Vodka Cinnamon

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

This is just a quick little story; not meant to be taken too seriously.

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Daisy Upchurch sat on the wooden steps in front of her trailer and sipped her drink. It was another blistering hot day in DeGarde, Louisiana, but Daisy had tired of sitting in her double wide trailer, watching mindless hours of television. Instead, she sat on the steps and watched the occasional car travel east or west on Highway 52.

Daisy hated when it was Tom's weekend with their daughter, Mindy. The thirteen year old girl's constant whining and complaining, she was bored, there was nothing to do, was there anything to eat, there's nothing on TV did grate on Daisy's nerves, but at least there was noise and chatter. And, despite Mindy's whining and complaining, Daisy doted on her child.

Daisy laughed, thinking of Tom's sneer when he pulled up to the trailer to pick up their daughter. He looked down his nose at Daisy for living in a trailer.

"Hey, buddy-boy, it's paid for," Daisy smirked, taking another sip of her drink. "But, oh, that apartment of yours is real nice, I'm sure."

Daisy had found the sixteen ounce thermal glass and snug lid with built in straw at a garage sale. There had been three of the glasses; the seller had admitted it had been a four-piece set, but her daughter had put one of the glasses on the bottom rack of the dishwasher and the heat had melted the glass.

Daisy loved garage sales and estate sales. She sold most of what she scooped up on EBay and made a very pretty penny. Tom had the nerve to call it 'dumpster-diving' but Daisy had made seventy thousand dollars in 2019. In 2020, COVID shut down many garage sales. But in 2021, Daisy managed to rake in forty two thousand, and so far, 2022 looked to be on track to be another bountiful year.

The sun hung low on the horizon as Daisy swirled the vodka and ice cream drink in her lidded cup. She was pleasantly buzzed, well over the limit to safely drive, but Daisy had nowhere to drive to; she'd already raided that weekend's garage sales.

That chef guy, Milt Duhon had shown how to do a fried ice cream on Friday's show; he had called the episode 'Fry Everything Friday.' Daisy had not been impressed with frying ice cream, but had been impressed with the cinnamon ice cream he'd created. Daisy loved cinnamon; cinnamon rum, cinnamon vodka, cinnamon cookies. She would even eat cinnamon oatmeal and she hated oatmeal. So, she pulled out the ice cream maker she'd bought at a garage sale, whipped together the heavy cream, whole milk, egg yolk and granulated sugar. While the mixture warmed in a double boiler, Daisy had stirred in the ground cinnamon and vanilla extract.

When the mixture had thickened, Daisy poured it all into the ice cream maker and let the appliance do its work. Afterward, she filled a deep graham cracker crust with the chilled ice cream. Then she spooned whipped cream on top and set the pie into the freezer. She and Mindy would have that for dessert when Tom brought Mindy home on Sunday night.

There had been two pints of the ice cream left over when Daisy had filled the pie crust. Daisy shrugged her shoulders and poured some Nulough's Cinnamon vodka over two scoops of the cinnamon ice cream into her plastic glass.

"Hi, Ms. Upchurch," Bobby Boudreaux said, slightly startling Daisy.

"Hi Bobby," Daisy smiled as the scrawny boy made his way toward the mailbox kiosk at the end of the clamshell drive.

"Man, it's hot, huh?" Bobby said, not breaking his shuffling gait.

"Mm hmm," Daisy agreed, looking at Bobby's cute buttocks.

Daisy knew her daughter had a bit of a crush on the scrawny eighteen year old boy. To a degree, so did Daisy; the boy was cute, with curly brown hair, green eyes, and dimpled smile.

Looking away from Bobby's cute ass, Daisy saw that Mrs. Boudreaux's car wasn't in front of their trailer. Daisy wondered if Paula Boudreaux was at work, or possibly out on one of her many dates.

"Got nothing," Bobby divulged as he shuffled up the clamshell drive again.

"Where's your momma?" Daisy casually asked.

"Hmm? Oh, she, she's out with Mr. Percy I think," Bobby said. "Yeah, Mr. Percy. Because of his Macular Degeneration, he don't drive."

Maybe it was because she was drunk, or maybe she'd been out in the sun too long, or possibly because the warm wooden step she was sitting on had been pressed up against her crotch, Daisy was horny. She had a glass vibrator with fresh Double AA batteries in it and a fat double headed dong that filled her up deliciously, but Daisy wanted the real thing and alcohol certainly fueled her assertiveness.

"You look thirsty; want a drink?" Daisy invited, holding up her glass.

"I, uh, what you having?" Bobby asked, eyeing Daisy's glass.

