Chapter 1

Summertime, and the livin' is easy... One of these mornings, you're gonna rise up singin'.

BULLSHIT! The livin' may be easy because I'm out of work; plus, I wake up cryin', not singin'.

I spun around in front of the full-length mirror, observing with satisfaction that my breasts stayed firm, then watching as my skirt wrapped tightly around me for just a second before gravity took over and it fell naturally. I looked over my shoulder into the mirror and gave my ass a little wiggle. Ah, nice and tight, no flabby shaking. It was a Tuesday evening.

Not bad for a thirty-five year old chick, Charlene. Jeez, I hate that name. All the boys used to call me Charley, but I'm a girl, damn it, not a tomboy.

I glanced down at the open drawer of the vanity before me. My shiny red plastic assistant poked its nose out from under a pair of panties.

I don't think I'll need you tonight, Sparky. We can give your battery a rest. It's the third date; time to let Steve have his way with me. I can't wait; I've held him off too long.

I blushed as I thought of what I wanted Steve to do to me. Reality took over quickly as I opened my purse to verify the package of three condoms and the, hopefully, unnecessary new tube of KY.

Please, please, not that way, Steve, not my ass. Oh shit, I hate the idea of him sticking it into me up there. I wonder what his cock will be like. Hard enough for sure to drive in and spread my vaginal walls but soft skin I hope, like his hands on my breasts. I should have let him go all the way last time. Good thing I had Sparky to help me survive my mistake. That Steve is such a beautiful man, such a gentle man; I can't wait to fall asleep next to him. After I suck every drop of his sweet cream. What kind of father would he be for Nick? Whoa girl, slow down. You don't even know if he'll like your body. Oh sure he will; I may be modest but I'm not stupid.

How do I tell Nick that I might not be home tonight? He's barely sixteen but he's not stupid; he'll know why. Probably play with himself thinking about what I'm doing. Damn, it's been a long time since I've pulled an all-nighter, not since he's been off the baby-sitters. May as well get it over with.

Steve had been sitting in 4B, an aisle seat, next to an older woman who was obviously a stranger to him. He had asked for a scotch and water while the coach passengers were still boarding. I had almost gotten a migraine as I had smiled at him while simultaneously straining my eyes to see if he had hardware on his ring finger, and I had felt his eyes burning into my backside as I walked toward the front of the cabin.

I gave my ass a little shake as I walked. Shit, I love it when guys ogle my body; I love it when they fuck my body too. Even being divorced and spending some much time in the air or staying in foreign places, I have no trouble getting all the cock I need. That's especially true in London. When I have a layover there, there's a sweet man who works Reception in the hotel they put us up at. He's good for a screaming orgasm whenever I need it, usually with the fine tongue, I'm dripping wet just writing about it, but nothing serious or romantic; I really couldn't stand that accent 24/7. Back to the issue; I've been told that I have a cute ass.

Like what you see, Mister 4B?

They'd surely fire me if I had said that out loud. As a minimum, I would have lost some seniority and been bounced out of first class back into coach. Not that first class is so easy, not at all, but you do have a chance to actually meet and talk to some passengers and it is a hell of a lot more prestigious. And you get to know the passengers, like Mister 4B, to whom I planning to deliver my pussy that evening.

At least I look like flight attendants used to all look like: five-two, one hundred fifteen, black hair — OK, that wasn't in the script — curvy where necessary, pretty though not gorgeous, unless you know me and love me.

Not that I had actually earned all the seniority that I had. My dad, rest his soul, had been a union official dealing with the airline, while at the same time, though they never crossed paths on the job, my ex-husband had been an airline executive. I say had been, up until he decided that a dumb blonde piece of fluff in Reservations was more fun than my jet black hair and working brain, and they took off for the west coast. The two of them, Dad and Shithead, had gotten me a leg up and a few undocumented after-hours 'conferences' with my supervisor when his wife was out of town, none of which either Dad or Shithead ever knew about, got me far enough up the line to get what I wanted.

Of course, one might say that the services I rendered to my supervisor really did constitute 'earning' a little extra seniority, but I'm not here to discuss morality, just reality in some of its nasty and ugly phases. Like I can't remember his name anymore, but I can still feel his tongue inside me when old Sparky is buzzing away and the taste of a mouthful of his cum. All of which is a fancy way of saying that I don't mind giving a ride to a guy or cleaning his pipes if he'll give me something in return. I love to fuck, I love to have screaming cums with a guy. I've been fortunate to get the body and the mind that I have and I sure as hell don't want to waste them.

The only trouble with that supervisor, though, was that he kept stalling the change I needed in my personnel records. He gave me a lot of bullshit reasons for the delay, all the while fucking my mouth and pussy; it was only when he wanted to fuck my ass that I woke up. I was a virgin back there, still am, for the most part, and after a couple of dates fighting him off, so to speak, I told him that he could break that last cherry only after he made the change in my records. It worked, but despite all the lubrication, it was the worst, the most excruciating pain I'd ever felt. That situation was what made me realize why whores collect in advance.

