Family Business, Mom's Orgasm

My inbox is filled with spam, four messages from unknown senders with weird subject lines. It's 7:43 a.m. and my roommate has already left for class and I'm alone in the dorm. Marking spam is super easy, but the subject lines catch my eye and I skim the messages.

Bro, do you know this woman?

Damn she's hot. lol

squirting is the ultimate ability. so amazing

You're a lucky guy, if true, sucks it happeend like this. Oh well that's life.

The first email contains a link to a well-known porn site with the words 'MILF' and 'squirt' in the web address. My first thought is that someone was doxxed and people are spreading the link around. Like most young guys, I love older women. There's a special appeal about them, like you're seeing the forbidden.

I'm thinking it's probably a college professor or a teacher from high school, and current/former students are being perverts by passing it along. It's fucked up to watch, but again, older women are my thing and I'm beyond curious about who it is.

With a sense of guilty excitement, and subdued expectation because it could be regular spam, I click the link and the site loads. The video is a recording of a webcam show. The naked woman is laying sideways on the bed, her face is turned away from the cam to hide her identity, the evening sunlight from the open curtain illuminates her body. She's fully nude and her upper-back and arms look toned, while her ass looks plump. A beautiful combination. She's in a normal looking bedroom and there's a laptop next to her.

The woman's body trembles and her legs flail whenever a customer tips and something inside her vagina starts to buzz. The video is long and I skip around, seeing her body tremble with pleasure at different points.

Maybe it's the early morning hour, maybe it's the purposefully dim lighting in the video, but something comes to mind that I should have noticed sooner.

I recognize that bedroom. The gray walls, the dark headboard, the white sheets, the expensive pillow cases with flower designs. I even recognize the woman's hair and toned body, though I'd never seen her nude before. I pause the video. The only thing I can do is call my sister and see if she's gotten the same video.

Another client sent a notice that my services won't be needed anymore. I'm a travel planner for people with high net worths. I specialize in arranging honeymoons, leisure, and a variety of private events. I know all the hot spots in the 200 mile radius of the Florida area, where I live.

Two weeks ago my face accidentally appeared on my webcam stream. That's when it all went downhill. Someone ran a facial scan and figured out my identity because my professional headshots are posted on numerous business websites. Those before/after pictures of me were posted on a porn site, fully dressed on one side, nude on the other.

I'd gotten nasty emails, so did my clients. My lawyer handled things right away and got my nudes taken down, but the damage to my reputation was done and I'll never get that back. I have no idea how many people in my social circle know about this. As for my family, they're tight lipped. They must know how hard this has been for me.

My career came crashing down because most of my clients are well-known conservatives and they'd rather not be associated with me. The last thing they need is to be linked with a 'sex worker' during election seasons. It makes me cringe to think of myself as a 'sex worker' because it was never about the money. I used to be a political consultant, by the way, that's how I made all these connections.

One thing I'd like to clarify is that I'm not a sexual deviant. I'm not a pervert. I don't have loose morals, in fact I'm very religious. I'm an everyday career woman who donates lots of money to charitable causes. I've always followed the rules and I've dedicated my life to being the best parent possible.

But the fact is, I'm human, and humans have desires. These are mine. I love being an exhibitionist, I love squirting on camera for a private audience. For the last few years, the online community gave me an outlet to express myself and my physical gifts. It was my safe space, a place of comfort. Until recently, of course.

My flight lands in the Bahamas where a prospective client has requested to meet me. I'm desperate to salvage what's left of my career. On a typical year I'd earn between $2 million and $3 million dollars from my travel planning business, now I'm lucky to earn a fraction of that.

That's why it's puzzling that someone would want to meet me. This person is a friend of a friend, so I know there's legitimacy here. I've never met this person, but I know the name. Elites tend to operate in the same circles.

At the airport a chauffeur takes my bags and gives me a ride to the Baha Mar resort. The hot sun feels good on my face. I love being here, I love the people and the atmosphere. Even if this business meeting doesn't work out, at least I have a few days booked at the luxury resort.

