Joanna Has What I NeedbyAhabscribe©
Okay...here is a revised version of what I recall as the earliest story I ever posted on the web...at a long gone site a long time ago. It has certain sentimental value and so I decided it would serve well as my 90th posted story here at Literotica! I look forward to your comments about another "Early Ahabscribe" story, be they positive or negative.
As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters within exist solely in the story and in my imagination. Enjoy!
I unlocked the door to my room and went inside, turning on lights as I went. Nothing impressed me. It was a hotel room just like the million others out there. It had a king-sized bed and a dresser with a television bolted down to it. The bathroom/shower compartment was as plain and sterile as they all were. I unpacked my bag, hanging up shirts and pants. From my backpack, I pulled out the latest King novel and set it on the bedside table. I pulled out the large manila envelope from my backpack and started to undo the clasp again, but then hesitated and dropped it on top of the bedspread.
I pulled back the heavy curtains, allowing what little natural light the overcast day had to offer into the room. Early October in Ohio...cool, breezy and cloudy with yellow and reddish leaves skittering across the parking lot. Three floors down, I could see the little Japanese rental car I'd picked up at the airport. With the sun hidden behind the clouds, it was hard to guess the time of day and adding to the mystery was that I was three time zones behind California time. It had been a long flight in from San Diego and I'd had little rest over the last few days...ever since that damned envelope had come in the mail. A glance at the room's alarm clock told me it was almost 4:00 in the afternoon. I imagined I still had a few hours.
I picked the envelope up again and brought it over to a lumpy, armless chair by the window. Undoing the clasp, I shook out its contents. They hadn't changed...still three photographs with lurid, pornographic shots of a woman and three men...the lewdness perhaps accentuated by being black and white shots rather than color.
The first photo showed a lush bodied mature woman getting fucked by three men – hard cocks buried in her pussy, up her ass, and balls deep in her mouth – her face obscured by her hanging locks of darkish hair. The second picture showed that the woman with her face screwed up in pain and pleasure, being double penetrated by two guys while a third was ejaculating thick streamers of semen in her face. The third picture showed the same woman naked and spread-eagled on what I recognized as my parents' old four poster bed with the contents of all three men's dicks covering her face and tits...my mother's face and tits.
Although I hadn't seen her in seventeen years, as soon as I looked at the second photograph, I had instantly recognized my mother – not looking quite as old as I had expected. Mom looked happy in those pictures. She looked happier than she had ever been those last three years I'd been at home.
Mom had definitely changed. Those were still Mom's huge, out there in your face tits although I had never before thought of them in a sexual way until I looked at those pictures, but she'd tightened up her body. Mom still looked a little thick through the middle, but there was a certain muscular definition to those legs and arms, and that ass looked rock solid! I tried to remember Mom's age, recalling that Mom had been seventeen when she'd had me and I was now thirty-three. It was a bit of shock to realize Mom was now fifty years old.
On the back of the last photograph was printed in block letters, "JOANNA IS WORKING AT THE STEP RIGHT INN." I remembered the place, a slightly rowdy tavern situated on the outskirts of my hometown. Joanna was my mother's first name. Obviously, someone wanted me to know that something was terribly wrong with Mom. Who that might be, I didn't have a clue. The envelope was postmarked as coming from my hometown, but it had no return address and addressed to me in the same plain block letters that were on that last graphic picture.
I studied the pictures again for maybe the hundredth time. The men, from what I could tell were younger than me and didn't look familiar. The photos held me though as I studied my mother's naked body and the sheer wantonness and joy of her expressions. It was my mother as I had come to remember her...the image of the woman of my memories made real even if I knew those memories were more or less false...or at least unproven. Even more troubling was the fact that looking at my mother engaged in such hedonistic sexual behavior had triggered a definite male response in me each and every time I had looked at them.
I slipped the photographs back into the envelope and tossed them back onto the bed, trying to ignore the erection in my pants even as I tried to sort out my feelings about Mom...feelings I thought I had buried deep never to be resurrected again...
