Mom's hot lips

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.

The moment it appeared Thorne might put a comforting arm around her yesterday, Roger had stood physically between them, bristling with threats, actually pushing Thorne towards the door. Vera understood why. Thorne had stolen Paul's affection and pride from Roger. Roger wasn't going to let him steal his mother, too, not without a fight.

Vera sighed heavily, weary of a lifetime of contest because of Roger. First with Paul, and soon with Thorne. She could feel it coming down deep in her bones.

"There it is," Roger said abruptly. He slowed and pulled to the side of the road. Vera looked across the highway towards the ocean. They'd just crossed a bridge. There was the faint trace of tire tracks skidding across the limestone rubble towards the edge of the small island. Water licked the zip-rap with gentle innocence. She suddenly imagined the powder-blue Olds leaping into space, and she let out a small sound and turned her head.

"Don't stop here, Roger." He looked at her. There was a strange expression on his face, a look of power. "Honey, let's go back. I don't want to see the motel. I don't want any part of it."

"You have a part of it, Mom. Of all of them. Remember what Jack Cutter said about the stocks? Sixty percent, he left us. We own the whole mess, Mom, and we're going to run the hell out of it, you wait and see."

She looked ahead quickly and bit her lower lip to keep back a cry of outrage. Equally! Paul had left them shares equally!

She couldn't comprehend it. Jack Cutter couldn't understand it, either. He should have left it to her, not to her and Roger equally. The only thing she could figure was that he hadn't hated Roger after all. That, or he had genuinely regarded her as his daughter instead of his wife.

She tried to calm the bitter feeling inside her. She remembered the other odd thing Cutter had told them. Paul had signed his stock over four days before he'd died. Cutter didn't know why. But it meant that their ownership of it wasn't fouled up in the estate settlement.

She went over the discussion in Cutter's dim office again and remembered another point. There was a man-Max Sawyer. He was contesting their ownership of the stock. It was something about a prior agreement. Something to do with this damn Loon Key motel.

She shook her head harshly, unable to untangle all the fine points, tired of the way too many things ran through her mind in a confused jumble.

"Roger, turn around, I want to go home. I don't want to run the motels. I don't know anything about it, and neither do you. We should let Thorne run everything."

"Fuck Bundt!" he shouted, his face blazing redly. "I'd rather sell out to this guy Sawyer than appoint Bundt chief crapper cleaner! Dad didn't think I could take over, and Bundt still thinks it, Well, by God, I'm going to show them! You, too, Mom, if I have to!"

"Don't speak to me in that tone of voice, you little brat!"

Roger grinned at her, his face showing that he was high on an inner drug. "Hey, Mom, you're sounding like a mother again. Better watch that, or I'll pull off in the weeds and give you a little flicking again." He laughed. "How about it, Mom? Should we? I'm getting a hard-on just thinking about your slick pussy and all the little wiggles you make your ass do when you come."

Vera sucked in her breath and looked at him a long moment, watching him drive. She wasn't sure what to think. He was different today. He made their closeness something dirty. He was going to have to stop doing that. Was it the motel again? Would it do the same thing to Roger it had done to Paul?

"It's a bad place, Roger. I don't want to go there. Turn around."

"A building can't be bad, for Christ's sake."

"It changed him. He didn't like it. He died coming back from it. It mined our marriage, and it made him do-strange things with his share of the stock. Now it's changing you."

"The only thing changing me is having him off my back, Mom. As for the stock-I don't know. The only thing I figured he'd ever give me was a pain in the ass. Maybe he knew something about his heart and wanted to sign it over before he croaked. Maybe he gave me half just to keep you in line."

"What do you mean by that?" she asked sharply.

Roger shrugged. "Maybe he thought whiz-kid Bundt would try to move in on you and take over everything. He knew I hate Bundt and won't do a damn thing the bastard recommends. Maybe he saw through Bundt at the last and saw what a climbing back-stabber he is."

"Roger, that's enough!"

"Maybe Max Sawyer had something to do with it, huh? Hey, there you go. He signed it over to get it out of his name because he was pulling a sneaky on Sawyer, and then he was going to tell us how to vote the 60 percent next week. Control without vulnerability. Hell, it happens all the time."

"Your father did not pull anything sneaky on anybody ever," Vera said distinctly, her tone reprimanding.

"He wasn't my father, Mom-remember?" Roger grinned.

