The Alley Road Bar & Grill, half full of drinkers and drunks, hummed like a clinking, clanking drone. "Here's a good one," a young man said, eyeing a column of classified ads in the back pages of a small newspaper. "She's a horny one. I'll bet you she's somebody's mother."
Another young man, named Noah, leaned over and took a look at the paper that was spread open on the bar. "She's the same age as my Ma," he said. "A fuckin' gangbang?"
"Yeah, man. She's looking for a big night. We should sign up. What do you say?"
"Yeah, right," Noah said. "I'm gonna bang an old skank from the back of this paper? No fuckin' way." He tipped his beer bottle up, drank the last drops from it, and scanned some more of the ads. "These massage parlors aren't even real, I don't think. They're, like, in the back rooms of people's houses. And the whores in here think they're sneaky, gettin' around the fuckin' law. I bet you the cops read this thing. They probably bust half of these skanks."
The friend shrugged his shoulders. "It's worth readin' just for the stripper club ads. Look at the fuckin' tits on this girl."
"Oh, fuck!" Noah said, giving her picture a long look. "We should go there again. We haven't been there in a while, right?"
Noah caught the bartender's eye and ordered another round of beers. He pulled the little newspaper over in front of him, and his eyes found the five line classified ad again. Something about it grabbed him, enough to keep him staring at it. The gangbang-seeking author of it was indeed his mother's age, and even wrote it out the way she always liked to say it — "44 years young." It seemed a common enough way of expressing it for a woman his mother's age, although he couldn't ever remember anyone else saying it that way. "I'll be needing" is another common thing to say, he thought, because his mother did indeed say it often, so "I'll be needing as many well hung men as I can get," didn't strike him as odd, coming, as it was, from a horny skank in the back of the stripper ads paper.
Noah's friend wasn't paying attention to the paper anymore. He started talking about his niece, and how her tits had grown to "at least a D cup, man. And she still wears fuckin' pig tails and shit."
"You better keep your dick in your pants," Noah said. "That kind of family shit's fucked up."
"How cool would it be if she started workin' at one of the strip clubs," the friend said. "She'll be old enough in, like, a year, and her tits'll be even fuckin' bigger."
"Is the rest of her good?" Noah asked.
"Fuckin' killer. I don't know where she got it, but her ass smokes all the other girls in the family."
"Maybe daddy's not her daddy," Noah said.
"Maybe," the friend said, nodding, with a twinkle in his eye. "My aunt's kinda hot, so...yeah...maybe."
—
Noah's bedroom is a somewhat primitive space, in the attic above his parents' two-car garage. The knee-high walls and slanted ceilings are sheetrocked and painted, and it's heated and has electricity, but the nearest indoor plumbing is inside the house, so Noah pees in a jar at night the way his great great grandfather probably did. The small beer-stained newspaper from the bar—the NightTimes, it's called—lay spread open on his mattress on the floor; it's the place where he sleeps at night, and reclines with his bong, and has sex with two girls from the neighborhood, one at a time, girls he'd gone all through elementary and high school with. One of them, a girl named Eliana, claims Noah's cock is the only one she's seen that's circumcised, even though she's a Jewish girl.
Noah was stuck on that word, "circumcised," and it was that little five line classified ad where his eyes were frozen on it. That "44 years young" woman had written it, twice. "Circumcised" and "un-circumcised." She was asking for men of both types, and Noah found that interesting. Was it a visual thing, he wondered, or was there a pleasure difference? Was the woman, like Eliana, someone who had gone through life experiencing only one, or the other? And didn't she realize those words are long, real space hogs when you're paying for a classified ad? It must have been important to her.
He knew for a fact that his mother Sabella—Ma, as he called her—had only ever been with his father, a Jew who, he knew for another fact, was circumcised. Ma had gone on and on about it on many occasions—not about the skin on the tip of his father's cock, but about being his sweetheart since the day she found out she'd been promised to him, and never even so much as kissing another boy or man. Except for Noah, of course. Jewish mothers love to kiss their sons, and they love it even more when their sons kiss them.
Noah was there, on his bed, with that ad that was printed on cheep newsprint paper that smelled like a barroom floor, because he couldn't shake the feeling that his mother—Ma, herself—had written and submitted and payed for that five-line request for a roomful of the city's men to come forth and fuck her, all at once, or as close to all at once as they could manage. It made him numb, thinking about it, like being stunned, but in a slow-burn kind of way. The pieces fell into place in his mind but he couldn't quite believe them. He'd shake his head every once in a while and say "no" to the silence, and then he'd read "44 years young," and "I'll be needing...", and it was Ma's voice doing the talking.
It was a Friday morning, so he went down to the house, mildly hungover from two beers too many the night before.
"You're hungry" Sabella said when she saw him. "I'll make some eggs. Your father brought home some nice bagels, and that green-onion cream cheese you like."
"Yeah, Ma, that's...that's good."
"You won't forget to say goodbye to your father," she said. "He'll be leaving today."
"Oh. Yeah. How long this time?"
"Two weeks. The usual rounds to the Asian buyers. Almost three weeks, really, and at his age..."
"What, you planing on him dying, or somethin'?"
"I'm just saying," Sabella said. "Give him a hug and a kiss."
Noah's father, Mervin, was 67 years old. Grandfather age, but that's what sometimes happens with an arranged marriage. It's always an older man and a younger woman, never the other way around.
Noah smiled and nodded at his mother. He sat down at the kitchen table and the words from the ad crept into his head again, the "44 years young" woman saying, in his mother's voice, "looking for men younger than me, with athletic fitness."
Noah's father wasn't fit. He'd grown soft, and wheezed when he climbed more than a flight of stairs, and his hair-line was back where a pilot could see it best. As far as Noah could tell, the old man's testosterone level had dropped to negative numbers a decade and a half ago.
"You and Pop all right?" Noah asked, as he watched his mother make a perfect cheese omelet.
"All right? What do you mean?"
"I don't know. Just wonderin'. What are you gonna do when he's gone?"
"I'm getting my nails done, and there's a new spa that does...you know, some...lady things. I was thinking I might even get my hair cut short. I think it might look younger. What do you think?"
"Oh, yeah. I mean, you always look good, but...what are you doing? Like, a make-over or somethin'?"
Sabella smiled. The bagel popped up, nicely toasted, and she gave it a thick schmear of the green speckled cream cheese. "Or somethin', she said. "I'm not dead yet, you know."
"Jeeze, Ma, you're freakin' me out. You sure you're okay? Everything?"
"Yes, couldn't be better," she said. She kissed Noah on the top of his head and set a nicely plated breakfast down in front of him, just in time to revive his body and his mind.
—
Noah went out again that night. Friday in the city meant dance clubs, followed by strip clubs, followed by a late night nosh at an all-night diner. Shabbat, the Jewish Sabbath, begins a few minutes before sunset each Friday evening and lasts until early Saturday night, but over the years Noah had gradually stretched the rules and was often out on the town until the wee hours. Sabella was okay with it as long as he was functioning enough to accompany her and his father to Temple on Saturday morning, or sometimes in the afternoon.
On that particular Friday, none of the girls at the dance clubs panned out, as far as late night dalliances go, and the strip clubs felt like the same old same old, sucking twenty-dollar bills out of his and his friend's pockets like a vacuum cleaner. Alone again in his room in the wee hours, reclined against the pillows on his bed, with his smoking, bubbling bong to his mouth, his red eyes caught sight of the folded-up NightTimes newspaper. It was folded up backwards, with the busty stripper girl from the back cover looking right at him, like one of those eerie paintings with the eyes that follow you around. His turntable was spinning a well worn copy of Led Zeppelin IV, with Stairway to Heaven floating like a soft memory into his newly buzzed brain. Smoke hung in the air, freshening the ever-present scent of spilled drinks and spilled bong water. It was just a few moments later when the five lines of the little classified ad were in front of his eyes again, and his mother's voice was inside his head, reading it to him. It was tumultuous in there, inside his head, with hard-to-believe things bouncing around, but another good solid bong hit mellowed the feelings.
"Fuck," he said, to no one but himself. "I gotta figure this shit out."
It was just two minutes later when an email was gone from his quick-typing thumbs, flying through the cloud, bouncing off the NightTimes' reply service, ricocheting to the "44 years young" woman's phone.
A light switched on in the upstairs of the house, just ten feet from Noah's window. "Fuck!" he said when he noticed the sudden glow of it through his curtain. "You gotta be fuckin' shittin' me!"
He floated down the stairs on a big-ass buzz, half drunk and high as the sky. He stood in his mother's kitchen, unsure of what to do, and then he heard her voice.
"Noah? That better be you and not some scumbag looking for my jewelry."
"It's me, Ma. What are you doin' awake?"
"Oh. The phone just rang a few minutes ago. Wrong number, but it got my heart racing...I doubt if I can sleep now. Want to have a snack with me?"