My old man died when I was thirteen. It had been a sudden death...a heart attack at age thirty, and it had shattered me and my mother. He had been my best friend. Being a young teenager, it never really occurred to me how bad his death had to have been for my mother. They had been together since they'd met in high school and had married when they were seventeen and Mom was pregnant with me. Dad had worked in a local tool and die shop and Mom had been a housewife. We weren't rich, but we'd gotten by. Mom and Dad were happy together.
After his death, I quickly decided that my mother had turned into the worst shrew in the world. Mom was forever harping on me to improve...get better grades, get better friends, have better goals...on and on and on, she never seemed to cease nagging me. Even worse was that within six months of Dad dying, Mom began to go on dates again. These were awkward events for her as she had had little experience in dating at all since she and Dad had been each other's only sweethearts. Mom never brought her dates home and I had no proof as to whether she was sleeping with any of her "dates." Still, I decided as a "worldly and knowing" teenager that Mom was a "unfaithful to my father's memory" whore.
At least that was the perspective of an angry teenager who missed his dad and couldn't see the pain his mother was experiencing. I never considered how tough it was for Mom who suddenly found herself forced to be the breadwinner, paying the bills and making sure the mortgage was paid or how lonely she might have been. I was even scornful of her taking a job as a waitress at the local coffee shop, assuming she had done it to get out and meet more men rather than that she was trying to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads without the benefit of marketable skills.
When I was sixteen, after a raging argument with Mom, I told my mother that she was a whore and that she and my stupid hometown were out of my life forever. I swiped money from her rainy day cookie jar and took the next bus for the West Coast. I swore never to look back – to cut Mom and her shrewish and whorish ways out of my life altogether. Sad to say, now I couldn't have told you the specifics of our argument even if my life depended on it. What can I say...I was your typical teenage asshole.
Years passed. I had to grow up real fast, never having considered how difficult it was to be on one's own, especially for a stupid under-aged kid, but after a few lean years I got my shit together...getting my high school diploma in a night school and I even managed to put myself through college. Once I got out, I landed a good job as a computer analyst and in general, did everything my mother had been after me to do to begin with.
Still, I never grew tired of being angry at my mother. Mom tracked me down of course, but I learned if you ignore enough letters and phone calls, eventually everyone will leave you alone. I pretended not to hear the pain in Mom's voice as she pleaded with her only child to talk to her, but I would hang up the phone without saying a word. Mom's efforts slowly diminished and finally came to a halt. In my still immature anger, I felt pleased that I'd gotten my way. You'd think I would have been happy, but the anger never seemed to fade...even as I let my adult life take over and the memories of that time began to fade.
Then the envelope with those photographs arrived. The next few nights were sleepless ones. Images of my mother being gang fucked drifted through my mind again and again. That last picture of her smiling at the camera, ropes of thick semen dripping off her face, her tongue sticking out, showing a mouthful of cum, kept appearing in front of me. Questions of how Mom came to be in those pictures, doing and apparently enjoying those acts haunted my thoughts.
My memories informed me that my mother had been a shrill harridan and that she had acted like a whore, I'd never seen anything that had actually supported that supposition. I just couldn't reconcile my memories of Mom with those images of the wanton and I had to admit, beautiful slut in those pictures.
I was surprised with how much it bothered me. I thought I had all but erased Mom from my mind and heart, holding on only to remnants of my teenage anger, unreasonable and immature though it was. I had always assumed that I would never see her again and when the day came when I got the news that she'd passed away, I'd just shrug and go on with my life. But I couldn't quite get my mind around this new image of my mother. It troubled me and for the first time I really began to wonder what the last seventeen years had been like for my mother. Had her life improved? Had it been hard? How had my dowdy mother, the epitome of nagging shrews everywhere become the woman in those lewd photographs? After a couple of days, I knew I had to go home and find out what was going on.
I had plenty of vacation time available, so the next morning, I called my supervisor and told him I had a family emergency and by early afternoon I was sitting in this hotel room on the outskirts of the town I had grown up in.
As dusk approached, I left my room and climbed into my little rental. I drove around a while looking at old landmarks, even passing by Mom's home – dark and apparently no one at home – the old Craftsman house still looking much as I had remembered it from all those years ago.
