This is a work of fiction. There are countries and municipal concerns where this story is illegal. Remember that the law is political and there are places where "illegal" is whatever an ambitious elected official says it is. Don't hurt kids. (Don't hurt anyone.)


The weird part is that it wasn’t even weird. Everything was weird, so nothing was weird.

My mother was a heroin junkie. At the time I didn’t know it was heroin and didn’t really know the difference between heroin and any other drug they talked about on TV crime shows: “Smack. Coke. Horse. Meth. Rock.” Where mom was concerned, I just knew it was “drugs.” Generic. There were needles and spoons and lighters like on TV, so that was “drugs.” Mom had a job at a construction company, but she stayed home “sick” a lot. A lot. When mom was “sick” she locked herself in her room for days at a time. She might as well have been out at The Nickel Spout with her barfly friends, because no matter how long I knocked on her bedroom door she never answered it when she was “sick.”

Unfortunately my mom was really really pretty. Unfortunately because that meant the guys she dated kind of put up with her and bought her more drugs instead of trying to help fix her and make her better. Mom was tiny. I think once she said she was five-foot-two, but looking back that was probably how tall she was in her ever-present high heels. Mom was always kind of dating her boss at the construction company, even when she had another steady boyfriend, which I guess is why she was allowed to be sick from work so much. She’d always dress extra sexy on the days she went back to work after being out locked in her room sleeping. She’d come home late on those back-to-work days and her hair would be unusually messy and she’d be carrying her high heel shoes dangling from her fingers. I have a memory of my mom having brown hair, but I’m not sure why I remember that. Maybe I saw it in an old photo. She spent a lot of money making her hair blonde. Not a lot of money spent on groceries, but her hair did look really shiny and long and she was never too “sick” to go to the salon.

Like I said, mom was short and I never saw her eat. Sometimes when she was in a good mood and not already doing drugs, she’d order a pizza for me and my sisters right before she went out to the bar for the night, but she was gone before the pizza arrived. Mom never left us money for the tip, so half the time the delivery girl from Pizza Bingo brought the wrong pizza or brought it really late and cold and practically threw it at us. I think they kept track of bad tippers on their computer.

Before mom went to the bar, she’d dress up nice and put on special underwear. She was skinny but she had really big boobs and she’d put on underwear that was really lacy and you could see her nipples and the up-and-down line of her hairless coochy through the fabric. How did I know this, you ask?

My oldest sister Joy had just turned 15 in the autumn of 2003 and she was a slut. Joy had more boyfriends than Madonna. More boyfriends than Mom, even. I use the term “boyfriend” loosely. Joy was also very pretty, but maybe too skinny, not that we had a lot of food around for her to get fat. She had dates where boys took her to movies and bought her dinner. That meant she wasn’t home a whole bunch and there was less competition to watch our one television or the one chair in front of the television. Joy had boobs, sure, but not like mom’s boobs. Joy’s boobs were shaped like somebody sprayed circles of whipped cream on her chest. Mom’s boobs were like soccer balls inside of panty hose and would swing back and forth when she had sex. Joy’s hair was very straight and long and brownish red. Mostly brown. That was her real hair color, because it was the same as her coochy hair. How did I know this, you ask?

My other sister Brileigh was twelve and she was already a hot mess. She had not spoken a word out loud to anyone (as far as I know) in over a year starting after she had a big fight with mom. She had even stopped talking at school, and this was really becoming a problem because principals and counselors from the school were always leaving messages on the old answering machine for the house phone. Brileigh didn’t have real boobs or boyfriends, or coochie hair. She kept her brown hair cut just below her neck. Mainly because that’s the way Joy knew how to cut hair, so that’s how it got cut. Speaking of which... Brileigh was cutting herself on the leg with an Exacto knife at night. Nobody knew this but her and me. How did I know this, you ask?

I was eleven and I was the one who had started hiding in closets that year. Mostly to watch Joy and her boyfriends mess around. So I guess that makes me the weirdest one of all. I’m Jackson Charles Crenshaw. Or that was my name in 2003, anyway.

My dad and Joy’s dad were different dads. My dad was in prison in Oklahoma. Joy’s dad sent her a card on Christmas and her birthday. I’d never seen either Dad. As far as I knew, Joy had only met her dad once and didn’t want to see him anymore.

Brileigh didn’t know who her dad was. Mom never told her. I’m not sure Mom even knew. Mom would say “That was a dark time for me, Bry, and I wasn’t myself back then.” Things had not changed much by the Autumn of 2003. Brileigh and Mom had the same last name.

Everything was already weird before my mom brought her new boyfriend Hunter home.

Wait. Stop. Back up. I’m jumping ahead. Before Hunter, Mom’s most-steady boyfriend was Troy. Troy was a plumber. He was also having sex with my fifteen-year-old sister Joy. Joy and Troy. Oh boy. Did I mention that things were pretty weird?


“Hey Farthead, grab me a beer, willya?” Troy pulled me off the TV chair by my arm and sat where I had been watching cartoons. He was still in his underwear and a black rock band T-shirt that had a lot of skulls on it. He immediately picked up the remote and changed the channel to sports like he owned the place.

“It’s morning,” I said.

Troy didn’t look away from the TV. “I know,” he mumbled. “That’s why I didn’t tell you to bring me three fingers of Bourbon. Now gimme dat beer before I thunk yer fuckin’ melon, boy.”

Steam puffed off the top of my head. Troy was an asshole.

“Hey T,” Joy yawned. “Janet still asleep?” My oldest sister sauntered into the living room wearing a T-shirt that barely covered her panties until she lifted her arms to dramatically yawn and stretch. Then her panties and stomach and her high belly button were easy to see. So easy that Troy looked away from the television at the view she offered and smirked.

“Yeah, I wore her out,” Troy grinned.

“I heard,” Joy said. “The neighbors heard. Everybody heard.”

Troy gave that smug look of his and patted his lap. “Have seat, Darlin’.”

Joy plopped on Troy’s lap and put her arm around his neck. “Whatcha watching?”

“SportsCenter recap.” Troy had recently bought us a basic cable package because he was staying over so much. Most of the time we got five channels that came with the apartment antennae.


“Speaking of sports and boring, how was your date with Arnold?”

Joy fake-punched Troy in the shoulder with her free hand. “Ernie, not Arnold, you doof.”

“Kind of fucking name is Ernie?”

Joy frowned. “A pretty boring name for a pretty boring guy. Jocks are all the same. A lot of big talk, but all of ‘em are two pump chumps.”

“Oh did little girl not get her little p--” Troy stopped talking abruptly and looked right at me. “What are you doing standing there, big ears?”

I held out the bottle of beer.

“Oh. Yeah. Now go somewhere and play.”

“I was watching television before you came in,” I said.

“Go in your room and read a book,” Troy said. “Quit breathing down my neck.” Troy stuck his mouth up to Joy’s ear and whispered whatever it was he was going to say. Joy bit her lip and did that stupid girl giggle thing she did.

I stormed off to my room. Troy was an asshole.

A minute later, I heard the door to Joy’s room next to mine close. Then I heard Troy mumbling. I knew what this meant. I quietly slipped into my closet. I moved the crate with toys I had outgrown to the side. There was the hole. A hole in the drywall. A big hole. I quietly reached through the hole and moved the suitcase that was in Joy’s closet to the side. I had to be super careful because I almost knocked it over and made it crash the last time. Joy had never moved the suitcase in her closet. She had no reason to. She never went anywhere. I don’t know who made the big hole in the wall between our closets, or who had the apartment before we moved in, but it was barely big enough for me to slide through on my stomach. I had to be very careful and move slowly. The way I was growing lately, I was going to have to enlarge the hole pretty soon or I’d end up stuck.

By the time I got my nose to where Joy’s closet doors came together and moved it juuust enough to where I could see through, I’d already missed the part where Joy put her mouth up and down on Troy’s hairy peter. That was always my favorite part. I loved watching Joy suck and listening to her slurps. Most of the time I had to put my hand in my underwear when I watched because it drove me so crazy to wonder what it must feel like to have a girl suck on your pecker. I wanted to know what that felt like more than anything, but I couldn’t figure out how to talk Joy into doing it for me. I even thought about telling Brileigh that I would snitch to mom about her cutting her leg if she didn’t do that for me. To me. But Brileigh wasn’t Joy. She was just a little girl. And I’d have to explain how I knew that Brileigh was cutting herself.

Troy was positioning Joy on her hands and knees at the foot of the bed and I only got to see Joy’s pink coochie for a second before Troy stepped in and blocked my view. Then I could only see his hairy butt as he reached between him and Joy to aim his pecker. Then Joy squeaked and Troy started in on her, thrusting.

“Yeeew, gawd,” Joy bleated. “How can you always be so fucking hard? Jesus. Can you start slow for a minute?”

“Sorry, slut,” Troy growled. “We’re in a hurry here.”

“Nyugh,” Joy grunted. “Fuck, that’s deep.”

I saw Joy’s face a little when she looked back at Troy. “Okay,” she whispered. “Go ahead. I’m ready. I can take -- GOD DAMN!”

“Shush!” scolded Troy. “You’ll wake yer ma. Then I’ll have t’fuck her again.”

“Damn, Troy,” Joy panted. “I bet you could fuck all day. I bet you could fuck ten girls in a row.” Her shoulders began to bounce and her hands gripped the sheet.

“You know it, you little tramp,” Troy laughed. Then he slapped Joy’s butt with his hand. Hard. And loud.

I could see Joy’s shoulders snap upward with the pain of the impact. “Now who’s going to wake Janet, huh?” she whispered. But the whisper kind of trailed off into breathing hard and I heard her start to pant. “Fuck, Troy. Jesus, that feels so good. You’ve got such a good fuckstroke.”

“You’re so wet, little slut,” Troy grunted. “Your little high school boy sure left a lot of squish in your tight little quim.”

I had no appreciation for the male form, just girls. But at least Troy wasn’t fat and gross to watch when he fucked Mom and Joy. Not like a couple of the slobs mom ended up bringing home from the bar. Troy was just thick and compact like he was made out of barrels and telephone poles. He had a big red pecker that sprang up like a window shade. It went from swinging loose one moment and then turned into a flushed spike in a matter of seconds.

Joy mewled in that soft girlvoice of hers. “Yeah, yeah, God yeah, ooooh fuck. You’re banging the fuck out of my spot.”

“Your slut spot?”

“You’re so dirty, Tee.” Joy panted. She talked the words like she was mad, but she didn’t say it exactly like she was mad.

“Say it,” Troy growled.

“No!” Joy was fake pouting between grunts.

“Say it, bitch,” Troy repeated.

“Nuh nuh nuh-hohoho-JESUS! Oh gawd. You’re breaking my Gee with that hard cockhead.”

“Say it.”

“Fuh-fuh-fuck me!” Joy panted. “Please don’t stop.”

“I’m gonna nut,” Troy whispered. His chin tilted up and he looked like he was watching the ceiling fan instead of the naked girl he was railing. His hips were a machine.

“Not yet,” Joy pleaded. “I’m almost there.”

“I’m going to blow in your mouth. You ready?”

I was ready! I was finally going to get to see some sucking action when Troy finally yanked my sister down on the floor. That’s how it went when Troy orspasmed. It was always in Joy’s mouth or my mom’s mouth. My mom never argued. Joy always argued.

“Okay, but not yet, fuck I’m so close.”

“Then say it. Say what I want to hear.”

“I’m your slut,” Joy moaned. “Your little fuck slut.”

“And my suck slut?”

“Yes, your suck slut, too!”

Troy whacked Joy’s butt again. Hard. Joy’s head and shoulders jerked again as he did it.

“Oh fuck-a-fuck-a-fuck-a----” Joy’s feet on either side of Troy’s thighs started kicking and twitching. Her toes curled in on the bottoms of her feet. “Cuuuuummmmmmmmming, nyugh!” Joy made a sound like a martial artist in a karate movie.

Troy stopped ramming my sister from behind and hissed. “Oh you little fuck tramp.”

“Oh baby, thank you, Tee,” my sister mewled. “Thank you.”

“You were supposed to take it in your cocksucking mouth.”

“Oh, but I can feel it all the way up inside me. Your cum is hot as coffee.”

Troy sighed and stepped back. I got a good look at my sister’s lippy coochy with the hole still dark and open. She was still down on her elbows in doggy pose, panting. A second later a little pearly white dribble of gush pushed out of her cave and ran down her mound and dropped on the bed.

Troy rolled his shoulders. “At least get down and clean up my cock. C’mon. Hurry up.”

Joy pushed backwards off the bed and slid into the floor between Troy’s tree trunk legs. Her fingers with chipped black nail polish extended up on each side of Troy’s shrinking pecker and pushed the head of it upward. Her tongue lashed out and began licking the shiny mess of their juices off the end of his rod. Then her mouth closed around it and she sucked hard.

“Easy!” Troy barked. “Easy! You trying to kill me?”

Joy popped off Troy’s wilting pecker with a hard suction pop. “Can’t take the heat, then stay out the kitchen, tough guy. You told me to suck.”

“I said ‘clean,’ not suck. You like the taste of that cum?”

“Your cum is the best,” Joy smiled, her tongue moving wildly all over Troy’s pecker shaft. “So good.”

“And that pussy? You like the taste of that pussy?”

“I love the taste of pussy the best,” smiled Joy. “My pussy. And... you know. Lots of pussies.”

“I bet you do,” Troy said. “I know what you and your little slut girlfriends do at those sleepovers.”

“Yah!” Joy said sarcastically. “Because I fucking told you every detail, didn’t I?”

Troy reached down to grab his underwear. That meant it was time for me to start slithering back through the wall. Quietly. Quietly. Quietly.


I flopped on my bed and immediately started pulling at my junk in my underwear, the crazy smell of Joy’s sexed coochie still burning in my nostrils. The first couple of times I smelled Joy through the closet door, I thought it was kind of gross. Then I didn’t really care. Now that smell was making me a little crazy.

My weiner was a burning coal of need and I could not squeeze it hard enough or rub it fast enough to stop the craziness that was all the way inside my veins. I was horny all the way up in my neck and all the way down to my knees.

Then my doorknob creaked and my heart nearly jumped out of my mouth.

Brileigh stuck her head in.

“Can’t you freaking knock?” I shouted.

Brileigh looked at me. Regarded me. I think she looked at the log in my underwear. But she wasn’t impressed. She stepped in my room and closed the door behind her.

She made a question mark with her eyebrows and thumbed at my closet. Thumbing toward Joy’s room.

“Yeah, they’re done,” I whispered.

Brileigh made a circle with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand and sawed her index finger of her right hand back and forth through the finger hole. She cocked an eyebrow to indicate this was a question.

“Yeah. I guess,” I shrugged. That’s what it sounded like. You know what it sounds like.”

Brileigh opened her mouth and pointed her finger back and forth toward the space between her teeth. Then she lifted her palms up.

“I dunno,” I said. I guess it sounds different. “Usually it’s some of both.”

Brileigh pointed at her mouth again in her sign language for “blow job” and then made a dial turning motion with her fingers, ala Ross from Friends.

“Yeah, it’s usually quieter when she’s using her mouth. They were kind of loud with the regular... sex. Surprised they’ve never woken up mom.”

Brileigh rolled her eyes.

“Who knows. She might wake up in time one day to catch them.”

Brileigh made her W-finger sign for “Whatever.” Then she set her eyes on me and narrowed them curiously. She pointed at me. She swept her finger around my room. Then she used her question eyebrow.

“I was right here,” I said. “Why?”

Brileigh’s made the face for bullshit.

“I was here. Did you look in here? While they were fucking?”

Brileigh made the face for “Well did I? Because you weren’t here.” For a girl who wouldn’t talk, she could say a lot. But that was partly because she was my sister and I knew her gestures.

Brileigh turned and stared at my closet doors. I felt my blood go a little cold. She was suspicious. She must have come into my room while I was in Joy’s closet and couldn’t find me. Now here I was. I would never again forget to lock my bedroom door before exploring. That was dumb dumb dumb.

Brileigh walked toward my closet and pushed the bifolds back, like she was looking for the door to Narnia.

“What are you doing?” I said. “Get out of there.”

Instead Brileigh speared her palms between some sweatshirts and opened her arms to make a gap in the hanging clothes.

“Get out of my shit, Bry.”

I saw her eyes look down and lock on the crate full of broken G.I. Joes and Legos. I thought I might faint.

“Seriously, Bry. Get out of my closet.”

Brileigh moved forward and my stomach fell out my butthole. Then at the last second she knelt on the crate of toys and leaned her ear against the wall. She looked back at me and nodded. This is what you were doing.

My pulse dropped back to non-stroke levels and I shrugged. “So? So what?”

Brileigh pushed off and walked back into my room. She pulled her little notebook out of her back pocket and flipped it open. She scribbled.

Next time, come get me. I want to hear.

I shrugged noncommittally.

She nodded and left.

Well, that was weird as shit, let me tell ya. Why was Brileigh as interested in Joy and Troy’s shenanigans like I was? Of course I wouldn’t bring her in my closet to hear, because that would keep me from crawling in Joy’s closet to watch. And why would Brileigh even care? She didn’t care about anybody or anything. She hated us all.

I locked the door and tried to jerk off again. That was my new thing. I’d been jerking off for a year. A month earlier my brain fried and I had an orspasm. It was scary at first, but then I realized it was pretty awesome and I needed to have an orspasm almost daily.

But while I pulled on the sizzling head of my weiner I kept thinking about how weird Brileigh had been. There was plenty of dirty stuff to overhear in our apartment. Joy was always bringing boyfriends to her room when Mom was out. Nothing quiet about that. Mom was a whore and you could hear her and Troy (or whoever) going at it on any given Friday or Saturday night. And lately Troy and Joy weren’t even trying to be discreet. This wasn’t their first time or their fifth.

I leaned over my headboard and pressed my ear against the wall that separated my room from Brileigh’s much smaller room. I heard the weird sounds. She was up to something. A ninja in pajamas, I hopped from the bed to stand atop my chest of drawers that matched the headboard. There was a return air vent at the top of the wall. I listened closely at the louvers and confirmed the weird sounds coming from Brileigh’s room.

Trade secret: I had already unscrewed the vent on my side of the wall. It was just jammed into the drywall and held in place by the friction of the fit. Once I slid the vent out of my side of the wall I could stand on my toes and get my eyes just to the edge of the louvers on Bry’s side of the wall. The air conditioner kicked on and suddenly air rushed past my face as the ductwork that ran through the drywall between our rooms sucked and circulated as efficiently as Joy sucked Troy’s cum into her various holes.

I had to strain my legs and feet and toes to get high enough that my eye could see down through the vent into Bry’s room. A couple times I had used books to get just a little taller. On both occasions the books slipped like ice skates across the smooth top of my chest and I almost ate shit and went ass-over-teakettle into the floor. I would have been busted if somebody rushed into my room to see the commotion and saw the vent missing from the wall. I’d be busted up from the fall and finally fingered as the degenerate pervert I had become at the tender age of eleven.

At first I was confused by what I was seeing. It didn’t make sense.

Brileigh had a plush recliner in her room. Even though her room was smaller, she had got the recliner that didn’t fit anywhere else in the apartment when we moved in. The recliner wasn’t a rocker, but the frame still kind of rocked. The result of years of us kids abusing the recliner. At our previous, even shittier apartment, the recliner had been one of two that stood sentinel in front of the living room television. Joy taught us a game where we’d tilt back on the back legs until the recliner was juuuuuuust about to tip over. And then it would tip all the way over, landing hard on its back and rolling us over the top and across the living room floor. Sometimes we’d take turns trying to stand beside the recliner and trying to find that perfect balance point where our sibling would be stuck between two fates... That moment of suspension when we weren’t sure whether the chair was going to bounce back down on all four legs... Or if it was going crashing over and launching us backwards across the living room rug like a windup toy... Sometimes when we were bored we’d try to do it to ourselves. There weren’t many moments of magic in our crappy childhoods, but that was fun. At least until Mrs. Donagheey downstairs came up and started pounding on our door because we were making her dining room light fixture bounce.

Anyway, Brileigh’s butt was bare and her legs were on each side of the recliner arm. She was still wearing her pajama top and bent back at the waist at a crazy angle. Her hands were interlaced over the top of the padded wing of the chair arm. Bry’s leg on the outside of the chair arm was stretched all the way down and her little toes were splayed downward to make the slightest contact with the fake rubber wood planks molded into the vinyl floor. All-in-all it looked really uncomfortable, but this was a girl who cut herself with a hobby knife. She was weird.

Brileigh was making the frame of the chair rock and sway with only the pressure from her stretched toes on one foot pushing against the floor and her laced hands at the top of the chair pulling and pushing. For a chair that wasn’t a rocker, she was certainly rocking it.

But that wasn’t the weird part. The weird part was the crazy purple fur between her butt and the arm of the chair she was riding like a horse. Not coochie fur. It took me a fat minute to figure out that the purple fur was Mr. Monkey, one of Brileigh’s old stuffed toys.

Freaking. Weird.

I couldn’t see any coochie at all. Her hairless plum girl slit was buried in the downy soft synthetics of Mr. Monkey. All I could really see was the little pink pucker of her butthole, and that was gross. She was really going at it, rocking that chair and grinding into the Mr. Monkey sandwich between her coochie and the chair arm, her back bent backwards into a crazy Z shape. I watched for a while, surprised that it kept going on. When I pulled my weiner it didn’t take super long before I got the good dizzy feeling that grownups call an “orspasm.” Bry looked like she was trying really hard to get an orspasm but it was taking a long time.

The air conditioner kicked off, and the wind stopped whistling past my ears. That’s when I heard the sound again, the sound that was coming out of Bry. That was unusual, yaknow? It had been forever since I heard her talk. But it almost sounded like she was mumbling as the chair rocking picked up speed.

“Tuh... Tuhh... Tuhh... Oh, uhng. Trugh. Yuh.”

I didn’t mind looking at Brileigh naked, even if she didn’t have boobs like mom or coochie hair like Joy. A naked little girl was still better to look at than a book. But if all I could see was Bry’s butthole, that was no fun. All the sister nudity I’d seen this morning had stiffened my burning need to pull some relief into my pulsing pecker.

At least Bry wasn’t cutting her leg again.

I slipped the vent back into the wall with slow, surgical precision.

I hopped onto my bed and dropped on my back. I slid my hand down the front of my pajamas and tried to squeeze some relief out of the peener that had been mostly a brick since I watched Troy sexing Joy. Then I thought about something I saw the last time mom had a guy other than Troy in her bedroom. How did I see that, you ask?

“Jackie, did you want a waffle?” Mom’s boobs were all the way through my door before she started talking.


“What are you... Oh sorry, baby. There’s a blueberry Eggo left with your name on it.” She was gone that fast. I know I locked my door. How did that happen? How did she get my door open? She had to see what I was doing, didn’t she?

Shaking with anger and embarrassment, I walked over to my door. It was locked. I knew it. So how...? I gently pulled the knob. After two resistant bounces it opened. The latch catch that went into the door frame was poorly aligned. Shit. My bedroom door lock was worthless, just like everything else in that apartment.


I don’t know why. I rarely just sat in the bottom of my closet. I’d only done it a couple times. But there I was, my closet doors closed and me thumbing through a box of dog eared baseball cards. I could barely remember where they came from. I think maybe Troy had brought them to me after he drove home to visit his dad in North Dakota. He said he found them in his old childhood house in the basement. I was desperately hoping to find a valuable Rookie card in there that I could sell and buy a Gameboy Advanced. If I had a Gameboy Advanced, I could totally keep it hidden in my closet and I wouldn’t have to share it with Brileigh or anybody.

From somewhere in the apartment I heard the tinny notes of Christina Agulara’s Dirrty come through Troy’s Nokia cell phone. That was his ringtone for Mom.

“You score, baby?” Troy answered. “What? Who the fuck is this? The fuck are you--”


“I don’t have nothing to do with that, man. I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

Long silence.

“Can you put her on the phone for a second, at least? It’s her phone. I pay the bill. I should get to talk to her.”


“Janet is this fucking serious? Yeah, okay. Okay. Do what you have to do. Okay. I’ll get them out of here.”

Troy screamed out a big long “Fffffffffuuuuuuuuuuuck!” that signaled his phone conversation was over.

“What’s wrong?” Joy asked.

“Your stupid whore mother got knicked buying dope.”

“Oh shit!”

“Yeah. She’s trying to whore her way out of it. C’mon. Get Bry and Fartknocker and we need to clear out of the apartment.”

“She bringing the cops here?”

“I guess. Brileigh! C’mon! Get a coat on. We’re going for a ride. Jack! You too. Grab your bedroll, we might be staying at my place tonight.”

“Your apartment smells like dog piss,” Joy said. “So does your truck.”

“Maybe yer ma can whore fast and get herself off the hook. Brileigh! Jackson! I mean it, lessgo!”

“I think Jackie went over to Louis’s house,” Joy said. “I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Okay then. Brileigh, grab your toothbrush and some clean underwear. I hope Farthead doesn’t walk in on his mom getting deep-dicked by some cops. Joy, do you have Louis’s phone number?”

“I think it’s on the fridge.”

“Well bring it with you and we’ll call him from the road.” Troy was the only person I knew who had a cell phone back then. He was only supposed to use it for work, but he liked showing it off. He had recently “found” another phone on one of his jobs and said Mom could use it until whoever owned the phone stopped paying the bill and they turned it off.

My brain could not keep up with it all. Part of me wanted to jump up and say, “No, here I am!”

But once Troy had said the part about me walking in and seeing my mom having sex, I just stopped breathing and pulled my knees into my chest. It had been a while since I watched my mom having sex with anybody. It took the right combination of Mom whoring and the girls being somewhere else for me to safely spy on her bedroom. That was a more complicated operation than spying on either Joy or Brileigh. After Mom had walked in on me jerking off a few days earlier, the thought of returning the favor seemed even more enticing than normal.

The front door thumped. The apartment was quiet. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest. If this was really going to happen, I had plenty of time to get into position.

And this is my last perverted secret and it’s the worst.

Our apartment was on the top level of a three story apartment unit. The attic access panel for the third floor was in... You guessed it. The top of my closet. This is shit you only think about trying when you are crazy bored. I was that boy and I had been that crazy bored. I was still small enough and light enough to use a hanging shoe bag on the closet pole as a ladder to get up on my closet shelf. Then up and through the access panel.

You’d think an attic in an old apartment would be filled with bugs and cobwebs and spiders and bats. It wasn’t. It was just really dusty and dirty and filled with itchy pink fiberglass. I had learned the hard way not to go up there without shoes on. It was expansive and cold. I clicked on my flashlight so I could see the rafter boards every eighteen inches that made a walkway to the familiar places where I had dug out the insulation. A quick scan of my flashlight beam made it pretty obvious where the spot was that I tried to see into Joy’s ceiling and failed. Fifty feet away was the place I had almost been able to see Mrs. Ketchum’s granddaughter taking a bath, if I’d been a little faster. And of course most of the insulation was missing from where I perpetrated my most frequent crime; the place where I could pull away the last inch of fiberglass and see through the half inch gap between the ceiling drywall and an electrical box that probably used to power a ceiling fan that wasn’t there anymore. I straddled two joists for what felt like an hour. It was probably only ten minutes. Then I heard the thumping of shoes on the stairs before the front door keyed open.

“Sweep it, Daniels.”

“Roger that.”

I clicked off my flashlight and lowered my face. After a moment a young policeman in a blue-black Denton PD uniform walked into Mom’s bedroom and looked around. He opened her closet. He opened the drawers of her night stand.

“Paraphernalia!” he shouted.

“Surprise.” The response, a husky male voice.

“You shouldn’t be going through my shit.” Mom had been crying. She sniffed. “You don’t have a warrant.”

The deep, husky voice laughed. “I’ve got all the warrant I need. Did you forget our deal so quickly, Janet.”

“No. Let’s get on with it.”

“Hey,” said the young cop, “we’ve got hours for this voluntary well visit, Janet. Don’t hurry us. We’re going to take our time. We’ve got children to interview about your parental worthiness.”

“No kids, right?” Asked the older male voice.

“Affirmative. Place is clear,” answered the young cop.

That’s when I saw the older guy pushing Mom back into the bedroom like he was using some kind of Jedi force field. He wasn’t touching her. He was just menacing her backwards into the room. This guy didn’t have a uniform. He had a suit. His badge was clipped on his belt.

“I’d ask you if you are going to be a good girl for Officer Daniels and myself,” growled the salt-and-pepper haired detective. “But I really hope you aren’t. I hope you put up just a little fight so we can show you what we do to bad mommies who are out trying to score smack when they should be home watching their kids.”

“I’ll give you what you w-w-want,” Mom stammered. “Don’t hurt me.”

“We gonna hurt this pretty bitch, Daniels?” As the older man moved around the room I started to notice how broad he was in the chest. The suit downplayed the real size of the man wearing it.

Officer Daniels laughed. “I sure hope so.”

My mother shuddered visibly.

“Off with the clothes,” the Detective barked.

My mother wasn’t dressed fancy, so it didn’t take her but a few seconds to pull her tight top off and reach behind her to unclasp her brasserie. Both hands latched onto the front cups and Mom shrugged her shoulders forward to drop the lace off her big bazongas.

Officer Daneils whistled.

The detective’s mouth went thin. So did his eyes. He just nodded in satisfaction.

Mom unbuttoned her jeans and pulled the zipper in two directions. Her jeans were always so tight that she had to kind of rock herself in and out of them. I had watched it many times from my pervert hole in the ceiling. I’m not sure if she wasn’t wearing panties or if they just got swept off with the jeans. But there she was in all her glory. Except for the socks. The cops didn’t seem to mind the socks. Both of them closed on her at once, groping at her knockers and tugging at the reddish brown tips of her nips.

Mom sucked hard through her teeth. “Yikes, boys. Those are attached.”

The detective slapped my mom so fast that I didn’t see his hand move. I just heard the pop. Mom startled and yelped like a dog.

“Any more criticisms of our technique, Janet?” the detective asked.

“Fuck!” Mom took a second to get her bearings. “No. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“Oh it might happen again,” said Officer Daniels, grabbing my mother by the hair. “But it will be our critique of how good a whore you really are, Junkie Mom.” He smashed his mouth down into my Mom’s kiss and I could see his open jaw and the way he was grinding his tongue into Mom’s mouth.

While they were kissing, the Detective slipped off his jacket and began tugging his belt in every direction until it pulled right out of the loops on his pants. He draped it around his own neck and reached behind him to pull his handcuffs out of a leather pouch on his side. First he pulled my mom’s tiny hands behind her back with one hand and effortlessly locked her in the cuffs with the other. He stepped back and unbuttoned the front of his trousers and they fell to the floor. He had black underwear that looked like biker shorts and I could see that his pecker was already as hard as mine was. His was a lot bigger from the looks of it. The detective had an impressive tent forming.

He loosened his tie just enough that he slipped it off his shirt collar and over his head. Then he unbuttoned his shirt. The man was salt-and-pepper everywhere. His chest was as wide as a pro wrestler and he had a deceptive amount of muscles. He kept the belt around his neck.

The detective pulled my mom into another mouth mash, his hands all up and down her sides before lifting Mom’s juggs and pinching her nipples between his fingers again.

While the detective took control of my mom, the young police officer finally started shedding all of his layers of uniform and belts and body armor, throwing it into a pile on the floor by the bed.

The detective pushed Mom down on her knees and slipped the loop of his belt around Mom’s neck like a leash. With his open hand he pushed the front of his underwear down and his giant pecker jumped out of the top of the elastic band. Mom wasted no time. Her jaw opened and she leaned forward and slurped the detective’s pecker right between her lips. Mom made a squeaky little moaning sound as her tongue flashed out the corner of her mouth and then swept back and forth across the underside of the detective’s thick pecker.

“Oh shit, Daniels. This whore is actually trying to impress me.” The detective smirked and his chin tilted up to the ceiling like he was trying not to watch my mom work her mouth and tongue all over his pecker. “Let’s see how Mom-of-the-Year does with disappearing my choad down her whore throat.” The detective reached down and grabbed the end of the belt around my mom’s neck and jerked up upward with a lot of force.

Mom made a crazy gagging sound and her eyes got huge for a long moment while the detective’s muscles bulged with the force he put into pulling mom’s mouth and throat onto his thick dick. The stub of pecker that wasn’t all the way in mom’s mouth got smaller and smaller while her face went red and she made that horrible gagging sound. Mom’s hand jerked wildly behind her back in the handcuffs.

Just when I thought mom might pass out, the detective let the belt go slack. Mom made a wet cough and went right back to rocking her jaw down the wet and drippy length of the detective’s pecker. She moaned and slurped.

“Jesus, Cappy,” said Daniels, “you fucked the shit out of her slut mouth and she just came back for more.”

“Shouldn’t be surprised,” grunted the detective through his teeth. Then he took a half step forward and jerked the belt around my mom’s neck again. This time I could really see the detective’s superhero body flexing, all the way from his bulging thigh, up his rocky stomach, and through his salty grey chest and biceps. Even his jaw seemed to be making a muscle.

For some reason, mom seemed more ready for the assault on her throat this time. Her face flushed red and she made the crazy puking sound again. But her eyes just looked up at the detective like she was daring him to pull the belt harder.

“Easy, Cap” said the beat cop, stepping out of his tighty-whity underwear. “The buckle is cutting her neck.”

“Like I give a fuck,” grunted the detective as he stared down at his shaft shortening into mom’s teeth.

“C’mon. Don’t mark her up. Remember that’s how they got Gary,”

Something about these words made the detective step back and drop his grip on the belt. He backed his long sloppy sword from mom’s mouth. Seeing it all slide out of mom’s wet mouth hole really revealed how massive the pecker had become since he first stuffed past mom’s lips. The detective’s meat twitched and bobbed and slapped him in his own stomach. It looked like it was covered in soap bubbles, but I knew that was mom’s spit. A big splash of goopy spit bridged between mom’s teeth and the tip of the detective’s pecker before it finally broke and splashed down on mom’s right boob. I watched it slide down and catch on her pokey nipple and wrap around it before dripping onto her knees.

My pecker had never been harder in my entire life. I had seen Troy and other men be really bossy with my mom before, and that is always one of my favorite things to watch. There was something about the way my mom responded to bossy men that I liked to think about when I pulled my own pecker. I had seen Troy and other men call my mom names and spank her on her butt while they rutted into her from behind.

But the way this man was so damn mean to my naked mother was affecting me. How mad was I at my druggie mom? Way more mad than I realized because I wanted to reach down through the ceiling and grab the end of that belt and force her throat down on a broomstick.

“Lemme get a little of that,” said Daniels, stepping forward to present his short skinny pecker to my mother’s face. Mom wasted no time leaning in and piston sucking the entire unimpressive length of it. “Oh shit, this slut has a mouth on her,” Daniels groaned. His chin was tucked into his chest and he was watching down at every second of what my mom was doing to his pecker. She was making kitten sounds like she did with Troy. She could really get her tongue out a long way while she sucked Daniels, flipping it around the sides of her lips and down against his balls.

Daniels’s face looked like a melting candle. Mom was slurping and moaning and forcing her own throat deep onto Daniels’s little pecker in stabs of her own doing. She looked up and locked eyes with him. Mom made her tits shake and sway. I knew this version of mom. I’d seen it many times. Just when the guy thought he was bossing mom around, mom could make their peckers squirt and the guy would collapse. Daniels was about to squirt his orspasm right into mom’s slurpy mouth.

“Slow the fuck down, Rook,” the detective growled.

“Oh damn, she’s got a talented little cocksucker under that tiny nose,” Daniels moaned.

“She thinks she’s something, that’s for sure.” The detective stepped up and grabbed mom by the hair, snapping her head back and pulling it off Daniels’s member.

“Fuck!” shouted Daniels. “I was about to nut!”

“I know, Rook. I know!” The detective hooked his big hands under mom’s armpits and lifted her up like a rag doll, throwing her on the bed. She bounced face-first into the mattress. “Get some of that puss, Rook.”

Daniels was up on the bed and sliding his pecker into mom while she was face down. The detective hiked his knees onto the bed right in front of mom’s head and grabbed her hair hard again. I liked that. I could see it really hurt mom the way he pulled her hair and bent her neck back and I really, really, REALLY liked seeing her in pain. Then the detective was thrusting into mom’s mouth while Daniels bounced her bottom with his strength, fucking her hard.

“Oh gawd,” Daniels panted. “Ohhhhhh, yaaaaaaahhhhhhggg!!!” He stopped thrusting and it was obvious that he had his orspasm inside of mom. I had seen this many times.

The detective, for his part, was really working mom’s mouth. It was stretched very wide while his thighs made a V-shape on each side of mom’s head. She was grunting and making girl sounds, trying to get her tongue out from the tight vice of her sucking lips. I hoped he’d grab the belt again and make her struggle to breath.

Daniels stumbled back off the bed and the detective popped out of mom’s mouth and crawled behind her. Mom’s hands somehow managed to grip onto the detective’s big dick and stroke it before he pulled back out her hands and pushed into her cooter.

“Oh Christ!” mom gasped. “Jesus, you’ve got a package.”

“Nothing a little whore like you hasn’t taken before,” the detective grunted as his butt started flexing and he gripped her by the hips and began banging away. His big frame was in total control of mom’s little body. Mom huffed up at her hair in her eyes to blow it away. She flipped her hair to the side and I could clearly see the sexy expression of a woman getting fucked and liking it. I could see his fuckstroke pulling Daniels' sperm out of mom as he stretched out her coochie with long, fast strokes.

“Oh baby,” mom panted, “that’s some good dee.”

“You like that, slut?”

“Sagood fuck, yeah, Yeah, Take that pussy. Make it yours.” Mom was talking in whisper bursts. Her mouth didn’t seem to want to close.

Something moved over the detective’s face. His set jaw made a look of disgust. He smacked mom’s butt super hard, leaving a red handprint on the bubble curve. He moved back out of mom and off the bed. He walked around the bed looking at my mom like a pacing wolf.

Daniels sat down in mom’s dressing chair and panted, pulling slowly at his spent pecker.

“You don’t run me,” the detective growled. “I run you.”

Mom rolled over on the bed on her back and twisted around so her coochie was pointed at the detective. Her legs went apart and she pushed up on her toes so her butt came off the bed. Her hairless slit was dripping with her juices and the remnants of Daniels’s white slime rolling down her inner thighs. Mom’s pussy was bright red and swollen. In that moment, with such a great view of mom’s pussy, I noticed for the first time that the look of it was the same as Joy’s pussy. Same shape. Same flushed color. Same thin lips. I’d seen Joy’s used coochie close-up a dozen times, but this was my first really good look at mom’s open pussy from my peephole in the ceiling.

“Anything you want,” mom said in a weird little girl voice. “I promised I’d be good. I promised you could have anything. A deal’s a deal. Just let me go when you’re done. I’ll be your best fuck ever, I swear.”

This made the detective mad, for some reason. I could see the anger on his face. His hand lashed out and grabbed mom by one of her ankles. He yanked her out of her pose and slid into the bed behind her, almost under her. That was great because I could see everything, even mom’s nipples and pussy at the same time. “Yeah, baby, fuck me,” mom said.

“Oh, I’m going to fuck you, alright, little whore,” the detective growled. He reached down and gripped his pecker and pointed it at mom’s bottom.

“Yeah, do it! Do it! Fuck me, bay-- HEY! HEY STOP!”

“Wassamatter, whore?” The detective smiled.

“Not my ass!”

“This ass?” The detective seemed to have his pecker where he wanted and thrust his hips. That’s when I noticed his pecker head was jammed in mom’s butthole. That was totally gross.

“Too big! GODDAMMIT! Yeeeee--AIIIIIGH!” Mom’s eyes bugged out again.

“FUCKKIN’ OW SHIT!” The detective grimaced.

“What’s wrong?” Daniels leaned forward.

“Slut just clawed my stomach,” the detective spat.

“Your cock is too big! Not there!” Mom was actually crying now.

“My wife is going to see that, you fucking bitch.”

Mom screamed even louder. I could see the detective grab the handcuffs behind mom’s back and push her hands up toward her shoulders. This looked like it hurt and it sure sounded like it hurt mom. His other hand hooked around mom’s thigh and he started humping his pecker farther and farther up mom’s butthole while she screamed.


“On it, Cappy!”

Daniels reached down into the tangle of mom’s jeans on the floor and extracted a wisp of little lace panties. Then he pulled something out of his utility belt. He jumped up on the bed and grabbed mom’s head. Her mouth was already wide from screaming and he had no issue stuffing the underwear in mom’s mouth and then pulling a yard of duct tape off a roll. Two loops of his arms and mom’s hair was taped into two bubbles, locking the underwear in her mouth in the process. It didn’t stop mom from screaming, but it did quiet the racket a lot.

Seeing my mom in such pain made me feel bad because she was my mom. But seeing my mom in such pain because she bit off more than she could chew with these two sadistic assholes made my pecker as hard as diamonds. Mom was always the boss, even when she was letting Troy and her work boss and her barfly bangs pretend that they were the boss. But for once, mom was decidedly not the boss of the detective.

Besides, it wasn’t real pain. It was sex pain. The detective was smirking and his powder blue eyes were bright as he thrust over and over, forcing more and more of his pecker into mom’s butthole. Mom was bright red from her bouncing boobs to her hairline. Her eyes crossed and her head rocked with the impact of every thrust.

“Met your match, whore?” the detective grunted

Mom made a very pathetic sound. She stopped screaming. She squinted. It looked like she was biting down on her gag.

Daniels moved into mom’s gaping open pussy and thrust his finger into her, palm up. Mom snapped as rigid as a plank of wood. Her knees started shaking. She looked like women on television when they are about to push out a baby. Her face shined with her own sweat.

“Cappy, she’s a goddamn bucket. Her pussy is flowing like the Rio Grande. OH SHIT!”

A huge fountain of clear pee sprayed out of mom’s coochie.

“Squirter!” The men said it at the same time.

“GAH, Goddammit!” The detective gritted his teeth and stopped thrusting. I could see his balls flexing up and down and I knew that meant he was cumming in mom’s butthole. He pushed mom off him and his half-hard pecker slopped out of mom’s butthole. Mom was whimpering and her legs were still shaking. He grabbed the base of his pecker and rolled up on his knees. He squeezed his hand around his member and shot two more white squirts of his cum across mom’s tits.

“I still need a minute to recharge before I can go again,” Daniels said. The detective whispered something in Daniels’s ear. “Seriously?” Daniels asked.

“As an undertaker,” the detective said. “Do it. I have to piss.”

“Cappy, are you serious?

“Get on it, Rook, that’s an order.”

“Copy that,” said Daniels. The cop stepped into his cop pants and cop shirt. It was all over. It had been something to see. I wanted to crawl back to my room and jerk off like a mental patient. But I stayed. I could tell they weren’t done with mom even if they had both orspasmed.

Daniels slipped on his shoes and left the apartment. The Detective ripped off the tape from around mom’s face and hair, making her wince. He grabbed a package of cigarettes out of his jacket on the floor and scraped a lighter off mom’s nightstand.

“I need to pee,” mom said.

“So piss, bitch.”

“Can you?” Mom jingled her cuffed hands toward the detective.

“You can piss without hands. Stay out of trouble.”

“I need to wipe.”

“You can wipe with cuffs.” The detective tapped flame to a cigarette.

“Christ,” mom growled. “Don’t set the bed on fire.”

“That’s your job, slut,” the detective smirked. Mom frog-hopped her way off the bed and a moment later I could hear her peeing in her en suite.

I heard the sound of the toilet paper roll spinning.

“Told ya,” laughed the detective.

Mom walked back in and spun on to the bed, butt first. She folded into the detective’s armpit like he was a boyfriend. The detective put his cigarette in mom’s lips and she took several grateful draws, before he took it back again.

“Where’s your boy?” Mom asked.

“He went to get a friend.”

“Another cop?”


Mom sighed. “Shit. Okay. Not many more though, okay? You already broke my twat and my shitter will never be the same after that monster of yours.”

“Just one more,” the detective said. He pinched mom’s long nipples and pulled them, one after the other. He leaned in and they kissed each other with long, lippy smooches that turned into tongue boxing quickly.

I heard the front door open and close.

“That was fast,” panted my mother. “Bring him in and let’s get this party started.” She was back to being bossy with her submission.

My mom and the detective kissed like teenagers. At some point my mother’s eye cocked open and she jerked out of the kiss like she’d been electrocuted. “NO FUCKING WAY!”

That’s when I saw Daniels and his buddy walk in the room.

“Janet,” smiled Daniels, “I’d like to introduce you to Officer Noble. He’s a good friend of mine.”

Officer Noble was a German Shepherd. He was wearing a K-9 bulletproof vest. He was also very confused.

“NO!” mom shouted.

“Cappy, there’s an old woman sniffing around and asking questions in the stairwell. We need to shut her up.”

The dog picked up on the excitement and made a high pitched whine while he pulled every which way on his leash.

“Janet will be a good girl,” the detective stubbed out his cigarette on the headboard. “If she’s not, I’ll beat the living shit out of her.”

“Please! No!” Mom cried.

“Daniels and I need some time to recharge. Officer Noble is going to keep you busy while we watch.”

“Please! I’ve done everything you wanted.”

“Yeah,” said the detective, “and you’re gonna keep doing everything we want or you’re spending the weekend in lockup waiting for Judge Catteron on Monday. She’ll take away your kids and everything else. She’s a real cunt.”

I’d never seen my mother cry like she was crying right then. The detective did not give a shit. He unlocked the cuffs from behind mom’s back. It dangled from her left wrist. The detective lifted his big meaty hand in the air and Daniels threw another pair of handcuffs right into it. Seconds later mom had a pair of handcuffs on each wrist. The detective grabbed mom’s hair and pulled her toward the headboard. The dangling cuffs each locked around a vertical post in the headboard, keeping her hands wide and her butt in the air.

Daniels unclipped Noble’s leash and Noble ran all around the room. It didn’t make any sense to my eleven year old brain. Why was my mom handcuffed to the bed while a giant dog ran all around the room.

“NOBLE!” Daniels reached over and patted my mom on her upturned butt. “SUCHE!”

The dog jumped up on the bed and stuck his nose in mom’s butt. Mom’s head started swiveling around. The dog’s tongue seemed random in his confusion. First it licked mom’s butthole. Then her coochie. Mom tried to squirm out of the way, but Noble followed her butt crack in every direction that it tried to escape. Noble looked at Daniels.

Daniels smacked mom’s butt again. “HOCH!”

The dog was still confused.


The dog climbed up on mom’s backside.

“There we go!” the detective shouted.

“HOCH!” Daniels smacked mom on the butt.

“That’s a good dog!” encouraged the detective. “His sheath is out. He’s smelling her.”

“We don’t have to do this,” sobbed my mother.

It just didn’t make sense. Then it did. The dog’s front paws slid around each side of mom’s hips and he started jerking. For her part, mom’s butt went everywhere. So did Noble. He wasn’t going to be thrown off. Then mom’s head snapped and Noble really started wiggling.

“FUCK!” shouted mom.

“Bingo!” announced Daniels.

“Yesssssss!” hissed the detective.

“OH JESUS FUCKING SHIT MOTHER!” shouted mom. “He’s killing me!”

“Go Dog, GO!” smiled the detective.

Me? I was somewhere halfway between throwing up and my little steel pecker jumping off my balls and dancing the Macarena on a dusty rafter. I had no idea that dogs could sex people, much less my mom. It was the grossest thing I’d ever seen. But seeing my mom in misery had a crazy appeal that I absolutely did not understand.

“He’s scratching the shit out of my legs!”

“You’ll live,” the detective said. “He’s fucking the daylights out of your whore puss, and that’s all that counts.”

“Ow, shit!” mom grunted. Her teeth clenched and this set off the dog who growled at her menacingly.

“Don’t piss him off,” muttered Daniels.

“Yahgah yahgah yeeeeesh!” Mom grunted. The flag of her blonde hair began to flash in time with Noble’s thrusting haunches. She was so tiny compared to the dog. I never realized that police dogs were either that big, or my mom was really so small. Noble was smothering my mother with his furry intensity.

“FFFfffff-f-f-f-f-f-” Mom hissed. “Goddammit. I’m cum-cum-cuminginging.”

“Imagine that, slut.” The detective grabbed mom’s swinging tit and squeezed it.

The dog stopped moving.

“OH SHIT! OUCH! FUCK!” Mom’s eyes got huge again.

“That’s the knot,” Daniels smiled.

“It’s breaking my cervix! Goddamn that hurts!”

“I thought you were cumming,” said the detective dryly,

“I was,” mom groaned. “That dog dick is breaking my cunt. He’s breaking my cunt.”

Noble just stayed in the same place and panted. He seemed to want to leave mom but couldn’t.

“It’s Noble’s cunt now, bitch,” said Daniels.

“Support your local law enforcement,” the detective said.

“Christ, I think my twat is ripping. Fucker is still cumming. I can feel it. It’s burning.”

“That’s the way it works,” Daniels said.

The dog pushed off my mom and he was still spraying dog spunk everywhere. Mom’s pussy gushed out clear dog cum everywhere on the sheets. Apparently Daniels had the time to recharge because his skinny little pecker was hard and pushing up into mom’s face. Her lips latched on and started slurping away.

That was enough for me. As much as I like to watch mouth sex, my brain was fried, my cock was diamonds, and my thighs were burning from squatting on rafters. I worked my way back to my room, lowered myself back down into my closet floor, and pulled my weiner harder than I’d ever pulled it before. I thought about my mom’s boobs. I thought about her coochie. I thought about how she was crying when the dog screwed her. It was that crying that made me orspasm. But this orspasm was different. I felt a wetness splash on my chest. I was sure I was bleeding. I freaked out. But when I opened the closet door to let some light in, it wasn’t blood. It was like clear jelly. That’s when I figured out that I had really cum like Troy and the other men. Only mine wasn’t pearly. It was clear.

I melted into the floor of the closet. My eyelids were a hundred pounds. My skin was throbbing everywhere. I fell asleep and dreamed that Brileigh was humping the belly fur of Noble instead of Mr. Monkey. I woke up with a dingle that was rock hard again. My weiner burned and hurt when I pulled it, but I pulled it anyway. At some point I heard our door thunk and mom crying really hard. I jerked off and collapsed.


So... Mom got busted for buying drugs, and you know what Troy had to say about it? Nothing. You know what Joy had to say about it? Zip. You know what Brileigh had to say about it? Okay, you probably can guess what Brileigh had to say about it since she didn’t talk.

Crazy how shit went right back to the same-old-shit so quickly. But then Joy went to open the door for Pizza Bingo and a dude in a sweater and a clipboard was standing in the foyer.

“Hey,” he smiled. “Joy, right?”

“Yeaaaah?” Joy answered.

The man walked into our apartment.

“I didn’t say you could come in,” Joy said.

“I didn’t ask,” said the man with a smile. He looked around the apartment. “Janet is out?”

“Dude, do I know you?” Joy asked. “You need to get out of here.”

“Yeeesh,” hissed the man. “We all really need to get out of this pit.” He walked into our kitchenette and opened the refrigerator. “Oh yeah. This is terrible.”

“Dude!” Joy shouted. “Get the fuck out of here!”

“Working on it,” mumbled the man. “Where is Janet, anyway? Iron Spur? Red Onion?”

Joy pulled a big knife out of the butcher block on our kitchenette counter. I don’t know why we had a butcher block full of knives. The only “cooking” we did involved pouring frozen pizza rolls out of a bag and onto an oven pan.

The man was not impressed. He nodded at Joy with his chin. He pulled a card out his pocket and gently placed it on the counter. “Joy,” he sighed, “you are a really good sister, aren’t you? Protective. I dig it. You’re my kind of girl.”

“I swear to almighty God, I will fucking filet you if you don’t get out my house right now, Asshole.” Joy shook the knife at his breast pocket.

The man smiled and slowly pulled a pack of gum out of his pants pocket. He offered a stick to Joy. She stared back and held the knife. He pulled a stick out of the pack with his teeth and then somehow extracted the foil and spit it out with just his mouth.

“If you fileted me, that would suck,” said the man. “But at least you’d have something to eat.”

“We’ve ordered a pizz-”

“Jack, shut up!” Joy cut me off.

I picked the card up off the counter. Something about the embossed crest seemed very official. “Robert Yandie. Denton Child Services.” A card that shiny deserved to be read aloud.

“Sorry,” Joy growled, “I’d give a fuck but I’m fresh out.”

This made the man snicker. “Okay, honey,” he said, “I’m not kidding. This town needs a hundred more big sisters as awesome as you. I wish we could clone you. I’m sorry if I intruded. You’re right. I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to Janet at her work tomorrow. Sorry for the intrusion.”

“Wait,” Joy lowered the knife, “don’t do that. What do you want? What do you want to know?”

The man smiled a weird side smile. “You’re a good daughter, too. Have a good night.”

“No, c’mon,” Joy said. “Don’t fuck with Janet’s job. She needs that job. We need that job, okay?”

The man stopped and looked over his shoulder at Joy. “Jesus, you are awesome. Okay. Deal. Consider this a shot across the bow. I’m sending a friend back here. Tell Janet to get her shit together and clean this place up. Maybe we can work something out.”

I still wonder if that last “we” was him and mom or him and Joy. The way he said it, looking at my sister up and down, I think he was propositioning Joy. But we didn’t see Mr. Yandie again for a long time.

He left. Joy ripped his card out of my hand and shredded it into the garbage disposal. “Don’t say anything to Janet, do you hear me?”

I nodded.

“I can handle this.”

Next it was Mrs. LaRue. Not sure if that’s how you spell it. She was in and out of our lives pretty quickly. She showed up one Wednesday afternoon about twenty minutes after the bus dropped off me and Brileigh at the apartment. Joy wasn’t due for another forty minutes. Mom had actually gone to work that day.

Mrs. LaRue had a huge smile. The kind of smile that only a middle age black woman has practiced to that level of disarming perfection. She knew my name, called me sweetie, and invited herself into the apartment and started walking around with a clipboard. I knew she wasn’t supposed to be there, but she just seemed to know what she was doing. Then she opened our refrigerator and whistled. She left the fridge door ajar while she opened the freezer.

“Honey,” she turned her girthy frame to look at me. “Is this the way it usually is?”

I shrugged. I’ve thought about that shrug for a long time. A loooooong time. Sometimes when I’m lying in my bed and it’s 3 a.m. and I can’t sleep, I think about Mrs. LaRue. She’s asked me that question a thousand times in my brain.

I think about that shrug. Part of me takes comfort in that I didn’t actually say, “No, mom just bought groceries three weeks ago.” I wasn’t exactly a snitch.

But it was that shrug that ultimately sank mom.

Or maybe it was getting caught buying drugs, because I’m sure those two cops tipped off Child Services. They fucked mom, then their dog raped mom, and then they really screwed her with a phone call.

