Jeff And Jess Son And Mother

I've had it! That fuckin' idiot down there, drinking all damn day, bringing prostitutes into my house! My house! Fuck it all!

"Jeff!" He won't reply to my yelling down the stairs because he's either jacking off or on his fucking playstation or both. I glance out the window onto the mud room, and she's still standing there in her too-tight jeans and her practically see-through white linen top. She's pretty, but she has the face of a skank. And she looks like she's been smoking something. I don't wanna send her straight away, because, I mean, my idiot fuckin' kid called her here. He at least owes her uber money to get back. "JEFF!"

"What?" His tone, as usual, is insolent and aggravated and I wanna punch him in his stupid face. I love him, but my God what a fuckin' idiot I've raised.

"There's someone here for you." I glance at her and she's standing there playing with her white acrylic nails. There's probably some design on the nails -- I know I'd have something on them, but I can't see it from here.

I hear him come to the bottom of the wooden stairs. "Send 'er down," he says.

I roll my eyes. "Come get 'er." He keeps the lights out or real dim all the damn time. I can see the flicker of something on a TV screen or his computer monitor or whatever.

He groans. "I'm not dressed, mom."

If I had a dollar for every time this fuckin' kid made me roll my eyes, I'd have so damn much money. Maybe I wouldn't be a millionaire, but I'd be able to afford a better house than this. I close the door to the basement, turn and walk through the kitchen to the mud room, grabbing my pocket book as I make it to the storm door separating the mud room from the kitchen. "Honey, he's not feelin' well right now. Can I --" I open my pocket book, looking for my wallet. Try to scrape together a few dollars. "I got twenty-six buck? Can you --"

She shifts her weight back and forth, looks up at me. She's a tiny little thing. I'm not tall, and she's shorter than me. She is skinny, though. Kinda pretty, not beautiful. "Venmo," she says with a city accent. "Or PayPal?" I look at her blankly.

"I don't got either o' those." I'm not a luddite, but I don't trust the internet with money, either. I mean, really. They're workin' to blow up the whole society. Why wouldn't they steal money from us. "I'm sorry. All I got is cash."

She sighs at me. Rolls her eyes. "Listen, he owes me seventy-five dollars plus travel."

I grin at her, remembering that Tom Cruise movie from when I was a kid, the one where he dances in his tighty-whiteys and shades. "I don't got seventy-five bucks, darlin'." She nods at me. "I was headin' out, though. Can I give you a lift?"

She shrugs. "Just as soon do what I'm here for?"

I grin at her. "Not with that boy," I say. "He's an idiot."

"Ain't they all?" She laughs.

Nodding, I say, "Yep. Where ya headed, honey?" She relaxes a little as I enter the mud room, slide into my flats, and head for the door.

She shrugs. "I dunno. I was just gonna be here till like..." she glances at her phone. "I dunno."

I nod her away from the kitchen door, holding the doorway open to the driveway. "I gotta get to work at Walmart. You can probably find a Uber there, yeah?" She shrugs and follows my lead, steps outside.

"You hiring?" She asks.

As I open the door to my ten year-old Toyota Corolla for her, I watch her. She seems young. Younger than my idiot kid. "I dunno, honey," I say, "I'll ask my manager when I get there." I don't tell her the truth, though. That I'm the manager, and I'm not hiring a prostitute to work for me.

***

"Mom?" That bitch! "MOM?!" She knows I hate to come up the stairs. What the absolute fuck is her deal, anyway? Since when have I had to schlep up the stairs to get my food or my mail or my shipments or to receive my friends or anything like that. What the hell is her problem?

I'd suggest she was on the rag, but she's menopausal, and I think that means that's over. I don't fuckin' know, though. What an asshole.

I think about going upstairs and dancing my way through some dumb apology and then taking my girl down here, fuck 'er for like an hour, and get back to gaming. I think about it. That's not what I do. I turn right back around, since she closed the door, and throw myself back on my bed. I look at the tv screen with the porn and watch for a bit. I'm out of the mood, now, though. Nothing like a shout down from mom to kill the mood. Fuckin' bitch.

It's been like, I don't know, a year, since I had some strange. While I'm not really into the whole going to prostitutes thing, I don't wanna go meet people. And the internet solves so many problems like that. So many. All of them, really. Like, when I'm done watching girls get used, and I need to use one, I can just order her up. So, I did.

This girl looked like she coulda been fun, from her profile on letsdoit.com. Oh, well. Maybe she'll come down. I dunno. Don't really care, but I'm horny as a ten-puckered owl (shoutout to Christian Slater in "Pump Up the Volume."), and I'm gonna have to rub it out. Again.

