A MOTHER’S DISGRACE (Repost)
A MOTHER’S DISGRACE (Repost)
Sex Story Author: | lifeslayer696 |
Sex Story Excerpt: | He got rid of that unbearable uniform and put on a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He felt |
Sex Story Category: | Ass to Mouth |
Sex Story Tags: | Ass to mouth, Drug, Fiction, Incest, Male / Older Female, Reluctance, Teen Male / Female, Threesome |
Author’s note:
This is my second story. I’d like to repeat that Engllish is not my native language. So don’t pester abou it. Also, this story is about incestuous sex. If that’s not what you like, please move somewhere else. The story has a long build up. So, if you wanna get immediately to sex, that’s not the place for you either.
Last but not least, I’d like to thank the girl who edited this story for me. She doesn’t want to be named, but it’s just fair that she gets credit for her work. Thank you very much!
*********************************************************************************************************
A MOTHER’S DISGRACE
Mark was still not used to the new house he was living in. He felt out of place in the luxurious neighborhood, and wasn’t able to adapt to the new school uniform. It was stiff and impeded his movement when he rode his bike.
Yes, the bike. The only thing in his life that had not changed. Yet. His mother’s new companion wanted to buy him a car as soon as he turned sixteen! Mark was still doubtful about that. I mean, given how rich that man was, he would have gotten a car that would make every girl’s head spin. Nevertheless, he was reluctant to give up his old, beloved bike.
It was not because it was particularly appealing or functional. On the contrary. The color had peeled off here and there, leaving areas of rust. The tires were worn to the point that they threatened to blow up at any moment. But Mark felt a connection to that bike, a connection even stronger now that he had been removed from the world he grew up in and that he so well knew.
In fact Mark had stolen that bike in a parking lot five years ago.
“Even back then it was a piece of junk!” he thought, with a smirk.
It was his first steal. The first of many. Not that he wanted to be a criminal, but it’s how things go in the poor suburbs where he was born. If you want something, you must find a way to get it, legal or not. After all, what can one do if there is not enough money in the family to even buy food?
Moreover, at that age, you’re not able to prioritize: you are simply aware of what you want! And filled with anger and envy if you cannot get it.
But Mark didn’t always steal for himself. He did it also to help his family out. It was the least he could do, with his mother who worked as a stripper in one of the worst clubs in the area and a father that was drunk at 9 am. He didn’t like staying at home. Too much yelling, fighting and the way his father reeked: simply too much to bear! Therefore he spent his leisure time hanging around with other guys like him, complaining about how harsh life was with them. To try and change that, they went out and stole what they thought they’d deserve. Like a sort of modern, selfish Robin Hood.
Mark smiled, standing before the wrought iron gate of the villa that was now his house, thinking of the old gang. They were very mottled. Two black brothers, with bony features and an evil look. Once you had gotten to know them, they were the most loyal and easy going guys on earth. But it was hard to get past their defenses. Not to mention risky: they were both muscular and strong, able to strangle a person with their bare hands…without feeling any regret. Then there was Luke, the son of a military man who was always overseas. He was his father’s shame and knew it. Not that it mattered, he had no contact with him. His mother had divorced him when the soldier got to know of her addiction to alcohol. Now Luke was living a life very similar to Mark’s: having troubles to get to the end of the month, because his mom spent every possible cent on liquor. Maybe the most unusual component of the crew was, however, Rick: he was a short, skinny, sick looking guy. Actually he was not only sick looking, but was actually quite sickly, which greatly affected his family’s already precarious finances. He was shy and introverted, unlike all the others. He wore glasses and loved to read. He was like the “philosopher” of the group, the one always complaining when they did something illegal or risky. The one that always needed to be convinced. But he was also good hearted and always willing to help. Mark could not even recall how he became part of the gang; simply he did not remember a time when Rick was not part of his life.
Mark sighed. He felt homesick…even if he was supposed to be home. All his friends were still in that smelly neighborhood, while he was standing among villas with marbled paths and patios. He could not feel sorry, for it was surely a better life now. But he was not happy either: his life was somewhere else. Mark was sure all his gang was missing the tall, brown haired guy who was always late. Maybe even his green, piercing eyes – that always seemed to be dazed until something woke them up, making them spark with a never dying flame that was Mark’s best feature – or his big nose and lips. Mark was never outstanding in any regard, with an average body in height and weight. He was neither smart nor stupid. He was a normal guy. Probably what that group needed.