It wasn’t Mr. Yandie. It wasn’t Mrs. LaRue. It was my shrug.

The next part was a blur. Mom came home freaked out. All us kids ended up in the back of a police car, driven to some squat building in the burbs. It didn’t look like a police station. It wasn’t. There were lots of toys and kid-size chairs, like a daycare. No Gameboy Advanced, though.

Joy, Brileigh, and I all went to different foster families for just over two weeks. Someday I’ll write a hundred stories about our three individual adventures during that time. That’s not really what this story is about. This story is about Hunter and mom and what happened when we finally ended up back at our crappy apartment.

Are you ready for this? Oh, this is going to be a big shock, right? You cannot possibly guess where this goes next, can you?

“You’re fucking your caseworker?” Give credit to Joy. She thought she was whispering it, but it wasn’t discrete at all.

“We’re going out for dinner.” Mom sprayed perfume on her neck. She was in her best green dress, the one she wore to funerals and weddings. “It’s just a professional thing. You know. Getting to know me better.”

“You’re wearing heels,” Joy said. “You’re either already fucking him or you’re planning to start fucking him.”

“My personal life is none of your business, honey.” Mom held up different earrings on each side of her face, making a choice.

“What about Troy?” Joy asked.

“What about him?”

“He hasn’t been here in a month.”

“Not that long. Besides, he understands. This isn’t about romance. This is about all you kids. I’d do anything for you.”

“Clearly,” Joy sneered. “Especially if it involves putting those heels behind your ears, you fucking slut.”

Mom didn’t let that one pass. She turned on Joy. “DON’T FUCKING TELL ME I HAVEN’T GONE TO THE FUCKING WALL FOR YOU AND JACKIE AND BRY! YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA THE DEGRADING SHIT I’VE BEEN THROUGH TO KEEP US ALL TOGETHER!” Mom’s face turned purple and her words got spitty. Mom had a point. Being whored to a dog was pretty humiliating.

“You’ve never done anything that wasn’t for you,” Joy stepped into mom and I was pretty sure they were both going to start catching hands. Seems Joy had a point as well.

That’s when mom glanced and saw me standing in her bedroom door. “Jackie, get out of here.”

I left.

I was the one who opened the door when Hunter Leftwich knocked.

“Evening, Mr. Jackson.”

I immediately checked. He didn’t have a clipboard. He wasn’t wearing a lanyard. He knew my name. He wasn’t selling insurance. He was dressed in a smart gray sport coat and even though he was kind of dressed up I could tell he was slender. Tall and slender. His hair was short and somewhere between blonde and gray and white. It was hard to tell.

Troy looked like a plumber.

This guy looked like a college professor or a surgeon who specialized in operating on hands.


He nodded. “Do I get invited in, Sir? I’m here for an engagement with your mother. Hello, Miss Brileigh.”

I looked over my shoulder. Brileigh might as well have been looking at a Polar Bear standing in the apartment foyer. She had a look that was somewhere between bewilderment and utter disbelief. She looked at me and arched her eyebrows.

“Brileigh says you don’t look like mom’s type,” I explained.

Hunter nodded patiently. “Is it the lack of face tattoos or the lack of a mullet that sets me apart from your mother’s usual gentleman callers?”

Brileigh pulled her notebook out of her back pocket and scribbled in it. She held it up.

Look like you don’t have 3 felony convictions.

Hunter smiled. He nodded again. “What can I say, Little Miss. I’m afraid I’m so square, Stanley Toolworks flies me out to Connecticut every year to calibrate their machinery.”

Bry and I both blinked at him.

“Kids,” he said, “one day that joke will seem only marginally more humorous than it absolutely does not seem at the moment. Could I perhaps come inside and wait for Janet?”

“Janet is hosing out her spunk-soaked twat, Pointdexter.” Joy pushed me aside and opened the front door back on its hinges before giving Hunter her back and storming into her room.

Hunter stepped inside and wrinkled his nose at the smell of our apartment. “Well,” he sighed. “That’s a lovely visual.”

“Holy wow,” mom made her debut, “You look amazing, Mr. Leftwich.”

“Janet! You are stunning.”

“Sweet of you to say!”

‘Uhm... The children...” It was a question.

“What? Oh! They had a proper homecooked meal.”

Hunter looked at me with more question marks in his eyes.

“Hamburger helper!” I smiled. “Beef stroganoff!”

Hunter nodded again and ruffled my hair with his big hands. “You like that, Mr. Jackson?”

“The best!” I smiled. “Mom even bought milk to make it this time!” To this day I’m not sure if it was mom or Brileigh who hit me in the back of my head.

Either way, Hunter Leftwich laughed.

“We don’t want to be late for our reservation.” Mom pushed past me toward the open door.

“Of course,” Hunter dipped his chin, “but first I have a bit of business with the Man of the House.”

Clearly none of the three of us understood what this meant. Hunter reached in his pocket and pulled out a business card that only had seven numbers printed in glossy black ink. He leaned down and presented it to me. “I will have Janet home by eleven o’clock this evening, Mr. Jackson.” he whispered. “Should any issues arise, Do not hesitate to call me, do you understand?”

I did not understand.

“And I mean anything. You are the boss until I return. Not Joyce. You, sir. You’re in charge. Got it?”

I didn’t get it, but I nodded anyway.

“Awesome sauce,” He shook my hand formally.

After the door closed I held up the business card in my fingers. “I’m the Man of the House!” I preened.

Brileigh rolled her eyes so hard I’m pretty sure she saw her own brain. She answered with a finger that confirmed her respect for my new promotion. I didn’t care.

Hunter didn’t call me “fartknocker” and he didn’t smell like weed. Hunter was okay with me.

Mom walked back through the door at quarter to eleven. I barely saw Hunter in the hallway lean in to kiss mom on the cheek. Hunter made a moment of eye contact with me as I sat on the arm of the television chair. Brileigh, slumped in the chair, never looked away from the finale of the episode of One Tree Hill. He nodded and winked. I nodded back. He left and mom was back in the apartment earlier than she had been in years. Mom seemed confused.

Joy shouted from her room. “Well that was a waste of high heels!”

Mom poured vodka into a glass of ice and splashed some cranberry juice (that we were not allowed to touch under threat of death) across the top.

Bry muted the television and looked at mom.

“It was okay,” mom answered. “He was really... nice.

Joy laughed uproariously from her room.

Mom answered Brileigh as if she was the one who had laughed. “No, he was very charming. I admit that I wasn’t really into him, but he’s got his shit together.”

Bry pointed at her face and drew a circle with her finger.

“Yes, he’s cute,” mom said. “I agree.”

Brileigh shrugged.

“You should see his son, honey,” mom said. “His boy is a year older than you. Handsome little devil. Little heartbreaker, he is.”

Brileigh’s face twisted into a pretzel of confusion.

“Oh sorry,” Mom slurped. “I forgot. Hunter is a widow. He’s got a darling little boy a year older than you and an adorable little girl a year younger than Jackie.” Mom sipped her drink. “And his daughter actually talks!” Mom smirked and took her drink into her bedroom.

Brileigh pretended to stare at the television for another minute before she jumped out of the chair and stormed into her room, slamming the door.

I picked up the television remote and slid into the seat of the chair. I clicked over to Adult Swim and watched cartoons that I didn’t completely understand. I didn’t understand why everybody was suddenly mad at everybody, but... Yo. I was the Man of the House, yo. And... Cartoons were cartoons, whether or not they made sense.

I fell asleep in the chair and woke sometime in the night with the television still on. It was the sound of mom’s vibrator that woke me. Or perhaps it was Joy’s vibrator that Troy bought for her. Or maybe it was both of them. Dueling dildos. I was too sleepy to think about crawling through the closet and probably too dark to see anything if I did. And there was no goddamn way I was climbing up in the attic in the middle of the night. I just shuffled to my bed and collapsed.


Mom went on a bunch more dates with Hunter. If they had sex, mom was way more secretive about it than she’s ever been with any of her guys. Hunter didn’t hang out in our apartment for more than a few minutes before he picked mom up, and I’m pretty sure they never bonked at our place. Every time Hunter picked mom up, he shook my hand, reminded me that I was the Man-of-the-House, and made sure I still had his card with his number.

I think it was the third date when he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Where’s Joyce?”

I shrugged.

“Is she at Troy’s place?”

I hesitated before I shrugged again. Boy, that shrug of mine could do a lot of damage. Hunter nodded knowingly at me. I swear he had a little smile in the corner of his mouth.

So I never got the full story of what happened to Troy, but something went down a few days later that took Troy out of our life for good. He had some kind of run in with the Boys in Blue. I’m not sure how serious the crime was, all I knew is that mom wasn’t allowed to be in the same place with Troy the Plumber because of her issue with us kids having to go to foster homes, or she’d be in super-serious trouble herself. Somehow Joy especially wasn’t allowed to be around Troy. She had to go talk to yet another social worker and some girl cops. She didn’t want to help them with whatever they were cooking up for Troy.

Joy was livid. She blamed mom, but I don’t know what mom had to do with Troy getting arrested. Mom said Joy had no business hanging out at Troy’s apartment and she should be dating boys her own age. Mom said it was Joy’s fault that Troy got in trouble and called her a “Lolita Whore.” I wasn’t sure what that meant. I knew what a whore was, and Joy was pretty close. But we weren’t Mexican, so I didn’t understand why Joy would be a “Lolita.” Didn’t make any sense.

Joy said that the police couldn’t have known anything about Troy unless mom was a jealous snitch. Mom said she never snitched on Troy, even he was a “Cheating, scumbag, pedophile, lolita whoremonger.” Mom said that Joy set mom back with Denton Child Services and mom was in more trouble than ever and we were all going to get split up again, probably, thanks to Joy being a Lolita Whore and tricking Troy with her slutty cooter.

Mr. Shrug just kept his goddamn mouth shut and stayed in his room. Brileigh also declined comment.

SPOILER ALERT: Joy did not stay away from Troy. A policeman walked up on their car while Joy was sucking Troy’s pecker across the front seat. This happened later. I’ll get to that part when it happens. It was epic.


What happened next is that Brileigh and I got dragged along to a “playdate” at Hunter’s house. Mom wanted us to meet Hunter’s kids and hang out there while they went to see some old guitarist I’d never heard of play at the college. Then we were going to stay the night at Hunter’s house.

I say “dragged along” because mom literally dragged Brileigh as far as the apartment door by her armpit before Bry pulled away.

“Stop it,” mom hissed at Brileigh. “You’re embarrassing me. Hunter is waiting in the car. He’s going to see you acting out! I put up with your shit for this long, Brileigh Yvonne Williams! Your stupid notes and your stupid acting out and your stupid attitude and your stupid pretending that the whole world is your enemy! Well for the next couple hours you better knock it the fuck off! I’m telling you, we’re hanging by a fucking thread.” Mom pushed a finger and thumb in front of Bry’s nose to illustrate. “I am thisclose to a prison cell and you and Jackie are thisclose to living in a stranger’s house until you turn eighteen and then you get kicked into the fucking street like an old dog who pissed on the rug one too many times.”

Bry gave mom the finger and mom’s arms were cocking back to smack Bry right in the face when Hunter stepped up to the turn in the stair landing below us.

“Everything okay? What’s the hold-up?”

Mom froze. “I uh... Sorry. We’ll be down in a minute. Just...”

“Brileigh, you don’t want to come to my house?” Hunter asked softly. It was pretty obvious what was going on.

Bry folded her arms and glared at her shoes.

“Well crap, I’m sorry to hear that.” Hunter was very calm. Knowing him the way I know him now, I would describe the way Hunter was calm to be like how lions just chill under a tree on the African savannah, just stretching and batting their eyes like they're about to drop off to sleep... riiiiight until the zebra gets just close enough that it’s too late.

Poor Bry had no idea how fast that lion in our stairwell really was. She was about to find out.

Hunter slowly stepped up toward our landing outside the door. “Brileigh, I’d really like you to meet my son and daughter. I know they are both looking forward to finally meeting you.”

Brileigh gave Hunter dagger eyes and then looked back into the apartment.

“I understand you want to stay here,” Hunter said. “And yes, you are certainly responsible enough to stay home alone. But the concert is going late tonight and I really want you to spend the evening getting to know Dallas and Katelyn while your mother and I are out. I’m asking you, once, to please pickup your overnight bag and join me in the car.”

Brileigh glared at her shoes again.

Hunter sighed. “Okay, Sweetie, now I’m not asking. I’m telling you to get your bag and get your ass down in the car.”

Bry flipped Hunter the bird.

Hunter actually smiled. “Perfect,” he said. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He turned to my mom. “Janet, we talked about this, remember?”

My mom nodded rapidly. Her face was red with embarrassment and tears started spilling out of her eyes. Her lips were a little knot of tight white pressure.

“It was going to happen sooner or later,” Hunter stroked the side of my mother’s face lovingly with the backs of his fingers. That was the first time I realized for sure that there was more going on than a professional relationship between a caseworker and client. “Better that it happened sooner.”

My mother sniffed and tears began cutting shiny rivers down all her makeup. She nodded. I thought they were breaking up.

“Wait for us down in the car, please,” Hunter said.

My mother pulled a tissue out of her purse, dabbed her cheeks and shuffled down the stairs. I was confused, but I followed.

“Not you, Jackson.” Hunter’s voice froze me.

“C’mon inside.” He tilted his head toward the apartment. I walked past Brileigh and back inside. Hunter put his hand on Brileigh’s shoulder and started leading her inside when she jerked her shoulder out of Hunter’s hand and started stomping toward her room.

Hunter was so fast, I’m not sure if the apartment door slammed shut first or if his hand reached out and snatched the back of Bry’s hair first. It may have been at the same time. Boy, was Bry surprised! But all three of us were inside the apartment and Hunter had a commanding grip on Brileigh’s head, tilting her chin back to the ceiling. Hunter’s face was dead calm. Bry’s eyes were bugging out and she started making a wounded animal sound. A beat later her fingers were swinging for any part of Hunter they could scratch. Lucky for Hunter, Bry was a compulsive nail biter and didn’t have many weapons to work with.

Hunter was looking me straight in the eye. One hand was twisting Brileigh’s head like a rag doll every time her hands got anywhere close to his arm. His other hand expertly opened the buckle on his belt and whissssshed it right out from the loops. He had Bry’s hands cinched together in a knot of the belt behind her back in seconds. So fast. He barely stopped looking me in the eye.

Before I knew it, he was just standing in the middle of the living room holding the buckle end of his belt in one hand. It was raised slightly like he was making a muscle.

On the other end of the belt, Brileigh’s arms were pulled backwards and upward behind her back, which forced her red, spitting face down toward the rug. Her feet looked like she was trying to march or climb somewhere but couldn’t find anyplace to go that didn’t hurt more than where she already was.

“Jackson.” Hunter started eye-fucking me again. “You know how I always tell you that you are the Man-of-the-House before I leave Joyce and Brileigh alone? Well that’s not some Chad stepdad-wannabe bullshit. When I’m not here, you are the Man-of-the-House. You are absolutely in charge. You are in charge of Miss Brileigh here. You are in charge of Joyce.” He stared at me until I thought he was expecting me to nod. So I did.

“I assigned you responsibility, but I did not provide you the training you need to be a proper Man-of-the-House.”

Bry started trying to donkey kick Hunter with the bottoms of her shoes, but he couldn’t have cared less. He snapped the belt upward and Bry squealed like an animal.

“For the moment, Jackson, I am the Man of This House and I’m in charge. I’m the boss. And the boss is responsible for his subordinates. You are my subordinate. And Miss Brileigh Yvonne here is your subordinate. Therefore she is my subordinate as well.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I whispered.

“It simply means I’m your boss. You are Brileigh’s boss and also Joyce’s boss.”

I pointed. “Brileigh is older than me.”

Hunter shrugged. “So is Joyce. What’s your point? Do you have a cock, Jackson? I asked a question and I want an answer.”


“You’re not sure? If you have a cock? Do you need to check?”

“I do. Have one, I mean.”

“Okay. So you do have a cock. Do you have balls?”

I nodded.

“Men answer men with words. Speak up, son. Do you have a set of balls?”


“Then you are the boss. We are the boss. Got it?”

I nodded.

Hunter’s eyebrows got thick.

“Yes, I got it.”

“That’s better. Now what’s going to happen next is that I’m going to spank your sister and I’m going to spank her pretty hard. This isn’t symbolic, this is business. I’m going to spank her enough that I think she’s ready to stop being a pill, pick up her purse and her overnight bag, and get her ass into the back seat of my car. I’m not going to spank her so hard that she goes to the hospital. But if we end up there, so be it. After we get home from the hospital, if it comes to that, I’ll start spanking Brileigh again, but she WILL pick up that bag and she will get her ass in the back seat of my car. Now Jackson, look at me, son. Look at your sister. If I wanted to, do you think I could carry her down and put her in the car myself?”

Hunter always dressed smart, so I may have underestimated how strong he was. Even with Bry squirming and kicking on her end of the belt, Hunter wasn’t impressed at all. “Definitely,” I nodded.

“If I did that,” Hunter said, “I would have resolved the issue for the moment, but I wouldn’t have fixed the problem. And by ‘problem’ we understand what I mean, don’t we?”

I took a moment to look at Brileigh’s murderous expression. “Yes.”

“And what would you say Miss Brileigh’s problem is?”

“Uhm, she’s a bitch?”

Hunter laughed. “Okay. Not wrong. What else?”

“Uhm. She’s mad?”

“Mad at who?”


“Well most certainly at the moment, yes. But she was mad before I got here. Who was she mad at before I arrived?”


“Very true. Good answer. She’s mad at her mom. Who else?”

“Uhm,” I squirmed.

“Think. Who is Brileigh really mad at?”


Hunter smiled. “Okay. Jackson, that’s not the exact right answer, but it’s a pretty good answer. Will you please stand over there?” He pointed to a spot on the floor next to the television. “Good. Thank you. Now I’m going to spank your sister and I’d like for you to watch her face as best you can while I spank her.”

With one hand, Hunter unbuttoned Bry’s jeans, unzipped them, and had them down to her knees in a flash. Her panties got swept down with the jeans. I could see her bare butt, but her hairless coochie was pressed together in the V of her thighs and I couldn’t really see that very well.

Hunter grabbed Bry by the back of the hair with one hand and kept reign on the belt with his other. He sat in our living room chair and took his own look at Brileigh’s coochie. He froze. “What the actual fuck?” He stared at Brileigh’s crotch. Or so I thought. After a moment I realized he was looking at the cuts on the top of her thighs. His finger gently traced the scars. “Oh fucking shit,” he sighed. “You really are angry, aren’t you, Little Miss? This changes things.”

Whatever that meant, it didn’t mean changing the spanking, because Bry was over his lap and kicking her legs. Oh my GOD, those first couple spanks were loud! Brileigh went stiff as a board and her mouth gaped open. She was trying to scream, but she couldn’t. The actual screaming started somewhere around Spank Number Four, but it was gone by Spank Number Eight. Bry went from kicking, screaming, Tasmanian Devil to a limp rag. Hunter rounded it off at an even ten butt claps. He kept his grip on Bry’s hair, but he let go of the belt. He ran his open hand gently up the back of Bry’s thigh toward her butt. Her butt was kind of pink, but it was getting redder even while he wasn’t spanking it.

Hunter looked at me. “Did you see it?”

I knew exactly what he meant. I had seen it. I had seen her spirit jump out of her body and leave the shell of what used to be my sister twitching over his lap.

“Are we done here, Miss Brileigh?” Hunter’s voice was deep, but calm.

Bry started blubbering.

“I asked you a question, girl,” Hunter said. He brought his hand to her bottom once more and stiffened his fingers flat.

Brileigh’s head kind of snapped up on her neck. She didn’t stop crying, but she started nodding.

“Excellent,” Hunter said. He stood her up in front of him and spun her around so he could untie the belt from around her wrists. “Now pull your pants up and get your shit together.”

Brileigh did as she was told. Her face was crimson. She was trying not to look at me. As she straightened her top she finally glanced my way. Then her eyes went toward the door. Then back at me.

I shook my head “no” as discreetly as I could and communicated to her with my eyes that she would never make it in a million years.

She looked at Hunter and pointed at her dripping nose.

“Of course,” said Hunter. “But hurry up. Your mother is waiting in the car.”

I waited to see if Brileigh was going to make a run or not. I hoped she wouldn’t. She got a paper towel from the kitchen and honked her snot out. She gave me one more questioning look. Then she picked up her bag and purse and Hunter locked the door behind us. I didn’t know he had a key before that moment.


With the exception of some small talk in the front seat, the car ride to Hunter’s house was pretty quiet. Bry stared out her side window. I tried to map out where we were in the city. Denton is not huge, but it has a lot of octopus arms, a lot of different looks. We drove through the campus and into some suburbs with nice lawns. We pulled up in front of a modest two story that had a hedgerow so square it looked like it would draw blood if you brushed against it.

We were carrying our overnight bags up the walkway when we got our first look at Dallas and Katelyn. I knew Dallas was a year older than Brileigh. Thirteen. I just didn’t expect him to be so... I dunno what the word for it is. Something about him looked older than thirteen. He was dressed in a nice shirt with a collar that had obviously been ironed. He didn’t wear jeans, he wore khaki slacks. He didn’t wear sneakers, he wore leather shoes. He looked like he should be teaching Greek Literature at the college. He had blonde hair that was kind of poofy. He was smiling so there was no missing his perfect teeth.

Katelyn was two years younger than me. Or almost two years. She’d just turned ten a couple weeks earlier. She was blonde too, but not like Dallas’s Hitler Youth blonde. More honey blonde. She was wearing a skirt and a nice blouse. Her shoes looked like what mom called “church shoes,” even though we’d never been in a church except for a couple weddings of her barfly friends. Katelyn was too little to be “hot” but she was a good looking girl, certainly. The Leftwich kids were trying to make an impression and doing a bang-up job of it.

“Hey Jack! Great to finally meet you, Buddy!” Dallas slapped me on the shoulder. “Dad says you don’t have a PlayStation or an Xbox, is that right? Aw man, how is that even possible? Don’t you like to game?”

Of course I wanted nothing more than a PlayStation or an XBox or even a lousy Gameboy Advanced. But those were luxuries for kids whose mom wasn’t a drug addict. “Gaming is cool, I guess.”

“I just scored the new Call of Duty. The World War II one. You interested?”

“Yeah!” I said. Maybe this playdate wasn’t going to suck after all.

“First let me say hello to your lovely sister. Hey Brileigh.” Dallas put his arms over Bry’s shoulders and gave her a three-pat guy hug.

And you know what was weird about that? Brileigh’s nostrils flared for a second. She actually smelled Dallas while he was hugging her.

“Janet,” Dallas smiled. “You make great kids!”

Mom blushed. “Thank you, Sir!!”

Hunter’s kid called my mom by her first name and complemented her babymaking abilities. Who the fuck was this kid? And mom just called this kid.... WHAT?

“Get their stuff inside,” Hunter said.

“Absolutely!” Dallas waved us inside.

It was a pretty nice house. Not over-decorated the way old ladies put too much stuff on the walls. But everything was clean and pretty new looking. They had really nice furniture and a piano.

They had a flat screen TV mounted to the wall that was twice as big as our Chinese piece of shit and it didn’t have two dead lines going through the bottom of the picture.

“Hey buddy,” Dallas led Bry, me, and mom up the carpeted stairs, “here are the guest rooms. You can dump your stuff here.”

The concept that somebody had a house that had not one but two extra bedrooms... baked my young brain. I mean, technically it was only one more bedroom than we had in our apartment, and technically one of those bedrooms didn’t have a closet and was supposed to be an office. But still.

“This is your crib tonight, Jack,” Dallas opened the door to an upstairs room. There wasn’t much character to the room, but fuck if I knew anything about character in 2003. It had a bed that wasn’t a mattress on the floor. Ritzy.

“Brileigh, this is your room. Sorry, it’s a little smaller, but... Yaknow... So are you, right?” Dallas laughed. Not a douchebag laugh. Dallas dressed kind of preppy, but he seemed to be actually an okay kid.

“DALLAS!” Hunter shouted from downstairs.

“On my way, Sir!”

Again with the “Sir.” Maybe I should have held off on my douchebaggery assessment.

After Dallas left, Brileigh turned to mom and pointed at her own forehead. Then she drew a slow circle around her face with her index finger.

“Yeah. I told you he was cute,” mom said. “Try and make yourself comfortable tonight, Honey. It’s a big night for Hunter and me. Please don’t fuck it up. Just chill out.” Mom looked at me. “I know you’ll be good, Jackie, I can count on you.”

Bry rolled her eyes at the passive aggressive insult.

“JAN!” Hunter yelled. “We’re going to miss our dinner reservations at Queenie’s!”

“Coming, Sir!” Mom answered. Then she mumbled, “I mean it, Brileigh Yvonne. Tonight is kind of a test for all of us. Be your best self.”

Again with the “Sir.” That’s when I noticed Katelyn standing behind us. Had she been standing there the whole time? How did I not notice her before? I could tell from Brileigh’s expression that she was surprised too.

As we cleared the landing back to the first floor I saw Hunter leaning over and whispering in Dallas’s ear. They both looked at us side-eyed. Dallas nodded several times. “Yessir.” Then “Hey, Jack! C’mon! Let’s get you set up on the Xbox, bro! Can I get you a Coke?”

Ten minutes later the ‘Rents were gone on their concert date. I was on the couch getting my ass humiliated in Call of Duty Player-to-Player combat. I could barely get off a shot before somebody lit me up. I couldn’t get the hang of the XBox joystick. Dallas had an idea that I needed to back up and play the game in Story Mode, including the tutorials. Good idea. I had no idea I was Tech Retarded, but apparently I was.

“Hey,” Dallas turned to a very bored looking Brileigh who was splayed across the loveseat, “you wanna play, Brileigh? We can all take turns?”

I didn’t want to, but I half-heartedly offered the Xbox joystick to Bry. She waved me off.

“You sure?” Dallas asked.

Brileigh made a face like she would throw up if she somehow actually picked up the controller.’

“Okay, that’s cool,” Dallas said. “Hey, Katy, why don’t you scratch Jack’s back.”

“Yes Sir.” Katelyn jumped up on the couch and straddled me, kind of standing on the cushions, leaning against the back of the couch. She started dragging her fingernails down my T-shirt and it felt amazing.

“How does that feel, Jack?” For some reason Dallas wasn’t that interested in taking a turn at the game.

“Good.” I tried not to show how amazing it felt to have Katelyn’s long fingernails dancing all over my spine.. Surely my hair was standing up on my head and everybody already knew that the little girl was electrifying my skin.

“You need some more Coke, bro?”

“I’m good.”

“Brileigh, are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?”

Bry shook her head and stood up.

“Whatcha need?” Dallas asked.

Bry looked around the room. She looked at me.

“She needs to use the bathroom,” I said.

“Oh,” Dallas smiled, “Of course. Let me show you.”

Bry made a “Bitch, please!” face and raised her palms.

Dallas looked at me. “Translation, Jack?”

I glanced up from the game. “Uh, she says to just tell her which way the bathroom is.”

‘Uh...” Dallas made a pained face, “hey sorry. But... I’m not allowed to leave you alone, Brileigh. Not even for a second.”

Bry offered her “Get the fuck out of here” look.

Dallas understood. “No. Sorry. Seriously. I have to take you to the bathroom. And I kinda have to watch you pee. It is pee, right? You don’t have to drop a load, right? When Dad said to not leave you alone for even a second, he meant not even for a second. I’m so sorry.”

Brileigh gave Dallas the finger.

“Uhm, yeah. Please don’t do that. I’m the Man-of-the-House. I can’t let you do that stuff or I get in trouble. I don’t want to get in trouble, yaknow? Over here. This way.” Dallas led Bry down the hall.

Bry was momentarily stunned. But something about the way that Dallas proclaimed himself Man-of-the-House was enough to make her follow him.

“Sorry, I need to check your jean pockets first,” I heard Dallas say. “Thank you. Cool. Okay, I’ll turn my back. No, I can’t let you close the door. I’m sorry, Brileigh. Well, it’s this or you just don’t pee until tomorrow. No, I’m serious. Okay, I’m not looking, just do it real quick. Okay. Thanks. Thank you.”

In less than three minutes they were back in the living room. “You sure you don’t want to play?” Dallas pleaded. “Jack will share. Two people can play the game. No? Uhm, what about a different game?”

I cringed. There was no better game than Call of Duty. All teenage boys understood this. A girl could only screw up my fantastic turn of fortune.

“What about Animal Crossing? You ever hear of that one? Yes? You have?”

I cringed again. Animal Crossing was for girls. It didn’t even have guns. Fuuuuuuck.

“I have Animal Crossing on the Nintendo Gamecube. Up in my room. You wanna go try it out? Yeah? Cool! Awesome! Guys, we’ll be upstairs. I’ll check on you in a few. Katy, make sure Jack has a fresh Coke and anything else he wants. You’re responsible for making sure Jack is happy.”


I sighed relief, even though I couldn’t conceive that anyone, ANYONE, was rich enough to have two game systems! And... A game system in a boy’s room? That shit only happened in movies about rich kids.

“You’re getting a lot better at this,” Katelyn said as she pulled her incredible fingers in mirrored wavesigns across my back. “You’re really smart.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said. “I’m totally getting the hang of this.”

“Would you mind taking your shirt off? I could scratch your back better if you did.”

Weird but not too weird. “Okay.” I paused the game and pulled off my tattered tee shirt.

“That’s way better,” Katelyn cooed. Her fingernails started all the way up my back, dancing over my shoulders and the back of my neck. “Duck down in that foxhole. No you need to duck. The B button. The red one. Yeah. That’s it.”

I shuddered with cold fire pleasure.

“You like that?” Katelyn whispered.

“Feels really good.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“Do you wanna play, Katelyn?” I held up the Xbox joystick and prayed that she’s decline.

“Oh no,” she said. “I play all the time. It’s more important that you have a good time. You don’t have an Xbox, do you? At your place.”

“I don’t have shit,” I said. “We barely have a television. It’s not nearly this nice. We only have one chair in front of the TV. We don’t have couches and stuff like you do.”

“Kitty,” she said.


“Katelyn is what my dad calls me when he’s mad at me. Kitty. Dallas and my friends call me Kitty. When we’re alone. Kitty is my special name for special friends.”

“Huhn.” A German skewered me with a bayonet because I couldn’t find the button to switch weapons fast enough.

“Up there.” Katelyn reached around me and pointed to the button on top of the controller that switches weapons. “You kinda have to keep your pointer finger on it all the time. Weapons management is critical.”

“Gotcha. Good idea, Katelyn.”

“Kitty. Please call me Kitty, Jack.”

“Okay,” I shrugged. I put the game on pause. I looked back at her. “You’re really good at this game, aren’t you?”

Katelyn smiled. She shrugged. “I can hold my own. Not as good as Dallas. He’s really good.”

“I bet,” I said.

“He’s good at everything.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” I said. “But he seems pretty cool.”

“He’s very cool.”

“That’s nice of you to say. Sisters don’t usually like brothers.”

“I adore Dallas,” she said. It struck me. It was weird for any ten year old to say “I adore...”

“Oh my GOD,” I shuddered. “You’re tickling the crap out of my neck.”


“No, don’t stop. It feels terrific.”

“Anything you say.” I could hear the smile in her voice as she said it.

“You’re pretty cool too, Katelyn.”

“Kitty. Please.”

“Okay, Kitty.” Then, “I’m sorry your brother has to play Animal Crossing with my dumb sister.”

Katelyn didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, they’re not playing video games. They are making out.”


“Smooching. Kissing.”

“Yeah, I know what ‘making out’ means,” I said. “But not Brileigh. She’s more likely to bite Dallas than kiss him.”

“Mmmm. No,” Katelyn said. “I know my brother. He’s totally making out with your sister by now. He never takes this long to start kissing a girl. One hundred percent, they are making out. On the bed.”

I laughed. “You don’t know Brileigh.”

“Mmmm. You don’t know my brother.”

I paused the game. “Seriously? Are you serious?”

Katelyn’s eyes shifted left and right in a conspiratorial flutter. “You wanna see? You wanna see them making out?”

I shrugged.

“Well do you want to see or not?”

“I guess.”

“You wanna make a bet?”

“What kind of bet?”

“If they are making out, you have to make out with me.”

I flinched. “You’re too little.” I might as well have punched her in the stomach. Her smile dropped away.

“Okay, whatever.” Katelyn stopped scratching my back and stepped off the couch.

I hadn’t meant to make her mad. But I clearly had said the wrong thing and I regretted it immediately.

Katelyn slipped off her shoes and danced up the carpeted stairs as silently as a ghost. I played the game for a while longer. Then I felt like an idiot sitting in front of a stranger’s television without my shirt on. I was living the dream, but in my dreams there weren’t three other people in the house ignoring me (or mad at me).

Suddenly I felt like a douche.

I put on my shirt. I walked to the bottom of the stairs and listened. I stepped over Katelyn/Kitty’s shoes and softly climbed the treads. I paused at the top of the landing and listened. Sure enough, I heard the smooching sound and followed it to the cracked door of Dallas’s open door. I pressed my eye into the gap and... Sure e-fucking-nough. Dallas was face down into tonsil boxing my sister; his right hand up her shirt and working her left tit over. Bry was hissing from her nose loudly as her lips were grinding into Dallas’s perfect teeth. Her hands pushed through each side of Dallas’s hair. Her bare feet were bicycling against nothing. Holy shit, this dude had some game. I had a hard time realizing that my crazy sister Brileigh liked boys. She didn’t like anybody.

I wanted to watch, but I didn’t want to watch. Had it been Joy, I would have kept watching. I walked past the doors where Bry and I had dropped our bags. I thought the last door would have been the Master bedroom, but it was a smallish pink room with Katelyn/Kitty painting in an Emperor's New Groove coloring book with watercolor paint and a brush.

“Hey,” I said, trying not to startle her.

“Hey yourself,” she mumbled without looking up.

“You were right.”


“They’re making out.”

“Mmmm. I know my brother, Jack.”

“You think they’re gonna...”

Katelyn stopped painting and looked at me like I’m crazy. “No!”

“Oh.” I laughed awkwardly. “Good.”

“You don’t have sex with a girl the first time you make out, Jack.”

“Uhm. Yeah. I, uh, I know. That.”

“Dallas won’t actually fuck her until later tonight.”

“Yeah. Wait, what?

“Are you cherry, Jack?”

“What? No. Of course not. Yeah. I guess I kinda am.”

“I am as well,” she sighed. “Dallas won’t take my cherry. Daddy won’t take my cherry.”

“Uhm... Well... You’re like... Uh... Ten. And it’s your brother. And, yaknow. Your. Dad.”

“I’m well aware, Jack. Thank you, Captain Obvious. And you’re eleven. You probably can’t even cum yet, can you?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course I can.”

“You’re squirting actual cum? Liquid?”

My brain couldn’t handle the little girl’s self-awareness. “Uh, yeah. That what cum is. Liquid.”

“Clear or white?”


“Your cum. Is it clear? Or is it white? It’s clear isn’t it?”

“Uhm, if you must know it’s starting to get white.”

Kate/Kitty nodded knowingly. “If your cum is white, you’re ready to fuck girls.”

“If you say so.”

“I didn’t say anything. You made it all up.”

“I... What? Uhm. You’re a good painter. Uhm. Kitty.”

“For a little girl, right?”

“Oh come on. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be mean.”

“Were you trying to be an asshole?”


“Okay. Well. I tell you what. If you don’t tell Dallas I was a bitch to you, then I’ll forget that you were an asshole to me.”

“I wasn’t an asshole. I just...”

“Fine. I’ll take the spanking. Just get out of my room.”

“Okay. Jeez. Everybody is freaking touchy today. Who is going to spank you?”

“I dunno. You or Dallas or Dad. I hope it’s not Dad. He spanks so hard. His spanks stay on my ass for days.”

“Why would...”

“For talking back to a man, of course.”

“I won’t spank you.”

“Huh. Not surprised, pussy.”


“Hey!” Dallas’s voice behind me made me jump. “Everything okay? Everything cool?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I was watching Katelyn paint. She’s very talented.” I could see Bry in the hallway behind Dallas.

“Kitty?” Dallas asked.

Katelyn took a long breath. “No Sir. I was rude to Jackson.”

“Seriously?” Dallas cringed. “C’mon, girl. Dad told us to be on our best behavior.”

“Well I wasn’t,” Katelyn said plainly. “I was bad.”

“Goddammit, Kate. One freaking night!” Dallas lamented. “Five hours!”

“I’m not allowed to lie to you, Sir,” Katelyn mumbled.

Dallas pinched the top of his nose. “Hey Jack,” he whispered. “Bro. Can I please ask you to take Brileigh downstairs for a few minutes.”

“No!” Katelyn said.


“I want Jackson to spank me.”

Something happened to Dallas’s voice that made it pretty clear he was getting angry. “Katelyn, our guests have been here for all of an hour. You know dad is going to murder you for causing a scene. Can you please just knock it the fuck off and let’s get this train back on the rails.”

Dallas turned to me. “Bro, seriously. Can you chill downstairs for a minute while I sort this out.”

“C’mon, Bry,” I pushed past my sister.

“Naw,” Dallas said, “On second thought, I can’t let her out of my sight. That was Katelyn’s plan, to get me to break the rules in order to follow the rules. Wasn’t it, Kate? Little schemer. Brileigh needs to stay for this. Sorry.”

“I want Jack to spank me!”

“I am not going to spank you, kid!”

“Jack, be cool!” Dallas barked.

“JACK!” Katelyn screamed. The way little girls can scream at a pitch that pierces your brain made me glad that my sister stopped talking.

“Shit!” I flinched.

“Kate, goddammit, you are pissing me OFF!” Dallas shouted back. “Jack! C’mere. Please.” Dallas took five steps into the hallway and bowed his head. His wiggling fingers pulled me into whisper territory. “Bro,” he breathed into my shoulder. “Bro, I’m so sorry. This is not how any of this was supposed to go. Look. Kate... She’s a little kid, right? A girl. And girls need attention like grizzly bears need salmon. She was thinking you might be into her because you’re closest to her age. We tried to tell her that you were too... Never mind. Just... I understand that you kinda walked into somebody else’s drama. And man, I know that sucks. But here’s the deal. She has to get spanked. It’s like... House rules, right? And what has two thumbs and has to eat a shit sandwich if anybody breaks the rules? This guy.” Dallas gestured to his own chest with both thumbs. “Now I can spank her and look like a psycho in front of your sister. Or I can call my dad and he and your mom will get pulled out of their concert or have to leave their dinner. Whatever. Either way, Katelyn is going to get destroyed. I mean... Dude, my Dad will be insane. Furious.”

I thought about what I had witnessed earlier that evening in our apartment. Hunter was not to be fucked with. Fo’ Sho’. But insane? Furious? I hadn’t seen any of that. But he wasn’t my dad and Dallas obviously knew the guy better than I.

“So, man,” Dallas pinched the bridge of his nose again. “I’m gonna take your sister downstairs. I’m beggin’ you, bro. Begging you. Just sit on the bed, toss Little Miss Attention Deficit Disorder over your lap, and give her butt a couple whacks and let’s just close the book on this bullshit and get back to games. I was going to start cooking dinner. I can’t do anything with Kate being... Yaknow. Kate. A girl.”

“I never spanked anybody,” I whispered.

“Of course you haven’t. Your family is normal.”

Boy, did he get that wrong. But relatives were relative, it would seem.

“Dude.” Dallas was outright pleading. “The kid is going to get me in trouble too. Please man.”

I took a deep breath. I looked at Bry who was watching us. She had a funny sideways smile like she was thinking about a joke. Weird.

“Okay,” I said.

“Awesome!” Dallas brightened immediately. “Brileigh, come with me, please.”

I stood in Katelyn’s doorway. I looked at drawings and watercolors of unicorns thumbtacked to the walls. Her closet door was cracked and her clothes were hung neatly, arranged by color.

She spun around on her swivel desk chair and looked at me.

“You really going to do this, Pussy?”

“You shouldn’t talk like that,” I said.

“You’re not going to do it.” She swiveled back around and picked her paintbrush out of an old jelly jar filled with water.

I stepped in and sat on the bed. “Let’s get this over.”

Katelyn laughed. “You’re not serious, Pussy.”

“I’m not a pussy. C’mon. Get over here.”

Katelyn stopped painting and looked at me. “You’re serious.”

“I guess. Whatever your weird fucked up family is into, whatever. I don’t give a shit. Dallas seems cool and I want to be cool with Dallas. So... C’mon. Get over here.”

Katelyn burst out laughing. “OH MAN! We TOTALLY got you, Jack! Hahahahaha! WHOOOO! Gotcha!”

“Oh man.” My cheeks flushed. “I feel like a total a-hole.” Nothing like falling hook, line, and sinker for some other kids’ pranks. Jeebus, I was an idiot.

“Hahahahahaha!” Katelyn pointed at me.

“Fuck.” I stood up. “Okay, you got me.” I shuffled toward her door in humiliation.

“Go help Dallas cook me dinner, Pussy. Hahahhaha.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. I remembered the way Hunter was looking right at me when he had Brileigh on a painful wrist leash. No. No. Nonono.

I turned and walked back in the room. I sat on Kate’s girly bed.

Katelyn didn’t look up. “Forget your tampon, Pussy?”

“Get over here and get over my lap.”

Katelyn smiled at me. “Get out of my room.”

“I won’t ask you again,” I said calmly. “This isn’t a joke. You aren’t playing a joke on me. Your dad is not a jokester. Your dad is a dude who is serious as a heart attack. And now so am I. Get over here, Katelyn. If I have to stand up, I’m pulling you over my lap by your hair. Now!”

Katelyn blinked. “Shit. You’re... Wow. I bet Dally that you’d never do it. He bet he could talk you into it.”

“Not gonna say it again.” I said.

“Well okay then, Jackson Crenshaw.” Katelyn stood up, never breaking eye contact. She reached down and grabbed the hem of her blouse, her hands in a cross. Then it was up and over her head. Her bare little girl chest was unimpressive. Her nipples were flat reddish dimes. Nothing I’d ever jerked off to, and not likely that I ever would.

“That’s not necessary,” I said.

“It’s necessary.” Katelyn kept her eyes locked on me as she unbuttoned the side of her skirt and unzipped it. It fell down on top of her shoes. “In this family all spankings are on a bare ass.” Katelyn pushed her panties down and stepped out of them. “Titties are a bonus. They are a gift.”

She walked a circle to my right side and crawled over my lap. When she settled down on me she lifted each of her knees in turn and did a little grind of her crotch into mine. She tossed her hair and looked back at me with a smile. “Take your time,” she said, “make it count.”

Her cocky attitude was making me mad. I thought about how calm Hunter had been when he spanked the tornado that was Brileigh. I wanted to be that calm and cool. But the mouthy little girl over my lap wasn’t taking me seriously and it was pissing me off. I lifted my right hand and brought it down on her pale butt cheek. She didn’t move. She didn’t make a sound. I smacked her butt again.

“Not up on top, dumbass,” she said. “On the back. By my thighs. Here.” She reached back and pointed at the meaty curve of her tiny bottom. “Bring your hand in low. It doesn’t hurt way up -- “


“JESUS FUCK!” Katelyn’s whole body wracked in a wave.


“YOWCH! Yeah. That’s better.”


“Oh shit. Yeah. C’mon, Pussy. Smack my sassy little ass.”


“Fuck, Jack. Can you switch buns please? Mix it up. Move the hurt arou--”


“Ttttlllthth!!! Whew. Exactly. You take direction well. You’re gonna be good at this.”

CRACK! “I guess Dallas wins,” I mumbled.

Katelyn’s eyes were thin and her mouth was shaping tight little O huffs of pained breaths.


“Oh fuck! That’s really heating up,” Katelyn panted. “Are we about good?”


The meaty feel of girlbutt under my hand was pretty magical. The sound that a proper connection made when I hit the right part of her butt with the right part of my palm was amazing. “I’ll tell you when I’m done,” I growled.


“Muwuh!” Katelyn went stiff.


“FWUHHH!” Stiff as a plank. The scuffed leather bottoms of her little shoes tilted up to the ceiling.


Katelyn let out a little sob and deflated.


She sniffed and hitched, I heard the real crying start. It was time to stop.


“Ooooowwww! Jackie, please!”

“Don’t you ever call me a pussy again.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry.”


“OWWwuwuh. That hurts so bad! I’m sorry, Jackson. Really. I’m sorry.” She was crying steady.

“Get your clothes on,” I grumbled. I stood up and dumped Katelyn into the floor. I watched her scramble from all fours to her knees. Wearing only socks and shoes was kind of its own oddly sexy look. Not that Kately was sexy. She was a little girl. Or at least her body was a little girl body. Ten year old girls didn’t talk like she talked. Ten year old girls couldn’t manipulate like she could manipulate.

“Like I said,” I looked down at her, “Dallas won.” I did not understand humiliation, so I didn’t fully know why it felt so good to talk like a boss after I had just set her buns on fire. My pecker was thick in my pants and the weird power feeling was pumping through my blood.

Katelyn sniffed and rubbed away tears with the back of her hands. “No, we all kind of won.”


Dallas cooked something called “Blackened Cajun Chicken Linguini.” It was really good, even if it was just fancy spaghetti. Brileigh kept looking at her fork before she slid the goopy pasta between her teeth like she was looking at tomorrow’s Pick Three lottery numbers.

We all did dishes and then crashed on the couches. We watched Elf on the television. I couldn’t wrap my brain around how we were watching a movie on the Leftwich television when that movie was still in theaters. Dallas just shrugged when I asked.

“Where there’s a will, there’s a Pirate Bay,” he said.

I did not understand this.

Dallas was slouched back into the cushions of the couch. His fancy shoes were staged neatly on the floor and his dark dress socks were on display. Brileigh was leaning back against him like she was his girlfriend. There was no handsy gropey with either of them. I leaned on one arm of the loveseat and Katelyn was on the other. Sometime during the movie she turned and put her bare feet on the tops of my thighs.

A couple times Brileigh had to pee and every time Dallas paused the movie and the two of them walked down the hall out of view. I could hear Bry peeing, so the door to the bathroom was open. True to his word, Dallas never let Brileigh out of his sight.

After the movie I tried to talk everybody into playing more video games. Hunter said we should do something that everybody wanted to do, since the girls were bored by Call of Duty. We played a board game I’d never heard of called Blokus on the kitchen table. It was pretty fun, I guess. It was like somebody made Tetris into a board game. We never played board games at our house, not even when Brileigh talked. Now that she didn’t talk any more that made most games impossible. You didn’t really have to talk to play Blokus. The later it got the more I thought about what Katelyn had said about Dallas fucking my sister tonight.

It was getting late and Dallas told Katelyn to get to bed. I could tell this really pissed her off, but she didn’t say anything. She hugged Dallas’s neck and kissed him on the lips. She ignored Brileigh entirely, pretty much like she had all evening. She walked around the table and hugged my neck. Apparently I missed that I was supposed to kiss her, so she just kissed my cheek, sighed, and left.

A few minutes later Brileigh stood at the bottom of the stairs and gestured with her thumb.

“Hey,” Dallas checked his watch, “Dad and Janet should be here really soon. I know you’re tired. Can you hang on just a few more minutes?”

Right on cue, headlights flashed through the kitchen window from the driveway. Dallas sighed in relief. “That’s them.”

When the adults walked in, I could tell something was wrong with my mom. Her eyes were puffy like she’d been crying. But she was trying to put on a brave face.

“Everything go okay, Dallas?” Hunter asked.

“Fine, Dad.”

“Anything I need to know about?”

“Uhm, Kate had a meltdown but it was dealt with.”

“Dealt with?”

“Uhm, Jack took care of it.”

Hunter froze. “Jack?”

“Yeah, Jack dealt with her.”

Hunter sighed. “Okay. I’ll go take care of it. Goddammit, Son. You should be able to manage a household for a couple hours.”

Dallas stepped in and grabbed Hunter’s sleeve. “No. Seriously. I checked her ass. Jack really lit her up.”

Hunter looked at me, reevaluating. “You don’t say. Huhn. Okay, if you checked his work, then I’ll trust your word.” He nodded at me. “Well done, Son. I hoped we’d have more time to bring you up to speed on family politics.”

I smiled. I’d never had a man call me “Son” like I was actually his son and not just an idiot kid who was either in the way or a navigational buoy on the way to my mom’s cooter.

“Everything okay with you, Cuteness?” Hunter half-hugged Brileigh with one arm.

“She was great,” Dallas said. Dallas and Bry exchanged quick smiles.

“That’s what I like to hear! Janet, go on up. Jackson, you are free to hit the sheets as well. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Miss Brileigh, you hang on. I want to have a word with you. Dallas will be attending.”

It was weird snuggling into a strange bed in a strange house (emphasis on the word “strange”) but the bed was really comfortable. I had a lot to think about in the dark. I wondered why mom had been crying tonight. I figured that Hunter and her had broken up and they were just going through the motions of keeping the evening plans. Surely the way it started out with Brileigh throwing her shitfit was all Hunter needed to know about merging two totally different families; one family that had their shit together and rules and one family that decidedly did not have their shit together at all. Mom was beautiful, but tonight would end up being another date with a Normie who got his pecker wet in my mom and then realized that her toxic baggage and mouthy kids weren’t worth a little ass.

I heard Hunter, Brileigh, and Dallas tread up the stairs. There was a knock on the door to my room.

“Hey Jackson,” Hunter pushed the door open and leaned in.

I sat up.

“Hey, house rule. Don’t close your door all the way. We don’t have secrets in this house. Doors don’t close.” Hunter stuck his hand in, palm down. “Four fingers, okay? Doors stay open at least four fingers. Always. No exceptions.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Thanks Jackson.” Hunter left my door open, four fingers wide. Then the hall light turned out. Oddly, I heard everybody go into the Master Bedroom.

Hunter and everyone were whispering. Everyone but the girl who didn’t talk. Wouldn’t talk.

Mom was objecting to something. Hunter was insisting on something. When I slipped out of bed and listened at my opened door I heard Hunter lecturing my mom about something called “cutting” and what that meant for Mom’s custody case. “Just look at those scars, Janet. This has been going on for a while. How could you not know this?” Hunter went on about how our whole family was in serious trouble and how Brileigh should never be left alone until she got some therapy. I heard Hunter say, “Do you have any idea what this would do to my career if DCS found out that I have a cutter as a foster? I’d lose my job, my license, my certifications. I didn’t ask for this, Janet. But this is where we are. I didn’t bring us to this situation. You did.” Then things went really quiet. A drawer opened. My mother gasped. I heard jingling, like little bells. Then Hunter talking bossy. “Brileigh, get down. On your knees. Tilt your head forward. Good.” Some fumbling. “I’m going to lock it on.” Click. “Key stays with me or Dallas. Tonight I’ll just hold onto it until we know Miss Brileigh understands the seriousness of this situation.”

“She’ll be cool, Dad. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

“You better, Son. You have a lot of people counting on you.”

“Can I lock Janet in her collar?”


“Janet!” Dallas’s voice dropped low and serious like Hunter sounded. “Get your pajamas off. Now.” I heard my mom sniffle. “Hurry up, you’re stalling,” Dallas insisted.

“Good job, Son,” Hunter said. “Move her along.”

“Man, Janet has great tits,” Dallas said. “Her nips are poking out. Look.”

“Don’t just stand there, Son. Get a pinch on them.”

I heard my mother suck air. “Whooo! Yeow! They’re really sensitive, Sir! I’m on my period.”

“Shut up, Janet,” Hunter said.


“I wanna feel her pussy,” Dallas said. “I bet it’s wet.”

“You just worry about your toy,” Hunter said. “Janet’s on the rag and you’re ignoring your charge.”

“Sorry, Brileigh. Just. Your mom is so fucking hot. Janet, go to all fours. Oh man, Dad. That ass of hers is killing me. I can’t wait to spank you, Janet.”

“Son,” Hunter’s voice dropped three octaves.

“Yes sir. Okay. I know. Janet tuck your chin in. No, do it fast so your hair goes up. Yeah, like that. That’s better.” There was some jingling. “How’s that, Dad?”

“Spin it around so the D ring is in the front. That’s where the leash goes.”

“Oh yeah.”

“OW! SHIT!” My mom interjected. “You got my hair!”

“Shut up, Janet.” Hunter and Dallas said it in unison.


“Nice,” Hunter said. “You gonna leave her in doggy?”

“Up on your knees, bitch,” Dallas said.

I inhaled hard. A thirteen year old boy just called my mom a bitch. Well, more accurately, apparently a thirteen year old boy made my mom take off her clothes, crawl in the floor, put some kind of collar on her neck, and then called her a bitch. THIS was where my Mom finally snapped. For sure.

“Yessir,” she whispered.


Then more jingling.

“Pull her leash a little,” Hunter said. Test out the play in that collar. Does it move around too much? Is it too loose? Is her face turning red? Is it too tight?”

“Naw, Dad. I think it’s perfect.”

“I agree. Well done, Son.”

“Hey Dad, can I... You know?”

“Son, you’ve got Miss Brileigh to suck your cock. Why don’t you take her to your room and give the young lady her first lesson in obedience?”

“Dad? Pleeeeease? Just for a minute?”

Hunter exhaled. “Just for a minute.”

“Awesome,” Dallas brightened. I heard a zipper. “Janet, suck my cock, bitch.”

“What are you looking at me for, Janet. The boy gave you an order.”

“Suck!” Dallas barked. “Ohhhhh fuck yeah. Oh that’s amazing.”

I could hear wet slurping. Then mom moaning. I had to see this but I was afraid to sneak down the hallway and look through the perfect four-finger gap in the Master Bedroom door.

“Oh shit, she can get so much in her mouth, Dad.”

“She can get more if you grab her hair and pull her throat down on your cock. Use the leash the way it’s meant to be used.”

“Like this?”

Mom made a loud garking sound.

“Oh fuck, Dad, Janet can get my whole cock in her mouth! Right up to my balls.”

“Yep,” Hunter said, “but she still can’t get my whole cock in her throat, can you Janet?”

Mom coughed for a moment. “I’m trying, Sir.”

“I know you are,” Hunter said. “Don’t nut, Son. You’ve got a girl to deflower tonight.”

“I won’t, Dad. Janet is just such a good cocksucker. Brileigh are you watching your mom?. Stop staring at the floor and look at this bitch sucking my dick.”

“Brileigh!” Hunter shouted.

“That’s better,” Dallas said. “I bet you can’t suck cock this good yet, but we’re sure going to practice. Aren’t we? Aren’t we?”

“Bitch answer your man!” Hunter bellowed.

I held my breath. Bry was just headstrong enough to dig in and fight Hunter again. Maybe you could get away with calling mom ‘bitch,’ but not Bry. Explosion in Three... Two...

