J Long - Motel peeper

In her mouth!

The Rev looked down. Oh God! Her mouth was on his prick! She was blowing him, foliating him, doing sinful thing to his wick that felt sooooo good.

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

The Rev was dazed by the delightful, tingling sensations that made his asshole buzz. Her mouth felt just like… just like a pussy! Only tighter. But he knew it wasn't her pussy on his cock because he could see a tongue making out and licking her, there and every where.

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

"Oh Lord! Oh Lord! Oh Lord!"

God, why was sin so fun!

Rebecca glanced at her watch. Four more minutes. That damn Harvey! She was going to kill him before the night was over. Her mouth went back to business.

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

The Rev placed his hands on her head as if it was Sunday and he was in the pulpit ready to scream out: SINNERS REJOICE!

But he didn't have the guts to push Rebecca away. Just didn't have the bills to bowl her over backward and pelt her with stones. Just couldn't put up enough nerve to kick her in the cunt and carve an A on her titties.

But he did have enough stomach to terminate his horrible, mortal sin. And he had enough balls. And he definitely could get up enough nerve because his cock was now fourteen inches long and threatening to whitewash this beautiful sinner kneeling before him.

"Oh, Lord! Please! I-I'm going to do… to do something… something sinful!"

Rebecca nodded. "Um-hmmmm." She hollowed her cheeks, increased the suction, keeping one eye on the watch. Two minutes down, with about ten seconds to go.

"Aaaiiiiieeeeee! I'm siiiinnniiinnnggg! I'm siiinnnniiiinnnggg in your mouth! Aaaaiiiieeeeee!"

His sin runneth over the rivers of cum that clung like whitewash to her ovaled lips and her cute chin.

"Aaaaiiiiiieeeeee! More sin! Here's more sin!"

"Um-hmmm."

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

"Aaaaiiiiiieeeeee! Sin! Sin! Sin! SIn! Sinsinsinsinsinsinsin!"

And then the wads of cum diminished after the reverend had sinned so beautifully.

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

It was while they were on their way to Bozeman that they felt the urge. A very powerful urge. Some people say it's the most powerful urge in a homosapien's glands.

It was the urge to stilt and piss.

So, they had to stop and find a place to shit and piss. And the only place worth pissing and shitting in a town called Tweedy was the Sleepwell Motel because none of the gas stations had bathrooms. And besides, it was midnight, and they still had four hundred and thirty-two miles to go before they saw the bright neon lights of Bozeman.

So they had stopped, and they had shat, and now they were quite content in room twelve of the Sleepwell.

Their names were Mr. and Mrs. Baxter Belfry. They had been Mr. and Mrs. Belfry for only four hours because they had just gotten hitched by the justice of the peace in Dade County, Kansas.

They did not call themselves Mr. and Mrs. Belfry when they convened with each other. He called her Iona, and she called him Baxter.

"Baxter, I-I'm r-ready."

"Oooooh, I can't wait, Iona!"

"A-are the lights off?"

"Oh, Iona, yes! Please, hurry – I can't wait! I think I'm gonna die if you don't come out of that bathroom real soon."

"P-please don't hurry me, Baxter. I-I just wanta make sure I'm real clean and good-smelling for you."

"W-Well, Jesus, Iona – just hurry up. I've waited years for this moment, and I don't wanta wait another second."

The bathroom door opened slowly, and Baxter could see Iona's whispy figure before… before the fucking lights of the bathroom went out.

"W-Where a-are you, Baxter?"

"Over here – oh. God! I can smell your perfume! Oh, Jesus! This is gonna be something else! Hurry!"

Scuffle. Scuffle. Scuffle.

"Please, Baxter, you said… er, you said you'd do it real easy."

"Oh God! I will, Iona, I will! Now give me your arm."

"W-Which one?"

"Either one!"

"Why?"

"Uh, so you can feel how… er, how eager I am."

In the darkness, their hands touched, then merged. And gently, lovingly Baxter guided her hand to his fourteen-inch cock.

"Aaaaiiiiieeeeee! No! It's gonna hurt! You're tooooo bbiiiigggg!"

Baxter soothed her. "No, it won't. You'll stretch. You'll see!"

