Copyright © 1997   Phil Phantom.   ALL Rights Reserved.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without
the written permission of the author.  This story may be freely
distributed with this notice attached.  The author may be contacted
through mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.















				   Making It On Her Own
			                   By: Phil Phantom

Joan knew that her thirteen-year-old son had a strong sexual interest in her, but she figured he had that interest in anything that didn't stand to pee.  Forced to share a studio apartment in a low-rent neighborhood following the spousal abandonment, left with nothing but the clothes on their backs, forced to share close and intimate living space with little else to do except look at each other, she was surprised that nothing more happened than already had.

More would have happened if Joan wasn't so uptight about incest.  Her horny son obviously had no such hangups, nor was he bashful.  He was also loving and affectionate, something his father never was. At times, she'd lose herself in silly fantasy of a true romantic affair budding between them.  There were times when she felt that true love and real feelings for each other could form the foundation and possibly overcome their age difference.  

Nothing, however, could overcome the fact that she was the boy's mother; he was her son; and a love affair between them just wasn't right.  Besides, Rodney didn't seem interested in a love affair.  A sexual affair, yes, and the sooner the better.

Joan wasn't sure that all normal boys going through puberty weren't the same way, or that a sexual affair between mothers and sons wasn't one of those unspoken normal occurrences in life.  In families that consisted solely of a lonely mother and a horny son, she didn't see how it could be avoided.

Like Rodney, she was an only child, but unlike Rodney, she attended an all-girl school until the last three years of high school, so she had no experience with boys Rodney's age.

She tried to be understanding, still, Rodney seemed interested in sex to the exclusion of all else. He didn't even miss having a TV as long as he had a female to watch, and he never took his eyes of her body for long, and his eyes rarely wandered far from her intimate areas regardless of what she wore. With school out for the summer, with no friends to play with, at times, an evening in her studio apartment was like being in a small cage with an amorous monkey.

At first, his intimate staring bothered Joan a great deal, though she never told him. She never did appreciate men who stared at her tits, and Rodney was the worst at doing that.  Lately, his fascination had drifted low--down to her legs, ass, and crotch.  He liked sitting on the floor at her feet and no matter how she placed her legs, he'd adjust his position to be lined up for a view up her skirt, and being caught trying to get a peek at her panties didn't bother him, mostly because she never corrected him.  She never corrected him because she felt sorry for him.

Well, that was part of the reason, but the truth was, she began liking the illicit attention.  She had to admit that fact to herself because she could have switched to pants when his attention went south.  She didn't, and she finally had to ask herself why not. The answer she finally accepted was, "Because you like having him look, because you like seeing him get a hardon, because you need to feel desirable, because you feel like a failure as a woman. Rod Sr. never would have strayed if you'd been a sexy wife."

In her heart, she knew Rod strayed because he was a selfish, irresponsible, cheating asshole, but it was Rod Jr's interest that made her feel that she was not the problem.  His intense sexual interest made her feel sexy, pretty, desirable, like a sex goddess, the most beautiful woman on Earth, and he reinforced that idea with liberal compliments, totally inappropriate for a young boy to give his mother, but Joan sucked them up like a dry sponge dipped in sewage.

His compliments grew more intimate and crude as weeks went by, having never been corrected.  Her breasts became tits.  Her rear became her ass.  One day, he'd tell her she had a nice cunt; but so far, he hadn't seen it and didn't know nice from mice when it came to vaginas. Sexy, he knew, and whenever he saw her panties, he'd tell her they were sexy panties.  All of her panties were sexy panties, though they were all rather plain in white or pastel blue.

He used to say her bras were sexy until she stopped wearing them when he said her tits looked much better without a bra, and she didn't need a bra, sexy or otherwise. He told her the braless look was back and guys liked seeing where a girl's nipples were under her clothes, then he'd point hers out by pressing on them each in turn, sometimes inverting the nipple with the firmness of his point, making his point quite well as he copped a feel in the process.  And she encouraged this not-so-subtle game of Cop-a-Feel-off-Mom by confirming that those were, indeed, where her nipples were.