I check into my room, rest for a while and freshen up, then I meet Eduardo for lunch. Right away he seems like a personable guy. Mid-40's and he's made a fortune in the shipping business across the American continent. We shake hands in the lobby near the restaurant and his smile is magnetic. I wonder if he's seen explicit images of me, which is disturbing, but I have to swallow my pride. This is my new reality.

The restaurant is busy and we're led to a private room in the back. Food is already ordered and he charms me. We're served an expensive cut of steak and the conversation flows, the man can talk. Halfway through lunch, he puts his fork and knife down and looks at me, then I do the same.

"I like you," he says. "People only have great things to say about you. Shame about what happened."

The bombshell I suppose I've been waiting for. My new reality, both personal and professionally. I give a simple smile and pretend I'm fine, because he's the best option I've got and it's important to look dignified.

"Yeah, that was a shame," I say. "None of that was ever intended to be public. That's not the kind of person I am, and I hope you know that."

My canned response, even my facial expression was rehearsed. He gives me calming words and expresses his understanding of the situation.

"So, you do event planning? Tell me about this."

"Absolutely. Over the last decade, I've carved out my expertise in making unforgettable experiences. From honeymoons to vacations, and even orchestrating social and political fundraising events specific to this region. I take great pride in what I do and my reputation precedes me."

"That's lovely. I have family in Argentina who plan on moving here. You know, my sister is getting married and we could use this type of service. I am very family oriented, as you'll come to discover."

"Argentina is gorgeous, I've been there twice. And congrats to your sister. You must be very proud."

"I am. Family is everything. Tell me, are you a family woman?"

"With all my heart."

He leans forward, his confidence seems to go down a peg for whatever reason.

"I've estimated the kind of money you make annually," he says. "This is based on conversations I've had with your clients, or former clients, I should say. I would like to pay you $3 million dollars a year as a flat fee. I have a large family and many friends that would appreciate your service."

The offer is music to my ears and I try to stay composed, but then his voice sinks to just above a whisper. He starts talking about what a beautiful family I have, Caleb and Isabel, and how close we must be. I'm very active on social media, particularly Instagram, and he's seen the pictures. My accounts are locked by the way, ever since I was doxxed. Eduardo sent me a friend request a while ago and I accepted.

As part of the financial package, Eduardo wants to "see" me with my son and daughter. That's the word he used, "see," and it revealed everything. I know exactly what he means because I've been on webcam for years and clients would constantly ask about my family life, with the subtext that they're talking about incest.

His closing statement expresses an interest in a white American family. That's what gets him off more than anything, the family dynamic and whiteness.

My reaction is visible across my face and Eduardo sits back and realizes his mistake. I use the hand cloth to wipe my mouth, then I toss it on the plate of half-eaten steak.

"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong idea."

He doesn't try to stop me as I leave. He knows there's no point or else I'll make a scene and embarrass him in the restaurant where he often conducts his business.

I rush back to my room and realize this golden opportunity has turned into a nightmare. Is this my life now? Will every man I meet be a creep who's seen me masturbating online? I center myself. I strip down to light clothing and I sit outside on the balcony where I have the most amazing view.

The sunshine and ocean breeze are calming while I'm laying on the seat. I think about my life, I'll probably have to sell my home and look for a new career, which is tough at my age. I grew up middle-class with a tight budget, so this is nothing new.

My phone rings which snaps my concentration. I go inside and see that my daughter is calling. Isabel has always been my rock, along with a few of my best friends. But during this ordeal, she's the person I've talked to the most. Sadly she'd been sent the video by online trolls, I've never asked if she watched it or not. She's an ultra-feminist and this whole slut shaming thing has made her furious.

To be clear, both of my kids are having summer break from college. They both know.

"How was the meeting?" she asks.

"Disastrous."

"What? Why?"

"The guy is a pervert. Simple as that."

She pauses for a moment. "What do you mean? Like, you were assaulted?"

"No, no, it was a conversation. He wanted more than I could give him."

"So he was soliciting you?"

"You could say that."

"What did he want?" she asks.

I explained the whole thing without shame. We've always been honest with our problems and I really need to vent right now, to lift this weight off my chest. Plus if I don't tell her, she'll just keep hounding me until I relent.

