Mishpokhe Means Family

"Does it look okay, Honey? I know it's a little swollen, but...that Craig had me stretched to my limits, you know."

Noah climbed onto the bed, on hands and knees, to get a closer look at the abused little asshole. "Yeah, I guess. It's just...kinda red."

"Oh, good. Put some salve on it for me, nice and gentle."

Noah squeezed some on his finger and...

"Ohhh!" Sabella sighed. "That feels...wwwow! It's because it's cold, I guess. Oh my God that feels sexy! Now you've done it. Now you're gonna have to kiss my pussy...if you want to."

Noah's mouth went there, without thought or worry. The familiar taste of his mother's excited juices woke up his taste buds even more than her delicious brisket had done, and just a moment later he was eating her with moaning energy, with his nose pressed tight against her ointment-slippery asshole. Sabella was moaning, too, feeling as horny as she could remember, hoping upon hope that Noah would...

"Ohhhh, God yes!" she said, when his big cock sunk into her, deep in her pussy, where she longed for it to be. It was a slow, gentle fucking, exactly what she needed, as if her sweet son was reading her mind. It went on for a luxurious amount of time, and she came with a vibrating shudder, one that Noah was glad he experienced clear-headed. He came, too, soon after, pumping his cum deep in the squeezing contractions of his mother's remarkable pussy. His quiet sighs were music to Sabella's ears.

—

The next morning, when Noah was at work, Sabella looked out her front window and saw Millie Titchman outside. It was trash pick-up day, and Millie had walked down the driveway to greet the trash men, something Sabella had seen her do before. Millie was dressed in her usual manner—a low-cut summer dress made of fine linen, hemmed right at her knees, the fabric a colorful splash of stylized flowers. The tops of her fleshy breasts showed spectacularly, and looked especially jiggly. Sabella wondered why the trash men never dragged Millie into her garage to rape her. Of course it wouldn't technically be rape, because Millie wouldn't be at all unhappy with such an occurrence.

When the big smelly truck rumbled away to the next house, Sabella hustled out her door, waving. "Hi, Millie," she yelled. Millie stood there, lost in a bit of a daydream, watching the handsomest of the sanitation workers toss a can full of the neighbor's garbage like it weighed nothing. She snapped out of it when she saw Sabella approaching.

"Hi Sabella. What's new?"

"The sandy-haired guy with the muscly tush," Sabella said, looking his way. "He's new."

"Oh, I know," Millie said, letting her gaze drift back in his direction. "If only. Right?"

"I wouldn't say no to him," Sabella said. "Not with Mervin away."

"Saul's gone, too," Millie said. "One of these times when they're both away we should have a wild party or something. You know, last time he was away it took me a week to wash the cheap perfume smell out of all his clothes."

"Oy, tell me something I don't know already. Do you think they buy it for them? The perfume, for the girls?"

"Maybe it's because they smell bad," Millie said, getting catty. "I tell myself that, but maybe they're really nice. Maybe they look better than me."

"Are you kidding?" Sabella said. "Those sanitation guys can barely function when they see you coming down the driveway. I laugh every time."

Millie looked surprised. "You've seen me? Before? Oh, no. I hope everybody else in the neighborhood isn't watching."

"The heck with 'em, I say. Do your thing. I'm sure those boys are disappointed on the days when you don't come out to say hi."

"Do you think?" Millie said, looking wistfully at the big noisy truck that was already a block away.

"Are you kidding?" Sabella said. "When you die and we sit shiva for you, the house will be full of sanitation workers, all of them crying like babies."

Millie smiled, her face lighting up beautifully. "That's hilarious, but I hope it's true. I'd love it if Saul was left wondering."

"Speaking of wild parties," Sabella said, "let's have a little tiny one tonight. You and me and a bottle of Slivovitz."

"Ooo, I always get tipsy when I drink that," Millie said, her eyes twinkling.

"Sounds perfect, then," Sabella said. "I'll see if Noah can join us."

Millie's eyes widened. "You drink with him? For pleasure?"

"Oh, sure! We even got shit-faced together, twice now."

Millie was smiling again, her face lit up with wonder. "Oh my gosh," she said. "Was Mervin in on it?"

"Oh no," Sabella said. "Not a bit. It's a secret. I know you can keep them, and Noah's good at keeping them."

Millie nodded, temporarily speechless.

"It's a date then," Sabella said. "Seven o'clock? Or you could come for dinner..."

