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I get why everyone says my mom is smoking hot. She's young, and with all the money my dad makes, she doesn't have much to do all day except work out, tone her body, and look nice. But what most people don't get is how much of a bitch she can be.
I was in the middle of a videogame with my friend Jon when my mom came home carrying some groceries. She must have gone to the gym beforehand, because she was wearing just her black sports bra, skin tight pants, and looked sweaty.
"Drew, can you help me and get the rest of the groceries from the car?" she called to me. Jon and I were right in the middle of a fierce game.
"In a minute," I yelled back. She was setting down the groceries on the counter.
"No, Drew, now! The milk is going to go bad."
"I'm in the middle, mom!" I yelled, but she wasn't having that. She walked right over and stood in the front of the tv. My view of the screen was now completely obstructed by her sweaty flat midriff.
"Mom!" I yelled, as she bent over and unplugged my console from the wall. Putting one small white hand on her curvy hips defiantly, she pointed at the door to the garage and barked, "Now!"
I grumbled all the way to the car and brought in all the groceries, having to take three trips to do so. She bought so much stuff.
When I got back, she was sitting in my place on the couch, reclining, talking to my friend Jon. My mom had always been very friendly to Jon, probably because as a rich white family, we didn't have a lot of black people in our personal lives.
I hovered over my mom.
"Did you get them all?" she asked me sternly, and I gritted my teeth and nodded. Only then did she giggle and stand up from the couch.
"Well, I feel all gross; I'm going to take a shower," she called to us both, walking away towards her room, "Bye Jon."
"Bye Mrs. Brown," Jon called back. I sat down in my seat; it was all sticky and wet from my mom's sweaty bare body.
"Fucking bitch," I mumbled to my friend, "She always fucks everything up."
"I didn't really mind," my friend returned, grinning, "I like talking to her."
"Yeah, yeah, your stupid crush."
"It's not a stupid crush," Jon said, "Your mom is a fine piece of white meat, Drew. Did you see her body in that sports bra? She's got an amazing toned stomach, like some kind of beach volleyball player. And the jiggle in that tight elastic bra was like she was fucking going through puberty. Not to mention that juicy ass of hers, warm and ripe like a goddamn fuckable peach. I wouldn't mind taking a bite out of those cheeks."
"Shut up. You treat her like she's some hottie from our school, but she's not, she's just my bitch mom."
"Yeah, your bitch mom who I'd like to grab by her curly brown hair and make moan."
"Damn, you're really mad, aren't you?"
"She just orders me around and then responds so disproportionately."
The sound of her turning on the shower echoed through the room. You could tell Jon was imagining her taking off her sticky gym clothes and running her soft white body under the steamy hot water.
"Well, have you ever tried to do something about it?" Jon asked.
"What do you mean?"
"If you don't like the way she treats you, have you tried to do something about it?"
"Not fucking really," I offered, "My dad is always out of town on business, I haven't seen him in a month so there's nothing I can really say to him. And since she provides my fucking bed, and cooks my meals, and gives me all my money, I don't see what else I could do."
"Have you tried something, well, a little more covert?" Jon grinned.
"I don't know what you mean," I said, quizzically.
"You could always fuck with her secretly," he suggested, "Fart on her pillow. Piss in her shampoo. Cum in her food."
"That's fucking disgusting," I told him, "I'm not cumming in my mom's food."
"I'll do it," Jon offered a little too eagerly, standing up from his seat and heading to the kitchen. "This is your mom's coconut milk, right? The one only she drinks?"
"Yeah," I said, still unsure of what to think as he walked back to the couch carrying it, "It's not like there's anyone in this house but me and her, and I'm not drinking any of that healthy crap."
"That's good," he said, sitting back down, "Just let me take care of it then."
I don't know why I wasn't more surprised when Jon whipped out his dick right there. I had never seen my friend's penis before, but since he was black, I guess I always just expected it was on the larger side. He seemed to have no shame about pouring a little of the milk into his palm and beginning to stroke fiercely his soft black cock.
I opened my mouth to start to offer an objection, but Jon shushed me down. I shrugged. Maybe this would be funny.
