Demom’s Angels
by DiscipleN
— 4 —
When Vanice was late to work, usually after a night of conquest, Tracy was allowed to use a master code to unlock the shop’s alarms and raise the storefront’s shutter.
It was a busy day. Payday, for a lot of customers. Vanice sauntered in a hour before Tracy’s lunchbreak. She went to work like a pro. Tracy returned from lunch, and her boss was beaming. The lunch rush had ended and the store was empty for the first time that day.
“Mmmm, it was pure hunk junk, a fat hunk of man flesh inside me, last night.” Vanice had sharing issues.
Before she could change the topic, Tracy’s mind imagined a hispanic prick the size of a guitar sticking out of yesterday’s deliverer’s crotch. Her pelvis clenched at the vision. “Vanice, the cash register was having trouble connecting to the net.” Tracy hoped it had gone unnoticed.
“Honey, I don’t mean to be rude, but unless you’re bleeding, I still need you cover the hour you missed, yesterday. And no PMS lip about it back to me, okay?”
“That’s not it. Just a spasm, Vanice. I’m fine. Work me to the bone, today.”
“Maybe you need a bone to work you. Vanice knows you haven’t had a man since she hired you.”
“Please,” Tracy’s hips jerked at the thought of being fucked. “I just want to figure out what’s wrong with the register.”
“Hmmm.” Vanice shot her with obvious curiosity. “Well, if I remember the service manual correctly, handshaking disruptions between the server and the client can be stabilized by transferring excess records to the cloud.” She walked to the counter, and bent over the machine. “Sounds like an intentional bug to make us more reliant on cloud services. That free one I use is almost maxed out.” Vanice was a pro with anything work related, but her sex life put Republican scandals to shame.
She had Tracy get the manual. With its help they figured out the problem together, while serving a fresh batch of customers.
“Thank you, Manuel.” Vanice called the book. She turned and looked into Tracy’s eyes. She smiled. “Manuel has a friend.”
“Vanice.” Tracy cautioned.
“Hold it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t double date with my employees. But if you want a threesome, Manuel has a friend.”
An unexpected groan escaped Tracy. She imagined two men fucking her front and back.
“What’s going on with you?” Vanice grew suspicious.
Tracy tried to match her boss’s directness. “Well, you haven’t been starting the most employee appropriate conversations today. You just surprised me.”
“Oh.” Vanice began sharing her explict exploits, the second month after hiring Tracy. Her excuse about suddenness was pathetic. Something about sex ate at her, Vanice thought. Eating Tracy had occurred to Vanice on more than one occasion, but that was against her rules too. She fantasized about Tracy eating her, more often. Workers who were Vanice’s equal were very hard to find, even in an economic slowdown. Not that work had been slow lately. The black man in the white house had certainly helped. “Okay, I’ll drop it.”
Howard and Mina showed up soon thereafter. It had been luck that Tracy had found work near the right schools. Howard would pick up his sister and walk her a few blocks to meet their mom. When Tracy had to work late, like today, Vanice would ’employ’ them, paying them with internet store credits. She also credited every hour of their work to Tracy’s shift. That’s how Tracy was able to leave early on the school days she worked.
The bus was extra crowded that day. Payday. In the aisle, Mina held onto her mom’s belt, and Howard stood behind Mina, holding on to a railing. It was packed, and the bus was slow. At one stop, a man seated near Tracy stood up and stepped close, wedging himself between two skateboard punks in front of her. The turbin on his head suggested Sikh. His beard was not unflattering. His eyes sparkled. They looked into Tracy’s.
“You seek enlightenment?” He was surprisingly quiet for their surroundings. Tracy heard him clearly. She answered clearly. “The mind is a terrible thing to waste on religion.” She smiled.
“I saw what your little girl was doing to you, yesterday.” His voice remained quiet.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She was stone faced.
“It’s okay. My religion is founded on love. I don’t discriminate about what kind. Many of my brothers and sisters disagree, but true love should be held above all else, regardless of its form.”
“That’s very noble, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The bus lurched. The bearded man used it to press against Tracy. “I will love you, now. This is not for my own pleasure.” His expression was perfectly neutral, but his eyes continued to sparkle.
