A Fair trade

By INtrinSicliValud

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright © 2021 INtrinSicliValud

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: intrinsiclivalud100@yahoo.com

 

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-one

Chapter Forty-two

Chapter Forty-three

Chapter Forty-four

Chapter Forty-five

Chapter Forty-six

Chapter Forty-seven

Chapter Forty-eight

Chapter Forty-nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-one

Chapter Fifty-two

Chapter Fifty-three

Chapter Fifty-four

Chapter Fifty-five

Chapter Fifty-six

Chapter Fifty-seven

Chapter Fifty-eight

Chapter Fifty-nine

 

 

 

I’d no idea how my parents, my dad mainly, had found this guide dog trainer. But after several hours of driving over dust-choked desert roads, more like winding, tilting narrow trails along wind-gouged red cliffs, we pulled into a brownish weed-lined gravel yard. Two twisted poles swayed in the breeze. Empty. No sign or marker indicated the name of the business.

A battered chain-link fence, beaten down by the wind, still bravely clung to some rattling wooden posts. Gaps and all, it surrounded the large enclosure containing a dilapidated one-story wooden house and a long, mostly wooden building. I say mostly because the rest of the elongated structure was either corrugated, rusted steel or air, as many gaps showed between its loose, slapping boards.

Energetic dog barks greeted us from inside the gray-tinged house as we pulled to a halt next to a rusted, late-50s pickup truck. It may have been bright red a thousand years ago, but by then was mostly dust-covered rust. Streaked semi-circles on its windshield marked where the wipers swept the glass of clinging brown sand.

After my parents unsecured me and I rolled from the van, my chest tightened when I laid eyes on her for the first time. The sleek golden Labrador had a shining, luscious coat of gleaming orange and white. Her thick fur feathered in the wind as she bounded down the steps. Behind her wagging tail, an older man stepped from the darkened doorway of the house. For all her youthful exuberance, eyes shining and shivering with excitement, the russet-skinned man countered it, moving with a measured cadence, his eyes scanning all of us.

Long black hair gleamed as it whipped behind him, held together by a long leather and bead string. He was well-built with broad shoulders; the hard muscles of his chest showed beneath an open beaded leather vest. When he halted on the bottom step, his corded arms unfolded to hang motionless. Grizzled and care-worn, his face was tanned leather. Eyes black as coal, they glinted as my parents walked and I rolled in my whirring powered chair towards the house.

All the while, she sat by his side, tail wagging, huffing, and flashing the most gorgeous deep emerald eyes at me as my wheeled chariot crunched closer across the gravel and dirt yard. No dust clung to her, and the breeze only made her long snout crinkle when she sought my scent. Or all the scents carried on the wind. No, her eyes gazed only at me. She was seeking my scent alone. What an amazingly beautiful creature. Where did this guy find them?

“This the dog?” my dad asked, while shading his eyes and halting midway across the yard.

Rather than reply, the man flicked his gaze to my mother just as a gust of wind lifted her skirt. His eyebrow raised. Strangely quiet, my mother only sucked on her glistening lips as the wind swirled loose tresses of long, dark hair around her sculpted, made-up face. As dad liked to say, she’d aged well and looked half her mid-40s age. Blessed with long shapely legs, a still proud chest, and a toned body that she worked hard to maintain, she was still stunning.

Earlier, when we were loading me into the car at home, I wondered why she was so dressed up. Now, under the bright midday sun, her tanned frame shone in the shortest red pleated skirt I’d ever seen outside of porn movies; her black lace stocking tops were easily visible as she walked. While driving, my dad’s massaging hand hadn’t left her lace-covered thighs.

And then, even more revealing, my mother’s blouse was only two strips of shiny red material that hardly covered her full, still very pert breasts. Good thing they were still pert, because she wore no bra. She couldn’t: the miniscule top was backless and plunged down to her waist in the front.