For a while, the only sounds were the running hot water, some small echoes of her high pitched singing voice as she washed her body, and the rhythmic slap as Jon beat his meat across from me.
Jon finally broke the silence, asking me strainedly, "Can you hand me that?" He was pointing at a framed photo on the table beside me.
"Uhh, sure," I said, grabbing it. It was a photo of my mom from the summer, her brown curly hair at her shoulder, big sunglasses over her face, and she was completely bare save for a striking blue bikini that left most of her white fit body exposed.
I handed the image of my mom to my friend, and he licked his lips staring at it. The whoosh of his hand on his cock became louder. I tapped my fingers, waiting patiently and watching my friend beat off, until he flashed me a smile.
"Here we go," he said, dipping the head of his hard cock into the mouth of the coconut milk jug. Stroking just softly at the base, he writhed his legs and began to cum, and I could hear the splash as the jets of cum hit the liquid in the container, splash after splash after splash.
With the sounds of my mom's shower still present, he removed his softening cock from the milk jug, and wiped the excess jizz on its lips. "Just making sure we get it all in," he reassured me.
Putting the cap back onto the jug, he shook it a few times vigorously before putting his spent cock back in his pants and zipping up.
"Perfect," he said, standing up to return the jug to the refrigerator, "Just wait until she drinks this."
I allowed myself a hearty laugh. Whatever reservations I had had, they seemed to disappear when I realized how funny this secret punishment would be.
We had started playing another video game when my mom walked in, finished with her shower. Her curly brown hair was still slightly wet, but she had on a casual low cut black-and-white-striped dress that hugged her body tightly and left a fair amount of cleavage with her moderate boobs.
"I think videogame time is over," she said, coming over the couch, "I want to watch tv."
"But mom, we just began," I retorted angrily.
"Hush," she uttered dismissively, "I need you to start to fix dinner anyway."
I groaned and stood up, and she took my place on the couch, reclining fully again with the remote.
"You don't mind Jon, do you?" she asked politely in her cute high pitched voice.
"No ma'am," answered my grinning friend, who seemed happy to get to stare at her body in that finely fitting dress.
From the kitchen, I could see into the television room where the two watched. I began going through the fridge, filling a pot of water to boil, and fixing a salad. When I looked up, my friend had joined my mom on the couch, her knees bent and curled down to make room for him with her reclined outstretched body. When I had fished the pasta out of the water and strained it, she had switched positions, so that her curly head of hair was now squat in his lap with her feet outstretched to the other side. She was on her side to see the television, which must have given Jon a full view down the cleavage of her dress.
"Well," Jon said, starting to stand up, patting my mom on her hips so that she'd move her head from his warm lap, "I should be going home. Thanks for letting me spend time over, Mrs. Brown."
"Don't mention it," my mom politely squealed, grabbing a pillow to replace where her head was resting.
"See you later, man," Jon said to me, winking as I finished making dinner.
A few minutes passed and I had everything ready. My mom stood up lazily from where she had been resting on the couch and sat down at the dinner table. I had everything on the table already.
"Can you grab my coconut milk?" called my mom, sitting down. I froze, but then smiled to myself and grabbed the tampered jug from the fridge.
I ate my pasta slowly, watching her carefully from across the table. So far she had opened the jug, poured its spunky liquid into her glass, but she hadn't taken a sip. She looked tired, and she twirled her pasta with her fork into small bites.
Finally, she swallowed a small bite, and then reached for the glass. I began to feel nervous, what if she could taste it? What would I say? Should I stop her now? How would I explain myself?
But I was too late. She parted her dainty lips and let the white milk flow into her mouth and down her throat. I could see each gulp as it passed into her body. She downed the glass of my friend's cum in that one go; she had to pour herself more from the on-hand jug.
Not only did she not seem to notice the tons of jizz my friend had squirted in her beverage, it seemed to wake her up a bit. She smiled at me chipperly after, asked me about my day, and started being not a total bitch to me for the first time all afternoon.