"No, no," Millie said. "Seven's fine."

"Good. I'm sure Noah will be here. He always enjoys seeing you."

Millie was speechless again, her mind already spinning with thoughts of what to wear, for Noah.

"You always look so nice, maybe I'll put on a dress," Sabella said. "I've got a cute little cocktail number I wore when Mervin took me to the Rainbow Room."

"Oh, wow, we're dressing up?"

"Yes, lets," Sabella said. "We can make it a habit. Whenever our husbands are away, we'll put on our finest and our sexiest, high heels and all, and we'll giggle in my kitchen over a bottle of something strong."

Millie nodded, still smiling. "Okay. I have some new dresses. I haven't even worn them yet."

"Oh, how fun!" Sabella said, smiling. "Yes, this will be fun."

—

Noah sat in his mother's kitchen, watching her wipe the last crumb off her spotless counters. It felt odd sitting there, waiting, dressed for a party when just one person was coming. Sabella had talked him into wearing his best white linen shirt and his tight black jeans, the new ones that were still jet-black and crisp looking. He didn't feel relaxed. Part of it was the thumping of his heart, due to the sight of his mother in a cocktail dress he hadn't seen before. It seemed to fit her like it had grown on her, snug but not trampy, every tailored seam curved just so, following and beautifying her already beautiful little body. The little dress made her look younger, or maybe it was the glowing happiness that wearing it made her feel. For whatever reason, she looked stunning, and sexy, and Noah could hardly take his eyes off of her.

Millie knocked at the door and Noah got up to answer it. He swung it open and another stunning sight met his eyes. He'd seen Millie in pretty dresses before, out on the street and at Temple, but seeing her all put together in her sexiest little dress, with her leggy, stockinged legs up on high heels, and her makeup and her hair glowing and smelling like springtime, well, it made it hard for Noah to breathe.

"My goodness," Sabella said, looking across the room at Millie. "You do know how to incapacitate them, don't you."

Millie giggled and stepped inside. "Hi Noah," she said, rising to her toes to kiss him, awkwardly, on the cheek. Neither he nor she had expected such a move, and Millie's face blushed with embarrassment.

"It's a shame you're not closer in age," Sabella said. "You make an adorable couple."

Noah poured three glasses of Slivovitz from a freshly opened bottle. He'd managed to say a few stumbling words to Millie, but he was glad to have the few moments of bartending to gather his thoughts. Sometimes he hated being a stoner. He disliked the word and didn't think of himself as one, but all the beer and all the weed over the years had definitely slowed his thinking a bit, stunting his skill with adult conversation. He was looking forward to getting a glass of the kosher plum brandy in his system, to help lubricate his social skills.

It was a simple kitchen party; sitting some, standing some, sipping strong brandy and snacking on rugelach and stuffed dates that Sabella had made that afternoon. Millie got to know Noah, the way she'd always wanted to, the way a girl would if she was hoping for more. She felt young as she stood there next to him, leaning against the kitchen counter. The brandy was doing its thing, and she and Noah and Sabella were feeling the buzzing warmth of it. They'd been there for over an hour already, and the smiles and laughter were easier than easy.

"I was telling Noah you used to do some modeling," Sabella said, "and you know all about his interest in photography. I don't know why I never thought of this before, but, why don't you two combine your hobbies. What with Saul and Mervin both gone, like they sometimes are, no one will know but me, and the good Lord knows that I'm as easy-going as they come. You two could work on an audition for Playboy and it wouldn't so much as phase me." Sabella winked at Millie, and Millie took it like a shot to the head. Not a gun and bullet kind of shot, it was more like the feeling she got after a big-ass shot of potato vodka, chilled, from the freezer, the way her Saul likes to serve it, only bigger, with a wham! to the head that makes you dizzy.

"Sure, we could try some pictures," Noah said, and Millie's head took another shot; another wham!

"Oh, we shouldn't," Millie said. "Should we?"

"I wouldn't have mentioned it," Sabella said, "but I noticed that Noah brought the camera home from work today, so..."

Noah smiled at his mother. She's the one who'd asked him to bring it home again, and now he knew why. "Oh, yeah. I did," he said, glancing at Millie to see if there was any interest showing on her face. To his great surprise, there was.

"I guess," Millie said, sheepishly. "I mean, if you really want to."

"You two have fun," Sabella said. "Don't judge me by the condition of his room, Millie. He never lets me clean up there."

