Jeff and Jess, Son and Mother

I've never thought very long about what I get from sex. Pleasure. That's about it. Something happened, though, the night that I did Ernie and Tim from work and Dug in front of my son. Something is definitely different, and it's not entirely down to just having sex with Jeff. My son. Sex with my son. It's an infuriating misstep that I feel more than half-doomed to repeat, over and over. Something was dramatically different with him. Was it that I had full control? Or felt I did? Was it being the teacher? Shaking my head, I turn off the water and stand in the bathtub for a short while, listening to the water drain. I close my eyes. Feel Jeff's soft touch. His tongue, once we worked it out. And while I have very limited libido at the moment (I'd say none, but if he approached me to cuddle and touch softly, caressing, gently, at least me, I know I'd acquiesce with ease and vigor), I know I'll be with him again. Quietly making love to a man eighteen years younger than me. I don't do the match on Ernie, who's younger. Sexier. Jesus Christ is that man the absolute best.

But I digress. I was thinking about Jeff. And how...

He's my son.

Tilting my head at a sound I hear, something downstairs, I take my robe off the door and wrap it around myself Maybe it's just Jeff having fun with the 'Nessie again. I step out of the bathroom. There's a shriek, and then several different laughs and a very loud, "What the holy fuck! Jeff killed a nigger!"

I'm sure that was Dug's voice. But what does he mean: Jeff killed a nigger?

Where the fuck is Ernie? And how would Jeff be able to kill him? Ernie could squash Jeff like a cockroach. As I make my way to my bedroom, tiptoed, mouse-quiet, a chill moves through me. I close the door. Lock it. Rush to the bed, and sit, cross-legged, Frightened. What if he did kill Ernie?

What if I made my son into a murderer?

***

As I pull out of the apartment complex parking lot, Vanessa's lips lingering on my lips, the soft scent of her hair, even after a night of absolute debauchery, in my nostrils, the sensation of her fingers on my dick as we pulled in, I wonder if I'm failing Jess, failing my mother, and falling for someone else.

Vanessa was sweet to me as I pulled into her place. I was embarrassed asking her name, given how much insanity we'd spent doing together or near one another over the last several hours. She didn't mind. She put her number in my phone and I asked her old she was. She laughed. "Guess," she said to me and I just shook my head. "I'm legal, darlin', don't worry." So I stopped worrying about that.

As I drive up the road that connects her end of town to the outskirts where I live with Mom, I dream about being willing to call her, Vanessa, and go out on dates. How I'd be able to put the anxiety of sex and attraction and all that stuff behind. That she is and would be willing to let me inside her again.

But, what if was just one night? I shake my head. Glance at my phone. Dug is on his way. I should stop for beers.

As I pull into my house with a case of Budweiser on the passenger's seat of mom's car, I see two cars I don't know. Dug brought friends? I sigh. I actually don't want Dug around. But, I need his help with my problem in the basement. Then, I don't know. Change my number? He knows where I live. Move? Take Mom and move into an apartment where Vanessa lives and never call Dug again?

I open the door and there's a guy standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Never seen him before. "You Jeff?" He asks.

I should run. Throw the case of beer at him and run like the fucking wind. A shriek shatters the seeming calm. He rolls his eyes. Before I can move anywhere he's got a blade on my neck. "Put the beer on the floor, buddy. It's all good. All good."

I follow the instruction, carefully setting the case on the mud room floor. "What now, man?" He's wiry and smells of hard liquor. His hair is thin, his teeth are brown, two missing on his lower jaw. He pushes me with one hand into the kitchen.

"Your dead guy in the basement?" He asks. I nod. "Nice. How'd you do it? He's like huge, man."

I swallow. "Lost my shit. Beat his brains in with a baseball bat."

He turns me, looks at me. "Nice, dude." He extends a hand. "I'm Tork. Buddy o' Dug's. We're gonna be fast friends, Jeff."

I doubt it. "Sure." Another shriek, and a loud whamming sound, followed by yet another shriek. "The fuck's goin' on, Tork?"