As she stood next to dad, her diamond stud earrings and wedding bands glinted in the sunshine. Her neck was bare for the first time. When I’d rolled past their bedroom before we left, I’d watched dad take the golden cross from around her collar and hang it on her jewelry stand.

When another gust blasted dirt across the yard, the man’s eyes shifted once more to my mother. Again, she stood motionless, holding her hands away to let the warm air bare her completely. She wore black undies; tiny, elegantly sculpted lace flowers were taut over her gleaming pelvis.

The breeze swirled her flowery French perfume around me as I sat in my chair next to her. Only two days ago, my dad bought it for her; he’d told me it was very expensive. Another aroma also wafted from my mother - I just couldn’t place it. Sweet. Light buttery sweetness.

“Yes,” the man replied to my dad at last in a deep, booming voice that seemed somehow larger than him. And he was a large man.

As he shifted from foot to foot, dad swallowed. When the man took a step, the dog began to move. But he hissed, and she sat down once more. As he walked closer, he ignored my silent, jaw-clenching dad and me, going up to my mother. Her lower lip trembling, she shook with each of his solid, thumping footfalls. After coming to a halt, towering over her, he swept his dark eyes down her scantily clad frame as she looked up at him.

Well, actually my mother took her time, eyes drifting up his rippling chest bared between the flapping halves of the well-worn, brownish-black leather vest. When her eyes finally met his, he let a tight grin slide across his face.

“We have a deal, mister?” My dad’s wavering voice broke the long silence as the man stared into my mother’s eyes. And she, into his.

While the man remained silent, when his hands slipped onto my mother’s hips, a whimper slipped from her parted lips. They were glossy red, to match her dress. She’d put on fresh lipstick dad had bought as well—also expensive, before getting out of the car. Tremors shook her as his hands swept up her bare ribs; his thumbs pushed under the thin halter top. My mother glanced down at me, eyes wild, before blinking as his hands drove inward to cup her breasts.

What was going on? Why?

Whimper after whimper fled my mother as she stared up at him, before swaying forward. Another groan, this one longer and more…feral, dribbled from her lips as his large hands squeezed. Under her top, his fingers clenched and glided, pulling more groans from my mother. Her arms quivered at her side.

“Yes,” the man replied before sliding his hands free, grabbing my mother’s wrist and leading her on her click-clacking heels up the wooden steps into his house. The door thunked shut behind them. As the sun broke free of a flitting cloud above, it seared the long weeds swaying under now hotter gusts.

Time slowed. The sun beat down as the wind swirled dust devils across the yard. All the while, she sat, golden-coat shimmering and tail wagging as dad just stared past her sitting figure to the closed front door of the dust-coated house. When the breeze kicked up, we moved into the lee of the lengthy building.

And waited.

It wasn’t long before loud moans erupting from the house carried on the warm wind to our ears. Even though he sweated, dad’s face paled. I kept glancing from him, to the house, and then to her, still sitting, gleaming in the sun, bushy, full tail slowly moving.

Soon, a woman’s loud, warbling cries of pleasure—my mother’s—and equally loud rhythmic thumping came to us on the breeze. Fists balled tight; my dad was trembling as he tore his eyes from the door to glance at me.

“Your mother loves you very much, Kyle.”

At the sound of another ear-piercing scream from inside, dad’s jaw locked up.

“I…. Uh, I know, dad.”

At the squeak of rusted hinges, we both turned to look at the house just as the door opened. My mother was draped over the man, her lips pressed tight to his as his eyes gleamed past her now disheveled hair to stare at dad. His vest was gone. As my mother rose on her tippy-toes, being pushed outside by his massive body, her skirt rolled upwards. My heart hammered; she no longer wore those pretty lace panties. One lace-topped stocking was bunched around her knee, the other skewed and twisted.

