Chapter 5
We Bend Over Backwards for the Kids
"I was really dragged out when I thought about spending the summer at home, but I came up with this job at a summer day-care center and it turned out to be better than spending the summer south of the border where I wanted to go. That's mainly because I met Peter, another instructor at the center, and he showed me how to really dig the arts and crafts class we taught together. And he spent his summer going south of my border, giving me a vacation right at home. It's really a lot more comfortable that way.
"We both ended up running this arts and crafts class for this summer school thing they set up as a project at our local school. It was for kids of junior-high age. Peter was this guy from the same high school I go to, only I'd never been able to get close to him since he ran with a different crowd. Not that I hadn't wanted to get to know him. He was a really far-out guy-long blond hair that went to his shoulders, deep tan, about six-two. Had a real fine bod on him and he kept it in good condition by being on the gymnastics squad-sidehorse, I think it was. And still rings, too. All that sports stuff gets pretty confusing to me. Anyway, that summer Peter tutored me. I learned more about sex-I'd only made it with one guy before, and, well, let's just say I never knew it could be like that. With Albert it'd all been quickie type screws in the back seat of the car. Real straight stuff. But Peter taught me a lot of different ways-but mainly it was up the ass route, a way I learned to dig more than anything else.
"It started one day right after we'd dismissed the kids, maybe the third or fourth day of class. Peter and I were putting some of the crap back into the storeroom when he started hitting up on me. We were already past most of the usual shit ... him finding out that I'd be a junior next year, me finding out that he'd be a senior, who we knew-that sort of shit. Now it was getting down to establishing the main fact: that he had a cock; and I had a number of places to put it. Not the sort of thing I usually let a guy get to right away-if at all.
"Somehow though, Peter was different. He had this way ... I don't know just how to put it.
Maybe it was like he put this spell on me, the way he came on. But he was really getting to me, playing on my mind even before he laid that heavy on me in the storage room that day. I really was picking up on the good vibes he put down from the first. Not just with me, but with the easy way he handled the kids and all. I'd never have been able to run the class on my own. He had a real way of taking charge.
"So I'm putting the fingerpainting stuff away in the storeroom that day, washing some of the jars and things out over the sink. I'd just taken off my smock and was wearing just a blouse and jeans when I feel some hands grabbing me by the ass and squeezing real nice.
"'Now that'd be something worth fingerpainting,' I hear Peter say. I was kind of startled, so I look over my shoulder and there he is grinning that big 'shine-it-on' smile at me, still clutching firmly to my butt. I'm not used to that kind of come on, might've slapped him a good one if he was some other dude, but, well-there was nobody there to see if old hard-to-get June was caught out of her faking-it role or not. And more than that-it was Peter. My hero in the flesh.
"Corny stuff, but I'm-or used to be-one of those rare throwbacks: the I'm-not-that-kind-of-girl' girl. Raised on Mary,Poppins sort of stuff. So here I am caught with my graces down, this guy who's obviously seen through it all hanging onto my ass and making me feel all horny.
"Heavy stuff. I wasn't ready for it. First time a guy'd had me in this position.
"I start to try my bit on him-the BIG AVOIDER-but he cuts right through all that, wrapping his strong arms around my body, pinning me to the sink.
"'Don't try and hand me that, sister,' he tells me, going on to charm me right out of my pants. That's what he really did, somehow saying all the right words that talked me right into giving into him all the way. Did it with the sort of romance number, both with his lips and his hands, that went right to where my fantasies were at. Cut through all my usual defenses. Shit, this line he was laying down would've made me out a complete asshole if I refused. Just no logic to saying no, when somebody's got your body screaming yes.
"'It's sort of a waste putting all that stuff on paper,' I hear him telling me, 'when there's a body like yours to put it on.' He was referring to the fingerpaints, and his little reference left little doubt that he intended to put actions to words.
"Holy fuck! It was about then that I realized he'd unbuttoned my blouse, unsnapped my bra, and was working away at my tits. And he's kissing at me real nice and smooth, a real pro the way his tongue works at me, while he wedges his thigh up between my legs and is rubbing my pussy off through the material of my jeans and panties.