With a final shake of his head, Mark convinced himself to push the gate open and climb the path up to the villa. There was a semicircular patio with roman-style columns before the door and he left the bike there. On his left was the swimming pool. Nobody was there, despite the hot sun shining in the sky. This was slightly unusual. His mom loved the swimming pool more than anything in the villa, as if it was something that could give her an undeniable status in the society. Therefore she spent all possible hours there. Strange that she was not sunbathing on such a glorious day!
With a shrug, Mark turned the key in the lock and swung the door open, throwing the rucksack onto the ground. He didn’t bother to announce himself. His mother’s boyfriend was supposed to be out of town and his mother was probably out, since she was not in the water.
He walked the corridor that led to the living room, surrounded, as always, by the fine artwork hung on the walls. Some of them were really valuable; one could see a Picasso, a Renoir and a couple of Van Goghs. Sadly, Mark appreciated them more than their owner. For him, they were only a display of richness. While to Mark, they inspired various emotions, even if he didn’t know anything about art.
He was lost in these thoughts when he stepped into the living room, absent-mindely. Therefore he was surprised to hear noises coming from the center of the room. Coming back to earth, Mark turned his head and looked for the source of them. The living room was a square room, surrounded by a path of black porphyry stone. The middle of the room was a little lower than this corridor and cobbled in while marble streaked with green. One column at each corner sustained a large glass cupola, which allowed light to flood in. The central zone was furnished with a precious carpet, a dark glass coffee table, a white, leather couch and a huge, ultra-slim flat screen television.
It was on that couch that his mother’s boyfriend was sitting, wearing just a robe, open at the waist to allow his mother, who was knelt on the carpet, to give him head. The guy had his head reclined and eyes closed, enjoying Mark’s mother’s skillful blowjob and did not even acknowledge the boy’s arrival. But Anita, the woman, did hear something behind her and turned her head.
Evidently, the guy came home earlier than expected! – Mark thought.
Anita was very unlike Mark, except for the eyes. They were the same shade of green and shared the same intensity. But she was brunette, even though she dyed the tip of her hair in red. The face was simply beautiful, with pouty lips, gentle features and a small, cute nose. She was average height but with large breasts for her body: a nice, full D cup. The legs were slender and toned, leading to a nice heart-shaped butt, that always gained her a lot of tips back at the strip club.
She stared at her son for some long seconds, never stopping his action on the man’s member. Then, waving her hand in an annoyed manner, Anita dismissed him.
Even if Mark was still shocked, his feet started moving. He had always been aware that his mother was very “kind” to the client to earn some extra cash. Some of them even came home for particular services. Mark was even too aware of what these particular services were! More than he would have liked for sure! It was obviously not the first time he had seen his mother naked. Not even the first time he caught her in the act.
So why was he so shaken. It was not like he did not know why the rich movie producer chose her as a girlfriend. He was older than her – she was 38. Mark didn’t know his age exactly, but reckoned he was in his mid 50’s. He was tall, with large shoulders. He was big, but not with a beer belly like his father. Simply squat by nature. Mark always found the producer to be kind of sleazy. But it was part of the game: he needed to be to do his job. All in all, he was neither good nor bad. For sure that guy was better than his father. It came out that Anita was not as stupid as Mark had always thought. The boy always wondered why his mother would have put up with a terrible subject like her husband. Maybe it was love at first, but, after his alcoholism came in the picture, it turned out it was only for the check he received for a leg injury he suffered at work and forced him now to work only few hours. But, as soon as the chance came up, Anita said goodbye to that loser.
That was how Mark ended up in that villa, that felt so cold to him. He knew his mother fucked the producer like he’d never been fucked before, in order to ensure he continued to support them both. So why was he so bothered? He was heading for the staircase that lead to the first floor, where his room was located, when he saw it. A silver mirror, on the coffee table, with lines of a white substance. A credit card was nearby, with some stains of the white substance on the side.
Suddenly, he realized why the scene struck him: it was his mother’s gaze, which was so lost and unfocused. So unlike her usual self. Her eyes were not piercing through him. On the contrary: didn’t it take her a long time to react to his presence?
Mark felt disgusted and anger was building up in his chest. Sternly, he climbed the stairs and slammed his bedroom door shut.
To read the rest of this story, you need to support us, over on Patreon, for as little as £1.99
Join here: patreon.com/FantasyFiction_FF
Rate this story
Average Rating: 0 (0 votes)