Chapter 6
I WENT TO SLEEP EARLY, KNOWING that she'd pay me a visit during the night, which she did. I was awakened in the dark by hot hands exploring my body, and, when I was fully alert, I realized she had been drinking heavily and was, in fact, quite drunk. Her breath was strong and the odor of liquor, and her hands were eager and bold. She began kissing my body all over, running her tongue over my flesh in the most maddening manner. I became hard, and she felt it and immediately encircled my prick with her lips and began to suck me as only a drunken, hot woman might do. I tried to pull it away from her, not because I wasn't willing to go off in my mother's mouth, but because I was fed up with females at the moment. When I did yank it out of her mouth, she cried out and reached for my tube again, this time grasping it in her hand. She rubbed it and, with her other hand, cradled my testicles.
"Mother, cut it out," I said, annoyed at her more than ever before.
"My baby boy!" she cried, her voice thick. "Gotta suck off my baby boy. All I got to suck. My baby's cock."
I bounded out of bed and turned on the light.
"Come back," she sobbed. "I need it so."
"Go to hell! Get out of my bed or so help me I'll pick you up and carry you to your own room and lock you in!"
"What'sa matter with my baby boy?" she cried, drooling. "Don' he love his poor old mother any more?"
"Get to your own room, and leave me alone. I'm not in the mood tonight for screwing."
She sat up on the bed and brushed her dark hair out of her eyes and stared at me wildly. "What'sa matter, boy, you drunk?"
"I'm not drunk, but you are. Go back to your own room, please."
"Won't do it. Gotta suck my baby. Gotta be screwed."
I let her have it again, louder this time. "I'm not in the mood for screwing."
She crawled off the bed, stood up momentarily and then collapsed back onto it. "What a terribly filthy thing to say to your own mother. I could just die."
"Then why don't you?" I roared angrily and, while she was sobbing, got dressed hurriedly.
I left the house and began to walk aimlessly along the street, not caring where I went or if I ever returned.
I saw an all-night cafe and went in and ordered a cup of coffee. A faded blonde with big titties waited on me and, as she did so, looked me over speculatively.
"Kind of late for you, ain't it, kid?" She mopped up the counter with a cloth.
"Yes, guess so." I picked up the cup and sipped the coffee. It wasn't bad. "What about it?" I was in no mood for adult questioning.
"Just thought I'd tell you. Fuzz stops in here from time to time. They don't like seeing kids out in the middle of the night."
"Too bad."
"You have a fight with your folks, kid?"
"No." I wished she'd go away and leave me alone.
"I get a lot of kids in here during the night. Mostly it's because they had a fight at home."
"Big deal."
"Don't have to be nasty, kid. Only trying to help."
"Thanks," I said drily, and had another sip of the coffee. "I'm not being nasty."
She leaned over the counter, her large breasts almost popping out from beneath her uniform. "I'll bet I can guess what you've been doing, kid."
Goddamn her. Why couldn't she mind her own business? "So?" I said.
"Bet you've been out looking for a whore. Right?"
I took another sip of coffee. "Wrong. I'm not that hard up."
She laughed. "How old are you, kid?"
"Old enough."
"About sixteen. Right?"
I shook my head. "Wrong again, lady."
"Seventeen?"
I nodded. "Give me change for a dollar. Want to buy a pack of cigarettes."
She took the bill and gave me change. I went over and slipped the right coins into the cigarette machine and got my brand. I came back to the counter and lighted one.
She was still leaning over the counter. "You looking for a whore, kid?"
This really bumped me. "Why? Are you one?"
She grinned and straightened up. "I don't mind picking up a few bucks now and then."
I decided to be as cruel as she was. "You're too old for me, lady."
She didn't even blink. "All right, kid. Tell you what. I got a daughter who likes to make a little money on the side. She's fourteen. That young enough?"
"Is this a cafe or a cathouse?"
"Little of both."
"What about the fuzz you mentioned? Don't they bother you?"
"Not when you give them a little."
"A little what?"
"Whatever they want, money or a piece of ass."
"You say you have a fourteen-year-old daughter. What does she look like?"
"You got ten dollars, kid?"
"Sure." I took another sip of the coffee.
"Give it to me," she said. "And I'll tell her you're coming up to see her."
"You let your kid stay up all night?" I asked sarcastically.
"I'll wake her up for ten dollars."
"You're some gal," I remarked. "You remind me of someone," I added, thinking of my own mother and her selfishness.
"Thanks. Want me to wake up the kid?"
"Sorry. Not interested." I got to my feet. "Your coffee is pretty good. Good night, lady."
"Son of a bitch," she muttered.
I laughed grimly and left the place. I returned immediately. "Lady," I said, "you're right about one thing."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"I am a son of a bitch, literally." I turned about and left the place again and this time kept on walking until I came to the corner.
A car swerved into the curb and stopped. I glanced up and saw two guys in it.
