"Better late than never," Edward said as Heather entered the front door. He leaned in for a kiss as he passed. He carried carrying a large yellow drill through the living room.
"Why the drill?" Heather asked.
"I'm going to finally fix that shelf in the basement. Margaret keeps complaining." He winked.
"I have not! I just mentioned it," Margaret called out from the dining room. "I didn't know if you knew or not."
"Pizza's on the table, baby. Pepperoni and mushroom." Edward left, and Heather listened to him descend the stairs to the basement before joining her mom in the dining room.
"Did you have a good day, Heather?" Margaret asked, pulling another slice from the pizza.
"I did. Thanks." Heather joined Margaret, pulling away her own slice of pizza from the pie. "Mostly a standard day, I guess." She suppressed an impulsive grin remembering her day. Hiding things from her mom made her a little uneasy, but Heather knew her mom would be disappointed. Hiding it from Edward would be no less difficult. She hated herself for these lies.
She bemoaned herself, but, at the same time, she couldn't escape joyous visions of giving herself to however he wanted. She stopped wearing panties at Edward's request, but she couldn't blame him for the pasty cum leaking down her thigh as squeezed her thighs together. The squeezing only added pressure to her clit, making it worse. She sighed a little bringing the pizza top her mouth.
Margaret sniffed the air. "What is..?" She looked at Heather with wide eyes. She reached, reflexively, for Heather's skirt, then pulled her hand back. "Where have you been?"
Heather had dreaded this moment. It would be easy to make up something, but she was a horrible liar. She had cheated on her loving husband twice in the past week, but she would never be able to straight up lie about it. She appreciated the irony.
"I drove by the apartments. Lexington Villa." She didn't look at Margaret. She had not lied, technically.
"Why?" Margaret lay her plate on the table and followed Heather around the kitchen as she fixed a drink.
"I was wondering, you know," Heather pulled a glass from the cabinet, "if they had changed anything." She forced a smile to her mom. "They haven't, of course. Those same flowers line the entrance. Oh, Roger and Kurt work there again. I saw Roger while I was there."
"Roger?" Margaret furrowed her brow and shook her head. "Roger?"
"Yeah, Roger." Heather turned quickly to keep her mom behind her. "He parked the cart in the drive. I almost hit it."
"You almost hit it?" Margaret shook her head. "With Roger?"
She thinks I had sex with Roger! Fuck! Heather searched for a reply. If she continued skirting the questions, her mom would think she fucked a balding fat old man. But, if she cleared the air about Roger, her mom would know she fucked a balding fit hot man. "Almost hit it?" She wrinkled her face like she didn't understand. "I almost his his cart, mom, jeez!"
"Did you fuck Roger?" Margaret stamped her foot in the middle of the kitchen.
Direct and to the point. Hether's mom had never beat around any bushes. "What? No, Of course not. What is wrong with you?" Heather knew she protested too much when she forced laughter.
"Who then? You prance in here an hour late smelling like a well-used prom queen." Margaret pointed at Heather's crotch. "Why are you squeezing your legs together so tightly?"
Heather pointed to her mother with the hand holding her fresh glass of water. "You're crazy, Mom." She say at the table, folded a napkin over her lap, and pulled another slice of pizza from the pie. If she just kept a calm face, maybe this interrogation would end.
Margaret sat at the table opposite Heather. "Do you remember Mr. Simpkins?"
"Uncle Gary? Of course." Heather said. Her mom must be dropping her suspicions, good. Gary Simpkins use to come to there house most weekends, like all her parents friends, when she was a child. He was a tall dark-headed man. All Heather's parents' female friends crushed on him. She couldn't remember why she called him Uncle Gary.
"Yeah. Uncle Gary, as you always called him, fucked the holy shit out of me at your fourth birthday." Margaret sipped her soda as Heather choked a bit on her pizza.
"What?" Heather threw both hands, palm-down, on the table.
"That wasn't the first time he fucked me, or the last, or the best." She shrugged. "But for some reason, that time kind of sticks in my memory." She looked up in reverie. "I had just cleaned up a mess one of your friends made on the floor. Your dad had ushered everyone out of the room already." She looked at Heather. "You remember how that house had the large kitchen with that island between the living room and the utility room?"