She listens as I tell the story of Eduardo and the multi-million dollar offer. Then I go into detail about the family interest -- a white family -- that he wants. It's not a graphic conversation but I give enough information that Isabel can figure it out.

The line goes silent after I finish the story. This is unusual because Isabel has a razor sharp wit and any sort of injustice toward women always sets her off.

"Okay, mom, I'm coming over there."

"Why? I was thinking of catching an early flight tomorrow."

"No, I'm coming to see you. What's your room number?"

Arguing with my daughter is always a losing battle so I give her my room information. The tone in her voice is surprisingly somber, not the fireball explosion that I was expecting. It's like she has a secret she wants to share, a confession of her own. Whatever the case, it'll be nice spending time with her. Maybe we'll go to the beach and forget about the problems in the world.

At night my comfort comes to me. The window is open and the warm breeze fills my bedroom as I masturbate on a thick white towel. Do I miss my webcam work? All the time. I dislike that I loved it so much. But I imagine having my audience back while I make myself cum and squirt on the towel.

By morning, my mood is better and there's a knock on my door. Isabel arrives with a small luggage. She's dressed for the occasion, wearing small shorts and a tshirt, her hair is tied in a bun and designer sunglasses cover her eyes. We hug at the door, a tight one. I tell her that I miss her, that I love her. She says the same thing in my ear.

She puts her things in my room and we go downstairs for breakfast. There's a beautiful spot outside and we enjoy the hot weather with our food. My biggest fear is running into Eduardo, but I'm over that now. I hope he doesn't approach us because I know Isabel will curse him out in public.

I keep changing the subject whenever Isabel asks about me. My philosophy as a parent is that the focus should never be on me. In our family, as a parent, the focus should be on Isabel and Caleb, and she tries to respect that.

We lounge outside in our swimwear. Her idea. Spending a morning with my daughter is just what I need, it cures my soul, but it's also tarnished with the same dread I had when meeting Eduardo yesterday. I keep wondering if Isabel had watched the video of me. I wonder if she's still being harassed by online trolls.

"Do you have any plans for the future?" she asks.

"I'll probably sell the house, I don't need anything that big. You know, downsizing. Political consulting is no longer an option. I'll probably go back to sales. I have a few old friends that I can contact and hopefully land a job."

"Don't sell the house. That's where our memories are."

"I know, but we have to be realistic. You and your brother are old enough to be independent. I'll be fine."

"There's always another way. I've been thinking about that offer, you know, Eduardo's offer. Those are generous terms. I mean, how can you turn that down?"

"You remember what he wanted, right? That was a sticking point, not a suggestion. The guy is a world class pervert."

"Then we have to negotiate harder. You have more leverage than you think."

I shake my head. "Trust me, the guy seems nice, but he's out there. I'm surprised you aren't taking a harder stance on this."

"Can we finish this conversation in your room?"

"That might be for the best."

Isabel is silent as we walk past the crowds. In the elevator she keeps her eyes forward and we don't speak. I've never been so curious in my life about what she must be thinking. My instinct is that she wants a compromise with Eduardo's offer and perhaps do something privately with him. It's tough to believe with my feminist daughter, but in difficult times, anything is possible.

We sit in the living room and she unlocks her phone. She takes a deep breath.

"Swear you won't be mad?" she asks.

"At this point, my life is a comedy. Show me already."

"Okay, there are two videos here. Watch them both. Please don't be upset."

Isabel hands me the phone and I see the paused image of an erect penis in her mouth. I'm so stunned that I can't even look at her. We've talked about sex before, but it had always been about giving her advice.

This is pure pornography and I press play to watch her sucking. I want to cry. I want to scream at her. She's looking into the camera while her head bobs and her lips are pursed tight. I notice the background. Our family living room. Why would she show this to me? Has she also been doxxed and she's preparing me for the fallout? It would explain how strange she's been acting.

I wonder who the young man in the video is. An ex-boyfriend? Some random hookup? No, my son Caleb has those legs, he's an avid runner and weight lifter. Caleb swims in our backyard pool and loves to lounge under the sun in small swimming trunks. I recognize the muscular ripples on those thighs along with the exact skin tone.