“Keep your enlightenment away from me.” Tracy warned him. Oddly, she felt no fear of the man who was slightly taller not counting his turbin.
“Say, no, and I will sit again.” He countered. His hand moved gently across the front of Tracy’s skirt.
“Your seat was lost.”
“Nothing that is truly yours is ever lost.” The hand felt well muscled. This man worked hard with his hands. It pressed into the folds of her skirt.
“N- nngh.” Tracy tried. The hand twisted firmly between the front of her groin. Instantly her clit reacted.
“What was that?” He cocked an ear towards her.
“Nnnnuuugh.” Damn that demon! She thought, as the man started to grope her in earnest. The fingers seeped in, bound by linen. They walked against her pubis, dragging the skirt up. Tracy’s hips twisted at the sensation. The coarse material tickled and plucked at her hairs.
“Can anyone see?” Tracy couldn’t take her eyes from the stranger’s.
“I am very close to you.” He leaned into her. She thought, breath mint. His hand scattered her thought. It gripped the hem and ducked under it. The man did not hesitate to worm his fingers past the side band of her underwear. They knew her wetness.
“No.” She said. She thought she said. She stood silent, all awareness converging to her growing clit. Accordingly, her vulva expanded three sizes, it felt like.
“This is unexpected.” Two fingers caught her engorging pleasure stem. They worked it, curiously.
Tracy bit into the man’s turbin. “Hrrrry!”
“You are almost a boy child.” It was stated plainly. All that Tracy could think about were fingers penetrating her cunt. If the man had unleashed his cock there, she would have taken it into her body. Her head shook with frustration as the man remained distracted by the size of her clit. His explorations made her head boil with sensation. Unlike the mind-blowing, ignorant groping she had dreamed the previous night, this hand played her like a sitar. They dripped with her honey. Their music was urgent and powerful, but not shattering. The world of packed humans faded around her. Her mind kept track only of her children and a disembodied hand that had full control of her pleasure. Fingers stroked and nails nipped, sending her joy aloft and crashing it with darker delights. She was a pleasure drone, one that needed the next level of power.
“F-f-fuck me.” She whispered. He knew she meant with his fingers.
“That is not for me, but I can-” He strummed his strongest finger along the line of her pussy. Her vulva convulsed. She shuddered at it’s deviant sensation. It slicked her up and down with the shallowest of penetrations.
“Then end it.” She begged. A minute had not passed since being assailed.
Taking her clit like a cock. the tips of strong fingers grasped her skin there and pumped. Everything changed. The world of bliss Tracy had entered was shattered with thick black lines punching up from her cunt, and receding, rising and falling, inside like bars on a synth.
Her body shook with each stroke. Orgasms shattered her. Drums beat. Her daughter was crying, but Tracy paid no attention. She had no brain to attend with. She had become a giant sex organ expelling ecstasy like eruptions of cock juice. How long the crashing waves doused her, she did not know, even after they had ended.
The world returned. The bearded man was seated where he had been seated. At her look, he smiled. It reassured that she had not been dreaming. Tugs continued at her belt. Shaking her head, Tracy turned. “My dear, I’m so sorry. What’s the matter?”
“Mom,” Howie interjected, “We should have gotten off three stops ago.”
It was payday. They shopped as they walked home. Mina was especially happy with the corner market toy she asked for. It was a plastic flute. She tweeted terribly upon it, all the way home. When asked if she wanted a firetruck, her daughter answered, “I can play with yours, Mommy.”
“Mom.” Howie groaned his displeasure at the shrill notes.
“You didn’t want a toy. You wanted frozen pizza.”
Arriving home, later than usual, Tracy told Mina to put the flute away. So her daughter could help with the lasagna she had bought for them. Howie helped himself. He put his pizza in the toaster oven while the lasagna heated slowly in the larger one. Tracy had him set the table while the food cooked. She dressed down from work clothes. Mina watched a show.
When dinner was ready, she and Mina put the food on the table. She called for Howard, but he didn’t show. She grinned at Mina. “Maybe today your brother will find out if he likes cold pizza.” He was probably playing a video game while wearing a headset.
