The Winning Ticket

36... 24... 34. Those figures, when I heard my children huddled together and giggling about them, brought back sweet memories of when the tape measure that wrapped the curvy features of my anatomy, matched those very numbers. My name is Marsha but for most of my 44 years on this planet, folks have called me Molly. I live here with my mother Adria, whom we always called Addie and my twenty-two-year-old son Bobby plus my 19-year-old daughter Trisha, nicknamed Tish.

I once had that classic hourglass figure that jiggled seductively and caused illicit sexual imagery to course through the minds of horny young men who caught my eye and were able to bring a sultry smile to my lips and a twinkling sparkle to my blue eyes. The numbers have changed by slight but noticeable fractions with each of them growing a bit and the supple sturdiness of my bountiful contour has felt the effects of gravity. Those carefree days of toying with men's affections and controlling most people's lines of sight by merely shifting my weight or taking a deep breath, have been lost in the breeze. I guess, that like every woman, I miss those seductive days.

My sensuous build and my devil-may-care attitude slowly eroded over time as I came to realize the consequences of making rash judgements and failing to think seriously about my future. In the decades afterwards, I was forced to accept the burden of raising two children from two different fathers; neither of which have been seen for years, the salary reduction commensurate from trading a position as a private secretary to serving coffee and eggs at a neighborhood diner, and basically supporting four people on that income with nominal help from babysitting and lawn maintenance money.

My first husband, the swindler, swept me off of my feet and lavished me with jewels, clothes and a big new house. I thought that I had struck gold and that the remainder of my lazy days would be champagne and roses. Everything was wonderful and I was overjoyed to be carrying his child, right up until the FBI took him to prison and the IRS confiscated everything that he had ever laid eyes on. His next parole hearing is four years from now.

I also became a pariah for unwittingly having enticed people to invest in my husband's schemes and being discovered as a social-climber, for courting the very people who could afford the luxury (and the lawyers,) for making bad business deals and snubbing the honest folks that I'd grown-up with. I was left with a newborn child and a stack of bills. You'd think that it would have taught me a lesson.

A few years later, while still sowing a few wild oats and not being able to see that a penny-less, single-mom with a history of bad decisions, would not have been such a great catch, despite her 36Ds, I married a guitar player in a house band, who immediately got me pregnant and just as quickly, disappeared. And for some reason, as bitterness and barely concealed rage became my waking disposition, I hate to admit that I began to take it all out on my son. My bad attitude festered for years and I hate to say that I treated him so unfairly.

We were never really a "loving" family and as our financial and living conditions became more condensed, with my mother moving in and the kids becoming adults and everybody needing more of everything, my nerves were more strained with alcohol adding fuel to the fire, my simmering, pointless anger was directed more and more towards Robbie. Maybe, (in my feeble defense,) he just reminded me of my first ex and the "good times" that were swept into the garbage. He has grown to become a fine young man, for what little I pay attention to him, and though he has a limited education he always wants to help out. It only makes me want to hurt him more.

One evening when he came home and handed me a few bucks to contribute to the house fund, I lost it. My poor son stood there helplessly as his semi-drunken, harpy of a mother lashed-out at him for apparently no reason. I told him that the bank accounts were overdrawn and that the landlord was threatening to call the sheriff. I said that we couldn't last much longer like this and that I felt that he should consider moving out and getting an actual job. And with his feelings obviously bruised and noticing the biting reproach of my tone, when he asked if I had made this same "suggestion" to Tish, I unfortunately phrased my reply that left no doubt, that she was my favorite and that he would have to go. I know that this makes me sound awful as a mother and as a human being and later, after I calmed down a little and sobered-up a lot, I regretted every single word and thought of it all. But there was no taking it back and an invisible wall had been forever constructed between us.

Robbie was basically a nice kid. He was well-built and had the same swarthy complexion of his father. His dark eyes were alluring and he had a habit of gently curling the lip on just one side of his mouth that gave the observer the impression that whatever he was talking about, would turn-out just fine. It was entirely my fault that I couldn't love him enough, but whenever I saw him and especially when he made that facial gesture, that he inherited from a man whom he didn't even remember, I felt a sickening sensation in my stomach.

Tish was another story. She took after me in most ways. At nineteen, she was put together in just the way that I was at her age. Her hair was long and blonde, she had firm rounded breasts and a shapely butt, and I believe that she knew her way around a man's body. Tish could be a conniver and I had noticed how she could manipulate others (especially men,) when she wanted something. She had a soft spot for Bobby and often followed his lead. There was in her, a quality or possibly a character-flaw, that I remembered from my youth and didn't want to inhibit her. I possibly thought that I could relive my life through her. Alcohol and desperation make for some crude self-reflection. And even though they were actually step-siblings, they most often got along well and lately had been whispering and plotting with each other. I know the expression of "not seeing the forest through the trees," but I always felt that if a dispute erupted, Tish and I would represent the majority.

This brings me to the evening when I walked in on them as they were watching the late news. And I heard them mention those three numbers, 36,24, 34. Not understanding that they were only the last three in a series of six, I merely assumed that they were discussing the measurements of either Tish or some woman that Robbie was interested in. They were both giddy with laughter over some "inside" joke and when they saw me, they hurried-off to one of the bedrooms where I faintly heard Robbie speaking on the phone to someone.

