The memory of the desk clerk’s lecherous grin was still with Lauralee as she opened the door to one of the adjoining rooms and went inside. But she was just too woozy to wonder about the man’s lifted eyebrow or the stupid question he had put to her when she registered. Didn’t everybody stay all night in a motel? She couldn’t imagine many people leaving at two a.m.
Dropping her only luggage, the overnight case, upon a chair, she blinked around the room and heard her son and his brand new bride laugh, through the door that connected their rooms. She frowned; neither of them had the decency to be embarrassed, and they should be. Not only because they had run away to Reno to get married — and both of them so damned YOUNG — but also because Robbie’s beat-up old car had broken down and he’d had to cal his mother to come rescue them.
Lauralee shrugged off her sensible coat and looked around the room. She shouldn’t have had those two strong drinks; she wasn’t at all used to alcohol, and they had made her drowsy, so of course the only logical thing to do was stop at the first motel along the highway. And it was expensive. Silly newlyweds never considered expenses, or jobs, or planning ahead; they just leaped into marriage as if it was going to be one long and rosy romance.
She blinked at her surroundings: a huge, round water bed over there, entirely surrounded by blue mirrors; even the ceiling above it was mirrored, and she thought, HOW CRUDE. The entire room seemed to shriek of sexuality. Lauralee’s lip curled.
Walking over to the bed, she leaned to touch it gingerly, and drew back at the quiver of the thing. Next door, the girl giggled again, and Lauralee bit her lips remembering her own wedding night, the pain and ugliness, the farce that had continued throughout her marriage. But she strongly suspected that this wasn’t the first time her son had been to bed with Bettina, and wondered why the girl was laughing. Maybe she was a good actress; so many women were, simply because they had to be.
Shaking her head, Lauralee walked to the bathroom and checked the shower stall for cleanliness. It would do, so she strode back into the bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse. Balancing primly upon the edge of a chair, she took off her shoes and noticed the time on her wristwatch. Time for the late news, she thought, and turned on the television set, then slid from her skirt and pulled her slip over her head as the set warmed up.
Her bra and panties were plain white and serviceable, nothing frilly and fancy; she had never even worn the lacy sets that her husband had brought home that first year. They were still packed away in a trunk. Maybe his new wife or girlfriend wore such things.
She was reaching around behind her back and had just unhooked her bra when her eyes fell on the TV screen. Lauralee gasped, and her knees unhinged themselves in a total shock that dropped her back into the chair, the bra slipping from her nerveless hand.
What she was seeing was IMPOSSIBLE, but there it was, in flaming and outrageous color — the close-up of a man’s thing working back and forth into a woman’s organ!
Stunned, she stared in disbelief at the terrible picture, at the veined penis sliding greasily, powerfully into a hairy mound whose lips were puggy and inflamed, at the rhythm of the furry testicles that swung back and forth. Oh no, she though as her head whirled — oh no! It couldn’t be; things like that were never shown on television.
It was horrible, and she felt the muscles of her stomach go tight, her thighs draw themselves together protectively. That penis looked so huge, and the woman’s labia seemed to writhe. There was sound, too — that awful, wet noise of oily meat slipping into a soapy sheath, that damp slapping of the sack against the cleft of an uptilted pair of rolling buttocks.
Lauralee had never seen anything like it before; she had never even looked closely at her own husband’s thing, and, after the so-called honeymoon, had always turned off the lights when Marshall had insisted upon his husbandly rights. She tired to force herself from the chair, to move forward and turn off the detestable picture, but somehow her long legs refused to work.
The camera panned back, and she could see the couple in full. Even though they were obviously perverted, they were acceptably good-looking, and she was amazed that two such normal-appearing people would dirty themselves that way, by allowing their animalistic performance to be filmed. And the way the woman was squirming and heaving, moaning deep in her throat, as if she was really enjoying the brutal thrusting of the man’s thick organ.
The chill that had numbed the back of Lauralee’s neck changed subtly as the woman called out shamelessly that she was coming, coming, and the camera zoomed in tight again to show the man’s sack leaping convulsively as he also reached his orgasm. Lauralee hadn’t known it did that, and she frowned again when she realized that the nipples of her breasts had grown erect.
She gripped her thighs, her fingernails digging into tender flesh as she watched the penis itself, withdrawn from the woman’s vagina, the slow oozing of creamy semen that dripped down the red and swollen shaft. Then she gasped, for suddenly a mouth was up close to the thing, a smiling mouth with red lips and a pink tongue darting. The tongue lapped at the thickly sliding semen and drew the pasty stuff into her mouth.
Lauralee shuddered violently. She knew that such perversions went on in the world, but she had never had the slightest idea that she would be personally exposed to them. How depraved could people get? She fought to stand up, to blot out the nauseating scene, but her legs betrayed her.
There! The shameless bitch was actually taking the greasy glans into her mouth, drawing it deeply and sucking on it. Lauralee could see the woman’s throat working and make out the in-dipping of the cheeks. How could she stand the very idea of doing that, much less the taste, which must be icky? It was bad enough to be forced to touch a man’s penis, but to take it in your mouth!
Blurring back, the camera showed how the man was stroking the long, blonde hair, how he was hunching his thing into the girl’s face; and they were groaning together, wiggling as if what they were doing was divine.
There were other angles, the man’s taut face, a shot of his sack moving, and a strange one of the woman’s had caressing her own vulva as she continued to suck lustily upon the penis in her mouth. Was she going to — to finger herself? Yes, there it was in all its forbidden starkness, the finger prodding the frothing labia and fondling those obscenely gaping lips before slipping inside. She was masturbating then, humping upon her hand and stroking the finger into her vagina as she pulled and chewed noisily upon the man’s stiff organ.
Lauralee trembled when she discovered that she was caressing her own mound, that its resilient mattress was pulsing beneath the wayward hand. She jerked away her fingers and closed her eyes. Enough of this shocking thing! She would simply turn off the set and go take a cooling shower. She told herself that was why she was slipping her panties down her legs.
The close-up of the finger moving within the steaming, hairy slot hypnotized her, entranced her, and she quivered when she made little, tentative movements across her mound. She had always been told this was debasing, but the actress seemed to be enjoying it so, and surely it couldn’t hurt to just see…
Lauralee shot bolt upright in the chair when her fingertip slipped all too easily between her labia and inadvertently touched something that flashed wet flames throughout her tensing body. It was so strange, a queer thrill that she sought again. On the screen the other woman’s finger was blurring swiftly now, and the entire curly-haired mound was surging lasciviously.
Cutting to the man’s distended penis, the screen showed his sack leaping again, and the woman spread her lips just slightly so that the viewers could watch the veritable cascade of creamy semen that was drenching her mouth. Thick and pearly, the heavy juice spurted far back into her throat, and the woman choked it down, swallowing rapidly while her super-active tongue looped over and around the geyser-like glans.
