Barry's Sluts Ch. 01: Suzanna

If there was one positive about it, though, it reminded him of the purpose he'd been working toward for the last month. His mother's hot, juicy cunt was waiting for him back in Chicago—but he stil wasn't ready for it yet. It still choked him up inside, when he thought about bringing up the subject of fucking to her. He still couldn't get over the fear of possible rejection. He still hadn't found the answers to his questions . . . the ones that he wanted to answer on his own, anyway. The last, and most important one, of course, was one that only his mother could answer. If and when the time came.

Almost like fate, though, when Barry finished his turn in the shower, he heard Dom calling him and shoving the house phone into his hands.

"There's a hot bitch on the phone for you. Doesn't sound like Suzanna, though. She know you cheating on her?" He said with a half-drunken grin.

Barry had no idea what the retard was talking about. For one thing, he and Suzanna didn't have that kind of relationship. The two of them hadn't done anything remotely intimate, aside from the occasional handjobs in her convertible. They had done quite a bit of 'hanging out' on their days off, but it had always remained friendly. Barry knew that Suzanna had a boyfriend and that he didn't approve of her fucking guys that she didn't get paid to. She maintained that their little spontaneous handjobs didn't count, and that she didn't lie to Victor about anything, so Barry was cool with that.

Besides that, the only 'hot bitches' he even knew outside of Suzanna were the occasional porn starlets he met on set, and none of them should have even had his dorm number. Barry had no idea would the hell would even be calling him.

"Yo?" He asked inquisitively.

"Barry? Oh thank God you're there, sweetie."

The sound of his mother's voice provoked several instinctive reactions. First, the voice of the woman who raised him was warm and fulfilling. Second, the voice of the woman whom he'd spent the last month fantasizing about electrified his body and left him practically salivating. And third, the voice of the woman he loved so deeply stoked his anger toward Dom for a certain remark he had just made.

Covering the receiver with his hand, he yelled: "Hey! This is my mom, you ass!"

"Yeah? Well my bad . . . but she sounds like a MILF."

Barry felt like decking the bastard, but he let it go. He didn't want to leave his poor, sexy mother waiting. He took a moment and swallowed, doing his best to remind himself to bury all of the lust he'd built up about her somewhere deep inside before he started the conversation. He needed to sound like nothing had changed between them. Like he didn't want to strip her naked and fuck her raw.

"Hey, what's up?" he said, not at all sure that he'd succeeded.

"Are you coming home for Christmas, honey?" she asked

A huge part of him so much wanted to say 'Yes'. All Barry had done was think about her, every single day. Every lonely night, every time he had an idle contemplation, it eventually turned back to her. How beautiful she was. How sultry her voice sounded. How tight her pussy felt. He wanted absolutely nothing more than to tell her 'Yes, I'll be home for Christmas, and don't bother wearing clothes'.

But unfortunately, he still wasn't ready. He didn't even know how to form those words, so there was no way he could be. He was determined to return home and stake claim on his mother's warm, fleshy cunt, but only after he gained a bit more courage about it. He had left Chicago the first time without saying anything after their first fuck—he wanted to tell her how much he had enjoyed it, but the words wouldn't come. He'd fled back to California without saying a word edgewise.

This time, that would not happen. If the past month had told him anything, if he was ever going to reestablish his sanity, he needed his mom's pussy, and he would do whatever it took to claim it.

However, there was one thing he could take care of right now. That single most important question could be answered right this minute, if only he could steer it out of her.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked her, silently begging that she understood the real question that he was driving at. All he needed was for her to understand, and maybe—just maybe—he would be able to be brave enough to do what he needed to do.

"I . . . I don't know," she answered, obviously uncomfortable with the question. "It's just . . . I've never spent Christmas without you, and—"

Fuck. That was not the sign Barry was looking for. She didn't seem to be reacting as positively to what happened between them as he was. But, there was a spark of hope: as near as he could tell, her feelings were still unsure. He could hear pangs of remorse, but if he didn't stir the pot, there would be a chance for her to come around on her own and realize just how good it made them both feel.

He would do almost anything to fuck her again, but he had no intention of coercing her into agreeability. He wanted to know she needed his cock just as badly as he needed her pussy. He was patient enough to wait if it meant he'd get just that in the end.