Both Dallas and Hunter chuckled at the same time. “Great,” Dallas said, “I can’t wait.”

“Speaking of which...” Hunter said.

“Okay, okay, Dad. I’ve just never had a cocksucker this talented. Janet, suck really hard. Really really hard. Good. I want to hear it pop out of your whore mouth when I step back. Suck!”

A loud wet pop echoed out of the Master Bedroom. It was followed by a wet smack that I recognized as the sound your pecker makes when you let go and it slaps you in the stomach. Dallas moaned. “Oh shit that was good. C’mon Brileigh. Let’s get to my room.”

“Dallas, you better--”

“I know, Dad. I know. I’ll use a condom.”

“We’ll get Miss Brileigh on the pill this week. Janet stand up. Hug your daughter. The next time you see her, she’ll be a woman.”

“Sir, are you sure about this?” Mom sniffed nervously.

“Janet, you need to face reality. Your youngest daughter needs constant supervision. By giving her to Dallas we’re all going to be better assured that she gets the male attention she craves and the firm hand that she needs to get her through this dangerous phase she’s going through.”

“Joyce is going to have an aneurysm when she finds out.”

“You leave Joyce to me,” I told you. I know how to deal with her,” Hunter said. “I’ve bested a thousand Joyces.”

“I believe you,” mom said.

At that point I saw Dallas strutting down the hall wearing only his khakis and dark socks. He had a really good, even tan on his chest and a smile from ear-to-ear. One arm was trailing behind him as he passed the four-finger crack in my door. Dallas's trailing arm became a hand that was gripped around a black leather loop and the black leather loop turned into a dip of jangly chain and the jangly chain curved upward and became my naked sister in a dog collar. Both of Brileigh’s hands were in matching leather wrist cuffs which were also on a chain that went through a metal ring on the front of the dog collar. That chain between her wrists was short and both of her palms were high on her bare, small tits and facing forward like begging dog paws. Her head turned as she passed my door and I think she saw me lurking in the gap. But she passed quickly and then all I could see was her naked butt marching past me. It was covered in mauve and purple handprints that Hunter had drilled into her hours ago while I watched.

My pecker: Diamonds. I could feel my heart thumping and my pulse ticking in my neck.

I slipped back into the bed and gripped my angry steel penis. It was on fire.

I knew I was surrounded by a lot of shit going down that was just plain wrong. My mom had just apparently sucked a thirteen year old boy’s pecker while my twelve-year old sister watched. At the other end of the hall was a ten year old girl who taunted me until she made me spank her butt while she was naked as a jaybird. In the Master bedroom were two grown adults who clearly knew that a couple of kids were about to fuck. Of course all of this was a mere month removed from the time my mom got railed by a giant police dog.

My pornographic recall locked onto Brileigh getting her butt blistered. The way Hunter took no shit from my bitchy sister. The way Brileigh twisted and pulled against him on his lap, her bare butt squirming in every direction to get away from Hunter’s determined hands. And especially that last part where she went flat as a board. There was something about the way her toes all spread out like a falling cat before she collapsed in a sobbing heap, folding over Hunter’s lap. I mean... I felt bad, right? Because that was my sister. But damned if she didn’t have it coming for years of treating me bossy. Seeing her “break.” That moment. Hunter told me to watch for it, and I saw it. That moment she broke. That moment when she changed from out-of-control kicking Honey Badger to quiet, sobbing sweet girl... Oh fuck. My cock was a burning log in my hand. I thought about Brileigh’s stiff legs over and over. Then her splayed toes. I kept thinking about those toes. I flashed back to my mom when she went from screaming in pain from her dog rape to the part where her chin went up and her eyes were thin. That moment when she actually seemed to like what was happening to her...

I blew a load of hot cum all over the underside of the sheet I was beating off under. I kept squirting cum forever, soaking my hand and my stomach. And the sheet.

Ah shit. The sheets. These were not my sheets. Somebody was going to see this explosion of boy juice all over their guest bed. Shit. Shit. Shit. I panted and milked all the pleasure I could out of my needy pecker. I came so hard it left me dizzy. I finally stopped panting and that’s when I realized I could hear Brileigh moaning.

I listened for a while. I got an idea that if I went to the hall bathroom I could get enough toilet paper to mop up most of my mess and then maybe not be so embarrassed tomorrow when they all saw I had soaked their guest bed in splooge.

I did my very best Jackson Crenshaw stealth mode as I slipped out of the bed. I pulled my underwear and pajama bottoms up over my sticky wisps of pubic hair. I tiptoed to the bathroom and felt around on the wall until I found the toilet paper roll. First I cleaned the gunk off my chest and junk. I gently raised the lid of the toilet and deposited the cummy paper. I grabbed another substantial wad of tissue.

Slinking back to my room I heard Brileigh moaning again. From the other direction I heard a deep grumble that was Hunter making a low animal noise. And slurps. Hunter was getting his knob slobbered. I know what a blowjob sounds like. Light was leaking out of both doors. Both ends of the hallway were having sex with a light on. That was rare, but it made for good perverting. How did I know this, you ask? Oh wait. You already know. I told you.

I heard my own breath coming out my nose.

Curiosity was killing me.

I looked both ways in the hall to make sure it was clear. I stepped lightly toward Dallas’s room. The lamp on the nightstand was on. I could see everything. Well, almost everything. The headboard of Dallas’s queen-sized bed was on the wall opposite the door. Brileigh’s cuffed hands were looped over the top of the headboard, stretching her arms to their limits upward. Dallas was face down in Brileigh’s coochie. He was naked, but I only saw his back, butt and legs, thankfully. Brileigh’s knees were wide and her sides of her feet were frantically rubbing against Dallas’s shoulders. She was lifting her own butt off the bed, pressing her coochie harder against Dallas’s grinding mouth. Brileigh’s eyes were slits and her mouth was hinging open and closed as she made mewling whimpers.

Bry arched her back. Seeing her do that made me realize her titty cones were probably bigger than I gave her credit for. Her nipples poked way out.

Hunter was groaning and grumbling as he moved his face all over Brileigh’s crotch.

Brileigh’s arms tightened and tensed, forcing her shoulders off the bed. She opened her eyes but only to watch Dallas’s mouth assault her pussy. When she couldn’t hold herself up any longer her head snapped down on the pillow and her feet started massaging circles on Dallas’s bare back.

“Your slut pussy is so fucking wet,” Dallas mumbled. “So wet. You are so ready to squirt, aren’t you? Aren’t you, Brileigh? You’re ready to cum, aren’t you bitch?”

Brileigh pulled herself up again and watched Dallas’s mouth move all around her coochie. I could hear the wet slurpy licks he was painting on my sister’s pussy. Brileigh nodded rapidly.

“You need to cum so bad,” Dallas growled. “I can feel the tension in your quivering thighs. You’re so ready to blast a gush in my horny mouth, aren’t you?”

Brileigh nodded rapidly again. Her arms gave out again and she dropped back on the pillow. Her chin was up and ticking from side to side. I’d watched Troy do this to Joy before. It wasn’t as fun as watching blowjobs. But this was kind of interesting, especially the view of the bottoms of Brileigh’s bare feet as she danced the edges of them all around Dallas’s back, her high insteps pointing at the ceiling. Mom gave both her girls the gift of really small, really perfect feet.

Dallas dropped down and kissed all over the insides of Brileigh’s thighs.

“Nuuuuhhhhhggggh,” Brileigh moaned. She bared her teeth. It wasn’t a good moan. It was an annoyed moan.

“Oh I know,” Dallas said. “I know I’m not letting you cum. You need to cum so bad.”

Brileigh nodded fast.

“But I’m not letting you. You need my hot, wet tongue riiiiiight there.” I couldn’t really see most of what Dallas was doing to my sister, but when he stretched out his tongue and flipped it all over the top of Brileigh’s pink coochie slit I saw that. My sister tensed her arms hard and her butt flew up off the bed. Her face scrunched into a red clinch. She hissed spit bubbles through the corners of her pinched mouth.

“Oh you were really close there, weren’t you?” Dallas dropped back to kissing Brileigh’s thighs.

Brileigh’s expression instantly switched from looking like she was trying to poop out a watermelon to almost crying. Her bottom lip pooched out and she whimpered.

“All you have to do is say it,” Dallas mumbled. “All you have to do is say the words. Say it.”

Brileigh was clearly in distress. Her chin quivered. She looked closer to crying than cumming the way Joy came on Troy’s mouth.

Dallas breathed heavy over Brileigh’s legs. “Just say it, bitch. Say it. Say ‘Fuck me.” If you want to cum, you better say it. You have to beg me.”

Brileigh nodded rapidly.

“No, bitch. You know that’s not going to work. Out loud. Say it. My bed is soaked, but my mouth is strong. I can do this aaaaalllll night, bitch. I can keep you on the edge aaaaallll night. But you need to cum so bad. All you have to do is use your words.” Dallas pushed his mouth back into Brileigh’s coochie and her eyes bugged open and crossed. Her head rocked forward and back in a tight wave. “Uhhhhhnnnnnnggggg!” she moaned like a zombie.

Dallas reached around each side of Brileigh and clamped a hand squeeze around each meaty boob. His hands slid up, pushing her little cones toward Brileigh’s face and then his fingers closed around each nipple and rolled the pink erasers between his fingers.

“Wugh wugh wugh!” Bry rocked her hips and her heels went hard into Dallas’s back.

My pecker was getting hard again. It was something about Brileigh’s feet that was getting to me. The way she moved them. How small and perfectly proportional they were. The communication of need that she was telling to her pussy licker with the way those grinding heels and the outside edge of her feet were skating all over his back. Mostly it was her crazy, needy distress sounds. Again, Brileigh Yvonne wasn’t getting her way and that was incredibly sexy to see her on the receiving end of power she couldn’t control.

“Oh yeah, Janet. That’s great!” I turned my head when I heard the moaning from the other end of the hallway. Watching my sister tortured by Dallas’s mouth was entertaining, but nothing was better than watching a blowjob, and that’s what it sounded like coming from the Master.

I tiptoed in the other direction. My four inch vantage into the adults having sex was not as great as my view of the kids had been. I was looking at Hunter’s back as his legs were over the other side of the bed. I could see my mother from the eyes up as her head thrust forward and she made slurpy noises. She garked and slurped.

“So good, Janet. Suck that cock.”

Mom moaned a response. She popped off Hunter’s cock and I saw it as it sprang up toward the ceiling. Wow. He had a monster. “Baby, I’m hurtin,” Mom pleaded. “Just a little bump. Just a taste. I’ll be such a good slut for you if I can do a little hit.”

“No,” Hunter said. He reached down and rubbed mom’s cheek tenderly. “You make me cum and cum good and you can have your fix.”

“I already did,” mom pleaded. “You already came once.”

“That’s not how it works. You know that you have to get two throatfuls of my sperm before you can hit.”

“You take so long on the second orgasm,” mom pleaded.

“I know, honey. That’s the point. Besides, I don’t think the kids have fucked yet. I don’t want to lay in bed listening to my son outlast me.’

“You can go three times a night,” mom said. “We’ll go all night if I can bump.”

Hunter gripped his diving board cock at the base and pointed it at mom’s face. “Suck. Now.”

Mom whined and leaned forward. She latched on and started moaning and slurping away. If only the door was open FIVE fingers wide, I could have seen a little better. I pressed my hand against the door and gave it the slightest press.

Bad move. The hinges squeaked. I froze. Hunter stiffened. His head cocked, pointing his ear right at me. I was busted. Mom popped off his cock again.

“What’s wrong?”

I stopped breathing. A long pause. I wanted to run, but my feet turned to lead. “Nothing,” Hunter said. “Hang on.” Hunter stood off the bed and reached behind my mother for the door to his closet. He angled the door slightly and that’s when I noticed there was a mirror on the closet door.

“What are you doing?” mom asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hunter answered.

Hunter angled the door until he was looking right at me in the reflection. There was no doubt he saw me. He smiled and nodded. Then he sat back down on the bed. “Suck,” he barked. He aimed his pecker at mom’s mouth and she latched on and slurped. From my perverted Peeping Tom view, I could now see my mother kneeling in the reflection of the mirror. It was perfect. Her hands were in cuffs behind her back and she was sitting on her feet, which were kind of turning purple. I could see the reflection of her left side and her pendulous left tit swaying with the motion of her sucking neck and mouth. I was fully hard again. “Deep,” Hunter growled. Mom raised up off her feet to push her mouth deeper onto Hunter’s long pecker.

“Yeah, more,” Hunter growled. “More. More.”

Mom was giving her everything to screw her mouth farther down Hunter’s shaft. Her face was crimson and spittle squirted out of the corners of her mouth. I wished I could see her butt, but she was still wearing her panties because she was having her period.

“More, woman!” Hunter barked. But mom couldn’t take more. She pulled off Hunter’s pecker and inhaled hard. There was a messy web of her spit still stringing between mom’s gasping mouth and Hunter’s twitching cock. The spit made a bridge and then broke and splashed onto mom’s face and tits and the floor. That was really cool.

“Lick,” Hunter barked. Mom leaned forward and her long tongue spooled out and danced all over the base of Hunter’s pecker shaft. Hunter pushed the top of her head lower and mom understood and licked all over Hunter’s hairless balls. “Oh, shit, you slut. That’s soooo good.”

“You like that baby?” mom panted.

“Oh that’s so nice. You’re such a good cocksucker.”

“I love sucking cock,” mom moaned. “I love sucking your huge cock.”

“Mmmm,” Hunter moaned. “You just love sucking cock, don’t you?”


“You even loved it when I made you suck Dallas’s cock, didn’t you, slut.”


“Say it. Say it. Say you loved sucking Dallas’s hard cock.”

“I loved it,” mom moaned. “He’s so fucking cute. Thank you for making me do that.”

“Have you ever sucked Jack’s cock?”

“Noooo,” mom moaned. “Jackie’s not like that. He’s a good boy,”

“He’s still a boy,” Hunter said. “Still needs dominion over his women.”

“Mmmmm, your cock is more than enough for this woman.”

I could see Hunter’s head turn and look at the mirror. I couldn’t see his face when he was sitting down, but I understood that he might be able to see me.

“If I leave Jack in charge of you, you know you have to do anything he says,” Hunter growled. “Oh shit, you’re really getting me close. You’re such a slutty suck, Janet. Uhngh. If Jack gives you an order, you do what Jack says. You hear me woman.”

Mom said something with Hunter’s pecker still in her mouth that was like “Yeeeth I unnuhstun.”

“And I mean anything. If he wants a blowjob, you give that boy a blowjob.”


“And if he wants to put your naked ass up in the air and fuck you like a doggy bitch, you get that little tail of yours up and waggling for him, you understand?”

“Yyyyyuth. Mmmmm. Yuth thurr.”

“Oh you little sucking slut!” Hunter’s head rolled around his neck. He was ready to fill my mom’s mouth with spunk. I could tell. Mom could tell too, because she really lifted up her thighs and drilled her piston mouth down on Hunter’s pecker hard enough to make her face red and the “gark gark gark” noises come from her throat.

“Ohhhhhh...” Hunter started swaying with the building orspasm pressure he was fighting. “I’m so close. Suck that cock, slut. Suck it. So close. I can feel it in my balls. I’m going to fill your slut mouth, you pretty cocksucking whore mouth slut... So close... Soooo close.” Hunter’s hands grabbed each side of mom’s head by her hair and took control like a horseracing jockey yanking the reins as he closed in on the finish line. “Don’t stop. Do NOT stop bitch. I can feel that cum bubbling. So close. Oh I’m burning. Do not stop sucking. Do not stop sucking. Do... Not... Staaaaaahp...”


I jumped. The animal scream had come from behind me. It had been so long since I heard Brileigh say actual words that I almost didn’t recognize it had been her voice. She’d done some pubertying in the interim, and it wasn’t the voice I remembered.

I also realized I was standing in the hallway of a stranger’s home with a giant ball of toilet paper in one hand, and the other hand squeezing the rock hard pecker in my underwear. I also got enough snapped out of my horny trance that I looked over and saw Katelyn standing in her doorway looking at me. She looked me in the eye and then she looked down at the toilet paper and then my hand in my underwear. Then back at my face.

“There’s an easier way to do that, youknow?” she whispered.

I did not understand.

“You want a blowjob?” she whispered. “I’m not allowed to fuck you, but if you tell me to give you a blowjob, I have to do it. Dad and Dallas said so.”

I realized how ridiculous I looked. For some reason I wanted to punch Katelyn for catching me looking like an idiot.

“GAWWWWWWD OH FUCK FUCK FUCK YESSSSSSSS!” This was followed by a female squeak pitched so high I think it could have shattered a wine glass.

Both Katelyn and I looked down the hall at the same time. “He finally let her cum,” Kate whispered. “He’ll mount her now. You wanna go watch?”

“No,” I whispered back. I tried to wave her back into her room. “Go back to bed.”

Katelyn stepped past me and grabbed my wrist, extracting that sticky hand from my underwear. She pulled me down the hall. She looked through Dallas’s door and I looked over her head. Dallas was already posted with one arm doing a pushup on the side of my sister’s head. His butt was raised up over Brileigh’s coochie. Brileigh’s knees seemed to be trying to close together like a bear trap, but Dallas’s legs were preventing this. His other hand gripped around his pecker and I could see the tip of his pecker wedging into the stretched crimson lips where her coochie hole used to be. He wasn’t the monster dick that his father was, but he had enough pecker to make me wonder how it was really going to possibly fit into Brileigh’s tiny pee cave. If Dallas was wearing a condom, I sure couldn’t see it.

Dallas dipped his hips in short thrusts and Brileigh made breathy moans that turned into high pitch yips quickly. Dallas took his time. Katelyn reached up and pushed her warm palm against mine and closed her fingers into a grip. While Dallas was circling his butt in the air I noticed two things:

First, the fitted topsheet was soaked. It looked like my sister had peed the bed. It was one huge dark spot under her butt in a giant circle. That was gross. I hoped she didn’t pee on Dallas’s face. Yick.

Second, Brileigh still had the padded cuffs around her wrists, but they weren’t chained together anymore. She had her fingers wrapped up under Dallas’s arms and gripping the back of his shoulders. If Brileigh had any fingernails, those fingernails would have been digging into Dallas’s back. Instead the tips of all her nubby fingers were white with pressure. Dallas lowered and screwed his elevated butt in a circle. As he made little dips of his hips he leaned his mouth downward and Brileigh arched up with the kissiest kiss that I ever saw a girl do to a man. Not even the porn VHS tape I had hidden in my dresser featured that kind of starving kissing. Bry’s mouth was as needy for Dallas’s mouth as her coochy had been when Dallas was licking it.

Katelyn squeezed my hand hard. Dallas dipped his back and pushed into my sister. Brileigh went stiff and made a crazy noise. Dallas stopped to lean in and bite Brileigh on the ear. Brileigh moaned low.

“You okay?” I could hear Dallas whisper in her ear.

Brileigh’s face, what I could see of it under Dallas’s shoulder did not look okay. But she nodded. Dallas started moving his butt again. Brileigh’s hands roamed all over Dallas’s back.

I became aware of a presence behind me. I snapped around and Hunter was standing naked in the hall ten feet behind me. Behind me and Katelyn. That dude was fit. His dong was swinging like a bell clapper between his thighs.

Katelyn squeezed my hand again and nodded at her dad.

He looked perturbed.

“You should have took the blowjob,” Katelyn whispered to me from the corner of her mouth. She let go of my hand, dragging her sharp fingernails across the palm. I didn’t realize I had hair in my ears before she did that, because the electricity shot up my arm, neck, and into my hair. Katelyn swooshed past her father. Her bedroom door stopped four fingers short of closed.

Hunter looked at me funny. That’s when I realized he was looking at the stupid giant wad of toilet paper in my hand.

“You don’t have tissues in the guest room?” Hunter asked me. He stuck his head through the door of my room and flipped on the light. He flipped it back off. He stepped into the hall bathroom and then back into the hall. He tossed me a box of Kleenex and I caught it. “Get some sleep, Son.”

I nodded. Then I remembered. “Yes,” I said softly. “Yes sir.”

But the first order of business was to jerk off again. I lasted seconds this time, thinking about my mother struggling and slurping away on Hunter’s big dong, her hands locked behind her back. Her mouth slurping and talking all those nasty words. I thought about what it might be like to have her sucking my pecker the way she sucked Hunters. I thought about what Hunter made my mother say about sucking and fucking me and wondered if it was really true. I thought about mom’s big swinging boobs and her long reddish brown nipples and her feet turned purple from kneeling on them too long.

I came so hard I squirted hot cum on my own neck.


Breakfast was just breakfast. Two families acting exactly as normal as families were supposed to act at breakfast after a sleepover. Hunter made waffles in a real waffle iron with batter and real blueberries that burst in the heat of the cooking. They were glorious. I saw Dallas with an armful of bedsheets heading for the washroom. I saw a triangle of dried dark blood in the folds. It took me a minute to figure out that had been Brileigh’s cherry. The ball of linen was so big he must have stripped my cum starched bedclothes as well.

Brileigh didn’t start talking again. She just ate her waffle and blushed a lot. I looked up from my plate to catch a lot of secret smiles flying back and forth across the table between Bry and Dallas.

Hunter was perfectly normal. There was no way of telling that I had seen him standing in the middle of the hallway naked and dripping sweat nine hours earlier.

There were no dog collars. There were no cuffs around wrists.

Mom had showered and put on makeup. She was strung out though, I could tell. Her eyelids were heavy. She was coming down, but still functional. That was disappointing. I didn’t really think Hunter, of all people, would let mom get high. I didn’t understand that heroin wasn’t a drug that would take the night off, not at my mom’s level of addiction.

We were scurrying around, packing up our things for departure when Hunter stepped into the guest room and shut the door. So much for “no secrets.”

The Spark Notes on our conversation was that when we got back to the apartment, Hunter was going to make my mom and Bry stay in his car while I went in first. He said he thought I probably knew how Bry cut herself. I nodded. He didn’t ask how I knew and I was glad. Hunter said I was to get the knife and any blades she had. I was to hide them until I could throw them away in the dumpsters behind the apartments. He said Dallas was going to come live with us for a while, and that mom was going to talk more about this with us when Joy came home. Hunter assured me that Joy would be home by nightfall.

Hunter said that Dallas had some thing he had to do with school tests and his Judo lessons that he absolutely could not miss, but as soon as that was over, he would come be Man-of-the-House at our apartment for just a little while. Hunter said that Brileigh was probably going to be okay for a little while and act like a different kid, at least until she found out that Dallas has 700 other girlfriends, at which point we’d all have to watch Brileigh super careful again. Also he told me emphatically not to say anything to Brileigh about Dallas already having 700 girlfriends.

But for the next couple of days, I really needed to step up and be the Man-of-the-House. He was counting on me. Mom was counting on me. The girls... Well, the girls needed me to step up whether they admitted it or not.

I just nodded and Yessired. In some alternate reality Hunter was a WW II British Commander with a huge bushy moustache and a monocle, and I was a Paratrooper Commando being briefed on a suicide mission behind enemy lines, one I secretly planned to survive. Hunter had real Dad energy and I was drinking that shit up like it was a Capri Sun. (Mango.)

Before we left, Dallas hugged it out with mom and Bry. He whispered something in Bry’s ear and she nodded and smiled. I kinda thought his hand was a little low on mom’s butt when he hugged her, but whatever. Katelyn hugged me. She looked grumpy.

Dallas and I fist bumped. “See you soon, Bro,” he smiled.

On the drive home, mom didn’t say much. Something was eating at her again. She was chewing her bottom lip, always a sign that there were storm clouds on her horizon. Brileigh smiled and looked out the window like she was seeing colors for the first time. I swear I heard her humming. My sister had been replaced by an alien. A really cool, not at all bitchy alien.

Hunter was playing a CD of the guitarist that he and mom had seen in concert last night. It sounded like somebody was bouncing a windup music box in the air with a tennis racket; Notes that seemed to be coming from everywhere at once and not knowing exactly where they were supposed to line up.

That whole drive home from Hunter’s house to our apartment may have been the high-water mark for “normal” in my life. I actually like Leo Kottke now because it takes me back to that magical interlude of Normal.

After Hunter pulled into the parking space, he kept mom and Bry in the car. They were confused. I ran up to our apartment and did exactly what I was supposed to do. I came down and gave Hunter a thumbs up. He opened the car doors, hugged Bry goodbye and kissed mom warmly and whispered something in her ear.

Looooooot of whispering going on in this “family with no secrets.” Just sayin’.

Bry and I unloaded our overnight bags (in my case, a plastic grocery bag) onto our beds. We both threw our dirty clothes into the hamper that Joy took to the laundromat around the corner when the hamper was full. I hope she came home soon because I was almost out of clean underwear.

Mom walked in the kitchen and Brileigh approached her. Brileigh arched her eyebrows, pinched her knit shirt, and pulled it up in a boob that pointed at the ceiling. This was Brileigh’s not subtle representation of Joy. Pointy tits Joy.

Mom nodded. “I know. I need to talk to you about Joy. That’s one of the things we need to talk about. We need to talk about a lot of things. Jackie! Come on in here.”

“Mom?” I asked.

“Jackie. Bry. Your sister got arrested last night. With Troy. Troy is in a lot of trouble and he cannot be in our life again. Not ever, I’m afraid. He and Joy were... Well they were kissing in a car. A cop found them. You know Troy’s already in trouble because of Joy, Now he’s in super serious trouble. Anyway. You’re not to talk to him. Not in person. Not on the phone. If he tries to talk to either of you, call Hunter immediately. Got it?”

Brileigh stretched a boob into her shirt again.

“Well, uh,” mom was struggling, “your sister, Bry, your sister did not have clothes on when the policeman saw her, uhm, making out with Troy. And while Troy was arrested because.. Well because he knew he shouldn’t be anywhere near Joy... Uhm your sister actually got arrested too. For being naked in public. She was arraigned in Juvenile Court this morning. Hunter is actually on his way over there now to see if he can get her out of detention and maybe out of trouble. He knows a lot of people who work there, of course, with his job at Child Services. He knows a lot of people. He’s very connected and we’re very lucky he’s helping us.”

Brileigh looked at me with an expression she probably made when taking a shit.

“Yeah,” I nodded back, “Bry’s right. That makes no sense. Troy gets caught making out with my teenage sister and somehow Joy is the one in trouble?”

“I told you,” mom said, “Troy is in big trouble. Joy is in little trouble. But little trouble is still trouble and I don’t know how we’re going to afford a lawyer, so I hope to God that Hunter can really help us. I don’t know where we’d be without him on our side right now.”

Bry rolled her finger in a tumbling motion. Mom looked at it and then looked at me.

“She asked what else you need to tell us.” I explained. “There’s something you’re still not saying.”

“Oh yeah,” mom nodded. “Uhm, seriously, that’s a conversation that I only want to have once.”

Brileigh’s teeth clenched and she pointed to the back of her own ring finger.

“What?” mom laughed. “Oh no. Not that. Absolutely too soon for any of that. Hunter and I are just dating,” Mom blinked and looked at her feet. “I think,”

Her answer relieved Brileigh who was glad to know she wasn’t fucking her step-brother. At least not yet. Brileigh smiled, hummed, and practically skipped to her room and shut the door.

I sighed. Here we go. I opened Brileigh’s door. “Hey,” I leaned in, lowered my voice, and put my hand forward, palm down. “four fingers, Sport. House rules.”

Brileigh laughed. Then she realized I was serious. The door remained ajar.

Mom was crying softly in her room (not a super rare thing) and I was pouring Totino’s pepperoni pizza rolls onto an oven pan when the phone rang. Brileigh danced into the kitchen and answered our one phone which came with the apartment and was hardwired to the kitchen wall. I have no idea why Brileigh insisted on answering the house phone if she wasn’t going to talk. She tapped the receiver twice on the fridge, as if the entire world knew this meant “Say something.” She held the phone to her ear and looked at me. She pointed toward mom’s room, set the handset down on the counter, and spun it.

“Moooooom,” I called. “For you.”

Mom honked her nose into a tissue. “Coming.”

I could only imagine what the people on the other end of the line thought about our family telephone etiquette.

“Hello? Yes? Yes, Joyce Felicity Arnette.” Then mom rattled off a series of numbers. “What? That’s not it? Are you sure? Oh no, wait, that’s Jackie’s Social Security Number. Uhm, is it...” mom rattled off another shaky list of numbers. “No? That’s not it either? Well is it close? Uhm is the last number a nine, not a six?” Mom brightened. “Yes! Good. It’s been awhile since I had to remember Joy’s Social.” Mom listened and “Uh huh”ed a lot. “Yes, I’m writing this down, of course.” Mom was not writing anything down. “About what time, then?” She looked at the clock on the stove. She held her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone handset. “Jackie, why is the stove clock blinking?”

“Nobody reset it the last time Municipal Electric turned us off.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “We just got tired of doing it.”

“Well what time is it anyway?”

I grabbed mom’s left hand, pulled it toward me, twisted her wrist, and looked down at the tiny face of her tiny little girl watch. “Two twenty.”

“The battery doesn’t work in my watch. Don’t you think I know I’m wearing a watch?”

“Why are you wearing a watch that doesn’t work?”

“BECAUSE IT’S BEAUTIFUL AND SO PEOPLE WILL THINK I HAVE MY SHIT TOGETH-- Yes what? Oh nothing I’m sorry. I was just taking some delivery from the UPS man. Yes.” Mom forced the biggest fake smile. “Okey dokey, that’s wonderful news. We’re soooo sorry this happened and I’m going to sit Joyce down and make sure this nev-- what? Hello?”

Mom hung the handset back on the wall-mounted phone. “Bitch hung up on me,” she mumbled. “Your sister will be home at five thirty, approximately!” she announced to the apartment. “I want everybody here and in clean clothes with your hair nice. Jackie, honey, change that shirt. It has more holes in it than Governor Connaly. Better yet, just throw it away.”

“I like this shirt.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jack, will you find out what time it actually is? I need to know if I have time to get my war paint on and my hair did.”

By the time the cop showed up with Joy, I had waved most of the smoke out the apartment window from the burned pizza rolls that I forgot when I went downstairs to ask Mrs. Hackman what time it was. The back of my neck was still stinging from my mother’s repeated whackings of the back of my head while I was going back and forth between the black smoke billowing from the stove and waving a couch cushion at the bleating smoke detector.

The smoke detector was still screaming when mom opened the door to reveal Joy, a female cop, and our old friend Mr. Yandie.

Joy looked up at Mr. Yandie. “Home sweet home,” she mumbled dryly. “Shocker, huh?”

Mr. Yandie took the couch cushion out of my hands and quieted the smoke detector in seconds. He looked at my mom, whose lipstick would have looked a lot more even if she’d taken more time applying it and wasted less time cracking her only son in the back of the head when he was already clearly preoccupied putting out a kitchen fire with an oven mitt.

The cop plugged the box that monitored Joy’s ankle bracelet into the outlet behind the coffee pot while Mr. Yandie explained to mom the terms of what Joy was allowed to do while wearing the ankle bracelet, which was pretty much nothing, as well as where she was allowed to go while wearing the ankle bracelet, which was pretty much nowhere. Nowhere except school and a tiny geographic ring made by the mysterious box they plugged in which ended right about where the front and back parking lot pavement began.

“Who is gonna do the laundry then?” I asked.

Mom rabbit-punched my kidney without ever dropping her big fake smile. “Well I will, of course, Jackson. Just like I always do.”

As the cop was making calls to confirm that the ankle monitor box was talking to the jail, Mr. Yandie walked around, popping his chewing gum. He looked suspicious.

“Uhm, Janet? Yeah, uhm... Case Officer Leftwich carries a lot of weight down at Services. I owe him a bunch of favors and this is one of them. But this family is on my Mount Rushmore of fuckup families. Seriously. Officer Preston, is the connection up?”

“Base, Baker Two Twenty Seven on Code Forty-Seven. Requesting 10-97 on bracelet install.”

Her radio answered. “Baker Two Twenty Seven you are Ten-Two. Seven bars."

“Roger base.” The cop gave Mr. Yandie a thumbs up.

“Joyce, sign this.” Mr. Yandie held a clipboard in front of Joy. She signed it with a half-assed swish of her wrist.

Mr. Yandie offered the clipboard to mom. “Janet...”

Mom reached for the pen and Mr. Yandie yanked the clipboard back. “Read it, please. Actually read it. You’ve got an open file, so I strongly suggest you actually read it and send the copy to your lawyer.”

“I don’t have a lawyer,” mom said.

“That’s clinically insane and I totally believe you,” nodded Mr. Yandie.

“We good, Bobby?” the cop asked Mr. Yandie.

He nodded. “Thank you, Officer Preston.”

“Base, Baker Two Twenty Seven. I am Ten-Eight. Kingswood.”

“Roger that Baker Two-two-seven in service.”

Mom pretended to read the small print of the forms she was signing. Mom wouldn’t read a billboard if it told her where she could find Matthew McConoghey taping hundred dollar bills to his dick.

She signed whatever was on the clipboard.

“Gracias, Janet.”


Mr. Yandie pulled a mobile phone from the inside of his tweed jacket. He flipped it open and thumbed down something on the display. He pressed a button and held it to his ear. “Hey Aych, package delivered.” He looked mom up and down. “You were not kidding, my brother.” He looked Joy up and down. “She’s a pill.” Laughter. “Yep. He bro, why don’t you and I keep the leger tilted in your favor. Yep. Totally. That’d be fine. Okay.”

Mr. Yandie held the mobile phone out for my mom. She picked it up hesitantly. “Hunter? Yes honey. Yes. Uhm... Okay? Are you... Sure about that?” Mom looked at Mr. Yandie. “Okay. Yes. Yessir. I will. Love you. Bai.” She handed the phone back to Mr. Yandie.

Mr. Yandie turned and looked at us kids. “Children, I need to have a brief consult with your mother. Alone. Please go to your rooms. I may need to take your mother in her room for a moment to talk about some private legal issues.”

Joy flopped in the one television chair and threw her leg over the arm, showing her ankle monitor to everyone. “Fuck that,” she spat, reaching for the remote. “Just go get your cock sucked and leave me to catch up on the O.C.

“Fair ‘nuff,” nodded Mr. Yandie. He walked in mom’s room and she followed and closed the door. He walked out ten minutes later.

“Mind the magnitude of your situation, Joyce.” Mr. Yandie fixed his tie.

“You’re no different than the rest,” Joy growled without looking up from the television. “Corrupt as fuck and you think you’re going to get away with it forever.”

“We will see, Joyce.”

“Yeah, we will,” Joyce never looked up from the TV. “I’m fifteen. I’ve got more time on this planet to watch you get what’s coming to you, asshole.”

Mr. Yandie pulled out a pack of gum and drew a stick between his teeth. He pulled it into his mouth and spit out the foil. He wadded the foil in a ball and gently set it on the arm of the chair next to Joy. He pulled another stick partially out of the pack and lowered it towards Joy’s face. “Gum, sweetheart? Your breath smells a little like Juvie Guard pussy.

Joy clenched her teeth. “Right off. That’s where you can fuck, Bobby.

“See you soon Joyce Felicity,” Mr. Yandie sauntered toward our door. “Very soon.”

Mr. Yandie slammed the door behind him and Joy jumped out of the TV chair. “Goddammit, Janet, what did you do? How did you know where we were?” Joyce threw mom’s bedroom door open.

“Calm your tits, girl,” mom said. “There’s no conspiracy. You were doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing with somebody you weren’t supposed to be doing it with in a place neither one of you should have been. You got caught.”

“No, there’s definitely something sketchy going on, I can smell it.”

Mom clenched her jaw. She took a breath. She stepped into Joy. “Honey,” mom whispered, “yesterday I was high and screwed and barely hanging on. Barely hanging on to this family. Thanks to you, today I’m even more fucked. If it weren’t for Hunter, instead of dropping you off here, that lady cop would have been picking up Bry and Jackie to take them back to Foster Care. I’m not joking. That’s what it looked like at ten o’clock last night when Hunter was paged. Family Services had already called the primary Foster Families and told them Bry and Jack were on the way. Hunter turned it all around and made calls from the lobby of the UNT theater.”

“Yeeeeah,” Joy squinted her eyes, “you ever stop to think how funny it is that everything that’s gone sideways for this family in the last three months is all one step removed from Hunter? He’s always standing just outside the suck, reaching in and ‘fixing’ things.” Joy made air quotes with her fingers.

“Joyce, if you have to go on the sex offender registry... I... I... I can’t even wrap my mind around what that’s going to do to this family. We’ll get kicked out of here, for certain. I don’t know where we’re going to go since we can’t even go back to Village apartments since we were kicked out of that shit hole.”

Joy rolled her head on her neck. “I’m not going on a sex offender list, Drama. Not for having my panties down in a car. Nine hundred and ninety nine times out of a thousand, the cop would have just took my statement and sent me on my way. But of course that doesn’t happen to me. Nyew. Not with your boyfriend juuuust outside the frey, waiting to ‘help’ me.” Joy made finger quotes again. “No judge is going to ruin a teenage girl’s life over that. The entire female population of Texas would be on the registry.”

“Christ, I hope you are right.” Mom started crying. “But you sure as fuck would still be in Juvie if it weren’t for Hunter, so you could show a little gratitude.You could tell him thank you.”

“Same way you just thanked Bob Yandie for it being a day that ends in Y, Janet? That was Hunter too. I heard the call.”

“That was just...” mom looked over at me. “Just professionals trading favors. That’s all.”

Joy smirked. “You’re quite a favor for him to trade. You should brush your teeth. Your breath smells like you licked his balls.”

Mom wasn’t having it. “Hmmmm. Yeah. I just sucked a cock... To get my daughter out of fucking jail... For what now? Hmmm, I-forget-no-wait she was SUCKING COCK!”

“Because YOU’RE too strung out to take care of me or Bry or Jack or yourself, Janet! Troy was the only one buying groceries and paying the light bill!”

“And that’s why I was waiting for you to get here. So I only have to do this once. Brileigh! Jackie! Get in here. Look, I’ve got a lot of... Issues. I know I’m not winning any Greatest Mom contests lately.”

“Ever,” Joy mumbled.

“So,” mom continued, “I’m going to go try and get some help. For my problems. The kind of help where I’m going to have to go away to a... facility. To try and get better.”

Joy blinked. “Janet, are you going to fucking rehab?”

Mom nodded.

Joy laughed. “That shit is expensive. You can’t afford rehab. You couldn’t afford to have two homeless winos lock you in a park bathroom for the week it would take you to sweat it out.”

“Hunter is helping.”

“Hunter? Helping? Helping who? You? Or is Hunter helping Hunter?”

“Baby,” mom gently reached out for Joy’s arm, “can’t you please not fight me on this? Don’t you see how much we all need for me to be better again?”

“Janet, when is the next time you expect a paycheck? What are we going to eat while you are gone and I can’t... I can’t bring any money home either.” Joy lifted her leg to display the big grey plastic box Strapped to the inside of her shin. “We going to boil the wallpaper into soup?”

“Hunter is taking care of the bills, and he’s going to take care of all you kids, too. You’ll go live with him for a month or six weeks, whatever it takes for me to get well.”

Joy made her patented machine gun throat laugh. “Hunhahunhahunhahunha!” She snorted. “No fucking way. You think I’m going to live at that douchebag’s house? No fucking way.”

“You don’t really have a choice. You’ve got to go where your case worker sends you.”

“Janet can’t you see how fucked up this all is? You are literally dating and FUCKING our case worker. Think about that! How can he get away with that? That is nine kinds of wrong if not just plain illegal!”

“Technically Bob Yandie is the case worker for all you kids. He traded so Hunter and I could see each other. It’s not illegal. Hunter’s boss knows about it. Technically Hunter is listed as your alternate foster. For all you kids. If anything happens to me, you’d probably go live with him anyway.”

“One incestuous little party,” Joy shook her head.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I mumbled.

“Jackie, shut up,” mom scolded. “Besides, Joyce, you’re going to absolutely love this part.” Mom said it like she knew Joyce was not going to absolutely love it. “Wednesday night Dallas is going to come stay with us and help get things organized before I leave. I’m not exactly sure how long that will be before I leave and you go to Hunter’s house. However long that takes, he will be living here.”

Joyce shrugged. “Who the fuck is Dallas?”

“Hunter’s son.”

“Isn’t he like seven years old?”

“He’s a very mature thirteen. Almost fourteen.”

“And what is this little punk going to do staying with us? Other than spy for his dad?”

“He’s going to cook and manage things.”

Joy did her machine gun laugh again.

Brigleigh pushed Joy to get her attention and held up her notepad. Dallas is my boyfriend.

“Oh, isn’t that adorable,” Joy smirked, making her eyes big and nodding. “We’ll break out the Easy Bake Oven from the storage locker and you two can play house!”

Brileigh looked at me. I nodded. “She has no idea,” I said to Bry via my own non-verbal slow shake of my head..

I was right. Joy had no idea the vampire we were about to invite into our lives.


It was a Wednesday. I remember it like it was five minutes ago.

Brileigh and I were home from school. There were two weeks left before Christmas break. Joy had started going to high school again, just because it was the one place she could go to get out of the house.

Joy was on edge. She was rattled. Her certainty that she was never really going on a sex offender’s list for being naked in a car had crashed headlong into a Juvie judge who was ready to make an example of Joy... and also make an example of mom, who still didn’t have a lawyer of her own for her custody case. Joy had a hearing the day before where things did not go well. Hunter was supposed to make an appearance to try and “help things” but Hunter got pulled away on a work emergency. Joy ended up with a begrudging continuance from the Judge. Her court-appointed lawyer told mom that she had never seen anything like it. The lawyer said juveniles never faced the kind of prosecutorial hard-ass lack of compassion that the State’s attorney was bringing down on Joy. The lawyer had never seen anything like it. The lawyer expected the judge to nod and say a “get your act together, Young Lady” and then gavel the whole thing away.

No such nod. No such gavel.

Joyce was scared for the first time. She was taking it out on all of us. For some reason, she was blaming mom and Hunter. Joy said it was a “conspiracy of bullshit.”

Joyce arrived home on that Wednesday twenty minutes after we got home, as per usual. She grabbed the kitchen phone and stretched the cord into mom’s room and shut the door. I heard her whispering, but I couldn’t tell who she was talking to.

Joyce was hanging up the phone in the kitchen when we all heard a key in the door. The door opened to reveal Dallas standing next to two nice pieces of luggage. “Hey campers!” he smiled.

Brileigh made a squealing sound and jumped out of the TV chair. She ran to the door and jumped up on Dallas and kissed him, her legs wrapped around his hips.

“What the FUCK!” Joy stood in the kitchen, clearly astonished. “Who the flying fuck are you with a key to our house?”

Dallas waved a hand around Brileigh’s back at Joy. He finally broke away from Bry’s kiss long enough to look around Bry’s head. “Hey Jack! Hello, Joyce. Nice to finally meet you.”

Joy was dumbfounded. She looked at me, sitting on the arm of the TV chair.

I nodded.

“Oh fuck no,” Joy clenched her teeth and shook her head.

“Brileigh, honey,” Dallas lowered her to the floor, “bring my bags in, please.”

Brileigh was smiling from ear-to-ear as she grabbed the handles on Dallas’s suitcases and started wheeling them straight to her room.

“Brileigh!” Dallas barked. “No. Master bedroom, please.”

Bry froze. She was confused.

“Put them in Janet’s room.”

Brileigh’s face was a giant question mark.

“Actually, honey,” Dallas said softly, “it’s my room now. Janet doesn’t sleep there any more without my permission.”

Brileigh blinked. Then she slowly pivoted and wheeled the bags into mom’s room.

“Who do you fucking think you are?” Joy stomped behind me toward Dallas who was closing the door behind him and locking the deadbolt.

“You know who I am, Joyce,” Dallas said. He was super calm.

“You’re not walking into my house and setting up camp like you own the place, you little turd.” Joy was right up in Dallas’s face. This was not going to end well.

“Of course not,” Dallas smiled. “Because it’s not your house, Joyce. Let’s see exactly what we are dealing with.” Dallas stepped around Joyce and walked to the kitchen. He stopped and sniffed like something smelled bad. Then he opened the fridge. He took a long deep breath. He started opening cabinets. “Ah jeez,” he moaned to himself. He hinged the stove open and looked at the coating of soot inside. He reached up and turned on the burners. They snapped several times before igniting. “Hwwwwwhhhh. Well your gas works. That’s a start.” His hand wiped down his face from his forehead to his chin and he turned and looked around the apartment. “Jackson, show me your room, bro.”

I led him to my room. He stepped in. He looked around. His eyes eventually locked onto the return air vent above my dresser. He pointed at the wall behind my headboard. “Brileigh’s room?”

I nodded.

He nodded like it all made sense. “Of course.” He spun around and looked at my closet. He opened the bifold doors. He looked down at my toy box. My sphincter clenched. He stepped between my shirts and pulled the toy box away from the wall. He froze. He was looking at the hole in the wall.

He stepped back out and closed the bifold doors. He walked to me and leaned in. “You do that?” He whispered.

“No,” I whispered back. “Like that when we moved in.”

Dallas nodded. “I believe you,” he whispered. “Joyce’s room that way?”

I nodded.

“Okay,” he whispered.

He left my room and walked into mom’s room. I followed and watched him opening the drawers in her nightstands and the drawers in her dresser. I saw him freeze. Then he closed it all up and walked into mom’s bathroom where he riffled the vanity drawers.

“Get the fuck out of my mother’s room, you little pervert!” Joy screamed.

“Mailbox?” Dallas asked Joy. “Key?”

“Fuck off!” Joy was winding up. She was going to take a swing at Dallas any second.

“Jack?” Dallas turned to me. “Where’s the key for your mailbox?”

“Jack isn’t going to tell you shit, you little fuckball!” Joyce growled.

Dallas didn’t blink. “Joyce, surely you have homework?”

Joyce slapped Dallas hard across his face.

Dallas barely moved. He took a deep breath. “That was unfortunate.”

Joyce slapped Dallas again. Or rather, Joy tried to slap Dallas again. It was a blur. Dallas leaned back. Joy’s hand whiffed past where Dallas’s head had been. Dallas turned his knee inward, catching the side of Joy’s left knee and pushing it into her right knee. The destabilization combined with her own momentum started Joy in a spiral toward the carpet. It was hard to explain what happened because it all happened so fast. Just suddenly Dallas was crawling up Joy’s back and riding her crash to the carpet. It ended with Dallas gripping Joy’s hair and pushing her face down into the floor.

“Please stop,” Dallas said softly.

Joy tried to flail her arm back. Dallas moved his knee up on her shoulder, pressing her face down into the dirty shag even harder.

“Please stop,” Dallas repeated.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Joy spat.

“Not likely,” Dallas said.

Joy tried to twist out from under Dallas again, her fingernails looking for any flesh they could find.

Dallas lifted Joy’s head back on her neck and firmly bounced it into the floor. Joy screamed.

“How much do you even weigh,” Dallas asked softly. “Do you even weigh a hundred pounds? I’m guessing you’re like ninety-two. Maybe ninety-three.”

“Fuck you!” Joy began to cry. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw Joy cry.

“Nothing surprising here,” Dallas said. “Just thought this would at least have taken until after dinner. I’m a pretty good cook, Joyce. You should at least let me cook you a nice meal before you make me beat your ass.”

“You hit a girl, you fucking asshole!”

Dallas laughed. “No, I haven’t hit you yet, Sweetheart. But I definitely will. Please know that. Whether I hit you now or tonight or tomorrow, that’s kind of up to you. But you’re not going to punch anybody in this household ever again with impunity. I will fuck you up, Sweetheart.”

“I’m calling the cops!”

Dallas laughed again. “I believe you, Sweetheart. You’re just about that dumb. Go ahead. We planned on it. As they say on TV, 'Operators are standing by!' See what happens next. I’ll get the phone for you.”

Dallas stood up, his hand still locked around the back of Joy’s long brown hair. As he stood he pulled Joy up to her knees in a painful backbend. He reached under Joy’s armpit and yanked her to her feet like a ragdoll. He pushed her out of the room and into the kitchen. He pushed her toward the phone on the wall. “Make your call, Sweetheart.”

Joyce’s hand shot up toward the handset.

Dallas bounced Joy’s face into the wall with a quick flex of his forearm.

Joyce screamed. She started crying really hard. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“No,” Dallas said. “Not yet. But the day is young, right?”

Joy’s hand kind of hung in the air a few inches from the phone. Then it dropped. Dallas spun Joy around and stepped in. He raised his hand and Joy flinched. Dallas continued and ran his thumb under Joy’s nose to wipe away the trickle of blood.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Dallas said. “Please don’t do that again and I won’t have to escalate. That’s not the way I want this to go. It’s certainly not the way a beautiful girl like you should be treated. You give respect. I promise you, you will get respect.”

I never saw Brileigh fly across the room until she crashed into Joyce and knocked her back against the wall. Bry looked furious as she collected herself. Bry had never raised a hand to Joy before, but Bry looked like she was ready to stab her older sister. Bry pointed at Dallas. Then she pointed at her own chest. Then she pushed Joy hard in the chest, bouncing her back against the wall hard enough to rock Joy’s head into the drywall.

“Whoa! WHOA!” Dallas reached around Brileigh’s waist and pulled her away from Joy and up off the floor, Bry’s legs still kicking. “Absolutely not necessary!” Dallas growled. “This is a family! We’re a family! Everybody chill out.”

Joy was shook.

“So you’re a baby diddler and a girl beater, too, huh?” She growled as her fingers took inventory of her nose and mouth.

Dallas stepped into Joy. She flinched and tried to back up but the wall behind her blocked her retreat. Dallas leaned his face into Joy’s face, Joy being at least two inches taller. “Sweetheart,” he said softly, unblinking, “my intensity is not in my fists. And remember that one of us is flirting with the sex offender registry, and it's not me.”

Joy tried to stare Dallas down. I was sure she was going to start throwing hands. But she looked away. Then at Brileigh’s angry red face. Then down at her socks.

“Good,” Dallas said. “Jackson, where is that mailbox key?”

I extracted it from our Junk drawer under the microwave.

“Thanks, Bro,” Dallas pinched it from my fingers. “Come give me a hand, Bro.”

We walked down three flights to the row of ridged gold mailboxes that I walked past nearly every day. Dallas rolled a finger down the line of red, raised Dymo labels. He stopped at our apartment number. He keyed in. “Holy shit,” he breathed. There must have been a hundred envelopes that had been pushed into a solid brick taking up every millimeter of space inside the mailbox. “Exactly what I expected. Goddammit.” Dallas clawed layers of twisted envelopes, peeling them away from the clump like skins from an onion. We both had armfuls of loose envelopes to carry back upstairs.

Back in the apartment we dumped them all in a massive heap on the kitchen counter. Dallas asked Bry to get the blue notebook in his backpack on mom’s bed. She did so on a dead run.

Dallas found our kitchen trashcan, already full, and had me run it out to the dumpster and empty it. When I got back he was already sorting large stacks of coupon circulars in one pile, bills with pink inserts in another pile, and bills with red inserts in yet another pile. I had to make another dumpster run in less than a half hour.

“Bro,” Dallas was opening envelopes with red inserts and writing numbers furiously in his notebook, “why don’t you get on your homework so we can hang out later tonight?”

“I don’t have homework.”

Dallas looked up at me. His face was blank. He blinked. “Bro.”

“Okaaaay,” I grumbled. Maybe I didn’t like him so much after all.

I was laying on my bed, reading a Wolverine comic book that I’d already read a thousand times because I only owned four comic books. I was staring at Rogue’s tits in one particular panel where it looked like she had nipples. I’d jerked off to that page more times than I can count. My door opened and Dallas walked in with a bunch of opened envelopes. “Jack,” he said, “You are failing three classes.” That’s when I noticed the envelopes had our school district logo on them.

I shrugged.

“What the fuck, man? You’re going to flunk seventh grade. Did you know that?”

I shrugged.

Dallas momentarily leaned back on my doorframe. “Dude,” he whispered. He flapped some of the paper notices around in his hand like he couldn’t understand. “Duuude.” He looked at me. His eyes burning through me. I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Shame.

He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said, resigned. “Brileigh only has a D in one class. We’re going to get this shit turned around. You, me, and Brileigh. This shit ends today. You’re going to have to work your ass off next semester or you’re going to flunk, Bro. Think about that. Think about how fucking humiliating it’s going to be to see everybody you know move on to eighth grade while you’re back in the same classes with the same asshole teachers you had this year. Your friends are going to know, Jack. Everybody is going to figure out that you flunked. That’s going to be humiliating as fuck, Bro. Think about that. Ask yourself what you’re willing to do to stop that from happening. Because right now, it’s happening.”

I could feel my face burning with humiliation.

“I can help you,” Dallas said. “I can’t do the work, but I can teach you how to beat the game. It’s a game, Jack. School is a game. There are rules. There are paths that lead to coins. There is hidden treasure. Somebody has programmed a script, like Call of Duty. There’s a way to win. I can show you that way. If you can trust me. If you can trust me and work your ass off.

I was so embarrassed that I could feel tears welling up in my eyes.

“Okay, Jack,” Dallas said, his voice dripping in disappointment. “Grab your coat.”

“Where we going?”

“Grocery shopping.”


“How what?”

“How are we going grocery shopping? We don’t have a car. Or money.”

“I have money,” Dallas nodded. “And I have a phone, which is as good as a car.” He pulled out a mobile flip phone and opened it. He thumbed something into the buttons and lifted it to his ear. “Hello. Pickup ASAP at the north end of Kingswood Apartments. Two passengers. Account. Seven three two two seven nine. Leftwich. Albertsons on North University. Ten minutes? Thank you.” He closed his mobile phone and nodded at me. “Taxi is on the way. Get your coat on, please.”


We hadn’t even put all the groceries away before Dallas was cutting and chopping on a board we had bought at the grocery store with a big knife we had bought at the grocery store. I tried to talk Dallas into making hamburger helper. He said he’d make a fancy hamburger helper. This involved big red and yellow peppers into which he would fill with a combination of the hamburger that was sizzling and the rice that was boiling. I didn’t know we owned pots you could boil something in. Dallas had to wash the dust out of them first before he could use them.

“Where’s your lemon zester?” Dallas asked.

“What’s that?”

“Okay, how about a garlic press. Do you have a garlic press?”

“A garlic what?”

“Never mind,” Dallas seemed annoyed. “I have a knife. I was at least smart enough to buy a knife.”

“We have knives.” I pointed to our mysterious knife block.

Dallas smiled. He pulled out a big blade and looked at it. “No bro,” he laughed, “you’ve got hammers shaped like knives. You couldn’t cut a banana with these dull fuckers.”

Our new chef stopped to clean pans and knives with the new scrubbers he bought.

