Somebody's Mother

With next to no-motion, Reese unhooked his K-mart belt. With similar action, he unhooked his slacks. He took his time with both motions. He didn't want her to know what he was up to.

"Yeah. Aren't you?"

"Born and raised," he said and he brought his cock out of his underwear. It wasn't as hard as he was hoping. He classified himself as extra-medium should anybody ask. He looked at her in the mirror and saw her elbows high, her fingers concentrated on the haircut. He watched the breast he could see the most of. He gave the tip of his cock a familiar tug.

"What high school did you go to?" She asked with disinterest.

His erection was compounding stiffness in his hand now. He tried to move his hand so that his shoulders wouldn't move. He held it close to his belly so that it wouldn't bump the cape that hid the scene in his lap from her eyes.

"Sheridan. What about you?"

"I didn't finish," the stylist said and he felt one of her nipples brush up against the back of his head. Her fingers gathered more of his wet locks and the scissors got applied right away. "Sorry about my nipple, sir," she said.

"That's okay," he said without thinking about it. He met her eye in the mirror. She smiled like a teacher who caught him looking up a dirty word in the dictionary.

"Did you letter in anything?" She asked.

He found that question strange, but he wanted to give her an answer. Back in the day, he was drama club and the debate club. He'd acquired letters in both, but always found letter jackets silly. It was his father that insisted he get the letter jacket even though he never wanted to wear it.

"Yeah. Debate. Drama."

"Did you ever put the letters on your jacket?"

"No. I don't even think I ever wore the jacket."

"Oh, you must have at least once."

He stared at her supple form. With each tiny pull on his penis, he fell in love with more and more aspects of her shape. He picked out a mole on her left tit. He loved that her belly wasn't flat like a girl in a magazine.

"You seem a little distracted," said to his face in the reflection.

"I have a big job interview tomorrow."

"What's it for?" She asked and spun the chair to face her completely. Both of her naked tits were right in front of him now, right above his eyes. He could hear her breath. He forced himself to look up at her eyes.

"Bookkeeper," he said on the quick. He didn't want to get into one of those conversations about job skills or pre-requisites, but was prepared to.

She leaned down and put her hand on his hard-on. Her fingers squeezed the plastic cape against his hand and erect cock. He felt her hot breath on his nose. He took a whiff and dismissed the thought that she needed a mint.

He felt her hand squeeze his shaft. The pleasure of the squeeze shot joy down his legs and his firmly held feet.

There eyes were inches from each other. Reese moved to kiss her and she lifted her chin so that he missed her completely.

"What's your name?" He asked.

"Why?"

"Please tell me your name." He said and he felt her stroke the plastic up to the head of his cock. She squeezed him again and he let out a gasp of pleasure.

"Joanna Wellington."

"Nice name."

Her eyes were narrowed down at him. He couldn't tell if he'd given her the right compliment. She just spoke again before he had a chance to try another one.

"Nice cock. I think I should get to see it, don't you?" She leaned closer to his ear and whispered, "or are you the only one who gets to look?"

Her naked breast was below his chin now. He moved forward and gave her skin a kiss. She shot up and away from him. Her hand let go of the handful beneath the cape and she swung his chair to face the mirror.

Looking at her in their reflection, he lifted the cape and rested it to one side. His white, naked cock was up against the polo shirt. It was hard and pointed at his chest. Her eyes were on it and her mouth was slacked open.

She reached passed him and took up her cigarette pack and lighter.

With a cigarette in her mouth, she leaned down and set her heavy breast on his shoulder. She pressed her lighter in his hand. "Do you mind?"

Joanna looked at him in the mirror and waited for him to light her cigarette. He found the idea of smoking at that particular juncture weird. He saw no reason to bring the stink of smoke into something sexual.

He also wanted everything to continue, so he flicked the lighter for her and she puffed on his flame until she had smoke. Joanna leaned away and stepped around him to his side. She turned her back to him.

He could see her profile in the mirror. There was smoke running up her arm.

"Take these off of me?" She asked.

The only stitches left on her naked form were the plaid panties. He admired the tight fabric that was stretched around her ample ass. His fingers peeled the cotton down and he let out a sigh at its perfect shape.

He looked at Joanna through the mirror. Her cigarette crackled in front of her face while she waited for him to continue. She was patient and she just might have been bored.

The panties got to her thighs and he shoved them down to her knees.

Joanna stepped out of her panties and turned to face him in the mirror. He could see the dark pubic hair of her bush. It was well kempt. It was short and curly. Little red dots --evidence of razor burn surrounded its shaved shape.

"You got me hotter than a bonfire, Reese," she said and blew smoke toward her neighbor's empty station. He watched her smoke stream and then held her gaze with his.

"Jack it," she said and pursed her lips to her smoke again.

He put two hands on his cock. He used one set of fingers to push his ball sac down and the other to stroke its hard length. Nothing in his mind wanted to question the woman. He just wanted to do what she asked.

Joanna held her smoking hand at her side and used the other to fondle both of her breasts. He watched her reflection lift and drop each heavy orb. He watched her rub her wrist beneath each nipple.