Oddly, just when she'd grown comfortable with the game and would stand still for a tit poke whenever he felt the urge to poke, prod, pinch, pat, or palpitate her naked paps, his interest went south. 

He was now working on a new game to accomplish below the waist what he'd accomplished above.  This awareness, however, caused great anxiety.  The stakes were much higher.  Joan didn't think she could take a poke, prod, pinch, or pat without also taking a pecker in her pussy, and permitting a poke would eventually lead to a pecker, because she knew if she learned to tolerate the poke, prod, pinch, and pat, she would not draw the line at pecker--son or no son.  

If she allowed him to put his pecker in her pussy at will, she'd no longer be a sex goddess, she'd be a mother fucking whore, right back in the same shit she was in with his father, a man who abandoned terms of endearment two years before he split in favor of that basest of terms, even in front of their impressionable young son who seemed to accept the term as meaning "a whore who had sexual relations with a mother fucker" as opposed to "a whore who fucked her mother," which would make no sense at all to the lad.  Then again,  he didn't know about strap-on dildoes or that her mother would welcome a fuck by her daughter.

Joan's aversion to incest stemmed mostly from being fucked by her mother with a strap-on dildoe to amuse a lesbian lover, which was just the start of amusements for a string of lesbian lovers from the age of ten until she left home after high school; which, far from producing a good little lesbian, produced a very heterosexual woman with an aversion to incest and fish.  Joan would walk to school picking hair out of her teeth, going out of her way to step on cracks in the sidewalk.

In a way, heterosexual incest was okay, sorta--at least, if the child wanted the incest.  In her case, the child wanted it badly.  Not a day went by that Joan didn't think about giving her son what he wanted--a mother fucking whore.  Her obsessed little stud made her horny and being in constant and close contact with that which makes one horny has a way of tempering one's prejudices, not to mention one's judgement.

Joan thought about how she'd deal with day two of the below-the waist campaign as she walked to the apartment from the bus stop.  He'd be waiting in the apartment, and the campaign would start right away, probably with the offer of a foot rub.  She needed one, but not another like the one she got yesterday, one that took most of the evening, one that reached to the top of her legs, under the skirt, even to her panties, and rarely touched sore and tired feet.  

To get involved in that scene again, she'd get poked in the pussy for sure.  Her pussy felt gooey at the thought, but then, after going without cock for six months, her pussy would get gooey at the sight of a naked lesbian with a strap-on erection.  Ignoring her pussy was the key. So far, she hadn't been very good at doing that.

Joan entered the apartment and set her purse on the table just inside the door.  Rodney, as expected, met her with a strong hug, a body-merging hug with his hands on her ass and his head resting between the flesh pillows of her braless D-cups, his right cheek on the naked upper swells of the left breast and his nose and lips on the right, nothing new except for the hands being lower down on her ass and in toward the center with fingers lining the edges of her ass crack, digging in.

"Mom, I missed you."

She looked into his face as he looked up, digging his chin in her cleavage, now with breast flesh pillows on both cheeks as he bunched her skirt in back.  Joan could feel her hem climbing up the backs of her legs and knew he'd soon be feeling panties if she didn't say something.  To start off this bold this soon told Joan she was in for a rough evening if she didn't nip this in the bud right away.

This would mark the first time she interfered with his progress, but she felt she had no choice.  She reached back and grabbed his hands just as he reached his goal, the hem.  

"I can tell.  Let go of my skirt, Rodney."

He gave her a pleading puppy dog look, but slowly relaxed his grip and let the skirt fall.  Joan let go of his hands and they returned to her ass, content to feel, because she hadn't objected to that, and she still didn't object as she looked down on his smiling face and got her asshole polished.

"Honestly, Rodney, you need to get a girlfriend.  I feel like I'm living with a horny sailor."

He smiled and said, "You make me feel like a horny sailor, Mom.  You are so sexy all the time, especially when you wear a skirt that shows most of your sexy legs. I just wanted to see if you were wearing panties."

