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She moaned and writhed on top of me, while she jabbed the cold end of her .357 in the side of my neck. After a few minutes, which seemed like hours, she got up for a second and sat back down again, this time on my face. "Now lick some more, boy!" I worked my tongue on and around her pussy. As I licked and sucked again, she moaned in ecstasy, although I could barely breathe. I wanted to get her off as fast as I could and get it over with, and hopefully going home alive. Her clit hardened up, and I played around with the little knob with my tongue. She clenched my face with her hot thighs and writhed, giving me a headache as I moaned in pain. "MORE!" she yelled, between groans, and I kept going, wondering how long I would have to go. She came a little bit, and I licked up what I could, the rest drooling down to my neck. I felt like I was going to suffocate several times throughout the ordeal, and if I'd stop to get a breath she'd jab that freezing gun in my head, until I got going. She had big pouty lips and baggy eyes and was one of those over-managed women who made me want to pin her down and wank onto her chest.All these thoughts were going through my mind as my mother and I sat with Dorothy and made small talk about my life in London and they told self-deprecating tales of their provincial existence. Nothing could have been more innocent than this regular little social occasion, but I have seen enough in my life to know there is always a subtle undertow of lust and longing. There were probably unspoken feelings among the women when left to their own foursome, but my presence stirred things up a bit and, I thought, accounted for the absence of two of them.Dorothy seemed to be on my wavelength, as she herself might have put it. She was too old for the hippie generation but I could imagine her waving disconsolately as the peace and love train disappeared over the horizon, leaving her to the middle-class suburban future that had become her life.A few days.
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