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I did it for my family, Part One
A Series
Copyright Catcher78, all rights reserved.
Author's Notes: This is a story about being poor and doing whatever it takes for a mother to save her family.
My name is Tiffy Hardwick. My story starts in 2019. My nickname, Tiffy, is short for Tiffany in English, but Theophany which is Greek. My papa and his parents immigrated after World War II from Thessaloniki, Greece. During World War II, my grandmother and great aunts collaborated with the Nazis, that is to say, they fucked them. Their husbands were in the resistance, living in the hills. Both my grandmother and three great aunts had children with German men. Two of the great aunts were thrown out by their husbands and ultimately ended up in West Germany and married other men.
When my grandparents arrived in 1950 in New York, during the Greek Civil War, they first lived in Boston, until they had the equivalent of green cards. My grandfather, George, immediately divorced his first wife, Sophia, not having relations (fucking) since he was made to watch her fuck two Nazi officers, and she had massive orgasms as he watched. He was not cruel and did not blame her for what happened.
Nonetheless, he was a proud man and kept her and her two half-German children safe and fed, and she became a maid. As a Greek Orthodox believer who had attended church as often as he could, he, through confession, had confessed to killing dozens of German soldiers and collaborators:
The Church's position was that murder was murder and his Priest cited from Canon law: Killing, even in defense, is a sin that requires repentance: Even in defensive warfare, the act of taking human life is considered a serious matter that necessitates repentance and potentially a period of separation from receiving the Eucharist, according to ancient canon law. This is not equated with murder, but rather recognized as a grave action that affects one's spiritual well-being.
That is to say, until such time as the priest felt his repentance had expiated his sin, he was not able to receive the Eucharist during liturgy.
That the same priest urged him to reconcile with Sophia infuriated George to no end.
The state of Massachusetts recognized that George and Sophia were not man and wife.
Sophia's younger sister, who was eighteen to Sophia's twenty-eight, was like an ancient Greek statue of fertility, with wide hips, soft stomach, massive breasts, thick lips, and raven hair, with black eyes and thick eyebrows; she yearned to be fucked.
She had attended a public school in Boston near the Charles River and knew that so many of the Irish girls fucked anything that moved. Athletes, teachers, men, and women, and Elena knew how the same men lusted after her.
She turned eighteen, halfway through her senior year, and George offered a dowry of thousands of dollars to her Papa. She was married the Sunday after Holy Week.
Elena lived in the same house as Sophia and her bastard children. George had a nice home in Hyde Park, just south of Boston. A nice family area. There were six bedrooms from the ground floor to the second floor and the attic. George had put up plaster and lath, covered it with wainscoting in the basement. There were four more bedrooms there for Sophia, her two girls, and Sophia and Elena's mother, who George considered a fishwife (harpy).
Elena could cook, bake, make octopus stew, or grilled lamb meatballs (keftedes), dolmades' grape leaves, orzo with ground lamb, and Youvetsi, a comforting Greek dish made of tender pieces of lamb and small noodles such as orzo, all cooked together in an aromatic tomato sauce with garlic, and oregano. She made feta cheese. She also made village bread with flour, semolina, yeast, salt, and water. The house had a wood-fired oven in 1950, with two ovens, a flat top grill, and six range lids, which could be removed to set a pan over the fire.
My mother was born in 1955, one of a pair of fraternal twins; her name is Lydia, and her twin sister was Zoe. They were the second set of twins, the first two being Elias and Nicholas, then the oldest son, George Jr.
Elena manifested love for George lasted until she passed in 1992. George was devastated. Elena was only sixty, but she was overweight and had borne George children into her early forties, and she refused to go to a doctor ever; midwives had helped her deliver twelve children. She was chattering with several daughters and daughters-in-law one Saturday kneading bread and she had a puzzled look on her face as she stopped and fell to the floor dead before she hit the it, her eyes staring at nothing ever again.
The coroner said it was an aneurysm, which was a burst blood vessel. George, over their life, had bought rundown homes and with his sons, fixed them up and turned them into rental homes, and at the time of Elena's passing, owned some sixty homes all over Boston and the surrounding areas.
George had taught himself to read English and knew math from school in Thessaloniki, and added and deleted from his investments, the worst property in a good neighborhood, with a good foundation, meant money for George.