“Why do you keep washing stuff?” I asked.

“Why not?”

“Just leave it.”

“For who?”

“I dunno. When the sink gets full somebody will wash it.”

“Bro,” Dallas said, “nothing makes girls want to fuck and suck cock like cooking a good meal for them. And nothing makes girls want to NOT fuck and suck cock like washing dishes. So we wash as we go. When we serve dinner, it’s all done. Eating and no dishes. We clean as we go. So we all have a good night, right?”

My mom walked through the door. “Oh hey,” she seemed surprised we were cooking, “Hunter said you’d be over tonight, but I expected later.”

“Kiss the cook,” Dallas set down his spatula and walked to my mom and kissed her.

That was fucking weird. He reached around and his hand went all over mom’s butt. That was fucking weirder.

“Stuffed peppers okay?” Dallas returned to the stove.

“Uhhh... Yeah.” Mom looked at the stacks of opened bills on the counter. She seemed shocked.

Sorry we had to think of something we could cook fast,” Dallas said. The microwave beeped and Dallas pulled out softened pepper halves.

Mom blinked. “No, that sounds marvelous.”


Mom went into her room. She walked back out a moment later. “Dallas, honey, your bags are in my bed.”

Dallas never looked up from the concoction he was stirring in the pan. “No, my bags are on my bed. Get washed up for dinner, Janet.”

Mom’s mouth opened. It closed. “Yessir,” she whispered.


Stuffed peppers were, indeed, superior to Hamburger Helper. I didn’t like the pepper part so much, but the rice and meat filling was amazing.

I looked around our little dinette table. I think the last time we all ate at that table together was the Christmas after we moved in. We pulled slices from a Pizza Bingo box in the middle of the table onto paper towels as plates. Now here we were. Plates and forks and everything. Joy was quiet and looked at her lap while she slowly forked Dallas’s culinary masterpiece into her yob.

Bry couldn’t take her eyes off Dallas. Her face leaned on her hand, she had a stupid smile, and you could almost see little fireworks popping in her eyes.

Dallas filled the silences with questions about my Mom’s job, the people she worked with, and what she thought she might like to do for her next career steps.

Mom said something about a woman named Brenda who was the Office Manager. Mom said that Brenda might be taking one of the Sales jobs and mom thought she could be a better Office Manager than Brenda.

“This Brenda,” Dallas said, “is she cool?”

“She’s very professional, I guess, Pretty fair. She runs a tight ship.”

Dallas smiled. “Brenda is a four-star bitch, isn’t she?”

Mom took another bite. Then she broke into a conspiratorial smile of her own. “A total bitch.”

“Called it!” Dallas winked at mom.

“And how did you know this?” Mom was practically laughing.

Dallas shrugged. “Playing the odds. Women are usually pretty shitty to other women when there’s any kind of power hierarchy. When women are all equal to one another they are great friends and a great team. Usually. But when one woman is higher status than the others, that all kind of falls apart pretty quickly.”

“Hadn’t thought about it in those terms,” mom mumbled, cutting into her pepper.

“I have,” Dallas said with confidence. I looked up to see he had locked eyes with Joy and they were staring at each other. I wasn’t sure what kind of stare-off it was; threatening or just assertive on both their parts,

“While I’m here...” Dallas started. But then he corrected himself. “Rather, from now on... You three ladies are equal. You’re a team. Everybody works together. You all three answer to me and only to me. I will treat all of you with the same respect, provided that you treat me and this household with respect. Who knows what is going to happen long-term, but in the short-term, we are all going to be living together.” Dallas looked between Joy and Bry. “When Janet goes to the... hospital... we will all be living at my house. My Dad’s house. By the time we relocate to Dad’s house, my Dad expects us to have our shit together. He’s counting on me to sort that out before we all make the move. I’m not going to fail. And trust me, ladies, you don’t want to fuck with my Dad. He’s a lot less understanding than I am. So let’s work out our new rules and our New World Order as soon as possible.”

Dallas looked around the table. His eyes stopped at me. “Jack, you and I are going to clean up the dishes and then you’re going to grab your bookbag and bring it here to the table. You and I are going to figure out how to dig you out of the hole you’ve dug for yourself with your grades.”

“Jackie gets good grades,” mom said.

“Jack is on track to be held back next year,” Dallas said. “He’s failing almost every class. Jack is not dumb, so I’m guessing this is more about him not doing his homework. What are you smirking about, Brileigh? You’re failing English.” Then, “On so many levels, you are failing English.”

“Brileigh!” mom exclaimed. “Since when?”

“Janet,” Dallas said softly, “I will handle this. The television stays off tonight. Brileigh, you’ll bring your homework and your English textbook to the table with Jack and I.”

Joy spoke for the first time in forever. Once again she was staring daggers at Dallas and growled when she talked. “What about me? You gonna help me with my Geometry homework... Boss?”

Dallas smiled a small twitch of the corner of his mouth. “Well, if you need any help, I’m currently acing Advanced Placement college Trig, so I might be able to tutor you. But thank Christ, somehow... Some-very-inexplicable-how... Your grades are very impressive, Joyce. Your truancy is killing you, but I’m guessing that you are quite intelligent enough to show up for the test days. Right? That’s the only explanation I have right now.”

“Thanks. Dad.”

“Please don’t call me that,” Dallas said. “But feel free to call my father that any time you like.”

“Not goddamn likely.”

“As you wish,” Dallas said. “It’s a term of honor and that’s between the two of you. Anyway, to conclude, starting at nine o’clock tonight, Jack will take his shower. Then Jack will bathe Brileigh and then Janet. Joy you will bathe yourself following.”

“I shower in the morning.”

“Not anymore you don’t. You bathe when I tell you to bathe. You bathe with who I tell you to bathe. You eat when I tell you to eat. You sleep when I tell you to sleep. You sleep where I tell you to sleep. You wake when I tell you to wake.” Dallas looked around the table. “That goes for all three of you ladies.”

“Oh yeah?” Joy was getting her back up again. I could tell we were headed for Round Two of a throwdown melee. “And what about Jackson? You his boss, too, Mister Bossman?”

Of course when Dallas had been laying down the law to my mother and sisters, I was wondering the same thing. But Joy was the one who vocalized it.

Dallas looked at me. In the eyes. “We all have responsibilities now. New and important responsibilities. Jack will carry his own weight. Right, Bro?”

“So you’re gonna take a turn with my brother, too? You gonna... bathe Jack, Pervy?” Joy’s jaw was clenching. This was not good.

“Of course not. Jack has responsibilities, but as for Jack’s authority? Jack’s place in the chain-of-command?” Dallas looked me dead in the eyes. “Jack will figure out Jack’s place. We will let that happen organically. As long as Jack does his homework and the chores he accepts? Nobody needs to tell Jack what to do, right Bro?”

The whole craziness of a thirteen-year-old boy running my family was a long goddamn way from alright. But I had seen Dallas toss my older sister around the kitchen like she was Mr. Monkey. My mom clearly wasn’t going to challenge Dallas. She was as docile as Bry. Perhaps even moreso. Hell, I’d heard my mom suck the kid’s cock. I sure as fuck didn’t want to go toe-to-toe with him. If he was trying to be cool with me, then that was more than okay.

I nodded.

“Bro. Verbal, please. Are you okay with the new rules.”


“Awesome!” Dallas stood up and started clearing the table. “Help me clean up, Bro.”


After we had almost finished loading the dishwasher, Dallas whispered to me. He asked if I was okay helping him cook and do dishes as one of my new responsibilities.

I told him I didn’t know how to cook.

“That’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ll teach you. We’ll do it together. Or would you rather take charge of doing the laundry?”

I told him I didn’t know how to do laundry either.

He rolled his eyes. He said that was going to change, too. He said I needed life skills. He said one day I was going to have a wife or a girlfriend at least. And I better not expect her to do everything for me. I had to be able to take care of myself before I could take care of somebody else.”

It was all a lot to process. I was really confused.

“So what’s it going to be?” He whispered again. “Cooking? Laundry? What about cleaning? Would you rather do that? You gotta pick one.”

“Uhm, cooking, I guess?”

“Awesome. I’ve got to have a convo with Joyce. Come with me, but just don’t say anything.”

I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. You do it.”

Dallas laughed and wiped his hands on the dish towel he had slung over his shoulder. “No secrets, Bro. That’s the rule. Just shadow me. C’mon. You might learn something about women.”

Dallas knocked twice on Joy’s door and did not wait for her to answer before he turned the knob. The door was locked, of course. Dallas reached up and ran his fingers along the top of the door trim. He found a metal pin that I never knew was there. Then he pushed it in the hole in the door knob and opened it. I had no idea that was what the hole in a doorknob was for.

“Hey Joyce,” Dallas said. “No locking doors, please. Also, doors stay open at least four-fingers wide all the time.”

“The fuck are you doing in my room?”

Dallas didn’t take the bait. “Next time I see the door closed all the way, I’ll take it off the hinges and move it down in the basement to the storage cage. Are we clear about that?”

“What do you want?”

“I’ll be making a run tomorrow for some household essentials and some groceries. I wanted to know if you need anything. Not like clothes, we will do that this weekend. You and I. But anything for school? Is there anything you’d like to eat for dinner this week? Is there anything you absolutely hate?”

Joy blinked. “The cereal we have in the cupboard is stale as fuck.”

“Gotcha.” Dallas nodded. I could see him trying to visualize our pantry. “Raisin Bran? Is that what you like?”

“Sure. Fine.”

“Lucky Charms,” I said.

“Bro, I told you. Let me do the talking. You can have your own cereal.”

“No, Joy likes Lucky Charms. She hates Raisin Bran. That’s just all they had at the food pantry.”

Dallas looked at me and blinked. Then he turned to Joy.

“Lucky Charms are good, too,” she mumbled.

“What about school supplies? Notebooks? Pens? Pencils?”

“All the pens in this house are dried up.”

Dallas nodded. “Be ready to take your shower last.”

“All the hot water will be gone.”

Dallas smiled. “It sure will. Four fingers.” He pointed four downward fingers at Joyce. We left the door cracked.

Brileigh was already setting her homework up on the dinette table.

“Baby!” Dallas bobbed his chin and Brileigh sat up like a schnauzer. “C’mere for a sec, Baby.” He motioned toward Bry’s room. She practically ran. “Jack. You too. C’mon. No secrets.”

Once we were in Brileigh’s room, he closed the door. Boss privilege, I guess.

“Take your clothes off,” Dallas commanded to Bry.

Brileigh looked at me.

“Don’t you worry about Jack,” Dallas’s voice got deep and bossy. “Jack has seen you naked plenty of times before, haven’t you, Bro?”

I think I shrugged.

“Clothes off. Now.”

I watched my sister peel all her clothes off like they were on fire.

Dallas unzipped his pants and reached into his underwear. He flopped out his dick, which was already ready to go. He sat down on the edge of the bed. “Jack, have a seat.” He pointed at the rickety old chair that used to be a TV chair but was now Brileigh’s sex toy. I sat.

Dallas pointed at the floor. “Knees.”

Brileigh dropped between Dallas’s legs.


Brileigh didn’t hesitate. She leaned forward, lifted up on her knees to reach Dallas’s upturned pecker, and pulled it into her mouth. She started moaning and slurping away.

“Easy. Watch the teeth. K, that’s better.” Dallas kind of melted a little. “Oh man. Yeah, baby. That’s good. I’ve been waiting for this all day. That’s a good cocksucker. Oh baby.”

My sister apparently forgot that I was in the room. She moaned a deep, breathy moan and went back to squacking away on Dallas’s hard tool. The mane of her short hair made a little espresso flag on the backswing of her bobbing head. She was really going at it.

“Oh shit, Bro,” Dallas smiled at me. “Your sister is quite a cocksucker. What she lacks in technique, she makes up for in enthusiasm. You ever get your cock sucked, Jack?”

“Uhm. No.”

“You should. It’s the best.”

Well no shit, Sherlock. But I didn’t have a spell over a bunch of women at my disposal, did I?

“Oh that’s great, Brileigh. Soooo good, girl.”

Brileigh answered with a moan. She pulled up on just the head of Dallas’s pecker and I could tell she was sucking it really hard. I could tell by the way her lips went white. I could tell by the almost pained expression on Dallas’s face. His eyes squinted. His shoulders lifted. I was so jealous. I wanted to know what it felt like to have a girl suck my pecker. To have a girl go crazy sucking me. To have a girl’s lips tight around the very tip of my pecker and sucking it like she was trying to get money to fly out of my sperm hole.

“Okay! Okay!” Dallas reached down and forcibly popped his pecker out of my sister’s mouth with his hand. She looked up at him like he was everything in the world.

“Babydoll, I want to talk to you for a second. I can’t nut right now. Listen to me, okay?”

Brileigh nodded.

“You and I are going to spend a lot of hot time together. For sure. But I want you to understand that tonight I’m going to be with your mom. For sex.”

Brileigh froze. Her expression melted away.

“I know, I know!” Dallas reached down and stroked her cheek. “Don’t be like that!”

I thought Brileigh was going to start crying.

“I expect you to understand,” Dallas ran his fingers through the crown of Brileigh’s hair. “Right now I’ve got to show Joyce who the boss is around here. Part of you understands that, right?”

Brileigh eventually nodded. Then she sniffed.

“The quickest way for me to teach Joyce that I’m boss is to make sure she knows I’m fucking the old boss. So tonight it’s your mom. Tomorrow it’s you and me. All night. I promise.”

Brileigh seemed to be struggling to process what Dallas was saying. Eventually she nodded.

“Good,” Dallas smiled. He patted the bed. “Up on the bed. Sit next to me.”

Brileigh jumped up besides Dallas and he kissed her and felt up her tits, like they were putting on a show just for me, facing right at me. Once again, Brileigh seemed to block me out. Dallas grabbed her by the back of the hair and pulled her back flat on the bed, her legs still draped over pointing toward my chair. Dallas was still upright. His left hand pushed my sister’s knees apart and then slipped up her thigh and into my sister’s coochie. I heard the wetness of it slip between his moving fingers.

“Jack, c’mere.” Dallas summoned me to stand with his chin again. “Closer. Come over here.”

I did.

Dallas stopped diddling my sister’s shiny cooter and rubbed his hands over the scars on her thighs. “Bro, take a good look. Look at these cuts. You and I are both responsible for making sure this doesn’t happen any more. both of us. I’m on the hook which means you are on the hook. Give me your hand.”

I nervously extended my hand. Dallas grabbed me by the wrist and pulled my hand flat against Bry’s upper thigh.

“Feel that,” Dallas said. “No, really feel the scars. You need to really know what this looks like and what it feels like. You have to be able to run your hands over this mess and know if she’s been bad. Commit the feeling to memory. No, all over. Both hands. Good.”

Bry’s skin was a lot smoother than I expected. Smooth and warm. I was so close to her coochie that for the first time I could see the dark little wisps of new coochie hair that framed the dark pink middle of her folds.

“Don’t be a pussy, Bro. Get your mitts on this little bitch. There you go. Push your hands down and into her ass crack.”

I looked up and saw Bry was beet red from the tops of her boobs to her forehead. Her mouth was thin. I sliced my hand between the highest part of Bry’s thighs until my finger collided with her warm butthole, the web of my thumb and forefinger brushing right into the lower part of her dripping coochie. She flinched. I wasn’t sure if it was because I poked her butthole or because I rubbed against the bottom pink edge of her pussy.

“Hush, you,” Dallas growled at her. “Good job, Jack. Let me show you something. When you bathe Brileigh tonight, I don’t want you to be shy. You really need to do a good job and get her clean all over. I want you to get that ass crack nice and soapy. Get the tip of your finger soapy and push it up her tight little bunghole. If she cries you do it anyway. It won’t really hurt her. Now look at this, Bro.”

Dallas’s fingers pushed right into the middle of all those puffy dark pink folds and then his fingers splayed and he pulled them upward.

“You see that little button there? That’s her clit. I want that clit soaped up and absolutely sparkling clean. You really have to get the soap up there. Especially after I finish with your sister, she’s going to be covered in pussy honey. She’ll need a good cleaning. Don’t use a cloth, because that will irritate the pussy. Just soap it up with the bar of soap and then get your fingers all up in these little folds and spread the soap around. Okay? And then rinse your hands off and keep bringing fresh water on her pussy and rubbing until it’s all clean, right? I don’t want to stick my tongue up this pussy and have it taste like Irish Spring. Okay?”

I’m sure I was nodding, but the room was kind of spinning. I could really smell the heat coming off my sister’s coochie as Dallas’s fingers moved all over it, picking up the wet stuff from where her fuckhole was and pulling it up all over the “clit.” I’d heard kids at school say that word, but I had no idea what it meant.

“Go ahead. Get your fingers on Brileigh’s clit,” Dallas said. “I need to know you’re going to do it right.”

My hand shook as it closed the distance. Dallas really forked his fingers and peeled back Bry’s mysterious coochie until I could see the pale pink pearl at the top, just under a fold. I pressed my thumb into my sister’s clit. Bry sucked air hard.

“Good, Bro. Now move it around. Yeah. Like that.”

Brileigh’s head started lifting off the bed and dropping back.

“Lick your thumb. Get some spit on it.”

I put my thumb in my mouth. I wasn’t expecting my first taste of pussy to be my sister’s pussy.

“Back on that perky little clit, Bro. Yeah. You feel that?”

I felt that. I felt my wet thumb skate back and forth across the bump, the smoothest skin I’d ever touched. Brileigh twitched like she had been electrocuted.

“Don’t worry about her, Bro. Just do it like I showed you. Babydoll will be a good girl, won’t you, Babydoll?”

My sister squinted her eyes tightly shut and nodded, but I could tell she didn’t really want to.

“Great job, Jack,” Dallas stood up off the bed. “Go ahead and get started on your homework. We will be out in a minute. I’ve got to get some of this tight pussy before I can concentrate on books right now.” Dallas’s pants fell to the ground and he thumbed his underwear down. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to let her come. By the time she shows up for her bath, her little pussy will be ready for some bathtime attention.”

“Door open or...”

“Closed is fine,” Dallas winked at me and climbed up on top of my naked sister.


I wasn’t much for homework ever. But sitting at a table tasting my sister on my thumb and smelling the crazy girl smell all over my hand and listening to Brileigh yip on a rhythm with Dallas boning her... I might as well have been reading one of my comic books. I couldn’t concentrate on my math worksheet.

I heard the familiar jingle of keys and looked up to see my mom shouldering her purse.

“Be back in a bit, Jackie.” Mom stopped to listen to the impact sex sounds pushing out of her youngest daughter’s throat. She looked at me and blushed. She was reaching for the door when Brileigh’s door crashed open and Dallas flew out, mostly naked and trying to hop into his pants without underwear.

“Janet! Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uhm, just going out for a few minutes. I’ll be back in a few.”

“No,” Dallas said. “You’re not going out.”

“I’m just running an errand,” mom said. “Won’t take but a minute.”

“No. No you’re not. Put your purse down.”

Mom’s forehead crinkled. “I’m a grown woman, Dallas. You don’t need to tell me what to do.”

“Apparently I do,” said Dallas. “Now get your ass back in here and put that purse down.”

“I’m just going to run a fucking errand!” Mom was getting mad. “I said I’ll be right fucking back.”

Dallas was getting mad, too. “You’re going out to score. Everybody here knows it. You can’t afford to get popped again, Janet. And you sure can’t afford to score some spiked rock that’s going to kill you sooner or later.”

Mom’s hand tightened on the doorknob. I wasn’t sure if Dallas was going to do what he did to Joyce, but I knew that as soon as her wrist turned, bad shit was going to happen.

A stare-off ensued. “I’m going in that room.” Dallas pointed at Brileigh’s room. “I’m putting on my clothes. When I come back in this room, you’re going to be here and your purse is going to be back over the foot of my bed.”

“Your bed.” Mom spat it. I know where her yellow zone turns red. She was there.

“You heard me,” Dallas said. He turned on his heels and stomped into Brileigh’s room.

Mom stood there for a beat, her hand still on the door.

“Fuck this shit,” she mumbled. She bolted out the door and it sounded like she ran down the stairs.

“JANUH-Goddammit!” Dallas was wearing his shirt unbuttoned when he ran back out. He opened the apartment door and stepped into the foyer like he was going to chase mom down the stairs. Instead he walked back in, slammed the door, and cursed. He buttoned up his shirt and returned to Brileigh’s room for his sock and shoes. When he returned he was putting his watch back on.

Joyce was leaning against her bedroom door frame. Her smirk was unmistakable. “Trouble with the troops there, Chief?”

“I got this.”

“Looks like it. You don’t even know where her bar is, do you? And if you did, you couldn’t even step inside without getting bounced, could you?”

Dallas leaned against the wall next to the front door. He looked at his watch. “Like I said, Joyce. I got this.”

We heard the stomping up the stairs. Mom walked back through the door and she was ready to kill. “Who took the fucking car keys off my fucking keychain?”

She didn’t even see that she had walked right past Dallas, leaning against the wall behind her. He reached over, closed the door, and locked it.

Mom turned on him. “You little shit!”

“Easy, Janet.”

“You little shit, give me my car keys.”

Dallas stepped forward and grabbed mom by the throat, He stepped in until they were nose-to-nose. “Disrespect me again. Go ahead. Maybe I need to make a phone call to someone who will make a bunch of phone calls. Or maybe I’ll just turn you inside out in front of your kids. We can do that, too. If you think you can take me, you are welcome to try, bitch.”

Mom stepped back and yanked herself from Dallas’s grip. “I said I’D BE RIGHT BACK!”

Dallas took a breath. I could tell he was mad by the way he talked between his teeth. “Janet. I’ve got what you need.”

“What does that even mean??”

“You know what it means. I brought what you need with me. Did you think I wouldn’t? Did you think I don’t know what it takes for you to function? You’re an addict. I need you here with your family. Our family. The cops are watching the Spur like a hawk. Undercover. That’s the absolute last place you should be. It’s crawling with Vice and Narcs.”

“I... I didn't...”

“Get in my room.” Dallas pointed at mom’s room.

“I... Look, I’m... I didn’t... I’m sorry.”

“In my room, please.” Dallas said please like it was a curse word.

Mom dropped her purse and quick-stepped into her room. Or whoever’s room it was now.

I had totally missed Brileigh standing in her doorway naked. Dallas didn’t. “Babydoll, get your clothes on. Let’s get started on homework.”

Dallas shot Joyce a look that put her in her place. Joyce slammed her door shut. Dallas shook his head, but he didn’t open it back up. He sat down at the kitchenette table next to me. “Okay,” he huffed through his teeth, “Jack, school is a game. You are losing the game. I’m going to teach you a cheat code. Tomorrow, at the end of every class you are failing... Which is pretty much all of them... You are going to walk up to the teacher and say exactly what I’m going to tell you to say. Write this down, Bro. You are going to memorize it.”


Two hours later, Dallas was looking over my text books and clipping a “Homework due/Date” sheet inside of my spiral binders. I now had a different binder and folder for every class instead of writing everything in one jumbled notebook.

“Organize your inventory. Know where every item is on your function key and be ready to retrieve it instantly. Every assignment goes in an inventory slot.” Dallas was trying to shoehorn everything into sounding like life and school was a video game. To mixed success. I knew what he was doing and he was mostly trying too hard. I didn’t really want to flunk seventh grade. I didn’t want to start Junior High over while Brileigh was moving on to high school. That would be humiliating indeed, once I started thinking about it.. I read over the mini-speech Dallas told me to tell my teachers. Part of it would be real embarrassing to say. But I knew he was right. It would probably work.

"Jack, grab your shower. When you are done don’t get out. I’ll send Brileigh in. Remember what I told you.”

I’d almost forgotten. I never really understood about the whole “bathe” part of what Dallas was saying. I figured that I’d fill up the bathtub and wait for Brileigh to get in it. And then my mom. I was looking forward to seeing mom walk in the bathroom, probably in her robe, and then getting a peek at her boobs maybe before I left. But then Dallas had been so militant about showing me where he wanted me to soap Bry’s coochie. And that part about pushing a soapy finger up her butthole. No way Bry would stand for that. That was never going to really happen. Not that I wasn’t thinking about it. I was still thinking about that crazy complex origami of silky folds within folds within folds; a magician’s trick knot. And that silky little white pearl in the middle of all those folds, the one that made Brileigh twitch and flinch when I touched it. I kept smelling my finger, inhaling the crazy smell of coochie. When no one was looking I was licking my thumb until the taste of my sister was gone. I wondered how long it would be until I had another girl where I could taste pussy again.

My hair was short (Again, Joy buzzed it with Troy’s beard trimmer because we didn’t pay for haircuts), but Dallas had bought shampoo when we were at the grocery store. It had been a while but it felt good to lather my bristles up. There was a new bar of soap in the soap dish, too, and it was spiritual to strip the grime away and really lather up for a change. I cleaned my pecker extra good, lathering up my junk and taint. I reluctantly washed the remainder of my sister’s coochie off my hands. I smelled my thumb, but it only smelled like Suave shampoo.

“Comin’ in, Bro!” Dallas’s voice snapped me out of lathering up my balls and thinking about Kelly Dawn Baskerette, the most beautiful girl at McMath Middle School. “Bro?”

I peeled the shower curtain back around me like a bashful woman. Dallas had his hand on Brileigh’s shoulder, pushing her toward the tub. She was naked as the day she was born.

“Hey kiss me one more time, Babydoll.” Dallas said. When he spun her around to stick his tongue in her yap, that’s when I finally saw that my sister Brileigh was handcuffed behind her back. “Now,” Dallas tapped Bry on her nose playfully, “if you aren’t sparkling clean over every inch of your cute bod when you step out of that shower... You are going to have to deal with me. Got it?”

Brileigh nodded vigorously.

“Cool beans. You know I’m going to inspect you veeeeery closely. Here. Lemme help you in the tub. Don’t fall and bust your punkin’ head, girl.”

Dallas completed the handoff as Brileigh stepped into the tub with Dallas’s hand hooked under her armpit. “And Bro? Wash her hair good. Her mop is greasy.”

“Kay,” I nodded. Then I was standing in the shower with my naked sister. She looked at me nervously. She looked down at my half hard pecker. Then she stepped past me and stuck her head in the hot shower spray. She huffed water out of her mouth and blinked it out of her eyes. She looked at the shampoo and then at me. I squirted some pearly goo in my hand and lathered up Brileighs dark hair. She seemed to respond to my fingers massaging her scalp, breathing deep and almost moaning. Then she tilted her own head back in the spray until the rinse ran clear. She looked down at the bar of soap in the soap dish. I picked it up. I started rubbing the bar of soap against her tits with one hand and rubbing the lather everywhere with the other. Her hard nipples slid through my fingers. She truly was getting a bigger chest than I realized. Her perfect young boobs felt good in my hands and my pecker started getting even thicker. Brileigh looked at me, almost pitiful. Sorrowful. Then she turned around and pressed her face and tits against the shower tiles. She poked her butt out. I understood. I soaped up her bottom really good. She turned and looked at me. She nodded. I probed my finger down through the suds along the crack of her curvy butt. I caught the divot of her bung hole, or what I thought was her bung hole. My finger corkscrewed around until I was sure it was her butt hole. Bry was breathing hard. She kind of nodded and I pushed my soapy finger tip up her hot keister. She made an animal noise that freaked me out. Her mouth was puckered as tight as her asshole. I felt the warm constriction as it flexed around my finger tip. I twisted my finger and Bry made a crazy sound again. Having that kind of power over my sister was making my pecker into diamonds.

With the tip of my index finger up my sister’s hot ass, my other soapy fingers on the same hand flexed forward and found the entrance to her coochie. I wasn’t sure if she was wet again or if it was the suds, but my ring finger and pinkie pushed into her pussy folds and I think my pinkie slipped into her fuckhole a little bit.

“OW!” Bry thrashed against the tiles. I’m not sure if that counted as a word.

I dislodged my index finger from her asshole and soaped it up the crease between her legs until I felt that tangle of soft lips against my fingertips. Bry pushed her butt further out and stepped her feet farther apart. Her heels lifted off the tub and I thought about how fun it might be to wash her little feet.This made more access for my bubble-slicked fingers to dance around her soapy pussy.

“Yuhng,” she moaned. She wiggled her butt like she was trying to get her coochie onto my hand more. I wasn’t doing it right so she turned around to face me. Her legs were spread about as wide as they could go without her falling. She looked away. I understood what this meant and rubbed the bar of soap all over her slit. I followed with my fingers slopping between every fold, looking for that “clit” again. I heard the metal handcuffs clinking against the shower tiles and realized Bry was bouncing herself against my hand. She was breathing hard. I really tried to get soap into every nook and cranny so Bry didn’t get in trouble with Dallas. I was still pulling against all those magical folds when my fingers found that hard, silky bump again.

“Ngayh!” Brileigh’s head snapped back.

I wiggled my fingers again and got some more of the bump. More of the clit.

“NGAHYUH!” Brileigh leaned against me, almost sending me tumbling back into the shower curtain. She was pulling her butt back and leaning her shoulders forward like she didn’t want me rubbing her clit any longer. She was breathing really hard and pretty red in the face. Then she arched her back against the tiles and kept her legs forward. That made it easy to stick my fingers into the slippery suds and pull up on her clit again. Her whole body made a jerky wave. I went right back to her clit. It seemed to be trying to hide in all those girly folds, but I zeroed in on the middle top area of her coochie and found it again. And again. Bry seemed to be trying to hold her breath for a while and then breathing really heavy before she held her breath again. I wiggled my finger and Bry’s knees started shaking.

“How we doin’ in here, Bro?” The shower curtain rings made a scratch sound and the cold air caught me in the middle of diddling my sister to the edge of orgasm. “Lookin’ good, Bro! Got that pussy clean?”


Dallas looked at my pecker, which was pointing to the ceiling. “Hmmm. Well she’s sure not being as good to you as you are to her, Bro. We will have to do something about that. Anyway. Pass her out.” Dallas had a towel on the floor and one in his hands. Brileigh stepped out of the tub gingerly and Dallas threw the towel over her head. He pulled the towel down over Bry’s shoulders and she leaned up and stuck her tongue out looking for Dallas’s mouth to reciprocate. He kissed her as he moved the towel over her back and butt. Brileigh hissed through her nose and grunted into Dallas’s mouth with her hungry kiss. She was needy and pressed her tiny tits into Dallas. Her hands screwed back and forth in the cuffs like they really wanted to be all over Dallas.

“I’ll finish you off in your room, Brileigh. Jack, you hang on. Round Two in just a moment.”


Dallas stuck his hand under the water. “You’ve still got hot water. Good. Back in a sec with your bitch mother.”

Dallas marched Brileigh out. A minute or two later I heard him again. “Bro?”

I peeled back the curtain. I almost lost my ability to breathe. My mom was standing in the bathroom, naked. Her hands were behind her back and I correctly assumed her hands were also cuffed.

“Janet, Jack is going to get you ready for me. Jack is going to get your whore ass clean enough for me to fuck.” Dallas grabbed mom by the back of her hair and pulled until mom’s chin pointed at the exhaust fan. Mom’s eyes got big. “You better make sure Jack gets that snatch nice and clean for me, bitch. And he better soap up that ass, too. Y’know. Just in case.”

“Yessir,” mom whispered. “Maybe if you’d just let me...”

“Wait, bitch. You’re going to earn your smack. You’re going to suck my cock good. You’re going to wiggle that ass like a slut for me. Then you can smoke your garbage.”


“And once you’ve smoked your rock, poor Jack there. He’s never had his cock sucked. That’s not fair is it? IS IT, JANET?”


“That’s better. Jack, wash this bitch up or she’s gonna get in a lot of trouble.”

“Kay,” I muttered. I was staring at my mom’s huge knockers. When Dallas bent her backwards by her hair, mom’s tits seemed to lift upward and get even more massive and mouthwatering. Her nips were long and glowing rosy reddish brown and it was hard to look away from them.

“Get in the tub,” Dallas growled. Mom stepped in next to me, her elegant bare foot lifting high, showing off her high insteps and sculpted calves.

“Soap those tits up, Jack.” Dallas barked.

I picked up the bar of soap and ran it under the shower spray. I started rubbing it all over mom’s huge mounds. I was trying to keep the bar of soap between my hand and mom’s skin. Dallas wasn’t having it.

“Use both hands, Jack.”

I finally got my first real handful of real tit as my left hand pressed through the foam and started massaging mom’s tit. My fingers trilled over her engorged red soapy nipples. I felt the comb of my fingers drum over the left nipple as it thumped under every finger and popped back up for the next finger.

“Lift ‘em up, Jack. Get all under there where the boob sweat is.” The shower curtain was still wide open and Dallas was still supervising.

I pushed my soapy mitts under mom’s shelf and lifted her funbags slowly. I was surprised by how heavy and dense mom’s tits were. I expected them to be light and spongy. But they had heft, for sure. I pushed upward until mass and gravity took over and they slipped through my fingers and dropped; first the left boob, then the right. I did it again. Mom was crimson. She was clearly humiliated.

“Now make sure you get that nasty ass of hers.” Dallas barked. “Janet, turn around.”

Mom carefully pivoted around and pressed her face into the tile, the same way that Brileigh had done. She stepped her feet apart the same way. Mom didn’t come up on her toes. I ran the bar of soap through the sharp cut of mom’s butt cleft. Mom had some real booty, so the bar of soap nearly disappeared from sight. After a few pushes there was more soap than ass.

“Getcher fingers in there, Jack. Get some soap up her pooper.”

It was a lot easier this time. After Brileigh, my fingers knew what they were looking for. I poked into the warm indentation that had to be her butthole.

“Sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s fine, Jackie,” mom whispered back. “It’s not your fault. Just do it.”

My slippery finger probe broke mom’s butthole. Mom didn’t flinch. I figured I was doing something wrong, so I pushed further. My finger was half way up mom’s hot ass when she finally clenched her muscle around me and squinted. “That’s plenty,” mom mumbled.

“Don’t listen to her. Screw that pooper with your finger. I’m going to screw it with something bigger in just a few. Get it ready for me, Jack. Get your mom’s hot ass ready for me so I can fuck your mother, Bro. I’m going to fuck your junkie mother, and then she’s going to smoke her rock, and then she’s going to suck your cock, Jack. That will be fun to watch.”

I twisted my soapy finger back and forth in my mom’s butthole. She had a lot more control over her expression than Brileigh did, but I saw her cheek twitch. Her butthole was fiery hot around my probe. When she pulsed her muscles it felt like she was going to break my finger.

“Does Jack need to shave that snatch, Janet?”

“No, I shaved this morning.”

“Is that right, Jack? Is your mom’s pussy mound smooth? Feel it, Bro. Feel that pussy mound. Is it stubbly?”

Mom was still facing away from me so I pushed my hand through her thighs and cupped upward. I could feel the warm meaty folds of mom’s coochie. She had a lot more gap in her coochie middle than Bry did. My hands were still soapy and I ran them all around the frame.

“How’s that pussy feelin’, Jackson?”

“It’s smooth.”

“Yeah? Your momma’s puss is smooth? No stubble? If I feel stubble, I’m going to spank your mom hard, right on that pussy you’ve got in your hand, Jack. Be good to your mom. Tell her if she needs to shave it again. I’m going to check for stubble with my tongue.”

“You’re an evil little shit,” mom growled.

Dallas laughed. “Hey, I’m just standing here. You’re the junkie with your son’s hand in your pussy. Don’t lecture me about morality, Janet.”

I instinctively started rolling my fingers through my mom’s folds, probing for her clit. I guess I found it because mom thrashed against the wall. “JACKIE, NO!”

“Sorry!” I pulled my hand back.

Dallas laughed. “You drop a digit on Janet, Bro?”

My expression made it clear that I had no idea what he had just asked me.

Dallas smiled. “Did you just stick your finger up Janet’s cunt hole?”

“Uhm,” I stammered. “Clit.” I had never said that word out loud before. It felt foreign on my tongue.

Dallas laughed again. “Even better! You’re a quick study, Bro! Do it again! Janet, turn around.”

When my mom turned around toward me (and Dallas) I could see her crying. She was angry, but it was a different kind of anger. It was the same anger she had when the police dog fucked her. The kind of anger that makes you cry. Humiliation, I guess. Spray from the shower was everywhere. All over the bathroom floor.

“Jack, show me again where your mom’s clit is.”

I looked at my mom. She clenched her teeth. She looked at me, nodded once and looked away.. I fumbled my hand into her mound. My fingertips tangled in her soft folds. The soap was gone now, so mom’s inner coochie was grippy, not slippery. That made it easier to pull up through them and find her clit again.

“Ooof,” mom hissed. “That’s it, Jackie. RIght there. You’re on it. You’re right on my clitoris.”

Clitoris? What was this word? I thought it was called a clit. Funny thing, though. It didn’t feel like I was on it. It felt like the button slipped away under my fingers. I didn’t really feel anything but smoothness. But mom said I was rubbing it, so I just kept wiggling my fingertips in the same spot.

“Oh that feels so good, Jackie,” mom moaned. “You’re driving me crazy. I can’t take it.”

“She’s faking, Bro. You sure you’re on her clit?”

No, I was not sure. I let my fingertips drop down a little and they dropped into a gap where wetness squished all over them. I pulled upward again and the slippery followed up and I found the clit and rubbed over the hard button again.

“OH FUCKING CHRIST!” Mom thrashed.

“Look at Jackson’s cock, Janet,” Dallas grinned wide. “Do it! Look at your son’s cock!”

Mom and I both looked down. My pecker was bright red and twitching on my pulse.

“Sorry mom,” I whispered.

Mom leaned her face into my neck. “It’s not your fault, baby,” she whispered.

I found her clit again and she convulsed against me. Her little feet almost slipped out from under her.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Dallas smirked. “You’re gonna taste your son’s cock tonight, Janet. When I’ve fucked every hole of yours until it’s raw, you’re gonna smoke your rock, and then Jackson will come in and join us. And you’re gonna make good on all your cockteasing.”

“Dallas,” mom bleated. “I lied. I’m sorry, Sir. I lied. I didn’t shave this morning. I do need to be shaved, Sir.”


“Yes. I’m sorry I lied, Sir.”

“I guess Jack needs to get you all nice and smooth for me, doesn’t he?”

“I’ll do it. Just unlock my hands and I’ll do it, fast.” Mom was pleading.

“Oh what fun is that, Janet? I want to watch Jack shave your mound.”

Mom clenched her jaw again. Then she softened. “Mmm. Okay. Can you please bring my Lady Bic and my shave gel from my bathroom?”

“I can certainly do that, Janet.”

“And,” my mom continued, if we get any more water on the floor it will go through the ceiling on the apartment below. Can you close the curtain? For just a minute?”

Dallas looked down at the puddle between his shoes and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll bring some more towels to mop this up. Jack, close the curtain for a minute.”

I was getting cold from the air so I was glad to pull the curtain.

“Jackie!” mom whisper-shouted in my ear, “I shaved this morning. You don’t really need to shave. Just pretend. Be gentle with the razor and pull the shaving cream away. Don’t press hard and don’t cut me, okay?”

I nodded.

Mom looked at my red granite pecker. “This is not your fault, okay? This is not your fault. I’m not mad at you. You can’t help your penis being hard. It’s perfectly natural. This is mommy’s fault. I’m so sorry. But after mommy smokes her dope, I’m not myself. I do stupid shit. You don’t have to let him make you come in and... Do stuff. Make me do stuff. You can just tell him you don’t want to do stuff with me. He can’t make you. I’m going to go get help soon and we won’t be in this mess any longer.”

Mom turned around and faced the shower wall again. “C’mere,” she whispered. I looked down and she was flexing her fingers on top of her butt. “Here. Let mommy take care of you so you don’t want to come in my bedroom later.”

I didn’t understand.

Her fingers flexed again and she reached back and grabbed the shaft of my pecker. She squeezed hard. It felt so amazing on my needy dick that I swooned and almost passed out. Mom tried to lift her hands higher. “Bend your knees a little,” she whispered.

I did.

Mom’s bound hand found the top of my pecker and she started milking it expertly.

“That feel good, baby?”

I moaned.

“Yeah. Let mommy be good to you, baby.”

It was the most amazing thing to have her little hands expertly pull up over the head of my pecker and then drop down and do it again, over and over.”

I involuntarily started making a sound I had never made before.

“Can you cum? Jackie, baby, can you cum? Have you squirted cum before?”

“Yeah,” I moaned.

“Okay. I assumed you were old enough,” mom whispered. “Cum for mommy. Please. You won’t want to cum later if you cum for mommy right now.”

“Ohhhhh,” I groaned.

Mom seemed desperate. “Please, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my hands. That feel good, sweetheart?”

“God yeah.”

“Hurry baby.”

I didn’t want to hurry. I wanted the feeling to never ever ever stop.

Mom was doing everything she could to jack my pecker behind her back.

“He’s going to come back in a minute. C’mon baby,” she was breathing heavy. Her pleading voice was making me crazy. “This isn’t working. Grab that shampoo, Jackie. Yeah. Grab the bottle. Good boy. Squirt some shampoo on your cock. A lot of it. Yes! There you go. Okay.”

Mom cranked her tiny hand all over the end of my pecker again. The slippery sensation of the shampoo made her hand slippery, but it felt even better than before.

“Uhhhhnnnn,” I moaned. I could barely hear myself over the shikka-shikka-shikka sound of mom jacking my lathered pecker.

“Good boy. Cum for mommy. Cum all over mommy’s hands. Cum over mommy’s ass. C’mon, Jackie. You’re hard as a hammer. I know you’re ready. Does that feel good?”

“So goooood,” I whispered back.

“Grab my tits. C’mon. Reach around. Grab mommy’s boobs. Feel them. Don’t they feel good, baby?”

I had one of mom’s heavy boobs in each hand.

“Pinch my nipples, Baby. Yeah. Like that. Pinch ‘em harder. Don’t mommy’s nipples feel good in your hands, baby?”

I was panting. “You’ve got great boobs, mom.”

“Yes baby. And you’ve got such a nice hard cock.” The hand that was under the hand that was frantically milking my burning pecker head found my ball sack and cupped it.”

“Oh shit,” I groaned.

“Yeah,” mom panted. “You are so close. You are so hard. Your balls are so tight. You’re ready. Cum for mommy. Cum on mommy’s curvy ass. Cum on my hands. Hurry up, baby. Hurry. Cum for mom!”

I made an involuntary sound like a leaking tire.

And I would have orspasmed if Dallas had returned three seconds later, but the shower curtain hissed back open and it scared me enough to step back and pull away from mom’s pistoning hand. I looked down and waited for my twitching pecker to spit sperm. I thought I was orspasming. But I didn’t. So close. The edge of my vision went white.

“What’s going on here?” Dallas smirked.

I was breathing so hard my chest was heaving.

“Trying to get an early start, Janet?” Dallas laughed.

Mom made an angry growl and banged her forehead against the tiles.

“Turn the water off, Bro.”

I shut down the shower.

“Hold your hand out.”

I did. Dallas squirted a bunch of shaving gel on my fingers.

“Janet, turn around. Open your legs.”

Mom seethed. She slowly shuffled around. She balanced herself on one leg and lifted her other foot to the bottom shelf of the tub. Her toes gripped the lip of the tub and her heel was high. I couldn’t stop looking at her perfect tiny feet. I wished I had figured out a way to wash them. I wanted to soap up those feet and get my hands all over the bottoms and between the perfect round toes.

“C’mon, Bro. Lather up that snatch.”

I dropped down on one knee until I was staring inches from my mother’s coochie. I rubbed the glossy green gel on the area over mom’s slit and made circles until it started to turn into white foam. Then I traced down each side by her thighs. With mom’s left leg cocked to lift upward on the tub, her coochie opened up. I had seen mom’s coochie before, but never so close. I could see the dark dip of her fuckhole. Her pussy lips puffed out and had little bumpy alligator skin textures on the edges of her petals. I couldn’t see her clit any more, but I knew where it was supposed to be. It had a skin cap over it. Dallas handed me the razor and I carefully started pulling the lather off mom’s crotch. My hand was shaking. At first I was barely doing anything. I swiped again and pressed in a little harder. A third time and I figured out the minimum pressure I needed to actually swipe the foam off mom’s pussy. I was super careful not to cut her. My face was so close that I could smell mom’s freshly washed sex. Her distended coochie lips seemed to glisten and taunt me. For some reason I wanted to kiss them.

“Shit!” Mom flinched.

“What? Sorry!”

“It’s okay, baby. Not your fault.”

That’s when I saw the blood on the right mound where I nicked her.

“I’m sorry, mom!”

“Not your fault, baby, just finish me up.”

“You’re bleeding!”

“Just a little. It happens. I do it to myself all the time. Just finish up.”

“Getting all the attention you need, Janet?”

“Your dad would not approve of this, Dallas.”

“Dad’s not here, Janet. I’m the boss.”

Mom seethed and talked between clenched teeth. “Yep, you’re the boss.”

I swiped away the last of the lather. I ran my fingers over my mom’s coochie. It was smooth before. Now it was glass. The cut I made had already stopped dripping blood. I could barely see it.

“That’s enough, Bro. My balls are blue! Pass her out to me so I can dry off.”

I stood and hooked a hand under mom’s arm so she didn’t slip on her way out of the tub.

As soon as mom was out of the tub Dallas stuck his hand into mom’s coochie and rubbed it. “Oh nice job, Jack,” Dallas growled. “That’s a smooth pussy. Kiss me, Janet.” Dallas pinned mom against the bathroom wall and leaned over to smash his mouth into hers. She fought the kiss for a moment and then started kissing him back. Dallas reached behind mom and gripped an ass cheek in both hands. He ground the crotch of his chinos into mom’s bare coochie. I grabbed a towel off the stack of dry towels on the sink and walked behind them toward my room. I saw Joy looking at me through a gap in her door and covered my throbbing erection. Her door closed and I heard the latch.

I had gone almost twelve years without a girl so much as knowing I was alive, and in the past two hours I had my hands in two pussies, even kind of tasting one of them. Probably didn’t count since it was my sister and my mom, but try telling that to my steel pipe pecker and my aching nutsack. My peter was down to half staff by the time I dried off and got my underwear and pajamas on.

Normally, at this time of night on a Wednesday mom would be at the bar and Joy would be in the TV chair watching either David Letterman or ELIMI-Date! I would be on one arm of the chair and Bry would be straddling the other.

Instead the only sound in the house was mom and Dallas moaning in the bathroom. I let myself think about what Dallas had said about making mom suck my pecker. Deep down I knew that was wrong. I thought about what my mom said about how Dallas couldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to do. My pecker was definitely on Dallas’s side and didn’t care about right and wrong. A hard pecker had no conscience.

Had it been Joy instead of mom, that would have been an easier moral dilemma. I admit I had thought about Joy sucking my cock a hundred times after watching her give Troy and assorted boyfriends blowjobs in her room. I’ve already admitted that I’d thought about trying to coerce Brileigh into sucking my peter to keep from telling her secret. But we all knew her secret now. When I fantasized about making Brileigh put her mouth on my hardness, it always morphed into Joy and her mouth by the time I squirted. Joy was a slut. But my mom was... My mom.

I flopped on my bed and thought about how turned on I’d gotten by watching the cops and their dog get over on mom. I remembered thinking about realizing how mad I was at mom by how hard my pecker got when I saw her humiliated.

I startled at the sound of knocking. Then I realized it was Joy’s door, not mine.

“Joyce? Joyce?” It was Dallas. “Hey, I changed my mind. You were right. There’s no hot water left. Go ahead and take your shower tomorrow morning. Okay? Joyce?”

The next knock was definitely on my door. Dallas didn’t wait to open it. “Bro!” He gave me ‘What the fuck?’ upward palms. “Dude! Four fingers, right?”

“Oh crap!” I said. “I totally forgot!”

Dallas smiled. “Sokay, Bro. It happens. I’m gonna work your mom over. I’ll be back to get you in an hour or two. Don’t beat off, Bro! We need to teach your mom a lesson, okay? Save your nut so every drop goes in Janet’s mouth! Four fingers, okay?”

“Uhm, yeah. Sorry.”

“See you in a few, Bro. Feel free to come in and watch me doggy fuck your mom in the puss and up her ass. If you hear her crying or making a racket, that’s me fucking her ass. Bitches get loud when they get cornholed.”

Dallas looked at me expectantly. I didn’t know what to say. All I could think was to give a thumbs up.

Dallas laughed. “Awesome, Bro.” He gave me his thumbs up. “See you in a few. Don’t fall asleep on me.”

My head: SPINNING.

It wasn’t long before I heard my mom grunting. The door to the Master Bedroom must have been wide open. That was the plan. Dallas wanted us all to hear our mom moaning. He wanted all of us -- especially Joy -- to know he was in charge and mom was his toy now. First Brileigh. Now mom. I thought about climbing up to look through the vent to see how Bry was doing, listening to her boyfriend sex her mom. But my door was open. Then I realized Bry’s door must be open too. I could just go look through her door. I didn’t have to be such a sneaky pervert any longer. I could be an open pervert.

“Christ, your tongue is so fucking gooood!” Mom groaned.

That left no room for imagination. She was giving up her fight. Dallas was sticking his mouth where I’d just been staring fifteen minutes before. Dallas really was testing my shave job with his licker.

Mom orspasmed. It was loud. I was feeling bad for her, but mom was a slut. She’d orspasmed on the police dog. She just orspasmed on her boyfriend’s son’s mouth. What did it matter If I walked in and waited for her to slurp on my pecker? What would it hurt, really?

“No, you don’t suck until you earn it, bitch,” Dallas barked. “Lick. Lick! That’s it, lick. You taste that, slut? You taste that pussy on my cock? You taste your daughter’s pussy on my shaft? Yeah. I thought so. What a junkie slut you are to lick up all Brileigh’s sticky pussy pocket just to get to smoke your rock.”

My door creaked. My light was still on. Joyce leaned in and looked at me. She stepped in and pushed the door almost closed behind her. She was wearing blue panties and a concert tee that I think Troy left behind. She wasn’t wearing a bra, that was obvious. Her pointy nipples poked through the N and first S of the Guns N’ Roses logo.

Joy put her finger to her lips to quiet me.

I had nothing to say anyway.

She tiptoed over and sat on the edge of my bed. I was shocked when she pulled my covers down. She looked at my chubby pecker in my underwear. She looked me in the eye and took a deep breath. Her hand went to my underwear and squeezed my pecker.

“Uhng.” It felt nice.

“Pull your jammies down,” Joy whispered.

“Why?” I whispered back.

“Oh for fucks sake, Jackie,” Joy sighed. “I’ll do it.” And she did. She peeled my pajama bottoms and underwear down past my knees and off my ankles. She threw my underwear on the floor. Then she took a long look at my pecker. “Relax,” Joy whispered.

“What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing.” Joy gripped my pecker at the bottom near my balls and squeezed and tugged.

I was hard again in seconds.

Joy raised her grip to the top of my cock, just under the crown of my peter head. She began jacking me. She was staring at my junk. I was watching her boobs jiggle in her shirt with the motion.

“Don’t misunderstand what this is,” Joy whispered. “I hate that little fucker only marginally more than I hate Janet right now. I heard what was going on in there.”

Her grip around my pecker was expert. Joy knew just how high to go up and how low to go down. Just how hard to grip to make my peter feel amazing. My pecker tip started oozing clear crystalline dribbles into Joy’s stroke. That bubbly shikka-shikka rhythm got louder as Joy’s hand started pulling through it. My weiner got warm and warm felt wonderful. At first.

“Just let go,” Joy whispered. “Just cum, Jackie. Let it go. You don’t have to go in there tonight. Mom will be strung out after she smokes up. I’ve seen it. It’s sad. That’s a different woman than you know. That’s not mom. You don’t want to see that. You’ll feel like shit for the rest of your life if you let that little asshole make mom suck you off while she’s baked. And he knows it, too. He knows Janet will actually give you a better hummer if she’s high.”

My pecker was steel again. It was really heating up with Joy’s handjob. The warmth moved through my pecker and balls and down each leg.

“Wow, Jackie. You’re making me work for it. I thought boys your age were supposed to be easy creamers. Am I doing it right?”

Joy was doing everything right. At least her hand was. Her face looked like she was grossed out.

“It’s hot,” I groaned.

“Uhm. Well thanks,” Joy looked odd. “I guess.”

“No, it’s burning. My weiner,” I grunted. The friction was burning a blister right under the edge of my pecker head. I didn’t realize that was possible. “My weiner is burning. It’s sore.”

“Huhn?” Joy stopped jacking me and looked at my pecker. “Oh, sorry.” Joy dropped my pecker and made a pinched face. She licked her palm. Apparently she wanted more, so she spit in her hand. When she gripped my pecker again it was absolute heaven. Noisier, but wonderful.

“Ohhhhh!” My eyes crossed. I could feel the sperm boiling in me.

“You need a real girlfriend,” Joy whispered. She was staring at the top of my pecker that was blurring in and out of her pumping hand. “You’re cute, Jackson. You should find a girl in your class.”

“Ohhhh gaaaaawddd,” I groaned.

I might have cum right then, but Joy stopped and licked her palm again.

When her hand closed around the top of my weiner again my blood began to sizzle. My ears went numb and there was a white buzzing sound.

“There you go, Jackie. You’re close.”

I was more than close.

“Let it go, Jackie. You’re just a guy. Let me pop your cork. Give it up.”

“Oh shit,” I groaned. “That’s amazing.”

“Of course I am,” Joy smiled. “Your little balls are all the way up on the sides of your cock. You need to let it go. Let it fly.”

“Can I see your boobs?” I groaned. “Please, Joy?”

Joy rolled her eyes. She stopped stroking. My heart stopped, I thought she was leaving. She stared at me like she was pissed. “Oh fuck. Whatever. Just promise me you won’t go in Janet’s room. Promise me you’ll tell little shithead that you aren’t interested in having incest with your own mother.”

I nodded.

“Say it, Jackson. Promise me.”

“I promise,” I panted. I would have said anything to get my older sister’s hand back on my needy, burning junk.

Joy sighed. She licked her hand again. I wanted that pointy tongue on my pecker more than anything. She started jacking me again with her saliva-slicked hand. Her other hand pulled her shirt up over her jiggling tits and she bit into the hem to keep the shirt from falling back down. I had seen Joy’s pointy, cone-shaped pale pink nips before, of course, but never so close. I’d always been fascinated by the way her nipples were so pointy and you couldn’t really tell (from the closet) where her pale nipples ended and where her creamy tits began. Now that I was so close to those jiggling tits and bouncing nips, I still couldn’t exactly tell. Joy’s other hand reached in and her chipped black fingernails gently pulled down each side of my tight balls.

“Oh ffffffffff---” The world went white.

When my vision cleared Joy was still jacking me. My sperm was a fountain three feet in the air. Joy never stopped stroking. Another white jet chased the previous spray. It all splashed back down hot on my stomach and Joy’s pumping wrist. Then again. Joy spit out her shirt and it fell back over her perfect cone tits like the finale curtain of a school play.