"I was trying to protest the best I knew how, but the way he was working my body was really getting to me. Any ideas of my resisting his attempts kept me from thinking too much about any possible consequences, though-he was just TOO FUCKING MUCH. Like far out. Is that how they say it?
"Anyway I was getting pretty hot for the idea of having him ram his meat up me ... stick it in my cunt, or even my ear for that matter. I could feel it when I rubbed up against his tight Levi's a couple of times, all hard and strong, being pinned down against his legs by the confining material.
"This sure beat fingering myself off, having a warm body next to me, building up to something I knew would happen. With old Albert, the wimpy way he came on, playing myself off was almost preferable. I'd never known it could feel this good, and we weren't even down to the main part.
"His talk is getting hard for me to follow, sounding more like singing and everything, tripping me off way beyond my wildest fantasies. His hands are all over, rubbing my tittie buds up to a real hard point, running little circles of craziness over my neck and shoulders, pinching sharply at my lower back while he blows hotly into my ear.
"And then, having my body already attuned to what's coming up, he strips off my blouse and bra, pressing his strong fingers against my bare flesh, working new thrills through my prickly skin. He keeps kneading away at my body, dipping his mouth down to suck on my titties, and working me up to a hot trot.
"But just as I'm wondering if I'll be able to hold on long enough to keep from creaming in my pants, he breaks away and follows up his early innuendos about finger painting. He tells me that he'd dig to do some experimental designs on my body, and I surprise myself by going along with it. Don't ask me why. I was just so tripped out on his head that I would've done anything he wanted.
"I find myself stripping down under his directions, my jeans and panties now puddled about my feet. Meanwhile, I see that Peter is stripping off his clothes-sort of shocking to me. I don't think that was the usual method of body painting, but then what the fuck did I know? Or care? As I eyed in a quick check of his body, I sure didn't have any quarrels with his methods. Like I said, he had a gymnast's build, and his clothing actually hid some of his attributes. Had that muscular kind of body with muscles that ripples and flowed, all connected to the other parts. Well coordinated. His cock was about half hard, his concentration now divided between me and finding some paints to mix up.
"I'm starting to shiver there in my altogether, real anxious to get his warm body up next to mine. I have to grab onto myself, running my hands up and down my nakedness to try and keep off the chill while I'm waiting for him.
"But it didn't take long for him to get ready. He's got the first color all mixed and is coming over to me. I lean back against the steel sink, and it feels real cold against my bare butt, so I practically jump right in his arms as he comes up to me. He nearly drops the paint, but he manages somehow to keep a grip.
"I sort of wondered why he hadn't mixed up any other colors yet, but it really didn't matter. This was really just a way of getting down to the basic fact that he wanted to screw me, and me him. He slaps some of the paint on my body, and it feels cold, too, especially the thin stream that's running down toward my belly button. But he puts his jar down and starts running his hands through the mixture, spreading it across my skin, and it warms up real fast.
"The color he was using was blue. Little did I know that he didn't plan on going on to any of the other primaries. Just a way of introduction. Painting my bod all blue. But that wasn't the way he made me feel.
"I felt red all over when he got through with me. And it felt fucking good.
"He starts out real nice and slow, spreading the gooey paint all over my belly and titties, weaving lines and crazy paterns across my body. Of course, I can't see what he's doing to well, but the way it feels is doing a lot more for my nervous system. It's really a funny kind of feeling, standing there bare-assed while Peter is using my body as a canvas, rubbing the paint in, in hard circular motions, then tracing long thin lines of blue lightly down my body. Those were the ones that really made my skin start crawling-especially the ones that angled down toward my pussy.
"After he'd fooled around with that number for a few moments, he reaches over to dip his hands in for a few more strokes. I can see that the body painting has had a good effect on the artist as well as the model-or canvas, or whatever the fuck I was. But his dick is all the proof of criticism anyone could ever hope to achieve. God, did he have a big one. And those balls of his, swollen with blood in his turned-on condition. They were as big as tennis balls-at least that's how they looked to me. He must've walked around feeling all cramped and bruised all day with those fucking nuts of his. But maybe that thick patch of hair matted them down some, kept him from having to cut a special hole.
