Like mother like daughter. Based on the characters originally described in Mary Deanna's Anniversary Fuck by Anonymous.
It was Wednesday. That meant that we'd have Robert Dunbar over for dinner again. Robert is a black man who's supposed to be a friend of my parents, but I suspect that really isn't true. He's been the only black man we've ever had visit us. In fact, I've heard Dad argue with Mom over Robert's visits. Of course, it always ends the same way--Robert comes to visit us anyway.
I didn't understand Mom's insistence that Robert come to dinner on Wednesdays, or that we had to be home to have boring old dinner with them that day, but there it was.
Mom is Deanna Benton--more accurately Mary Deanna Benton, but only Dad and Grandma call her that. Dad's name is Joseph, but he's always been Joe to the rest of the world.
Mom came home from work and began to fix supper. Wednesday suppers were always something special for her, and today she decided to cook her specialty, Mexican food.
"Bethany!" she hollered. "Would you bring your father's clothes down here to wash them?"
I yelled downstairs. "Why me?"
"Because I'm cooking." Then there was a pause. "You don't have to put them in the washer, just bring them down!"
"That's the hardest part," I called back.
"You keep telling me you want to be treated like an adult. I think you can handle it," Mom replied.
So I began to gather up the clothes in Dad and Mom's room. Then I saw some things that surprised me. Since when did Dad wear navy blue silken briefs? He's always been a cotton briefs kind of guy--plain white too. Since when was Dad a size 34 waist? He was a little paunchy and most of his briefs were size 46 or so. These briefs looked more the sort of thing Robert would wear. But why would Robert leave his underwear here?
All right, stop thinking like that. I shook my head and put the rest of the clothes in the basket. As I started to leave their room, I noticed the ankle bracelet, It barely hung out of Mom's jewelry case, but I realized she'd never worn it around us before. I put down the laundry and opened her jewel case. She had two anklets.
Wow, way to come into the twenty-first century, Mom!
The first anklet had a heart with an inscription on it--the letters read D-E-A-N-N-A. I smiled. Then I picked up the second. It too had engraved letters on a matching heart. But these letters read R-O-B-E-R-T.
What the hell?
I put both ankle bracelets back in the jewel case. Deanna and Robert? It was then that I saw the corner of a single photograph—a Polaroid picture laying face down and hidden by Dad's shaving kit which he takes with him on business trips. I pulled the picture carefully out from beneath the leather kit.
It was a picture of Mom before she changed her hair color over the couple of months or so. It was also a picture of Robert. They were in some cheap motel room. He was buck naked and laying atop Mom who was also bare naked. There wasn't too much I could see, but I paled anyway. I could sure as hell guess what must have been happening.
No wonder Dad didn't want Robert to come over for Wednesday dinner. Mom wasn't just a friend of Robert, she was seeing him--fucking him!
But then who took this picture? No, it couldn't have been Dad.
I unzipped Dad's shaving kit, and I discovered he had dozens of Polaroids rubber-banded inside. I wanted to look at them all, but before I could, I saw Dad's car pull up into the driveway.
"Bethany, your father's home. Hurry up with that laundry!"
"I'm coming!" I shouted. "Keep your pants on!"
God, I don't believe I said that.
I packed the shaving kit back up and quickly hid the photo underneath it once again. Then I grabbed the small pile of laundry and hurried downstairs into the laundry room.
Not long after Dad arrived, Robert pulled up into the driveway. He wasn't as old as my Mom. She was forty years old. If he was less than ten years younger than her, I'd be surprised. He couldn't have been thirty yet. As I watched him get out of his car, I vowed there and then that tomorrow I'd look at those pictures for sure. Why did I have to put myself through this? Why the curiosity? I couldn't answer that. But I had to know, didn't I?
"So, Bethany, your birthday's coming up soon," Dad said at the dinner table that night. "Anything special you want?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."
"What are you going to be? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?" Robert teased.
"Stop it, Robert!" Mom said. "Don't rush her. Let her enjoy her eighteenth birthday while she can."
"It's just that she always seemed older than her years," he answered. "She's a very mature young lady."
"Like Mary Deanna said, don't rush her," Dad added gruffly. "She's growing up fast enough as it is." I didn't quite understand the underlying tone in his voice. It was almost as if Dad was jealous.
After dinner on Wednesday night they did what they always did on Wednesday night--sent us to our rooms. My brothers didn't like it, and neither did I. When the noises began, I slipped out to see if Robert had left. There was no sign of Robert downstairs. But, his car was still parked in front. I went down the side hall to see if Robert was sleeping in the guest room. His stuff sat in there, but he wasn't.