With a long groan, my mother staggered backwards when he thrust her from his lips. Her tongue, still seeking his, finally flicked across her lips as she turned to us. With his long fingers clasped around the crumpled red skirt at her waist, there was no emotion on his chiseled, deep-carved face. Between her legs…. Red, swollen and glistening with faint white streaks. I gulped; a son wasn’t supposed to see his mother like that.

One of my mother’s full breasts swayed free; red finger and bite marks around her engorged areola and prominent thick, nipple were evident, even across the yard. She glanced at dad and tried to wipe the grin from her face, but the man whispered something as his outstretched hand disappeared behind her, and she giggled.

A low groan slid from dad, and he shuddered when my mother spun on her heels and slammed her mouth back onto the tall, broad-chested man’s. His eyes blazed at dad as her loud, though muffled, moans echoed across the enclosure. Fingers buried in the yielding flesh of my mother’s buttocks, he pulled her to him once more. Glinting in the shade, her newly polished bright red and gold nails clawed his bare back as I caught flashes of their tongues intertwined, swirling between their gleaming lips.

Although Dad and I were silent; my mother and the man were anything but, moaning as they ground against each other.

At long last, the man’s eyes narrowed, and he drove his fingers deep into my mother’s wavy dark hair. When he tugged and peeled her face away, she yelped and then uttered a long hungry moan as she tried to surge for him. Mouth open, her tongue kept thrusting, gleaming in the sun as it still sought his lips. With a grunt, he tugged her clenching hands from him and pulled her down the stairs by the hair.

As he dragged her, moaning and swaying forward to reach him, towards us, the lean, tanned man broke into a broad smile at dad’s sudden loud gasp. My dad’s eyes were locked on her shaking legs, now coated in dribbling thick pearlescence. The man stopped before us as my mother, wild-eyed, her arms outstretched, still struggled to grasp him. As she groaned beside him, his fingers firmly gripping her head and his free hand effortlessly batting her clawed hands away, he leaned down to look deep into my dad’s eyes.

“She’s a good breeder.” He gestured to my mother, still wide-eyed, moaning as she noisily sucked and slurped his thick, long fingers; at least it kept her from lunging at him. “The dog is yours. Return with your wife when she’s ready. Should be about two months.”

My dad only nodded at him as the man released her hair and tossed my mother towards us. When she whipped back, shaking and poised to go for him once more, the man’s brows furrowed. Their eyes met, held for a long second, before my mother’s shoulders dropped. With a low whine, she turned from him.

Eyes white-rimmed, my mother stumbled past us on her wobbly heels, her swaying breast still bare and skirt flapping upwards in the breeze to reveal her battered, dripping underside. As she wavered onwards, she rolled her tongue over her glistening lips; the lipstick had disappeared. Beneath her wind-blown, matted black tresses, crisscrossing deep crimson marks marred her back and neck. Behind her, the potent aroma of his seed wafted on the breeze.

The tiniest whimper slipped from my mother when she lowered herself, wincing, onto the car seat to wait for us. I’d say us, but I don’t think she was waiting for dad…or me. The whole time, eyes gleaming, she stared beyond us, only at the man. She was waiting for something…or somebody else.

“She won’t be the same, you know that?” Deep in my chest, I felt it when his voice boomed once more. His gaze was still locked on my mother, who was lifting glistening fingers to her lips as she watched him.

All dad did was turn and look at her before nodding and emitting a long sigh. The man turned on his heel and headed to the house. Just as his foot creaked on the bottom step, he spoke in a low voice to the dog. With a yip, she bounded to me, then licked my hand while blasting me with warm panting breaths. Appearing unusually intelligent, her hazel eyes…. My heart raced. There was something magical glinting behind them.

I just didn’t know how magical, yet.

Once dad secured me in the van, I settled back in the wheelchair and gazed at the dust-streaked wooden house. Eyes wide, my mother still stared at the steps. A dark giant, the man stood; his eyes inscrutable, he watched us. Well, my mother. The aroma of his essence flooded the van. With skirt still hiked and sucking on her fingers, my mother swirled her bare hips. Wet slurps, low, came from between her shaking legs as she squeaked on the cracked leather seat.

