Chapter 4

My mom was quite exhausted when she finished dancing with Trent after four or five songs. Trent asked if she wanted something to drink.

“Sure!” my mom replied. I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal, but keep in mind that a few weeks ago my mother didn’t rely upon any of us to offer her a drink. If she was thirsty, she would have just stopped and got a drink. I don’t think Misty thought we could forbid her from drinking but there had been a (not so subtle) shift in the balance of power in the household and this was one of many small changes to our relationship that I found quite gratifying.

We didn’t have the authority to tell her what she could and couldn’t eat—not really. We often stuck things (including food) in her mouth, and we also pissed on her and in her mouth. It was nice, though, to feel like we really could have refused her some water.

“Great, I’ve got to piss! Come on, Piss-tea,” Trent grabbed my mother’s hand and led her over to some nearby porta-potties. They looked like small personal closets all aligned in a row. People briskly waited for them to open and become unoccupied before taking their turn. Trent waited with our mom, and when it was their turn, he took her into the nearest one and presumably fed her his piss.

When she came out, Piss dribbled down her blouse. People noticed the two of them coming out of the urinal, but no one said anything about it. They probably thought it was a young man and his older girlfriend having sex.

“Oh great, you dribbled your piss all over that shirt. You know it actually belongs to me?” Hope complained.

“Wait till you see the poop stripe that we left in these pants you loaned us,” Trent replied cavalierly.

“Gross,” Hope fumed. We promised to wash the clothes thoroughly and continued our fun trip to the ren fair.

Our next stop was the ostentatious “Queen’s Court.” It was a live action roleplay of a regal monarch holding court and drinking tea. She addressed her ‘subjects’ (the seated audience) and made extravagant declarations or judgments. There was an obviously pre-scripted parade of advisors scheming before her to ask for favorable decisions on matters they brought before court. I was certain that half of it was roleplay and half of it was lines that they probably decided before the event.

“Is this the kind of roleplay you want to do with me?” Misty asked. She seemed a bit confused by the spectacle.

“What? no!” My brothers and I unanimously told her.

“I don’t mean as your queen. You know how we talked about role play? We haven’t really done that.”

“Yes, we have; you roleplay our pet.” James smacked her bottom in plain view of people passing by. It was playful but firm, and several people casually noticed my mom’s asscheek jiggle.

“I am not really roleplaying that; that’s what I am now, right, sir?” Misty seemed confused.

It was a fantastic question. Misty had acted very differently as our “mom” before this all began, at least in some ways. In other ways, she hadn’t changed all that much. She let us tell her what to do, how to dress, even punish her, and make rules. Yet she still had her own money and could at any time have taken back her dignity and authority, making us feel ashamed for being so strict.

“You could roleplay being a vampire; maybe then Goth-girl Supreme would be happy,” James suggested.

Hope simmered angrily.

“No, I couldn’t do that. I mean, I really have to do everything you tell me,” Misty suggested. She seemed to be fishing to see what our thoughts were.

“Like our slave?” I mused. My mom’s one stipulation from the very start was that she wasn’t our slave.

“Not really a slave, but like when you made me go outside on all fours and get hosed off or come with you in the urinal. I do not have to do that stuff, but I sometimes roleplay that I do.”

“You are our urinal; you have to drink our piss.” I grabbed my mom’s face, held her gaze, and looked very intently into her eyes. Then I led her silently to the urinal and waited my turn. This time, a nearby couple seemed to take note of us waiting intently for our turn. They assumed we were a May-December romance of some kind.

When it was our turn to go, the young couple grinned as I led my mom to the restroom and closed the door. “May I take my top off, sir? I don’t want to ruin it,” my mom asked as we climbed into the cramped, smelly porta-potty together.

“Yes, how did Trent do this?” I asked as I stood close to my mother.

Misty slipped her top off and said that he made her squat over the toilet. She demonstrated by spreading her knees wide and squatting over the toilet so that her pussy was exposed in her skirt.

I reached up and grabbed her tits and gave them a good squeeze. Misty smiled invitingly, like she was hoping that I’d be rough with her. It smelled of waste and had the overwhelming scent of urinal cakes. It felt very trashy to be in there with her – but exciting as well.

“I should dunk your head in there and make you eat your dinner,” I said as I pinched her tits. I played it safe and focused on the tender flesh around the piercings while testing her reaction to pain. “Get that ridiculous skirt off, slut! You don’t need any privacy in here!”