Millie felt it again. Another wham! Noah's room! Up where he is when she listens, when she's sitting down below with her little dog, getting hornier than horny can be.

Sabella's fancy gold living room clock chimed once for eight-thirty just as the little party was breaking up. It didn't feel like it was ending, so Millie didn't hug her or thank her or say goodbye. It was when Millie crossed the short walkway outside and headed into the garage that the weight of things hit her. Sabella looked out through the kitchen door and said, "I'll see you tomorrow, dears," and then she was gone, and Millie was alone with Noah, following him up the creaky stairs to his room.

It was a mess, Noah's room, because he wasn't expecting a visitor and because it was pretty much a mess all the time. Millie learned that he wore Tommy Hilfiger boxer briefs under his jeans, because there were two pair laying around, looking used and ready for the laundry. And she nearly gasped when she saw the three wadded up tissues on his rumpled bed, tissues that he was quickly gathering and disposing of. He wasn't sick with a cold, so they had probably been used to clean up after a masturbation, that very morning, maybe. Millie's quiet gasp was partly because the thought of it had come so freely to her mind; she must have been on the wavelength of it.

The sight of his big clear glass bong surprised her, too, sitting, as it was, right out in the open, on his bedside table. A rolled up baggie of weed was next to it, and a big box of wooden stick matches. An old-fashioned milk-glass ashtray held the burned bones of the used ones, and some burned up ash and seeds.

There were empty beer bottles here and there, one next to the bed, and more dirty clothes scattered around. The only order in the room was on the walls—a collection of posters, hung perfectly straight, quite obviously curated by an ass man. The biggest was a picture of six young women, standing with their arms around each other's waists, all with their cheeky backsides toward the camera. They wore sneakers, knee socks, black thong-style panties and nothing else. One of them looked over her shoulder at the camera, and one of them had a soccer ball between her feet.

Another poster—in black and white for extra artistic affect—showed a topless long-haired blonde, facing away from the camera, one hand on her hourglass hip and the other pushing down her faded bluejeans, revealing the promising beginnings of the crack of her ass.

Another showed Britney Spears, a side view, with perky tits under a ribbed white tank top, a bare midriff, and her bubble-butt behind adorned in embroidered shorts.

There were other posters and pictures, one showing a girl blatantly topless, her nipples on high alert, her big breasts shining with massage oil. Millie was surprised by the nudity, right there where Sabella had undoubtedly seen it.

"Wow, this is...quite the place," Millie said, as she tried to make sense of the rank but oddly sweet odor of the room. "I've often wondered."

"Really?" Noah said.

"Oh. I mean...not like...a lot," Millie said, suddenly flustered, blushing in a way she knew was visible. "But...you're...right across the road."

Noah nodded, with an impish smile that was helped by the alcohol in him. "Yeah, so are you," he said. "I guess we're both curious sometimes."

Millie smiled shyly, still blushing. She thought about the times they'd looked at each other, Noah up behind his window, her down in her yard, or walking the dog on the street. She was tempted to check out the view from up there, to see it the way he sees it, but Noah's curtains were closed, and besides, she wouldn't want one of the other neighbors to see her peering out.

"Do you want a beer?" Noah asked. "They're warm, but...I kinda like 'em that way."

"Oh. Sure, I guess."

Noah opened two of the four that were left in the sixpack. He used a bottle opener from his pocket, a shiny brass one that Millie was intrigued by, but it was back in his pocket before she got a good look at it. She took a sip of the flavorful, darkish beer. "Wow, that's...really good," she said.

"You like it? Fuck, I wish I had more. Oh, sorry. I'm used to...talking to Ma."

Millie looked intrigued. "You swear when you talk to her?"

"Yeah. I probably shouldn't, but...we've gotten kind of used to it."

Millie took another sip. "I always figure guys don't swear around me because they think I'm expensive or something. Because I dress nice."

"Like, upper class, you mean?"

"Yeah, that," Millie said. "I haven't always been, though. I grew up in a real dump. When the modeling scout saw me I was dressed in my older brother's old workshirt and his dirty jeans."

"Oh, wow," Noah said. "That sounds...kinda good. I can imagine you that way."

Millie's eyebrows scrunched together. "Can you? After all these years of seeing me the way...I am?"

"Yeah. I'd love to do some pictures of you like that," Noah said, glancing down at Millie's close to perfect fifty-something body. "I mean...this dress too, but..."

