“Hurry baby!” Angel hissed, and wrapped her hotly wiggling body around him, a dark serpent striking at his crotch with the furry little cave between her polished thighs. She was avid and she was clawing him like some feral cat, raking his back and pounding his ass hard with her heels.
He got it buried into that whirl pooling pussy, got it shoved to the balls inside that juicy box, but not much more. She bit his throat and groaned, “Oh daddy! Oh wow-man, I’m coming, coming! Uh! Uh-uh-uh! Oh man-you’re tearing up my pussy. Oh, it’s so good, so GOOD.”
Then he went off. His cockhead vibrated like a plucked guitar string, and the semen came rushing through with a roar, a hissing stream of come that showered her clinging vagina with its boiling cream, with the sticky richness of a man’s inner core. His balls leaped against her flexing asshole, and Dallas wallowed in the grasp of her strong young legs.
Angel lifted her face, and her mouth was hot, sucking in his tongue and raking teeth across his. He could barely breathe, for she drank his wind as her pussy was gulping his semen. She moaned into his mouth, tasting of sweet wildfires, flavored by the spices of her honest carnality.
“Man, oh man,” Joey breathed in awe. “That was some fine fuck, you guys. I thought you were going to screw yourselves right on down through the floor.”
Dallas closed his eyes and smiled, melting in the girl’s sultry embrace.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mr. Kingston pursed his thin ups, and his eyeglasses flashed as he tilted back his head and peered up at Dallas from behind the big desk.
“You’re bringing disgrace upon the school, Bradburn. Why won’t you have the common decency to resign, and let the rest of your fellow teachers do their usual quiet jobs?”
Dallas sat down without being asked. All that fucking was taking it out of him; he had probably lost three or four pounds since he began swinging with the kids in his class. It was a hell of a way to go, he thought; maybe weight watchers or fatties anonymous might be interested in the method.
He said, “Mr. Kingston, in this country screwed up as some parts of it may be-a man is still presumed to be innocent until proven guilty. I haven’t been brought to trial.”
The principal rubbed his fingertips together. “I can plainly see the results of our brawling on your face.”
Patiently, Dallas said, “The other guys did the attacking; I defended myself.
And I’ll prove it in court.”
Kingston’s eyes flickered. “Can you? That remains to be seen, but all this scandal, the police cars circling the school, parents calling me and demanding-yes, demanding that you be removed.”
“Easter vacation is coming up,” Dallas said. “Things will have a chance to cool off by the time it’s over. I’m not enjoying this either, you know. No more than I did that little episode with the coach.”
Kingston looked down at his hands. “Mr. Parnell exceeded his instructions, I would say. If ever he received any. Then you still stubbornly refuse to leave us, and clear the school’s good name!”
“You called it,” Dallas said. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a class.”
“Perhaps,” the principal said. “I understand there is a high rate of absenteeism this morning.”
As Dallas crossed through the secretary’s office, he heard the drums, and the clash of cymbals. Above the sudden noise rose the sound of chanting, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. He moved down the hail and opened a window at its end.
Below in the schoolyard, the kids were marching-two or three hundred of them, he thought, and more people running from all directions, to join the parade.
The march wasn’t going anywhere, just around and around, but it was getting louder by the second.
“Let him alone!” they chanted. “Let him alone! Don’t hassle Mr. Blackburn!
Let-him-alone!”
He grinned down at them, and they yelled louder, their shouts and the roar of the band instruments echoing among the buildings, bringing heads popping out of second and third story windows.
They waved signs, crudely and hastily lettered signs that were an integral part of picketing, of demonstrations. They chanted and banged their drums and clashed the cymbals ad waved their signs, and of course nobody heard the bell ringing for homeroom classes.
“We dig Mr. Bradburn,” one sign read, and another said, “Mr. Bradburn is groovy,” and yet another announced. “Be fair to hair!”
Dallas felt good. He looked down upon the eddying, yelling kids, and he felt pretty wonderful. They were backing him up, standing behind him in his fight to retain his individuality, and they didn’t mind raising a little hell to help him. They were great kids.
He turned from the window and confronted the livid face of Burdett Kingston.
The principal looked as if he might have a stroke, and Dallas thought that wasn’t such a bad idea, either. Kingston was spluttering, trying to say something, but the noise was too great to hear what it might be. Dallas smiled and shrugged and walked on to his classroom, where his own group of students would be, when they decided to wrap up the demonstration outside.
Behind his own desk, Dallas leaned back and clasped his hands behind his head.
Would the newspapers and the local radio stations make as much of this uproar as they had of his bust? Even if they didn’t, the word would spread all over town, and though he’d had no hand in this, he was getting in some licks of his own.
Looking at the ceiling, he was relaxed and loose. The junior grade riot outside didn’t seem all that important, when compared to the freedom, the ultimate sharing, that the kids had made him a part of the night before.
Fucking four sweet and lovely girls, all in a row; that had been something to remember for the rest of his life, no matter what happened otherwise. Four beautiful teenage kids, who knew more tricks about screwing than he had ever thought about-or taken the time to learn. Dallas thought about a class in copulation, and smiled dreamily; his girls had already graduated cum laude, and were well qualified to teach.
He had sat back for a little while, after throwing his first foaming load into the devouring pussy of the black girl, Angel. It gave him a chance to watch the boys stick them too. And the fucking turned into a game of round robin that brought his own well-used cock into a state of erection.
The boys lined up-Joe Nottingham first in line, followed by Marty Brooke and Eric Fairmont. Joey kneeled between the sleek legs of Kathy, and prodded the shining black head of his long, slim cock into the welcoming red hair of her wet pussy. TI others waited their turn to pass through the lineup of three wiggling girls impatient for more screwing.
When the black boy had taken a few thrusts into the hotly squirming body of Kathy Collins, he pulled out his glistening cock and moved over to Blythe Jackson, slipping the knob of his shaft easily into her eager, silvered box.
Marty Brooke took his place between the shapely thighs, pushed his chubby prick into, the slot Joey had just stroked. There were two couples fucking then, and Dallas watched them, seeing the humping of the dark ass as Joey fed the meat to slim and willowy Blythe, while her legs lifted to ensnare his body, pale white legs on black skin.
Lean and long, Marty folded himself over the small form of Kathy, slipping the cock to her. She hiked her trim ass and took the prick into her narrow snatch, murmuring endearments to her new lover, to the third man who had been between those luscious thighs within a matter of minutes.
Blythe was complaining, and Joey was disengaging from the grasp of her highly trained cunt, only to move over and be greeted by the velvet legs of Angel Matthews. There it was black upon active black, velvet upon velvet, and Dallas saw they flicked well together.