Through the years, Tish had also noticed that I was harsh with Robbie and it seemingly drew them closer together. And I came to realize, that she always knew where her interests lay. The following day, they came home late and were both drunk. Bobby had a big cigar and Tish was wearing a new, slinky little outfit. I was sitting at the kitchen table with my mother, going over the box of delinquent notices. We were also drinking, but I didn't count that. My anger and deep disappointment in my own situation, had me in a foul mood. When the kids said that they were celebrating, I cut them off firmly and harangued Robbie for wasting money and getting his underage sister drunk. Tish tried to protest but I chastised her for being obscenely dressed and I may have used the term "whore." Then I once again "suggested" that it might be better for everyone if Bobby packed his things and moved out.

Almost in unison, they called me a dumb bitch and both retired to his bedroom where the door was slammed and shouting and laughter was heard. I threw an empty glass at the wall and my mother slipped away to her room. A stillness hung over the house for a few hours. I was getting ready for bed, I had just showered and was wearing only a pair of robin's egg-colored panties and fuzzy slippers under a long terry-cloth robe. The warm water had calmed my nerves and I applied a thin layer of powder to my reddened flesh. My long blonde hair, still damp but finely brushed, fell to my shoulders and the cool night air was toying with my perky nipples.

I passed Tish's room and was surprised to find the light out, she doesn't normally knock-off so early but then I remembered that she had been drinking. When I approached Bobby's room, there was still a sliver of soft lamp-light under the door and I could hear the bed squeaking, then I heard muffled voices. I just assumed that he was sitting on the bed talking on the phone to some chippy. With the last bit of bitchiness in me, I opened the door and was going to make a remark about the phone bill when I noticed that he and Tish had seemingly fallen asleep together. Robbie's eyes were contentedly closed as he lounged above the covers and his step-sister was curled across his belly, her head facing away from me. They appeared to be sweetly dreaming and a low, snoring sound filtered from the room.

Then, the incongruity of what appeared before my eyes, suddenly came into focus. Neither one of them had a stitch of clothes on and I could see my daughter's bare ass. One second later, it came to me that neither of them were sleeping. What was happening, was that my daughter was sucking my son's cock. I stood frozen in place as the realization of this illicit rendezvous hit me between the eyes like a two-by-four. Only the rush of breath escaped my dry lips as I attempted to scream-out my agony. But this was enough to alert my son, as his eyes lazily opened and he watched me studying them both.

Tish remained at her task, either too drunk or too determined to be interrupted. Robbie only stared at me with that half-lip curl that could mean so many things, but his dark brown eyes seemed to suggest that he anticipated me walking in on them. He gave me that sinister smile and slightly parted his legs so that if I'd wished; I could have a full-frontal view between his thick thighs as his big balls perched full and slickened with saliva, while his sister's long hair formed a lascivious veil around his turgid organ and her pouty lips worked like a bellows alternately inhaling and stroking that potent pole into her full cheeks.

I was momentarily staggered and at a loss for words. I slumped against the doorframe while my shaking knees regained their balance. With Bobby lazily casting a malicious stare in my direction that seemed to catch me in a hypnotic embrace, I couldn't move and I couldn't look away. Some sort of carnal transference was taking place as I consumed this image of blatantly incestuous deceit. It wasn't merely the lewdly erotic sexual activity that raised my blood pressure. Or the moralistic morass of a brother and sister, (even step-siblings,) having crudely intimate behavior that ignited the fire in my loins. It was the pair of piercing brown eyes that held me in their grip while I shivered and tingled helplessly, with every nerve-ending in my frazzled frame, firing at once. It was if this sexual Svengali was sending subliminal signals to my starving pussy that I needed only to take three small steps towards the squeaking bedframe and that all of my sexual frustrations would be eliminated.

I can't tell you how long that I stood like a whimpering statue, as my son narrowed his blinding stare at my own watery blue orbs. And why didn't I indignantly scream at them both for their brazen tryst? I don't know if he even spoke a word out loud, but for what felt like hours, he continued to hold my shaking glance as his leering countenance exuded his new mastery over this perverted engagement. He had one young woman, horny with delight and eager to perform her role, literally skewered on his robust organ while an older morally-confused but severely tempted woman struggled with her conscience.

Knowing that he could exercise his control of this vulgar, yet highly erotic sexual scenario and that my willpower was draining away with each bead of nervous perspiration that seeped down the surface of my twitching anatomy, he only licked his serpentine tongue along his bright red lips and gave me a seductive wink. My mind was tormented with crude imagery of semi-naked partners writhing in the fiery depths of Hell as they flaunted their bodies and cast their lot with the Devil's disciples. And as these perverted thoughts and images danced through my brain, I also was looking through a strange fog, highlighted in sharp shades of black and red, where the lithe figure of my flirty nineteen-year-old daughter morphed into the sultry, undersexed but vital, form that I knew all too well.

In this obscenely sensual metamorphosis, I could almost taste the phallic pole as he thrust it passed her willing lips. I kept having to clear my throat as if the surging rod was driving toward my own tonsils. I could feel my bare tits swaying and the perky nipples grating against his coarse chest hairs as my chest hovered over his supine form and needed to look twice at my own hand, as my wrist in this brazen scenario was working his steely organ as if priming a pump for the anticipated discharge. My own body was on fire and my insides turned to jelly as I felt the rush of his cock in my mouth. I could have easily succumbed to his charms and committed the ultimate sin, without feeling any more emotions than the turbulent flow of my pussy juices. My fever-blinded eyes eventually drifted to match his erotic gaze.