"'Just a few final touches,' he tells me, moving up against me again, his hands dripping blue. I'm a bit puzzled by this, but I don't want to argue with the artist. Guess I'd just have to settle for blue this time around. This time he grabs one of my titties in each hand and starts really working out. I'm in pretty good shape up there myself-36-D-so I do have my own attractions to offer.
"They're already nice and hard from his former handiwork, but he keeps going at it real strong, making my buds stand up as hard as they ever had. He works his hands around the soft part real gently, massaging them firmly between his deft fingers, giving a little squeeze to the balls inside that make me jump every so often. He's real intent on his work, his eyes rivited to the two objects at hand. He surrounds the buds completely with blue, making them stand out even stronger against the background.
"I'm finding it hard to focus now, my cunt juices beginning to flow, aided by the fact that he rubs his hips against it every so often to give my mound a thrill. His fingers now dip back into the paint around my erect nipples, weaving some kind of pattern across them. You know, the way you do in finger painting. Like once the deeper color is laid down, you go back and run your fingers through it, drawing off some of the paint ... sort of thinning it out. Well, that's what he started doing, and it was driving me up the fucking wall. I could hardly wait for it to be finished-so he could hang me in a gallery, or better yet, give me the hose.
"Not the kind to wash me off. Externally anyway. If he douched me out internally with that huge cock of his though, there'd be no fighting from me.
"Just about then, he stands back and takes a gander at his work. His hands are all covered with blue, but I'm interested in getting beyond the hand painting. Want him to use that paint brush of his on me. Man was it ever a beaut-all red and throbbing. He'd even dripped a little of the paint right on top of the cockhead, making it look like it was just dipped in the easel and was ready to put to canvas. Mine preferably.
"He had some blue flecks on the rest of his body, making me even more eager to get some more polka dots on me. I wanted him to put that stretcher bar to me quick, before it dried. He nods to himself, a big smile spread across his face, but his eyes look a little beyond pure art-appreciation. He's ready to ram that peter of his to me. Sign his name to the piece.
"Finally, after what seemed like an awful long tour of his eyes, he felt we were ready to get onto even more artistic matters. He had me turn around toward the sink, and I about jumped out of my painted skin when I took a look in the soap-spattered mirror above the basin. I mean, it wasn't exactly what you'd call a masterpiece-the painting. I like to think of myself as one though. But it looked so weird seeing my body all covered with blue-at least from my tits on down to my navel. That's as much as I could see in the mirror. He hadn't done much work below that. But he was about to.
"He'd covered my titties all in blue, and the lines he'd drawn on them were shaped like the petals of a flower. My red buds sticking out from the middle added to it, making me look like a first-grader's crayon attempt at twin daisies. But there wasn't much time for digging the art circles. He was moving against me.
"'Like it?' he asks, pressing up against me.
"I make eye contact with him in the mirror and respond that it's A-OK with me. 'But how about getting down to the real painting?' I shoot back at him. He grins back in the mirror, satisfied that he's broken way past my usual defense system-like WOW, here I was asking for it. That was a switch.
"He was more than eager. He just wrapped his arms around me real slow, moving his chest up against my back for effect, then gently, guided by his eye's aim in the mirror, he tweaked each bud real nice, making my cooze flow again. He rubbed them in a stiff circle, each nipple being pinched between a thumb and forefinger, making them feel so good that they about went numb. Then he craned his neck down and began nipping gentle kisses at my neck and ears, tugging at my blonde hair with his teeth, still massaging invisible milk out of my dairies.
"But then he gets on with the show. Having me spread my legs real wide, he tells me to bend over the sink, splaying my arms out in the basin for support. I nod up at him one last time in the mirror, 'cause I disappear from view at this angle, my face practically nose to nose to nose with the soap dispenser. He begins telling me how much he wants to put his dick up me, making me frantic for it, as he rubs his hands around my body, nudging his cock up against my butt for emphasis. And I'm about to go right down the fucking drain if he doesn't plug me up pretty soon. I want that big fat cock of his rammed up me and quick!
