Getting What I Deserved

"Say it."

"I like it when you fuck me."

"Say you like it when your son fucks you."

"I like it when my son fucks me."

I dipped my finger into her cooch. You like it when your son does all sorts of things to your body."

"Come on, big boy. What are you waiting for?"

OK, if mom didn't really to play this game, I had an answer for her. I was hard again.

"Stay," I ordered. I went back to her room, and pulled out her pair of high heels. She only had the one, and didn't like wearing them. I came back to my room, and Mom had turned around.

"Face to the wall," I said, and she turned around again. I slipped on her shoes, and slipped her nightgown off over her head. "Stay," I again ordered, and pulled out the bottle of lube I had also taken from her room. I greased up generously.

I cozied up against Mom again. Even with the shoes, I was still several inches taller than her. But her ass was more at my groin level now. I positioned my cock alongside her lips.

"Whose cock do you love the most?" I asked, sticking my tongue in her ear. Mom actually sort of hates that, but I know she sort of likes it too.

"Yours."

"You like it when I go deep, deep inside you?"

"Yes."

I pulled back, and placed my cock at her vaginal entrance. And then pulled back another inch, so it was at the entrance to her anal rosebud. And started to push forward.

"Wrong hole! Wrong hole, Griffey!"

I didn't bother answering. I just eased my way forward, holding mom tight. Oh man, I had forgotten how tight she was there.

"Griffey, stop, please stop."

"I thought you were still horny, Mom?"

"Not horny for that."

I started lightly fucking her. She liked my withdrawing, but stiffened a little at every thrust in, I could tell.

"You're a horny bitch, aren't you, Mom?"

"Sometimes. Please, Griffey!"

"Mom, you know, sometimes life is like chess. When you get yourself into a situation, you've got to expect the consequences."

"What...what?" Mom was having trouble finding words.

"You want to think you can outfuck me? Not going to happen."

"OK, OK. Griffey, I can't keep doing this. I'm going to fall."

"Fine, Mom." I grabbed her around the waist. "Feet up."

"Like this?" She picked up one leg.

"Both." Now, with both legs in the air, I was carrying her, while still deeply embedded in her bowels. I took little steps over towards my bed. Each step took me in and out, which felt pretty damn great. I placed her so we were back in doggy positions, but then she didn't feel like supporting herself on her elbows, so she just had her ass up for me to fuck.

I went to town, really enjoying the hot squeeze of her ass. After a few minutes, she sagged down even more, just lying flat. I had no trouble following, continuing to plow down into her. I was able to go extra long, thanks to our previous activity.

"Mom, Mom, I love fucking your ass."

Mom had no response. Finally, I blasted into her, and collapsed on top of her already recumbent form.

I pulled out, and rolled over. Mom stared over at me, her face impassive. "Is this the new normal?" she asked.

"Mom! I don't think we're ever going to have a normal."

She nodded. I thought she'd leave, but she ended up staying in my bed, and we spooned till morning. And she never played these games any more, at least I don't think she did.

Chapter 20

One Friday night, we watched a movie. Spanking the Monkey. You know, the mainstream Hollywood movie in which a guy fucks his mom. I wonder how many other people have watched it while lying in their mother's lap, her breasts unlatched, and her giving a handjob, while talking about how tame the movie is.

It's not a very good movie. You've seen it, I bet. Maybe even a few times. So, I don't find the actress playing the mom all that interesting. And she's not hot either. She has a trim body, I guess, but it doesn't do anything for me. The kid's more than a bit of a loser, too. Maybe that's the point of the movie—incest is for losers. I think Hollywood touted the movie as a comedy, but it's pretty laugh-free. As I watched it, I just wish the characters had the courage of their convictions and just fucked each other's brains out. Now that would have made for a more interesting movie. I think Hollywood also thought of this as a slow tease movie, and there have been some good ones of these. But where's the tease with these two boring characters?

Anyway, I was hoping to come in one of the sexier scenes, like a shower or bedroom scene. Instead, I spritzed during a scene with the girlfriend, which was totally lame.

