Better Whore Than His Mother

Times had been tough since the family breakup and she did what she had to do to make ends meet. She spoke of how some of her dates were “professional” and since it was evident that she liked sex and needed money, then so what? At least she was discreet.

Early in life, she had been a runaway; a prostitute, so prostitution was by no means a new thing. Then, she married a smooth-talker who, like so many men, was a philanderer but, unlike many, not a good enough one to get away with it. After his departure, Jenna had returned to using her abundant sexuality to augment her meager income.

Brynn knew his mother’s struggles and he believed that his own queer sexuality along with a twink-like appearance and an effeminate nature were probably less acceptable in society than a mother who sometimes sold her body.

He liked that she had an active social life because that left plenty of time for him to do what he loved most—sucking cock. There were good places for that like Placer Park or on campus where horny 20-something guys hunted for cocksuckers. When Jenna went out on dates, Brynn went out cock-hunting. While she was getting layed, Brynn was getting mouthfucked. He knew what she did. He hoped like hell she never figured out what he did.

He knew most of her “dates” because they usually picked her up at home. It wasn’t long before he could tell which dates were “professional” and which were “romantic” because the professional ones seemed short on chick magnetism and many of the others were married.

Did it bother him that some of his mother’s dates were married? No, because it didn’t bother him that some of his own were also. Males were horny. They had to fuck. They decided for themselves the matters of adultery. As for Brynn, those matters were neither his fault nor his concern.

One thing he knew about his mother was that she was not a cocksucker. Many times she had referred to the subject with twisted expressions. She spoke of cocksucking often enough that he wondered if she was trying to coax from him an admission that he was into that sort of thing.

Jenna was popular and dated many men but it was one man that she favored more than the others. His name was Sigmund, or Sig, and she thought of him as her “Friday night boyfriend”. Although he paid to have sex with her, she thought of it more as friends helping friends.

She liked that he was entertaining, worldly, horny, lascivious, funny, harmless, owner of several local companies, and that he always had a new Lincoln. He was in his 60’s which perhaps made him seem less likely to abuse or more likely to be caring, like an attentive father which she never had.

Their Friday dates consisted of drinking and dining at The Savoy, then going to a second home that Sig kept for the convenience of sexual liaisons. After more drinking, bawdy jokes and, of course, fucking, Jenna sometimes returned home at 2a.m.; sometimes not at all. Either way, Friday’s became Brynn’s favorite day.

But, on the Friday before Labor Day, Jenna and Sig insisted that Brynn join them at the Savoy, “just to be together for part of the holiday.” Brynn resisted but Sig sent his daughter to pick him up. Sandi was a pistol of a girl. Twenty-two, wiry, thick, sassy-cut blond hair. She talked fast, smoked faster, and said “fuck” every chance she could, even when the word didn’t fit the sentence. She drove a new Mustang and sucked beer from a can that must have been warm since it had been snugged between her thighs while she was driving.

She dropped Brynn off at The Savoy and he joined his mother and Sig. After dinner, Brynn found himself in a comfortable chair across from the older man while his mother was sprawled to his left on a sofa and sipping from a long-stemmed wine glass. He entertained himself with games on his cell phone and laughed at Sig’s ribald jokes. The older man not only wore a wedding ring, but he seemed to have no problem with family photos that looked down on a room that had seen it’s share of lurid debauchery.

In time, Jenna’s words began to slur and then she passed out. Sig sighed. “Here we go again.” He made small talk while once in a while shaking his head at Jenna’s demise. Beautiful girl,” Sig said. “But hell, beauty doesn’t amount to much when it’s wasted.” He spoke of his businesses and being away for several days and being horny. He asked about Brynn’s social life and studies and added a few salacious jokes and Brynn figured him to be a harmless and horny man who cared for his mother.

Then, the man made a remarkable statement. “You know Brynn, your mother thinks you might be a little fluffy.”

Anxiety tingled the boy’s spine.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to ‘out’ you. To be honest, I have a couple of cocksuckers on the side. You mother doesn’t suck and sometimes, just gotta feel a warm, wet mouth.”

Brynn glanced at his mother.

“Don’t worry. She’s out. She’ll never know.” After a pause, Sig continued, “Ah, I get it. You don’t want to admit with her here, even if she’s passed out.” He stood and went to Jenna carried her down a hallway to a door and lay her on a bed in a studio apartment. He left a twenty dollar bill with a note saying “cab fare”. He locked the door behind them and led Brynn back to the comfortable chairs.

“Damn, I look forward to . . . you know . . . ‘seeing’ her . . . Too bad because I know she needs that fifty-bucks. She could still wind up with it, I mean, you know, depending on how things go.”

Brynn fidgeted. He found it hard to admit to cocksucking and besides wasn’t talking about sexual things with his mother’s boyfriend somewhat wrong? Like some kind of adultery? If his mother called this man “the closest thing to a boyfriend”, then didn’t that make it cheating?

Sig came toward him. Brynn felt the tall man’s big hands hands on his head and then the man’s covered crotch against the side of his face. Brynn was frozen by surprise but also by anticipation.

“Yeah Brynn. I know what you like. Like I said, I got cocksuckers on the side. Hell, a man needs sex. Just like your mama needs fifty bucks. You and me could have some fun and she can still come away with that money. A man like me . . . ahhhh yeah Brynn . . . man like me needs . . . Yeah . . ,” he crooned while pushing slowly against the side of Brynn’s face. “We need it, Brynn. We need it.”

After a prolonged pause he continued. “Your mama doesn’t suck. Bet you do. Bet you’re good at it. Bet your mouth would feel good as pussy right about now. Maybe better. Hell yeah, maybe better.”

Like falling bricks, it struck Brynn. Better! A better fuck than his own mother! A better whore. A better “girlfriend”.