Finally, I headed towards Mom's supposed workplace. After a couple of wrong turns, I found the Step Right Inn, still a seedy looking brick and cinderblock tavern that catered mostly to the working class people of the city. The gravel lot hosted maybe a dozen or so cars that were illuminated by a blinking street-side sign that announced that they had billiard tables and "Happy Hour from 4-5 P.M."
Trying not to show how nervous I was, I walked inside like I'd been doing it for years. It was your basic working class bar just like I remembered. Neon beer signs in the windows and a smattering of tables sandwiched between the long, oaken bar and the juke box with pool tables in a raised area in the back. I took a table at the end closest to the door, one that gave me a good view of the place.
And then there Mom was, walking straight at me from the pool tables. My stomach began to do flips as I watched her approached. What would I say? What would I do? I could feel the old resentments begin to bubble up, but at the same time, a feeling of homesickness swept over me and most surprising and maybe embarassing of all – I felt a stirring between my legs as I responded physically to her. I couldn't believe it. My cock was growing hard because of my mother!
Mom was wearing a tight denim miniskirt and a peasant blouse worn low off the shoulders to draw emphasis to her huge tits. Her legs were muscular and shapely, accentuated by high heels and her hips swayed in a way that had me looking forward to seeing her walk away. A great, unruly mane of streaked brown hair only added to her sensuality. She strode up to me with the sexy confidence of a woman who knows that every man who sees her has but one thought regarding her.
I took a deep breath as I braced for our first meeting in seventeen years, but was thrown almost speechless when she produced an order book and casually said in a smoky voice, "What'll it be, stud?" She gazed down at me with a look that said, "Yeah, I know you'd give your left testicle to fuck me, what else is new?"
Recovering, I muttered, "Whatever you have on draft."
Mom replied, "Run a tab?" I nodded. "Back in a minute, stud," she said, tossing me a sexy wink. I watched her shapely ass swinging as those long, muscular legs carried her away, completely stunned. Mom hadn't recognized me, her own son! As I waited for the beer, I pondered this, finally perceiving how much I'd changed. Seventeen years had added weight to a string bean adolescent frame, my face had filled out, and with my trimmed mustache and beard, there wasn't a whole lot left that resembled that angry sixteen year old from so long ago.
When Mom brought me my beer, she stuck around and made a little small talk, mildly flirting like any waitress would, hoping for a big tip. She slipped into the empty chair opposite me and leaned forward on her forearms, giving me a great view of her big tits, unfettered by a bra. "I'm Joanna," she said introducing herself. "What do I call you or do you prefer 'Stud?' She gave me another little wink that made my cock throb beneath my jeans.
I stammered a moment, a little distracted by her flirting and by the tremendous sight of her breasts she was offering up. "Finally I managed to say, "Um, I'm John.
Mom laughed and said, "Oh, I know a whole hell of a lot of Johns. I meet Johns every night! Hell, I've even got a son out west somewhere in California named John." She rolled her tongue over her lips provocatively and added, "I never met a John I didn't like."
Mom gave me another wink and then stood up as another customer called out her name. "If you need anything, anything at all, you just give a call for Joanna, sweetie," Mom said as she headed off towards other customers. "Joanna's got just what you need."
Apparently, Mom had what a lot of men needed. As the evening passed, I watched her work the tavern, flirting with every swinging dick in the room. She wasn't shy with providing looks down her blouse, and didn't seem to mind the occasional hand that would slide up her leg and cup an ass cheek. She took any opportunity to rub those knockers against any man, including myself. I felt my cock throb as it hadn't since I was a teenager as I felt Mom's tits flattening against my back and shoulder as she brought me fresh beers, leaning over from behind to set them down, a naughty little smile on her face that let me know she did it on purpose. I was mesmerized! Mom was fifty years old, looked thirty-five and acted like a twenty year old nymphomaniac!
At ten o'clock , Mom brought me my check, saying that she needed to clear it off as she was going off shift. I was shocked to hear myself say in a casual voice as I handed over my tab plus a generous tip, "You're done for the night, Joanna? Made any plans?" I had no idea why I had asked her that. I had debated about revealing my identity to her all evening, but at the same time had given equal consideration to just packing up and going home now that I knew she appeared all right.
