Cocktails and Combat
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Mother, Son,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Corey Andrews worshipped his mother. Casey had two ambitions - - to be the sexiest cocktail waitress in every town they moved to and to get as far away from the Alabama side of the Redneck Riviera as she could. Waitressing, in the skimpiest outfits allowed, meant steady work, good tips and new boyfriends. Life grew more interesting when Casey and Corey moved into a rental trailer owned by retired gunny sergeant, Stan Sullivan. Sully had been a Marine. Recon.
Corey had watched his mother primp and dress for work ever since he could remember. He loved watching her, nude in front of a full length mirror, frown in concentration as she inspected every inch of her her tall, trim body.
Casey had lush auburn hair, worn shoulder length. Vivid green eyes, often with laughter in them. She wasn't Phi Beta Kappa by any means. In fact she'd dropped out of high school when she scored some fake ID that allowed her to work in her first bar when she was 15. Just a year older than Corey was now. That was also the year when she'd gotten pregnant.
Casey had a strong chin, good cheekbones. Wide shoulders over 34 B boobs. Her pubic hair had been trimmed into a tiny letter C. She grinned at her son, "It stands for Casey, not cunt."
Corey grinned back, "I know, Casey."
Corey was a wonderful, devoted son. Casey just hoped the little fucker would finally have a growth spurt. He was 6" below her 5' 8" and with his round glasses looked a little owlish. Bully meat at school.
She had Corey be nude himself while she prepared herself for work. At first she told herself it was to build his self confidence. Or to make him comfortable in his own skin. Really, she just loved seeing the little boners he always got looking at her sexy body.
Casey continued to study herself in the mirror as she brushed her hair for the nightly 100 strokes. Her work uniform -- a yellow sleeveless mini dress and a matching thong were laid out on her bed.
She smiled at her son in the mirror, "Bring me some fuck-me's baby."
Corey knelt beside his mother with a pair of black heels. She placed a hand on his head as he helped her step into them. The next part of Casey's late afternoon ritual was to tell her son, "Check out my legs. And butt."
She walked back and forth in the tiny Airstream trailer that she rented from Captain Sullivan. Or was it Major? Anyway, something to do with the Army.
Corey said, "Sexy as hell, Casey, tips will be good tonight."
Corey paid attention to how much cash his mother brought home. Sergeant Sullivan didn't seem like the type to stand for late rent payments. As Corey and his mother worked their way up from Alabama, Casey's casualness with finances sometimes caught up with them.
She told her son, "Usually a blow job will shut them up." Shrug. "If I have to fuck them, I have to fuck them."
"I don't know about Sergeant Sullivan."
"He has a cock, doesn't he?"
Before Casey pulled on her dress to leave for the lounge in her beater Mini, she bent down and kissed her son deeply. She always had and Corey had always loved it. The taste of her lip gloss lingered long after she was gone.
Casey's after work ritual was similar but in reverse. She checked on her son, sleeping on the couch. Took a shower. Wrote in her diary. Left her tip money out for Corey who now had taken over the family budget. She added a note, "One BJ $50 extra!"
Some nights, when she hadn't been with a man for a while, Casey felt lonely. She'd wake Corey, barely, and carry him into her bed. She loved spooning behind him, falling asleep with her son in her arms. They both slept in the nude.
For his part, Corey loved waking up with his mother behind him. He stayed in bed until the last possible minute, then took his shower and fixed breakfast for them.
Casey usually went back to bed after her son left for school. During the day she just tossed on any old thing and did her chores looking as frumpy as it was possible for a knockout like she was to look.
It was late afternoon, the golden hour in Corey's mind, that Casey morphed from a pupa to a butterfly. A stunning, amazing butterfly in Corey's mind. Casey was well aware how much her son adored her. Letting him watch was a sort of apology for dragging him from one new school to another.