I was stunned. First at his rudely illicit impudence, and then at my despicable lack of initiative. Robbie felt emboldened by his initial success and while his young sister vacuumed his potent pole, he casually patted her jiggly backside and while I stared transfixed with my slobbering mouth gaping wide open, he slipped two fingers into the wet folds of her outer pubic lips and stroked the pinkened flesh of her hot twat. I swallowed hard and felt my heart's-blood rushing to that over-heated furnace between my trembling thighs. I was seeing myself- naked and unashamed- possibly from another age and certainly from some distant fantasy, or portentously one step from joining this debauchery and giving-in to every dubious desire.

I watched with my heart in my throat while he fingered his sister's squirming ass and she ceaselessly sucked his swollen rod down her horny gullet. Meanwhile, the tiny room felt as if the thermometer had been shoved into triple digits. My robe hung open on my damp frame and my big tits swayed in the slight breeze. Subconsciously, my right hand inched towards the waistband of my blue panties and I felt the sticky wetness that oozed into the gusseted fabric. The palm of my hand rested on the mound of my hungry pussy and pressed firmly against my straining lips, trying desperately to hold-back the torrent that I knew was building in my aching cunt. My fingertips, thwarting my best intentions, were peeling back the elastic material and sweeping the matted, kinky curls, searching for the swollen nub of flesh that would send me into ecstasy.

That was when my daughter, using her right hand, started to stretch and pull at the turgid alabaster column that was inflating her cheeks and I saw my son thrust his hips from the mattress. With one final shove, he heaved his slick, reddened tool skyward and her cheeks sucked-in and her throat received its prize. I watched dumbstruck and with a perplexed sense of pride as he unloaded his staggering surplus of semen down my daughter's hungry, horny esophagus. Her left hand was playing with her cleanly-shaved cunt, working the pink flesh into a lather and sending shockwaves through her system. Bobby exploded into her startled mouth, filling her with his creamy seed. It went-on like that for minutes as I plied my sticky curls and rubbed my tender nub. His tool continued to pump its quotient into her mouth as her tongue tidied-up the droplets and applied a sleek shine to the sturdy contours of his thick erection. My digits were just bringing my pouty clit to its ultimate arousal as the two convulsing figures on the bed shook with sexual satisfaction and fell back on the dank sheets.

The roiling tumult in my pussy was on the brink of explosion, but with their activity coming to an abrupt and shocking conclusion, my voyeuristic fantasy ebbed. I was barely able to squeeze my quivering thighs together, blunting the onrush of fluids that pressed against my uterine walls. I saw Tish as she laid back in her brother's arms, the thin veneer of his sperm still coating her lips and cheeks. She said nothing but looked at me as if she could see the future. Bobby wore the satisfied grin of the magician who thrilled his audience by performing an outrageous illusion that brought down the house and left certain audience members dumbfounded in disbelief.

He too, didn't bother to speak, but simply looked at me in the way that a butcher sizes-up a side of beef. His gaze lingered over my worried frame from the top of my head, where the blonde hair was now tussled and slickened with sweat, to my bare legs with the polished pink nails that were undergoing a series of goosebumps, and in between he studied my heaving, exposed chest with the brutally-hard nipples and then the light-blue undies with the darkened, damp area that belied any claim to my innocence. My voice was lost to reason also. I barely recovered my ability to walk. Shamefacedly, I staggered from the room to a chorus of snickers and kissing.

The restless night's sleep was just a series of hypothetical dialogues that I held in my mind of how I would approach my son in the morning. They all centered on him apologizing for his reckless actions designed just to hurt me and me expressing repentance for how I have treated him unjustly for most of his young life. Nothing seemed even remotely adequate for either level of behavior and I woke-up feeling drained and anxious. I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast when I felt his presence behind me. We both seemed to stop and were at a loss for words. As his mother, I believed that I should offer the first concession and was about to stumble through a teary speech, when I felt his hand roughly grip my butt and squeeze my ass like it were a fresh peach.

For a split second, every ounce of willpower in my body reacted to the touch of a man's firm grip on my fleshy bottom as if I'd never felt the warmth of someone's touch. His hand seemed perfectly sized for my rearend to seat itself comfortably and the tips of his fingers parted the cleft of my ass cheeks like a hot knife slicing through butter. My disobedient nipples immediately perked up and as he peered down over my shoulder, his other hand slithered beneath my full front porch and juggled my bouncing breasts and toyed with the engorged finger of flesh that capped it.

A few men have squeezed my boobs, but for just that fleeting moment, knowing that it was my son's hand weighing the free-swinging tits in his big palm, gave me an obscene thrill that my jittery body couldn't camouflage, and I could feel the pressure of his solid rod pushing against my butt. His other hand wasn't idle. Those roaming digits performed a quick and thorough massage of the moist cavern between my thighs. Robbie's fingers were gently and smoothly spreading my molten labia and his touch inflamed my swollen clitoris. His thumb was exploring a forbidden area that I had never even considered to be in play. I could have sworn, that just like the night before, time had suddenly stopped. There, and in that moment, I was luxuriating in his taboo, crude manipulations and was seconds-away from moaning-out my desperate reply. Only the thin cottony material stopped him from giving me a "wedgey," and he was millimeters away from possessing me entirely. But that instant was over. Everything turned red and I pivoted, slapping him across the face and swearing at him, "Just what in hell do you think you're doing?"