She'd breezed into the kitchen wearing just a bra and a pair of daytime seersucker shorts. Her feet were bare, with recently applied bright red polish on her toenails, something Noah hadn't seen before. And it wasn't a motherly bra. Skimpy to the near extreme, finely detailed with touchable lace, it was cut so low and wide it showed more of her breasts than it covered, and it happily gave up glimpses of the darker pigmented flesh of the areolas surrounding her nipples. It was the type of lingerie that the word sexy was invented for.
"Ma! You sleep in that?" Noah's red, stoned-looking eyes seemed stuck on the pure white bra, or on what little of it there was.
"Oh," Sabella said. "I...uh...I bought some new things today." She glanced down at herself. "Oh, the shorts, you mean? No, I don't sleep in them. I just pulled them on so...so you wouldn't see how badly I need that...spa visit I mentioned. Did you know there's so many waxing choices? Bikini, Brazilian, Full Hollywood..."
"What the fuck is Full Hollywood?" Noah asked, his stoned mind bypassing the craziness of talking to his mother about crotch waxing.
Sabella decided to give him a pass on the blue language that evening, because there was a lot on both of their minds. "It's...you know...bare. Like a pre-pubescent school girl."
"Jeeze, Ma!"
"I bet there was at least one little slut when you were in school. Let me guess...Trinity Wexler."
Noah nodded, feeling way more stoned than he wanted to be at that moment. "Yeah...yeah."
"I know you lost your virginity to her," Sabella said. "Her mother told me, screaming about it."
"Oh, shit. Really?"
"Really," Sabella said.
"You knew about it and you didn't say anything?"
Sabella shrugged her shoulders, just enough to see. "No, I didn't say anything about it, or about Eliana, or Leah. Your sex life never bothered me, for some reason. I've always been sort of...fascinated by it, even when you were too young."
Noah sat down at the kitchen table, his mind in a swirling fog. It was a happy high, not a downer high, but it was twisted in a strange kind of way.
"You've been smoking, haven't you," Sabella said. "They say marijuana is going to be legal in New York, maybe in just a few months. I saw it on the news."
"Yeah, I saw it, too."
"I want to try it," Sabella said.
"You're gonna buy weed when it's legal?"
"No," Sabella said. "I mean now. Go get that contraption you use. I'm ready. I want to see if I like it."
"My...bong? Shit, ma, you want me to bring my bong into the house?"
"I do. And don't spare the weed. Bring me some...what do you call it...good buds?"
Noah smiled, and then he laughed. "Ma, it's three-thirty in the morning. Shouldn't you be asleep?"
"Go get it. Are you really going to let an opportunity to smoke it with your old Ma slip by?"
Noah returned two minutes later, to the sight of his mother slouching comfortably in her kitchen chair. Her shoulders were slightly askew, tightening one barely-big-enough bra cup and loosening the other, to the point of opening an easily seen gap, airing out a soft-looking nipple. "Jeeze, Ma. What, is your robe at the cleaners or somethin'?"
"What's the matter? I happen to know that you like tits."
The fact that his mother said tits in his presence didn't exactly slip by Noah, but his drunk and his high were conspiring again. He was in one-track-mind territory, and barely able to manage that. "How do you know that?"
"I've heard you say it," Sabella said. "I guess you don't think abut it, but, when you have your fun-and-games girls over, your window's always open."
"And your window's always closed."
"Your father wears soundproof earmuffs, so I sometimes open it."
"Oh, Christ."
Sabella smiled. "I've heard you say that a few times, too. Usually with an exclamation point, at the big moment."
Noah tried to get a grip on all the new knowledge, but it was seriously messing with his head. So was the sight of his mother looking like a sexual woman, and a pretty fucking great looking one, at that. Even something as simple as seeing his well-used old bong sitting on the kitchen table, where his father ate every day, was causing his synapses to miss-fire, screwing up the muscles in his fingers, causing spillage of good weed when he filled the bowl for his mother's first-ever hit.
And it was a solid hit, coughing but held pretty well, blown out slowly, minus the THC of course, which drilled into her mind like a million happy thoughts rushing her all at once.
"Whoa!" she said. Her wide-open eyes looked at Noah, and he smiled.
"Good shit, right?" he said, as if she'd know. "I like this bag. A lot."
Noah put the bong to his mouth. Sabella watched with a new and intense interest when he lit it and inhaled the cloud that swirled in the bubbling, clear glass cauldron. The smoke stayed in his lungs for a remarkably long time, and she vowed to do the same with her next hit.
Five minutes later Noah announced, "I'm high as fuck," and his laughing mother announced that she was, too. She opened the screw-top from a fresh bottle of Manischewitz Blackberry wine, two tall juice glasses were poured full, and half of them was drunk. Sabella laughed some more.
"Oh my god," she chuckled. "Why haven't you got me toked before? Is that what you call it? Getting toked?"
Noah was certain it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard in his life. "No, Ma!" he laughed. "Toking is the inhaling part. What I got you is shit-faced."
They both laughed until tears rolled down their cheeks, their open mouthed laughs showing their purple tongues. Sabella poured more of the sweet wine.
A deep discussion ensued, about the richly colored shades of green in the kitchen — the walls, the curtains, the countertops, the potholders and little hand towels, all of them green.
"Those curtains in your room over the garage are the same as these," Sabella said. "I ordered them at the same time."
"No fuckin' way!" Noah said. "I never noticed that before." His eyes appeared stuck on the slightly shiny, goldish-green fabric.
"Lucky for me they let the sound through pretty well," Sabella said. She tried to fight back a smile, but it won out. Her eyes went to her glass on the table, and her thoroughly stoned mind was blown by the intensity of the warm tingles that emanated from the flush of embarrassed heat that she felt.
Noah, focusing his mind as best he could, said, "How much you heard?"
"Oh, things, you know," Sabella said. Her eyes stayed on the deep purple that seemed to be glowing in her glass. "That Eliana, she's...pretty energetic, huh? And a talker."
"Jeeze, Ma, are you talkin' about what I think you're talkin' about?"
" 'Your cock's so big!' and 'Fuck Noah, you're deeper than fuck!'," Sabella said. "I heard her say those kinda things, lot's of times." Sabella sat there, slouched, her left nipple half visible again. Her first-time-shit-faced eyes rose to meet Noah's. "I learn from her. I'm better, 'cause of her."
Noah sat frozen, stunned. "Does Pop...know?"
"You're father? No. He and me, we don't hardly...do much anymore. And like I said, he wears those muffs to bed, so, he doesn't hear you. Never has, I don't think. If he heard you ended up with a big dick he'd probably be jealous. Luckily I don't think those Asian women he likes expect one. I'm thinking maybe size skips a generation, like baldness. Maybe your grandpa had one."
Noah couldn't shake the stunned feeling, but his high was still a happy one. And it was way, way high. "So...you and Pop...it's not good?"
"The sex isn't good for anything, no. But the marriage is good. Is that what you mean? Are you worrying about that?"
"Yeah. I mean, I don't know. Last night and today, I've been...confused about something."
"Is that why you came over?" Sabella asked. "You saw my light, didn't you. You sent that email and then you knew it was me."
"How the fuck do you know that?" Noah asked.
"Your email address, silly. Stonerider69. Did you think I wouldn't recognize it?"
"Oh, fuck!"
Sabella smiled and shook her head. "Sometimes I wish we'd hired some tutors for you, back when your brain was still soaking up things other than booze."
"So what the fuck, Ma. That ad is really you?"
"Your father and I, we have...an arrangement. It's nothing you need to be concerned about."
"Christ, Ma! Of course I need to be concerned about it! You can't expect me to just walk away and forget all this."
"No, I guess not. Give me another...what do you call it? A hit?"
Noah packed the bowl for his mother, and she took a huge, deep hit, like an old pro.
"Well if you must know," she said, exhaling as she spoke, "I had to confront your father. This was years ago. He was...I guess I'll just tell you. I found out he he'd hired a private secretary, an Asian girl, when he was over there on one of his long trips. She was more of a companion, really, but the expense account lists them as secretaries."
"Them? There was more than one?"
"Yes, but...just one at a time, each time he goes over there. There were orgies, too. I found out about at least one of those."
"Holy shit, Ma! Pop? Orgies?"
"It came as a shock to me, too. Our marriage almost ended, but there was you to think about, and your sister."
"Fuck!"
"Yes. Fuck," Sabella said. "But...it all worked out. I offered to stay with him, to keep the family together, but I insisted he had to give me the same freedoms. It's strictly when he travels. He does his thing, and I do mine.""How fuckin' long, Ma? I mean, have you been doin' this for..."
"Ten years, I guess." Sabella tried to look serious but she giggled, and her eyes looked happily stoned. "It's been really fun."
"Gang bangs, you mean? Holy shit, Ma!"