"Yeah." Heather wanted to know where this story went, but her stomach was knotted. Her mom just admitted an affair with Uncle-Fucking-Gary.
"Well, I was carrying the dirty rags to the washer, and Mr. Simpkins grabbed me in the kitchen." She smiled. "I had not known him very long then, less than a year, and I had been feeling really guilty, so I tried to bat him off, but he was very insistent." She sighed. "He fucked me against that island in the middle of the kitchen. I could hear your father talking to you and your friends in the next room."
"Why are you telling me this?" Heather asked.
"I know you just had sex with someone. I know you expect me to scorn you." Margaret reached across the table and put her hands over Heather's. "I won't. Whatever you are feeling right now, I know I have felt before, too. I hope you'll talk to me if you need advice or just want to vent."
Heather took another bite, and sat at the table with her mother in silence. She could hear the drill and banging coming from the basement. Edward had never been much of a carpenter; fixing the shelf would probably take him the better part of an hour. She loved her husband. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger.
He started this ball rolling when he satisfied his kinks talking dirty with her. That ball accelerate down the hill. She had already fucked another man, just like Edward's dirty fantasies. She could feel Simon's manhood leaking out of her as she sat eating pizza with her mom. She should feel remorse or at least some level of guilt- the man she loved with all her heart was downstairs fumbling with a broken shelf, while she sat here turned on with another man's semen leaking from her.
"I can still smell you." Her mom looked out the dining room window as she spoke. "Your musk is heavy, Heather." She spun her head and looked Heather in the eyes. "You have to tell him."
"Who? Edward?" She lay her pizza on her plate. "No way. He'd leave." The thought of life without Edward destroyed her. "I can't live without him, Mom."
"Your dad and I had only been married two years, when it happened to me. I was a little younger than you are, now, and I was hoping the legacy skipped you." Margaret reached across the table and took Heather's hands in her own. "I had enjoyed sex with Rick, and I loved him. I had never even looked at another man."
"You don't have to tell me this, Mom," Heather said. She did not like thinking of her mom as anything but a loving wife to her deceased father.
"Yes, I do. Heather. You need to know." Margaret petted Heather's hand a moment before continuing. "The first time was with Frank Greggors."
"Our neighbor? God, Mom." Heather remembered Frank. He was a widower who lived next door to them when she was small.
"My car had a flat one morning. Your father had already left. You were eighteen months, then, and you were not having a good morning. Frank saw the trouble I was having and helped. I held you and grew increasingly horny as I watched him fix my flat. When he finished, I asked him to wait a moment while I put you in your seat.
"After you were buckled, I turned around, and, standing in front of him, I dropped to my knees and pulled down his zipper. He feigned a little resistance at first, but, once his dick was in my mouth, it was all over. It was only the second dick I had ever even seen, and it was already in my mouth. It tasted so good. So beautiful." She looked distant, in reverie.
She shook her head and continued her story. "I had only blown your daddy twice after he begged, and never let him cum in my mouth. But I blew Frank Greggors in search of his reward. I wanted this man to fill my mouth with his cum, and he did. I will never forget. You were screaming in the car, and he tensed. The cum erupted from his tangy velvet helm, and it felt so right, like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Blowing Frank became a pretty regular thing."
"Was I in the car screaming every time?" Heather asked snarkily.
"No, not every time," Margaret answered, "Sometimes I held you, or Frank held you, or you just weren't there." She patted Heather's hands. "That doesn't matter, though; I am getting to the important part. So it was only blow jobs for several months. Frank had never even seen me topless. Then Rick had to go to Toledo for a week." Margaret bit her lip. "Frank stayed with you and me while your daddy was away. Frank slept in my marital bed and fucked me so hard every night. I did not love Frank, but I enjoyed giving him whatever he wanted."
"Did dad ever find out?" Heather asked. More drilling could be heard from down stairs. She imagined her loving husband in the basement using all his efforts to fix something for her and her mom while her mom confessed a slutty past, and Heather had another man's cum inside her.