He nods. His eyes are sunken and dark. He looks about half my weight, but close to my height. I keep thinking there's a chance I can take him, but I know better. He has a blade, and I don't have a baseball bat. "Party time, baby," he says. "I got a group downstairs, dealin' with the big guy. I assume you wanna dispose o' him, yeah?" Single, subtle nod. "We gotchu. Gonna cost, but we gotchu." Mom screams. I look to the stairs. "Dug... Dug has another agenda, and 'nother group o' guys up there with your mommy." He grins at me, a grin that makes my skin crawl. When he grins, I smell rotting and I want to retch. "Dug's all smitten with your mommy," he says. Looks me up and down. "Me, I'd be into you if you were just a couple ten pounds lighter." He shrugs. "I like my boys svelte, ya know?"

I breathe in. "He can't hurt my mom," I say, trying to sound defiant.

He nods at me. "Oh, I think he can. I know the guys he got up there can."

"Whaddaya want, Work? How do I get you guys outta here?" Trying to man up. Trying to sound like I'm not about to fucking shit in my pants.

He shakes his head, plays his blade at one of his empty gums. "Ya don't, buddy. I mean, unless you got some cash you can hand over?"

I nod. "Cash? Yeah, I got cash? How much you want?"

He laughs now. "How much you got, Jeff?" He says my name with such disdain, like he knows I spent the weekend wooing and fucking my own mother. Falling romantically in love with her. He has to know, somehow. But that doesn't make sense. Only Ernie knew, and he's dead. I shiver. "'Cause Dug, he wants your mommy real bad. An' me, I don't give a fuck, but we're out here, right? And I got guys dismantling your basement problem, so, probably take a cool six, seven grand get us out now."

My head drops to my chest. "And if you take care of my problem downstairs? How much that cost?"

He laughs, counts off his fingers with the tip of his blade. "Dismantling, that's 2 gees. Removal from the basement is another 1 gee. Removal from the premises," he sounds like a businessman, someone with experience, "that 3gees. Disposal of the problem, in a remote and undiscoverable locale, that another 3." He nods. "Ten gees."

"That was nine." I sound more confident than I feel.

He chokes a laugh. "1 gee to show up, baby." He scowls suddenly. "An' if you fuck wi' me, keep me from finishing the job, that's gonna up the ante. You understand?"

I sigh. "Yeah."

He purses his lips. "Whatchu thinking?"

I nod at him, scared shitless, hearing the sound of palms slapping skin. "Ten, Fine." I try to meet his eyes, but it's impossible to hold them long, because I want to piss myself and because I need to get upstairs to mom and because he's jittery as fuck. "How I pay you?"

He spits a loogie at my feet. "Cash, man?" Shakes his head. "What were you thinking?"

I nod. "Cash. I just need a make sure." He nods at me. "Can I go... make sure they don't hurt her?"

He laughs, puts the blade to my shoulder. "Cash, baby."

"It's upstairs," I lie. He nods. Takes the blade away. Waves me away.

***

I want to be surprised Dug is here. But, I'm not. He enjoyed his time with me before, and I faked liking him enough to make him want more. I am very surprised he has reinforcements. When the door came off its hinges, shattering into three or four pieces, and there were six dudes, all of them ugly and gross, all of them looking desperate and violent, I shivered.

A guy they're calling "The Cardinal," an older guy, maybe ten years younger than me, grabs me first. Slaps me a couple times. I'm trying to pull myself together but I'm scared out of my goddamn wits. Where the fuck is Jeff? The Cardinal pulls my robe off of me and hovers over me, drags me off the bed, and I clunk to the floor. Pain, in bursts, everywhere. Something in my spine, I worry, as he grabs at my breasts. He doesn't say a word. Just spits on me. Slaps me. I close my eyes. He slaps me again, then pulls me up by my hair, slaps me while I'm hanging there, my body stuck between trying to stand up and trying to slide out of his grasp. He slaps me again, and my cheek doesn't sting, it screams. He spits on my face. He turns to the other guys. Four guys, each of the uglier than the others. Dug in back of them. "Who's first?" He asks. I don't know if he's asking them or me. Neither do they, it seems, because no one answers. He spits at me. "That's right, I'm first!" He punches me in the ribs, and I scream loud. He shoves me face first into the bed. "I'm fuckin' her ass!" He howls.

Trouble for him is, he's not hard enough to penetrate a car exhaust pipe. I can hear the chatter, but I don't want to know the words. He flips me over, and I see his dick, soft and squishy, fat, but short. "Get me hard." He growls. Climbs onto the bed, straddling my chest while the rest of me is kept on the bed by my feet trying to support me. He jams his flaccid, disgusting little cock into my face. "Suck me off, bitch!"