Mama Lydia is a Brainiac and she got a scholarship to Whitman College, to study Molecular Biology in Walla Walla, at Washington's Whitman College, and started in the fall of 1972, having skipped a grade. George and Elena came out and bought her a six-thousand-square-foot home across from the hospital and down from a Golden Harvest Super Market.
It was two stories, brick foundation and exterior, with plumbing and electrical, which George fixed. Lydia loved Walla Walla and Whitman. There was a burgeoning wine industry, and she got an internship at a winery called Leonetti's.
Lydia was jaw-dropping hot, thirty-two, F-cup titties and an ass that shook and made old men, 7th day Adventists daydream of breeding her in the Golden Harvest Super Market check out line. Innately, she was born to flirt.
The last day before George and Elena were to go home, Elena took Lydia to the old hospital, signed her up on her and George's health insurance and got her a three-year prescription for birth control pills.
Lydia was astounded and embarrassed at this development and sat blushing through the examination. Of course that had to happen, her feet in stirrups and an older female doctor, that put these metal thingies into her pussy and opened it up for her prodding fingers, indirectly showing her where both her clitoris was located and touched her g-spot, calling it a rough spot. Then she checked her titties for tumors for ten minutes and Lydia had never had an orgasm before. She knew something was happening, and then she stopped, causing Lydia to shoot daggers at the doctor, and at the same time, she was attracted to her, which confused Lydia to no end.
Things only got worse for Lydia in terms of further mortification. Elena had a purse, a shoulder bag that carried everything in it. They were not supposed to reunite with her father until three o'clock, and there were a couple of department stores too, a Penny's and a Bon Marche. First, they went to a diner on Second Street, Elena ordered some coffee and carrot cake.
Back to the bag and mortification. Elena pulled out a small book, shaped like a paperback novel, but no, its title was Anal Sex For Beginners. It was illustrated with two bony hippies and him with a ginormous horse cock, hanging halfway to his bony knees. The guy was maybe six feet three and weighed one hundred and fifty pounds. The dick literally looked like a thick, short leg, which was on display when the fifty-year-old Hispanic waitress showed up with the carrot cake and the coffee.
She leaned over and said, "Nice dick, but she's ugly. Are you two Mexican?"
Elena said, "Greek."
"Ayye si, you look like my sister with the large bazzooms," not finished, she said to Lydia, "you will have a large family, twins I see."
Elena had tried the carrot cake and said, "Oh, this is wonderful, what is the frosting?"
The waitress said, "Cream cheese, sugar, and lemon rind. Surprisingly good for Anglo food."
Elena chuckled and rolled her eyes in acknowledgement and said, "At least it's not fried with ketchup."
Both women cackled, finding a kindred spirit.
Lydia tried the carrot cake, which was very good, and the coffee was strong. She was hoping this living nightmare was almost over.
It was not to be.
Elena had another book, and it was entitled, The Joys of Oral Sex, for Newlyweds.
Lydia's heart started to pound, and she was choking on a piece of Carrot cake.
Soon, the waitress delivered a hammer blow, fist to Lydia's back, causing the wad of Carrot cake to fly across the counter and Lydia's tits to pop the buttons on her blouse.
Elena said, "Small bites, dear."
Lydia's alabaster white titties with blue veins along the surface of her skin, jiggled as she tried to breathe.
Lydia said, "Mother," she never used the word mother except when she was livid with anger, normally saying 'Mama' the rest of the time.
"I am not feeling well, I want to go home."
"Oh no, all those construction workers and plumbers cannot see you in such a disarray. They might take advantage of you."
Lydia said, "Let's start now, I hope there are several who could take me from this mortification."
George and Elena stayed an extra day. Elena bought Lydia a voice mail recorder for her rotary phone, almost a thousand dollars in clothes, and suggested that petroleum jelly was a nice lube for anal sex.
The flight back to Boston connected to Seattle and then directly to Boston. Lydia had a new 1972 Chevy Nova with a stout straight six and a three-speed manual transmission on the floor. After driving them to the airport, she returned home to have some leftover Orzo and cauliflower with anchovies.
She felt desperately homesick and missed her mother so much, for all the mortification was just her being shy. She couldn't go home now, she had a house and a scholarship and was three thousand miles from home.
She ate too much, she had a television, and Ed Sullivan was on with fucking jugglers and Robert Goulet, whose slicked-back hair made her skin crawl.
