Jack and Mary Nobbled Pt. 03

The Principle watched the...sexual melee out from the edge of his office entrance; ajar. He mustered up a last hard on, wanking furiously, and coming - along with the girls themselves; his thick creamy semen pumping out of his rigid, shaking, body, quaking, violently, with debauched, licentious, ecstasy: His goo splashing carelessly over the multiple-coated varnish of the century old oak, and well worn brass handle of the door; dribbling slowly, meanderingly to the floor.

Once he was empty, he silently put the wood back in the hole, and turned the brass steadily with the merest sound of a click. Veronica heard it though, and let go of an enormously loud and rebellious fart, that actually blew the crop of the sophomore's hair out of her orgastic-rolled eyes, which caused her immediately to throw up into the crack of Veronica's ass.

Once Veronica finished her orgasm, she took her foaming cunt out of the sophomore's mouth, lifted he leg, yanked her panties off her elevated ankle, and whilst balancing on one foot, and without taking her eyes of the frightened, quivering body laying prostrate on the floor beneath her, she wiped the spew out of her ass, and flung the soiled garment into the face from whence it had previously come, then she opened her urethra, and pissed like a race-horse, over her concubine, from head to whimpering foot. Once done, she, without a word, flung her hair back with a defiant flick of her beautiful head, marched over to the headmaster's office door, bent over, lifted her blue gingham mini-school uniform skirt up high around her slender waist, and shuffled backward, until her sweet little hairy brown eye lined up directly with the gothic sized key hole.

Veronica had gorged herself some hours earlier, at lunch with Chinese cuisine, which always made her "go" with a vengeance later on.

Veronica pulled the cheeks of her wonderful tight ass so far apart, that her bung-hole protruded the most out of her bent torso. Carefully, she docked the center of her dirt-box immaculately against the cool key hole, with as much precision as the Shuttle docking with the Space Station.

The other side of the door, a squatting headmaster's eye blinked wildly, as the light went out in his peeping key hole.

Veronica opened the sir-lock of her ass-hole slowly. A steadily building jet of white hot Chinese fuelled methane shot out of her hole.

On the receiving side of the door, the headmaster suddenly, out of the blue, felt peckish for pot-stickers and Chow Mein.

Following Veronica's near ballistic jet-stream of ass-vapor, there came - relentlessly - the head of a fudge-log, with the consistency of Play-Doh. Veronica's rot-hole, was wide open now, and had formed an air-tight seal around the key-hole's shiny brass knock-plate.

The other side of the door, still attempting to see through the peeping hole, the headmaster could hear what sounded like the muffled sound of someone grunting, and swearing under their breath. Then, as if perfectly formed by a cold press, a continuous mold of brown and light beige putty issued forth, oozing out of the brass plate, in the perfect shape of a key-hole.

As the steady stream of potter's mud came through at an ever increasing rate, and with less and less definition, as if the consistency was changing by the second, and was now approaching that of toothpaste, the lace of mud curling upon itself, now touching down onto the floor, and winding itself almost perfectly, except for consistency irregularities that jutted out of the rapidly forming conical geometric shapes glistening surface, which at closer inspection seemed to be, (noted the astonished, and puzzled headmaster), half-chewed fragments of nuts, rolled tomato skins and a profusion of multi-colored corn husks. Headmaster was confused, hungry and intrigued by all of this, and quietly pushed his ear flat to one of the oak panel-boards.

Again, he could hear distinct sounds of muffled grunting, and cursing, such as what one can hear coming out of a portable toilet, when one is standing in line at the County Fair.

As time went on, the stream emanating from the old door had reached the thickness of stiff piklet batter. The goo no longer could hole its geometrical shape as it hit the floor, anymore, and seemed to start to rain, making a splattering sound now on the hardwood floor of the Headmaster's office.

By now the Headmaster was ravenous for a Chinese, and would gladly donate a testicle, for a bowl of wonton soup right now, as he ran to get a waste-paper bin, to put under the increasingly liquefying stream of light ochre substance billowing out of the key-hole, of his ancient, and much beloved, office door.