"Actually, Ma . . . if it's cool with you, I've, uh . . . I've got an internship going on up here in Fresno, and they wanna keep me on through the holidays. I wanna keep on that, if it's okay with you."

"That—That's wonderful news, honey! What are you going to be doing?"

He remembered his promise to Suzanna. "Um . . . actually, I'm not supposed to talk about that right now."

"Oh." The disappointed tone in his mother's voice almost shattered Barry's heart in half. He knew that she wanted him back, and heaven knew that he wanted to be back—but he just wasn't ready to do that. Even if it meant waiting until the horsemen road the Earth, Barry would do whatever it took to ensure that he could cum inside his mother's wet, velvety pussy whenever he wanted for the rest of his life.

"Yes, of course, honey," she said, so softly, so lovingly. "But I just wanted you to know . . . you can come home whenever you like. You know that, don't you?"

Ma, for godsakes, just tell me right now that you want me to come home and fuck your brains out in your own bed. Or in my bed. Or on the kitchen table. Or on the floor. Wherever. Just tell me that you want me to walk into that door and empty my balls into your cunt over and over until neither of us can stand. If you do that, I will take the next flight out of this dump TODAY. I will RUN back to Illinois if it gets my cock to your pussy any faster. Mom, I'm begging you . . . your little boy is pleading you . . . just say that, and I will leave this god-forsaken state forever and never, ever leave you alone again.

He wanted to say that so badly. He ached to shout that into the receiver . . . but unfortunately, fear held him back. He wasn't enough of a man-whore yet to say those words without embarrassment. The slut inside him wasn't strong enough to take control. His stupid, meaningless BRAIN still called the shots and dictated his course of action. Barry buried his tongue, not daring to say what he urged to say.

"Yeah . . . I know. Sorry, Ma. I guess . . . uh . . . I'll see you whenever then, huh?"

"Of course, baby. Sooner than later, I hope."

"Of course, Ma. Bye-Bye."

Barry hung up the phone and marched solemnly back to his room, where he banged his head against the wall for about fifteen minutes.

Of all the women in the universe he had to want so badly, why did it have to be his Ma?

******

On Christmas Sunday, Barry stayed in his dorm and fiddled with the new laptop computer he'd bought with the money earned so far. He mostly spent his time locked in his room doing Google searches on various subjects related to incest. He registered at a few forums, some exclusively devoted to incestuous relationships and others only loosely affiliated with the subject. Under the name 'Papa_Beary', he read stories from others who'd claimed to have fucked their relatives, but found that most of them seemed rather suspect. It was difficult to tell the ones who were serious about experimenting with incest and the ones who just wanted to troll and jerk others around. He made a topic about his own situation, and no one really gave any helpful advice. They just callously wished him luck or commented with a 'cool story bro'.

Barry accepted that he was on his own. From here on out, he would just have to treat his lust for his mother like the lust for any other woman, regardless of their other relation.

At that time, Barry's ears were called to his other gift: the new cell phone sent from his mother. He heard the text tone and knew instantly who had messaged him—only two people had this number, and his mother always preferred to call.

"SUZANNA -- Meet me @ 26^th & Cline -- 4pm"

This was the first time Suzanna had ever called Barry to meet up outside of their work arrangement. Up to now, it had always been him asking to hang out. Curious, he texted back:

"BARRY -- Wats up?"

"SUZANNA -- Just be there stupid"

His curiosity was even more piqued, and a glance at his wall clock let him know that he had less than an hour to get where he needed to be.

It was raining cats and dogs that day, and Holiday season traffic was a bitch. Barry arrived at 26^th & Cline at 4:07, finding Suzanna's car parked in front of a car lot. Stepping out of his cab, he hurried across the street, through pouring rain and knocked on her passenger side window. Hearing the door unlocked, he quickly scrambled inside.

"You're late," Suzanna said bitterly.

"A few minutes," Barry justified with an indignant look. "But I'm here."

"I hate tardy people," Suzanna retorted with gross displeasure. "Especially when I'm trying to do them a favor."

"By calling me out in the middle of nowhere during a winter thunderstorm?"