Joan felt a rush at his provocative words, smiled, and said, "Well, now you know."

"No, I don't.  You stopped me before I could feel.  Let me check and then I'll let you go."

Joan's heart pounded at the suggestion that she had no choice if she wanted to be set free, though setting herself free was as easy as reaching back and pulling his hands off her body.  It was an exciting concept, and she pretended to be trapped, saying, "All right, check for yourself, but don't take all night.  I want to get off my feet."

She expected the back of her skirt to get pulled up, but he dropped to his knees and pushed the front up past her panties, past her belly button, now staring her in the crotch from a mere inches away. 

Joan sucked a deep breath as she looked down her front and saw where he was staring--between her legs.  She said, "All right, Rodney, now you've checked.  You can let my skirt down...Rodney...RODNEY!"

"Your panties are wet where they go between your legs.  Did you know that?"

Blushing deep red, Joan said, "That happens when a woman walks on a hot day.  Don't read anything into that, Rodney."

"Do you know I can see through them where they're wet?  I can see your pussy, Mom."

"Rodney, put my skirt down and get up."

"Wow, Mom, you sure have a sexy pussy.  How come there's no hair on the lips of your pussy.  Do you shave it off?"

When Joan could speak, she said, "Rodney, that's very personal.  Stop looking at me down there....Rodney!"

Feeling over the small patch of hair on her mound, he said, "How come you don't shave off all the hair?"

"Rodney!"

Now feeling the denuded lips over wet panties, he said, "Why would you shave some but not all?  Who are you shaving your pussy for?  Do you have a boyfriend at work or something? Is that the way he likes his pussy?"

"Rodney, honestly! Stop touching me down there.  God damnit, Rodney!  That is not a toy."  

This time, she stooped low, then brought him up with her.  He still held her skirt, now totally inverted as she said, "You ask too many questions and take too many liberties.  I said you could check, not ogle me between the legs and grill me on my sex life.  Now, let go of my skirt."

"First, tell me why you shave your cunt lips."

Joan recoiled from this vulgar term, his father's favorite term for the organ and the owner, but her flush also deepened.  With little conviction, she said, "It's none of your business."


"You let some guy fuck you, didn't you?"

"RODNEY!"

"That's his sperm leaking out of your cunt, isn't it.  Cunts don't leak just from walking."

Joan thought, "Jeez, it's hot in here," and wanted to scream, but calmly said, "Since when did you become an expert on women's pussies?"

"I know they leak after you fuck 'em."

Joan could feel her heartbeat in her clit and wanted to get control.  She wanted to restore order to her clothing and their relationship, but the exciting conversation had her pussy leaking like a sieve.  Instead of acting like a decent mom, she said, "Well, for your information, young man, no one fucked my pussy."

Her use of the vulgar terms, a first, put a big grin on his face and reddened his ears to match her own.  He said, "Okay, then what is it then, pee? Did you pee your panties, Mom?"

"No, it is not pee.  Those are natural lubricants, vaginal fluid, mostly sweat.  It's hot out and I've been on my feet all day, mostly outside.  Are you happy, now?"

"Let me see."

"You've seen enough."

"I want to see if it's pussy juice or sweat."

"How would you tell the two apart?"

"By seeing where it's coming from.  If it comes from your cunt hole, it's pussy juice, and if it's white, it's cum, a man's cum, sperm.  If it is white, I'll know you lied and let some guy fuck you.  That's why you don't want to show me, isn't it? You've been fucking."

Joan didn't stop him when he pulled the front of her panties out and peered down at her pussy while saying this.  She said nothing as he worked her panties down her legs.  Since she didn't stop either of these actions, she said nothing when he dropped to his knees and pulled her cunt lips apart.  In fact, she held the skirt up throughout the thorough visual and manual examination of her crotch, getting poked, pinched, prodded, and patted on the pussy to his heart's content, which took fifteen minutes on unsteady legs.

She was now in the mood to get pricked having overcome her prejudices regarding incest along with any inhibitions she had.  She was more than ready to be led to the sofa bed, there to be stripped, mounted, and fucked, but he stood, pulled the top below her naked tits, and smiled.