“Holy shit, Jack!” Joy’s eyes were big. “You were under pressure, buddy. That’s a crazy amount of cum. I forgot how much jizz little boys can make. Keep it coming. Get it all out.”

My pecker burbled a few more inches of orspasm. I became aware that I’d been holding my breath and a long exhale sizzled out between my teeth. I needed to tell Joy to stop pumping my manhood but I couldn’t talk. My brain was short circuiting. She figured it out and stopped. Joy’s thin fingers pulled away from the gloppy web of my splash, making cum strings filled with tiny air bubbles.

Joy stood off my bed and picked up my underwear from the floor. She used it to mop my spunk off her arm and hand.

The room was spinning hard.

“Go to sleep, kid.” Joy flipped off my light switch. “And remember, you don’t want to see mom strung out and you sure will regret letting that cockbite assclown talk you into a blowjob from your own mother.”


I was dreaming when Dallas shook me awake. “C’mon, Bro. Wake up. Your mom is waiting for you.”


“Showtime, Bro!”


“Janet can’t wait to finish what she started earlier. C’mon, Bro. Out of the fartsack.”

“Yknow I’m good,” I mumbled. “I’d rather go back to bed.”

“C’mon, Bro. Don’t be a Lamer. I know you’re not lame. Don’t be afraid. She wants to do it, man. She’s asking for you. She’ll be disappointed if you don’t come see her.”


“Yeah! She asked me to bring you in! She’s practically drooling to suck your cock, Bro! She wants it like a slut!”

“Really? Uh, okay.” If mom wanted me to come to her room, then I should probably do that. My cock wasn’t fully recovered from Joy’s handy, but it wasn’t totally numb, either.”

I swung my legs over the bed and realized I was naked from the waist down. I’d passed out after Joy jacked me off. I had dried jizz on my stomach. But I guess it didn’t matter since Dallas was totally naked. That was weird.

I shuffled behind Dallas across the apartment to mom’s room. Or whoever’s room. Mom’s room didn’t have an overhead light. The lamp on the bedside table was clicked to its lowest of three settings. Mom was in the floor wedged between the far side of the bedside table and the wall to her bathroom. She was mostly in shadow until I got close.

“Hey cutie!” I barely recognized her voice. She didn’t sound like herself. She took a drag of a Marlboro Light and reached up to tap ash in an ashtray on the bedside table that also had wads of foil and some kind of glass pipe in it.

Mom’s eyes were slits. Her hands seemed to not know where they were supposed to go.


“You really are a cutie,” mom slurred. “But you are too skinny. You need to beef up some.” Her hair was unusually messy and her forehead had a wet sheen that was rare. Mom didn’t sweat, as far as I knew unless she was having sex. Most of her makeup was gone except for a ring of black raccoon mascara that circled all the way around her eyes. “I guess you and me gonna have a little sucky suck, now, huh cutie?”

Joy was right. Whoever this woman was, it was not my mom. The woman in the shower had been my mom, even if she was frantically trying to yank the cum out of my crank. This puddle of tits and hair propped against the wall was not my mom. She was a hollow puppet that merely looked like my mom.

“Jus lemme finish this smoke, cutie, and mommy will smoke your little cock good. Kaybabyyeah?”

I felt a lot of things in that moment, but none of those feelings was horny. I was disgusted. I was mad at my mom. I was mad at Dallas. I was mad at myself. For the first time I was looking at the woman who fucked my jailbird dad. I could see her strung out in the filthy toilet of some biker bar while Keith humped her stoned-out brains against a flimsy divider wall. I could see her telling Brileigh about her mysterious dad and the “dark time” in mom’s life, and that dark time really being mom spaced out and gang banged in some alley where she’d wake up the next day and stumble around looking for her shoes. The woman in the floor definitely would have sucked my pecker just because somebody told her to do it. Then again, she’d have blown a Muppet for the same reason.

“I don’t want to do this,” I said.

“Just give Janet a second to warm you up, Bro.”

“Don’t BRO me again, Dallas!” My face was aflame and I was angry. “I DON’T. WANT. TO. DO THIS. Not like this. Not with her... Like this. She won’t even remember sucking me, will she?”

“I dunno, man. But you will.”

“Iknow whoyouare,” mom slurred. “You’re my Jackson Jackie Jack Jack. Don’t pretend I don’t know my boy. Muhgoodboijackiejack-jack. Such a cutie. Mommie will be a good cocksucker formyjackie-jackson.”

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” I growled. “I can’t even enjoy getting over on her like you did. I’ll be the boss and she won’t remember, right? What’s even the point? I’m going to bed. I’ve got a bunch of bullshit to deliver at school tomorrow. Janet has a job. Somehow, Janet still has a job. I’ll see you in the morning, Dallas.”

And that was that.


I was normally the first person up on school days. But after my long night, I was having trouble keeping my eyes open while Brileigh shook my arm.

“Kay,” I grumbled. “I’m up.”

I looked at Brileigh. She already dressed for school. In a skirt. That was different. She had makeup on. That was different. Her hair was kind of big. That was different. Brileigh could actually look kind of cute when she put some effort into glamming up a little. She was bouncing on her heels with excitement. Today she was Dallas’s girl and tonight she would be in his bed all night. It was Christmas morning for Brileigh.

Somebody was thumping around the kitchen and it wasn’t Brileigh because she was standing next to me. Unlikely that it was my mom after getting high the night before. Equally unlikely that it was Joy, whose bus came fifteen minutes later than the ones for Bry and me. Joy used every second of those buffer minutes to either sleep or masturbate.

Bry made the circle pointing face and smiled.

“Pretty is as pretty does,” I mumbled. “Get out of here for a minute. I don’t have clothes on.”

Brileigh poked her knuckles into the tops of her hips and gave me a “Seriously?” look.

“Yeah,” I mumbled. “I guess we’ve all seen pretty much everything of each other, huh?” I threw my covers back and was disappointed to not have morning wood for once when it would have counted for something. Dressing for school took three minutes. Same as always. Jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days. Same as always.

“Scrambled eggs okay?” Dallas nodded at me. Fucker was actually wearing chinos and a button up shirt.

“Uh... Sure?”

I sat at the plate next to Brileigh’s plate. Dallas clinked a spatula and shoveled eggs into each plate out of a crusty pan. I think I remember mom buying that pan at a garage sale for a quarter. She overpaid.

“I threw some cheese in there, that okay?” Dallas asked.

The eggs were already on my plate. What was I going to say?

Fucker. Those were delicous fucking eggs and it made me hate Dallas even more.

“Morning gorgeous,” Dallas nodded at Joy. She was marching by us toward the bathroom like Dallas didn’t exist. “Clean towel is on the sink.”

“Fuck off.” Joy slammed the bathroom door behind her. The toilet flushed and the shower hissed.

Dallas sat down his spatula and pulled some keys out of the junk drawer along with a screwdriver. In a few minutes he had removed the hinge pins from Joy’s bedroom door and was carting the door down the stairs toward our packed storage area in the basement. He was back in the kitchen and cracking more eggs by the time Joy shuffled from the bathroom to her bedroom wearing a towel wrap tucked under her armpits.

“Hey everybody!” Dallas announced. Joy paused. “Nobody leave for school without your envelopes. I’ve enclosed a check to pay off your lunch account debts and put some cash in everybody’s nutrition account.”

“Oh don’t worry about that,” I said between forking cheesy eggs in my mouth. “If you don’t pay the bill they still have to give you a cheese sandwich and a carton of milk. State law.”

Brileigh nodded at Dallas as confirmation.

Dallas looked shocked. “Well, if you DO pay the balance, you can get some actual good food. So just turn in the vouchers and the checks in the envelopes I give you, okay?”

“I wouldn’t eat that slop if you paid me,” Joy groaned. She continued her march to her bedroom. A beat later: “MOTHER FUCKER!”

“What’s going on?” Mom had a dress on and her heels in her hand. She looked like Death warmed over.

“I took the door off Joyce’s room.” Dallas handed mom a cup of coffee. “Morning, Janet.” Dallas leaned into my mom with puckered lips. Mom seemed to not understand. Then she leaned in and kissed Dallas hesitantly.

“Why did you take off her door?” Mom asked. She pulled a sip from her coffee mug. “Oh shit. This is good. What did you do?”

“I measured the grounds,” Dallas said. “Eggs?”

“No thank you.” Mom pulled at her mug again.

“I didn’t figure you were an egg girl,” Dallas said. “What about a bagel? I toasted you a bagel.”

“Seriously?” Mom brightened. “I’d kill a drifter for a bagel right now.”

“Wouldn’t lie about bagels, felonies not necessary.” Dallas said. Right on cue our old toaster thunked and damned if he didn’t have two steaming bagel halves to hot-yank onto a paper plate with his fingertips. “I picked up some cream cheese yesterday. Or you have something in a jar in the fridge that I think used to be grape jelly.”

“I wish we had some butter. That’s my bagel.”

“I got butter. That’s my bagel too, Janet.” Dallas never stopped moving like he was a choreographed dancer. The refrigerator door opened and closed and Dallas was instantly slicing a pat of butter off the stick onto mom’s bagel.

“You bought butter?” Mom seemed shocked.

“Butter is a staple, Janet,” Dallas returned the foil of butter to the door of the fridge.

“YOU MOTHER.... FUCKER!” Joy was now in the kitchen, her hair dripping into the towel still wrapped around her middle.

“I told you the rule.” Dallas nodded at Joy. “I told you the consequence.”

“You want to come watch me dress, you fucking perv?”

“Not particularly,” Dallas shrugged. “I spent the evening with your amazing mother. Tonight I’ll be enjoying Miss Brileigh’s company.” Dallas winked at Bry and I swear she fucking swooned. “Both of them are magnificent specimens and you’re too skinny to move my needle. But you sure as fuck aren’t gonna close that door on me again, are you Joyce?”

Joyce wasn’t at a loss for words often. Well, ever.

“You really think that’s a good idea? Taking a girl’s bedroom door? What’s your dad and Bob Yandie and all their fucking crooked fucktard cronies down at Child Services going to say when I tell them that Hunter sent his fucking perv son to take away a girl’s bedroom door?”

“You certain you don’t want some breakfast?” Dallas asked Joy.

“You are going down, fucker.” Joy poked her finger toward Dallas.

“Uhm yeah,” Dallas put his egg pan in the sink and wiped his hands on the dish towel over his shoulder. “About that. About good ideas and bad ideas. About ‘going down,’ as you so elegantly phrased it... When you were standing at the door to my room last night, taking pictures of your mom and me. Joyce, what exactly were you thinking?”

“What?!?” Mom’s head snapped up,

“Joyce has a little digital camera,” Dallas said. “She thought she was being sneaky, taking photos of us. Right about the time I was breaking your ass, Janet. I bet your face made quite a tableau right about the time I fucked your little pink starfish. Joyce is thinking she’s going to show those photos to someone today. A cop, maybe. Probably a school Resource Officer or maybe one of her counselors. But -- and this is a headscratcher -- Joyce clearly has not thought this through. Joyce has not thought through what pictures of her mother having sex with a minor are going to do to her mother. Who will certainly go to jail. Joyce has not thought about what those pictures will do to her little brother and sister, who will certainly go into Foster Care immediately. And...” Dallas gave mom his ‘palms up’ expression of bafflement. “...Joyce absolutely has not stopped to think that she is in possession of illegal child pornography. A girl fighting a sex offenders charge has not stopped for a moment to think that having such photographs in her possession actually will spell her doom.”

Joy turned kind of pale. “You’re an evil fucker,” she mumbled.

“Joyce!” Mom gasped. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

Joy’s jaw moved sideways and I could actually hear her grinding her teeth. She made a hissing sound. “You fucker.”

“My GOD!” Mom’s knees buckled.

“I’ll delete them,” Joy mumbled.

“Oh please no,” Dallas smiled. He fished two fingers into his shirt pocket and pulled out a memory card. “I’m going to beat off to these later, thanks.”

Joy was pissed. My oldest sister was not used to being bested. She was red all the way down to her knees. She stomped to her room. I waited for the sound of her slamming door, but that never came.

“I hope everybody has a wonderful day,” Dallas smiled.

“What about you?” I asked. “You taking a taxi to school er sumpthin?”

“I don’t have classes until I go back for some tests next week.” Dallas started washing the egg pan.

“Huh?” I didn’t understand. “No way. Christmas break isn’t for another two weeks.”

“Not for me. I go to Kessler Academy. We’re on study break.”

I blinked. “Kessler? Shit. I figured you went to Ryer. Or Aubrey.”


Of course, Dallas Leftwich didn’t go to public school. Of course he went to a private hoity-toity douchebag school.

“What are you doing today?” I asked.

Dallas looked at his watch and sighed. “Cleaning this apartment, my friend. Cleaning this apartment and doing some real shopping. You and Miss Brileigh better get to the bus stop. You ready for today, Jack?”

I thought about the plan Dallas had written out for me. I was dreading it. “I hope so.”

“You’ll do great,” Dallas nodded. “Brileigh. Kiss me.”

Boy, did Bry kiss him.

“Janet, go kick some ass. That Office Manager job isn’t going to fill itself.”

“Maybe you should put Joy’s door back on.” Mom was still in shock from the revelation that she had come so close to spending the night in jail.

“Another kiss from you, too,” Dallas insisted. Mom kissed him. “Have a fantastic day.” He swatted mom on the butt and grinned. “Brileigh, one more thing.” Dallas pulled her into his gravity forcefield with a come-hither bend of his index finger. He stuck his tongue down Brileigh’s throat and she moaned. Dallas’s hands pawed my sister’s ass, rolling her skirt up in his fingers. Then he hooked the sides of her panties with his thumb and bent his knees, taking a good look at Bry’s barely fuzzy mound as he pulled her underwear onto her shoes. “Step out,” Dallas commanded. He stood and lifted Bry’s panties to his mouth and nose. “Whoa girl, you are already thinking about tonight, I can tell.”

Brileigh blushed hard.

Dallas continued. “And now every time you sit down in class...” Kiss. “...and you sit on a cold chair...” Kiss. “ are going to think of me again, aren't you?” Kiss.

Bry locked eyes with Dallas and nodded.

“Get to school, Cuteness.”


Apologies, Dear Reader. I’m not eleven years old anymore, as you might have guessed from the timestamps. It’s not 2003 any more. I’m certainly old enough to know how annoying plot deviations can be to a casual reader. You can skip to the next florets, because this is a tiny example of what real authors might call an “intercalary interspersion.” Not essential to the story if you want to hurry back to the incest and fucking.

Before Troy, a couple losers before Troy, was an exterminator named Kelly. A guy named Kelly. What a fucking piece of festering shit that dude was.

The shortest way to tell this story is that Joy brought home a stray cat to our old apartment at Villages, not long after we moved there. Doing the math, I was eight. Bry was nine. That made Joy either twelve or thirteen. It was Spring, so I guess she was thirteen.

That cat was exactly what you’d expect of a cat that our family would have. An olive-over-white shorthair with crusty eyes and a bad attitude.

Joy named him Elvis. Jesus H.Christ, I loved that cat. I was the one who shoplifted cans of food to feed it. I’m the one who scooped his litter box. I loved that fucking cat and that cat loved me.

Ironically, it was the exterminator for the apartment complex (not the exterminator who was boning my mom) who snitched us out to the apartment manager after letting himself in to spray for roaches. Mom found a letter taped to our door insisting on a $300 Pet Deposit and a hundred more dollars a month in rent because of Elvis.

Mom said Elvis had to go. I fought her. I pleaded. Kelly said he knew an old lady clent of his business who had asked him to be on the lookout for a good cat. She had a big Victorian house and she would take really good care of a cat if she had one.

When I tell you how mad I was at my mom, the reasons I was mad at Janet are legion. That is a long damn wizard’s scroll of reasons. But making me give up Elvis isn’t “just another reason I was mad at mom.” It was Reasons Number One through One Thousand Three Hundred and Fifty-two.

I cried so hard the day Kelly carried Elvis away under his arm. His bellowing meows all seemed to have question marks. Every cry he made cut through my heart. He kept trying to wiggle back and look at me, as if I had some power to change things. I tried to tell myself that at least he wouldn’t have to wait for a little kid to steal his food to eat. I told myself Elvis would get fresh litter a lot more often. I pictured him fat and lying in a sunny dormer window, watching birds and making that crazy teeth chattering sound cats make when they see prey.

A week passed with that hole in my heart when I keyed into the apartment on a Saturday and heard Kelly talking on the phone. He obviously didn’t hear me. He was laughing.

“I kept spraying Bromethalin on the little fucker. Just wouldn’t die. Kept twitching and trying to crawl away.”

I didn’t think anything of it. I assumed Kelly was talking about some rat in somebody’s crawl space. But Kelly kept talking and you can figure out what I figured out.

I was twenty-seven when Brileigh emailed me a link to a local news video. Kelly the exterminator stepped into somebody’s flooded basement to grab a raccoon with a net and died from electrocution.

I hope his death was slow and he suffered.


Mrs. Mitchel was Western Civ, Hour One. She was a ball buster. That old bitch did not like me. I was dreading the entire day, but the dismissal bell rang and this was the moment I was dreading the most.

“Missus Mitchel?”

“Morning, Mr. Crenshaw. I noticed you were actually taking notes this morning.”

I looked over my shoulder. I wanted more kids out of the room before I started.

“Missus Mitchel, I’m failing your class.”

“Oh, I’m aware, Mr. Crenshaw. I appreciate you acknowledging that you are aware as well. I’ve made several calls to your mother.”

“My mom doesn’t answer the phone.”

“Again, I know.”

“Uhm, Missus Mitchel? It’s been a really bad year for me. And for my family.” I was trying to remember the words Dallas wrote. “My mom, she’s, uh, she’s a drug addict. And I let myself get kind of off track, worrying about my mom. Half the time the power is off at our apartment. I know I can be trying harder to get my homework assignments done. I should have walked to the library. Or at least I should have stayed after school for Tutor Time and taken the late bus home. I really screwed up. But...”

This is where Dallas told me to think about the saddest thing I’d ever known. This is where I thought about Elvis. I thought about the way he called to me as Kelly carried him away like a loaf of bread. I imagined that cat trying to claw its way away from Kelly the exterminator while the bastard kept spraying poison on Elvis’s desperate little helpless kitty face.

“...But there was this guy at mom’s house. He’s gone now, thank god. I didn’t trust him to be alone with my sister Brileigh. He was kind of a...”

God, I loved that fucking cat. Who would do something that awful to a helpless cat?

“...He was kind of a creep.” Tears started rolling down my cheeks. “Anyway. I messed up. But I want to get right with you. I don’t want to flunk seventh grade. I made bad choices and I’m sorry.”

My voice broke. I was sorry. Elvis, buddy, I’m so goddamn sorry I did not protect you.

“And, and if there’s anything I can do. If you’d just tell me what you need me to do to not fail, I promise you on my life...” No. That’s not what Dallas wrote down. “...On my sister’s life, I promise you that you won’t be sorry that you took a chance on me. I’ll make good, I swear.” I wiped Elvis tears away with the heel of my hand.

Mrs. Mitchel was a hard old bitch. She’d seen it all. She just stared at me. So much for Dallas’s script and his plan.

Then her hand raised up over her mouth. “Oh you poor sweet boy,” she whispered. “Of course. Here. Give me your textbook.” I handed it over. Mrs. Mitchel paged through and stopped on a page about the Alamo. She pulled a Post-It note off her desk and marked the page in the book and closed it. “I will give you one hundred points of credit for every hundred words you can write about this. Your own words, don’t copy what’s already in the text. That means if you write a six hundred word essay on the Alamo, you can more than pass this class. That would put you in ‘B’ range. Can you do that, Jackson?”

Six hundred fucking words??? Fuck no, I could not do that. Nobody could write six hundred words. That was re-goddamn-diculous. If that was the cost of redemption, then I would surely flunk. Six hundred words! That was like how long a Harry Potter book was.

“I can do that,” I mumbled.

“I believe you, Son. I’m praying for you.”

“Thank you, Missus Mitchel.”

She stood up and hugged me hard. One down. Four to go.


Brileigh was in the front seat of the bus, right behind the driver. Bry usually sat in the middle-right of the bus where the anonymous kids sat and I sat up front where the too-skinny seventh grade kids who didn’t want to get bullied sat. We exchanged eye contact as I passed by. Today I guess I’d sit in the middle-right anonymous section.

Looking down the aisle, Brileigh had one foot pointed at the bus door, out in the aisle and her heel was bouncing with anticipation. She had been pressing the front of her short skirt down and I finally remembered why. Otherwise she’d be flashing beaver right at every face that walked up the steps onto the bus.

My backpack felt like a boat anchor. The good news was that Dallas’s script worked. Pretty damn good, it worked. The bad news was that now I had two weeks to do all the crazy make up assignments the teachers gave me. I wasn’t used to actually hauling all those books home.

At least pretty Miss Naples, my math teacher, was cool. She cried a little when I started crying. She hugged me like all the girl teachers hugged me. Then she told me not to worry about makeup homework. She’d just use my test scores to figure my grade this semester and forget about factoring in homework. My test scores were somewhere around a high C, but a good final exam would leave me with a B. F to C/B with merely a good script and a few tears.

I didn’t feel bad about manipulating my teachers, because ninety percent of what I told them was true. My mom was an addict. Troy was a creep, but not to Brileigh. We did have our power shut off every couple months until Troy paid to turn it back on. Of course I never once even considered walking to the Library. That was miles away. And Tutor Time? Fuck that. That was prime time for spying on Joy. That’s when she’d sneak in boyfriends for a romp before mom got home. When the power was out, that was quality entertainment.

The bus pulled away from our school and I could see Brileigh’s knees twitching with excitement. Her eyes were big. She seemed frustrated that the bus was moving so slow. We stopped at a red light and I heard Bry growl with frustration. When we made the final turn on the street toward our apartment complex, Bry was literally bouncing in her seat. She even stood up and held onto the padded bar next to the steps for the last hundred feet. The airbrake hissed and as the driver reached for the lever to open the door, Brileigh turned sideways to launch through the scissor door before it was all the way open. She ran for our unit like a bullet. Not sure if she realized that moving that fast gave everybody on the left side of the bus a good eyeful of Bry’s bare ass cheeks.

As I shuffled down the middle aisle of the bus, past the seat where Bry had been sitting, I saw a dark little wet puddle on the green vinyl. Instinctively I reached down and wiped it up with my fingers before pivoting down the steps. As I trod across the parking lot, I waited until the bus pulled away before lifting my fingertips to my nose. Was it pee? Nope. It was not pee. I knew what Brileigh’s pussy drippings smelled like and it was a match.

Our apartment door was unlocked. Of course.

Dallas had Brileigh pinned against the kitchen wall with a kiss. She was gripping at the bulge in his pants and his hands were up her skirt and I could hear her pussy gushing between Dallas’s fingers.

I just walked past them to my room. I closed the door and then opened it back to four fingers.

I heard Joy walk through the front door.

Brileigh walked into my room. She pointed at her hair. She was wearing a “cat ears” headband. Apparently Dallas had bought it for her. She looked absolutely adorable. Her arms were straight down at her side and her hands made little penguin flaps by her hips as she bounced in a circle.

“Very cute,” I nodded.

“Hey Bro,” Dallas leaned in my door and sucked Brileigh’s pussy off his fingers, “salmon okay for dinner?”

I blinked.

“Salmon?” Dallas repeated.

I blinked again. “What is that?”

“Fish? You like seafood, Bro?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you like seafood?”

“Is it like fish sticks?”

Dallas laughed. Then he looked at me. “Oh shit, you’re serious.”

I shrugged.

“What does that mean?” Dallas asked.

“I don’t know if I like...”

“Salmon?” Dallas finished my sentence. “Seafood?” That’s when Dallas noticed Brileigh was blinking along with me. “You guys seriously don’t know if you like seafood. You’ve never had real seafood.”

Brileigh and I blinked in unison.

“Jesus Christ,” Dallas shook his head and left.

Mom called Dallas and let him know she had to “stay late” at work. Dallas nodded and told her that he would try and keep her dinner warm. We three kids sat down to plates of salmon with a white dill sauce on top. I didn’t even know where to start, but it sure as fuck wasn’t with the steamed asparagus on the side. My fork pushed through the pink flakes. I pulled it to my mouth. It kind of smelled like pussy. I tentatively forced the salmon between my teeth and chewed.

Dallas was looking at me.

The new sensation of soft fish and the tangy dill sauce crashed over different parts of my tongue.

“Bro?” Dallas was looking at me with an odd expression. “You okay? You gonna hurl?”

“This,” I mumbled, “this is like the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

“Oh cool,” Dallas smiled. “Joyce? You like it?”

“Mmmm. S’okay,” Joyce grunted.

“It’s amazing.” I thought I was going to cry for the sixth time that day. “I’ve seen a billion Red Lobster commercials. Now I understand. I finally understand.”

“Looks like we have a seafood convert,” Dallas nodded. “Brileigh?”

Brileigh looked at Dallas. She swept her finger over the top of her head and looked around.

“Yeah,” I reiterated what Brileigh was saying in BrySpeak. “The place looks amazing, Dallas. You must have worked your ass off. I went in to pee in the bathroom and had no idea that the floor tile was that color. It’s never been that clean. The carpet smells good. How does that even happen? The backsplash is sparkling. You kicked ass today.”

“Thanks man, that means the world. I really appreciate the vibes, Bro. I washed everybody’s sheets, so those should all be fresh. I picked up everybody’s favorite sugar cereal at Albertsons. Joyce, I got your Lucky Charms.”

“Fuck off,” Joy mumbled.

“Brileigh, Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

Brileigh clapped her hands together.

“And Jackson, you’re Frosted Mini Wheats, right?”

“How did you...”

“Brleigh told me.”

“Thanks, Dallas.”

“No problem, Bro. Uhm, I would remind everybody that sugar cereal isn’t really good for you. So, it’s a treat, not a replacement for good food. If anybody wants eggs or bacon for breakfast, I’m more than willing to--”

Mom walked through the front door. Man, she looked really tired. She had her high heels in her fingers.

“Hey Janet!” Dallas jumped up and ran to kiss mom. This annoyed Bry. “I’ve got your dinner warming in the oven.”

“Don’t worry about me,” mom blinked. “I’ll just-- Holy fuck! What happened to this place?”

“Dallas cleaned,” I said. “And this salmon is amazing.”

“Salmon?” Mom could not wrap her brain around the word.

“Take a load off, Janet,” Dallas nodded toward the open chair.

“Okay,” mom slid into the open chair and Dallas pulled a foil pouch out of the oven. He plated it and pinched the hot foil open. “Wow, this looks...”

“Amazing,” I finished. “I like seafood.”

“Oh my,” mom purred after one forkload, “this really is terrific. What’s in this cream sauce? Dill?”

Dallas nodded. “And a little yogurt.”

“Wowsers,” mom’s eyes went thin. “I can’t remember the last time I had fish this good.”

“I can,” I said. “Never.”

“You are too kind,” Dallas smiled.

“Can you teach me to cook like this?” I asked.

“I’d be honored,” Dallas said.

“Oh my,” mom moaned, she was really tearing into her dinner now.

“So how was work?” Dallas asked mom.

“Good,” mom shrugged. “Exhausting.”

Dallas nodded. “So did you suck Mr. White’s cock?”

Mom froze. “That’s not appropriate dinner --”

“Oh come on, Janet,” Dallas cut her off. “Everybody knows. It’s not a secret. You’re fucking your boss and sucking his cock. That’s how you still have a job. Did you suck Mr. White’s cock today?”

“Uhm, no.”

“So you fucked him? Or rather, he fucked you?”

Mom blushed really hard. “No. No such thing. That’s really not dinner conversation, Dallas.”

Dallas nodded. “Hmmmph. And how would you know?”

“What?” Mom bristled. “How would I know what?”

“What dinner conversation sounds like?” Dallas asked. “When was the last time you all had dinner at this table together.”

“Lots of times,” mom said.

“Dinner that wasn’t delivered in a box?” Dallas pressed.

“Uhm...” mom kind of froze up. She was really trying to remember. Good luck with that.

“And you’re not supposed to lie to me, Janet,” Dallas smiled. “So about Mr. White. Did you suck his cock? Did you fuck him? Both? Did you take it up the ass, Janet?”

Mom looked down at her salmon.

“Oh wow,” Dallas laughed. “After I cornholed you all last night. You must be quite sore on your backside this evening!”

“I could use a good night’s sleep,” mom sighed.

Dallas nodded. “I bet. Well, you can sleep in either Brileigh’s bed or with Jackson tonight. Also, my Dad wants you to call him.”

Mom stared at her plate of half eaten salmon. “Okay,” she whispered.

“But get your shower after Jack finishes with his homework,” Dallas said. “Jack will scrub you up as usual.” Dallas looked at me. “And Jackson, you decide if your mom sleeps in Brileigh’s bed or yours. It’s not Janet’s choice to make.”

“M’okay?” I was still enraptured by dinner. I couldn’t concentrate on the thought of washing mom’s tits and pussy again.

“You are Janet’s boss,” Dallas said. He smiled. “Janet has a LOT of bosses!” Dallas laughed.

“You having fun, Sport?” Joy stared daggers at Dallas.

“Something you’d like to add, sex offender?” Dallas cocked his head at Joyce. “Oh, by the way, Jack,” Dallas smirked, “Joyce’s hygiene will also be your responsibility tonight.”

“That’s fine,” Joy shrugged. “Jackie can get his soapy hands on my tits and pussy. As long as it’s not you, that’s perfectly fine. You’ll get yours soon, you little shit.”

“Mmmm,” Dallas nodded. “No doubt. It all comes around sooner or later, doesn’t it, sex offender?”

Joy smiled an evil smile and pulled a fork full of Dallas’s amazing dinner down through her teeth. She licked her lips. “Yep! It all comes out in the wash, Shitheel.”


Unlike me, Dallas thought that six hundred words about the Alamo was an easy putt.

“Bro, that’s only three handwritten pages!”

“Holy shit,” I thought I was going to pass out. “Three pages!”

“C’mon, BRO!” Dallas shook his head. “Just think about six things you can say about the Alamo. That’s easy. That’s like a half a page for every sub-topic.”

I thought about this. Dallas was probably right. It made sense.

“So you can’t even cover the leadup to the attack in less than one page. Then there’s a half page on Santa Ana. Like from his point of view. Then a half page on the Siege of Bexar. A half page on the skirmishes and artillery.”

“You know a lot about the Alamo,” I cut in.

“You and I are Texans,” Dallas said. “I’m named after fucking George Dallas. You should already know everything about the Alamo that I know.”

Dallas and I looked at each other. He shook his head. “Write down what I say.”

I did. I knocked out Mrs. Mitchel’s assignment in less than an hour. I cut it off at eight hundred words because I had other shit to do.

“Hey Dallas? I really thought your meal was amazing.”

“Thanks, Bro!”

“Could you teach me how to cook salmon?”

“Salmon is criminally easy, Bro. Absolutely.” Dallas looked around. Brileigh had already finished her homework and Joy was lying on her bed writing something in a notebook. “Hey,” he whispered.

“What?” I whispered back.

“Look, I get it. It’s your mom. It’s your sisters. It’s different for me to sex them than it is for you. But I can’t have you getting resentful, man. I don’t want you to feel like you are the odd man out. I respect you. My Dad respects you. We’re all going to end up living together pretty soon. And you aren’t even into Katelyn. I get that too. I can’t magically manifest a hot older sister for you to dom.”

“Huh? What’s that mean?”

“Dom? Uhh... You know. Dominate. Boss around.”


“Anyway, I’m not going to give Janet her drugs until late. Like after midnight. If you want to run her, she can’t tell you no. That’s against the rules. You’re a guy. She has to do what I say and she has to do what you say.”

I didn’t know how to respond. I shrugged. “Mom will be going to rehab soon.” It was all I could think of to say. “She’ll get better and then she’ll be... She won’t like that I made her do stuff.”

Dallas was irritated, but he nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. I get it. I respect that. Just...” Dallas trailed off.

“Just what?”

“We don’t know how long it will be before Janet goes to rehab.”

“Soon, she said.”

Dallas shook his head like I wasn’t getting his message. “Bro, Janet isn’t going to rehab until we’re all ready to move back to my house. Dad could get her a bed tomorrow. But that can’t happen until we are ready. And by ‘ready’ I mean ‘ready for us all to live together as a family.’ And by ‘us all’ I mean Joyce.”

I blinked.

“I’ve got to get Joyce under control. That’s what Dad is waiting for. That’s really why I’m here. If you can help me get the stick out of Joyce’s ass, then we can get your mom in rehab.”

“Oh.” I felt like an idiot for not understanding the real reason Dallas was living in our apartment.

“And this sounds nuts, I know,” Dallas whispered, “but you domming your mom... That’s going to help me, it’s going to speed up breaking Joyce, and really, Dude, it’s actually going to help your mom.” Dallas’s head turned when mom dropped something in her bathroom. “I swear, dude, if your mom fucking ODs on me before we can get her to rehab, then this whole plan goes down in a flaming bucket of horseshit. My dad won’t be able to get secondary foster care if your mom is dead. She has to sign off on you living with me and Kate and Dad instead of you going back with the Willerman’s forever and Brileigh going back to those awful Kalitary assholes.”

He had a point. I never wanted to see Mr. and Mrs. Willerman again and I knew for a fact that Brileigh would start cutting herself again (or worse) if she ended back up with her Foster family. She loathed them.

“You are nodding,” Dallas said. “I guess that’s a start. Ready to grab your shower? You’ve got three bitches to wash. And really get your mom’s asshole soaped up nice and deep. Don’t let her complaining keep you from doing your job.”


There were no handcuffs. Brileigh was first in the tub with me and she was humming. She washed her hair while I leaned back and let her have all the spray from the new showerhead that Dallas installed. Then Brileigh handed me the bar of soap and stuck out her tits. She was definitely filling out. There was no mistaking that her hard little lemon halves were plumping up and her nipples were getting to be more like Joyce’s pointy pink narps.

Brileigh reached up and pulled the shower head off the new fixture. I’m such a dumbass I didn’t realize that the weird new looking shower head was detachable. That’s what the hose thing drooping down was for. Brileigh sprayed her muff and butt with an upward blast of water. She looked at the shower head and then turned the housing until the wide spray was a close blast rhythm of massage jets. She handed me the shower head and turned around and pushed out her butt. I soaped up her keister cleft with one hand and then thrummed water right on her pink divot. Brileigh flinched, but I could tell it was a good tickle kind of convulsion. She reached her hand back and mimicked poking herself in her butt hole.

“Really?” I asked.

She nodded and braced.

I soaped up her butthole and pushed the tip of my finger into my sister’s tight bung.

“NNNNNNNnnnnnyyyyyy!” Bry squinted and bared her teeth. That wasn’t a tickle response.

“Sorry,” I said.

She turned around and opened her legs. I started to soap her coochie, but she grabbed my wrist holding the shower head and pointed the spray toward her cooch. I took the hint and powered the spray upward at her open slit.

Brileigh’s eyes went thin again. This time it wasn’t pain. She nodded at my soap hand. She was already gushing pussy whet and the soap just kind of slipped around her middle pink parts. I rubbed the top of my thumb against her clit hood and pushed up my knuckle against her engorged pearl. The sigh Brileigh made still rings in my ears when I jerk off. Brileigh’s hands went to my shoulders and squeezed.

I sprayed her clean of soap bubbles. This was crazy. Brileigh kissed my cheek and then let herself out of the tub.

Mom stepped in. “What is that?” She looked at the shower head. “Oh nice. You ready for me, Jackie? Here, let me wash my own hair or we’ll be here for an hour.”

Again, I leaned back under the spray as mom reclicked the shower head back to wide-mode and seated it back in the clip on the pipe. Apparently the whole world knew how an adjustable shower head worked except me. God damn, those soapy streams of bubbles cascading down her mouthwatering tits and thighs started getting to me. My pecker went from just-thick to upright and starting-to-glow. Mom definitely noticed. She looked me in the eyes and smiled.

“C’mon, you,” she nodded. “I washed you when you were a baby, don’t be so precious about returning the favor.”

I started soaping up mom’s knockers. Jesus. Her nipples got darker against the white foam and I swear the suck tips got even longer.

“Good job, Baby,” mom purred. She had kind of a sad smile. “Hey, can we talk for a second while you soap me?” she whispered.

I nodded, but I did not stop soaping those tits with both hands.

“Hey, I want you to know that I remember what you did last night,” mom whispered. “I was out of it, but not that out of it. I remember pretty much everything. Kind of. Okay, those tits aren’t getting any cleaner, son. Spray my vag.” Mom nodded toward the new shower head.

I pulled off the shower head and pointed it up mom’s coochie. Then I remembered Brileigh and I clicked the dial to the massage pulse.

“Oh shit, you little dickens,” mom flinched. Then she settled down and smiled. “That’s nice. Right there. Wow. Yeah. Good.” Mom took a deep breath. “Anyway. I wanted to say thank you for doing the right thing. I know you’re a boy. Or I should say you are a young man. I know that you needed things that young men need. I know it was hard for any guy to pass up a free blowjob, even if it was from your old mom.”

“You’re not old,” I whispered. I started soaping up mom’s middle pussy folds with the bar of soap. Mom’s pussy opened up when her legs were apart and opened up more when I started rubbing suds into the folds. My fingertips were searching for her button but having a hard time finding it for some reason.

“Good answer,” mom smiled. “Anyway. I’m going to get better, Jackie. I promise you. Right now I really need Hunter to help me, so that means Dallas is just another boss for now. Sometimes a girl has to do what the boss says in order to get a promotion. That’s the way of the world.”

Why did I get mad? I can’t exactly say. Maybe it was realizing just how far behind the game mom really was. All she could see was rehab. She was blind to everything else. Rehab was everything. Rehab and tonight’s hit of her drugs. There was so much more going on, things that Rehab wasn’t going to fix, and her being gone to rehab was probably going to make worse. At least for Joyce. Her talking about what a girl does for her boss reminded me.

“Turn around,” I said.

“What? Oh no, honey. Don’t worry about that. I just need to shave my legs really quick. Let me have the bar of soap.”

“No,” I insisted. “Turn around.”

“Jackie, I won’t tell if you won’t tell. Just hand me the razor behind you.”

“Do I need to call Dallas in here?”

“What? Goddamn it, Jackie, knock it off.”

I thought about how Kate had fucked with me in her room before I finally figured it out and spanked her. I realized that I had “dommed” Kate. This was what I was going to have to do to my mom.

“I won’t tell you again, Janet,” I said through teeth that had apparently clenched.

“Oh, it’s Janet now,” mom shook her head. “You’re calling me by my name now too. That’s great, Jackson. That’s just great. Dallas is teaching you to be a little asshole just like him, huh? That’s marvelous. Good jumping Jesus, I --”

I shook my head and pulled back the shower curtain.

“NO WAIT!” mom startled and reached over and pulled the curtain shut again. “Fine. Show me what an asshole you can be, Jackson. Show me what Dallas taught you about being a prick to the women in your life who love you.”

Mom turned around, stepped her legs apart and popped her ass out aggressively. She was mad. Mom was mad and something about this delighted me. Usually I was a complete sucker for mom-guilt, but tonight I wasn’t biting. I pushed the bar of soap through her deep ass crack and let my index finger slide down until it found her butthole. I pushed in.

Mom wasn’t as stoic tonight as she had been the night before. “FFFFfffffACK! Dammit, Jackson! You got your whole fist up there? FUCK!”

“Not yet,” I grumbled. I tried to twist my soapy finger around so I could push it farther in past mom’s lava-hot clench.

“Yowch! Jackson! That’s enough!”

“One of us is going to get in trouble with Dallas,” I whispered loudly. “And it’s not going to be me.”

“FFFFffuck! Yow! Okay! Okay! Just give me a second, okay? My ass is on fire and that shitty bar soap isn’t helping. Girls aren’t supposed to get that harsh lye soap on their pink parts. It burns.”

“Did your boss really fuck you up the ass?” I grumbled.

“Oh fucking great,” mom panted. “You really are turning into him, aren’t you?”

I twisted my finger hard.

“GODDAMNFUCKSHITMOTHER!” Mom screamed. “Okay, Jackson. Wait just a goddamn second.” Mom breathed hard. I felt her grip on my finger ease up slightly. “Okay, now.”

I pushed my finger almost all the way up mom’s ass until my knuckles on my other fingers stopped me. I could feel mom’s pulse in the throbbing grip of her ass.

“KAH! MOTHER!” mom grimaced.

“So did your boss fuck you up the ass?” I asked again.

“Of course he did,” mom said between clenched teeth. “I left an important account file in the breakroom when I went to get coffee and a salesman that works with our competitors saw it and made some calls. We lost the account. Mr. Keevan was furious. He was going to fire me. I had to do whatever it took.”

“And ‘whatever’ was your ass?”

“Whatever was everything. I sucked him. I fucked him.” Mom was spitting the words. “He’s wanted to fuck my ass for two years now and I never would let him.”

“But you did today, huh?”

“Yeah. I did. Once again, I did whatever it took to keep this family afloat. You ‘bout done back there, Jack? I can feel your finger all the way up in my tits. Ohhhhwwwwahyung!” Mom made a crazy sound as my finger popped back out of her asshole. I pointed the massage jets at her pink hole to clear the soap.

“Kay, let me shave my legs real fast.” Mom held out her hand and I relinquished the bar of soap. I leaned back against the wall under the showerhead and watched. Mom was really quick. She soaped each leg individually and traced the soap off with her pink razor. Her toes were way up on the lip of the tub each time she shaved a leg. The high arch of her instep and her sexy bare heel make my pecker crazy.

Mom soaped her own pussy mound and did a double toe ballerina squat to get the razor all over her coochie while she hunched over to try and see over her massive tits.

I had a lot of testosterone flowing through me. That’s all I can say. That’s my only defense. “Your feet,” I pointed.

“What about my feet? You want me to wash my feet?”

“I want to wash your feet.”

“What? No, I’ll slip and break my skull. I do that in the bath, not a shower.”

“I want to wash your feet,” I insisted.

Mom’s face was purple. “Okay, okay, can we negotiate? Tomorrow I’ll take a bath in the tub and you can soap my feet up til your heart’s content. Okay?”

“CAN WE PLEASE DO THIS?” It was Joy in the bathroom.

Mom looked at me. I nodded. Mom threw the shower curtain open.

Joy stepped in the shower like I didn’t exist. She wetted her hair and washed it quickly. She was lathering in the shampoo when she finally looked at me, looking at her. She grabbed a lather of soap from her scalp of reddish brown hair and lathered it into her pubic bush. She stared down at my rock hard dick, which had officially turned bright crimson color all over my pecker head.

“Janet do that, or is that for me, Big Guy?”

The question made me angry.

“Oh relax, Jackie, I’m just busting your balls. I know you can’t help it. Fuck, the hot water is gone already.”

Joy soaped her own pits, tits, and butt crack and I was even more pissy that she didn’t understand that I was supposed to be doing that.

“Brrrr!” Joy shuddered. I was feeling the ricochet of the water splash and it was getting colder by the second. Joy popped off the shower head, saying nothing about its sudden appearance in our bathroom. She did the low cooch and asscrack upward spray without adjusting any of the six settings for the spray configuration. She soaped and shaved her legs quickly, almost exactly like mom had. Once again, that pose... That sexy pose of her high shaving leg and her delicate foot with the upturned heel and those toes splayed on the edge of the tub... I took every bit of willpower I had not to reach down and started jacking away at my peter. The water was getting colder but I was heating up.

Joy made a couple of quick soap-and-swipe razor moves to frame her dark coochie hair. She reached between my thighs and turned off the water. “Dry off, you’ll catch your death.”


I let mom have Brileigh’s bed and regretted it almost immediately. Listening to Dallas coach my sister on how to suck his cock was excruciating. Listening to Bry’s little kitten moans and her slurpy mouth squacking over Dallas’s pecker made time stop.

At least Dallas was a lot nicer to Brileigh than he was to mom when he sexed her. “There you go, that’s it. Oh good job, Cuteness. So good. Get your tongue back out over your bottom lip. Yeah. Like that. Ohhhh, wow, that feels great. Keep it there for a little bit. It’s okay if you drool on your tits. That’s sexy. You’re really getting it, Darlin’. No, get your hand down. You haven’t earned strokes. Use your mouth. Noooo! You want your hands cuffed behind your back? No? Yeah. That’s it. Good girl. Oh yeah, baby. Such a good girl! You’ve got me so fucking hard. I bet you’d like my hot cum in your mouth, wouldn’t you?” Laugh. “I thought so, that’s a good girl. So fucking hot. So hot to see you down on your knees in the floor. Yeah. You like being my little slut cocksucker, don’t you, Darlin’? Oh yes! I knew it.”

I burned with need and regret. My peter was hard enough to pound nails. I would reach down and start pumping some warm relief. Then Brileigh would moan and I could hear the wet cock in her mouth and I would simultaneously become even more horny, but let go of my cock because it was wrong to beat off to the sounds of my sister blowing a guy.

Yeah, yeah, I know. I’d done exactly that dozens of times either watching Joy or right after watching Joy. But that was different. Wasn’t it?

I was mad at myself for not making mom suck my cock the night before when she was high. I was mad at myself for not “domming her” and making mom sleep in my bed tonight and be sucking my cock right now. I was mad at myself for not getting my hands all over Joy’s tits and pussy in the shower, like I had wanted to do for so, so, soooo long.

I jumped at the knock at my door. Was it mom coming in to make good with me after our shower spat? Joy returning for another pressure relieving handy?

I could see from the height of the backlit shadow it was Bry. Her hand skidded up the wall until it flipped on my light switch.

She was completely nude, of course. She looked at me nervously.

“Sup, Bry?”

That’s when I noticed she had something in her hands. A plastic bottle of lube and a T-shaped metal cone. She held them up to me.

“Whah?” I mumbled, confused.

Brileigh shook them at me and pushed them in my hand. The metal cone-on-a-stick thing was cold and much heavier than I thought.

“What am I...”

Bry pointed at her butt. I noticed she was pretty sweaty on the scalp for a girl I’d just bathed an hour before.

“I don’t... Oh. The metal thing goes in your butt?”

Brileigh nodded nervously.

I looked at the metal thing. It wasn’t very big, but I sure wouldn’t want it in my butt. The bottom of it was a big round button that I guessed was to stop the metal head from slipping all the way into somebody’s digestive tract. There was a pink rhinestone on the very bottom.

“Dallas told you to make me do this?”

Bry nodded.

“How do we do this?”

Bry tapped in the bottle of lube. She climbed up on my bed with her feet over the side and waited on all fours.

“Uh, okay.” I squirted a blob of clear lube on the tip of the metal probe and tried pressing it into Brileigh’s asshole. She tilted away as fast as I could push.

Bry made an animal sound.

“Do you want to do this or not?” I whined.

Bry turned around and pointed at the lube. Then she turned around and pointed at her butthole.

“You need lube there? On your bung?”

Brileigh nodded emphatically.

Not knowing any better, I pressed the plastic tip of the lube bottle cap against Bry’s pink starfish and squeezed. Lube went everywhere, including all over my freshly washed sheets. I chased the drips with my fingers and pushed my index finger into Bry’s butthole. Her knees lifted off the bed in a jump. I worked my fingertip around and got my finger much farther into Bry’s hot butt than I had ever done before. Brileigh whimpered.

I popped my finger out and tried again to press the metal cone into Bry’s bottom hole. It went a little farther than the last time, but the pain of it got the best of Bry and she leaned forward.

“Twist it a little as you put it in, Bro.”

My head whipped around to see Dallas (nude with a boner) leaning on the door frame. His hand was making a clock rotation, back and forth. “Screw it in there. It’ll fit. Brileigh Yvonne, you hold that ass up in the air and take it!”

Bry nodded, squinted, and pushed her butt backwards. I imitated Dallas’s back and forth clock motion and pushed. Bry’s pink ring got bigger and bigger as the metal cone went further and further in. Brileigh whimpered loudly and her feet kicked rapidly. She was in a lot of pain. The fattest part of the cone twisted past her ass ring and the pitch of Brileigh’s whining went positively ear-splitting. Then the rest of the metal toy pulled itself out of my fingers and sucked into Bry’s butthole right up to the pink rhinestone stop. Buttholes weren’t really as gross as maybe I thought they had been a couple months before. But the shiny pink gem was an improvement.

Brileigh’s head rolled around her neck. She backed off my bed and tried to take some steps with the metal plug up her ass.

“How’s that feel, Darlin’?” Dallas winked at Bry. She smiled and nodded. I could tell she was uncomfortable. “Okay. Get your cute ass in my bed then.”

Brileigh ran for mom’s room. Dallas’s room. Whatever.

“You good, Bro?” Dallas nodded at me.

“I’m good.”

“Kay. See you in the morning.” Dallas flipped off my light and left the door four-fingers wide. Was not long after that I heard Bry grunt-moaning in time with the squeaks of the mattress. Dallas was fucking her.

I caught myself jerking off in time to rhythm of the two kids fucking. I came once and was close to a second cum as they fucked a lot faster when Brileigh finally made her deep orspasm moan of relief. From the sound of the mattress, and the body claps echoing across the apartment, Dallas and I spermed at the same time shortly after that. My ears rang and when they stopped ringing the fucking sounds had stopped. I could hear kissing and whispering. If there was any doubt before, I knew that Brileigh was speaking with Dallas when they were alone. I was a sweaty mess and could use another shower.


Finally Friday! It was a great Friday. Fresh cereal. Fresh milk. Mom was kind of snippy with me as she rolled out to work, but that was to be expected after I cornholed her sore keister. I thought about soaping up her feet in the tub like she promised. I thought about other things I might make her do while I sat on the edge of the tub. I got a little chubby on the bus to school thinking about it. Smiles from two of my teachers as I turned in my first of the makeup assignments, including the normally stone-faced Mrs. Mitchel. One week left before Christmas break. There was more official goofing off as classwork slowed down and we started taking notes about the stuff that would be on final exams the following week. I took notes and paid attention for a change.

I ate lunch with my buddy Louis for the first time in a long time. Real school lunch. Or yaknow. As real as school lunch gets. We had been on different lunch breaks all semester and his older sister had been diagnosed with Leukemia, so I hadn’t been to his apartment in months. It was good to catch up with him. He had a crush on a girl named Jillian and he was finally over it after asking her on a “date” to a movie a bajillion times. She finally told him she wasn’t comfortable dating a black dude. Oh, if it matters, Louis was black. Or I guess he probably is still black. Anyway. I wanted to tell him that I’d finally gotten a handy. I wanted to tell him I had a date tonight to get in a bathtub with a big titted older woman. Of course I kept my mouth shut. Because the handy was my sister and the big titted older woman was my mom. I just smiled a lot. About all I said was my mom was dating a new guy and it was kind of serious and Joy had an ankle monitor.

And you know what? Louis nodded and didn’t ask why Joy was wearing a court-ordered ankle monitor. That’s when you know your family is fucked up. When you drop a bomb like that and your best friend nods and asks if you are going to see the new Lord of the Rings movie.

It was a good day. I was looking forward to bath time with my mom and her cute feet, and I was even kind of looking forward to cooking dinner with Dallas.

Brileigh sat next to me on the bus. Like she wanted to, not because it was the last seat open. That was odd. She scratched in her notepad and held it where only I could see it.

You + I = cool, right?

I shrugged. “Of course.”

She smiled and seemed relieved. She tapped her heart with two fingers and gave me a look. I still don’t know if that was supposed to mean “Thank you” or “I love you.” Why wouldn’t I be cool? I wasn’t the one who had my hands cuffed behind my back and was forced to get my butthole probed by my brother in the shower.

But Friday Bry was not the Brileigh I knew. That’s for sure. She was way more chill and the happiest I’d seen her in a long time. I had only seen scowls for over a year. Now she was humming and smiling. Good thing I kept my mouth shut about Dallas’s “seven hundred other girlfriends.”

“Hey Bry?” I whispered, “I was wondering. Did Dallas or mom or anybody ever say to you what happened to his mom? Hunter’s wife? Like, how she died?”

Brileigh made a face. She nodded somberly.

Very complicated.

I let it go.

We walked in the apartment together.

“Hey Bro.” Dallas was in the kitchen. “You still interested in cooking with me tonight?”

Brileigh screamed. Not the good, girl-kind of scream. But rather the terrified, horror movie kind of scream. She dropped her bookback.

Dallas looked like he’d been run over by a Mack truck. His eyes were black. His nose was crusted with blood. His lip was freshly split in two places. He had rashes all over his cheeks and chin.

“Dude,” I flinched. “What the fuck?”

“Oh nothing,” Dallas tried to smile, but his face was swollen.

Brileigh rushed toward him but he put his palm up. “Easy! Easy! It’s fine! It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Dude, do you need to go to the hospital?” I asked.

“My dad already took me to the urgent care.”

“And...” This made no sense. “...he brought you back? Here?”

“Of course, Bro. I’ve got a job to do here. Hey, I couldn’t get the grout in the Master Bath clean so I just stripped it and recaulked it. It’s probably not dry, so everybody get your shower in my bathtub tonight, okay?”

Brileigh was freaking out.

“Miss Brileigh,” Dallas said sternly, “I mean it. Relax. I’m fine. Go in your room and get started on your homework. I’ll be in to talk with you in a little while.”

Brileigh reluctantly picked up her backpack and walked backwards into her room, tears streaming down her face.

“My mom is going to shit kittens when she sees you,” I said.

“Uh, my Dad is picking up your mom from work tonight. He hasn’t seen her in a while. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“With my mom?” I was whining.

“Probably. Janet is his, so I guess he can do what he wants with her.”


“What? You need to talk to her about something? You need something signed for school?”

“No, I... Never mind. Shit.”

“I need something soft on my teeth, Bro. We’re doing chicken alfredo tonight, okay?”

“Like spaghetti?”

“Yeah. Like spaghetti. Here comes Joy.”

I could hear her thumping up the steps. She walked through the door expectantly. She looked Dallas over and smiled broadly.

“Well look at you, tough guy? Why whatever happened to you?” It seemed as if Joy knew exactly what happened to Dallas.

“Very funny, Joyce. Jack, go ahead and season the chicken with white pepper. White pepper and paprika is like the secret seasoning for chicken.” Dallas pointed at some spice jars.

“You get your ass kicked, Little Shithead? Why, that is just breaking my cynical little heart.” Joyce smiled broadly until she laughed.

“How much cock did you have to suck to get four guys to do your dirty work Joyce? Because that Cody guy? He didn’t get off a single punch before he was counting clouds.”

“Well somebody sure landed some haymakers, Girl Beater. Somebody beat your fucking ass. How’d that feel to get your little pussy, girl-beating ass pounded, fucker?”

