Jack Victor - The professor_s rape games

Marcie swung at Paul with her free arm, but Paul grabbed it tightly, and just pulled her all the harder.

Her voice was muted in the warm fall air, as he dragged her across the meadow where the Sunday school children reminded him that there must be a God, and he hoped He wasn't watching, or if He were, that Paul would be forgiven for what he was about to do, and into the warm, sweet-smelling barn.

Even in the barn, Marcie's copper hair glowed as if it had absorbed some of the rays of the sun.

He walked up to her.

"See here, Marcie, I want you to go to the dance with me!" he demanded, shaking her roughly by her shoulders.

"I won't if I don't feel like it."

Paul pushed her back into the pile of hay where she had been so magnificently deflowered only the evening before, and before Marcie could object, or even struggle much, Paul had pulled off her jeans, and was struggling with his own jeans. He kept part of his body on top of the struggling Marcie while she squealed and thrashed under his body.

His anger added strength to Paul's body. He controlled her easily as his hand reached down and he pulled out his huge, thick cock.

He threw his body across Marcie's getting more and more excited by her struggling under him, feeling a sense of power ripple through him such as he had never felt before, and he started to kiss her.

When Marcie bit his lip hard, he merely bit her back. When Marcie slapped him, he hit her back. He became totally unscrupulous, but the more unscrupulous he became, it seemed to him, the more docile Marcie became.

Before long, he had her wrists pinned over her head with one hand, and with the other, he was fumbling with his raging cock. He placed it against her quivering hole, and realized that she was creaming.

He almost bellowed at the thought that he had so aroused her. But this time, Paul was not in a mood to be a gentleman or to content himself with a cheap feel. He was going to go all the way.

And he did. He thrust inward with a strong motion, and felt his cock slip into her well-greased cunt like a knife plunging through lard. The sensation against his sensitive cock flesh was fabulous.

He groaned, and Marcie sighed, and gave up fighting.

"Ohh, Paul…!"

Paul, thrusting violently into Marcie's cunt, wondered who the first guy had been, but he didn't care right now. He laid down the law.

"You're going to the dance with me Friday night, Marcie Blake, or I'm gonna fuck your eyeballs out!"

"Oh, fuck me, Paul. Fuck me."

Paul's muscular buttocks rose and fell in the air.

"Are you going to the dance with me?" he demanded again, his hairy groin slamming with almost brutal strength into Marcie's creaming, ardent, hot cunt.

"Oh, yes, Paul, yes!" she gasped.

Paul brought his mouth down and covered Marcie's. This time, instead of biting him, she sucked his tongue into her mouth, and moaned. Her hips began to respond.

She arched upward, slowly at first, swiveling her hips against Paul's hard-thrusting groin.

Paul forgot that what he was doing was so terrible. It felt so good, and Marcie was so beautiful, as she writhed and moaned in his arms, and all Paul could wonder was why in hell he had waited so long.

Marcie certainly wasn't too young, and she had had some experience. She didn't even have a cherry, and she appeared to be a natural at fucking.

Paul felt a tingle of pleasure coursing up his asshole. It pooled at the nape of his neck, and his hairs, wet with his sweat, curled with his passion.

He ground his cock heavily into Marcie's creaming cunt, feeling the silky-soft smoothness of her cuntal walls.

Her wet, sticky muff, that marvel of fleshy bliss, pressed upward, wetting his hairy groin, matting the hairs, and adding to the hot sensations which coursed through him.

He was almost glad he had got so angry, and pulled her out of her house.

Marcie's arms embraced him, and Paul felt her eager hands moving up and down his back.

He felt her hands move under his loosened waistband, to caress his rippling ass cheeks.

The hot pleasure grew until his balls churned up their heavy load. By the time he shot his first wad into her steaming cunt, her cuntal walls had closed in around his cock, gripping his manhood greedily, tightly.

They came together, rolling all over the sweet hay, and moaning their delight into each other's mouth, glued together as if they were never going to part.

Hill was almost glad to take Molly home. He thought she was adorable, but seeing her, the first little girl he had raped, in the company of the two daughters whom he had wanted more than Molly, and in place of whom he had raped Molly, drove him to distraction.

Disciplined and courteous as he was, he never lost his cheerful demeanor. He played with the children in the afternoon, after church, and then took them for a long walk to the old fashioned General Store which rested on the banks of an old canal on the other side of town.

They came back, hot and tired, sticky with ice cream, and happy.

The Carpenters called about five, and Helen asked her husband if it were all right to invite them to a light supper.

"Of course, darling!"

"Oh goodie! We get a couple more hours together," Debrah had squealed, clapping her hands.

"All of you go up and take tepid showers, and cool off before supper," Mrs. Ames said.

The three girls went up and could be heard squealing in the bathroom. Hill laughed, and shook his head.

"Well, at least they won't be begging to stay up for a few more hours, the way they usually do."

The children actually nodded over supper, which they ate out on the lawn since Indian summer was still with them.

After supper, Molly went home with her parents.

Helen hugged her husband, after the children voluntarily went up to bed, and smiled up at him.

"You were wonderful! I always marvel at your patience with children!"

"It's my profession, remember?" Hill smiled, cupping his wife's beautiful buns, and pressing her muff into his raging hard-on.

Helen and Hill were both exhausted, Hill probably more exhausted emotionally than his wife, because of the emotional travail through which he had been the last two weeks.

"You go to bed, and I'll check on the children," Hill said to his wife.

"Okay, dear. Enjoy your pipe."

Hill took his pipe, and like the classic case of the criminal who has to visit the scene of his first crime, he walked through the thin fringe of wood surrounding the lake, and came out upon the sight of the lake, which was always peaceful.

He hadn't bothered to light his pipe, merely holding it between his teeth. As he came out onto the grassy banks of the lake, he heard whispering. His ears perked up, and a cold sweat ran down his back.

He walked in the direction of the voices.

"But what if he doesn't come? Mom and Dad are going to find out we're not in bed!"

He gasped. There, sitting under a tree in the moonlight, stood his own two sweet daughters.

"I wish it were Daddy, instead," he heard Debrah say.

"Well, me, too, but it won't happen. I mean, Daddy wouldn't do something like that, even though we wish he would."

"I wish I could fuck him. Sometimes I feel jealous of Mommy. She has all the fun."

"No, that's not true. We have fun with him, too."

"But he doesn't fuck us."

He listened to the conversation of his two daughters, absolutely aghast. If they had aroused him, and filled him with lust before, they turned him into a raging bull now.

His two daughters were wishing for his cock as much as he wished for their cunts, and he had to have them!

"Maybe he won't come when there are two of us," Donna suggested.

Debrah sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Wanna do even-odd?"