The lasagna was too hot to eat. While mother and daughter waited, Howard remained absent. Finally, the serving on her plate stopped steaming. She stuck it with her fork.
A hand stuck into the crotch of her pants. This time, the incredibly patient Howard found his mark. A few words his mother had whispered, earlier on the bus, teased his suspicions. He had leaned past Mina and glimpsed the bearded man’s quivering arm. Jealousy flared in the boy. He even cried out, “Hey.” No one on the bus heard his urgent but timid voice.
Two fingers stabbed at the top of the mother’s pussy. Instead of pleasuring, they hurt!
“OW!” Tracy yelled. She almost jumped out of her seat, ready to haul the boy over her lap and beat his ass with a dripping spatula.
Then Mina laughed. “Howie’s trying to firetruck your fuck!” The little girl was impressed that her brother had hid for so long under the table.
“What did you say?” Tracy froze. Then, “Howie, nooo…”
Howard cursed. He had acted too passionately. The story his sister had told him last night, and his mom’s encounter on the bus, made him feel left out of making mom feel good. He was the man of the house! He persisted, despite his mom’s outcry and complaint. He gripped the crotch of his mom’s polyester pants more gently and massaged it, like sometimes he massaged his dick. Expecting to be pulled out and beaten, not that his mother had ever struck him, he was adamant that he would succeed where his dumb sister and a stranger had.
He heard blood rushing through his ears. His heart beat near panic. Sweat salted his brow, but he kept rubbing his mother’s pants and panty armored groin.
“It’s better when you get to her skin.”
Howard jerked his head to the right. Mina stared knowingly, leaning down with her head under the table.
His mother’s hips jerked. They met her son’s strokes with short bucks.
“How do I get her pants off?” He asked his sister.
“Shhhh!” Mina put her finger to her mouth. She pulled back and straightened in her chair, disappearing from below.
Howard shushed. His mother was groaning. It was the groan he had first heard on the bus, but not as amazing as her groans on that day’s bus. He had to beat the stranger, but the man had gotten his hand under his mother’s clothes.
He scooted forward, continuing to massage his mom between her legs, especially the lump he felt at the top of her pouting, tight seam. He reached his other hand to the small, stylish belt on her pants. Why was she wearing a belt at home?
“Howard, this is wrong.” She called.
He had no spare thoughts to consider morality with. He dedicated one hand to sustaining his mom’s groans, and the other to unbuckle and then unbutton the top of her leisure pants.
“I can’t sit here like this.” Her voice lacked conviction. “Don’t you dare pull down my pants when I lift for a second.
Howard’s heart thudded like a bass drum. Licking his lips, he readied his hands. His mother lifted for several seconds. Seizing the opportunity, Howard reached out swiftly and grabbed the waistband. He tugged them with all his might. At first they stuck due to the wrong angle. He adjusted his motion downward, before pulling towards himself. The slick polyester glided down his mother’s smooth legs. For the second time in a week, he stared at his mother’s bare panties. Her ass crashed back into the chair a heartbeat later.
“Mommy, Howie took off your pants!” Mina’s laugh tinkled.
The boy, vision consumed, almost forgot to continue manipulating his mother’s little panty bulge. Behind the white garment, his mother’s clit beckoned like a spotlight. He swallowed at the sight of it. Before his mother could close her thighs, Howard reached behind her hips and pulled his face into the gap. His tongue shot out like a missile and crashed upon his mother’s veiled sex.
The woman wailed when the tongue brushed her throbbing clit. “YEEEeeee!” Her son’s mouth enveloped its bulge immediately after contact. He sucked on it as if he’d read about cunt lapping on the internet. Somehow it felt bigger in his mouth than when he’d seen it, a whole inch bigger. Had it grown?
Mina’s jaw dropped. She slipped off her chair for a better look down below. Her brother was eating on her mother’s underwear! What she’d seen on her mom’s face was the most amazing grimace of pain and pleasure. She’d never seen anything like it, but what caused it? Was it really wrong, like mom claimed? Suddenly she wished she could be her mom, and Howie was sucking on her fuck place. But that seemed gross, too. She watched, rapt.