"And then, I feel his hands running over my butt cheeks, massaging them real gently as he prepares to mount up and ride me ragged. I feel one of his hands leave my ass as he grabs his cock to get ready to plunge it in, so I stick my ass as far up as I can, ready for him to sink it into my pussy. Boy, did I get a surprise!
"I feel him pressing real hard with his cockhead against my asshole. I start to turn my head around and protest. Never had I imagined that was what he was going to do. But that's what he was after. My face ran right into his chin as he hunkered down over my back, his jaw moving to assure me that it would be fine, that after the initial shock that'd be the greatest thing that'd ever happened to me. So I go along with it, hardly in any position to argue. But his words reassure me, though I'll have to admit that I'm scared shitless for a few seconds. What with the way that cock is steadily pressing at the tight entrance to my tiny asshole. SHIT, was I scared!
"But he eases the tension a little, angling up just right and flattening his cockhead against my butthole. At the same time, he's running his other hand over my hips in a very gentle fashion, breathing words of assurance down to me.
"But my asshole is contracting and dilating like wild under the steady pressure of that fat cock knocking on the door. He uses his hand for leverage, but he really doesn't need it with that hard charger of his. He just keeps lunging against it, applying more and more pressure until-SHEEEEOOOOOWWWWEEEE!-it tears my ass apart with a mighty fucking push. I about leap out of the sink, but only succeed in rearing up enough to knock my noggin against the soap dispenser.
"Talk about burn! Man, I thought the entire Fifth Fleet had just landed on my beach. Bayonet first, the first ashore was ripping a new trail up inside me.
"Once inside, Peter gets a steady position, running both hands down to hold my hips down, pressing his chest against my back to hold me steady. Then he starts riding, still whispering words to steady his mount. 'Cause if I wasn't protesting before, I sure was now. He was ramming the starch right out of me. It burned like a motherfucking wildfire, and it didn't seem to fit.
"No matter how his hands worked at me, all I could feel was the fire in my asshole-like all my nerves were centered there all of a sudden. He pushed in and out, rubbing and bumping along the unsteady virgin walls of my sputtering ass. They just didn't seem like they could accommodate that big invader of his. But he kept at it, silencing my protests until I realized that there was this great glow spreading through me. Just the same as if he'd drilled it in the old cooze-only somehow it was even better.
"I guess my mind had centered on the initial pain, and it'd taken a few strokes of his huge prick to scatter the cobwebs and set me straight. He was going at it at this slow and easy pace, letting it linger for a while at different depths so that my ass tissues could get used to its size. By this time my shitter linings had sent down a fluid to mix around his cock, so it was sliding easier.
"But it was still a weird sort of feeling to me. It felt like I was being split in half by a big Polish sausage or something like that. But the tightness, the way it made me feel my guts were about to push right out of my mouth, in some crazy way was making me get a lot of pleasure out of it. That must've been how it was, 'cause I heard my voice screaming above the throbbing in my eardrums.
"'Oh, give me the meat, Peter. Ream me out gooooood. Fuck my ass ... FUCK MEEEEEEE!' "And he did.
"The throbbing spread from my eardrums clear down to my middle ear. All through my face, especially at my temples. It felt like the throbbing of his cock, pushed by his heartbeat. Like he'd pushed my own heart right out with that fuckstick of his and had planted his own in me.
"He kept up his steady assault on my rear, still running his hands all over my hips and sides. Then he started to increase the tempo, making me more aware of how stuffed I was. It was like somebody'd run a string up me and was pulling this long pole in and out. Thunk-he'd sink it in to the hilt, his balls slapping hard against my cheeks, and it'd feel like I was so stuffed that my liver'd split. Then, zwoooop-he'd pull it about three-fourths of the way out, making my ass walls suddenly empty and full of air as they closed behind his cock, but never fast enough to take away the vacuum.
"In and out, in and out. My pelvis was pounding against the sink under his steady fucking. The sharp pain had turned into a throbbing ache, but, baby, let me tell you, it felt soooooooo fuuuuucking GOOOOOOOD!
