I guess before he finally turned in, Chinga watched a little television and gorged himself on hamburgers. The onion on his breath woke me up when he crawled into bed long after I had gone to sleep with Chuck curled around my backside.
I tell you this because it was only by the chance of this occurrence that I was a witness to what happened next. I still get squirmy thinking about it.
It started innocently enough when Robin snuck out of Miss Turner's bed and whispered, "Mr. Chinga, do you have any of those hamburgers left? I'm sure hungry."
"Well, well," he rumbled gruffly, obviously half-lit on some beer he'd brought back, "look what we've got here. What'll you give me for a hamburger, little girl?"
He'd picked the wrong kid to try and intimidate. "I'll suck your cock for a burger, and swallow the jizz for some fries," she informed him in a business like fashion. "The only catch is that I get the food up front."
"You little runt," he blustered drunkenly. "What makes you think a twerp like you can tell a grown man what to do?"
"Because I've got a ten-year-old mouth to suck your cock with," she matter-of-factly informed him. "And after that, the youngest pussy you've ever fucked if you play your cards right. Just reach in the sack and get me the burger and fries, and get your prick ready while I'm eating."
I could feel Chinga straining over the side of the bed, then I heard a paper bag rustling. He handed the child her greasy fee.
She unwrapped the sandwich and started eating. "Mmmmm, a cheeseburger," she mumbled between bites. Then, turning her attention toward the potatoes, she asked: "Where's the catsup for the fries?"
"In the sack. I brought back a ton of it for Angie."
As children always do, Robin smeared the catsup all over the container of french fries, making an unholy mess. Then, as she picked up each potato and stuck it in her mouth, she noisily sucked off the gloppy coating of catsup. Had my eyes been closed, I'd have sworn she was already sucking a cock.
It apparently reminded Chinga of the same. And since his would have been the prick receiving her oral attention, he understandably became hot and bothered. Pretending to be asleep, with one eye opened I watched him pull back the covers and reveal his cock standing almost a foot in the air. He was sweating so hard that the T-shirt, which was the only thing he wore to bed, clung to his muscular torso like a second skin.
"My dick's hard for you, little girl," he whispered roughly. "Do you think your little pussy can take my great big cock?"
Even though she had a mouthful of food, she laughed at him. "You're getting ahead of yourself," she said after swallowing. "You've got to fuck me in the mouth before you ever look at my cookie. I need something to wash down this burger and these fries with – and a grownup's fresh cum is just like a milkshake. You just beat your meat while I finish eating and melt the ice cream in your balls."
It was clear Chinga didn't like being pushed around by a ten-year-old. However, it was even clearer that her slim, little girl's body and saucy ways were irresistible to him. He grumbled discontentedly, but he was nevertheless masturbating within seconds.
Observing him like an experienced sexologist rather than a pre-pubescent child, Robin took her time about finishing her meal. From her languid pace, I assumed she was biding her time waiting for something.
Then, suddenly, she jumped to attention. Gulping down her last morsel, she threw down the litter and dove for Chinga's flexing crotch. She'd gotten the signal she wanted from his straining hard-on.
Now, instead of junk food, Robin's mouth was full of hot, throbbing, adult cock. She had waited until Chinga was on the brink of orgasm before she started to give him head, and now it was obvious she fully intended to suck his nuts inside out.
I could see the whole thing with crystal clarity. Despite the dark room, I had a luminescent background to highlight the slurping action for me. Chinga had drunk so muck beer he'd forgotten to turn off the television set before he went to bed. Every detail of what was happening was spectacularly evident from my vantage point.
Not only was the little kid sucking Chinga's overgrown hard-on, she was deep-throating it. Linda Lovelace couldn't have done any better than this innocent-looking ten-year-old.
"Oh, suck my cock," Chinga was moaning in writhing pleasure. "Suck my cock, you little bitch."
Now her mouth fucking was getting more varied. She was actually stroking him with her lips now, moving them up and down his shaft in a pink blur. I expected his foreskin must be taking a beating – she was probably ensnaring it with her teeth as it rode back and forth along his column.
"I'm gonna come," Chinga hissed as though it were a threat. "I'm gonna come in your mouth, you little bitch."
He hoisted his loins at least six inches from the bed in a mighty pelvic thrust. She coolly responded by finding his asshole from nowhere and sticking a finger up it. When she pulled it out like a plug, his cock visibly lurched down her throat and it was obvious he was coming in her like a geyser.
But I didn't see a drop. Never saw a drop. The little glutton swallowed every molecule of Chinga's cum. It was a neat performance by a beautiful little girl.
Needless to say, I couldn't wait to see what she would do next. Being a spectator at something like this was almost as big a turn-on as participating in kinky sex myself. I was a voyeur, and it felt delicious.
"Wow, you are a little cocksucker, aren't you?" Chinga said in awe when she'd downed the last glob of jizz. "I can't wait to get inside your tight, young pussy. I've never fucked anybody with no hair around their cunt."