"Oh, the ad, you mean? No, that's new. Well, the request is new. I've used that paper lots of times."
"So...real people like you use it? I thought it was just..."
"Prostitutes? They're definitely in there. A lot of the replies I get are about money. I have to be very careful, because I've heard about girls getting busted through there. Can you imagine? If I got arrested for prostitution? You know how this neighborhood talks."
"Christ," Noah said. He sat silent for a moment and said, "So, you've been with...lots of guys?"
"Am I the same as a whore, do you mean, without the money? No, it's not like that." She poured the glasses full again. "I guess I'm a lot like you. I just...need something different, once in a while. It's usually just a regular guy. I tell them I need to meet somewhere public, so I can judge whether they're safe or not. But I know you had a couple of threeways, so you know that's good, too, right? I guess a ma can learn from her son every once in a while."
"You...had a threeway?"
"It's spicy, right?" Sabella said. "You know how I like my hot peppers."
That's when food entered Sabella's consciousness, and a wide assortment of it came out of the refrigerator and the cupboards, along with forks and plates and knives. It was a stoner feast of epic proportions.
With his mouth full of well-salted cold chicken, and his eyes freshly sparkling from a lingering glance at his mother's well-stuffed lingerie bra, Noah asked a question he never thought he'd ask his mother. "How come I never knew you were sexy before."
Sabella shrugged her bare shoulders. "You never asked. And I never showed you. Maybe you never looked."
They were solid answers that made Noah nod. His stoned mind liked all three of them. "You never showed me," he said, settling on his favorite.
"You want I should? I mean...when your pop's not home? I wear my sexy stuff a lot when he's away. I can...stop covering it up when you're around, if you're okay with it."
"Yeah, I mean, if you want," Noah said, wondering if he was speaking crazy thoughts. "I'm okay with it. I mean, I feel like we're friends now."
Sabella smiled and nodded. "Is that what happens when you get shit-faced with people? You get this deep friend thing that I'm feeling?"
"Yup. Usually. But I mean, it's different with us. This is blowin' my fucking mind."
"Good," Sabella said. "So, friend, you never answered me earlier. Should I go Brazilian or Full Hollywood for my big night?"
"Fuck, Ma! You're askin' advice, for that?"
Sabella laughed at the look on Noah's face, and wine dribbled out of her stoned mouth. "Oh, crap! My seersuckers!" She stood and took off her shorts as quick as a wink, eager to get the fresh dark purple stain out of them. "I guess you're seeing it," she said, "the reason I need a wax job. It's a good thing I used the scissors already."
Noah was numb again, unable to move. His mother's little panties matched her bra, finely wrought lace that was minimalist in cut, barely covering that which needed to be covered. His eyes were there, and his mind was half there, befuddled by the sight of the scissor-trimmed pubes that the tiny panties didn't try to hide. The other half of his mind was stuck on the two 'S' words, repeating like a skipping record in his head — seersucker scissors, seersucker scissors, seersucker scissors. He giggled and Sabella smiled.
"It's fun, right?" she said. "Me dressing sexy with you? I feel like laughing, too. Is it that weed of yours? I can't believe how much I love it."
"Ma, you got a little..." Noah said, staring at his mother's chest, pointing at his own, right in the center. Sabella looked down and her face showed her horror. "No! It's brand new!" There was a purple stain right in the center of her new white bra, on the little strappy part that spanned across the cleavage between her breasts. "Is this the kind of thing that happens when you get shit-faced?"
She turned away from Noah, with her hands behind her, unclasping, and then the bra was off and she was skittering quickly to the sink, keeping her back to him for the most part.
Noah watched silently again, a sight he never thought he'd see — his sweet Ma, dressed like a stripper, her body bare but for the thong-back of the white panties that emerged from the top of her remarkably nicely shaped ass crack, finely wrought white lace that reached out like thin angels wings, embracing her hour-glass hips. The mole on the top of her shoulder was visible, a birthmark that was probably the most familiar thing in Noah's entire world, a mark that he'd first seen on his first day of life, when his mother lay his baby head there, just moments after he'd first opened his eyes. But on this very adult morning he was stoned, hugely so, and a new 'S' word had been added, and in his head, as he stared at his mother's way-to-sexy ass, all three of the words were circling like a slow-moving hula hoop — seersucker scissors shit-faced, seersucker scissors shit-faced, seersucker scissors shit-faced.
"Noah, honey, you might wanna look away."
Sabella's words made it through the smoky haze in Noah's head, and he looked away, but he didn't know if he really wanted to. The sound of his mother's bare feet padding toward the laundry room drew his corner-of-the-eye gaze, and she was naked there, for all intents and purposes. His view was of the side of her, standing inside the laundry room door, her entire body bare but for a thin white line of lace at her hip. The breast he could see sagged a bit, with a crease below it and a prominent, aroused nipple at its tip. It was a breast that was a true tit, meaty and full, with a ski jump profile that Noah's eyes enjoyed. Her belly sagged just a little, too, which he'd seen when she took off her shorts next to the table. All-in-all the side view of her was more than pleasant, in a slightly-pear-shaped 44-years-young kind of way. It was the kind of sexy, womanly sight that would have given Noah a boner if he hadn't been numb from just below the brain all the way to the tips of his toes.
Through the corners of his eyes he watched his mother put on a shiny piece of underwear, a satin camisole top, lifting her arms—which lifted and stretched her breasts—in order to slip it on. When she walked back to the table and sat down she was a whole new kind of sexy, both inside and out.
"Well that went from sort of dressed to not dressed in a hurry. It's been forever since you've seen me like that. Do you have memories of it from when you were little?"
"No," Noah said, feeling a boner rising through the numbness. It was the way the satin camisole draped on his mother's fleshy, free-moving tits that was doing it; that and the eye-catching bumps from her aroused nipples.
"I can't believe I stained that bra. I just bought it today; well, yesterday. I get my play clothes at The Lacy Drawer, at the mall. Do you ever shop there for your girls?"
"I haven't got a girl, Ma. You know that."
"But you used to. And they still come over once in a while. What's up with that; I thought Leah was with that David Schwartz now."
"She is. She just...I don't know, every once in a while, if we see each other out somewhere..."
"Yeah, I get it. She's a cute one," Sabella said, her stoned eyes half-lidded, in a bedroom kind of way. Her smirking smile reinforced the bedroom vibe. "I shouldn't tell you this, but...I was listening the night she was finally able to give you deep throat."
Noah's boner twitched and a jolt of clarity hit him. "Fuck, Ma! Seriously?"
"Yeah. I'm not proud of it, but..."
"No, I didn't mean that. I mean, it's okay, but...should you be? Listening?"
"It took her a while, huh?" Sabella said. "She always said you were too big, and then, that night..."
"Christ, Ma, can you hear everything?"
"Pretty much. The windows are only ten feet apart. You never thought of it before?"
Noah shook his head. He'd always assumed his Ma and Pop's bedroom window was sealed shut, what with the air-conditioning and all. And there were those heavy curtains in their room. It seemed like it'd be virtually soundproof. But then he remembered the big easy chair right there next to the window, the one he'd never seen anybody use.
"Fill that bong again," Sabella said. "I don't feel so high since I stained my clothes."
"Yeah, that happens," Noah said, reaching for his bag of weed. "Real life shit can knock it outta you."
He packed the bowl and held the lighter while his mother took a big, lungs-full hit. "You're good at it now," he said, watching as she held the smoke and tried to hold back a giggle, a giggle that made her tits jiggle under the loose satin. A glorious buzz made Sabella nicely high again. Noah took a big hit and felt the happy glow, too.
"If I tell you something, you gotta promise me some things," Sabella said.
"Yeah, okay. I promise."
"You promise to leave your window open? Even when you have your girls there?"
"I guess. As long as Pop's not listening."
"He's not. But it's not just me. That's what I want to tell you. You promise?"
"I promise."
"Good. So here's where it gets interesting."
"Fuck, Ma! This isn't interesting already?"
Sabella smiled and sipped her blackberry wine. "You know Millie Titchman, across the road."
"Yeah, sure, Mrs. Titchman." Noah wasn't ready to admit it, but ever since he turned about 14 she'd been known, to him and his male friends, as Mrs. Tits. She's an aging, fifty-something trophy wife—aging quite well if you ask Noah or any of the other men in the neighborhood—with a 38 DDD bust that always seems ready to bust out of whatever perfectly tailored casual summer dress she happens to be wearing.
"You know how she walks that little dog of hers?" Sabella asked. "Well, she walks it right between our house and our garage sometimes, late at night. She's always good about it, picking up after him with her plastic baggie. But here's the thing—she does it about ten minutes after you bring home one of your girls. She's home alone a lot, you know. Mr. Titchman buys the raw diamonds in Africa and your Pop sells the finished ones in Asia."