He dove back to the panel, pressing his ear once more to its vibrating wood.

He could hear works and broken phrases such as,

"Ugh! Ahh! Ooow! ...come on movver-fucker, Arrgh!, yes! Oocha, whew!, arrgh, no more Chinese for me, Ooow! Mama..."

There was half a bucketful now, sitting in the Headmaster's floor, and it was steaming, in the cool air of spring. Then, without warning, the stream just stopped. The Headmaster slid at the key-hole on his knees, like a poor-man's Sammy Davis Jr, tap-dance-routine wind-up and finale, sliding across a Vegas stage on his spread-eagle knees. It must have hurt, night after night, sliding like that, concluded the Headmaster, picking up several splinters on the way, as he came to a perfect stop, eye level with the dripping key-hole. The Headmaster peered in.

At precisely the same time that the Headmaster plainly arrived at the key-hole, he experienced a forceful jet of gas whistling out of the door. He was famished by now. Then, he plainly heard what sounded like a high-pitched scream coming from the other side - and it was unmistakably female.

In absolute lock-step with the jet of air, the Headmaster heard a singular word, preceded by pleas for forgiveness that sounded like, "Oooweerk! God help me, here it comes... Geronimo!"

Half an almond flew out of the key-hole at high velocity and almost took the eye out of the Headmaster's socket; this was followed by half a dozen corn husks, as if fired out of an Uzi submachine gun which sprayed his face stinging him with their force of travel, all of which was followed by a long, and partially digested limp noodle, which lassoed the Headmaster around the neck so tightly, that he began to cough at the chocking of it.

The Mother-Lode wasn't far behind, and it came without warning!

A high-speed, high-pressure, conical jet of silver-oak colored Chinese mud, flooded out of the key-hole, for what seemed like an eternity. The headmaster was blown across the room, and scampered for shelter, under his desk, visibly shaking.

The cannonade lasted long enough for even a blue-bottle to call it a day, and crawled out from under a crack in the window sill, taking to the wing, and calling it a day, as far as finding something to eat in the Headmaster's office, the place was just too hot, to handle, for the fly. The attack ended with what sounded like a 650 Norton motorcycle revving up to go. Then, it was over.

Veronica sighed a deep sigh of relief, and closed her ass-hole kaleidoscopically from around the Headmaster's key-hole, without as much as spilling a drop, and as she pulled away, her hole made a loud kissing sound, as it tackily de-docked the brass knocking-plate.

Veronica wiped her ring on the large brass knobbed door handle, out of sheer habit, even though she knew it to be clean. Veronica was well trained in toilet etiquette, and employed her learning judiciously.

The Headmaster was found days later nibbling on corn husks and nuts in his office, and was carted off to an asylum, in a meat wagon, with all of its doors left open.

The room was never used again as The Headmaster's office, even though it had been thoroughly, and professionally cleaned several times, the odd corn husk would invariably turn up when least expected. Some say, to this very day, that the room is haunted by the ass of a devil.

In the end, it was turned into a detention center for delinquent Chinese students, who liked corn.

At the asylum, The Headmaster knew he had shut more than just his door that fateful day back at the school, not only to his office, though, but also to the very inner-sanctum of his soul's darkest wanton desires. The Headmaster missed Veronica, and would often be found, muttering her name in the bathroom; for no apparent reason.

Chapter 63.

Veronica's work was done at the school, and without as much as a sidewards glance she skipped away down the hallway, on to the front door itself; her tits bouncing, her pony-tail swishing and her tight little buttocks dancing to the rhythm of her fluid gait.

Before exiting the school for the last time, Veronica bumped into a second sophomore, who looked around her size. She ordered the sophomore to take off her panties, and give them over to her. Veronica looked into the panties, and sniffed at the heavy skid marks, at the front, and back of the inside of the gusset. She grilled the sophomore as to how long she had been wearing the knickers, and eventually got to the truth - that of three days. When Veronica inquired as to why the sophomore had kept the same panties on for three days, it came out that it was easier to maintain a prominent camel-toe, when the gusset became sticky, and that the boys loved to see a good toe on a girl.

