hands, until he can feel the clotted stream of his cum foaming directly against her palate, spraying out on either side. He can feel her thrashing her legs back and forth on the thick carpet beneath them. The scent of her cunt hangs heavy in the air. When his cock stops spouting and he pulls it from the suction of her lips, he does not grow soft.
Deftly he slides back along her panting body. His slick cock and balls part the cleavage of her tits, leaning a trail of moisture as he works back along her abdomen. The luxuriant mat of her pubic hair feels like glowing, fine wire against his drawn-up nuts. But as he plunges the lance of his cock through the open curtains of her labia, he knows that her inner channel is like hot mercury. He is almost blinded by the scalding pleasure. And she is not quite tight enough to keep the burning head of his cock from forging its passage into her palpitating depths.
The wedge of his cockhead parts the clenched inner folds of her cunt so that he can feel her channel opening just ahead of his thrust. When he begins to withdraw, he seems to lift her pelvis by the sheer force of the suction of his retreating prick.
Beneath him, his daughter-in-law rotates the bowl of her pelvis like a belly dancer, the hot mouth of her runt feeding on his plunging spear. Beneath his callused fingers, her shoulders are like warm, polished ivory, and the taste of her mouth against his mouth is like sweet wine. Her pale breasts, where they rub against the dense hair of his sweat-filmed chest, are like pliable, opaque wax, glowing from an inner flame. Wherever he has touched her body, her flesh magnifies his heat and gives it back to him. Little by little the lubricated walls of her cunt loosen, as though she were melting around the soldering iron of his cock.
And the more her inner channel weakens under his thrusts, the more deeply, the more barbarically he plunges himself into her. Her pussy glides around the spoke of his rod, as smooth and well-greased as a newly packed wheel bearing. When he feels the head of his cock nudge through the resistant opening of her womb, she moans a little beneath him; but it's a moan like the purr of a well-tuned engine, and she bucks her pussy up at him, wanting him deeper, longing for a harder stroke, silently begging him to buck her like this forever.
As if prolonged by slow motion, each tingling, electric lunge he makes into her molten cunt is drawn out like a lust-filled eternity. With infinitely small motions his woolly nuts draw themselves up against the root of his sawing cock. With each slow stroke he makes into her sucking cunt, he feels his hard-on bloating by degrees, stretching the walls of her pussy to an elastic, clutching thinness. His blood rushes to the swollen crown of his cock. His mouth hungers over her blood-red lips. Beads of sweat appear on her forehead and upper lip, glistening like hot dew. The tendrils of their pubic hair mingle and steam together. His pounding hips tense like a coiled spring.
While he freezes above her, she impales herself madly on the burning pole of his cock. Flecks of spittle form at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes roll white in her head. Her white fingers clutch desperately at his tense shoulders. Abandonedly she flings the gulping mouth of her snatch at the thick root of his flaming stake. Her voice rattles in her strained throat like the wail of metal grinding against metal.
'Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!' she begs him, clawing at his shoulders. 'Oh, Jesus Christ in heaven, screw me like I've never been screwed before!'
His entire weight is centered on the head of his throbbing cock as he drops himself against her.
Valerie flange her legs over his thighs, her heels digging into the hollows of his knees as she arches her back, grinding her juicy cunt against him as never before. Her clitoris seems to sting at the shaft of his cock as it vibrates in its thick pool of fluid.
'Aaiieee!' Valerie shrieks. 'I'm coming! Oh, God, I'm coming! Fuck me, stud, fuck me! Kill me!'
Twisting his shuddering cock within her like a torque wrench, he plunges ever deeper without withdrawing. As she bucks beneath him he can feel the head of his cock shoved against the far wall of her womb. She fits him like a burning glove.
With the suddenness of a car backfire, the first explosion of his sperm bursts against the burning wall of her womb.
'Glahhhhhbiieee!' she cries, her arms thrown around his neck, her clutching thighs pulling him ever deeper into her white-hot depths.
