He put her down on her face on the bed and pushed her legs up so that her knees were tight against her chest. Then he twirled her around on his cock like she weighed a half pound. She was curled up into a ball, facing him now, her eyes wide open and glittering in his power. Her hair was spread out against the tangled sheets like spilled black threads. He put her heels up on his shoulders and supported her little ass on the palms of his hands. She was a very little girl then under his huge strong body. He pulled her up until only her shoulders were braced against the bed and started fucking her with long, hard strokes that nearly knocked the breath out of her when he slammed his balls against the cheeks of her little butt.
She thought he was going to drive that donkey dick of his right up her body and out her mouth. She had never felt so thoroughly penetrated before. He more than filled her on each downward thrust. Her clit was mashed down toward her cunt hole with the force of each inward shag, and her trigger was being stroked in long, forceful pulls as his long dick shafted into her pussy. She felt the power of his hands and each finger as he held her butt up and fucked it. She was a child, utterly helpless before his massive assault. She loved it!
She was rolling her head back and forth on the bed as he fucked her, as if she were trying to say no, but she meant yes. Just then she spotted a glint of light in the corner of the room next to the ceiling. It was the television camera lens, she knew it was!
She was beginning the passionate convulsions of her orgasm as she raised her hand and waved at the camera behind Kris' back. She felt the streams of jizz spraying out of his pulsing prong as she let down her load and blew a kiss to Mary Frances. Hope you had a good show and enjoyed this as much as I am, she thought. Her orgasm was extra good at the thought of sharing it with Miss Ferguson back there in her secret control room.
Mary Frances was busy burning out the motor on her best vibrator when she saw the wicked little girl waving to her. She had the dildo up her cunt and was trying to force the vibrator in, too.
Mary Frances came off in her own shuddering orgasm. She felt the pleasure she knew that the girl was feeling as the massive stud pronged her little cunt, and it released her waves of pleasure in her own body.
She dropped the burnt-out vibrator from her exhausted fingers and flopped back in her chair, breathing hard.
"If that little bitch tells a single soul about my television system and ruins it for me, I'll, I'll…" She could think of no punishment sufficient enough.
Mary Frances was still a little put-off Saturday morning as she sat in her sports car in front of the bus station. Valerie had kept her mouth shut so far, and Miss Ferguson was still debating whether or not to trust her or send her home at the end of the term. She glanced at her watch again, checking on the time for Brant's arrival. Brant, the handsome young sister-raper. She had written him a letter, asking him to come by and check on Belinda.
The heavy bus lumbered up to the small station and stopped at the single covered platform. The passengers filed out after the driver and lined up at the side of the bus to claim their baggage. Brant was easily picked out by his flaming red hair. It was just a shade lighter than Belinda's and hung in thick waves over his ears and the collar of his wind breaker. Mary Frances checked out his figure before signaling to him. He was tall for seventeen years of age and had the very broad shoulders and narrow waist of the natural athlete. He was a surfer, Belinda had said. He walked with the easy grace of a boy who knows how handsome and sexy he is. Mary Frances beeped on the horn and waved to him. He walked over to where she was sitting in the car. He had a snotty little swagger to his walk.
"You're Miss Ferguson?"
"Yes, Brant, nice to meet you. Put your suitcase in behind the seats and let's go."
He stowed the suitcase and then neatly hopped over the door of the car and into the seat next to her. He was as graceful in his movements as a trained gymnast, even landing on his little butt without whomping down on the seat.
Mary Frances thought, he's so graceful in his movement, I wonder if he is gay? No, not from the descriptions of his behavior Belinda gave me. But I'll bet that like most teenage boys he's a little worried about possibly being a fruit. I'll keep that in mind. So damned handsome, skin as flawless as his sister's with a little more tan. Blue eyes, white teeth. Seventeen years old and made it with so many girls he thinks he's God's gift to women. I'm going to fix his little red wagon!
When they got to the school, she took him straight to her office and shut the door. She locked it, too, behind her back.
"Please have a seat, Brant," she said in a polite and firm voice. He sat in the chair in front of her desk while she sat down behind it. He had his arms on the arms of the chair, his large hands dangling at ease, his legs spread wide allowing his full crotch plenty of room. He's very sure of himself, she thought.
"Your sister doesn't know that you are here, Brant."
He raised his eyebrows slightly, "Oh? Why not?"
"We are hoping to use your visit with her as a therapeutic device. She has recovered greatly from what you did to her, but the recovery is far from complete." She kept her voice even and impersonal as if she were discussing a test paper with a student.
His face absolutely drained of color. His legs came together as if to protect his balls, his back straightened up, and his pupils dilated in fear. "She, she told you?" he croaked.
"Oh, yes, I know all about it. I wouldn't have been able to get her as far out of her shell as she is without knowing what had driven her into it."
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, I could tell your parents of course. They have no idea what happened to their daughter, no idea, yet."
"Oh, God! Please don't do that! Belinda never told them. I don't see why you should. Please don't. They'd kill me!"
"What makes you think that you don't deserve killing?"
"I didn't mean to! I was drunk and high on pot! I was so out of it, I didn't even know who she was, I swear!"
"Oh, but I think you knew very well who she was. I think you have wanted to fuck your sister since as long as you can remember! The booze and the dope were just an excuse, just a way of covering up what you really wanted to do, weren't they?"
He hung his head and shook it, moaning, but still denying his intentions. Mary Frances wondered if he was as hung as Belinda had described him. He sure didn't look like such a big stud now. She had said that he was terribly big, monstrously large, and had hurt her wry badly. Of course, Belinda had been a virgin then. How many cocks had she seen hard to know whether her beloved brother was all that big or not?
"You've fucked a lot of girls, haven't you?" she asked. He sat there staring into his lap, unmoving. She slammed her hand down on the desk like a pistol shot. His head snapped up. "The truth, young man, and don't shit around about it, or I'll pick up this phone and call your parents right away!"
Tears were filling his eyes in his agony. He nodded his head.
"When did you start?"
"Fifteen," he mumbled, barely moving his lips.
"Louder!"
"Fifteen."
"That's better. It was good, wasn't it?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"But it wasn't what you wanted, was it?"
His lips trembled. "You're not going to tell my folks, are you?"
"Not unless I have to. You weren't satisfied with the girls you fucked, though, were you? You had your eyes on your little sister all the time. Let me see, she must have been thirteen or fourteen then. Her breasts must have started to grow. You wanted her, didn't you? You wanted to fuck your sister!"
He nodded his head as if he thought the whole world was going to come falling down on his head if he admitted the truth.