Jonathan Everest - The tortured tourists

Tommy looked down at himself, and both Ann and the Frenchman followed his gaze. It was obvious that he was in no condition to penetrate anything. Ann's heart went out to him. Even his virile father had suffered temporary impotency when lesser disturbances had interrupted his boudoir athletics. But Gerault was laughing at him.

"We will fix that. Yvette! See if you can't wake up the young man's sleeping beauty with your clever mouth!" The slattern moved toward the bed, dropping her cnrnera atop the pile of clothes on a chair.

"No!" Ann shouted. "I won't have her touch him! If it must be done, I will do it myself!" As Yvette stopped in her tracks, and the satanic Frenchman grinned his enjoyment of the maneuver, Ann reversed her position hurriedly, crawling toward the foot of the bed where her son still remained in his squatting-kneeling position.

She placed a hand on his thigh as she neared her goal, and gave it a loving squeeze. She spoke to him in a low voice, not looking up at his face, as if trying to avoid any further emotional pressures.

"Close your eyes, and think of nothing but the moment. Try to let your body function as it will, and enjoy what has to happen. It is the only way we will prevent further misery."

With no more hesitation than it took to get out the few words, she bent over him. As her lips touched him, high up on his inner thigh, he felt a thrilling tingle of contact. Then her tongue was snaking out, trailing up across the curly thatch of his groin, then down to the base of his limp penis.

She took the flaccid shaft in her mouth, right at the base of its connection to his torso, holding it briefly in her teeth, as a dog would grasp a bone. She gently shook her head, worrying the reluctant warrior in her mouth. Then her teeth relaxed their grip, and she slid her lips and tongue out toward the tip, noting the surprising length of this unarmed cannon.

He's just like his father, she thought. Every inch a man, and plenty of inches! Even when he's not ready for action! It feels so good in my mouth. Even Chuck doesn't know how much I really like to have his big cock in my mouth! He'd probably be shocked. I believe he thinks that I do this for him just to please him, but I can get creamed over the feel and taste of his cock quicker than any other way. I love it when he sucks me with it, but it's so much more exciting to have that hot, soft-hard flesh in my mouth! Oh, Chuck! Your cock excites me so!

As she gradually managed, by association, to convince herself that it was her mate, and not her son, whose stiffening flesh she was having with her lips and tongue, she felt her legs being moved by Tommy's firm, young hands. What a wonderful mother! Tommy was thinking. To keep me from being contaminated by that filthy, syphilitic whore, she's taking my cock in, her sweet mouth. And, God help me! I like it. It's driving me wild! I've got to do it for her, too, to help her try to get some relief from this, and keep her from worrying about what we're being forced to do.

He grasped her kneeling legs, and moved them out from under her, almost making her lose her oral grasp on him. Then he rolled her over, changing his position until he was poised with his mouth over her blonde-feathered loins. He moved her thighs apart, and watched as her fleshy nether lips – swollen from the blood they had engorged during the earlier excitement – parted to reveal the delightful pinkness of her most private area.

The faint, pissy muskiness of her rose to his nostrils, and he was surprised to find that the scent excited him. He touched his tongue to the swollen lips, stroking them as they darkened with the in creasing re-engorgement of blood. Suddenly they were beginning to be more wet, and the lubricious flow of her passion seemed to replace the moisture as fast as he could lick it up.

She was making little, whimpering, mewing sounds from around the swollen shaft of flesh that filled her mouth, and her breath, which had to come from her nostrils while her mouth was filled, felt hot on Tommy's hairy sac, which lay on her face. It aroused him to new levels of excitement, and he feasted hungrily but tenderly on the wet, magenta flesh of her opened blossom.

Her hips were rotating slowly beneath his head, with an occasional gentle thrust upward, making his tongue and lips press frequently at the erectly swollen bud of her sensitivity. He grasped the fleshy protrusion with his lips, reveling in its unbelievable soft surface and tender hardness from within. His nose was dipping into the wet, flowing entrance of her passage.

Who would have thought a woman's cunt would be so delicious! he marveled. It's so damned excitingly female, open like that, and helpless. I can plunder it all I want. He was lost in the depth of his passionate experience, and the body he assaulted so eagerly was now just an exciting female body.

Ann's juices were so stirred up – first by her oral satisfaction, then by the thoroughness of the attentions being given her heated nether flesh – that she was lost in the deep twilight that precedes a woman's complete fulfillment.

Finally, her flowing loins were so swollen with her driving pulse that she let the huge penis slip from her lips as it pulled back in one of the pumping strokes which had been thrusting into her mouth, and cried out in her aching passion.

"Drink me! Oh-h-h! Drink me all up! Eat me good! Oh-h-h!"

The mouth worked faster, trying to remove the lubricious cream of her overflow as fast as it could appear. The excitement was too much for him, and his penis – now rubbing against the lips and chin below it, started to leak its first drops from the safety valve.

Ann felt the first hot, damp drops on her neck and breasts, and she grabbed the pulsing shaft and forced it back into her mouth. As it pumped its spurting gobs of semen, she swallowed it, and continued to suck and swallow, while milking the rear of the long rod with the hand whih grasped it.

Tommy was moaning into the hot, musky wetness of the blossom in which he feasted, until he felt as though his very soul was being sucked from his body. Then he gave a loud groan, and rolled from his position, falling exhaustedly onto the bed on his face.

Ann, who had reached the second of her complete orgasms, lay there, as spent as Tommy. She felt Tommy's hand gently pat her thigh, and realized that it was not the aftermath love pat of a satisfied male, so much as a consoling gesture from son to mother. She was also aware of the final shutter click as Yvette filmed the evidence of their collapse.

She realized that her legs were wide open, and her wet nest felt cool in the slight breeze which lead begun to flow in through the bedroom window. She wondered vaguely if this were the beginning of one of the windstorms her husband had described. What was it they called it – a mistral? Yes, and she'd wondered if the name first belonged to the winds, or the famous poet laureate of Provencal.

"Okay. Now you may use the bathroom. You first, Mrs. Fleming."

Ann rose from the bed and allowed Yvette to lead her down the hall to the bathroom. She spotted the bidet, and headed for it. In seconds, she was feeling the vast relief which accompanies the emptying of an overloaded bladder. Then she was cooling her tingling genitals with the water from the bidet.

When she had squeegeed off all the excess water she could – there were no towels in evidence she turned to the open door where Yvette had stood, observing her. Then she was herded back down the hall to the bedroom.

Yvette motioned with her head, and Tommy followed her sign, leaving the others to be guided to the bathroom. He tried to shut the door, but Yvette prevented him, waving the silenced pistol at his belly.

"I am to keep you under watch at all times," she said. "Certainly a handsome man like you need not be ashamed to be seen by a woman. You should be proud of that beautiful thing you wear between your legs. I think I will ask Gerault if I can have some of it."