She didn't reply and simply put the car in drive, pulling the vehicle into the lot. She drove around a bit before stopping in front of a black Pontiac. Barry started to question what they were doing when he heard the jingle of keys behind him.

"Here you go," Suzanna told him, taking his hand and setting the keys inside. "Merry Christmas."

His eyes widened. "W-What!? Come on, Suzanna . . .tell me you didn't . . .!"

"I did," she said, taking a puff from her cig. "But it's still in my name right now, so try not to fuck it up or get a bunch of dumbass tickets until I can sign it over to you."

Barry stared at the keys in his hands and then back at the spackling black car sitting a few yards ahead. It was gorgeous and sleek, a model probably no older than a few years. He had no idea what it could have cost her, but it certainly couldn't have been cheap.

"I got black because I don't know your favorite color, but almost everybody likes black. If you want to get a paint job, that'll be on your own dime, though."

Barry shook his head, trying to give the keys back. "Suze, I can't accept—"

"You can and you will," she said, eyeing him forcefully. "I didn't just do this for you. I did it for me, too."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm taking some vacation time, starting in about a week. Vic wants us to spend it alone, so that means I won't be able to drive up to L.A. with you for a while. But, that doesn't mean you still don't have a job. You should know how to get there by now, and if you don't, the damn thing comes with a GPS, so even a retard could figure it out."

Letting out another cloud, she added, "Besides that, it's time you stopped weaning off my tit on this porn shit. You started doing this because of some god-forsaken interest in sex, so it's about time for you to spread your own wings."

Barry listened to her words carefully and realized that she was speaking the truth. He was relying on her too much to find the answers he wanted. If he wanted to be braver, then he needed to grow the fuck up. He needed to take a step on his own. Maybe even consider taking a step behind the camera himself and really learning what he could do.

He just nodded slowly and clutched the keys tightly, giving Suzanna a long and solemn look.

"Thank you. I'm going to repay you for this," he told her. "I swear."

"Well, I'm looking to trade up, so don't buy me the same piece of shit I just got you," she jabbed. "But you're welcome, Barry. We haven't known each other long, but you've been a good friend to me."

Barry returned her smile with one equally warm, letting her know that sentiment was mutual. In only a month, Suzanna had easily become the best friend he ever had.

In the middle of that thunderstorm, the two embraced for the first time.

******

TWO WEEKS LATER

Late at night, the text signal went off again and the vibration woke Barry from his sleep. Groaning his displeasure, he reached to his side and picked up the phone, squinting to make out the message.

"SUZANNA -- Barry u there? Ansr plz!"

"BARRY -- Yea. Was sleeping. Sup?"

"SUZANNA -- Im n trbl! Vics gon nuts!"

"BARRY -- Wat the hell hapnd?"

"SUZANNA -- Thinks Im cheating. Saw us in lot and sez hes been tailin me for weeks! Even to LA!"

"BARRY -- Dsnt he know wat u do?"

"SUZANNA -- Ya but thinks we fuck on the side! Thinks I cheated when we hung out this month!

That was incredibly bad. Suzanna and Barry had taken to hanging out every time they had a day off, whenever she didn't have to be with her boyfriend. She had said that she considered Barry to be her best friend, and she enjoyed having a buddy with whom she could share her juicy secret life. She had even said that Victor had been cool with the handjobs and the two of them being friendly off the job, but either something had changed or his acceptance had been a lie.

Even worse, if Vic had been following them to LA, then he'd probably seen a couple of times when the car had swerved off-road for thirty minutes a pop. Barry and Suzanna hadn't done anything but handjobs, but how would Vic know that? Jealousy makes the imagination tell all sorts of tales.

And of course, if Vic thought something was going on, the car Suzanna bought could have been the last straw. What sane person would really buy a thousand-dollar gift for just a 'friend'? Except an absolute gem like Suzanna?

"SUZANNA -- Just saw a gun undr his shirt! Barry Im scared!"

"BARRY -- Where r u?"

"SUZANNA -- Drexel and Clybourne. The Entourage nightclub."

