This is a work of fiction in which all characters are eighteen if they engage in sex. There will be scenes of lesbian and gay sex and heterosexual acts. Incest will occur between mothers and sons, step-mothers and stepsons, and step-brothers. If you are not into that, you may want to find another story to read. You have been warned.
There is an extensive backstory. It will take a while to develop it. There will be sex, but I tell stories, and although I don't do the porn angle, I will be explicit in my descriptions of sex acts. They are not the only focus of the story. Hopefully, you will find the content refreshing and unique.
No one under the age of eighteen should read this story. I don't want you to read the story, Literotica doesn't want you to read it, and your parents definitely don't want you to read it.
Please feel free to comment and rate it accordingly if you read this. Any constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged as I become a better writer. If, for some reason, you find the story not to your liking because it's not your thing, please don't crash the rating. I won't change my subject matter. It's just better for you to read something else.
*****
Mandy Dembowski sat straight up in her bed. She had a dream that she couldn't understand or grasp, a malicious image that left one unsure of what it was or meant. It seemed unnatural, with a profound purpose, poised to show Mandy something significantly special yet horrifically consequential. Instead, the euphoria was propagated by the rush of endorphins within her mind. There was no reason the feeling made sense. The common belief would have been that she suffered from an intense dream creating a sense of foreboding. The depraved would have suggested she had a dreaming orgasm, an extreme feeling of completion to an act never restricted by perversity. But, in all honesty, it was simply a nightmare.
She could envision a manifestation of her wonderful, loving, and sympathetic husband in the dream. There was a sense of distress, a sense of longing, a sense of loss. But, to her, the nocturnal vision made no sense at all.
Mandy attempted to return to her dream world. Tossing and turning, removing the blankets to get comfortable, nothing she could do allowed the young woman back into the surrealistic world she had been in. Instead, her dream pushed her in an otherworldly direction. She had a premonition of unusual clarity, suggesting her twelve-year-old son was not okay. Getting up from the bed she and her husband had shared for over ten years, Mandy made her way to her son's room. What she found was beyond astounding.
Her son, Lucas, was writhing uncomfortably. It was as if he were experiencing a similar nightmare. There was something utterly incomprehensible within her thought process. "What is going on?" she thought.
A doorbell rang.
"At this late hour, who would actually come to the house," she pondered. Another sense of premonition came over her that what was about to occur would not have a positive outcome. There was something wrong, she sensed. A matter that was not quite right.
Making her way to the front door and peering out the windows brought a shock. Police stood at the door. Panic flooded her system. "What has happened?" were her initial thoughts.
As Mandy opened the front door, the realization came that the faces of the police did not offer any conclusion as to why they were at her home.
"Mrs. Dembowski?" asked a young female trooper from the Santa Ana division of the California Highway Patrol.
"Yes," she answered.
"May we come in," the lady officer asked.
"What has happened?" Mandy questioned as she invited them into her home.
"Your husband...," the officer started but paused in the foyer. Those few seconds of hesitation relayed everything Mandy had feared. "Your husband has been killed in an automobile accident. A drunk man ran head-on into him, and he passed immediately," she said.
Mandy collapsed.
Mandy realized the same officers were hovering over her when she regained consciousness. "How long have I bee...?" she asked.
"Only for a few minutes," the female officer noted.
Mandy also saw her son, her twelve-year-old baby, watching what was happening. She noticed a terrible expression of horror on his face. Still, there was nothing Mandy could do to alleviate his distress. The young woman somehow knew her child would adjust to their new way of life like she would be forced to.
-----
The funeral of James Edward Dembowski happened quick. There was no serenity, but the fact that the initial ramifications of the death led to nothingness for the bereaved tended to guide the young widow in a sense of panic. Her husband was the breadwinner. He was the one who held down the job. James allowed her to stay home so they wouldn't have to hire a nanny or maid. Of course, the love of her life provided the very best, but now she would have to consider getting into the workforce. It simply meant her and her son's lives were about to change exponentially...unless a miracle happened.
