Her face was puffy and bloated, the skin tinged with a faintyellow cast. I studied her features, trying to see the woman she'd beenonly a few months before, the woman who used to cook me flap-jacks forlunch every weekend; flapjacks with sugar and maple syrup. There was nosign of her. She'd been submerged beneath a torrent of rancid, meltingflesh. Her body had fared no better; she seemed to be overflowingaround the midsection. Her loose-fitting jogging pants had worked theirway down her hips, exposing a sweeping vista of pulpy cellulite.Despite my fear of her drunken rages, I still felt some degree ofcompassion. At the age of nine, I understood that she was lonely andhurt and depressed, that she wasn't entirely responsible for heractions. There were things I didn't understand, of course. I didn'tknow that Dad had managed to drain most of her bank account all the wayfrom Chicago. I didn't know about the unpaid bills, the repossessionwaivers or the eviction notices. I had no idea how. I became hard and she made me stand and told me to get naked. I took off my clothes and threw them into a pile and touched her breasts again. They were warm and soft. I undid her bra and let her D-cups hang. I took a step back and stared. They were even better than previously especially out of the bra. She kissed me and once again her tongue entered her mouth. We kissed passionately and her hand stroked my chest and rested upon my throbbing cock. Standing hard and at its fullest height she spat into her hand and began to rub it up and down. It felt fantastic and I instantly came. Embarrassed I stopped kissing her and turned away. I sat down on the bed ashamed. She told me she didn’t care. To my surprise she got on her knees in front of me and started to lick the cum dribbling from my cock. I became more confident and suggestively started to guide her mouth to the head. Sensing my needs she began to suck tickling the head with her tongue. She took a deep breath and forced my 8 inches.
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