Mom's hot lips

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Roger kept fucking her. He finally withdrew and flipped her over and flicked her pussy. He came again, sperm boiling inside her box from his bucking prick.

A voice came into the room. It was hollow and tiny. She thought her mind was playing tricks on her. She could still see Thorne and the girls, right there, over the foot of the bed. It was Thorne's moans.

Then she realized slowly that the TV was on. And Max was in the edge of the picture this time, looking out of the screen at her and Roger. He moved away, over towards Thorne. There was a paper in his hand. He was bending down, talking to Thorne, telling him to sign it.

Thorne's eyes rolled in his head, fixed, rolled again. He moved his shoulders and body in an unnatural way, as if he were ponderous and drugged. And then she saw that he was tied to the bed.

"Thorne!" she cried at the screen.

Roger fucked her, unheeding. Max got red-faced, yelling at Thorne. Dancer moved into view, lithe and ready. Max waved him away impatiently. The girls sat on the bed with their pussies open and watched.

Vera shook her head. She didn't know what was happening, why she could see them. Was there a room-to-room hookup as well? An extra fee for the voyeur-more money? A way for them to watch the couples who were fucking while they watched the movies of other people fucking? While the person downstairs watched them all fucking on the monitor and made videotapes to show to other people?

It was dizzying, frightening, the ultimate degradation of all that was good and sacred.

"Sign, Bundt, and the tape's yours! Nobody gets to see it. Sign!"

"Nooo," Thorne groaned, his head rocking groggily. He shook it, and his eyes were unfocused.

Max held his head roughly. "Look up them, Bundt. See that? See what she's getting from her son? You want him to go on and on? Then sign!" Thorne looked groggily. His eyes railed. Then they seemed to fix on the image Vera and Roger made for all of them on the other screen.

"God…" he groaned. His head fell back. He lifted if after a moment, shook it, and looked again.

Roger was just screwing his hips against her, his butt going tight, his prick bucking. "Yaaaaagh!" he cried, blasting another load into his mother's sodden cunt. He puffed a moment, then withdrew from her pussy. He held her down and straddled her chest and moved towards her face. He held his prick out to her tips.

"Now suck it, Mom," he said.

"God…" Thorne moaned again, his voice thick and drugged.

Max grinned. "Sign it over, Bundt, 'and I'll call him off."

"All right… all right, I'll sign," he groaned. "Let me loose, Sawyer, I'll sign."

Max stood erect. He grinned broadly. "Okay, kid, that's enough," he said to the screen.

Roger didn't hear him. He prodded at his mother's lips with the sodden tip of his prick. Sperm leaked from it and smeared over her lips. She tasted the flavor that seeped between them into her mouth.

"That's enough, Hanson!" Max said.

"Get him off, Sawyer," Thorne groaned. "Off, or I don't sign. I'll fight. I'll fuck it up internally for you. No coperation from our people. You need that, Max. You need what I can deliver, in. loyalty from them. Get him off."

"Hanson, that's enough, goddamn it!" Max roared.

Roger glanced around, aware he was being talked to for the first time. He blinked. "Who says so?" he challenged. "I'm not finished yet. Mom's gonna suck my prick off first, and then I'll get off."

"'Now listen, boy! You do what I tell you, sonny, or he won't sign. We can't have that. We need him to make things go smoothly down there."

"Need him, hell!" Roger cried. "He's going out! You promised he was going out! What the fuck are you pulling, Max!"

Max looked worried. He left the screen. Shadows played as he went through the door. Vera could hear him clumping down the balcony.

"God, Roger!" she cried. "Did you hear him? Sonny-boy… You're going to be vice president in charge of licking his boots! He's not going to kick Thorne out He can't afford to! You've been taken, you silly, poor bastard!" She looked at his expression and laughed with a hysterical pitch. "Bastard! Bastard!" she goaded, whipping him up.

She pushed at him. Everything had changed again. Thorne had been drugged and tied. He didn't sneak down for an orgy behind her back!

Max came into the room. Roger's eyes were nearly aflame with fury. "You flicking, doublecrossing prick!" he shouted.

Max talked fast and smoothly, trying to calm him. Vera glanced at the screen and held her breath. She saw Thorne struggling at his bonds through the drugs they'd given him. Rainey sat on the bed and watched him silently, giving no alarm. Dancer was in the corner of the room, over by the big chairs. He had his hand clamped over Joyce's mouth, His long prick was sticking out of his pants. She struggled with him fearfully, and then he threw her on the chair and began to fuck her.

Vera remembered the first time. She remembered Max's growling threat at the mere suggestion of Dancer's fucking Joyce; But he was doing it now, while Max was out of the room.

Max glanced up suddenly, saw what was happening, and blanched. "That weasel bastard, I'll kill him!" he roared. "He's fucking my daughter!"