But every time she reached for the glass and took a gulp, I couldn't help but imagine my friend's big black cock right next to her mouth. She was opening her gullet and letting him shove that black cock in, convulse between her lips, and send his white sticky seed into her body. Every time she took a sip of his cum, that was all I could see.
The meal finished, my mom offered to finish the dishes, but then she was heading out to meet some friends. I sat with her, her cleavage wobbling in that dress as she cleaned each dish, and then she leaned in to kiss me goodbye before she left.
Reluctantly, I let her plant a big wet one on my cheek, but then the moment she left I scrubbed my face hard in the bathroom.
My mom drank that coconut milk for breakfast, she had a glass with lunch, after the gym, and with dinner. Every time she took it out of the fridge, an evil smile spread across my face as I watched her unwillingly consume all that semen squirted from my friend's sweaty cock and balls. When I told Jon how much she was drinking, he smiled widely and gave me a big high five.
When she had gulped down the entire jug and started a new one, Jon simply defiled that one too. Every time Jon came over now, we waited until my mom was out of the house or in the other room and I would sit across from Jon as he held the bikini photo of my mom and squeezed out a fat sticky load for her to drink down.
In the next few weeks, not only did my mom not notice that her drinks were full of Jon's cum, but she seemed to drink even more. I had never really paid attention to how much she drank, but these days, it felt like she was always pouring herself a big glass of my friend's cum and then licking the excess white milk off her puffy lips.
It became a common sight to come home and see my mom, sweaty and half naked from the gym, gulping down the defiled white liquid right from the jug, a small trail dripping from the corner of her petite mouth.
Jon never seemed to tire of dipping his cockhead into the liquid and filling it up with some warm new nutrients for my mom.
After a few weeks of cumming in her milk, we devised new tricks. Jon came in her shampoo, in her yoghurt containers, in her special margarine and her egg beaters and her salad dressing. Pretty soon, almost everything my mom ate or drank was diluted with the sticky white mess Jon dripped from his cock every time he visited. Pretty soon, I joked, he might as well just ejaculate right onto her face.
There came to be one day, though, when things got too far. I slept in instead of picking up some dry cleaning that my mom needed, and she was so furious that she took my Xbox and sold it on the internet.
"What a goddamn bitch!" I steamed to Jon that afternoon, "I want to punish her fucking so hard for this."
Jon laughed. "I can make an extra big wad for her today," he said, eager to start her punishment, "I'll give her a second serving of nut butter in her cream cheese."
"No, that's not going to work this time," I responded furiously, "We can't keep being covert. We have to teach her a lesson, show her that she can't just be such a bitch this time."
"What, like blackmail her? Get her to buy you a new Xbox?" Jon suggested.
"Yeah, that's it exactly!"
I started rambling about how we were going to find something on her, something that would put her on her knees in front of us and get her to stop being such a bitch.
"I don't know what you're expecting to find," Jon noted, "Your mom doesn't do anything except work out."
I wasn't sure either. So one Saturday, Jon and I put on some baggy clothes and decided to follow my mom around, see what kind of shit she might be doing. In the early morning, we tailed her to the gym, watching her from a bench across the room. Her fit body moving rhythmically on the treadmill seemed to capture Jon's attention. When we were up front, he was staring at her jiggling cleavage, glistening with sweat in the tight sports bra. Then from behind, her swaying hips and succulent ass was making my friend drool. I frowned.
We watched her do her exercises, spreading and twisting her body on a yoga mat into all sorts of contortions. She arched her back and stuck her ass in the air. She spread her legs and thrust upwards and down. She even stretched her back such that the tips of her buoyant butt cheeks began to peek out of her elastic pants.
We had to drive extra fast to get back home before she did, but we succeeded. Jon and I sat on the couch, watching her drink down her coconut milk before she sashayed over to her room to strip and take a shower.
When my mom emerged from the shower in a blue blouse tied at her chest so that her middriff was bare, we began to worry that this really was all she did all day. Jon stayed for dinner, watching her spread her tainted margarine onto toast, gulping down his cum in her coconut milk.