The strong odor from his mother’s crotch was matched by the strong flavor of her panties. To let him suck fully, she had thrown her legs as wide as possible and slunk her cunt forward. “Sweetie, you’re killing me!” A howl from her throat drowned out the message. Howard licked and sucked, passion his only skill. His inexperience did not seem to matter. The slightest licks on her pantied bulge send shivers up his mother’s body. She barked when they reached her head.
His mother’s cries peaked. Her legs clamped hard around his ears and squeezed his head. Her torso leaped from the seat and crashed back upon it, nearly decapitating her son. She shrieked with joy and shouted hallelujahs.
His mother went slack in her chair and released her son’s head. His face was covered with pussy slime. Her eyes had closed. She panted while unconscious. Mina stared incredulous.
“Mommy?” She asked, reached out her hand.
Howard told her, “I’m going to our room, for a bit. You better not follow me. Keep with Mom, until I get back.
Mina nodded fearfully, hoping her brother would die for what he had apparently done to Mother.
Tracy stirred. “Mina?”
“Mommy! Mommy!” She rushed to hug her.
“It’s okay baby. But you can’t go around saying, fuck.”
Later that night, Howard discovered he liked cold pizza a lot but not as much as hot pie.
— 5 —
It was time to lay down the law. “Under no circumstances will either of you touch your mommy’s clitoris or vagina, ever again! Do you understand me?”
The following week was cruel. Howard and Mina fought like never before. Tracy lashed out verbally, often surprised by her own vitriol. Chores were worked mechanically. Food tasted bland. Games and music frustrated. Vanice had seen enough by the following Friday.
“Here’s two hundred dollars, Tracy. Tomorrow, buy yourself a slut dress. Be fully made up by six thirty sharp. I’m dropping Maise at your place, to sit the kids, and I’m taking you out. If we’re lucky, you won’t be back until Sunday.”
“This is not one of the corporate perks you promised, when you hired me, Vanice.” Tracy joked her reticence.
“Something’s wrong with you, girl. If Saturday night ain’t the cure, then I’ll step out of your private life for good.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“I may not know you intimately, hell you could be a dyke, for all I know nor would I care. But I know kids. Every day since payday, yours have been afraid of you. No. Not of you, for you. They know something’s wrong with you. That’s why I know something’s wrong with you.” Vanice had been a mom far longer, with one girl away at college, and the other working hard to build her own life while very happy to still be living at home.
Tracy contemplated her boss’s edict later, standing in a half-full bus with her kids. She felt eyes on her, halfway home. Looking up she saw the bearded, turbined, dark stranger. He stood and stepped close, but not very close.
“I see you have learned much but have not found wisdom from it.” He spoke gently. His hands remained at his side.
“You stay away from my mom.” Howard blurted.
The man raised his hands in submission and smiled.
“My boss says I need to get laid. Where’s the wisdom in that?” Tracy mouthed the words.
“Wisdom comes from within. Experience is raw fuel. Sometimes it imparts knowledge but never enlightens. You must learn to burn it, to create light.”
“Maybe I should let you ‘fuel’ me.” Maybe this man wasn’t a bad choice. For his rapey, groping ways, he had promised to respect “no”. If he told the truth, it was better communication that what she was going to find at a bar with Vanice.
“I am an imam. I only have sex with my husband.” He bowed his head slightly and sat back down.
“I don’t like him.” Howard pouted. Mina mimicked his pout.
Alone, in her bed, with her door locked, Tracy earnestly enjoyed masturbating for hours. The simplest, sexy thought got her going again in minutes. By morning her body raged with need. Fingerfucking herself in the shower took longer than showering, but at least the kids couldn’t hear her cries. The water bill was going to be frightful. The rest of the day, she had to suffer. Her need wasn’t an addiction. It wasn’t even like hunger. It was just there, waiting, following like a stalker.
Two day ago, Tracy asked Mina if her brother had ever tried to grope her.
“Never!” She’d growled and balled up her fist and glared.
“You can always come to me if there’s a real problem. I don’t mean the ones you cause and blame on him.” Tracy stuck her tongue out at her daughter.
The girl’s face darkened. “No, I can’t. Not always.” It was an admission of the barrier between them. Tracy sighed. The child would run from attempts to convince her otherwise.