Veronica pondered the newbie's words, and slipped the garment over her turgid buttocks. Then, she opened her legs wide, and told the sophomore that this is a camel-toe, to end all camel-toes. Veronica lifted her leg up high, above her head - ballerina-style, and urged the sophomore to hold it there, whilst she fiddled with her crotch.

The gusset was rolled, and folded in such a way, that it fit comfortably between her vaginal wings. It was cold at first, due to the three days of gum on it from the sophomore's clout, but the goo soon heated up to Veronica's inner-crack temperature.

Veronica, brought her leg back down, and then urged the newbie, to watch as she bent over, pretending to tie her shoe lace. The camel-toe was massive, and resembled a "Giant Bumblebee Grouper's" mouth, wrapped in cheesecloth. The camel-toe was so profound, that even her hole showed up as a dark, and threatening void, through the material of the knickers, themselves. The sophomore shook, as an unexpected orgasm tore through her innards, causing her unused womb to jolt, and shake and quiver inside her. Love juice rand down the inside of her thigh. Veronica, lifted up the sophomore's mini-uniform skirt, scooped up a finger full, and tasted it. It was fresh, and lovely, and Veronica took the newbie outside, and fanny fucked her until she begged her not to stop. Then she stopped. It was Veronica's maxim. Never stop, until they beg you not to. It's what keeps them coming back for more. Veronica slapped the sophomore on the back of the head, and sent her packing without her knickers, and shouting after her to change your panties every day, or risk a yeast infection. The sophomore ran off bare assed.

Chapter 64.

Veronica's voice jumped not only an octave, but also by the decibel too. The Principal's office door creaked open a touch again, but now he was wearing panty hose and a frilly corset, and harbored a hankering for something else - again.

The Principle - "Betty" he liked to be called during sex, had a three quarter hard on, and was rubbing handily. He alone could smell the brunt of whiskey on his breath, but who would like the smell of garlic from his bung hole, now that Veronica was leaving... It presented a dilemma for him. He just loved champing down on them pork ribs, laced with sage and thyme, but mostly with them cloves of bursting garlic. He had lost three wives due to his penchant for the bulb. Possibly the thought that they were vampires of a sort crossed his mind, now and again, but he was not a religious man at bottom, and dispelled the notion of Vampires, along with the seven miracles of Christ, and most, if not all of the fables of The Bible, to boot.

The Principle's affairs being his own affair, justified in his mind, nullified any degree of wayward thought, encountered of a night, whilst in the throes of falling off to sleep - that in any way at all, he was at fault. In his mind he was innocent! Innocent of not only...everything, that had happened in the past, but equally' or more important - anything that could possibly happen in the future. This is the way these people think, and they are all over the place, considered Veronica. The Principle loved his ribs, and some would say, 'more than his wives': Veronica collated no more.

She simply went home, and within a month was sent packing to a convent by Mary, her mother, because when Jack fell asleep of a night, upside-down in his Apollo recliner, sucking his meat, and coming into his own head, beating the living-daylights out of his engorged prostate, with the mayonnaise-buttered end of a ridged zucchini, then Veronica would creep stealthily, from her nest, pull her knickers to one side, and mount her father's face with her open crack.

Veronica would suck every last drop of cum that was left in her daddy's cock, whilst riding her clitoris over his face, her probing fingers stuck knuckle-deep into her father's poop-chute, massaging the prostate menacingly, until...finally, he came again, as she did; rubbing her vagina on the tip of his nose and bewhiskered chin.

It was barely three weeks after she arrived home from being kicked-out of boarding school, that Mary, Jack's wife became constipated again, and that meant Jack was not fucking her in the ass at night during her drug and alcohol induced coma of a night.

In Mary's mind, there could be only one reason for the change in Jack's behavior, which had been steady over the years. Someone was emptying his balls. Either he was carrying-on with a floozy outside of their marriage - but that would require time to execute, and Jack's schedule hadn't changed - or, someone new had entered their marriage, in their very home... Veronica!

What put the tin-hat on it all, was when Mary woke up to find Jack's face painted such a vibrant hue of scarlet, that it would have put Sitting Bull himself to shame.