After dinner, though, my bare stomach mom told us she was heading out to the mall to do some shopping.
"Now's our chance," I said to my friend, hurrying to get in my car and follow her. We had to speed to catch up to her, but we were able to get on her tail.
She parked by a big department store, and Jon stepped out of the passenger door.
"You wait here," he said, "in case I lose her and she comes out. I'll go in a track her there."
I parked in a spot looking over my mom's empty vehicle, and waited with the engine running.
After a few minutes, he texted me a photo of her alone, going down an escalator. "Keep up the surveillance," I texted back.
The next photo came a few minutes later: my mom looking at dresses, a pretty saleswoman in a short skirt helping her sort through the walls of clothes. She was carrying a few more bags; it looked like she had bought a few things.
Eventually, Jon sent me a photo from fairly up close of my mom in the beach shop, looking at red, orange, and blue bikinis: small strips of fabric on even smaller hangers. The next shot was her stepping out of a dressing room in just the tiny red bikini, her fit body glowing in the store lights and the handsome young clerk smiling and nodding, urging her to purchase the sexy garment.
Jon didn't sent me any more messages after that, and I began to worry. I stared back and forth between the empty car and the entrance to the mall.
Finally, when the mall was about to close, out came my smiling mom, walking almost arm and arm with my also-smiling friend Jon. He was carrying a ton of her bags, many of them from the beach shop, and her arms were full too. Under the lights of the empty night parking lot, my big black friend and petite white mom laughed and made their way to her car.
When I was on the road, following my mom back home, Jon finally texted me.
"sry, she saw me and i hd to play it cool".
"Whatever," I shrugged, and headed back home after my mom.
When I got in, she was in the kitchen pouring Jon a glass of water and pouring herself a glass of the heavily tainted semen soaked milk. She explained to me how funny it was to run into my friend at the mall, and how much of a charmer he was to help her carry her bags.
My friend grinned as my sexy mom lauded him, and I only slightly frowned.
The next day, my mom was out, and Jon was jacking off into her milk. This time, he used the photos of her on his phone from the day before, showing me how many more he had taken once my mother had noticed him and enlisted his help in picking out swimsuits.
He had photos of my mom in sexy outfits, from the small blue bikinis she loved to some slim party dresses, sexy small gym wear, and even a few in some risque lingerie. My mom played the wonderful model the entire time, giving my friend and his camera a seductive glare, radiant with mature desire.
"So yesterday was a bust," I said after my friend had finished cumming and stuffed his junk back in his pants.
"Maybe not," he said to me, smiling.
"Well, I got to spend some nice time with your mom," he reminded me, "And we were talking a lot. She's a nice woman, very fun and very sexy. I'm sure she does all kind of embarrassing things that she would eventually dish to me if she and I got closer."
I thought about his proposal. It felt wrong and dirty to give my blessing for this big black friend to prey on my mother, but I couldn't think of any good reason to object. And it wasn't like I could stop him now.
My life changed after that. I almost barely saw my friend anymore. He would still stop by to play maybe one round of games, cum in my mom's milk, and then say goodbye, but mostly, he was out with my mom. They went to the gym together, she modelled more and more outfits for him. It wasn't unusual to get a text from her that she and he had gone out to lunch, or to the beach for a day in the sun, or even clubbing late into the night. I remember a time she and he came home, she was piss drunk and stumbling around the kitchen with her dress hiked up nearly to her waist and he was laughing. But every time I asked him if he finally had the information, he just said not yet.
He began spending even more time around my house, just not with me. I would play video games alone, and they would be in her room, the door closed. I wondered how hard he was working to get that information. Sometimes, I would come out of my room in the middle of the night and he would be sleeping on the couch, having spent late nights up with my mother, but eventually, he just slept in her room since my dad was always gone and I'd see him making breakfast in the morning. I asked him what he did in there, behind those closed doors with my mom, but he just told me it was boring stuff and I should wait.
Finally, I had enough. He and my mom were outside by the pool, her in a pink bikini on a lounging chair and he swimming laps around the water. I called for my mom to help me with something inside, when I pulled her aside and confronted her.