"Yeah, I know. But what are you sayin' Ma? She's...listening too?"
Sabella nodded, her face nearly glowing from the mischief in her stoned-red eyes and smirking mouth. "She doesn't know I know, of course, but she's had the hots for you since, oh my gosh, probably since you were in middle school. She sits on our stoop right under your window, and she listens to you when you fuck whatever girl you have up there. Here's the kicker, though — at a Hanukkah party a year ago, when she was loopy on this very same blackberry wine, she told me her husband's bagged more dark-skinned girls than Bill Cosby. That's how she put it. I guess Saul and your Pop have the same expense account when they travel."
"Fuck, Ma! Should I know this?"
"I think you should. Maybe it's that weed that's making me say words I never said before, but I think you should invite her up to your room sometime and fuck her, when Saul and your Pop are out of the country. She'd be the happiest woman in the city."
Noah felt numb again, staring open-mouthed at his mother.
"It's just a thought," she said. "I seem to be full of them tonight. Maybe you're not interested in older women."
Noah truly didn't know what to say. He was in the biggest fog he'd ever been in, with bizarre sexual thoughts ping-ponging around inside his head. The rapidly brightening dawn outside the kitchen window caught his eye, and he wondered if he had the mental capacity needed to walk up the stairs to his bedroom, let alone answer big, life-changing questions. "Fuck, Ma. The sun's comin' up, and...I haven't ever had a night like this in my life."
Sabella's dark eyes twinkled as she looked deep into her son's brown ones. "So, are we good?" she asked. "You know about my life, and I know about yours. And neither one of us is telling, right? This is all just between you and me. And maybe Millie Titchman. Your girls and your friends don't find out about any of this, right? It would embarrass me if any of them found out."
"Yeah, Ma, we're good. I won't say anything. I almost forgot about your thing. When are you...doing it?"
"Monday evening. I thought about waiting 'till the weekend, but it was too far away."
"I don't know if I like the idea," Noah said. "The guys are all...from that sleaze-bag paper?"
"It's not that sleazy, Honey. It's always worked out pretty well, but the other times were always just one guy, or those threeways I told you about. To be honest, I'm a little nervous about this time, being a...you know...a whole gang. But that's the thrill of it. I mean...that's the whole point, right?"
Noah shook his head. "I got nothin' to compare it to, Ma. And I can't believe I'm sitting here talking to you about it. I guess I'm...not really liking the idea, if I'm being honest."
"Be nothing but honest, Noah. Please. Both of us should be."
Sabella's request shut down the conversation for a few awkward seconds.
"My mother, gettin' gang-banged," Noah said, feeling a crazy rush of highness as the words left his mouth. "How many guys?"
"It looks like it's only going to be four, after I weeded out some questionable ones. I was sorta hoping for more, but...four's good. Right? You ever...done one?"
"A gang bang? No. I luck into, like, a little orgy every once in a while, and one big one a couple years ago," he admitted, amazed that he was confessing such a thing to his mother. "But no, nothin' with a bunch of guys and just one girl." The word 'girl' gave him pause, because he realized his mother was one, a sexual one who did the things sexual girls do. "How do you know the rest of them aren't sleazy?"
"Trust, I guess. Being horny makes you do risky things. You know that. One of them's a cop, so maybe that's a good omen."
"A cop? Holy shit, Ma!"
"Yeah. NYPD. He's the one with... I guess I should ask you how many details you want."
"I don't know. All of 'em, I guess."
"He's got the biggest dick. I've learned you can't always trust the pictures you get, but I'm hoping he didn't do any PhotoShop."
"Who else?"
"A long haul trucker that looks sort of like that Greg Allman guy, with a pony tail. A plumber who promised to wash his hands so they don't stink. I didn't even ask him to. Maybe he's had complaints? The fourth guy wouldn't tell me much, but he's good looking and seems nice. He's your age." Sabella tried to gauge Noah's reaction to that last little tidbit, but he was too drunk, stoned and tired for much to phase him.
"You really think they're all who they say they are?" he said. "I don't like it."
"I appreciate your honesty, but...all that matters is that I like it."
"Can't you just...do what you were doing, one at a time? Why's it gotta be four? Testosterone's funny, Ma. If they get wound up they could... It's not like you're big and strong, not that it would matter with four of them. But shit, Ma, you're five foot two and like a hundred and ten pounds or somethin', right?"
"Noah, you're missing the whole point. I guess maybe you have to be a woman to get it. That submission, that loss of control, that's what the whole thing's about. That's why they call it a gang bang. It's not a nice soft-spoken group of gentleman bang. It's a gang bang."
"Can't you bring a friend? How about Mrs. Titchman?"
"I'm not getting her into something like that, no. Up into your room with you some night, yes. A gang bang in a cheap motel, no." Sabella thought for a moment. "There's only one person I'd trust, and I'm pretty sure you're not interested."
"Of course I'm interested. Who is it?"
"It's you. I meant you."
Both of their softly floating highs were suddenly grounded, with clarity that left them both tingling. "Fuck, Ma!" Noah said, and then the silence hung there.
Sabella's mind spun out thoughts faster than she could grab them. "You could...be the photographer," she said. "I was going to prop up my phone to record it all, but..."
"You do that?"
"I never have, but...I was hoping to. I mentioned it to the cop and he said he'd bring some masks, so we'd have them if we decide to do it that way."
"Fuck!"
Sabella's eyes twinkled. "You'll be my bodyguard. You've always been good at protecting me."
"Sounds like you...want me there."
"Well, look at it from my point of view," Sabella said. "You're the only one who knows, and you're the only one I trust, and now you've got me worried, so...yeah, I guess I want you there. If you hadn't found out about it on your own I sure wouldn't have told you, but, now that you know..."
"But why not just call it off, Ma?"
"Oh no. I've been looking forward to this for too long. It's definitely happening."
-
Noah, on his way back to his room to get some much-needed sleep, saw Millie Titchman out walking her little dog. He would have waved, but she wasn't looking—probably a good thing because he had a bag of weed in one hand and his big bong in the other. He walked the ten feet to the garage and climbed the stairs to his room. His front window looks down at the street and across to the Titchman's house. He opened the curtain to see what he could see, and Millie was there, waiting for her dog to do his business. He'd never called her Millie before, and never thought of her by that name. She'd always been, he was ashamed to say, Mrs. Tits, although he'd never called her that to her face. Her big cleavage stunners were there, on display that morning, as they almost always were, no matter what the season or the weather—those magnificent orbs of fleshy flesh, the crowning glory of her hourglass body, the tits that every husband and son in a five block radius knew about.
Noah, still high, stood there numbly, watching as Millie caught sight of him. His new knowledge of her eavesdropping habits swirled in his head, making his cock harden, tightening the already tight confines of his jeans. Millie stood still, too, wondering what was happening, wondering why the neighborhood stud was gazing down upon her. Is it my dress, she wondered? Is this the one? Finally, the one that makes him notice?
-
Later that day, at Temple with his mother, Noah saw Millie again. She wore a different dress, one that was high of neck, covering every bit of those fleshy breasts of hers. The dress had buttons down the front of it, all the way to the below-the-knee hem, and it made Noah think of a story he first heard when he was a teenaged boy. He didn't see it with his own eyes, but legend has it that Mrs. Titchman, when she took a deep breath to read aloud a portion of the Torah on a summer Shabbat morning, popped three buttons off of her button-front dress, one of which hit Old Man Menchle square in the back of the neck. They were the buttons at the bosom portion of the dress, and the story goes she was wearing a violet purple bra that day, and maybe every day, and it appeared to be just barely holding things together. It's a tale that's been told over and over, for years now, going down in Temple lore in a way that makes even the Rabbi smile, or so Noah was told.
"Hi Millie," Sabella said. "That's a beautiful dress."
Noah wondered if his mother remembered the story about the buttons and the violet bra, too, or if maybe the telling of it only happened amongst the men and boys.
"Oh, thanks," Millie said. "Hi Noah."
"Hi," Noah said, tongue tied by Millie's womanly beauty.
"I hope I'm not being nosey," Millie said, "but, I saw your lights on this morning. You two were up extra early. Is everything all right?"Oh," Sabella said. "Yes, we both had insomnia and had a snack together. It's so nice having him at home, especially when Mervin's away."
"Yes, you're lucky. I get so lonely when Saul travels. He's flying out again Monday."
"Oh you poor dear," Sabella said. "There should be a club for us lonely wives."
—
Monday morning is never Noah's favorite, but he tolerates it. It's the beginning of his work week, at the photo printing business his uncle Abel runs. It's a good job — an easy walk, a short subway ride, nice people and decent pay. Uncle Abel hired him after he dropped out of college, taking him on because Noah's main interest in high school had been photography. When Abel hired Noah he did it with the idea in the back of his head that Noah might take over the business someday, but Abel soon realized that Noah's eyes are often red and the boy isn't the best at paying attention. He's good when he can put his head down and focus on a task, but running the business might be a stretch.
