Mother of Necessity Ch. 03

The following Wednesday afternoon, Cliff's doorbell rang again. He answered the door to find Dylan on the other side.

"Hey," the younger man said.

Cliff stepped back from the door. "Dylan. This is unexpected. Come in. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Nah, I'm okay."

They moved to the living room, where bright afternoon sunlight threw sharp shadows across the white furniture.

"So, what's up?" Cliff poured himself some coffee. "How's your mom?"

"She's good."

"Does she know you're here? Not that it's a big deal either way."

"Nah, she doesn't know. Um, I was wondering if I could look at those photos."

"You want to look at the photos?"

Dylan shrugged. "I was wondering if maybe I could have some copies? I have a thumb drive." He fished in his pocket and produced a small hunk of plastic.

Cliff winced. "Aw, man. I can't really do that, Dylan. Not without your mom's permission. Confidentiality issues. If they got out, it could be a big problem. Like, a legal problem."

Also, your mother would murder me slowly in ways involving fire and wire cutters, he thought, but didn't say aloud.

"Sure. I get that." Dylan flopped down on the couch, hands in the pockets of his sweat pants. "Do you mind if I ask you something else?"

"Not at all."

"Do you think this client of yours might ever want more photos? I mean, more like those?"

Cliff sipped his paper cup of coffee, contemplating. "Why? Do you guys need more money or something?"

"No," Dylan said. "I don't think so. She sent in the big house payment or whatever from the check you gave her. But I just - I dunno, I was wondering if he might want more."

"I can certainly talk to him," Cliff said. "You'll have to talk to your mom, though, and see what she says."

"Do you do a lot of these? Like, family member photos?"

Cliff shrugged. "I wouldn't say a lot. But when the opportunity arises."

"Have you ever done, like, sisters?"

Was Dylan talking about Beth? His aunt? Cliff chuckled. "Okay, buddy, I don't think I can have this conversation with you, sorry. Was there anything else you needed?"

Dylan rose. "Nah, I was just hoping I could get some of those photographs is all. Or maybe the video."

"Yeah. I hate to say this, because it sounds all dad-like, but ask your mother."

"You couldn't just hook me up? Like, as a favor?"

Cliff smiled and shook his head at this last-ditch effort. "Sorry, no. Not this time."

"Okay. Well, maybe I'll see you around." Dylan made for the door with an awkward wave,

Cliff waited for the door to close, then pulled out his phone.

# # #

Tuesdays and Thursdays were Melinda's days off from the cafe. She woke at eight o'clock on Thursday morning to the faint sound of the television playing in the other room. She yawned, stretched, and rolled out of bed, clad in a loose tee shirt that had once belonged to her ex. It showed an awful lot of flesh at the neck and down the open sleeves, but when the nights were hot, she didn't really care.

She emerged into the hallway, straightening the muss of her hair. She saw Justin's bedroom door ajar, and tipped it further open. His bed was empty. Either he was up and around, or off with his friends again.

Dylan's bedroom was empty too.

She padded barefoot to the living room. The television was on, tuned to a classic movie channel. On the screen, a miniature submarine did battle with a prop octopus in Fifties black-and-white, occasionally cutting to scenes of worried-looking naval officers. Dylan lay sprawled on the couch, asleep, wearing nothing but his boxers. An empty chip bag, along with half a jar of queso, lay next to him on the cushions.

"Fuck, Dylan," she muttered, taking the queso and walking to the kitchen with it. She returned it to the fridge. If she had told that boy once about leaving food out...

Getting chip crumbs all over the couch was not on the list of approved activities, either.

When Melinda returned, she noticed what she'd missed the first time: the front of Dylan's boxers bulged with morning wood.

She stared at it for a long moment, pondering the cliche of it. This was a moment played through in many a porn video she'd turned to for inspiration in her Tertiary Existence game. Someone - maybe the mother, maybe the father, maybe the sibling - lay asleep, and the waking person took advantage, knowing the other party wouldn't refuse if they woke up to find themselves being pleasured.

Things were different in the real world. But she and Dylan were a special case. They'd been through something unique together.

That, and part of her knew that Dylan was eighteen and perpetually horny. After what they'd done on camera, almost all bets were off. She could probably initiate anything she wanted with him, and his hormones would all but insist upon it.

