Tom had never heard Connie so angry. In the last three days she had treated him so nicely, so gently, showing him all the perverted ropes about fucking and sucking. And now she was acting like some… some bitch in heat.
"All right. I'll do it," Tom said.
"Then do it. Fuck my ass!"
Tom got up from his kneeling position, and Connie's hand no longer could hold onto his moving-away prick. Tom grabbed his cock, steadied it. Jesus, the juice was oozing from his cock-head already. He bent his knees, aimed the head of his dribbling cock at the target of her asshole.
Connie waited eagerly for Tom to shove his cock into her ass. Hell, the flies were buzzing around her face, but at least the stench of hot shit was moving downwind from her. She couldn't complain – she had gotten more cock action out of this kid than half of Weedville's finest male citizens.
What the hell was taking him so long?
Her question was answered when she felt Tom's prick lunging at her asshole, stabbing her butt-cheeks, the top edge of her wet cunt, fucking everywhere but in her asshole.
Shit.
Connie reached back and grabbed Tom's cock.
"Goddamn, Tom! Don't just start shoving and pushing. Put your cock-head up against my asshole, then shove! Do I have to do everything for you!"
Tom was embarrassed. Connie had always done everything for him. She was the one who always guided his prick into her mouth or cunt, but this ass-fucking was something new to him.
She was too scared to. She was dreading the day that she might discover Vance Manning had some other dubious motivation for becoming intimately involved with her. No, she dared not question what he saw in her. It would be best to let things go, let whatever would happen.
Besides, she was too busy now with her classroom of thirteen in all. The fourteenth, Tom Trimble, was absent today. Elvira wondered what the problem was. He had told her last Tuesday that he was really looking forward to today's outing at Lake Weed.
Elvira shrugged her shoulders as she got onto the bus.
Marcia Moresby was getting on ahead of her, and Elvira noticed how her saucy ass sashayed beneath her mini-skirt.
God! She wasn't wearing any panties!
Elvira blushed, glanced away, almost stumbled against Eddie Beasly, a stubble chinned boy who had flunked eighth grade for the last three years.
"Sorry I'm late, Miss Schellenberg," Eddie said in a husky voice, catching a glimpse of Marcia's ass-cheeks. "Just got out of the head. Boy, Coach Crowley was in the crapper again. Christ, it smelled like a dead moose in there."
"Eddie Beasly!"
Eddie laughed; then before Miss Schellenberg could tell him to mind his manners, he was into the bus, following Marcia's spicy-looking ass towards the back.
Elvira shook her head. She just didn't know about what the hell was happening to the younger generation these days. Why couldn't they be more like Vance Manning? Respectable, disciplined, orderly.
Elvira got her frail body into gear and ascended the steps of the bus. She kneeled on the driver's seat and clapped her hands for attention.
"Children! Children, let's have it quiet."
"I ain't no child," said a voice two bench seats away from Elvira.
"Now, Jordan Worthington, what would your father say if he heard you talking like that to me?"
"He'd probably whip your ass with a Bible!" Eddie hollered from the back of the bus as his hand sneaked into Marcia Moresby's blouse while the girl giggled beside him.
Elvira's class tittered and guffawed. Why was it, Elvira wondered, that these brats were always tittering and giggling all the time?
Elvira clapped her hands again. "Now, it'll only be about a twenty-minute ride. So let's be so quiet that we can hear a pin dropping in the back of the bus."
"Oh, shit," Johnny Locker mumbled to Norman Wizer. "Christ, you'd think Miss Schellenberg was teaching nursery school."
"How quiet, Miss Schellenberg?" Eddie asked loudly from the back of the bus. His hand was full of Marcia's right tit, and the girl had stopped giggling long ago. She was now moaning and groaning, feeling her nipple rise against Eddie's caressing hand. She couldn't believe how hot she was, considering that Eddie had fucked her last night.
"So quiet you can hear a pin drop," Elvira repeated in exasperation.
"Shut up, everyone!" Eddie shouted menacingly. Marcia tried to moan in soft whispers, but, Christ, Eddie's hand really had a grip on her nipple!
Everyone was quiet, including an amazed but thankful Elvira.
She turned in her seat and was just about ready to start up the ten-year-old bus when Eddie failed – one of those gas bombs that only Eddie Beasly could specialize in, the kind of tear-rendering fart that he had really saved up for a special occasion.
Elvira glanced into the rear-view mirror. Her mouth dropped. She refused to believe that anybody could be that rude, that uncouth. She had never heard of anybody doing such a nasty thing!
The class tittered, Elvira sparked the engine to life, and Eddie went back to playing with Marcia's tits.
Tom loved nature, and now he was enjoying one of nature's beautiful sights – Lake Weed as seen between the upraised cheeks of Connie Ryan's ass as she kneeled on all fours on the blanket. His balls began to quiver, his prick was being caressed by the cool autumn air and the warmth of Connie's hand as she fondled his prick with her arm thrusting back between her splayed legs.
It was a fantastic view.
Never mind that the lake water was turning brackish because the town of Weedville used it as a combination sewer and reservoir; no matter that the mosquitoes – the hardy ones who had lived through the DDT-treated lake – were stinging his naked ass; and it was of no consequence to Tom that the air smelled like yesterday's washed-out hog-shit.
Tom was absolutely stunned by the beauty of Connie Ryan's upturned ass as she presented him an unobstructed view of her cunt and asshole; and when he bent lower, he could see her dangling tits and smiling face beyond the plane of her belly.
Her hand was fondling his erection, his hard prick ready to burst with cum in the palm of her hand. Tom had lost count of the number of times her hand had been on his prick since last Saturday night.
Sunday, after church, he had run by Connie's.
Exciting, yes – but it sure wasn't some ordinary way for a guy to get his rocks off.
Connie pulled his prick forward, until the knob nudged her shitter. She tried to relax as she said, "Now shove your Goddamn cock up my ass!"
Tom obeyed, his hips lurching forward and his prick screeching into Connie's tight ass.
"Aaaiiiieeee!!" Connie screamed, her voice carrying beyond the lake.
Tom stopped his forward fucking motion. Christ, he had never fucked anything so tight! His cock was almost bent at a right angle, half the shaft buried into the gristly grip of Connie's asshole. Jesus, if his cock hurt him so much, how the bell was Connie going to be able to endure the rest of his prick? Shit, how the hell was he going to get all that prick into her asshole?
Connie moaned. Tom's lunge had shoved her to the far edge of the blanket where she could see a trail of ants as they marched across a corner of the quilt, carrying bits and pieces of a dead frog.
Shit, the kid had really shoved hard. Connie couldn't believe it when she felt how much cock was remaining outside of her asshole. Was it that long since she had had her ass reamed out by a cock? Christ, Connie couldn't even remember the last guy who had fucked her ass – oh, yeah, it had been Coach Crowley last Wednesday.
"Tom, reach down and run your fingers through my cunt."
"What did you say?"