"Better than any regular fuck I'd ever had. And he made it feel even better by running his hand down my side and stabbing his index finger down into my fuzzy groove to find my clit. Wow-ee-that really drilled the message home loud and clear. I wanted even more of his cockwished that he had a two-footer. It was a painful situation, but the best I'd ever had. Like hurting so much it was great.
"His hand found my clit trigger and began playing a fast game of rushing roulette-it'd have to be fast the way my gears were spinning. His finger job on my clitoris was speeding up the action as I felt my orgasm building up inside my tummy, about ready to burst loose.
"Peter showed his stuff about this time, somehow sensing I was about to let go. He rolled his hips around in a circle, making the end of his poker hit a new wall of my furnace each time he thrust it in. And he changed the tempo: first a couple of fast slop shots that made a popping sound shake through my body; then a couple of real slow withdrawals that seemed to pull my guts out toward my asshole in a magnetic way.
"'Here it comes, Junie-pie!' he shouted. And just in time, too. He drilled some hot rivets right up my ass that practically jarred the jelly out of my linings. I let go with the biggest gullywasher I'd ever had, my body nearly collapsing over the sink.
"I'd been kind of reeling-sorta stoned out. As I came back to the aftermath, I saw the blue stains in the sink, the mixture left of his instant art that'd mixed with my sweat and dripped down the drain. In fact, blue was draining down my own shower drain for a couple of days. First time I'd ever had a blue asshole."
The subject involved in this case history is illustrative of yet another baby-sitting environment, that pf the institutionalized form of child care. Whether it be a nursery school, a day care center, a mothers' co-op, or a summer school program such as the one June was involved with, there are many forms of professional child care that differ from the home environment in that they generally take care of the child in a larger setting, one involving a number of children from different homes. The summer programs are often set up by school boards around this country to look after children, usually for working mothers, who would be in school during the regular school year.
Most generally, we find a lower incidence of sexual play, at least in the direct form, going on in the professional atmosphere, largely due to the structure of the institution. While we could easily alter the statistics by considering the home lives of the individuals involved, once away from the center, it would hardly be fair. It must be assumed that all individuals have some sex life in the privacy of their own homes. But as the other instances of baby-sitting presented in this work take place in the home environment, either that of the child being looked after or that of the sitter, we make this distinction as a matter of record.
While we do find incidents involving contact between an adult supervisor and a child within either the day care or nursery school setting, we have clearly stated that we do not wish to do a study on such pedophiliac practices in this work. Rather, we are interested in contact between two adults, more specifically anal sexuality, in, or as a result of, direct correlation of the baby-sitting environment.
The case of June is highly representative, if somewhat tragic, of such institutionalized child care involving anal contacts between staff members.
June had been brought up in a strict atmosphere, raised to be better-off than her parents. While not having the financial resources of many of their acquaintances, her parents had been able to reach a minor form of social importance in their small community. From an early age, June was entered into various activities designed to bring her to a form of social prominence, a practice which, while on the wane, is still prevalent in some areas of our country. However, such activities had clashed directly with the standards of the majority of her peers. Therefore, she was part of a very small and sheltered circle, one which, in its case, frowned upon sexual indiscretions.
Then she met Peter at the day-care center. Change. A dramatic change that prompted her long-hidden inner wants to take action in the reality he presented her. Unfortunately for her, it was merely his form of reality he was presenting her, one in which anal sex was nearly exclusive of all others. Peter was part of the media-fed, turned-on generation. He was wise ahead of his years to the ways of the world. Popular at high school, he centered his attentions upon the opposite sex, but found most girls unwilling to partake in such an activity with him. This disappointed him greatly, for at an earlier period of his life he had spent several years at a military academy where he had indulged in homosexual practices and developed his preference for anal intercourse.
Homosexuals often utilize anal intercourse as a method of copulation. In fact, contrary to popular opinion, namely Freudian psychology, homosexuals do not always exhibit an oral fixation and often show a regression that is more anal in its origins. In The Origins of Love and Hate, Ian D. Suttie argues against Freud's constructs concerning analism, stating:
These long-accepted constructs that date back to Freud, placing regressive patterns of behavior back into these steps of development (Anal, Oral, Genital) often overlook the fact of one important criterion: namely that the individual does not easily fit into categorization so easily as a representative symbol of his existence might. That is to say, it is easy from a broad sociological point of view to create various placements for ready identification by researchers, yet difficult to label the patient who confronts us in the flesh into such a convenient niche.
