impatient motions. The girl sucking my ass was getting involved with it now and had her tongue so deep inside me that I wondered if she kept it robed up when she wasn't using it. And the one with my balls in her mouth let her spit brew about my flesh to amplify those wild tingles into full fledged pleasures.
'Go to it!' I yelled suddenly. 'Suck as hard as you can, yes, yes, eat it, oh Christ that's nice, nnngggghhh, aaarrrgghhh, unh!!' And out it poured, cream galore washing about in Miss Parsons' mouth, dribbling out from between her lips and sliding down her throat. After the first couple of blurts I turned my attention to the surrounding girls and merrily waved my gun at them to remind them who was on top. 'Suck me dry, Miss Parsons, and you two keep eating me until I tell you stop.' I let them go at it for another five minutes, until the others had finished packing the money back into the bag. The bundles weren't neat but I was reasonably sure that all of it was there.
'Thank you one and all,' I said, pushing the women away and putting my clothes back on while Vinnie covered them. 'Now, I want you to come with us, Miss Parsons. The rest of you can go and thank your lucky stars or something.'
'You're forgetting one vital element; Mr. McCanoczek,' sneered the headmistress. 'If you take me and the money my associates will surely dispose of Laurel Van de Kut.'
'If your sister can undo her ropes and find her, I'm sure she would,' I said agreeably. 'However, if you want to see your sister again I suggest you come with us.' Her mouth fell open and her eyes stared at us dully. She was so shocked that when I opened the door she just walked out, naked as she was, with sperm stains trailing down her chin. Vinnie followed us with the gun and the money. Once back in the car I put the headmistress into the back seat with her sister, saying that I was sure they had tons to talk about. They looked at me like cobras about to strike.
Much later, when the Parsons sisters had been turned over to the police, the reward money was snug in my bank account, and Laurel was convalescing in her own room, Mrs. Van de Kut invited me for a drink in private. After the second one she asked if she could do anything for me, and her lecherous tone indicated that she wanted me to want something. But I was drained, empty, my balls were no bigger than bee bee pellets, and for once in my life I was more interested in talk than sex.
'Well, all right,' she said, looking away in a huff, 'I won't take it personally, I know you're not a virile man. But you really ought to see a psychiatrist about your inability, Mr. Mac.'
'It comes and goes,' I said with a shrug. 'And right now it's gone. But if you're any good at faith-healing, laying on of hands and all that, you might perform a miracle.' Her disappointed look gave way to one of delight, and a moment later our professional relationship turned into a lecherous one. And as far as I was concerned, it was a fitting conclusion to my most sex-sodden caper.
