Caught By My Son: Cheating With Blacks! (ePub)

Bobbi Jo cheated the first time, because living in Appalachia is boring, and her husband was gone to the oilfields. She cheated the second time because she realized that plenty of men enjoy the company of a big breasted BBW- and the third time, because she discovered a love for Black cock. Now she is addicted- what happens when her son discovers this?
Excerpt
“Who I fuck should have nothin’ to do with us,” I said, “I am your momma, not some girl, and if I want to fuck Black men, that is my business!”
“Okay, fine, that’s the way you want it,” Hank said, “Yeah, ain’t nobody can stop you from being a slut, if that’s what you want. Let’s see what dad has to say about it- matter fact, fuck that, let’s see what granma and granpa will say about it!”
You wouldn’t dare do that!
Fear shook through my half naked, sweaty, cum filled body- was my son bluffing, or was he really going to call my parents?
Hank had his cell phone out of his pocket, and before I could stop him, he started taking flash pictures with the touch of a button. He must have snapped a dozen of them. I didn’t have to see the screen, that he was gettin’ proof of what I done did.
“Stop that,” I said, “You can’t take those!”
“I can, and I am,” Hank said, “Now, let’s see- time to send a group message. There’s dad, granpa, Uncle Roy- oh, and Aunt Diane, too, she will get kick out of this!”
Diane was my husband’s younger sister. She was more religious than a hardshell Baptist on meeting Sunday, and she had always hated me for marrying her brother.
“I can, and I will,” Hank said.
Why was he still looking me over like a piece of meat?
I got it- he had never seen a half naked woman before, and so he was not used to seeing pussy at all. That was pure male curiosity, something that came from being a male and had nothing to do with any morals that society had put into it. We all have some natural interest in seeing what a member of the sex we like looks like, no matter who that person is to us. Now that he had been staring at me for a few minutes, he should be bored with looking at it. Besides, while he may have looked once, I am his mother- not some random female- so you would think that he would be too embarrassed to keep staring at my snatch!
“Then do it,” I said- calling his bluff, “Quit running your mouth, then- do it Hank, or shut the fuck up!”
Put up or shut up.
Hank pressed a button on the screen of his phone, and I fell back onto the bed- had he really done it?
“Oh god,” I said, “I can’t believe you actually did it- oh no, my life is over!”
Hank looked at me for a long minute, and then he laughed. It was the deep, cruel laughter of a mad man, loud and more threatening than a tornado that was across the road from a trailer park.
“Ha ha,” Hank said, “Fucking scared you, didn’t I?”
What the fuck is wrong with my son?
I started crying. Crying from shame, from relief, or from being scared- not just for myself, but for how he was turning out. What was my son going to do- what was he going to be like?
“Cry all you want,” Hank laughed.
“What do you want?” I didn’t say, so much as begged, “Please, anything, just tell me. You have me Hank, and you know it.”
“You will do anything I say?” Hank asked me, “Anything?”