She was actually drinking the fluid down, Lauralee thought dazedly; the otherwise stunningly attractive woman was gulping down a man’s seminal liquid and acting as if it was the most delicious, the most gratifying stuff in the world. Lauralee trembled upon her finger, and worked it hesitantly back and forth.
Her husband’s thing had never felt this good; he had forced it into her on their wedding night, had forced it into her virginal body without regard to her sensitivity, never even considering that she might have been repulsed by the whole thing. And even though what she was doing was almost as bad, she was at least getting some enjoyment from it.
Just as the actress was; look how her beautiful thighs were contracting as she rode her finger — no! TWO fingers — rotating her pelvis and pumping her crotch with the same hungry motions she had used in copulating with the man only a minute before. It looked so real, so thrilling, and Lauralee found herself almost matching the woman’s frenzy, rocking her hips in unaccustomed movements that were reaching frenzy.
It was good; it was devilishly exciting and sinfully sweet. She could feel it building, a weird pressure in her thighs and growing in her lower groin. Lauralee ground sensuously upon her finger, cupping the others over her heaving mound and pushing her long legs out in front of her, practically lifting off the chair cushion as she thrust and recoiled, stroked and pulled back.
Heat spread within her slippery vagina, and a bright little ember fanned itself into white-hot flame at her clitoris, that little center of passion that she had long thought was withered and useless. Eyes fixed mesmerized upon the TV screen, Lauralee bucked in the throes of her first orgasm, biting her lips and moaning, her head rolling limply from side to side as she reached the hissing, tumbling crest of a mighty, smashing wave.
She had come.
Oh Lord, she had come at last. It was a marvelous release, an emotional explosion that had loosened every fiber of her body, all the nerves that had so long been denied this rapture. She held her finger deep within her flexing vagina and shuddered in the swirling backwash of her climax, her eyes closed and open, closed and open.
They were doing something else on the screen, and she thought fuzzily, so soon? Lauralee blinked, and slowly realized that another woman had entered the room there, a woman with different-colored hair and a differently proportioned body, one who wore a diaphanous and revealing babydoll nightie. As Lauralee stared, this new actress slipped out of the gown and walked gracefully to the couple resting upon the bed.
Stirring her finger gently within her sensitized slit, Lauralee watched with heightening interest, to see what would happen next. She fought the feeling of guilt that threatened to overwhelm her, and concentrated upon the screen while she luxuriated in the juicy arousal of her vagina. She could blame the alcohol, her mental upset at the precipitous marriage of her son, the jolt of seeing dirty movies on TV, anything. But she refused to feel sinful; it was impossible, when she felt so good.
She saw the other woman join the lovers upon the bed, and as the man rolled aside to give them room, Lauralee knew another electric jolt: the two women were caressing, pushing their naked bodies together without shame, fondling each other’s heavy breasts and kissing, running their tongues together. She could plainly see the brown-haired mound grinding into the blond one, and sucked in a deep breath as the blonde wrapped her legs around the other woman. Lauralee’s finger stopped feeling around inside her sheath; she thought that was going altogether too far.
But as the camera held upon them, the scene began to seem less dirty; there was something almost beautiful in the tender way they were caressing each other, a gentleness that the man hadn’t shown. Their hands fluttered like butterflies, softly, beguilingly, and Lauralee thought that was the way a man should love a woman, very tenderly — not ramming his swollen thing savagely like a lust-mad animal.
One of them was kissing the other’s globular breasts, nuzzling each nipple in turn, and Lauralee’s finger began to slide again, teasing into her slit and seeking to bring back that tickly, mind-expanding goodness. Now the blonde was lying on top of the dark-haired woman, and the man was kissing them both and rubbing his organ along their gleaming thighs. But they seemed to be paying little attention to him.
Why, Lauralee thought in surprise, they were trying to — to do it together, and they ought to know that couldn’t be done. They simply weren’t built like that; one of them had to possess a male thing. But she had to admit that it looked interesting as they thrust together, grinding their crotches and trembling as they continued to kiss hotly.
When the camera cut to a close-up of the moving vulvas, Lauralee’s eyes went wide. She could see a clitoris that looked very much like a man’s rod, only much smaller, and she could also see that the two slits were meeting, stimulating each other. It was fantastic.
It was also voluptuous, and she began to build up the magic rhythm again, her eyes fixed upon the screen, her thighs spreading themselves wider as she rooted deeper with the probing finger, pretending she was one with the women.
“Ummm,” she murmured, “uummm — it’s — so — good!”
Furiously, then, she rubbed her vibrant clitoris and plunged her finger into the suctioning grip of her sizzling hole, rolling her buttocks and gasping as the wonderful feeling came boomeranging through her vagina once more. She had hoped it would be as wild as last time, but it was even better. Lauralee let out a soft cry as she came, and her bare heels drummed a spasmed tattoo upon the motel carpet.
Slowly, she came back to the world around her, to the sounds issuing from the television set, and the flashing colors there. Her head was spinning, and far back in a newly discovered corner of her mind, Lauralee Jergens was beginning to wonder just where the hell she had been all her life.
“Oh wow,” the voice said and it didn’t come from the screen.
Lauralee jerked her head around and wanted to die on the spot. Her daughter-in-law stood just behind the chair, looking petite and beautiful in a flowing nightie that clung to the almost childlike curvings of her small, youthful body. And the girl was staring down at the spot where Lauralee’s finger was still embedded into the wet lips of her vagina. There could be no mistake about what had been going on.
Bettina said again, “Oh wow — I never would have thought it. I mean, not YOU.”
Choking it out, Lauralee managed to say: “P-please — just let me…”
Swiftly, the girl went to her knees beside the chair and put a soft arm around her shoulder. “Hey — I’m not putting you down for masturbating, Lauralee; nothing like that. I was just shook up, that’s all. It’s the TV, right? You had no idea you were checking us into an X-rated motel and I’ll bet you never saw anything like that before.”
“I’m not,” Lauralee said, trying to sneak out her finger, “never — it really isn’t…”
“You know,” Bettina purred, her hand sliding down the shoulder to brush across one of Lauralee’s full breasts, “you really are a beautiful woman. I had you figured for an iceberg, but after watching you riding your hand like that…”
It was all wrong, but Lauralee had no idea how to go about getting out of it. She couldn’t very well scream and bring her son running in from next door; not while she was naked like this. She flinched when Bettina’s fingers began to toy with a nipple, and shivered as the girl’s spicy, warm breath tingled in her ear. Not Bettina, she thought wildly, crazily.
“Beautiful,” the girl whispered, “and according to Robbie, you haven’t even looked at a man since you were divorced — or a woman, either. All that long, sinuous body going to waste, and these lovely tits — not big, but shaped so well.”
Lauralee tried, even though her body was weak and she couldn’t get her mind to track properly. “Bettina, please — you mustn’t…”
“Between those porn movies and the screwing I just had, I’m already turned on,” Bettina said, cupping both breasts now and kissing Lauralee’s throat, “but you turn me on more. How about that? I’m suddenly hot for my mother-in-law.”
