Copyright© 2015 by Jessica James
Sex Story: Chapter 1 - July Castillo was more than a self-proclaimed Weather Weenie working her way from TV station to TV station in California's Central Valley. July was hot. Her mother, Juanita was hot. Her grandmother, Josefina, her great grandmother Jesusa ... all hot. July had something beyond her smoldering beauty though. She thought of her son Jax as her secret weapon, the power behind the weather map. Jax, in middle school then, began orchestrating her career, guiding her sex life, cheering her on ...
July Castillo loved watching the tapes of herself doing the weather on television. Almost as much as her son Jax did. July wasn't naive, she knew her viewers could care less about the usually monotonous daily weather in Modesto, Fresno, Bakersfield, Pomona. Wherever she and Jax had promoted her into a higher slot, a larger market.
No, her audience tuned in for another reason: sex.
July exuded sex without trying. Effortlessly. As Jax had drilled into her, "Chill, Mamacita. Don't sex it up, you don't need to." He was 10 at the time.
July had learned early on to listen to her earnest son. Her adoring son, her biggest fan. She listened not because Jax devoured her with his eyes, his heart, but because he was killer smart. Off the charts smart. And beyond the brains, he had an innate sense of what worked for July. Of how to steer her in one direction, then another, always aiming higher.
July listened because Jax had been proven right time after time.
July listened because she herself was smart enough to recognize that Jax was way more intelligent than she was. And that he was even more ruthlessly ambitious for her career.
July listened because Jax loved her just as much as she loved him.
Together, with Jax pulling invisible strings and July doing whatever it took, whatever, they made up a formidable team.
And the 'whatever' often involved sex. Under the calculating direction of her son, Jax.
July had always loved watching herself on television. So did Jax. This is what they saw:
A tall young woman, 5' 10" and shapely. Pinched waist, long, long legs. Tits? Yes indeed. Full without making July top heavy. Butterscotch skin. Brilliantly black hair, brilliantly white teeth. Castilian blue eyes, bright blue. Gorgeous.
Here is what was behind the visage: A canny mother, a Machiavellian son whose instincts for office politics would have made the Florentine proud. Jax knew what his mother had going for her and he used all of it to further her career.
Example? July used to clip fashion ads and articles from women's magazines. Jax went online and downloaded reams of material. He redid her wardrobe for every new and larger market they moved into.
Example? By age 11 Jax was deftly orchestrating his mother's sexual activities. He studied TV station organization charts, quizzed July on the inner workings, learned who had pull, who had empty titles.
July would mention a name and ask, "Blow job?"
"Not yet, next time. Let him feel you up tonight."
July grinned, "Get me off?"
Jax laughed, his mother climaxed in an instant.
Jax, like his mother, was tall. He wasn't handsome, he was pretty. Beautiful actually. He used his feminine looks to full advantage. Girls always underestimated his intensity. He looked soft, pliable. He was not.
More than one girl had been lulled into bed by his girlish looks, his genteel manners. They quickly learned one thing: that impossibly fat cock wasn't in the least bit feminine.
July's first media job was a two-minute radio gig in the small California town of Red Bluff. She was 14 and reported the local high school news at 4:45 Monday through Friday. It was a job she thought up on her own, created, and sold.
Sold to the station owner. In his bed. His cock at the door of her pussy. Jax was one year old at the time.
Her voice, and July knew this, sounded like sex. Promised sex. It wasn't an empty promise -- July delivered sex. Happily, generously, fully. She loved sex and it showed.
A television ad salesman for a station in Yuba City heard her on a Tuesday as he drove through Red Bluff on his way down to Sacramento. July's vocal sultriness was so intense that he pulled over and listened to the entire two minutes of the local high school election, football scores, and homecoming news.
The ad rep drove on, forgetting the incident until he caught July a couple of weeks later. Acting on impulse, he drove to the little cinderblock building that housed the radio station's entire operation from studio to offices to the surprisingly tall antenna.
July, even at 14, wasn't naive.
She was pragmatic. The dude wanted in her panties. She looked him over. Read his business card again. Television. She studied him some more. Smiled and said, "Okay."
"I'll fuck you. You'll help me find work at your station or you won't. I'll take a chance."
For an ad rep, Red was sort of honest. He told her, "If I'm still in Yuba City when you turn 16, call me. I can get you hired. Not on-air, you'll have to sell yourself. But I'll get you in the door."