A few times, I got mom to watch a porn scene in which actors play mom-son roles. Mom said she found the porniness a turnoff, especially the fact that all the women had huge breasts and all the guys had cocks the size of police truncheons. I thought she might like the scenes with Wife Crazy or Adrianna la Barbara, as their nagging tones could remind you of Mom's vocalizations. She actually preferred Melanie Skyy though, saying she thought she was more believable as a woman who just happened to be sucking and fucking her son for fun. Maybe that's the picture she wanted to believe about herself—that she was doing it because she liked it, not due to any extreme kinkiness.

Me, I liked the kinkiness. One morning, I got mom to put on my clothes and I put on one of her dresses. I've heard that some guys get turned on putting on women's clothing, especially the undies. But for me, it did nothing. It just seemed weird. Mom pretended to be me—at my suggestion, of course. It was still nice to see her pretend to take the lead. She unzipped and told me to finger her, which I did. Since that was going well, she then told me to suck her. I pretended to be her, and complained a little. But she made me do it, which I happily did anyway. She took me to bed and hiked up my/her dress, so my cock was standing up. And she lowered herself on top of me, taking control.

A few strokes later, she proclaimed, "OK, I came, we're done," and rolled off. "Ha, ha," I thought. "Yeah right." I rolled right over on her, and put myself back in. "Do I have to remind you how a man fucks?" I asked. I rode her like a member of the cavalry trying to save the out-of-control stage coach before it goes over the cliff.

Afterwards, Mom said, "Griffey, you're the best lover I've ever had. I just wish I could be as good a lover to you. But I'm your mom. I shouldn't be your best. And I can't be. I just get so confused when we fuck like that."

"I don't mind, mom. Right now you're my best because I haven't fucked anyone else. I'm sure I will at some point, so I can compare then. Yeah, I wish you could get into it more. But I'm happy with what you're doing. I know it's hard for you. And so is this," I said, twinging my dick, still in her pussy. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm almost getting to the point where I'm glad I'm not going to college next year. Working and fucking you is better."

Mom gulped. "I've got to go, Griffey. I'll see you later."

Mom was always full of news I couldn't care less about. Until one evening, she started with, "Guess what Uncle Pat recently bought."

"A jet ski."

"No. Guess again."

"A St. Bernard. A Ferrari."

"Nope. You'll never guess. He bought a professional barbecue pit oven."

"Really!"

"And get this. He wanted to use it to augment his business. Have people come to his lumberyard for the lumber and stay for the barbecue, or come to the barbecue and then buy some merchandise. But the guy he hired to run the barbecue wasn't any good, and he had to fire him last week."

I could see where this was going, and I was practically twitching in excitement. You see, some kids are huge sports fans. Some kids are math geeks. Some kids, well, whatever. I had gotten hooked on TV food shows at around age eight, and with my mom lying in bed from her depression, I had been the main cook in the family already for almost 10 years. I idolized guys like Guy Fieri and Emeril Lagasse—all male chefs, pretty much. And the thing I like most of all was barbecue. Our house had a huge collection of sauces. But I didn't have a smoker or anything like that. I just used the lowest setting on the oven. That can make some good stuff, but not the real thing.

"I'm going to call Uncle Pat right now."

"You don't have to. I already told him you'd be interested, and he said he'd think about it. But I think he likes the idea."

"I'm calling him right now."

"Why don't you wait till after dinner? He won't make any decisions until then, I'm sure."

I didn't call. Instead, after dinner, I jumped in the car and drove over to Uncle Pat's house. By then I had my pitch all ready. I told him how I had been accepted at the CIA. And how mom had ruined my chances to go, and how I was just about to quit school and run away. And how I had always wanted to be a pitmaster, and this was my big opportunity. I had so much I was going to say, but Uncle Pat, God love him, cut me off.

"You've got the passion, and that's what I wanted to see. The job's yours."

"How much is the pay?"

"I was paying the last guy $15 an hour, but he had a lot more experience than you. So let's say $12.50."

"Tell you what. I don't want to be paid by the hour, because I think this job is going to take up practically all my non-sleep time, and I don't want to feel bad about working so many hours. So could we make it a business arrangement? You'll front me the money for the ingredients and everything else. Subtract my expenses from the gross, and I'll get half the profits."

"Griffey, take my word for it, you'll get a lot less that way. Why would you do that?"

"Because if I'm successful, I'll get more."

"True, but you've never done this before. You'll be feeling your way for a while."

"I have confidence in myself. I'll make it work."