Max forgot all about Roger. He balled his fists and ran from the room. Vera stared at the screen, and Roger looked with her. It wasn't fucking. It was out-and-out rape, violent and painful. Joyce's green eyes bulged from her head as the long prick ran in and out of her bald pussy and the hand clamped tightly over her mouth.

Vera noticed something else. The bed was empty. Thorne was loose. Max lurched onto it suddenly, heaving and tossing, swearing thickly, glancing back where the doorway was.

Dancer whipped his head around and sprang to his feet like a cat, his long prick glistening and hard from Joyce's pussy, but everything else about him ready for lethal battle. Joyce wailed with agony, holding her pained pussy.

Vera heard feet pounding down the runway. Max was trying to struggle up from the bed. Dancer didn't give him a chance to. He pounced like a cat.

Rainey suddenly came into the picture, screaming and pulling at Dancer, knowing, perhaps, that if he killed Max, there would be no mercy ever for her at Dancer's hands.

He snarled and tossed the slim girl aside, sending her spinning into the desk. She piled over it and lay on the top, writhing in agony of something broken.

"The son of a bitch!" Roger squeaked. "He's hurt Rainey!"

"Roger, let her go!" Vera cried, trying to hold him back.

He slammed the door open and collided with Thorne. Thorne lost his balance and stumbled backward into the iron railing of the balcony. He teetered dangerously over the edge of it, then summoned enough equilibrium to come upright again.

Vera rushed to him and clung to him. "Oh, God!" she cried. "Roger-he's going in there to fight with Dancer!"

"C'mon," Thorne croaked, gabbing her arm' drunkenly, his legs not working quite right yet, his voice fizzed and thick, his eyes blurred and unfocused still. "Gotta get the tape…"

"We've got to stop Roger!" she cried. "Thorne, Dancer will kill him! He's my son!"

"Not any more, Vera. Not after what I saw."

There was a scream at' agony from the room, high-pitched and throaty, unrecognizable. Ominous silence. Then Dancer leaped through the doorway, landing on braced feet, crouched, facing them.

He wore his thin smile, more evil than ever before. His eyes were so slitted he looked blind. But he straightened and came toward them lithely, easily, with a cat's grace.

"Back in the room, Bundt," he said.

Thorne positioned Vera behind him. He edged backward, towards the stairs, facing Dancer. He stumbled several times. Dancer smirked, yet kept his distance, closing it slowly. "You're not getting the tape, Bundt." "The hell I'm not." "Thorne-let him have it!" Vera cried.

He shook her off his arm and pushed her back, still facing Dancer. "No way, honey."

"Hey, lady-your kid's hurt in there. You better go see to him." The grin was cunning. He moved closer, timing Thorne's movements for the right moment to attack. He was quick, but Thorne was powerful, and Dan Dancer was a man who had respect for physical power. But Thorne was still wobbly, and Dancer knew it.

"Keep back, Dancer. I'll break your head open this time. You snuck up on me this morning before you drugged me. But I'm facing you now. You're going to have to come at me face to face, you slimy bastard."

Dancer grinned constantly, his movements lithe, one step at a time. "He's bleeding something awful, lady. You'd really better see to him. I'll let you by. It's Bundt I'm after anyway, and not even him, if he's smart. Just the tape."

"Thorne.

"Don't move!" Thorne commanded, still edging backward towards the stairs. "He wants the tape to hold over me. He wants to take over from Max. He'll use it, Vera-even after he gets what he wants. Just because he's a slimy bastard."

Thorne glanced at her for just an instant. It was her fault. He'd turned slightly to hold her back. Dancer sprang with a cobra's speed.

Vera shrieked. Dancer's hands moved with lightning speed, chopping and punching at Thorne' s sturdy body viciously, inflicting cruel blows that nearly paralyzed him.

Thorne's arms went wide and came around the slim body. He squeezed tightly. Dancer grunted with pain, and his slitted eyes went round. Thorne pushed, half stumbling, slamming into the wall behind him, sending Dancer's body hard against the low railing.

It caught him in the middle of his back. His arms flailed wildly in the air. His foot slipped. He let out a scream and pinwheeled backward over the railing. The scream stopped with sickening abruptness. Vera held her hand to her mouth, unable to move. Thorne held his stomach and doubled over, going to his knees. He gagged wrenchingly, and his face went chalk-white and sweaty for a moment.

Vera went to him. "Oh, Thorne!"

He waved her feebly away. "Caught me a good one," he gasped. "Be all right in a minute."

He crawled over to the railing and looked down. She looked with him. Dancer's body had an awkward sprawl, the bead tilted strangely on the cement, twisted way too far around on his neck.

Thorne got to his feet. Vera helped him. They went back down the balcony to the room. Joyce was in her chair still. Max's body was draped over her lap. She hugged his head to her stomach and rocked silently. His eyes stared at the corner of the room, sightless and beginning to cloud.

Roger held Rainey to hint Blood had streamed from his mouth and nose, but was clotting. Rainey whimpered with pain.

