Jeff and Jess, Son and Mother

Moms shouldn't have sex. I think we can all agree that is just a rule of life. Moms shouldn't have sex, probably shouldn't talk about sex, and they sure as shit shouldn't be all up in your sex life asking who you're seeing or cockblocking you from your sluts and whores. I mean, she's gotta get the fuck out of the way. So, we fight a little over who gets to fuck where.

Been awhile since she brought a guy home, at least that I know of. I haven't actually left the basement in a couple weeks. Seems dismal and gray, but it's not. The basement is fully finished, high pile carpet on the floors. Full bathroom. Room for a queen size futon bed, a desk where I have my laptop, a table for the TV and my Xbox. I have a trashcan that's currently overflowing. At some point, I'll take care of it. Or someone will drop in and see how much it reeks and deal with it for me. Because, what's the point of friends, otherwise, right?

I straighten the sheets on the bed and I turn the TV on to something on ESPN. I don't really give a shit for sports, but Dug does. And I wanna please him. Not like that, get your mind out of the gutter. I sit in front of the TV for a few minutes, letting the screen wash over me. Listening fully and completely zoned out while some guy makes dumb puns and a woman screams about something that happened on the screen, but I can't help thinking she should be screaming because her anchor partner is molesting her. Pushing her down round his lap. Messing up her hair, and jamming his junk in her face while she's trying to talk about the NBA. That's what I'd do, if I worked at ESPN. Shove my junk in chick's faces. God, that'd be sweet.

Seems like it's been a bit since Dug said he was coming. Check my phone. Twenty-five minutes since he said twenty, so maybe he's just running a little late.

An ad pops on the TV screen. One of those tear-jerker jerk off ads where someone wants to call their grandpa or something dumb. Makes me sick. Makes me remember I don't have a father. Or a kid. And probably never will have either. I hate my dad. At least, that's what I've told myself over the last twenty-something years. And kids seem like the worst. I'm in no shape for having kids. And I don't like to cum in a girl's pussy, because I'm way not into having a kid. Just: no.

I finally hear something upstairs. Dug has my key to the house, because I never leave. Of course, mom doesn't know, because she hates Dug and his buddies with a burning passion. I hear him and another voice. The basement door opens, and I hear the voices talking to one another. "No fuckin' shit, really?" Dug is saying.

"F'real, dude. Like, I was right there, outside the kitchen, and she's just like, nah, you can't stay here, and you can't fuck my son, and let's take you to my job where I don't hire hookers!" Girl's voice. A little high-pitched. She sounds cute.

Dug and the girl take their time coming down the stairs. She is cute. The girl from Dug's pic earlier. She carries the pizza down, looks for somewhere to put it, doesn't say hi or nothing, just drops it on my bed. She looks at me. "Hey," she says. I can see right away she's high on meth or Aderrall or something like that. She sits not the bed.

Dug carries a case of Bud Light. He nods toward the girl. "Name's Tre. Says she was here earlier, your mom wouldn't let her in."

I stare at her, flabbergasted, and she nods. "She's a real cunt, your mom."

Tre is at most twenty-two years old. She's short, small, but I like the tat on her arm. She leans across the bed, says, "I'm available, for, you know, if you guys wanna pay for something extra."

Dug looks her over for a second. Then says, "I dunno, Tre. Jeff 'n I are good buddies, but I'm not sure we're threesome buddies. Ya know?"

She shrugs. "Just take turns." She's an entrepreneur. I like it. And also, I'm really fuckin' horny now. I'm with Dug, though. I'm not sure I wanna fuck anyone he's just fucked, and vice versa. "I'm here. May as well get paid for bein' here." She ignores the pizza altogether while Dug and I open the box and start jamming pepperoni slices into our faces.

While I'm spilling grease all over my chin and t-shirt, I say, "Maybe, honey." Shake my head. "What'd my mom say, not letting you in?"

She tells me and I get nine ways of pissed off. How dare my mother refuse me my properly ordered and wholly on-time sex worker. I need to get off. Does she not understand this? I mean, fuck, man.

Dug chews and watches the two of us. "I could see you fuckin' her," he says, a little out of the blue.

"Me, too," I say.

She laughs. "That's why the fuck I'm here, man." She stands up, stretches. Shows her little titties bustin' out from the bottom of her shirt and her fresh-shaven-looking underarms. I don't like admitting I like a smooth underarm. I don't think guys like talking about armpits. I don't, that's for sure. But, her smooth, pure white armpit: that's class, right there.

She looks at me, emits a low purr. "You wanna fuck me, right?"

