That certainly went south quickly. I couldn’t be too angry with him since what he’d said was more or less true. I should have waited until he had a few drinks in him before trying that stunt. I took a deep breath and turned to face the anonymous angry mob. Most demanded their tokens back, which I regretfully did, but a few were willing to accept an alternate show involving a lot of ass-to-mouth dildo action. I managed to make it through, but my heart just wasn’t in it.
Beaverman415 was the last one to leave. He’d been silent the entire night, and exited the room without a word.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Even though the last show had taken and ugly turn, we still made enough to put us only two months behind on the mortgage. That was something at least. I juggled my tits for the three lurkers in my preview room, pulling one of my floppy jugs up and licking a nipple as seductively as I could manage after more than an hour of trying unsuccessfully to lure someone into a private show.
I slumped back in the chair dejected. I certainly wouldn’t pay good money to see my sorry ass go through the motions, why would they? An electronic door slammed to confirm my thought.
Jesse hadn’t come home last night after he’d freaked out and left in a huff. His mouth had been so close to my pussy I could almost feel it. I tried not to think about the sensation of his warm breath down there. Just when it seemed like he was okay with what we’ve been doing, he came to his senses and realized how disgusting it really was. How disgusting I really was.
I suppose that should be the normal response when a son is confronted by the idea of sex with his own mother. I knew perfectly well it shouldn’t feel as natural to me as it does. I should be just as repelled by the thought of performing oral sex on my own son, and letting him cum in my mouth. I should be horrified by the notion of letting him eat my pussy. And I should be locked up for imagining the things that I do late at night when I’m all alone in bed. I definitely had to put a stop to this somehow.
Jesse’s bedroom door was locked. That hurt. I tugged on the padlock that hung from the hasp he’d crudely screwed into the door jamb when he was fifteen and didn’t want me snooping in his room. It was probably around the time he started smoking weed. He had no idea then that I’d be more likely to steal it for myself than lecture him about saying no to drugs like any decent mother would. I was going to lose him for sure. If I did, I would hit bottom fast and I would hit it hard. Maybe so hard I wouldn’t be able to get back up this time.
I had to find another way. I’d rather risk losing this run-down old house than losing my only son. He was all the family I had left and I was pushing him away. I was no better than my own daddy had been with me, only I was worse. Not only was I using my son for my own sick pleasure, but I was making money off of it. Jesse had every right to hate me.
He didn’t come home again that night. I was getting worried. He wasn’t answering my calls or texts. I started getting scared he did something stupid, or got himself into trouble. I fought the temptation to go down to the Thunderbird and troll for drinks. I wanted to be home if Jesse came home or called.