They parted, irritations refreshed.
Reaching home, Friday afternoon, and wanting an end to that wretched week, Tracy went to her bedroom, locked the door, bit into an old dildo, masturbated to the memory of the groping imam, changed her clothes, and returned to her duties. She hadn’t yet noticed her wish’s recent growth. The kids played video games sullenly. The fading rush of her orgasms kept her from biting their heads off until dinner.
“I don’t want a baby sitter.” Mina complained.
“We don’t get a choice, Jellyhead.” Howard complained.
“I didn’t get a choice either.” Tracy sighed.
That night, her ‘prayers’ went unanswered. She couldn’t focus on the simplest, dirty thought.
Like ducks, Mina and Howard followed her to the department store. They occupied themselves while Tracy debated with herself what constituted a sufficiently slutty dress according to the gospel of Vanice.
She was changing out of her first choice, which had been too slutty to be on the planet let alone on her. She kept her back to the curtain, to foil peepers. More than one man had tried not to be seen looking at the lingerie. Arms wrapped around her hips and a hand darted into her exposed panties before her worn brain registered the intruder.
She could have screamed. It was perfectly justifiable, but the small size of the arms stifled her volume. “No! Get out!”
“Mommy!” Howard’s plea sounded pathetic, desperate. He hugged her. His face moistened her back. His hand combed through her pubic hair and reached her clit. It responded as if she hadn’t sneaked a quick frigging before trying the slut dress.
“Stop it!” But Tracy’s voice ratcheted down quickly, losing impact. Weakness to her magically enhanced organ overwhelmed her senses quicker with each attack. “Ooohhh.”
“This is a public place.” She managed to voice above the chills and shocks spreading from her cunt.
“There were more people on the bus, that first time.” Howard crushed himself against his mother, feeling her naked cunt for the first time. It had been worth trailing her, hiding, sneaking up, reaching through the curtain and grabbing her when the miniskirt fell to the floor.
“Mina didn’t know -HAhh- what she was doing.” Happy caws of delight stabbed Tracy’s argument. Her big clit melted under her son’s manipulations and stiffened at the same time. Arousal lit up her brain like a billboard. One thought surfaced that she latched on to, while riding the tremors radiating from Howard’s pulsing fingers. It was a solid thought. “Turn fuel into light.”
The imam’s words floated above her first, impending orgasm. What did he mean? Her mind felt as if it was flooded by swaying, disco spots.
Howard kissed his mom’s back and prayed she would enter that trance which gave him full access to her body. He shuffled forward, pressing his mother to a corner of the booth until they were as hidden as they could get. He found that by tugging on his mother’s “little stick”, he could maneuver her like a video game.
“Howard, please!” Please what? Neither knew the answer. Tracy tried pulling her son’s hand away, but her arm merely pawed ineffectually. Her first orgasm struck like a truck. She fell two inches, hit a wall, and moaned while stuffing the skirt she had tried, between her jaws. Why did her new sex have to feel so good! Her voice evaporated under a rush of ecstasy. The boy’s hand was jacking her inch and a half of pure, good vibrations.
Quickly, Howard dragged his mom’s panties down to her thighs. So he could reach in with both hands, one around the waist and the other from behind, through her thighs. He pushed two fingers in to Tracy’s juicing cunt from below, while fingers from the side cradled and rocked the thick nipple of his mother’s clit.
“Oooohhh, FUCKing fingers… goood!” Tracy lost her one grounding thought and lived only for continuing bliss, as her son attacked her pussy with nervous but effective gropes.
“Mommy, Mommy, am I making you feel good?” That’s all Howie wanted, for now. A week of self restraint had burned his insides like a cancer. He thought over and over, if he could show her the pleasure he wanted to give her, she would let him and Mina play as much as they wanted with her wonderful clit. His sister had been so sad an sullen, she had cried herself to sleep the last two nights. He had had enough. Howie had to save himself and his sister from his mother’s unreasonable demand.