“How old was that one kid anyway?” Dallas never stopped prepping dinner. He was very calm. “He had to be a Senior. That fucker was huge.”

“Kip is a ‘Second Year Senior.’ And to answer your first question, I sucked them all dry. Every drop. And I gotta say,” Joyce laughed again, “It was totallyi worth it.”

“You made your point, Joyce.”

“You touch me again, you little cockbite shitstain,” Joyce’s eyes went thin but she never stopped smiling, “And my boys will fucking end you. You understand?”

“You made your point, Joyce.”

“Say it. Say you understand.” Joyce stopped smiling.

Dallas set his knife down and leaned on the countertop. He smiled a thin, painful smile, still crusted with scabs, and stared at Joyce. “You made your point, Darlin’.” Dallas nodded slowly. “Dinner will be on the table in about fifty minutes.” Dallas leaned down behind the counter and lifted a kitchen Glad Bag filled with trash. “Since Jack and I are taking care of dinner, can you please run the trash to the dumpster? Please?”

Joy was grinning ear-to-ear. “Of course! Your dinner smells like barf already. I could use some fresh air.”

Dallas nodded. “Many thanks.”

Wow. It was crazy to finally see Dallas bested. I was starting to think he had some kind of magic juju protection around him that let him get away with anything.

As soon as Joyce walked out the apartment door, Dallas pulled a roll of aluminum foil out of the drawer and yanked three feet of foil off the roll. He walked over and wrapped the antenna thing that monitored Joy’s ankle bracket in several loops of the foil and then packed it all down into a tight wad. He pulled the everpresent dishtowel from his shoulder and drooped it over the whole thing, camouflaging it.

“Whatcha doing?” I asked.

“Hey Jack, I’m expecting a phone call on the landline. Lemme answer the kitchen phone if it rings.”


“That chicken is looking great, Bro. You want to move it around the pan so it all gets coated in the olive oil. You want all the sides to not be pink anymore. But remember that we’re going to pull it out and add it back into the alfredo sauce later. So we don’t want it super done. We don’t want it super brown. It’s still gotta be able to cook a little bit in the sauce without turning into a tough old shoe. Okay, we can probably get the water for the linguini boiling now. That cooks fast, like ten minutes, so there’s no reason to start the noodle water boiling too early.”

I don’t understand exactly why, but I soaked in everything Dallas ever said to me about cooking. I wanted to be good at cooking. I wanted to impress girls with cooking. I wanted girls to want to have sex with me the way girls wanted to have sex with Dallas. I could see the way that Joy pretended to hate Dallas’s cooking, but somehow ate every bite. I saw the way my mom’s eyes lit up when she put something Dallas cooked in her mouth. I wanted that kind of power over the fairer sex.

Joy returned to the apartment and carried her school bag into her room. She stopped. “You put my door back on, Shitburger! Hey, you learn fast, don’t you?”

Dallas nodded, “You made your point, Joyce.”


I gotta admit, I knew you could buy jars of alfredo sauce at the supermarket. I was baffled why we were bothering to make it out of heavy cream, butter, and shaved parmesan. (And bacon bits. And chopped mushrooms.) But it was really fun. Dallas said that a lot of things you think are complicated, like spaghetti sauce, were easy and tasted even better when you made them yourself.

When Dallas and Bry and I finally sat down to dinner, all I could think about was that I wish mom and Kelly Dawn Baskerette were at the table with us. Dallas even toasted some bagels with butter and garlic on them in the oven and they were fucking amazing.

Dallas got up and plated some pasta and bread for Joy. He put it on a tray and set it down outside her door. He knocked. “Joyce. Peace offering,” he called. “It’s delicious.”

Brileigh certainly thought so. She was enraptured. She was still concerned about Dallas’s appearance, but she licked her fork between bites.

After a while Joy's door opened. She looked down at the food and sniffed it. In the end, even she could not resist creamy pasta. She took it in her room and closed the door behind her.

As Bry and Dallas and I were clearing dishes, Joy brought her tray out and it was wiped clean. I wondered if she licked the plate.

“Not bad, Kid,” Joy nodded at Dallas.

“Jackson did as much or more as I did,” Dallas said humbly. “But we are delighted that you enjoyed our offering. Hey, sorry to bother you, Joyce. Just one more thing? Please? We filled up another bag of trash. Can you please run it out to the dumpster one more time?”

Joyce grabbed the bag. “Fair deal,” she said.

Dallas’s eyes shifted when she walked out the door. That’s when the kitchen phone rang. “I got it!” he called. “Hello? No, this is her brother. Can I help you? What? No. No. No, she came home for a minute after school and then she left. She said she was going to some boy’s house. But I think it might have been that man she isn’t supposed to see. No, I don’t know when she’ll be home. Oh wait. I think I see her coming across the parking lot now.”

Dallas pulled the towel and foil off the antenna by the Mr. Coffee.

“Yes, I see her. Do you want to talk to her? She will be here in just a minute. No? Okay. Hello?”

“What was that?” I asked.

“Oh I’m just fucking with one of Katelyn’s little Romeos.”

“Why would he be calling you here?”

“Kate gave him a fake number so I could deal with it.”

“Oh.” I’m such a dumbass, it made sense. I can’t believe I fell for it.


Brileigh and I were sharing the TV chair for the first time since Dallas showed up. Brileigh wanted to watch Married to the Kellys. I was just so happy to not be doing homework that anything to veg out sounded great to me, even if it was a sitcom I didn’t particularly care for.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs in the foyer and assumed it was mom and Hunter. When the door got pounded, I just about jumped out of my skin.

“Denton Police! Open the door!”

“Whah?” Joyce stuck her head out of her room. She was the one who opened the door to reveal Bob Yandie and the black lady cop. What was her name?

“Officer Preston?” Joyce was confused.

“Joyce Felicity Arnette?” Mr. Yandie asked.

“Bob, you know my name. What is going on?”

“Miss Arnette, you violated the terms of your parole and exceeded the limits of your court-ordered monitoring device for an extended period of time.”

Joyce shook her head. She blinked. “What are you talking about? I haven’t left this smelly shoebox since I got home from school.”

“Turn around, hands behind your back,” the black lady cop said.

“No seriously,” Joy started to panic. “Something is wrong with your bracelet. I was here the moment I got home from school. I haven’t left anywhere. Jackie. Tell ‘em! Tell ‘em I’ve been here.”

I nodded.

The black cop lady grabbed Joy’s arm and pushed her against the wall. “The antenna tells us all we need to know,” she said. “That’s the only witness who counts.”

“Godammit, will you LISTEN TO ME!” Joy screamed. “This is BULLSHIT! I haven’t gone ANYWHERE!”

“Whoa, little buddy!” Mr. Yandie noticed Dallas standing in the kitchen. “What happened to you, Sport?”

Dallas looked more like a little kid than I believed he could look. Dallas shook his head and looked at his shoes.

“Who hit you, little buddy?”

Dallas sniffed and looked at Joyce. “I’m afraid to s-s-say.” Remember when I told you that Dallas taught me to think of the saddest thing I’d ever thought of when I gave my line of bullshit to my teachers? Yeah. He must have been thinking about his “saddest thing” and it must have been really sad. He snuffled snot and tears started pouring down his face.

“WHAT?” Joyce screamed. “He doesn’t even fucking LIVE here! He’s raping my little sister! He’s raping my mother! He’s dealing drugs! To my mother!”

Mr. Yandie shook his head. “Danisha, could you get this piece of work loaded in the cruiser so I can take a statement?”

“You got it, Bob.”

Joyce screamed her innocence and bitter accusations about Dallas all the way down three flights of stairs.

Brileigh was watching all of this. She pointed at the stairway. She pointed at Dallas’s face. It was a question.

“Yeah. Her boyfriends did this to me,” Dallas nodded.

Brileigh’s eyes got huge. And furious. She ran to our living room window and started slamming her middle finger against the window. Presumably at Joyce in the parking lot. I thought she was going to break the glass.

Mr. Yandie smiled at Dallas and rolled his tongue around his mouth in a snarky way. “So how does the other guy look?”

Dallas stopped crying and took the stick of gum Mr. Yandie offered him. “Guys. Plural. There were four of them.”

“Holy shit, Dallas. You okay?”

“Dad took me to Urgent Care. I’ve got three cracked ribs. “

“Fuck, kid. You are one tough mother sumbitch. You get any names?”

“Uhm. Cody was the one I layed out. Think one of the other two young ones was a Francis? Or a Franko? Not sure about the other one Joyce’s age. She said the nineteen-year-old was named Kip. I’ve got a license plate. It was a black Nissan Elantra.” Dallas handed Mr. Yandie a piece of paper.

Mr. Yandie laughed. “Well done, Encyclopedia Brown!” Then, “Did you say nineteen?”

“Eighteen, nineteen. She said he flunked his Senior year and is still at the high school.”


“Yeah. If I had him to myself, I may have done a little better. But not him and three other goons at once.”

“Okay, kid, I’m impressed.”

“Do me a favor, Bob,” Dallas said. “Fuck him up and let him know it’s from me.”

Mr. Yandie smiled large. “Count on it. Wouldn’t you rather send him up the river? You sure?”

Dallas’s tongue moved around his mouth. “I think he cracked a tooth. Fucker. No, we don’t need more nosey questions. Just take care of business if you get a chance.”

“Done and done,” Mr. Yandie nodded. He looked at Brileigh and me. “Looks like you two are in good hands.” Then after a pause, “Finally.”

Mr. Yandie let himself out.


Brileigh and Dallas slept together for the next few days, but I didn’t hear them having any kind of sex until Sunday night, when Brileigh gave him a blowjob. On Saturday afternoon, Dallas gave me a $20 bill and I went to Louis’s house. His mom drove us to see the Lord of the Rings movie. Dallas took Brileigh clothes-shopping in a taxi. He also paid to get her hair cut. She was thrilled.

When I caught up with them Saturday night, Bry showed me her haircut.

“Enjoy it,” Dallas grumbled. “You’re not getting another haircut until your hair is long past your ass.”

Brliegh showed me her fingers. She had long red fingernails on all of them.

“Wow!” I was impressed. “You got fake nails?”

“Until she can grow out her own,” Dallas grumbled.

Brileigh scratched her new nails gently down my neck. I shuddered with the pleasure of it. Brileigh was delighted by my reaction.

“What’s with you?” I asked Dallas.

“Hurtin’ today, Bro. Hey, make sure you take a look in your closet like we talked about and throw everything in the bag I gave you that’s either too small for you to wear anymore, or has more than three holes in it.”

“That’s like everything I own.”

“Exactly,” Dallas nodded. “Tomorrow, you and me, Bro. Fresh start. Bros Day Out.”

“Anybody hear from Joy?” I asked.

“I hope not,” Dallas grumbled. “But my Dad says he’s working on it. Might take a while.”

“Hey,” I said, “that was pretty shitty, what you did to her.”

Dallas sighed. “I know, Bro. My Dad and I are fighting to keep your mom alive. Joy has to get with the plan or we’re all fucked. I don’t want to think about you and Miss Brileigh in some foster home. I can’t deal with it.”

“Still, man.”

“Yeah, Jackson. I get it.” Dallas was annoyed. “But on my worst day I never had four big dyke bitches jump her and split her wig, right?”

I let it go.


It was a Friday morning, early, when the phone rang. (Not important, but it was the last day of school for the semester. That’s how I remember it was a Friday.) Dallas answered. He was already up. I’m pretty sure he had already fucked Brileigh in mom’s/his bed that morning. I thought I heard her breathy moans in my sleep.

“Hey, Bro.” Dallas’s head was in my door. “Phone. For you.”

I stumbled in the kitchen and picked the phone up off the counter. “Whahn?”

It was Hunter. “Mr. Crenshaw.”


“Sorry to wake you so early. Last day of class before break, is it not?”


“Excellent. Mr. Crenshaw, your sister Joyce will be returning to your home this evening. I’m not entirely sure if it’s short term or long term. That is up to her.”


“As a man-of-the-house, I thought it proper to let you know. I expect you and Miss Brileigh to be present for your sister’s return. I will be joining the festivities as well. Sometime this afternoon, a friend of mine will be dropping off some... Equipment. He’s an African-American gentleman. If you are home when he arrives, please help him unload his things and assist him in any way possible. And don’t make plans for the evening. I expect you present to celebrate young Miss Arnette’s return. ”


“Have a wonderful day in academia, Jackson. Enjoy every minute.”



I was prancing across the parking lot toward the apartment after school. I had cleared the bar on all my makeup assignments. I could very well be headed for the best report card of my life.

“Son. Jackson!”

My head snapped out of my mental movie.

One of the biggest black men I’ve ever seen (not in a movie) was standing at the back of a panel van with the doors askew.

I blinked.

“Are you Jackson?”


“Well give me a hand, Son.”

I blinked again. Brileigh was observing us nervously from a safe distance.

“Mr. Leftwich told you about me? He said he did.”

“OH! Sorry. Sure.” I walked to the back of the van. The man put a stack of heavy iron pipes in my arms.”

“Lead the way,” he said, lifting a big square of plywood out of the van.


After the black super-hero left, Brileigh and I stared at the contraption he left behind.

The four foot square of plywood was on the floor next to the TV chair. Into that plywood was screwed... Uh... Holders? Metal cups? Pipe clamps? Receptacles?

From those... receptacles spouted three... Uh... three miniature field goals; H-shaped constructions made out of black iron pipes, all of them about an inch around. Or three uneven parallel bars for a midget gymnast. The first little field goal H was only one foot high. The middle field goal was about three and a half feet high. And the farthest iron pipe/field goal post was about two and and half feet tall. The black dude clamped a sponge pipe insulation strip around the middle (highest) cross bar and secured it in place with some duct tape.

It made no sense.

Brileigh walked around it, looking perplexed as well.

Weirdest of all? The huge black dude set a ring of folding chairs, pointed at the iron bar sculpture.

“Whadya think, Bry?”

Brileigh put her hand on her hips. Her eyebrows were question marks. She looked at me and made a funny crooked smile as her knees bent and her right hand made a sliding motion.

I didn’t understand.

She turned around and pretended to spank herself.

“Spanking?” I asked. “Seems like a lot of steel for spanking. I’ve spanked a girl, and all I needed was my lap and my hand.” I think I preened a little.

Brileigh thought about this and gave me the “Robert DeNiro nod;” thin-lipped and squinty-eyed. She circled the pipes again. She squeezed the cushion wrap on the middle/high bar. She stepped up on the low bar and kind of vaulted until her stomach/thighs were hinged across the middle, padded “high” bar. She leaned over and reached for the far bar, which was barely out of her fingertips. Her feet kicked back toward the low bar and I could understand what Brileigh was thinking. It did look like it was meant to hold a bent-over person in place.

Brileigh hopped off and looked at me. She pantomimed like she was swinging a baseball bat.

“Home run?” I asked.

She pantomimed again, swinging lower and following through.


Brileigh sighed. She pulled her notebook out of her back pocket and scribbled. She held it up.


She scribbled again.

Or maybe whips!!!

“Holy shit!” I shuddered. “Where is Dallas anyway?”

Had something @ school. Will B here ltr.

“I thought he was already out of school for Winter Break?” I looked at the semicircle of chairs. “This is going to be crazy.”

I should B somewhere else.

“No, Hunter said you had to be here.”

Bry’s eyes went wide and her nose tilted forward.

“Yeah, I’m serious.”

Bry’s eyes went thin and she made a smirk.

“No bullshit, I’m totally serious,” I said.

Bry’s palms lifted and her head see-sawed left and right.

“This morning. Hunter called really crazy fucking early this morning.”

Bry gulped and her eyes bulged.

“I dunno,” I shrugged. ‘That’s what Hunter told me to tell you. I told you.”


I did not recognize the Joy who showed up at our apartment that Friday evening.

Her eyes were sallow and she had thick hammocks of skin swinging below each iris. She looked a bit like mom when mom was strung out. She had the fading plum remnants of a black eye and stitches through a line in her left palm and the corresponding smaller line on the back of her hand, like she’d taken a knife through her hand. She walked in a slow shuffle like she was medicated.

Bob Yandie was right behind her, smirking like the Cheshire Cat and chomping his gum.

Hunter Leftwich was the caboose, talking on his cell phone. He clapped it shut on its hinge. “Dallas’s cab is almost here,” he announced. “Good evening, Mr. Crenshaw.”

“Good evening, Mr. Leftwich.” I nodded back.

“Hey Hoss,” Bob Yandie lifted his chin at me. “Remember me?”

“Of course, Mr. Yandie.”

He smirked again. “After tonight, you’ll remember me until the day you die, Little Hoss.”

Fuck if he was not absolutely correct. I’m not dead yet, but I’ll remember every second of that day, the last day of first semester, Grade Seven.

“And where is Miss Brileigh?” Hunter asked.

Before I could answer, Bry stepped out of her room. She looked really nervous.

Hunter smiled. “Hug, please?”

Brileigh moved forward cautiously. Hunter folded over her and hugged her. Brileigh relaxed a little and hugged back. A little. Hunter whispered something in Brileigh’s ear and she tensed into a stiff board.

“Now, please,” Hunter smiled. “Unless you want to be the matinee to the main feature this evening? You don’t want that do you? No? Neither do I. Now please do as you were told.”

Brileigh gulped and took a step toward her room.

“No,” Hunter said. “Not necessary. Right here will do.”

Brileigh blinked.

“Dallas will be here momentarily,” Hunter said. “Would you rather deal with his punishment AND mine?”

Brileigh blinked again. Then she pulled her top over her head. She reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. Bob Yandie was eating up every move, smirking. Joy was standing in the living room, her glazed eyes staring at her shoes.

Brileigh pushed her unsnapped pants down and then her panties. She stepped out.

“Very nice,” Hunter smiled. “Now go kneel over there.” Hunter pointed.

My twelve-year-old “older” sister was buck-ass naked in a room with her little brother, two grown men, and her sister, kneeling on the floor like a geisha.

“You don’t need to drag her into this.” I almost didn’t recognize Joy’s voice.

“We didn’t drag her into anything,” said Mr. Yandie. “You did that, Cupcake.”

I heard steps in the stairwell. Dallas keyed in. “Hey team. Did I miss anything?”

Dallas was wearing a formal suit. He had a corsage pinned in his top button hole. It was obvious he just came from either a wedding or a school dance. School dance. Brileigh put it together as well and looked dizzy. Dallas slipped a tennis sports bag off his shoulder.

“Hey, Presh!” Dallas walked to Brileigh, bent over, and kissed her.

Brileigh looked seasick.

“Yeah, I know,” whispered Dallas. “I’ll explain later. It’s not what you think it is.”

SPOILER ALERT: It was exactly what she thought it was.

“Your turn, Cupcake!” Bob Yandie smirked. “Way too many clothes and I’ve been waiting way too long for this big reveal!”

“Bob, shouldn’t we wait?” Hunter asked.

“Naw, it’s fine. I’ve been to a hundred of these. Nobody cares about the unwrapping.” Bob Yandie looked at his watch. “But we are a little early, aren’t we?”

Hunter nodded. “Just a skoosh.” Then “Cupcake?”

Joyce’s shoulders slumped even more. She didn’t move. “Make up your mind. What do you want me to do?”

“Did I stutter?” Bob Yandie's voice took an edge.

Joy took a deep, ragged breath. “You’re an asshole, Bob.”

“We had a conversation, Cupcake. We made a deal. Intake is still open if you'd like to go back and play with your new friends.”

Joyce took another deep breath. “Does Jackie have to be here?”

“That was not part of the terms, Miss Arnette,” Hunter said. “We did not negotiate your audience. You agreed to Mr. Yandie’s terms without condition. Now, do we need to return you to DCJD this evening? You’ll have to stay through until the Court Clerk returns in two weeks, after the New Year.”

“Yeah, that’d be swell,” Joyce mumbled. “But we both know I’d ‘accidentally’ end up back at Lucile Plane with the hard cases, don’t we?”

“Ooops!” Bob Yandie popped his gum and smiled. “Sorry about that, Cupcake. Blame Judge Catteron and her horrible handwriting. I imagine that really sucked, getting stuffed into a real women’s prison. So was it like the Cinemax movies? Lots of hot lesbo lickouts?”

“Yeah yeah.” Joyce never stopped staring at her shoes. “You’re connected. I get it, Bob.”

“You have no idea just how connected I am.”

“You will address Mr. Yandie properly, Miss Arnette.” Hunter growled.

“Bitch, get your fucking clothes off.” Dallas stepped in front of Joyce and hooked his index finger under her chin and lifted it until they were eye-fucking each other.

Joyce took a deep breath. “You made your point, Dallas.”

“I like ‘Sir.’ Does that work for everyone?” Dallas looked at his father and Bob Yandie.

“Can never go wrong with a good, emphatic ‘Sir,’” Bob Yandie nodded.

“Bitch?” Dallas growled into Joy’s face. Dallas’s messed up face had healed a lot, but he still had scabs on his lips from his beat-down.

“You made your point,” Joy sighed, “Sir.”

“Better.” Dallas nodded and slipped off his tailored suitcoat. “Get your fucking clothes off. Now.”

Twenty seconds later Joyce was as naked as Brileigh, with the exception of the ankle monitor she was still wearing. Bob Yandie whistled and looked at Hunter.

Hunter squinted and nodded with satisfaction. He looked at Dallas. Dallas nodded and grabbed Joy by her hair. In a moment she was bent over the padded middle bar, exactly as Brileigh had pantomimed earlier in the day. Bob Yandie was tying her feet to the low bar while Dallas tied her hands to the far, slightly lower bar. Both of them seemed to try and stretch her hands and legs as wide as possible, making Joy into a bent X.

Once Joy was secured, Bob Yandie’s hands were all over Joy’s ass and Dallas’s hands were milking both of Joy’s hanging tits. Joyce was always stick thin, but she must not have eaten at all while she was away. Her spine was bumpy and her hip bones were protruding even more than usual. Her big, pointy tits were a size smaller than the last time I’d seen them up close when she gave me that handy. Drooped over, her pointy knockers still managed to sway impressively. Dallas stretched her pointy nipples beyond what I thought was possible, his finger gription tight and white around the rosy buds. Joy’s lips were thin and I could tell it hurt, even if she was trying to not show it.

“Little Miss Williams, are you watching carefully?” Hunter asked.

Brileigh nodded. Her eyes were big. She was taking it all in. Bry’s palms were nervously massaging her own knees, leaving a sheen of sweat behind in little concentric circles. I say this every time I saw Brileigh’s bare tits, but damned if they weren’t even bigger than the last time I saw them at Hunter’s sleepover. Her nipples were starting to bend upward toward the ceiling as they filled out into pink cones, like Joy’s tits.

And me? Little weirdo, eleven-year-old me? I was staring at the bottoms of Joy’s bound feet. Her tiny toes were catflexing in space; out-in-out-in. I could see every millimeter of them at once. That was driving me crazy. Her arches were so high. Her little size 5 feet were so small and perfect, just like Mom’s. It made me remember that I was supposed to have been in a bathtub with my Mom’s feet before she disappeared to Hunter’s house.

How do I know Mom and Joy were both a size 5? You’ve already figured that out. I may have left out the part where I blew glossy orspasm spunk all over Mom’s high heels and Joy’s one pristine pair of open toe Nine West’s with the shiny red leather. In my perverted defense, If somebody had bought me a Gameboy Advanced, I’d never have been trolling closets for sexy shoes to jerk off on.

“Dallas can you slow down a little bit?” Hunter looked at his watch. “Let us behold this raw beauty and enjoy her spirit one last moment before she’s broken.”

There was noise in the stairwell.

Hunter breathed a sigh of relief. “They’re here.” He opened the door moments before they walked in. There were two men, smartly dressed in suitcoats. They looked to be around the age of the guys mom dated. Like mid-to-late thirties. (Hunter was slightly older than mom’s usual boyfriends, as I think I mentioned.) One older man with salt-and-pepper temples, another flavor of Hunter, was next-to-last. And finally a woman in a violet dress. I can actually tell you how old she was/is now, because I know. But that Friday night, December 19, 2003, I could not pin her age down. Maybe older than my mom? Maybe 40s? Perhaps even mid 50s? She was so incredibly well put-together, it was impossible to tell. She was breathtaking: honey blond, stacked like a brickyard, and more beautiful than any actress on any of the NBC crime shows. She was flawless and dressed to show her perfection. Rembrandt himself could not improve upon her makeup.

“Wine?” Hunter asked.

“Good God,” snuffed one of the “younger” men. “In a syringe, please. I fully expect my Maseratti to be stripped to the frame by the time we are done here.”

“Don’t be so elitist, Frank,” said the salt-and-pepper man.

I started to tell them that we didn’t have any wine, but Hunter pulled a blue bottle I didn’t recognize out of our fridge. He uncorked it like a bottle of Champagne with a pop. Where he managed to find four, unchipped wine glasses in our apartment, I cannot tell you. Hunter passed out the glasses to the latecomers. Once they had their wine, they all began circling Joyce like she was a modern art exhibit.

The woman was the first to react to seeing Joy’s face. THe woman raised her fingers to her mouth, aghast.

“Holy shit, Leftwich!” shouted the man who was paired with the woman.

“Uncanny, isn’t it?” Hunter smiled.

“Wow! Hunter!” said the older man.

“Robert is another Howard Carter,” Hunter nodded. “He gets all the credit.”

Joyce was humiliated. She wasn’t looking back at any of her gawkers and kept staring at the floor beneath her.

Bob Yandie was back to rubbing Joy’s ass.

“How old is she, Bob?” asked the unpaired stranger.

“Almost sixteen.”

“So young,” whispered the perfect matron.

“At what age were you broken?” asked her companion.

She whispered in his ear.

“Hmmm. Nodded the man. “I bet you still remember it.”

The woman nodded. I heard her whisper, “Vividly. Every second of it.”

Nobody seemed to notice Brileigh kneeling on the floor. But she certainly noticed all of the strangers milling about her.

“Are we about ready then?” Hunter asked.

“I’m ready,” Bob Yandie smacked Joyce on her ass. Hard. “I’ve been waiting for this for five months.”

“Dallas, please,” Hunter nodded.

Dallas’s hands dipped into zippered contents of the big sports bag he brought. He pulled out a pair of metal clips. I watched him attach them to Joy’s long nipples, turning a screw to clamp them into a pink squeeze.

“AH FUCK!” Joy flinched against her bondage, to the extent she barely had any play to do so.

“Not there yet, Dallas,” Bob Yandie nodded. “Another half turn.”

Dallas twisted the little dial on the nipple clamps and Joy made a squeaky yip that was so high-pitched it hurt my ears.”

“That sounds about right,” Bob Yandie smiled.

Dallas clipped a chain with a big lead fishing weight to each of the nipple clamps and Joy sucked a deep hiss of pain. Her big tits were even bigger, stretched toward the floor under the agony of the weights stretching her cone-shaped nipples to a pink-white pull of taffy.

Bob Yandie jerked at his belt.

Joy heard the jingle. Through clenched teeth she grunted, “I’ve been off Bee Cee for two weeks while I was in lockup. Please don’t cum in my cunt.”

Bob Yandie, Hunter, and all the adults burst into simultaneous laughter. Whatever “Bee Cee” was, or why it was funny, eleven-year-old me did not understand.

Dallas palmed Joyce across the cheek with a sharp crack. She had no way to recoil. She could only take it.

Wide-eyed Brileigh, on the other hand, hopped on her knees in fright from the terrible sound.

Bob Yandie was standing on the low bar and guiding his short, fat cock into Joy’s pussy. Joy made an animal sound upon the penetration.

The strangers found their way to the folding chairs and sat, balancing their wine glasses on knees. Bob Yandie put on a show for them, pounding my bound sister like a lowland gorilla, his shoulders high and his fingers gripped under the boney pelvic wings of Miss Joyce Felicity Arnette. His weight was naturally forward as he was falling against her bent-over, upturned crotch repeatedly.

Joy’s head seemed to be trying to lift against the gravity of the bondage and the nipple weights. I could see her eyes go to slits. Her lips were stretched tight against her clenched teeth. Her knees were wobbling in space, trying to pull together but held wide by the wide pull of the ropes around her ankles.

“MMMMphhh,” Joy grunted.

“Don’t like it too much,” panted Bob Yandie. "Takes all the fun out of it."

But we all could hear it. We could hear the wet squish of Joy’s pussy accommodating her rapist.

That’s when Dallas unbuttoned his shirt and then dropped his suit slacks. He pulled up a small crate that had been in his bag of magic tricks and stood on it. His commando cock pointed right at Joyce’s mouth. He grabbed the back of her hair and she instinctively opened to receive the thrust of his thickening prick. Joyce’s moans blended into a mix of garking responses to the throat-fucking Dallas was giving her and the relentless pounding that Mr. Yandie was drilling into her from the backside.

Joyce’s moans became an icepick pitch of piercing, shrill screeches. Her tied feet kicked out of sync, turning white against the tension of the ropes around her ankles.

She collapsed. I seriously thought they had killed her. I think Dallas did too. Joy’s head slumped, her mouth went slack and Dallas’s cock fell out. Dallas looked at Bob Yandie.

“Oh perfect,” Bob smirked. “Bitch came so hard she passed out. Give her a sec.” He stepped off the bar and his thick short cock bounced up toward the ceiling. “Toss me Big Betty, Dee.”

Dallas ruffled through his gym bag and pulled out a long wooden paddle with duct tape around the handle and holes drilled through the big rectangular cricket bat. He speared it toward Bob Yandie who deftly gripped it mid-flight by the makeshift handle. Bob Yandie spit his ubiquitous chewing gum into his palm and pressed the wad of it on the top of Joy’s ass. He spun the paddle handle around the back of his hand like a magician. Then he made a little head bow toward the woman on the folding chair and let Joy’s poor upturned ass have every searing inch of its wooden cruelty, shiiissshing through the air and right into her curvy bottom.


Oh my god, that scream. Joy was not dead. But maybe she wished she was, from the sound of it.

“Nice!” Dallas nodded with satisfaction.

“Welcome back, Cupcake.”

The woman on the folding chair startled. She switched one crossed-over knee for the other. The man sitting next to her unfolded her upturned knee and pushed his hand under the hem of her purple cocktail dress. Her head hinged back and her mouth slacked. Then we could all see she wasn’t wearing panties and the man was wedging his fingers between her shaved pussy and the metal folding chair.

“Mr. Crenshaw.”

I startled myself. It was Hunter’s deep lion grumble voice.

“Mr. Crenshaw, I’d like you to insert your fingers in Miss Arnette’s pussy. Now, please.”

It was weird to have everybody looking at me. I shuffled toward Joy and stepped over the low bar. Joyce’s ass was about my chest height. I could see Joy’s gaping fuckhole, quivering and clenching repeatedly. I looked at Hunter and he nodded. I poked my finger into the tight, wet vice of Joy’s baby box.

“No, Mr. Crenshaw,” Hunter said. “Two fingers, please.” Hunter held up his right hand and wiggled the two middle fingers.

Joy’s velvet pussy clamped so hard on my index finger, it felt like she was trying to break my knuckle with her pussy grip.

“Uhm,” I stammered, “I don’t think two fingers will fit in there.”

The room burst out with unexpected laughter again.

“Son,” Hunter smiled, “I assure you it will. Use the two middle fingers. Like this.” Again he raised his right hand and wiggled his ring finger and middle finger.

As instructed I pulled out my index finger, and yes, my two middle fingers squished into the slippery canal of Joy’s goopchute. Somehow. It was a tight fit. Joy made a crazy noise. I couldn’t tell if it was pain or something else.

“Excellent,” Hunter said. “Now wiggle your fingers like this.” Hunter’s middle fingers waved at me.

I replicated his motion with the fingers that were stabbing deep into my sister’s mushy silk purse. The motion made a sloshy noise and hot pussy whet squirted all over the back of my hand and slopped down my palm and past my wrist.

“Jackie, shit!” Joy barked. “You’re up in my fucking tonsils.”

“Sorry!” I pulled my hand out of Joy’s velvet sponge.

Bob Yandie shot Hunter a look. I saw the look. I also saw the pained expression that Hunter Leftwich returned to Bob Yandie. I had messed something up, that was for certain.

“My turn,” Dallas said. He stood on the low bar, taking control of Joy’s backside while Bob Yandie brought his dripping cock to Joy’s mouth.

“Hang on, Bob,” Dallas grunted. “She’s gonna bite.” He was gripping his cock and up on his toes.

“Wait!” Joy barked. “No! Don’t! I’ve never.... OH FUCKING HELL SHIT MUTHER BASTARD!”

Dallas’s hips started in motion. “You said you didn’t want cum in your whore puss,” Dallas grunted. “Make up your mind.”

“FUCK! You’re breaking my ass!”

“Just making my point, bitch,” Dallas grunted, picking up speed. “Now, show Bob what a good slut cocksucker you are.”

The woman on the chair’s legs were wide and the sound her sex made when her man diddled her was almost loud enough to drown out Joy’s “Yow!”s and “Ouch!”es and “Please stop!” pleadings.

Bob Yandie quickly had his thick pecker so deep in Joy’s mouth that all her protestations became a muffled rumble behind the force of Dallas drilling her in her butthole.

Brileigh was ghost white. Her jaw was fluttering. Her eyes were locked on her boyfriend ass-raping her older sister. Her hand was pushing between her thighs in a seemingly involuntary exploration of her animal need to process the Y-chromosome spitroast that was stabbing into both ends of her sister, shooting occasional glances at the beautiful matron getting her bean frigged for public consumption, six feet away.

The younger man who was not frigging the matron leaned over and squeezed her tits through her dress. “I bet you wished that was you being broken,” he growled. “Wouldn’t you like that, Janelle? To be the center of attention in a room full of hard cocks?”

“Yes,” she nodded. “You know I would. I always do.”

“Bound and tested to your limits?” Into her other ear growled the man rubbing away on her loud, slathering pussy,

“I could show you how much I can take,” the woman grunted. “I can take so much more than this little slut.”

“Oh I could dish out so much more,” said the man with the handful of tits.

She nodded. “You would keep me in agony for days, Lawrence, before you let me... me.., Oh gawd. Before you let me cuh-cuh-cuh OH GAH!” The woman thrashed in orgasm. As she caught her breath I could finally hear the ass slapping rhythm of Dallas cornholing my older sister.

“Ah yeah, that’s what I’m talking about,” Bob Yandie seethed through his clenched jaw. His hips were moving and Joy’s head was bobbing. She was definitely giving Bob Yandie’s cock all she could give it. I could see her tongue moving from corner to corner of her mouth, popping out and wiping at the tops of his balls. “We just might keep you out of prison yet, little girl. What a waste to tuck you away where you can only lick twat and gang banger ass.”

“Oh crap,” Dallas groaned. “This ass is so tight. I can feel her pulse ticking through it, it’s so tight.”

Dallas pushed off of Joy and stepped off the bar, He walked in a circle like a punch drunk boxer. His cock was crimson and throbbing. I expected him to shoot spunk all over the well-dressed guests.

“Whhhhhwww, that was close,” Dallas panted. “Brileigh, get over here and clean me.”

Brileigh started knee-walking toward Dallas.

“Son!” Hunter said. “Miss Williams is twelve. Please remember. She is not part of the Breaking. Be a gentleman and go wash your cock first.”

“Uh Dad, she’s mine.”

“I know, Son. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Oh let me,” said the older woman. She dropped on her knees in front of Dallas and swallowed his cock in one long slide. She grunted and sucked. She popped off and licked with both the flat of her tongue and the pink tip, drawing under the edges of the crown of Dallas’s crimson cockhead.

“Mmmmm, here you go, Lovely,” the woman cooed. She pointed Dallas’s cock at Brileigh and Brileigh didn’t miss a beat closing her suck around the top.

“Oh yeah, Cuteness,” Dallas’s knees buckled. “That’s great. Good girl.”

For the first time all night, Brileigh seemed to know what to do with herself. She slurped away on Dallas’s red dick. The woman kept kneeling beside them, rubbing Dallas’s tight balls with one hand and lovingly stroking Brileigh’s dark, shiny hair with her other.

Bob Yandie took Dallas’s place and the extra girth of his cock in Joy’s butthole was not appreciated. She stopped grunting and started sobbing. That didn’t slow Bob Yandie at all. The crying seemed to energize him. He dipped his knees and came in harder and faster at Joy’s upturned backside.

“Janelle,” grunted Bob. “Li’l help with this one, honey.”

The woman stood from her knees and positioned herself by Joy’s side. She slipped a finger with her immaculately manicured nails down Joy’s flat stomach and kept going until the woman found Joy’s clit. Joy thrashed against her ropes. Her hands clinched into fists and her toes curled into hard clenches against the soles of her upturned feet.

“Gah! Please! No! Lady! C’mon. Please. Don’t... Don’t... Don’t do it.”

The woman smirked. “Little slut is gushing.”

“We know,” smiled the man who had diddled the woman to orspasm minutes earlier. “We can hear the little slut. They can hear her slut quim slathering on the other side of the boulevard.”

“OH FUCK! No...” Joy pleaded. “Not like this. Please. I can’t... I don’t...”

“We all know you are going to cum buckets, little teen tramp,” sneered the woman.

Then that is exactly what Joy did. Her pussy whet was so copious in her orspasm that we heard it hit the plywood in a torrent. Joy cried out. First in pleasure. Then in agony when the woman’s vibrating finger did not relent.

“Ppppppplllllluuuuuuzzzze!” jerked Joyce. “Staaaahp. Plzzzzzz!” I saw her irises roll up into her eyelids. Then Joyce went completely limp.

“Oh this one is special,” smiled the woman. She stuck her pussy-soaked fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean in four wet snaps. She took her seat between her men on the open folding chair again. “Master Yandie, you outdid yourself. You are a true and masterful judger of horses, Sir.”

“Yeah,” Bob Yandie panted. “I knew from the minute I laid eyes on her that Leftwich would eat this girl up with caramel sauce. She’s Ayche’s surefire ticket into the Counsel.”

“No argument from me,” said the older man. “But...” The man looked at me.

“I understand,” Hunter said. “I’ll work it out.”

“The little bitch... Brileigh? She was born to serve. You can smell it on her. And the teen sister bitch will certainly break. Eventually. But...”

“I said tht I understand your concerns,” Hunter said. He sounded snippy. “Dallas. Let’s break Miss Arnette and be on with our evening, shall we?”

“Kay, Dad.” Joyce was coming back to consciousness as Dallas was putting a ball gag in her mouth. She seemed shocked at the unwelcome mass in her mouth. She tried to push it out with her tongue, but Dallas cinched the straps behind her head and the gag was so tight up in her mouth that the little rings on the side seemed to cut into the sides of Joy’s mouth.

Dallas reached into his bag and brought out a four foot length of wooden dowel rod. He stood in front of Joyce and sliced the cane through the air, making a menacing, high-pitched whistle. She started trying to negotiate something, but we could not understand her.

Joy’s eyes were huge. She shook her head no frantically.

Dallas smirked. The first strike was across the top of Joy’s stretched tits. Even with a gag on, the sound she made was horrible.

Dallas repositioned himself and -- with an upswing -- got the bottoms of Joy’s hanging tits. She screamed and wracked against the ropes that held her fast. Then Dallas was all over Joy’s ass, walking a semi-circle, cracking red welt lines across the outside of her buns, the inside of her ass cheeks and the bottoms of her thighs. Dallas’s movements were poetry, mixing forehand and backhand strokes, stepping in and pivoting into a backspin like a Wimbelton master.

It was one long, siren shriek from Joy. She had no time to recover between every biting blow. She tried so hard to pull her hands and feet out of the ropes, to crawl up and off the iron bars with the sheer determination of will. But she didn’t. And Dallas didn’t stop.

Joy’s scream dropped three octaves for the last four blows. Dallas stopped and regarded his masterpiece. Joy’s ass was carnage. Little blood droplets were rolling down her thighs. Joy’s entire body was vibrating. Her toes seemed to be short circuiting.

But... I knew the second Joy broke, as sure as I could see when Brileigh broke under Hunter’s spanking. It was one backswing swat. Dallas was walking away from Joy’s right side and spun around to put a cutting line of his cane across the middle of Joy’s left butt cheek. I saw the spirit go out of her. I saw her break. I saw her collapse on her own bonfire of pain.

Dallas seemed to notice it too, but he put another three bloody stripes across Joy’s ass. Dallas looked at Hunter.

“You went a little easy on those milky mams.” Bob Yandie took the cane from Dallas’s hand and put another dozen stripes across Joy’s tits. Joy didn’t flinch. She was a glazed donut.

“She’s done, Bob,” Hunter nodded.

“Yeah,” Bob Yandie sighed. “Bitch is broken.”

“Almost.” Hunter said. “Take her down.”

Dallas and Bob Yandie took the torture clips off Joy’s tits and untied her. They lowered her onto a quivering puddle in the floor.

Bob Yandie grabbed her by the hair and pulled her onto her hands and knees while he sat in one of the folding chairs. He didn’t have to tell Joy to suck. She instinctively crawled forward and began slurping Mr. Yandie’s thick dick. I wasn’t sure what the sound was at first, but it was Joy moaning as she sucked.

“Yeah. Yeah. I think you understand me now, don’t you, Cupcake?”

“Yeth sthur,” Joy moaned. “Your thuh bawth.” Slurp. Slurp. Moan.

“That’s more like... it... YAH! SUCK!” Bob Yandie’s tight balls twitched and his head tilted back. I could see Joy swallowing his load. And swallowing. And swallowing.

“Poor girl,” said the woman. “She’s not used to being on the receiving end of Robert’s cum hose. Look at her gulp it all down.”

“Chahhh. That’s good, little bitch,” Bob Yandie grunted. “Move on down the line.”

Brileigh had been warming up Dallas cock when he pushed her off and turned his hips toward Joy, who was crawling toward him. “Have I made my point, gurl?”

“Yessir,” Joyce mewled.

“Show me.”

She did. She latched onto Dallas’s cock, inhaling it between her pink lips and squicking while Dallas’s chin bobbed.

“She’s giving me hell, Dad,” Dallas whispered. “I can’t... Dad... She’s working me like a fucking slut. I don’t... I can’t...”

“Give her a mouthful, Master Leftwich,” cooed the woman.

“Oh, I’m gonna. I can’t hold... out... any.., Psssseeeew!”

Joyce’s throat was bobbing again as she took Dallas’s load.

“Mike?” Hunter nodded.

“Pass. For now.”


“The boy.” Titty groper looked at me. “She blows the boy next.”

Hunter seemed to cringe. “Master Jackson. Please pull your pants down and have a seat on the chair.”

It was nuts to pull my pants down in front of a bunch of strangers. But my sister shuffled on all fours towards me. I realized my long-awaited fantasy was about to become reality. I focused on Joy’s upturned feet as she doggy plodded toward me. My cock twitched. I’d tell you that I got hard in the moment. That would be a lie. I’d had diamonds for an hour. I was breathing hard. Joy pushed her face into my junk. Her tongue turned to a stiff point and pulled up a wet, silky trail from my balls to my dripping cum spout. It felt soooooo good. Her nose pushed into the base of my cock and she licked the front of my balls. My ears sizzled with white noise.

Finally. Finally. FINALLY.

Joy’s eyes opened. She looked at my twitching dick, fluttering just centimeters from her lips.

Her mouth opened. Her tongue extended.

Then she cried. Deep, wrenching sobs. “PUH-LEASE! No-oh-OH! Not Jack-KIE. He’s a good boy! Please don’t make me duh-duh-do this!!! Not Jackie!”

Oh my god. She was crying so hard. So deep. From her soul. My cock wilted in seconds.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t want it.”

“Jackson...” Dallas started.

“I don’t want it. Not like this.”

So many looks shooting across that room. Bob Yandie to Hunter. The Lawrence guy to the older guy, Hunter to Dallas.

The other youngish guy shook his head slowly in disgust.

“What about me?” The woman slid off her chair and dropped to her knees, pushing Joy to the side. Her mouth closed around my pecker and she slurped and pulled a silky mouth all over my cock. The silky suction had me hard again in seconds. The suck was everything I had imagined and more. The woman’s mouth was heaven. My entire being started trying to leave me through my cock shaft in thrumming waves, each wave building and getting closer to overwhelming.

I was overwhelmed. My cock thrummed and popped. The woman moaned and swallowed my goop. The top of my head hinged open like a suitcase and fireworks shot off from my brain. My knees wobbled and quivered. I had never spermed so hard. I couldn’t even see the orspasm. The woman just kept pulling suction across my cockhead and grunting as my mouth tried to remember how to talk and tell her to stop.

She stopped. She wiped gloss from each corner of her mouth with her pinkie and winked at me, finally standing. "That was an impressive quantity of cum, young man."

Bob Yandie was putting a dog collar around Joy’s neck and locking it in place with a padlock.

“Thanks, Bob,” Hunter sighed.

Bob Yandie pulled a drill and some hardware from Dallas’s sports bag. He walked into Mom’s/Dallas’s room and I heard the sizzle sound of drilling.

“You need to pee, Cupcake?” Bob Yandie asked, walking back in.


“Of course. Last one for a while, so make it good.” Bob Yandie dragged my sister into the Master en suite by her hair. Five minutes later the chain on her collar was being padlocked to a fixture that had been drilled into Mom’s headboard as our strange guests were sauntering out into the stairwell.

“Master Crenshaw, I’ll speak with you tomorrow,” Hunter said. “Get a quality sleep.”

I tried to hear the whispering through the four-finger crack in my door, but the crash of relaxation that followed my first blowjob was too strong.


Saturday -- somehow -- went as originally planned. Dallas was supposed to take me to buy some new clothes. He did. We went to Kohl's and Dallas set me up with two new pairs of jeans and a real pair of Nike shoes. Real. Nikes. I'd never had real brand name kicks before. We could have stopped there and I'd been ecstatic. Unfortunately we did not stop there. Dallas insisted that I buy a bunch of long sleeve shirts with collars. The kind you have to iron. Who the fuck was going to iron shirts in my family?

"Why you will iron them, of course." Dallas held two packaged shirts up to my neck, trying to decide which suited my hair color better. "Dude, we need two pairs of chinos. And I don't mean cargo pants, I mean real slacks."

"Dallas, I can't dress like this to school. Scott Grenninger will stomp me dead.

Dallas smiled. "This Scott Grenninger. He's your designated bully?"

"I guess."

"Scott Grenninger," Dallas repeated, smiling. "That's a great bully name.

"I don't guess you'd wreck him for me?" I asked.

"Absolutely not.

"I bet you could take him easy," I said.

"I'm pretty sure I probably could," Dallas nodded. "Do you even own a tie?"

"I think I've got a clip-on tie from a wedding I went to when I was... I dunno. Five?"

Dallas held up a fancy shirt in it's package and a purple tie. "I know with our coloration, you should wear a red tie. But man, this dusty periwinkle kills, man. You wear this to school and you'll be fighting bitches off you."

"Dude. If I wear a tie to school, I'll be picking my teeth off of Scott Grenninger's shoes."

"Perfect," Dallas nodded.

"Does not sound perfect to me."

"So, other than sudden, violent, and ignominious demise of Mr. Scott Grenninger, what do you really, really want for Christmas, Jackson?"

"More than anything in the world? A Gameboy Advance."

Dallas froze. He made a face like had I farted. "Seriously, bro? A fucking Gameboy?"

"More than anything." I had a moment where I thought maybe I was supposed to be asking for baths with my mom or blowjobs from Joy. Maybe that was the right answer.

Dallas made a "yeeesh" face again. "You'll shoot your eye out."


"Dude. In a few months... Do you own a black belt, or just brown? Brown? Okay. In a month or so, you're going to be living with us. I hope. You can have the Gamecube, I don't even have time to play it anymore. Or I think I've got a Gameboy in the attic you can just have."

The thing about being poor; a lot of people promise to do a lot of stuff for you. They say "Hey, I've got a BLANK you can have. But they don't. They don't really do stuff for you. You never seems to get the BLANK that they were so casual about giving away. You get it fast, you get it real, or it's just more bullshit and false hope.

"I'm tired," I said.

"Fair enough, bro." Dallas nodded. He must have had twenty items of clothing in our shopping cart. "Grab a couple bags of underwear and we'll check out." He looked at his watch. "Perfect timing. I'm supposed to deliver you to my Dad in thirty minutes. No, not tighty whities, man! Boxer briefs. These. Chicks dig these. Chicks hate tighty-whities."

I didn't care about the underwear. "What you you mean? About Hunter?" After what I'd been ringside for the night before with Joy, being delivered to Hunter seemed kind of ominous. "Why?"

Dallas looked at me and laughed. "Relax, man! You look like you just swallowed a lizard! Dad wants to take you out to dinner. Talk to you a little."

"Oh. I could eat."

"You sure could, Jack. You're as thin as a promise."

I blinked, trying to understand.

"Bro, you're so skinny, you gotta run around in the shower to get wet."

I laughed.

Dallas smiled and leaned into it, making me laugh harder and harder with each joke. "Bro, you so skinny... Yo pants only got one belt loop. Bro, you so skinny, Scott Grenninger slapped you and got a paper cut. Bro, you so skinny, you can see through a peephole with both eyes!"

I laughed, but something about that last joke hit a bit too close to home. It made me think about the way Dallas looked around my room the first time he arrived at our apartment and his eyes just kind of locked on the closet and the vent between my room and Brileighs. I swear his eyes seemed to catch on the access panel to the attic and the shoe bag I used to monkey my way up on my closet shelf.


I don't know why I expected a dinner with Hunter to be a dinner with Hunter and my mom. The cab dropped me off at the restaurant and Hunter was standing under the awning outside the door. He was dressed sharp as usual. He smiled as I exited the cab and Dallas "Later, bro!"ed me before continuing on.

"Young Master Crenshaw!"

"Hey," I nodded. "Where's mom?"

"Your lovely mother will not be joining us this evening. I wanted some time with just the menfolk. I hope you don't mind."

"No. It's cool."

Once inside the restaurant I immediately wished that Dallas would have warned me to put on some of my new clothes in Kohl's bathroom. Hunter was dressed for the posh restaurant, but I stuck out like the bastard at a family reunion in my dirty jeans and ratty T-shirt.

A hostess who could not have been much older than Joy, but who was devastating in makeup and heels sat us in a semi-circle booth, a little bit away from the main serving floor. Hunter ordered a glass of wine without looking at the menu. I ordered a Coca Cola and Hunter changed it to iced tea. When I looked at him he said that too much sugar would "interfere with the flavor provide of a fine meal."


"How are your studies going, Master Crenshaw?"


"Could you elaborate on that a bit more?"

"Uhm. Real good?"

The corners of Hunters mouth twitched. I wasn't sure if that was amusement or frustration. "Your grades, Jackson?"

"Oh! Sorry. Yeah, my grades are great. Maybe my best report card ever, I think. Dallas helped a lot."

Hunter sighed. "Yes, I'm sure. Dallas is very adept at 'gaming the system.' If he were only so adept at long term processing of his lessons, he would undoubtedly do better on his SATs."

I shrugged. "Well he's a lot smarter than me."

"Why do you say that, Jackson?"

"Youknow." I shrugged again. "I'm no Albert Eisenhower."

Hunter blinked question marks.

"My mom is pretty," I explained. "But she's not super smart. And of course, my dad is in prison. So he's no rocket surgeon either. I'm doing the best I can with the brain those two goofballs gave me."

Hunter's expression was pinched. "Jackson, what do you know about your father? Why is your father in prison?"

"Keith? I'm pretty sure he killed somebody, right?"

Hunter took a long pause while he seemed to debate confirming my question. "Well... No. And yes." He took another long look at me, deciding if he really wanted to go down this explanatory road. "Your father was a... getaway driver. For lack of a better term. He planned bank heists and he drove the getaway car."

"Really? So he didn't kill anybody?

Hunter held up his hands in a hold on a minute motion. "Your father was wildly successful at his craft, actually. He had an estimated eleven successful robberies. The authorities found over two million dollars hidden in his safe house, after his conviction."

"Wow!" That was a shitton of Gameboy Advanceds!

"Yes, wow indeed. He would have completed twelve successful robberies and who knows how his life may have gone if one of the gunmen on his crew had not had a heart attack and died in that last bank. Right in the middle of the holdup. That's the murder they tacked onto your father's charges when they eventually traced the dead man back to Slippery Keith Crenshaw's crew."

"Ohhhh," I was stunned. "So he didn't really hurt anyone?"

"As far as we know, your father never actually killed anyone... Not by mission-of-intent, anyway. At least not before he was incarcerated. Since his incarceration, he's most certainly killed three other inmates. While those infractions seem like they were all more-or-less situations of self-defense, there's not a lot of grace when it comes those already on the inside. Your father took collars for two of those three murders, extending his sentence by another forty years. He's got quite a while before he's eligible for parole."

I took it all in. It was a lot to process.

"If you thought your father was some dufus, I assure you he is not. He is quite intelligent. I've seen his IQ scores and aptitude tests. He's very sharp. What else do you know about your father, Jackson? Have you ever seen a picture of your father?"

"My mom had a picture of him. A small one."

Hunter reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a couple photographs. He slid them toward me. I was shocked. The picture I'd seen of Keith was just a blurry headshot. Something my mom called a "Polaroid," but framed just around the fuzzy focus of Keith's melon head. In mom's photo Keith looked like a stoned teenager with red eyes. The photographs Hunter showed were of the entirety of Keith. He was fucking huge. He was bigger and more muscled than Rodney Mack, Curt Hennig, or Dan Hollie. Or any other pro wrestler I could think of. You could really get a sense of his size because he was sitting on a metal prison chair and it looked like a grownup sitting on a kindergarten chair at Parent's Night. His big lantern jaw seemed magnified by his short buzz cut hair.

"Where did you get these?" I asked.

"I took the photos." Hunter said.

"You met Keith? In Oklahoma?"

"I did."


Hunter smiled. "Many reasons. Foremost, I wanted to know more about you. I was sure I could better understand the boy you are and the man you will become by meeting your father. It's amazing how many doors my little municipal badge can open, isn't it?"

"And?" I asked. "What do you know about me now?"

"Well, according to Mr. Crenshaw-the-senior, he was smallish at your age. So we can assume you are about to blossom into a mountain of a man. I know your father was actually brilliant, if a bit misapplied. If he'd taken a different path or made a few different decisions, he might be a very successful man today. It's all about the decisions you make, Jackson. Make good decisions."

"Did he... Did he say anything about me?"

"He signed away his parental rights to you, Jackson. But not because he doesn't like you. Because he wants better for you than he's known for himself."

"Why? Why did he sign away his father... ness?"

"Because I asked him to. Because I want to adopt you. And Miss Brileigh."

"Not Joy?" Dude just said he wanted to be my dad. He just implied that he was going to marry my mom. And where did my brain go? Leave no sister behind.

