Rage Against the Latrine Ch. 21

I had a busy week at work, but spoke to Natasha every day. My fiancée babbled excitedly when we conversed, and she loved hearing about my victory in court against Samantha, my ex. I didn't know how my former beau would raise over £10,000, and suspected that she would beg her parents to bail her out of the latest mess she had created for herself. I knew my lover would enjoy enforcing the verdict, and her streetwise cynicism would make her a tough negotiator if Samantha contacted us to agree a payment plan.

Natasha spoke excitedly about my visit to the West Midlands at the weekend and said she had arranged something for us to do on the Saturday. She booked a suite at an upmarket hotel in a charming village on the road between Coventry and Birmingham, and I drove up the M6 after work on Friday afternoon.

The booking was for a twin room containing two double beds, and I put my bag on the bed beside the luxurious en-suite. A pair of suitcases were open on the other mattress, and I changed into clean clothes and met Natasha's mother in the hotel bar.

The mousy-haired grandmother rose to her feet when she saw me; her face lit up into a beaming smile as the lithe woman recognised me walking towards her table. "Come here," she squealed, wrapping her hands around my torso and squeezing me tightly. She radiated warmth and friendliness. "So good to see you again. And congratulations. I knew you two would get together and you're exactly what my daughter needs." 

I blushed and sat down. Her eyes flickered towards the bar, and I saw an empty beer glass on the table beside her. "That's Conan. He's just gone to get changed. I met him at our photography group." She gulped. "Matthew took the car to go to Scotland on his Touching God nonsense so Conan offered to bring me down here." 

I bit my lip. Natasha's mother had a relaxed attitude to monogamy that her husband did not share or know about. She had travelled to the hotel with the express intention of breaking her marriage vows once more. "Do you want another drink?" I asked.

"I'm fine. Tell me about last weekend." I recounted the evening where I had proposed to Natasha and my future mother-in-law beamed through my retelling. "She's so lucky," she muttered. "To find someone who loves her like you do."

I blushed once more and looked at my watch. "We better have something to eat soon, as we have to get to Solihull for Natasha's gig."

Ruslana nodded and gestured to her companion; I had not noticed the stranger waiting beside the bar and watching us. Conan was a middle-aged man with a rugged appearance. His dark brown hair and facial stubble made him look like an outdoor adventurer and an aficionado of masculine pursuits. He towered over the grandmother at around 6ft 2in, and she leant into him on the sofa as we finished our drinks. 

We had a meal in the pub across the road. Ruslana raised the subject of our trip at Christmas and she recounted the sordid antics of Natasha and me for her friend. He listened and chuckled, but didn't show any discomfort at the explicit tales of wild debauchery. 

"Just so you know, I'm done with my dead bedroom. I intend to do as much fucking as I can and when I get back, Matthew's having an ultimatum. I'm not a nun, and I'm fed up with being treated like one. He either finds his libido or he allows me to play away when I want." His companion's outburst did not faze Conan. He gave a wry smile as the tipsy woman sank another glass of wine and she divulged more personal information about her frustrations. 

I knew Ruslana was not happy in her marriage, but hearing her describe the paucity of intimacy in her relationship, I empathised with her plight. She definitely loved her husband, but he could not or would not satisfy her sexual needs. After our meal, we changed and took a taxi to the Birmingham suburb. 

Passionate punk rock fans stuffed themselves into the atmospheric venue on the outskirts of the city centre. Ruslana wore a long T-shirt dress, featuring the cover art of a Sex Pistols album, and she blended into the crowd, despite being three times the age of many of the attendees. 

I saw Nessie, in a revealing tight crop top, selling merchandise with Fox, and Ruslana bought a few items before the gig started. The aged theatre was smaller than most venues where I had seen the band, and 400 revellers crowded into the grandiose building.

Natasha and her bandmates delivered a powerful, bone-shaking show with a wall of sound that reverberated around the Victorian architecture, with the array of lights casting a spine-tingling aura with imposing silhouettes against the bright colours. 

Ruslana surged to the front of the mosh pit, dancing and flailing wildly at the songs. She revelled in the force of her daughter's band, discharging a fiery mix of aggression with their fast, violent, and deafening music.

I felt every note delivered by my fiancée touch my core as they rattled through their set with endless energy. Even though I had heard all of their songs repeatedly over the previous nine months, I loved every moment. I adored them, and at 9:30pm, their show drew to a close. They finished their gig on their new Christmas song, and then Wake Up, by Rage Against the Machine. 

