Running Riot

He needed no prompting either, lunging forward to plunge into her pussy and sheathing himself to the root with brutal force that made her gasp, arching her back and shuddering as his hot balls nestled against her sensitive clit and her squack started to rhythmically clutch around him, her first orgasm making her bite the pillow to muffle her high squeals. Even as that juddering explosion of ecstasy was wracking her, he started back in with his ravaging strokes, hammering at her with demonic fury as the bed frame creaked and groaned in protest around them. Her hot juices were everywhere, her hips writhing and her cunt sucking him in and milking him as their flesh slap-slap-slap-slapped together and and she sobbed into her pillows with abandon.

A moment later he found himself pulling his well-lubricated prick out of her pussy, making her gasp as she felt his cockhead probing at the mouth of her tightest place. Looking back over her shoulder, her big baby blues were wide and glazed with lust as she whimpered: "Oh God... oh please... please oh please... ohhhhhhh-ffffffuuuckkk..."

Her eyes rolled back and her head began to thrash back and forth as he drove his prick into the dank heat of her bowels. She was biting the pillows again as he reached around and drove three fingers into her cunt, his palm slapping her clit as he finger-banged her in rhythm with his pumping manhood, ramming urgently into her as she came over and over in wave after wave from the crude ass-fucking and the wickedly nimble fingers in her sex. Lex gritted his teeth as he realized the moment was on him.

"Aghhhh... aghhhh I'm gonna fucking... aaaahagggghhh..." He bent forward, breathed in the divine scent of her and sunk his teeth into the soft juncture of her neck and shoulder as she clutched and squirted around his fingers and his spunk came boiling out of him, firing bullet after bullet up her tight cornhole as she mewled into her pillow and writhed in the throes of passion. The eruption seemed to go on forever, his nuts jumping as if he was spending years' worth of loads into that beautiful ass. And a flashback came to him of the last time he had come inside her this way... eighteen years ago.

At last they were spent, left floating in the aftermath as they spooned together and a satiated, purring Connie toyed with his soft prick. It was then that he realized, looking around at the posters on the walls, that the bedroom they'd stumbled into, the bed where they'd slaked their volcanic lust... was Jonni's.

"Damn," he said. "I didn't realize..."

"That we were getting nasty in my daughter's bed?" Connie chuckled. "Where do you suppose this ranks in the naughtiest things we've done?"

"Top five at least," he said, chagrined, wondering if he should get up, at least relocate the proceedings. "Uh... sorry for that. Maybe we should..."

"Listen, Lex." Connie cut him off, turning over to face him. Her soft hand was still wanking his prick. "I brought you here for a reason. Not just to... persuade you to take the job. And not just because you never fail to make me horny as fucking hell... though both those things are true. Hell, you can do that second thing just by looking at me." Her smile was equal parts desire and melancholy. "But I want you to understand that... that I need someone who can look out for my little girl out there. Someone I can trust with the task of persuading her to come back to me... by any means necessary." He felt himself stiffening again, his breath catching as she gave his organ an extra-sharp squeeze and tug. "If she won't respond to talk, or reason... well, I know she's not a child anymore. She has a woman's desires, and they're just as strong as her mom's. So if it comes to that, you've got another way to get the job done. And I know that if it comes to that... that you'll be wonderful with her. A good thing in her life, a good experience... a good memory. A good man."

"Connie." He was looking at her open-mouthed. "Jesus fucking Christ. I... I can't believe you're..."

"I'm a mother, Lex," she said simply. "You can believe I'll move heaven and earth to see my daughter again. I'll use any tool," and her she squeezed his cock again, making him gasp, "that comes to hand. You never had kids, did you?"

"That I know of, no." He shook his head as her other hand wrapped itself around his cock now, his breath growing shallow as she started purposefully wanking at his shaft. "Uh... Gracie's not... she can't..."

"Too bad," she said. "I'm sorry. You'd understand if you had." Reaching one hand down now to squeeze his balls as his shaft grew heavy and tumescent again in her grip, she admitted: "You know... that night with you and Dane. It was you I wanted. I mean... in my womb. You know that, don't you?"

Lex just nodded silently now, his cock throbbing in her grip.

