CHAPTER SEVEN
All In The Family
Ron Ladrone leaned hard against the doorjam, his ear on the door from the kitchen to the dining room. The next best thing to fondling Jan's plush hindend was watching the broad loveglobes being blistered to a winsome ruby color. If he couldn't see, he could at least listen.
Of course, he really got off on Mona's mobile rear. It had been days since he'd enjoyed a pure, muscle-melding, joint-relaxing f**k with his girl. And even longer since he'd coaxed her into sodomy.
Earlier in the summer, before Rita'd lain down the law, he'd taken her down the coast. They'd found some beach and flopped on a blanket, stinking of sun screen as they absorbed a Thermos of double-strength Ramos Fizzes. His whispered suggestions had finally won a half-reluctant, half-kinky