Tracy wanted to scream, Yes! If she had, he would have heard her, even through the wool mini skirt hanging out of her mouth. It flapped against her upper chest as her body heaved from gusts of pleasure. But if she told the truth, she would be lost to her children forever. Maybe lose her job. Maybe lose them! All the universe’s pleasure could never replace her love for them. She bit down and tried to tell herself that a midget was pretending to be her son. No son of hers would ever attempt to take control of his mother sexually. It. Just. Wasn’t. Possible.
“Howie, fuck Mommy harder.” She whispered into her gag.
“Excuse me.” A voice piped up from outside the curtain. “Hershel and Fonder department store appreciates your patronage, but if someone can pass their room to the next person waiting, we would greatly appreciate it.”
Howie saw the sales woman’s stockinged legs and her black heels. If his mother made the wrong sound, the woman might investigate. Full of regret, Howie pulled his hands from his mother’s crotch and tugged her panty back up. He turned and leaned against the far wall and looked down, eyeing the attractive legs beyond the curtain.
Tracy had to catch her breath. Finally, Howard’s good sense had wrested the situation from danger, at the worst possible time. Her third orgasm was sure to have been the best. Fortunately, a customer in another booth exited, decreasing the pressure on Tracy and Howard.
To prevent another attack of opportunity, Tracy pulled on her conservative skirt and took the skimpy one that had been in her mouth and hung it on the return hook. She buttoned her blouse and shot her son a cautioning glare. She spoke through the curtain. “Miss, we’re almost done.”
Double checking her clothes in the mirror, Tracy took Howard’s hand and tugged him out of the booth.
The sales woman was a youthful redhead. Her name tag read, Claire. She saw Howard dragged by his mom and visibly controlled her reaction. “Um, ma-am, I don’t mind, but store regulation restricts boys 12 or older from the women’s booths.” Claire looked up at the mother and notice’s Tracy’s flush skin. Looking carefully at the youth, she saw glistening fingers on the hand not in the mother’s grasp. A smile crept over saleslady’s face. “Ma-am, I can help you. Just a sec.”
Tracy saw the pretty redhead’s smile, and her heart sank. She’d guessed! Tracy considered running, but her legs wobbled, weakness due to successive orgasms. She managed three steps while Claire entered the booth and retrieved the skimpy outfit now marked with drool.
Dollar per ounce, this is our most expensive halter and skirt! Claire thought. You couldn’t sell air to an astronaut at this garb’s price. She considered herself a woman of considerable deviance, but she wouldn’t be caught wearing this at a whorehouse. Claire had worked at a whorehouse once, until she realized her true love was helping women find perfect outfits.
“How did you like it?” Claire put on her most professional, non-judgmental face. She’d seen the wet spots on the skirt. She had even sniffed them before exiting the booth, holding the hanger high.
Tracy looked back at the attractive woman and frowned. “It was a little, um, too…” She took another step away.
“Honey, this piece is too risque for the darkest places on the internet. I can find what you need.” Claire lived for moments like these. She took Tracy’s elbow in hand and led her to the shelves and racks.
Howard could manage nothing more than keeping his jaw from hitting the floor. He stumbled behind his mother who continued to grip his hand, while the pretty lady tugged them both deep into the section of many naughty things.
After scanning three tables and two racks, Claire dragged the pair, who were trying their best to resist, to an enclosed, glass shelf. Unlocking it, she withdrew a treasure from within. “Young man, how do you think this would look on your mommy?” Claire displayed a low cut but fluffy red blouse and dark pink thigh huggers. She shielded the rest of the store from their intoxicating sight with her impressive body.
“Golly, it’s almost like underwear!” Howard burst.
Tracy cringed. Why hadn’t the woman asked her? Her suspicions were quickly proven.
“He’s the man of your house, right?” Claire winked. “I could tell by the smell of that wool skirt you had in your mouth.”
“Howie’s a meanie.” A new voice piped up. Mina stood with a doll in her hand. She’d taken it from the toy section without realizing it, after realizing Howard had dumped her. Mina wasn’t one to cry about being alone in a store. Being lost wouldn’t have occurred to her. Clearly her mother and brother had gotten lost, and she had just found them.
“Hello!” Claire delighted at the daughter’s appearance. “Are you going to help your brother find naughty clothes for your mommy?”
“That looks dumb.” Mina examined the proffered slut suit from on low.