The track, where Natasha defiled me in public, on the cool November evening in Bristol, echoed around the venue. The very act which brought us together. I reminisced as she delivered "our song": their iconic finale to close the wonderful gig.

The crowd emptied after the band left the stage, and ten minutes later, my fiancée came into the near-empty hall, gripping a red holdall. A few fans accosted her for autographs and my pink-haired lover happily engaged with the young women, wearing Bitches Against clothing, and signed a multitude of possessions for her swooning devotees. 

Ruslana flung her hands around her daughter, squeezing her tightly when she sauntered across to us. "Congratulations." She wiped her eyes when she inspected the ring. "You make such a wonderful couple."

Natasha smiled as we kissed. "Yeah, we do." She glanced at the man standing beside her mother and raised her eyebrows, expecting an explanation. Ruslana introduced Conan in the taxi back to our hotel. She had drunk several alcoholic drinks at the gig, and the middle-aged woman told her daughter what she had revealed to me during the meal. "Great. So I get to hear you fuck all night? Why did you want the dual double room? We could have got two doubles."

"Jacuzzi in the en-suite," Ruslana replied. "It's so much fun to shag in a whirlpool." Natasha sighed at her smirking mother. "And you bought tickets for us to go to the Erotica Expo at the NEC tomorrow! You can't be prudish now! I said find something lively and saucy, and you found that place. It's wall-to-wall sex and I'm so looking forward to it." 

My fiancée sniggered, and judging by the expression on Conan's face, he was not aware that the two women had bought entry to the risque roadshow either. "I didn't expect you to want to treat the bedroom as if we were staying in the fucking Playboy Mansion!"

"Stop acting like your father. I know what goes on when you are on tour and I've walked in on you shagging enough times. It's natural." Ruslana spoke lewdly during the journey home. When we entered the hotel, she stopped to chat to the receptionist, leaning over the counter so her dress rode up, and then tried to seduce the barman. 

There was an excited sluttiness to the middle-aged woman; she reeked of sordidness and shamelessly flirted with everyone. As her alcohol consumption rose, any last inhibitions she had evaporated.

After last orders, we went to our bedroom and Ruslana giggled as she changed into her short nightie; the garment, made from a white gossamer material, had a large slit on both sides of the translucent cloth. The words "FUCK TOY" emblazoned on the front in large, scarlet lettering. Natasha's mother could not move without showing her breasts or her shaved mons, and she sniggered as she stood in front of the mirror; she looked like a porn star on a dare. "I'm going to see if Jakub wants to play."

"You're old enough to be his mother," Natasha snapped. She aggressively tossed her dirty clothes into the corner of the room and walked naked into the expansive en-suite to shower. The venue had been warm, and she wanted to wash.

Ruslana refused a companion, and the scandalously dressed woman left the bedroom to go on her "treasure hunt." I spoke with Conan and the affable man kicked off his jeans and we sat on the double beds as we chatted. He was a Lothario: the sales manager's photography hobby found willing women to disrobe in front of his camera, and the good-looking confident photographer had converted many of them from an erotic model to a casual lover.

Conan spoke softly with a delicate accent to his voice and had deep coral blue eyes that sparkled mischievously as he cheekily recounted his adventures. Not boastful tales, but warm, erotic narration. I understood how he could effortlessly charm the underwear off women.

The conversation ceased when the lock on the hotel door clicked, and the half-naked mother of my fiancée crashed into the suite, holding the hand of the student receptionist. "His shift finished at eleven, and he told me he has never had a proper blowjob to completion," Ruslana explained. "That ends tonight."

He looked startled and embarrassed. The short man, with an athletic build, possessed a thin veneer of stubble across his youthful face and short, dark hair. He glanced away from us, suddenly unsure of the wild antics of the middle-aged mother, drunkenly unbuttoning his smart white shirt.

His dick - and Ruslana's erotic promises - had brought him into the room of a guest for a sexual experience, and the cold, sobering reality washed over him. He was uncertain, nervous, and shy. Ruslana unfastened the last button of his shirt and her fingers unbuckled his belt. 

"Wow!" she muttered, pulling his underwear and trousers to his thighs as she knelt in front of him. His considerable dick swung free: the uncircumcised cock covered with thick veins, and Ruslana planted a kiss on his tip. 

