Paint Her White

"... So Jean... .this is where reality starts to set back in," the devastated 55 year old widow and recently retired teacher's inner voice guessed, her breath heavy and continuous as she trembled on the bed.

At least a half dozen orgasms having tripped through her flesh like falling dominos, Jean's entire body was numb as Shane's salty ejaculate trickled into her belly.

"How long had it been since the boys started coming into the room... an hour... two... three... And how many men had there been?" Jean dizzily wondered, feeling a bit melancholy that other than Shane, she would never have any clue which of her former students had done what to her.

"That's the way it should be, " she reassured herself. "That's the way you wanted it."

Still, Jean could feel the heat of the collective gazes of all the men in the room on her naked and spent body. And even in her debilitated state, she could also sense the strange, silent hush that hung in the room.

"Exactly how is a moment like this supposed to end?" Jean's conscience wondered. "When you fantasized about this... all you needed to do was roll over and go to sleep when you were done... and it was over. But this is real Jean... what happens next? You left the proverbial door open for them Jean... but you didn't give a moments thought to how you'd close it when this was all over!"

Before she could contemplate her lapse of planning however, a warm and steady grip took hold of the inside of her left thigh.

"MMM... AAHH," Jean gulped in surprise as she tried to focus her bleary eyes upwards, sensing her new suitor's weight creeping up the bed.

"... George," she sighed softly, once there was recognition.

The fact that there was an assembled crowd of men surrounding the bed was lost for the moment as she stared at George Sanders' vivid face wickedly smiling down on her at the same time his coal black hand cinched around her pale thigh.

"So that's what his touch feels like on me," Jean guiltily thought as she watched his fingers knead her cool, slippery skin.

George Sanders had been in one of Jean's first classes back in the early 70's. Now 48 and married, he had been one of the few black students at the local high school in those days. Even though segregation had ended a decade prior to that, the presence of African-American students still elicited a good deal of tension in the mostly white school district, even today.

A champion for the underdog and a deep-seated belief that everyone deserved dignity and a fair chance at an education, Jean had always had a special place in her heart for George and the handful of students like him, for what he endured in those difficult days and for what he had eventually made of himself.

Over the years, Jean was often confronted with the whispers of racism from her friends, co-workers and at times, the school administration. As hard as she tried making her classroom a comfortable and safe place for her minority students to learn, it chilled Jean to hear many of her fellow teachers casually throw the "N" word around in private when they would often act the role of open minded liberal Southerners when in public.

Thankfully with each passing year, the scourge discrimination seemed to lesson in the community, but Jean knew the undercurrent would long outlive her. She had made peace with herself though, knowing she had done the best job she could and as she laid there on the bed at the age of 55, shamefully naked and defenseless in front of George Sanders, her rubbery legs spread wide as his hand swiped across her reddened vagina, somehow Jean felt a strange vindication in what she was doing.

"It's like an oven down here," George said to the throng of onlookers around him as his shiny black fingers angled through the puffy and flared folds of his former teacher's cunt.

"UURRGGH... UURRGGHH... AAAHHHH," Jean shivered, bucking her hips upwards each time George's knuckles scrapped across her throbbing clit.

"As bad as I want to... I don't think her pussy can take it right now," George said a few moments later, after assessing the condition of Jean's already ravaged genitals.

Pulling his fingers out of Jean's snatch, George slowly rubbed the greasy secretions through the older woman's pubic fleece before carefully working the tip of his thumb into her puckered anus. The twinkle in his eyes clearly told everyone in the room what he planned to do.

"I've got a better idea," he finally nodded to the men on each flank of the bed. "Her pussy is shot guys... help me roll her over on her stomach and let's get her ass up in the air."

Jean had somehow made the hesitant, all be it conscious, decision to give her pussy to a motel room full of her former students. The implication of the words she had heard out of George's mouth however signaled a reality she hadn't even once considered.

If she had been either 10 years younger or it had been a hour earlier in the evening, perhaps Jean might have had the limberness and courage to fend off the inevitable progression of events. Before she knew it however, she felt her limp body go momentarily weightless as her equilibrium was shifted a full 180 degrees.

