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Joann Costa noticed a cute young man in a grey suit walk into the strip joint as she was giving a man a table dance. The boy looked about eighteen, and his hair was as blond as hers. He walked up to a table where two black strippers were sitting and flung several dollar bills at them. Grinning, they got up and removed their bras and thongs for him. The three of them went into a VIP Room for lap dances…and then some, presumably.
“Wow,” she said to herself as she bent over for the man sitting behind her; he bent forward to get a closer look at her exposed pussy and asshole. “That boy over there’s loaded.”
Indeed, ‘boy’ was an appropriate word for 39-year-old Jo to use to describe him, because he looked about the age of her son, presumably still alive, whom she’d given up for adoption eighteen years ago, and hadn’t seen since then.
Several table dances later, with the young man still in the VIP Room, it was time for Jo to go on the stage.
“OK, Ray,” she said to the man she bent over for again. “I have to do my floorshow now.” Ray paid her and left.
She put on a blue lace bra and thong, then a dark blue minidress that went only halfway between her hips and knees. She put the money away in her purse, picked it up, and went over to the stage.
“OK, gentlemen,” the DJ announced as she walked on the stage with Genesis’s ‘Mama’ as her first song, “give a big hand for this sexy lady.” The young man walked out of the VIP Room at this point. “This is…Jo.”
My mom’s name was Joann, he thought as he approached pervert’s row. Or so the people at the orphanage told me. This girl’s blonde, too, just like my mom. He sat at a chair, right at the front centre of the stage; then he took out a photo from his wallet. He looked at the picture of his pretty mother from eighteen years before and said to himself, “I wish I knew her.” He put the photo away.
Jo noticed the boy sitting there, putting his wallet in his pants pocket. She grinned and walked closer to him. Hey, big spender, she thought. Spend a little time with me.
He looked up at her.
His eyes almost shot out of their sockets.
What the fuck? he thought as he studied her face. I just saw that face in my photograph! He fumbled in his pocket to take out his wallet again. He took out the photo and looked at it again. “Holy shit!” he said, looking back and forth at Jo’s face and the photo.
What’s he doing? she thought as she saw his eyes dart back and forth at her and whatever was in his hands. She lifted her dress so he could see her crotch covered by only her thong. Then she turned around, bent over, and lifted her dress again so he could see her smooth, round ass. He put the photo back in his wallet, then he took out a wad of bills. “That’s more like it,” she said.
That couldn’t really be her, could it? he thought. No, that’d be way too wild a coincidence. The orphanage said she gave me up because she was too poor to take care of me as a single mother, because my dad knocked her up and ran off on her. But they didn’t say anything about her being a stripper. Still, I can fantasize, ’cause Mama’s so beautiful in her picture. I’ll never know my real mother, but if I pay this woman enough, maybe I’ll know HER in the Biblical sense.
Jo unzipped her dress at the back and let it fall to her feet. She kicked it to the back of the stage, then walked toward him so he could get a better look at her in that bra and thong. His jaw dropped at the size of her big tits.
Her second song began: it was, appropriately, a longer, live version of ‘Mother’s Little Helper’, by the Rolling Stones.
I’d like to be HER little helper, he thought. Big helper, actually.
A minute into the song, she unclipped her bra. She was standing before him, looking down and building up suspense before taking it off. She had his undivided attention. “Do you want some?” she asked.
“Oh, yes,” he said, then put a twenty dollar bill in his mouth. The moment of truth, he thought as she stooped down. Please don’t sag. Please don’t sag.
She whipped the bra off with a proud grin and a shake of her huge, natural, NON-sagging breasts. The bill fell from his mouth when his jaw dropped again. He scrambled to pick up the dollar bill and put it between his teeth.
She wrapped her tits around his face, rubbed their soft smoothness against his face, scooped the bill with them, then tickled his face with her erect nipples. His boner was poking a bulge in his pants.
“Thank you,” she said, sticking the bill in her thong.
“Thank YOU,” he panted, stroking his boner.
As the song was coming to an end, she removed her thong and put his tip in her purse. She now was naked except for her high heels. She had a landing-strip shaving of her pussy.
Her third song began: ‘Where Life Begins’, by Madonna. Fittingly, the first thing she did was lie on her back and spread her legs for him. She raised her legs up and back so her asshole was also showing. She looked in his eyes and grinned. He mirrored her smile back to çankaya escort her.