I watch the porn I've put on. Something about a girl hanging out at home alone. Some dude busts into her house, she sluts it up with him because, duh, she's a whore. He gets into it. She isn't satisfied, he calls some other dudes, and they're gang banging away on this cute little ho.

The way they treat her, when it's all o' these dudes. Shit, I'd like to fuck a girl like that. Just treat her like a piece of meat. Without thought or permission, they just sling her around, fill her up. Slap her. Like, a lot. One guy slaps her face repeatedly, another dude is slapping her little round titties. Man. I wanna treat someone like that. Just to see what it feels like. To have that kinda control. Must feel awesome.

I come while they're jamming their oversized dicks into all of her holes, and it's sorta weird, the way she screams when they're fucking her ass and pussy simultaneously. I dunno. I mean, it's interesting, but kinda off-putting. I wanna hear her moan, not scream. I'm thinking about that when my eyelids fall closed.

And then I'm up. The TV is off. There's no sound anywhere, and that freaks me out. Worst day of my life was spent in absolute silence, so I hate silence. I immediately jab in the dark for the remote, which is usually nearby on the bed. I find it, thankfully. Press the power button. The TV slowly fades back to life. The on-demand screensaver screen showing. I press another button on the remote, and I'm looking at the on-demand menu. I select something at random, something about gang bangs, and the stupid music starts up right away. Shortly there are intercut shots of women getting dicks in all their holes, the three or four different women in the clips all moaning and crying and I feel a little better. Listening to them get railed, used. The way women should be.

The first twenty minute segment, where porn star extraordinaire Kayla Bunger gets just absolutely mistreated from the word go got me popping early and often. My first explosion goes off when four dudes, two black guys, one white guy, and porn's only asian dude hold her down and ram her cunt full of their dicks, rotating the other tree jobs. One guy holds her hands, which she flails around but he's big and she's small so her wrists fit in his one beefy mitt. One guy is jamming his cock into her throat, and then the fourth guy, feeling a little useless, just hits her. He starts with choking her, then smacking her face and her tiny little tits, then when the cock in her pussy is ready to blow, he just starts punching her in her stomach. It's weird, a little mean, but holy fuck do I cum a fuckton!

I watch the other segments, too, and I blow for both of those in turn. But the Kayla Bunger one. Man. She can take a beating. And her scream. Magnificent. And the men in that segment were all so mean. Spitting and slapping. The guy who hit her all the time. Like he was really and truly angry. Made my day.

I finally turn off the porn to make way for the music segment of the afternoon or evening or middle of the fucking night because I legit have no idea and don't really care that much. I float through each day, marking what part of the day it might be by what mom is doing and how much shrieking at how dumb I am she does. None lately, so she's at work.

At work, and won't offer me a job. What kind of mother doesn't give their own kid a job where she works? A bitch ass mom, that's what kind. If I've learned anything since I came back here a couple years ago, I get why dad left her. She's a worthless pile of annoying complaints who never stops whining and never stops complaining. Can't do anything for herself. Fucking worthless.

I don't know why I'm even here, to be honest. I should be off on my own, fucking slutbags and making money hand over fist selling... slutbags and cocaine? Slutbags and heroine? Slutbags and opioids? All that shit is dangerous, though. And, well, my previous life was dangerous fucking enough.

***

She looks at me with kind of puppy-dog eyes, that look I used to fall for all the time. A look that got me in a heap of shit with that useless lazy ass of a son. I shake my head at her. But I can't find my voice to say the word no. My ultimate weakness. My deepest weakness. Ever since Joss left, saying no has been the deepest, most difficult thing I can do.

"Listen," I say to the poor girl who had signed on to fuck my son, "I don't know anything about you. I mean, I know why you showed up at my doorstep this afternoon, but I don't know anything else, an' really, the reason you were at my house, sorta disqualifying."

She shoots me a nasty look. "Why?" She shifts in the blue plastic chair in my office. "Because I'm likely to suck a customer's dick?"

I try not to laugh at her. But, I can't help myself. "Are you more likely to suck a customer's dick?" Before she can contort her face from the affronted face that forms, I say, "No. Because you've made a choice in your life that... well, let's see. If I went to your Facebook page or whatever, would I find stuff that made you seem like a good hire?"

She chokes on her immediate response. "As if I have a Facebook page."

I lean forward in my chair. "I know about TikTok an' Snap, too, honey." She doesn't have a quick retort to that. "Why would you hire someone like you?"