Her face now flush against the pillow below, Jean was blind as George positioned himself on the bed above her.

"You know what he's gonna do," that same nagging voice inside her head warned. "And you know you're never going to be the same after he's done!"

Her vision useless, the only sensory information Jean could rely on was George's heated grip on her clamy flesh and the sound of his husky voice breathing down on her as he worked her up to her knees.

Sensing the cadre of men surrounding her close in, in essence creating a claustrophobic huddle around the bed as they strained to get a better view, the sheen of the soft bed linen clinging to her sweaty skin caused Jean to feel as if she had been snared, for display, in a spider's web.

Then a shattering bolt of electricity fissured down her spine.

"UURRGGHHHGGHHHHH... Oh God... Oh God... Oh... God... Oh... God," Jean's muffled voice hiccupped through the room as George's middle finger dug into her rectum.

Skewered on her former student's twisted digit, Jean clenched her teeth and swam her knees against the mattress below as George worked his finger down to the first knuckle.

"MMMMMGGGGGRRMMMAAHHHHHHHHH," she strained under the pressure of George's anal probe.

"Groaning like that with just your finger in there... what's she gonna do when you stick that thing inside her?" one of the men off to the side commented, making it a point to acknowledge George's fully aroused, and rather imposing penis as it waited for it's call to duty.

"Oh... we'll go slow," George promised. "But one way or another... it is going in there!"

"She always seemed like such a sweet and innocent lady," one of the other men added incredulously. "Who would have ever thought all this was boiling under the surface?"

"I guess we're all here to give her what she wants... she's the one that handpicked each one of us... let's just make sure she remembers what happens here tonight for the rest of her life," George said before stabbing his middle finger to the hilt inside the retired teacher's virgin sphincter.

The graphic, up close image of Jean's spine contorting and the way her guttural groans belted out from her lungs each time George ratcheted his wrist between her asscheeks, caused every mans' dick in the room to stiffen as they looked on in stunned wonder.

"Now... hold... still... Mrs. Shulman," George whispered down with tender concern, his skin tingling from the way Jean trembled on her knees as he began to withdraw his soapy finger from the bubblegum pink grip of Jean's asshole.

Not wanting to waste a second of time and face the prospect of Jean's prepped anus closing back up, George swung his throbbing onyx girth into the air and dropped it with a meaty thud between the crack of the older woman's cheeks.

"Say the word if it starts to burn too bad Baby... we'll go real slow... we got all night," George soothed Even though he knew he was about to violate the 55 year old woman in a way she could have never imagined.

"P... Pl... .Please... Please ... go slow... but ... but please... please George... please do it," Jean mumbled, her wanton lust now completely betraying her as she clenched her fists into the sheets to each side of her.

"UUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMAAAHHHHHH," Jean grimaced, her forehead rocking forward until she was balancing herself on the top of her head as George snuck the spongy, bulbous rim of his cockhead into her behind.

* * * * *

Nearly two minutes unsuccessfully passed with George trying to carefully ease his dick into Jean's anal depths.

"It's never going to go all the way in from this angle," George knew, massaging his balls with his left hand to keep his phallus rock hard as he pondered his next move.

"You guys up at the top of the bed... get her shoulders ... I've got her waist and her back... let's try to get her into the air for a couple of seconds... I'm gonna try and keep my cock tight in her ass while we flip her over so she's riding me reverse cowgirl," George decided.

"What does that mean?" Jean dizzily wondered, hearing George's voice through the shroud of sexual fog that had enveloped the room.

Before she could take a deep breath or brace herself, it felt as if a higher power had caused her body to rise from the mattress once again, only this time she could the slab of burning meat buried a full three inches in her rectum keeping her tethered to reality.

Feeling like a rag doll being spun by more hands than she could blindly count, the next time Jean was on solid ground she felt her knees pressing into the soiled sheets below, only this time her crotch was squarely placed between George's outstretched thighs and the sheer force of gravity had submerged his dick ever deeper into her rectal sheath.

"AAHH... That's better," George said with a satisfied grin, feeling his jutting black sword disappear between Jean's anal walls.

