Coven of Angels

"Mom, what the fuck!" is what I said to Summer Hernanda, as she stood on the doorstep with her luggage in tow. Wearing my work clothes, I had planned on making breakfast before heading off to the clinic, but that idea was on the backburner as I blocked the doorway with my body.

"That is no way to speak to your mother!" she exclaimed. Her thick accent making her sound tougher than she really was.

"Well, I'm not a scared little kid! I should call the fucking police on your stalker ass!" I knew my mother ran her own design firm and as such she had time to fly out at a moment's notice. Still, I had no idea she would be as petty as she was. It had been only three days since we'd last spoken. Apparently, in that time, she had hopped a plane to Sioux Falls. From there she accessed my bank account, learning about my Airbnb reservation. And now she planned on dragging me back to Nevada (I assumed.)

My mother pursed her lips, forcing a smile, like that of an enraged high school principal. "I just want to see him."

"You want to see Dad?"

"Si," she paused, catching herself before continuing. "I've come all this way. Please, Jeffery, let me see your father."

At that moment I started to do the math in my head; how much did she know? Clearly my mother had been in contact with Richard Blake long enough to go through with a divorce, custody and various spousal support hearings. (I knew for a fact she had been bleeding him dry well into my teenage years.) "He's very sick."

"Is he in pain?" she asked with a neutral face. "If so, I would like to see."

I didn't know what to make of her statement. (Was she really that cruel?) Richard Blake had been doing significantly better. He was walking around on his own; regaining strength, he even started to develop an appetite. However, he was still struggling with mental and physical pain. My father deserved the right to enjoy his final days with dignity.

Thankfully, Leo, who had been standing behind me finally stepped forward. "Hi, I'm Leo Riveria, this is actually my house." With his usual charm and poise, he held out his hand for a handshake. "You must be Jeff's mother, Summer. I've heard so much about you." Leo flashed his sweet professional smile. "Please come in. We have some lovely wine, soda, perhaps sparkling water?" he already started to bring in her three suitcases. "Even if you're not thirsty, please enjoy the air conditioning."

I waited for her to pass by, taking a seat in the comfortable coldness of the living room, before confronting Leo in the kitchen. "Dude, you can't be serious."

"Your mother came all this way. We might as well give her a show."

"A show?" From what I could see through the large sliding glass door, my father was sitting in the garden, resting comfortably on a lawn chair.

He had a cup of tea in one hand and a cannabis cigarette in the other. As usual, he was naked, taking in the warmth of the afternoon sun. His eyes blinked betraying their milky hue.

My mother, who was already standing by the backyard entrance, took notice. "Is he blind?" she asked with a sick sense of glee. "That is just too perfect."

I turned to her thankful that we were behind a locked glass door (although there was still a possibility, he heard her.) "What is wrong with you?"

She muttered something in Spanish, "Su ojo errante lo guiará a la tumba."

Leo handed my mother a glass of white wine before turning to me. With a heavy sigh, he whispered the translation in my ear. "She said his wandering eye will guide him to his grave."

My mother reached for the door, but Leo stopped her.

He gripped her hand in a way that was both classy and forceful. "You best wait here." Leo then turned to me. "Jeff, please go check on your father, see if he needs anything; water, sunblock, anything of the sort."

"Sure." I went outside, making sure to close the door behind me. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey." Richard turned to me; eyes closed, and spoke in a voice that seemed tired, yet dreamy and hopeful. "Beautiful day, right?"

"Yeah," I said, taking a seat by his side. "Just like Vegas." My first instinct was to give my best impression of a Mexican accent, hopeful that my mother would be watching as Richard called me by his deceased lover's name. But that seemed a tad bit disrespectful (to Carlos.) Instead, I spoke in my normal voice. "Do you remember when we first fell in love?"

My father blinked his eyes, as his mind was transported to a different place. "After a ten-hour shift, we drove out into the desert, with a bottle of vodka and a bag of pills." He smiled, letting the teacup fall from his hand. "Oh, to be young, wild and free." The mug hit the ground and rolled under the chair. My father looked up at the sky, smiling at something unseen. He was back in the mind of a young chef, flirting with a sexy immigrant busboy. "I asked if you were straight, if you had a woman waiting for you back in your home country."

"No, I think you asked if I was a virgin." I was joking but my father nodded in agreement.

