snuggled between her buns to taste her asshole. She was all right. Anytime she wanted to drink at his bar was all right with him.
Teresa let the limp pecker drop from her lips and licked at the spattered sperm in the hair. She sucked the patch of black until it was clean and once again well-groomed. Her face felt warm, she felt fine.
'What do you think?' he asked.
Teresa knew what he wanted to hear. 'I think you fuck real well,' she said.
Johnny grinned. 'Oh yeah?'
'Yeah. How was I?'
'Terrific. Really terrific.'
'As good as my mother?' she asked.
Johnny's body went stiff under her. He was quiet, absolutely silent. 'You going to answer me?' Teresa asked.
'What kind of a question is that to ask?'
'It's an honest question. And if you like fucking me you have to promise never to fuck her again… no matter what she says or does or offers,' Teresa bluntly stated.
'Hah,' Johnny laughed. 'That's easy enough to promise, she and I are through. She's got herself a new boyfriend to play with.'
'Not for long,' said Teresa.
CHAPTER FOUR
Walter Cunningham tied a neat bow on the lace of his patent-leather dress shoes and stood up to check himself in the mirror. He approved. His waving, slightly grey hair and trim moustache gave him a dashing allure in the dark suit with colorful necktie.
It was the night of the annual Terra-Mar Country Club New Membership Dance and he really didn't look forward to it. The affairs were usually a bore, dancing, drinking, socializing on the most casual of levels with neighbors he met only once a year-at the New Membership Dance. Walter avoided the club as much as possible, thought it a waste of time, but bowed to Grace when the big dance rolled around. After all, the club was her pet project, her civic interest, he should at least make a showing.
He went into the bathroom and opened the medicine chest to find his moustache scissors. With a grunt he pushed the mirrored cabinet-door shut and went back to the bedroom. Grace was standing at her dressing table applying powder to her fleshy breasts.
'Grace, have you seen my moustache scissors?'
She looked up and shook her head. 'No, what would I want with your scissors?'
'Damned if I know… All I know is that every time they're missing I find them in the possession of a female, neither of whom has a moustache.'
Grace smirked and ran the powder puff down the flat of her belly to dust her crotch. 'Well, I'm not the only female living in this house,' she answered.
Walter walked down the long, carpeted hallway to Teresa's bedroom door. He struck his fist on the door to knock but it swung open. Teresa was standing on the other side of her bed just as naked as her mother. But instead of dusting her luscious form with powder she was rubbing lotion briskly into the flesh. Her skin glowed.
Mr. Cunningham paused and took full enjoyment of Teresa's young, firm lines and haughty backside. He felt his juices stir as memories of Grace when they were first married flooded into his mind. She couldn't have been aware of his presence as she bent deep down to rub her ankles and the pink lips of her pulpy twat squished back to smile at Dad.
He smiled to himself and took a last loving look before quietly backing away along the hall. He waited a moment then called out like he was approaching, 'Teresa?'
'Yes, Dad?' he heard instantly.
Walter stepped into her open doorway in time to see her hustling the two hobbling masses of delicious breasts into a housecoat. She noticed he was watching but didn't blush, didn't react except to look at him and grin.
'Have you seen my moustache scissors, young lady?' he asked with an accusing tone.
Now she blushed. 'Oh? Oh… ' She sheepishly smiled and nodded.
As she crossed to her dresser and picked them up Mr. Cunningham frowned and asked, 'Now what were you doing with them? I'm the only person around here with a moustache that I know of. Have you got a guy living under your bed or something like that?'
'No, Dad… I was using them to snip some threads from my new dress,' Teresa answered. 'I'm sorry, I forgot to return them.'
He took the scissors from her hand and said, 'The only reason my scissors are always disappearing is because I always put them away where they belong and because I always go out and retrieve them when they've been swiped. But I bet if I hide them you and your mother will be forced to find your own scissors or suffer with dangling threads.'
He winked and the lecture was over. Teresa watched her handsome father leave the room before the giggle escaped her lips. She only wished she could have told him what she really used the scissors for. Not to cut dangling threads but to clip the few dangling hairs from around the opening of her twat.
Mr. Cunningham stood before his mirror and raised the blunt-nosed scissors up to the bothersome hair that was destroying the perfect grooming of his moustache. He sniffed. Lowered the scissors and looked at them. A curly black hair was lodged in the junction. He sniffed again. Then again. His face screwed up with curiosity then went blank. Finally, Walter slid the blade of the scissors across his tongue and tasted. A happy grin of discovery formed on his lips.
'I'll be waiting downstairs for you ladies whenever you believe you've achieved all the beauty you can from your lotions, tricks and creams,' he announced.
Half an hour later Grace Cunningham looked into Teresa's bedroom and said, 'Ready to go?'
Teresa was ready. Ready and waiting. She wore a very low-cut top with extremely short skirt, both red. Grace's eyes opened and she exhaled. 'My God, you're not going to the dance in that, are you?'
Teresa nodded. 'Sure I am.'
'You look like a streetwalker,' said Grace.
'What's the difference? You look like a hundred-dollar-a-night call girl,' she answered.
'That's no way to talk to your mother!' snapped Grace. 'Why are you dressed like that?'
That's what Teresa wanted her to ask. 'Because I don't have a date for the dance, that's why. I want to attract some attention so I might get a boyfriend of the proper social class and culture.'
'What do you mean by that?'
'I mean just this! I'm dressed like a bar-girl 'cause that's what I'm going to be. If I can fuck the bartender I might as well play the part!'
'What?'
'You heard me,' hissed Teresa. 'Today I fucked Johnny, your old boyfriend, just like you've been fucking my old boyfriend! The only difference is I waited until you were done with yours before moving in!'
Grace looked around with panic and closed the bedroom door behind her. 'No! No! Tell me that's not true!'
Teresa grinned into her mother's red face and said, 'I will not! Because it is true. I knew you and Johnny Carvel were having an affair, that you were screwing an uncultured bartender! And then you have the gall to break me up with Alan because he's not good enough for me! You hypocrite!'
'Shut up! You don't know what's good for you! I'm just watching out for your best interests!'
'Don't bother, Mother! I'll take care of my own interests now! I'm a big girl, big enough to keep Johnny happier than he ever was with you!'
She thought her mother was going to faint. But Grace only reeled back to swing. Teresa ducked and the slap missed. Then Grace threw open the door and stomped down the stairs. Teresa waited a moment before