She felt silly standing there exposing herself completely while fully dressed, but he just stood there smiling and taking inventory until she had to let go of the skirt and put her boobs back while she still had a smidgen of dignity, though a smidgen was all she dared lay claim to. At that point, a smidgen was all she wanted.  

She went to the fridge, got a bottle of beer, then plopped on the sofa and drank to soothe her nerves.  He plopped down beside her, grinning like the cat that ate the canary as he freed both of her boobs.  While playing with her mother udders, he watched her chug most of the beer, then floored her by saying, "Did you ever fuck yourself with a beer bottle?"

Joan almost choked, got her breath, then looked at him like he'd just landed on the planet.  He didn't seem phased by her incredulous look.  He wanted an answer.  Joan thought, looked at the long necked beer bottle in a new way, then said, "No, I never have."

"You ought to try it.  I'll bet it would feel good, and it'll cool your pussy down if you leave some beer in the bottle."

Joan studied the phallic bottle as her son pushed her skirt up past her hips.  She now looked at her pussy as he got to his knees between her legs and pulled the lips apart, exposing her slimy, overheated, used, misused, abused, and recently neglected fuck hole, saying, "There, just stick it in."

Joan looked at the inviting target, then at the bottle, then at her son's hopeful stare, then placed the opening at her opening and pushed.  The neck went in to the wide part of the bottle, and due to the angle, cool beer poured inside, making it look like her pussy was drinking a beer, greatly amusing her son who said, "Wow, Mom!  It looks like your cunt is drinking a beer."

Joan drew the neck out slowly to the end without pulling it out, and they botch watched the beer drain out of the neck and into her cunt.  Joan said, "It is. I have a thirsty cunt."

"Fuck yourself with it."

She fucked herself and made a foamy mess when she reached her climax.  Sprawled on her back with her legs apart and an empty beer bottle sticking out of her cunt, looking at the amused expression on her child's face, Joan felt about as decadent as any mother could feel--exactly like a mother fucking whore.  She almost wished she had a strap-on dildoe and a mother to fuck.

"That was neat. Let's try some other stuff.  Hey, I'll bet a big cucumber would feel great.  Do we have any cucumbers?"

All thoughts of a romantic incestuous affair left Joan as she studied his devilish grin.  He was just like his father, not a romantic bone in his body and the sexual maturity of a ten-year-old.  "If we do, they'll be in the vegetable bin in the fridge.  Run it under warm water before you bring it."

His face lit up as he said, "Okay.  Why don't you get all the way naked, like you're getting ready to fuck a guy with a big dick."

As he trotted off, Joan thought, "Why not.  I always get all the way naked for a guy with a big green dick.  Fuck!"  

Joan got all the way naked and went ahead and pulled the bed out.  After all, if she were going to play Fuck Mom, she may as well get fucked on a bed, such as it was.  He returned to find her propped up with her legs drawn up and laid low to either side, the delivery position.

When she saw the cuke he came in with, held to his crotch like a dick, she knew she was in the right position.  If he could get all the cuke in, she'd deliver it.  She'd certainly feel that way when he went to pull it out.  As he climbed on the bed and crawled on his knees to get between her legs, aiming the twelve-inch veggy in a menacing way, she wasn't so sure she wouldn't rather have a C section.  Too late.

"OW! Take it easy!  You can't just shove something that big up a woman's pussy without giving her time to adjust.  Besides, I washed all my lubricants out with that beer."

While staring at the half he hadn't shoved in, Rodney said, "I thought cunts liked getting fucked hard."

"Yeah, well this cunt doesn't, not at first, anyway."

He slowly eased in another two inches over the next two minutes, then paused to say, "You don't mind if I call you a cunt, do you?"

"Call me a mother fucking whore if you'd like, but not when anyone else is around."

This put a devilish smile on his face.  He said, "You look like a mother fucking whore."

"I feel like one."

"I'll bet you wish I had a cock this big, huh?"