"You told me you had a secret. Your mother was a prostitute who turned you out in exchange for drugs," my father chuckled as he took a long drag off the cigarette. "You told me that was how you discovered your passion for sucking cock." My father stretched his back, drawing attention to his uncovered member which now stood at a hefty, strong ninety-degree angle.

I resisted the urge to look towards the glass door, assuming that Leo would keep my mother restrained as necessary. "And then what happened? Did I volunteer to give you a test drive?"

"Yeah, Carlos," my father said with a seductive smirk. "You knew I was straight, but you were persistent."

"I bet I said something like, 'How do you know if you never tried?' Right?" I looked up to see my mother was watching, glaring with a visible sense of rage. If this was a cartoon, steam would've been shooting out of her ears. Part of me felt guilty for causing her such pain. Perhaps it was even a little rude of me to act out in such a manner. Then I looked at my father's body; his skin was a roadmap of self-harm scars, starting with the obliterated Vegas tattoo.

"Talk to me about your wife," I said, right before taking my father's cock in my mouth.

Richard moaned softly, stroking his fingers through my hair. "Summer was my best friend, my..." His stomach tightened as I leaned in closer.

I briefly came up for air. "Your high school sweetheart?" I asked, as I sucked my fingers, lubing them up for what was to come.

"More like my partner in crime."

I forcibly gripped my daddy's thighs, spreading his legs. "Did you let her finger-fuck your ass?"

"Nah," Richard said, as he put his hands comfortably behind his head. "Wasn't my style back then." He chuckled to himself, leaning back with the cigarette held in his teeth. "Although there was that one time, I had her suck my cock behind the wheel of her daddy's truck. The same one we stole the night after prom."

"You went to prom?" I asked. I gripped his shaft rubbing my palm from his balls to his moist tip, making sure to lick the pre-cum.

"Me and your mama had some wild times."

Apparently, his mind was back to the present. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. I wanted to be Carlos; the beautiful person who allowed my father to find his true self. I had one last question before I began the process of deep throating my father's stunning erection. "Did you love her?"

Richard sighed, closing his eyes with a sense of nostalgia. "Once upon a time, in another life." He placed his hand to my head, massaging my scalp. He was guiding my mouth to his throbbing tip. "I was a top, a dom, whatever you want to call it. Your mother liked it rough. She called me names; told me I was a weak, pathetic excuse of a man. She only ever wanted it her way."

I took the hint. My mother was probably the type of person who only focused on herself. I moved my lips up and down his shaft, taking a moment to glide his tip along my mouth.

He repositioned his leg, allowing me to slip three fingers inside him. "Now I'm a Tupperware; every top is a bottom, and every bottom is a top."

"Sure you are." I knew that was the cannabis talking. My daddy was a vessel of love, a fuckboy cum slut. I gripped his balls with my free hand, giving them a tender squeeze. This caused him to spread his ass even more. He wanted me inside him.

My father removed his hand from my head, to massage his own testicles. He gasped and moaned, arching his back. "Oh, fuck, yeah. You're so good to me."

My eyes glanced towards the glass door. My mother was staring daggers into my soul. After a few seconds she turned and stomped off in the opposite direction. 'Don't let the door hit you on the way out, Bitch.'

Inspired, I forced my father's cock down my throat, burying my nose in his sweaty blond pubic hair. His abs tightened, hips thrusting, as I milked his prostate. I gripped his thigh, holding on with all my strength, until he finished in my mouth. I could feel him all the way down my throat, into my stomach. He was climaxing over and over. Thankfully I had no gag reflex.

When my daddy was done using me as a cum dumpster, I wiped my face with my sleeve. That was when I realized it was nearly noon. "Shit, I got to go to work."

"You have to go?" Richard removed the cigarette from his mouth, putting it out on the side of the lawn chair. "Can I at least get a kiss?"

My father pulled me on to his lap. I could feel his flaccid cock against my clothed thigh. The sensation sent shivers down my spine. I knew I was hard. I had no idea how I was going to comfortably ride my bike all the way to the clinic. Looking at my father's peaceful, smiling face; I was so tempted to stay, just to bathe in his afterglow.

'No, I needed to get to the clinic.' I'd barely logged any hours and the admin had been more than fair. I had to put in at least twenty hours if I wanted to get credit towards my general residency requirements, otherwise this was all a glorified vacation.

