment yet tortured by shame and inborn scruples, swept along on a swirling tide of carnal bliss, rushing furiously toward a jerking, spurting climax, stringy muscles quivering, sinews standing out like knotted cords.
Abruptly, Boone voiced a curt decision.
"Let him go," he commanded. Roach stared, uncomprehending. He had shifted his position so that he could watch the crude action, and sat on the ground behind the dean with his feet either side of the man's head, pressed against his shoulders, keeping Dexter's arms fully extended.
"Let him up," Boone repeated. "The old goat's hooked, foaming at the mouth. You couldn't pry him loose from darling Prunella now with a crowbar. So why pin him down? Let him perform. Let's see what he does without persuasion."
Dent and Mason lowered Miss Garfield to the ground, stood her on her feet but kept a firm grip on her arms, and immediately forced her to adopt an ignominious stooping posture. The dean, deprived of her soft, yielding quim, uttered harsh croaking sounds of frustration. The moment he was released he clambered to his feet, displaying remarkable agility, and rushed at Miss Garfield amid uproarious laughter and jeering remarks, oblivious of everything except the urgency of his unrequited need, the corrupting influence of scourging passion completely dominating his thoughts and reflexes, fat prick jutting and swinging, shirt flapping, pants trailing round his ankles, impeding his movements and almost tripping him.
"Sock it to her, dean!" Boone yelled. "Thrash it into her!"
Daphne squealed with delight, shoving closer with Connie jostling her and Janet shouldering between them both, flushed with lascivious excitement and exclaiming hoarsely as Dexter, gripped in the insane fervor of uncontrollable lust, seized Miss Garfield's hips and jerked her backward onto his rampant organ. He found the slimy hole and rammed in furiously, embedded his tool completely, shagged with berserk fury, jaw protruding, mouth slackly open.
Connie lifted his shirt flap and uncovered his smooth, white ass, pushed against his buttocks, vigorously aiding the momentum of his thrusts. Roach, holding his rigid penis, scuttled round in front of the captive teacher and, grasping her hair, dragged her head up and again attempted to put his cock in her mouth. This time, all Miss Garfield's violent, sobbing efforts failed. Roach pried her lips apart, using his thumbs, and succeeded in forcing the swollen knob past the writhing opening but was defeated by the barrier of clenched teeth. Unable to control shattering orgasm, he shot a stream of thick, milky sperm against her face. The nauseating ejaculation filled every cranny of her shuddering features. Some of it, sliding down her chin, puddled on her glorious breasts.
Miss Garfield's reaction to the loathsome contact was mind-crushing. Stark horror wrenched at her reason. Terror, shock, insane fury, stomach-churning disgust—all combined to dispel the brief flicker of subconscious physical response her abused body had instinctively displayed and now violently rejected, strangling the faint stirrings of desire and reinforcing frigidity jjp0khtcuwbole superb being shrieked in awful, violated protest and provoked repeated gushes of urine that, squirting hot and .salty past the cruel blockage, wetted the dean's hairy pelvis and washed around his tightly wrinkled scrotum.
But her agony was almost over. Dexter screwed into her like a madman, deaf to taunts and lewd, mocking advice, clutching Miss Garfield's hips and ramming belligerently. Finally, uttering a series of loud, agonized groans, he spunked, hugging the almost demented teacher tenaciously, clinging like a burr with eyes glazed and buttocks nipped together. The sexual fury drained from his loins. He stumbled away from Miss Garfield and collapsed on the grass, limp and exhausted, dazed and utterly bewildered, his haggard face twitching, Boone chuckled.
"I never thought the old bastard had it in him," he said with grudging admiration. He restrained Dent, who was intent on duplicating the dean's performance.
"Later," Boone said. "On board the barge. We've hung around here too long already. Take dear Prunella to the car."
He approached the dean who, sitting slumped with his back against a tree, remained inert until Boone prodded him in the stomach with a pointed shoe toe.
"We're taking Miss Garfield with us," Boone told Dexter. "For insurance of a sort, among other things. She's only had a sample of what she's going to get. Nobody rats on me and gets away with it. A word of warning, dean. Don't go to the police, otherwise something really unpleasant might happen to darling Prunella. Understand, old man?"
The dean nodded dumbly. He watched the teenagers hustle Miss Garfield into the bushes. Presently, he heard a car motor start up. Staring toward the waving shrubs, Dexter clambered slowly to his feet. He hauled his pants up but left his penis protruding. His tension seemed to evaporate the moment the youths departed. He actually smiled, fingered his drooping organ, began to masturbate, gradually quickening his movements until his semi-flaccid prick dribbled a weak, minute flow of watery semen. His reddened face relaxed.
"No," he muttered thickly. "I won't tell the police. I won't say a word, you young bastards. I've dreamed of doing that to Prunella Garfield for fifteen years but never had the courage to even hint at such a thing. God knows what will come of it Right now I don't give a damn. Oh, but she was absolutely wonderful. Magnificent. Why was it never like that with Margaret? I shall see Prunella's luscious behind displayed in front of my eyes for the rest of my life. And that divine cunt! My God! I'm shaking like a leaf. It's all too utterly bizarre, altogether fantastic. But at this moment I could forgive young Boone everything—almost everything, even the humiliation."