“N-no,” Lauralee whispered, but the girl was suddenly between her knees and the ripe young mouth was reaching up for her own. The quick wet tongue was thrusting into her weak lips, and there was a hand, a strange, very soft hand caressing her mound.
She felt firm breasts crushing her own, and a silken vulva burning into her own, and the motel room spun dizzily as her tongue met Bettina’s, as their panting breaths mixed. Lauralee knew that she was lost.
Somehow, clinging for support to the girl, Lauralee made it to the bed, and it gave sensuously beneath her collapsing body, rolling as if it, too, had come alive and was turned giving and resilient.
Lauralee was panting, biting her lips, and there was a fierce struggle going on within her head. She was confused, frightened, ashamed, the emotions whirling and changing in swift patterns, but always the strong one came to the fore — that new, overpowering hunger. Two violent orgasms had only whetted that strange appetite, not slaked it.
She was hot; oh Lord, she was hot. Fiery lances of passions seared her tensed flesh and stabbed deep within her aroused vagina. It was all wrong; what she was feeling had to be obscene and unlawful, and-and…
But Bettina’s hands were fondling her breasts, and the girl’s spicy mouth was nibbling at her throat. Her daughter-in-law’s hands were roaming, caressing, one of them stroking the dampened moss of Lauralee’s vulva, the other fondling hips and thighs, and she was helpless beneath those knowing touches.
She found herself revelling in the satiny flesh squirming against her own, in the kisses Bettina was showering upon her skin. She dared to put her arms around the slim, warm body. That stunned but yet logical part of her mind insisted that what she was doing was taboo, that this lovely girl was now a member of her own family. Lauralee’s body refused to listen, and her lean belly was sliding avidly across the girl’s.
“Such beautiful tits,” Bettina murmured. “They’re as firm as mine, but darker, and wonderfully sculptured. Oh, I love them.”
Lauralee gasped when the girl kissed her nipples, when she felt a finger working its way expertly up into the already flowing lips of her vagina. Then Bettina closed her hot mouth over one tip, and Lauralee arched in swift response. Her former husband had kissed her breasts, but never like this, never so deftly and lasciviously, never lifting such sparks of prompt desire within her body.
She wiggled slightly upon the finger embedded within her sheath, and Bettina promptly probed the clitoral hood to tease the center of all feeling. Closing her eyes, Lauralee gave up fighting anything, and allowed her body to take over, to respond on its own, without direction on her part. She didn’t know what to do, anyway. She knew only that Bettina felt marvelous in her arms, that she felt tenderness and gentleness, and a great, pervasive craving.
The girl’s hot mouth was slipping farther down her body, the wet, tickly tongue drawing a fiery trail over her rib cage, then down to her quaking tummy.
“A crazy pussy, too,” Bettina whispered. “All that cunt hair, so rich and black, so deep. It’s steaming, Lauralee.”
Lauralee jerked uncontrollably when she felt hot breath blowing into the edge of her pubic hair, when she learned the flicking caress of that educated tongue. Now Bettina’s hands were firmly gripping her thighs, spreading them wider, and her drilling tongue burrowed its way into the shaggy hair.
Now it thrust deep into the fur, and strongly against her labia, sending a shock wave throughout Lauralee’s straining body. Her vulva quivered, and she gasped when the girl’s tongue delved through the lips and into the pulsing wet cavity itself. She had never felt anything like it, never even imagined the sensuous contact or the spiralling thrills that shot up into her vagina.
Then Bettina was shoving her entire face into Lauralee’s crotch, forcing her mouth to cover the shuddering cunt lips, and sucking — oh Lord, SUCKING! Colors flashed before her eyes, and keening sounds hissed through her clenched teeth. Oh no — it just couldn’t be happening to her, she couldn’t be letting this occur.
But she was and it was, and her entire aching body was glorying in the experience, wriggling and heaving, and the nipples of her breasts were so rigid they felt as if they might snap off. Her thighs moved together, caressing the honey-blonde head between them, and Bettina’s hands fondled the uptilting cheeks of Lauralee’s ass.
ASS, she thought; not buttocks, but ASS, and the honesty of the word was good inside her head. She rolled her ass and surged her pelvis, forcing her pussy lips deeper into the eagerly gulping mouth fastened so greedily to them. The girl’s tongue darted and curled, acting like a small penis within the satin folding of the sheath, and Lauralee revelled in the magic sensations that were flooding her being.
The girl was almost her own daughter, but she was sexy and experienced, and she was driving Lauralee almost insane with rapture. Ecstasy raced through her belly, through her pussy, oh yes, her CUNT, and that was wonderful, too.
Bettina moaned into the churning pussy, and Lauralee clamped down with her thighs, imprisoning the girl’s face, trying to draw it completely into her inflamed vagina. Bettina licked hotly, finding the vibrant clitoris and tantalizing it until Lauralee bucked wildly. When the girl pulled the nubbin into her teeth and worried it, Lauralee went completely mad.
White-hot explosions burst within her seething pussy, and her asshole drew into a knot. With her belly heaving and her back arching, Lauralee twisted upon the marvelous impalement of that ravenous mouth. She cried out some wordless sound of joy, and dug her long fingernails into the girl’s thick hair, humping and thrusting shamelessly into her mouth, against those teeth, into the devious whirlings of that superbly trained tongue.
It was magnificent. Her flesh convulsed and her pussy contracted. She went into a frenzy of grindings and pumpings, moaning and gasping for breath. There had never been anything like this in Lauralee’s life, never anything so masterfully beautiful, and she let herself go limp in the powerful backwash of her tremendous orgasm.
Dimly, she was aware that Bettina had lifted that adoring mouth from her pussy, and she felt the girl kissing a slow and teasing path back up her supine body. But Lauralee couldn’t move. The warm, soft lips edged to her breast and lingered there while the slippery tongue played over the aching nipple.
Lauralee stirred, coming slowly back to herself as her young daughter-in-law kissed her throat. She caressed the girl’s sleek body, her fingers gradually learning the silken texture of the flawless skin and the shaping of the delectable buttocks.
Then the enchanted mouth was softly pressing her own, the oily tongue penetrating her mouth, and Lauralee accepted it happily even as she realized that she was being given a taste of her own pussy juices. Her pulses thundered anew at the thought, and she found herself sucking upon Bettina’s tongue.
The girl was locked firmly between her spread thighs now, and Lauralee knew the wondrous softness of a humid pussy being forced against her own. Just as the two actors had done on TV, she thought dizzily, and it was working; she could feel the pressure as Bettina sought to rub their clits together. Her long, lean legs raised themselves and curled around the slim body, so that she could help, so she could draw the beautiful girl closer.
Oh, it was so thrilling! Their breasts moved together, nipples brushing nipples, and Lauralee locked her legs around her lover’s moving, thrusting body. Cunt to cunt, they stroked together, and it was slippery, juicy, the occasional touching of their clits a fabulous sensation.
