Chapter 4

I left a message to any potential fans “If you send me a tip with a personal request, we may create custom videos”.

Then I went to bed for the first time in a long time without masturbating before I fell asleep. I was horny, but I felt strangely guilty about what had turned me on. I had been working on my mom’s porn photos all night, and it was starting to sink in that I was extremely aroused by all of it. It was hard not to be – my mom had a nice body, and she was very generous with showing it.

I hated the idea of my mom knowing this turned me on. I didn’t want her to think I was doing this because I can’t get a girl of my own and that I lusted after her or something. She was sexy, though – and it was hard for me to wrap my head around accepting that I was aroused.

Mom had also made these cute little faces and funny expressions at times that seemed to provide all this context. That made the porn far more interesting to me. She made it feel very ‘naughty’ to be doing any of these scenarios.

I noticed that some of the comments from the fans were questions about my mother. A guy asked on Twitter, “Did she do that because she enjoyed it, or because someone told her to do it?”

“Does it matter, darling?” I wrote back from my mother’s account. She wanted to have nothing to do with answering the fans. I knew from experience that fans didn’t want to just look at pictures. They were paying to have some interaction.

“Yes, and who took the pictures? It looks like he is in a wheelchair from the angles,” he wrote back.

I was deeply shocked that someone had figured that out from the angle of the pictures. I logged out immediately and didn’t reply. I kept thinking about that comment. I didn’t want people to know who I was. I wanted to stay in the background. I definitely didn’t want to be defined by my wheelchair either.

I am not one of those people who won’t say I have a disability. I hate it when people say “I don’t see your disability” or they look past my wheelchair. I’ve had girls tell me that before, and my first thought was they are not being honest. Obviously, I am in a wheelchair.

It doesn’t define me, but for fuck’s sake, don’t pretend you don’t notice it. I never tell people things like that bother me though. I just politely nod and let them say what they want to say. I know they mean well, and it’s a whole lot better than making fun of me for being a chair.

People don’t really do that anymore. I can see it in their faces when they are thinking it. The second appointment my mom had today named Dan had been a prime example of those kinds of people. I had blown that interaction. I made a promise to myself to try to make eye contact and be a little more confident when dealing with mom’s clients in the future.

I also made a mental note that I should print up more model release forms, and some flyers with mom’s social media on them that I could hand out to people. There was an untapped market in her regular customers. I assumed that if a guy made a porn with my mom, he’d most likely want to subscribe just to watch it.

That next morning, I was jerking off in bed. I take my time before getting in my chair and I was stroking pretty hard when my mom came walking into the bedroom. She was naked. She’s caught me many times before, but she usually covers her eyes and then makes a funny joke about not seeing anything and politely runs out of the room.

“Good morning, Mr. Director. It’s okay; you’ve seen me do it plenty of times yesterday,” she said. “Get your rocks off, we’ve got work to do.”

“Get out of here, Mom,” I threw a sock at her. It was the sock I was going to jazz into, and it landed only a few feet away.

“Hon, I don’t have anything you haven’t seen before, and you certainly don’t have anything I haven’t seen swinging between your legs. If you want to rub one out, that’s fine. Nice dick, by the way,” she mused.

“I told you to get out,” I insisted.

“Fine, fine,” Mom sighed and left the room. “Can I at least put some panties and a bra on to make breakfast?” she replied from the hallway.

“No, I’ll be out soon,” I shouted.

“Don’t hurry on account of me,” she teased back.

I finished whacking off. I had to get out of bed, and some of the cum dripped on my stomach and on my underwear. I got into my chair and went to the bathroom to get cleaned up. I have a shower that I can manage by myself and sit down in. I got changed and straightened up, and joined my mom for breakfast.

She made my favorite. She normally just gives me cereal. This morning she made me white rice with sugar, cinnamon, butter and milk. She poured me a big glass of orange juice.

“Can I sit down or am I going to have to stand and eat with a spoon up my ass again, Sir?” she giggled.

I thanked her for the food and told her to sit down. Mom was happy to oblige.

“We have eight subscribers now,” I informed her.

“Ooh, that’s like 16 dollars every month,” Mom quipped sarcastically.

“That’s like 400% more subscribers than you had before I became director,” I pointed out.

“Thank you for that. Do you still want to do this?” she asked.

I was puzzled. “Why would you ask that?”

“You got mad when I saw you jerking off, and I didn’t leave. I wasn’t sure if you were having second thoughts or something,” she said.

“Are you?”

“No, I am ready. How many appointments do I have today?” she asked.

I assumed she would know. She let me have access to her appointment tool, but it was online. “Two, one at noon and one at six pm,” I told her who they were, and mom said that they might both be interested in filming if I had a good scenario.

I told my mom about the ad and how I was interacting with the fan. I left out the part about someone realizing I was in a chair. That comment bothered me.

“We need to get the van fixed. I have a guy I know who is kind of sketchy but for a BJ, a six pack and a few hundred dollars he may get it running. We could also get it towed to a reputable place, but I am sure it will cost a lot more.”

It seemed like mom was asking me what we should do. She rarely seemed indecisive all of my life. Yet, now she seemed like she was treating me like an adult and involving me in the decision. It felt like she was not just involving me – she was asking me to make the decision.

“Based on the appointments you have, we should have more than enough for rent, utilities and getting the van fixed at a reputable place,” I told her.

“Not every guy will show,” Mom explained that at least a third of her appointments cancel or reschedule.