That was good. She was in a public place, which made it unlikely he'd do something stupid. But, if emotions ran high, that wouldn't matter. Also, they would have to go home eventually; it was a miracle he hadn't short her already, but how long would it take him to say 'fuck it'? Barry thought about calling the police, but then he dismissed it for the same reason that Suzanna probably had. If something went wrong and Victor figured out what was up, he might just shoot her out of spite. She needed to get out of there quietly. She needed someone who knew her to come and get her.

"BARRY -- Can u leave?"

"SUZANNA -- No. Hes watching 2 close. In john rite now. Gotta go back b4 he suspects."

"BARRY -- Try 2 leave soon as u can. Im on my way."

"SUZANNA -- Plz hurry!!!"

Barry grabbed his keys and phone and raced out of his room, tearing across the flat even as Trena and the others all laid nude on the couch, all fucked out. Dom woke from the noise and asked "Barry, where you goin', man?" but got no answer. A few minutes later, Barry was in his car and programming 'Drexel and Clybourne' into his GPS.

The Entourage was well in the middle of nowhere, a few dozen miles down the highway from Fresno. Barry found the lot packed and just double parked his car anywhere to avoid wasting time looking for a spot. As he circled around the front, his pocket vibrated again.

"SUZANNA -- WHERE R U!?!"

"BARRY -- Im here. Come outside."

Barry's heart was racing, hoping that he could pull of this little rescue operation without getting either himself or Suzanna killed. The loud techno he could hear from inside only added an apropos theme to the intensity pumping through his veins right that minute. He kept an eye out for Suzanna, hoping to swing by and pick her up when he saw her, making a clean getaway without even needing to exit the car.

A second later, his phone vibrated again. But this time it was a call.

"Suzanna?"

"Hey, bro, wassup? You the fuckhead that's been messin with my chick?!"

Barry's pulse multiplied by a thousand.

"No! Look man! I'm just a friend! Just a—"

"Shut the fuck up, white boy. I'm fucking you up when I find you, you hear? First I'm gonna shoot you in the dick and then I'll cut your fucking balls off! Comprende!?"

The call ended and Barry beat a hasty line for the door. He could hear faintly Suzanna sobbing and saying something over the music, and now there were no doubts that her life was in danger. However, as he approached the entrance, Barry found a ridiculously long line and two huge bouncers standing in his way that made him look like a midget, even at his six feet even.

"Where the fuck you think you're going?!" One demanded.

"Look, you don't have to let me in, but there's a guy in there about to shoot a friend of mine. He's got a gun, and he's threatening to kill her!"

They paused and contemplated Barry for a moment, trying to see if this was a trick. Barry stared them down, letting them see just how serious he was, and prepared to do whatever he had to if it got him inside. He would fight past both of these giant goons if he had to. The thought of losing Suzanna . . . of allowing his best friend to be harmed . . . made his blood boil and his muscles twitch. He would never let anything happen to her—ever.

Finally, one of them touched his earpiece. "Hey, Manny! Guy outside says there's a crazy inside with a gun. You see anything?"

"Negative," the voice on the radio said.

"It's hidden under his shirt," Barry told them. "He thinks his girlfriend's cheated on him, and he sounds crazy as hell, so I don't think he'll give a shit about shooting her in a crowd of people."

"Fuck," one of the bouncers said. "Can you ID this guy?"

"No, but I can ID her," Barry affirmed.

The two bouncers looked at each other and nodded, not wasting any more time. "When we get in there, if I think you're playin' us, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you and toss you in the dumpster out back, understand?"

Barry nodded, and the bouncer motioned for him to follow.

His dread climbed to even greater proportions when entered the club and found it nearly impossible to identify even one face amongst the gyrating crowd of thousands. He had no idea what Suzanna was wearing at the moment, so that meant he had to try and find someone who matched her face or hairstyle. The problem was, a bob cut with straight fringe wasn't exactly an unpopular style.

The bouncer glanced at Barry once and he shook his head and kept looking. The guy gave Barry a wary glance and they began moving. He led Barry up a semi-circular staircase, probably hoping to get to the second level, where they'd be able to see the bottom level and dance floor more easily. In the meantime, the pounding, repetitive music was almost making it impossible to think. The flickering red lights made the situation even harder, as it was too dark and the flickering played with his vision at the same time.