"OK, but if you want to change the arrangement later, we can talk about it then."

We shook hands. And with that, I, Griffey Funderburk, was a high school dropout, a businessman, a chef, and of course, a real live motherfucker.

I had found my calling.

I quit my job. I was surprised when the manager begged me not to, and even offered to raise my salary. I thought he barely knew I was there. Still, it was a boost to the ego. I threw myself into the business. There was so much to do, so much I didn't know. I bought books on how to run a restaurant. I had already been a big fan of the Food Network, so I already knew some things, but more things not to do, rather than actually how to make good decisions. I had to come up with a name, a décor, a menu. I had to figure out hiring and schedules and price points and sourcing.

Once I started, my sex drive went down a lot. I was totally consumed by my mission, and the messages my groin sent me from time to time were easy to ignore. Mom was no big help, as usual. She might have thought she was keeping me on an even keel, by reminding me not to work too hard. Instead, she was just being annoying. She didn't understand how rewarding it felt to work hard, and to have results from it.

I didn't touch her sexually for two weeks. She tried to get me to give her a back rub or asked me to make a fancy meal at home, but I brushed her off.

"Griffey, this Friday, I'm taking us all out for a celebratory dinner."

"What are we celebrating, Mom?"

"Your new restaurant."

"OK."

"Where do you want to go?"

"You know where I really want to go? North Carolina. There are three places most famous for barbecue in this country. Kansas City, Texas and North Carolina. I'd like to go to all of them but North Carolina's the closest."

"Well, I was thinking of some place closer. We can't drive to North Carolina and back in a weekend."

"We could fly."

"I'm finally putting a little money aside. And you have to save your money too. No can do."

"I understand."

"Is there any other place you want to go?"

"How about Lake Innebasca?"

"I was just thinking of a restaurant for Friday night. If you want to go to Lake Innebasca with your friends sometime, you should do it."

"Fine. You want to go to the Bounty restaurant in the Marriot in Reynolds?"

"Excellent choice."

That Friday, when I got to the restaurant, I got a text from Mom, saying she and Drieka had hit a snag and were going to be at least an hour late.

I went to the restaurant and adjusted our reservation, then wandered over to the bar and ordered a Coke. I figured I'd try to learn more about the bar scene.

There was a very attractive middle-aged woman there who was the absolute center of attention. She had absolutely fabulous hair, and great skin. I'd say she was around 35, but I'm not so good at guessing, and she might have been a good bit older but looked good for her age. Guys were hitting on her left and right, and striking out just as fast. Still, she was getting a lot of drinks out of it. I saw her put away seven drinks in about 45 minutes, which seemed pretty impressive. It slowed her down a little too, she let guys hang around a little longer before sending them away.

After some paunchy short guy had his turn, I figured I'd give it a go myself. I had no expectation of succeeding with her, but I'd never tried to pick up a woman before, let alone a mature woman at the bar, so I'd see what it was like, and how long I could possibly last.

I saw my opportunity and filled the spot the paunchy had just left. "It looks like no one is up to your standards tonight," I said.

The lady looked over at me. "I am very picky," she said. She had a little thrill to her voice, which was very sexy. I hadn't heard that before. Suddenly, I was a lot more interested in sticking around. She looked me over in a fairly blatant way. Thankfully, I had dressed up for the occasion. "How old are you?"

"You come to the point very fast," I responded. "I could ask how old you are too, but I don't think that's the most important thing I could learn about you."

"And what would the most important thing be?"

"Your favorite positions." I could hardly believe the words had come out of my mouth. Part of me wanted to slink away after saying it. But the other part won out, and just watched for her reaction.

She took it well. She went back to her drink, and then said, "Well, that's what's on your mind. On my mind is, I don't want to waste my time with a 20-year old virgin."

"I've had women older than you." OK, I left alone the misstatement that I was 20, and it wasn't true I had multiple women older than her. Just one, multiple times.

"Oh, really? You've had women old enough to be your mother?"

I nearly laughed. But if this was working, I decided to keep playing. "Sure. And had them begging for more."

"You're in college, right?"

I shook my head. "I co-own a restaurant."

"Kiss me." She said this in a very unromantic way. More of a challenge.

"I will, but first you kiss me."

