CHAPTER 4: FULLY JEROME'S
Mom and I ended up going to the club three nights skipping a day in between each time. Each night was the same as the first. Each night there seemed to be an endless stream of black men waiting to fuck us. We would spend a little time mingling, dancing, a drink or two. Basically, being seen. Our dress was always outrageous and even that was feeling good. Mom and I would frequently be exposed and groped on the dance floor during the early part of the evening. We wouldn't go to the dance floor with anyone, but we would soon have men dancing around us.
It was crazy. Despite how Jerome and Ty had guided me to join me in mom's adventurous expression of sexual experience, that journey had a defined path. Mom and I were now Jerome's to use along with Ty who was always with him. I also understood they probably weren't good men by society's standards. I understood that the money that was made might be largely tainted. I understood... I saw... that men who might have made me fearful were the ones who were deferential to Jerome and seemed to fear Ty. None of those red flags mattered.
Mom started being hooked on sex, hooked on cocks fucking her mature pussy, groping her DD-cup breasts. Then, she discovered the experience of big cock fucking and especially big black cocks that led her to Jerome and Ty. Two at once. That was when I came along. The innocent (relatively) daughter. I had experience with sex but not the craving, hooked desire for it that mom had had. I was seduced directly into the big black cock experience and almost immediately into the Jerome effect. Experiencing those cocks is one thing, experiencing them combined with the easy dominance and control exuding from Jerome was completely different.
When did the realization hit me? I don't know. I didn't care. I loved cock. I loved fucking them, sucking them. I loved the feel of their cum in my pussy, ass, and mouth. Big cocks were even better. Orgasms were like a decadent, non-fattening dessert I couldn't get enough of and wanted all I could get. All of that was true and real. But, what drove me, motivated me, and consumed me was simple: Jerome's control. I needed that control. I needed to feel what he was, who he was, and the power, control, and presence that he provided.
Was mom still leading me into experiences or was I now leading her. I think now we were on the same experiential journey, hooked on the same drug that was being controlled. So, when Jerome wanted us to go to the club and fuck and suck every swinging black cock there to show other women it was again safe, we did so without concern. We fucked for five or six hours, our pussies and ass streaming cum and our stomach digesting more loads. When he wanted us to fuck his associates in groups or otherwise, we did.
Ty was an extension of Jerome. Ty was always there. If Ty said something, it was Jerome. It was that way for us, it was that way for everyone else in the organization. We came to understand why poor Amondo had been so nervous and anxious when he was instructed to open my ass with his smaller cock. At the time, I had been concerned for Amondo, but now I understood that much stronger and tougher men react the same way.
Ultimately, mom and I lived in the moment. I worked. Mom did what she did around the house and gardens. Until Jerome or Ty called or arrived. They no longer called ahead if they wanted a fuck. They came to the house when they wanted. It might be a quick fuck, it might be most of the night. Most weekends were spent at Jerome's house. Most times at Jerome's house we were naked unless they took us somewhere. If one of their associates was called to the house, we answered the door naked, and we remained naked while serving them, if needed, or simply moving about the house. Very often, unless Jerome wasn't pleased with them, we would also fuck or suck them.
Mom and I didn't have a destination for where any of this was taking us. That is what being in the moment is. No expectations. No goal. Nothing to manipulate toward. The only goal we had was to please Jerome and Ty in everything. The only expectation we had was to enjoy their magnificent cocks that could dissolve everything else into orgasmic pleasure. Being in the moment also made time irrelevant. Time being irrelevant made it seem like yesterday that I began with Jerome and Ty. It also made it seem like I couldn't imagine a time when Jerome and Ty hadn't been there.