Misty stood up, slipped the tight denim skirt off without removing her high heels, and presented it to me. I was tempted to let it drop on the muddy plastic floor at our feet. I smacked her ass and spun her around. I bent her over as if I were going to fuck her, put my hands under her chest, grabbed her boobs while holding her skirt and top, and then bent over her.

“No, please, don’t fuck me, sir.” Misty gritted her teeth, but she didn’t resist or struggle against me. She seemed to be getting wet and excited.

“If I was going to fuck you, I’d start with that disgusting asshole.” I pulled the wooden plug (Exc-CRAP-A-burr) from her butt and stuffed it in her mouth. It was a little dirty, but it wasn’t anything new to my mother to clean her sex toys after use. I wanted to make a joke that I was now the one and true king (for removing the sword from her ass) as foretold by prophecy, but I wasn’t Trent and I felt it would be anticlimactic.

“What’s the rule? You think I don’t know the rules?” I asked her sternly, instead.

She murmured apologetically in a panic as I pushed her head down into the toilet—not far enough that her nose fell in, but her hair might have just touched the water line. There were old cigarettes and even a beer can in the muck. Misty resisted, obviously worried that I’d push her down further.

“What’s the matter? That’s just piss; you love the taste, don’t you whore?” I asked rhetorically as I squeezed her pussy lips, pinched them, and started finger fucking her wet pussy.

“Yeasssfff!” my mom agreed, only struggling slightly to keep her head from touching the muck.

“You are a urinal, so getting to use another one is more of a personal courtesy, isn’t it?” I slapped her pussy hard enough that it quivered, and I enjoyed the snapping sound that I made, so I did it two more times.

“Yesssfftth,” she groaned in disgust.

I spit on my mother’s asshole and started finger fucking her puckered asshole. She groaned with pleasure and began to bend her knees up and down slightly while I tortured her pussy with my other hand. “You are a filthy piss-guzzling urinal, inside of another urinal, aren’t you?”

“Yeastfh, Michael Oh, pleasttthfff, I am disgusting.” She cooed as her pussy expanded and constricted like it was self-juicing itself to pump as much of her thick cummy juices out of her pussy as possible.

I knew the smell had to be way worse with her head stuffed into the filthy bowl. There was probably random stranger piss on the sides of the toilet where her shoulders were touching. My brothers and I have literally pissed on her tits and face before, but something about a stranger’s piss seemed far more unsanitary to me.

She wasn’t actually touching the piss in the bowl, but her face was close to it.

“You better not drop that butt plug we bought you! Suck it like a cock, you little piss-pig!” I brought my hand up, and without thinking, I made a fist and punched her pussy. Misty seemed shaken, but I didn’t pull her head out of the bowl, so I did it again and again. It was probably very painful, but she absorbed the pain really well and let me keep punching the fatty labia around her pussy.

When I finally grabbed her hair, I gave her a strong yank and plucked my mother from the tub, pulling her back and up. She reached behind me and held me close. “Oh, god! That was so gross,” she mumbled with the butt plug in her mouth.

“I’ll give you a taste of what’s at the bottom, slut!” I pulled her down by her shoulders, spun her around at crotch level, and whipped my cock out. I intended to piss in her mouth. Misty opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out. My mother’s mouth looked so inviting. I held my stiff cock in my hand and tried to piss (it’s difficult but not impossible with a boner). She placed her lips at the tip of my cock and waited.

She had only done that once before, and even then, it was very discreet while she was blindfolded. This time, she had her eyes open and knew exactly what she was doing. I said nothing. I pretended it was perfectly normal, even though we had an agreement that oral sex crossed the line. She wasn’t exactly sucking, but she was pretty much kissing the tip.

I put her hands around my balls and shaft, slapped her face, and pinched her nose. “You dumb little cock sucker, you are teasing me to the point I want to cum, not piss!”

Misty was about to apologize, and that meant she’d open her mouth and remove her lips from where they were wrapped around the very tip of my cock head. I grabbed her throat and pulled her close. Misty’s lips slipped down the tip of my cock to the shaft. I began to piss warm urine down her throat, and I didn’t release her until I was completely finished. A little of my piss escaped and dribbled down her chin, but she managed to swallow most of it.

When I finally released Misty, she wiped her mouth and looked up at me silently. She didn’t need to say anything. I felt that by not acknowledging that that was close to oral sex, it was the right thing to do.

“Good to the last drop, huh? You cleaned the tip of my cock! I should take a shit and make you lick me clean! Here, suck on this until James gets here to give you another drink!” I stuffed the butt plug back in her mouth and left her clothes piled on top of her head. I demanded she remain squatting as I left. I called James over so that no one else walked into the bathroom.

