Her tits rolled and jiggled on her chest in constant motion, and her pelvis rocked up and down as if she were fucking an imaginary prick stabbing at her from above the bed.
"Honey, stop the jigging!" she laughed. "I'm getting seasick!"
"We just started the jiggling, baby," he said huskily. "Mmmm, I love your pussy, Mom." He gazed at her cunt and ran his hand over her bush, between her thighs.
His finger parted her bloated pussylips and slipped up and down the satiny gash. She heard the sound. Her cunt was wet already.
"Juicy wench," Roger grinned at her, making his finger suck and smack at the mouth of her pussy. "A guy would think he was your first prick in ten years-that you'd been saving up all that juice for at least that long."
"Honey, I can't help it," she said, turning her head to the side with embarrassment.
She let him finger her cunt. She let the juices flow. He 'was just about right. She had been saving it up. Longer than ten years. God, how mistaken she'd been in thinking that Paul had satisfied bet Paul had only kept her from climbing the walls with hunger.
And yet, with ill the criticisms and complaints and the way she could dig up old thinp that had been wrong, she'd loved him dearly. If he'd died a year ago, when she was still a part of him, before this strange motel had even been thought of, she would have been lost without him.
But the past year had insulated her from the bulk of the shock his death had brought. She was sad he was gone. She would miss him. But, in a sense, she had outgrown him. Grown away from him, at least headed a different direction.
She moaned and turned her bobbing head to the side and opened her slippery, flowing pussy to him, letting all the pent-up desires and needs loose.
Age had had its turn with her. It was time that youth did, too, while she was still young enough to respond to its passions.
Roger leaned over her box. She could feel his warm breath on her pussy. She lifted up with a shudder, eager for him to suck her twat again.
The bed went wild. His nose mashed against her cunt mound and thighs. He had difficulty keeping his face to her snatch, and the more she bucked involuntarily, the harder it became.
"I can't hold your cunt still, Mom," he said. "You're just too wild for it. You're going to have to settle for a stiff prick instead, whether you like it or not"
He was grinning as he came up her body and lay tit between his lips. She laughed and smiled back. "I think I can stand it. Oh, Roger," she whispered, her voice suddenly thick with passion. "Fuck me, darling. Fuck it into me long and hard!"
He let out a sound, half-gasp, half-whimper. He climbed over her body. The bed heaved and rocked. She opened her thighs as wide as they would go, lifting her knees to cradle his body.
His stiff prick poked and jabbed and nudged into the wrong places as he sought her watering, warm hole. It was exciting, incredibly erotic.
"No, you're… up higher, honey. Ow, ow, oh! Ahhh… there, darling, there! Yes! Push! Fuck… ohhhhh, fuck me, fuck me!" "Jesus, Mom! Jesus!"
"Ohhhhhh, so deep, darling! So stiff and big! God, I'm swallowing your prick all the way! Roger… Roger! The bed's fucking us! Ohhhh, feel how it shoves my pussy up around your cock! God, it's like a big, gentle hand all over my ass, cupping, squeezing… Oh, Roger, I'm so hot-so hot, darling!"
She flung her arms around his neck. She clung to him. The world went on a crazy, heaving ride. It was in constant motion. He fucked into her, and the bed made her pussy lift and open and fuck him back.
Her tits spiked stiffly at the ends and punched against his chest. Her head bobbed up and down with the motions of the bed, and she felt as if she had absolutely no control over anything, that the marvelous sensations were buffeting and tossing her toward orgasm again. tit between his lips. She laughed and smiled back. "I think I can stand it. Oh, Roger," she whispered, her voice suddenly thick with passion. "Fuck me, darling. Fuck it into me long and hard!"
He let out a sound, half-gasp, half-whimper. He climbed over her body. The bed heaved and rocked. She opened her thighs as wide as they would go, lifting her knees to cradle his body.
His stiff prick poked and jabbed and nudged into the wrong places as he sought her watering, warm hole. It was exciting, incredibly erotic.
"No, you're… up higher, honey. Ow, ow, oh! Ahhh… there, darling, there! Yes! Push! Fuck… ohhhhh, fuck me, fuck me!" "Jesus, Mom! Jesus!"
"Ohhhhhh, so deep, darling! So stiff and big! God, I'm swallowing your prick all the way! Roger… Roger! The bed's fucking us! Ohhhh, feel how it shoves my pussy up around your cock! God, it's like a big, gentle hand all over my ass, cupping, squeezing… Oh, Roger, I'm so hot-so hot, darling!"
She flung her arms around his neck. She clung to him. The world went on a crazy, heaving ride. It was in constant motion. He fucked into her, and the bed made her pussy lift and open and fuck him back.
Her tits spiked stiffly at the ends and punched against his chest. Her head bobbed up and down with the motions of the bed, and she felt as if she had absolutely no control over anything, that the marvelous sensations were buffeting and tossing her toward orgasm again.
She gasped and opened her eyes. The TV sat at the foot of the heaving bed bobbed and weaved in her vision. She looked at it, and a corner of her mind wondered about it.
Why was it there? Why was it suspended from the ceiling, pointed towards the bed that heaved and bobbed and made fucking a whole new experience? Why had Paul done a thing like that?
Why had Paul put waterbeds in the rooms? Fucking beds…
Paul hadn't. It was clear he hadn't. It simply wasn't him.
Then who? Why had Paul allowed this motel to be part of the Hanson chain of sober, respectable inns? Or had he fought against it? Was that why the Hanson emblem was missing from the glass front? Was that why he had kept her from being a part of it, too-because he hadn't wanted to admit fathering this bastard motel?
Her emotions spun. She didn't want to think about any of it any more. She began to feel uneasy. She stared at the blank, gray-black screen hanging from the ceiling. She wondered what it had been put there to show to the occupants of the flicking bed.
"Mom! God, it's wild, Mom! I-I can't hold out much longer. Are you ready, Mom?" Roger gasped. "Are you getting dose?"
Her attention came back. Her body had reached a level, a plateau. She didn't know if it world climb higher.
She felt his prick sliding wildly in and out of her pussy. Her hips heaved and tossed without her conscious volition. The bed had turned her into a fucking machine that automatically made her cunt strip and suck at whatever was in it.
She clung to her son and made her mind stop wandering, stop seeking answers to questions shrouded with mystery. She strained slightly. Then she realized that she had usually strained with Paul, trying to match his quickness, before he came and gasped and collapsed against her and made her have to wait until he was ready to finish her off.
"Mom, I can't hold it!" Roger gasped tightly, pressing against her. "This goddamn bed won't let me hold it!"
"It's all right, darling-come! Come in me, Roger. Ohhh, come hard and fill my pussy full of sperm!"
"Yaaaagh!" he cried tightly, shuddering violently.
His prick throbbed and bucked in her twat. It spewed hot cum against her slippery walls and made them even silkier. The bed heaved and tossed and wouldn't let him quit fucking.
"Ahhhhgh! Mom!" he cried. lie writhed atop her, nearly as if in agony. His supersensitive cock throbbed and burned, as it flicked back and forth in her silken, grasping cunt.
His terrible heat jogged her. She turned the corner and was able to stop grasping. Her body caught fire. She heaved and set the bed in wild motion and made Roger whimper even louder.
Her pussy started spasming and pulsing and sucking around his fiery cock. Her silken tissues were merciless, the way they pulled and sucked and drew at his flaming prick.