They were actually doing it, Lauralee thought; they were really FUCKING. She wriggled and rolled back upon her shoulder blades, so the girl could use her clit like a miniature penis — no, a PRICK — and moved her crotch with welcoming, sinuous motions. Locked in each other’s arms, their mouths and their bodies welded together, they screwed blissfully, the perfect tenderness bringing a slow but deeply gratifying love to them. Lauralee was ecstatic. She knew only a momentary stab of guilt, soon gone and gladly denied. She knew only a passing moment of regret that all of her thirty-six years had been wasted, before this night.
Her husband could have done this to her, if only he had been kind and gentle instead of such an animal. Marshall might have made her body sing, too. But Lauralee doubted that; he was just a man, without the delicate touch this adorable girl owned, without her assurance.
“That’s the way,” Bettina panted. “That’s the way to lay that rich cunt up to me, baby. Oh yeah, yeah — you can really grind it, Lauralee. Oh wow, and I thought you were frigid, all uptight. Man, how wrong I was — oohh! — you’re a hot lay, a real — hot — screw!”
Lauralee pushed back at the girl’s plunging crotch, grinding to bring their clits together, because she was a hot lay, because it felt so good to be wanted and loved and appreciated. They were giving to each other, not one of them simply taking from the other because he was bigger and stronger. Pussy to pussy, they churned and hunched, bringing themselves inexorably to a shivering climax. It was sweet and piercing, that orgasm, fulfilling and warm.
In lassitude, Lauralee clung to this wonderful girl her son had married, cuddling the slim, delicate body close and holding their tingling cunts plastered together. The water bed beneath them rocked sensuously, cradling them, lulling them. Somewhere beyond, the porno movie went on, or maybe it was another one. This time, the moans of the women and the gasping of men seemed like music; now Lauralee could read the notes and catch the rhythm. It was a melody for lovers.
Bettina rolled easily off her body and lay to one side, a forearm across her eyes, small, round breasts rising and falling rapidly. Lazily, Lauralee watched the movement of the pink nipples. She wondered how they would taste, if she dared to wrap her tongue around them. Funny, she thought; she had never entertained such a thought before. Did it mean that she was a lesbian, that what had gone wrong in her marriage had been HER fault, and not Marshall’s?
She kept staring at the delicious-looking cones of the girl’s breasts, and her eyes wandered down the supple length of the delicately formed body, so small and youthful, to the patch of curly, darkly golden hair nestled between slender, perfect thighs. No wonder her son had been so intrigued by Bettina; no wonder he had run away and married her.
Lauralee blinked. Her SON; she had been doing all these lascivious things with her own son’s wife, with a girl even younger than Robbie. But — and she frowned — but this girl did it with him, too. Bettina couldn’t be a lesbian, if she enjoyed screwing men also. Could she? Lauralee was confused. Too many things were happening to her at once, and she was having difficulty coping.
On the screen across the room, someone said huskily, “Oh eat me, darling — eat my pussy.”
Trembling, Lauralee reached out one hand and cupped the child’s appealing breast. Her thumb and forefinger rolled the erectile nipple between them. Mesmerized, she leaned closer, and nuzzled into the dainty valley between the twin globes. They were soft and scented, rounded and beguiling. Lauralee’s tongue eased out and toyed with the pink tip. Bettina shivered, but didn’t take her arm down from her eyes, and Lauralee knew a lifting of confidence.
By not moving Bettina had told her silently that the girl’s spectacular body was hers for the taking, for using as she saw fit. It was a strange moment, when Lauralee realized that, when she knew she could do anything with another person’s naked flesh — handle it, kiss it, pat and fondle and caress — even hurt it, if she so desired.
All she wanted to do was to love this captivating body, to bring it as much pleasure as it had given her. Lauralee refused to think beyond this scintillating moment, to go past the NOW of love. Sometime, somewhere she would have to turn this radiant child back to her new husband. But she didn’t want to think of that dreary moment, and put it out of her head.
Tenderly, she sucked upon the girl’s nipple, relishing its flavor, its aroma lying perfumed upon her tongue. She played her hands over Bettina’s flesh, over the narrow hips and across the flat stomach. Inch by inch, her fingers strayed ever closer to the charming nest of pubic hair so gleaming and soft. Lauralee touched it, and was thrilled by its silken texture, by the damp heat rising through its ringleted moss.
She peered down, releasing the breast from her lips with reluctance, but drawn by something far more compelling. Cupping the downy mattress of Bettina’s mound with one palm, she kissed the girl’s tremulous belly, and wriggled the end of her tongue into the dimpled belly button.
Bettina moved then, twitching at the wet tingle, and Lauralee moved farther down, trailing her lips over creamy skin. There were the labia, pulsing red and symmetrical beneath their covering of glistening fur. The pussy lips seemed to be pulsing, to be awaiting the caress that would bring them leaping and writhing. Lauralee didn’t wait any longer. She probed down into the fleecy bush and licked the full and pouting labia. She tasted musk, and exotic spices she couldn’t identify, and her own breasts ached with need.
Turning her body and positioning herself between the girl’s spread legs, Lauralee slid her palms beneath the dainty cheeks of Bettina’s ass, and stared down into the opened pussy. Moaning then, she plunged her feverish face into that adorable crotch, into the silken hair and against the pulsating labia. She drove her extended tongue greedily into them, through their rubbery clinging and into the steamy hole.
As Bettina gasped and rolled her belly, Lauralee exulted. She was doing it, licking another woman’s most private part, feeling around the velvet sheath with her tongue and raking her teeth gently against the spongy cunt lips. Using her tongue the way she remembered the girl doing it, Lauralee drilled deeply, and withdrew with quick little curlings.
Her daughter-in-law hunched tempestuously to her mouth, and Lauralee sucked, trying to draw all the honeyed sweetness down her throat. It was slick, wondrous liquid, fantastically intimate juice that taste of love, beautiful, horny love. It bathed her chin and cheeks, and all she could think of was a seedless, ripe pomegranate.
There was the clitoris, the quivering, succulent little clit, hidden in its protective covering; Lauralee’s tongue found it quickly. She was growing more experienced with every passing moment, and thought perhaps experience really wasn’t necessary like this, woman to woman. Now that she knew her own body, she also knew those of other women. Far better than any man could know them, she was certain.
Drawing upon the clit, she manipulated its nubbin with her tongue, circling it, pressing down, then releasing. Bettina was squirming fervently, rocking her sleek hips from side to side and humping, grinding, smearing her glossy cunt into Lauralee’s mouth. Lauralee ate it, tried to devour it, to swallow it down and take its sugared juices forever into herself.
“Oh darling!” Bettina cried out. “Oohh — you’re giving me the most wonderful head! Lauralee — ooh baby — you’re driving my little clit crazy. You’re making me come, darling — COME!”
Lauralee felt the churning of the girl’s fiery snatch, the shudders that wracked the small and twisting body. She could almost come herself, she thought; it was so good to be able to give such rapture to another, so stimulating and delightfully wanton, to be eating pussy like this.
Lifting her face from the soggy, palpitating mound, she licked greedily at the overflowing lubrication and sat back upon her knees to stare down at the girl’s flexing body.