Noah's mother texted, at lunchtime. Borrow your uncle's camera if you can. Will you be able to erase me off of it when we're done?
Noah replied, Yes I can. I'll ask him.
Tell him it's for me, Sabella texted back. You're selling something for me on eBay.
Noah asked Abel about it, and "Sure! Take it!" was his answer. Noah had borrowed it a few times before, the last time to take naked pictures of his friend Eliana. They were nice, professional-looking nudes, for her to email to a gold-watch-wearing man she was courting. The whole endeavor went smoothly, but when Noah returned the camera to his uncle he absentmindedly forgot that the Nikon D500 has two memory card slots instead of the usual one, so Uncle Abel has a nice little stash of pictures hidden away on his computer, pictures of the sexiest, nakedest young Jewish woman he's ever laid eyes on.
"Take the camera! Any time!" Abel said.
After work, while Noah was changing his clothes at home in his room, he heard someone climbing the garage stairs. It was his mother, the rhythm and sound of her feet on the wooden stairs easily recognizable. She knocked and walked right in, as she often did.
"Are you as excited as I am?" she asked, eyeing his shirtless chest as he buttoned the fly of his black jeans. "I can barely breathe."
"Wanna call it off, Ma?" Noah asked. He hoped she would, but he could tell, from the expectant, buoyant look in her eyes, that she wouldn't.
"Did you get the camera?" she asked. "How many pictures can you take with it? I'll want lots."
"Yeah, it'll take, like, hundreds. And video."
"Oh!" she said, her eyes happily alive in a way Noah had rarely seen. "Yes, do that too." She watched Noah put on a blue denim shirt, covering his muscled arms and manly chest. "Are those your bodyguard clothes? You look...strong. Much more so than the pictures I've seen of your father when he was your age. It's hard to believe he was ever twenty-four."
"I kinda think maybe he was the exact same person, only younger," Noah said.
"Yes. He was. He's always been old-fashioned."
"Always? What about, you know, his...Asian girls."
"Yes, that, too," Sabella said, seemingly unfazed by the topic. "It's very old-fashioned. It's a business arrangement. Men have been doing it for centuries. He'd never have the chutzpah to bring girls home from dance clubs like you do. I've thought about what he does, a lot. It's very different from your sexuality."
Noah nodded. The subject interested him, but it seemed awkward, a bit of a buzz-kill, so he changed the subject. "I saw Mrs. Titchman just now. She was out with the dog. Ever since you told me what she does, we've been, sort of...lookin' at each other."
Sabella's eyes perked up again. "Really? Different than before?"
"Yeah, way different. For me anyway. I can't stop thinking about her listening to me."
"You've been looking at...each other?"
"Yeah. She saw me in the front window the other day, and..."
Sabella's face glowed with happy curiosity. "What did she see?"
"I don't know. Just me. I felt like I was staring, but...it didn't seem to be bad. She had the yellow dress on."
"The pale yellow linen?"
"I guess so."
Sabella nodded, with a knowing little smile. "She dresses for you, you know. You and all the other men in the neighborhood. If I had her tits I'd do the same thing. I do, in my own way, but..."
"You're just as beautiful," Noah said.
"She's Sofia Loren, and I'm Jennifer Grey, before the nose-job."
Noah didn't answer. He knew Jennifer Grey, from the Dirty Dancing movie he'd watched with his mother more than once, but Sofia Loren? Her name rang a bell, and he thought she was probably an actress.
"You used to think I look like her," Sabella said. "Do you still?"
"Who, Ma?"
"Jennifer Grey."
"Oh, yeah, Ma, I do. It always sorta confused me, when we used to watch that movie. I mean, she's hot and you're...my Ma."
"I'm glad you told me that. I'm glad you're telling me everything."
"We're being honest, now, right?" Noah said. "About everything?"
"Everything," Sabella said.
"I don't think I can do this, Ma. Tonight. With you."
"Oh," Sabella said. Disappointment drained the excitement from her eyes and her smile. "Well I'm...not surprised. You absolutely shouldn't, if you don't want to. I guess I just got it in my head that I'd like you there, but no, that's just a mother thinking about her son the way some mother's do. Sigmund Freud was a Jew, you know. He knew about Jewish mothers. And he knew about sons."
"So you'll call if off and...just find a nice quiet guy to get back at Pop with?"
"Is that what you think this is? Revenge? It's not, Noah. This is about me, not your pop. I'm still going, but you don't have to come. I'd better get a move on—I want to get comfortable in the room before they show up."
"Ma, really?"
"Noah, we've talked about this. More than once."
"I'm not lettin' you do it alone."
"Well that means you're coming," Sabella said. "It's one or the other."
"I'm coming, then."
"That shirt looks good on you. They won't mess with me with you there."
"Why, because I'm wearing a nice shirt?"
"It shows off your nice muscles. Has Millie seen you in that one?"
"How would I know, Ma. What, is she using binoculars on me or something?"
"Don't you worry about it. She's just always had an eye for you, that's all. It's good for her. Makes her feel sexy. Don't be telling her you know and embarrassing her."
"No, I wouldn't. I guess I...kinda like it, if I'm being honest."
"Come with me into the house," Sabella said. "Talk to me while I get ready. Remember when you used to sit in my bedroom and keep me company when I got dressed, when you were little?"
"Yeah, I guess I sorta remember."
Sabella led the way, followed by her foot-taller son, down the garage stairs, across the short walkway and into the house. The quick climb up the stairway to the bedroom she shared with Mervin felt different to her, dangerous, in a good way, the first real, physical tingles of the biggest night of her sexual life.
"Sit," she said. She picked up some fancy black lingerie, from the top of her dresser, and she went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. "Tell me all about Mrs. Titchman," she said, her voice raised so Noah could hear her clearly.
Noah sat on the side of his mother's bed. "You know her better than I do, Ma."
"No, tell me what you know," Sabella's loud voice said. "When was the first time you thought of her as a woman?"
"Oh, I don't know, Ma. Maybe...when I was fourteen? Thirteen maybe?"
"Did you and your friends talk about her?"
"Yeah. We got a name for her. It's not very nice, I guess, but..."
"Mrs. Tits?" Sabella said, still just out of sight. Noah could hear rustling clothing and see her bare elbows every once in a while.
"You know?"
"We both know," Sabella said. "She's heard it. It doesn't bother her. I've never met a woman who's more proud of her body. I've learned from her, too," Sabella said, walking into the bedroom, stopping just a few feet from Noah. "I try and take pride in mine."
And you should, Noah wanted to say, but "Christ, Ma!" was all that came out of his mouth. It was the wide-open crotchless panties framing her tender-lipped pussy that stupefied and tongue-tied him, black lace ones with red lace rosettes stitched on, with black spaghetti-string sides that were pulled up high on her hips, like a stripper would do. The matching bra was the same gorgeous black lace with red rosettes, but it was a different kind of a bra, an open-cup shelf bra that didn't cover her nipples at all. Black fishnet thigh-high stockings adorned her legs, the top five inches of them trimmed with the same rosettes and lace.
"I decided on a Brazilian," Sabella said, looking down at herself out of embarrassment, but also so she could see her fingers go there, to the little bit of soft, beautifully trimmed hair above the bare labial lips of her opening. "Maybe I'll try the Full Hollywood next time."
Noah's mother looked shockingly sexy. There was nary a hint of 'mother' left. Even her blushing face was new and exciting.
"I bought a fun little red dress to wear," she said, plucking it off the back of a nearby chair. Standing in front of her big mirror, she wiggled into it, taking quick glances at Noah's reflection as she did it. His eyes followed the red fabric as it covered more and more of her, eventually reaching the wide-open triangle of three thin straps that made up the backless-back of the crotchless panties. The hem of the dress caught there, on the curve of her bare ass cheeks, until she pulled its short length down with her hands and adjusted it.
"I wonder what kind of underwear Millie wears," she said, smoothing the the front of the dress as she looked at herself in the mirror. "I'll bet she has some nice things. Can you imagine this bra with those tits of hers?"
Noah could, and Noah did. Sabella turned to face him, with her own tits looking lovely, draped in stretchy, somewhat shiny red material that showed off the full visual of how nicely aroused her bare nipples were underneath it. She put her petite little feet into a pair of black high heeled shoes, and she was ready. "You'll bring the camera, and I want you to bring plenty of your weed for us all to smoke. I'll pay for it."
"Ma. I'm not bringing weed! You said a cop's gonna be there!"
"I already asked him. He said it's okay. He's bringing some whiskey, and the masks. I think I'll wear one, too. It'll be fun. Remember how much fun Halloween used to be? We can sort of...pretend, that we're other people, maybe."