He braked the car and swerved off the highway onto a new blacktop driveway that passed under an ornate portico. On the curving glass front of the new building was a stylized trio of birds in flight against a backdrop of cloud-drifted moon and graceful palm tree, with a blue water ripple for the horizon.

Small gold letters, all lower case, said Loon Key Motel. The Hanson shield was missing. She didn't understand that at all.

"Not bad," Roger said, giving a whistle. He eased the car towards the parking area on the south. There was a bait-and-tackle place just beyond it, an old frame marina with small boats at dock. A cut led into the Atlantic for the boats. There was a car parked in the new lot of the motel, close to the edge, near the marina.

"Somebody's here, Roger. I don't feel right about this."

He turned in the seat and looked at her. "Mom, we own the goddamn place now." He dangled keys in front of her. "See? That's probably some guy at the marina who didn't want to get his car dusty in their gavel lot, that's all. Come on." He got out and opened her door and half yanked her out He gazed at the new structure. "Damn, it's a lot fancier than the other ones. Hey, come on, partner," he grinned, pulling her towards the entrance.

There was a theme of pools and coral rock and lush vegetation and metal-sculptured loons. It was carried into the lobby from outside. Roger sauntered through the rooms with a wide grin and smelled the odors of newness everywhere.

"Man, the old fart outdid himself on this one, didn't he? It's really different."

It was. It didn't look like one of Paul's motel at all. There was a chromous glint about it that made the plushness gaudy instead of rich. They stood in the dining room and looked through an expanse of glass at the Atlantic and fishing boats bobbing whitely on the blue.

There was a terrace and lanai section surrounding a large swimming pool. A wing of the building wrapped around it, and the beach was beyond. The pool was full of water, blue and peaceful under the sun.

"Damn, that's what I want! Come on, Mom!"

He grabbed her hand and thrust open a sliding door and hauled her to the edge of the pool. He kicked his shoes off and stripped to his shorts. She couldn't help looking at the compact bulge of his prick.

"Come on, Mom-let's swim. Hell, the owners have to be the first."

She started to protest. With a juvenile cackle, he put his hand in the middle of her back and pushed. She sprawled into the water with a founting splash, sank to the bottom, came up sputtering, her hair plastered to her head.

"Roger, you little brat!" she cried.

She saw him laughing like a carefree child. He spun off the edge of the pool and splashed water and surfaced with a yowl of animal joy. He started coming after her.

Something sparked inside Vera. The Worries and tensions of the past days lifted from her and left her feeling light and free, as if she were a teenage girl again, being chased.

She turned in the water and squeaked and swam away from him, and the chase was an. She was a good swimmer, fast and sleek, but the clothing hampered her badly. She felt his hand clasp around her ankle. He pulled her backwards, and her head went under. She came up sputtering right in front of him.

"That wasn't fair!" she cried, laughing, the first time in days. "My legs got all tangled in my dress, or you'd never have caught me!"

He looked at her. She stopped laughing and felt her pulse hammer. The thin dress was plastered wetly to her body, and her sharp tits punched towards him. She could see the gleam of his white shorts under the silvery surface.

"Then take it off, Mom," he said huskily.

"Oh, Roger…" she started, glancing around. She felt exposed. But there was nothing but the new building around her and the sky overhead and the empty beach to the east.

He reached for her, his arms going around her, his fingers finding the zipper at her back. "It's not like we're strangers any more, Mom," he said.

She stood there in waist-high water and let him peel her dress from. her tits. He looked down at them. They gleamed in the sunlight, fresh and alive with silvery droplets, young and firm and healthy.

He cupped them in his hands. She felt his prick stiffen and move against her thighs, and then she realized his shorts were off. He pushed her dress down, hooking his thumbs into her panties.

"Roger, don't…" she whispered. But she lifted her legs in the water and clung to his neck and watched him roll the sopping garments from her feet.

She half floated on her back. His hands were against her neck and her butt, supporting her. Her fits mounded just out of the water, and little waves tugged at them sensitively and made her nipples shoot towards the sun.

He lifted her butt, and water flowed from her hips and over her pussy between her thighs. He dipped his head and took her wet pubes and the flesh of her pussylips into his mouth and flicked at her twat with his tongue.

"Oh, God…" she moaned softly, feeling her cunt open and expand and grow wet inside.

Her whole body was on horizontal display for him. Her legs seemed to float apart and open as if pulled that way by the water. He waded towards the edge of the pool, and she hooked her elbows in the gutter rim, her head out of the water and her body floating straight out.