"Hmm? I call it a cinnamon chill," Daisy smiled, standing up. "Come on in."

Daisy smiled; Bobby's eyes had gone from her glass to her braless breasts. Daisy knew her nipples were plainly visible through the sweat soaked tee shirt. She knew her long, tanned legs looked good in her nylon running shorts. She knew her flat, toned belly looked good, peeking out from between hem of tee shirt and waistband of skimpy shorts.

Turning, Daisy knew her ass was perfect, two nicely tanned hillocks of flesh peeking out the bottom of the pink shorts. She led the young man into the cool dark interior of her trailer.

Daisy refreshed her drink and made Bobby a drink, becoming a little heavy handed with the vodka. Then she urged him to the couch.

They talked, mainly inane chatter. Bobby was out of school; it was summer. Because he had goofed off, hadn't taken homework or studying seriously, he was going into his senior year in high school instead of going to college like most of his peers his age.

"Let's see, hmm, school was thirty years ago for me; they still make y'all use stone tablets?" Daisy joked.

"No ma'am," Bobby giggled, taking another deep suck on his straw. "We use computers now."

Then Bobby's green eyes squinted as he did the math in his head. His mouth popped open as he looked at Daisy.

"Ms. Upchurch, you how old?" Bobby asked, incredulous.

"Now, Bobby, you know you not supposed ask a woman her age," Daisy teased. "But I'm forty seven next week."

"You, there's no way," Bobby denied.

"Oh yeah, I'm every bit of forty seven," Daisy said, putting her hand on Bobby's bare thigh. "Thanks to my hair dye, there's no gray showing, but I'm an old broad."

"I, I don't believe, for real?" Bobby said.

"Mm hmm," Daisy said, lightly rubbing Bobby's leg. "But let me tell you, Sugar. This old dog? She's still got plenty of tricks, you hear?"

Leaning over, Daisy gave Bobby a kiss on his pouting lips. She wormed her tongue into his mouth and they kissed for several minutes. Daisy took Bobby's frozen left arm and put it around her shoulders. She took his frozen right arm and, and after putting his drink on the coffee table, put his hand on her soft, squishy breast.

"I want to fuck you," Daisy husked, breaking their kiss. "You want to fuck? Huh Bobby? You want to fuck?"

"Yeah," Bobby gave a shuddering moan.

Bobby's cock was like the rest of him, somewhat short and scrawny. Daisy swallowed him down to the root and with a strangled scream, Bobby pumped a torrent of sperm into Daisy's mouth.

"This your first time, Bobby?" Daisy asked as she slid her shorts down and off, baring her bald beaver to his eyes.

"I, you kidding? Naw," Bobby lied.

"Oh, okay then," Daisy smiled, not bothering to challenge his claim. "Well, then, you know that every woman's different, right?"

"Yes ma'am," Bobby said, gawking at the very first pussy he'd ever seen.

"So, I'm going tell you how I like to be eaten, okay?" Daisy said, flopping onto her back on her queen sized bed and spreading her legs wide.

With her instructions, Bobby learned how to lick and finger and suck Daisy to a good orgasm. When Daisy motioned him forward, Bobby slid his throbbing erection into Daisy's lubricated pussy. Tree short strokes later, Bobby pumped a hot load into Daisy's pussy.

Daisy had Bobby lay on his back and they performed sixty nine. Daisy giggled inwardly; Bobby didn't seem to realize that he was eating his own spunk from her pussy. Again, Daisy swallowed Bobby's load, then stiffened in orgasm. She ground her hairless slit against Bobby's cute face.

Again, Bobby crawled between Daisy's spread legs and fucked her almost frantically. Because he'd already ejaculated three large loads of semen, Bobby was able to fuck Daisy to a good orgasm before pumping another load into her.

Daisy refreshed their drinks and they lay in her bed, kissing and fondling one another.

"This next thing is kind of weird," Daisy cautioned as she put her empty drink glass onto a coaster.

Bobby did gurgle and grunt while Daisy tongued his tight anus. He gasped and gurgled and grunted as Daisy fingered his anus with one, then two and finally three fingers.

"Think you can do that?" Daisy asked hopefully, getting on hands and knees.

Bobby tongued and fingered Daisy's rectum for a few minutes. When She was panting, Daisy handed Bobby a tube of lubricant and told him to grease his dick; she needed him to fuck her ass.

Bobby blew his load onto Daisy's thigh and bald mound. But he did not lose his erection.

"About the only thing you were good for," Daisy thought to herself, thinking of her thirty four year old ex-husband's seven inches of very thick cock.

After a third drink, Daisy made Bobby giggle and gasp as she worked a thick double headed dildo into her sloppy pussy. He did look at her oddly when she had him get on his shoulders and knees.