"You're the one I should have married," she said simply. "But maybe it's for the best that I didn't. If you'd been part of Jonni's life before this, I couldn't send you off to be her big black knight now... with this, uh, lance at the ready." A playful gleam was coming into her eyes. "Lord works in mysterious ways, huh? Is the Black Knight... ready for another charge?"

He still couldn't think of anything to say. Just looked at her with admiration, this bewitching, lustful creature with mysterious depths who'd been his on-again off-again lover for two decades. Her beauty and her nimble fingers had him hard again... but, conflicted as he felt about it, he couldn't pretend to himself that the thought of making love to her even-more-gorgeous teenaged daughter didn't have something to do with it. The images of Jonni as a grown-up skinbyrd with piercing blue eyes were playing through his mind even now. And they kept doing so as Connie leaned in, sucked on his tongue, and then kissed her way down his torso to envelope his cock in her wet, willing mouth.

Lying in bed with Vinnie almost a week later, with a very memorable Rub-a-Dub night at Ferd's in the rear-view and Valentine's Day just a few hours old, Lex was remembering that moment and musing that as much as he appreciated the fashionable young bartender 'byrd's technique... Connie still had precious little real competition in the oral sex department.

Which wasn't to impugn Vinnie's sexiness or enthusiasm. Right about now the pink-haired 'byrd was swirling her tongue around his cockhead and bobbing and slobbering all over his meat with admirable eagerness. He had no complaints; comparing most blowjobs to one of Connie's was like comparing most paintings to a Rembrandt. So mostly he just lay back and enjoyed, stroking his fingers through the fuzz of short hair behind her fringe.

"I've been waiting to get you in bed all week," Vinnie'd confided in him, her voice slurring only a little -- she could hold her liquor and then some -- as she'd led him into her apartment. "And I'm gonna make it so goddamned good for you, you're not gonna want to go anywhere else."

It was clearly in part a not-too-subtle effort to get his mind off a certain Jonni Too-Bad, a certain incident he'd witnessed in the bar earlier that night, and a certain outrageous bet that it had led to. Vinnie still thought he was just a random, horny out-of-towner, after all; she didn't realize the impossibility of the task she'd set herself. But Lex liked her well enough, she was a sweet 'byrd and a stone hottie. And more importantly, her invitation represented one more opportunity to pump her, so to speak, for information.

So when he felt his ardour rising and pulled her up on top of him, he made sure to give her the ride of a lifetime, pounding that slender beauty to absolute shuddering bliss as she moaned quietly and suckled on his earlobe. And after she clutched and creamed all over him the first time, he took control, rolling her over and pinning her underneath him for a marathon spread-eagled pounding that took her to a second climax and then a third, and it was sweet and good even if it wasn't the kind of scratching, clawing, all-consuming kind of passion he'd had with Connie. He liked those demure little sounds she made enough that after blowing his load on her belly once, he found he had enough in the tank to go another round, bending her over and making her moan even louder as he took her hard from behind and pumped his second load up her drooling, spasming cunt, the feel of his erupting spunk inside her hot fuckhole taking her over the edge yet again.

It left her clearly floating on a cloud of bliss as they lay together afterwards, her arm across his chest as she threw a firm thigh over his and nuzzled him affectionately. "Happy Valentine's Day, babe," she murmured. "You like the Preferred Customer special?"

"And how," he chuckled, stroking her flank as the sweat cooled on their bodies. "That was amazing."

"Amazing enough to get you to spend the day tomorrow?" She asked the question as lightly as she could, letting her tongue play over one of his nipples as she kissed it and her finger traced patterns on his hard pecs. "I'm off tomorrow night. I could make you dinner, maybe we could hang, listen to some forty-fives. I've got a killer Heptones collection."

"I believe it, beautiful... and I'd love to." He kissed the crown of her head and found he halfway meant it. But then he said: "I've got some business to take care of first, though. Let's see how it goes, alright?"

"Business, huh?" She sighed a little resignedly, clearly knowing what "let's see how it goes" really meant. But she was optimistic enough to wriggle and grind her hot pussy against his thigh as she added: "Too bad for you. Pleasure is so much better."

"Don't I know it." For a moment he toyed with various elliptical ways to segue into what he needed to know. But he sensed there was no nonchalant way to bring up the matter of Jonni and Barrington and the scene in the bar. Vinnie was clearly no fool... and, he decided suddenly, she was a pretty special girl. She deserved the truth. "Listen, I've got to ask you something. But before I do, I think you should know who I really am. Why I'm really here."