That was when she caught something at the corner of her eye and turned to see her son standing in the connecting doorway between the rooms.
Dropping her only luggage, the overnight case, upon a chair, she blinked around the room and heard her son and his brand new bride laugh, through the door that connected their rooms. She frowned; neither of them had the decency to be embarrassed, and they should be. Not only because they had run away to Reno to get married — and both of them so damned YOUNG — but also because Robbie’s beat-up old car had broken down and he’d had to cal his mother to come rescue them.
Lauralee shrugged off her sensible coat and looked around the room. She shouldn’t have had those two strong drinks; she wasn’t at all used to alcohol, and they had made her drowsy, so of course the only logical thing to do was stop at the first motel along the highway. And it was expensive. Silly newlyweds never considered expenses, or jobs, or planning ahead; they just leaped into marriage as if it was going to be one long and rosy romance.
She blinked at her surroundings: a huge, round water bed over there, entirely surrounded by blue mirrors; even the ceiling above it was mirrored, and she thought, HOW CRUDE. The entire room seemed to shriek of sexuality. Lauralee’s lip curled.
Walking over to the bed, she leaned to touch it gingerly, and drew back at the quiver of the thing. Next door, the girl giggled again, and Lauralee bit her lips remembering her own wedding night, the pain and ugliness, the farce that had continued throughout her marriage. But she strongly suspected that this wasn’t the first time her son had been to bed with Bettina, and wondered why the girl was laughing. Maybe she was a good actress; so many women were, simply because they had to be.
Shaking her head, Lauralee walked to the bathroom and checked the shower stall for cleanliness. It would do, so she strode back into the bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse. Balancing primly upon the edge of a chair, she took off her shoes and noticed the time on her wristwatch. Time for the late news, she thought, and turned on the television set, then slid from her skirt and pulled her slip over her head as the set warmed up.
Her bra and panties were plain white and serviceable, nothing frilly and fancy; she had never even worn the lacy sets that her husband had brought home that first year. They were still packed away in a trunk. Maybe his new wife or girlfriend wore such things.
She was reaching around behind her back and had just unhooked her bra when her eyes fell on the TV screen. Lauralee gasped, and her knees unhinged themselves in a total shock that dropped her back into the chair, the bra slipping from her nerveless hand.
What she was seeing was IMPOSSIBLE, but there it was, in flaming and outrageous color — the close-up of a man’s thing working back and forth into a woman’s organ!
Stunned, she stared in disbelief at the terrible picture, at the veined penis sliding greasily, powerfully into a hairy mound whose lips were puggy and inflamed, at the rhythm of the furry testicles that swung back and forth. Oh no, she though as her head whirled — oh no! It couldn’t be; things like that were never shown on television.
It was horrible, and she felt the muscles of her stomach go tight, her thighs draw themselves together protectively. That penis looked so huge, and the woman’s labia seemed to writhe. There was sound, too — that awful, wet noise of oily meat slipping into a soapy sheath, that damp slapping of the sack against the cleft of an uptilted pair of rolling buttocks.
Lauralee had never seen anything like it before; she had never even looked closely at her own husband’s thing, and, after the so-called honeymoon, had always turned off the lights when Marshall had insisted upon his husbandly rights. She tired to force herself from the chair, to move forward and turn off the detestable picture, but somehow her long legs refused to work.
The camera panned back, and she could see the couple in full. Even though they were obviously perverted, they were acceptably good-looking, and she was amazed that two such normal-appearing people would dirty themselves that way, by allowing their animalistic performance to be filmed. And the way the woman was squirming and heaving, moaning deep in her throat, as if she was really enjoying the brutal thrusting of the man’s thick organ.
The chill that had numbed the back of Lauralee’s neck changed subtly as the woman called out shamelessly that she was coming, coming, and the camera zoomed in tight again to show the man’s sack leaping convulsively as he also reached his orgasm. Lauralee hadn’t known it did that, and she frowned again when she realized that the nipples of her breasts had grown erect.
She gripped her thighs, her fingernails digging into tender flesh as she watched the penis itself, withdrawn from the woman’s vagina, the slow oozing of creamy semen that dripped down the red and swollen shaft. Then she gasped, for suddenly a mouth was up close to the thing, a smiling mouth with red lips and a pink tongue darting. The tongue lapped at the thickly sliding semen and drew the pasty stuff into her mouth.
Lauralee shuddered violently. She knew that such perversions went on in the world, but she had never had the slightest idea that she would be personally exposed to them. How depraved could people get? She fought to stand up, to blot out the nauseating scene, but her legs betrayed her.
There! The shameless bitch was actually taking the greasy glans into her mouth, drawing it deeply and sucking on it. Lauralee could see the woman’s throat working and make out the in-dipping of the cheeks. How could she stand the very idea of doing that, much less the taste, which must be icky? It was bad enough to be forced to touch a man’s penis, but to take it in your mouth!
Blurring back, the camera showed how the man was stroking the long, blonde hair, how he was hunching his thing into the girl’s face; and they were groaning together, wiggling as if what they were doing was divine.
There were other angles, the man’s taut face, a shot of his sack moving, and a strange one of the woman’s had caressing her own vulva as she continued to suck lustily upon the penis in her mouth. Was she going to — to finger herself? Yes, there it was in all its forbidden starkness, the finger prodding the frothing labia and fondling those obscenely gaping lips before slipping inside. She was masturbating then, humping upon her hand and stroking the finger into her vagina as she pulled and chewed noisily upon the man’s stiff organ.
Lauralee trembled when she discovered that she was caressing her own mound, that its resilient mattress was pulsing beneath the wayward hand. She jerked away her fingers and closed her eyes. Enough of this shocking thing! She would simply turn off the set and go take a cooling shower. She told herself that was why she was slipping her panties down her legs.
The close-up of the finger moving within the steaming, hairy slot hypnotized her, entranced her, and she quivered when she made little, tentative movements across her mound. She had always been told this was debasing, but the actress seemed to be enjoying it so, and surely it couldn’t hurt to just see…
Lauralee shot bolt upright in the chair when her fingertip slipped all too easily between her labia and inadvertently touched something that flashed wet flames throughout her tensing body. It was so strange, a queer thrill that she sought again. On the screen the other woman’s finger was blurring swiftly now, and the entire curly-haired mound was surging lasciviously.
Cutting to the man’s distended penis, the screen showed his sack leaping again, and the woman spread her lips just slightly so that the viewers could watch the veritable cascade of creamy semen that was drenching her mouth. Thick and pearly, the heavy juice spurted far back into her throat, and the woman choked it down, swallowing rapidly while her super-active tongue looped over and around the geyser-like glans.
She was actually drinking the fluid down, Lauralee thought dazedly; the otherwise stunningly attractive woman was gulping down a man’s seminal liquid and acting as if it was the most delicious, the most gratifying stuff in the world. Lauralee trembled upon her finger, and worked it hesitantly back and forth.
