Anonymous - Uncle Roy's secret

Goosing gonads and massaging anus.

In Randy's condition, Ramona found it easy as pie to tie him with leather lashes. She pressed the timer on her watch.

"I'll be back soon with some more brew. Got to check the kitchen crew-"

Ramona flew out the door and locked it behind her. Mercedes was reading a magazine, applying lipstick, smoking a cigarette, and chewing gum at the same time behind the wheel of an automobile stripped of make and model decor and painted a matte metallic off-gray that iridesced greenish or brownish or bluish from different angles of sight.

"Uptight?" Ramona snickered. "It will be over before we know it!"

Mercedes edged the car into gear.

Nearly soundlessly it slid along the curves of the surrounding ravines and glided along the edge of a ridge overlooking the valley where the division between the undulating wooded landscape of the eastern part of the state gave way to the flat desert of the south and west.

Ramona held out a Colt.45 revolver.

"Loaded with buckshot, yes?" Mercedes said to show she remembered from practice.

"Well, Mercedes, we're taking it a little bit differently today. The reason Uncle Roy had the guns modified like that was so they could pack a wallop at short range but probably not kill someone unless you were unlucky."

Mercedes nodded to impress upon Ramona she would do anything, despite having her origins in rectal reactionary families of the eastern establishment.

"Birdshot," Ramona said blankly.

"That way," Mercedes said with a display of eloquent diction, "well only wing them," then tittered: "I can't wait!"

Mercedes tugged at the brakes in the sky-blue gravel bed outside the separate shack that housed the ceramic casting and firing furnace. They were out of sight of the larger structure where the gallery storage and display rooms were located.

Mercedes pulled the mask of chamois leather over her head and Ramona teasingly wafted a set of keys in front of her face.

"I should make you go down for these keys, sis. Make you suck me off first."

Mercedes nearly burst out laughing beneath her mask. She snatched the keys fast and shot a paw playfully at the frilly flocculence of Little Ramona's froufrou seen askance through the draped opening of Ramona's wrapped lace skirt.

"Fuck you," Ramona blurted.

"Not if I fuck you first," Mercedes snotted spoiled-rottenly.

Ramona watched Mercedes's fanny rounded beneath the material of her faded pantaloons as Mercedes walked casually toward the entrance to the gallery storeroom. Ramona kept the automobile's engine running-just barely idling.

Ears cocked.

Pistol cocked.

Ready to take flight.

Getaway gal.

Even though Uncle Roy had not yet been sprung from the jug, the police were sure that the recent wave of robberies by what had been variously described as pug-nosed thugs, ambisexual ruffians, ragamuffin vagrant bitches-these felonies had been masterminded from behind bars by none other than Uncle Roy himself.

The modus operandi included stealth, quickness, trickery, diversion, assault-a complex planning was necessary, and it required delicacy as well as brutality to bring it off.

"Dirty animals," Mercedes railed in deep throaty voice as she walked into the dark gallery and witnessed Sadie Mae impaled.

Stuck from the rear by Landry's spear and fucked from the front with Sallie Anne's engorged clitoris-painted red with cinnabar and forest of pussy sheared into a thin tapered arrowpoint.

Mercedes held the barrel of the gun steady. Directed the two women to take the carved dildos from their apertures and orifices and hand them over to her. Again at Mercedes's discretion, Landry and Sallie Anne hogtied Sadie Mae.

Mercedes prodded Sallie Anne into strapping a feathered leather loincloth over Landry's eyes and tying all of his limbs together behind his ass.

Mercedes gave Landry's hard-on a whack with the back of her wrist.

Jacked it with her fist as she directed Sallie Anne at gunpoint to empty the cabinets of selected objects she read from a list.

Wiped out from successive ejaculations and finally overcome by his ingestion of booze and herb teas, Landry fell into oblivion. He was hardly aware-or would he have cared if he had been- that Sadie Mae and Sallie Anne scampered away at the same time the apparent intruder did.

Landry did hear the telephone ring and the blare of the alarm as one buyer called him and another simply jerked open the electronically wired but chronically unlocked door.

"Fuckit."

The robber-robbers! — must have done that on purpose, knowing that the alarm would function in that mode, would tote up on the board of the local constabulary, and would certainly lead to no less than embarrassment.

Landry would be found tied up in the rude with a savage's underpants stretched over his face. Hastily express an hallucinatory scenario to his arriving clients; And Landry would perforce have to signal off the fuzz officially from the get-go unless he wanted the story to spread like a yeast infection through a nunnery.

"Landry?" he recognized the female voice. "You here, my dear?"

Clack of high heels.

"I see," the woman's voice drifted smokily. "You are ready for me-indeed."

Landry choked out:

"How do you do this afternoon, Cassie Lou?"

Asshole quirked lazily on Yancey's prong, Mercedes came quietly. He drew the tip of his prick from her rectum.

Ejected jizzom in a fizzing line up the crack of her fanny. "Aaaaah."

Squirted another trail under her tail into her cuntal cranny.

While still spewing spermiets, Yancey attempted to inject his twanger into Mercedes's buttermilk silky slimeslit.

It wouldn't fit.

"Shit."

Ramona's tongue was already in there.

"The fuck!"

Thundering, yelps, and chuckles from the trunk of the automobile.

Mercedes wrenched the gears.

Tried to get Yancey to spear her from the rear as she drove the vehicle slowly up the rise to the ridge while sitting on his lap.

"I'll have none of that," Yancey cracked. "I have to get back to my office. That's no alibi. This whole gig could blow sky high."

With tears of frustration, Mercedes tore at her own flesh.

Twisting her tits like knobs.

Tweaking her clit in a fit.

Jamming fingernails into her slit.

Finally spitting herself to the wrist on her fist like a frying fish.

And tamping her anus onto the stickshift.

Yancey's gaze drifted lazily over Ramona's shoulders as she now slid up and down on his dingalingdong with her tiny tits sticking like darts into his face.

The front of Uncle Roy's Roadhouse would be the part of the complex the police would watch-if they watched anything at all.

The whorehouse bungalow shacks out back were strictly off limits unless the fuzz wanted to partake of some action in the brocaded brothel atmosphere Uncle Roy had taken great pains to model after old photographs of Western and Mexican bordellos of the nineteenth century.

From where they were parked, Yancey had a lookout perch onto the highway.

And the shifty paint job of the automobile would serve to camouflage it amidst the stand of low long-bristled pines aligning the ridge.

"Eiiiiinh!"

Ramona came off in a gush of ladyjuice as Yancey mauled her boobcage.

Bounced her on his pecker.

Felt the suction of her clasped cuntlips, thighs, and asscheeks smooch at his balls. He shifted his haunch.

Ramona crouched facing Yancey.

Licking his eyebrows and forehead as he threaded his stinger inside her.

She fed upon his face.

Encasing his nose within her lips. Sipping from his mouthlips.

Bending backward to extend the trail of entwined spittle in a sagging arch from each of their lower mouthlips to the other's.