Trailer Park Momma's Gooey CreamPie Pt. 04

It'd been three days since they began their self-imposed prohibition and during that time they both learned that even the most trivial infraction would amplify their mutual longing and so Jemima had insisted that they refrain from even the smallest touches or kisses. They began to avoid each other as much as possible but occasionally the cramped confines of the trailer forced them to exchange a friendly smile or a word or two. This was the totality of their contact and it appeared to be working; a complete denial of illicit perversions was reducing the frantic need to drag each other into bed and fuck like demons.

Jemima, however, was plagued by loneliness and resumed her heavy drinking. Benjamin resumed his former existence, working at the discount store during the day and choking the life out of his poor, mangled penis at night. A few more days into their nookie ban, Jemima visited him at his workplace, McFrugal's Discount Outlet, to use his staff reduction to make a crate of their own-brand vodka even cheaper. The fact that it tasted like paint thinner did not matter to Jemima, it did the job of blurring her edges. Benjamin was walking with her, carrying a paper bag of her purchases to the bus-stop.

"Momma Jem?" he said, peering into the bag, "There's a lot of booze here. Are you planning my birthday party?"

"Mm? No, no it's just for me."

They waited at the bus-stop together. Jemima was looking extraordinarily pretty as the noonday sunlight dazzled through her frizzy blonde hair and the light breeze caught the hem of her periwinkle blue dress and lifted it up to offer a teasing view of her black, rose-patterned pantyhose. Benjamin, in his lumpen, itchy store uniform, was besotted.

"Y'know? That really is cheating," he said after failing to stop his eager eyes from roaming over her barely-covered curves.

"What is?"

"You can't go around looking as glamourously beautiful as that and not expect every man you meet to fall head over heels for you."

She stared at him for a moment then broke into her wide, easy, gap-toothed grin.

"Including a certain young man?" Jem asked.

"Well, um, y'know, I'm... not immune to your charms."

"I'll take that as an innocent compliment," she said, swishing her summer-dress in a play of shyness.

They gazed into each other's eyes, the last time they had done so was when they'd been physically connected in a sweaty, fluid coupling. She reached out and touched his cheek.

"We're doing the right thing, my love," she said.

"Yes, Momma Jem."

She looked like she was going to speak but decided not to. The bus arrived and Jemima departed, lugging awkwardly her heavy bag of bottles. Benjamin walked back to the discount store and met his colleague Freyja, a sardonic goth girl that he had a more than little crush on, smoking by the garbage skips. She expertly flicked away her cigarette butt in a long arc and walked with him.

"Were you trying to pick up that woman?" Freyja nudged him with her elbow.

"What? No!"

"You sure? Seemed pretty friendly to me. You dawg!"

"That was my Mom."

"Oh."

Freyja pondered this for a moment.

"Ben, your Mom's hot!"

"Erm, thanks?"

"Must be where you get it from."

He looked at her and she smiled, unsure of herself. A previous incarnation of Benjamin would've been flustered and tongue-tied but his confidence had grown since his and Jemima's adult shenanigans had begun.

"Are you flirting with me?" he asked.

She blushed, not a good look for a goth, "Maybe. Probably not. Kinda."

"I don't know what to say when someone's nice to me," he admitted, "It happens so rarely."

"Awww, you poor, put-upon soul."

They exchanged an embarrassed grin and went to walk away but the new, direct and assured Benjamin Mackenzie turned around and asked her the question.

"You want to do something? With me, I mean. Sometime?"

He wasn't as devastatingly eloquent as he'd hoped but he was, none-the-less, proud of himself.

"Like what?" Freyja stepped closer.

"Ah, um, like..."

"Tonight, after work, I'm meeting some friends over at the park," they both turned to look beyond the four-lane highway that divided the industrial zone from a long, flat stretch of greenery, "By the pond, you know? We could, I don't know, have a beer together? Or something."

"That sounds fine. I'd like that."

They shared a smirk and then went off to their separate departments.