But Casey was convinced that now she had broken free of that fucking Alabama, good things lay somewhere out there. She told Corey, "I don't know where we'll strike it rich -- Kansas or Paris or, I don't know, Montana or Canada, someplace. Japan maybe."
Casey had a bit of Mr. Micawber in her -- cheerful and relentlessly optimistic, no matter how grave her financial circumstances.
Casey knew it was tough on Corey, always being the new kid in school. Being so small for his age. Those glasses. So she tried to live up to his expectations. At least his home life would be good.
Most bar managers gave her her choice of shifts after they saw how popular the sexy 29 year old was. Word would spread about the flirty, friendly redhead and new customers would begin showing up.
So Casey was usually able to take Sunday and Monday off. One entire day with her son. Since she wasn't getting home after 2 in the morning, she let Corey go to bed with her on her nights off. They both loved the snuggle time.
Those nights when she left work with another guy, she always, always, left a message on Corey's phone. He was a worrier. Especially when it came to his mother.
One Sunday morning Casey told her son, "I'll be gone for a couple of hours. Probably three, maybe four."
"Casey, we're caught up on the rent."
"I know, baby, but..."
Corey thought about it. Then, "Okay, have fun."
She deep kissed her son as she always did, fully and passionately.
That evening as Corey was preparing dinner, Casey smiled shyly and handed him $600. Corey raised his eyebrows which made him look even more owlish, "Two?"
Casey grinned and held up three fingers.
Corey put the six bills away in his strongbox, fireproof, and made a careful note. Three men, $200 per.
When he had first figured out that his mother occasionally exchanged her favors for money, she told him, "We're survivors, baby. It's you and me against the world." She grinned merrily, "Besides I love sex."
Corey's sex life consisted of one thing: masturbation. Casey taught him the basics of sex and beyond. Encouraged his questions, championed his taking care of himself. She bought him cock rings, and taught him how to surf for porn.
She told him, "I know you jack off to me, baby, and that's just fine. I'm glad you do, I want you to. But think of other pussy too, don't become fixated on your old mom."
Once, Casey thought it was in Arkansas, they were able to rent a two bedroom cottage. But usually it was like it was here in Sergeant Sullivan's trailer park -- life in a little trailer.
So privacy wasn't convenient. And Casey was far from a private person. Besides, she liked having Corey's hungry eyes devouring her.
For his part, the golden hour with his nude mother was Nirvana to Corey. The very first time he spurted off, he was helping her into her fuck-me heels.
Casey was delighted. First, that she was her son's inspiration. Second, that he could finally cum, he'd been a late bloomer. Casey grinned down at the startled little boy, squeezed out the last few drops and sucked them into her mouth off her fingers.
"Hmm. Yummy. You'll be making the girls happy, baby."
Corey still jacked off to that one.
Once in a while, rarely, but once in a while on her nights off, while she was spooned behind Corey, Casey would masturbate him with her right hand. Slowly, gently stroke his 5 inches. She was experienced and knew how to draw it out, stop just short until her son was panting.
Lying there in the dark, neither one spoke. It was like they didn't want to break the spell, lose the moment. She just lovingly stroked, stroked, stroked.
When Casey did let him climax, she brought her hand up to his mouth and had him lick up all of his cum. Neither one of them was quite sure why they both enjoyed that.
Sergeant Stan Sullivan, U. S. Marines, Force Reconnaissance, retired, came from an entirely different background than Casey and Corey. Old money, old, old, old, Connecticut money.
Sully still wasn't sure why he'd turned his back on everyone and enlisted. It wasn't that he didn't get along with his parents and siblings, he just wanted ... something. Something different. Something else
Sully never talked about his time in the Middle East; his friends stopped asking.
As for how he landed in Jackson Tennessee, about an hour east of Memphis, Sully couldn't say. After mustering out, he decided to see the country. Bought an Audi and drove off the dealer's lot with neither a destination nor a map.
But Sully had his family's strong work ethic. As he motored through various states, he noted the number of self-storage units that dotted the landscape. He talked with a few owners, some real estate agents, researched the field and bought one to test the market.