He's too big for me to hurt him with a slap in the face. And he not only didn't react, Bobby seemed to anticipate my response. Taking a step back and allowing me to disgracefully watch him reposition his stiff organ as the sloppy wetness of my vaginal fluids dripped down my thigh, he flashed that crooked grin that had haunted me in the past. "Mom, I was just going to make you an offer..."

"You're a disgusting pig," I cut him off. "I don't know how I put up with you for so long. What you did to Tish was repulsive and insulting to her and to me. I want you to stay away from her and to leave this house immediately. Now get out!" He knew me well enough that he could see through my bluster, but unknown to me, he held the cards and would let them play-out until every bit of integrity that I may have had, would be riding on this gamble. My ex- used to say, that "once you got them speaking emotionally, you've got them by the short hairs,"

He let out a chuckle but his attitude changed. Bobby appeared more serious than most times, "I am leaving. I found a spot on the North End that I'm going to close on now. I'll be back later to talk with you again if you're in a more receptive mood." He blew me a kiss, (something he'd never done before,) and left. It took a few seconds and a tumbler of potato juice to settle down and then I started thinking that he could never afford the price of a meal in the North End. And I screamed after his shadow, "Don't bother to come back, we'll throw your crap out on the lawn." I felt sorry about that, but there was no one to notice.

Almost no one. Tish was just shuffling in. Still in her robe and slippers, I wasn't prepared for any type of dialogue with her. But obviously awakened by the previous outburst, she asked about the whereabouts of her brother. When I said that I'd just ordered him out of the house and that I wanted her to avoid him at all costs, she sprung on me like a cat. "Why would you do that?" She demanded. "Didn't he tell you about his offer? Are you crazy? Would you rather stay here, with granny?"

"What are you talking about, Tish? What offer? What do you mean stay here?" It was as if today, everybody was speaking a foreign language. I sat down at the table and poured myself another glass of straight 80-proof fortitude and tried to recount what had just transpired in the past half-hour. "Tell me what's happening, I'm getting a headache. And I want to have a serious talk with you."

She was bubbly with excitement. "Robbie and I found a great new place and he said that we could all move in together." She was gushing with emotion and talking nonsense. It's wonderful and..."

"What are you talking about." I demanded that she be quiet. "First of all, I don't want you anywhere near him ever again. And you had better think long and hard about what happened last night. You know that I saw you, don't you?" She allowed a mysterious smile to perch on her lips. "And how did you two find a place? You can't afford to pay rent here, what would make you think that you could live on the North End?"

"Oh, you heard about it, what do you think?" She continued on as if my comments had no effect on her. "Wouldn't it be fantastic? We could leave this dump tomorrow." Her enthusiasm was building again. I reached for another drink.

"Hold it, hold it. What are you saying? How could you ever pay for anything, let alone some high-priced neighborhood on the other end of town?" I braced myself for what I feared was some embezzlement trick or some other form of larceny, passed down from his father's DNA.

"The Lottery," she said. "Didn't he tell you?"

"Tell me what," I was totally confused. Did he steal some lottery tickets or something? What, a few Scratch-offs? Even that wouldn't pay your rent in that part of town. It would take thousands just to be permitted to park in the North End."

"No, didn't Robbie show you the ticket? He won the big prize. He matched every number. Three hundred and forty-seven million dollars. His friend's father is an investment lawyer, we talked with him yesterday. Robbie put the ticket in a safe-deposit vault to be verified, but the bank said that they would loan him any amount if he agreed to bank a big part of it."

I was in shock. "What!?! Are you kidding? Which lottery? What numbers?" Could this really be happening? Did my son just strike it rich? Uh-oh? Did I just tell him to leave and never let me see him again? This had all of the makings for a "Greek Tragedy."

Tish was still giggling at being the one to tell me. "It was the drawing a couple of days ago, I don't remember all of the numbers, but the last three were 36-24-34, we were laughing because those are my measurements. Maybe I said too much. He probably wants to tell you himself. He said that we would all be welcome, we would have our own rooms with baths, it's a gated community with pools inside and out. And I am definitely going with him. He said that if we can all 'get along,' for a while, he'll set me up with a place of my own."

"I don't want you going anywhere with that lecherous pig. Don't let money fool you! I've told you before about what happened to me and don't forget that I saw you last night sucking his cock- and enjoying it!" Aside from wagering everything without even knowing the game, I was throwing chips into a side pot, talking frantically and trying to convince myself of something that I was not very certain of. "You know what that is, when you allow yourself to be used and abused, just to make money?" I was furious. And more than a little bit confused. And I spied that the bottle was half-empty.

"Mother, you've said it a thousand times, that you do degrading or disgusting work and that you can't afford to say 'NO.'" She seemed defiant and snarky, well beyond her years. "Isn't that the same thing, that someone else has control over your dreams and desires, and that you just have to figure-out how to make the best of it?"

"This is entirely different. Yes, like all poor people, I need to work just to keep this meager roof over our heads and to feed the three of you." I was forced to conduct a half-assed civics lesson that I didn't even believe in. "It's drudgery and it's back-breaking and it's called work. What you're talking about is incest- remember, that I saw you- and having sex for money makes you a whore!"

