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From: yarddog200@aol.com (Yarddog200)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: MOM'S IN ON THE MARRIAGE #1.TXT (Ffm,inc,con)
Date: 27 Oct 1995 19:30:30 -0400
Message-ID: <46rq2m$1e3@newsbf02.news.aol.com>
Reply-To: yarddog200@aol.com (Yarddog200)

MOM'S IN ON THE MARRIAGE

Chapter 1

***This is a story dealing with incest between members of two different
families.  It is intended for adults only and is not being made available
for those under 18 years of age.  All others, enjoy.***


[I did not write this story, but have enjoyed it for many years.]

**************************************************************************
****

	The memory of the desk clerk's lecherous grin was still with
Lauralee as she opened the door to one of the adjoining rooms and went
inside.  But she was just too woozy to wonder about the man's lifted
eyebrow or the stupid question he had put to her when she registered. 
didn't everybody stay all night in a motel?  She couldn't imagine many
people leaving at two a.m.
	Dropping her only luggage, the overnight case, upon a chair, she
blinked around the room and heard her son and his brand new bride laugh,
through the door that connected their rooms.  She frowned; neither of them
had the decency to be embarrassed, and they should be.  Not only because
they had run away to Reno to get married--and both of them so damned
*young*--but also because Robbie's beat-up old car had broken down and
he'd had to cal his mother to come rescue them.
	Lauralee shrugged off her sensible coat and looked around the
room.  She shouldn't have had those two strong drinks; she wasn't at all
used to alcohol, and they had made her drowsy, so of course the only
logical thing to do was stop at the first motel along the highway.  And it
was expensive.   Silly newlyweds never considered expenses, or jobs, or
planning ahead; they just leaped into marriage as if it was going to be
one long and rosy romance.
	She blinked at her surroundings: a huge, round water bed over
there, entirely surrounded by blue mirrors; even the ceiling above it was
mirrored, and she thought, *how crude*.  The entire room seemed to shriek
of sexuality.  Lauralee's lip curled.
	Walking over to the bed, she leaned to touch it gingerly, and drew
back at the quiver of the thing.  Next door, the girl giggled again, and
Lauralee bit her lips remembering her own wedding night, the pain and
ugliness, the farce that had continued throughout her marriage.  But she
strongly suspected that this wasn't the first time her son had been to bed
with Bettina, and wondered why the girl was laughing.  Maybe she was a
good actress; so many women were, simply because they had to be.
	Shaking her head, Lauralee walked to the bathroom and checked the
shower stall for cleanliness.  It would do, so she strode back into the
bedroom, unbuttoning her blouse.  Balancing primly upon the edge of a
chair, she took off her shoes and noticed the time on her wristwatch. 
Time for the late news, she thought, and turned on the television set,
then slid from her skirt and pulled her slip over her head as the set
warmed up.
	Her bra and panties were plain white and serviceable, nothing
frilly and fancy; she had never even worn the lacy sets that her husband
had brought home that first year.  They were still packed away in a trunk.
 Maybe his new wife or girlfriend wore such things.
	She was reaching around behind her back and had just unhooked her
bra when her eyes fell on the TV screen.  Lauralee gasped, and her knees
unhinged themselves in a total shock that dropped her back into the chair,
the bra slipping from her nerveless hand.
	What she was seeing was *impossible*, but there it was, in flaming
and outrageous color--the close-up of a man' thing working back and forth
into a woman's organ!
	Stunned, she stared in disbelief at the terrible picture, at the
veined penis sliding greasily, powerfully into a hairy mound whose lips
were puggy and inflamed, at the rhythm of the furry testicles that swung
back and forth.  Oh no, she though as her head whirled--oh no!  It
couldn't be; things like that were never shown on television.
	It was horrible, and she felt the muscles of her stomach go tight,
her thighs draw themselves together protectively.  That penis looked so
huge, and the woman's labia seemed to writhe.  There was sound, too--that
awful, wet noise of oily meat slipping into a soapy sheath, that damp
slapping of the sack against the cleft of an uptilted pair of rolling
buttocks.
	Lauralee had never seen anything like it before; she had never
even looked closely at her own husband's thing, and, after the so-called
honeymoon, had always turned off the lights when Marshall had insisted
upon his husbandly rights.  She tired to force herself from the chair, to
move forward and turn off the detestable picture, but somehow her long
legs refused to work.
	The camera panned back, and she could see the couple in full. 
Even though they were obviously perverted, they were acceptably
good-looking, and she was amazed that two such normal-appearing people
would dirty themselves that way, by allowing their animalistic performance
to be filmed.  And the way the woman was squirming and heaving, moaning
deep in her throat, as if she was really enjoying the brutal thrusting of
the man's thick organ.
	The chill that had numbed the back of Lauralee's neck changed
subtly as the woman called out shamelessly that she was coming, coming,
and the camera zoomed in tight again to show the man's sack leaping
convulsively as he also reached his orgasm.  Lauralee hadn't ;known it did
that, and she frowned again when she realized that the nipples of her
breasts had grown erect.
	She gripped her thighs, her fingernails digging into tender flesh
as she watched the penis itself, withdrawn from the woman's vagina, the
slow oozing of creamy semen that dripped down the red and swollen shaft. 
Then she gasped, for suddenly a mouth was up close to the thing, a smiling
mouth with red lips and a pink tongue darting.  The tongue lapped at the
thickly sliding semen and drew the pasty stuff into her mouth.
	Lauralee shuddered violently.  She knew that such perversions went
on in the world, but she had never had the slightest idea that she would
be personally exposed to them.  How depraved could people get?  She fought
to stand up, to blot out the nauseating scene, but her legs betrayed her.
	 There!  The shameless bitch was actually taking the greasy glans
into her mouth, drawing it deeply and sucking on it.  Lauralee could see
the woman's throat working and make out the in-dipping of the cheeks.  How
could she stand the very idea of doing that, much less the taste, which
must be icky?  It was bad enough to be forced to touch a man's penis, but
to take it in your mouth?
	Blurring back, the camera showed how the man was stroking the
long, blonde hair, how he was hunching his thing into the girl's face; and
they were groaning together, wiggling as if what they were doing was
divine.
	There were other angles, the man's taut face, a shot of his sack
moving, and a strange one of the woman's had caressing her own vulva as
she continued to suck lustily upon the penis in her mouth.  Was she going
to--to finger herself?  Yes, there it was in all its forbidden starkness,
the finger prodding the frothing labia and fondling those obscenely gaping
lips before slipping inside.  She was masturbating then, humping upon her
hand and stroking the finger into her vagina as she pulled and chewed
noisily upon the man's stiff organ
	Lauralee trembled when she discovered that she was caressing her
own mound, that its resilient mattress was pulsing beneath the wayward
hand.  She jerked away her fingers and closed her eyes.  Enough of this
shocking thing!  She would simply turn off the set and go take a cooling
shower.  She told herself that was why she was slipping her panties down
her legs.
	The close-up of the finger moving within the steaming, hairy slot
hypnotized her, entranced her, and she quivered when she made little,
tentative movements across her mound.  She had always been told this was
debasing, but the actress seemed to be enjoying it so, and surely it
couldn't hurt to just see--
	Lauralee shot bolt upright in the chair when her fingertip slipped
all too easily between her labia and inadvertently touched something that
flashed wet flames throughout her tensing body.  It was so strange, a
queer thrill that she sought again.  On the screen the other woman's
finger was blurring swiftly now, and the entire curly-haired mound was
surging lasciviously.
	Cutting to the man's distended penis, the screen showed his sack
leaping again, and the woman spread her lips just slightly so that the
viewers could watch the veritable cascade of creamy semen that was
drenching her mouth.  Thick and pearly, the heavy juice spurted far back
into her throat, and the woman choked it down, swallowing rapidly while
her super-active tongue looped over and around the geyser-like glans.
	She was actually drinking the fluid down, Lauralee thought
dazedly; the otherwise stunningly attractive woman was gulping down a
man's seminal liquid and acting as if it was the most delicious, the most
gratifying stuff in the world.  Lauralee trembled upon her finger, and
worked it hesitantly back and forth.
	