"Well, come and get it," she said from the end of the bed, leering like an experienced call girl from between her widely spread legs.
When I automatically looked toward her exposed cunt, I realized I was still in luck. Robin had situated herself in such a way that the television screen continued to provide an illuminating background for my one-eyed peeping. I wouldn't miss a single stroke or drop of juice when they started fucking.
In the meantime, as Chinga maneuvered toward her, I gazed at the wondrous simplicity of Robin's bare pussy. Without any hair in the way, it appeared as a crimson cleft that rose from the vee of her thighs. It was only when it opened that it was possible to see the broiling inferno inside telling the true story of its nature.
Even though Robin had the physique of a ten-year-old girl, inside she was a lush, ripe woman. I knew, just from having sucked her cunt earlier in the evening, that once Chinga got his cock between her legs he'd forget all about age and just concentrate on the meat.
By the time Chinga brought his cock-head to the mouth of Robin's pussy, she was dripping with arousal. Consequently, his prick slid easily inside a couple of inches. It was only after penetration was achieved that the tightness developed.
She was wriggling her ass, making the muscles tight on purpose. Obviously she wanted the insertion of his cock up her cunt to be slow and grueling. I guess she was trying to wear the old man out.
Chinga fought her. A grown man fighting a ten-year-old girl. Weapons: prick and pussy. Otherwise, he wouldn't have moaned after every stab of his cock.
With my view of the action virtually televised, I was a witness to every increment of penetration. Chinga was forcibly stuffing his huge tool down Robin's ten-year-old pussy, and she loved it. Her ultimate response was to wrap her spindly legs around his waist and yank him forward even further.
I hadn't thought it possible, but after several minutes of fucking, all I could see of Chinga's equipment were his balls. His prick was buried to the hilt in Robin's cunt. He was fucking the little girl all the way.
"Do it to me, Mr. Chinga," she groaned. "Fuck me as hard as you can with your big, strong cock."
He powered away inside of her, as heedless of her tender age as I had earlier predicted. She must have felt like the head of his dick was going to come out her throat he was lancing her small body so deeply.
"Come in me!" she unabashedly implored. "Let me feel your cumin my pussy!"
No man could resist an invitation like that.
He lurched forward, and came with even more fury than he had in her mouth. This time, without a belly to contain it all, excess jizz began welling at the engorged rim of her orifice almost immediately.
Pretty soon her girlish thighs were wet with adult sperm.
When Chinga pulled his cock out, it was silhouetted against the glow of the television screen. Two fucks hadn't taken a thing out of it – it was still long and hard, twitching for more action. He was like a horny teenager.
Robin noticed it too, of course. "So you've still got it up," she teased. "I suppose you want to fuck me in the ass now."
"Where did a young girl like you learn all this?" Chinga blurted in awe.
So, her sexual precocity had even rattled the rough, tough outlaw. The little tart had the big lug falling all over himself.
"I have good teachers in school," the kid answered his question.
"You're kidding," he replied in a hush. "You mean like the bitch who took you kids to the bank?"
Robin nodded her head. "Miss Turner's the one who introduced me to the black janitor with the eleven-inch cock. She was there for my first ass-job."
"Then why don't we just get her up and ask good old Miss Turner to help you out again?" Chinga was seized with sudden inspiration. He was such a borderline pyschopath all of his misgivings had vanished the instant he sensed the possibility of adding some fresh meat to the stew.
Robin went for it. Crawling over to the other bed, she straddled her teacher's face with her cum-dripping loins and shoved her sloppy cunt in Miss Turner's mouth and nose. It was an unusual way of waking somebody up, but it worked quicker than smelling salts.
"Mmmmmm, Robin," Miss Turner murmured dreamily, "I thought I could taste your pussy. Why are you sitting on my face? Do you want sex, darling?"
"I've been fucking the dude that kidnapped us," Robin replied from atop her cuntsucking mentor. "He wants you to help us get his big cock in my ass – you know, like you did with Willie the janitor."
"You told?" Miss Turner blurted out beneath Robin's smearing crotch, rapidly coming to life.
"Who cares?" Robin shrugged. "He's a kidnapper – nobody'd believe anything he said."
"Well, I don't know," the teacher replied, slipping her mouth out from under Robin's snatch so she could talk more easily. "How big is his cock?"
"It's a monster," Robin answered gleefully. "I just know it'll split my ass in two – but first somebody's got to grease it up for me."
"Okay, I'll do it," the teacher finally agreed. "I'm still responsible for you, and I want to see that you don't get hurt."
I was impressed. However, it quickly became obvious that Miss Turner wasn't acting out of a sense of duty alone when she slipped out from under the covers.
Nude, she had a blush across her firm breasts that could only come from sexual arousal. However, the real tip-off to her horniness was her gushing cunt. When she leaned over in front of the television screen, a perfect rear-view of her pussy showed its thick juice to be streaming down her thighs.