The thought aroused her more than she thought it would - even thinking about it, she was already getting wet. That hadn't happened in years, certainly never with her ex. Maybe not even with Cliff, although Cliff was a good lover and she was perfectly happy with their arrangement. But this-

Melinda realized she'd been standing in the morning air for several minutes, staring at her sleeping son's erection, the tinny sound of the television still playing.

Fuck it.

She swept the tee shirt off her head and stood fully naked in the living room. A faint but fervent hope that Justin wasn't just out getting the mail or something crossed her mind. The thick curtains were open, with only the thin inner curtains masking the view from outside. It made her feel exposed, sinful.

With one expert motion, she leaned down and coaxed Dylan's boxers down around his ankles. They came easily. She climbed on top of him, gingerly, slowly. He didn't wake until she took his cock in her hand and squeezed. Then he started to consciousness with a snort.

"Wha-?"

"I told you not to leave the goddamn queso out overnight, Dylan," she whispered to him. "How many times?" She stroked his cock rhythmically as she spoke. It was already fully erect.

"I... what?"

She kissed him, darting her tongue into his mouth. "You apologize right now, Dylan John Lawson."

The motherly tone brought him into full wakefulness and realization, and she saw in his eyes: he understood the game. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"You're still going to have to be punished," she said, her lips inches from his. Her hair brushed against his cheek. "So you don't forget again."

"I won't do it again," he breathed, reaching up to cup her breasts in his hands. He squeezed hard, and she felt arousal surge through her.

"That's not good enough," she whispered fiercely. Tilting her hips, she guided his cock into her and lowered herself onto him. She was thoroughly wet, and he slipped into her easily. He was big - she'd known that since she'd first seen his erection the night of the photo shoot, and she'd ached to have it inside her. Now he filled her up, and she gave a choking gasp of pleasure.

Dylan's hands tightened on her sides. "Jesus, Mom-"

She clapped a hand to his cheek. "Take your punishment like a good boy."

Bracing herself against the couch, she began to drive herself down onto him, over and over. Though it took him an awkward moment, he soon found the rhythm, putting both hands on her ass and tilting his hips upward to meet her body in time. The room soon filled with the quiet grunts and sighs of their motion.

Melinda slipped her hand around the back of Dylan's head and pulled his face to her breast. He hesitated again, unsure quite how to proceed, but she instructed him.

"Suck them, Dylan."

His lips closed around her nipple, sucking eagerly. Melinda was glad she was already astride him, because her knees went weak with the sensation. She instantly wanted more.

"Use your teeth a little," she whispered fiercely. "You won't hurt me."

He obeyed eagerly, drawing her nipple between his teeth and applying pressure - a little at first, then harder, then harder still, sending a thrill of pleasure up her spine.

"Fuck!" she groaned involuntarily, aware both of them were sweating now, bodies glistening in the morning light.

Her son ministered dutifully to first one nipple, then the other, his hands squeezing her ass as he seemed to drive his cock further into her with every stroke, compelled by desperate need. Melinda felt him begin to quiver, and his mouth drew away from her breast, the nipple popping out from between his teeth.

"Mom... I'm- I'm..."

"Come in me, sweetheart," she whispered in his ear, a lock of wet hair tickling her cheek. "You can in me."

His thrusts doubled in pace and ferocity, and his mouth went to her breast again. Suddenly, unexpectedly, her own orgasm approached like a thunderclap from a clear sky. She had time to take a handful of shuddering breaths, and then an agonized cry escaped from her as he seemed to impale her with his thrusts.

Dylan cried out, a sweet, vulnerable groan, and she felt him gush into her, felt his whole body quiver underneath hers. She cupped his face in her hands, meeting his eyes as their mutual orgasm faded to tingles of pleasure. Melinda pressed her lips against his in a fierce kiss, then parted with a gasp.

"I love you, Mom," he said, his hands holding her quivering body up now; supporting her as she collapsed into him.

"I love you, Dylan," she gasped. "My sweet boy."

"Sorry about the queso."

She burst into helpless laughter, and he joined in.

# # #

Beth met Cliff for coffee again, at the same table at the same coffee shop. This time, she wore a purple tee shirt and black yoga pants, her bounteous blonde curls held back with a purple headband. She sat down across from him to find another coffee ready for her.