"That's the second time that you've called me a whore this week. What I'm willing to do is not drudgery or back-breaking, and its worth a whole lot more than you'll ever make slinging coffee. I like sex, he's my step-brother and he is hung like a bull besides, who will ever find-out. You wouldn't tell anybody, would you? We have a deal and if it all works, I'll spend some time having sex and then I'll have more money than I ever dreamed of." It was as if I was crushing her dreams, what has gone wrong here and how am I possibly on the immoral side of this issue?

Tears clouded my eyes when I realized that I may have sat down to a gaming table that was way beyond my means. "Honey, you're my daughter, please don't do this. You don't want to be fucking your own brother." There it was, I said it outloud. And she surely didn't dispute the accusation. And I was hoping to convince her that spreading her legs for someone with the opportunity to make more money than we could ever imagine, would be a bad thing. I was quickly running out of any cogent argument that she couldn't easily bounce right back at me. I reached for the bottle, noticing that it was significantly lower than it started, just an hour ago.

"That's it, mom," she parried. "Turn to the bottle for support. Maybe Robbie will buy you a nicer brand, instead of that rotgut. Either drink a little more or a lot less." Her harangue was marked by hysterical shrieks almost crying contempt. "And remember, I saw you last night too. You were half-naked and your pussy was dripping wet. You could have left the room or started screaming but you just stood there and watched. Yeah, you saw me sucking him and what did you think? Your eyes never left his cock and we all knew that you were playing with your horny cunt. Were you worried about me or were you trying to imagine yourself in my place? You should consider that Robbie is your son and that he doesn't have to include you, especially since you treat him like shit for no reason. Maybe you should think about what you would do, if he'd make you the same offer. Ofcourse, you and gram could always stay here. I'm sure that your son would throw you a bone." The rest of the day was just slamming doors and stoney silence.

The hours drifted by and I gradually sobered-up. I took a shower and brushed my hair. And for the first time in our brief history of sexual confrontations, I wore actual clothing- a pullover (with bra,) jeans and sandals. I kept eyeing the liquor cabinet but held firm. It was nearing eleven PM., Tish was out with some friends and Addie was asleep. There was nothing unusual about his entrance but he studied my anatomy like I was laying on a gurney and he wielded the scalpel.

"I said that I'd be back. Tish called me, and told me that essentially, she explained the details. So I guess that we can get down to the negotiation."

It was about sixty degrees and I was unceremoniously, sweating a lake of perspiration right through my stacked cleavage and shivering so hard, that my perky nipples were jutting forward and poking bullets so stiff, that my bra couldn't conceal them. He sat down in the over-stuffed chair while I was planted on the sofa. There we were, the last combatants confronting the final deal of the deck.

He seemed cool and surprisingly calculated, considering the stakes on the table. I was chewing through my lower lip hoping for a miracle.

Finally, with a mere gesture, he played his first card, a one-eyed jack. Robbie crooked the index finger of his right hand and motioned me to a spot just infront of him. A bold opening move, announcing that he had come to play. There could have been many meanings for him to just point at a spot and expect me to appear there, and each one of them would be giving him the upper hand. And then there was the illicit, lewdly suggestive, non-verbal command that I debase myself before the game is even played-out. I shook my head and was about to voice my concerns, when he silenced me. No one had even spoken, but when he held-up his hand, all sound in the room was muted.

"Let's not play this tedious game, mom. Or I guess that I should just start calling you Molly. I trust that we both understand that your maternal instincts have been seriously lacking." I drew-back aghast, but my feeble attempt at protest was thumped when he turned a black ace. "Molly, you heard that I won the lottery, the final total hasn't been announced because my friend Jeff's dad, is setting-up some funds or trusts, or something. But it's well-over a quarter of a billion dollars. I tried to tell you yesterday and again this morning, but I'll pardon you for acting like your normal bitchy self." With that said, another jack was laid on the table. I was facing a stacked hand and could only fidget, wondering if I could somehow kick over the table and run for my life.

I inhaled deeply and tried to look contrite, anticipating that I may have just one chance to redeem myself in his cool brown eyes. I tried to control my breathing, feeling uneasy at the hungry manner in which he watched the nervous motion of my boobs rise and fall under the clingy top. "Here's the offer, this is what I've told Tish and she is okay with it. I placed a down-payment on a nice property out in the North End. Privacy all around, seven bedrooms, two levels and a game room with two pools. I'll cover all of the expenses and you are all welcome." He was smooth as he presented the "gift" that would be our salvation, but in this mysterious game that we were playing, he still held all of the cards. I couldn't help but to smile and to relax the grip that my fingernails were digging into my sweaty palms. But like any good gambler, he wasn't finished until he had taken what he came for.

"There will be some new rules involved though," he continued and the chills rippled my spine. I just knew that another ace was about to turn. "I understand that you don't like me, even though I'm your first-born," I tried to speak but I could see that it would be useless, and really, what could I say? "If you have better options, please feel free- no regrets and don't be a stranger. You guys are still my family and that won't change. But here's what I told Tish..."

"What you walked-in on last night, was her way of signing on the dotted line. She wants a lot of new things and some expensive toys, and ofcourse because she's my sister and I've come into some money, certain things will be made available to her... under the right conditions. And if she pleases me..."