"No, your father has one almost as big and I don't miss it.  I like them smaller.  I like a comfortable cock.  I think yours is just about right."

"Really?  Would you rather I used my cock?"

"If you don't mind being a real mother fucker, go right ahead."

[Schlurp...POP] 

"GOD DAMNIT, YOU LITTLE MOTHER FUCKER! You almost pulled my pussy inside out!  Don't ever yank anything out of my twat like that."

"Sorry."

Joan watched him eagerly fish out his six-inches of comfortable cock, a little too comfortable, but what the hell, beggars can't be choosers.  He approached her gaping hole with that same menacing gleam in his eye, like an ant crawling up an elephant's leg with rape on its mind. Before she took the irrevokable plunge into mother fucking whoredom, she blocked her hole and said, "First, get me another beer."  

He started to whine, but then hopped off the bed and dashed for the fridge, a short dash, the fridge being eight feet away and in the same room.  As he reached, she said, "Bring two, and they're both for me.  Don't even ask.  You're getting pussy, but you're still a minor, and don't forget it."

He returned with two, crawled on his knees between her legs, handed them to her, then re-aimed, saying, "Ready?"

Joan set one on the end table and took a long swig of the other, then said, "Yeah, go ahead" in a tone that suggested "knock yourself out," but he hardly noticed.  He fit the head of his cock inside the hole and eased in by fractions of an inch at a time while she watched and drank and thought, "Jesus, does he really think he might hurt me if he goes in too fast."  She almost giggled but knew never to giggle when a man was proving his manhood.  She assumed that went double for boys.

"I'm not hurting you, am I, Mom?"

Joan looked at the effort, now half way along, took a swig and said, "No, you're doing just fine."

She got another inch, now two-thirds mother fucked. He said, "Does it feel good?"

She finished off the bottle and reached for the other, saying, "Oh, yeah.  Feels great. Yours is perfect."

"Is it big enough?"

She took a swig, holding back a giggle, and said, "Oh, yeah, plenty big.  Give me more.  Give me all you've got, Rodney. Fuck me good, Stud."

She took all he had and those last two inches made all the difference in the world, just right to hit her internal pleasure button, making her sit up and take notice.  Each stroke took his cock to just the right spot, whereas his father did all his fucking past the spot, touching her pleasure spot on the way in and again on the way out, but in between, he just slammed dick to her until her nose bled.  

Damn, this felt good!  Joan set her beer down and got serious, saying, "Ummm, Rodney, you do fuck so nice.  Fuck me harder, baby...ummm, yes...fuck Mommy good, baby!"

"You really like it?"

"Yes, I love it.  Oh, baby, keep that up.  You're going to make Mommy cum...Oh fuck, yes...screw the fuck out of me, Rodney.  Fuck me like a whore...Fuck me till my nose bleeds, you sexy little mother fucker...ah, ah, oh...yesssss..."

Her nose never bled, but he fucked her like a whore and they came together.  He collapsed over her body.  They were both panting.  She recovered first and ran her fingers through his hair.  He looked up, smiled, and said, "I guess this makes me a mother fucker."

"I guess this makes me a whore."

"No, this makes you a mother fucking whore, get it?  You're a whore that fucks a mother fucker."

"Too bad your father wasn't here to see this.  He was right all along, wasn't he?"

"He sure was! Are you really a whore, Mom?"

"I just fucked someone other than my husband, didn't I?  Why, does that bother you having a whore for a mother?"

"No way.  Are you going to start acting like a whore."

"I thought I was by going about braless in short skirts.  Of course, in this dump, who'd notice another whore."

"They noticed."

"Oh?  Have you been out making friends?"

"A few, and they all know you.  There's a lot of guys here that would like to fuck you.  The manager asked me how much you charge.  He was serious, too."

"Rodney, you be careful what you say to these creeps.  They're serious.  We're getting out of here, possibly by Christmas, so don't go getting too chummy with anyone, and never ever tell anyone about the things we do."

"What would be the harm?  We're leaving.  We don't care what they think.  Big deal."

