Maximum Badonkadonk Ch. 07

"Hey, where are we going?"

"We're gonna get you some new clothes at the mall." She answered glibly.

"Now?"

"Didn't you get Tressie's email? You know, the one about her "Youth Social"? I've got two asking you to attend and I think it's a good idea; we're getting you some decent clothes, so you don't embarrass me." I facepalmed.

"I don't get a say in this?"

"Boy, you know how many people want their kids on the youth council of our church? This is a great opportunity for us; don't mess this up!" There was no way I was telling my mother that Tressie Fisher was in reality, a crazed sexual narcissist and reprobate who cared nothing for the church hierarchy she'd been practically born into.

"Come on mom; there's no way to get out of this thing? You just got back from vacation; don't you want to rest?"

"You're going; I'm going home son. I've got jet lag, boy!"

"Thanks." She chuckled giving my head a pat as we hit the freeway offramp.

We ended up at the local mall where I'd staged a public sex scene between Andre and Shawnee. Ironically, it was the start of the toxic animosity between Shawnee and Rashida. It felt odd returning in the company of my mother socially neutered after experiencing social autonomy during her vacation. Mom was getting in some lost maternal points continually pestering me into a men's wear store purchasing a couple of shirts and slacks along with some dress shoes.

The infantilization continued as I was made to wear one of the outfits, a long sleeve white dress shirt, black slacks, and shoes for my forced attendance at the Youth Social with Tressie Fisher. After using the food court for lunch, karma reared its ugly head once again as my mother noticed the same clothing store used for Shawnee and Andre's sex scene.

"You go ahead mom; I'm gonna hang out for a minute." I begged off noticing Andre's place of employment.

"Don't you lose that stuff, and don't you go anywhere either." She wagged a finger in my face before hitting the escalator downstairs to the clothing outlet. The going out of business sale was still going on to great effect. I suspected the crowds of women running through the place.

"Got it." I waited until she was gone before getting up and walking over to the Hotdog on a Stick outlet.

It was crowded with customers, but I managed to find Andre behind the counter doing some janitorial work. I kept my table in view as I tried to get his attention. One of the girls working the counter noticed me looking in his direction and motioned. She went to the back tapping him on the shoulder getting his attention after a few moments.

Andre noticed me and I gestured towards my table hoping to get some information on his impromptu shoot with Renee. He disappeared behind a door as I walked back to my table assuming he would join me. Instead, the girl appeared a few minutes later at the edge of my table.

"Hey uh, Andre said he can't talk to you today." I was surprised noticing the nosey look on her face. She was hoping to hear something that would be gossip fodder to the coworkers.

"Thanks." I played it off taking a drink from my cup of soda.

Renee Kelly's influence had ingulfed him as well. At first I thought maybe Shawnee was the culprit, but she sounded like her usual carefree self. Her behavior was borderline hysterical after meeting Rashida, but I'd made the mistake of bringing her into Renee's circle. There was a story I'd yet to hear and now it was all about finding the right key to unlock the whole thing.

Andre's coworkers at the counter were watching me like a hawk with the same thing in mind, so I was pretty much stuck to that booth until I could slip away unnoticed. One thing I knew, was teenage girl, subsequently female hen habits at this point. Luckily, it got pretty busy there with a surge in afternoon customers just as I received a text from my mother summoning me downstairs to the clothing outlet.

"OVER HERE BOY; GET OVER HERE!!" One seriously embarrassing thing about my mother is that her voice tended to carry across vast distances. Out in public it usually made us appear as some unlikely comedy duo with me the perpetual straight man.

"Coming." My heart leapt into my throat as I found my mother making small talk with the same retail clerk who'd blackmailed me for shooting porn in the store changing booths. The other side of the counter was somewhat elevated, and this female was leaning on it having a lively conversation with my mother.

"There's three tables of stuff back there including some name brands and a rack of designer dresses thirty percent off, ma'am. Tell you what, I'll give you an additional ten percent if you find anything you like."

"My but you are a really nice girl, Charity' I think I'll take a look!" My mother was excited as Charity casually glanced at me resting her chin on her palm. She was leaning there surreptitiously smug after looking at me. There were some large plastic bags on the counter containing mom's purchased swag.

"Alright ma, I'm just gonna sit outside on the benches." I started to walk away with my own bags.

"NO YOU STAY RIGHT HERE, AND DON'T YOU GO NOWHERE!!" She barked stalking off leaving me stuck at the counter with Charity who was already sizing me up. I averted my eyes raising a hand to my chin half turning away.

"So, the undercover freak is a mamma's boy, huh?"

There was another girl behind the counter, some chubby misshapen built sister with a head full of locks, smirking as well. Charity turned in my direction arms folded on the counter as I noticed some invitingly deep cleavage accentuated by her collared work t-shirt. The other girl was smacking some chewing gum, definitely in the know.

"How much?"

"Sixty bucks man; I'm consistent." Charity stood up looking over my head towards the milling crowd in the back that now included my mother. I fished around in my pocket coming up with a few bucks, realizing I was short.