That broke the spell. She was pulling back from him now, sitting up and gathering the sheets around her nakedness, her eyes alert. She wore an ironic little I-knew-I-had-you-figured smile, but it was at odds with the vulnerability in her dark eyes as she said: "Well. I was wondering when you'd get around to it, Mister Man-of-Mystery. Spill it."

He sat up, too. Looked at her frankly and said: "It's like this. You think I'm interested in Jonni Too-Bad on account of pleasure, but you're wrong. It's about business... well, it's mostly about that. And it's about her well-being. About people who love her."

And so he laid it out for her. Most of it, anyway. His past as a skin in Chicago, his letter-day work as a private eye (tactfully omitting mention of his wife), his mission for Jonni's mother who was both old friend from the scene and client -- at least insofar as it involved persuading Jonni to come back to her, he also tactfully left out the "by any means necessary" part -- and why he needed to know everything he could about Barrington and his boys. Especially about where he might possibly be able to intercept the leader of the pack before he got to the Maywood Beach Boxing Club tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock.

Vinnie listened, and as she did her expression softened and relaxed a bit. When he was done, she said: "You do realize you could have asked me any of that stuff without coming back here and... you know. Humouring me."

"I wasn't 'humouring' you," he said. "You're fine, and I'm a red-blooded guy who isn't dead. I've got no regrets. And I don't think you're obligated to tell me anything just because we've fucked."

"That's good," she said a bit archly, but she was still smiling as she added: "And I have to admit, I'm glad you're not just some random guy looking to get with Miss Teen Aryan Scene-Queen. I was a bit worried about that, but I sensed there was... you know. A little bit more to you. I'm glad I was right."

"Does that mean you'll help me?"

"That means I'll think about it." Her smile was growing saucy now as she stood up and headed for the bathroom, the sheets sloughing away from her gloriously nude, lithe body, her little brown nipples stiffening on her tiny tits in the cool night breeze blowing through her bedroom's open window. She gave him a glance and a randy wink over her shoulder as she put a sexy wiggle into her walk and added: "Of course...my help might come with a price-tag."

His cock stiffened in response as he grinned back at her. By any means necessary, he told himself as he got up to follow her. Not all eyes in the world will weep for you for having to make "sacrifices" like this one, Lex. Get on it.

Jonni had to admit it: the "incident" at Famous Ferd's had gone... a little bit off-script.

Basically the way it was supposed to go down was this: Barrington Parker and his boys, their crew's Run 'n Riot moniker notwithstanding, nevertheless had this peace and unity charity boxing event they were trying to promote in the wake of the Tito Valentine shooting. They'd tagged it "Romantic Violence: A Valentine's Day Bash... Literally!" and they were selling tickets and booking absurd "matches" for it -- the main card draw was supposed to feature the front men of a couple of obscure local oi! bands squaring off -- presumably as a way to help keep minds off the madness currently infesting the atmosphere of the City of Angels. Proceeds were going to something called the Maywood Beach Community Foundation, which as far as anyone could tell just meant the R'n'R crew's beer fund after expenses, but whatever.

The trouble was, come Friday they were still about fifty tickets short of breaking even. It was lacking a certain something. And then Phaedra had a brainwave: why not book Jonni in for an Inter-Gender Championship Mixed Martial Arts bout... against Barrington himself? And why not use Rub-a-Dub night at Ferd's to set it up?

Phaedra was, Jonni had learned, forever having brainwaves that involved outlandish schemes, a necessary hustle since the money required to keep her hard-drinking, hard-drugging lifestyle aloft -- and accessorized with the proper shoe wardrobe -- often left her short on cash for the necessities. This one seemed crazier than most on the surface, but as Phaedra'd explained as she was thinking it up: "It's perfect! It's can't-miss! Battle of the Sexes and Great White Hope storyline in one! We can get Barry to play a little grab-ass in the bar, have you knock him on his tail and then play it up about all those tae kwon do championships you won growing up. Challenge him to a throwdown right there! The crowd will fucking eat it up, he'll sell fifty tickets on the spot! Come the day, choreograph the fight a little, make it look good but make sure nobody gets hurt... say the loser has to like, buy the winner dinner or something. Barry'll love that, he's been trying to date you for ages."