She had a week before school started, per se, but there was an orientation on Tuesday morning.
She pulled out the book on oral sex, there were shiny pictures, and it showed the woman's lips locked down around the end of the man's very, very big dick as she fondled his nut sack. The second picture was almost the same, except her tongue was slathering the underside of his dick. She stopped reading the captions and flipped through pictures. She was awe struck, they showed like fifteen successive pictures as they captured her bobbing up and down on his dick, then he grabbed her head and held it as her face was buried in his pubic hair, her mouth was distended and her face was red, veins popping in her forehead. The second to last shot was her mouth full of white slimy semen and the last shot was after she swallowed. Women were urged to do that as it would make their partners happy.
Lydia had started mashing her tits as she turned the page to show a woman eating a woman's cunt, both the eater and eaten looked in ecstasy, then it showed a picture of a woman licking a woman's anus, while she played with her clitoris and it showed her cumming all over the woman's face, like she was peeing, it said in the caption she had squirted. The following page showed two women giving each other orgasms by licking each other's cunt.
Lydia, at this point, had dropped the book and was masturbating for the first time ever, pulling on her nipples. She immediately pulled the blouse off her head, the bra up around her neck and pulled the tit up to her mouth, resumed rubbing her clit and came hard thinking of the doctor banging her and mashing her tits. She humped all over the mattress, and finally she lay whimpering, feeling her body tingling, her toes tried to grab the bedspread, and finally shuddering one last time.
The blow jobs and swallowing semen were not deal breakers, but maybe in the moment, she could get into it.
She wanted desperately to fuck that woman doctor. She did that the very next morning, off and on, until they were older. Lydia got her degree in three years, then went to Gonzaga in Spokane, got her MS in Nursing, and came back to Walla Walla and married an Anglo doctor with whom she had two children, and divorced him when he was caught fucking a wheat farmer's underage daughter, impregnating her.
Lydia got very rich after ten years of marriage and two kids, and then I was an oops with a Puerto Rican baseball coach for the Walla Walla Padres, named Sixto Martinez.
The Padres left, Sixto stayed, and was my father along with two of my younger sisters.
I was a school teacher in 2018 with two girls, when my husband, Roberto, who was in the Marine Corps reserve, a Warrant officer and a helicopter pilot, he was called up and sent to Afghanistan via the USS Makin Island. I was thirty-four, and we had played around, some wife swapping.
I lived on the second floor in a home grandpa had bought when I was a little girl, it was part of a trust now, and perfect for when we had more kids.
Roberto said, "Let's see how this works out," right after Alina was born, and Angelina, too.
I had huge tits and a big ass, and once we started down that path, in our mid-twenties, I fucked around, carefully, the school basketball coach and his wife, both gorgeous black people. I was careful; he did monthly reserve duty at NAS Whidbey Island and then two weeks in the summer. Mom knew, she just told me to be careful, talk about the pot, explaining things to the kettle. She was still hooking up with the lesbian doctor.
My half-sisters, from the doctor, whom I loved, both caught them at different times, coming out of motels, how cliché. I think Daddy knew, but it never seemed to bother him.
Roberto had been gone for over a year now. It was the first week in November, he was in and out of Kandahar, he facetimed us every couple of weeks. I go to the Golden Harvest supermarket, just because the Safeway is such a madhouse. I had a whole cartful of vegetables, ground beef, and pork shoulder roasts. They had a special on those biscuits in a tube, so I got some of those, Chef Boyardee pizzas in a box, I made hamburger pizza, and the girls loved it. I use a couple of credit cards to buy food, stuff for the kids, and then pay them off with Roberto's pay that goes into our account.
I went to pay them, it was Capital Card, the one Jennifer Garner hawked, and well, the card was declined. I gave the checkout clerk my debit card and had no balance.
I called Lydia, she picked up, and I told her what had happened and asked whether she could come to the Golden Harvest. She just lived three blocks away, came there, and paid the charge.
I felt an ice pit in my stomach as I drove home. Roberto could freeze my credit cards and empty my bank account.
I came home, and Mom helped me put away the groceries.
I got online called the Capital Credit Card company and after talking to five different people, going up the line, it turns out Roberto had been hacked and not just this card, but he had others with them and all were maxed out, they would refund the money on the one I used, but I asked them to put it in my name only. They said it would be a week or so for the new cards to arrive.