But to get back to the case of June and Peter, we find that Peter has more to do with the creation of the anal-oriented atmosphere than the general environment would indicate, especially since the children they are looking after are well beyond the stage involving any diaper changing. Peter, with his own strong convictions regarding anal intercourse, merely knew when he had "found a good thing." This was June, a girl unsophisticated in the ways of sex, hiding behind a facade of social finery. Being of strong will, he was easily able to persuade the weak-willed and sexually suppressed girl into performing his ritual. By capturing her fantasies, he was able to implant his own reality (merely a form of fantasy-fulfillment in this instance) upon June. While she reacted in a favorable manner to his attentions, accepting anal sex as a way of life, it had its unfortunate effects as we shall see.
"During the next few weeks, Peter and I got together in the storeroom as often as possible. But one thing began to puzzle me about him. We never did it any other way. Well, a couple of times when I'd ask him about it, he might ram his meat up my cunt. And then we'd fool around with other stuff as a sort of warm-up to getting it on. But most of the time, my main gonads got bypassed, him sticking it up my ass.
"Not that I didn't like it. I was finding that I dug it more than any other way. Sure, I'd put in my pitch for a bit of variety every now and again, but Peter had me so head-over-heels about the whole scene that I really didn't care that much. I liked having my asshole reamed better than just about anything. That's because it was his way. And I was thinking of myself as his girl.
"We were able to make things a little more comfortable than the first time by adding a little variety to our menu, and by the fact that we were able to make a suitable bed in the corner of the supply room by piling up the smocks the kids wore during class.
"Then, we added other ways of making variations--just the way we had with the fingerpainting routine. We tried out a clay dildo once-me working it in and out of my pussy while Peter planted me from the rear with his live model. Another time, when the class was working with papier-mache, I made a mold of his cock, and he made one out of my tits. Mine was fairly easy, but his fell apart. No construction paper, no matter what the base, nothing but steel, in my estimation, could hold a permanent cast of his impression.
"He really had lots of inventive ways of getting to the main point, but he'd usually take an alternate route when it came to getting the goodies. Not that I minded, you see. I was really learning how to get a big come from having that cock of his lodged up my ass.
"But the last time we got it on-say about a month after we'd been painting it brown-we had a fuck-up happen. A real big fuck-up that blew the whole thing for us.
"Right after class, we'd been cleaning up, putting all the crap into the storage room. By this time, we'd run the entire gamut as far as our teachings went. The kids were all involved in individual projects-whatever suited their likings. Little known to them, Peter and I were also involved in an individual project. Mutual would be more like it, but it was most assuredly suited to our likings.
"That day after we'd cleaned up the classroom, we jumped inside our little storeroom hideaway to take up our project. We left the door slightly ajar-helped the ventilation. Besides, no one ever came around-the janitors worked nights during summer and only came around once a week.
"So we stripped down for action-his body still looking every inch as good to me as it had the first time, and evidently the feeling was mutual. Otherwise he wouldn't have been there. Not with that hard on. That's a sure way to tell if a guy goes for you or not.
"At least I hope so.
"We reclined on our rather comfortable, but not exactly piss-elegant, bed of smocks in the corner after cleaning up and smoked a cigarette. We talked the usual small talk, passing the smoke back and forth as we took in each other's body to build up our interest.
"Finally, I crushed the butt out on one of the ceramic ashtrays made by one of our enterprising students and laid a fast look on Peter to let him know that I was ready to get on with it.
"He stared at me a long time, giving me that fucking double-eyed whammy that gets me right under his evil sway. I got charged up just looking into his eyes, digging on my reflection in the twin mirrors.
"Then I reached out and hooked my hand around the back of his neck, drawing his lips down against mine in a big soul kiss. Our lips parted and we started frenching, our tongues working like two fucking eels, flicking at each other and intertwining. I gaped wide so that he could trail the tip of his tongue over the roof of my mouth, getting a crazy sensation as it danced over the ridges.