When dad clambered inside, he glanced at her crotch, but only swallowed before starting the van. Without even glancing back, dad wheeled the van around and drove us from the dilapidated desert compound.

With a sigh, I dragged my fingers through the new dog’s silken fur. She looked up at me with bottomless jade pools before continuing to sniff everything around me. Each time she whopped me with her tail as she circled my locked down chair, I swept my fist over it. So velvety smooth.

As we bumped along desert roads, a yawn escaped me, and after checking the dog had settled, I lay back and turned up my music. Rather than the usual electronica beats, I selected a more mellow tune. Soon the music in my earbuds had my eyes fluttering. When I rolled to one side to inspect the calm dog, now curled at the side of my chariot, I swallowed. It was the first time I’d been able to inspect her collar. My heart thumped.

Branded into a rough-looking yet sturdy, deep brown leather collar was the word “Shayna.” The blackened, cursive script was—alluring. And the collar itself was also strange. Its thick, beveled leather had two rings. One in the front and its twin at the back. Each identical - solid-looking, burnished steel, and marked by heavy use.

“Shayna,” I muttered.

One of her ears perked.

It was a pretty name for a gorgeous dog. A dog for which I’d received no training. What could she even do? Heck, we’d never even owned a pet dog. So, why had dad decided to get a dog? A service dog? Why now? And why from, of all people, that man? Out in the middle of the desert?

And what had the man meant about my mother being changed?

When my mother looked at dad and spoke as the van tumbled and swayed, I turned off my music and closed my eyes to slits. It was one of my favorite tricks. Over the years, I’d learned a lot about what they really thought by playing this game.

As I let my head roll to one side, bouncing with the van, I’d no idea what I was about to overhear. That evening, as we wove down from the desiccated, rocky hills, I discovered that home would never be the same.

But first, to understand the shock that was coming my way, I must explain. My dad met my mother in high school. Many times, both told me they’d fallen madly in love at first sight. As much as dad believed mom was beautiful, she got a gleam in her eyes whenever she described first seeing him. How dad was “easy on the eyes.”

After marrying as soon as they could, they pledged to attend the same college. Dad pursued a successful banking career. No slouch either; my mother became a business operations consultant. While I’m not sure what all that meant, to hear her tell it, she had a big title. Which also meant lots of work, lots of stress, and lots of travel.

When I arrived, their world changed. My mother kept working, but my dad gave up banking to become a financial consultant. That allowed him to work from home with only limited bouts of short travel. When my condition worsened, my mother left her job to spend more time with me.

Although that worked for a while, my care became pricier. My mother was forced to take a secretary job at a logistics company to bring in extra money. And then dad started looking for a service dog and caregivers. Why? That part I didn’t catch. But I’m not sure I would’ve understood if they’d explained.

Oh, and my mother was a solid, churchgoing, church-club attending, God-fearing, Christian woman. Even around the house, she always wore conservative clothing. Another reason the outfit she still mostly wore in the bouncing van was so—weird.

As a matter of fact, the only time I ever saw her in anything revealing was when she wore a two-piece swimsuit. And that was in our hedge-lined backyard and only with dad and me. Inevitably, he would flash a hungry smile and comment on it. They would giggle together and sometimes disappear inside. I would be embarrassed, usually rolling away while turning up my music. Yes, they had sex. But they were discreet and knew the walls in our house were thin, so kept quiet. Whenever I woke up and caught groans, I would raise the music volume, thinking they were gross. Normal, right?

Several times a year, on long weekends, they’d leave me at grandma’s and stay at a resort in the mountains. Both would come back with smiles on their faces and, though they thought I never noticed, there were a lot more wandering hands. So, my middle-aged parents were happily married.

Normal in every way.

