It was only after she'd recovered her senses that she realized that she'd swallowed not only Matt's cum, but that of the filthy Mexican youth as well.
"Let's go," Matt said. "Zip up quick and let's get out of here."
"Billy," she said. "Where's Billy?"
"We'll find him," Matt said. "But let's move it!"
They were both suddenly very sober, neither lust nor tequila clouding their judgment anymore. They found Billy and left in a hurry.
CHAPTER THREE
Connie lounged in her hotel room, staring blankly at Johnny Carson on the TV. She wore her bathrobe, with nothing underneath it, and her bare feet were propped up on a footstool. This was so weird, being in Mexico and watching Johnny Carson. It was some San Diego channel, she believed. She heard Johnny's voice, saw his picture, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She sipped ice water, trying to calm her nerves. She didn't dare drink anymore alcohol tonight.
They'd made it back to the hotel alive, having luckily found a taxi after wandering down only a few dark alleys after they'd fled the sex-show tent. Billy hadn't said a word all the way back. He'd stared out the window, his face permanently flushed. He smelled of sweat, cum, and the Mexican girl's pussy. Matt had tried to make silly conversation, but Connie had also remained silent, her embarrassment as great as her son's, if not more so.
Matt had wanted to come into Connie's room for a nightcap, or for her to come to his room, but she'd politely declined. Now the three of them were in their own separate rooms, Matt's down the hall, hers and Billy's linked by a common bathroom.