Saturday night. We were told to get ready to go out clubbing. That meant showering, make-up, and dressing. Showering, of course, was mom and me together and always took much too much time for just cleaning. Make-up was over the top but what Jerome over time directed. Our dressing was restricted only by which outfit. We used a guest room across the hall from Jerome's bedroom for preparation and closet space. The clothes there had been accumulated over time and specifically selected by Jerome or Ty. All the clothes were... let's face it... slutty. All the clothes either accentuated or exposed our bodies in some way with deep cleavage, sheerness, or high slits up the skirts. Nearly all skirts were so short as to be obscene. We were their sluts. We knew it. They made it clear to anyone who looked. Two white sluts with two powerful black men. We no longer wondered, we knew. Now, though, we reveled in the control that held us to these men and we wore being their sluts with honor and devotion.
Though we both enjoyed eating cunt (yes, accepting our relationship to the men as sluts caused other changes, too) with the shower cascading over us, we were also adept at simultaneously bringing each other off by stroking each other's g-spots. After a similar shower, we stood in the large walk-in closet only partially full. We considered what to wear based on knowing it was a club and what we had recently worn. We decided on matching outfits: semi-sheer button-up, fitted blouses, form-fitting leather-like skirts that ended six inches below our ass cheeks, thigh-high stockings with the elastic below the bottoms of the skirts, five-inch heels, and sheer, tiny thongs. Yes... no bra. The truth was the few bras we did have at Jerome's were all sheer with minimal effective support for our sized tits. The men were pleased at seeing us bouncing down the stairs.
Mom and I sat in the backseat of Jerome's shiny sedan as we approached the very nice restaurant where the evening was beginning. I winked at mom as the car came to a stop. We both knew what was going to happen. The valets rushed from their station, one to take the keys from Jerome and two to open the doors for mom and me. Moving to exit lady-like would have had us swing both legs out at once, then take the offered hand for assistance. Jerome didn't expect us to be ladylike. He expected us to be what we were: his sluts. So, instead, we stretched out one leg, took the offered hand, and stepped out of the car with the other leg following behind. Of course, this left our thighs parted, very short skirts risen higher, and sheer, moist thongs on display. The shocked, yet lustful, look on the young men's faces confirmed what we expected.
The restaurant was nice, very nice. It also seemed to have standards even if they weren't about to make an issue of them with men like Jerome and Ty. We were seated discretely from most other diners. We had entered with half the buttons undone on our blouses. This allowed our tits more freedom to move inside the fitted form. By the time dinner was done, our blouses were unbuttoned to the waist and our very wet thongs in the men's jacket pockets. Our walk into the restaurant to our table presented jiggling tits with nipples showing through the blouse material. Our walk out of the restaurant presented swaying tits with nipples flashing into view through the gaping blouse. We encountered a mix of reactions: mostly lustful from men and disgust from women... some of the women presented disgust when it might well have been envy.
When we exited the restaurant, the valets swarmed us. I had to smile. Ty tipped each well, then whispered to us. Mom and I hesitated for just a moment. Then our fingers pulled our blouses from our skirts and opened the few remaining buttons. Our blouses now hung open and the light breeze assisted in gaping them open. One or both of our tits flashed fully exposed depending on our movement and the breeze. Exhibitionism is such a turn-on. Yes, we hesitated. And, yes, we were nervous and embarrassed. The nerves, and the embarrassment, are the emotions, the psychological aspects of the exhibition that becomes so stimulating. Jerome and Ty don't mind the hesitation as long as we quickly comply. Honestly, seeing our embarrassment is a turn-on for them. Our compliance after is confirmation of control.
When Jerome's car arrived, the rear doors were again opened for mom and me. This time I flashed in reverse. Merely walking around the back of the car with the breeze opened the blouse fully to the sides to expose both of my swaying tits and aroused nipples. When I went to enter the car, I took the offered hand, put one foot in, and sat down. That forced my legs to be spread wide, my already short skirt sliding to my hips. When I felt the car seat on my bare ass, I knew my cunt was fully exposed. I looked up at the young man, gave him a smile, and thanked him for his assistance before swinging my other leg inside and closing my legs.