"Aw, hey, nuh uh!" Bobby protested as Daisy pressed the greasy head of her dildo to his tightly clenched anus.

His struggles drove more of the thick dong into Daisy's pussy. She shuddered in pleasure as she firmly gripped the dong in one hand while pressing the dong against Bobby's greasy anus. Bobby was drunk and Daisy was stronger. Within moments of getting on his shoulders and knees, Bobby lay gasping and grunting while Daisy plowed his ass with her dong.

"Aw God, fuck yeah," Daisy cried out in orgasm, then collapsed onto Bobby's back.

Bobby sobbed in shame as he blasted a load of his semen onto Daisy's bedspread. He whimpered and shuddered as Daisy slowly pulled her 'cock' from his clutching bowels.

The next afternoon, just idling the minutes away until Tom brought their daughter home, Daisy sat on the steps. She waved in greeting as Bobby stepped out of his mother's trailer.

"Hi Ms. Daisy," Bobby mumbled, slowly approaching where she sat.

"Hey Bobby," Daisy smiled and patted the very warm seat next to her.

"I uh, so, how's it going?" Bobby asked, unable to meet her eyes.

"Got a little bit of vodka left; want a drink?" Daisy offered.

"I uh, yeah, sure," Bobby agreed and stood up.

Daisy poured the last of the Nulough's Cinnamon vodka into a glass and dropped a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream into the glass. She had finished the last of the cinnamon ice cream that morning, which was why there was only a little of the vodka left.

Again, Bobby lasted three strokes before blasting his load into Daisy's wet pussy. Daisy eased him onto his back as they assumed the position for sixty nine. The knowledge that she was feeding him a mouthful of his own spunk made Daisy giggle inward as the young man tongued and fingered her to orgasm.

After the third time Bobby filled her pussy with a load of semen, Daisy kicked Bobby out. Tom was notorious for bringing Mindy home two or three hours early, especially if there was a NASCAR race or a baseball or football game on television. Daisy knew her daughter had a little crush on the cute boy and did not want to upset Mindy by having Mindy see Bobby leaving their trailer.

Just as she had known he would, Tom dropped Mindy off two hours early. That was fine by Mindy; the thirteen year old girl did not care one bit for sports, did not care for having to sit quietly while her father watched whatever sport was playing.

After a chicken and rice dinner, Mindy was delighted with the cinnamon ice cream pie. Daisy promised they'd make a gallon of the ice cream for next weekend.

Two Saturdays later, Daisy looked up from her latest haul from the local garage sales as someone knocked on her door. She walked to the door and peeked out.

"Hey Bobby, what's up?" Daisy asked, opening the door.

"I uh, hey, I you know, I mean, Mindy ain't here and uh..." Bobby stammered.

"Want a drink?" Daisy asked, taking pity on the young man.

Daisy wasted little time with foreplay, greasing Bobby's struggling rectum after having Bobby eat her to two orgasms. Bobby had protested and whined and grunted the first time Daisy had fucked him. He was still protesting, but his slender cock was throbbing in anticipation as Daisy pressed the greased head of her dong to his anus.

"Shit; little fucker didn't even drink his drink," Daisy giggled after a thoroughly fucked Bobby wobbled from her trailer.

Daisy sucked the cold beverage through the stiff straw, then resumed looking over her cache. She priced some items and filled out the EBay listings. She grabbed her phone when Tom's ringtone chimed.

"Hey, listen, Colt? He got some tickets to the Storm Cheerleader try-outs?" Tom said when Daisy answered her cell.

"Oh, okay, so what time you bringing Mindy home?" Daisy asked, looking at the counter to judge if the chicken had defrosted yet.

"I, uh, I'm on the way right now," Tom admitted.

"Tom, really?" Daisy thought as Tom pulled to a stop in front of the trailer. "One day, you going look back and see you threw away being with your daughter for a bunch of stilly stuff. But then it's going be too late."

School was starting in a few days and Mindy needed new uniforms. She also needed some feminine hygiene products; Tom had nearly fainted when his daughter, his little girl began transformation from little girl to woman on his weekend. Daisy drove over to the cramped apartment and she and Tom did co-parent the frightened and confused girl through the crisis. Daisy had, of course, had this talk with her daughter, but there is a difference between talking and suddenly experiencing the real thing.

"Well, thank God I'm just about done with all that," Daisy thought as she grabbed a box of panty liners.

"Mom," Mindy said, holding up a black lace bra.

"Sweetheart, read the list; you know you can't wear that at Cabrini," Daisy said.

"I know, but maybe on a date?" Mindy suggested hopefully.