Roger looked at her, up and down, his face slack. "God, you're beautiful, Mom," he said softly.

He went between her outstretched legs. His hands cupped her round asscheeks, lifting slightly, so that her pussy was just out of the water. She looked down her body and saw the way her cuntlips had bloated and spread apart. She could see her cunt at the top of the cleft. It was stiff and pink and throbbing. The water had made her pubes transparent so that they hid nothing of her cunt.

Roger put her thighs over his shoulders and squatted in the water. His head was just in the vee of her crotch. He gazed at her open cunt, and she knew he could see the pink tissues suck and quiver with the terrible excitement in her body.

"Roger, don't… somebody might be watching..

"There's nobody here, Mom. And I wouldn't stop now for anything."

He dipped forward. His tongue brushed over her gash. He made it flat and then lapped up the center of her trembling split. He flicked her cut with the tip of it, then opened his mouth wide and covered her whole cunt with his soft, warm, sucking lips.

"Ohhhhhh, my God!" Vera cried, tossing her head back, squeezing her eyes shut against the sun. She saw orange through her eyelids. A whole world of hot orange.

Electric jolts shot through her with each massaging press, each flick, each pointed stab of his tongue. It was the first time he'd sucked her cunt. It was the first time anyone had sucked her cunt in eons, because Paul hadn't liked to muff-dive.

She'd forgotten how good it was. She'd been barely conscious of Dalton's eating her out because of the wild turmoil of that night, but there was no turmoil now.

There was the floating sensation the water gave her. There was the bright sun and the blue sky and the limitless ocean. And there was the feeling of love and closeness with her son as he licked and sucked at her trembling, flowing pussy.

She wanted him to stop. She felt very strange, being in the open. She wanted to get to a bed at least, somewhere cozier. She wanted to wrap her arms around his body and hold him tightly while the-good sensations tingled through her pussy.

She put her hand to his head to push him away. She nearly sank in the water, and she clutched his head to her snatch instead, letting out a long moan when his tongue stabbed deep into her quaking cunt.

"Ohhhhh, Roger-it's wonderful! You're going to make me come, darling! Oh, don't make me come like this! Take me to one of the rooms and let me lie on a bed!"

He didn't stop. He cupped her butt in his hands and ate at her pussy. When she tried to pump her hips up against his face and fuck back, there was no resistance to the water.

There was nothing she could do but float and accept the sensations he gave her and let them build in her body.

God, it was good. She shuddered and moaned and felt the waves suck and pull at her tits, like gentle hands caressing them. She realized again what a rut she had fallen into with Paul. They only fucked. They never did anything else. It wouldn't be that way with her son, because he could fuck her in any position and suck her pussy and do all the inventive things youngsters did.

Her hips twisted in his hands. She felt her orgasm coming. She couldn't possibly hold it back, not as long as he kept up the wonderful tonguing of her pussy.

His tongue was like a mobile prick. It could fuck into her box quickly, pushing the soaked, silken tissues aside, sinking deep. It could flick at her cut and make the mini-cock vibrate with unbelievable sensation.

It could flatten against the muscular, satiny mouth of her pussy and massage like a small hand, around and around, up and down. And all the while, his fingers massaged her ass and played in her deep crack and made her asshole tingle.

Her emotions began to swim. They floated inside her just the way her quivering body floated in the water. She opened her mouth and heard the sharp sighs she sent towards the sky.

"Roger! I'm going to come! Honey.. Oh! Ohhhh!"

Wave after wave pulsed through her, sending her higher and higher. She tried to switch her ass and shake out the orgasm, but the water gave no resistance.

"Yaaaagh! I'm coming!" she cried harshly.

It flowed from her. Her whole body shook in the water, undulating and sending waves from the sides of her hips. Roger glued his mouth to her pussy and sucked and sucked, just as if he were drawing it from her, as if he were drinking her cunt juice from a two-handled cup.

Her twat rose out of the water. Silvery liquid cascaded from the smooth rise of her mound and flowed from the sides of her hips. Her pussy seemed pointed towards the sky, as if she were fucking the great huge ball of the sun overhead.

It was maddening. It was one of the most erotic experiences of her life, and she came and came, squeezing, pushing-dangerously hard. She felt a sudden rippling, a release of pressure she couldn't hold back any longer.