Natasha emerged from the steam-filled bathroom in just a complementary dressing gown and sighed when she saw her mother. "Fucking 'ell, Mum," my fiancée grunted.

"This is Jakub. He is studying Engineering at University. His parents come from Ternopil, like your grandmother. He has the most wonderful prick and I'm going to blow him."

I didn't know where to look as Ruslana's lips closed over Jakub's cock, sliding over the head as she coaxed his dick into an erection. Her nose brushed against his short fuzz of pubic hair and her hands slid over his muscular chest and bulging thighs. 

Conan's shirt and underwear landed on the floor, and his naked appearance was what I expected. Hairy, masculine arms and legs, with thick, powerful muscles and a stocky prick emerging from a trimmed thicket of pale hair. His eyes met Natasha's. "What do you say about warming me up for your mum?"

My heart skipped as my fiancée chuckled. "You're a big enough boy. You can warm yourself up."

"Ahh, c'mon. I've never had a mother-daughter experience. And you wouldn't want me screwing her dry, would you? Daughters are supposed to look after their mothers as they get older." 

My lover sniggered, and leant across the bed, running her lips over the exposed tip of Conan's erect prick. His hands ran through her hair as she suckled the end of his cock, drawing him to a full erection.

He gasped as my wife-to-be fellated him. He groaned as she teased him with her tongue, and he beamed as my eyes flicked between both of the women in the room. 

"Get her over here," he ordered Jakub and scattered the pillows onto the floor. "Kneel here. I want to fuck her." The student obliged; the young man kicked his shoes from his feet and his clothes puddled beside a chair. He knelt on the duvet at the head of the bed. 

Conan pulled Ruslana, and she climbed onto the bed, and her mouth enveloped Jakub's wet prick once more. She gasped when her lover pressed his fluffed cock against her anus. His sodden dick stretched her ring as he sodomised the married woman. 

I grabbed Natasha's hand and pulled her onto our bed. My lips slid over her clit as I buried my face in her slit, sliding my tongue over her aroused wetness. She reeked of feminine excitement, squealing as my fingers explored her sanctuary.

We'd done things like this before. Natasha had exposed me to plenty of group sex adventures, and I had eaten her out in front of people many times, but this was in the presence of her mother.

The squealing woman, fellating a stranger and being buggered by her lover, was not Nessie, the band's resident slut, or some other nymphomaniac, but Natasha's kin. My fiancee groaned and gulped as I pressed against her G-Spot and flicked her button, inches away from her parent on the adjoining bed. 

The room filled with the sounds of sex; thrusting, grunting, and squealing. The mattress springs creaked, flesh slapped, and bodies groaned. Natasha's body writhed as I tickled her walls and massaged her clit, bringing her to a shaking, rasping orgasm. 

The punk rocker tapped my head as she panted. "Fuck me," she gulped through snatched breaths. "Condoms in the side pocket of my bag." She had several and as I rolled a latex sheath down my erect shaft, my fiancée knelt on the mattress, on all fours, like her mother. She groaned as I slid into her; the sights and sounds of two men spit-roasting my future mother-in-law saturated the atmosphere as we screwed.

A debauched scene that could have come from a pornographic film: three guys fucked a mum and her daughter. A youthful receptionist, young enough to be the nymphomaniac's son and her rugged male lover, enjoyed the grandmother, gratifying their lust with the grunting strumpet. 

Ruslana groaned into the stout dick, teasing the inexperienced receptionist with long licks of his shaft and powerful movements across his glans. The expression on his face was twisted pleasure; intense sensations that took him to the point of orgasm and kept him there.

My fingers pulled on my fiancée's waist; I slammed my prick into my lover harder and harder, jackhammering her cunt. I rarely screwed her so energetically, but the situation was a haze of hedonistic lustful energy. Pure endless arousal as our thighs slapped and our bodies smashed into each other as I chased my peak. 

A year ago, any sexual activity in the same room as someone else would have been unthinkable. With Natasha, not only had that become normal, but screwing her alongside her mother was not unexpected. My fiancée was a dirty, depraved, immoral, sex-crazed harlot, just like her slutty parent, and I adored her for it. 

Natasha's fingers rubbed her clit as I ploughed into her; she groaned and swore loudly as she neared her climax, panting into the duvet as my prick pounded into her. Her orgasmic cries filled the room as her body shivered and her cunt squeezed my intruding cock. 

