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Outwardly, suburbia maintains the strait-laced middle-class look that belies the social ferment behind closed doors.
There is the secret use of drugs, fed by the marijuana syndrome. There is the river of alcohol flooding from door to door under the euphemism of social drinking. Then, of course, there is the advent of wife-swapping. All in the spirit of good clean fun… But where does the fun stop and degradation begin? When one excess leads to another — and another — to what? When the children set as the pattern of their own life style what already is the norm at home?
HOT MAMA is the story of one family in one neighborhood in one city, Anywhere, U.S.A. Joanne Hill, a restless young widow, and her teenaged son, Doug. And some of Doug’s friends. It is startling as a mirror of a way of life behind closed doors. No facade. No regrets. Indeed, to them it has become the norm.
And outside their lives go on. The daily routine is followed. All the proper parts are acted out.
The norm… For the Hills, yes, And how many others like them?
A novel of fiction for entertainment. A page of our restless society as food for serious thought.
Joanne Hill nervously looked around the crowded waiting room of the downtown Los Angeles Greyhound Bus Station to see if anyone else noticed the kissing couple in front of her.
Christ! Why don’t they stop? Joanne wondered to herself as she shook her head angrily and tried to concentrate on the tiny television screen in front of her.
But it was no use. Her eyes drifted back to the high-school students. She especially paid attention to the long, thick, hard cock that strained against the teen’s tight jeans. Joanne could almost feel his big hands as they crawled across the girl’s tight sweater, brushing and milking her mammoth jugs. No one else in the waiting room seemed to notice what was happening.
“Ohhhh,” Joanne said out loud, then looked around cautiously to see if anyone noticed her low moan of frustration. People were shuttling in and out of the big, brightly lit room so quickly that Joanne could have been fingering her snatch-lips and few would have noticed.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.
Note: This story is the same as catalog number CB-4082 in the original publications (a duplicate).