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Melody Part two


I went home in the Hummer with Moffat, back through the city then a single sector to junction twelve on the freeway and up into the hills to our mansion.

Supper was a hoot, my father had excelled himself, Melissa was a fine tribute to the plastic surgeons art, her breasts were easily DD or bigger her eyes an unnatural deep blue, her hair an unnatural shade of honey blonde and her brain easily the weakest I had encountered in a very long time.

She sat there like some fleshy clothes horse, describing in excruciatingly tedious detail the retail outlet and details of the transaction for each item of clothing and accessory that weighed her down while simultaneously consuming tiny quantities of food which I was sure she would throw up later, and worse still her mother accompanied her dropping hints at every conversational pause that Melissa was in fact single and intended to marry before the year was out. If she expected me to show an interest then she was sadly mistaken.

Somehow I pried myself free around midnight, and headed down town to check on Melody, to see if she was giving the staff adequate service.

There was something of a queue, I saw Warwick Jones pounding away at her and it took a moment to realise he was in fact using the smaller brown orifice, although it didn’t look all that small distended as it was around the enormous girth of his penis.

Silas Harmon and Andy Phelps sat waiting patiently in their company coveralls, “You in a hurry Boss” Andy asked.

“No, I’ll take the other end.” I suggested.

“I wouldn’t do that sir.” he said.

“Why,” I said as I opened the door. “Mother!” I exclaimed as my mother lying on the padded trolley her legs raised high and wide resting on stirrups above and beside her head parted and Melodys face buried in her pubic hair.

“John!” she exclaimed, “I was sure you would be occupied with Melissa this evening, and your father said Melody fucked like a dream so I thought.”

“I see what you thought!” I said, “The poor girls got eight inches of negro meat up her backside and her face stuffed in your sex, are you trying to kill her?”

“Don’t be crude dear.” she said, “You know the situation, now leave me, give me a few moments, you know if she wasn’t so ugly Melody could be my dresser for the summer,” she said wistfully and I closed the door.

It didn’t seem fair somehow, Warwick was peeling off the brown stained condom and Silas was now rhythmically pounding her, choosing the hairy vaginal option, his coveralls unbuttoned to the crotch, and then Mother appeared, not a hair out of place, immaculate as ever, just slightly flushed. “She’s all yours!” she grinned “Very amenable.”

Melody was looking angry, desperately trying to spit out mother’s juices and some stray pubic hairs.

“Hello, have you eaten,” I asked.

“Only Pussy,” she snarled.

“Would you like a drink?” I enquired.

“And I guess you’ll piss in my mouth like that Negro bastard!” she snarled.

“No, I meant bottled water, I’ll get some.” I promised.

“Don’t go.” she said.

“I’ll be right back,” I promised and I opened a cupboard door to reveal a refrigerator full of frozen bottled water and bottles of diet coke, beer, whiskey and many other drinks.

I took a bottle of diet coke and tipped it in a glass, and offered it to her.

“My hands are cuffed Moron.” she wailed.

I released the cuffs and supported her shoulders with my arms to let her use her arms to drink, she gargled and spat most of it across the floor, “Yuck, pussy,” she complained, “Can I have some more?”

I got her another bottle.

“I’d offer you something to eat but you have enough blubber to live off for a month!” I explained and as expected she swore at me.

“I guess you will be processed by the time I get back from Engand,” I explained, “But enjoy yourself!” I gave her a little wave, she almost smiled.

England was a disaster.