Both of them found the breath of a workout. His pattern was informed by his masturbation and hers was probably from watching him do it. In the mirror, his eyes were fixed on her tits and quick glances to her barely spread legs. Her focus was his hands on his cock.

She flicked her ashes onto the floor and brought her smoke up for another taste. He watched the orange embers ignite with her inhale and found himself fascinated with the smoke that went up to the ceiling.

A stream of her smoke went between him and the mirror as she leaned forward to stab her cigarette out in the ashtray.

"How do you feel about having your head shaved?"

"I've never had it shaved before."

"Are you up to it?"

He pulled on his silken skin and watched her erect nipples. He hated the way she asked the question. It wasn't 'would you like to try it out?' and it wasn't 'what do you think?' it was 'are you a pussy or what?' He'd never considered going bald before and he wondered how it might go for him professionally.

"Sure," he said without enough thought. He regretted his answer right away.

She reached for her electronic clipper and switched it on.

With no further preamble, she knocked his hands off of his cock and held it with her own hand. She lifted one thigh and the other. Joanna joined him in the chair and guided his cock right into her wet pussy.

His length was absorbed like water into a sponge and he gasped. The heat of her wetness and the relaxed nature of her open walls made him breathe in again right away.

"Hold still," she whispered and put her hands on his cheeks. She held his head steady and knocked hair off right above his ear. Hair fell and she moved her hips just enough to stretch his foreskin back and forth.

The excitement brewing between them mounted for Reese. He could feel the mushroom top of his stem grow fatter with each coax of her hips. His breath hiccupped a little when she gave his cock a squeeze with her soppy sheath. His hips gave her a fuck back.

A sharp inhale went up her nose and the humored glaze in her eyes gave him a preview of what she was going to say, "I said, don't move."

She turned his head and applied the clippers again.

Her breasts were up against his chest and he felt her hard nipples against his polo shirt. She was dragging the flesh against him each time she moved her arms. The sound of the clipper was smooth and louder than their breath.

Her clenching and unclenching pussy was driving him crazy. He wanted to lift his hips against her, but he also knew that any action she couldn't predict could hurt his melon in some way. He admired how subtle and perfect her hip movements were. She was moving just well enough to not rock the chair, to not rock his body.

Her hands held his cheeks and she stared at his eyes as she brought the clippers to the back of his head. The clippers traced from his neck to the crown of his head. His cock pointed at her deepest insides.

He looked over her shoulder and watched her naked back swivel her hips in his lap. The motion was calculated, but the pattern was as random as the waves of the ocean. She bumped against him and with each bump, his erection got more and more joyful.

"There," she said and dropped the clippers. The tool fell to the ground, still buzzing and still connected to the power supply.

The distant sound of the clippers fell behind in the race as her forearms held the back of his neck. His hands went to her shapely ass. His fingers touched to the sweat of her exercise and he gripped her to get some control.

He lifted her light body weight and dropped her. His hips were getting involved then and he thrust into her with the same rhythm. He knew in the back of his mind that he wanted to impress her --he wanted her to think he was a good fuck. Even though it had been awhile, back in the day he'd gotten his fair share of play.

His history of one night stands and opportunistic (even anonymous) fucks stretched all the way back to high school. Theater kids were known for the drama associated with sex and who had who. Debate club put him firmly on the road for trysts in hotel rooms. Parties, keggers, and bonfires lit up his ancient sexual history.

He carried those experiences through college and girlfriends.

Even though there was nobody special in his life right now, he knew how to make someone feel special in bed. Even if the bed was a barber chair.

She slammed her hips down on his able cock. He could feel himself even harder inside of her. He reached one hand from her ass and lifted one of her bountiful breasts to his lips. He wet it with slobber and licked the flesh from the bottom up.

Her nipple brushed his nose and he felt her quake against him.

"Reese," she breathed his name. "Oh, Reese!"

Of all the nuances of sex, nothing made him more turned on then a girl calling his name. The sound of his name coupled with groans and broken breath was without a doubt the most exciting toy a girl could bring into a fuck.

Her hand went to the back of his head and it felt strange to him that there was no hair for her to grab. She just smashed him to her chest and her nipple popped in behind his teeth. He gave it a hard suck and this caused her hips to smack his belly. She cried out.

His grip on her tit was so rough that he was going to leave hand marks. Her nipple was sharp and pointed and the most fun the tip of his tongue could have. He could feel her breath pack and release against his shaved head.

The buzzing sound of the clippers was vague, distant, and welcome to be ignored by both of them.

"I'm going to come," he bellowed into her bouncing tit and her hands went to his ears. He felt her thumbs slip over his earlobes. Her teeth got right next to his ear and she hissed.

"Do it then," she panted.

He was shocked that she wanted it inside of her. This wasn't high school anymore where a guy being careless was to be expected due to lack of experience. He didn't need to have his life tangled with hers just because they'd fucked. She probably already had a kid and he didn't want to add any to the pile.