Lifting his shoulders off the bed, George reached up and cupped Jean's sagging breasts before gracefully pulling her down until her back was flush against his chest. Lurching his hips up as Jean reclined down on top of him, George anchored the remainder of his prick into his former teacher's cherry ass.

"Relax Baby... just relax... let that tight ass swallow up my cock... just relax and let it slide all the way up in there... . shhhhhh... ssshhh... everything's going to be all right," George soothed with a baritone whisper, his heart racing at the way Jean Shulman shook like a scared but determined little girl on top of his crotch.

"Once your comfortable and think you can Mrs. Shulman... I want to you open your eyes and take a good look around the room... take a good look at all the boys you invited here tonight," George added as he rubbed his strong black hands back and forth over Jean's snow-white belly.

* * * * *

"Go ahead... open your eyes... and take a good look around," George's words echoed through Jean's head as she fought to keep from exploding from the overwhelming burn of his burrowing cock.

"God I can't... Good God I can't," Jean mumbled internally, half from the groggy weight of her eyelids and half from the fear of what she might see if she did.

"His dick feels like its grinding against your spine each time he twists it inside you," a voice deep within Jean's bowels groaned as she slid side to side on top of George's sweaty torso.

"Open your eyes Mrs. Shulman," she heard his voice beckon once again as he held her thrashing weight steady.

Like an itch that grows too nagging to ignore, Jean finally forced her eyelids apart and cowered as the sensory overload began to kick in. The fog of her exhaustion slipped away as she scanned her eyes across the dimly lit room. A wife, mother and teacher for more than 30 years, Jean had grown adept at making eye contact with those around her. It was a reflex she had learned to quickly gauge the severity of a situation, and in many cases, the sincerity of another person. What she saw in that room when she allowed her vision to adjust however caused her to wince and quickly bow her eyes in shame.

The image of that momentary glance burned into her retinas, Jean couldn't escape the acid stained silhouette of nearly two dozen men of all different shapes and sizes surrounding her, most of them completely naked with their cocks firmly entrenched in their hands as they stared like hawks down on her body impaled on George Sanders' manhood.

Her eyeballs dancing wildly in their sockets each time George shifted his girth inside her, Jean felt her heart stop when something seemed to crawl up on the bottom edge of the bed.

Once again detained in her self imposed darkness, too scared to visually commit the Pandora's Box she had opened to memory, Jean wallowed there on George's chest, feeling his right hand creep over her damp crotch to keep his cock steady inside her ass at the same time his left hand softly caressed her left breast, just above her heart, as the presence on the bottom of the bed crept closer.

Mustering every bit of bravery she had, Jean opened her eyes and came face to face with one of her most perverse fantasies.

"... Cory... " the drained and broken widow mouthed.

"Uh... huh," the young man replied, a hint of surreal detachment in his voice as well.

As unbelievably foreign as it was for Jean to be in such a predicament, deep down she knew it had to be equally as strange for the recent high school graduate that was crawling up between her legs.

She had only sent out two invitations to her former black students. One was to George Sanders, who was now spread eagle underneath her, with his cock wedged like a spike up her ass, and the other was to George's 18 year old son, Cory, who was kneeling directly above her smoldering crotch.

Jean had only masturbated once at work over the more than three decades she taught. It had been only a few months earlier, well into her final year of teaching when during her 5th period English class, she happened to look up to scan the class while they worked on a project and saw Cory Sanders sitting at his desk, and for just that lucent instant, she was struck by just how much the young boy resembled his Father at that age.

The pen that had been grading essays in Jean's right hand slipped softly from her fingers and landed with a delicate thud on her pile of papers as a strange mix of anxiety and euphoria swept through her stomach. Her thoughts disjointed for the remaining 15 minutes of class, when the period was finally over, Jean tried her best to cordially say her daily farewells to each student as they passed her desk, until she had the room all to herself.

A determined, nearly hypnotic glaze spreading across her face, Jean locked the door as quickly as she could once she was alone before pattering her feet across the floor to sit back down at her desk. Within a ten seconds she had worked her right hand under the hem of her modest, calf length skirt and twisted her wrist upwards until her fingers splashed into the molten pool that had been building in her cunt during class.