**********************************

	Her husband's thing had never felt this good; he had forced it
into her on their wedding night, had forced it into her virginal body
without regard to her sensitivity, never even considering that she might
have been repulsed by the whole thing.  And even though what she was doing
was almost as bad, she was at least getting some enjoyment from it.
	Just as the actress was; look how her beautiful thighs were
contracting as she rode her finger---no!  *two* fingers--rotating her
pelvis and pumping her crotch with the same hungry motions she had used in
copulating with the man only a minute before.  It looked so real, so
thrilling, and Lauralee found herself almost matching the woman's frenzy,
rocking her hips in unaccustomed movements that were reaching frenzy.
	It was good; it was devilishly exciting and sinfully sweet.  She
could feel it building, a weird pressure in her thighs and growing in her
lower groin.  Lauralee ground sensuously upon her finger, cupping the
others over her heaving mound and pushing her long legs out in front of
her, practically lifting off the chair cushion as she thrust and recoiled,
stroked and pulled back.
	Heat spread within her slippery vagina, and a bright little ember
fanned itself into white-hot flame at her clitoris, that little center of
passion that she had long thought was withered and useless.  Eyes fixed
mesmerized upon the TV screen, Lauralee bucked in the throes of her first
orgasm, biting her lips and moaning, her head rolling limply from side to
side as she reached the hissing, tumbling crest of a mighty, smashing
wave.
	She had come.
	Oh lord, she had come at last.  It was a marvelous release, an
emotional explosion that had loosened every fiber of her body, all the
nerves that had so long been denied this rapture.  She held her finger
deep within her flexing vagina and shuddered in the swirling backwash of
her climax, her eyes closed and open, closed and open.
	They were doing something else on the screen, and she thought
fuzzily, so soon?  Lauralee blinked, and slowly realized that another
woman had entered the room there, a woman with different-colored hair and
a differently proportioned body, one who wore a diaphanous and revealing
babydoll nightie.  As Lauralee stared, this new actress slipped out of the
gown and walked gracefully to the couple resting upon the bed.