-
Noah was glad the garage was so close to the house, because his mother looked more than a little like a harlot when she stepped out into the evening light. It wasn't something he wanted the next door neighbors to see. He drove her car, and she rode in the passenger seat, with her fishnet-clad legs close together.
The beginning of the ride was quiet. Too quiet. Both of them, mother and son, were contemplating the craziness of what had already happened between them, and the total insanity of what lay ahead, just ten miles down the road. They both knew that what they were heading for was bonkers, with a capitol 'B', but there was something in the idea of it that grabbed each of them, a kernel of truth maybe, or a spark of the stuff of life. A close encounter with the primordial ooze at the center of the earth that all mankind sprang forth from. The evening's danger felt similar to fire, and just as warmly welcoming.
The hotel room smelled like primordial ooze. Sabella had anticipated it and brought her softest, gentlest perfume, and she circled the room spritzing it. "I think I'd like to be high when they get here," she said. "If we smoke some it'll smell even better in here."
"That's what my friends always say about my room."
"I wish you'd let me clean more up there," Sabella said, momentarily becoming more motherly than sexy. It continued when she folded up the bedspread and turned down the blanket and top sheet, leaving the bed with just its fitted bottom sheet on it—a queen-sized dingy-white play-space that looked glaringly ready.
And then she sat down on it, leaning back languidly, supported by one arm, and she was suddenly sexy again; one leg crooked at the knee, a petite little woman in harlot red and devil black, with nippley tits, and high heels, and nervous but twinkling eyes that watched Noah fill his little smoking pipe with high quality weed. "You could have brought the bong," she said. "Nobody would have said anything."
"Ma, that's nuts."
She smiled, knowing it was less nuts than all the rest of what was happening. She took a coughing hit off the little pipe, Noah showed her how to inhale with a little cooling air to sooth her throat, and the nice two-puff high hit her just as...
There was a knock at the door.
"Mike! Hi!" she said, when she opened it. She moved in close and kissed him on the cheek. "You look even better in person."
"So do you," he said, ambling in, with a bottle of wine in his hand. "I didn't know if you like wine. It's something you can take home with you. I was out West, in Napa, when we were emailing, so I picked it up for you there."
"Oh my gosh! That's so thoughtful of you!"
"Hey. How's it goin'. I'm Mike," he said, reaching his hand toward Noah's for a shake.
Sabella quickly intervened, making the introductions. "Mike this is Noah. He and I met through the paper, too. He was looking for a sexy couple to photograph, and I suggested this. I know it's short notice and I didn't discuss it with you, but if none of you guys object, I kinda love the idea. Rick, the police officer I told you about, he's going to bring some masks, for anybody who wants one."
"Oh, yeah, that's cool," Mike said. "I don't mind. I'm already on the internet, from a husband and wife thing I got in on in Colorado."
Sabella smiled. "What, do you just drive your truck around the country and fuck horny women?" she asked, turning on the charm. "Everybody probably wants you because you look like Greg Allman, right? I've never been with a blonde before. You'll be my first." She winked at him, and Noah was amazed by the ease with which she flirted.
"I love it," Mike said, smiling.
There was another knock at the door. It was Rick, NYPD blue, out of uniform, of course. "Belle!" he said, giving her a quick once over. "Oh, yeah, this is gonna be fun."
"There's my big-cocked cop," Sabella said. "Hi Ricky." She kissed him on the cheek and squeezed his crotch.
"I brought my stick, as requested," he said, holding up his precinct-issued nightstick.
"Oh, wow!" she said, taking it from his hand, stroking it like it was a huge cock. "Oh, boy, this is gonna be good. Has it ever fucked a girl before?"
"Maybe...one or two."
"Oh, you dirty! I thought maybe he was a virgin." Sabella smiled brightly. "Ricky, this is Mike. He drives a big rig and just drove in from out West."
"Hi Mike," Rick said, shaking hands.
"And this is Noah, the photographer I told you about. He's going to make my memories of all of this extra special." Sabella winked at Noah, he shook Rick's hand and they made their manly greetings.
"So...Belle...asked me to bring some smoke," Noah said, a little nervously. "I hope it's cool."
"Oh, fuck yeah," Rick said. "Don't mind me. I'll take a hit off it if you got enough. I'm off duty for three days."
"There's plenty," Sabella said. "Let's all get shit-faced and fuck."
Noah's nerves clouded his comprehension of his mother's words. Packing a bowl for a cop was serious business. When it was nicely done he handed it to Rick. The off-duty cop had lungs full of smoke when Sabella answered the door again. A young man Noah's age entered. "Hi Brandon!" Sabella said, and then Craig was there, trying to see the number on the door.
"Are you...Belle?" he said.
"You found me," she said, smiling. Hi Craigy. Get in here. We're all here now. Let's lock this door and relax a little.
Sabella made sure everybody knew everybody else, Rick opened a bottle of Jack Daniels, and he showed off the masks that he'd brought—black Lone Ranger style paper masks that only disguised the eyes. The pipe made the rounds and everyone was partaking. Noah kept busy keeping the bowl filled. Rick sat on the bed and Sabella joined him, sitting sideways on his lap, kissing him. Her short dress had ridden up, her stockinged legs opened and her bare pussy was there for everyone to see, garnished with black lace and red rosettes.
"Damn, Belle!" Craig said. "You are smokin'." He went to his knees, his big head went between her thighs, and the first sexual moan Noah ever heard his mother utter went right down Rick's throat.
Mike sat down next to Rick, and Rick shared the woman of the hour, leaning her back so Mike could kiss her. Her ass was still on Rick's lap, but he was able to lift her and wiggle the hem of her dress out from under. Mike helped with it, unzipping, and Sabella helped, too, raising her arms to ease it's removal.
"Fuck, Belle," Rick said. "Nice fuckin' tits!" They were there for his taking, cupped but bare in the exquisite, picturesque little bra. "Noah, man, get a picture of this, before we strip her. I've never seen anything so beautiful."
His mouth went to her tingling nipples while Noah scrambled for the camera, fumbling with it's settings. Somehow Noah's mind snapped into gear and he was there, clicking the shutter, over and over, circling a little, looking for angles. Three men's hands were on his mother, and three mouths — one kissing, one tit nibbling, and one licking her pussy. Brandon was still watching, getting used to things. He put a mask on, and then everyone except Mike did. Having a mask on seemed to loosen Brandon up—he was the first one out of his clothes, stripped naked.
"Yeah, Belle," Rick said. "Craig eatin' your pussy good?"
"Ohhh yeah," she moaned.
"Let's see you suck a cock, baby," he said. "Brandon's ready for ya."
There was a massive shift of humanity. Sabella was lifted and placed on hands and knees on the bed; her mouth opened and she was a happy cock sucker, playfully licking at it, mouthing it more fully and then licking again. Mike the trucker went behind her, on his hands and knees like she was, licking up through the crack of her ass, mashing his face between her cheeks so he could mouth her entire pussy. Sabella squealed with delight and went a little wild on Brandon's cock.
Noah tried to lose himself in his work, but the visuals were conspiring against him. His mother was dressed like a whore and acting like one, with her back arched low and her ass looking amazing. Every bit of her looked sexy, like she was built for just one thing. It was almost too much for him to process, but moment by moment the facts got through. The new ultra-dirty knowledge raised his blood pressure, warmed his limbs and hardened his cock, and the woman in the viewfinder of his camera sucked a big cock so goddamned beautifully!
Rick and Craig stripped, their clothes tossed in piles near the wall. Rick's impressive body filled Noah's camera's viewfinder, and a quick shot was captured for Sabella's scrapbook: a well-muscled cop with an eight-inch cock, hard and uncircumcised, just like she'd requested, as if she'd ordered it from a menu.
A lovely feminine howl perked everyone's ears. Blonde Mike's cock was balls-deep in Sabella's wet-and-ready pussy, from behind, doggy style. She tried her best to suck the three hard cocks being offered to her, but the circumstances and the first deep fucking of the night had her nearly flying off the handle.
"Fuck yeah!" Mike said, thrusting his full length in her surprisingly tight pussy.Yeah, baby," Rick said. "Take that cock."
Noah was wide eyed and still, just watching. His mother was moaning, almost cooing, as she mouthed and explored the foreskin of Rick's huge cock. "Fuck you're big!" she said, breathy, as her petite body rocked from Mike's deep thrusts.
Noah wasn't high enough. He still had thoughts of his father, and his sister. His mind was a mixed-up stew of good and bad, so he lit the pipe and inhaled. By the time he exhaled he knew it was good—a happy high—so he took another hit. He needed to be lost in order to make the night work, high enough to blot out the real.
"Pass that around," Rick said. "Let's give Belle a couple puffs."