"I definitely want Joyce as part of our family. But not as a daughter," Hunter said.

"Joy definitely needs to make better decisions. At least about guys."

"Joyce is smart enough, but you are correct. She needs to make better decisions. That's that we are trying to do. That is what you were witness to last night. It was an intervention. We're trying to snap Joyce out of her spiraling pattern toward ruin."

"You think Joyce is smart?"

Hunter sipped at his wine. "Jackson, I've seen your sister's academic tests and records. Joyce is brilliant. Joyce has a Stanford-Binet of 148."

"I don't know what that means."

"It means your sister is brilliant. Like I said. It means your sister is smarter than me, or pretty much anyone I know. And Master Crenshaw? I'm pretty smart. But Joyce is rarified air. Her brain manages to eclipse even her breathtaking beauty."

"If Joy is so smart, why does she only date dumbasses and jerks?"

Hunter was sipping his wine and did the Hunter version of a spit take. He laughed and dabbed his chin with a napkin. "You tell me, Master Crenshaw. Why does Joyce only date jerks? For that matter, why does your mother only date jerks? And Brileigh is off to a fast start, but Dallas is also an... odd choice. Right?"

My mind wandered to my McMath Middle School crush, Kelly Dawn Baskerette. She had a thing with bully Scott Grenninger for a while. It was an observation that I had noticed, but had never really framed into words before. "Girls like a-holes. No offense, Hunter. You're miles from mom's usual kind of guy."

Hunter smiled. "Jackson, if you lived in Jurasic Park, would you want to travel with a nice guy? Or a guy who was good at fighting raptors?"

"The guy who is good at fighting dinosaurs, I guess."

"Exactly. But for girls, regular every day life is a bit like Jurasic Park. Women are underpowered to navigate a world in which... Well, you saw what happened to Joyce. She got eaten by a couple of raptors last night. Right? So women look for capable men who will protect them from the Bob Yandie's of the world. The Dallas Leftwiches of the world." Hunter winked. "The Hunter Leftwiches of the world. Women look for dangerous men. And the jerks? The jerks are always saying, 'Hey, look at me! I'm dangerous! Look at me act out so you know I'm dangerous!' It's much easier for ladies to recognize a dangerous man when he acts that way. Your mother is a magnet for dangerous men. Keith Crenshaw is a very dangerous man. So is Joyce's father."

"Why don't they like good guys too?" I asked.

Hunter blinked. "Who said that good guys can't be dangerous too? Jackson, what comic books are you into?"

"Batman," I said. "And X-men."

Hunter's brain seemed to spin for a moment. "X-men. Wolverine. What's his name? His real name? Lawrence?"


That's when our server came for our order. I ordered a hamburger and fries. Hunter said there was no way in hell I was going to dine at one of the finest restaurants in Texas and order a sixteen dollar hamburger. He told the server to bring me medium rare New York Strip, a side of lobster tail, and Ahi tuna with pickled ginger cabbage as an appetizer."

"Sorry," I said when the server left. "Mom always says to order the cheapest thing on the menu, especially when somebody else is paying."

"Dallas says you have an interest in culinary arts. Of cooking. I wanted to see for myself. Many are food hobbyests. But Dallas says you might have a true passion for epicurean pursuits. Let's find out."

"Okay. But what about Wolverine?"

"Ah yes. Wolverine. Logan. Is Wolverine a good guy, or a bad guy?"

"Good guy."

"And is Wolverine dangerous?"


"Is Batman a good guy or a bad guy?"

I don't know why I laughed. What a dumb question.

"Is Batman dangerous?" Hunter asked.


"Aha! But riddle me this, Jacksonman. Is Bruce Wayne dangerous?"

Of course Bruce Wayne was dangerous. Bruce Wayne was Batman, and Batman was dangerous. But... was Bruce Wayne dangerous? "I... He... But if you..." I tried to form my dizzy thought process into words.

Hunter smiled and poked his index finger at me. "See! Does Lois Lane think Clark Kent is dangerous? Does... Whoever Batman is dating, does she think Bruce Wayne is anything special? Wolverine, his claws are inside him. I vaguely recall that he always tries to talk rednecks in Yukon bars out of the fight they're trying to start with your very dangerous hero. See? Good men can be every bit as dangerous as bad men. As you call them; jerks. But how do women see that a man is both good of heart and very capable? Trust me, Jackson. What women want most is a good man who is a capable man. A dangerous man. But that man can be on his knee at her feet with a bouquet of roses. And she very well cannot recogize the dangerous man she craves within the good man trying to woo her.

I was eleven. But it all started to make sense.

Hunter rubbed his chin and lowered his voice. "Jackson, if you had to take a guess by looking at me, how many fights would you guess I've been in. Let's say the last five years. How many punchouts do I look like I've been involved in?"

I blinked. "Zero. Give or take zero."

"Fourteen." Hunter waited for me to react. "I've been in fourteen fistfights in the last five years. As a function of my job. Yes, it's unusual. But there's not a lot of respect for my badge. I understand that. So sometimes it makes sense to resolve issues by other means. I don't look dangerous. But I'm very capable."

"How many of those fights did you win?" I asked.

Hunter smiled. "Win is a tricky word. I will tell you with all honesty that I only lost one of those fights, and I knew full well I was going to lose it before I took the challenge. But the issue behind the fight was still resolved to my satisfaction, even though I took the beating."

Back of house delivered the Ahi tuna to the table. It came with two sets of chopsticks. Hunter said just to use a fork. Ahi Tuna looked crazy. It looked like raw meat. Or raw fish. Hunter watched the fish travel up to mouth, me stopping to sniff it before letting it slide between my teeth. It crashed into my tongue. I froze with the impact.

Hunter seemed to be measuring me. "Master Crenshaw?"

"Jesus Christ," I mumbled, chewing again. I forked another piece of heaven in my yob.

Hunter smiled in an exceptionaly self-satisfactory way. "Thought you might appreciate that."

"So good," I grunted. This time I accidentally got a smudge of guacamole cabbage on my tuna. I must have quivered. It was otherworldly.

"You know you are eating raw fish," Hunter said.

"Can I get a to-go box to share with Brileigh?"

"Perfect." Hunter nodded, smugly.

The steak was beyond my vocabulary. I thought I was going to cry. The lobster was just okay.

"Just okay?" Hunter raised his eyebrows.

"It's the butter," I explained. "I'm eating a pencil eraser dipped in butter. That's not fair. Anything is good when it's dipped in melted butter. I could eat a hamster if I could dip it in melted butter."

Hunter nodded. "Dallas was right about you, Jackson. You really do have an understanding of good food. I'd very much like to be the catalyst for you to become everything you can be. Same for Brileigh. Same for Joyce."

"So you don't hate Joy?"

"Of course not! She is amazing. I want to put her through college. Assuming we can make it through her transition period. That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about, Jackson. I have seen a thousand Joyce Arnettes. I know exactly what is going to happen next. Joyce is almost certainly going to run away soon. If she had access to tools or a boyfriend with tools she'd be gone soon. But we've told her that her ankle monitor can be pinpointed by global satellites. That is not true, but don't tell her that is not true. At any rate, Joy will approach you and ask you to come with her before she takes to the road. Joyce's future and your future will both be vastly improved if you tell her no, and if you tell her that you embrace the potential merger of our two families. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "What if she runs away anyway?"

Hunter didn't hesitate. "Robert Yandie will find her. He's the best at finding runaways. He is... Well, let's just say Mr. Yandie has a certain... motivation. A motivation that makes him exceptional at finding girls who don't want to be found. If Joyce runs away, you will be present at another Breaking Party, and this time I'd appreciate if you did not embarrass me in front of my associates."

"Who were those people, anyway?" I asked.

"Very powerful people. Very important people. People very important to me, and to you. While your instincts to be a 'good guy' are endearing, Jackson, you are not helping your sister by letting her boss you around. Or letting her manipulate you. And you are sure as hell not helping your mother, who needs to get to rehab. Anything we can do, all of us, to make that happen sooner rather than later may be the difference between saving you mother's life or having your mother end up dead with a needle in her arm like Dallas's mother."

My brain took in the significance. "Your wife was an addict? Who died?"

Hunter blinked as if he was confused. "What? No my wife died in a car crash. Kitty's mother." Hunter blinked again. "Oh, you don't know. I thought you knew. No, Dallas is not my son through birth. Dallas was one of my client kids. His mother overdosed. I adopted him. Surely you've sensed a bit of Dallas's hostility toward Janet?"

"I sure have."

"Yes," nodded Hunter. "He's working through some anger issues with addicted, irresponsible mothers. With your addicted, irresponsible mother. Dallas's control over your mother as an absolute authority is good for your mother, and it's healing for Dallas. Plus he needs the practice running older women. He's still learning, so he's going to make mistakes. Please be patient." Hunter waved for the check.

"One more thing," Hunter said. "At the breaking. When I had you stick your fingers in Joyce and wiggle them. Do you know why I did that? I needed you to see for yourself. Your eyes saw how much distress Joyces was in. She ws suffering, certainly. And yet, on a subconscious level, she was responding to the moment in a sexual way."

"Joy likes pain?"

"That's not what I said. Nobody likes pain. I said there is a side of her that was responding to that pain, that combination of pain and being under the control of dangerous men, that her body wanted. Craved. Not every woman responds like that, Jackson. Actually only a small percentage do. But Brileigh certainly does and -- unless I've completely misread everything -- Joyce does as well. She will not be whole in spirit until she finds a man strong enough to challenge her. Challenge her to become more than she can be as some thug biker's trophy girlfriend. That's where she's headed. Joyce will become Janet unless she is challenged to be more. Think on that, please."

It was a lot to take in. The food. The knowledge drop. The realization that there were actual adults actually making plans for our future.


Hunter dropped me off at the apartment and walked me up. Bob Yandie was putting his pants on over no underwear, bending gingerly to not catch his junk in the zipper. He was sweaty. From his conversation with Hunter, he had just finished sexing Joy for the third time that day and his balls were aching from overuse. Bob Yandie said Dallas had nutted in all three of Joyce's holes and then went back for two more loads in her pussy. Bob Yandie winked when he said that part. Hunter nodded like it was an inside joke. Brileigh was dressed and looked normal, but she had a nervous expression. She shot me a look that said she had information I needed to know.

Hunter went into mom's/Dallas's room and sat on the edge of the bed where my sister was chained to the headboard by her dog collar. He put a gentle hand on her bare thigh and spoke in a low tone that I could not make out his words. He rubbed her cheek with the back of his hand, like a dad. Joy nodded and sniffed. Hunter said something and then turned to look at me, watching in the doorway. He smiled. He looked back at Joy. Joy looked at me.

"Yeah," I heard Joy's soft voice. "It's fucking twisted, but it makes sense. In a crazy way. Why do we have to do it this way? It's so unfair."

"We all need a passion, Joyce," Hunter said. "And we will give you the most beautiful passion you have ever known. Then we will get you back in school and on to college and a beautiful future that you will write for yourself."

"Promise me," Joyce said. "Swear. On your life."

Hunter raised a hand like a Boy Scout. "On my daughter's life."

"You better make good," Joy said.

"My word is gold," Hunter answered. He stroked Joy's cheek and left.

All my new clothes were stacked neatly on my bed. Dallas leaned in. "Bro, take all your clothes out of the bags and cut the tags off and remove all the pins and shit. Tomorrow you and I go to the-- Hang on Bob. Be right there! Tomorrow you and I go to the laundromat and I teach you how to iron!" Dallas left to walk Bob Yandie to the parking lot.

While Bob and Dallas were gone Brileigh rushed into my room. She held up her notepad.


This was the most cryptic message in Bry's history of cryptic messages.

"Dot?" I asked.

Brileigh was frustrated. Period She pointed at her chest. Then she pointed at her pussy.

"What?" Still too cryptic. "OHHHH!" I finally understood. "Uhm, congratulations?"

Brileigh emphatically shook her head in the negative.

"Are you pregnant?" I asked.

Brileigh aimed both of her upturned palms toward the ceiling. I dunno maybe?

"Oh shit," I said.

Brileigh nodded in a You said it! expression.

All the insanity of those months, and it never crossed my mind to do calculus on pregnancy of anybody. Not my mom. Not Joy. Certainly not my barely-older sister Brileigh.

I have to give you bj tonight or tomorrow.

"No. You don't have to do that, Bry."

Brileigh emphatically shook her head no, then emphatically shook her head yes. I absolutely do. She thumbed toward Joy and shook her head in the negative. No way that's going to happen to me.

I didn't know what to say.

Dallas reentered the apartment and leaned against my doorframe, wrapping his arms around Brileigh who had attempted to walk past him. "Jesus, bro. I'm exhausted. How was dinner? Dad said you guys had a great time."

"The food was incredible," I said.

"Yeah, I know, right? Red Flag Bistro is freaking amazing. Was the short hottie with the coal black hair hostessing? Man I want to go balls deep in that bitch. Anyway. I know you probably need a break to catch up on your sleep, but we got a big day tomorrow. Laundry and ironing lessons. Then you and I are going to cook a big dinner for the girls. Sound good?" He squeezed Brileigh.

I nodded. "Great."

"Also," Dallas continued, "I gotta catch some Zs. Your sister wore me out today. If you don't mind, I'm gonna sleep in your bed. Gave Brileigh the night off, too. You sleep in the master with Joy. Keep an eye on her. She's loaded on Oxycontin now, so her sore ass and tits shouldn't bother her too much if you want to get your paws on them. Up to you. Anyway. Bout an hour for you to get your clothes prepped and we're probably lights out. Kay bro?"

Dallas's questions were not really questions. I nodded. "Okay."


"Come in, Jackie," Joy whispered.

I was frozen in the door of my mother's room. All the lights in the apartment were off. I was wearing my underwear and nothing else. My heart was pounding like a kettle drum. "You sure?" I whispered.

"It's meant to be," Joyce whispered. "Come to me, brother. Come on. It's okay. I want this."

I shuffled toward the bed. Joyce grabbed my by the wrist and pulled me in. I kind of fell onto her. I heard her wince. "I'm sorry," I said.

"I'm fine, Jackie. I was born to take everything a man can dish out. I am stronger than all of them put together. Come here. Hold me. Put your arms around me. Like that. Play with my hair. Yeah! That's awesome. Thank you. Thank you, Jackie. I'm not glass, you can squeeze me. Hold me tight. Very nice. You're getting big, Jackie. You're gonna be a big man. A real big man, not a jackoff big man like Bob. Did you have a good day?"

"The food was amazing. I wish you could have been there with me."

"I had a guy take me to Red Flag once. It's really good, isn't it? Kiss me, Jackie. C'mon. No not like that. Relax your lips and kiss me. Press the warmth of you into me. Better. Now make your lips sticky when you kiss me slow. Good. Like that. Again. Very good."

It was really really REALLY weird to kiss my sister. I'd thought about Joy sucking my dick before, but I can honestly say I'd never thought about kissing Joy in all the times I was beating off. Joy's hand found my underwear and squeezed my cock through the cotton.

"You're getting a fine, big cock, Jackie," Joy whispered between our awkward kisses.

"We can just say we did this," I whispered. "It's okay. No one will know."

"Shhhh, Jackie. They're trying to knock me up. That's the plan. Shithead Bob and Shithead Dallas have put gallons of sperm up in me during the last forty-eight hours and they know I'm off my birth control pills."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, I know. Jackie I really need you to fuck me."


"If I'm knocked up, I can't look at my baby and think it's Bob Fucking Yandie's baby. Or Dallas Fucking Leftwich's baby. You're my one chance, Jackie. I want to believe it's your baby. I have to believe that it's your baby. If I'm going to love my baby, I have to think it could be yours. Please, Jackie. I need you to do this for me. Don't let me down."

I gulped.

"Jackie, my chain isn't that long. Get your underwear off and bring your cock up here closer to the headboard. Let me warm you up. C'mon. Don't let me down, Jackson. Please?"

I did as requested. My dream of being sucked by Joy became real. Her lips searched my warmth out in the dark. She found it and suctioned my half hard cock between her lips.

"Sorry. My mouth is a little dry. I need some water."

"I'll get a glass of water for you," I said.

"No. Don't leave. Let's do this."

Joy's tongue started on lapping the spot where my balls became cock shaft. The long, wet flat of her licker lit up my brain. It was the skin sensory equivelant of the steak I had at Red Door Bistro. Her tongue zig-zagged up towards my engorging cock head and then her lips suctioned in and closed around my hardness. It was even better than the night before when the older woman gave me my first suck off. If you'd have told me it would ever get any better than that, I'd have called you a damn liar. But Christ, Joyce Felicity Arnette could suck a cock. And suck she did. Deep. Wet. She pulled up until the ridge of my pecker head was right behind her lips and she sucked so hard that I felt the hairs on my scalp lift up. Then her warm wet throat was back down deep taking in every inch of me in rapture. She moaned. She sucked. She moaned. She popped off and licked the front of my shaft. Her expert mouth closed around me again and took hard suction pulls on my manhood.

"Damn, Joy," I moaned.

Joyce's fingernails were all over the front of my balls and all my naiscent wispy nuthairs fluttered with rapt fandom for this welcome attention.

"You're balls are tight, Jackie. You can't blow in my mouth. I need you fucking me."

"Oh. Okay."

"You are too close. I can tell. Get down between my legs."

"Just one more minute," I panted. "C'mon. Please. Just a little more. Just some more suck."

"Jackie, you're oozing salty pre-cum. I can taste how close you are. Please. Get between my legs and fuck me good."

My entire being was thrumming in one steady, ticking pulse. When Joy didn't suck, I finally surrendered and lowered my groin to the V of her honeypot. When I think back on that night while I'm jerking off, Joy reaches down and pulls my cock into her pussy. She actually did not. I just leaned forward and my dick immediately speared into the wet gap of my sister's fuckhole. My weight shifted forward and I felt her slippery velvet pocket suck me in with it's mysterious gravity. When I bottomed out, my hips took over and I started my fuckstroke. The collision of pelvis against pelvis felt like the most natural thing in the world.

"That's it, Jackie! Oh, that's a good, solid fuck. Don't stop. Yeah. You've got some dick, little brother. That's some good dick. Don't stop. Oh yeah. You hear how wet my pussy is? You feel that wet slut pussy, Jackie? You're sister is a slut. You knew that, didn't you? Show me you know how you fuck a slut, Jackie."

"Your pussy feels hot," I mumbled.

"I know. My pussy is sore. I've been fucked all day and my pussy is raw. But you're going to be the one who makes me cum. Jackie. You're really fucking me good. Remember that time I jacked you off? And you saw my titties bounce? You remember that, don't you?"

Dumbest question ever. "Yeah."

"I remember how much cum you pumped out, Jackie. So much cum. I know you can flood my pussy with hot cum. You can do it. You can flood out all the other cum with yours. You're a big squirter. Just thinking about it makes me wet. Did you know that? Did you know how wet my pussy got while I was jacking you off? And I saw all that sperm pumping over my hand and arm? You even got some hot goo on my nipple, did you know that? I was in my bed and I felt your warm man spray get cold on my nip. And I reached down. And I piched your cum off my nip with my fingers. You know what I did with your spunk, Jackie? Do you know? Do you know what I did?"

Joy's dirty talk was making me insane. My hips were relentless. Surely Dallas and Brileigh could hear me pounding away on Joy's pussy. I was putting everything I had into making sure I banged every inch of my cock into Joy's slippery sex. The drumming of our bodies smacking against each other was unmistakeable.

"I tasted it, Jackie. I pushed my finger between my teeth. Then I latched my lips around it. And I got every bit of it on my tongue as I tasted your cum. I tasted your cum, Jackie. What do you think about that? Oh fuck, Jackie. You're pounding the shit out of my sore pussy. I'm gonna cum. Fuck. I didn't want to cum but I'm gonna cream. That's a good, hard stroke. MMmmmmmm. Jackie. Jackie. Jackie. Yeaaaaah. OH GAWD!"

Joy's heels hooked around my thighs and locked me in as her ass came off the sheets and she thrashed.

That was it for me. I couldn't tell you exactly when I started cumming, but I pumped for a long time before I ran out of lifeforce and collapsed on top of my older sister.

Joy's hands pushed up my back and she started crying. "Thank you, Jackie. You did so good. You're such a good brother. You're going to be the baby's daddy, okay? It's yours. I'll never take a test. We will always know it's your baby. We won't tell anyone. We will just know. I'll never tell anyone, but you'll know. I'll know. You made me cum, you little asshole." Joy made a confusing laugh/cry sound.

"I'm sorry," I panted.

"Never be sorry. It's the best thing you ever did for me. I promise you a good makeup blowjob. I'll give you the best cocksucking ever. I'll show you how happy you made me tonight."


Sometime during the early hours, Joy shook me awake. "My mouth is glue. Go get me a glass of water, Jackie."

I did. I was back asleep before she finished it.

I perceived the Sun may have been rising when Joy shook me awake again. "Jackie. Jackie. Wake up. Jackie. I'm about to piss the bed. Go get shithead. Tell shithead I have to piss bad. Tell him I'm going to piss the mattress. Hurry up."

I shuffled into my room and pushed Dallas on his shoulder. "Joy needs to pee."

"She can hold it," Dallas mumbled.

"She says she's about to piss the mattress."

"I didn't give you the collar key?" Dallas mumbled. "Ah shit. Okay. I'm coming."

Dallas pottied my oldest sister on the end of leash like she was a dog.

I was asleep before they got back.

Joy was shaking me again. "Christ," I barked. "What now? You want a waffle? What?"

My eyes opened enough to see that Joy's tits had shrunk. Then I realized it was Brileigh shaking me.

"Whadyouwan, Bry?"

Brileigh gripped my flaccid dick and squeezed it.

"Can you come back in an hour? Or three?"

Brileigh shook her head no. She looked back over her shoulder. That's when I noticed Dallas in the doorway, watching.

"Oh. You're on the clock, huh? I don't know if I can get it up." But my cock snapped to attention pretty quick under Brileigh's pulling and the way her thumb came across the face of my pecker just right. "Okay, Bry," I sighed. "Get down and suck."

I surprised myself with how bossy I sounded. I said it just like Dallas would say it.

Brileigh lowered her mouth and kissed my dick. Her nostrils flared. She tensed. She looked at me funny.

"What?" I groaned.

"She smells my pussy." Joy was awake. "That's not fair to her. Hang on, Bry. Jackie. Back up here by my mouth, honey?"

I crawled up on my knees toward the headboard and Joy started licking my cock clean. My stiff dick bounced and twitched and flexed. The flat of Joy's tongue was everywhere on my man skin. It was so wet and present. "I cleaned it Bry. Come here. Come up here with me."

Next thing I knew, both of my sisters were licking on my cock at the same time. Oh. My. Gawd.

"Suck Jackie. Suck Jackie, sister," Joy goaded. "Thatsa girl. Show Jackie what a good brother he is."

Not to sound like a total asshole, but Brileigh was not a great cocksucker. Unfortunately I only had Joyce Arnette and Janelle Flahtry to compare her to, and unfortunately those two ladies were recent in my memory. But Brileigh was trying. I heard her moaning just a little as her head bobbed.

"Yeah, Bry. Good girl!" Joy encouraged her. I could see Joy watching Dallas in the door. I turned to see Dallas jacking his own cock while he watched. "Give me a little of that, sister." Joy pulled my cock out of Brileigh's mouth and sucked it hard for ten good beats. Oh it was so good. I felt my pulse falling into a rhythm. "Your turn." Joy passed my cock back into Brileigh's mouth with a hands-free kiss-suction move. Brileigh caught my cockhead in her kiss and slurped it into the back of her throat. She moaned and slurped away. My eyes lost focus.

"Yeah sister," Joyce purred. "Slurp that cock. Jackie cums buckets. He's going to test your throat with all his hot cum. Get every drop. Your boyfriend wants you to suck down every hot drop of Jackie's spunk, doesn't he? Yeah. He does. Don't spill it. I'll have to lick it up if you spill Jackie's..."

"FUCK!" I grunted. I didn't even realize I was unloading in Brileigh's mouth until her glottis started bobbing. Then her eyes got big. Then she choked and started coughing my cock out of her mouth. Joy didn't miss a second. She was on me and sucking as my sperming cum hole laced white stripes across Brileigh's nose and then Joyce's cheek before Joy's hot mouth closed around my pecker. I can't tell you how much more I pumped into my oldest sister's mouth after overwhelming Brileigh with my load of gush.

Bry was still coughing and gagging on my cum.

"Good job, Bry," Joy cooed, her tongue pulling my frosting from the corners of her mouth. "Way to take Jackie's big thick cum. I bet your boyfriend wants his cock sucked now."

"I sure do," Dallas barked. "Brileigh. Get your ass in my bed."

I never noticed that Brileigh was still wearing panties until I saw her running -- literally running -- toward my room. Dallas nodded at me. He smiled.

"Well done, bro."

He followed Brileigh across the apartment.


A doctor arrived at our apartment the next day. A real doctor, apparently. I never got his name, and there's a reason for that. He yelled at Dallas. He said if we didn't change Joy's sheets every day, she'd have a serious infection for certain. He gave her a shot in her arm that was supposed to help Joy with pain. Another one to stave off infection. Joy's eyes got heavy almost immediately. He put a couple of stitches in Joy's butt. Not a lot, like ten or so, here and there. He swabbed yellow iodine on Joy's butt and boobs with a wad of cotton balls. Joy hissed a little but didn't fight the treatment. Finally, the doctor took a good look at Joy's pussy. He put a steel contraption up in it and turned some knobs and it made Joy's pussy hole really wide. The doctor checked it with a pen light. He took a long Q-Tip and swapped deep in Joy's pussy. He put the Q-tips in a little bag and sealed it shut. He removed the contraption that was stretching Joy's pussy and then sucked her pussy juices off his fingers. Next his pants were off and he was pounding his cock away in my sister's snatch. Joy's thin eyes seemed to roll back in her head. In a few minutes she was grunting in time with the doctor's rutting. The chain locking her collar to the headboard made a rhythmic sound of a Hi-Hat cymbal. He came really fast and left.

Brileigh sucked me off again on Monday morning, I just let it happen.

Dallas and I hauled everyone's laundry and sheets to the laundromat down the street. He showed me how to sort laundry and we filled almost two banks of washers. Dallas read a book while the machines ran. My Secret Life by Anonymous.

We carried the folded laundry home and Dallas stacked up all of Brileigh's new clothes and mine that required ironing. Dallas showed me how to iron a shirt. He did it three times. Then he stepped back and talked me through the same thing he'd just demonstrated.

"Slow down, bro! Slow down! You get more out of less. Let the heat have a chance to shape the cloth. Ironing is like licking pussy. Sometimes you get results faster if you go slower."

"This is crazy," I grumbled. "The shirt doesn't fit the table."

"Of course it does. You just have to find the point where the iron and the table find compromise. The shirt will always find compromise if the iron is hot. Just keep moving it. Pinch the seam a little. Yeah, exactly like that.

"This is dumb."

"You got it bro. Yeah. Now do the yoke like I told you. No, if you iron a wrinkle, you'll just iron it into the fabric. Not out. We're ironing out. You can't force it. It's like a bitch. Just tell it how you want it to be and then be firm with the iron to reinforce your will. Perfect, Jack. Use the steam button on those pleats. That looks awesome."

It did not look awesome.

"Good. Now put it on a hanger. Think about which way in your closet that your shirts hang. You want them all facing the same direction."

"What? Who cares which way my shirts hang in the closet?"

Dallas blinked. "Bro. Seriously. What kind of animal are you? Only about twenty more shirts to go. Make sure you do a great job on Brileigh's dresses. I can't wait to see her sexy ass in some of the clothes I bought for her. Make her look good. Make you look good."

"Yeah," I mumbled, "I'll have a nice crisp shirt to bleed all over when Scott Grenninger beats my ass for looking like a preppy douche."

"When you are neck deep in McMath Middle pussy, you'll thank me, bro."

After thirty-some odd articles of clothing, I was -- at best -- a mediocre ironer.


Brileigh had sucked my cock every morning. Dallas's rules, and that was okay with both Brileigh and it was rather okay with me as well. We never kissed or anything weird, but sometimes I liked to reach down and squeeze her growing tits while her head bobbed and her suction pulled my ears against my brain. One morning Brileigh was sucking me particularly well and she started moaning like she really liked it. We didn't usually talk during blowjobs... (Okay, irony noted. Brileigh didn't usually talk ever.) ...but I was winding up to a particulary hard cum squirt. "Bry, Bry, Bry," I panted. My head hinged back the way that Troy used to do when he came in my sister's and my mother's mouth. "Don't stop. That's great. Don't stop, Bry. I'm gonna orspasm." Brileigh laughed. She laughed her mouth off of my twitching dick.

"Why did you stop!?" I shouted. "I'm about to orspam!"

Brileigh laughed so hard I thought she was going to fall off my bed.

"Goddammit, WHAT?" I shouted.

"Orgasm, dumbass," she laughed. "Orgasm. Not orspasm." It was the second sentence I'd heard come out of Brileigh's mouth in two years. Her voice was so different than I remembered it. (Did I even remember it?) It was raspy and deeper than most girl voices. It was husky and sexy.

I couldnt wait any longer. I reached down and started pumping my own cock. Brileigh was still laughing when I started frosting her face. And boy I did a number on her. She was gooped from her eyebrows to her pink nipples by the time I got done jacking ropes of manseed all over her laughing face. There were webs of my sperm bewteen her upper and lower teeth.

A few hours later that same day, Joyce made good on her promise to give me the blowjob of my life. She ruined me at eleven-years-old. I barely lasted three minutes. You'd think I'd have made a better showing, since it was the second blowjob of the day. Or at least you'd think I'd have offered a more reasonable load of cum. As per yush, I gave Joyce a lot to gulp down. She seemed shocked by how much sperm I pumped down her throat. "Jesus Fuck, Jackie. You cum like a firehose. I was actually fucking with Dallas, but maybe you actually need two girls to gargle all that baby juice of yours."

Joyce was mostly healed up by Saturday. That's when we finally saw mom again. Hunter brought her for a couple hours to visit us kids at the apartment. Dallas was running an errand somewhere. Probably an errand with tits, but who knows with that guy. He showed back up minutes before Mom and Hunter left.

The visit was awkward. Mom was stoned. I could tell. If there was any doubt, she saw her daughter chained to her former bed and didn't say anything. Hunter made Dallas unlock Joy and remove her collar in front of mom. Joy was allowed to return to her room. Joy walked on unsteady, coltish legs. Mom had no idea how much incestuous bodily fluids her kids had exchanged while she was gone. Mom seemed really sad. She hugged us all really hard before she left.

"She gone to rehab?" Joy asked Dallas after the sound of steps faded down the stairs. It was kind of weird to see Joy wearing clothes again.

Dallas nodded.

"Fuck," Joy sighed. "I didn't believe it. But here we are. What comes next?"

Dallas smirked. "What do you want for Christmas, Joyce Felicity?"


The lease on our apartment ended at the end of January. The plan was for us to go live at Hunter's house on New Year's Day. New Year, new life. That gave us time to pack whatever we really wanted to pack and figure out what we were going to leave behind forever. It gave Hunter and Dallas time to clean the apartment and... Perhaps repair holes. And such. Perhaps even recoup our deposit.

The night after mom visited, Joy asked to sleep in my bed with me. She said she wanted to suck my cock really good now that I was her boss. Of course that was fine with me. She was healing nicely. I hoped she wanted me to fuck her again, too. Turns out she didn't really want to suck or fuck. She just wanted to talk to me without Dallas listening.

Joy was naked when she turned off the light of my room and slid in between my sheets. That was the way Dallas audited the girls. They pretty much weren't allowed to wear clothes to bed, unless they were menstruating. Then they could wear panties. I slid over to make room in my single bed.

"What are you doing?" Joy whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"You're milking my tits like a cow."

"Does it hurt?"

"What? No I... Oh shit. You thought I really came here for sex."

"Didn't you?" My voice was dripping with disappointment.

Joy's hand fumbled around and landed on my twitching cock. "Oh for fuck's sake. You're naked. And hard! You're as bad as he is, Jack."

"Sorry. I thought..."

"Of course you did," Joy sighed in a whisper, "you're a guy. Why wouldn't you think I was here to be your toy. Jackie? Listen to me. I'm not going to stick around to make the move to Hunter's fucked up house."

"It's actually a really nice house," I whispered.

"Dude, I don't care how big the TV is there. Not if I'm going to be the main entertainment center once he's got us trapped there." Joy took a deep breath. She leaned closer to whisper in my ear and my cock twitched again at her sweet breath on my neck. "Jackie, Brileigh won't come with us. She's already Little Miss Stockholm Syndrome. But tomorrow night I've got an idea how to get us both to walk out to throw stuff away in the dumpster at the same time. Then we just keep going. We'll catch a ride. We won't have to walk that much, I promise. A little bit at first, but not much. California. San Francisco. Or San Diego, that place is warmer. I've got a couple hundred dollars hidden for emergencies. If Troy will talk to me, I can get some more from him. I can make more along the way. You know how talented I am with men. I don't want to leave you behind, Jackie. I love you, little brother. I'd be so worried about you if you didn't come with me. Try to stuff as much underwear and extra clothes in the pockets of your coat tomorrow morning. Make sure it's not hanging out so we don't get busted. We'll take off after dark when it's easier to hide from patrol cars. I'll wink at you. That's the signal."

Damn. Hunter called it. He saw it all unfolding, and it did happen exactly like he said it would. Clearly Joy didn't know she would be prey for Bob Yandie. A patrol car picking her up might be the most merciful outcome she could have.

"Don't you want to go to college?" I whispered. "You are so smart."

Joy stiffened. "You know about that? He tell you that he offered me that?"

I didn't answer and this seemed to bother Joy even more.

"I'm going to have ten babies by then," she whispered defensively. "How am I going to college if I'm just a brood mare for these assholes? What good is a college degree going to do me when I've got a bunch of bastard kids to support? I'll end up just like mom."

"Maybe you won't have any babies at all," I said.

"Jack..." Joy's frustration was thick. She was angry. "Hunter is not a good guy."


Interesting use of the words "good guy" after the conversation Hunter and I had about dangerous men. "Maybe he's not so bad," I said. "He seems to be gentle with you. Hunter has never hurt you. He didn't sex you that night when all the other men were sexing you."

"Jackie!" Given the level of whispers, it was almost a shout, even though Joy was barely audible. "He and Bob Fucktard Yandie are playing 'good cop/bad cop' It's all a game. And Hunter Leftwich is behind all of it. Who else is so connected they can have a fucking doctor come to the fucking apartment to look at a girl chained to a bed? And then fuck me!"

"Did the doctor hurt you?"

Joyce was exasperated. "No! At least he was cute. So far, everybody has been cute. Except that fucking troll, Bob Yandie."

Bob Yandie was not really a troll.

"Fuck," Joy sighed, "you aren't coming with me, are you?"

And THIS, Dear Reader, is where Jackson Charles Crenshaw jumped the proverbial shark. "But what about the tracker on your ankle bracelet," I whispered. "They can track you with satellites." Oh sweet jumped-up Jesus, I still hate myself. I knew the truth and I became Hunter's proxy when I said that. I swapped sides from X-Men to the Mutant Liberation Front. I moved from "good guy" to "bad guy" and I wasn't even dangerous.


"Truckers have tools. I'll get it off before they can catch up. They'll find it laying in the weeds beside I-40."

I didn't say anything.

Joy sighed really hard. "Okay. I get it. Stay safe. I'll try to contact you when I can. I don't know how. I've got Hunter's house phone number written down somewhere. Anything you can do to keep them off my scent, you do it, Jackie. Don't say shit about California. Tell 'em I said something about Florida. Okay?"


"Okay," I said.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Joy whispered.

I was grabbing Joy's wrist and pulling it toward my cock. "C'mon."

"You're as bad as Dallas."

"C'mon," I insisted.

I was pretty hormonal at that point. I'd been promised some fun and my cock wanted fun. I was a villain, alright. I pulled her wrist into my dick with one hand and pushed her head down with my other.

"Jackson, fucking stop!" Joyce said it between her teeth like she was pissed. She tried to yank her hand out of my grip, but here's the crazy part: She couldn't. She tried to overpower me. And she couldn't. I was stronger than my older sister.

"DON'T. TELL. ME. NO. AGAIN!" I said it loud enough that Mrs. Donagheey heard us on the floor below. Joy tensed. She understood. Dallas was due to stick his nose through the four-finger gap in my door any second.

"Well..." Joy said, resigned, "looks like Sweden has invaded Denton, Texas. Hail IKEA."

Joyce was between my legs and sucking my cock. I heard my door squeak and saw a Dallas-tall shadow looking in.

"Everything kosher, bro?" Dallas asked.

"Oh yeah, bro," I answered, moaning a little. "Just had to put a bitch in her place. All good now, bro."

"Nice!" I could hear Dallas smiling in the dark. "I knew you were going to be a great brother, Jack!"

I p my part. I grabbed Joyce by the back of her dark hair and forced her lips all the way down to my balls. I felt my cock slide deliciously into her tight throat. It was heaven. I kept her head pushed and flexed my cock. Oh! So good. Joy gasped and gagged a little. My cock wasn't Hunter-big, but I was forcing my older sister down on it with a lot of force. I let her up and she coughed spittle. "You know it, bro," I smirked. "You wanna tag in on this cocksucker, bro?" I asked.

"No, bro," Dallas said. "Maybe tomorrow. You just run that bitch right."

"Oh shit yeah, suck that cock, bitch! You know it bro!"

I was going to end the chapter here. But maybe it's relevant to say that I pulled Joyce back up toward the pillow by her hair and crawled on top of her. I stabbed my cock into her tight velvet fuckhole and pumped until our pelvises clapped. I reached under her and grabbed her ass. She yelped. I realized that I could feel stiff sutures poking back into my palms. I lowered my head and locked a suction around Joy's left tit. I felt her hot pussy drip onto the front of my balls and the spongy velvet of her pokey nipples sliding all over my teeth and tongue. I marveled at how firm and resilient it was against the onslaught of my bite. I could not stop the inevitable. I became what Joy had called a "two-pump chump." I bit that nipple like an apple and gripped her damaged, raw ass like a chimpanzee. I yanked her sex into mine and I came. I came so hard. I don't know when I started sperming her, and I'm not exactly sure when I stopped, but my orgasm went on and on and on.

Why does this detail matter, you ask?

After all the crazy shit that went on in that apartment, I swear to you with all certainty, Dear Reader, that's the moment that Joyce Felicity Arnette finally became impregnated. It was my baby. I raped my sister hard and put a baby within her envelope fortress of her mystical feminine love.

DECEMBER 25, 2003

It was the final gift opened that Thursday morning. Hunter had outdone himself. Brileigh had a very nice bicycle. She had no idea how to ride a bike. Neither did I. We'd never had bikes. Could not afford that kind of luxury. Joyce had some very impressive jewelry. Not costume jewelry. Some serious good stuff from James Avery. And a real leather jacket that made Joy's eye's bug out when she unwrapped it. It matched the sexy leather cowgirl boots she'd already opened.

Yes, this is how I tell you that Joyce never ran away. She rethought. She stayed.

Mom was still in rehab.

Kitty was exceptionally quiet that day. She kept looking at me, side-eyed.

The Leftwich's had an insane tradition of taking turns opening packages. Not the melee we were used to. Our Christmases with mom were an eleven second fury of unwrapping two gifts she bought at Goodwill for less than eight dollars, total.

But there it was. The last unwrapped gift. It was certainly another shirt box, but once I picked it up, the weight was perfect. It shifted funny. There was something not-a-shirt within this shirt box. It had all the trappings of a box within a box. Holy shit. This was it. This was it. This was everything I wanted. THIS is why Dallas and Hunter smirked at each other when they insisted I opened this gift last. I tore into that green paper of repeating Santas and snowmen like a raccoon ripping away the paper bag around discarded Chinese food.

Hunter and Dallas beamed.

I pulled the shirt box apart, the Gameboy Advanced surely just beneath.

It was a fucking book. Can you fucking believe that? A book. 111 Recipes That Every Chef Should Know by Heart by Chef Hope Dreffly. Not a Gameboy Advanced. A cookbook.

You know what? That fucking disappointment book changed my life. I know every one of the 111 recipes by heart and I make them so fucking well that I can make you cry after the second forkfull goes in your goddamn yob.

But that came later.


Looking back, you'd think I'd have a few words to wax nostalgic about the moment when we left the apartment for the last time. I really don't. I can make some bullshit comparisons between our time in that particular apartment and the insanity that followed. But we didn't know that as we threw our keys on the kitchen counter and trod down the stairwell past Mrs. Donagheey's door for the last time. I seriously hope she got quieter upstairs neighbors after that. It was the fourth move I remembered, and all the others were because we were kicked out of some place better. This move was dangerously close to voluntary. As close as it got for our sad crew, anyway. But I wasn't a kept sex toy.

I asked Brileigh what she remembered about that day. She says she was so smitten about the thought of living with Dallas that she was excited in her brain and her pussy. She actually said that, by the way. "I dripped a wet spot on the seat of Hunter's SUV. Right through my panties."

Are you starting to figure this out, Dear Reader?

The majority of the apartment stuff we kept went up in the Leftwich attic. They had a real attic like you see in movies with a real floor and boxes of old photo albums and old lamps. Our junk looked even junkier next to the Leftwich's very nice junk.

Perhaps if you are careful-and-astute, Dear Reader, or perhaps good at math, you already know what I'm about to tell you. The Leftwich house had four bedrooms and now five residents. Six, if you counted my mother when she returned from rehab. Five and one-nineth residents, if you want to parse it too finely.

Joy got her own room. There were reasons, of course. Brileigh got half of my closet for her minimal clothes. But she had no bedroom at all. She was a kept bitch in a house with three men. She had three cocks to suck and three cocks to fuck and that would leave her no time for sleeping alone. I can't make you understand this, but Brileigh was fine as frog's hair with the arrangement. Brileigh was to the Leftwich Slut Manor born.

This, of course, is a reveal that Hunter sexed young Brileigh. He most certainly did. Brileigh turned thirteen in mid-January. I turned twelve at the end of February, a week after Kitty turned twelve. We were the same age for a week and she didn't let me forget it.

I'm getting ahead of myself.

The point is that once Brileigh turned thirteen, it was Game On.

The timeline is a little fuzzy around this, so forgive me, Dear Reader.

I think the first thing was that all of us (Hunter, Me, Joy, Brileigh) went to watch Dallas in a Judo tournament. None of us knew fuck about Judo except Hunter. It wasn't at a college, but it was a pretty big auditorium. It took all day. Like eight hours of watching boys in Gis flip other boys in Gis. There were three matches going on at any given time, but we always noticed Hunter leaning in when Dallas took to the mat. Then we'd see Dallas's blonde hair. Somewhere on the floor.

Dallas finished second of at least two hundred boys. He was inconsolable. He cried on the drive home.

School started again. I lived in a different school district, but Hunter insisted that I complete Junior High at McMath. My first thought about this arrangement was positive. Continuity, you know? Hunter/Dallas made me wear my nice clothes to school.

Day One: Fucking fabulous. I had girls taking second and third looks at me all day.

Day Two: Pure Hell. Scott Grenninger saw me in the hallway as I was walking to meet Louis at lunch break.

"Heheheheheh!" Scott Grenninger laughed like an old man blowing his nose. "Loooky looky loooky at little Jackoff Crenshaw puttin' on airs!" He was talking to his toadies, Bryce Bagwill and Sonny Jessup.

"Don't you have a bag of kittens to drown somewhere, Scott," I asked.

"You following me around town, Jackoff? I bet you are, you little fag. I bet you're looking in my windows at night and jacking off to me, aren't you faggot?" "Oh sorry," I cringed, "that was your dad. But enjoy the attention, Scott."

"My dad is dead, asshole."

"Sorry, I meant your real dad, the mailman."

I saw his shoulder move. I didn't even really feel the fist that demolished me. Not at first. Not until I was trying to crawl my way back on my knees in a spinning hallway.

I felt the moisture of the spit on the back of my neck. Then Bryce Bagwill's spit. Sonny Jessup missed and hit the floor next to my hand. That asshole couldn't hit a battleship with another battleship.

About a minute later I felt the punch that had knocked me off my feet. I felt the blood pouring out of my nose onto my new, ironed shirt. It hurt. A lot.


"Whoooo! Bro! Look at YOU!" Dallas was smiling.

Hunter, driving, was more reserved. "You need medical attention, Jackson?"

"Naw," I said. "Just some Oxy-clean stain pretreater."

"Good man," Hunter nodded. He put the SUV in gear.

"I told you this would happen if I went to McMath dressed like you," I told Dallas.

"I remember," Dallas said. "Preppy douche. Those were your exact words."

"I'm wearing my T-shirts to school tomorrow," I said.

"No, you are not." The way Dallas said it was almost musical.

"Yes I am."


"Yeppers," I mumbled.

"Bro," Dallas slipped on a pair of sunglasses in the shotgun seat, "I don't tell bitches anything three times. Don't test me, my brother."

Next day: Round Two. Scott Grenninger seemed like he was looking for me. He caught me peeing in the B-Hall john, just behind the Fine Arts studio. I heard the door open. Next thing I knew my head was being pushed into the porcelain tiles. I was still peeing as I hit the floor, soaking my fancy ironed shirt with my own urine.


"You 'bout had enough of Mr. Scott Grenninger?" Dallas asked when Hunter picked me up from the drive-around.

"There's always going to be a Scott Grenninger," I said. "I'm sure you have a Scott Grenninger at Kessler Academy. Or you are the bully at Kessler Academy."

Hunter and Dallas looked at one another across the front seat.

"See?" Hunter said into the rear view mirror, "I told you that you were smarter than you think you are, Albert Eisenhower."

"That was just a joke," I mumbled.

"And a damn good one," Hunter nodded.

"So answer me," Dallas said. "Have you had enough? Are you ready to end the Era of Scott Grenninger?"

"Whatever," I mumbled.

That night, after a dinner that I cooked from my new recipe book, Dallas took me down in the basement. It was the first time I ever heard the words "Focus Pads."

Dallas taught me the most basic basics of pugilism: Keeping balance. Where to hold my hands. How to punch from my shoulders, not my elbows. He made me spar with him. Yes, it is possible to knock somebody out with a pair of focus pads, because Dallas bitch slapped me into unconsciousness. When I came back to reality, he was crouched over my head, looking at me from what I perceived as him standing on the ceiling.

"See?" Dallas smiled. "You're still alive. It takes an incredible amount of violence to kill a human with fists, Jackson. As long as you don't crack your head when you fall, Scott Grenninger cannot actually kill you. Or at least it's highly improbable."

"Then you fight him," I mumbled.

"Bro," Dallas said, "you need to ask yourself why you aren't fighting back. What are you really afraid of? Pain? You got pain anyway. Humiliation? You got humiliation anyway. You really think a Grade Seven shitstain is going to do meaningful damage to your person?"

"Eight," I mumbled. "Grenninger is in eighth grade."

For some reason this delighted Dallas. He smiled. "Even better. Repeat after me, Jackson Charles Crenshaw." And that's when Dallas taught me the famous line from Frank Herbert's Dune. I still remember it, of course. Lots of people know the line. But when I was eleven-almost-twelve, that shit was nothing short of a magic spell.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

I have blown past this part, and I will return to give it more context, but I cooked dinner almost every night. Either me, or Dallas and me working together. Either Hunter handed me a paper with an internet recipe printed on it, or I ran one of my recipes from 111 Recipes Every Chef Should Know by Heart past the Chief. We had to have a meal plan fixed at least three days in advance so some combination of Hunter, Dallas, or I could provision from the Albertsons. Also Dallas and I did all the laundry. About 50/50. He ironed a little more than I did, because he was so much better at it, but I still ironed a lot.

I hated to iron. I still hate to iron. But I absolutely loved to cook.

And when I was particularly successful with an evening meal? I could tell it from the way Brileigh tried to pick my bed for the evening and the extra effort she put into sucking my cock.

Again. that's a different thread and I will back up to the new world order of my sex life when I can tell it in a logical fashion. I've also said very little about Kitty Leftwich for many chapters and we will get to her when the story unfolds itself as well.

Unfortunately, this is the chapter about Scott Grenninger.


My third beatdown of Seventh Grade, Second Semester, was a blindside punch that I never saw coming. I didn't even smell dog shit, so I didn't realize Scott Grenninger was near. I had no idea what happened until I was on the ground and heard Scott Grenninger's douchebag laugh. "Heheheheheh!"

"I must not fear," I mumbled to no one. "Fear is the mind killer."

Looking back, I really think I would have made a better showing that day if that initial punch of Scott Grenninger had not been a suckerpunch out of nowhere.

By the time I got back up on woozy knees and saw his shiteating smirk in triplicate, a hazy Kaliedoscope of Scott Grenningers, I was asking myself "What are you really afraid of?" That first punch of mine that rocked his chin was SO fucking sweet. Almost worth the murderhands that blurred back at me, drilling the back of my head into the steel lockers behind me.


I could not lay a glove on Dallas.

"Bro!" Dallas could spit out his protective mouthpiece and hold it in his teeth while he talked like a pro fighter. He didn't need the assistance of his gloved hands at all. "React to the attack, not the feint. All I have to do is twitch my shoulder and you bite. All wasted calories, bro. Any movement that I make that doesn't result in an actual attack is just wasted calories on me. If you bite, then you are playing your part in a script that I wrote. And my scripts all end with me victorious. It's like talking shit. If somebody talks shit to you, you don't really have to answer. Real men don't take the bait. Real men don't have to.

Dallas regarded me for a moment.

"Bro, my attack may come from my shoulders, but you don't have to react to every movement. Here. I'm not going to actually hit you. But when you see my shoulder's move, the next movement has to be my elbow. If my elbow doesn't move next, then you just stand there. If my elbow moves, your hands come up and your chin goes down, like we worked on. Good. Good. Okay, gotcha, watch the elbows. Good. Very good. Okay, you're getting this. Now when my fake attack fails, you counter with jab-jab-uppercut. No, don't hesitate. The faster you come, the fewer plans I have for what I was going to do next. Go. Good. Good. WHOA! Nice. You're getting faster, that's good. Well done, bro! Now don't sleep on body shots, bro. Every street fight is two assholes trying so hard to punch each other in the nose that you've got four fists fighting the same plane. It'll turn into fists punching fists. Do like we worked on. Slip. Good. Slip. Good. Slip and put two punches on each of my ribs. OH SHIT! Sorry. I'm still sore from Joyce's assholes. Nice, though. Good job. Remember, if Grenninger can't breathe, he can't fight."

As we walked up the basement stairs toward our respective showers, Dallas admonished me. "Remember above all else, bro. If he's bigger than you, you need to be inside on him. Close. Distance is his ally, not yours. You get in, stay in. If all you have to hit is his mid-section, then you turn his ribs to mush. If he can't breathe...

"He can't fight," I finished.


If this were Hollywood, I'd have dispatched Scott Grenninger the next time we fought the following week. I did much better, but I was still a sucker for all of Scott's fake moves. He'd half-punch a fake jab and that would trigger my slip. My hands went beside my face and I'd drop my chin right where he knew it would be. He'd clock me every fucking time.

You are here for the sex, so let's skip the training montage and get to the money shot.

April 1, 2004. April Fools Day. I remember it was a Thursday because I had an A-B schedule for Hour Five. Twentieth Century was my two-day-a-week Civics class on my B-schedule. Mr. Randell had taught the assassination of MLK that period. God, I remember that lesson. I remember how Mr. Randell kept stopping. He'd get quiet. Then when he'd start talking again, his voice would crack a bit and we realized he was emotionally devastated by what he was trying to teach us. He'd lift his glasses and pinch his nose. I saw him trying to get to tears before they fell. I did not know that much about Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., but I knew that Mr. Randell was trying to tell us something terrible without telling us how terrible it really was. The class picked up on his stress and we just waited for the bell.

I was definitely in my head as I walked to my least favorite class: Basic Math II. I made the turn onto crowded A-Hall, down by the Fine Arts pottery room.

"Hey pussy!" At least Scott Grenninger announced himself that time. Given his penchant for suckerpunches, it was a gift.

My brain was still thinking about the power of non-violence. Scott had caught me off guard, but my reaction was not fear. It was exhaustion. "Scott, you wouldn't recognize pussy if your boyfriend toadies had one under their balls."

At this point I'm telling you that Bryce Bagwill was walking next to Scott.

"Big talk, Little Lord Fauntleroy."

"When you're a moron, all words sound big," I said.

I saw the punch coming. I was seeing Scott's shoulder and elbow at the same time. I ducked it. Scott Grenninger seemed to look left and right. The Hall was crowded with kids, but there were no teachers. It was a weird area of the school where there was a lot of hallway but no classrooms. No classrooms meant no adult teachers.

Scott fake-punched. I didn't move. He fake punched again. I just blinked back at him, bored. He telegraphed a haymaker that was simple to duck. He did the same from his left but I knew Scott Grenninger's playbook. He had a strong hook. He was trying to get me to duck into his best punch. Ninety-nine boys out of one hundred (of those who know how to fight) would have leaned backwards. I was so used to sparring with Dallas, I did the opposite. I closed distance and his hand went behind my head. I put four uncontested shots right into Scott's ribs. Like Dallas taught me, I punched like I was trying to hit his spine, ensuring that I was punching through his ribs, punishing them. Scott stepped back. I was supposed to close distance but I let him out of my zone. Dallas worked with me on that, but I blew it. Scott was mad. That's when Bryce Bagwill's fist caught my ear from the blindside.

Great. Two-on-one. Perfect. Just when I was finally winning, I was losing again.

I was a weird kind of pissed. Not rage. Just, 'Oh fuck this shit' kind of pissed.

I turned to look at Bryce Bagwill. He smiled at me. His hands were down. He wasn't afraid of me. Mistake. I got off about eight jabs in less than three seconds. Then I stepped into an undercut that caught him square under the chin and broke four of his teeth before he fell into the water fountain and broke his entire jaw. It had to be wired and Bryce Bagwill drank through a straw for two months.

How did Scott Grenninger miss me when my attention turned profile? Oh, he didn't. Got me good in the back of the head, making the world turn pear-shaped. Some bullies are just bullies. But Scott Grenninger was actually a really talented fighter. I don't know if somebody taught him or worked with him. Or maybe he just fought a lot. There were at least ten seventh grade boys I could name who were Scott's punching bags.

Scott's Achille’s heel was that he liked to draw out the combat. He'd knock me down and smile and prance back and forth like a lion so I could see which one of us was the alpha. I struggled to overcome my vision going wonky while Scott Grenninger smiled at all the kids who had made a circle zone around us. This was our biggest audience ever. Without a nearby teacher to scatter the crowd (and combatants) There were easily eighty kids watching us fight. My dispatch of Bryce Bagwill -- rolling on the ground and covering his gory mouth -- drew a fair amount of attention from those who would normally have walked by such a fight.