At seven P.M. the sky was beginning to darken at the edges as Benjamin walked across the vast car-park. He'd seen Freyja leave with most of the other workers an hour earlier. He dodged through the heavy traffic and then made his way across the close-cropped lawn of the park, strewn with discarded cigarette packets and soda cans, heading towards the pond area. He neared a cluster of benches and his stomach tightened as he recognised the youngsters lounging over them as some of his worst tormentors from high-school. Before he could turn away, they'd noticed him and were jogging over to surround him. To turn and run would've been an unacceptable choice. They circled around him, jeering, shoving, using names that he hadn't heard in quite a while. He defended himself and so they became outraged by his defiance of their obvious superiority. He was manhandled to the ground then dragged over to a litter can in the shape of cartoon frog. Jovially declaring that he was trash, they attempted fruitlessly to cram him into the bin. When this failed, a couple of his abusers let go with the intention of lifting the bin to tip the garbage over him; this allowed Benjamin a chance to wriggle free one arm and he was pleased with the power of the punch he landed on one their smug faces. He was rewarded with such a barrage of kicks and punches that all he could do was curl up in a ball and wait until they bored of the attack. They did, eventually, give up but then the trash, accompanied by amusing insults, was ceremoniously poured all over him before the victorious ruffians retired back to their benches, just few metres away.

Benjamin hauled himself to his feet, rubbed his sore points, ignored their further but now lazy insults, picked off the worst of the trash from his clothes and walked away. Nearing the park's exit, he could see Freyja walking with another girl, she was carrying a six-pack of beer bottles. Benjamin was picking a Kentucky fried chicken bone out of his hair as they met.

"Hey-ey," Freyja sounded suspiciously mocking, "You want a beer?"

Benjamin took the six pack from her and launched it high into the air, the bottles smashed with a satisfyingly loud explosion of suds.

"Very funny!" he said then quickly strode away before the girls could see the tears forming in his eyes.

Back home, Jemima was lying on her adopted son's bed, tilting her head forward at an improbable angle to sip from her fourth or sixth or maybe eleventh vodka and cranberry juice. Her amber eyes were an internal cinema and the action being projected from the darkest recesses of her intoxicated imagination was of a naked threesome. In her booze-fuelled fantasy she was lying naked with Benjamin on one side of her and Bobby on the other. She took turns kissing each while their four hands traversed her skin with tantalising tender touches. She felt warm and safe and wonderfully loved, adored even. Acting with simultaneous intuition Bobby and Benji both wriggled down the bed and placed their hungry mouths on her breasts. She arched her back and writhed in a pleasurable torment as they sucked deliciously on her hard, swollen nubbs. She gasped her wordless response. Her unresisting thighs were prised apart and a seemingly uncountable number of independently active fingers began stimulating her labia and clitoris. They entered her. She could discern the difference between the young lad's learning touches and Bobby's knowledgeable finger-fucking. They teased her clenched butthole. They tortured gently her hooded button. And all the while sucking, sucking, sucking on her fattened, sensitive nipples...

Benjamin's bus journey home seemed to take forty-eight hours. Through the thick, scarred bus windows, the landscape looked alien in the falling night. He trudged up to the trailer, unlocked the door and stepped inside to find complete darkness. He flung off his clothes and did his best to shower away the stink of hot garbage from his skin and hair. He made some food but couldn't eat it. Feeling leaden, he was about to go to bed when he thought he'd poke his head into Jemima's bedroom and gaze upon a place of happy memories. He stood and smiled as he found her snoring blissfully. He stepped closer and felt so lonely and removed that he had an overwhelming compulsion lie down with her and have his raging, self-loathing thoughts calmed by her maternal presence. She stirred as he sat his weight upon her creaky bed. She clutched at the duvet protectively.

"Huh?! Whazzat?"

"Shhh, it's just me," he said, softly stroking her arm.

"What do ya think you're up to?"

"I... just wanted a cuddle."

"You okay? Whazzappend?"

Jemima propped up her groggy head and Benjamin gave her a brief outline of his evening. Her response wasn't as comforting as he'd hoped.

"So, you couldn't get no action with the teenage pussy and you thought you'd come crawling to my ol' ass, izzat right?"

Benjamin sighed despondently, knowing there was no talking to her when she was in this acidic mood. He got up wearily and walked to the door.

"Wait," she said, properly awakened now, "That... that was the vodka talking. I didn't mean it... I'm... I'm jealous."

"Of what!?"

"I know you have to ditch me and find yourself a girl, obviously not this lying little twot you work with but someone. Someone nice. Cute. And young, and... and I know it's right but I don't have to like it."

She patted the bed and he sat back down.

"You want to sleep with me, baby? No funny business."

"No funny business, I promise."

"What're you wearing?" she asked suspiciously, peering at him in the gloom.

"Um, jeans, and a teeshirt."

