I’m Mom’s MedicationChapter 1

I was sweeping out the garage bay of the mechanic’s shop where I worked a summer job when I felt my cell phone buzzing in my coveralls. I pulled it out and a voice said, “Is this John Hunter? This is Ms. McCloud down at the Stay-Eez Inn. I was to let you know if…” she paused as if a bit uncomfortable.”

I sighed softly and then said, “Yes, ma’am. What room is she in?” I said this as I headed towards the office, already shrugging my way out of my oil stained coveralls.

There was a slight hesitation before the woman said, “Room 118.”

I replied, “Thanks,” and hung up the phone without waiting for a response. Stepping into the office, my boss, Tony Giatano looked up and when I said, “Gotta go — it’s Mom,” he got a sad look on his face and just nodded. I was in my pickup truck and gone in a rush, trying to beat red lights as I rushed across town.

I pulled into the Stay-Eez Inn with a heavy heart. Every town has a motel like this one — built back in the day — long and flat and one story high — the old classic motor inn where the cars park right in front of their rooms. Sometimes there’s a pool — more often than not empty or with green algae floating on top due to neglect. Some places rent their rooms by the hour while others try to turn them into pseudo apartments and rent them by the week or the month. The Stay-Eez worked all those options.

I cruised down the line of doors counting them off until I came to Room 118. A minivan and a beat up looking Camero were parked outside and I pulled up next to the minivan, again heaving a great big sigh. As I climbed out, three guys emerged from 118, laughing and elbowing each other. Each looked sweaty — two of them in dirty T-shirts and greasy jeans, the other, as big as the other two put together, had on an old, stained dress shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off flabby muscles that once upon a time might have been impressive.

As they saw me making directly for the door — the big guy laughed and said, “You’re late to the party, kid!”

The other guys thought this was funny and one of the skinnier fellows followed up with, “Don’t be worried, though — if’n you don’t mind sloppy seconds and thirds, she’ll be more than willing! Hell, we’d still be at it if we ain’t had to get back to work!” I gave them a dirty look over my shoulder as I opened the door, my face turning red as they kept laughing as the climbed into the Camero. “Motherfuckers,” I muttered under my breath as I opened the door and steeled myself for what I might find.

Mom was lying face down on the bed, her peppery-gray hair, tangled and sweaty, spread out on the pillows, obscuring her face. She was naked and a quick glance around revealed a short skirt and a sweater blouse nearby — black nylons nestled around a pair of stiletto high heels in one corner next to a sagging overstuffed chair.

As I approached, Mom moaned out, “Mmmmm — ready for more — give me some stiff dick!” as she wiggled her ass cheeks and spread her legs, shapely even though they were full, revealing her shaved pussy, labia spread wide open, with semen slowly oozing from between her lips as well as from between her fleshy asscheeks.

I felt a swell of conflicting emotions ripple through me — my heart breaking as I said softly under my breath, “Oh, Mom — not again,” even as I tried to ignore the shameful twinges growing between my legs as my cock responded to the sight of my mother’s nakedness. I tore my gaze from my bare-assed mother and walked on into the bathroom — a small affair with a tub that thankfully looked relatively clean and a shower nozzle overhead. I began running a hot bath, finding a tiny bottle of liquid soap to pour in.

Returning to the other room, I discovered Mom had rolled over — now lying on her back, spread eagled — one hand slowly fluttering over her cum filled pussy while the other played over a swollen nipple capping a large, slightly sagging breast. Her eyes were closed as she sighed out, “I need cock!” Again, I felt a turmoil of emotions as I realized that semen was smeared in her face and hair, becoming tacky as it slowly dried. I shook my head as I tried to dismiss the image of Mom eagerly taking some stranger’s spunk in her face.

“You need a bath, Mom,” I said softly, reaching out and taking her hand.