"Yes." I reach out to her. Pull her to me. She tugs away, just a touch. "What?"

"You got a hundred bucks?"

I stare at her for a second. "Yeah."

"Pay me."

"You're here, though." I mean, what am I gonna do, fuck her and throw her out without paying. Sure, I did that a few times, but so what?

"Pay me." She pulls her top off. "I'm here, Ima do what I'm here to do, but fuckin' show me the bill." She's a tasty little treat. Small, round tits. Bright pink aureolas. Nipples are both pierced. One with a cross or a T, the other with a bar. Never seen mismatched piercings before.

I glance over at Dug, who's sipping his can of beer, watching but his face is expressionless. I can never tell what he's thinking when he's thinking. There's a chance he's thinking of slitting her throat. At least as big a chance of that as he is of fuckin' her.

"I gotta pay you in an app. Which you want?"

She eyes me, looks down at her nipples. Plays at the one with the bar piercing. "Apple Pay's good."

"Android Pay?"

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. I kinda wanna punch her fuckin' skull in. "Cash app."

Dug chimes in, first time he's said anything in a bit. "I use Venmo."

She nods. "Venmo's fine."

I stare at him silently for a few seconds. "Yeah, alright."

She turns the nipple and I'm drooling watching her play with her tit. "Pay me." Her voice is less mean and insistent. She might be gettin' turned on. Maybe findom is her thing.

"And if I don't?"

She looks at me, sheepish with her eyes, sexy baby pout mouth. "I'll be sad."

For more than a second, I think she wants me to knock her out. Then, I think she just wants me. I reach for her. She winces, steps back. "I'll pay you three times your price if you fuck me right now." She doesn't hesitate to straddle my lap after this offer. She lets my mouth take in the tit she was toying with. Runs her fingers through my hair. I see the looks she makes. I'm balding and I hate it and it sucks but it is what it is. Men in my family start losing their hair after thirty. What am I supposed to do?

When we're sufficiently turned on, I lie back. She drives, pulls my sweatpants down, ignores whatever smell emanates from my undercarriage -- I don't remember the last time I showered, no shit -- and takes me in her mouth. I love it. She's good. I'm easy to deep throat, and nothing worth gagging on. She shifts gears pretty fast. Pulls her jeans down, no panties, and mounts my erection. She fucks me for about six or seven minutes. I cum. She fakes it and I don't care. She gets off of me, asks where the bathroom is.

She moves to the bathroom quickly. While she's out of sight, I pull my sweats back up. Look up and there's Dug, sitting there, his dick out, beating it. I haven't seen anyone do that since... "What the fuck, man?"

"She's hot. And I think we should double-team her. Whaddaya say?"

"I just--" She strolls back in.

She moves to Dug, seeing his cock in his hand. "Your turn, lover?" She asks. He arches an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah, okay," I say. She doesn't know what I just agreed to. And Dug never gives any information. He shoves her to me, gets up. She squeaks and struggles against me as I wrap my hands around her tiny arms, pull her onto the bed. I didn't know we were gonna do this, but I'm up for it. Dug is on top of her like a damn tiger on a gazelle. He's pushing her jeans down, fingering her. She stops struggling, just lays there and lets him in.

"Put your dick in 'er mouth!" Dug shrieks, kinda shrill, like this is a moment that could pass us by if we're not quick about it. So, I drop my sweats again, jam my soft dick into her mouth. She's game, really, but she looks scared and annoyed. She grunts as Dug smashes her. She's good, though. Gets me hard, sucking me with ever tighter lips and jaws. After about five minutes, Dug' cumming on her belly, and I'm shooting a load into her throat.

I'm sweating. Dug looks absolutely deranged. He gets off of her goes back to my gaming chair. Grabs another slice of pizza, takes a bite. Watches her gather herself. "That was fun," he says.

She stares first at him, then to me. "You guys owe me like six hundred dollars now." Dug laughs. "What?"

"I ain't payin' you six hundred for that."

She puts her hands on her hips. Steely eyes at him. "You just assaulted me, dumbass. I will file fuckin' charges."

"You offered to fuck us both." They stare at one another a few seconds. Tension in the silent air.

"Five."

I nod, and Dug agrees. "Five."

She holds a hand out. "Cash."

"Now, wait a minute."

I jump up from my futon and walk to the desk where Dug is sitting. I unlock a drawer in the desk, find a key, then take the key across the basement, to a wall safe. I unlock the wall safe, pull out five Benjamins, and close the wall safe. Put the key in my pocket. "Here." I hand her the money. She looks it over, nods. "Do you need an Uber or something?"