"It's a big deal to me; and besides, what we're doing can land me in jail and you in a foster home.  Don't forget that."

"No one that lives around here would ever call the cops."

"Rodney, I'm serious. Don't you go bragging to anyone, do you hear me?  Being a mother fucker isn't cool in any neighborhood."

"It is if the mother you're fucking looks like Jessica Rabbit."

Joan smiled, combed more hair, looked into his flattering eyes and said, "You're dying to tell someone, aren't you?"  The smiling look told her as much.  She thought and then said, "Okay, go ahead, but use good judgment, and don't expect me to back up anything you say.  I'll deny it even as we're pulling out of here.  I'll deny it all the way to jail, but if you feel the need to strut, go ahead.  I don't suppose there's any real danger, but don't be too surprised if no one believes you."

"Just promise me you won't wear panties anymore and you'll shave all the hair off your pussy."

"Rodney, you're asking too much.  I now work in the outdoor gardening section and I constantly have to bend and stoop. Going without a bra has attracted enough attention.  You're just lucky my supervisor is a dirty old man or I'd be out of a job by now."

"Please, pretty please!"

"Oh, Rodney."

"Please, Mom, for me."

"Oh, all right, but the mini skirts are out."

"Just wear them around the apartments and do a lot of walking around.  Go up and down the stairs a lot and do it close to the handrail, nice and slow like."

"I see what you're up to.  You're going to describe my pussy, then they'll see for themselves that you were telling the truth.  Very clever."  He smiled sheepishly.  She ruffled his hair and said, "I think I know who your buddies are.  It's those hoods that hang out at the bottom of their stairs whenever I get home from work.  Those brats have given me hell, you know. They've said terribly nasty things to me, vulgar things, and they slap my ass and grab my tits.  They goose my cunt and twist my nipples.  Do you actually want me to show them my naked pussy?"

"Would you?"

"Oh, you'd like that, would you?"

"Heck yeah!"

"I'll think about it.  I won't make any promises.  Hell, they'll see plenty without me trying, but I could make it easy.  A gal knows how to show her pussy if she wants to."

"Do it, Mom.  Let 'em all get a good, long look at your cunt." 

"Don't go getting yourself all worked up.  I said I'd think about it."

Rodney smiled, then laid his head on her right breast.  He thought for a while toying with the left nipple as she stroked his face and head, then said, "Mom, how much would you charge Mr. Owens?"

"Rodney!  Whatever makes you think I'd charge anyone?  I'm not that kind of whore."

"You could be.  He said you'd never have to pay any rent if you'd put out when he wanted some.  We could get out a lot sooner if we weren't paying rent."

"He actually said that?"

"Swear to God."

"Hummm, I'll have to think about that.  We could be out in two months."

"Yeah, and you'd get fucked a lot.  I'd get to watch.  He already said I could."

"He did, did he?"

"Yeah, he said he'd like to fuck you with me watching.  He said I could guide his cock into your cunt.  He even showed it to me and let me touch it."

"You touched that man's cock?"

"I wound up jacking him off.  He has a nice, big dick, Mom, and you wouldn't believe all the sperm he can squirt--tons, and it didn't taste bad either."

"Rodney, did you put his cock in your mouth?"

"Not at first, but he talked me into it.  It's no big deal.  Nobody saw.  We did it here, twice today and once yesterday.  I kinda liked it. He said I could lick all of his cum out of your cunt after he fucks you."

"Oh, Rodney, that is disgusting, sick and perverted.  Fuck Mommy in the ass, Son!"

Rodney smiled and got in position while she flipped over.

					* * *

Rodney fucked his mother all evening, eight times in all, twice in the mouth, four times in the cunt, and twice in the ass.  Joan went to work, naked under her dress with a leaky pussy because he fucked her twice more in the cunt before she left.

Joan rode a sexual high all day and got fucked by her supervisor between the ficus and the hibiscus.  (Author's note: those aren't parts of a female body.  I think they're some kind of shrub) On the bus home, a man felt her up between Oglethorpe and Brownie Place. (Another author's note: Those aren't pet names for the vagina and anus.  They're streets in Atlanta Georgia.)  By the time she left the bus, she could barely walk, and then there was the gauntlet to consider.