"Hello, baby," one of them called. "Want to take a little ride?"
A couple of homos. "Get lost," I barked. "Beat it."
They swore and drove away, and I crossed the street wondering if everyone in town was anxious about sex this night. I walked for three blocks, turned a corner and found myself on Abbie's street. I stopped, thought for a moment, and then walked on until I was standing in front of her house. There were no lights on in the place, and, remembering that her father wasn't at home, I walked to the rear and tried the door. It was unlocked. Not quite sure that I wanted to enter, that I wanted to see her again, I entered anyhow. I walked to her bedroom and called to her. "Abbie."
I heard the bedsprings creak. "Robert?"
"Yes. Turn on a light, Abbie."
I heard her groaning as she climbed out of bed. The lights came on a moment later and I stared at her in horror. She was marked up and badly bruised, as if she had fallen down a flight of stairs.
"What happened to you?" I asked.
"I fell down the stairs," she replied, but not looking me in the eye.
The coincidence of my thought and her remark was too much to believe. "The hell you did, Abbie. That Chinese bastard beat you up, didn't he?"
"No," she said shortly. "I fell down the cellar steps." She bit her lips. "What are you doing here at this time of night? Is something wrong at your house?"
"My mother is going nuts," I said. "I mean, she's gone nuts."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh ... I don't know what I mean. She's drunk. Acting crazy. Wanting me to ... well, you know."
"Poor Robert," she said sympathetically.
"Poor Abbie, you mean, don't you? From the looks of you. Tell me the truth. Did you really fall down the stairs?"
"Y-Yes."
I considered my next remark briefly. "Did you have fun with the Chink?"
"I didn't do anything with him, Robert. I just went over and saw the inside of his house and met that girl he had there."
"Are you sure?"
"Don't you believe me?"
"All right, I believe you."
"Are you jealous, Robert?"
"Probably."
"Why don't we take the money from my father's safe and run off and get married?"
"No."
"All right, Robert. I won't ask you again. Tell me, did you have a fight with your mother?"
"I hate my mother," I rasped. "Why, Robert?"
"You ought to know. Because ... she robs me of my manhood."
"I see. So that's why you came here in the middle of the night. You wanted to prove you're still a man."
"No. I'm just mixed up at the moment."
She moved away from the bed and passed by me. "I'm going to the bathroom. I won't be gone long."
"Wash some of the blood off your face, Abbie. The blood that was caused by your falling downstairs."
There was sarcasm in my tone, and she stopped and looked at me, searching with her round blue eyes. "Don't you believe that, Robert?"
I shrugged. "Sure. Mind if I have a drink of your father's sauce?"
"Help yourself," she said quietly, and left the room to go to the bathroom.
I groped my way through the living room in the dark until I found a table lamp and turned it on. I had a drink of whiskey from a bottle and then another one. She came into the room and I saw she had slipped a robe on over her nudity.
"Give me the bottle, Robert. I think I need a drink, too."
I gave it to her.
She drank, then capped the bottle and put it down. She was choking somewhat and tears had come to her eyes. "Whew," she gasped. "I almost swallowed it the wrong way."
I said nothing.
A moment later she turned to me. "Robert, why don't you screw me? It'll make you feel better, maybe."
"I'm not in the mood for fornication. My mother sickened me."
She drew in her breath. "Oh, the hell with your mother. Don't let her bother you. Be your own guy."
This surprised me. "Don't you think I am my own guy?"
"Not the way you're acting." She bit her lips hard. "I have a feeling about you, Robert. I don't think your mother sickened you at all. I think you want to pout."
I started to get mad but managed to hold my temper. "Think whatever you choose, Abbie. But you're mistaken. Another thing-I might as well say it before I leave-I don't believe you fell down the stairs. I think that Chink beat you up in some weird kind of sex deal ... and I also believe that you liked it but are ashamed to admit it to me."
She shrugged. "Believe whatever you like, Robert."
I got to my feet and looked at her. "Good night, Abbie."
"Good night, Robert."
I left through the rear door and walked around the house to the front just in time to see the lights being turned off inside. I muttered something vague and started down the street, having no idea of where I was going and caring less. I saw a light come on at the house next door, and I glanced up at it quickly-it was the porch light, I saw. Someone was opening the door and a moment later I saw the Chinese thrusting his head and shoulders through the doorway.
"Boy," he called. "Come here."
"Go to hell," I called back, and kept on walking. I glanced back at the place when I had covered about half a block and saw the porch light go off. "Son of a bitch," I muttered. "I'd like to bust your head."
I turned at the next corner and headed back for the cafe-there seemed to be no other place I could go. When I arrived there, the blonde woman was sitting behind the counter reading a magazine, business not being very good, apparently.
I had no clear idea of why I did what I did, but I walked in and sat down. "I've got ten bucks," I told her. "Where's the kid?"
She became all smiles. "Decided you'd like a little after all, I see. Fine. Give me the money."