"I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path." I was whispering it.

I closed distance fast, triggering a maelstrom of his punches at my head and my relentless blows to his lower ribs and plexus. I heard him grunt. I was getting to him. He got in a couple solid hooks behind my ears. He rang my bell, but I kept focus. When he stepped back, I followed. I wouldn't give him the space he needed to do his thing. It's counter to every instinct to keep pushing into an attacker. You want to step back. But Dallas was right. I was smaller than Scott Grenninger and my kill zone was keeping so close to him that his punches were all half-powered by proximity.

Even dumbshit Scott Grenninger figured this out. He realized he was losing this fight to little Jackson Crenshaw, a freaking seventh grader. His hands pulled into his chest and he shoved me. Somehow I tripped over Bryce Bagwill and fell on my ass. That's when I saw the blood on Scott Grenninger's scowling teeth. He was pissed. His eyes were yellow rage.

Where Brileigh came from, I do not know. I hadn't noticed her in the crowd around us. She stepped out of nowhere to hook her hands behind my armpits and lift me back up.

Or at least she tried.

Scott Grenninger knew he was losing this fight. He could taste the sweet acidity of his lungs all over his teeth. Scott Grenninger did not want me to stand back up. He stepped over Bryce Bagwill and shoved Brileigh. She tumbled back and I fell back with her.

"Stay the fuck out of this, retarded mute cunt!"

Brileigh's head had blonked into a bystander's knee. She was hurt. She made the face that preceded the cry. Brileigh hated to cry.

Me? I hated Scott Grenninger.

I stood. It felt like I was being lifted by twenty invisible hands, but that was just rage. Dallas warned me against rage. Dallas warned me that anger is the gift you give your enemy.

But that motherfucker had hurt my sister, and has going to pay

I wish I remember the what-came-next a little better. I remember aiming my punches at a spot behind Scott Grenninger's skull, so the impact of my knuckles against his face felt like bones were popping in my hands when I connected. I remember that Scott connected with my head two or three times, but I did not feel it. I remember the light going out in his eyes after an uppercut. I remember his collapse started between his ankles and his knees. The world was in slow motion and when his hands dropped, all I could think was that I had a feast of free shots to his head before he fell out of punching range, and I was going to capitalize on every one.

"ALRIGHT!" Scott Grenninger screamed. "ENOUGH, MAN! FUCKING UNCLE!"

I might have been leaning over and peppering him as he was laid out on the tile of A-Hall.

"I'll say when you've had enough, you bully shitburger!" I spat through my teeth. "Don't you ever lay a hand on my sister or I will rip your goddamn head off!

"Easy! Easy!" Scott Grenninger's hands came up defensively as his head pulled back. "Jesus, Crenshaw! Don't take it so fucking personally, you little fucking psycho! I got no beef with you!"

"Could have fooled me, Grenninger," I growled. "Seems like you've had a whole fucking heard of cattle with me all year. But it ends now."

"Dude!" Scott Grenninger stopped to cough and coughed blood all over his face and the floor. "Naw man, we're cool. I was just fucking with you, Crenshaw. You fucking psycho! Some kid paid me twenty-five dollars every time I fucked with you. It wasn't personal. It was just a joke, man. You psycho! You fucking knocked Bagwill's mouth off."

"What? WHO? What kid paid you to fuck with me? Who?"

"I dunno. Some little prep school douchebag. Dressed like you. I figured he had his reasons. He just shows up at my house every couple weeks. Every time I started some shit, he'd show up and give me twenty-five bucks. Like he knew, every time. I never asked. He just knew. He was standing on my front porch with an envelope of money. Chill out, psycho!"

"Blonde kid? 'Bout this high? Acts like his shit doesn't stink? Talks like he is thirty years old?"

"Yeah, that's him."

I offer you a couple of glimpses of how thin the line can be between glory and oblivion, Dear Reader. Had I nodded and walked away from Scott Grenninger's surrender at that moment, my life would have been so different. I would have been Jackson Crenshaw, the seventh grader you don't fuck with. The seventh grader who beat the shit out of eighth grader Scott Grenninger and Scott Grenninger's toadie, Bryce Bagwill. I would have been a hero. I would have been Wolverine.

But I didn't walk away. I lost my proverbial shit. At that exact moment, Mr. Phillips cleared through the crowd standing behind me. As I lunged for Scott Grenninger again, I didn't even know Mr. Phillips was there. I just felt someone grab me from behind. I had no idea it was even a teacher. It could have been Sonny Jessup for all I knew. And AGAIN... Mr. Phillips was five foot-four, and weighed perhaps a buck seventy, barely more than me. If massive Mr. Yalnin, the Ceramics teacher, had grabbed me from behind, all the good stuff would have probably still happened.

But it was Mr. Phillips, not Mr. Yalnin. I jerked my way out of restraint. The pulling from behind as I lunged kind of lifted my feet to swing up in the air. So the first thing I could think of when I broke free was to stomp on Scott Grenninger's head. I missed. I stomped on his neck. I guess maybe I was psycho. I was in that moment. It was all I wanted in the world to kill Scott Grenninger in that moment.

Like Dallas said, it's extraordinarily difficult to kill another human being with your hands. Or your feet. Scott Grenninger and Bryce Bagwill were taken away by ambulance. They both recovered. Eventually. More-or-less.

Me? I'd never heard the words "curb" and "stomp" paired together before. But apparently what I had done was "curb stomp" Scott Grenninger. And "curb stomping" was a pretty big deal to Mr. Phillips, as well as the Principal, the Vice Principals, and the Dean of Students that I never knew existed at the DIS District Admin building. In the next two years before the lawsuits were over, I heard the words "curb stomp" about a million times. There were many mentions of Slippery Keith Crenshaw and many insinuations that his son seemed to be following in his ne'er-do-well footsteps, "curb stomping" his poor, helpless classmates.

In both the short term and the long term, it was Hunter who made it all go away. I cost him some coin that day. Hell, before the settlements, just the cost of lawyers alone must have been devastating.

I only went back to Carroll McMath Middleschool for two more days before I was asked/told not to come back. I took a couple of easy tests at the DIS School District Admin building. I went to eighth grade at Crownover in Hunter's school district.

Again, we're in April/May of 2004, now. We need to get back to January, because all the important stuff I have to tell you happened between Move-In Day on January First, and April First.

But this is the last thing I have to tell you before we button up this chapter: I sat silently in the car on the ride home, after Hunter picked me up from the office that day. We didn't say a word in the car. When I got home, Dallas was just arriving home from Kessler Academy with the kid who's mom shared driving duties to his fancy prep school.

It was sheer happenstance that we both hit the driveway of our home at the same time.

"Don't do it, Jack!" That was all Hunter could say before I was out of the car.

Hunter swung his book bag over his arm and looked up. "Hey bro! You're home early. Oh look, you were mixing it up again with Scott Grenninger, weren't yo--"

Man, I hit Dallas square and hard. It spun him. I knocked the book bag off his arm. He turned back. At first his expression was bafflement. Then anger. Then the little fucker smiled. He smiled. "Oh sweet jumping Jesus," he smiled at me. "You won, didn't you?"

"You paid him! You paid that asshole to fuck with me all year!"

Dallas grinned an enormous shit-eating grin. "Lookatchoo, bro!"

I raged. My world went white. I think I might have hit him three times. But they were three good hits. Glorious, solid punches that rocked his head.

Dallas leaned over me. His split lip was dripping blood down at me like rain. I was on my back on the lawn. The clouds were swirling in a counter-clockwise blur. He smiled. "I'm so fucking proud of you, bro."

"Why?" I groaned. "Why did you do that to me? Why did you do that, Dallas?"

"Why?" Dallas smiled down at me. "Why do you think? Look at you, bro. Look at yourself. You are a dangerous motherfucker now. Welcome to the Dangerous Motherfuckers Club. Your membership card is in the mail, bro!"


Brileigh's birthday was the first mention I heard of "The Audit."

The Audit was coming, and it was a very big deal. We were going to host a party at our new house. Very important people were coming. Some of them were at Joy's Breaking. Most of them would be new to me and the girls. Dallas guessed about thirty people total.

Hunter said something about The Audit to Kitty that made her furious. "I'm TWELVE, DADDY! That's much to old to be No-Collared!"

"What is she talking about?" I whispered to Dallas.

"The first part of The Audit is a big party. A formal dinner. The second part is... Well... There's a lot of sex. And any girl you see there, you can fuck. You can do whatever you want with the girls at this party. And there will be a ton of them, Jack. But you can't touch any girl wearing a black choker around their neck. Those are off-limits. Nothing, you understand? Don't even swat a No-Collar playfully on the butt."

"Sure," I shrugged.

"Remember that no woman at The Audit can tell you 'no.' So save up. And your mom will be there at the Audit too, Jack!" Dallas winked at me.

"You're going to fuck my mom at this party? In front of your dad?"

Dallas made a cringe face. "Are you kidding, bro? When your mom gets out of rehab and comes home, I'm going to fuck her every day when I get home from school. I'm not going to waste The Audit or my precious cum on a slag I can have every morning and every night of the year. No, I'm going to get my dick wet in as much strange as possible. My body count is going through the stratosphere."

"Sometimes I wonder if you and I even speak the same language," I said. "I understand about one out of every three words you're saying."

I cooked Brileigh's birthday dinner. Vodka Penne Pasta and a hearty Italian salad, if I remember correctly. It was the first time I made a recipe with alcohol as an ingredient. I picked it just because I expected Hunter to tell me "Hell no." He didn't blink. There were 750 milliliters of Titos waiting for me in the pantry. Anyway, it was a good dinner. Everybody cleaned their plate.

"Because you're my sister and I love you," I smiled at Brileigh, "I didn't try to make you a cake. We got you one at the store."

Yours would have been better, but TY!"

I nodded at Bry. That was a nice thing to say. Dallas came out of the kitchen and turned off the dining room light with his elbow. He was holding a Red Velvet cake with cream icing and thirteen candles burning atop. He sat it down in front of Brileigh and we all sang to her. Bry squinted her eyes, made a wish, and blew out the candles. We all clapped in the dark.

"Uhm," Joy said, "I'm pregnant."

Nobody moved. Nobody said a word. I don't think any of us breathed.

"But you probably already knew that, didn't you, Hunter?" Joy said.

Hunter lifted his wine glass in the darkened room. "Your blessing is our blessing, Love. Your mother will be thrilled when I give her the news."

"Yeah, whatever," Joy mumbled. "Let's just cut the cake. Anybody want coffee? I'm going to make some coffee."

"Sounds delightful," Hunter said. "I'll take a cup, please."

"Me too," Dallas said.

Brileigh held up three fingers. Funny how it happened like that. Like none of us was surprised. "I'm knocked up. Anybody want coffee?" "Yeah, sounds good. Two clouds of cream, if you don't mind, Love."


Brileigh was on Birth Control by that point. She had some kind of quota from either Dallas or Hunter. She was in my bed a lot, giving blowjobs that were improving by the week. Practice made perfect.

"Is there some reason you never fuck me?"

Brileigh was talking more, especially in one-on-one situations. But her new, husky voice always kind of caught me off-guard.

"You want me to?" My hand was in the back of Bry's silky dark hair. Her hair was longer than I'd ever seen it. She was up on her knees between my legs. Her thickening booty was way up in the air. Her tongue was taking turns flashing the length of my cock from my balls to the underside of my crown on each side. She was slowing me down, I could tell.

"I want you to lick my pussy," Brileigh said, "but apparently that's too much to ask, given how many gallons of your cum I've ingested, Master." Brileigh sucked the tip of my cock deliciously for several beats. "And where you are concerned, Dear Brother, that's not an exaggeration."

"I don't know how to lick pussy," I moaned.

"Oh right," Brileigh said sarcastically, "you were waiting to sign up for Pussy Licking 101 at the Community College."

"C'mon," I grunted, "stop busting my balls. You want to teach me how to eat you out?"

"Brother..." Brileigh was exasperated. "Joyce hates Dallas with the white hot passion of a thousand Suns. And she cum at least twice every time she takes her turn in his room. She comes at least once on his mouth and at least once on Dallas's fuckstroke. And she despises him. She loves you more than anything in the world. How many times have you made Joyce cum?"

I did the math. "Once."

"Hmm. Well that's once more than you've popped my lid, I guess." Bry was talking between sucking. "How many times has Joyce swallowed your copious load? Hundreds? You've got to up your game, Master. This Audit thing is serious business. You should try as hard as the rest of us to impress these people."

"Okay," I panted. Brileigh was really giving it to me, long wet pulls with her tongue out over her bottom lip. "Next time. I'm so close. Christ, that's a good suck!"

Brileigh popped off and traced under my crown with the pointy tip of her tongue. "Better than Joyce? Am I a better cocksucker than Joyce?"

Not even close. "Yes," I groaned. "You're the best."

"You fucking liar," Brileigh smiled between wet slurps. "But thank you. When mom comes back, I don't want to be the third-best cocksucker in the family. But I will be. But I'm trying, Master. You should be a little more competitive with the other guys."

"Have you fucked Hunter yet?" I whispered.

"Of course I have," Bry said in a matter-of-fact way that made my balls tighten. "Haven't you heard me? Oh no, I think he usually takes me when you're running to the grocery store. Well trust me, I have taken his giant cock laying on my back and I've taken it doggy. It's hard enough to take it on my back. He's so fucking deep in me, Jack. He's drilling my cervix. He's way up past my spot. But when he puts me on my hands and knees? Doggy? Jesus fuck, Jack. He pounds me so hard and deep that my ears ring. His grip on my hips and him fucking me? Oh god, Jack. You're a little tense, brother. Why aren't you cuming? Your balls are stones. Why aren't you letting go?"

"Dunno," I panted. "Was just listening to you talk dirty."

"Oh, I bet!" Brileigh smiled as she felt her sexual power eclipse mine. "I love it when Dee talks shit while he's licking me out. He's a good talker. And Hunter does good Daddy/Daughter talk while he's fucking me senseless. Some crazy shit that I thought was gross, but then I realized I kind of need it. I crave it, Master. But do you know what else? Hunter makes Kitty sit in a chair and watch him fuck me. He's talking Daddy talk to me while his real daughter is ten feet away, scowling in a chair. Drives her bonkers. No wonder she hates me."

"That's pretty fucked up," I grunted between clinched teeth. Bry was soft-sucking me. My cum was bubbling in my balls. I could feel the pressure ratcheting with every bob of her head and every corkscrew twist of her lips around my manhood. "I guess he's trying to teach her how to sex."

Brileigh laughed around my cock, but it was a sexy laugh. "Oh he doesn't do it for her, brother. He makes her watch for me. He knows the thing that makes me wettest... Craziest... Horniest... is knowing somebody is watching me while I'm getting licked or fucked. That first night here when I saw you and Kitty standing in the doorway while Dee was tongue-teasing my twat? My gawd, brother. Insane. Your slut sister has never been so fucking horny before."

My neck was ticking and my ears were hearing a high-pitched white noise. My toes clenched. I would have cum right then but Bry sensed it and dropped my cock. She started licking across the new fur growing on my tight balls.

"And when Joyce got Broken? Remember that? All those strangers in our apartment, and me naked for all to see? Oh my gawd, Jack. I was so jealous of Joyce. I wanted to be tied to that bar, SO bad. I wanted every eye in the room on me as I took cock in every hole I had, Jack. My little slut pussy was dripping a puddle under me. You know that, though, don't you brother? Remember that time on the bus? While I was sitting by the door, waiting for my night with Dallas to begin? I'd spent all day walking around school in that short skirt with no panties, certain that every boy was seeing my pussy. Sure that every male teacher was seeing my ass and pussy. I finally made it to the bus and I looked back at you sitting behind me and I knew you were thinking about me being a slut." Bry started sucking and talking between every five sucks. "And when I finally got in the apartment? ... And Dee had my clothes off me? ... And you walked in and saw him all over me? ... And I know you were trying so hard to be a good brother? ... But your cock was so hard in your pants? ... I thought about that all night, Jack... All night... I came seven times thinking about you watching me, Jack... GARK!"

I came so hard. Her dirty talk broke my brain. I felt like I was firing rockets out of my cock as it wracked with pleasure in fierce, wrenching blasts of my thick essence.

Brileigh snuggled in my arms as we nuzzled on each other gently in the afterglow.

"This thing that Dallas has been talking about, The Audit, and what it could mean for the family?" Brileigh whispered, "It really sounds like Heaven on Earth, Jack. I want it so bad. It would be good for me. I want it. Dallas wants it. Joyce needs it, whether she realizes it or not. Mom needs more eyes on her to keep her sober. Promise me you'll try to impress these people, Jack."

"You didn't mention Kitty," I whispered.

Brileigh was quiet for a while. "Everybody is waiting for you to train her," she said." "And Kitty sure seems like this new thing with these people and all the man attention is right up her ally."

"Buuuuuut?" I asked.

"I dunno," Brileigh whispered. "There's something about Kitty that I can't put my finger on."

"Like you said, she doesn't like you," I smiled. "You're sucking up all the attention. And all the cum. Mom's gone and Hunter has put Joy on his own No-Collar. Kitty thinks she should be in the mix with you. Maybe she should."

"Yeah. Sure. But there's something else. I haven't figured it out. Something is eating her. And it's not you, ha ha."

"Enough," I said. "Get on your back. I'll lick you."

"Well finally!" Brileigh laughed. "But I still need to make an appearance in Dallas's bed tonight. He might send me to his dad. Either way, my little pink pussy is getting munched to oblivion in the next six hours. Go lick Joy."


"Why not?" Brileigh asked.

"How do I even make that happen?"

"Uh, you walk through Joyce's door and say 'Get your clothes off, bitch, Imma lick that snatch.' What's she going to do? There's no way she's going to tell you 'no.' And you can be pretty certain she's not on the rag. They say pregnant women are always horny. Go find out, Jack."

"I guess... I..."

"C'mon," Brileigh goaded. "Mom's going to be home in a couple weeks. Show her what you've been up to while she was gone. Show her that Hunter and Dallas aren't the only pussy lickers she has to respect. Go practice on Joy."


Joy startled when I pushed her door open. "What! Oh, Jackie, it's you. Everything okay? Why aren't you asleep?"

"Take your clothes off," I said. I managed to say it bossy, like I meant to.

Joy didn't move for a long moment. Then she sighed. "Okay," she said, pulling her pajama top over her head. "You want me to suck you on the bed, or you like it when I kneel in the floor and you sit on the edge of the bed, right? I thought Bry was supposed to suck you first on her rounds tonight? You feelin' froggy tonight, Jackie? Double header? I'm impressed."

"On your back," I barked. "On the bed. Get your legs apart."

"Oh okay. I get it," Joyce said. "Hey would you think about doing me doggy tonight? I could use a good doggy fuck. Hey what are you doing? You going down on me, Jackie? What is THIS, brother? You lose a bet or something?" Joyce was laughing.

Dallas and/or Hunter had shaved her little landing strip into a tiny triangle at the tip top of her slit. I wasn't sure where to start. I wedged my tongue onto the pink macramê and tasted my sister. Very weird. Joy put her heels on my back to give my jaw a better angle at her pink folds.

"Hmmm," Joy yawned. "You want me to read your homework assignment to you while you figure out what you want to do there, Boss?"

"Don't be a bitch," I barked. "Show me what to do."

"Seriously, Jackson?" Joy laughed. "What is going on with you? You get a real girlfriend or something?"

I couldn't think of a good answer so I said the first stupid thing that came on my mind. "I want to impress mom when she comes home from rehab."

"Ohhhh! That is so sweet! In a really twisted, fucked up way, that's just darling."

I lifted my head. "I'm not going to tell you again," I eye-fucked Joy, "knock it the fuck off."

"Okay, okay, hardass," Joy softened. "Well, you have come to the right trainer twat, Little Brother. I have been the canvas for many-a-cunnilingual artist, and I've personally munched quite of bit of box myself. Let's start here. Let's start with the wrong advice. Pussy lickers will tell you that 'it's all about the clit.' That's not true. You need to love the WHOLE pussy with your mouth. But eight-five percent of your attention is on the clit. The rest is sucking the pussy lips or tonguing the fuckhole."

"I can't even see your clit," I grumbled.

"Well that's on you, bossypants. You didn't suck my titties. You didn't chew on my ears. You didn't fingerbang me and kiss me sexy for a while. If you'd done that, my little pink flower would already be open and primed and oozing pussy sugar with my slut button popped so big you could see it from the Hubble. You wouldn't have to try to find my clit. My clit would be trying to find you."

"Oh," I said. I felt like an idiot.

"Jackie, relax. I'm busting your balls. I'm sorry. You're right, I'm being a bitch. Just next time try to warm up the stove before you ask me for the pie. Okay? Use your fingers. Pull the top of my gash apart. Yeah, but push up while you spread me."

"I see it!

"Imagine that. Somebody left a clitty in my pussy. Get in there and lick that pearl, Jackson. WHOOT! Easy bro! Easy! You don't have to lick the pink off my twat right away. Little softer. At least at first. Good. Now different girls like different licks. A lot of girls can't take too much tongue right on their clit. So circle your tongue around the edge. Like a clock. Clocks don't run in that direction, Jack. Smaller circle. Smaller. Just catch the edge with the very tip of your--- Oh fuck, yeah. That's pretty good, Jackie. Can you act like you actually want to be doing this, please?"

"What?" I lifted my head. "What are you talking about?"

"Jackie. C'mon. You know what makes a blowjob a great blowjob? When the girl acts like she's totally into pleasing you. Same with licking pussy. Can you moan a little. Act like you like the taste of my pussy?"

Honestly, I was a couple weeks from turning twelve. I wasn't sure whether I liked the taste of pussy or not. "I like it," I said. I went back to circling Joy's clit with the tip of my tongue. "You taste really good."

"Just good, huh? Well anyway, that's better. Mix it up a little. Suck my pussy lips in your mouth. EASY! Okay. Back to the clit. Okay, I said a lot of girls like circling the clit with the tip of your tongue. But me? I like a good flicker-licker. Flutter your tongue as fast as you can up and down on my bean. Lighter. Lighter. You can lick faster if you just lick like a butterfly kiss. OHHHH SHIT! YEAH! Good, Jackie. You need to practice that all the time. Practice fast-licking the tip of your pencil eraser when you are bored in class."

"I can taste you getting wet," I groaned. "It's sweet."

"Excellent, Jackie. Girls love compliments, but compliments about how good their pussy tastes are the most important. Especially with girls your age. If you say something mean, you'll mess them up for life. Switch to-- Yep. You got it. Eighty-five, fifteen. That's a good fifteen. Don't wait too long before-- OH SHIT! Yep. Oh you little bastard. You switching between up-and-down licks and the windsheild wiper lick. I didn't even get to... Jackie. Are you moaning?"

"'Sgood pussy," I grunted. "So good. You taste so sweet, little bitch."

Joy offered something between a moan and a laugh. "Well that's nice improvisation."

"I mean it," I grunted. My tongue wanted to be everywhere in the folds of Joy's pussy and under the hood of her clit.

"I'm starting to believe you, Jackie," Joy panted. "Now I'm going to teach you the secret. Remember when Hunter had you finger me with your two middle fingers. Do that. While you lick. BUT DON'T START WITH FINGERS! Earn it with your tongue first. No with your palm up. Toward the ceiling. Yeah, that's good. Now wiggle. Not at the same time. Walk each finger against the top wall of my puss. OH YEAH! Good boy. You're almost too far in. Pull your fingers back toward you. A little more. Too far. Ohhhhh. Do you feel one spot on your fingertips that feels a little more bumpy than the rest of my soft pussy?"

I did.

"That's my G, Jackie. That's my fuck spot. If you pull your fingers over that while your tongue flutters on my clit... I will... Have to... Goddamn it Jackie!"

"Like that?"

"Oh shit, Jackie."

"You're gushing all over my fingers."

"Well I'm a slut, brother. Don't let it go to your head. Now listen to me first before you do what I'm going to tell you. I want you to suck my clit into a tight, firm suck/kiss. but only for a second. Keep your teeth together and suck it against the front of your top teeth. And then let go. Okay I'm rea-- FUCK! OH JACK!" Joy's hand slapped the mattress beside her. Her eyes rolled back in her head. "TOO MMMMMMMMMUUUUUHHHHHSSSSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHPPP!!"

"Sorry," I said.

"My pussy can feel you smiling, you little asshole," Joy groaned. "You did that on purpose! Oh damn, Little Brother. I really like that left-right windshield wiper lick. If you weren't my brother, I'd have creamed your tongue already."

"I guess that makes me lucky," I grunted. "I'll get more of your delicious pussy in my mouth. You taste amazing."

"Can you give me some licks between the top of my fuckhole and the bottom of my clit? That's the magic ramp. You can't go wrong with the maGIC! RAMP! FUCK!"

Probing my tongue near Joy's fuckhole made me realize how different parts of the pussy taste different. Her fuckhole tasted acidic like blood. Her clit tasted salty. Her pink wing lips din't taste like anything. Her squirt tasted sweet.

"Jackie, can you please fuck me for a little bit. Doggy?" Joy panted in a hissy voice. "You got a little something hard down there for me? I want you to see if you can aim your cockhead right at that Gee when you fuck me Doggy. If you fuck me, I'll suck you off. Or whatever you want, I just need some hard. Please?"

"Anything?" I asked. I fluttered my tongue and made Joy's ass wiggle. "You promise you'll do anything I want?"

"Oh gawd, yeah. Anything. If you could just fuck me for a little bit, I'll do anything you ask."

I could. I did. Joy came buckets all over my nuts.

I returned the favor, pumping my oldest sister's pregnant pussy full of my cream.

"Well that was easy," she panted.

"Don't forget," I said, "I'm calling in my debt. As a raincheck. Soon. You said anything."

"Hmmmph," Joy said, "sounds like you're gonna bust your nut and I'm gonna get hurt."


Hunter brought mom home to the house two days after my thirteenth birthday. She looked like a stranger. Her dark roots were prominent in her messy, honey hair. She wasn't wearing any makeup and looked ten years older than when she left. Her eyes were clear and nervous. I guess the woman who signed off on moving her family into a incestuous crucible wasn't the same woman who had to live in that house.

Dallas was the first to kiss her when she walked in the house and of course he reached around and grabbed mom's ass with both hands. Just in case she wasn't sure if she was still a plaything for ALL the boys, Dallas made sure she understood who was boss.

I hugged her next.

"Wow, Jackie, you're twice as big as when I left. What is happening to you. You're solid, Son."

"Welcome home, mom."

"I missed you, baby. How sweet is it that I made it home for your birthday! What a great present, huh? Your mom? On your birthday? I remember exactly where I was, thirteen years ago tonight."

I think I went stiff. Mom had my birthday wrong. "Yeah! Getting you back is the best birthday present I could ask for," I said. I looked over mom's shoulder at Joyce and gave her a "what was I supposed to say?" look.

"Yeah," Joy said, coming in for her hug, "Dallas bought a nice birthday cake for dessert tonight and Jackie is going to cook us a great meal. Welcome home, mom.

Whoopsie. Better get my ass to the grocery store.

Mom sniffled. Their hug broke and mom touched her eye gingerly. "I can't remember the last time you called me 'mom,' Joyce Felicity."

Joy offered no quarter. "I can't remember the last time my real mother was present to hear it. Welcome back, mom."

Mom spent her first night in bed with Hunter all night. We all heard him banging the daylights out of her. But the next night I heard her in Dallas's room. From the sound of it, he fucked her up the ass. The kid never missed a chance to make it clear who was alpha.

Nobody told me to expect it, but the next evening I was not surprised to see mom in my doorway. She was wearing a sheer peignoir nightshirt, backlit by the hallway sconces. She was sideways enough that I could see her right nipple poking way out from her big tit.

The door was mostly pushed open, but mom knocked on it anyway. I've thought about that knock my whole life since. It was perfunctory. She was in my doorway, almost naked. We both know why she was there. She was sent. She was a package. The package knocked. I didn't have to answer the knock. I didn't have to sign for her.

"Get in here." I said it bossy.

I swear to God, mom shuddered. "Yes, Master."

I haven't really said anything about our secret sex ranks. It wasn't important to me. The ladies were to call Hunter either "Sir" or "Daddy." Even mom called him "Daddy" sometimes. "Dallas and I were both supposed to called (and insist on being addressed as) "Master." Hunter frequently addressed us as "Young Master Leftwich" or "Young Master Crenshaw." I did not understand that these words had meaning outside our home. The respect titles didn't do anything for me and I never enforced it often with the girls. They understood this and rarely used my title when we were alone. Mom was new to the game in it's formal form.

"You can take off the nighty," I said. "I've seen it all before."

"Yes, master." Mom pulled the peignoir off and stood by the bed. I slid over and flipped the sheets down for her entry. She just stood beside the bed."

I slapped the mattress. "In. Now."

"Y-y-y-yes, M-m-master." Jesus, mom was terrified. Of me.

Mom's body brought an envelope of warmth with it. She smelled really good, but it was all woman and not perfume. I turned on my side and put my hand on mom's cheek. She was shaking like a leaf.

"Hey," whispered. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you. I love you."

"Then w-w-why are you d-d-d-doing this?"

"For the same reason you are." I leaned down and kissed my mother's supple cupid's bow mouth, as meaningfully and slow as possible. "Because it's inevitable. We are inevitable. Our future is inevitable. It may not even be bad, but it's absolutely inevitable."

I kissed mom's mouth again. Again she did not respond.

"Knock it off," I muttered, stern.

I bent in for another soft kiss. Mom did not respond. I was mentally going through the list of what I could/should do next. Probably slapping her was the easy move, but was it the right move? That's when mom breathed hard through her nose and her lips moved back against mine. I kissed again and she kissed back. The softness of our respective lips made them sticky for one another. My teeth opened and hers followed. My right hand grabbed her tit and lifted it. My tongue slid out and mom's tongue found mine and twisted around it. She relaxed a little. I pinched her big nip between my middle fingers as my hand proper kept grip around her knocker's heavy circumference. It hurt my soul to release that sexy funbag, but I was on my side and only had one free hand. I brought my hand up and gently pressed it against the side of mom's face. Her tongue started flickering fast against my clumsy licker and whatever hardon I had shifted into third gear.

My hand swept slowly down, stopping for another squeeze on her other tit, and then continuing down the plain of her short, flat stomach. I felt a tiny bit of stubble of her shaved mons before my fingers dipped into her folds. I pressed and twisted until I was in the silky epicenter of all those meaty pussy lips. Mom had quite a twat knot. My fingers untied it. I found her pearl. She sucked air. Then I let drop my braille reading and found her fuckhole. I only put the tip of my index finger inside, but it seemed to flex. Her pussy tried to say hello-and-welcome.

I pulled my fingers back upward past what Joy called "the magic ramp," the break between the top of her fuckhole and the bottom of her clit. Pussy squirted everywhere, greasing the skids and making the good, sexy friction happen. Mom started breathing deeply. Her kiss got a little sexier. Her tongue moved faster against mine.

Had there ever been any kind of doubt, there was no longer any doubt. My mother was a slut. Just as big or bigger slut than Joy. Her pussy didn't care that I was her son. Maybe Janet Williams cared that I was her son, and was in my bed under duress and the blackmail of being an addict with baggage in a rich man's kingdom. But mom's slut pussy didn't give a fuck that I was her little boy. Mom's slut pussy was on fire for man attention. I was going to give it to her.

Remembering everything that Joy had said, I broke our kiss and lowered my head to mom's right nipple. I sucked. I bit. I sucked harder. I bit harder. I sucked even harder and pulled away until the red-pink bud snapped out of my suction and mom's big round tit melted back into her rib cage.

Mom's ass was moving now. Her pussy was following the circling motions of the tip of my finger around her love nerve. Her eyes were thin and her chin was up, but she was still watching me watch her.

I released her slippery box and lifted to hover my face over hers. I offered her my fingers, sticky with her sex and she closed her lips around them and pulled a hard suction. Her tongue fluttered and hinted at what it would feel like to have her on her knees servicing my twiching cock. I extracted my finger and leaned in to kiss her, to taste her sweet pussy and her sexy mouth at the same time.

"Where you going, baby?" mom asked, concerned.

I was sliding down between her legs. "Right here, bitch, where you need me most."

That was the first time I called my mom bitch. At least to her face.

I nuzzled my top lip into the origami of mom's tangled twat. My tongue parted the sticky folds and found her clit. I licked slow, long, upsweeps across her button, which was significantly bigger than Joy's. Mom's clit almost had a tiny bump on top of a bump. Like a fish fin. I think about mom's clit every time I see the satellite radio antenna built into the top of a modern car. It felt right on my horny tongue. I worked all the licks that Joy taught me. "The Clock." "The Flicker-flutter." "The Ice Cream" (a heavy, flat lick with the whole of my tongue, meant to scramble any predictive patterns). "The Windshield Wiper." "The Tongue-fuck" in-and-out of the entrance to her cock canal.

Mom didn't put her heels on my back. I was a novice. I didn't understand this was why my mouth started to cramp and hurt. My neck was tilted back farther because mom's pussy was level to the bed and that didn't help. I started to wonder if I was going to have to surrender to the discomfort first or if mom was going to finally cum first.

At some point the shadows in the hall attracted my attention. I saw the silhouette of Hunter, Dallas, and Kitty standing in the wide-open doorway, watching us. I sure couldn't quit now.

The most important thing that Joy taught me was that once I started a flick rhytm on a clit that made the girl's ass or knees start to shake, DO NOT CHANGE UP A GODDAMN THING. Just keep on keepin' on. That's the orgasm spring winding. Don't fuck with the orgasm spring. The quiver means I'm on the last few cranks of the Jack-in-the-Box before the clown pops up. I had thought it might be fun to fuck with the orgasm spring and edge a girl. But my neck was screaming and that's the last thing I wanted. Mom could not cum fast enough for my aching spine and numb jaw.

"Jackie baby?" Mom was panting. "Oh, Jackie baby?"

I knew we had an audience. "Address me properly, bitch." I growled into her pussy before resuming my flutter-lick.

Mom's knee's trembled. She actually sexually responded to me barking at her. "Master! I'm going to cum!"

Well thank fucking Christ. My neck was agony. "You better, bitch," I barked.

"No, I squirt. I'm going to squirt. I can't help it. I'm going to cum hard, I've been fighting it too long. I'm going to squirt in your mouth."

"The fuck I care, bitch?"

I broke Joy's rule and switched from flutter lick to the windshield wiper, a desperation ploy to try to keep my jaw from falling off my skull. Mom moaned, but I realized this was probably a mistake. I remembered Joy's G-spot trick and I skewered mom's fuckhole with my middle fingers and started walking them against the ceiling of her canal. I was looking for the bumpy part, but Mom didn't have one as pronounced as Joy. Mom's hands pushed into the back of my hair and she quivered out a seizure as the space below her clit sprayed up my tongue and just kept spraying hot pussy. It was thin enough that I could swallow to keep up. But that was a lot of spray. Somebody should have warned me about this. It was salty. And copious.

Mom heaved hard breaths and I was ecstatic to finally relinquish my mouth from her sex and come up to my knees. I stretched and immediately felt better. Licking pussy was exhausting.

Mom jerked and writhed on the bed by herself. Her little hands pushed each of her tits up to her face and she pulled her own nipples. Her knees bicycled in space. She couldn't catch her breath. "Oh fuck, Jackie, that was wrong. But it was soooo good."

"Address me properly," I said. But I looked over and our shadow audience was dispersing. I planted a hand on each side of mom's head and lowered my twitching cock into my mother's quivering sex.

"I might need a minute, baby--Master!" Mom caught herself.

"Well you don't have one," I said. My cock kept getting caught in the tangle of mom's pussy lips, but with my hand I found the fit and put my weight into it. Mom's pussy was slippery and hot. I kissed her and coated her mouth in her own secretion, giving me another chance to savor it. The inches of my cock tunneled into her silky wet hole. I screwed her slow. I came upright on my knees to thrust and watch the impact travel up through mom's tits, neck, mouth, eyes, and finally hair. Mom's sexy feet came up by my sides and rubbed my hips. That made me a little crazy. I gently grabbed each of her ankles and pushed her legs in front of me. I felt my cock go deeper in her wet pussy and mom moaned differently. I accidentally discovered something. But I was looking at mom's high arches and perfect toes. I'd wanted to rub mom's feet, to wash them. I'd never had that chance. But here were mom's perfectly sculpted bare soles, pointed right at my face. Just inches away. For whatever crazy reason I leaned in and kissed mom's instep as my fuckstroke got harder. More than anything, I wanted to suck on mom's perfect toes. I pulled her two smallest toes into my mouth and sucked. My cock was thrumming like a bass guitar string. Mom seemed to be into it. I bit her instep and she nearly kicked my teeth out.


Mom was immediately off her back and up on her knees attending me. "Oh baby I'm so sorry Master I'm so sorry are you okay did I hurt you baby are you alright I'm so sorry I can't help it. Master, my feet are too ticklish. I'm so sorry. I should have warned you. I was keeping it together but that last bite on the bottom of my foot was too much. I lost my shit. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?

I didn't feel okay. I felt like three of my teeth had moved on their roots. But they all felt like they were still there and not broken. "I'm fine," I said through my hand. "Back on your back. I'm not done."

"Okay." Mom lay back and spread her legs.

It didn't take me too long to get the steel back in my pecker and get my thrust back in the pussy before me. In a short minute, my kinky faux-pas was forgotten and we found a fuck rhythm we both responded to. We screwed for a long time before my nerve-endings lost the fight and I filled her to capacity with seed.

With my weight collapsed on her and the uncomfortable ice skating rink of our sweaty chests sliding over one another, my rational brain returned. "You're on birth control, right?" I panted.

Mom didn't answer for a beat. "Might as well be you, Master. If it's going to happen, it might as well be you."


Hunter and mom married the following Thursday at a very short civil ceremony in the downtown courthouse. All us kids were there. None of us were old enough to be official witnesses, so the giant Superhero Black Guy who brought the hardware to Joy's Breaking stood with Hunter and Bob Fucking Yandie stood for mom. They all said some shit and signed some papers. The new couple kissed and we clapped. Bob Yandie -- mercifully -- took the pictures outside the courthouse, which means he isn't in any of them. Looking at those photos, I didn't recognize us. I didn't recognize me. We looked different in our nice clothes. We actually looked pretty good. Mom had got her hair fixed and was wearing makeup, but she still looked different. Her smile was different. I was taller in the photos than I thought I was. I had a bruise on the side of my face from one of my mixups with Scott Grenninger.

Hunter started adoption paperwork for me and Brileigh the next day. Not a secret, he told us he was doing it. Brileigh was delighted. I was okay with it. What choice did I have?

The night of the wedding, Hunter tied mom bent over one of the kitchen chairs and the three of us fucked her and fucked her mouth until we couldn't go again. I came three times. Hunter only came once. Dallas had to be the try-hard and put two in mom's mouth, two in her cum dripping pussy, and one excruciating twenty-minute pounding of mom's asshole while she yipped in pain the whole time. Dallas rocked the chair back on two legs to get a better angle at mom's back door. Being constantly off balance fucked with mom's head while Dallas screwed her pooper. It reminded me of the game we'd play with the TV chair. But mom didn't look like she was having that much fun. At some points during the evening, I half expected the chair to break from the impact vibrations of mom taking cock in two directions at once.

Anyway. It was a lesson to mom and all the girls. Mom wasn't married to Hunter. She was married to Hunter's household.

Message received. Mom was a lot more like Brileigh the next time she cycled into my bed. It wasn't as awkward. It was business.

When sex was not happening, there was constant talk about The Audit. The importance of The Audit. Preparing for The Audit. A team of carpet cleaners did the rugs because of The Audit. Cleaning the house and re-evaluating the furniture and decor because of The Audit. Hunter brought in an interior decorator to help mom make decisions about how to make the house look more "elegant." I was the one who carried most of the household furnishings that did not pass muster for The Audit up into the attic. It was getting pretty crowded up there. The old photo albums that pre-dated us now had a lot of dusty company.


Two weeks later I got yelled at. Kind of. I still remember vividly it because it was one of those moments in life where my feelings were shattered.

The entire family just sat at the table. Bison meatballs and caramel butter gnocchi, topped with parmesan shavings that I had toasted with a kitchen torch I found. The Leftwich kitchen lacked for nothing.

Nothing was out of the ordinary. Nothing at all. Regular family pleasantries and table chatter. Hunter took one bite of the meatballs on his plate and kind of froze. I noticed it first. His face got red. He was mad. Why was he mad? I frantically forked a bit of meatball in my mouth and chewed frantically. Tasted okay to me. Had I missed something? Did a clump of seasoning not get mixed right in the Kitchen-Aid?

By the time Hunter placed his fork down and looked at me, everybody knew something was wrong and the chatter all stopped. Everybody looked at Hunter and waited for whatever was going to come next.

"Master Jackson," Hunter said. He took a long breath next. He looked like he was trying to put words together in his head before he spoke them. "I do not wish to be misunderstood. When our families came together, I asked you to think about being in charge of the cooking. I thought perhaps you had a talent and an interest in cooking."

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Is your meatball not done?"

Hunter held up a stop sign hand. "The meal is wonderful. The meal is always wonderful. Please, sir, don't stop me and do not take this the wrong way. Jackson, you are -- indeed -- a fine cook. For your age, you are a fabulous chef. I can only imagine how far you can take your talents if you stick with your passion."

"But?" I asked.

"But I am going to be seven hundred pounds if you cook a meal this rich every night. Your mother is going to be seven hundred pounds. You can't keep cooking such elaborate, high-calorie meals EVERY. NIGHT.

My eyes blinked hot. I was going to cry. "The book. The book you gave me for Christma--"

"YES! I KNOW!" shouted Hunter. He seemed to catch himself. "Yes, I know," he repeated calmly. Mostly calmly. "You are cooking from your recipe book. And you are -- as you kids say -- crushing it, Son. I am constantly shocked and impressed by your ability to plan meals and execute them so well. Especially for your age. But..." Hunter struggled. "We are very fortunate to be a family of means. And it's on me that I haven't said anything before. But the budget for dining-in on your cookbook meals every night is only slightly less than if we all dined out at the Red Door Bistro every night. Part of your skills, henceforth, will be planning the week's meals within a given budget. It's an essential skill that I think will serve you well in your adult future."

Dear Reader, that might have been the most correct thing any adult said to me, ever.

Tears were really making rivers down my face at that point. "I can make something else if you don't like this," I said. "It won't take me but a half hour."

"Jack..." Hunter was exasperated. "This is fucking delicious!" Hunter didn't curse that much outside the bedroom(s) so that emphasis caught my attention. "But it's TOO much. TOO often." He leaned forward. Pleading with me: "Okay. Here's a thing. As head of this house, I now proclaim that one meal a week will be sandwich night."

"Sure," I wiped my eyes with a napkin. "I can do that."

"And NOT smoked brisket with spicy tapenade on a sweet baguette!"

"Oh." I deflated again.

"Dad!" Dallas broke in, throwing his hands up, "Those were the shit! How did you not like those?"

"DALLAS, shut the fuck up! That's not what I said! I didn't say I didn't like the brisket sandwich! The brisket was magnificent! What I'm trying to get through to Jackson is MODERATION! We take all this amazing cooking of his for granted because it's not in MODERATION! If we sat down to this table and Jackson plated us each a McDonald's cheeseburger and a side of potato chips, you'd all think he'd lost his damn mind. You'd be pissed! Think about that! That's normal for ninety percent of the country, but you'd be the first to riot, Dallas. Wouldn't you?"

"Well yeah. McDonald's sucks, dad."

"SON GODDAMMIT I--" Hunter froze. His face was crimson. The room got really quiet. Hunter stared at his plate. My tears started dripping onto my gnocchi and I couldn't stop them.

Hunter stood from his chair. "Jackson," he said softly. "Please understand that I am not a perfect man, and I have botched this moment between us in the worst way. This was not the time nor the place to work through our misunderstanding. I'm incredibly sorry."

"It's okay." My voice cracked. Brileigh put her hand on my arm.

"Good god, I've made a mess of this," Hunter said softly. "My apologies to you all. I'm going to take a walk around the block. I encourage the rest of you to enjoy this fine meal that our beloved Master Jackson has worked so hard to present to us. Please excuse me."

Nobody at the table moved. The front door clunked shut. Nobody moved.

"Fuck that, bro," Dallas picked up his fork and shrugged. "I'm gonna want thirds. This is fan-fucking-tastic."

"YEAH it is." Joyce resumed eating. Dallas and Joyce didn't agree on anything. So it meant something special that they broke the icy moment.

Hunter apologized again to me later that night when it was just him and me. I was better able to understand what he wanted then. The concept of working within a budget was daunting to twelve-year-old me. The concept of small meals balancing big meals was a bit harder to wrap my brain around. I didn't fully understand what a "small meal" was. There was only one size canvas in my brain and it was a mural. I'd figure it out. But the worst thing would have been if Hunter had assigned someone else to cook. That would have killed me.


"Hey, Master." Joy said it sing-song, coming into my room with her hand on the doorframe, kind of swinging in like around a stripper pole. "We going tonight?"

Usually the lights in my room were out when my girl-of-the-night arrived, but I had the lamp on my bedside table on and I was reading a short story for school. I looked at Joy carefully for the first time in a while. Her black hair with natural auburn highlights was even longer and shinier. Her boobs seemed even bigger. Her boney hips were now hidden beneath pleasing curves. It occurred to me that pregnancy and rich food were probably responsible for making "too skinny" Joyce Arnette into "fucking perfect" Joyce Arnette. And I may have been responsible for both.

"You are really goddamn pretty, sister.

"Thanks," she said plainly. "Baby glow."

"You can't tell that you are pregnant."

"Pretty sure that's a compliment, so pretty sure thank you." Afterthought: "Master."

Broken Joy was still Joy.

"You were too thin before."

"Problem: Solved." Joyce seemed annoyed. "So, we go tonight, or are you worn out from dogging Janet on her honeymoon?"

I had big plans for the evening and it was pissing me off that Joy was in a mood. "Hey can you dial down the bitch-o-meter a little? Please?"

Joy sighed. "You are the boss, dearest brother master." She curtsied and swept her hand in a grand gesture. "How may I serve you, My Liege?"

"Over there. Beside the door."

"Bondage gear?" she asked. "What? I don't see anything. What am I supposed to-- The heels? Hey! These are mine!"

"I know," I said. "Put 'em on."

Joy wasted no time stepping into her shoes. Her round ass shifted up into her lower back. Her calves popped. Her thighs became shapely inverted pears. It was everything I wanted it to be.

"Then what?" Joy looked around. "If you got me stockings, I'm going to need to put those on before the shoes."

"Just the heels." I put my book down and leaned on my elbow, looking at her. It was kind of hard to breathe. I knew my sister was hot, but... She was crazy hot with a bit of girl fat in the right places... And those fuck-me heels.

"Now what?" Joy was genuinely confused.

"Just walk around." My finger made an upside down infinity motion.

Joy's head cocked like a confused Husky. And then she smiled. Big. "Oh wow! Okay! You mean walk... Like this?" Joy started rolling her hips and prancing around my room. Stopping to cock her hand into one hip and point out the toe of the other, looking back over her shoulder and throwing her hair into a curtain that revealed her smile.

Mother of God. My hand clamped around the radiation pellet in my underwear.

"Yeah, that is what you wanted." Joy smiled at me. That smile. She couldn't get any more beautiful, and then she smiled a real smile. At me! "Is this your raincheck? This your big ask, Master Jackson?"

I nodded and pawed my own cock under the sheets.

"Oh we can do this every day. I thought Dallas was going to make you practice stress positions. This is great." I had a chair in my room, a nice wooden one by my desk with a padded seat. Joy stepped one shoe up on it and leaned her elbow down on her knee, dramatically. Her hair fell over one eye. "How about this pose?"

I had no idea what I was expecting out of this big raincheck that I had been scheming. It was uncharted territory for me, but Joy was obviously a frequent visitor to sexy shoe kink, because she knew exactly how to press buttons that I never would have been able to articulate.

Joy spun around and put both legs down on the floor in a wide V. She leaned her elbows into her knees and looked around her hip and winked at me, her hair all falling down with the tips an inch from the floor.

I moaned. I was a puddle of goo. Joy saw me getting off and smiled big.

"I can't believe that my little brother is a shoe fag!"

I stopped jerking. "A what fag?"

Joy blinked for a second and then broke character. "What? Oh no no no! Dude! Jackson! Master! No, sorry. Not like that. It's just a word. Just one of those shorthand words. It's like a nickname that shoe guys gave themselves. Not gay fag. Just 'hey I really dig sexy shoes fag.' Okay that sounds really wrong. Like I'm a shoe slut. Girls are shoe sluts. All girls are shoe sluts for sexy shoes. We all notice them. We love them. And we love men who love sexy shoes. It's cool. Don't look at me like that, Master."

"So I'm really weird?"

"My God, no Master. Not weird at all. I've had lots of shoe... Guys. Lots of them. No, it's totally normal. It's like so normal of a kink that it's not even really a kink. Like there aren't 'tit fags.' All guys like tits. Most guys like sexy shoes."

I was unsure. "Okay, I guess."

Joy was still trying to smooth things over. "Shoe fags are way better than foot fags."

"Foot fags?"

"Yeah. You know. Maybe you don't know, you're twelve. Foot fags: The guys who want to suck your toes. The guys who want to put their cock between the bottoms of your feet and jack off with them. Foot fags. Now THAT'S a kink. Not like shoe fags."

I wanted to die. I literally wanted to DIE. There was a word for me. There was a definition of my kink. I had a diagnosis. Women had a name for boys like me. I was a shoe fag. And -- shame on my unworthy birthing -- I was a foot fag. I felt the bottom drop out of my world. I thought I invented an idea, to press Joy's feet againt my cock and fuck them, spray all over her tits and face while I hovered over her. Not only was this perversity known to my own sister, but she knew it for the deviant psychosis that lurked within me. Closet peeper. Sister impregnator. Mother raper. Shoe fag. And worst of all... Foot fag. I was GAY for women's feet.

"Jackie, what's wrong with you? You look like you're going to hurl. Are you okay? Did I sa--" Joy's eyes got big. "Whoopsie."

"Just go back to your room," I said. "We're done."

"Hey! Hey! C'mon!" Joy sat on the edge of my bed. "I don't even know what the fuck I'm saying, Jackie. C'mon. Don't be like that."

"You just don't want to get in trouble with Hunter and Dallas," I said, surly.

"Well first of all, no shit," Joy said, "but second and more importantly, that's not a horrible kink or anything. I mean it. I can think of five hundred kinks worse than feet, and I've dated every one. Fuck, I'm living in a bondage dungeon, twenty-four seven. Trust me, feet are no big deal. No kink is bad if you find a girl who wants to make you happy. Because she loves you, not because she's being blackmailed into having a baby in a house ran by a couple of sociopaths. There's a girl out there who loves you, Jackie, and she's going to love making you cum with her toes in your mouth or your cock between her feet or whatever your thing is. Because when a girl loves a guy or a guy loves a girl, their kink is your kink. Remember Troy? Troy wanted me to put my finger up his ass while I sucked him off. I absolutely did NOT want to put my finger up anybody's ass, Jackie. Not even Troy. But I did it once. Then I did it again. Then I kind of liked the way it made him cum so fast. His kink became my kink."

"That's gross," I said.

"And my little TED talk on 'not judging' goes down in flames. Perfect." Joy slapped her leg.

"What have I become?" I asked Joyce in a whisper.

"Well, clearly you've still got a scrap of self-awareness left in you to ask that question, Jackie," Joy whispered. "You are just a mirror of the environment you live in. You can't help it. You didn't ask for any of this. You didn't pick it. You're a horny young man encouraged to walk around a candy store and take whatever he wants. Okay, that's a mixed metaphor, but you understand. If you tried to fight this, you'd end up tied over something and getting beat down with some instrument of torture, just like me. When the time comes, you'll leave. You'll find a real girlfriend and make babies that you want to have. Then you can figure out if you're a good guy or a bad guy. Up to you."

Again with the good guy/bad guy.

"Hey," Joy shook my arm, "Master? Master? I was actually having fun there for a second. I know I was Buzz Kill Barbara, but can we try that a little more? Shoe play?"

"I guess."

"I heard you lick out mom. Sounds like you're really coming along with your pussy licking."

I shrugged.

"Can we try something different?" Joy asked. She slid off the bed and turned my desk chair to face the bed. "Come kneel here, Jac-- Master. Please? I want to show you something. I think you'll like this. I think we'll both like this."

I was still turned off and disgusted with my foot fag self. I knelt in the floor in front of the chair.

"Shoes are all about poses," Joy said. She mounted the chair in the opposite direction and pushed her heels apart around each of my ears. Her hand dipped into her pussy and she parted her fingers to reveal her pink slit and fuckhole. "Look at that wet pussy, Master. I was really getting into turning you on. I saw you jacking your thick cock." Joy spun sideways on the chair and lifted her red shoes high, one just above the other, in classic pinup fashion. Her head tilted back and she smiled. It was pretty hot. She kept her feet high and pushed one pointy tit toward her mouth and leaned her head down. Her long tongue unfolded and traced her own nipple. My cock was hard again. She was watching me watching her and feeding off it. She knew she was getting to me. She turned to face me, slumped way down in the chair, and both shoes went straight up in the air. All I could see was the cleft of Joy's ass and the divot of her butthole. Her legs hinged wide, opening her pussy to me. My eyes tried to follow both the red shoes at once, which tells you something about how I was wired. Joy saw that, of course. She started playing with her wet pussy, inches from my face. She bent her knees and made little slow kicks of her shiny red shoes on each side of my head. Her left index finger came across her lips in a 'shush' motion as her right fingers started making circles on her clit, popping it loudly up and out, calling toward me.

Some years later I would discover Bettie Page, and I swear that all of those poses Joy made that night were copied straight from a photo collection of Bettie. They were perfect pinup poses. I think back and marvel at how much Joy resembled Bettie. One Victory Roll of her bangs and a crimp-wave curling iron and Joy could have won any look-alike contest.

Joy's slathering, wet-popping pussy was too enticing to hold onto whatever perceived injury I was chewing on. I leaned in and closed my mouth around her engorged clit. Joy moaned and I felt the smooth leather of the shoes slide down each of my trapezius muscles. I licked her to a noisy climax. Dallas was banging Bry and Hunter was fucking my mom at that same moment, but Joy was loudest of them all. Then I stood over Joy while she was still slumped into the chair, slackjawed and panting. I jacked off until I covered every inch of her in ropes of white seed. Yes, including the red shoes.


The conclusion of Blended to post soon. Your patience is appreciated. - Dutch