Remembering how uncanny it was that her face was an exact double of his mother’s in the photo, only about eighteen years older, he wondered, Did my life begin in THERE?
She slid closer to him. With her pussy now right in front of his face, she put her hands on her ass and opened it and her pussy to show him the two gaping holes. Not taking his eyes away, he took out his wallet and got two fifty-dollar bills. He put one, rolled up tight and thin, in his mouth.
She clamped the free end of it in her pussy: he felt her labia brush against his face. He let go of the bill and felt her pussy lips kiss his lips. “Ooh,” he moaned, sniffing and sniffing.
He put the second bill, rolled up tight as the first one was, in his mouth. He aimed it at her gaping asshole. Using her fingers, she slowly guided the money past her anal ring by a centimetre or two, causing his puckered lips to touch the wrinkly brown orifice. He was still sniffing frantically: she was immaculate, no urine or faecal odour at all.
Her anus clamped onto the bill. Good, she thought. No paper cut.
He let go of the money after kissing her asshole like a passionate lover.
So, he’s into anal, I assume, she thought, then rolled over so she was now on all fours. She crawled away from him with her ass pointing straight at him, those dollar bills still sticking out of her pussy and asshole.
The song ended, and she took the money out of her holes. She unrolled them, then gasped when she saw how much he’d tipped her.
“Holy shit,” she said to herself. “Two fifty dollar bills!”
She saw him get up and approach her.
He’s given me a lot of money, and more’s to come, she thought. I may have to reward him with a fuck. He’s sure cute enough to make fucking him a pleasure.
“Hi,” he sighed with a shy smile. “My name’s Eddie.”
“Joann,” she said, shaking his hand. “Everyone calls me Jo. How are you?” The baby I gave up for adoption I named Edward Paul, she thought. He’d have been named Edward Pass if my asshole ex-boyfriend, Rex Linus Pass, had been a man and married me, instead of running off.
“I’m fine, thanks,” he said, still blushing and trying not to look below her shoulders at her still naked body.
“Thanks for the big tips, honey. Wanna go into a VIP Room with me?”
“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he said.
Not bothering to put her dress or underwear on, she picked them and her purse up and led him into a VIP Room. He sat on the couch, and she sat on his pointy lap. She brushed her sweet-smelling hair across his face and looked into his eyes, a pair of blue to mirror hers. He put his hands on her hips.
“You’re awfully young, baby-face,” she said, adoring his cuteness. “You eighteen?”
“Yeah, of course. Just turned eighteen a month ago, actually.”
Exactly my boy’s age, she thought with a shudder. “You look like you should be in high school. How’d you get so much money? D’you rob a bank or something?” She giggled. “Mafia connections? Pimping?”
“I started a successful online business,” he said with a frown.
“Are you being naughty and selling anything illegal?” she asked in a mock motherly tone.
“No,” he said in a somewhat defensive tone. “I’m into affiliate marketing. I try to help people. I’m an orphan, so I know what it’s like to be born with nothing. I’m no criminal.”
“Sweetie, I’m sorry,” she said. “I was only teasing you because of your nice suit. You’re really good-looking, that’s all.” He’s an orphan, eh? she thought. Nah, he can’t be mine. Too wild a coincidence. If we fuck tonight, I can check his ass for that birthmark I saw on my baby, the one that looked almost like the communist symbol. This boy isn’t dressed like Che Guevara, so that’s a good omen for me…that is, if I’m to have sex with him-though I sure would like to find my boy, without him knowing I’m a stripper, of course.
The next song began. She rubbed her ass on his hard-on, and he put his hands on her breasts.
Oh, soft and natural, he thought. No silicone-good. “How much of you…am I allowed…to touch?”
“All of me,” she said. “Feel free to touch any part of my body you’re interested in-even my most secret places.”
“Really? You’re cool with that?” He pinched her nipples.
“Sure,” she said, then closed her eyes and sighed at his pinching. “I’m not shy, so you don’t…need to be. Besides, you’ve given me…enough money already…to deserve…my indulgence…and then some. Just be gentle, sweetie.”
“OK,” he panted, then slid his right hand down to her pussy. His index finger tickled her hardening clit, and his long finger slid in her moistening vagina, finding her G-spot. She’s getting hot? he wondered.
“Oh,” she sighed, then she got up, turned around, and sat on his lap facing him: as she came down, she brushed her breasts against his face, her nipples tickling his nose. She squeezed her breasts against escort çankaya his face and kept it between them for the next few seconds.
