Her hand reached up to stroke my face as her other hand dropped off the table to grip the bulge in my pants. My heart was racing when, right then, we both heard the front door open. "Mom, Mom, I brought you…oh…" and Betty's daughter was standing framed in the bedroom door gaping at us, my hands on her mother's oil-glazed boobs, her legs spread, naked on the table. I froze but Betty didn't. No, she didn't skip a beat. "Susan, dear, do pour yourself a glass of wine, we should be done soon." Her daughter smiled and winked at me, turned and walked toward the kitchen. "Mmm, now, where were we?" To say I was a bit distracted would be, of course, an understatement. But, I didn't stop massaging Betty, not for a minute, I was soon back down on her abdomen and below, making sure to retrace my steps where I knew so well now that she wanted me to go. I had three fingers in her and my other hand circling her clit as I wondered just what was going through her daughter's mind right at that moment.. Two glassy dead eyes, like camera lenses, had appearedin its face.It definitely gave me the creeps, but I wound it upanyway. At this point, I could accurately be describedas an addict. Winding the master spring took longerthan ever. I counted 256 turns before it clicked.Despite its bulk, the thing was still relativelylight. I manhandled the Tangerine up onto my redvelvet fainting couch, and straddled it, still pinkand damp from my unsatisfying shower. My intention hadbeen to read another chapter of my smutty novellawhile it percolated away on its lowest settings.The Tangerine had ideas of its own, however. Animpossibly strong, iron grip pried my legs wide apartand gripped my buttocks. It lowered its head into mycrotch, and that inhumanely long tongue went to work:licking, lapping, dancing up and down, in and out,vibrating the whole time. I was powerless to get away,even if I had tried, and frankly I didn’t try veryhard. After a brief moment of panic, I surrendered toit, arching.
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