Finally — oh good god, finally — after weeks of boiling sun, every day getting hotter, and the humidity making the air thicker and harder to breathe, the sky cracked and the heavens fell!
Heaven — there was the operative word Stevie Toner was looking for. What should have been a twenty minute walk home turned into a forty minute hot shower in his clothes as lightning streaked the night sky and the smell of burnt ozone filled his nostrils.
He was so buzzed and way out there, red-eyed and grinning like a moron, that he didn’t care he was being soaked to the bone. There was no feeling like this in the world, and so he tottered home at a snail’s pace, where his bed awaited like the holy grail of ultimate treasures.
The unintentional hilarity of that Saturday night was that it wasn’t even near midnight yet. That’s what happens when you work all day and everybody else is a no-show to your best buddy’s house party. You get wrecked fast and forget to give a fuck. Worse things have happened.
In fact, holy fuck, when was the last time Stevie had put money down on weed this good? Half an hour after the first joint and he was gathering lint down the back of Jack’s sofa. Out of nowhere he’d sunk right into his seat and couldn’t move a hand to his beer.
Now that little sandwich bag was zipped up in the pocket of his shorts and there was a lot of it left. He was no amateur. Stevie had smoked the best in California, so he believed, and he had a few good contacts, but this stuff now had him beat.
Home seemed so far away…
2
Finally he made it to his mom’s house at ten past eleven, feeling a little soberer and yet a little more ready for his bed. On the porch he stood dripping for a good five more minutes, letting the excess all fall to the welcome mat where he then took off his Nikes, which were so water-logged with that hot rain that they squelched and squirted like some nasty PAWG being rutted by her first BBC.
Stevie laughed at the awful state of his imagination, and his sense of humour. It reminded him less sorely that he needed to get laid, that he had needed to for way too long now. But then what condition was he in to either argue or do anything about it?
Swinging the door shut behind him, he swayed a little unsteadily as he languidly strove down the hall to the living room where his mom, Jeri, was watching…
Porn?
‘Uhhhh-
‘Hey son,’ she said, paying no attention whatsoever. Instead her eyes were glued to the screen, one fingernail clamped between her teeth, and a drink in the other hand. On the table beside her, most of a litre bottle of vodka was gone. That probably explained some of it.
What could Stevie think right now? His feet had grown roots in the doorway. On one hand, despite how awfully surreal the situation seemed — it was almost as if she wasn’t here at all, or was it Steve that wasn’t here? — he wanted to commend his mom’s choice of porn MILF.
Julia Ann was a fox. Not your typical or average porn star in any way, the classic California blonde was way more stunning than your MILF next door, and yet she didn’t seem fake at all. You could imagine meeting her through your aunt or your girlfriend’s mom and conjure the same visuals in your mind as was playing on the flatscreen right that moment.
Who wouldn’t go down on Julia fucking Ann?
On the other hand; ‘Hey mom, when did this become just your usual Saturday night show while your child walks through the door soaked to the bone?’
‘What’s that, honey?’ Jeri asked distantly, looking for the KODI control stick. Oh right, it’s my porn she’s watching, Stevie realised before his stomach dropped like a tonne of bricks into his ass. Turning to look at Stevie, his mom had a tired vacant look in her silvery grey eyes. ‘Oh, is it raining?’
‘Did you not hear the thunder? It was enough to make my butthole quiver!’
‘I mustn’t have heard it over the film,’ Jeri said plainly. It really was no big deal to her. And neither did it seem a big deal for her to be sitting watching porn with her silk robe open and plunging way down to her belly button.
If Stevie’s mouth was dry before that point, his tongue would now swell at the thought of a single drop of water. His mother had always been endowed, and much more than the typical “larger woman”. At 34FF and with the curvaceous and fulsome body of a porn star a little more before Stevie’s time — Linda Friday — Jeri’s twin-blessing had been his curse through high school. Being 44 now didn’t do her appeal any damage either.
Being told a million times that every kid in school, and then college, would bang your mom, and all the painfully shameless details of how and why (because of her mammoth tiddies, her muffins, her yes mams) was enough to torment him into oblivion, if not just the life of a hermit.
On the TV Julia Ann was coming all over Tyler Nixon’s tongue, her pussy red, puffy and ready to be impaled. Before Stevie was his mother, half-drunk with her robe untied. And here was Stevie soaking wet and about ready to pitch a tent in his pants, in the strangest moment of his life.
‘Okay,’ just to break the stunning silence, ‘why are you watching porn?’
‘It’s not just for you,’ Jeri challenged him with a cocked brow. ‘Do you mind?’
‘I’m just…’ Words, you stupid asshole! Remember? Move your mouth and make sounds! ‘Juhh… uhh… no, it’s fine…’
3
Stevie made no excuse for himself. If his mother didn’t need one to hang around watching porn and drinking vodka with her tits almost on full show, most likely having been masturbating, then he didn’t need one to go get out of his wet clothes and towel off.
It was no real surprise to him that when he stripped out of his shorts, his cock was almost at full-mast, swaying heavily in front of him and only getting harder. He was stoned, for one, which somehow made it easier for him to get aroused. With the visual stimuli currently on offer downstairs, he didn’t think twice about who specifically had provoked this reaction.
In a fresh pair of lounge shorts and a tank top, Stevie wandered back downstairs — once the swelling had gone down a little — and snuck into the kitchen for a cold carton of orange juice. His mom followed right after.
‘You’re not going to drink all that, are you?’ she asked, almost insinuated. When he turned to her, he was relieved and yet almost sad that she’d tied her robe back together. He didn’t even realise that she’d caught on to his movements and followed his line of sight to what cleavage was left on show. ‘I need some for my vodka…’
‘There’ll be plenty for your vodka,’ Stevie assured with a mouth filled with cotton. And that was when he caught her staring, right into his eyes. Jeri’s eyes widened into two zeroes before she started laughing. ‘What?’ Stevie asked, shrugging.
‘Your eyes are burning,’ Jeri accused. ‘How long have you been smoking pot?’
‘I’ve not been…’
‘You’re stoned, don’t lie to me. I know more than you think, you know,’ his mom pressed, but she wasn’t angry. ‘So what are you — possessed? How long?’
‘Since college,’ Stevie shrugged again. ‘Are you going to make a big deal out of nothing?’
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