Ron Taylor: Hot for dad

Sibyl came closer, transfixed with horror. She knew that such things happened between men and women – married men and women, of course – in real life. The nuns at St. Ursula's had explained last term in hygiene that it was even permissible in marriage, by church law, if it were not used as a birth control technique. But Sibyl had never grasped the vivid reality of the act of oral sex until this very moment, and she was shocked. Her face reddened with a massive blush, and she felt numb from head to toe.

Neither of the room's occupants paid any attention to her, it seemed. The boy's eyes were closed and he was calling Betsy some nasty names while encouraging her to keep doing what she was doing. Sibyl didn't use words like that in her speech or thoughts, and she tried to block them out of her mind.

Betsy ignored the newcomer, too. Her cheeks were pulled in to an incredible degree of concavity, Sibyl thought, and her eyes were closed as if she were in prayer. Oh, that was obscene! And so was this! She should close her own eyes, or at least turn her head away so she'd not have to look. Instead, she found herself taking another step toward the bed, then still another, so that the action she watched grew ever sharper and clearer before her wide green eyes.

Surely this wasn't part of a candy striper's normal duties. If it were, Sibyl was quitting at once! Oh, no! she thought. Dr. Waverly's card hung from the hall side of the door. What if he were on his way back? What if he came in and saw this filthy scene in progress? She leaned forward, her hands jerking at Betsy's shoulder.

"Stop it!" she hissed. "For heaven's sake, stop it!"

Betsy lurched and wobbled as Sibyl pulled at her, and in the process of that lurching and wobbling, Terry's cock jumped from her tight sucking mouth. Sibyl saw it – really saw it – for the first time, and she was shocked out of her shoes. Her first sight of the sex-ready male instrument displayed a long, red extension of flesh, so hard she was positive the boy must have been in sheer agony. It was soaking wet from Betsy's mouth, and the skin looked raw and painful as the dick jerked in mid-air. Sibyl fought the impulse to scream, but her hands went slack on Betsy's shoulder, allowing the blonde candy striper to reach for Terry's cock.

Betsy's sucking had reached the point of no return as far as Terry was concerned. His face contorted with the need to blow his nuts and he whined in a little boyish voice that would have been comic in any other setting. And when Betsy grabbed his prick with both hands, steering it toward her mouth, his groan dropped a full octave in pitch. "Unh-unh-unh!" he grunted, letting his cum fly where it would.

The first squirt of jism from the tip of Terry's cock took Sibyl in virginal surprise. She saw it burst forth, she could even see that the boy's pecker was momentarily pointing in her direction as Betsy fought to re-establish it in her mouth. But Sibyl couldn't move, not even when a huge, steaming gob of semen splashed her pinafore apron midway between the dainty twin thrust of her tits. She looked down in stunned horror as the sticky cream began to ooze in a viscous course down the front of her candy-striped apron, and the need to cry out in disgust was a burning impulse inside her muted throat.

The stuff oft her starched, clean pinafore – it had come from the patient's penis – it reminded her of – ugh! – snot. And there was a strange, almost fishy odor drifting toward her nostrils. An odor which hadn't been there before. She was going to be sick. Right here.

Sibyl looked toward the bed. Now she really felt sick.

Betsy was bent over the patient's midsection, and once again she had his thing in her mouth. Just the end of it, this time, and her hand flew up and down the exposed red shaft. Her cheeks sucked in, then puffed out, like a bellows in use, and Sibyl knew that the pretty blonde candy striper was allowing more of this hideous male juice to spurt into her mouth. Oh, God, how could she? Even the fumes of the stray burst which had splattered Sibyl's apron made the red-headed girl's brain woozy. Sibyl made a fist and covered her lips with it, as if she were trying not to vomit.

"C'mon, you little slut," Terry chanted wildly. "Suck it all up! Gargle with my jism." He thrashed as much as his traction would allow, which wasn't much, and Betsy's head swayed from side to side as she permitted his dick to empty itself into her mouth. She hummed as she accepted his offering, and the vibrato of her humming seemed to intensify the facial reactions Terry made while squirting. He panted like a weary dog and Sibyl could see beads of sweat rolling across his forehead.

Betsy raised her head from the already deflating cock she had sucked to completion. Her lips were glossy, both from the lipstick and from stray droplets of cum which had streaked across them, and she curled them into a kittenish smile. Sibyl couldn't understand the smile. If anyone had forced her to perform such a shocking act, she'd be green with nausea and revulsion.

Terry groaned and panted still, rocking in his traces. His cock was wilted to a small noodle, a stray drop of watery cream seeping from its tip and falling to the sheet on which he lay. Sibyl was astonished at how much the boy's member had shrunk in the space of only a few seconds.

Betsy slid up the bed, touching Terry's face with her cummy fingers. To Sibyl, the blonde girl's cheeks looked slightly swollen, and her lips seemed to be too firmly set. Terry recoiled when Betsy stroked his mouth with one sticky digit. "Don't do that," he grimaced, but he couldn't very well move out of her way, and he had no real defense when she seized the initiative and pushed her middle finger into his mouth. It muffled his enunciation of "that", and he began to sputter in powerless upset. Betsy used both hands then, prying his lips open and lowering her face. She pressed her mouth upon his and ground against him, purring as she kissed Terry.

She hadn't swallowed his jizz. It sloshed inside Betsy's mouth, for she had realized even as he squirted that this would be the sweetest revenge for what Terry owed her. And she solicited her revenge now. She opened her mouth as they kissed, and she gave him back his cum. He'd gushed it into her mourn, a thick, stringy, sticky load, several days' backlog, and Betsy let it pour from her mouth to his.

Terry gasped and sputtered and choked. His face cringed beneath Betsy's, but the girl kept her mouth in place a long, long time. When she raised it at last, Terry's lips and flopping tongue were white and sticky with the cream she'd returned. "You cunt," he coughed, a thin rivulet of jism spilling from the corner of his mouth. "You rotten lousy bitch of a cunt! I think I'm gonna be sick! I'm gonna puke!"

"Nonsense," Betsy asserted stoutly. "It isn't the tastiest brand on the market, but it won't hurt you. I've swallowed buckets in my time. Besides, lover, I didn't want to run away with anything that belonged to you." She took a tissue from the pocket of her pinafore, wiped her lips daintily, and turned to go. "Try gargling it, big stuff," she added spitefully over her shoulder.

"I think my apron is ruined," Sibyl said disconsolately, holding it at arm's length. The squirt of cum had flowed down the front of her pinafore and was nearly dry now, with a definite, ugly brown stain in its wake.

"Oh, maybe," Betsy agreed. They were in the basement lounge for student nurses, and no one else was around. Betsy went to the coffee pot, half-filled a paper cup, then spilled the hot contents on Sibyl's apron, obliterating the cum stain. "If anyone asks, tell them you spilled your coffee. Besides, there are hundreds of pinafores around."

That seemed to clinch it. Sibyl poured herself a cup of coffee, sipped it, then turned to her nonchalant blonde co-worker, who was buffing her nails. "How could you – how could you do that?" Sibyl asked suddenly, squeezing the paper cup so fiercely it almost crumpled in her hand.