Two days ago
It was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it.
“Oh, my God, Jensen.” My stepmother moaned as she wrapped her long legs around my hips. She tangled her fingers in the dark mess of hair that covered my head as she gripped a fistful of the sheets that wrapped my parents’ marital bed in the other hand. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, yes, yes, oh, yeah…”
I pushed my cock deep inside her, each deliberate thrust making her moan louder than the one before. It was never about the sex for me.
This one’s for the black eye he gave me after I disagreed with his sermon.
This one’s for the busted lip he said I earned after he caught me flirting with a girl at a church supper.
This one’s for all the times he told me how worthless I was, and for every time he reminded me that the day I was born was the worst day of his life.
The muscles of her thirty-eight-year-old pussy clenched around my throbbing cock, coaxing me closer to the edge with each buck of our hips on that glorious Saturday morning in May. I stared at the wall behind the headboard. A gold cross hung strong and unapologetic. In an ironic twist of fate, my father had run out to counsel a couple at the church. They were having marital problems.
“He’s going to be home soon, Juliette,” I whispered, urging her to hurry up and come. I twisted my fingers around the pearl necklace she wore on Sunday mornings as she did her due diligence as the preacher’s wife. With a smile as fake as his wife’s tits, my father pretended not to care when people checked her out. I was certain he loved the fact that even her Sunday best didn’t do a damn thing to hide her hourglass curves.
Juliette tended to take her time when we fucked, enjoying each and every second of being devoured by the one person she wasn’t supposed to. She was all kinds of fucked up. My father always claimed he’d found her outside of a strip club, then he helped her to “find God,” which was code for brainwashing her into believing everything that came out of his mouth while keeping her under his thumb.
For a man of the cloth, his heart was the blackest of blacks, tarnished by years of lies, self-loathing, and hypocrisy.
“I wish we could do this all day long,” she breathed, her face twisted in ecstasy. She bit her lip, which I’d learned early on was her way of signaling she was ready for me to blow my load inside her. Juliette always loved it when we came at the same time. She said it was the only time she ever felt connected to another human being.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” I groaned.
An explosion of hot cum caused a ripple through my body so intense I couldn’t see straight. And the last thing I remembered before what would be the very the last time I ever came inside my stepmother, was the way he said my name.
“Jensen.” His voice embodied the throaty, animalistic warning of a lion about to annihilate his prey.
Juliette scrambled beneath me, pushing me off her as a look of fear in her eyes clashed with the orgasmic flush that colored her cheeks. We’d imagined this scenario a hundred times before, but talking about it was different than playing it out in real life. It was a lot funnier in our minds, probably because he was such an asshole. Maybe I deserved some of it, but she sure as fuck didn’t.
And if fucking her emotionally depraved stepson made her feel better about her pathetic little puppy-on-a-leash life, than who was I to judge? She was hot as sin and scarcely old enough to be my mother. I had no problem plunging my cock inside her on a weekly basis. I’d been doing it since the year I got my driver’s license.
Juliette had been moaning my name for the last thirty minutes, but now all she could scream was, “No, no, no, no!”
I didn’t realize I was within an inch of my life until my father’s fingers curled around my neck. I couldn’t breathe. He slammed my back against the wall. I was naked. I didn’t remember being pulled off the bed, but all of a sudden I was on the other side of the room, face-to-face with the man who’d brought me into this world. He was two seconds from ripping my balls off and shoving them down my throat.
How long had he been watching us?
“You arrogant little bastard!” he seethed, his nostrils flaring as venomous spit accompanied his words.
I couldn’t breathe, but damn if my lips didn’t twist into a smile. He called me “little.” I towered over that son of a bitch, and he knew it. Plus, according to my stepmother, height wasn’t the only way in which I outsized my father.
He clenched his hand harder around my throat, pressing against my windpipe as I gasped for air. Within seconds the room began to darken, and Juliette’s hysterical shrieks echoed off the walls.
“Josiah, stop! You’re going to kill him!”
The social worker’s state-owned Suburban pulls to a gentle stop, waking me from my Codeine-induced, six-hour nap. I wipe the drool from my mouth and glance out the window. My eyes are still black and blue and they hurt when I squint, but I’ve learned over the years to ignore the pain; eventually, it goes away.
“We’re here, Jensen.” Her voice is annoyingly soft and sweet like cotton candy. Judging by all the photos on her work desk, she is one of those Mother Teresa types, only she’s married and she and her husband have adopted a whole orphanage-worth of system children. Brad and Angelina would be proud. Guess they didn’t have room for me. “Is that your mother?”
Standing on the front steps of a picturesque yellow colonial is a woman who resembles my mother. She’s wearing jeans and a blue sweater, and her hair is long and pulled back. It’s still the same shade of shit-brown I vaguely remember.