"Roger! Oh God, honey! Roger, I'm pissing!"

Shame swept through her. He held her pussy out of the water, his hands pressuring up under her butt. Her thighs were wide apart, the inner surfaces of them turned outward as her legs rotated in her hip sockets.

A spout of fluid arced up from her twat and glittered in the bright, yellow sunlight. It fell into the pool in quick droplets that skittered across the surface.

Roger lifted his head and kept her pussy up and stared down avidly and watched her shame pour forth. His face went slack with lust. She tried to stop and couldn't.. Her body shuddered with the last pulses of orgasm, and they were given extra power by the utterly wanton feelings sweeping through her.

"Ohhhh, Mom." Roger whispered huskily.

He watched her hole open wide and emit her fluid. He saw her cunt mouth quivering and sucking underneath. He moved forward slightly and let the stream spatter against his stomach, warm and smooth. He walked right up against her cunt until there was a hissing sound, and then he fell against her and hugged her and brought their bodies upright in the water.

He kissed her again and again, his tongue sliding into her mouth, tangling with hers, reaching for the back of her throat. His chest mashed her tits flat, and his hands cupped her ass and lifted her high in the water.

"God, you're the most exciting mom a guy could ever want to have!" he cried;

He wrapped her thighs around his waist and pushed her down, still holding her by her ass. She knew what was coming. But it was so hard-so terribly hard and incredibly stiff.

His prick shot into her pussy. Her cunt was spread wide open because of her straddling position. She felt water and prick enter her silken hole, and a bubble of air zigzagged up between their bodies and popped, bringing the aroma of her hot pussy with it.

"Ohhhh, Roger, I'm sorry," she gasped, clinging to his neck, hiding her face in the hollow of it "I didn't mean to do that. I couldn't stop it. The long drive down here, and then-you made me come so terribly hard I..

"Mom! Mom, your pussy! God, make it suck at my prick again! Make my cock squirt up in you!"

She tightened her thighs about his waist and dug her heel into the crack of his ass. His legs spread to balance them in the water. She tried to move up and down, but the water slowed her motions. She sucked with the smooth muscles of her pussy and felt his prick reach for the back of her cunt and dance there.

"Yaaaaagh!" he growled lightly. "Here it comes! I'm gonna pin up your pussy, Mom! White sticky Jesus, I'm coming!"

His cock bucked and swelled inside her split pussy. It trembled and throbbed and spewed forth his load of sperm, filling her cunt completely, pressuring out through the root-stuffed lips.

Strings of cum floated lazily up between them, and still he kept pouring his cum into her belly. And she kept drinking it in with her pussy, drawing it from his balls, letting her hot, trembling cunt overflow with the volume of it.

He staggered. They would have gone over sideways if they hadn't been supported by the water. He gasped heavily, his chest heaving against hers. Then he looked at her with sleepy eyes and grinned.

"What a mother," he said tenderly.

She laughed. Her blue eyes danced. She shook her butt against his middle, feeling giddy and young and light. "What a mother-fucker," she giggled.

She twirled away from him and began swimming, goading him into chasing her again. She thought about what she'd said, what they'd done again.

She should have felt guilty and base, but she didn't. She felt free. The times before, back at the big house in Miami, Paul's presence had been there. No matter where she had gone in the house to open her legs to her son and let him fuck her, her husband's heavy presence had been there.

It wasn't here. It wasn't a part of this place any more than she had been a part of it.

Could that have been the reason he hadn't shared it with her? Because he knew it wasn't his, wasn't theirs, wasn't something for them to share? If so, why wasn't it? Whose personality was built into the walls, reflected by the sweeping designs, nurtured in the abundance of planters? Who was it that gleamed with blue-white hardness from the chrome and glass?

She stopped swimming.. Roger wasn't chasing bet He'd hauled himself from the pool and was sitting on the edge, his wet shorts dripping from his hands.

She watched him get up and step into them. They were transparent and clung to his ass and hips. He left wet footprints as he trailed away from the pool and headed up a flight of outside stairs towards the balcony and the row of rooms looking at the ocean with blank glassy eyes.

"Roger?" she called after him.

"Gonna look around, Mom," he called back. He grinned feebly. He looked debauched.

She hugged herself in the cool water and shivered slightly, flushing with shame at the same time. Was it possible the old lady was too hot for the young boy to handle?

She smiled to herself and giggled and squeezed her hand round her cunt to contain the fiery tingling there.