Millie smiled. "Wow. You know, I miss having guys take my picture. I used to really love it. A big part of it was that I could be sexy, without my mother and father knowing about it."

"They never saw the pictures?"

"Oh, no, they saw them. They were standard catalog shots, and things like that. Nothing too sexy. No, I mean at the shoot itself. If my mother wasn't there I used to love prancing around in my underwear between wardrobe changes. I was already almost as developed as I am now. One of the photographer's assistants used to call me the cutest little Jew in New York."

Noah smiled, but Millie worried that she sounded conceited. She didn't feel that way often—she loved and was proud of her body, even as age had started to change it—but Noah set off new kinds of triggers inside her, things she hadn't felt in years. For one thing, she loved how his powerful physique towered over her by nearly a foot, a characteristic that seemed even more exaggerated under the low sloping ceilings of his attic-space bedroom.

"How long did you do it for?"

"The modeling?" she said. "About six years. Until Saul saw me and swept me into his world."

Noah nodded. He didn't want to talk about Mr. Titchman. He wanted to pretend to be a photographer, even though he was just a lowly hobbyist, and he wanted Millie to prance around in her underwear. It would mean a wardrobe change, and he already had a plan in mind to make it happen. The Cutest Little Jew of 1980 was still just as cute, as far as he was concerned, and he had a strong feeling she was ready to blossom again in front of a camera.

"Do you get high?" he asked.

"I don't," Millie said, glancing at the big bong. "I never have, I guess I should say. Do you want me to?" There was a coy little smile beneath her twinkling, beautifully made-up eyes. It looked like a dare me smile, with a yes behind it.

"I shouldn't...tell you...that," Noah said. "I mean...do you want to?"

Millie smiled and nodded. "Let's," she said. "I feel safe here. And you can carry me home if I have too much and O.D."

Noah laughed. Millie was starting to seem like a new person. Mrs. Titchman was gone, replaced by someone more youthful and carefree. It had started happening down in the kitchen, with the way she held her legs when she leaned, and the way one of her stockinged feet was almost always mostly out of her expensive high heeled shoe. Her first giggles, down there in the kitchen, were part of it, and then her loose, lovely laughs. The quick glances out the sides of her eyes, the little licks of her tongue on her lipsticked lips when she searched for rugelach crumbs—it had all added and multiplied. And then, suddenly, she sat on Noah's mattress-on-the-floor bed, with her shoes kicked off and her stockinged feet and legs curled around her. She leaned back on one arm and looked surprisingly perfect. Not because her dressed-to-the-nines perfection looked surprising, but because it seemed to magically fit right in with the fratboy mess of the room. Only a youthful spirit can do that.

"How does it work?" she asked, when Noah approached with the big bong.

"I'll show you," he said, sitting himself down cross-legged next to her. He lit the bowl and cleared the smoky chamber, getting a huge lungful.

Millie looked fascinated. "Now I know what some of the smell is in here."

"Oh, no. Is it bad?"

"Kind of," she said, smiling as she took the bong from Noah. "Okay, here goes nothing."

Noah held the flame while Millie inhaled. He let the chamber clear, watching through the clear glass as the smoke whooshed into her mouth like a voodoo spirit does in the movies. She coughed, like all first-timers do.

"That's all right," Noah said. "Ma had trouble the first few times, too."

Millie's eyes widened. "She does this with you? Wow. You know, I always thought she was the coolest woman in the neighborhood." Millie's eyes stayed wide, because the sound of her own voice struck her differently, and because Noah's face was even sexier, and because everything she looked at was amazing and somehow alive with a new beauty. Noah stood up and she reached for him, to keep him there next to her, but her grasping hand was seconds too late, even though she was sure it wasn't. "Where...where are you going?" she asked, amazed that her voice was seconds too late, too.

"What kind of music do you like," he asked.

Millie's head swiveled around, and the room seemed to be going the other way. "Ohhh! Wowww!" she said. "A record player! I haven't seen one in years!" She tried to stand, not an easy thing to do in her snug little cocktail dress. She toppled back down, onto her back with her knees up, giggling and then laughing. She looked at the ceiling as she laughed, seemingly unaware that her dress no longer hid the tops of her sheer black thigh-high stockings, the creamy bare flesh of her upper thighs, and the jet-black of her Victoria's Secret panties.

"Oh my gosh!" she laughed. "Am I high...already?"