Now, Miss Turner turned to the business of inspecting the fitness of Chinga's cock for her young charge's narrow ass. She stroked and licked it, going over every inch with her fingertips and tongue. From the way she smacked her lips it passed the test.
"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.
The thrust was so brutal he could not have failed to succeed. When Robin settled moaningly down there were at least five inches of adult cock engorging her girlish shit-pit.
"Oooooh, it hurts!" she cried. "It hurts so gooooood! Go ahead and slam me again."
As a psychopath, Chinga's natural competitive urge veered off into vengeance. When somebody challenged him he was ready to nail their ass to the wall.
Even when they were ten-year-old girls and he was fucking them in said orifice.
As for myself, I didn't care whether Robin enjoyed what was happening as long as it made smoke come out of Chinga's ears. As long as the nasty edge of his personality that made him dangerous was honed, I was satisfied. Let the little whore have her ass-fuck it was fun to watch.
Who knew? When I thought the situation was under control I might even join in. I'd just rubbed my thighs together and my pussy was squishing.
"What's going on, Angie?" the awakened Chuck asked.
"Chinga's fucking Robin in the ass. She already took him in the mouth and pussy," I brought him up to date.
"I knew there was something in the offing," he declared. "I was having wet dreams, and I woke up with a hard-on."
"Let me see it," I impulsively requested.
He readily pulled it out from under the covers. Obviously proud of it, he had a right to be – even if it didn't have a strand of hair, his cock was long and hard and straight.
"Mmmmmmm," I said, tenderly stroking it. "Why don't you fuck your sister in the cunt while she's getting it in the ass from my old man?"
"She's not my sister!" he complained. "I just know her, that's all."
"Excuse me," I apologized. Damn it, I just couldn't stop confusing Robin and Chuck with my own kids, Anita and Bobby.
"Now what is it you want me to do?" he asked sulkily.
"Fuck Anita – I mean Robin – fuck Robin in the pussy while Chinga's cornholing her," I blundered through another Freudian slip. "I've never seen what your cock looks like in her hairless cunt."
"Wait until he's in her to his balls," the kid answered like he'd shared his classmate's two most intimate holes with a grown man before. "It's easier to slip inside that way."
I didn't dispute him. In spite of my age, a marriage of several years, and several messy affairs, I suspected that at ten little Chuck may have been around far more than I.
So I temporarily turned my attention from his slender hard-on and reunited my gaze with the sight of Robin's ass being filled with inch after inch of Chinga's ramming phallic pile-driver.
During my interlude with Chuck, Chinga had made brutal progress. The child he was cornholing was sobbing with pain.
But, of course, she never told him to stop. Pain and pleasure were synonymous with this little sex-machine.
"Get the rest of it in," she pleaded through her tears. "Shove the rest of your cock inside my ass."
Chinga did it with a fiendish cackle. The son of a bitch was really looking to fuck the kid to death if he could.
When he lunged, his cock spurted forward in her catsup-rimmed hole. I could hear the head skid all the way from the depths.
When he lunged again, it was gone. His cock was no longer in view. He was fucking the ten-year-old girl's ass to the hilt.
"Now," I urged Chuck. "Slide under there and slip your prick into her pussy."
He did it immediately. Slipping between Robin's knees, Chuck ignored the half-hearted swats from Chinga and worked his slim cock up against her hairless pussy. Then it was in, she squealed with delight, and he was fucking her.
The sight of Robin double-humping was too much for my libido. Miss Turner's, too. We grabbed each other and started sixty-nining between the beds.
Up above, Chinga yowled as his cum started to flow. Then Chuck squealed as his cream began to spurt.
Although I wasn't up there on the bed to see it, I'm sure that Robin's fuck-holes overflowed immediately. There was no other explanation for the steady stream of jism that now trickled from the bed onto the sixty-nining bodies of Miss Turner and I. Naturally we licked up every drop.
Chinga was through ass-fucking his nymphet and was now proclaiming the availability of his still-stiff cock to the rest of us. "Hell," he recklessly babbled, "I'll even fuck the boy. I don't guess that at that age there's much difference between assholes."
I looked up and saw the silhouette of his cum-dripping hard-on. It looked eerie against the flickering light of Johnny Carson's face.
Then, a split-second after I heard the sharp explosion, the light cracked and shattered into a smoky rectangle of darkness. A flying bullet had obliterated the television screen.
"We've been fired on!" I shrieked. "Everybody find cover in case they shoot up the place and ask questions later!"
We scurried like rats under the beds. Even Chinga seemed scared shitless.
While we were scrambling to safety, a few more shots ruined a few more items of motel furniture. Then there was ominous silence.
"Come on out with your hands up," a familiar voice abruptly shattered the dangerous calm from a loudspeaker outside. Even over the tinny amplifier I recognized the pompous inflection.
"Roy Parker!" I blurted aloud.
"We've got you surrounded," he continued. "There's no way out. If you're not out in a minute, we're shooting to kill."