The very first time he fucked her, in what became 'their motel, ' Red thought: this kid is going places. She was gorgeous, that was a given. July didn't just tolerate sex, didn't just like it. She devoured it.
July would do anything and everything in bed. With great enthusiasm. She didn't fake it, she lived it.
July came from a long line of beauties. Her mother, Juanita, was the mistress of Red Bluff's lumber baron. Juanita had been a fluffer on porno sets for years. July grew up watching her mother suck cock after cock. Then a Telemundo representative spotted Juanita in a Valley coffee shop.
Mr. Telemundo was impressed by Juanita's ferocity between the sheets. She eventually went on to play bit parts in a series of telenovelas. Then the Red Bluff lumber tycoon offered her more money, a lot more, and Juanita happily gave up her show business career.
July's grandmother, Josefina, had worked her way up from teenage whore to assistant manager at the second best whorehouse in Fresno. July's great grandmother, Jesusa, still turned an occasional trick in Bakersfield. More about Jesusa and a certain Tijuana live sex show in a moment.
The entire family had the same curvy build, the same coal black hair, the same white, white teeth. And the same enthusiastic attitude about sex.
Jax, the first boy in generations, was idolized by all the Castillo women. Starting when he was 8 years old, July put him on the Greyhound to visit her grandmother in Fresno and her great grandmother in Bakersfield.
Jax loved his family as much as they loved him. And he was proud of them all. Especially Jesusa, who, family lore had it, had been involved with a certain donkey in a certain Tijuana sex show.
July spoke unaccented English. Her mother had a slight accent. Josefina a strong accent and spoke mostly in Spanish. Which didn't hurt down at the Fresno whorehouse. Jesusa spoke Spanish. And the language of sex, of course.
The Fresno whores, kindhearted for the most part, adopted Jax. Answered all of his eager questions. At first, when he was 8 or 9, Jax asked mostly about sex. Then he turned to the business side.
How much was a blow job? Did they charge more for anal? What was the rent? The monthly payoff to the cops. To the mayor's representative. How much money could they save by giving away some pussy?
Jax filed it all away in his prodigious memory bank.
But it was Jesusa, speaking Spanish with a sparkle in her voice, who fascinated Jax the most. She was as open with him as were the rest of his extended family.
Jesusa got the donkey rumor out of the way immediately. She winked at Jax, 'It was a little pony, Shetland they're called. And I didn't fuck him."
She winked again, "But I did suck him hard -- what a cock! -- for Maria Elena. Twice a night, 10 and 2. She was the star, Maria Elena. I was just the undercard. Mouth and hands, you had to use both hands, that pony."
Jax, ever ernest, ever curious, said, "You didn't fuck on stage?"
Jesusa mock-slapped him, "Of course I did, Stupido! That's how I had so many customers. They fall in love, watching me fuck Jose and Javier."
Jesusa smiled and held her hands about a foot apart, "Javier."
By the time Jax turned 14, July had progressed from Yuba City secretary to camera assistant to a substitute weekend weather girl. Redding hired her to be the regular weekender.
July had fucked the three Yuba City television executives that Red pointed her to. She didn't have to fuck anyone, although she certainly would have, in Redding. They just recruited her.
July didn't know it, didn't even know what Q Scores were back then, but hers were in the stratosphere. The audience familiarity and appeal numbers were higher than those of the anchors.
Sex of course. Men lusted, boys lusted. Women were curious, envious, resentful. But aware, very aware of July.
Jax, by age 14, had taken total control of his mother's career. Which was both a relief and a blessing to July.
Whether she worked mornings, evenings, or nights, Jax had watched July's pre-work routine for years. He knew her wardrobe and makeup better than she did. Understood which outfits worked better at which times of day.
Jax toned down her wardrobe -- slightly longer skirts, slightly lower heels. Less red in the lip gloss. The makeup girls in station after station learned to trust his instincts, trust that he knew what looked best on his mother under the harsh lights.
As long as he could recall watching his mother, Jax remembered July started out staring at her naked figure in the full length mirror. Evaluating. Looking for flaws, blemishes. An extra couple of ounces. Hefting her full boobs. Tweaking her nipples. Twisting around to check out her butt.
It wasn't admiration, although there was much to admire, it was cold, calculating assessment. July and Jax studied her the way the camera would see her. Harshly. Coldly. Calmly.
Jax left nothing to chance.