"While our mouths were working out, pulling away intermittently to place love bites on each other's neck and ears, our hands reached down and began to explore the familiar flesh of our bodies. I had one arm hooked around his neck to keep his head within the distance of my lips. The other was exploring more interesting areas; running down his side to work at the flesh of his hips and ass; hooking onto his arm to scrape my fingernails against his strong biceps; or down to tease at his long cock, rolling and rubbing it to a bounding hardness-reaching farther down to maul his balls.
"While I made his cock long and his nuts all hot, his hands were doing some pretty fair exploration of their own-massaging at my breasts, making the buds all hard. He had a great way of pushing down on them to make them disappear, then letting them pop out like round pieces of toast fresh from the toaster.
"Then he was hooking an arm around my back to pull our bodies close for a real good rubbing, sort of a nude dry-fuck. And then down to dip into my pie, our gonads separated again, twirling my clit till I ended up biting down on his lips in reaction to his good lovemaking.
"Our throats were humming along with our bodies, saying things that made no sense except when played in harmony with our actions. Things like, 'Ohhhh, baby-shit, I want you in me,' and 'Fuck me, fuck me! Stick your cock up my ass and FUCK ME.' Those could generally be attributed to me. And then, 'Yeah, baby,' and 'That's it, kiddo-watch your speed.' Things that he was laying down. But the only thing that really made any sense at all was what we were doing. You lift it out of the framework, and somehow the timing, the setting, the whole thing gets thrown off. Vocally, about the most down-to-it real things we were saying were 'ooooos,' and 'ahhhhhhs,' and little moaned things.
"But we were building up to the main showdown, running hard for the wire. That's what the whole thing was all about. And our bodies were getting supercharged, the friction between us building up for a final bash at the poles. Like at once we were one ... just flesh together that sort of melds the minds. But humans that we are, that's not quite the case. If there wasn't me, all mother-milked tit and one-way pussy, and him, all prick and balls, magnificent implanter-well, then what would we have? Not something that I know about.
"So Peter slaps my tail to let me know it's time FOR IT. Me drooling out a thin rubber band of saliva as our lips part, all eager for getting to the flip side.
"I flip it over, crouching down on all fours, my face pressed tight to our smock mattress, sucking in breaths of oily leftovers. This leaves my butt waggling up high in the air, my knees spread out as far as they'll go to offer him a nice furry pup tent to drive his dog in.
"'Get it on and let 'er rip, Slim,' I tell him, using one of my nicknames.
"I don't have to wait long for him to jump up and put that red snapper to my hind end. I'd already made sure that it would be ready to come up spitting, from my handiwork I'd done while we were up front, just playing around.
"Now he was kneeling behind me, placing those hot hands of his on my flanks, getting ready to ride. Then it's SLAM-BAM an he'd sunk that dick of his right up my ass.
"We didn't have to fool around as much as before with those preliminaries. No, I'd gotten used to having my ass plowed, and I could get the tissues all ready for it. All he had to do was push once or twice, I'd wince a bit as the fiery ring got jumped through by his tiger, then ... sink it home.
"He started gliding in and out of me, putting all that good meat to me. Right down the line. I was all crumply and going melty behind his hot assault, twitching my hips up in the air as he did the work of priming my ass. I just shouted out a little encouragement, not itself so easy to do under the heavy pressure of Peter's ass-reaming that was sucking the breath out of my sides faster than I could suck it in.
"'FUCK MEEEE, DADDY!' I yelled out.
"Old Peter was flat-out giving my ass one hell of a good screwing. His hands were running up and down my sides as if they knew how hard my engine was running and they were trying to help me pump in some more air to the billows. I just bucked my ass up, and he let it fly. That poker of his felt like a red-hot ramrod on the way in, and like a pair of hot tongs, just pulling my coals out on the return trip.
"My rider was still giving me a good riding. First, he was all crouched down over me, running his chest and head down close to my back like he was riding a thoroughbred for the wire. Then he reared up so that his body was vertical, riding me like a bucking bronc, ramming at my saddle with his long spur, and slapping at my flanks with his hand.