"When I first got sick, I called her," my father muttered looking up at the sky. He crossed his arms over his stomach as if in physical pain.

"Mom knew you were sick?" That was what I had assumed, but hearing it out loud, made me want to punch a hole in the wall.

Richard nodded, blinking tears from his eyes. "I'd been hospitalized for seizures. I told her I was scared. She told me to call back when I was dead."

"Because when you died, she could cash in on your military life insurance policy," I replied with a sigh. That sounded like my mother. "Why did you even contact her at all?"

"I had no one else; my old man passed away when I was a kid and my mom was remarried, living in God knows where. And maybe there was a part of me that hoped she'd let you know when I passed."

His words broke my heart. In the distance I could hear inaudible yelling. Was Tomas fighting with my mother? "I think I need to go look for Tomas."

My father nodded. "In the living room, about to stop your mother from throwing a glass at the wall. You better show yourself before she does something stupid."

"Wait, you knew she's here?"

"Even before I was blind, I had superhuman hearing," Richard said. He reclined back on the chair, closing his eyes as if going back to sleep. "That, and the walls are paper thin."

Sure enough, as soon as I approached the glass of the patio gate, I narrowly avoided a wine bottle to the head. I ducked, as the bottle bounced off the transparent door (thankfully it was made of something other than normal glass or else Richard wouldn't have been the only one blinded.) I opened the door, to the sight of my mother shouting profanity in a combination of English and Spanish.

I shook my head, looking at her with a sense of pity. "I have to get to work now, Mom."

"No! You're coming home with me! You want to be a doctor, be a doctor in Nevada!

I pushed past her, despite being covered in sweat and cum (I could always put on a fresh pair of hospital issue scrubs when I arrived.) "I have to go, Mom. I'm already running late."

"If you leave right now, you are no longer my son!"

"that is not a title I want or even need." I grabbed my work bag and headed out the door, to where my e-bike was (thankfully) hidden from view. Hopefully I would be able to survive my commute despite the tears in my eyes.

I spent the next eight hours shadowing the hospice unit. As expected, the staff of doctors and nurses were all professional, knowledgeable and kind. I was enjoying my time, although I was already familiar with their area of expertise. Part of me had hoped to speak to a man or woman of God (didn't really even matter what religion.) Unfortunately, those people were called in by the families of the soon to be deceased. (Those without family could make a request via a nurse, but there were no on staff religious officials.)

Unfortunately (or fortunately) there were no patients requiring the services of a cleric that night. After assisting with the night routine, I left at around ten at night, making the commute back under the cover of darkness (with just a hint of moonlight to guide me.) Emotionally and physically exhausted. I opened the door to find a single light on in the kitchen.

"Hello?" My father was sitting at the small table, with a bottle of wine. "Is that you, son? If not, I'm in a pretty good place to die."

"It's me." I approached slowly since his choice of words left me confused and concerned.

He was drinking from a bottle of wine, but also on the table were chunks of baking chocolate, crackers and green olives.

The light from above the fridge had been left on for what I assumed was a safety precaution, for people wanting a midnight snack. Out of habit, I went to turn on the main lighting. I nearly screamed at what I discovered. My father had a bruised, partially swollen eye. "What the hell happened?" I already knew; my mother was in fact that cruel.

My father only laughed. He had been holding a blue icepack in his opposite hand. "It was worse a few hours ago." He tossed the icepack onto the table letting it slide away. "Doesn't even hurt anymore."

"Mom hit you?" my voice betrayed my anger.

"That was all she really wanted."

"To punch you in the face?"

"Yeah, well she still hits like a teenage girl throwing a temper tantrum." He took a moment to finish his glass. "the bulk of this came from me hitting my head on the coffee table."

"On the way down," I assumed.

"It all happened so quick, but according to Leo; she broke free from Tommy's grasp, lunged at me and when her fist made contact it was at just the right angle to cause me to dive into the flat side of the wood. I guess I'm just lucky I didn't hit the corner."

That brought me a slight amount of comfort, knowing that my mother was not a complete monster. "So, where's mom?"

"She ran off screaming," Richard said calmly, unable to hide his smirk. "Tom tracked her down to a motel, just ten miles east of here."

"She ran ten miles?"

"Or flagged down a trucker." Richard refilled his glass of wine, sliding it to my side of the table. "You never know."