She looked surprised at my refusal. But then she gave me a really sexy kiss. I could sense a lot of eyes were on us.

"Wow," I said. "That was a hell of a kiss. Now my turn." I leaned in, and she turned her head away.

"Room 312," I heard her say.

"Nnn?" I asked, not picking up immediately on her meaning. Thankfully, she thought I hadn't heard her. She repeated the number, and then picked up her clutch purse.

I watched her leave, then followed her up to her room. Knocked twice, and she answered by giving me a big kiss as soon as she opened the door. We tore off each other's clothes. Maybe she was close to mom in age, but bodywise and facewise she was completely different. She was a lot trimmer, and a lot more traditionally beautiful. Her hair in particular was more attractive, even glamorous.

"You've got a condom, right?" she asked, as we were down to our nothings.

"Er, no."

"That's OK. Got one in my purse."

She fished around for it. I mused to myself that I had never been unfaithful before, nor had I ever worn a condom. Well, first time for everything.

She flipped me the condom. I used my alien voice: "Humans. So primitive." I got the condom on. "What is your desire, earthling?"

"Just fuck me as hard as you can, cowboy," she responded.

Inwardly I thought, "yes, ma'am." And I did just as she asked.

We did a lot of missionary, though we went through a couple of other positions too. I rarely did missionary with mom, as I'm not found of looking into my mom's face as I fuck, you know? But it was fine with this woman. She was kinda beautiful, despite her age, and I liked watching her orgasm.

We lay in bed afterwards. "What next?" I asked.

"You leave."

"OK. You want to know my name?"

"Not particularly."

"You want to know how old I really am?"

"No. OK, go ahead."

"I'm 18."

"So you lied to me."

"No. When?"

"When you said you owned a restaurant."

"No, that's actually true." I told her the name. "If you're ever in my neck of the woods, you should drop in."

"Only 18, my god. Were you a virgin?"

"No," I said, dismissively.

"If you're only 18, where you'd learn to fuck so well?"

I thought for a second as to how to answer. "Been fucking my stepmother for a while now."

"Hm, older woman, like me. You got a thing for older women?"

"Maybe."

"Yeah. I fucked my brother when I was younger. He was six years older than me. Does that shock you?"

"No. Did you like it?"

"It was OK. He loved it."

"I can imagine. You're a pretty great fuck."

"Thanks," she said. And she gave me a short, sweet kiss. "Now get out of here."

I left, my mind awash in thoughts. I had just been unfaithful to my mother. Weird. And I was imagining what it would be like to have a threesome with my mother and this woman whose name I didn't know. Was that possible? Probably not. Especially because I didn't know her name and would probably never see her again. And this quick pick-up was the first time I had fucked a woman who wasn't my mom. And it was pretty good, but why was it that she was so much older than me? Was I boy candy? Or was I just attracted to older women? That didn't seem likely, because when I saw a girl my age walking down the street, my cock would go sproing in my pants.

So many thoughts. And yet there was that basic satisfaction of getting ones rocks off successfully.

I threw myself into creating my restaurant. I've never been so driven in my life. I was working 12 hour days and loving it. That alone was a new experience. I went to sleep because I was falling asleep on my feet. I dreamed about the place. It was all encompassing. The sex with mom dropped off to almost none. I would have worked seven days a week, but mom convinced me I'd burn myself out that way, so I kept Sunday as a rest day, and a fuck day.

With a month to go before our opening day, it was time to hire staff. I got some advice on how to do that from my old boss, but it didn't resonate. I called up a couple of friends from school to see if they wanted to work with me over the summer, and only one did—Tyler, who's a bit of a loser. All the others already had jobs lined up. I was disappointed about that, but I guess I should have seen it coming. I made Tyler my busboy/cleanup guy, and offered him minimum wage plus a cut of the tips. I was half afraid he'd say no, and half afraid he'd agree. He agreed, and that was good.

And then I got a call from Ellie. It was kinda surreal. My phone rang, I said hello, and she said, "Hi, this is Ellie Ross. You remember me?"

Do I remember her? The most beautiful and sexy girl in school? The one I had the hots for since ninth grade? "Oh, yeah. Hi, Ellie. What's up?"

"I heard you might be hiring for a restaurant."

"That's right."

"Do you need a waitress?"

"You'd be interested?"