The fucking was savage, brutal. Angelo bucked, drove his prick into her hot cunt again and again and again. The head of his cock slammed the end of her cunt. His body ground against her cunt as he raped her.
She clawed his back, spurred him on with her heels, eagerly took everything he was giving her. Her tits were bruised and battered by his weight. The exercise mat felt like sandpaper against her naked back and ass as he rammed his cock into her.
She could barely focus on his sweat-shiny face, his tousled black hair. She loved it. She loved the feel of his cock fucking her cunt, stabbing her tunnel end. She loved the feel of her cut being pulverized. The bruising of her tits was exquisite.
She bucked under him crazily as her lust roared higher and higher and higher. She whined, howled, reached for his heaving ass. She grabbed his ass-cheeks, dug her fingers into the crack and forced one finger into his asshole.
She felt him probe her asshole, bugger her rectum with one finger, then two. He was wrenching her asshole open, stretching it, feeling his cock in her cunt through the wall of her shitter.
She felt his cock fire come into her spasming cunt. Her asshole jerked and clutched at his digging fingers. Jism burst into her pussy, spattered her cunt, then pressured out around his jerking, jetting dick.
She roared to an orgasm as his goo streamed from her cunt and down her ass. Semen greased his buggering fingers and stung her strained asshole. She clutched at him, jammed her finger into his greasy depths to wring the last of his come from his prostate.
Her orgasm flared again and again and again before finally fading to an ache of satisfaction.
For a long time she lay under the teenager with her finger still drilled into his asshole. His fingers were still stretching hers and his cock was shriveling in her cunt.
His fingers left her tail-hole as his cock pulled out of her cunt. He rolled on his back with a soft groan. "Bitch," he muttered.
"I told you," she panted. "I told you, you weren't paralyzed."
"Shit," he wheezed, exhausted.
"You were good, by the way. Very good."
"Thanks," he answered, staring at the ceiling. His chest was heaving. "You miss Jimmy."
"What makes you say that?"
"You always went for him more than for me," Angelo said matter-of-factly.
"He was dying," she said defensively.
"Me, I was just strung up in a rack. Well, you proved I'm not paralyzed."
"Pretty soon you'll be walking without using the bars," she told.
"Kiss my ass," he snorted. "It'll take weeks."
"You could do it right now," she retorted. "If you do, I'll kiss your ass."
"You're kidding!"
"Just try me," she answered quickly. Her heart was beating very hard.
Angelo rolled to his side carefully and stared hard at her. "If I try to walk without the bars, right now, you'll kiss my ass?"
"You try, and I'll kiss your ass," she repeated. She could feel her pulse racing. "You take one step and I'll French your ass. You take two steps and I'll French your ass and suck your cock."
"Three steps?"
"Three steps and you can do anything you want," she told him.
"Fuck your ass?"
"Anything," she whispered. Her cunt was flooding.
Angelo struggled to sit up. He reached for the ends of the bars. Lorraine held her breath. It was actually happening. He was going to try, and, at the very least, that meant she was going to have to kiss his ass. She was frightened, and the fear added to her lust.
Angelo dragged himself to his knees, got one foot under himself. His back to her, he clutched at the ends of the parallel bars. His ass looked very pale, the crack dark and hairy. She wondered how clean he was.
With a powerful heave, Angelo pulled himself to his feet. He teetered as he steadied himself. He still had his back to her. His feet were spread. She could see his cock and balls hanging down between his hairy thighs. He was sweating with the strain.
Another lurch, and he had turned to face her. He was still gripping the bars. He towered over her. His cock was half hard. His balls were drawn up into his groin.
Lying on her back, her knees bent, her legs spread, her cunt a hot gash of red in her black bush, she looked up at him.
"You're in my way," he grunted.
Quickly, she rolled to one side.
Swaying slightly, he cautiously lifted one hand from the bars. He teetered precariously. He steadied himself with less and less of his other hand, finally just the fingertips, and then carefully drew the hand off the wooden rail.
Lorraine was holding her breath. She heard voices and footsteps in the corridor, and wondered how much time had passed. She had made the physical therapist promise her an hour alone with Angelo. How much of the hour was gone?
Angelo slid one foot forward jerkily, six inches, then a foot, and planted it firmly. He swayed precariously. Lorraine braced herself to catch him. Then he steadied.
"One," he grunted.
"One," she agreed. She had to French his ass.
He swayed again, and dragged the other foot forward.
"Two," she whispered.
Angelo was grinning now. Rivers of sweat were streaming down his naked body. His prick was limp because of his concentration on walking. He had his weight spread evenly now.
One more step, Lorraine reminded herself, and she was committed to letting him fuck her ass with his cock, and then cleaning his cock with her mouth. She was on fire with lust, anticipation, hope, and terror.
His foot dragged forward, past the planted one.
He turned and grinned down at her triumphantly. Then his knees gave way and he began to fall. Desperately, Lorraine threw herself forward. Her muscles and joints cracked as he hit her. He crashed down on her, smashing the breath out of her. His steel neck brace bruised her tits as it ground into them. Her tits blazed with agony.
"Made it, lady," Angelo grunted as he clung to her.
"You made it," she repeated.
"You promised."
"I promised," she agreed. She was burning up inside.
"Just let me catch my breath," he panted.
"We don't have much time," she told him. How much time was left?
"You aren't getting out of it that way," he growled.
"I'm not trying to. But the therapist only promised me an hour."
Angelo rolled to his back. "Shit, that's almost gone. You knew it would be, damn it. You knew it."
"I didn't," she insisted. "Honest, I didn't. I'll do it, I promise I'll do it. Since we don't have time now, I'll do it tonight, in your room.
"Help me," he grunted. "Help me get dressed, damn it."
She helped him up, and steadied him as he made his way back down the bars to the wheelchair. She managed to get him into his pajamas and robe.
She grabbed her dress, yanked it on and buttoned it, covered her naked, sweating body. The thin material stuck to her tits and her belly.
"Tonight. I promise," she panted. "You've had enough for one morning, anyway."
"Don't forget," he snapped. "Don't forget."
She unlocked the door. "I won't forget. I promise."
The physical therapist came in and looked from Lorraine to Angelo. The teenager was in his chair at the end of the bars. The therapist saw the sweat on both of them. "You two been working hard?" he asked.
"He did it," Lorraine announced. "And he'll do it again tomorrow."
"How'd you manage it?" the therapist asked.
"Just a mutter of supplying the right motivation," she answered, slipping past him.
"See you tonight," Angelo said as she left.
Lorraine shivered as come trickled down the insides of her naked thighs.
CHAPTER TWELVE
As she sat at the station that night, Lorraine didn't even try to do any work. She was going to do it, going to do what she had promised she wanted to. The thought sickened her. But, she wanted to.
As the hands of the clock ground their way inevitably around toward her break time, she got hotter and hotter and hotter.