“Miss. I’ll buy anything, if you promise to let me decide.” The mom attempted assert herself.
Claire tossed the hanger over her shoulder. It clattered on the well trod floor, no doubt ruining the expensive outfit. She ignored Tracy, knelt down, and smiled at Howard and Mina. “What’s your mommy’s name?”
“Mommy.” Mina answered, unsure of this pretty lady who ignored Mommy.
“I call her, Mom.” Howard interjected. He didn’t want to be ignored by Claire in her black heels and stockings that crept up her luscious legs into her black, mid-thigh skirt.
“You don’t have a slut name for her?” Claire feigned shock.
“Oh, give it a break.” Tracy almost giggled. After a year of Vanice’s constant sexual oozings, Claire was a noob to her.
Claire stood and finally recognized Tracy. “They’ll find one for you.” She spun around and reached once more into the glass case. “And I’ve found this.” Claire raised her first choice. The other had been a misdirection. Anyone who had picked the earlier pair wasn’t worthy of Claire’s talents.
Mina gasp. “It’s- oooooo…”
Howard stepped back at the sight of the dark blue, corduroy top and shimmering, gold lamé hot pants. His mind slid a treasured memory of his naked mother into the outfit. His dick was already hard. It tried to tear out of his pants.
Tracy knew at once. Claire was a genius. A sick, twisted genius but none of that mattered in the outfit’s awesome presence. She sighed. “I only have two hundred dollars.”
“On sale, for one minute only, with tax and a 25% gratuity – don’t be cheap now – your total cost is 193 dollars and thirty three cents. Step this way.” Claire led the family to the checkout counter, carrot in hand.
Buying the perfect slut suit had been an orgasmic experience.
At home, the kids refused to take “no” for an answer. “I can’t wear this now. I have to keep it clean for tonight.” Vanice was suppose arrive with Maise at six.
“But we want to see you, Mommy!” Mina squealed.
“You’ll see me when I’m ready to go out.”
Howard pouted, “Ms. Rubens and Maise will be here then. You gotta show us now.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” Tracy girded her loins in case one or both of them imagined taking control of their mom again. What she longed to do was lock herself in her room, wearing the outfit, and frig her incredible clit until she fainted and Vanice had to carry her into the night.
She didn’t lock herself into the room. She locked Howard and Mina out of the house. “I’ll let you back in when I have dinner ready. The last thing I’ll do is cook wearing something like that.”
After getting booted, Howard told Mina he’d be right back. He ran into the garden shed and jacked off at the thought of his mother cooking in her new slut suit.
Mina found him with his pants down and thick gobs of semen launching into the air. “Oh, brother!” She turned away and found a cat to play with.
At Six-fourteen, Vanice’s car squealed to a stop. Mother and daughter climbed out and hurried to the door. Vanice babbled to Maise as if she’d been lecturing their entire trip. She had. “Now if I catch you sucking the boy, I’ll cut your allowance and make you suck cunt until your head clears. No. Not my cunt. That’s for special occasions only! There’s lots o cunt I know always looking for a black face to fuck. Mina’s completely off limits…” Vanice rattled on. She rattled the knocker.
“You won’t catch me, Mom.” Maise said quietly.
Howard opened the door wide. In the middle of the room, Tracy stood in deep blue corduroy and gold lamé. She trembled, hoping the smell from her cunt didn’t tickle her boss’s nose. Mina reached up her skirt again. Tracy slapped it away for the third time. Dogs began howling, closest ones first.
Vanice dropped her handbag. “Maise, run to the car and drive home and fetch my biggest dildo. I’m going to fuck that.”
Tracy threw her head back and laughed! Spell broken.
“You think I’m kidding? If I find a cucumber in this house I’m going to fuck you right now.” Vanice panted.
“Mom,” Maise injected, “Howie and Mina are right here!”
“I’m not greedy. They can take their turn. Hell, you can too, and those dogs, maybe.” Vanice shook off her trance and looked back. “Better shut the door. Some of those hounds can jump fences.”
“Nice to see you, too!” Tracy grimaced. Howard shut the door.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/7rpi1s/demoms_angels_parts_45_slow_fmf_msd_inc_reluc