I awoke from a drunken sleep to the slow thrusting of a cock in my pussy. It was a nice size cock. It was thick enough and long enough to fill me completely. Half asleep and still under the influence of alcohol, I pumped my ass back, driving it deeper.
The room was dark. It reeked of stale alcohol, sweat, and sex. The sheets were bunched under me. They were moist with perspiration and other bodily fluids.
I had that clammy feeling I always have after drinking too much. My body was sticky and uncomfortable. I felt nauseous. But the cock felt good.
"Mmm! That's right, Sweetie! Nice and slow! Make it last!"
He mumbled something incoherent. I didn't mind. I wasn't looking for sweet nothings to be whispered in my ear.
Who did it belong to? Who was I fucking this time? I wasn't discriminating when I was drinking. A cock was a cock!
My 'date' groaned. His hand tightened on my tit. He pumped slowly in and out of my hole. He mumbled something again.
My pussy was gooey and a little sore. Whoever my bedmate was for the night, he gave me a good pounding. I love that kind of fucking, a little rough. I don't need foreplay, just stick it in me and pound me until I scream for you to stop!
Where the fuck was I? More importantly, who was I fucking this time?
It didn't matter what he said. His cock in my pussy was all the communication I needed!
I leaned forward to get him deeper. He slid in effortlessly, filling me completely. He moved slowly in and out of my hole. At least he wasn't one of those Energizer Bunnies. They were usually wham, bam, thank you, ma'am! This guy had a big cock and knew how to use it.
"Yes! Yes! Just like that!" He was good! He knew how to mix the tempo from slow and languid to hard thrusts that pushed me across the bed.
Many times, I promised myself to stop getting drunk and picking up strange men. It was dangerous and was ruining what was left of my reputation.
I make that same promise all of the time. Then I get the itch, and it usually ends like this. If I were a man with as many and varied sex partners as I have had, people would call me a stud. But I'm a 40-year-old divorced Black female, and they call me a slut. I resemble that remark.
I've been single since my ex-husband abandoned us 10 years ago. He came out as gay. He said he tried to hide his real nature from me to lead a normal life. Then he met his life partner! It did wonders for my ego to know the man I fucked for ten years was thinking about some guy fucking him the entire time!
A psychiatrist would have a field day with me. I went through the emotional gamut of rage and denial. I even suggested we tried to make a go of it. I would share my husband with his new lover. My ex would have none of it! He and his partner wanted a committed relationship.
That sent my self-esteem right into the toilet. He would rather get fucked than fuck me, his wife!
My 21-year-old son, Caleb, became the anchor in my life. I leaned heavily on him emotionally as I tried to find my footing again. He reassured me that the fault lay with his father, not with me. We never discussed my lifestyle though I'm sure he was aware of my sluttiness.
I sometimes come home after a night out too drunk to undress and get in the bed. My son had to do it. Early on, when I realized Caleb was undressing me and putting me to bed, it was embarrassing. No son should have such intimate knowledge of his mother's body.
By the time he left for college, I had accepted it as our new norm. My ex-husband was gay and being fucked by his male lover. I was a slut, trying to reaffirm my womanhood by fucking all comers, pun intended! And my then 18-year-old son undressed me and when necessary cleaned me up and put me to bed. I was a mess!
I guess I could use the excuse of struggling to raise a son alone and my ex leaving me for man as an excuse for my promiscuity. I won't. I am what I am because of me. No excuses!
My ex left us in reasonable financial shape. Early on, he and I set up a college fund for Caleb. Even after he left, he continued contributing to it. I got the house, a cash settlement, and child support until Caleb either graduated college or turned 21, whichever came first.
It's my loving son, Caleb, who keeps me from falling totally into the pit of alcoholism and sexual degradation. With him in my life, I teeter around the edge, but I haven't fallen in. Yet!
The closest I came was when three guys chatted me up in my favorite watering hole. Like most neighborhood bars, everyone knew everyone else. Not precisely a Cheers but close to it. This night these guys were celebrating one of their birthdays. The booze was flowing. I was sucking up the booze and flirting outrageously.
One of the guys suggested we head out to the motel to continue the party. Another girl, Sue, and I took them up on their offer. She and I spent the night being fucked by the guys. It was a whorish, slutty experience. In addition to both of us being airtight, a cock in our ass, mouth, and pussy, at various times during the night, Sue and I ended the party by eating each other out.
The guys loved it! They stood around the bed, stroking their cocks and whooping and hollering like they were at some kind of sporting event!.
It was my first taste of pussy. Particularly, cum filled pussy. I liked the taste. I also liked the softness of another woman's body. Sue and I left the motel best friends.
She and I still hook up from time to time. Occasionally, when she can get a babysitter for her three kids, she'll spend the night. I guess that makes me bisexual.
But eating pussy will never replace the incredible feeling of a hard cock sliding into my eager pussy. Or the aroma of a man's pheromone loaded sweat. I like eating Sue's pussy. She introduced me to tribbing, which I'm thoroughly hooked on!. But I still love being fucked by a man!