"Keep 'em on."

"Don't you trust me?"

"I don't trust myself. And stay on top of the duvet."

Jemima laid down on her side and Benjamin scooted in behind her. She reached out to find his hand and brought it up to place his palm on her chest. He felt the erratic beat of her heart as she held his hand tightly, ensconced between her breasts. He snuggled in close, his face draped in her light hair that smelled of smoke and tropical fruit shampoo. His lips brushed the tiny hairs that populated the nape of her neck.

Her soft, slurred whisper warned him, "No funny biz."

"Why can't it always be like this?" he asked with a deep yearning for this woman to love him the way he wanted, to want him, to be with him, to be his.

She didn't answer, she was already asleep.

*******

It didn't feel like morning when Benjamin awoke. Long ago, Jemima has installed black-out curtains to help her hang-over recoveries and the room was as dark as the night before except for a faint neon-orange tint that revealed itself on the floating dust particles. Benjamin was under the duvet and under Jemima. He smiled to himself as he relished the weight of her sprawled body upon him. He moved slightly and Jemima also moved in her sleep, her fingers twiddled his hair, her nose nuzzled his cheek and her pubic mound moved against his thigh. He repeated to himself the question, 'Why can't it always be like this?'

They lay together, entwined, for a long time until Benjamin began to feel a drowsy return to slumber was needed. His drifting off was interrupted by the softest of kisses. Then another. As he dragged his befuddled consciousness back to the waking world, Jemima had shifted her body so she was almost on top of him and was eating his lips like a cream cake. During a brief pause in her nibbling, he challenged her.

"Mixed messages, Momma," he said.

"Oh yeah, I'm not supposed to be kissing you, am I?"

She spoke this languid response while keeping her lips in contact with his. He slowly shook his head, his lips moving sideways against hers. She kissed him a little more.

"I must've thought you were Bobby."

She slid her hand up his teeshirt and circled her palm on his chest. He didn't believe her for a second and grumbled something about unfairness while she snuggled up tighter against him, her kisses pressing with a touch more passion.

"You're not stopping," he corrected the woman who'd been denying him this affection for days, feeling just a tinge resentful.

"I am," she kissed him, "I am, just... slowly."

She murmured an apology and lay her head on him. The stillness they shared spoke of an intimacy that couldn't be denied. The boy ached for her. He tried to distract himself by talking.

"I was just dreaming of you," he said.

Jemima, still half-drunk, still half-asleep, took several seconds to answer.

"Was it a pleasant dream?"

"It was my birthday," Benjamin curled his arm around her, "You'd called a truce on our... prohibition, and... you were mine again."

Jemima squeezed him with her thighs, rubbing her pantie-covered pussy on his denim-protected flesh.

"Dare I ask what we get up to in your dreams?"

"Oh, I couldn't..."

"You can tell me. You can tell me anything, you know that."

"Well, I can only remember what was happening just before I woke up."

"Which was?" Jemima's voice was sweetly innocent.

"I was, erm, my fingers were in, um-"

"In my cunt, do you mean?"

Benjamin cleared his throat and licked his dry lips, "Yes, and... I was, well, licking your asshole."

"You're such a kinky little pervert," she flashed him a wide grin then kissed him, her tongue slipping inside his mouth.

She ground her pussy on his thigh while they shared a luscious snog. When they stopped for a breath, Benjamin tried to capitalise on his progress and asked, "Do you dream about me?"

"Of course I do, baby. All the time."

Jemima laid her head back on him and Benjamin waited for her to expand upon her answer. She didn't, so he prompted her.

"Your dreams are probably far more sanitary than mine," he suggested, hoping to loosen her inhibition.

"I don't know about that. Usually, there's me and you and Bobby... all together."

This hadn't occurred to Benjamin and he was genuinely curious about what she'd been fantasising.

"Together? At the same time? Like, both at once?"

Jemima blushed, "Yes sometimes, or you both take turns on me. Fucking me, until..." he felt her thighs clamping his leg as she moved her body against his trapped muscles, "Until one of you tires and kinda tags out and the other takes over. And when, er, Bobby shoots inside me you, y'know, dive down and do your thing."

"Oh. Wow."

"But he doesn't eat yours, after you've... splurged, I mean."

"No, I don't suppose he would," he admitted, pondering the differing roles they would each take.

Jemima unclamped her legs from his and wiggled on top of him. She held herself above him, looking down into his eyes, the tips of their noses touching.