I handed a ten-dollar bill to her. I was curious to see if she really had a fourteen-year-old daughter. Something seemed to tell me that she was the one who would perform the act for a ten-spot and not her daughter. She motioned for me to follow her to the rear of the cafe and I did so.
"Aren't you afraid to leave the place unattended?" I asked as she held a curtain aside so I could enter the rear room.
"Won't be anyone around at this hour. But maybe I'd better go back and lock the door, just to play it safe."
I waited for her to lock the door, and when she had come back, she again motioned for me to follow her, this time up a short flight of stairs. At the top of the stairs she stopped and opened a door.
"Come in, I'll have to wake the kid."
She flicked on a light, and sure enough, there was a young girl sleeping on a bed. The blonde woman went over to the bed and shook the girl.
"Wake up, Lenza. I got a John for you, baby."
The girl was quite pretty, brown-haired and small for her age. She sat up and blinked her eyes. "What did you say, Mother?"-
"There's a boy who's going to sleep with you for a while. Are you awake?"
"Yes." The girl turned her brown eyes on me. "Hello."
"Hello," I said, excitement mounting in me.
"I'll leave you two alone," the blonde woman said, and did so quickly, closing the door after her.
I looked at the girl gravely. "Sure you want to do this, Lenza?"
She blinked and smiled nicely at the same time. "Sure. Why not?"
"Are you doing this because your mother told you to?"
"Sure. Why not? She's good to me, buys me lots of pretty things."
"You mean you're willing to be a whore because your mother buys you things?"
She smiled nicely. "Nothing wrong with being a whore. My mother was a whore for years. Matter of fact, I was a trick-baby."
"What's that?"
"I never knew who my father was and neither did my mother."
"You mean some John happened to...?"
"Sure. That's what a trick-baby is. The whore gets careless and then she gets pregnant, but there's no way of knowing who did it. It might have been one of a dozen men."
I was flabbergasted. This kid apparently thought no more of this, or of telling it to me, than she would have of going to a football game and telling the results of it.
"You're quite a kid," I remarked, and meant it.
"Thanks. And you're a nice-looking boy."
I grinned. It was the first time I had felt halfway good all evening. "Thank you," I said.
"I mean it. I think you're handsome."
I went over and sat on the edge of the bed. "Mind pulling the sheet down a bit?" I asked as casually as I could.
"Want to see what I got?"
"I want to look at you, Lenza."
"I ain't got nothing on."
I smiled. "Don't apologize for that. It's the way I like to see a girl."
She shoved the sheet down, exposing her small bosom. Her breasts were firm-looking and stood straight out. The nipples were tiny and pink. "You like 'em?" she asked. "I'd like to touch them."
"You bought 'em, help yourself, handsome boy."
I ran my hands over her breasts while she sat there and silently watched me. I squeezed them gently and then ran my hands down her body to her cunt. I inserted a digit and fingered her for a moment. Nothing happened to me. I was as soft as could be.
"Is something wrong?" she asked. "You're frowning terribly."
I continued to shove my fingers in and out of her pussy, but still nothing happened.
"Is there something wrong?" she repeated.
I withdrew my hand from her body. "Yes. There's something wrong. Want me to tell you what's happened to me?"
"Please do, handsome boy."
"It's my mother," I told her. "She's ruined me."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure. I seem to have developed a distaste for females."
"What's that mean?"
"It means I don't want to screw you, Lenza."
"Have you been drinking very much?"
"Not enough to bother me."
"Want me to play with it, take it in my mouth ... get it hard for you?"
"Wouldn't do any good tonight, I'm afraid."
"Maybe it would."
I shook my head. "There's only one person who can get it hard."
"Your ... mother?"
"Looks that way." She took a deep breath. "Is your mother alive, handsome boy?"
"Yes."
"Is she here ... in this city?"
"Yes."
She shrugged. "Then go home and screw her, handsome boy. Doesn't that make sense?"
I pulled the sheet over her nudity. "Yes. I think you're right. I'll do that. Thank you. You're a nice kid. Good-bye." I walked out of the place.
It required some fifteen minutes for me to walk back home, but when I entered the house, I found my mother sprawled on the floor of the front room. A bottle was nearby, also on the floor, and its contents, what she hadn't consumed, had spilled onto the carpet. She was almost totally naked and, as I stood staring down at her solid, rounded limbs, her narrow, sexy-looking waistline, the tanned skin, the great breasts, I became, little by little, extremely hard.
"I don't want to do it," I muttered to myself. "But it looks like I have to. I have a feeling that if I don't I'll never be able to again."
I pulled off my pants, flung my body on top of hers, and screwed her savagely for more than half an hour. She didn't once come out of her drunken stupor.
I picked her up, carried her to her bed and dumped her down on it, my heart pounding furiously. I wanted to do something wild, but as yet I hadn't figured out what it was.