Jack Victor - The professor_s rape games

Beneath his body, it was not Anita's tits that rubbed lustfully against his sweating chest. It was Debrah's chest.

And it was Donna's sweet cunt which he was dipping his wick into. He could feel the sweet, thick honey of Anita's desire flowing downward, greasing his cock. He moved it in and out of her pussy faster and faster as his passion rose, wanting to feel her come beneath him, wanting to feel his daughters surrender to his hot, evil lust.

His breathing got heavier. It rasped harshly in his lust-constricted throat. His buttocks rose and fell lustfully driving his cock deeper and deeper into the little girl's ardent cunt.

Her lovely legs wrapped around his waist only added fuel to the wild fire which had possessed his loins.

As he fucked Anita faster and faster, he thought more and more intensely of his daughters. He had to have them! Had to dip his wick deeply into their little honey pots!

He fucked Anita more and more furiously. He felt the girl stiffen and then tremble under his hard-humping body. He pressed his mouth tightly to hers, to prevent the rutting noises from getting too loud, as the little girl started to come.

She writhed wildly, furiously under his hard-humping body.

He started to groan into her mouth, and his deep-throated groan was counterpointed by the high-pitched squeal of Anita, as she started to come violently.

Her climax peaked, and her body writhed wildly.

Hill felt her cuntal muscles gripping at his cock, felt her almost sucking the juices out of his balls.

His balls slapped wetly against her writhing ass, as they contracted, and spewed up their heavy load of scum.

He started to spew his heavy load into her. He felt as if he were dipping his wick into a boiling cauldron, so hot did Anita become. Their saliva mingled in the wild, prolonged kiss that glued their mouths together.

Hill's humping motions rocked Anita's body back and forth, as he slammed into her furiously, thinking the whole while that it was his daughters' cunts he was ramming into.

His balls spewed up wad after wad of hot, steaming jizz, deep into Anita's cunt, and then his body collapsed heavily on top of her quivering one.

She suddenly felt so frail beneath his heavy, adult body. He felt a great surge of tenderness ripple through him. His cock still throbbed, still unsatiated in her quivering quim.

He caressed her shiny red hair for awhile. She was quite still, her face flushed with the passion she had just experienced. He pulled his blood-stained cock out of the little girl's cunt and looked at her carefully.

She was lost in post-coital bliss. A faint smile flickered across her face. Hill swiftly put his clothes on, and left her.

Anita roused herself after awhile, coming-to enough to recognize that the man was gone. She removed the blindfold and put on her own clothes with trembling fingers.

She wondered if she sat where she was, for the rest of the day, if he would come back. She felt absolutely marvelous!

She sat where she was for awhile, savoring the warm tingling feelings in her cunt. The warm fabulous sensations did not go away. It stayed as she got up and walked through the quiet Sunday streets. She felt slightly unhinged.

She went into her house, and was met by her brother Paul.

"Oh, Paul," she said, sensing another discussion along the order of the one they'd been having for a week. "Go away! I don't want to talk to you now."

"But you gotta! Even Marcie's mad at me, and I thought we were going steady."

"I don't care," Anita said, heading toward the staircase, to go to her room. She wanted to masturbate.

"But I do!" Paul said, grabbing his sister's arm.

"Let me go. I don't want to talk to you!" Anita squealed.

"Children!" they heard from their parents' bedroom. Their mother and father liked to lie in bed till late, reading the Sunday papers together.

"No!" Paul whispered. "I won't let you go until you tell me what's happening. How come all you girls couldn't get enough of us, and now you avoid us like the plague?"

"Ma! Dad! Paul is picking on me! He's squeezing my arm!"

Mr. Lewis, a portly, dignified-looking man appeared suddenly at the head of the stairs. He pulled his glasses off, and looked sternly down at his son.

"What is the meaning of this, son? A gentleman never molests a lady."

"I want her to answer a question for me!"

"I answered it already!"

"No you didn't!" Paul screamed. "How come Marcie won't go to the dance with me?"

"Ask Marcie!" Anita spat, pulling away from her brother's arm. She stormed up the stairs and into her father's arms.

"Young man, that's all the answer you need. If you have a problem, you go to Marcie with it."

"But it's a conspiracy!"

Anita clucked her tongue in annoyance.

"You're silly, Paul," she said mildly. "There is no conspiracy at all against the boys at Willow Hill. You're just all such babies."

"Why are we babies?" Paul retorted.

"You hang out together, and you titter when the girls pass by on the street or in the corridors, instead of just plain saying hello. And all of us have always had to ask you for – for dates," Anita said, faltering on the real word, of which Paul was aware.

"Who needs it? That's kid's stuff."

"Humph! I've been trying to tell him that for two years now, Anita," her father said approvingly. He looked down at his son, over the eyeglasses which he had replaced.

There was a twinkle of hearty amusement in his eyes.

"Faint heart ne'er won fair lady, son."

The glint in Paul's eye was absolutely searing. He clenched his fist, looking up at his sister, cuddled in her father's arms, smiling smugly down at him, and then at his father with that bemused twinkle in his scholarly eyes.

"Argggh!" the young man growled. He turned on his heel, and rushed out of the house. Through the lovely cut-glass fan light which surrounded the mahogany door, Anita and her father watched him storming in the direction of Marcie's farm.

"Well, there's one young lady I suspect is going to be bowled over!"

Anita giggled, and reached up to kiss her father's stubbly cheek.

"You're wonderful, Daddy."

"I hope your young beau sees the light soon, too!" Mr. Lewis said, hugging his daughter, and heading back toward the peace and quiet of his bedroom, and his wife. He turned at the door.

"I like that young boy, Jack, ehh?"

"John, Daddy. He doesn't like to be called Jack." Anita blushed.

Paul stormed along the quiet Sunday road. In a meadow just before he came to the large spread of the Blake farm, he saw a group of Sunday school children picking flowers.

He walked up to the large red farmhouse, and knocked loudly on the front door, using the old-fashioned brass knocker, which was a lion's head with a ring through its nose.

"Yes, dear?" Mrs. Blake said, coming to the door, and looking at the young man, noting his flushed face.

"I-I wanted to speak to Marcie, ma'am," the boy said.

A faint hint of smile crossed the sweet woman's face. "Just a moment and I'll call her for you."

Through the opened door, he heard Mrs. Blake calling Marcie.

His heart beat faster when he heard her answer, and then heard her footsteps coming down the long, oaken floor of the front entrance.

She saw Paul and she frowned, and made a rush at the door, her fists clenched at her sides.

"What are you doing here?" she exclaimed.

"Marcie, do be gentle, dear. It never hurts."

Marcie glared at her mother, and then stepped closer to Paul. Paul felt his cock throbbing in his jeans, and a very evil thought entered his mind on this quiet Sunday two hours before church time.

"I want to talk to you now!" he said.

"Well, I don't want to talk to you."

Paul, damming Marcie, damning her mother, who watched astonished and amused at the same time, stepped into the hallway, and grabbed Marcie by the wrist, and dragged her through the door and down the steps.