Her husband’s thing had never felt this good; he had forced it into her on their wedding night, had forced it into her virginal body without regard to her sensitivity, never even considering that she might have been repulsed by the whole thing. And even though what she was doing was almost as bad, she was at least getting some enjoyment from it.
Just as the actress was; look how her beautiful thighs were contracting as she rode her finger — no! TWO fingers — rotating her pelvis and pumping her crotch with the same hungry motions she had used in copulating with the man only a minute before. It looked so real, so thrilling, and Lauralee found herself almost matching the woman’s frenzy, rocking her hips in unaccustomed movements that were reaching frenzy.
It was good; it was devilishly exciting and sinfully sweet. She could feel it building, a weird pressure in her thighs and growing in her lower groin. Lauralee ground sensuously upon her finger, cupping the others over her heaving mound and pushing her long legs out in front of her, practically lifting off the chair cushion as she thrust and recoiled, stroked and pulled back.
Heat spread within her slippery vagina, and a bright little ember fanned itself into white-hot flame at her clitoris, that little center of passion that she had long thought was withered and useless. Eyes fixed mesmerized upon the TV screen, Lauralee bucked in the throes of her first orgasm, biting her lips and moaning, her head rolling limply from side to side as she reached the hissing, tumbling crest of a mighty, smashing wave.
She had come.
Oh Lord, she had come at last. It was a marvelous release, an emotional explosion that had loosened every fiber of her body, all the nerves that had so long been denied this rapture. She held her finger deep within her flexing vagina and shuddered in the swirling backwash of her climax, her eyes closed and open, closed and open.
They were doing something else on the screen, and she thought fuzzily, so soon? Lauralee blinked, and slowly realized that another woman had entered the room there, a woman with different-colored hair and a differently proportioned body, one who wore a diaphanous and revealing babydoll nightie. As Lauralee stared, this new actress slipped out of the gown and walked gracefully to the couple resting upon the bed.
Stirring her finger gently within her sensitized slit, Lauralee watched with heightening interest, to see what would happen next. She fought the feeling of guilt that threatened to overwhelm her, and concentrated upon the screen while she luxuriated in the juicy arousal of her vagina. She could blame the alcohol, her mental upset at the precipitous marriage of her son, the jolt of seeing dirty movies on TV, anything. But she refused to feel sinful; it was impossible, when she felt so good.
She saw the other woman join the lovers upon the bed, and as the man rolled aside to give them room, Lauralee knew another electric jolt: the two women were caressing, pushing their naked bodies together without shame, fondling each other’s heavy breasts and kissing, running their tongues together. She could plainly see the brown-haired mound grinding into the blond one, and sucked in a deep breath as the blonde wrapped her legs around the other woman. Lauralee’s finger stopped feeling around inside her sheath; she thought that was going altogether too far.
But as the camera held upon them, the scene began to seem less dirty; there was something almost beautiful in the tender way they were caressing each other, a gentleness that the man hadn’t shown. Their hands fluttered like butterflies, softly, beguilingly, and Lauralee thought that was the way a man should love a woman, very tenderly — not ramming his swollen thing savagely like a lust-mad animal.
One of them was kissing the other’s globular breasts, nuzzling each nipple in turn, and Lauralee’s finger began to slide again, teasing into her slit and seeking to bring back that tickly, mind-expanding goodness. Now the blonde was lying on top of the dark-haired woman, and the man was kissing them both and rubbing his organ along their gleaming thighs. But they seemed to be paying little attention to him.
Why, Lauralee thought in surprise, they were trying to — to do it together, and they ought to know that couldn’t be done. They simply weren’t built like that; one of them had to possess a male thing. But she had to admit that it looked interesting as they thrust together, grinding their crotches and trembling as they continued to kiss hotly.
When the camera cut to a close-up of the moving vulvas, Lauralee’s eyes went wide. She could see a clitoris that looked very much like a man’s rod, only much smaller, and she could also see that the two slits were meeting, stimulating each other. It was fantastic.
It was also voluptuous, and she began to build up the magic rhythm again, her eyes fixed upon the screen, her thighs spreading themselves wider as she rooted deeper with the probing finger, pretending she was one with the women.
“Ummm,” she murmured, “uummm — it’s — so — good!”
Furiously, then, she rubbed her vibrant clitoris and plunged her finger into the suctioning grip of her sizzling hole, rolling her buttocks and gasping as the wonderful feeling came boomeranging through her vagina once more. She had hoped it would be as wild as last time, but it was even better. Lauralee let out a soft cry as she came, and her bare heels drummed a spasmed tattoo upon the motel carpet.
Slowly, she came back to the world around her, to the sounds issuing from the television set, and the flashing colors there. Her head was spinning, and far back in a newly discovered corner of her mind, Lauralee Jergens was beginning to wonder just where the hell she had been all her life.
“Oh wow,” the voice said and it didn’t come from the screen.
Lauralee jerked her head around and wanted to die on the spot. Her daughter-in-law stood just behind the chair, looking petite and beautiful in a flowing nightie that clung to the almost childlike curvings of her small, youthful body. And the girl was staring down at the spot where Lauralee’s finger was still embedded into the wet lips of her vagina. There could be no mistake about what had been going on.
Bettina said again, “Oh wow — I never would have thought it. I mean, not YOU.”
Choking it out, Lauralee managed to say: “P-please — just let me…”
Swiftly, the girl went to her knees beside the chair and put a soft arm around her shoulder. “Hey — I’m not putting you down for masturbating, Lauralee; nothing like that. I was just shook up, that’s all. It’s the TV, right? You had no idea you were checking us into an X-rated motel and I’ll bet you never saw anything like that before.”
“I’m not,” Lauralee said, trying to sneak out her finger, “never — it really isn’t…”
“You know,” Bettina purred, her hand sliding down the shoulder to brush across one of Lauralee’s full breasts, “you really are a beautiful woman. I had you figured for an iceberg, but after watching you riding your hand like that…”
It was all wrong, but Lauralee had no idea how to go about getting out of it. She couldn’t very well scream and bring her son running in from next door; not while she was naked like this. She flinched when Bettina’s fingers began to toy with a nipple, and shivered as the girl’s spicy, warm breath tingled in her ear. Not Bettina, she thought wildly, crazily.
“Beautiful,” the girl whispered, “and according to Robbie, you haven’t even looked at a man since you were divorced — or a woman, either. All that long, sinuous body going to waste, and these lovely tits — not big, but shaped so well.”
Lauralee tried, even though her body was weak and she couldn’t get her mind to track properly. “Bettina, please — you mustn’t…”
“Between those porn movies and the screwing I just had, I’m already turned on,” Bettina said, cupping both breasts now and kissing Lauralee’s throat, “but you turn me on more. How about that? I’m suddenly hot for my mother-in-law.”
“N-no,” Lauralee whispered, but the girl was suddenly between her knees and the ripe young mouth was reaching up for her own. The quick wet tongue was thrusting into her weak lips, and there was a hand, a strange, very soft hand caressing her mound.