She snorts and stands up, the metal feet of the chair squealing against the linoleum that lines all of the floors in this damned place. "Fuck you." She storms out of my office and I breathe a sigh of relief. Before she's gone too long, I dial up Ernie in the Security office. "Hey, Ern. There's a girl, bout five-four, one-ten, leaving my office. She's wearing a skimpy top and torn up jeans. Can you have someone check 'er on her way out. She's a theft risk." He answers in the affirmative. "Thanks, sweetie."

I am not supposed to use verbiage like that. But, if we're being honest, I've had a thing on and off with Ernie in security for years. If he weren't married, we'd probably be a thing. But, it's cool. I don't really want a guy. Not a permanent one. I enjoy having freedom, and I really enjoy fuckin' around with him when he and his girl are on the outs. He's younger, so that's cool. Also, and don't tell my mother, he's black, and no matter what other women may say, it's true: black dicks are bigger, and once you have black, ain't no goin' back.

I breathe a moment and glance about my desk. Was a time when everything I needed to tend to was on my desk. Someone's desk, anyway. And there are bits and bobs of things on the top of my metal desk that require my eventual attention. The pressing shit is on the computer, and I just don't feel like dealing with that stuff. Not this minute. So, I lean back in my chair. I second guess my decision to turn away little Miss Tarty Pants, but only for a moment. I close my eyes.

For the first time, it occurs to me that my kid might be wrecking my house. It's not likely, but he's really such an insolent, disrespectful, little punk...

The knock on the door pulls me back to work. Ernie peaks in, smile on his face, twinkle in his eye. He's had a belt or two, then. I didn't notice on the phone. He slides in through the door and closes it. Locks it behind himself. I smile up at him from my chair. "What can I do for ya, Ern?"

He gives those eyes. The ones that tell me he's had a drink or two, he isn't expecting to get laid when he goes home, and he'd like a little attention before he heads out for the night. I'm on the second shift all this week, which is cool. Slightly less customer crap to handle, more employee and back of the house bullshit to deal with. Checking inventory statuses, getting ready for any computer updates filtering down to the POSes, dumb shit like that. It's the perfect time for the evening manager to engage in an undocumented office romance with the head of store security. Right?

He doesn't say a word. Just walks up to me, unbuckling his belt and unfastening his uniform pants. He leaves the zipper for me, as if I can't do the other stuff. I've never understood why he wouldn't just fling it out himself. Maybe so he knows I'm down. If I don't pull him out then maybe I'm not doing it tonight? I don't know. Never asked. Never came up. He gets the party started, I let the party end wherever he wants.

One time, in his car, He came all over my face and it dripped onto my top and my uniform jacket, which I stupidly left on, and we laughed and I had to act like I got mayo or something on my jacket till I could get it washed. I pull my jacket off now. I pull his zipper down, then with one hand, I pull his fat black cock out, and with the other, start shedding the jacket. I switch hands after a couple strokes and sucks up and down his dick, and shake off the rest of the jacket. It falls on the floor next to me. He gives it a little kick, so if he blows it would have to go pretty far to hit my jacket again.

God, he tastes so good. He's a tiny sweaty, so there's salt, but there's a nice sweetness to his skin. I always tell him tastes like chocolate, even though he tastes nothing like that. Salty, nutty, maybe. He starts to groan and I can feel he's gonna pop soon. I pull away. "Cum in my pussy," I tell him. He nods, takes a step back. I drop my jeans and turn positioned over the top of my desk and the stupid shit I'll get to some other day, more than likely. He's in me so fast. And I was wet. I didn't realize I was in the mood for him till he appeared in the door. Maybe thinking about that dumb girl and her job got me aroused. I dunno. But, he's thrusting hard and he's shouting my name through it. Everyone nearby can hear it.

I used to think people thought less of me for fucking a married man. But, I was wrong. They don't like me because of my position. There are at least three other girls on the floor who'd love to have an office they can lock the door to and get fucked by Ernie. He grunts and I shout his name and grab some piece of paper on the desk, wad it up in my tensing fingers. He slaps my ass, which I love, and I feel him fill me up. It's so satisfying, that wet load mixing with and joining my sudden muscle tensing and generation of my own juices. He pulls out and there's a satisfying "pop" sound, I'm so tight and tense around him.

"Damn, Jess," he says as he grabs a tissue from the box of Kleenex on my desk. "Fo' sho' we gettin' married if my bitch at home an' I get a divorce."