"I don't suppose you take cash app, do you?"

"I'm accessible." Charity reached under the counter retrieving her phone, a modest android.

"This how you make your money; blackmailing people?"

"Blackmailing you, mamma's boy." Charity showed me her cash app ID on the face of her phone while her coworker stood there snickering at the grift.

"Anybody ever tell you that you look like Gabrielle Union?"

"All the time, seventy bucks please."

"Excuse me?"

"Seventy bucks; now that includes a fee for the asinine question. You wanna get taxed for irritating me too." She nodded towards the now dissipating crowd of shoppers. The back of my mother's head was visible as she held up some gawdy looking shawl.

"No."

"Add another ten for my girl Shanequa here; its gonna be our lunch hour in a minute." I winced forwarding her the funds as her crappy cohort blew and popped a large pink bubble. My mother returned seconds later ecstatic with the shawl and a few other items.

"HEY THANKS A LOT CHARITY, I FOUND EXACTLY WHAT I WANTED!!" Charity took the items removing the security tags but instead of ringing them up, she placed them inside the bags on the counter.

"Glad to be of service ma'am."

"I'll pay for the stuff; you don't have to do that."

'Hey, it okay, we're going out of business here; they're just gonna toss the stuff in the garbage anyway if nobody buys it. Besides, I'm the manager here." I chafed inside knowing I'd paid for the stuff on the low. Charity didn't even try to hide her amusement looking directly at me in front of my mother.

"Hey boy, give her a tip for me!" I did a doubletake at my mother's request.

"HUH?!!" I grimaced, outraged.

"GIVE THIS NICE WOMAN A TIP FOR YOUR MOTHER!" Mom bellowed making Charity and Shanequa burst into laughter.

I reluctantly fumbled around in my pockets coming up with a twenty quickly snatched by my mother rewarded to my blackmailer. Not finished there, mom snapped her fingers in front of my face while I was still staring at my blank palm before giving me an overly rough shove in the arm. I snapped up her bags following her out of the store as both girls watched gleefully.

"BYE!!" They called after me laughing.

I stiffened up in the shoulders pausing to glare back at Charity and friend. She was holding the twenty up making a point to stick it into her deep cleavage as Shanequa continued laughing. A line was starting to form at the counter, but she had to stick it to me, as I bristled.

"You wanna go back and get her phone number son?" Mom asked smiling when I stepped outside the outlet.

"WHY?!!"

"I think she likes you son; you guys would be cute together."

"What about Tressie, aren't you selling me to her on a donkey or something?" I earned a smack to the back of the head, but my empty wallet hurt more.

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"No ma, please don't."

"Come on, open your mouth."

I reluctantly opened my mouth getting a sustained blast of breath fresher which she kept in her purse. The embarrassment continued as we sat in the car adjacent to our church thirty minutes later. She wasn't done also retrieving some lotion from the same old lady satchel type purse to slather my face with. We jostled and struggled as I was reminded of a youth getting the same treatment every time we went out as a family.

"I got it covered, please." I begged off even as she was spraying my neck with some perfume from her purse.

I'd joked earlier about being fixed up, but it seemed that was the case as I noticed something out of my peripheral vision. We were parked beside the children's daycare and Sunday school at the back of the church. My mother looked over noticing it too.

"OH HEY, TRESSIE!!" I facepalmed realizing the twentysomething Sunday school teacher had been witness to my humiliation. I got nudged in the arm by my mother prompting me to look out my passenger side window at her.

"Uhm, hey." Mom slammed a fist into my arm harder.

"OW, HELLO MS. FISHER!!" I yelled prompted by the pain.

She was standing there on the other side of the fence wearing a collared pink, sleeveless top and this billowy light blue skirt printed with these bits of white in the shape of palm leaves and what appeared to be tiny pink flamingos. It was an odd choice, but I figured her supposedly devout mother held onto her life with an iron grasp. It was the one thing we had in common. Much like my blackmailer from the mall, this woman reminded me of a celebrity as well.

Her face bore parallels, similarities to Ayesha Curry before the tragic weight loss. Even though she was dressed conservatively, her impressive bust strained against the material. She started towards the gate to meet us at the car, and I went to let the window up. Mom parried that attempt lowering the window back down from her window console. I got another hit in the thigh this time.

"It's so nice to have you." Tressie knelt by my passenger side window reaching inside to shake my mother's hand while regarding me.

"Oh I'm just dropping him off Tressie; maybe you can get him right with the lord." I cringed almost dying inside as she looked at me with this wholesome smile perfectly mimicking innocence she'd long since left behind.

"I'll do my best ma'am; hope you don't mind leaving your son with me for a few hours?"

"Wanna keep him?" I died inside a second time as they spoke like one was lending the other a cup of sugar or something. Tressie laughed giving my opposite arm an encouraging rub in full view of my mother.

"So, your mom tells me you're indecisive about the future; wanna come inside and talk about it before the others arrive?"

"Others, what others?" Tressie smiled reassuringly still kneeling beside my car door as she peered over finding my camera bag on the back seat.