"Aahhhh!" she cried, as Mike slipped out of her pussy and Craig filled it, the fattest uncircumcised cock ever to fuck her. Still on hands and knees in her perfect, fuckable pose, Rick held the warm pipe to her lips and lit it while she inhaled. The rushing high and the fucking cock rolled together like a curling orgasmic wave, one that floated her to the highest cloud she'd ever been on.
"Damn! She's cumming!" Rick said. "Fuck!"
Sabella orgasming was a sight worthy of exclamation. Noah's mind was nearly as high as she was, and he stood there, with his mouth open, watching his mother cum.
"Fuck her, man," Rick said to Craig. "Fuck her hard. She's still fuckin' cumming."
Craig gave Sabella everything he had, and her toes tingled and her body trembled with the glorious orgasm. Brandon stuffed her mouth full with his big young cock while she was still lost in it, the longest high peak she'd ever traversed. She had two cocks in her hands and one deep in her pussy when her voice finally went free, crying a happy, mouth-stuffed wail that resonated.
"That's it, baby!" Craig grunted, still fucking, himself on the verge, barely hanging on. "Oh, you're too much! Come here! Come here!"
He tugged at her shoulder and she spun around, just in time to take his full gusher in her moaning mouth. Rick grabbed her hips and pulled her to her knees again, at the edge of the bed, and he fucked her, his full eight inches deep in her depths in just a few thrusts.
"Damn, Belle!" he gasped. "Damn!"
Craig's cum filled her mouth and then some. Noah, high as a kite, watched the overflow drip down her chin.
"Get a picture of that, man," Brandon said. "She looks wicked hot."
Noah lifted the camera to his eye. It was all good now, his father and sister gone from his head. His Ma was safe, in friendly hands, and her eyes smoldered with a new kind of ecstasy. It struck Noah as nothing but beautiful, a special kind of beauty that he'd never seen her loving face radiate. It was angelic; maybe even god-like. "Oh, fuck you're fuckin' big!" she said to Rick, her voice thrilled, huffing breaths from her surprised smile.
"Yeah, you like a big cock, baby?" Rick asked as he fucked her deeply. "You got a whole room of 'em here. This beautiful little body and this tight little pussy must like a big cock."
"Yes!" she said. "Oh fuck yes!" She gasped for air and clutched the bed sheet with white knuckled fists. "Fuck me!" she wailed, her body matching his rhythms. "Oh god, fuck me!"
"Damn!" Blonde Mike said, holding the pipe, with wisps of smoke rising from it. "She's horny as fuck!"
He passed the pipe, took a hit off the Jack Daniel's and passed the bottle.
Rick reached for the clasp of Sabella's pretty bra and it fell off of her onto the bed. Her tits, big enough to swing with the rhythm, looked lovely. Noah recorded the moment—a nice side view—with a few clicks of his camera. Sabella saw him and looked at him, huffing breaths through her satisfied smile. "How do I look baby?" she asked. "Like you pictured?" She took off her paper mask and asked him again, "How do I look?"
Noah's mind was alive. She looked like Ma, and the scene was a porn. It smelled like body heat and sex, and it sounded like the deepest fucking he'd ever heard. And it was Ma's unmistakable voice, her whimpers, her moans, her happy cries. It was her, begging for more, for deeper. It was Ma, and it was the magic of confusion, the magic of a shit-faced high. It was so wondrous strange it could have been a hallucination, but Noah didn't have any mushrooms in his gut, or any acid. It was just a happy high, and Ma was happy high, too, in more ways than one.
Rick rolled Sabella onto her back and quickly discarded her pretty little crotchless panties. He lifted her legs and his cock was in her again, fucking deeply, harder this time. She was naked but for the black fishnets with the red rosettes at the thighs.
Mike got into position next to her, lying on his side so her mouth could access his cock. Craig, mostly hard again, got into line with Brandon, and Rick took the hint, handing off. A three way tag-team fuck commenced, and Sabella did her best to get Mike's big cock down her throat.
The little room was alive with masculine moans and groans, wet fucking noises, slurping cock-sucking noises, and feminine gasps, wails and cries. The camera, now in video mode, recorded it all, and Noah was behind it, lost in a trance. Was it even Ma anymore, this woman on her back? This petite, lovely, unbelievably sexy creature? Was she the good Jew, the worshiper at Temple, the loving mother and good wife? Or was she something different, like a surprise hidden under a veil, or maybe a brand new invention. Noah moved slowly, circling her, watching on the little screen and in real life as she had another orgasm, and then another, and then another, her throat gagging on Mike's cock each time a new man made her lose her happy mind.
"You should get in on this, man," Rick said to Noah. "She keeps looking at you. I don't think it's the camera she's interested in." Rick's hard cock hung huge between his legs, and his eyes looked nicely stoned. "Belle, you wanna see Noah's cock?" he said. "You want five instead of four?"
Sabella didn't look at Noah, or at anyone. She just nodded and said, "Mmm hmm," with a cock in her mouth and a cock in her pussy.
Rick gave Noah a sly nod. "Did you think you'd get lucky today?" he asked.
Noah shook his head.
"Grab a mask if you want," Rick said. "I can run the camera. Is it just on video?"
Noah nodded. His high was still a deep trance, still that strange, alternate reality that his old Ma didn't seem to be a part of. Of course he knew it was her, but she seemed so...different. And his cock was hard, bottled up uncomfortably in his jeans. The four naked men were nothing but comfortable, and there was that smell in the air, that wet pussy smell, that hot waft of pheromones, a virus of it that filled Noah's lungs with every breath he took. It had infected him, with a fever, and the gorgeous, powerfully alluring woman on her back made sweet noises that weakened his knees and lowered his defenses even further.
Rick reached for the camera and offered Noah the bottle. The trade was made. The first step.
Two quick swigs and then the pipe was handed to him, already lit, with a wisp of smoke rising from it. Two deep inhales, two clouds from his mouth, more of the wondrous strange.
Naked. It was the way of the room, and Noah felt the curious but pleasing comfort of it as soon as he was undressed. The hard cocks were that way, too, it seemed, a natural part of the way of the room. The charged air in the room had a locker-room feel—men being men, proud of it but not talking about it. Noah was a man, bigger than average in the hardware department, the way his Ma wanted all her men that night. She had no interest in schmeckels, she wanted schlongs, and plenty of them, and she knew, from listening through her bedroom window, that Noah fit the bill. That's one of the reasons why she coaxed him there.
"On your back," was all she said. Noah didn't have a clear feel for the logistics of how everything happened. It was a sixty-nine, and the exquisite woman on top of him was so warm, and so smooth. Skin like satin, satin with the heat of the sun coming through it. The heat of her pussy was that way, too, when his mouth joined its velvet softness. It was a melting heat, as if she was an angel, a messenger of the divine.
That's how it was, for both Noah and Sabella. Otherworldly. They'd left the bonds of earth and were floating, somewhere in the seven heavens. Shamayim. Noah with his mouth on a molten, melting pussy, and Sabella with the cock of God himself in her moaning mouth. They both felt the stuff of life—the very fabric of it—coursing through their bodies in a perfect circle.
Noah had never felt an orgasm rise up in him the way that one did, with complete freedom from restraint, as if cumming quickly was what every man strove for. The warm electricity that fired his muscles that pumped his cum was transcendent, filling him with the sublime as much as his throbbing cock filled his sweet mother's mouth with his soul. Sabella was cumming, too, her thighs holding Noah's head tightly, her body shuddering, her pussy juiced, like a sun-warmed orange mashed against a hungry man's mouth, dripping it's sweetness down his chin.
"Damn," Rick said. "Don't feel bad, kid. I woulda cum, too. I can't remember a sexier woman."
"Get up and work that camera some more, and don't even think about putting your clothes on," Sabella said to Noah, her voice nearly purring. "Craig, honey, and Brandon, take these stockings off of me. I wanna be naked."
A moment later Sabella lay on her back with her legs in the air, and four men were attending to her—Craig and Brandon each stripping a leg, Rick with his eight un-cut inches dangling above her thrilled face, and Mike quickly between her thighs, mouthing her happy pussy. Noah was up, his cock half-hard and rising again, with Uncle Abel's camera to his eye, capturing video. Sabella orgasmed again, with an ease that delighted all the men and surprised Noah. He wondered how many times, and how many ways, his mother could cum. He wondered if his father knew, and he wondered if, perhaps, the man was an idiot for not knowing, or not caring.
"Oh, this cock!" she sighed, giving Rick's schlong some love. "Somebody fuck me while I swallow it."
"Oh, yeah, here we go," Craig said, still holding her naked leg up high as he watched Mike's cock sink deep into her pussy and Rick's force it's way into her welcoming throat. "Fuck!" Craig said as he watched, giving the bottom of her little foot a tickling massage with the palm of his rough plumber's hand.
Noah had it all in the frame of the camera's view-screen, glancing between it and the live action with his eyes. His cock, fully hard, was pointing above horizontal, bobbing with excited twitches.