Veronica, had forgotten, that she was on the rag that week, and had fucked her father's face with a strawberry-fish daiquiri. Mary was incensed when she found him in the morning; what with all the flies an' all! There were ructions!

Veronica was expelled again - this time from home, and entered the convent of "The Sacred Heart". She took her favorite books, and her favorite CD's, and also, her favorite vibrators. Veronica felt, she would be needing them, quite shortly...

Chapter 65.

Things got back to normal a week or two following Veronica's expulsion. Mary could shit like a goose in the morning again, and most of the flies had been eradicated.

Jack and Mary received a post card from Veronica, now a novice at the convent. It read, "Wish you were here!", and pictured a donkey, strapped to a wooden board, teetering on its back hooves, sporting a massive erection, and being ridden by a rather attractive Asian-looking woman. She was looking directly into the camera lens, and smiling, but only with her lips. Her eyes seemed to be...vacant. The donkey pictured as mouth wide open, teeth hanging out to dry, nostrils flaring, and eyeballs popping. Jack felt that the picture reflected perfectly, what he had witnessed, in the face of every woman he had fucked in 40 years of boning, and Mary felt that the donkey, uncannily, reproduced a vivid snap-shot - an aggregation - of all the men who had ever fucked her during her lifetime; this included her grandfather, father uncle Joe, and his friend Manny. The teeth, and popping eyeballs, shot a shiver up her spine, and Jack was quieter than usual, because of the eyes on the woman. They reminded him of the eyes of his aunt, when she took his virginity, without even asking, in the brambles, and bushes of the Yosemite trail that summer - the summer that he had just turned eighteen, he recalled. He never forgot the echoes of the screaming, bouncing off the sheer cliff faces, as she rode him top-wise, and came hugely; impaled deeply, upon his, young, but enormous and rock-hard cock. Jack remembered his aunt drilling into him to yell out when he was about to come. She was clever and didn't want any complications, especially with embarrassing pregnancies, which she would, of course, be pushed to explain, being that she and her husband slept in separate beds in those days.

She came first. She always came first, then not long after, Jack would yell, "I'm fucking coming!"

On cue, auntie would do one of two things:-

One, ripe my cock out of her clout, and wank me to completion, either gobbling me and swallowing, or just exalting, in both the volume, and height at which I could throw my seed, playfully attempting to catch my loads on the way down, in her mouth, ordinarily being splattered and laughing, uncontrollably, at her inability to "catch the load", in mid-flight, or, often or not, she would dismount the stiffening rod, and adroitly, smear her vaginal crème over her bung-hole, in a flawless, well-choreographed action, then with the weight, of her own body, she would open her dirt-box hole, and swallow every iota of my 13 inch prong. The tightness of her ass, would take me over the top, and I would come into her at two inche, the again at four, the at six, the at eight...shooting my semen into her ass every couple of inches, all the way, up to "balls-deep", her turds, rubbing on my engorged helmet, had me screaming also, especially if she had been eating a lot of fiber, and nuts. They tended to scrape along the flange of my tool, as I entered her ass-hole, and made my way up her stink-hole. I like a bit of pain, it reminds me of...growing up, and a sharp nut scraping along the end of your cock, ought to tell you that your cock doesn't belong in here - but it feels so good, and Auntie likes it...

Chapter 66.

It was now, 3:00am in the morning. Jack had trashed the place, and guzzled quite a few beers. Veronica had been sent off weeks ago, to the convent. Jack's balls were busting. He had to unload. Mary was sleeping soundly. Jack finished his last bottle, and scratched his knackers, as he crept from the living room, into the master bedroom bathroom, to piss, before he did Mary - big-time - in every hole she possessed. Jack felt like he was twenty again, and he entered the dim light of the bathroom, with a semi-hard on. He pissed like Niagara, and missed around a third of the time: Mary would clean it up tomorrow, but tonight, he had to get the cum out of his cock, and into her. Jack turned, and farted, and peered into the dark of the bedroom. His cock twitched, and then he noticed something hanging off the bathroom door knob. He stopped with inspection in mind, and smiled...

To be continued...