Unknown - Mom_s hot lips

A voice came into the room. It was hollow and tiny. She thought her mind was playing tricks on her. She could still see Thorne and the girls, right there, over the foot of the bed. It was Thorne's moans.

Then she realized slowly that the TV was on. And Max was in the edge of the picture this time, looking out of the screen at her and Roger. He moved away, over towards Thorne. There was a paper in his hand. He was bending down, talking to Thorne, telling him to sign it.

Thorne's eyes rolled in his head, fixed, rolled again. He moved his shoulders and body in an unnatural way, as if he were ponderous and drugged. And then she saw that he was tied to the bed.

"Thorne!" she cried at the screen.

Roger fucked her, unheeding. Max got red-faced, yelling at Thorne. Dancer moved into view, lithe and ready. Max waved him away impatiently. The girls sat on the bed with their pussies open and watched.

Vera shook her head. She didn't know what was happening, why she could see them. Was there a room-to-room hookup as well? An extra fee for the voyeur-more money? A way for them to watch the couples who were fucking while they watched the movies of other people fucking? While the person downstairs watched them all fucking on the monitor and made videotapes to show to other people?

It was dizzying, frightening, the ultimate degradation of all that was good and sacred.

"Sign, Bundt, and the tape's yours! Nobody gets to see it. Sign!"

"Nooo," Thorne groaned, his head rocking groggily. He shook it, and his eyes were unfocused.

Max held his head roughly. "Look up them, Bundt. See that? See what she's getting from her son? You want him to go on and on? Then sign!" Thorne looked groggily. His eyes railed. Then they seemed to fix on the image Vera and Roger made for all of them on the other screen.

"God…" he groaned. His head fell back. He lifted if after a moment, shook it, and looked again.

Roger was just screwing his hips against her, his butt going tight, his prick bucking. "Yaaaaagh!" he cried, blasting another load into his mother's sodden cunt. He puffed a moment, then withdrew from her pussy. He held her down and straddled her chest and moved towards her face. He held his prick out to her tips.

"Now suck it, Mom," he said.

"God…" Thorne moaned again, his voice thick and drugged.

Max grinned. "Sign it over, Bundt, 'and I'll call him off."

"All right… all right, I'll sign," he groaned. "Let me loose, Sawyer, I'll sign."

Max stood erect. He grinned broadly. "Okay, kid, that's enough," he said to the screen.

Roger didn't hear him. He prodded at his mother's lips with the sodden tip of his prick. Sperm leaked from it and smeared over her lips. She tasted the flavor that seeped between them into her mouth.

"That's enough, Hanson!" Max said.

"Get him off, Sawyer," Thorne groaned. "Off, or I don't sign. I'll fight. I'll fuck it up internally for you. No coperation from our people. You need that, Max. You need what I can deliver, in. loyalty from them. Get him off."

"Hanson, that's enough, goddamn it!" Max roared.

Roger glanced around, aware he was being talked to for the first time. He blinked. "Who says so?" he challenged. "I'm not finished yet. Mom's gonna suck my prick off first, and then I'll get off."

"'Now listen, boy! You do what I tell you, sonny, or he won't sign. We can't have that. We need him to make things go smoothly down there."

"Need him, hell!" Roger cried. "He's going out! You promised he was going out! What the fuck are you pulling, Max!"

Max looked worried. He left the screen. Shadows played as he went through the door. Vera could hear him clumping down the balcony.

"God, Roger!" she cried. "Did you hear him? Sonny-boy… You're going to be vice president in charge of licking his boots! He's not going to kick Thorne out He can't afford to! You've been taken, you silly, poor bastard!" She looked at his expression and laughed with a hysterical pitch. "Bastard! Bastard!" she goaded, whipping him up.

She pushed at him. Everything had changed again. Thorne had been drugged and tied. He didn't sneak down for an orgy behind her back!

Max came into the room. Roger's eyes were nearly aflame with fury. "You flicking, doublecrossing prick!" he shouted.

Max talked fast and smoothly, trying to calm him. Vera glanced at the screen and held her breath. She saw Thorne struggling at his bonds through the drugs they'd given him. Rainey sat on the bed and watched him silently, giving no alarm. Dancer was in the corner of the room, over by the big chairs. He had his hand clamped over Joyce's mouth, His long prick was sticking out of his pants. She struggled with him fearfully, and then he threw her on the chair and began to fuck her.

Vera remembered the first time. She remembered Max's growling threat at the mere suggestion of Dancer's fucking Joyce; But he was doing it now, while Max was out of the room.

Max glanced up suddenly, saw what was happening, and blanched. "That weasel bastard, I'll kill him!" he roared. "He's fucking my daughter!"

Max forgot all about Roger. He balled his fists and ran from the room. Vera stared at the screen, and Roger looked with her. It wasn't fucking. It was out-and-out rape, violent and painful. Joyce's green eyes bulged from her head as the long prick ran in and out of her bald pussy and the hand clamped tightly over her mouth.

Vera noticed something else. The bed was empty. Thorne was loose. Max lurched onto it suddenly, heaving and tossing, swearing thickly, glancing back where the doorway was.

Dancer whipped his head around and sprang to his feet like a cat, his long prick glistening and hard from Joyce's pussy, but everything else about him ready for lethal battle. Joyce wailed with agony, holding her pained pussy.

Vera heard feet pounding down the runway. Max was trying to struggle up from the bed. Dancer didn't give him a chance to. He pounced like a cat.

Rainey suddenly came into the picture, screaming and pulling at Dancer, knowing, perhaps, that if he killed Max, there would be no mercy ever for her at Dancer's hands.

He snarled and tossed the slim girl aside, sending her spinning into the desk. She piled over it and lay on the top, writhing in agony of something broken.

"The son of a bitch!" Roger squeaked. "He's hurt Rainey!"

"Roger, let her go!" Vera cried, trying to hold him back.

He slammed the door open and collided with Thorne. Thorne lost his balance and stumbled backward into the iron railing of the balcony. He teetered dangerously over the edge of it, then summoned enough equilibrium to come upright again.

Vera rushed to him and clung to him. "Oh, God!" she cried. "Roger-he's going in there to fight with Dancer!"

"C'mon," Thorne croaked, gabbing her arm' drunkenly, his legs not working quite right yet, his voice fizzed and thick, his eyes blurred and unfocused still. "Gotta get the tape…"

"We've got to stop Roger!" she cried. "Thorne, Dancer will kill him! He's my son!"

"Not any more, Vera. Not after what I saw."

There was a scream at' agony from the room, high-pitched and throaty, unrecognizable. Ominous silence. Then Dancer leaped through the doorway, landing on braced feet, crouched, facing them.

He wore his thin smile, more evil than ever before. His eyes were so slitted he looked blind. But he straightened and came toward them lithely, easily, with a cat's grace.

"Back in the room, Bundt," he said.

Thorne positioned Vera behind him. He edged backward, towards the stairs, facing Dancer. He stumbled several times. Dancer smirked, yet kept his distance, closing it slowly. "You're not getting the tape, Bundt." "The hell I'm not." "Thorne-let him have it!" Vera cried.

He shook her off his arm and pushed her back, still facing Dancer. "No way, honey."