I shake my head. I shouldn't do that. He punches me three times in the top of my forehead, and I cry out with each strike. I don't know why I'm clinging to consciousness. He forces my mouth open with one hand, his knees on my wrists and elbows. With his other hand, he pinches my nose. "Suck my cock, cunt." His voice a controlled, violent-sounding whisper.

I hear Dug say, "The Cardinal got this under control, mother fucker," in a celebratory tone. I wish I were in a position to kill that tiny dicked little fuck.

The Cardinal's mushy mess of impotence tastes as bad as it looks. Smells like dirt and sweat and like he hasn't washed in days. Tastes like rotten cheese, socks with holes in them, brown from not being washed. I literally feel the bile in my stomach roiling up my esophagus, gag on the piece of beef he's trying to feed me. He keeps after it. Forcing his flaccid bullshit cock in my mouth, spitting on face, in my hair, my eyes. He hits me, open-handed, on the top of my head. I'm feeling light-headed and like this is it. Like this ugly, smelly piece of garbage is going to kill me.

Jeff's voice: "Dug, what the hell is going on here?"

"Savin' your worthless life, jewboy. The Cardinal's startin', an' then we're all gone town on your slutty ass piece of trash mom, bro."

If I thought poorly of my son before this weekend got started, when he was ordering whores to my house but refusing to escort through my house, when I thought he was too weak to show up for me with Dug earlier, he proves my earlier estimation to be spot-on, if not generous, when I hear him say, "Oh. Okay, cool."

***

Dug is behind a crew that I don't recognize. He points out the old dude on top of my mom right is someone called "The Cardinal." I don't know if it's a reference to a bird, or a baseball player, or the Catholic Church official, but, he's a grody guy. Jamming his soft cock in Jess's mouth. Spitting on her repeatedly. He's like a real life version of the dudes in the gangbang videos I watch online. Only this guy is usually hard, always rough and dirty, and makes the girls howl. Mom is screaming when she can. I bite my lip at the fact that watching him try to get hard off her mouth is a turn-on.

"Dug."

"Wussup, bro?"

I indicate with my head downstairs. "What's going on in the basement?" Trying to keep my voice low.

Dug smiles at me, big, wide, but frightening. He looks like an archvillain from a comic book or Bond film. "You kill that guy down there?" I nod. "You needed help gettin' him out, yeah?" Affirmative body tremor. "Tork is gettin' rid o' him for you."

Swallowing. "Did he tell you how much he wanted for that?"

Dug looks at me, like he's considering something. "How much you think that bitch is worth?" He asks, pointing to my mom.

"What?"

"What do you think she sells for?"

"The fuck would I know?" My heart is pounding hard in my chest.

"We might consider a swap." He taps his hands together. "Plus, like three or four."

I close my eyes and listen to Jess -- not my mom, not my mom, Jess -- scream expletives at the man on top of her. He slaps her again and again. She calls my name.

My eyes spring open. Dug's grin nauseates me. Listening to that guy rain loogies down on her face disgusts me. The guys in front of Dug are starting toward the bed. They're gonna destroy her. Two of them are hard, ready to get to work. The other two are jerking themselves off, getting ready for the rumble. "Stop," I whisper to Dug. He smiles at me. "Dug, call 'em off."

He shakes his head. "Too late, bud. They're locked and loaded." He looks at me. Grins like the fucking Grinch. "What?"

"I wanna do it."

"Do what?"

I don't know. I'm not sure. My dick is hardening in my jeans. My hands are twitching with desire to run her through. I want to fuck my mom so bad, listening to her cry and whimper, calling my name for help. I want to put my dick in her ass. I want her to listen to me describe killing her black huge dick guy. I want her to know how it hurt me that she wanted him instead of me. I want my cum in her mouth to be the last things she ever tastes.

"Let me fuck her to death."

"Damn, bro, that's cold." He watches as the other four encroach on the congress of The Cardinal and Jess. They pull her whole body onto the bed. The Cardinal takes a supervisory position at the head of the bed, leaning on the wall behind him. As they position themselves, Dug names them for me, so when I jump in, I know who to remove or call out.