I did fantasize about a stranger’s reaction to discovering my sexy mom. The clothes over her head would have made it impossible for her to tell if it was James or someone else. Would he dare piss in her mouth or even let her suck his cock? But what if it was a woman? or someone who might freak out?

I left that idea just a fantasy and invited James in. I told him to spank her ass and piss in her mouth. He said he assumed that was what I was doing.

When I got back to where Trent and my sister were waiting, I observed the crowded fair attendees. They were completely oblivious to the game that I had just played with my mother. They were consumed with watching silly jugglers and shopping at the various stalls nearby.

Hope knew what we were doing, though. “Did you enjoy jerking off on Mom?”

“Ooh, I completely forgot that I could do that.” I snapped my fingers playfully. Misty had seen me bust my nut on Misty a few times, but we tried to be more discreet about that around her.

“You are way more twisted than I thought you were,” Hope said. It almost sounded like a compliment—almost.

“You are way less twisted than I thought you were,” I responded.

“I am twisted, but I don’t get off on having sex with my mom,” she sneered. Hope said it loud enough that passersby might have heard her. I grew a little embarrassed.

“We didn’t have sex,” I said.

“You didn’t stick your dick in her pussy, but you guys do just about everything else. Trust me, if you caught me on the couch with my boyfriend shoving his fingers in my ass, you’d think it was sex!”

I didn’t really have a response to that. She was absolutely right, but we did have boundaries, and that was all that mattered. “I am a pervert, and so is mom. We are consenting adults, okay?”

“You are a teenager,” Hope reminded me. She was correct, but she was also almost a full year younger than me.

“You are too, and you can consent to have sex, get your titties pierced; I bet you even have your twat pierced,” I said. I don’t know why I was trying to put her down for having piercings. I just felt defensive, and she was making me feel guilty, so it felt better to go on the offensive.

“That’s something you can dream about but never see,” Misty assured me.

All the while, my brother James was slapping, twisting, and teasing our mother inside the privacy of a porta-potty. When he finally left, Trent went back in to play a little harder and have his way with her.

There was a red-head in mermaid tank nearby. She was just a woman in a bikini with a bikini style fish bottom (obviously not a real mermaid), sitting in a see-through dunking tank. Guys paid three bucks for one ball or five bucks for 3 balls to throw them at a target to dunk her in the water. It was fairly tame.

Trent joked “I am a two ball man, myself”

Hope pulled his jeans out slightly and suggested that she didn’t see ANY balls at all.

I imagined my mother being topless on a dildo shaped perch for all to see. She’d have a rope around her neck. Every time the ball hit the target, she’d choke, flop around in the water for a few seconds, and then get back up to a dildo perch, where she squatted for the next customer’s amusement.

It was a sexy scenario that we weren’t going to make happen – at least not that day. It was still fun to watch the pretty red get dropped into the water. It must have been humiliating to be laughed at every time you fall. Misty probably would have found it amusing to be in the tank. The idea of building a personal dunk tank at home turned me on.

I saw a ribald juggler named “Jizzler” that reminded me of the bald guy named Richard we met at the adult novelty store. He had Jizzler emblazoned on his ornate tunic, and nobody screamed at him for being obscene in public.

“The Sea Captain’s Fair-Haired Young Bride, fell into the bay at low Ti-iiide” he sang, “You could tell by her squeals, that some of the eels, had found a great place to hiii--iide!!”

He sang naughty limericks and juggled while advertising for a show he called “A Limerick Off” put on by his traveling band of Rakish Rogues & Sultry Sirens. “You’ll get off, I’ll get off, we’ll all get off!” he chortled.

“La-Da-Da-Da-Daaaa ... There was a lovely princess seeking protection, she said I think you should take me to bed, and I gave her my massive REJECTION...”

He cupped his cod piece and sang the lyric directly into the face of a female in the audience. It was funny and distracting. I was fortunate that he was passing by because it allowed us to leave the porta-potty unnoticed.

When Misty emerged haggard, clothes soaked in piss and sweat, hair torn up, and make-up dripping down her face, I laughed and said we should write “Jizzler” on her back and make her follow the guy around as his humpback slutty sidekick.

“I could be his whore-jester,” Misty grinned with deep amusement. People noticed how torn up she was, but my mom remained very stoic about appearing that way in public.

“Goddamn, you stink, Misty!” Hope chided our mom for how she smelled.

“Sorry, ma’am, in the middle ages, they didn’t have body wash.” Misty giggled and admitted she was a stinky little pet slut. My mom wiped her face clean with the nearby hand wash station and laughed off what had happened in the porta potty.