"Nick?"

"What's up, Mom?"

Oh, my beautiful little baby. I remember when he was about four or so, the handsomest little boy in the playschool, blond hair not yet turned. Gorgeous, just gorgeous. I was the envy of all the other mothers, and the fantasy of whatever fathers happened to be lucky enough to pick up their kids on any given day. Ah, what a shame Nick grew up to be a normal teenager: introverted, rebellious, sarcastic. Good thing I still love him.

"You know I have a date with Steve tonight, right?"

"Yeah." He had a quizzical look on his face. "What about it?"

"Well,..." I hesitated.

That nasty little son of a bitch knows what I'm going to say. Look at that grin. I'll kill him; I'll fucking kill him. Oh, shit. Well, push on, Charlene.

"Well,..." This time I was interrupted by the gentle purr of the telephone.

"Kelly residence."

"Good evening. Is this the mother of Nick Kelly?"

"Yes?"

What the heck it this all about?

"Well, Ms. Kelly... It is Ms Kelly, is that correct?"

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Ms. Kelly, my name is Detective Ellis and..."

"What is this all about?"

Why are the police asking me about Nick? Nick, what the fuck have you done now?"

"Let me explain. There's been an accident and..."

"What are you talking about. Nick is standing right here. He's fine."

"Please let me finish. No one was hurt, but the car had been taken by some kids for a joy ride and we'd like to talk to him about it. Rather than come out there, we thought you might prefer to come in to the station house with him."

I'll kill him. He's dead meat. Good thing his father's not around.

"We'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Nick, why do the police want to talk to you?"

"Oh, shit, Mom..."

Watch your mouth, you little bastard

"Watch your mouth, Nick."

"I'm sorry. All that happened was we were walking around and we saw this car with the keys in it and we decided to go for a ride. Frankie was driving and he sideswiped a phone pole. No one was hurt."

"And you didn't stay to face the music?"

"Jeez, nobody got hurt. I came home."

"You little bastard; that's a crime. You'll never get into college, much less medical school."

Oh, isn't that nice? He's starting to shed a tear. No matter, I'll still kill him."

"Put your shoes on; we're going to the police station. Be thankful that I haven't called your father already."

Like I really might do that. All the bastard will do is call me a lousy mother. Fuck him, I'll handle this myself.

Nick was quiet of the way to the police, as was I. Both of us were deep in thought.

How do I get him out of this? Do we need a lawyer? Where the hell am I going to get money for a lawyer? What will this really do to his chances for college and medical school? Why haven't I been home more? I'm going to have to get a land based job so that I can watch him more closely. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

"A penny for your thoughts, Nick."

"I'm scared shit, Mom."

"NICK!"

"I'm sorry, Mom; I'm just scared."

"Don't worry, baby, we'll take care of it somehow."

"Thanks, Mom."

I was driving along, obeying every traffic law, when suddenly,

Oh shit, I have to call Steve. He'll come to pick me up and I won't be there. He doesn't know me well enough to be worried; he'll just be pissed as hell. I'll never see him again.

"Nick, please give me my cell phone and phone book from my purse. I forgot to call Steve."

"Sure, Mom."

He reached into the back seat for my purse, brought it in front and opened it. Digging in for the phone, he stopped cold, his eyes wide. My blood stopped in my veins; I knew what he had seen.

Damn, damn, damn, I forgot all about them. What the heck can I say? Well, I was going to tell him that I wouldn't be home anyway. But still, I didn't want him to see the rubbers. Oh well, nothing to say.

"Three of them, Mom?"

May as well take advantage of the situation.

"I've never gotten around to having that man to man talk with you, Nick."

He smiled. "No, I guess not."

"Neither did your father before he left, did he?"

The smile was gone, the response soft and hard at the same time.

"No."

"Have you ever been with a girl, Nick?"

"You mean sex?"

"Yes."

"Not that far; just a little playing around."

Should I ask him? May as well.

"Do you carry a condom, Nick."

"Yes."

"Would you use it or is it just for show for your friends?"

"I'll use it; I just can't get the chance."

It was my turn to smile, but not too broadly. "One of these days soon, Nick."

"Yeah, sure." He wasn't so sure himself.

"Now can I have the phone?"

"Sorry, Mom."

"Hi Steve, its Charlene... Look, I've got a little problem. I have to take my son someplace and I'm not going to be able to see you tonight... No, that's all right... I'll call you in the morning... OK, tomorrow night I'll be free."

Damn, I had a class scheduled for tomorrow night, but I'd rather cancel that to see Steve.

I found a parking space and we went into the police station. I identified myself and we were told to wait for Detective Ellis. He turned out to be an overweight Sipowitz type, mustache and all, sloppy as well.

Ugh, I'd hate to have that mustache eating my pussy.

He was staring at my chest, which I must say is worthy of being stared at, but I wasn't in the mood.