One led to two, to 10, now Sully owned around 275 storage units. The cash flow was positive and impressive, the customer demand growing. He formed an LLC, hired a staff, and forgot about it. Except for the quarterly payments deposited into his investment account at Citi.
Sully noticed the trailer park that was for sale next to his Jackson property. He noticed it because the owner was living in a beautifully restored Airstream trailer, circa 1950.
Sully went over the numbers, mentally subtracted 20% of the revenue, and bought the property. First thing, he bought out the 32 existing leases. He sold those trailers plus 28 vacant ones to a wholesaler, taking a loss on each one.
As he shopped the Internet for vintage Airstreams around the country, Sully had the park landscaped, carefully preserving the big old shade trees that had somehow escaped the bulldozer when the park was first built.
He installed an Olympic sized pool and a residents-only gym.
Although the only residents were Casey and Corey who had rented the only other Airstream from the previous owner. Sully liked the little kid. His mom was a bit ditzy, but certainly easy on the eyes. Whey she asked if they could skinny dip, Sully said, "Yeah. Until I get these other Airstreams refurbished and rent them out. Then wear suits."
Casey saluted smartly, "Aye-aye sir."
"Don't sir me, I was no officer, just a sergeant, a regular guy."
Casey had spent about about 20 or her 29 years studying the male species and she doubted very much that Sully was a just a regular guy. He looked regular though. Only an inch taller than her own 5' 8" and wiry. Casey didn't know it, but that type of gristly, surprisingly powerful build was common to Green Berets, Delta Force, Seals, and the like.
Those men weren't usually the hulking, movie type ... instead they were like coiled wire -- strong and pliable. The Marines trained the best of the best and you could drop Sully off naked in the dessert, a snowy mountain forest, a swamp, and he'd come out 30 days later comfortably clothed, well fed, and calm as could be.
He could also kill you in a flash.
Sully was descended from a long line of Scot-Irish warriors, some of the fiercest fighting men America had ever produced.
Casey might be a little fluffy between the ears, but Sully appreciated how well she and Corey got along. The first time he saw her skinny dipping, Sully decided to grandfather her in -- working as a cocktail waitress in this hick town, there was no way she could afford the rent when he reopened the upscale park with all-Airstream trailers.
Sully hid his smile when Corey sat beside him at the new swimming pool. Nodding at his naked mother, Corey whispered, "The C stands for Casey, not cunt."
Sully nodded at the serious little boy, "Good to know."
The school bus dropped Corey off at the front gate, near Sully's trailer. If he were working outside, Sully sometimes invited the kid over to talk. One Tuesday afternoon Corey's face was bruised, blood on the front of his tee, his round glasses taped together.
"Whoa. What happened?"
"Doug called Casey a slut."
"Stood up for her, did you? Good for you. Come in, I'll clean you up, don't want to give your mother a heart attack."
Sully got out his Marine kit and, working swiftly with sure, precise movements, put Corey back together as well as he could.
Later that afternoon, dressed for work, Casey brought Corey over to Sully's.
"Could you teach him how to fight? How to knock the shit out of that cunt?"
As her smoke-belching Mimi rattled off toward the lounge, Sully looked Corey over.
"Fighting isn't usually the best option."
"He's not gonna call Casey a slut."
Sully thought about it. How tough it must be for the kid. A stunning mother, but no father. New schools all the time as Casey searched for the end of her rainbow. A stranger where most of the other kids were in cliques. Small and soft. The epidemic of bullying online and in school.
Sully said, "I'll teach you how to take Doug out. But it'll only work one time. He sounds like a bully and he'll come back for you the next day. Or his friends will jump you when you put him down."
"How do I do that, sir?"
"I'm not a sir. A sir is my father, my grandfather. Call me Sully."
Grin. "Okay Sully." Then, "How?"
"Stand in front of him. Tell him you're counting to three. On two, kick him in the balls as hard as you can."