"He broke her arm, Mom," he said plaintively. "Son of a bitch broke her arm. Bashed me in the face. Just kept on and on, punching Max; even after he screamed. Punching and punching…" He shook his head and looked green enough to be sick.

Thorne hugged her lightly. He turned her around. They went out of the room, down the stairs finally. He headed towards the office, leaning on her far support.

He found the, tape and set it on a counter. He held her and looked into her eyes. He sighed heavily. "I've got to show you something, Vera," he said. "Here's what I'd just found and was leaving from, when Dancer caught me from behind and zapped me and slipped me that needle."

He took her to an alcove in the office. There was a small counter, holding a hotplate, a percolator, dirty coffee cups. There was liquid in one of them, old coffee. Dark-brown rings of evaporation circled the sides of the cup, and green-gray mold covered the surface. In another was a used tea bag, Burmese..

She reached out for it. "Paul…" she whispered.

Thorne stopped her. "Look in the bottom. White crystals, needle-shaped. I'm not a chemist, Vera, but they didn't precipitate from the tea. There was something else in that cup. The fact that there was no water in his lungs makes me sure of it. Honey, he was dead before he went into the ocean." "Murder? My God, Thorne! Paul? My Paul? Why? Why!"

He shook his head. "This motel," he said darkly. "He didn't like it-what they were doing to it. He wanted out, but they wouldn't let him. You've seen how they operated. I think that's why he split his stock and signed it over. No clear majority that way. No one person to hold hostage and force a vote from.

He sighed heavily again and put his arm around her. "Let's get out of here." He cracked a feeble grin and winced with pain. "I think the little bastard cracked a rib."

It was three of them. Thorne lay on his back in her bed with his broad chest wrapped tightly. She took away the bed tray and put it on her dresser. She came back to the bed with a mischievous smile playing at her lips. He looked at her.

"I feel silly as hell lying here like an invalid."

"Shh!" she said softly. "You're not supposed to move around."

He smiled at her. "Yeah. What a bitch."

"There's nothing that says I can't move around for both of us, darling," she smiled, unbuttoning her robe. She slipped it from her shoulders, and it slid the length of her body and puddled softly on the floor. She stood naked and proud and let his eyes go over her body again and again.

She came onto the bed and kissed his lips. She felt his prick stiffen under her hand, and she jacked it slowly.

"You're going to kill me off," he rasped huskily.

"That I am," she said.

She kissed his jaw. She moved her lips to his neck, to his chest. She went lower, kissing his stomach. She knelt beside his hips and held his prick erect and bent over it. She kissed the tip of it with her soft lips. She parted them, then, and sucked the velvety head of his cock between them.

"Vera!" he gasped. "Honey, you don't have to, Ohhhh,… don't, darling, don't."

She glanced up at him without taking her mouth from his prick. She sucked on it. She used her tongue, feeling his cock throb in her mouth. She wasn't quite sure what to do. She'd never sucked a prick off before. All she could recall was what Sally had done to Roger. It seemed to be right. Thorne's prick swelled and bucked in her mouth, and he did a lot of groaning.

"Honey-what are you doing!" he gasped.

"Killing you off," she smiled.

He laughed once and winced with pain. "Why, Vera-you don't have to do it that way. Ohhhhh, just spread your pussy and sit on my prick and let me fuck it up into you."

"Huh-uh," she said, playing with him with her fingers. "It's the only cherry I've got left. I'm going to give it to you, darling. The way things have been going, I think I'd better do it fast."

"Oh, it's all over, Vera-all over."

"I know. That is. But we're just beginning, Thorn; you and I. Oh, I'm so happy!"

"Mrs. Bundt," he said, testing the flavor of it on his lips. "Straddle my cock, Mrs. Bundt, and let me bunt your pussy around a little."

"Later," she smiled.

She sucked in her breath and looked at the fiery knob throbbing at her. She opened her mouth. She snuggled down beside his hip, slipping his prick between her lips again and drawing on it.

He began to gasp after a moment, and she could feel the life and need pulsing through his prick. She bobbed her head. She did the best she could, with no practice.

It was good enough. He put his hands on her head to push her away. She swept them off and bobbed up and down on his dick, making him flick her mouth.

His hips lifted. She felt his cock pulse wildly, felt the big eye in his prickhead open and his warm, slippery sperm spurt into her mouth. He yelled. He pumped and pumped, and it was more than she could hold. She swallowed quickly, making room in her mouth for mare of his cum.

It wasn't bad. She could get used to it. For him, she could get used to anything.

"Darling, darling!" she gasped, snaking up his body, kissing his stomach, his bandage, his lips. His tongue twirled in her mouth, sharing his own flavor with her, just as she would kiss him after he had sucked her pussy.

She spread her thighs wide. She slid down his body. Her pussy was already sucking and squeezing, her pelvis rocking, searching for the head of his prick.

She found it. She captured it between her puffy pussylips. She sank down, sliding along his body, feeling his cock go up her cunt. She shuddered and clung to him and let a quick orgasm sweep through