"Your prick is so big," Miss Turner proclaimed the obvious. "What have you got for lubrication? A grown woman couldn't take this one without something – and, remember, despite her advanced ways, Robin is still a child."
"Catsup!" the child in question interrupted with youthful enthusiasm. "Mr. Chinga brought back tons of catsup for his girl friend's burgers and fries. You can smear it all over his cock and my butt and everything will be groovy."
"Unnnnh, it's such a disgusting idea," the teacher made a show of screwing up her pretty face. "But I can't resist it."
"Goodie!" Robin whooped. "I'll get the catsup out of the sack while you keep getting acquainted with Mr. Chinga's cock."
She was back in a minute with a whole handful of individual plastic pouches of catsup. While Miss Turner slowly stroked Chinga's prick, and kissed the head, Robin gleefully ripped the top off packet after packet of fast-food catsup with her gnashing teeth.
"There, all finished," she finally announced. "Stop playing with the dude's pecker and get busy greasing my ass. God, I'm hotter for a prick in my butt than I was that day down in the boiler room with you and Willie the janitor and that grape jelly from the sandwich in my lunch we used to grease his big, black cock."
Miss Turner left Chinga's cock and grabbed a fistful of the scarlet drooling catsup packets. With Robin now kneeling on all fours in front of her, opening her narrow flanks like an immature bitch in heat, it was only natural for Miss Turner to begin spreading the red goop in the crack of the little girl's ass.
"Get it inside my hole," Robin directed. "Get it way down deep so he can slip his cock in all the way. I want to really feel this."
Miss Turner stuck one, then two, fingers inside the child's tight anus, using them as prongs to push in a clotted glob of catsup. When she had the digits in past the second knuckle, she began wriggling them.
"Mmmmmmm," Robin cooed, "that feels good. The catsup is so wet and runny. Now do his cock."
Transferring her attention back to Chinga's twitching dong, Miss Turner began pouring the contents of packet after packet along its expanse. By the time she had emptied them all, his cock was dripping with catsup.
He was ready to go, but Miss Turner delayed him long enough to rub some of the gloppy moisture into the sensitive penile skin. There must have been a little hot sauce mixed in because after about a minute of rubbing he complained his cock was burning up.
"When you're using catsup for fuck-grease, I guess that means you're ready," Miss Turner decided. "Okay, follow me on your knees while I guide your prick to her asshole."
As I watched every move, they completed the maneuver. Now the head of Chinga's cock was actually nestled between the cheeks of the girl's ass, dripping red goo. When Miss Turner centered his phallic tip in the puckering rim of Robin's anus all he had to do was buck his pelvis to achieve penetration.
"Go ahead and fuck her," Miss Turner turned him loose. "All systems are go."
"Oooooomph," he grunted as he cracked his loins forward. His cock jabbed like a dagger.
Transfixed, I watched the knotty head somehow enter that tight little hole. Catsup splurted out from the sides as Chinga plugged her butt with at least two inches of thick dick.
"Now, work it in slowly," the teacher advised. "The child can't take sudden thrusts from here on in. If you want to fuck her to the balls, you'll have to do it gently."
Knowing Chinga the way I did, that seemed almost an impossibility. However, to my surprise, he seemed as sappy as a teenager in love. The idea of fucking this little girl in the ass with her school teacher helping had really gotten to him.
The first time he'd pronged me in the ass he'd used all the restraint of Godzilla with a hard-on. However, with little Robin he was a pussycat, jiggling his prick in her ass a bit at a time. Once, incredibly, he even apologized for his dick being so hard.
I was starting to wonder if I approved of this development. Chinga needed to be wild and irrational and mean if we were going to survive on the run. His anger was his driving force – the thing that gave him his identity. If he was tamed his charisma would be lost. God knows he wasn't perfect, but I cherished him as my barbarian. I didn't want to lose his fierceness to some ten-year-old on the make.
"She's laughing at you, Chinga!" I bolted straight up in bed and hissed. "They're trying to wear you out so they can escape!"
I don't know to this day why the words came out that way. I had surprised myself with my powerful attachment to Chinga. Only a couple of hours before I had been considering throwing in with the kids and the teacher and planning an escape from his irrational tyranny.
I liked the kids and Miss Turner a lot. But now I realized that I couldn't permit them to turn out to be the instruments that would lead me back into the constipation of the real world.
If went back with them, I was sure I could beat any rap. They would readily testify I was a hostage and innocent of any wrongdoing. The only problem was that I loved the thrill of being guilty.
I hated to do it, but I had to cut them loose. I felt like I was turning my back on my own kids but I was forced to do it. When the chips were down, my future was with Chinga.
So I had to make the bastard mad as hell to turn him into his old, reliable psychotic self.
Of course, by now, all three of them were looking at me. I'd put quite a damper on their little party.
"You're nuts, Angie," Chinga finally broke the time pause, "this is a sweet kid. She couldn't do anything wrong like that. She just wants my big cock in her tight little ass. Right, honey?"
"Shut up, turkey," the kid snapped at Chinga. "I wanna have a word with Angie."
"Yes?" I gulped knowing it was going to be tough to take.
"You sure didn't talk that way earlier tonight when you were eating me out, and fucking Chuck, and mixing us up with your own two kids," she accurately charged.
I couldn't deny it. However, fortunately for my strategy. I didn't have to. What she said stirred up Chinga more than anything I could have contrived. With her childish candor, she had inadvertently unleashed the monster I knew and loved.
"Double-crossers!" he wailed as though the hostages were as much a part of his gang as myself and the roasted corpses back at the hideout. "Mr. Nice Guy goes out for burgers, and everybody fucks behind his back. Then they pretend to be asleep and don't tell me anything. No wonder the little girl was horny, you perverts."
"Says he, while he fucks the child in the ass," Miss Turner sardonically observed. I couldn't help but laugh.
Needless to say, people making fun of him and laughing in his face made Chinga ever testier. As an index, his stiff cock was vibrating in Robin's ass like a tuning fork.
"Are you gonna fuck me or fight?" Robin called impatiently from up front. "I don't know whose side Angie is on, but she can't stop me from getting what I want!"
"Oh, my goodness," Miss Turner said concernedly, "the child is close to having a tantrum. We'd better let her do what she wants."
"Chinga's steamed up enough to fuck her to death," I assured her.
"Fantastic!" the child interrupted. "I'll twist this old fart's cock off." This steamed Chinga like a clam.
It was incredible how they were all inadvertently cooperating with me.
"I'll show you what an old man's balls've got in 'em!" he thundered. "I'll make your ass bleed with real blood instead of catsup, you mouthy little slit."
"Teach her to respect her elders," I encouraged him to Miss Turner's dismay. She could see the scene was starting to turn ugly, and was beginning to cover her race with her hands.
Bellowing with a grunt, Chinga slammed his loins forward. Robin jerked almost a foot in the air, shrieking at the top of her lungs. The piercing sound of her blood-curdling wail woke Chuck up from beside me.