Corey grinned even wider. He got it.
The next morning Casey knocked at his door. She was smelling widely. "I don't know what they taught you in the Army ... or was it Navy?"
"Doesn't matter, they're all the same."
"School called, I have to pick Corey up. He whaled the crap out of that cocksucker. Expelled for three days."
"Expelled or suspended?"
"Suspended, I guess, what's the difference? Never mind, thank you so much."
Casey through her arms around Sully and kissed him on the cheek.
Sully learned that Corey had not only kicked the bully in the balls, but kneed him in the face when he bent down. Then the little guy pummeled Doug's face with his tiny fists and elbows. Broken nose, one tooth knocked out, three others so loose they'd probably have to be pulled.
Sully had seen that type of sudden violence before. A pent-up frustration, a lifetime of being picked on. He just hadn't figured mild little Corey to explode. Sully hoped the result would be a little respect, maybe even some fear that the kid was crazy enough to really go off his rocker.
Casey was just proud. So fucking proud. She gave her amazed son his first ever blow job as soon as they got home from school. She whispered to him, "Plenty more where that came from baby, I'm so proud of you."
"Enjoyed it did you?"
Sully puzzled over the way Casey was so casual with nudity around her son. They frolicked in the pool, swarming all over each other, laughing like crazy and trying to dunk the other one. Corey sometimes had a little boner, his mother didn't say a word.
Sully decided it was none of his business. Odd, though.
Sunday morning Corey walked the couple of hundred yards to Sully's Airstream. "Casey wants you to come by tonight for dinner. It's a thank-you dinner."
"Is 8 okay?"
"Whenever is good for you guys."
Sully complimented Casey on her beef stew.
"Corey's the cook in our family, I never learned how."
"Well done, Corey. I taught myself how to cook too. It's a handy skill to have." He winked at the boy, "Good way to get laid too."
Casey laughed delightedly. Maybe this Army dude wasn't so uptight after all. She refilled his wine glass and poured another inch for Corey.
Sully again noticed how well the mother and son got along.
Sully washed and Corey dried. Casey said, "I'll walk you home."
Sully glanced at Corey who was smiling at his mother. Casey had told him earlier, "I'm going to try to get Army Boy in bed."
"We have plenty of money saved, Casey, three months rent."
"I'm not interested in his money, baby, there's just something about him. Something beyond his quiet, watchful ways."
Corey knew his mother was perceptive in ways that would surprise someone who didn't know her well. Especially perceptive when it came to men.
At Sully's, Casey didn't waste any time, "I'd like to take you to bed."
They turned out to be a good match, Sully and Casey. About the same height. Light experimenting turned into boisterous lovemaking all over the Airstream. A very tight pussy and a very fat cock contributed to the mutual enjoyment.
Resting, around midnight, Sully said, "Corey?"
"I told him not to expect me if I got lucky."
"I'm the lucky one."
The affair -- and Sully was pleased to see that it met with Corey's full approval -- was conducted in Sully's Airstream. Casey wouldn't have minded fucking Sully in front of her son, but didn't want to shock him. However Casey kept the thought in mind.
She did manage to talk Sully into skinny dipping with them. But only after she sent Corey over to personally invite him. He started to remove her hand the first time she groped him under water, but relented. If she weren't concerned with Corey, then he wouldn't worry about the boy either.
As October started to turn a little chilly, Sully had hot tubs installed behind Casey's and his Airstreams. A surprise gift for Casey and Corey.
Casey winked at her son, "Sully thinks he's gonna get some pussy."
Corey winked back, "He's right."
The three of them drifted into a Sunday / Monday routine. Casey's days off. Corey fixed dinner both nights. Then Sully opened more wine and they went out to Casey's hot tub under the stars.
Casey always sat hip-to-hip between her boys. She loved closing her eyes, leaning her head back and gently stroking Sully and Corey. Sully was surprised and not surprised that Casey openly fondled her son.
Not his business.