That sent me past my point of no return, and I pummelled her pussy through her quivering peak to intensify my pleasure. Jakub's eyes focussed on us as I filled the condom, grunting as I did. 

After I withdrew, my fingers pressed against Natasha's sodden, slippery clit and I played with her as she watched Conan sodomise her mother. The punk rocker stared as she witnessed her mum's infidelity. I fingered my fiancée as she observed one of her parents cheat on the other. 

And my partner mewed, groaning loudly as my hand massaged her slit and rubbed against her nub. She breathed aggressively as she watched the shameless sight on the adjacent bed; the middle-aged woman, complete with the scars and decorations of her age, ignored her marital vows to sate her lust.

Ruslana took Jakub too far, and the young man whimpered as his cock pulsed. The fellatrix impaled the spurting prick in her mouth and sucked his seed onto her tongue. His thighs bucked as he came; Conan's rhythm increased, causing the slutty grandmother to squeal. 

The brawny, well-built lover vigorously slammed into Ruslana's butt, grunting as he released the pressure in his balls and filled her rectum with his seed. For a moment, nobody really moved. We lay, panting; my finger idly circled Natasha's clit and Ruslana slid forwards so Conan's cum-covered prick slipped from her arse. Her companion passed Jakub a small bottle of lube. "Want to fuck her?"

The receptionist blushed and shook his head. "Go on," Ruslana begged.

Conan smiled and looked at Natasha with her flushed face and ruffled hair. "Your mum is insatiable." My fiancée shivered at those words. 

A few moments later, we cleaned up; Ruslana kissed Jakub and made the young man promise to visit her at 11pm after his shift finished on the following day. Conan watched with a wry smile as the married woman offered and paraded herself. 

I snogged and cuddled Natasha in bed. "I think my mum might be in the middle of a mid-life crisis!" She whispered as we saw the naked Ruslana embrace her companion and slide under their covers in the half-light of the midnight moon.

In the morning, the sound of the two adults in the other bed screwing woke us up; her loud groans as her lover noisily ploughed her cunt filled the room, and I looked away until after they finished, cuddling my fiancée. 

I saw my future mother-in-law pad across the bedroom naked, with cum dripping onto her thighs as she swaggered to the en-suite bathroom. The middle-aged nymphomaniac was shameless in parading her sexuality and spoke candidly and excitedly over breakfast in the hotel dining room. 

The exhibition centre, beside the city ring road, was a rabbit warren of activity. Crushed takeaway cups and beige cigarette butts littered the shrubbery around the car park and walkway as we meandered through the site to reach the correct hall.

Ruslana's fingers trembled as she passed the four tickets to the uniformed man on the gate. The young gentleman smiled as he welcomed us, and provided Natasha's mother with a thin guide, detailing the shows, workshops and exhibitors. 

Ruslana at EROTICA was like a kid in a sweet shop. Her eyes flickered everywhere as an avalanche of sexuality descended upon her. Half-naked men and women walked through the hall. Stallholders sold lewd games, sex toys, erotic clothing, and BDSM weaponry. Scantily clad and erotically dressed models strode along the catwalk in the heart of the exhibition centre, and "sexperts" gave sexual demonstrations in the smaller rooms. 

The hot, stuffy room filled with cheers and cries; every stall had a distinct smell from their wares - strawberry massage candles, passion fruit personal lubricant, pungent sensual latex and the smoky, burnt twang of leather. Natasha's mother wanted to do everything. 

We watched a dominatrix teach the hundred-strong audience how to spank, and then a masseur demonstrated erotic massage. We saw and looked at hundreds of sex toys, with both of the women making large indentations on their credit cards, and Ruslana joined a dating website for "one-night stands" as her surprised daughter stared at the wanton grandmother. 

We spent seven hours at the exhibition centre; Ruslana spoke to every stallholder, attended every demonstration, and ogled every performer. She had an explicit naked photograph taken at the Dare2Expose booth and shrieked gleefully when they showed it on the big screen. 

Natasha and I sat in the bar for the last hour and a half; we were exhausted, but Ruslana only rejoined us at the end of the day, laden with purchases.

We drove back to the hotel and placed our shopping in our room. Jakub sat on reception, and he saw the shop names printed on the bags as we walked past him. Ruslana winked at the receptionist and he blushed. "He's too young for you," Natasha loudly told her mother, who scoffed in response.