Oh fuck, she finds it. She’s rubbing me there. I feel my juices dribbling out of me. I’m tingling.“Ah shit, Janet, I’m going to come,” I murmur urgently.“Good.” Her thumb finds my clitoris, and begins to strum it. That’s all it takes to push me over. I start to tremble as my orgasm breaks, fizzing through my body. I grip the table to stop myself shaking, but can’t prevent my legs from kicking out uncontrollably.Timing it perfectly, Mr Masturbator ejaculates simultaneously. A great rope of thick white spunk shoots out of his cock and splashes down his shorts and onto his bare leg. The next one is even more powerful, and loops right out from under the table and splashes onto the floor in front of the café. I don’t think he was expecting that, as he puts his hand over the end of his cock and catches the rest of it in his palm.I put my hands over my mouth in delight and amazement.“Oh my God, slip hazard in aisle nine,” squeals Janet. “Look, that woman’s gonna step in it!”Sure, enough, a. The car-hop brought her order and she paid the busty tough-looking girl and left a tip on the tray. Absent-mindedly, she switched on the radio and let herself be bombarded with the raucous sound of a top twenty pop station. The acid-etched memory of her mother with that horrible Marlowe man blazed in her mind like a neon billboard... her own mother, John Barrett's widow, sprawled nakedly across the bedspread like a central character in some five-dollar porno movie... pot-bellied, balding Jerry Marlowe hunched over her, his head stuffed between her lewdly-splayed thighs, his back arching and bobbing as he salaciously licked and sucked there at the banquet-table of her naked loins! Even now, over the pounding rhythms of the rock music from her radio, she could still hear, in that private inner ear of her mind, the wetly lascivious sounds of that horrible man as his lips and tongue worked ravenously between her mother's willing thighs!Why, oh why, she asked herself, did I have to see.
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