The bank was easier with the Capital One information. I opened a new account, and they said it would take up to twenty-one days.
Mama raised her eyebrows in question. I responded, "He has only facetimed the girls and me twice in the last three months. He was hacked ten days ago; he has these other cards, I think he will file for divorce soon if he has not already. I have a find your phone app, let's see where he is now."
It took about forty-five seconds to establish he was in Singapore and in a designated red-light area. I googled legal brothels in Singapore, and there were four in the Geylang district. There were live videos of Chinese, Thai, and Vietnamese women fucking men; cam girls were what they were called. There he was with two stunningly beautiful Vietnamese women, one who looked partially Asian and part European, and the other was part African American and Asian. I looked like the first one, being part Greek and part Puerto Rican, with our hair and the shape of our face.
She had nice titties, but not like mine. Both of them were sharing a blow job with him, and when he nutted, they snowballed his jizz back and forth.
I said to Mama, "I'm totally rat fucked, I've cheated on him, we wife swapped, he's probably got every STD known to man, I don't want to get AIDs. I realize that, sooner or later, as a couple, we are done."
Then I added, "I need to divorce him, make sure the house is recognized as a non-marital asset. My problem is that on my salary as a teacher, I'm making under forty thousand dollars a year."
I did file, and daddy found me a good divorce attorney in Seattle, with his baseball contacts. We had saved the video and images from the whore house in Singapore, which resulted in both a physical and electronic restraining order, which meant he could not call or FaceTime us. He also had a bad conduct discharge.
It was the Christmas season in 2019, the divorce was over, but there was a pandemic that was killing people in days, they called it COVID, and everything shut down, everyone was wearing masks and not touching anything. The school shut down after three teachers were struck down in a matter of days.
Olivia, Isabella, and I facetimed Mama and Papa, and we all started bawling. The girls are nine and ten years old, but I was terrified. I didn't know if the school district was going to continue to pay me. I had forty thousand dollars in my retirement account, but there would be penalties for taking it out early, and it would take forever. I have eight thousand dollars in my savings account at GESA Credit Union.
'Grammy' told the girls she would bring over some pasticcio and rice pudding and watch the new Cinderella with Camila Cabello, with them. Both girls sang like angels.
She arrived with some freshly baked bread and her incredible pasta, which was MY favorite when I was their age. With their tummies full and snuggled up to Grammy, they started watching Cinderella and both nodded off within twenty minutes.
I was sitting at the kitchen table, I'd fired up a blunt to try and chill, and was engaging in some more rice pudding. Physician, heal thyself was in my head.
"Sweetie," I looked at her, "Daddy and I have an OnlyFans account and we watch a lot, I mean a lot of lesbian, MILF content."
I took another hit on the blunt, which I handed to her and watched her take an enormous drag, which left me so far adrift, I had not fucked my ebony friends since before the whole Singapore bullshit happened, Sweet Jesus, I said to myself, don't hit on me. I stared out the window now, wishing I were asleep in a rice pudding sugar-induced stupor. I wondered if I could fake pass out and sleep on the floor until she went home.
"Daddy likes to watch me fuck my lesbian lover."
I pushed back from the table, waving my hands in the international sign for shut the fuck up, and turned away from her and ran up the stairs to my empty bedroom, locked the bolt, buried my head in the pillows and began to weep, which led to sleep and troubling dreams.
I had dreams of being fucked, but I never came. Mama was sitting next to me, telling me I needed a good woman to show me love. When I was in college, I started smoking cigarettes, but stopped when Roberto described kissing me as licking an ashtray and further told me my cunt tasted terrible as well.
I had a pack of Marlboros hidden, and I sat at the kitchen table drinking black coffee, strong black coffee, and smoking.
It was Friday morning, and I called La'Quaysha to see how they were doing, nominally with COVID, but I was so horny that masturbating was not enough. I just wanted to be touched, I did love fucking her and maybe more, and I would let her husband fuck me to be with her, where in the fuck did this come from? I was achingly lonely. It was four-thirty in the morning.