"You know, Cliff, you always order before I get here, and the coffee is never cold. How does that even work?"

"I ask you how far away you are and add ten minutes," he said. "The math just works."

"Wise-ass." She slid the saucer to her side of the table. "So, what's this news you have to tell me?"

"Remember the plan I was talking to you about? It worked."

Beth's brown eyes widened slightly. "She did the photos? With Dylan or Justin?"

"Dylan."

A look of conspiratorial joy spread across her face. "That little pervert. Although I bet Justin would probably go for it, too, given the opportunity. So that means she'll get to keep the house?"

"Most likely. I do feel bad about lying to her, though. She thinks these photos are going to some weird European porn collector or something. She doesn't know it's our money."

Beth sighed in relief. "Good. I mean, it's our lie to live with, but at least Melinda won't be homeless, or, even worse, living with me and damaging my calm on a daily basis."

"Afraid you might start having impure thoughts about your nephews?" Cliff teased.

Beth blew on her coffee and spoke quietly. "Oh, my sweet summer child, it's far too late for that. I would suck those boys dry. Speaking of which, what's your afternoon look like?"

Cliff assumed his best poker face. "Pardon?"

"I want to come over. I want to see the photos."

He shook his head. "Nope. That's a breach of trust. I won't do it."

"You're not going to try that angle with me, you degenerate. I want to see them, and I'm going to. Or Melinda's going to get a phone call."

Cliff felt a flash of anger, but kept his cool. "You don't get to judge me - you're complicit in this whole scheme. The money's half yours."

Her face fell. "Fuck," she said good-naturedly. "You really won't compromise your code of conduct for me? Even if I threw myself at you?"

"Are you throwing yourself at me?"

She gave him an appraising look. "Would it work if I did?"

"Sorry. I wish to God I could say yes, but... no."

She sighed in disappointment, running a fingertip around the rim of her coffee cup. "I guess I respect you for that."

"I'm so happy," he said with a sarcastic smile.

# # #

Melinda came home from her work shift on Friday to find Justin had returned home. His battered Datsun lay parked crooked in the driveway, the smell of burning oil lingering as she walked through the front door, paper bag of groceries in her arms.

She entered to the clattering sound of controller buttons being mashed. Dylan and Justin sat on the couch, playing some competitive console game that, as far as she could tell, involved running over each other with stolen automobiles. A steady stream of profanity - either from the game itself, or from rival players - flowed from the speakers. Both boys had their shirts off in the sweltering heat; Justin in jeans, Dylan in basketball shorts.

"Well, the prodigal son returns," Melinda remarked as she put the groceries down. "Where have you been, kiddo?"

"Owen's parents have a cabin up in the woods," Justin said without looking up from the game. "We went up there to hang out for a few - shitfucker!"

"Language, please."

"I'm old enough to swear, Mom."

"As long as you're living here rent-free, you can refrain from 'shitfucker' under my roof no matter how old you are. I picked up baked chicken and salad for dinner. You two can wash up."

"I ate Taco Bell before I came home," Justin declared.

Melinda sighed. "Dylan, are you hungry?"

"Sure, whatever," Dylan said. Neither of them had looked away from their game.

Melinda put away the meager groceries, arrayed the food on the table, and put out the paper plates. They still hadn't budged. She assumed Mom-voice. "Dylan, now, please."

They exited from the game with a two-man chorus of groans. Justin hauled himself up from the couch, throwing the controller on the floor. "I'm going to go take a shower."

"You do that, honey." Melinda said. As he brushed by her, she tried not to think of him the way she'd come to think about Dylan. Since their previous morning together, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about Dylan - she'd practically been wet all day at work, reliving the intensity of their coupling.

She wanted Dylan again, and hoped he wanted her. She found herself a little irritated with Justin for being back from his outing unannounced. Justin tended to come and go as he pleased, crashing with friends when it suited him and coming back to the house when he needed laundry or food. If not for the money he willingly contributed to the bills, Melinda would be far more irritated with him.

But now, at this moment, she involuntarily saw Justin through a sexual lens. She wanted to follow him to the bathroom, strip off her clothes, and join him in the shower. She wanted to compare his cock to Dylan's and see how it measured up. She wanted Justin in her mouth, inside her. Maybe both at the same time-

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to focus.