Mike fucked deep and swift, his body slap slap slapping against Sabella's lifted thighs. You could see the building heat of it in his eyes, and in his pores that were beginning to sweat and shine. He didn't want to come just yet, so he handed off at the last minute, with a happy groan as his red-hot cock pulled out. Craig, immediately fucking with hard energy, his un-cut meat girthier than Mike, stuffed Sabella full.
Rick was in full tea-bag mode. On his knees, he straddled Sabella's head, with his big hands cradling it, lifting it higher and lowering it lower, over and over again, so his big cock could fuck her throat and vise versa. It was the vise versa that really got him—the way he was able to manipulate her, like a sex doll, a real, live one with a hot wet throat that squeezed him like a teenaged pussy. "Ohh yeaah!" he said, his voice a deep, forceful whisper. "Fuck yeah!"
He kept at it, giving Sabella little breaks, using her wild eyes to judge if she wanted more as much as he did. She did, and her throat was full again, making wet, gurgling noises. "Fuck yeah!" Rick bellowed, more than once.
Noah was there, his camera down near bed level for a close side view. An eight inch cock all the way down his mother's throat was nothing short of astounding, a breathtaking sight that he could only just barely process as real. Once again the father thoughts hit him: Did she learn to deep-throat with Pop, or was it one of the other guys? Is this even something a mother can learn? How fucking common is this?
"Oh, God, Belle!" Rick said, balls-deep in her throat. "You're the fucking best! I fucking mean it! The fucking best!"
Noah, with a slightly waning high, could barely breathe as a bit more reality sunk in. His mother was a saucy skank in this other life, a hobbyist slut of epic proportions. One with the throat of a porn girl, and a horny desire to fill it with new men's meat. Hard, huge meat. Policeman meat.
Craig, still fucking her hard and deep, was at the end of his rope. He pulled out for the handoff to Brandon, but he'd waited two seconds too long. His cock, slippery and pussy wet, slithered through his rough plumber hand, gushing cum all over Sabella's stomach and thighs. "Fuck!" he grunted, gasping for breath as he stepped aside for young Brandon's turn at the steaming-hot, too-sexy pussy.
Sabella's throat was full when Brandon rammed his big cock home. The guttural groan it triggered in her was gagged, muted, but its effect on Rick was a vibration that put him over the edge. He was right there anyway, and then he was gone, his body spasming, his cock deep. Sabella's red face looked strangely relaxed, her head in his strong but gentle grasp, her eyes fluttering like her brain had been detached. She'd never had a throat pie before, a big man's big cock emptying its spunk halfway to her belly. It was new and wonderfully intense, and she was glad she was high, and she was glad all her men liked her, and she was glad Noah was there, looking after her. The big cock slipped out of her mouth, shining with throaty slime, and she coughed and cleared her voice. Rick's hands lowered her head, gently, and he moved away, leaving her there with a cock deep in her pussy, fucking her slower than before.
"Ohhh!... Noah!" she said, her voice breathy and surprised, her eyes wide with sparkling wonder. It was he who was fucking her, he who let out a dreamlike masculine moan, his long cock stroking smoothly, like a machine's piston. He held the camera still, it's lens a wide angle, taking in the spatters of Craig's cum on her stomach, the lovely, nippley tits moving softly on her chest, and the angelic look of wondrous surprise on her face. "Ohh yeah, baby!" she sighed. "Ohh yyeeeahh!"
As Noah fucked her, Craig and Brandon held her legs again, up high but spread in a wider 'V' this time. She propped herself up on her elbows so she could better see. Rick held the pipe to her lips and lit it while she inhaled, a deep hit that warmed her abused throat. The high that washed over her was meltingly good. Noah sensed it and upped his game, picking up speed. Sabella watched his cock and his hips, moving as only young men's do. A giggle hit her, right where it's fun; her breaths were sharp and quick, her body tensing with the sweet, slow onrush of a fresh orgasm. She tried, in her mind, to slow it even more, so as to savor it, but the smooth thrusts of Noah's hips filled her vision in a hallucinogenic kind of way, laying waste to her efforts. She glanced at other parts of him—his familiar chest and arms and face—but it was the sexual movement of those hips, and the sight of his big cock in her pussy, fucking her so beautifully, that took her over the top yet again, to a thrilling, giggling, whimpering orgasm that felt to her like she was floating in the seven heavens one more time.
"Good gig, huh?" Rick said, winking at Noah. "You done many of these kind of parties?"
Noah shook his head. "This is my first."
"How 'bout that pussy, huh?" Rick said. "Pretty sweet. Belle, are you game for anal? A little DP with your mouth full? Just say the word."
Noah's cock was still in Sabella, every inch of it deep, unmoving but for the throbbing life in it, which she could feel. Her orgasm had mostly washed away, but the ghost of it lingered and was threatening to incapacitate her yet again.
"I'm game, if you boys are," she said, nearly breathless. "I brought some lube."
Noah's eyes widened. His hips started to fuck again with the smallest of movements.
"Kiss me," Sabella said, looking deep into his eyes. "Kiss me the way my son would."
"O-ho!" Rick bellowed. "Yeah! Now we know why she wanted you young guys here. Fuck yeah, we got a live one on our hands, boys."
Noah leaned forward and kissed her, his lips soft against hers. It wasn't the first kiss on her lips since he was a boy, but there was nothing boyish about this one, with his cock deep inside her, beginning to thrust with its full length again. Sabella moaned and Noah did, too. He was fucking a woman, not a mother; that's what his instincts told him, but his instincts and his thinking brain were a confused jumble. It was his mother's arms he felt around him, and his mother's moans in his ears and his mother's scent in his nose. It was her hair so close it was blurry, and her eyes. Open eyes that saw him so close, too.
It was the kiss that made everything all right. It conveyed the love, and the love was profound. Noah's cock was still as hard as a steel rod when it slid out of her tight pussy, and he and Sabella both new their bodies would always be at the ready for each other, always hard and always wet, with the merest desirous glance making them so. Their lives had changed, and they both welcomed it, even though they knew it was far from normal.
-
"Did I earn myself a drink?" she asked. Craig handed her the bottle and she tipped it into her mouth like an Old West whore. "This is too sexy, sitting here like this with all you guys."
"Do you like anal, Belle?" Rick asked.
"Yeah. It's different," she said. "I've only tried it once. He was nowhere near as big as any of you guys. Do you know what a schmeckel is?"
Rick shook his head.
"It's a small cock," she said. "A little dick. It's a Yiddish, Jewish word. What you got, there," she said, smirking as she pointed at Rick's cock, "that's a schlong."
"So the guy with the schmeckel, he put it up your ass?" Rick asked, smiling.
Sabella smiled, nodding. "Unlike you nice guys, he was a cheater. He sent me a picture of a cock that was a lot bigger. It was a real let-down when he dropped his pants. After we'd been going at it for a little while he asked about anal, and I figured, maybe it was the perfect time to give it a try. It was on my son's birthday, believe it or not," she said, glancing at Noah. "I took him out to dinner, dropped him at a bar where his friends were, and I drove to a motel and got shtupped by a schmeckel, right in my tukhes."
"Ha ha!" Rick laughed. "You're awesome, Belle. One-hundred percent awesome."
"So, you guys have all done it? Am I in the company of anal experts here?" she asked. The men nodded, all except Noah. "Oh, wow," she said. "Interesting. I guess we know who the first man in is, right boys? I mean, a boy like Noah, with such a pretty cock. That thing looks like it's made to get dirty."
"You're my new favorite woman, Belle," Rick said. "I swear to fuckin' God."
"It's fuckin' big, though," Sabella said, watching Noah's cock grow. "Maybe I'm in over my head here."
"Oh no," Rick said. "You're not backin' out now. Not before you try it. Noah, fuck this beautiful woman in the ass, will ya? If you don't, I will. Even if you do I will."
"I can't believe you'll fit in there," she said to Rick.
"I'm only about an inch bigger than him," Rick said. "Craig's got the fat one. He'll ream you good."
"Craigy, you've put that thing in a woman's ass before?" Sabella asked.
"My ex used to like it. She was a big girl, though."
"Aren't all assholes the same size?" Sabella asked.
"I...doubt it," Craig said, drawing chuckles from the others.
"If your pussy's anything to go by you gotta have the tightest ass in the city," Rick said. "Is your son adopted? How come your pussy's as tight as a teenager's?""Nope, he's all mine. I pushed him right out of it. As soon as I could, after I had my two kids, I started doing what they call Kegel exercises, to strengthen my vaginal muscles. I still do 'em, all these years later."
"Nice," Craig said.
Sabella took a swig from the bottle and she smiled in a mischievous way. "I love sitting here all naked with you nice guys, I really do, but I was kind of hoping you wouldn't be quite so polite. Each one of you is big enough to pick me up and...do nasty things to me. Don't you wanna?"