She moaned deeply and wrapped her thighs about his hips and locked her ankles over his ass. She pulled and pushed and rocked with him, knowing at the same time that she could finally swing her ass all the way, any way, and give vent to all the acrobatic movements she had a whim- to. And there would be no danger of harming his spine when she did it, because his was young and flexible, not half-brittled with age.
Her hips twisted and rolled under his plunging prick. Her pussy sucked and drew on the rigid shaft inside her hole. Her mouth opened and closed, as if wanting to express the incredible sensation she was feeling but unable to, and the action made her feel wanton again.
"Ohhhhhh, fuck me, Roger! Fuck me!" she cried finally.
"Mom-I am! God, I am fucking you!" he gasped.
Having Dalton's big prick ream her, pussy had done something to her. There was no question of it. It had loosened her up. It had let her know what she'd really been missing.
She'd thought Paul had kept her satisfied. But she now realized that she had fallen into a rut with him. A sterile sequence of motions that had always been subdued with regard for his stiffening joints.
Paul…
Paul began to fade from her mind-the meaning of Paul. Her husband yes. With good years behind them, except for the last one, yes. But there had been a constant, nettling feeling that he WSS somehow a little too fatherly toward her, as if she had been nearly his daughter instead of his wife and lover.
It hadn't been a MI man-woman relationship. He'd kept things from her. Nothing of great importance, but it was the act that had bothered her. Like the motel on Loon Key.
During the past year, the relationship had been nothing. It was nearly as if his death now was but a permanent extension of the past year. As if he'd somehow been preparing her for his total absence.
Roger had changed her around tonight. First, with Dalton, and now with his own youthful body. She looked the other way, now-toward youth instead of age, and it felt good.
"Ohhhhh, Mom-your pussy! What are you making it do to my prick?" Roger gasped.
She hadn't even been aware of it. Now she was. Her pussy muscles were sucking and working and pulling inward. She could feel them grip the hard shaft of his cock and suck it into her hole and spasm around it. They held the iron-hard bar deep inside and made his withdrawing slides thrilling beyond reason.
"Roger, Roger… she gasped under him. "My beautiful ba-" She sucked in her breath and felt a wave of dizziness sweep through her momentarily. "No, no-you'll not my baby any more, darling! You're my man!"
She clung to him and shuddered and cried out sharply. Her pussy went wild. It sucked and pulsed and exploded Mound his prick.
"Ahhhhhh, Roger, I'm coming!" she cried.
"Mom! God, Mom-your cunt!"
He gasped and shook. His prick swelled and thudded inside her working, slippery pussy. It bucked and spurted violently, sending his sperm deep towards his mother's womb, flooding her channel, making her pussy a slippery, drenched., silken sea of orgasming tissues.
There! It's done! He came in me! My son came in me, and I came all around him, and it's done!
Vera's head spun with the realization of what they'd done. She expected to feel immense shame and baseness, but the feeling wouldn't quite come. It hadn't been foul. It had been beautiful. It had been one of the best fucks she'd ever had. He wasn't her boy any more. She had raised him and suckled him and watched him grow up, and now she could see that he was a man.
"Oh, Roger darling-hold me! Hold me!" she cried.
"I will, Mom!"
"We can do it, Roger. We can get along. Just as long as we have each other, God, I'd feel so lost without you, Roger."
"Me, too, Mom," he whispered, kissing her lightly, then hungrily, mashing his lips against hers.
Vera whimpered under his weight. She felt his prick throb to full stiffness again inside her pussy, and she couldn't keep from catching fire.
Once had been the limit with Paul. But this man atop her now wasn't Paul. He was the extension of her own youthful desires and needs.
She made her pelvis dip and swirl and her sodden, sperm-filled snatch suck around his prick. She lifted up and opened her body and allowed her son to enter her cunt as deeply as he wanted, until they both came again. She lifted up and opened her body and allowed her son to enter her cunt as deeply as he wanted, until they both came again. She lifted up and opened her body and allowed her son to enter her cunt as deeply as he wanted, until they both came again.
CHAPTER SIX
The warm bright sun heated her and made her squint. It came down into the car from a blue-white, cloudless sky. It bounced off the limestone whiteness of the narrow strips of land that made teaches on either side of the highway. It glittered off the blue Atlantic on the left and the green Gulf on the tight, and it made her dark-green sunglasses seem useless. Vera turned her head and glanced at her son a moment as he drove them over the chain of islands toward Loon Key. He'd wanted to come look at the new Hanson Motel.
She frowned a moment, frying to remember how many days ago it had been. It seemed a strangely short time. Each one had been surrounded by a fog of unreality, and it was difficult to put them into proper sequence. She would cry. Then Roger would come and soothe her, and they would flick and hold each other until he began to cry They we-sawed back and forth together that way, and they would fuck and fuck as if one of them wouldn't be there tomorrow, leaving the other all alone.
It was as if the constant flicking were a relief valve for the emotions inside them, something to stabilize the turmoiling days.
She remembered reading the Highway Patrol report, but few of the details. The driver behind Paul had seen him sit high behind the wheel suddenly and grab high, at his neck or his chest. His head had twisted to the side, and the Olds had weaved badly, finally veering off the road and bumping across the flat, rubble-littered Key. It had plunged off the edge of land and leaped into the dusk-dark Atlantic, nosing quickly out of sight amid an angry boil of foam.
She remembered the bloated image of a balding man on a slab who had looked somewhat familiar, but it was like a plastic imitation of her husband there, a cruel joke.
She remembered a mouth moving up and down, talking about things foreign to her-no autopsy, a prior coronary history, no water in the lungs to indicate he'd been alive while sinking. There was Jack Cutter, Paul's old friend and attorney, telling her what to sign what to do.
She looked up suddenly, her lips thin. Prior coronary history. She hadn't known about it. He hadn't told her a damn thing about having heart trouble-as if she'd been his daughter instead of his wife.
Even Thorne had known about it, and that made Paul's secretiveness hurt all the more. Thorne was a terrific guy, bright and energetic and well-suited to handle both the accounting and the general management of the chain.
But Thorne hadn't been his wife. And a wife should have known about a thing like that.
She thought about Thorne. He'd been over yesterday, tactful and quiet and properly distant in a physical sense. Yet he'd looked at her again in tat special way he had, and he hadn't been able to hide the element of hope in his eyes.
She liked Thorne. She felt comfortable with him. A little too comfortable. He had made one offer to her-subtle yet unmistakable. She had nearly succumbed. Of all the men who had made a pass at her, Thorne would have been the one, if she had decided to betray Paul.
She glanced from the corner of her eye at her son again, and a strange emotion went through her. Thorne should have been the one to comfort her and fuck her, but it had been her son instead. Yet-but for Roger-there was nothing to prevent her from looking straight into Thorne's eyes and letting him know he could take it from there.
Roger hated him. Maniacally. He had reason to. Paul had been wrong in holding Thorne up to Roger as an idol, putting them in constant competition. There wasn't any contest. Thorne had experience and age, and it simply hadn't been fair of him.