No, it can't be.

I swipe to play the second video. Isabel is on her knees, sucking, and the camera is propped against the wall to record this. The young man's face isn't shown, but his tshirt with the university logo is. I recognize the dorm room. My son's. Two years ago we went to Caleb's dorm to help him get settled before his first semester started. They must have taken this quick video while I was preoccupied.

"What is this?"

"Mom, please calm down..."

I stand and lift my hand overhead to smash the phone against the wall, that's when Isabel stands and grabs my wrist to stop me. We struggle. The last thing I had ever expected was to have a wrestling match with my daughter. We rarely ever fight, and when we do, they never last long. She's younger and stronger than me, so it's a losing battle. I give her the phone back.

My breathing is out of control, from this and everything that's been happening in my life, and I center myself with deep breaths. My eyes water but now isn't the time to cry.

"Did he force you?"

"Caleb? God no, don't say that."

"Then how did it happen?"

She shakes her head. "It's a long story. The most important thing is that you should know it's happening."

"Do you two love each other? Or is it all about fucking."

"It's complicated. These things always are."

Eventually we find ourselves on the floor, my tears falling onto Isabel's shoulder as she provides the comfort I desperately need. Her gentle touch on my hair mirrors the care I once gave her. Now she's in control while I'm the mess. We stay silent in this position and I think of my future. Our future.

"What brought you here?" I ask. "Did you come here to comfort me? Or did you want the deal?"

She holds my hand. "I think you should take the deal. You have a career that's perfect for you, that you're really good at, and you'd be crazy to give it up."

"You know what Eduardo is asking, right?"

"I know. Honestly, you're right to be livid with me and Caleb because it's so fucked up. But it's also beautiful and oddly fulfilling. It's impossible to explain, and I know it's illegal, but we're consenting adults. That's the decision we've made."

"And what's the decision you want for me? Stop being vague. Say it."

"Give me Eduardo's contact information and I'll be your agent. If the deal is still available, then I'll call Caleb and have him catch a flight down here."

I take a deep breath. "For the last two weeks, all I've wanted was a sense of normalcy."

Isabel brushes my hair back, then leans forward to kiss me on the forehead, then cheek. Then to my lips. She stands and gets her phone, then goes to the other room where I can hear a phone call with her brother. It sounds like any other family call, Isabel asking Caleb if he's free to make the trip, but I know what it's really about. I should be stopping this, but I don't.

The next morning Caleb arrives with a small luggage and we greet him in the lobby of the resort. It's different seeing my son and my daughter hugging each other, knowing their dirty secret. And it feels different for me to hug Caleb because I know what we'll be doing later. We both know. He hugs me a little tighter than usual, a little longer, which is his way of apologizing for everything.

It's supposed to be my last day booked at this resort but my daughter contacted Eduardo, who extended the reservation. The terms of this arrangement are being handled by my daughter, who's my agent in the matter.

We have a family lunch together under a shaded terrace with a view of the ocean. There's a nervous tension between us, moreso on my part. The siblings sit next to each other and their interactions are flirtatious. I'd noticed this before but I had missed the signs. In hindsight it was all so obvious. But then again these aren't things parents typically look for. I force myself to eat with a queasy stomach and I force myself to laugh at their random bits of humor. In the back of my mind is the inevitable storm.

The agreed upon time is during the evening, after that we'll go have dinner to unwind from this experience, which was Isabel's idea. It's 6 p.m. and the sun is coming down. This is also another idea from Isabel, to keep the curtains open so the red-orange sky can light my body for this recording that'll be sent to Eduardo later.

I'm dressed in loose and casual clothing. I won't be naked for this first experience, that's not something I'm ready for yet. Maybe in the future, which makes me shudder to think. The three of us are in my bedroom. I start things off by removing my bottom completely, my private area covered by a loose top, and I lay on my bed where the evening sun drapes my body. This isn't as nerve wracking as I expected, mostly because I view this as doing a job, and maybe, perhaps, because I want to experience what Isabel and Caleb have been doing behind my back. The maternal side of me wants to understand them.