The belches of his blasting sperm tear themselves loose from his pulsing cock like the phosphorescent clots of fire from a Roman candle. Along the entire shaft of his embedded prong a million pinpricks of electricity nip at his sliding cock.
For a second she goes limp beneath him, her eyes rolling deliriously. But another basting of his jetted sperm flashes into her, and she tightens the muscles of her cunt around him as though she had been struck with lightning.
With each hosing of his foaming sperm into her womb he can feel his glans swelling like a molly-bolt in the cylinder of her snatch. His asshole puckers until he can feel each hair between his buttocks. Each time she bucks up at him another volley of cream gushes into her like the thick lubrication fired from a grease gun. He can feel it pushed back around the nozzle of his cock to flow around his nuts.
Only when her lithe body jells beneath him and the moans from her vibrating throat become the long purr of sure satisfaction does he cease spurting his thick cream into her womb.
Teasingly, he strokes the velvet shaft of his cock over her sensitized clitoris, delighting in the shuddering response elicited in her exhausted body. Her fingers delicately caress his shoulders as he nuzzles the hot flesh of her throat. When he slides the slick probe of his tongue into her mouth, she sucks it deeply toward her throat, at the same moment running her fiery fingers through his hair, playing at the back of his neck.
When he withdraws from her cunt, he is still hard. In a few moments he will fuck her again. He looks down at the liver-colored gash of her snatch, the outer labia still swollen open. When he sucks on the nipples of her heaving breasts, the taste is like fresh raspberries.
Richard awoke feeling hungry. He glanced at his watch on the night stand and smiled at himself at the memory of the dream. He had a hard-on.
He lay in bed for several minutes, wondering if Frances were asleep, or only pretending. Sometimes, he knew, she spent the whole night pretending to be asleep, questioning him crossly if he got up in the middle of the night. She'd kill me if she knew what I'd been dreaming, he thought. But then he smiled in the darkness, for she could not know. And in a few moments, from the sound of her regular breathing, he knew that she was asleep.
When he heard the front door open and close quietly, he knew that Rich Junior had come in from his cruising of the streets. He looked again at his watch and saw that it was four-thirty. Then, when he heard the squeak of the refrigerator door opening, he knew Rich was looking for something to eat, and he got quietly out of bed, put on his boxer shorts, and sneaked out of the bedroom.
'Out sort of late, weren't you?' he asked Rich, who had sat down at the cigarette-burned kitchen table and was just taking off his shoes.
His son took a swig of beer from the bottle beside him and grinned up at Richard. 'Up sort of early, aren't you?' he replied, kicking off his shoe.
Richard opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer.
As he walked over to the kitchen table with it, his son looked up at him and said, 'Your legs are as white as a frog's belly. You ought to come surfing with me sometime. The sun would tan you up good.'
Richard sat down and opened his beer. 'Get any tail?' he asked, his eyes twinkling.
Rich Junior made a grunting sound and screwed up his face. 'These American cunts are all cock-teases,' he said. 'It's hardly worth the effort. I think maybe I'll hop down to T.J. and try a little spic nookie.'
'Don't let your mother find out,' Richard warned him, gulping his beer.
'Hmmph!' Rich Junior said. He belched a little, then took another swig of beer. 'Jim come over today?' he asked casually.
'No,' Richard said, contemplating the label on his beer bottle. He tore off a little corner of the label and looked at the underside.
'Can't hardly blame him,' Rich Junior observed. 'Mom is just busting to tell him what a dope he's being about Val.'
'What do you think about it?'
Rich Junior leaned back in his chair and hesitated for a moment before answering his father. 'I think it's probably both their faults,' he said. 'Of course, Jim is so full of novels and shit that he probably doesn't even screw her. I can't blame her for moving out on him in that respect.'
'Did he tell you they didn't screw?' Richard asked.