But back then, as we rolled along under the setting sun, they were not so normal. Not anymore. The way my mother had reacted. Out there in the tall man’s sandy, sunbaked yard. What she’d done in that house and afterwards. And now, as she slid her shiny fingers through her lips. That wasn’t typical at all. When the evening sun caught them, her blue eyes glinted while she glided her tongue around her fingertips and gazed at my dad.

“He’s asleep, Dave.” With a sigh, my mother moved dark hair, matted, from her face as dad glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

With her lower lip collapsed under bright white teeth, my mother’s hand slid into dad’s lap. Although his eyes blinked, they remained focused on the winding road. At the sound of his zipper, a hissing gasp slipped from his lips.

That was not routine. Nor discreet. At all. Nope. They weren’t? Oh, God, they were!

“Oh my, dear. There’s my poor little apostle.” After releasing her seat belt, my mother turned in her seat to face dad. Her arm slowly raised and lowered. “Leaking already. Oh goodness, what a sticky mess.”

“You… You, uh, don’t have to,” dad said before gulping.

“Oh…” As her eyes shone, my mother’s arm twisted; dad’s neck went taut. “Oh, I think I do, Dave. I can’t have you like this all the way home. It’s too”—My churchgoing mother licked her glistening lips and sent a gentle puff of air into his lap—“distracting.”

Nope. Not discreet. Even as dad groaned, my chest tightened. My body reacted to my mother’s swaying, barely covered breast, and sensuous voice. As much as I didn’t want it to, my unfurling shaft swelled.

“Were you this hard”—when my mother glanced at me, I froze. But she returned to my dad and leaned close to his ear before adding in a breathless voice—“while he fucked me?”

As dad gasped, shivers raced along my spine. My mother had just said The F-Word. The woman who’d silently handed me a bar of soap when I uttered “Shit” one time, under my breath, in frustration. What was happening?

“Yes,” dad hissed through clenched teeth.

“Such a naughty boy.”

With her glossy red full lips parting, my mother dipped from sight over his lap. At a slow, wet slurp, my dad’s head rolled back until the van swerved. After a loud gulp, he lurched us back on the road.

Ever quicker, more watery glugs came from my mother, raising and lowering over him. Her pumping arm continued to twist.

Whenever the soggy sounds would stop, they’d be replaced by her soft, measured breathing. In my dad’s fluttering eyes—obvious rising need. And lingering concern. And, as his eyebrows furled when he glanced down at my mother, guilt. What had he done?

“Babe. I’m…. Oh. Close.”

As his stammering voice sent chills through me, tremors shook dad. My trousers were tight. And, just listening to her devouring his—I guess I could say it as well—his cock, I was also getting close.

After a very wet plop, I wasn’t prepared for the sight of my mother when she reappeared. Her lips were glossy. Pink tongue still circling as if around his knob. Her face flushed crimson. And her eyes…. Oh god, her eyes were like…. Well, not at all like my mother’s. My mother’s usual eyes. No, these were hungry and laser-focused on him, watching, assessing, and…. Her arm muscles tightened. My dad groaned. And taunting. Her glimmering eyes were teasing him.

“Do you like my pretty nails, Dave?” Her arm rose ever so slowly. I could imagine her long, sharp, newly painted nails dragging up his quivering, full shaft as dad struggled to drive.

“Ye…yes.”

“So hard. So smooth.” My mother. Twice voted best pastry chef at our church, ran her shiny tongue around her glistening lips and grinned before adding in the sultriest voice I’d ever heard from her. “And so tasty. Are you going to let your pretty cock feed me, dear?”

With his eyes white-rimmed and unable to speak, dad’s lips flapped open. Instead of answering, he gulped before glancing back at me in the mirror. Only after he’d seen I was “asleep” did he nod. Like I said, this was not discreet at all. In eighteen years, they hadn’t done this near me. Nor from what either of them had hinted, had they done anything like this at all.

