“I promise Mother I’ll give you a child.”
“That’s a good boy, John.” She releases my cock and takes my hand, leading me over to the bed. “Strip,” she commands.
With only the slightest hesitation, I drop my pants, pull my t-shirt over my head, and let it fall to the floor.
She pushes me back onto the bed, straddles me, and lowers herself onto me. I gasp at how tight and wet she is. While my mouth is open, she pushes her panties inside it.
“Now listen to me,” she instructs, still grinding against me. “There’s a man coming here tomorrow to finalize things with you concerning this house, correct?”
Unable to speak, I nod.
“You must tell him to come back in one week. Finalize nothing tomorrow.”
I struggle to pay attention with all the pleasure pulsing through my body.
She slaps my face, and my eyes fly open. Her hips don’t change rhythm.
I’m getting close and will do anything so that she doesn’t stop.
“One week,” I mumble through the panties.
“Make up whatever story you need to.”
I nod.
“And you’ll remember to do this in the morning when you wake up and find those panties on the pillow next to you.”
Her hips quicken and somehow tighten the grip she has on my shaft. I throw my head back, eyes squeezed shut in orgasm.
When I open them, I’m alone with come all over my belly and thighs.
I bring my hand to my mouth and pull out the black satin thong.
2
Thursday
The sound of a doorbell creeps through the haze of my sleep. It doesn’t sound like my doorbell though. Someone pounds on a faraway door.
“Hello!” The voice is muffled as if coming from a great distance.
I open my eyes and look around. Events from last night come trickling in. The phone call from my sister. Driving out here in the rain. Seeing Mother in the living room.
Wait? Mother?
I bolt upright in bed, my heart racing, my palms sweaty. My stomach starts to hurt. Her voice whispers through the air, “Promise me, John. Tell Mother you’ll give her a child.”
I’m alone in the bedroom the same as when I went to sleep last night. There’s no stripper pole like the one I imagined hours ago. I fall back on the pillow with a sigh of relief.
But something catches my attention from the corner of my eye. Turning my head, my heart races in alarm at the silky black thong on the pillow next to mine.
What the fuck?
My mind immediately tries to rationalize it all. Did I go through my mother’s dresser last night and pull out a pair of her panties? And what? Jerk off to them?
Despicable.
Everything about last night feels like a psychedelic dream. But who would drug me? And why? It’s not like I drank that much.
Whoever’s outside lays on the doorknob this time. “Hello!”
I get up, get dressed, and shuffle my way groggily to open the front door. A man in a business suit stands on the porch with a clipboard in one hand and a briefcase in another. I shield my tired eyes from the bright sun.
“Mr. Moyer?” he asks after consulting his clipboard.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Roni Wilson from the appraiser’s office.”
I nod my head. “Yes. I guessed that’s who it would be.”
“Can I come in?”
My hand grips the black panties in my pocket. Not everything about last night was a dream or an illusion. I can practically feel her hips on mine, riding me. As shameful as I feel, I want more. What’s the harm in one week? Just a few days. Certainly, that will be okay.
“Umm, look. Mr. Wilson. I really hate to do this, but I need some time.”
Mr. Wilson frowns. “Time?”