I interrupted this saccharine shellacking of their crude, incestuous tryst by saying to him, "Just say it Robbie, you've blackmailed her into being your sex-slave and she's too young and dumb to realize it."

"Well good, Molly. You've figured it out. Then this should be easy." He then made that crooked-finger gesture again, directing me to a point between his legs. "I saw them last night, and they looked really nice considering your age. But let's not act like they're some lost treasure. Take the top off, whip-out your tits and come over here on your knees 'cause you're going to suck my cock." Another ace had been turned, I was staring down the table at a full house and even if it was just two pairs, there was nothing left for me but to bluff. He sat there smug and contented, having just issued the most depraved and vile ultimatum at his own mother and I needed to think of something quick.

"And if I don't? What's next for a lecherous, incestuous bastard who would put his own family into his stable of whores?" I was shivering and my body was soaked from flop-sweat. A quick glance around the room revealed nothing that would help me. When my lids lifted and I saw the demonic glow of his chocolaty eyes and that sideways lip-curl that had always meant momentary pleasure followed by timeless regrets, I began to plead. "Now, let's talk about this situation with..."

"Sorry Molly, no deal. You don't make the rules anymore. Here's the offer. You belong to me now. You will suck me and fuck me whenever I say so." I was anticipating almost this exact summation so I barely moved but I'm sure that the traumatic emotion registered on my face. "You accept the offer by crawling over here with your boobs out and sucking my cock. Then I'll decide what's next for you, but certainly prepare to be routinely naked and to be filled with my cum for the next year."

"For a year!?! What are you talking about? A year of what? I thought that if I give-in to this level of perversion, that everything's set." I was angry and scared. Tish had mentioned something concerning a year, but she wasn't making sense or I wasn't paying enough attention. I was trying to come-up with an acceptable bargain, realizing that I would at the least, need to debase myself and let him shove his thick prick between my stubborn lips. Afterall, I had been a lousy mother to him through no real fault of his. And there was the "promise" of a new home and possibly a new life. I could suck him-off and maybe allow him to fuck me, but only this one time. "We're alone tonight. I might do what you want but that's it."

My son was mocking me, he put his watch on the arm of the chair and said that, "thirty seconds will determine how we live next." He was very particular in pointing-out to me, that this arrangement will mean that you live in "relative" luxury, (again, I saw the devilish curl of his upper lip,) just as long as you please me sexually. "I told Tish and I'm telling you, if you follow my instructions for one year, and that means any form of sex whenever and however I want it, I'll set you up in your own place if that's what you want. But there will be no exceptions. And Molly, (my head jerked-up instantly,) you're mature enough and smart enough to understand, that acting defiant or failing to do what you're told, will immediately put you at risk of having to walk the streets for your income. The clock will start now and run for thirty seconds. Like I said, peel out of that sweater and get on your knees. Suck my cock until you get a full load and then I'm going to fuck you for the rest of the night. If thirty seconds go by without my cock in your mouth then we agree that you have made a different choice. You'll still be my mother and welcome to visit and I'll help you with your bills. But if you want to live in my new house, you'd better be tasting my cum fairly soon."

I couldn't see the face of the watch and I didn't hear it ticking, but the lightening-fast pounding resonated in my brain while my life as I knew it, rushed passed my horrified eyes. There was nothing left for me to do. This entire situation was probably illegal, certainly immoral and regrettably repugnant. But why then, when I thought of what would transpire inside of the next half-minute, did my pussy feel so warm and wet and my writhing torso was desperate to be naked?

The little voice in my head was whispering to me, that I could benefit from this lewd scenario with more than just a clean, dry roof over my head. That "voice" had steered me in the wrong direction plenty of times, but it had also provided me with a lot of fun, while it lasted. For only the briefest of moments, a Conga Line of debauchery shuttled through my warped and horny brain. Something that Tish said this morning, was the first thing that I recalled, "No one's going to know, certainly you wouldn't say anything." That's right. Tish was going to fuck him already, so what would it matter to her, if I were fucking him too? She said it herself, "for money, people will do a lot of nasty things."

Plus, if Robbie only wanted to humiliate me, he would leave me here to stew in my own depression. That would also show the neighbors that he had no heart. He could surely overpower me or rape me, if he just wanted sex, but that would leave me in a position of righteousness even though I had been tough on him. No, he wants me to agree to have sex with him and he wants me to keep having sex with him. This good-looking, well-built, young, handsome, multi-millionaire wants to fuck me on a regular basis. He has his sister, who is almost a clone of me and half my age, but he wants me. He could have a herd of bimbos- and he still might- running in and out or as semi-permanent girlfriends, but he wants me too.

I was beginning to feel that warm, wet motion between my thighs and that ticklish sensation from my uterus, that sparked the tingle, telling me that this could lead to some exciting times. I was all of a sudden, feeling sexy and aroused. I began to look at my son as more of a sexual playmate. It's been way too long since I've had any real fun and I can't even imagine another chance when a studly young guy who can make my dreams possible, wants me to do most of the things that I would want to do anyway.

I didn't need to hear the clock ticking, I only needed to impress him and assure him, that I was willing to listen and comply with his demands. As Tish reminded me earlier, I've done worse things for so much less. This was less like a trial and more of an audition. I was ready.