"What will I do?" she thought.
Her husband's company allowed for some compensation. However, that money would not be enough. She needed to survive simply for her eight-year-old son. So her search was on for her next level of employment.
A week later, having no results finding a job, the doorbell rang. A man in a deep blue business suit stood when Mandy opened the door. "I am George Trentino," he said. "I represent the Omaha Life Insurance company. May I come in?"
"Of course," Mandy answered. There had never been a time when she allowed a complete stranger to enter her home, but the young woman felt compelled when he told her who he represented.
"First, I offer my deepest condolences for the loss of your husband," George said.
"I appreciate that," Mandy replied.
His demeanor changed slightly as he sat on her sofa in the small living room. "Do you know Javier Gustanos?" he inquired.
"No, and I don't believe I've even heard the name 'Javier' before," she said.
"That's good. It makes it easier for me to continue. Javier Gustanos is the man who is accused of killing your husband. He is an undocumented worker from Ecuador. He will, for all intents and purposes, rot in jail for the rest of his life..."
"I don't quite understand..."
"I will cut to the chase...Your husband had an insurance policy from his company that would allow you to live your life without having to work. He set it up so that the company would report his death."
"What does that mean?" Mandy queried.
"The insurance policy was for one million dollars, but it had a rider that allowed for double indemnity if he were to be killed in an accident. So in other words, Mrs. Dembowski, I have been authorized to give you a check for two million dollars. One million for the policy, and a second million for the accident clause."
Mandy fainted.
*****
The freedom of not having to work, taking care of her child without hiring a sitter, or placing the child in public school was exhilarating. The money was placed in multiple accounts to ensure the FDIC insured the cash. (FDIC=Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation).
A relieved woman stood before her son and said, "Your life is secure!"
Mandy was a frugal woman, never spending wildly. Her life was richly rewarded by uncompromised sensibilities. However, there was an issue that followed her. She missed her husband, the sex they had, and his cock deeply embedded in her. So, where was her fulfillment going to come from?
One year after her husband's death, Mandy decided to start dating. Her friend, Martha Jo, agreed that it would be great if she began to seek men with an online dating app. Unfortunately, most of the men she found she classified as dweebs. Others interested her but fell short in the sexual department. One even had an orgasm before the couple could focus on the pleasure.
The worst, however, was the man she really thought loved her. When he penetrated her cunt, he pushed into her pussy three times and came. There was no love, no fulfillment, no satisfaction...he just came. When he did, he got off and told her he would return, but he never showed himself again. Life was such in the dating game.
Frustrated with nowhere to go, the young woman ended the facade. There was no longer any reason for dating. A young, wealthy woman with no sexual satisfaction was sad. Of course, she could hire a gigolo to satisfy her itch, but she wanted more.
Fourteen months after her husband's untimely death, Mandy needed to check on the money she had put in several accounts to protect it from fraud. The First National Bank of Omaha saw a side of the woman no one had seen before. Mandy was relentless, asking questions that only she would find fulfilling. After several hours of unrelenting questions, the bank finally convinced her that everything was fine.
As she left the bank, Mandy noticed a young woman sitting under an overpass with a twelve or thirteen-year-old child. Curious, she approached the slightly worn, definitely exhausted figure.
"Hello, I couldn't help notice you sitting here. Are you in need?" Mandy asked the woman.
"Of course I am. I wouldn't be sitting out here with my boy if we had a home to go to," the woman statedly as if she was saying "DUH" to Mandy.
"I am sorry for intruding...I don't really mean to, but is there no shelter you both can go to?" Mandy questioned.
"Shelters aren't safe. I won't go...even for a night's rest. Sam might get kidnapped, or worse."
"Worse?"
"They really don't like children in the shelters. Before you ask, I don't qualify for any of the local halfway houses as I'm not an addict or alcoholic. I don't go to any of the government emergency housing, because I don't believe in owing anyone. The Ronald McDonald houses are for the abused. I am not. There are other programs which might help, but I don't trust them."