Her smothering me to death this way, he thought as he felt that softness sliding from side to side on his cheeks, would be the best way to die.
His right hand never left her pussy. Her clit was as hard as his cock, her vaginal walls were soaking, and her G-spot was tingling from his rubbing finger. She bent forward and pecked him on the lips. His left hand opened her right buttock, his fingers crawling into her crack.
He likes anal, she thought. No worries. I’ve taken it in the ass before.
She opened her other buttock so his fingers could get at her asshole. As she felt his index finger massaging her anus, she sighed with closed eyes, then put her tongue in his mouth.
After several seconds of their tongues sliding over and under each other, she clamped his lower lip with her teeth, pulled on it as she drew her head back, and let it go with a snap back to his face. His fingers continued exploring her pussy and asshole; she looked in his eyes with an indulging grin.
“So, you’re an orphan, eh?” she said. Then, not without a little fear, she asked, “Which orphanage are you in?”
“Oh, I’m not in an orphanage now, thanks to my new business,” he said, his finger prodding her asshole open and gently slipping it in an inch or two. “Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I moved from orphanage to orphanage.”
She sighed from the feeling of that finger stimulating her rectal wall beside her vagina. “Do you remember…the first one…you were in?” she asked. “Oh!”
“No,” he said. “I was moved from that one when I was about three or four. I don’t even remember its name. My mother left me a photo of her when she gave me up to the first orphanage. It’s the only memory I have of those early years. She looks like you, actually. Wanna see the picture?”
“M-maybe later. I’ve got…work to do…here first.” I look like his mom? she thought. I’m far too afraid to see if that’s the photo I left with my baby when I gave him up to St. Paul’s Orphanage in Brampton. I want my boy back, but knowing I’m being sexual with my own son is a little more than I can handle at the moment.
She put her right tit in his mouth, to keep him from saying anything else that was familiar enough to scare her.
As he was sucking hard on her tit, seeming to want to draw milk from it, she ran her hands through his hair and, in her thoughts, compared him to her long-lost baby.
‘Eddie’ and my Edward are the same age, assuming my boy’s still alive. We all have the same colour hair and eyes. They, both orphans, were left a photo of their mothers. I’ll bet Eddie was looking at his…my?…photo when he saw me onstage, comparing it to me, I assume. He wanted to show it to me. If I look like his mom, AM I her?
She started lactating. Her milk was warm and sweet.
Oh, Mommy, he thought as he drank it. I hope this is really you. I love you so much.
Holy fuck, I’m feeding him my milk, she thought. This is a bad omen…or is it a good one? I want my boy back more than anyone could ever know, but do I want him back bad enough to commit incest with him? This is scary…but part of me wants it.
I saw fear in her eyes when I mentioned my photo, he thought after swallowing a large gulp of milk. Did she give her son up for adoption, and give him a photo of her? She looks exactly like my mom. Is she afraid to see herself in my photo? Is this stripper my mom? If she is, I’ll still wanna fuck her…I’ll especially want to. I don’t care what society says. My mom is beautiful, as is this stripper here: I’d love it if they were one and the same woman.
He let go of that nipple and went over to suck the other.
How’s the milk in this breast? he wondered.
That lactating felt so good, she thought as she sighed to his massaging fingers in her vagina and rectum. She was fingering her hard clit. Still, I feel guilty. If I’m his mother, I’m guilty of incest. Will he be ashamed of me to know I’m his lover and mother? I used to be worried only about him being ashamed of me for being a stripper; that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to pick him up from the orphanage once I was making good money. That’s also how lost him; but if this kid is him, I can have him back. If he doesn’t know I’m his mom, we can be spared the shame…but part of me also wants him to know I’m his mom.
He sucked and sucked, but she wasn’t lactating.
No milk? he thought as he sucked harder and harder. Bad breast! Bad, bad breast! He bit her nipple.
“Ow!” she squealed, pulling back. “Careful, honey.”
“Sorry,” he said with a shamefaced pout.
“I’m almost there,” she said, always frigging her clit. “Wanna taste something else? Oh!” She stood up and turned around.
“Sure,” he moaned, then pulled his fingers out of her cunt and ass.
She bent over and spread her legs. As she kept masturbating, she looked back at him, çankaya escort bayan upside-down from between her legs. He admired her anal gape, which she let him see better by spreading her right buttock with her free hand. He sniffed her ass.