My feet were sweaty and felt cramped in my fuzzy slippers. I eased them off of my ankles and flexed the pink-painted toenails that shimmered in the soft light. A small silver anklet sparkled as I shifted my weight. I caught the rogue look of his serpentine expression as he studied my jittery movements. Knowing that he favored my big tits, I took a deep breath and then slowly twisted my torso so that he could get a nice profile of my perky pillows. I eased forward on the seat cushion and seductively reached for the hem of my pullover. First, I showed him a bit of my belly, it could be firmer but as the underside of my bra came into view, I had captured his attention. My skin was damp from perspiration and the cottony V-neck clung to my trembling form as I wrestled it over my head. As I slid my arms out of the wet sleeves, I unconsciously moved to cover my near-nudity. For the first time, he genuinely smiled and I was compelled to return his comforting sentiment. I was still in my bra, but with its lack of underwire and my moist body, it was practically transparent.

"They are still really nice, Molly. I think that you're even bigger than Tish and certainly, way more sexy." A sentence like that should never be heard by one's mother and it must be a deplorable situation if it makes the mother proud. But it is always nice to be appreciated and especially when being compared to your teenaged daughter. I reached behind my back and first, I undid the ribbon that was holding my blonde tresses in a rather sweaty ponytail. The yellow locks dropped to my shoulders and stuck to my hot flesh. With a slight jerk of my neck they fell in waves to the middle of my back and just enough infront to conceal the two pink nubs that were straining to be set free from the satiny confines. It was the moment of truth. He had caught me once, observing his debauchery with his sister and then this morning, he flagrantly groped me but without any allurement. This time, I would be making the pornographic offer and I wanted it to an enticing proffer.

Actually, I couldn't have been much more excited and an awkward thought popped into my head, that I'm glad that we were alone, because I know that I really wanted to do this.

The thin blue brassier that was no match for my ponderous bosom, was the only stitch of clothing left above my waistline and I shimmied a bit so that he got a glimpse of my full breasts bobbing back and forth in their tight package. I thumbed the tiny clasps that released the gossamer material into my palms and for a brief moment, I held and pressed the soggy bundle against my chest, teasing and pleasing my new master. He had that famous cat-and-the-canary grin and it was obvious by the growing bulge in his lap, that he enjoyed my performance. I smiled back at him and shook my upper body, allowing my free-hanging tits to wobble behind the thin curtain of fabric that I still held aloft. Robbie was wearing a form-fitting Polo Shirt that for the first time, I noticed and admired the way it cleaved to his broad chest and solid arms. His body was now shiny with perspiration and he seemed uncomfortably warm. He mimicked my disrobing by slowly lifting the wet shirt over his head and then tossing it aside, shaking his razor-cut black hair and baring the whitest smile. I was fascinated and becoming more enthralled as our little scene continued to play.

I let the bundled bra drop to the pile with my shirt and slippers, then stood and took two steps until I was right between his thighs. "On or off?" I questioned with my blue eyes as my fingers plied the warm, wet material of my jeans. He said that he liked the look just as it were and so there I was, standing topless and barefooted infront of my son, with only a tight pair of jeans and a step away from an Oedipal Sin. "Tell me what you want me to do. I'm ready."

He leaned back in the padded chair and then rubbed his moist palm along his bulging crotch. "I want you to seduce me, Molly. And prove to me that you'll be a good little slut." My mission was clear. I slipped to my knees and with his calloused hand gently guiding me, I unzipped his fly and watched as he eased off of the seat and allowed me to slide his pants down the length of his toned legs. It startled me that he didn't wear underwear but I was suddenly confronted by the slapping sound of his hard cock slamming back against the moist flesh of his thick thigh. I pulled off his socks and shoes and he was startlingly naked.

Not like the other night when Tish was squirming over him and the sheets were wrapped around their lower bodies, as I watched in voyeuristic craving as my son and daughter had sex. No, my son was entirely naked, sitting there before my wide blue eyes and he had an enormous erection due completely to his lust for my tingling body. His enormous cock, (Tish was correct about its size,) lay like a hissing, wary snake ready to strike at any moment. All of this masculine pleasure would be mine to enjoy and to wrap myself around, if I would only take the next step. In my position, kneeling at his feet with my hungry eyes being at an equal level as his prodigious appendage, my eyes swept upward and met his velvety brown orbs. He was surely in the dominant posture but I wanted to let him know, that I was glad and eager to be a submissive complement to his masterful commands.

I leaned forward and softly placed warm, wet kisses on each of his plum-sized balls. Then my tongue slipped-out and swirled the soft, rounded gonads, feeling the wiry pubic curls and letting each one drop into my mouth for a good washing. I could sense the fullness of his package as he dipped his teabag into my puffed-out cheeks. The saliva dripped from his stout organ as I proceeded to slather his firm pole with my tacky tongue. I could hear him take deep breaths and haltingly exhale along with my rhythmic slurping. I slowly climbed the thick girth of his turgid rod, feeling the rise of every vein and painting the long, solid column with my slobber.

Bobby shifted in his seat and slid forward, sending more of his straining cock into my grasp and allowing my lips to part just enough, to envelop the bowling-pin shape of his cockhead inside of my slavish mouth. I pressed a moist, wet kiss on its bulbous head and slid my grip up and down the shiny shaft. Then as he watched, almost ready to explode, I cupped my big tits with my other hand and wrapped them around his steely tool. I smothered his solid erection in the warm, softness of my double-Ds and let him fuck my tits as I let his pole glide between my slippery globes. We both watched and waited as my hands moved faster and his cock grew more intense. I felt him stiffen and he gripped my ears. I lowered my mouth over his bobbing piston and began to suck hard.