Mom let her lips purse into a pout and shook her head. "Sorry, sweetie, but those two stud-muffins over there beat you to it." She nodded towards the door, where two men in their early twenties were waiting, casting anxious looks our way.
"Oh well, maybe another time," I said, my voice full of an emotion I hadn't expected. Could it be that I was feeling disappointed?
Mom stared down at me, scratching the exposed portion of her right breast absently as she considered me – a speculative gleam in her eye. "Tell you what, darling," she said. "I get off at nine tomorrow night. If you're really interested in Joanna, meet me here a bit before I get off." She gave me another of those cock stirring winks and added, "And then maybe we can both get off!"
"Sure, um – Joanna, I'd love that." I replied, sounding more excited than I wanted to show. I felt like I'd fallen into some weird, feverish dream. Had I just made a date with my mom?
"And brings lots of money, John, 'cause I'm not cheap. You okay with that?" Mom said, studying my face for my reaction.
I had to swallow before I could answer. Money? Mom was fucking for money? "Yeah, Joanna. I can't wait." I replied in a raspy voice, trying not to sound shocked. She smiled, stuck her tongue out at me, winked, and headed off to her...what should I call them – friends or customers?
Suddenly, I was mad with curiosity to find out more about who and what my mother was. I left and headed back to my car, ears burning at laughter from elsewhere in the bar, Mom's laughter. I waited in my rental until I saw her leave the bar and then pull out in a small red sports car, followed closely by a Jeep. I followed at a distance, until I realized she was heading back to her house – back to my childhood home.
I parked nearby and strolled down my old street, sticking to the shadows until I reached Mom's house. Standing under an old Oak, I watched her house for activity. From a window on the side of the house, a light went on – Mom's bedroom if I remembered correctly. Looking around to make sure no one was out and about on the sleepy, deserted street, I crept through the grass up to the house under cover of darkness. Carefully, I raised my head and peeked inside Mom's window, hoping I was hidden by the shadows.
Mom was kneeling on the bed, on a quilt my grandmother had made. She still had on her miniskirt, but her blouse was gone and one of the young guys was fondling her big, surprisingly firm tits and nuzzling her neck, while the other was handing her money. Mom counted it, then rose up and gave him a long, deep kiss on the mouth, his buddy never letting go of her breast. Tossing the money on her dresser top, Mom ended the kiss and proceeded to tug his polo shirt over his head and kiss her way down to his pebble hard nipples which she proceeded to lick with her tongue – a tongue I never realized was so long. Mom then unzipped his fly, took his semi-hard dick out and slipped it between her full and luscious lips.
Thunderstruck, I watched as my mother proceeded to suck one cock and then the other. Her head bobbed furiously as she sucked their dicks like she was starved. When both cocks were wet and hard, Mom dropped a hand to the waistband of her skirt and did something and it fell away, leaving her wearing only thong panties. The man who had paid her ran a hand over her breasts and then slipped it down across her rounded belly and then under the elastic band of her thong, his fingers working furiously as he probed her slit.
Mom closed her eyes, a faint smile on her face as she leaned against the other guy, kissing him while the first guy fingered her. I had to restrain a moan as I watched her nipples, round like nickels, swell and lengthen. Mom ended the kiss and said something to them and the one fingering her suddenly ripped her thong apart. I let out a quiet groan as I got a good look at my mother's cunt. In the photographs, she'd sported a neatly trimmed bush, but now, Mom's pussy was clean shaved, completely hairless – her labia blossomed like an erotic lily and shiny with her juices
Mom laughed and went down on all fours, wiggling her ass at her customers. One, vigorously stroking his erection climbed up behind her and took her from behind while she began sucking the cock of the other guy. They proceeded to fuck Mom with the energy and vigor that only young men seemed to possess. Every so often, she'd had her men switch, laughing as she would go down on the other, his dick dripping with her juices. She would lick the cock clean and then smack her lips and even through glass I heard her moan more than once, "Goddamn, I taste good!"