The bell chimes behind me, indicating a customer has come through the door. It's late afternoon and the ice cream shop hasn't been particularly busy in the last few hours. I stare absentmindedly at the table I'm wiping down, unaware that I've been cleaning the same spot for the last few minutes.
Since Stanley's party over a week ago, it's as if a fog has settled over my brain. I can't stop thinking about what I saw that night, or my reaction to it. It was what I was thinking about when I fell asleep afterward and what I thought about when I woke up the next morning. To my chagrin, it was also what I thought about when I jerked off a few minutes later, and what I thought about every time I've jerked off since.
It's been impossible to reconcile the shame and humiliation I feel with my arousal regarding mom and Stanley's oral encounter, or even understand why it arouses me at all. All I know is that it turns me on immensely and that I hate myself for jerking off while thinking about it, which is what's led to my current existential crisis.
Unable to focus on anything else, I constantly stew in a mixture of shame and self-loathing over my newly discovered kink. It's starting to affect my job. Mr. Gottlieb has been quite angry with me, shouting whenever I drop a scoop of ice cream or ring up an order incorrectly. I know I have to get my shit together, especially since I haven't been working here very long, but I just can't seem to snap out of it.
I think part of what's made it so awful is mom's behavior since it happened. She hasn't been acting any different at all, even when we went to pick up Tim at the airport the day after the party. She had greeted him like always, as if nothing was any different, as if she hadn't been blowing the twenty year old neighbor behind his garage the night before. Honestly, that's what's baffled me the most, and also contributed to how awful I felt, the fact that she didn't appear to feel any guilt about what happened.
Part of me hoped that it was because it was just a one time thing. That she drank too much, had a brief slip, and now that she's gotten it out of her system, she's back to her usual self. I haven't noticed her snapping Stanley, or seen them talking across the fence, which is a good sign. But that could simply be because Tim's been back home for all I knew. My head hurt turning all this over again and again. Another reason why I've been so distracted lately; trying to gauge where mom stands with Stanley.
Speaking of Stanley, he was just as insufferable as ever. I passed him and his friends the other day as I was getting home from work. They were drinking beer and laughing on his back porch when I walked up my empty driveway, mom and Tim having finally gone to meet with a wedding planner.
"Hey, there he is," one of them whispered, and they all snickered.
"Yo, Kyle," Brock called out to me. I stopped on the back steps and turned my head toward them.
"How'd your mom like Pachis' party last weekend?"
They all laughed as I stood there, anger and humiliation reddening my cheeks.
"I heard she had a great time," Hudson sniggered.
I began to fish through my pockets to look for my keys and tried to ignore my cock, which was beginning to stiffen at their insinuations of what happened at the party.
"Real wild one, your mom."
"Very neighborly though."
They continued to laugh and make jokes at me as I finally pulled my key out and unlocked the door.
"Heard she gave Pachis a belated welcome to the neighborhood present."
They all roared with laughter.
I whipped my head around to tell them to fuck off but stopped when I made eye contact with Stanley, who grinned wickedly.
"Yeah, she finally got to learn the origin of my last name," he said and grabbed his crotch suggestively through his mesh shorts.
Tears welled up in my eyes as his friends all laughed and made "ohhhhh" noises.
"Look, the little bitch is crying," one of them said, and I pushed through the door into the kitchen before slamming it shut behind me. Leaning back, tears started to run down my cheeks.
Stanley and his friends continued laughing loudly outside, no doubt at my expense. My cheeks burned in rage and humiliation, but my cock also throbbed underneath my clothes.
I quickly unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, pulling them roughly down to my thighs along with my underwear. My erection sprang out and I gripped it tightly. Furiously, I began to stroke my cock, closing my eyes and conjuring up the images of my mom blowing Stanley in the dim light behind his garage.
Flashes of that night came quickly as I jerked myself faster and faster: finding mom on her knees in front of Stanley, the slurping sounds she made as she sucked him vigorously, his fist gripping her blonde ponytail tightly as he moved her mouth up and down his big cock, and finally, his grunts of pleasure when he unloaded in her mouth.
These memories played over and over in my mind as I brought myself closer and closer to cumming, just as they had every time I jerked off since making them.
With a gasp, I shot blast after blast of cum all over the floor. My powerful orgasm had come to an end, just as all the others had, with shame and the prickling of tears.
Remembering this encounter inadvertently causes my cock to harden, snapping me out of my reverie. My eyes grow wide as my erection pushes outward from inside my pants. I hunch over the table a bit more, glad the shop isn't crammed full of people, one of whom might notice. I abruptly turn, intent on hurrying into the bathroom, and slam into the back of the woman who had just come in. I take a step back, alarmed. My bulge had accidentally pressed into her lower back when I ran into her, causing the older, heavy set woman to jump.
She turns around and glances down at the erection jutting out the front of my pants, a horrified look on her. I start frantically trying to apologize but she cuts me off.
"Oh my god," she exclaims loudly. "You just sexually assaulted me!"
"No, no," I respond, holding my hands up to proclaim my innocence. "I just -"
"You just rubbed your genitalia up against me is what you did!"
The little girl that's with her points up at my crotch. "Grandma, why are his pants like that?"
"Because he's a deviant, that's why," the woman angrily tells her granddaughter.
Mr. Gottlieb comes pushing through the door from the back room, a deep scowl on his face, his voice booming when he speaks. "What's going on out here?"
"You're little perverted employee just humped my backside with his erection," she tells him.
His eyes practically bulge out of his head and he turns to me. "Kyle, what's the meaning of this?"
"I - It was an accident - I didn't mean -"
"Uh-uh, I felt him brush it up against me," the woman interrupts me. "I should call the police is what I should do!"
"That won't be necessary ma'am, I'll take care of this immediately. Kyle, get the hell out of here."
"But, I still have two hours left on my shift," I explain, exasperated.
"Not anymore," Mr. Gottlieb says firmly, crossing his arms. "You're fired!"
"Fired?" I murmur. "No, please, Mr. Gottlieb, let me explain!"
He marches over to me and grips my wrist hard. "I'm not interested in your 'explanations' you sniveling creep!" There's venom in his voice, and he drags me to the front of the shop.