His hips lifted from the cushions and he thrust his meat towards the back of my mouth. I fought to be able to breathe while still keeping the vacuum effect on his pulsing organ and I realized that half of my pleasure was from the convulsions of my own pussy, and that at any moment we would both be cumming. Then it happened. Like a firehose, he exploded in my mouth and then the dam burst in my panties. He shot streams of his sweet fluids down my throat and my trembling hands couldn't contain his powerful pumping action, so the remaining spurts anointed my neck and chest. Inside my jeans, I was swimming in a hot tub of my own juices, having never squirted so much liquid at anytime and especially from sucking a man's cock.

Bobby slumped back in his seat though his gooey, glistening cock refused to deflate, (maybe it will be a good thing for him to have more than one woman.) I fell back on the carpet and slipped the soggy, tight-fitting denims down my legs, leaving a messy, slippery trail. "That was great, Molly. I think you're going to be a good example for Tish. She's built and she likes sex, but she isn't really sensuous." As I was reveling in the illicit compliments, he had gotten up and lifted my limp body, leaning me over the arm of the couch. "I've been waiting to get a piece of this hot cunt."

I was still reeling from the most intense sexual exercise that I've had in ten years so I was easy to maneuver, and he placed me face down with my dripping pussy propped by a sofa pillow, in the air. I wasn't planning to resist, having seen and felt the gargantuan dimensions of his phallic wonder, but his idea for this routine was simply to fuck me hard whether I was participating or not. And when his magnum tool entered my narrow cavern, he let it be understood that even if I enjoyed every detail of this sordid tryst, he would forever be incharge, of how we would proceed. I was nervous of the abrupt manner in which he initially engaged with me. "It looks like you're wet enough Molly, so let's go. Give me that pussy." I felt the firm head- the size of a golf ball- being forced into my tight box. I shuddered and shrieked-out some frightened squeals but he held my hips and shoved forcefully inside of me.

With two or three mighty jolts, he was firmly lodged in my snug cunt and took complete possession of my squirming anatomy. His one hand took hold of my wobbling tits and he weighed and squeezed them, as if they were a joystick to some sex-game console. Then he grabbed a handful of my damp hair and pulled my neck towards him, arching my back and thrusting my boobs straight ahead. His cock worked like a pile-driver, pushing ever deeper into the unused and untouched recesses of my cervix. I was swearing, screaming and praying. Wishing that it would never end and that I could hold this memory for ever. The juices flowed from my swollen pussy as my tender clit was rubbed raw from the couch fabric abrading its pinkened flesh.

I lost track of my orgasms when I heard him grunt and moan. Suddenly Bobby heaved and shoved my face into the cushions, and with the roar of a lion, he filled my empty spaces with the hot torrent of his milky seed. His grip on my tits loosened and he allowed my neck and back to fall. All that I felt was the continuous and compounding thrusts that his pelvis pounded against my wobbly ass. We were a sweaty, heaving mound of raw red flesh that seemed to have only one base instinct. He finally pulled back and eased himself free. My pussy was reluctant to let him go but I felt the void as he dismounted. Then a lake of greyish ooze, washed down my thighs and I laid slumped, over the arm of the couch. A sharp slap on my wet skin, signaled that the master was done with his slave but I was still learning that though the sex was great, there was still humiliation to be taught.

It must have been after two o'clock in the morning as he nudged me to roll over. "I'm going to take you upstairs and fuck you in your bed." I could only moan and prepare myself for another round, as I allowed him to pull me into a sitting position. My tits lay cum-soaked with flaking bits of debris drying to my stomach, which also didn't look quite as sexy as before due to the sleepy position that I endured. My pussy was matted down and coated in a sloppy film that seemed to trickle down my thighs and I was struggling to keep propped-up and hopefully rise, when I heard him say, "Then, you'll have to get me ready."

My eyes flew wide open when I saw his limp cock inches from my nose. It looked like a balloon going flat that had been dipped in mayonnaise. He held it in his grip and I realized then that having already sucked him and fucked him once, I still wasn't in the new house. This would be the test. Now, I had to suck his messy organ and make it look good so that he could fuck me in his father's bed. I wrinkled-up my nose but was certain to not disobey his command, and I allowed my son to slip his greasy tool-still wet from my own cunt juice- into my open mouth where my tongue cradled and swathed the growing weapon, prepping it again for one more attack on my lonely labia.

I took hold of the quickly engorging rod and fed it between my lips, tasting for the first time ever, the combined fluids of a past sexual relation. I closed my eyes so that my son couldn't see that the degradation of having to incestuously suck the cock that had just been in my cunt, caused another spark to kindle and to rapidly build into a blazing inferno in my soggy pussy. The humiliation though wasn't complete until I opened my eyes.

Standing there, either by coincidence or previous arrangement, was my bare-chested daughter. She was laughing at the fact that she and her brother were watching as their mother sucked her own son's cock. Then as I listened in thorough disbelief, Bobby told Tish to drop her pants so that I could then lick my daughter's clit. Bobby said that I needed to get Tish ready too, because they would each be fucking me tonight. I looked around the room and then remembered how they described the new place, then I puckered my lips.

The End

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