"No! Please – can't we wait until…"

"Goddamn, Iona, I've been waiting years for this moment! Now get the fuck over here!"

Grapple. Grapple. Grapple.

"Baxter! Don't! You're hurting my breasts! Stop it! Please! Oh God! Please don't chew on them like that!"

Slurp. Slurp. Slurp.

"Uuuuuuummmmmm! Jesus! Now these titties are mine! All mine!"

"Aaaaaaiiiiieeeeeee! My nipple! I think it's bleeding! Aaaaaiiiiee! Now they're both bleeding! Stop! Please!"

Baxter couldn't stop. After all, fourteen years is considered to be, at least by satyr standards, a long spell between fucks.

Grapple. Grapple. Grapple. Squish. Squish. Squish.

"Oh, Lord! Baxter – wait! I can't do that now! It hurts! Oh God! It's toooooooooooo biiiiiigggggg!" Baxter did it anyhow or anyway and just about anywhere that his cock would go because he was having a hard time trying to find her cunt in the dark.

Grapple. Grapple. Grapple.

"Goddamnit, Iona! Please! Help me put it in! I'm burning up!"

"No, Baxter! Please! I don't wanta do it! Not now – later. Maybe tomorrow or the next day. I-I have… I have a headache!"

"You bitch!"

Grapple. Grapple. Grapple.

Grope. Grope. Grope.

Rrrrriiiiiippppppp!

"No! Don't! Those were my mother's panties – oh, Baxter! You just tore my mother's wedding night panties!"

"I don't give a fuck about your mothers not panties! All I give a fuck about is fucking you! With or without your fucking mother's fucking panties!"

"Baxter!"

Squish. Squish. Squish.

"Oh, Jesus, Iona! I found it! Hold still… oh Lord! Please hold still!"

"Oh sheeeeeeettttt!"

"Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh! Baxter! You're killing meeeeeee!"

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Do that again! Tighten up again, Iona!"

"Aaaaaiiiieeee! Oh, Baxter! Oh God! I'm hurting! You're killing meeeee! Please! Stop!"

"More! More! More!" Squish. Squish. Squish.

"Oh, baby! Oh, Jesus! I'm in your fucking pussy all the way!"

"Aaaaaaaiiiieeeeee!"

"Now raise up, Iona! No! Goddamn – not all the way! You bitch! Get your cunt back here!"

Grapple. Grapple. Grapple.

"Aaaaaaiiiiieeeee! Stop! It hurts so much and – ooooohhhhh! I'm bleeding! I'm bleeding! I'm bleeding!"

"Move, Iona, move! Oh, please! Move up and down!"

"Aaaaaaaeeeeee!"

"That's it! That's it! Here, take this! And this! Oh God! I think… oh, sheeeeiiiittttt! I'm coooommmmiiiinnnngggg!"

"Aaaaaaiiiiieeeeeee!"

"Oh God! Jesus! I must have emptied fourteen years of cum inside your cunt!"

"Yeeeeaaaaahhhhh!"

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack. Clackety-clack.

Hiram sledded as fast as he could, really pushing himself from one room to another wondering what the fuck was going on. He was getting tired because there was so much extra shit to carry now – $10.95 Mattel typewriter, butcher paper, stethoscope, infrared goggles, Webster's Dictionary, Roget's Thesaurus.

He stopped at room six.

Splat! Splat! Splat!

No! No! No! Hiram couldn't believe what he was seeing! Elsa Manly was getting stoned by cherry tomatoes – in the cunt! And everything looked so painfully red, so dazzlingly crimson, it was as if the whole room were cast in the colors of Hell – then Hiram took off his infrared goggles.

The effect was the same – only it was now in living color instead of reddish-pink.

At least it had the same effect on Hiram – disgusting. There was no way in Hell he could use a woman being stoned by cherry tomatoes in his fuck book. Shit, even he knew the fuck-book readers weren't that dumb-ass stupid – oh, it might have been different it the tomatoes were golf balls and the woman hated having her cunt being used as a pitch-and-putt course… of course. 'Cause Hiram knew his fuck-book readers like he knew the hairs on his own asshole.