Grabbing a tissue of my own and wiping myself semi-clean before gathering myself and standing upright, I nod at him, give him my coy smile. "I ain't ever marryin' you, though, Ern."

He pulls up his pants, pouts at me. "Why not, baby?"

I laugh, reach for his dick, and say, "You don't keep it your pants. You'd never be faithful."

He considers for a moment while I pull up my own jeans. "Yeah, you prolly right."

"I fuckin' know I am." After I shake my hair out and retrieve my jacket from the floor, I add, "Also, I'm what, twenty years older'n you?"

He shrugs. "Ain't nothin' but a number."

"Have a good night, babe. Thanks." I say to him, sitting in my chair. "I didn't know I needed that, but felt good getting you in me."

He leans down, we share a short kiss. "You work this weekend?" He asks.

I shrug a second, and glance at the computer. "Uh, I'm not sure. Are you in this weekend?"

He nods. "I'm comin' in for some to-do on Saturday."

I think about the coming weekend, unsure what "to-do" is coming round, but I don't actually care. The only reason I'm here after seven years is for the discounts. And I've advanced through the system, but, I'm done. If they fire me this weekend, I'd be down to collect unemployment. Teach my idiot kid how to look for and keep a job, maybe. "Okay. I'll see you if I'm in." He nods and heads for the door.

"Hey, what was up with that girl? She give Darnell fuckin' attitude for lookin' at her on her way out."

I sigh. "She's a whore." He laughs. "No, seriously. I'm gettin' ready for work and my dumbass son has a prostitute show up as I'm headed out. He wouldn't come bring 'er down, an' I'm not leaving a woman of ill-repute to jus' fuckin' march around all over my house. So, I brought her here with me to catch an Uber home."

He shakes his head. He knows Jeff. He also knows Jeff is a goddamned idiot. "That boy's just too much sometimes, Jess."

"Tell me about it!" He pulls the door closed behind him.

I revel in the warmth he left inside of me. I love it so much. I suppose I'm technically not through menopause yet, but I have the occasional hot flash and, shit, I've been lettin' dudes cum in me for years without even a scare. So, I'm not worried. I can taste his dick on my tongue, and I think about him shooting in my mouth.

That's it. I'm lost the rest of the day. Better head out to the floor and see what I can find to distract me. If I continue to sit in here, I'll just end up masturbating. And I can't really afford to get caught doing that again.

***

I text my buddy Dug. He and I met when I was working at a construction company a while back. We would leave mid-shift and get high or drunk and then whistle at girls as they walked by. It was so dumb and so kinda awesome at the same time. Like, I was living, kinda. But, it was also really boring, and if we didn't get drunk and do stupid shit, it was boring as fuck. Dug would always get fired first, usually either jacking off in public or telling off the boss. One time, he did the coolest thing. He told the boss, who for this one job was a woman, to suck his dick, pulled it out for her, and when she didn't suck him off, he beat off on her desk. Literally spewed on her desk. Obviously, he hasn't worked a real job since.

-Hungry. Horny. Wyd rn

After a couple minutes, he replies.

--hungry, not horny, jus fucked a kid at Walmart.

-really my moms store or the other one out on 55

After a few seconds, a pic of some absolutely beautiful slut fills my screen, her face covered in jizz, presumably Dug's.

-damn, bro

--your moms

I think about that for a few minutes. Mom chased away my ho, I guess. The girl never came down. What if mom took her to Walmart, and Dug found her there and fucked her. Weirder things have happened, I guess.

-whats her name

--didn't ask

-lol

--I'll bring pizza?

-si señor

--20 minutes

I smile but I don't answer. I can't say exactly why, but I did Dug in a way that makes me feel creepy and a little homosexual. Even though we both fuck chicks and I have no sexual attraction to him, he just makes me feel cooler knowing him. Ignore that I'm at least eight years older than him. And I supposedly stopped caring about cool when I went off to college. Still, it's nice having somebody who wants to spend time with me. I mean, fuck, my own mother can't stand me.

Sure, I make it hard for her to want me around. I forever make a nuisance of myself when she brings dudes around. And holy fuck, my mom is a slut of the highest order. If I remembered my dad at all, or had any contact with him, he'd be super surprised to learn mom lived in a sex forest occupied wholly by dark wood. Woman is a nigger lover extraordinaire. I mean, it's fine, but it fucks with my concept of her. I don't think she was fucking around this much before I left for school. But, how would I know. When I came back a few years ago, bitch was running her own damn brothel for brothers up in here. Had a different dude every night. Or, seemed like it was every night, anyway.