Sam rammed his prick in to the hilt and shook all over. His body jerked with each explosion of his hot cum into the young girl.
Trixie grunted as Sam fucked his cum into her, clinging to him, squirming with youthful pleasure. As their orgasms subsided, Trixie opened her eyes wide.
"Now do it to me the other way," she said.
"What way?"
"You know! The way dogs do it."
"You dickens! How many times am I gonna have to fuck you today before you're satisfied?" Sam pulled his dripping cock out of her, pushing away.
"At least fifty," Trixie said, scrambling up on her hands and knees, Sam's cum oozing from her open pink cunt.
"Oh, you hot little bitch!" Sam said, slip ping his cock into her from behind. He rubbed his belly against her upturned, wiggling ass, his cock buried in her to the hilt.
"Ohhh, Sam, that feels so good!" Trixie cooed.
Connie had seen enough. She regained her strength enough to turn and slip quietly out of the house. She went straight to her lawyer, who drew up the divorce papers. In a note to Sam, she advised him not to fight her, unless he wanted Trixie Smith involved. She obtained the divorce in two weeks. Sam forfeited, not even bothering to show up in court, much to Connie's relief. She didn't want to ever see him again. He and Trixie could fuck their guts out together now, for all she cared.
Connie opened her robe, letting it fall aside. The hotel room felt uncomfortably warm, stuffy. She crossed her legs, squeezing them together. Her cunt was throbbing and tight. It always got that way when she recalled Sam with Trixie. As much as the scene had outraged her, it had also made her horny. She'd been driven to finger-fucking over her memory of it more times than she wanted to admit.
Well, now she had more dirty memories to excite her. She'd never forget what she'd witnessed tonight – the Mexican girl with the dog and the donkey. She could still smell the lust in that tent, the sex-aromas given off by all the men, by the animals, by the girl. She could still feel the Mexican youth's cock spurting into her hand while Matt finger-fucked her. She could still feel Matt's hard cock flexing between her legs and spurting more jism into her hands, could still taste the cum she'd licked off her fingers like frosting. It had been months since she'd tasted cum or had felt a hot hard cock. She missed blowing Sam! Missed his pinning her to the bed and fucking her.
She worked her thighs together, rubbing her feet against each other. The pussyjuice leaked out of her like hot melted butter, making her a mess between the legs. She rubbed her tits, feeling their swollen weight, their silky softness and warmth. Her nipples stood up like fingers, surrounded by her erect and tingling cherry-bumps.
She pinched and tweaked her nipples, the fuck-tingles screwing through her cunt. She closed her eyes, picturing the scene in the tent. The first vision that popped into her mind was that of Billy, his cock randy and waving as he stumbled forward to mount the Mexican girl.
She'd had no idea Billy's cock had grown so large. It was certainly as large as Sam's, if not larger. Jutting up out of the young boy's slender loins, it appeared monstrously over-grown.
She shoved her hand between her legs, rubbing her frothing crotch, slipping her finger between the hairy slabs and sawing at the hot wet cuntmeat. As she slipped the finger inside herself, she moaned out loud.
She'd had no idea Billy knew how to fuck. Maybe he'd learned from watching the dog fuck the girl. Who knew, though, maybe Billy had been fucking girls for years without her knowing about it. She was not a prying mother and Billy's sex life was his own business. But it had come as a shock to see him up there fucking that Mexican girl, an exciting shock.
During the months since Sam had left, she'd more than a few times looked at Billy with hungry eyes. He was a young boy, but he exuded male sexuality. And he had the equipment of a man, she knew that now. He certainly had the equipment.
She was finger-fucking herself, thinking about her naked, erect little boy and masturbating furiously.
The bathroom door rattled and Connie's heart leaped. She quickly threw her robe over herself and stood up, tying her belt, then wiping off her fingers on her robe. She stood watching the door, expecting Billy to knock, then enter from the bathroom. Instead, she heard the lock click. He was locking the door from the inside so he could use the bathroom in privacy!
Connie felt a twinge of excitement. She'd never done anything like this before, but she couldn't help herself now. She tip-toed toward the door and knelt in front of it. Like the door that opened from the bathroom into Billy's room, this door had two locks. A deadbolt lock which could be turned only from the bathroom, and a key-lock under the door knob which could be used from the bedroom. Connie carefully slipped the key out of the lock, then peeked through the keyhole.
Billy sat on the toilet, stark naked. He was hunched forward, his elbow on his knee, his chin resting in his hand, looking like the statue of the Thinker. Connie heard a turd plop into the toilet and watched Billy wipe himself.
This is sick, she told herself. You're being disgusting, a pervert. But she kept her eye glued to the keyhole.
Billy stood up, scratching his balls. He milked his cock, letting a few drops of piss fall on the floor. He stepped in front of the mirror and lifted his arms, flexing his biceps. He hadn't a hair under his arms yet, although a small blond tuft sprouted on his groin. He ran his hands down his chest and belly, then played with his nipples. His cock throbbed up, pointing at the ceiling. He grabbed it and started to jerk it off.
Connie's head swam. Her heart slammed so loud she could hardly hear. She steadied herself against the doorframe with her left hand and shoved her right hand into her robe, between her legs. She slipped a finger inside herself and started beating off to the same rhythm as was her son.
Billy rubbed his belly with circular strokes as he pounded his rigid cockrod. His blue eyes looked glassy as he watched himself in the mirror. His fat brown nuts flapped to the rhythm of his cockbeating. He muttered to himself in whispers, some of the words audible to Connie.
"Tits… brown ass… dog… pussy… donkeydick… fuck… bitchgirl… juicy cunt… jism… lick… suck… fuck… hot prick… brown girl…"
"Yes," Connie whispered. Oh yes, I'm as hot as you are, she thought. Oh baby, let's fuck!
Billy humped at his jerking hand, rounding his back, his blue eyes rolling. He grunted, letting out a soft moan as his jism spurted in white streams, splashing all over the mirror and washbasin. As his cum poured out of him, he jerked his loins, his hand a blur on his teenaged cock.
Connie was on the verge of exploding with him when a knock frightened the shit out of her. Panting, shaky, she forced herself up, wiping her fingers on her robe as she went to answer the door.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Who is it?" she called out.
"Matt. Can I come in please?" Connie tried to steady herself by breathing deeply. Her heart was still pounding. "It's late, Matt. I was just going to bed."
"Just give me a few minutes. I'd really like to talk to you."
"If it's about what happened tonight, forget it. We were both drunk. I'll pretend it never happened."
"Please, Connie, just let me in for a minute."
He sounded almost desperate. Connie took one last deep breath. "All right," she said, turning the lock.
Like herself, Matt was dressed in a bath robe. His hairy chest peeked at her from the open top of the robe. His feet were bare. He had very muscular calves. After Connie shut the door behind him, he turned and secured the lock.
"Was that necessary?" Connie said.
"In Tijuana it's best to keep your doors locked at all times," Matt said. He was looking around the room, sniffing the air. "Are we alone?"