Olè takes her mouth with his fat, short, uncircumcised cock. Her left hand wraps around Geese's dick, which is long and skinny. Johnny positions himself between her thighs, rams his medium cock into her pussy, instantly complaining how loose she is. And Shitbag puts his fat but average length dick in her right hand. She wails when her mouth is empty, which is rare. They all put their hands on her, twisting her tits and smacking her thighs and cheeks, her breasts and belly. They laugh when her belly jiggles. Shitbag rubs his cock between her rolls, and everyone laughs. Including me.

This is going to suck for her.

***

At least this dick doesn't taste like garbage and rot. It's not that bad, but he is jamming deep. I'm tempted to bite him, but I'm not sure I survive this whole thing if I do. Jeff is dead to me. The kid in my pussy is lame, and I barely feel him. But they're torturing the rest of me. Literally, everything they do hurts. My jaw is tired, my skin is worn out. I'm ready to give in. I got no fight left.

I have no idea how long the pussy guy is in me. He jerks off, cums on my stomach. They all start to move. I hear someone call my son's name. Jeff's name. He stops being my son when he participates in this mess. He asks for my mouth. I open my eyes, see his dick. He smacks me with it, first my cheek, then my forehead. Right between the eyes. Hard. I wanna scream at him, but the fat cock in my pussy is taking some of my attention. He's not long, can't do anything real good, but he's there, I can feel him. He grunts. Jeff -- that asshole piece of shit worthless fuck -- smacks me hard with his hand, jams my mouth full of his hard cock.

It tastes good. Like the girl. He fucked Vanessa. I'm so proud. Maybe they decided to try to be a couple. Maybe he hates me for some reason, any reason, all the reasons. I swallow his cock even as he's calling me a worthless whore. I lick every bit of him I can get, because this is the last good thing that's ever going to happen to me. He tells me he's gonna fuck my ass. He pushes hard, makes me gag. I throw up in my mouth and his dick comes out covered in my bile and something. He hits me with his messy dick. Shouts that he wants my ass. "Johnny," he screams, "Get outta my way! I'm fuckin' her ass!" When there's hesitation, Dug's voice chimes in, "Do what he says!"

They flip me over. My mouth is empty, but dicks are quick to find my hands. Jeff spreads my cheeks, pushes a finger over my asshole. He says something I can't quite hear.

Then I start screaming like a mother fucking fire truck siren. He is pulling my ass apart at the hole, shoving his sloppy, slippery dick into me. Once he's all the way in, he thrusts hard. I scream and shout and I let go of the dicks in my hand. "Stop!" I scream more than once. But never enough. He keeps smashing his cock into my ass even after he grunts loudly that he's cumming in my ass. Dug is hooting and hollering. Shouting Jeff's name. There's a smattering of applause. Someone asks if they can have my ass, too.

"Fuck her till she stops screaming," Jeff -- that boy I gave birth to but who is no longer my son -- says as he pulls out. Someone else jumps in, nowhere near as long, but thick, and I start screaming again. This dick isn't covering in saliva or vomit or anything, and it instantly burns away any lubricant left behind by Jeff's dick. I keep screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and scre...

***

When I get to the basement, Dug and I are agreeing to a deal that gives him half of whatever my mom was worth. I tell him she had four or five thousand socked away. I know better, but I can't tell him the real numbers. He'll leave me with nothing, and there's no fucking way I'm coming away from this with nothing.

The floor is covered in a blue tarp. What was a huge black dude is now a hunk of cow meat on the sex machine, with limbs sawn off and lying in coagulating pools of blood and gore in the tarp. Tork is grinning like the fucking Joker. Someone named Vin is similarly wired and dangerous-looking. A huge guy, fat enough I question how he even made it down here, is sitting on my bed, directing Vin and Tork in their disassembly of the once-upon-a-time man.

Dug hoots, "Wowee, boys! That's some gnarly fuckin' shit!"

I grin slightly. It's a hell of a thing, watching them throw the trunk of a former man onto the tarp. His head rolls when they toss his trunk onto the tarp. I see his face, his eyes. He was surprised when I bashed his head in. He's gonna stay that way for fuckin' ever. Which isn't much longer.

My phone buzzes in my jeans pocket. I look at it. "Gotta take this," I say to Dug, and move quick as I can, which isn't fast, up the stairs. "Hey."

Vanessa asks me to join her for an interview at Target later. "Sure, baby. I can do that."