Her feet tapping the floor beneath her desk in a rapid and noisy rhythm, Jean wrenched her hand all the way between her thighs and fingerfucked herself to a obscenely quick but bone jarring orgasm.

Instantly feeling a deluge of guilt wash through her soul before she could even pull her forehead off the pile of papers now scattered across her desk, Jean removed her right hand from underneath her dress and looked out over the rows of empty desks lining the room.

"What in the Hell have I become?" she numbly asked herself.

Rationalizing it as punishment for such a vile, primal and uncharacteristic act, Jean forced herself to drive home after leaving school with the damp and stained panties still lining her crotch and the musky smell of sex that inevitably went with them surrounding her in the car.

Little would she know as she bowed her head at the every stoplight that fateful afternoon on her way home, to keep from making eye contact with anyone she might know, that six months later she would be naked on a motel bed with a room full of virile, ex students who had responded to an invitation of her own making.

"He looks so young... .so fragile... so innocent," the untainted part of Jean's conscience noted as she studied Cory hovering above.

Skewered on the spit of George's cock, Jean did the best she could to allow Cory between her legs. A raspy gasp escaped her throat when she felt the warm insistence of Cory's knees nudge her thighs further apart.

Keeping her gaze locked on the young black former student's youthful and excited eyes, Jean wasn't prepared for the locomotive-like percussion of his cock when he slammed it against the entrance of her swollen pussy.

"GODDAMN... AHHHHH," the extremely religious widow immediately moaned when the 18 year old brushed his meaty girth over her most tender of spots.

Disorientated and woozy between two generations of Sanders' men, Jean had no way of knowing how much physical engineering would go into getting both George and Cory securely inside her. The chore of conjoining three sets of genitals through the tangle of six arms, six legs and three stacked and sweaty torsos proved to be difficult as Jean twitched helplessly in between.

By the time Cory had sunk the head of his granite cock into his teacher's raw and cum soaked fissure, his Father was on the verge of busting his own nut from the tight anal noose constricting around his own embedded manhood.

"Hurry up, Son... get that thing inside of her and start fucking her before I explode down here," George urged.

"UURRGGGHH... AAHHHH... YYEEAAHHH," Cory groaned, following his Father's edict and plowing his pelvis forward, causing Jean Shulman's feet to strain outwards and flop in mid air as he stuffed her full of his raging wand.

"Good thing so many guys have already cum inside her," Cory thought to himself, wondering just how tight his entrance would have been without the added lubrication of the men that had came before him.

A nuclear jolt tore through Jean's flesh when the tip of Cory's phallic spear collided with her cervix. Wrapping her arms savagely around Cory's back as he prodded places inside her no man ever had, Jean dug her fingernails into the boy's oily flesh and held on for dear life as George and Cory's cocks see-sawed back and forth between the thinnest of membranes separating her vaginal and rectal cavities.

Her 55 year old body compressed between nearly 400 pounds of churning male muscle, and impaled on nearly a foot and a half of collective manhood, Jean's spastic shrieks and groans only intensified until all the pictures on the motel room's beige walls were vibrating on their mount.

On and on the lurid coupling went until all four corners of the bed's fitted sheet peeled loose, leaving the squirming threesome writhing on soiled, twisted linen and a bare mattress.

Buried under the weight of Jean and Cory humping on top of him, George Sanders gritted his teeth and held his own, using his right hand to keep his cock wedged deep in the white woman's bowels as her greasy and pungent dew leaked from her crotch, soaking his large black balls with a velvety sheen.

"You better cum quick... before they break your cock off at the root," George told himself as he reached up with his free hand and took a firm grip of Jean's left breast.

Jerking his jock upwards with rapid and renewed desperation, George's lust finally let loose.

"GGGGGRRRRRHHHAAAAAAHHHHHH," the elder Sanders growled with primal clarity, sending a potent wad of jism deep into Jean's churning intestines.

Jean Shulman would never know what it felt like to experience an exorcism or have every nerve ending in her body set ablaze at the same instant, but the closest she would ever come to it was being trapped like a screaming shrew between George Sanders and his Son and having the older of the two's cock explode violently inside her flared asshole.