world. Lauralee trembled upon her finger, and worked it hesitantly back and forth.
Her husband's thing had never felt this good; he had forced it into her on their wedding night, had forced it into her virginal body without regard to her sensitivity, never even considering that she might have been repulsed by the whole thing. And even though what she was doing was almost as bad, she was at least getting some enjoyment from it.
Just as the actress was; look how her beautiful thighs were contracting as she rode her finger – no! TWO fingers – rotating her pelvis and pumping her crotch with the same hungry motions she had used in copulating with the man only a minute before. It looked so real, so thrilling, and Lauralee found herself almost matching the woman's frenzy, rocking her hips in unaccustomed movements that were reaching frenzy.
It was good; it was devilishly exciting and sinfully sweet. She could feel it building, a weird pressure in her thighs and growing in her lower groin. Lauralee ground sensuously upon her finger, cupping the others over her heaving mound and pushing her long legs out in front of her, practically lifting off the chair cushion as she thrust and recoiled, stroked and pulled back.
Heat spread within her slippery vagina, and a bright little ember fanned itself into white-hot flame at her clitoris, that little center of passion that she had long thought was withered and useless. Eyes fixed mesmerized upon the TV screen, Lauralee bucked in the throes of her first orgasm, biting her lips and moaning, her head rolling limply from side to side as she reached the hissing, tumbling crest of a mighty, smashing wave.
She had come.
Oh Lord, she had come at last. It was a marvelous release, an emotional explosion that had loosened every fiber of her body, all the nerves that had so long been denied this rapture. She held her finger deep within her flexing vagina and shuddered in the swirling backwash of her climax, her eyes closed and open, closed and open.
They were doing something else on the screen, and she thought fuzzily, so soon? Lauralee blinked, and slowly realized that another woman had entered the room there, a woman with different-colored hair and a differently proportioned body, one who wore a diaphanous and revealing babydoll nightie. As Lauralee stared, this new actress slipped out of the gown and walked gracefully to the couple resting upon the bed.
Stirring her finger gently within her sensitized slit, Lauralee watched with heightening interest, to see what would happen next. She fought the feeling of guilt that threatened to overwhelm her, and concentrated upon the screen while she luxuriated in the juicy arousal of her vagina. She could blame the alcohol, her mental upset at the precipitous marriage of her son, the jolt of seeing dirty movies on TV, anything. But she refused to feel sinful; it was impossible, when she felt so good.
She saw the other woman join the lovers upon the bed, and as the man rolled aside to give them room, Lauralee knew another electric jolt: the two women were caressing, pushing their naked bodies together without shame, fondling each other's heavy breasts and kissing, running their tongues together. She could plainly see the brown-haired mound grinding into the blond one, and sucked in a deep breath as the blonde wrapped her legs around the other woman. Lauralee's finger stopped feeling around inside her sheath; she thought that was going altogether too far.
But as the camera held upon them, the scene began to seem less dirty; there was something almost beautiful in the tender way they were caressing each other, a gentleness that the man hadn't shown. Their hands fluttered like butterflies, softly, beguilingly, and Lauralee thought that was the way a man should love a woman, very tenderly – not ramming his swollen thing savagely like a lust-mad animal.
One of them was kissing the other's globular breasts, nuzzling each nipple in turn, and Lauralee's finger began to slide again, teasing into her slit and seeking to bring back that tickly, mind-expanding goodness. Now the blonde was lying on top of the dark-haired woman, and the man was kissing them both and rubbing his organ along their gleaming thighs. But they seemed to be paying little attention to him.
Why, Lauralee thought in surprise, they were trying to – to do it together, and they ought to know that couldn't be done. They simply weren't built like that; one of them had to possess a male thing. But she had to admit that it looked interesting as they thrust together, grinding their crotches and trembling as they continued to kiss hotly.
When the camera cut to a close-up of the moving vulvas, Lauralee's eyes went wide. She could see a clitoris that looked very much like a man's rod, only much smaller, and she could also see that the two slits were meeting, stimulating each other. It was fantastic.
It was also voluptuous, and she began to build up the magic rhythm again, her eyes fixed upon the screen, her thighs spreading themselves wider as she rooted deeper with the probing finger, pretending she was one with the women.
'Ummm,' she murmured, 'uummm – it's – so – good!'
Furiously, then, she rubbed her vibrant clitoris and plunged her finger into the suctioning grip of her sizzling hole, rolling her buttocks and gasping as the wonderful feeling came boomeranging through her vagina once more. She had hoped it would be as wild as last time, but it was even better. Lauralee let out a soft cry as she came, and her bare heels drummed a spasmed tattoo upon the motel carpet.
Slowly, she came back to the world around her, to the sounds issuing from the television set, and the flashing colors there. Her head was spinning, and far back in a newly discovered corner of her mind, Lauralee Jergens was beginning to wonder just where the hell she had been all her life.
'Oh wow,' the voice said and it didn't come from the screen.
Lauralee jerked her head around and wanted to die on the spot. Her daughter-in-law stood just behind the chair, looking petite and beautiful in a flowing nightie that clung to the almost childlike curvings of her small, youthful body. And the girl was staring down at the spot where Lauralee's finger was still embedded into the wet lips of her vagina. There could be no mistake about what had been going on.
Bettina said again, 'Oh wow – I never would have thought it. I mean, not YOU.'
Choking it out, Lauralee managed to say: 'P-please – just let me…'
Swiftly, the girl went to her knees beside the chair and put a soft arm around her shoulder. 'Hey – I'm not putting you down for masturbating, Lauralee; nothing like that. I was just shook up, that's all. It's the TV, right? You had no idea you were checking us into an X-rated motel and I'll bet you never saw anything like that before.'
'I'm not,' Lauralee said, trying to sneak out her finger, 'never – it really isn't…'
'You know,' Bettina purred, her hand sliding down the shoulder to brush across one of Lauralee's full breasts, 'you really are a beautiful woman. I had you figured for an iceberg, but after watching you riding your hand like that…'
It was all wrong, but Lauralee had no idea how to go about getting out of it. She couldn't very well scream and bring her son running in from next door; not while she was naked like this. She flinched when Bettina's fingers began to toy with a nipple, and shivered as the girl's spicy, warm breath tingled in her ear. Not Bettina, she thought wildly, crazily.
'Beautiful,' the girl whispered, 'and according to Robbie, you haven't even looked at a man since you were divorced – or a woman, either. All that long, sinuous body going to waste, and these lovely tits – not big, but shaped so well.'
Lauralee tried, even though her body was weak and she couldn't get her mind to track properly. 'Bettina, please – you mustn't…'
'Between those porn movies and the screwing I just had, I'm already turned on,' Bettina said, cupping both breasts now and kissing Lauralee's throat, 'but you turn me on more. How about that? I'm suddenly hot for my mother-in-law.'
'N-no,' Lauralee whispered, but the girl was suddenly between her knees and the ripe young mouth was reaching up for her own. The quick wet tongue was thrusting into her weak lips, and there was a hand, a strange, very soft hand caressing her mound.
She felt firm breasts crushing her own, and a silken vulva burning into her own, and the motel room spun dizzily as her tongue met Bettina's, as their panting breaths mixed. Lauralee knew that she was lost.
CHAPTER TWO