“Do you charge them a cancellation fee?”

“I am not a hair salon, Jerry,” she laughed.

Bzzzzttt, I pressed the imaginary button on my wheelchair to zap my mom. She played along and pretended to be electrocuted but she didn’t seem to know why.

“It’s sir, Mister Cooper, or Director,” I insisted.

“Oh, are we really doing that?” she asked. “You’ve been calling me Mom all morning!” My mom assumed that rule was already forgotten and no longer applicable.

“Sorry, cunt,” I chuckled. Mom still had the word “CUNT” written in blue on her tits.

“Look, I am sorry for laughing about the cancellation fee. As you can see, this is not a business empire. I don’t keep accounting records or know what a W-2 is. That’s not my thing. If people cancel, I just do something else for a few hours.”

“Okay, It just feels like you expect me to know all of this stuff about how everything works,” I groaned.

My mother’s eyes grew a little angry, and then she softened. “How about we make a deal? When you start calling me Mom, I start calling you Jerry, and you can’t boss me around. I can wear what I want, and you don’t take pictures of me. That way we keep our personal lives separate from the business one. When you start calling me Mom, I know we are back to that, and when you start calling me anything else I know we are working, and you are in charge. Sound good?”

Technically, she could do whatever she wanted anyway. She really didn’t have to do anything I told her at any time. I was just trying to be helpful.

“How about everything you just said, but I can still take random pictures of you. The best ones seem to be the natural ones that don’t seem posed.”

“Okay, but the break has to be at least an hour, deal? And I am technically still your mom, even if you are the boss when we are working. Okay?”

“Yes, obviously, slut,” I said.

“You can call me Lori or Loretta too, you know?”

I found it easier to call my mother a slut or a cunt, than I did to use her first name. “I can, but I think for now I will stick with whore,” I said.

Mom gave me a sour expression. I must have hit a nerve when I called her a whore. I apologized.

“No, I am actually a whore, Sir. That’s the most accurate word you’ve used so far. Sluts give it away. I charge money for my ass,” mom sniffed, and a small tear rolled down her cheek.

“Mom...” I offered apologetically. I was only trying to get in the spirit of our new arrangement.

Mom immediately brightened, held up a finger, and declared with a grin “ACTING!! Hallelujah! One hour of ME time!” she ran into her bedroom and emerged in a comfortable shirt and a pair of shorts and sat down on the couch and watched some television.

I laughed pretty hard and so did she. She shushed me when her program came back on and called me Jerry.

“Okay Whore,” I said.

She didn’t correct me, and she didn’t look angry either. She smirked and kept watching the show. My mom isn’t a TV fiend, and I knew she was just having a laugh. I waited the entire hour and kept checking her Instagram and taking some random photos of her on the couch. Mom flipped me off once and mugged for the camera.

“You are up to ten subscribers!” I told her. I left some messages on the Instagram for fans, but I didn’t reply to the guy who asked about me.

“Awesome, possum!” she joked.

“Okay, when this is over, I want you to strip naked and streak outside around the trailer,” I said. I loved the idea of my mom dashing around our trailer. We lived in a trailer park, and there were real people that lived fairly close by. I loved flashing videos.

“You made me do that yesterday,” Mom seemed disappointed. “I’ll do it on one condition,” she said.

I was going to buzz her with my imaginary buzzer for pushing back.

“Don’t buzz me! My hour break isn’t up! The deal is you come outside to film me.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, you are so pale, Jerry. You never go outside. If I am going to race my bare ass around this trailer and possibly get caught, the least you can do is come outside and film me.”

“Fine.”

“Okay boss man, Sir,” Mom teased and saluted me. She started to strip as she informed me her hour break was up.

“I didn’t tell you to undress. Show me what bikinis you have,” I said.

Mom showed me. They were pretty conservative looking. I asked her if she had any thongs.

“Panties, but not bikini bottoms,” she corrected.

“Good, wear a pair that matches that top. We are going for a walk.”

Mom frowned. “When I said go outside, I didn’t mean go for a long walk...” she began. I started to press my imaginary buzzer and she put her hands up to surrender and explained that she would be happy to wear whatever I wanted. “Can I play with myself when I get back though? I was kind of hoping to have some fun before my noon. He’s got a tiny dick,” she joked.

It was a beautiful day. The birds were in the sky, the wind was blowing. South Dakota can have some harsh winters, but it has some lovely summers, and this was one of those perfect days. I rolled down the ramp of our trailer. I used to love doing that when I was younger, but I’ve been living in the same place for over a decade and seldom left my house now that I was no longer in high school.

My mom looked almost decent in her bikini. The top she wore covered her boobs perfectly because it was in fact a normal bikini top.

The bottoms were the same color but if you looked closely, they were panties, and the back disappeared in her crack.

Our neighbor Mr. Johnson was in his yard. We’ve never liked him very much. He keeps to himself and rolls his eyes at me.

“I don’t want to talk to that crab apple,” Mom whispered to me as she walked next to my chair as we rolled down the street toward the pool.

“Hey Mr. Johnson, nice day for fishing, isn’t it?” I asked awkwardly. It sounded flat and hollow. I didn’t like talking to people but I was the boss now – so I wanted to come across like I could at least be affable. I knew he liked fishing from all of the signs on his trailer and the fishing hat he wore.

“Yeah, I might head down to Lake Parmley later and see what is biting,” he said.