She looks at me, then at Dug. "Nah, I'll take care of it." She walks by me to the stairs. "Hey, you," she says, pointing at me. "Take a fuckin' shower, sometime, huh?"

Dug laughs.

I --

I lose it.

***

Dug's watching with a look on his face that says he's proud but also pretty fuckin' freaked out. The girl, Tre, is unconscious and naked on my futon. I've been ravaging her for the better part of an hour. Beating her. Kicking her. She is bleeding from the chunk of flesh I pulled out of her tiny tit. I can see again, finally, and I don't love what I'm looking at. I see her, and for some reason I can't begin to explain, I just spit on her. Right on her pussy. Big glob of saliva and phlegm and some blood, either from where I bit her or maybe I'm bleeding from keeping my jaw clenched so tight, my teeth cut through the gums. I dunno.

"Is she -- is she dead?" I ask, my voice hoarse from shouting and screaming and rail-moaning.

Dug shrugs. "She's out. Been out for a while. You came twice since she stopped fightin' you."

I shake my head. "She shouldn't a said anything," I say, trying to excuse my behavior to Dug for some stupid reason. Maybe to tell myself she deserved it. But, we all know that's not the case.

Dug nods his head. "She had it coming, no fuckin' doubt, man. I just didn't know you had that in you, man."

I nod at him. He doesn't know where I've been, what I've done. Why I'm in my mom's basement instead of somewhere on my own, scoring bread and fuckin' bitches who might wanna fuck me. I sigh. "Yeah." I sit down next to her. Watch for a few minutes to be sure she's breathing. I look up at Dug, who's standing there. I can see he's thinking about smashing her again, while she's out. "Help me drag 'er outta here," I say. I stand up. Push him out of my way. "Better, can we put her in your car, dump 'er somewhere? Bus station or something?"

He looks at me. Smiles. "Seven-eleven," he says, devilishly.

"Whatever," I tell him. I lift her up over my shoulder. She's light. I get a few feet toward the stairs when I realize I'm not wearing any clothes. "Fuck." Under my breath. It's gonna be a weird night. Or is it daytime? I can't tell down here in the basement. Fucking mom and her closing me out to the rest of the house.

***

Three a.m. doesn't come soon enough. The store's closed, but we have inventory processes to run. There are people who do that for me, but I never trust them. Check them and always, always, always, find mistakes. It's like they're retarded or something. I know, that's not politically correct, but I don't care. After they fix the errors I found, we head out. Tim Weston, a decent enough guy, asks me to join him for a beer. I point to my watch, and he points to his crotch. I shrug.

He drives. We end up at St. Peter's Pub, the only place nearby open this late, and it's the wrong way form my house. If I gave even half a shit that my son was home alone... but he's an adult. I'm a horny female with needs. I'd call Ernie if he'd answer, but I'm sure he's sleeping next to his stupid wife and her stupid hair and her big tits and fat ass. I pound the first beer real fast. Tim grins when he sees me shotgun it. He's been looking to get into my pants for a while.

He has three things working against him: he's white. He's smaller than I like them. He's about my size, weight-wise. Listen, I'm not into body shaming. I know I'm a thicc girl and I'm okay with that. Too old to lose lots of weight, not without vomiting up lunch and dinner every day. So, I'm the fat white woman that scrawny (and brawny) black dudes like. I'm not being racist, it's just my experience. Black guys love me and I love them. Just how it is. Tim's probably heavier than me, but he's built like me. Has tits. Has a pear-shape about his belly and hips. He's not a physical match. But, maybe I just need to let someone love me down a little bit. Maybe I just wanna get fucked.

The second beer goes down easier than the first. When the third one is gone before Tim's done with his first, that's when we both know someone's getting lucky in about half an hour.

He's fine. He fucks me in his pickup truck. Drops me off at my car. I'm home by five in the morning. I feel a little stupid. But, it's whatever, like the kids say. I needed it. I got it. Not a choice I'm likely to make again anytime soon.

I wander up to my bedroom on the second floor. I think about Jeff down in his basement, masturbating to porn. I'm sort of drifting off to sleep when I hear a car pull up. I lay in my bed, trying to ignore it.

"That was fuckin' amazing, dude!"

If my son is an idiot, a retard, a lazy no-good piece of shit, his friend Dug, is king of pieces of shit. He acts like the world owes him something. Walks around like he's god's gift -- he's not, ladies, think pinkie, then divide it in half. Not micropenis, but fuckin' close. He's a damn moron. Comes around, gets Jeff all riled up, then disappears for months at a time. Which is fine by me. But, I'm never glad he's around.

