"Ahhhh!" Sister Bernice sighed softly. "Ohhhh!"
The cabbie caught himself just in time, cut the wheel sharply to the left, and steered the taxi back off the gravel shoulder and onto the asphalt. His heart slipped out of his throat, where it had jumped momentarily, and hammered in his chest. Christ! Almost got us all killed, he thought. It would have served the two cunts right, though, distracting him that way. Christ, if he hadn't seen it and heard it with his own eyes and ears, he never would have believed it – two nuns fingerfucking each other in the back seat of his taxi, two lezzies. Jesus Christ! He was going to have some hot stories to tell back in town… not that any of the guys would believe him. Jesus Christ!
The cabbie's prick throbbed in his jeans, felt as if it were being strangulated. Glancing quickly in the rear-view mirror to make sure the nuns weren't watching him – they were both looking sideways now, each out her own window – he unzipped his jeans slowly and eased his ramrod fucker out into the air. It was sweaty, hot, leaking fucklube. His balls felt as if they were going to burst. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he started to jack off with his other hand, moving his foreskin up and down over his glowing prickhead. Damn he was hot! He could smell his prick. Smelled like sex. If it weren't for the reeking stench of cunt in the cab, the nuns would be able to smell his cock in the back seat.
So what, though, he thought. They'd probably get off on knowing he was jerking off up here. Dirty bitches!
His fingers worked the foreskin rapidly over his mist prickhead. The veins on his cock bulged, his cockshaft vibrating with the excitement and pleasure shooting through it. Damn if he wasn't a stud! He ought to pull over and take care of those juicy cunts in the back seat right now, ram his horny cock up their crotches and fuck their guts out. He could fuck their little assholes, too. Then he'd shove his shit smelling fucker down their throats and choke them half to death before he blasted his boiling load down their gullets. Man, that would feel so fucking good.
He had to grip the wheel with all his strength to keep the taxi on the rain-blasted road. His vision blurred and he chewed his lips as the jism spurted out of him, some of the hot stuff hitting his chin, the rest of it sticking in white strands to his denim jacket. He gripped his cock with his entire hand now, crushing the itchy heat out of it, milking the cum out of it as fast as he could.
Keep it on the road, he kept telling himself throughout his orgasm. Watch where you're going, damn it!
A half hour later the cabbie pulled up in front of the steel-barred gate at the bottom of the drive that led up to St. Michael's Reformatory. As lightning flashed, he could see the castle-like outline of the two-story, red-brick building in the distance. Turrets, like huge erect cocks, projected from the building on both sides. As soon as he delivered the nuns up there, he was going to get the fuck out of this place, maybe find a roadside bar somewhere – although he'd seen none along the way up here – and warm himself up with a few drinks.
As the taxi stood idling in the relentless downpour, as they sat waiting for the gatekeeper to leave the small brick guardhouse and let them in, the cabbie pitied the poor studs who were imprisoned in that House of Usher up above. St. Michael's had gained a reputation around the state as the Alcatraz of teens schools. Never an escape. And a few of the inmates who had finally been released had complained of torture and inhuman conditions. Nobody listened to them though, because the place was run by nuns, and nobody would believe nuns were capable of such atrocities as the former inmates had described. But one look at the prison was enough to convince the cabbie that there was some truth to the stories. And those nuns he had in the back seat now weren't any saints, either.
A slim, agile-moving nun ran from the door of the gatehouse and stood behind the bars of the gate, shielding her eyes from the headlights as she unlocked it. From what features he could see, the cabbie guessed that the nun was quite young, younger than any nun he'd seen before. The older nun in the back seat of the taxi rolled down her window and poked her head out into the rain.
"I have returned, Sister Raphael," the older nun shouted. "Open up quickly and return to your post before you're drenched. The taxi will be coming back directly, so you may leave the gate open until it departs."
The nun at the gate waved and allowed them to pass through.
CHAPTER FOUR
Roscoe ran back to the gatehouse, his dirty bare feet slapping on the rain-sizzling asphalt of the drive, his hard prick wagging underneath the skirt of the nun's habit he was wearing. He stood a few moments outside the gatehouse, watching the tail-lights of the taxi as it approached the prison up at the end of the drive. It would be easy to get out of here now, he thought. He would flag down the taxi on its way back through the gate and get a ride at least back to the city.
But what would that accomplish? Where would he go? Certainly not back to the foster home. Shit, that place was as bad as the prison here. Besides, like Ronny said, his place wasn't a prison anymore. Now the teens were in control, the teens were running things. And with the way this place operated – no visitors, no inspections – the teens could probably keep control of the place for the next five years without anybody getting wise to the fact. Food and supply deliveries and garbage pickups were all they had to worry about, and there were enough teens around who could easily pass for nuns, once they threw on a black habit, that they could without a doubt fool any deliverymen or garbage men who came around. And besides, if he left this place now, he'd miss out on all the fun, all the vengeful satisfaction. Every last one of those bitch nuns was going to pay a thousand times over for all the beatings, for all the starvation, for all the degradation the toys had been forced to suffer. In fact, he'd been right in the middle of taking care of one of them when the taxi had arrived. Fuck running away. He had better things to do.
Sister Raphael's big juicy ass was the first sight that met his gaze as he flung open the door of the gatehouse and stepped in out of the rain. She was stark naked, on her hands and knees, squat wooden stool under her belly, ropes wrapped around the seat of the stool and around her back to secure her middle tightly to the stool. Her big tits hung off the edge of the stool dangling like overripe honeydew melons. Her furry cunt muff was matted and sopping wet, a big dark muff with bright red meat between her hairy pussylips. A grayish, sticky fluid dripped incessantly out of her battered pussyhole, some of it leaking down her inner thighs, some of it dripping directly onto the cobblestone floor. She had some dark hairs around her glistening asshole, and that turned Roscoe on to no end. She was a hairy bitch – hairy cuntmuff, hairy asshole, hairy legs, hair under her anus, for Christsake. The hair on her head had been clipped short, though, shorter than his own hair, much shorter. These nuns were all like that, Roscoe had been surprised to discover. They didn't shave their legs or armpits, but kept their heads shorn like new recruits in the army.
"How ya doin', Sister?" Roscoe lifted his foot and twisted his big toe into her cunt.
The nun grunted and her cunt sucked at his toe like a hot mouth. Pleasant thrills flowed through Roscoe's leg and up into his loins. His balls tightened and his prick flexed underneath the black skirt.
Christ, she was hot inside! And all full of jism. That's what happened when fifty teens who hadn't fucked in a long time – some of them not for years – got hold of ten or so helpless nuns who had been the teens' masters and tormentors. Those fifty ramrod cocks just wouldn't be satisfied. It might be a week before any of their pricks stopped standing up and throbbing, stopped aching and fucking. Sister Raphael hadn't even been up to the house yet for her good time. She'd been tied up down there in the gatehouse since about midnight last night, sacrificing her hot crotch to the teens who were taking turns standing watch down there. Roscoe had only been fucking her a few minutes when the taxi had arrived and he'd been interrupted. He hadn't even had the chance yet to pop a load into her, to add his jism to the countless loads of jism that had already been pumped into her. Well, it was about time he got on with it, about time he warmed up his cock and drained off some of the cum that was swelling his balls.