"Has he?" Jonni'd been nonplussed. "I hadn't realized."

"I know, he's always too fucking busy being Stoic." Phaedra laughed. "You up for it?"

"Depends," Jonni grinned. "If you're gonna get a manager's fee for pimping me out to Barry, are we splitting it?"

"Hey, hey, hey. Objection to 'pimping out,' it's not like fucking him's part of the deal," said Phaedra, giving her a playful shove. "But yeah, sure."

A few minutes later Phaedra was on the horn to Barry. They'd set it all up, and Phaedra had been so stoked about the deal that she'd splurged on celebrating that night: ordered-in sushi, a couple of half-decent bottles of wine for once, a half-gram of Bolivian party favours -- more a gift for her, really, since Jonni didn't touch the stuff -- and a night of particularly rough and ferocious love-making in which the pair of bodacious 'byrds had put a double-headed toy they'd recently picked up at a porn convention to acrobatic use that left both of them sweetly trembling in the aftermath.

But even as the sweat from premature celebrations cooled on their naked flesh and Phaedra's coke-fuelled chattering had given way to half-dozed mumbles, Jonni had been left awake on Valentine's Eve with a gnawing feeling that was growing more and more frequent with her these days. A feeling of... restlessness.

Restlessness was nothing new to Jonni, of course. For a long time -- despite her love for her mom, in fact because of it -- home had seemed like a prison to her, with her successive "dads" its wardens.

The last one, the worst one, was an ex-army bastard who had been in the habit of holding mom down and hitting her, hard, in the stomach and around the midriff -- in places that wouldn't bruise, and wouldn't implicate him to the cops. He'd made his departure only a couple of years ago, in no small part because Jonni walked in on one such session of "discipline" and it ended in an intimate encounter between his teeth and the steel toe of one of her Docs. He'd never admitted to or laid charges about that humiliatingly one-sided whooping, which if there was any justice haunted his dreams even now.

Things had gotten better after that, but too late. Sure, Jonni could see now that her mom had been trying to rebuild their lives, to recover from the shame of what she'd experienced and what her daughter had been exposed to. But it was doomed: mom had been obsessed with putting a good face on everything, unwilling to really face the full truth, and Jonni had been hurt, distrustful, resentful of the fact that in the end it was her that had to do the saving. Things fell apart after that, with Jonni running away for days at a time, then weeks, before she finally hit the road for good almost the minute she hit eighteen.

Ironically, though, even that final act of running away had been a way of connecting with her mom's prouder past. Jonni had been in her early teens when she first started going to Relentless Records; its owner Chris was an old, seamy-faced dude with rockabilly hair and a friendly nicotine-yellowed grin who had known a very different version of her mom. He'd made her for Connie's little girl right off, and he was so different from so many other guys she'd known, from her "dads" especially: he always treated her matter-of-factly like an equal, not like some wayward kid he had to assert authority over, and as if the thought never occurred to him to act any other way. They'd been fast friends.

"Connie was one of the coolest 'byrds on the scene, back in the old days," he'd told her more than once, regaling her with stories of wild hijinks that always started with him looking furtively around the shop and saying "I shouldn't be telling you this, but..." And the stories that followed were always about how Connie -- her mom -- did what she wanted and took shit from nobody. About how people fought over her, and how there wasn't one of the guys who wasn't at least a little in love with her.

Those stories had given her hope. It wasn't her biological lot to be some helpless female passed around by abusive Cro-Magnons. She had the same fire in her belly her mom had once had. It was just that her mom had forgotten it; forgotten who she truly was, lost herself under a "good wife and homemaker" facade until her strength had bled away. Jonni wasn't going to let that happen to her. In fact, she dared not -- the mere thought of it gave her night terrors. It was part of why she left.

It was also part of why, when on the road, she preferred the company of women in every setting, from the casual to the intimate. She'd had her fill of men, fancied she'd never want to sleep with one, disliked how so many of them seemed to have no interest in anything outside themselves, or felt it their privilege to dominate conversations without having a single interesting thing to say. Women and girls, though: on the road, there were more than a few who could relate to what she'd been through, and there were more than a few flirtations and casual encounters before she'd met Phaedra. And starting with their encounter up in Minneapolis, Jonni had been besotted, sure that she'd found her soul mate.