The bozo behind me snoring sounded like a buzz saw at a lumber mill. His semi-hard cock is pressed between the cheeks of my ass. I tried to recall if he fucked my ass and couldn't. It didn't matter. I became a three-hole slut years ago.
I must be at his place. I never take my 'dates' home. Despite my predilection for alcohol and strange cock, I never wanted a series of 'uncles' in Caleb's life. Also, my house is my refuge from what I'm becoming.
I lifted the arm off me. The body at the other end of the arm made snuffling sounds and scooted closer. His cock pressed against my ass. It was semi-hard. It felt good pressing against my hole. But I needed to pee. Maybe afterward, we could fuck again. I slid across the bed and sat up.
A brass band started playing the Anvil Chorus. I hold my head in my hands, waiting for the pounding to stop. My stomach roiled. My bladder demanded attention.
The pitch-dark room spun as I stood. I was like a Wallenda on a tightrope with my arms extended for balance. I took a few tentative steps. My pussy was tender. Whoever this clown was, he really pounded me. My bladder screams. I need to find the bathroom soon
In the dim light, I see the outline of the bedroom door. I carefully place one foot in front of the other as I make for the bedroom door. The Wallendas would have been proud!
The hall is familiar. The bathroom is where it should be if I were home. I moved quickly to the bathroom. Barely in time, I squat on the toilet. A thick stream of urine erupts from my urethra. The relief I feel is almost as good as sex. Almost!
I glance around as I pee. This is my bathroom. I made it home last night. Then who is that in my bedroom? Did I break the eleventh commandment? Thou shalt not bring strange cock home when Caleb is home.
Vignettes like stills from a movie flash in my head. Me sitting at the bar, my legs crossed high, showing off lots of thigh. I'm a Huntress on the hunt. The tools of my trade are my great legs and outsized breasts.
I've never considered myself good looking. I'm a big girl at 5' 9", and somewhere north of 200 pounds. Well, north of 200!
One date told me my breasts were so big, I always looked like I was going to overbalance and fall on my face. 40E will get you comments like that! I remember his cock sliding between them, his cum spurting on my face.
My face is moon-shaped. My eyes are close-set and large. My nose looks like a lump of meat slapped on my face as an afterthought. My lips are big enough to cool soup and suck cock. My hair is incongruously strawberry blonde. It and my mocha skin are genetic hangovers from centuries of miscegenation in the bayous where I was raised.
Was it that guy, the one who fucked my tits and came on my face, who was in my bed? No! That was last week in that motel on the highway. The bastard wouldn't even drive me home! He dropped two twenties on the nightstand for cab fare.
My breasts ache. Somebody bit my nipples. I pat myself dry. I stand and flush the toilet. I grab the aspirin bottle from the medicine cabinet. I pour a handful, toss them in my mouth, and wash them down with hands full of water from the sink's water tap.
The hall is brighter. The sun is coming up. I need to get this bozo out of my bed and my house.
I walk into my bedroom and flip on the light. My bed is empty. It hasn't been slept in. For a moment, I'm confused. I must have slept in Caleb's room. What the fuck?
I stumble down the hall, using the wall for balance. I flip on the light in my son's room.
He's naked. He's on his back with one arm thrown over his face. His body is lightly muscled and hairy. His skin is like a heavily tanned White man. His belly's flat with a hint of a six-pack. His legs are muscular. His soft cock is draped across his thigh. Even soft, it's thick and long. He is my son, Caleb!
I stuff my fist in my mouth to stifle a scream. My stomach roils, and I want to vomit. I couldn't have fucked my son. Had I sunk that low?
Another vignette appears. I'm still in the bar. Caleb is sitting next to me, smiling. We clink glasses in a toast. We've made several toasts.
"You should have gone with your friends for Spring break instead of spending your holiday with your old mom."
"Momma, I graduate this June, I decided to spend time with you before I go off into the cold, cruel world."
I struggled with his pending graduation. Last two summers, he interned with a company in Capital City, some 200 miles from here. He accepted a job with them. For the first time in my life, I was going to be alone.
Being alone terrified me. With Caleb gone, there would be no anchor to keep me from falling deeper into the pit of degradation.
"Don't you worry about me! Your father left me set financially. My part-time work gives me spending money. I'll be fine."
My friends bought us drinks. The people at the bar were friends and family. They knew of and in most cases, were witness to my sluttiness. However, like Apple Annie in the old movie, they treated me like a queen when my son was around.
Caleb and I got stumbling slobbering drunk! In retrospect, I now realize that the drunker we got, the more handsy we got. We couldn't stop touching each other.
"Get your hands off my thigh!" I slapped Caleb's hand away.
"Well, you shouldn't be sitting with your legs crossed so high." He points at my legs crossed at the ankles. My skirt has ridden up. I make a half-hearted attempt to pull it down.
"That doesn't give you an excuse to grab my thigh and try to look up my skirt."
"Momma! Do you know how many times you came home drunk, and I undressed you? I've seen you naked!"
It was apparent Caleb was no neophyte when it came to drinking. He was matching me a shot for shot
