The teenager thought she was going to fall forward as her strength failed her. Monica was rattling off in some very private tongue of her own, while Jack kept swearing at her. Their bodies mashed and ground together. "Cummmmmm!"
It was her mother, screaming like a wild woman! That moment of madness was upon her! She was screaming and twisting, bouncing and jerking, and her tits jiggled and danced.
"Blow it out, baby, come on, blow it… ughhhhh!"
And then it was Jack's turn. Monica felt the jetting wads of cum spattering against her cuntwalls. That sensation sent her up higher, made her climax all that much more intense! She bounced and babbled, her orgasm more devastating than anything she had ever felt before in her life!
"Ahhhhhh, fuck, man, fuck!"
Arlette couldn't believe what was happening both to her mother and her. She watched the couple grinding against one another, heard her mother's desperate screams of delight as she rode Jack's spurting prick. And then her own climax swept over her like a tidal wave, smashing all restraint in the rutting teen. If the others had listened, they could have heard her crying out and gasping for air as she carne only a few feet away from them. But both Monica and Jack were trapped in their own private heaven. The teen was gasping, her one hand pumping at her swollen-open cuntlips, thrilling spasms of lust tearing apart her body. She swayed like someone who had drunk too much beer. She was drunk, drunk with a strange kind of lust she couldn't understand. Her body leaning heavily against the bedroom door molding, Arlette giggled with pleasure, feeling both ashamed and proud of herself. In a moment, she forgot everything around her as the pounding rage of her lust reached its peak. Her knees trembled, buckled, then gave way completely as she sank slowly to the floor, tears of delight straining her cheeks. Her fingers reached in deeper, plowing through the mushy heat of her cunt.
"Nooooo… ohhhhhh, it's so good, so very good… it's going to kill me!" the girl whispered through her sobs as a fire storm raced through her pussy, the flames encasing her body in flashing thrills.
How long Arlette was squattering in that awkward position by the bedroom door, she didn't know. When she came to and opened her eyes, she found herself near the crack leading into her mother's room. She shook herself into consciousness, grasped the doorknob and shakily stood up. It was quiet inside. Biting down on her lower lip, still feeling the aftershocks of her incredible climax, the young teen peered cautiously into the bedroom.
"Ohhhhh, God!"
Monica was untied, her arms at her sides, and her legs had been unbound, as well. Jack was on top of her, kissing her belly, squeezing her nipples while still humping his prick into her cunt. The woman was muttering something, rolling her head slowly from side to side, her eyes closed tightly. Yes, Monica was in a world of bliss still, oblivious to everything except that licking tongue and the prick slurping in and out of her fuckhole.
"No, oh, no."
Arlette mastered herself, backing away from the door, stumbling over her own feet and cursing her clumsiness. She had to get away, had to leave this horrible place for a while. She felt shame and confusion as she raced through the livingroom, bumping her shin on the coffee table and nearly overturning the heavy piece of furniture. Stopping behind the sofa, the young teen gripped the back, hanging her head down, trying to catch her breath. Horrible! Just horrible! She had witnessed something few children see – her mother fucking her brains out, and in such an obscene, perverse way! How could she ever face her mother again, look her in the eye without feeling a little sick?
Sounds! Footsteps! The bedroom door creaked open! One of them was getting up, perhaps padding over to the kitchen for something to drink. They would see her. Arlette shook off the thoughts settling on her brain, and she moved quickly to the front door, opening it, then slipping outside.
It felt good to be in the fresh air. Walking quickly to the sidewalk, Arlette avoided the streetlamp, afraid her mother or that stranger would see her leaving. Folding her arms across her tits, the young teen walked slowly toward Santa Monica Boulevard, her sandals scraping over the cracked concrete. Who was that man? Again, the question came to her mind as the cool air lifted her hair from her shoulders. Traffic was heavy on the boulevard tonight, row upon row of bright headlamps beading the broad avenue, and gaudy neon lights invited the curious into various bars.
Arlette looked at the scene, then closed her eyes and felt a delightful shudder pass over her cunt. Could she accuse her mother of something she also felt? She had witnessed something horrible. Yet she had done nothing to prevent it. She had enjoyed watching that man tie her mother up, had loved seeing Monica bound, then slapped and burned, and finally fucked out of her mind in that wild, perverse position! Even now, Arlette felt her flesh burn as she thought of that big man. Was he fucking her mother now? Did he have her between his powerful arms and legs, feeding her his massive cock, giving her one last fuck before he had to leave?
"My God!"
Glancing down at the blue face of her digital watch, the girl saw it was nearly ten. One more hour, and she would go home, pretending nothing unusual had happened. But how her world had changed. Turning south, the young woman walked back past her home, seeing the bedroom lights were still on. Fucking! All the girls in school talked about it, giggled about it, fantasized about it. Arlette laughed along with the rest of them, certain her time would come sooner or later. She had never felt particularly aroused with any of the guys around school or her neighborhood – certainly, nothing like what she had just experienced!
The side streets of West Hollywood were quiet tonight, a gentle breeze whispering through the tall eucalyptus trees lining the streets like soldiers. Behind her was the steady rumbling of city traffic down the boulevard. Yes, she had been living in a side street all her young life, away from the mainstream.
These and other similar thoughts swam through the girl's head as she walked back and forth, glancing nervously at her watch, wondering when it would be safe to come home. Shortly after eleven, she turned the corner and walked briskly toward her house, squaring her shoulders, feeling her heart beginning to beat wildly once more.
No car, no lights in the bedroom window! The man had gone. Arlette let out a sigh of relief, yet felt somehow disappointed at his disappearance. She almost wanted him to be there, wanted to surprise her mother and her lover, perhaps to be drawn into their filthy little game of S amp;M.
Opening the door, the blonde teen peeked into the livingroom. All was quiet, as before. The magazines she had accidentally knocked from the coffee table had been picked up and stacked neatly on one corner. Closing the door and locking it, Arlette began climbing the stairs.
"Is that you, Arlette?"
It was Monica, her voice drifting in from the other room. The girl shivered, remembering the thrill cries her mother made when she came with that stud. Her fingers gripped the wooden handrail as she struggled for some kind of control.
"How was the game?" her mother called. Monica came into the livingroom, a modest, dark-blue bathrobe wrapped tightly around her body. Arlette blushed furiously, glad only one light had been left on in the frontroom. The gathering darkness was masking her discomfiture.
"Oh, all right," she said with affected boredom, yawning and drawing her arms over her head. With that move, she remembered how her mother looked, her arms slung back, the ropes tugging hard at her wrists. She dropped her arms immediately, feeling a flash of embarrassment, the shame of someone who has accidentally seen a forbidden event and who can't relate it to anyone. "The other team… won," Arlette said haltingly, realizing that she had forgotten even who they were playing.