Chapter 2

Finally, Pony Girl finished the night school and earned her Associates Degree with credit for two full years of certified college training. She was still not satisfied with her academic standing because she knew most of the white girls outside the reservation were making full speed ahead progress to a four year degree. It seemed like a goal far above her ability to achieve but surprisingly Mister Johnson gave her the help she needed to slip in the back door of the State University system. He stamped her papers with all the needed blurbs that the regents were looking for and they seemed more than happy to approve a genuine “minority” to a full academic scholarship for her final two years.

He convinced her that her best course of action was to play up her Native Indian status and try to keep her mouth shut when she wanted to get on a soapbox and start spouting confrontational facts to support her claim of bias against the native tribes. She decided she would let the hot-blooded males do the heavy lifting in that arena and she just smiled and told the white folks that she was “so appreciative” of their efforts on her behalf.

When she felt like it was all an act and she needed to get away from her role, she would remove all traces of her Indian heritage and pretend to be just another clueless young person looking for a little fun in the college years of free love and cold beer. Fortunately, Pony Girl was not much of a drinker because she was fully aware of how the stuff had destroyed the lives of a number of her friends and relatives over the years. It seemed to be a genetic disease that afflicted anyone with Indian genes and she was determined not to allow it to bring her down before she even had a chance to get started in life.

She stood leaning against the wall in the dance hall as far away from the bar as possible because she didn’t even want to smell the stale beer that made her stomach roll with distaste like Mister Johnson had just made her swallow a bunch of his nasty stuff just to show her who was in charge. It was easy to understand why his wife wouldn’t even think about such a dirty act of shameful submission. In fact, most of the white wives were more than happy to let their spouses use the tramps on the reservation for such functions and pretended they didn’t know a thing about it.

Pony Girl was wearing a great outfit that accentuated her generous bosom and called attention to the fact that her heart-shaped buttocks were gathered into a pulse-pounding presentation of twin scoops shelved out almost three inches from her slender long shapely legs. She had decided not to wear any undies for the dance because she liked the feel of a boy’s business between her legs rubbing on her privates with serious hardness and energetic enthusiasm. It generally brought her to the edge of release and the young girl only needed to touch her clit with her finger to go past that point of no return and drenched nylons.

The boy that asked her to dance was so vigorous in his style that she was soon reduced to quaking passion and she timidly asked him if it would be permissible for her to sit down because she felt a “little dizzy”.

Being a perfect gentleman, well, most of the time anyway, Bobby Brown escorted her over to the bench against the wall and she sat with her knees up high and ankles tucked in tight against her backside. It was a perfect position for her because her leather heels were now shielding her feminine folds and she knew it was time to go down that highway of sordid carnal pleasure in a way that make her feel guilty but satisfied with the result.

He looked down into her eyes and knew she was “feeling” the excitement of the moment in a way that females tended to value more than anything else and that if he played his cards right, she would be returning the favor as soon as they had a bit of privacy for close personal interaction. Bobby never suspected his “date” was a full blooded Indian Princess and in all honesty, he could care less about her DNA background or blood type. He was only interested in her attitude about bending over for some research into “from the rear” relations of the sordid variety. He knew she had the look of innocence, but he suspected she was interested in exactly the same thing that he was focused on and in his mind, the faster they headed down that road, the better for the both of them.

The space between the Dempsey dumpster and the cement block wall was just wide enough to allow Pony Girl to squeeze into it and she bent over and grabbed her ankles smiling like a Cheshire cat in the dim light of the dirty lamppost. She heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper opening behind her and shortly after, the touch of Bobby’s hard dick on her feminine private parts made her gasp with silly schoolgirl overreaction.

“Oh my God! Not too fast, Mister, we have all the time in the world.”

The impudent teenager spanked her bare cheeks in a way that endeared him in her heart forever and she pushed her hips back hoping he was ready to give her full measure without her complete compliance. He was true to his word and split her wide open with his oversized member like some worshiper at a shrine of guilty submission. She took it all and tried her best not to make any noise because they did not want to be caught doing the dirty deed right out in public like a pair of sinners unconcerned about others seeing their depraved disregard for proper behavior.

The sound of Bobby’s hardness pressing into her with desperate resolve was accompanied by the unmistakable slaps and grunts of her painful spanking delivered at the same time by the excited young man with a need to make her take maximum humiliation for her lack of morals. He managed to keep up a fast tempo of blows on her flanks and a steady beat of impalement of her deep and sloppily wet slit in the narrow space. She was unable to move forward or left or right. Her only option was to push back against his forceful thrusting and she did so with a joyful lack of proper behavior eager to offer her innermost secrets to his lusting invasion.