Get your eyes off my boobs and look at us, Fatso.

"Hello, Ms. Kelly; hello, Nick. Would you please come into my office?"

He led the way and then stepped aside to allow us into the office, his eyes again on my chest. I gave him a hard stare but he didn't seem to care.

"Did your mother tell you why I wanted to see you?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't there."

Ellis and I both looked at him in shock.

You stupid little bastard. What's the idea of lying to the police? Do you think they're stupid? Because of your dumb stunt, I had to break a date with Steve. We were going to fuck tonight, all night long. I can't remember the last time I got laid by a real cock instead of that fucking vibrator. Back in London, it was. I should be at dinner with my hand in his lap by now, not sitting with this fucking sloppy pig ogling my tits because of you.

I stood up without a word and slapped Nick, hard. He started to cry and then confessed all. Finally, Detective Ellis reached over to Nick and said, "Nick, I have to place you under arrest. I'm still deciding on what charge. I want to talk to your mother in the conference room. Do you promise to sit here and wait or do I have to handcuff you?"

Nick was thoroughly cowed. "I'll wait."

I followed Ellis into the conference room, heard the door click behind us.

"You realize that this is a very serious case, don't you, Ms. Kelly?"

"What are the possible charges?"

"Well, I can charge him with Grand Theft Auto, which is a felony, or Joy Riding, which is a misdemeanor."

"What's the difference?"

"If it's a misdemeanor, the local judge can come in here and set bail or even release him in your custody. If it's a felony, I have to take him to the county jail overnight and the county judge will arraign him in the morning."

Overnight in jail? Oh shit, he's only a child. That would be terrible. And his father will have to be told too.

"What does it depend on, Detective?"

The way he looked at me, I knew, I just knew what he was going to say.

"That's up to you, Ms. Kelly."

No, no, no, that fuck wants me to get him off. He wants me to suck his cock and I won't do it. Look at that disgusting face; I want to spit at it. I want to kick him in the balls.

So I spat at him, caught him on the cheek. To my surprise, he didn't get angry, didn't show shock; he just took the tissue I had been using from my hand, wiped his face and put it back into my hand. He spoke without raising his voice.

"I know you didn't think that through so I'll forget about it. As I was saying, the severity of the charges against your son depends on you."

He was looking straight at me as he spoke, and his left hand came forward to fondle my right breast. I was rooted to the spot as his other hand began to caress my left breast. The corners of his mouth moved slightly, not into a smile but more like a leer; his eyes were hard.

Oh shit, I'm crying and he can see it. He knows he can do anything he wants to me and I won't be able to stop him. Please, please, stay away from my asshole.

His voice hardened. "Sit down, Charlene."

As he said it, his hand pushed down on my shoulder, steering rather than forcing me, and I sat wordlessly. He stood right in front of me.

"Unzip me." I didn't move.

No, no, I'm not going to do it. Go jerk yourself off, you prick.

"I said, 'unzip me.'"

His tone left no doubt. My hands moved as if they had a mind of their own; my fingers fumbled as I pulled on the metal tab to no avail. His hands grabbed mine roughly and held them as he guided my fingers through their appointed task.

"Now take it out."

Shit, I wish I had long fingernails so I could stab his prick; make the bastard scream.

Instead, I fished my hand inside his pants. I knew how to do it, had done it often in my younger day, but not since I had married Nick's father. With him, the cock-sucking was always done when we were already naked in bed. I pulled the hard cock out through the opening, bending it to ease the trip, until it was fully exposed.

Holy shit, I never expected this pig to have such a good looking cock. If I didn't hate this fucker so much, I might actually enjoy blowing him. If I wasn't afraid of what he might do to my son, I'd bite the fucking thing off him. Where are you, Lorena Bobbit, when I need you?

"You know what to do, bitch."

"Use a rubber, please Detective."

"Shut up." He was in no mood to be cooperative.

Of course I knew what to do, but just in case I didn't, he pulled me forward by my breasts so that the head of his cock pressed my lips. My mouth opened and the vile tube of meat pushed in. He grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head as far as it would go onto the cock; my lips closed but I didn't move.

"Suck, damn you."

With no choice, I did so, but left my tongue out of the activity, putting on just barely enough pressure to let him know that I had him inside my mouth but not enough to help him cum. Similarly, I moved my head back and forth but still made him do most of the work, thrusting in and out. I let his cock bounce off the back of my throat; it didn't hurt and saved me the need to put my hand on his slimy cock. Yes, it was my own saliva that make it slimy, but that was of no solace.

This fucker is taking too long. If I don't start to help, he'll be in my mouth all night long.

But I couldn't bring myself to help and so it took ten long minutes before I heard his grunts and felt the throbbing and closed my eyes as his sperm spew into my mouth. His cum tasted like all the other fuck sauce I had ever had in my mouth; each tasted different, but in the grand scheme of things, they all tasted alike. He pulled out and I closed my mouth.