"Momma Jem..."

"You'd better go, before..."

"You're on top of me."

Jemima looked around as if she had just zapped back into reality.

"True," she said and rolled off him, "Go on, beat it, Benji. Momma needs some alone time."

She shoved him playfully out of the bed and he stood in a daze watching her wriggling her legs around under the duvet. One of her hands emerged holding a grungy pair of panties. She tossed them away and they landed with a wet plop on the carpet.

"Please Benji, now. Close the door."

Benjamin turned away and crossed the room; behind him he heard the sound of a bedside cabinet door opening and closing and then the muffled electric hum of his adopted mother's vibe. He paused at the door and looked down at the damp slick she had humped into his denim thigh. He pushed the door shut and turned around to see Jemima had closed her eyes and was lost to her own imaginative thoughts. Now he knew what she was thinking, he could almost picture the scene that was playing inside her mind. He could also see that her hand was moving under the duvet. He could hear the distant buzz of her dildo. Her fast breathing. Her cheeks flushing the colour of Summer roses. His prick was a throbbing meat girder that needed release. He unzipped his jeans and stepped back across the room. He yanked away the duvet and Jemima's eyes opened wide.

"Ben-"

Benjamin's unflinching eyes took in the vivid vision of his masturbating mama and he pushed his jeans down. The naked, erect symbol of his painful longing curved up to his belly-button.

"Benjamin, no," Jem said but he was already descending upon her.

His fingers curled around her wrist and withdrew the vibrating phallus from her hot pink hole and he took a moment to stare in wonder at the target of his undeniable lust.

"Benji, don't. Don't do this."

He ignored her, his hand still clamped around her wrist, and leaned his weight on the bed, between her thighs.

"No, no, don't, please..."

The head of his dick broke her open mercilessly and the rest of his length plunged easily into her. She gasped and tried to push him away with her free hand but he was a machine, an unstoppable juggernaut. He was sliding his thickly engorged cock in and out in long, deep screws and her resistance shattered into dozens of wasted good intentions. He released her wrist. She switched off the pulsating dildo and dropped it on the bed. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, welcoming him into her, drawing him in deeper.

"You bastard," she whispered as he buried his face in her neck, scenting her animal fragrance as he immersed his determined dick into her squelching, squeezing pussy. The bed creaked in the familiar sound that had haunted his lonely teenage nights. He now owned that sound. He now owned the woman. He owned the cunt. And he fucked mercilessly what he owned. There could be no argument. Jemima felt the inevitability of his taking her and temporarily abandoned her objections as a waste of time. She needed this. They needed this. They needed to have this itch scratched or they were both going to drive each other crazy. Despite her many intellectual reservations, her body betrayed her, her pussy betrayed her. It felt so fucking good to have this perfectly-shaped prick pistoning in and out of her in a heart-breakingly beautiful series of escalating sensations. This was the undeniable truth.

She wondered, in the unoccupied back of her mind, if the young man was holding back in a gentlemanly attempt to prolong her pleasure. She used her motions, her scratches, her teeth, her thighs, her breathing and her fists to mutely indicate that what was needed was a nasty, frantic, desperate fuck. Harder, faster, her body told him in rough, energetic touches. Benjamin, already fuelled by an irresistible drive, sensed her urging him on and he never for one second weakened his relentless motions. The result was that very soon the boy felt her clenching, thrashing, tremulous orgasm and released his semen in a growling and monstrous contortion that sent his lover into a lip-biting, snarling, grimacing ecstasy. He pumped her full of his unspent, fertile seed in a synchronised, indescribable climax. Once their violent seizures had subsided, he lifted his head to face her.

"I, I, I couldn't," he stumbled.

"I know, I know."

They kissed tenderly, open-mouthed and serious. Their joined bodies shuddered, the after-shocks of their love.

"It's my fault," she said, "I shouldn't have kissed you like that."

She kissed him exactly like that again. He shifted his body and stirred her ample juices with his tingling, lead-heavy cock. She moaned hot breath into his mouth as they kissed. It was at this moment that Benjamin became aware of the bruises from the night before and he felt as if Jem had beaten him up a second time. His back and sides, his head, his neck and his face were all inflamed with the pumping blood returning from being diverted to his bulbous purple cockhead. He throbbed painfully. His lips, crushed by a thousand tender kisses, felt as swollen as prize-fighter's.