grade.
'I hope we can make it to that little town, now!' he grunted. 'We've got to get this damned thing running better!'
Settling down into his sleeping bag, luxuriously, and scratching his long, lean and muscular flanks, Mickey Blackum was thoughtful. He was thinking about that luscious blonde he had first spotted in the service station, yesterday. She was waiting around there while something was being fixed on their camper… of course, she was straight, and her husband was a typical eight-to-five establishment type, full of apple pie, mother and patriotism crap. Christ I can spot those mothahs a mile away!
… But, that woman of his…! Man… the way she was flipping her ass around in those tight hot pants… and those tits that wouldn't stop! She was something else! Damn, I'd like to get into a mama like that… for some plain and fancy fucking!
Down between his legs, his scrotum tightened up and began to lift his balls, crawlingly, up tight to his crotch; at the same time, the shaft of his cock was flooded with hot blood. It began to throb to full erection, and his hand went down to grasp the growing massiveness of it. He conceded to himself that the little blonde bitch wasn't available to him, so he'd just have to make do with what was handy… and what was always there, of course, was Terry. She was there… any time he wanted a piece of ass… And, she'd better be here!
One unbreakable rule was that his mama, Terry McCauley, had to be around… whenever he wanted her… for whatever reason…! And, Mickey wanted her, now!
He threw back the top portion of the unzipped, double sleeping bag and called, softly, 'Terry!'
There was no answer. The black-bearded leader waited a beat or to, before he called, again, louder, 'Teeerrrry!'
On the heavily wooded slope above the camp, Terry heard Mickey's voice calling her, the second time. She froze. She had to obey him… no matter what! Christ! Not right now… though!
She was crouched over Peeper Martin's loins, his long, thin cock held in her hands, her lips just beginning to descend on it to engulf his cock's head in her hungry mouth.
Hastily, she began to scramble to her feet, dropping the fully erect prick lancing up through the fly of his heavy, leather motorcycle pants.
'That's Mickey!' she gasped. 'I've got to split!'
Martin sat up, reached out and grabbed one of her wrists.
'Let him wait! You're mine… right now!' he hissed.
'No Peeper! Christ no! I've got to go!' Her voice was desperate. 'You know that!'
'Stop calling me Peeper… for Christ's sake! My name's Tom! Me and him… are going to have a go about that one of these days!'
'Let me go!' Terry begged. 'I don't want him to get pissed-off at me… over nothing!'
'Nothing!?' Tom Martin roared. 'You're splitting… leaving me all uptight… with a big hard-on… ready to do some fucking… you call that nothing?'
'… But… I've got to go! I don't want Mickey… carving on me… the way he did Maureen!' She wrenched herself free of his grasp, a dry sob escaping her contorted mouth. As she started down the slope toward the camp, Terry flung back over her shoulder, 'You can jerk it off… or find out, for sure, whether Wunder Boy will blow you!'
Then, she heard Mickey call for the third time. His voice was loud, angry, 'Terry! Get your fucking ass over here… right now!'
Terror-stricken, she called out, 'I'm coming! I'm coming!' God! He had to call me three times!
She ran… hard, barely able to see in the darkness, stumbling once or twice and cursing her rotten luck. The fright in her was real. Mickey demanded absolute obedience of his mamas, and any breaches of his iron discipline were dealt with, instantly… harshly.
Arriving out of breath at his sleeping bag, where Mickey sat glowering, angrily, Terry flung herself down on her knees before him, her tiny pixie-face distraught, frightened blue eyes already pleading for a mercy she knew he wouldn't dispense. She brushed disheveled strands of lustrous auburn hair away from her face and trembled, 'Here I… am… Mickey…!'
'Where the hell you been?'
'Up there… on the hill… but I–I… didn't hear you!' she defended, hoping he would soften… perhaps allow her this one trespass against his rigid rules.
'Who was up there with you?'
'Peeper…' she admitted, truthfully, knowing that she could not tell Mickey any more than that. God! I–I can't tell him Peeper wouldn't let me go! She didn't want to be the cause of an open rift between the two men; there was already enough animosity between them.
'Peeper? Christ!' The black-bearded leader was silent for a moment. Peeper Martin needed to learn a few things. There wasn't any doubt about it, but he'd have to take care of Martin, tomorrow. Right now, his mama would get her little lesson in obedience before he fucked her.
'All right… get those God damned rags off! I want you bare-assed naked!'
Mickey watched her, avidly, his eyes burning with lewd desire and a grim satisfaction, as she hastened to obey him.
Sitting back on the sleeping bag, she pulled off her heavy boots and thick socks, then standing up, she unbuckled the wide belt, opened the fly of her boys' jeans and stripped them down over the soft, white columns of her tapering thighs and the long, svelte curve of her calves. Next, she removed her heavy, leather jacket, and with trembling fingers, unbuttoned her man's shirt, tossing it aside with her other articles of clothing. She wore nothing under it. Her breasts soared free in the wash of the cool evening air, standing out in luscious, globular mounds, slightly upthrust and glowing in alabaster whiteness, each of them crowned with the cameo-pink of nipples already spiking out into cones of erectile arousal. They were young, tender breasts, firm and high on her chest, the valley between them deep and clearly defined. Then, without hesitation, she slipped her panties down over the curving swell of her hips and buttocks to stand completely nude before him.
His massive, long and thick cock throbbed with anticipation, as he watched. Damn! She was the most luscious mama he'd ever had! He almost hated to have to discipline her… But, hell… you let a mama get away with one little thing… and there's no end to the crap they'll try to pull on you!
'Now… give me your belt!' he ordered.
'P-Please… Mickey…' she pleaded, her lower lip trembling, wide, blue eyes glistening with tears, 'I–I really didn't hear… y-you…'
He wouldn't be swayed. 'I said give me your God damned belt… or do you want me to use mine?'
'Oh, no! God no!' Hastily, she stopped to pick up her discarded jeans and unthreaded the wide, leather belt from the loops, a vivid impression in her mind of what his studded belt would do to her flesh… if he were to use it! Abjectly, she handed the plain, leather strap to him.
'Down on your belly, bitch… and take your medicine!' Mickey commanded. 'And… not one squeal… dig?'
'P-Please… don't… mark me…?' Terry knew there was no escaping her punishment.
She had known from the beginning that he intended to carry it out. It's not fair! It wasn't my fault… but I'll have to take it!
'You disobeyed me!' Mickey grunted. 'That's why you're getting it!' He doubled the belt and held it in one hand, while with the other, he snatched at her wrist and pulled her down onto the sleeping bag, then kneeling up, the black-bearded leader looked down at his target. As she lay there, Terry, undulated her hips, provocatively, the moons of her buttocks working, erotically… invitingly. It was a final ploy she used, almost unconsciously, in an attempt to dissuade him, but at the same time, she pushed her face down hard into the material of the sleeping bag, expecting, momentarily, the slashing pain of the leather strap across her soft backside.
Mickey's big cock jerked, and his hand went down to stroke the hardened, throbbing shaft, as a thrill of sadistic pleasure keened through him. Damn! He was going to enjoy this! Somehow, it made the fucking… afterward, more enjoyable… more intense. His lips peeled back in a lewd grin, his white teeth gleaming through the blackness of his beard. Suddenly, he raised his arm and brought the leather belt down hard and true in a solid, slashing blow across those lovely, white buttocks.