	Why, Lauralee thought in surprise, they were trying to--to do it
together, and they ought to know that couldn't be done.  They simply
weren't built like that; one of them had to possess a male thing.  But she
had to admit that it looked interesting as they thrust together, grinding
their crotches and trembling as they continued to kiss hotly.
	When the camera cut to a close-up of the  moving vulvas,
Lauralee's eyes went wide.  She could see a clitoris that looked very much
like a man's rod, only much smaller, and she could also see that the two
slits were meeting, stimulating each other.  It was fantastic.
	It was also voluptuous, and she began to build up the magic rhythm
again, her eyes fixed upon the screen, her thighs spreading themselves
wider as she rooted deeper with the probing finger, pretending she was one
with the women.
	"Ummm," she murmured, "uummm---it's---so'''good!"
	Furiously, then, she rubbed her vibrant clitoris and plunged her
finger into the suctioning grip of her sizzling hole, rolling her buttocks
and gasping as the wonderful feeling came boomeranging through her vagina
once more.  She had hoped it would be as wild as last time, but it was
even better.  Lauralee let out a soft cry as she came, and her bare heels
drummed a spasmed tattoo upon the motel carpet.
	Slowly, she came back to the world around her, to the sounds
issuing from the television set, and the flashing colors there.  Her head
was spinning, and far back in a newly discovered corner of her mind,
Lauralee Jergens was beginning to wonder just where the hell she had been
all her life.
	"Oh wow," the voice said and it didn't come from the screen.
	Lauralee jerked her head around and wanted to die on the spot.
Her daughter-in-law stood just behind the chair, looking petite and
beautiful in a flowing nightie that clung to the almost childlike curvings
of her small, youthful body.  And the girl was staring down at the spot
where Lauralee's finger was still embedded into the wet lips of her
vagina.  There could be no mistake about what had been going on.
	Bettina said again, "Oh wow--I never would have thought it.  I
mean, not *you*".
	Choking it out, Lauralee managed to say:  "P--please--just let
me--"
	Swiftly, the girl went to her knees beside the chair and put a
soft arm around her shoulder. "Hey--I'm not putting you down for
masturbating, Lauralee; nothing like that.  I was just shook up, that's
all.  It's the TV, right?  You had no idea you were checking us into an
X-rated motel and I'll bet you never saw anything like that before.":
	"I'm not," Lauralee said, trying to sneak out her finger,
"never--it really isn't- --"
	"You know," Bettina purred, her hand sliding down the shoulder to
brush across one of Lauralee's full breasts, "you really are a beautiful
woman.  I had you figured for an iceberg, but after watching you riding
your hand like that---"
	IT was all wrong, but Lauralee had no idea how to go about getting
out of it.  She couldn't very well scream and bring her son running in
from next door; not while she was naked like this.  She flinched when
Bettina's fingers began to toy with a nipple, and shivered as the girl's
spicy, warm breath tingled in her ear.  Not Bettina, she thought wildly,
crazily.
	"Beautiful," the girl whispered, "and according to Robbie, you
haven't even looked at a man since you were divorced---or a woman, either.
 All that long, sinuous body going to waste, and these lovely tits---not
big, but shaped so well."
	Lauralee tried, even though her body was weak and she couldn't get
her mind to track properly.  "Bettina, please---you mustn't--"
	"Between those porn movies and the screwing I just had, I'm
already turned on," Bettina said, cupping both breasts now and kissing
Lauralee's throat, "but you turn me on more.  How about that?  I'm
suddenly hot for my mother-in-law."
	"N--no," Lauralee whispered, but the girl was suddenly between her
knees and the ripe young mouth was reaching up for her own.  The quick wet
tongue was thrusting into her weak lips, and there was a hand, a strange,
very soft hand caressing her mound.
	She felt firm breasts crushing her own, and a silken vulva burning
into her own, and the motel room spun dizzily as her tongue met Bettina's,
as their panting breaths mixed.  Lauralee knew that she was lost.

[ end Chapt. 1 ]



Yarddogx