She felt firm breasts crushing her own, and a silken vulva burning into her own, and the motel room spun dizzily as her tongue met Bettina’s, as their panting breaths mixed. Lauralee knew that she was lost.
Somehow, clinging for support to the girl, Lauralee made it to the bed, and it gave sensuously beneath her collapsing body, rolling as if it, too, had come alive and was turned giving and resilient.
Lauralee was panting, biting her lips, and there was a fierce struggle going on within her head. She was confused, frightened, ashamed, the emotions whirling and changing in swift patterns, but always the strong one came to the fore — that new, overpowering hunger. Two violent orgasms had only whetted that strange appetite, not slaked it.
She was hot; oh Lord, she was hot. Fiery lances of passions seared her tensed flesh and stabbed deep within her aroused vagina. It was all wrong; what she was feeling had to be obscene and unlawful, and-and…
But Bettina’s hands were fondling her breasts, and the girl’s spicy mouth was nibbling at her throat. Her daughter-in-law’s hands were roaming, caressing, one of them stroking the dampened moss of Lauralee’s vulva, the other fondling hips and thighs, and she was helpless beneath those knowing touches.
She found herself revelling in the satiny flesh squirming against her own, in the kisses Bettina was showering upon her skin. She dared to put her arms around the slim, warm body. That stunned but yet logical part of her mind insisted that what she was doing was taboo, that this lovely girl was now a member of her own family. Lauralee’s body refused to listen, and her lean belly was sliding avidly across the girl’s.
“Such beautiful tits,” Bettina murmured. “They’re as firm as mine, but darker, and wonderfully sculptured. Oh, I love them.”
Lauralee gasped when the girl kissed her nipples, when she felt a finger working its way expertly up into the already flowing lips of her vagina. Then Bettina closed her hot mouth over one tip, and Lauralee arched in swift response. Her former husband had kissed her breasts, but never like this, never so deftly and lasciviously, never lifting such sparks of prompt desire within her body.
She wiggled slightly upon the finger embedded within her sheath, and Bettina promptly probed the clitoral hood to tease the center of all feeling. Closing her eyes, Lauralee gave up fighting anything, and allowed her body to take over, to respond on its own, without direction on her part. She didn’t know what to do, anyway. She knew only that Bettina felt marvelous in her arms, that she felt tenderness and gentleness, and a great, pervasive craving.
The girl’s hot mouth was slipping farther down her body, the wet, tickly tongue drawing a fiery trail over her rib cage, then down to her quaking tummy.
“A crazy pussy, too,” Bettina whispered. “All that cunt hair, so rich and black, so deep. It’s steaming, Lauralee.”
Lauralee jerked uncontrollably when she felt hot breath blowing into the edge of her pubic hair, when she learned the flicking caress of that educated tongue. Now Bettina’s hands were firmly gripping her thighs, spreading them wider, and her drilling tongue burrowed its way into the shaggy hair.
Now it thrust deep into the fur, and strongly against her labia, sending a shock wave throughout Lauralee’s straining body. Her vulva quivered, and she gasped when the girl’s tongue delved through the lips and into the pulsing wet cavity itself. She had never felt anything like it, never even imagined the sensuous contact or the spiralling thrills that shot up into her vagina.
Then Bettina was shoving her entire face into Lauralee’s crotch, forcing her mouth to cover the shuddering cunt lips, and sucking — oh Lord, SUCKING! Colors flashed before her eyes, and keening sounds hissed through her clenched teeth. Oh no — it just couldn’t be happening to her, she couldn’t be letting this occur.
But she was and it was, and her entire aching body was glorying in the experience, wriggling and heaving, and the nipples of her breasts were so rigid they felt as if they might snap off. Her thighs moved together, caressing the honey-blonde head between them, and Bettina’s hands fondled the uptilting cheeks of Lauralee’s ass.
ASS, she thought; not buttocks, but ASS, and the honesty of the word was good inside her head. She rolled her ass and surged her pelvis, forcing her pussy lips deeper into the eagerly gulping mouth fastened so greedily to them. The girl’s tongue darted and curled, acting like a small penis within the satin folding of the sheath, and Lauralee revelled in the magic sensations that were flooding her being.
The girl was almost her own daughter, but she was sexy and experienced, and she was driving Lauralee almost insane with rapture. Ecstasy raced through her belly, through her pussy, oh yes, her CUNT, and that was wonderful, too.
Bettina moaned into the churning pussy, and Lauralee clamped down with her thighs, imprisoning the girl’s face, trying to draw it completely into her inflamed vagina. Bettina licked hotly, finding the vibrant clitoris and tantalizing it until Lauralee bucked wildly. When the girl pulled the nubbin into her teeth and worried it, Lauralee went completely mad.
White-hot explosions burst within her seething pussy, and her asshole drew into a knot. With her belly heaving and her back arching, Lauralee twisted upon the marvelous impalement of that ravenous mouth. She cried out some wordless sound of joy, and dug her long fingernails into the girl’s thick hair, humping and thrusting shamelessly into her mouth, against those teeth, into the devious whirlings of that superbly trained tongue.
It was magnificent. Her flesh convulsed and her pussy contracted. She went into a frenzy of grindings and pumpings, moaning and gasping for breath. There had never been anything like this in Lauralee’s life, never anything so masterfully beautiful, and she let herself go limp in the powerful backwash of her tremendous orgasm.
Dimly, she was aware that Bettina had lifted that adoring mouth from her pussy, and she felt the girl kissing a slow and teasing path back up her supine body. But Lauralee couldn’t move. The warm, soft lips edged to her breast and lingered there while the slippery tongue played over the aching nipple.
Lauralee stirred, coming slowly back to herself as her young daughter-in-law kissed her throat. She caressed the girl’s sleek body, her fingers gradually learning the silken texture of the flawless skin and the shaping of the delectable buttocks.
Then the enchanted mouth was softly pressing her own, the oily tongue penetrating her mouth, and Lauralee accepted it happily even as she realized that she was being given a taste of her own pussy juices. Her pulses thundered anew at the thought, and she found herself sucking upon Bettina’s tongue.
The girl was locked firmly between her spread thighs now, and Lauralee knew the wondrous softness of a humid pussy being forced against her own. Just as the two actors had done on TV, she thought dizzily, and it was working; she could feel the pressure as Bettina sought to rub their clits together. Her long, lean legs raised themselves and curled around the slim body, so that she could help, so she could draw the beautiful girl closer.
Oh, it was so thrilling! Their breasts moved together, nipples brushing nipples, and Lauralee locked her legs around her lover’s moving, thrusting body. Cunt to cunt, they stroked together, and it was slippery, juicy, the occasional touching of their clits a fabulous sensation.
They were actually doing it, Lauralee thought; they were really FUCKING. She wriggled and rolled back upon her shoulder blades, so the girl could use her clit like a miniature penis — no, a PRICK — and moved her crotch with welcoming, sinuous motions. Locked in each other’s arms, their mouths and their bodies welded together, they screwed blissfully, the perfect tenderness bringing a slow but deeply gratifying love to them. Lauralee was ecstatic. She knew only a momentary stab of guilt, soon gone and gladly denied. She knew only a passing moment of regret that all of her thirty-six years had been wasted, before this night.