"I run a Christian youth think tank, I have an open spot and your mother agrees that you would be a nice fit. I see you have your camera bag there, so maybe you feel the same way, too?" It was apparent my mother had done more than answer her emails.

"I don't know how I feel; maybe my mother would like to answer that question for me too." Mom laughed nervously while pinching my arm in full view of Tressie Fisher. I wondered what she would think about leaving me with her if she knew the woman behind the façade.

"It's okay, I hope I can change your mind about the church." Tressie laughed unfazed.

"You wanna keep him for a couple of days?" Mom added.

"Can I ma'am; it will probably take a few days to whip him into shape." Neither one of them seemed to care that I was being objectified on the sly.

Tressie stood up opening the door for me, but I hesitated. Undaunted she surprised me by stepping one door over going into the backseat retrieving my camera bag as I was half shoved from the car. Mom wagged a finger at me out of her field of vision, an obvious threat. Tressie slung my bag across her shoulder offering her hand. I looked back finding myself under more scrutiny as she took the initiative and my hand.

"I'll drop him off at eight, like we agreed."

"Sure you don't wanna keep that boy?" I did a doubletake as more surreptitious discussion was revealed.

"Be careful what you wish for; you might not get him back." Tressie joked as my mom put on some shades driving off leaving us on the sidewalk. I turned to Tressie while she was still watching the car disappear in the distance.

"Laying it on a little thick, are we?"

"You never called; you don't like my pussy or something?" Her mask dropped away like it had never been there in the first place.

"No, but your fucking brother dropped a cake off at my house while we were getting it in, bitch." I shuddered at the memory of her demonic looking brother I believed to be a literal murderer at the time.

"My mother's doing; I wasn't trying to threaten you."

"Bullshit, just like that story about Pastor Grey." Tressie glanced at me flashing a bit of anger.

"I didn't lie, about everything." She started walking back to the gate as I followed taking notice of her curves, the subtle sway of her derriere.

"Sorry."

"Prove it."

My hand shot up in an open handed slap that landed right between her cheeks, middle fingers ending up between her thighs. I boorishly worked my fingers into the billowy folds of her dress rubbing her slit. Tressie turned mashing her lips into mine shoving her tongue into my mouth. Both of my hands dug into her buttocks squeezing for all I was worth. She was a sloppy kisser molding her body into mine before remembering herself. Tressie wiped her lips backing away with a smile running a finger under her bottom lip.

"I'm afraid I'm gonna need some more proof."

I started walking with purpose backing her into the door leading into the basement bible study. My hands reached around pulling her into my body pinching handfuls of her butt. Tressie wrapped an arm around my neck using her freehand to no look open the door causing us to collectively fall inside. She gingerly released my camera bag to the floor at the side of the door. My hands got busy pulling up that tablecloth of a dress finding her bare cheeks waiting. I thought she was going commando until my fingers found a sparse bit of fabric. Tressie wore this tiny little pair of panties that left me intrigued.

"How do you get these on?"

"Wrong question, you should be asking me how I get these off." She answered kissing me passionately as her nimble fingers went after my belt buckle undoing it and my zipper quickly.

My pants were yanked down mid-hip as Tressie bent over thinking to blow me, but I had other ideas after my recent frustration slamming the door and turning her into it with force. She went with it gathering up the bottom of her dress exposing her big, semi chunky derriere.

This redbone female had a skin tone akin to peanut butter that contrasted slightly with my own as I drove my prick into her snatch. She was already sopping wet which was no surprise to me as I started clapping her cheeks like I'd just escaped from prison. Loud squelching noises filled the bible school as I took her wildly from behind.

The well-defined tan lines on her thick butt added visual enticement making me go harder in the paint. Tressie Fisher was leagues different from the last woman I'd been with, Akemi. She locked her knees in place moaning as she began pushing back into my thrusts. She started to cream almost instantly leaving this foamy residue on my cock.

Tressie was using one hand palm flattened against the back of the door, while her other held fast to the excess material of her dress. I liked the way her butt jiggled and bounced with every long stroke she received. She dipped at the hip, legs starting to shake one after the other, eventually both collectively. At this point, I was basically holding her upright savagely plunging inside her snatch.

"Tell me when you're gonna cum." She instructed surprisingly lucid.

"I'm gonna cum."

Tressie reached back disengaging us quickly turning as she squatted, open legged. She took me to the base in one motion just as I went into the throes of a frenetic orgasm. Knowing her proclivities beforehand I applied pressure to the sides of her head palming it like a basketball. Tressie Fisher liked sex rough and wild with nothing withheld.

Several burst of cum filled the beloved Sunday school teacher's gullet without missing a beat. She swallowed each in succession until I was spent breathing through her nose the whole time. Sexually dazed post coitus, I glanced down at her face still stuffed full of my tumescence. She kept her mouth open as I pulled out noticing the vestiges of my climax on her tongue.

She swallowed.

"I think I'm gonna need just a little more proof."

...to be continued.