Unknown

Mom_s in on the marriage

CHAPTER ONE

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's 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.