"Nor do I care," I chuckled as I took a sip. If my mother gave a blowjob (or offered up her body) in exchange for a ride, I'd say that was a nice dose of karma.

"You should care," Richard replied in a stern voice. "She's your mama, you should be glad she's safe."

"After all the shit she pulled?" I asked, unable to hold back my shock. "I mean, she ruined your life."

"No, son." Richard wasn't joking around; he pursed his lips but kept a stoic face. "My own choices ruined my life."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "You can't be serious."

"There's no arguing the past, but she's still your mother. And at the end of the day that does mean something." He picked up the bottle and took a drink. "Even if she's a cunt who doesn't deserve the title."

"Is that Leo's wine?" I asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Tommy buys it from the gas station for three ninety-nine." He put down the bottle and lit up a cigarette. "But this is Leo's weed." My father leaned back, making sure to blow the smoke towards a nearby air vent. "So, tell me, what's the focus of your residency? What specialty field are you going into?"

"Ideally I want to go into emergency medical, try my hand at being a trauma surgeon."

"Really?"

I couldn't tell if he was impressed or making fun of the fact that I picked one of the most difficult fields. "What can I say? I was raised on primetime television. As a kid I watched ER, later I watched Grey's anatomy. Kind of why I always wanted to be a combat medic. I know it won't be easy and maybe I'll even fail out.

"you wanted to be a medic?"

"I couldn't get in as an enlisted, sports injury."

"That's why you ride an e-bike?"

I laughed, placing my hand upon my fucked-up knee. "Someday, when I find my forever home, I want to buy a decent car."

"I thought you wanted a Harley?"

"That's a future dream," I said with a smile. I dreamed of a high-end motorcycle the way most wannabe doctors wanted a sports car. "Well, what did you drive?"

"I actually never owned a car," he said with a shrug. "I rented a lot, but with how much I deployed I never had a reason to purchase a vehicle of my own."

"And you were paying off Mom's car?"

"The minivan, the Kia, the Chevy, the Honda and we can't forget the work truck for when she was dating the aspiring landscaper. I guess I should be thankful she never asked for a BMW, right?"

"She was always more of a Porsche fan," I said with a groan. "When she started her own company, that was one of her first purchases."

"Instead of helping you pay for college," he said with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, but that was on me. If I stayed in-state I would have gotten a free ride." I finished my wine, leaning back in the wooden chair. "I don't know how you tolerated her for all those years."

"For you," Richard muttered. His eyes flickered closed, as he rolled his head in deep thought. "I guess part of me knew that the happier I made her, the better she would treat you."

The truth hit me like a ton of bricks, but as I blinked back tears, I noticed how bad I smelled. "I think I need a hit the showers."

"Can I join you?" Richard glanced in my direction. He opened his blind eyes, staring straight into my soul.

"Is that why you waited for me?"

In lieu of a response, my father stood up and walked in the direction of the master bathroom, using the wall as a guide. I followed close behind, if only to make sure he didn't suffer a fall. Upon entering the spa-like room, I watched as Richard dropped his robe.

He hesitated for a moment, rubbing his shoulders and upper arms. "Kind of chilly in here," Richard mumbled to himself, before stepping into the empty bath. He flinched as his backside touched the porcelain surface. "Shit, that's cold."

I turned on the water, just the way I'd like it; not too hot, but warm enough to feel like a nice cup of tea. "Is that better, Dad?"

"Much better." My father sat comfortably, legs spread, as the warm water crept over his stomach. I took a moment to watch his breath; the rise and fall of his broad chest as he leaned back, resting his neck on a folded towel. I took off my clothes, letting them fall into a filthy pile.

"Are you ready for me, Daddy?" I kissed his lips, softly, as I took a seat on his lap.

My father cupped my face, kissing my jaw, down my neck, as he held me close. I started to ride him, creating gentle waves. I could hear him moaning in my ear. "I love you so much, son." He reached between my legs, gripping my cock. "Don't you ever forget that."

I could already feel my heart pounding in my chest. "I could never forget you, Daddy."

My father rubbed my tip until I was soaked with precum. Only then did he switch his focus to vigorously masturbating my shaft. I held him close, as my body tensed. Every muscle in my body felt like the most beautiful electric fire. I wanted so badly to kiss him, to taste his breath as we both climaxed, but his mouth was firmly planted on my neck. "Please, Daddy, please."