The boys ranged in age from fifteen to nineteen and numbered as many as ten, though usually six or seven.  As she rounded the corner, she saw twelve. Rodney was one.  She approached the stairs and saw them getting ready to watch her assent, all gathering at the bottom at the railing.  

With a wildly beating heart, Joan took the hand rail and began the agonizing climb, feeling the heads dipping and craning to look up her skirt, also feeling hands slide up her legs with her skirt pulled up front and rear.  They even managed to get her tits out of her dress. A steady stream of digits went up her cunt as she took steps with measured slowness. She went high enough to get out of hands' reach, then turned with one foot on a higher step, showing her cunt quite effectively while thrusting out her blushing hooters.

She addressed Rodney while the boys gazed in open-mouthed wonder up her skirt.  She said, "Don't stay out late, Rodney.  We're having an early dinner."  With that, she turned and continued up with ohs and ahs following in her wake, as though there were a fireworks display being featured beneath her dress.  By all the sparkles and heat, she wasn't sure there wasn't.

Once in the apartment, she checked, then whipped off her dress and went to the fridge.  With a bottle of beer in hand, she went to the sofa bed, still in the bed mode, still unmade, plopped down, and gave her cunt a swig. 

She drank some, then gave her pussy some, and was about to give her pussy a little more when the apartment door flew open and Rodney entered followed by eleven more Rodney's with their rods in their hands.  That got her attention.

As the party of twelve surrounded the bed and began stripping down, Joan backed up to the sofa back and huddled in a fetal ball.  Looking to her smiling Rodney, she knew pleading was like talking to the bottle.  

Joan set the bottle down as a big kid took her by the ankles and dragged her to the center of the mattress.  He got in place and entered her with little fanfare or timidity.  He fucked her for a few strokes, then rolled over with her to place himself on bottom and her defenseless bottom on top.  Her bottom then got stuffed as yet another boy knelt at her head and stuffed a hard dick in her mouth.

For the next hour, Joan didn't go one minute without at least two cocks in her body somewhere.  Most of the time, she was water tight.  They fucked her without mercy, then fucked her some more just for shits and giggles.  Every boy got to fuck her in each of her holes, and some took seconds in their favorite orifice.

They left four hours after arrival, and it was a well used and slimy bitch that peeked out from sticky eyelashes to look at Rodney when he said, "Man, you sure are a gooey Mom!"

"Rodney, you're grounded."

"It wasn't my fault.  You showed them your pussy.  That was an invitation.  I saw it and that's how they took it.  You're grounded."

"Rodney, help me get to the bathroom."

Rodney, like a good boy, aided his slippery Mom to the small bathroom, then like a better boy, scrubbed her inside and out.  He even changed the sheets while she soaked.  When she was ready to climb between those sheets, he was there to assist.  He was such a good boy at times.

Once in bed, he tried to fuck her in the mouth, his favorite hole.  He could be a bad boy at times, too.  Joan let him fuck her mouth but didn't like having her head gripped and moved while he sat on her chest and called her filthy names.

"Yeah, suck the nut sauce out of my balls, you filthy fucking whore!"

Joan sucked down a meager offering of nut sauce but thought the filthy fucking whore crack was uncalled for.  As he drained his organ in her mouth and painted her lips with the last few drops, she had the uneasy feeling that he'd lost respect for her as a woman and a mother.

That feeling grew when he wanted to keep his dick in her mouth after it went soft.  He slid forward to his knees and pressed his groin to her mouth while holding onto the top of the sofa for support.

With his balls on her chin and his pubic hairs tickling her nose, she definitely felt she'd gone down a notch or two.  He ground his loins against her mouth while saying, "I'm telling Owens he has himself a whore."

Joan could only nod while sucking on his noodle.  Hell, it was no worse than life with her mother or Rodney's father.  At least, she was making it on her own in the big city.  She'd show them. She'd show them all.

					The End

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