She took a two-liter of diet soda out of the fridge and pouring some for herself and Dylan. Her youngest was washing up dutifully in the kitchen sink, occasionally looking over his shoulder at her. It looked as though he were checking her out - that seemed unlikely, since her work uniform could hardly be called fetching. It was no sex-fantasy waitress outfit, that much was certain. But as he moved past her, his hands touched her waist, squeezing gently. The contact sent a thrill through her.

"Did you have a good day, sweetheart?" she asked. In the near distance, she heard the thud and hiss of the shower starting up. Dylan sat down at the kitchen table and plucked a piece of chicken from the box.

"Yeah. I took the train downtown for that interview with the computer place."

"How did it go?"

He shrugged, as if that settled the matter entirely. She knew better than to try to wrest more information from him. Instead, she put a hand on the back of his chair and sidled up next to him, a gratifying idea forming in her head.

"Well, I'm proud of you for getting that interview done on your own. That could be a great opportunity for you if you get it."

He smiled, pleased at her praise. "Thanks. I hope I get it."

"I think you deserve a reward for being such an enterprising young man," she said in a low voice. Before she could second-guess herself, she turned his chair away from the table and knelt in front of him.

"What-" he began, startled, his hands frozen in the air. She said nothing, but unbuttoned her blue work blouse, down to the bottom, opening it to reveal her bra. She'd worn her most revealing and provocative underwear that day - she knew she'd be thinking about sex all day as it was; she might as well look the part. Holding eye contact with her son, she hooked her fingers around the waistband of his basketball shorts and hiked them down.

Dylan drew in a sharp breath, withdrawing his hand from the piece of chicken he'd been about to pick up. He glanced at the hall quickly, in case Justin might emerge suddenly from the bathroom with the shower still running - but his gaze soon returned to her face and body, open with fascination and eagerness. He waited to see what his mother would do.

She didn't make him wait long. He was too surprised yet for his cock to be fully hard, so she took it in her mouth soft, wrapping her lips around the yielding flesh and drawing it into her mouth.

He whimpered softly, his body stiffening in the chair, and she enjoyed the sensation of feeling him rapidly harden in her mouth. He was young; it took only seconds and he was ready. She put her hands on his thighs and set to work in earnest, pausing to rapidly lick the shaft up one side and down the other before swallowing him down again. He might be a bit new to this, but she wasn't. She knew what guys liked, and would soon figure out what he liked best.

Her heart was pounding. A rushing sounded in her ears: not the sound of the shower, but blood moving in a torrent through her body. Every nerve in her body turned electric. When he touched her hair, she felt a surge of excitement and pleasure. She grabbed his hand and moved it to the back of her head, urging him to take control. He complied, tightening his hand in her hair, and the sensation alone nearly made her come.

"Oh god," he whispered. She murmured approval, as if being on her knees in front of him were the happiest place she could think of. At the moment, it wasn't a ridiculous notion.

Melinda was afraid he would take too long, that Justin would abort his shower early for some reason she couldn't possibly think of. A hundred ways they could get caught flew through her mind and were discarded in turn as she sucked on him.

That all vanished when she felt him begin to quiver and writhe, heard his breath deepen and shudder.

"Mom," Dylan cried in a low voice. "Mom, mom, please-"

She braced herself just in time. He came in her mouth, an astonishing volume of it, so much she was challenged to swallow it all. But she did so, stroking his thighs with her fingers. When his fingers finally relaxed from pulling deliciously on her hair, she withdrew, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and grinned up at him. She gave him a casual inspection to find not a drop had escaped.

"That's my boy."

The shower shut off with a bang. Unhurried, Melinda rose to her feet and began buttoning up her blouse as he yanked his shorts up.

They both went back to what they'd been doing. As she went to wash her hands, she dropped him a wink, and he grinned.

For the moment, they had a secret.

# # #

Beth drove home early on Friday evening, exhausted from her shift at the hospital. She took the elevator up to a spacious but disorderly apartment. Beth had her sister's same penchant for a messy environment; Beth just owned fewer, nicer things.

She locked the door, stripped her clothes off as she walked to the bathroom, and took a long shower, scrubbing head to toe until the hospital smells were replaced with the scent of peony body wash.