As his insistent seed climbed the ladder for her home base, he worked hard to hold the stream back. The packed head of his cock was all set to explode deep in her wetness. He groaned and grunted with the effort to hold back just long enough to get the girl off of his cock.

With an adamant effort, he lifted her higher than his cock and let it flop to his shirt. His semen shot from the tip. The pressure behind the juice was so great that he felt some of it on his neck. Spurt after spurt sent strings up and all over his shirt.

He set her back in his lap and panted up at her.

She looked down at him with her own breath shaking.

"Funny," she breathed.

"Why's that funny?"

She looked away from him and got interested in the parking lot.

He looked too. He was half-afraid that people were watching them. There was nobody in the lot. He looked back at her and she got off of his lap.

She went right for her panties and pulled them on again. She kept her back to him. He caught her expression in the mirror and it seemed a little sad. He wondered if her feelings were hurt because she thought he didn't respect her.

She tossed a towel from the station at him, "wipe yourself off."

"Joanna," he said, tucking his cock into his pants. "I mean, Miss Wellington, can I have your phone number?"

He thought deep down that being cute would win her back over.

"It's not Joanna Wellington," she said and lit a cigarette. "It's Joanna Ashbury."

"You're married?"

"Yeah," she said and turned to show him the ring on her finger. "You didn't notice?"

He hadn't noticed. Every time he'd looked at her fingers, he'd been disgusted by the cigarette that burned between them.

She blew smoke in his face and went on, "so, no phone number. And something else? Don't come back around here, okay? This didn't happen."

He stood from the chair and caught his own confused look in his reflection.

"I'm sorry," he said and then realized he hated apologizing. "You. You seduced me though."

She grabbed her keys and stomped to the front of the store. She unlocked it and held the door open for him.

"What the hell is going on?" He asked.

She stood there in just her panties. She kept inviting him to leave while she smoked.

"Just get out of here, Reese," she said. "And don't come back. You're not welcome here."

He felt a chuckle escape his lips because he couldn't see what the hell was wrong. He buckled his pants shut and walked over to Joanna.

"How much did it cost?"

"Don't worry about it," she said and indicated the parking lot with her head.

With an exasperated grin on his face, Reese stepped out the door and she pulled it shut behind him. The sound of the lock happened right away and he walked to his jeep.

Behind his steering wheel, he watched Joanna get dressed again. She kept her back to him while she dressed with a lit cigarette in one hand. The gestures were frustrated and sharp.

He switched on his jeep and drove away from the Fl'Hair Shop.

It hadn't been his intention to use her for sex and never see her again. He actually entertained the notion of seeing her again after he got his job. He thought it would be nice to take the girl away from her usual digs and to a fancy restaurant somewhere.

He had no idea what he'd done to make her so mad.

He also couldn't believe that she was married and was somehow holding what had happened against him!

Red light after red light kept making his long journey home more difficult.

He realized he was in the vicinity of his mother's house and thought he could stop in for a visit. She was always giving him shit for not coming around. She was another dissatisfied woman in his life apparently.

Reese knocked on his mother's door and she gave him a hug.

She wanted to make him dinner. She wanted to catch up.

While she worked in the kitchen, Reese went to his old room. All of his old interests were tacked to the wall. Old bands and movies reflected his past and he realized that he'd never told Joanna his name.

She'd known him from before!

All of that talk about high school and how she told him she'd never finished. He'd assumed she was just another loser drop out, but he realized it was just possible that they'd known each other before.

How could he have forgotten her? And was that why she was so pissed off at him?

He found his old yearbook from his senior year and saw her listed as a sophomore. She was chunkier in the old days. He had been leaner.

He didn't remember her face.

He ran through the Rolodex of his memory. He reached passed the ex-girfriends, the keg parties, and the different drama competitions. He turned over the vacations, the trips to the library, and the open campus lunches. He passed a flashlight over the darkened hallways, lockers, and showers.

He couldn't turn up a result.

She'd mentioned his letter jacket.

In the closet, he saw his old letter jacket hanging. He'd only worn it once or twice. He remembered he'd worn it to the drama club Christmas party because his friends had dared him to. All of them thought letter jackets were dumb and for jocks. She teased that he'd worn it at least once. Maybe she had met him at that party?

He put it on in front of his old dresser mirror. His shaved head was going to take getting used to.

His hands went into his jacket pockets as he studied his own befuddled expression. She'd treated him like an ex or something. Was it possible they'd had sex before? Back when she was in high school? The fog of the past shed no light on the subject and his fingers thumbed a wad of paper in the pocket. It would have been when he was too drunk to care. That had happened a lot in the old days.

He pulled the paper from his pocket and unfolded it. A girl's handwriting was on the tiny ripped note. Bubble letters. Perfect penmanship.

The words on the paper brought a rush of awareness, anger, and sadness to him all at once. He wondered why she'd written it down. Why hadn't she come to him? Stupid. Stupid girl!

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and punched it. The mirror cracked and he looked back at the note and his bloody fingers.

Reese, I'm Pregnant. Call Me Please, Joanna.

And her high school telephone number was written below the request. He'd never seen it before. He'd always thought the jacket was a joke.