They're loud as hell coming in the house. I glance at my radio clock. Five thirty-seven a.m. Noted. I sigh. I can hear them popping my beer cans and chugging them in my kitchen. I'd go argue with them, but I'm too tired. I hear them laughing about something. Dug says, "The way that dog went after her!" And they crack up. No idea what they're up to, but sounds like the typical no good bullshit that follows both of them everywhere they go. Worthless pieces of shit. Just glad both of 'em aren't mine.

***

I stare at Dug like he's lost his goddamned mind. Which, maybe he has. "No!" I shout at him. I march down the stairs to my place, stumbling a little, but not so much as to fall down the stairs. That's no fun. Been there, done that. He follows, but when he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he just stands there.

"Come on, man!" He looks like a petulant brat, and I refuse to accept that's what I look like when my mom won't give me my way. I probably do but I refuse to accept it. "Could be fun!"

I stare him down. We haven't had a lot of adventures where I play alpha male, and I sort of feel like he's trying to regain that alpha male feeling. I mean, I just dragged us off to the city, where we dumped my whore and watched as she woke up on a subway track and started screaming and running. It was wild. Truly, fuckin' wild. Best money I ever spent, then stole back.

I don't think she'll be giving me a good review in the website where we met. Maybe I should delete that account. It's crossing my mind and I've sort of forgotten Dug wants to do something ludicrous when he says. "Fine. I'll go alone."

I shrug at him. He wants to mess with my mom, that's up to him. What he wants to do is sick. I'm not partaking in that shit. He stomps up the stairs. I watch the stairs for a short time. Wait for him to come right back. I'm listening. I can hear his boots on the stairway to the second floor. Think about leaving. Following. Shake my head, look at the clock. It's early for loud music, but fuck it. I crank up the stereo my dad left behind all those years ago with Beastie Boys, his favorite. I don't wanna hear anything from the second floor. Not now.

***

Dug is standing there in my doorway, beer in one hand, his dick in the other. He pops on the lights, so I can see him. "Been a long time, Jeff's mom," he says to me. He has a cute smile for such a worthless pile of shit.

It's been years since I was with more than one man in a night, and I don't remember three in the same twelve hours. But, I'm sitting up, watching that idiot stroke his cock in my bedroom doorway, and I had Ernie, and I did Tim, and I'm right about to fuck Dug here because watching him actually turns me on. I'm an idiot. But, he's a kid, and it's kinda cool that he's into me. So, I pull the sheets off of me, show him I'm wearing a t-shirt, threadbare, holes all in it, and nothing else. I ran outta underwear. Tomorrow's laundry day.

He nods and struts in like he knows what he's doing. He's however old he is, Jeff's age, and he acts like the child he is. He puts the can of beer on my nightstand. I snatch it up, chug it and toss the can across the room.

"Damn," he says, awed by dumb things.

I shimmy down. "Get that over here," waving his cock to my face. He presents it like it's something to be proud of. I take him in my mouth, and while he was mostly hard when he got on the bed, he's all the way hard in my mouth. Tastes like sweat and metal and... pussy, maybe? Cum, for sure. I make sure he's fully erect. "Okay, let's get going, pal. I wanna sleep."

He shifts down to my spread legs. Looks at me a little concerned. "Did you wanna--"

"No, just get your dick in there and fuck me."

He's completely caught off guard. "Okay."

He starts. I almost laugh, he fails to find anything right. His tempo is bad. He doesn't have the length to get my g-spot, and lacks the girth to even make me know he's there. Maybe he is a micropenis. I don't know the rules. He looks up at me, sees me not even trying to fake enjoyment. He slides out. Stares at me.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, Misses... I don't know your name."

"Jess."

"Sorry, Jess."

"For what?" He looks like he's gonna cry. "Don't worry about it. Just find a way to please me."He ponders this suggestion for a moment, staring at my pussy, just staring down there like the meaning of life or a million dollars could be discovered there. Trust me, nothing like that down there. He looks up at me. His face changes. Looks a little like Private Pyle from that movie.

He howls, stands up on the bed, and starts jumping up and down like a fuckin' monkey. I broke him. I laugh and he jumps up and down, pulling on his dick every so often. I watch him, and when I'm done with my bed being a bounce house floor, I grab at his ankle, pull him to the matress. "What the fuck was that?" I stare at him. He stares back, glares back, his eyes full of methamphetamine and uncertainty. Till, for one second, maybe two, an idea fills his mind, and his eyes twinkle.