"And I was still digging in the best I could. Shoving my crack back at his face in a sawing motion, sweat dripping from my belly to the smock pile. I tried to paw in for a good grip with my knees and feet, my elbows having given way to his rough ride, but they too were turning to jelly under his steady driving fuck.
"'Oh, baby-that's soooo GOOOOOD,' are about the last words I can remember shouting. Everything else was just running out of me like shit. And making about as much sense. Seems that he was packing my shit so hard that the gas in my guts had no place to go but up. And I was burping out fartwords that didn't sound like anything but what's come out the other end he'd got plugged up.
"'Damn right, it's good!' was what my cowboy shouted down to me. And I felt just about broke, my insides going through dying quivers that were taking over everything. And I could hardly move my lips to moan-it was that good. I mean, shit! It was good!
"Until I gazed out of my half-lidded eyes and saw this figure standing sideways in the doorway. Sort of reeling around, as my vision was cloudy, and then, I started up-
"'PETER!' but he'd seen him, too. He'd slowed the pace and looked over to recognize the figure of one of our students. I had a hard time telling from my position, face spread sideways on the mat.
"'Be right with you, Frankie,' he told the kid. And then I recognized him, too. One of the kids in our class, this thirteen-year-old fucker. Seems he'd either come back looking for one of us, or to try and cop some supplies-never came out just why he'd come back.
"But Peter, who was in total control of the situation, made the mistake of continuing the fuck, rather than breaking it up. It wasn't a mistake then, since I was so close to busting my load that I had to get relief. The shock of seeing Frankie there in the doorway had only smashed my body even closer to getting its rocks off.
"But it was a mistake for later-when the little rat spilled his fucking nose out to his old man. For the moment, Peter just invited him in-was too close to letting go to worry, and probably figured he'd be able to bully the kid into keeping his trap shut.
"But you know what that little rat went and did? I mean, besides squealing later on. He came in, unzipped his fly, flopped his dong out, grabbed it, and started pulling off while he watched us finish our fuck.
"I tried to cool the situation, but I wasn't able to find any words. Just more gas. So, with Peter in control, I was soon not able to run the gears of my mind. I just gave in to the total demand of that cock of his that was giving a steady reaming to my asshole. I think Peter must've been some kind of exhibitionist to let Frankie watch. Whatever it was, he seemed to have renewed vigor as he plowed that shaft to me with a steady plop-plop as his balls slapped against my ass.
"I watched Frankie as best as I could from my strained position, seeing that little fucker jump up and down like a goddamned monkey in heat, jerking his little pecker off as he watched. Looked like he was about to have a heat stroke. But as I felt the powerful thrusts of Peter's cock begin to take me away, my eyes blurred shut and I didn't have to watch that little asshole watch me get my asshole fucked.
"I just felt the good, the last GOOD COME I've had, sweep over me, prompted by the white-hot bullets that Peter's gun drilled up inside me. And I just collapsed in midair, letting my come roll out of me and my ass get reamed to the end-gliding off into some nowhere where I wish I could've stayed forever. 'Cause when I opened my eyes, that fucking Frankie had split, leaving only a splatter of his puny goop on the floor in his retreat. Big transition back to the heavy dues-little bastard blew it for us. I haven't had anything up my ass but my thumb since then."
The disclosure of June and Peter's sexual adventures sent Shockwaves through the small community, bringing down the wrath of the school board. June's parents hastily entered her into a mental institution for treatment, and to try and escape embarrassment. For a time it seemed that they were more concerned with their loss in social esteem, plus the lawsuits brought down upon them, than for the welfare of their daughter. However, the institution to which she was committed soon set up sessions with her parents in an attempt to bridge the gap left between the parents and their daughter.
Peter slipped quietly away from sight, entering the Navy, but the psychiatrist who was assigned to June was soon able to show her parents that she was simply victim to his sexual demands. The anal intercourse, while greatly enjoyed by June, then was more a part of Peter's sexual preferences than hers; she could more readily adapt to other forms of lovemaking than he.
Finishing high school at the private institute, June has since been released with a good bill of health and now attends an out-of-state school that, for now at least, is beyond the reach of her hometown's memory.