I must have slept three or four hours. It was already dark outside when I awakened. For a few seconds I had the comforting thought that I'd dreamt it all. But then, in a sick rush, it all came home to me.
In the hope of sparing my mother and me from the unspeakable, my grandmother had endured being serially raped, day and night, by a coarse gang of thugs. And me, I'd betrayed her, too, by fucking her that last time, just as my whore slut of a mother had betrayed all of us -- my father included -- by flinging herself into the arms of their big black buck of a ringleader, Jared.
The moment I sat up my head felt like it was full of cotton. I took a few staggering steps, found my balance, and went down the hall to the little guest bedroom, back to my spyhole. I looked inside where my grandmother and the guys had been, but everything was in darkness now. I decided to check things out. The moment I opened the door to the bedroom, my nostrils were assaulted by the rank odor of stale sweat and sex. Mehmaw was there alone, splayed out on the bed, on her belly, naked and snoring. I felt pity for her. I knew she had to have been completely exhausted. I gently lay a quilted coverlet across her and left the room, easing the door shut.
I now heard male voices coming from downstairs, then the sound of the garage door to the house opening. I went halfway down the stairs and caught a glimpse of my mother entering from the garage, arms loaded with sacks of groceries. I realized that while I'd been fast asleep, Jared must have sent her on a food run. I later learned she'd gone to five different supermarkets all over town, using her credit card to buy food at each store, so as not to call attention to herself by making one huge food purchase. The fact that Jared had trusted her to go by herself, and that she hadn't made any attempt to contact the cops, spoke volumes about how far their relationship had progressed.
The guys helped bring in the rest of the groceries and emptied the sacks on the counter tops: six loaves of bread, a mountain of fresh and canned fruit, beans, rice, vegetables, and enough meat and poultry to feed a small army for a week.
When I entered the kitchen, Mom looked over at me with what I thought was a slightly guilty smile. She breezily asked if I'd had a good nap. I guess I must've been glowering at her, because she quickly turned away and busied herself putting up the canned goods. Jared stood close behind her in the pantry and put one hand on her ass like he owned it. She looked back at him over her shoulder and smiled affectionately. My stomach knotted up.
As she moved past me to get another load of cans, she asked, "How's Mehmaw? She still asleep?"
My mother was so fucking clueless. I wanted to spill my guts right then and there. I wanted to say, "Yeah, Ma, Mehmaw's taking a real nice little nap -- after six hours of getting her pussy pounded and ass raped by your new boyfriend's buddies." But I didn't; all I said was, "Yeah, I think so."
"Well, let her sleep," she said. "You can get her up when dinner's ready. I'm going to make goulash!" She sounded so delighted with herself, like she did when she prepared a special meal when we had Dad's boss and his wife over for dinner. "Do me a favor, hon', and dice up some onions and garlic -- oh yeah, and slice up a dozen carrots, will you?"
When I pulled out the paring knife from the drawer, Jared immediately took it away from me and said, "That's all right. I'll do it." I guess he sensed I'd like to have stuck him in the fucking throat with it. Instead, I washed the vegetables, then set the table.
When dinner was close to being ready, Mom sent me upstairs to get Mehmaw. I found she was already up, taking a shower.
I opened the bathroom door a crack and steam came billowing out. Mehmaw didn't see me. She was standing sideways, hot water pouring down on her, her hair laid flat back against her skull. She lathered up her tits and belly with a bar of soap. Then she got a washrag and lifted first one arm, then the other to do her armpits, causing those stupendous breasts to jut out. When she reached down between her legs and tendering dabbed around her sore pussy, I could feel my cock starting to rise. She went into a half-crouch and put her soapy fingers way up inside her vagina, worked them deep into herself, rotating them all around. She then soaped up the washrag again and arched her back, reaching around to wash the big luscious globes of her ass and get down into the crack. With her body twisted like that, her breasts swung to one side, the water cascading off her tits and nipples.
I quietly closed the door, waited a moment in the hall, then knocked.
"Mehmaw," I called, "Mom says to come on down when you're ready. We're having goulash."
"Go on and eat without me," Mehmaw called back somberly. "I'm not hungry."
"Aw, c'mon," I coaxed, "You need to eat something." And then it crossed my mind that she'd already had lots to eat. Lots of cum. "All right," I said with a reluctant tone, and was about to head back downstairs when I heard her say, "Jeffrey!"
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Come in here, please."
I hesitated, afraid of what she might say about my having fucked her of my own volition that second time. I opened the door just a hair.
"Yes'm?"