Daisy looked at her chubby little girl. In her eyes, her daughter was a gorgeous young lady. But she knew, since Mindy was fifteen to twenty pounds overweight, none of the boys at Cabrini High School would ever look at her twice.

"Okay, for dates," Daisy relented, knowing there would never be any dates, not until those pounds shifted.

Daisy had suffered the same affliction, until she hit nineteen. Then, suddenly, those extra pounds when to her chest and her hips and her ass. Daisy worked hard to keep those few extra pounds from revisiting her belly. That was how she'd managed, at thirty four years of age, to catch the eye of a twenty one year old boy out celebrating turning twenty one.

Truthfully, had she not been drunk, Daisy probably would have politely danced a few times with the boy, then sent him on home to his mommy. But Daisy had been rip-roaring drunk, and so had Tom. She'd woken up the next morning with the mother of all hangovers and a sore pussy and ass and Tom had woken up with a horrible hangover and a satisfied little Mr. Happy Dick.

Just as she knew he would, Tom complained about every single charge on the shopping list. Daisy held her tongue; he could complain until his tongue fell out of his head. Whether he saw the charges as reasonable or not, the paperwork from their divorce and custody was very clear; Thomas Upchurch was responsible for half of Mindy's educational expenses.

"Back pack; what, what was wrong with the one she had last year?" Tom demanded.

"The one with holes in the bottom of it? Tom, that's how her cell phone got broken," Daisy reminded him. "Listen, Daddy, next time? You take her shopping, okay?"

"I should," Tom huffed. "Bet it wouldn't cost half this much."

"Mm hmm," Daisy agreed. "And remember, she's taking band this year. She's wanting to play trumpet."

"Aw Jesus fucking Christ; just how much is this little bitch going cost me?" Tom spat bitterly.

"Thomas Daniel Upchurch!" Daisy gasped. "That, that is your daughter."

"God damn, pick up some fucking drunk cunt at a bar, next God damned thing I know, I'm going be paying for shit for the rest of my fucking life," Tom continued to rant.

Daisy cut off the call, grateful that Mindy was in her room, playing on the video console Daisy had picked up at an estate sale. Mindy did not need to hear her father saying such hateful, hurtful things about her.

Daisy was sure Tom was smoking weed again; he swore he had quit after being arrested last year for buying a bag from an undercover cop. That rant had not sounded like the ranting of a sober man though.

Daisy brought her straw to her lips, then put the glass down. She looked at the half-gallon bottle of cinnamon vodka on the counter. Daisy then looked at her daughter's closed bedroom door. Her daughter seemed to spend a lot of time in her room, isolating. Was it, could it possibly be because her daughter didn't want to be around her? Was the constant drinking creating a rift between mother and daughter?

With a sigh, Daisy got to her feet and poured her drink out into the sink. Then with determination, Daisy poured the remainder of her bottle of Nulough's Cinnamon vodka down the drain. Daisy found the bottle of Vanilla rum and watched the liquid gurgle and glug out of the full bottle into the sink. She ran some water down the drain, then dropped the empty bottles into her trash can.

"Hey kiddo; feel like a Brick's Pizza?" Daisy asked when Mindy tottered into the kitchen to see what was for dinner.

"No. I feel like a human being," Mindy retorted and laughed when Daisy slapped her on her butt for being a smart mouth.

A week later, watching as Mindy boarded Bus 115 for her first day of the ninth grade, Daisy suddenly felt violently ill. She managed, barely, to reach the kitchen sink in time. After a few minutes, Daisy weakly rinsed her mouth out with tap water, then checked her vitals. Although she felt a little warm, a little clammy, she did not have fever. By lunch time, she felt fine and ate a sensible lunch.

The next morning, Daisy again threw up her breakfast. She had a sinking feeling in her stomach that had nothing to do with her nausea.

Seeing Bobby walking to the end of the clamshell drive to catch the bus for Northside High School, that sinking feeling in Daisy's stomach tightened. Daisy nodded as she drove past the young man.

"Jesus, just how drunk was I?" Daisy asked herself as she drove away. "Just how drunk was I to fuck an eighteen year old kid?"

At the Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store, Daisy picked up a home pregnancy test. On instinct, Daisy swerved her grocery cart toward the Beer & Spirits aisle, then swerved away. Right now, she seriously wanted a couple of Nulough's Cinnamon vodka over ice, anything to wash away this feeling of dread.

"That is not the solution," Daisy firmly told herself as she stood in line, waiting for the next available self-check register.

"That is not the solution," Daisy told herself as she stared at the '+' sign the next morning. "But, solution or not, God damn it, I want a drink."