I turned on my laptop and started listening to YouTube music videos. I picked this disco singer, Laura Brannigan, and she was absolutely gorgeous, voluptuous, and she had this huge voice, an octave range, and the lyrics stung me:
Gloria, you're always on the run now
Running after somebody, you gotta get him somehow
I think you've got to slow down before you start to blow it
I think you're headed for a breakdown, so be careful not to show it
You really don't remember.
Was it something that he said?
Are the voices in your head calling, Gloria?
Gloria, don't you think you're fallin'?
If everybody wants you, why isn't anybody callin'?
You don't have to answer
Leave them hangin' on the line, oh oh oh, calling Gloria
Gloria (Gloria), I think they got your number (Gloria)
I think they got the alias (Gloria) that you've been living under (Gloria)
But you really don't remember, was it something that they said?
Are the voices in your head calling, Gloria?
A ha ha, a ha ha, Gloria, how's it gonna go down?
Will you meet him on the main line, or will you catch him on the rebound?
Will you marry for the money, take a lover in the afternoon?
Feel your innocence slipping away, don't believe it's comin' back soon
And you really don't remember, was it something that he said?
Are the voices in your head calling, Gloria?
Gloria, don't you think you're fallin'?
If everybody wants you, why isn't anybody callin'?
You don't have to answer
Leave them hangin' on the line, oh-oh-oh, calling Gloria
Gloria (Gloria), I think they got your number (Gloria)
I think they got the alias (Gloria) that you've been living under (Gloria)
But you really don't remember, was it something that they said?
Are the voices in your head calling, Gloria?
I found myself singing with her, and we looked like sisters. I would so fuck her, Jesus. I hit every one of her notes, karaoke-like, not changing it, but I felt her inside me, and then I was in and around her riffing, GLORIA!! CALLING GLORIA!!
I stopped and turned around, and there were my girls smiling and clapping, "Mommy, you are really good," Olivia said.
I smiled back at them and dropped to my knees with my arms open wide, and they ran to me for a huge hug, I thought of their births and raising them so far.
I said, "How about corn cakes and bananas?"
They were nodding with big smiles. Jiffy corn bread box with egg and milk, and bacon. With maple syrup. So easy to please, not forgetting the bananas, cut up.
There were cartoons on the public TV channel from Spokane, they sat down with their bellies full and all loved up from their mom. They were good until peanut butter and jam sandwiches for lunch. Leftover pasticcio.
It was eight in the morning when I called La'Quaysha. She picked up, and I said,
"Hey."
"Sup girl."
"Umm, you by yourself?"
"Uhh huh."
"Can we FaceTime?"
"K"
We were staring at each other.
I took a deep breath and said, "I love you."
Her lips curled and she said, "He be fucking me and it's you. Always you."
"I need you so bad, I'm dying without you."
"Girl, open your eyes." I didn't know they were closed, "I be by 'bout three this afternoon. Can your mom take the kids overnight?"
I nodded yes, "I can almost feel your lips, I want to kiss you so bad."
I called Mama and pleaded with her to take the girls overnight.
I freaked about what to wear for her, I didn't have much really, but with about forty-five minutes to go, I found an old wife-beater tee shirt that I shrunk in hot water. I had my old cheerleader skirt from Lincoln High School, 'Go Phoenix', white thigh-high stockings, red open-toed pumps with five-inch heels, total slutty whore look. In heels, I was five feet eleven of jiggly, lesbian lust. La'Quaysha was long and lithe, thing B-cup titties and so fucking gorgeous.
I looked up in her eyes, and her hands lightly held my face, we were kissing and I melted into her, moaning in her mouth, she pulled back and was kissing my neck, licking along my jaw line. I was on the floor and she was tribbing me (scissoring) as my cunt was wetter than the nearby Snake River, hers was as well. I held onto her long leg as I shuddered through a rolling orgasm, as she kept on fucking me until I begged her to stop by tapping her leg and softly mumbling for her to stop.
When she did stop, I kept cumming for a while, until I wasn't. The tears came unbidden; it was overwhelming. Then she was beside me, kissing the tears, and she asked, "What's wrong?"
"I can't bear to think of life without you. If I need to fuck him to lie in bed with you, I'm in. I think it'd be better if we were together with my babies."
She smiled and said, "I kicked him out last week."
The sunrise had come and gone, I had fallen asleep with La'Quaysha, our bodies intertwined, my soft, fat thigh lay across her hips, my cunt on display for my mother to look in on.
End Part 1
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