Her husband could have done this to her, if only he had been kind and gentle instead of such an animal. Marshall might have made her body sing, too. But Lauralee doubted that; he was just a man, without the delicate touch this adorable girl owned, without her assurance.
“That’s the way,” Bettina panted. “That’s the way to lay that rich cunt up to me, baby. Oh yeah, yeah — you can really grind it, Lauralee. Oh wow, and I thought you were frigid, all uptight. Man, how wrong I was — oohh! — you’re a hot lay, a real — hot — screw!”
Lauralee pushed back at the girl’s plunging crotch, grinding to bring their clits together, because she was a hot lay, because it felt so good to be wanted and loved and appreciated. They were giving to each other, not one of them simply taking from the other because he was bigger and stronger. Pussy to pussy, they churned and hunched, bringing themselves inexorably to a shivering climax. It was sweet and piercing, that orgasm, fulfilling and warm.
In lassitude, Lauralee clung to this wonderful girl her son had married, cuddling the slim, delicate body close and holding their tingling cunts plastered together. The water bed beneath them rocked sensuously, cradling them, lulling them. Somewhere beyond, the porno movie went on, or maybe it was another one. This time, the moans of the women and the gasping of men seemed like music; now Lauralee could read the notes and catch the rhythm. It was a melody for lovers.
Bettina rolled easily off her body and lay to one side, a forearm across her eyes, small, round breasts rising and falling rapidly. Lazily, Lauralee watched the movement of the pink nipples. She wondered how they would taste, if she dared to wrap her tongue around them. Funny, she thought; she had never entertained such a thought before. Did it mean that she was a lesbian, that what had gone wrong in her marriage had been HER fault, and not Marshall’s?
She kept staring at the delicious-looking cones of the girl’s breasts, and her eyes wandered down the supple length of the delicately formed body, so small and youthful, to the patch of curly, darkly golden hair nestled between slender, perfect thighs. No wonder her son had been so intrigued by Bettina; no wonder he had run away and married her.
Lauralee blinked. Her SON; she had been doing all these lascivious things with her own son’s wife, with a girl even younger than Robbie. But — and she frowned — but this girl did it with him, too. Bettina couldn’t be a lesbian, if she enjoyed screwing men also. Could she? Lauralee was confused. Too many things were happening to her at once, and she was having difficulty coping.
On the screen across the room, someone said huskily, “Oh eat me, darling — eat my pussy.”
Trembling, Lauralee reached out one hand and cupped the child’s appealing breast. Her thumb and forefinger rolled the erectile nipple between them. Mesmerized, she leaned closer, and nuzzled into the dainty valley between the twin globes. They were soft and scented, rounded and beguiling. Lauralee’s tongue eased out and toyed with the pink tip. Bettina shivered, but didn’t take her arm down from her eyes, and Lauralee knew a lifting of confidence.
By not moving Bettina had told her silently that the girl’s spectacular body was hers for the taking, for using as she saw fit. It was a strange moment, when Lauralee realized that, when she knew she could do anything with another person’s naked flesh — handle it, kiss it, pat and fondle and caress — even hurt it, if she so desired.
All she wanted to do was to love this captivating body, to bring it as much pleasure as it had given her. Lauralee refused to think beyond this scintillating moment, to go past the NOW of love. Sometime, somewhere she would have to turn this radiant child back to her new husband. But she didn’t want to think of that dreary moment, and put it out of her head.
Tenderly, she sucked upon the girl’s nipple, relishing its flavor, its aroma lying perfumed upon her tongue. She played her hands over Bettina’s flesh, over the narrow hips and across the flat stomach. Inch by inch, her fingers strayed ever closer to the charming nest of pubic hair so gleaming and soft. Lauralee touched it, and was thrilled by its silken texture, by the damp heat rising through its ringleted moss.
She peered down, releasing the breast from her lips with reluctance, but drawn by something far more compelling. Cupping the downy mattress of Bettina’s mound with one palm, she kissed the girl’s tremulous belly, and wriggled the end of her tongue into the dimpled belly button.
Bettina moved then, twitching at the wet tingle, and Lauralee moved farther down, trailing her lips over creamy skin. There were the labia, pulsing red and symmetrical beneath their covering of glistening fur. The pussy lips seemed to be pulsing, to be awaiting the caress that would bring them leaping and writhing. Lauralee didn’t wait any longer. She probed down into the fleecy bush and licked the full and pouting labia. She tasted musk, and exotic spices she couldn’t identify, and her own breasts ached with need.
Turning her body and positioning herself between the girl’s spread legs, Lauralee slid her palms beneath the dainty cheeks of Bettina’s ass, and stared down into the opened pussy. Moaning then, she plunged her feverish face into that adorable crotch, into the silken hair and against the pulsating labia. She drove her extended tongue greedily into them, through their rubbery clinging and into the steamy hole.
As Bettina gasped and rolled her belly, Lauralee exulted. She was doing it, licking another woman’s most private part, feeling around the velvet sheath with her tongue and raking her teeth gently against the spongy cunt lips. Using her tongue the way she remembered the girl doing it, Lauralee drilled deeply, and withdrew with quick little curlings.
Her daughter-in-law hunched tempestuously to her mouth, and Lauralee sucked, trying to draw all the honeyed sweetness down her throat. It was slick, wondrous liquid, fantastically intimate juice that taste of love, beautiful, horny love. It bathed her chin and cheeks, and all she could think of was a seedless, ripe pomegranate.
There was the clitoris, the quivering, succulent little clit, hidden in its protective covering; Lauralee’s tongue found it quickly. She was growing more experienced with every passing moment, and thought perhaps experience really wasn’t necessary like this, woman to woman. Now that she knew her own body, she also knew those of other women. Far better than any man could know them, she was certain.
Drawing upon the clit, she manipulated its nubbin with her tongue, circling it, pressing down, then releasing. Bettina was squirming fervently, rocking her sleek hips from side to side and humping, grinding, smearing her glossy cunt into Lauralee’s mouth. Lauralee ate it, tried to devour it, to swallow it down and take its sugared juices forever into herself.
“Oh darling!” Bettina cried out. “Oohh — you’re giving me the most wonderful head! Lauralee — ooh baby — you’re driving my little clit crazy. You’re making me come, darling — COME!”
Lauralee felt the churning of the girl’s fiery snatch, the shudders that wracked the small and twisting body. She could almost come herself, she thought; it was so good to be able to give such rapture to another, so stimulating and delightfully wanton, to be eating pussy like this.
Lifting her face from the soggy, palpitating mound, she licked greedily at the overflowing lubrication and sat back upon her knees to stare down at the girl’s flexing body.
That was when she caught something at the corner of her eye and turned to see her son standing in the connecting doorway between the rooms.
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