Apparently the only person downstairs was me. Dad wasn't downstairs. Mom certainly wasn't downstairs. In fact, from the sounds of the moaning coming out of her bedroom, it was obvious that Mom was up there. As quietly as I could, I crept back upstairs.
Carefully, I tried their bedroom door. Of course, it was locked. In the old days, you might peep through the keyhole, but we had modern doors, so that was out. But there was so much noise going on in the bedroom that I doubt they even realized that I'd tried the door handle. I put my ear up to the door.
"You getting this, Joe?" Robert's voice said. "You getting a good shot of your wife opening up under a big dicked black man?"
Holy shit!
I just barely heard Dad grumble. "Yeah, I got it."
And all this time Mom was moaning like there was no tomorrow.
"You may be Joe's wife, Deanna Benton," I heard Robert announce loudly. "But whose woman are you?"
Then a small mousy voice, Mom said something I couldn't hear.
"Whose woman?" Robert demanded again.
"Yours," Mom replied. "I'm yours, Robert."
"Damn right."
My God, now I understood.
Jesus, I needed to see those photos more than ever. It would be the next day before I got my chance. As soon as I got home from school, I scouted out Mom and Dad's room. Her nightie lay partially ripped on the floor tossed to one side. Last nights panties had been thrown in the waste basket. Jesus Christ, they were all dried up sticky in the crotch. What was that all about?
I had to look at the pictures so I quickly made my way to Dad's shaving kit. I knew Dad wouldn't be home for another two and half, maybe three hours and since Mom always worked late on Thursday night--now I understood why!--he'd be the first one home other than the boys, and they'll hang with their friends for a couple of hours after school.
My own friends didn't understand when I told them I had to go home; it was the first Thursday in a long time that I didn't decide to go off with them. But, I told them I needed to clean the house for my parents, and not only did it stop them from asking, but it guaranteed that they'd stay away from my place for a while.
The one picture left underneath the shaving kit was gone. Did they know I found it? I went ahead and unzipped the shaving kit anyway. Inside the shaving kit were a few dozen pictures held in place by a rubber band. I was so anxious that my hands shook as I undid the rubber band. I almost lost a few as the band snapped off.
I literally gulped when I saw them. I couldn't flip through them fast enough. There was Mom on her knees sucking Robert's dick in one, and Robert with his head buried between Mom's legs in another. In one shot she opened her mouth and eyes in sheer pain, while Robert bent behind her. For a second I didn't get what was going on, then I understood. My eyes went wide, and my mouth had fallen open.
"Omigod!" I whispered. His cock was huge, and he was sticking it in her butt!
How could she?
There were all sorts of photographs of Mom letting Robert take her--there! You know, in her vagina. She laid on her back, or she stood on all fours with her ass up in the air. He sat on the side of the bed, and she sat right across his lap. There was even one with Robert standing up, while Mom appeared to be wrapped all around him.
Mom never looked so gloriously happy. No wonder he told her to say that she was his woman. By all appearances, Mom had gone happily into Robert's arms. Worse yet, she'd happily allowed Robert to put his black dick inside of her. I knew that Daddy couldn't be too happy about the whole situation. His wife was seeing--that is fucking another man, a black man, but why was he letting it happen in his own house?
One photograph of Mom showed her laying next to Robert and she had an enormous amount of white liquid all over her loins. This shot was close enough that I could even see the little droplets in her pubic hair. Another one following it was shot even closer, plus I could see Robert's long dick resting beside her, nestling into her hip.
"Mom?" I didn't even know I'd said it out loud until I heard my voice in the stillness. "Oh, God."
I whipped through all of them one more time. My eyes examined every inch I could of Robert's body in those photos. No picture of a man--hell, no man had ever moved me like this before.
Then I thought of something. Where was the shot I saw yesterday? I opened Daddy's sock drawer and looked inside, then I opened the drawers underneath it one at a time. The picture sat in a drawer down toward the bottom, but then I saw something that made matters more immediate. There were two video tapes stuck down inside that same drawer. They were labeled
MDAF
and
HALLOWEEN
.
MDAF?
The MD could only stand for one thing--Mary Deanna! I rushed the first tape downstairs and placed it in the VCR. Oh yeah, bad lighting, grainy--this was definitely homemade. Just like Aunt Jill's wedding tape, only that tape had never followed the happy couple this far.
No, it had never gone this far!