Immaculate, he thought, then sniffed her pussy. If she’s my mom, I wonder if, when she conceived me, she was THIS immaculate.
He gave her anus a few licks, then sucked on her left labium.
“Oh!” she said. “I’m gonna…come. Ah!”
He let go of her labium and had his mouth wide open to cover her entire vaginal opening. She gushed in his mouth; he swallowed it all without missing a drop.
“Oh, thank you,” she moaned as she felt his lips and tongue cleaning her pussy of any lingering drops of come.
His tongue slid along the wrinkles of her bronze anus.
“Ooh!” she said with a giggle. “That tickles.”
“You’re so…clean,” he panted between licks.
If you’re my son, she thought, I’m as dirty as they…come. She held her buttocks wide open so he could see her asshole better. “So, I guess you like anal sex?”
“Well, I’m…curious about it, anyway,” he said between kisses of her asshole. “I’ve never…been with…a girl.”
“You’re a virgin?” she asked with widened eyes. “You didn’t bang those two black girls in the VIP Room?” She sighed at his kisses on her ass.
“I only got…lap dances from them.” He licked her asshole two times.
Oh, my sweet, innocent little baby! she thought, then said, “I’ll bet they’d have let you fuck them…if you’d paid enough.”
Between more licks of her asshole, he said, “Yeah, but I didn’t…want them…all that bad. I want…my first lay…to be…with someone…I’m in love with.”
“Since you’re being…so intimate…with me, could that mean…I’m someone…you could love?” Her anus was tingling from his licks.
“Oh, totally,” he said, then kissed her asshole again, keeping his lips glued to her anus-lips for about five seconds and making her giggle at his perviness. “Remember my photo of my pretty mother, how you look like her, only eighteen years later? And you’re as beautiful as a goddess, and I wanna worship you.”
She shook again at that reminder. “I-if I were your mother,” she asked with a trembling voice, “how would you feel about having sex with me?”
“Frankly,” he said, then kissed her anus again, “I’d wanna fuck you all the more passionately. I’d be totally in love with you.”
Her eyes and mouth stretched wide open. She thought, Oh. My. Fucking. God. Could he really mean that? I don’t dare tell him I gave my son up for adoption, for fear he’d press me to see his photo. But would he change his mind if he found out we really were mother and son? One way to find out. “Blood relation or none between us, I have just one thing to say.”
“What’s that? He gave her pussy a lick.
“Your place or mine?”
They were in his apartment, for as he told her, his successful online business, affiliate marketing, meant he could leave his last orphanage. She saw a photo of an older man on his bookshelf, not knowing the man was Josip Broz Tito.
Well, I’m glad to know he was telling the truth about his business not being illegal, she thought. “What a nice place you have. Local orphan turned success story.”
“Thanks,” he said. “As you can see, I’m not pimping or selling drugs.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Sorry about that remark before. I was only teasing.”
“That’s OK. I can understand people thinking an orphan would be drawn to a life of crime. Thing is, I anticipated that danger a year or so ago, since I knew I’d be kicked out of the orphanage once I’d turned eighteen. So I started this business, and hey, I got lucky with it. I want to encourage other people to get into it, people who have jobs they feel trapped in.”
“That’s great,” she said, and put her purse on his sofa.
“There’s just one thing I’d like you to do for me.”
“Could you let me see your beautiful body again?”
She grinned and unzipped her dress, the same one she’d worn onstage. Then, off came the bra and thong. “Are you a high heel man, or a bare feet man? These high heels are killing me. Is it OK if I take them off?”
“Of course. I’m more of a foot than a heel man.”
She kicked off her heels and let out a sigh of relief. Now standing completely naked before him, she grinned and turned around for him.
Is this my long-lost son? she wondered again. If he is, is that a bad thing, or a good one?
“And now,” he said as his eyes roamed all over her delicious skin, “since everyone is so concerned about consent these days, may I lose my virginity with you?”
“Do you love me?” She walked up to him.
“I’m inching closer to loving you as every second goes by.”
She put her hands on his chest, and he put his hands on her hips. They kissed. He squeezed her buttocks.
“I gave up my baby for adoption eighteen years ago, you know,” she whispered while unzipping his pants.
“Really?” His heart beat faster in his excitement.
“Yeah. If we’re mother and son, we’re committing incest. You’re OK with that?”
“Who…outside this room…is gonna know?” he asked between kisses.
“If you really are…my son, WE will know.” She licked his face.
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