It couldn’t get any weirder. It just couldn’t, right? Oh, it did. After flipping sticky hair from her face, my mother grinned at dad. It wasn’t a cheerful grin. It was—feral. Before I, or dad, could discern its meaning, her lips peeled back. A low quick snarl flew from her as, mouth wide, she lurched forward to place her teeth against dad’s neck. At the same time, her arm tightened in his crotch. With a low groan, dad twisted in his seat.

While dad struggled to breathe, the van slowed, but my mother waited. Hissing breaths slid through her bared teeth. Just pressing into him, she hadn’t broken skin. She just hung there, her head bouncing with each beat of his pulse. The slow rise and fall of her dangling full breast, barely restrained by the slim red material, mesmerized me. One hardened nipple protruded through the silken material.

As she held her grip—both of teeth and fist—time slowed. All the while, dad, wide-eyed, swallowed as tremors rippled through him. Not quite fear, not quite arousal.

After releasing his neck, my mother dragged her shiny tongue along his reddening skin. A warbling moan left him as his white-knuckled hands squeaked along the steering wheel.

“Do you want to know what it was like, Dave?” Her voice was once again breathless.

My dad gave her a sidelong glance and licked his lips before nodding. After flashing him a devilish smile, my mother dove from view.

“His cock was fucking huge!”

Just as her words ended in a wet slurp, dad arched upwards. With her body twisted over his lap, my mother’s arm pumped ever faster. I risked a quick look at dad; eyes fluttering and mouth wide, the tendons of his neck twitched. He wouldn’t last long at all. No longer disgusted, much, I held in a gulp. My own shaft ached as my mother’s wet slurping and dad’s groaning quickened.

Soon, with one long grunt after another, dad, his frame shuddering, bucked upwards in his seat. Spread over his lap, my mother remained poised, lifting with his pelvis. Now slower, her arm rose and fell. After each of his grunts, her loud, gulping swallows echoed.

As I strained to hold myself back, my chest tightened. Despite what I was hearing, one thing cut deeper. My mother had said “cock.” Part of me wanted to search for a bar of soap. Instead, as the final loud gulps slowed, with a sigh, I crumpled into the soft chair cushion. Once more, my pulse thundered.

Your mother is a very talented fellatrix.

Huh? My heart froze. The strange, melodic voice had come from nearby. After tearing my gaze from dad, his wide eyes locked on the road ahead while my mother continued to suckle, I looked around. Nobody else was in the van.

Great! Not only had my mother apparently gone nuts. Or, perhaps, sex-crazed? Now I was going insane. Desert heat must’ve been, was my first thought. It was awfully weird out there. And, I mean, having just watched what I had and listened to my mother swallow dad’s seed, my mind had every right to go out of whack.

Did you not understand, Kyle?

“What?” I whispered, before becoming distracted when my mother rose into view.

Oh, God. Was she still my mother? Her wavy black hair was disheveled. Her eyes shined as she looked at my shaking dad. That grin on her face. Impish, yes. Satisfied, also yes. The white dribble descending from one corner of her mouth….

The van interior spun.

Had we crashed? No, I swallowed and forced my heart to slow as she ran her white-streaked tongue around her glistening lips. My mother…. I gulped. My good Christian mother was using one long red-gold painted fingernail to drag the long strand of shiny white ooze into her mouth.

She giggled.

That was not like my mother. At all. She’d never giggled. Laughed, maybe. But never a giggle. Not like that.

“Thanks,” dad said before forcing a grin.

His eyes were—conflicted. That’s the best way to describe his expression. Relief. Obviously. I mean the physical relief that I also badly needed, but he’d just received. In addition, as he glanced at my mother, there was recognition dawning behind his narrowing eyes.

“Yum, I never realized how much I loved the taste of fresh, warm cum,” my mother said before—another giggle.

As she slid back into the seat and reattached her seat belt, dad’s tight grin vaporized. In its place, his brows furrowed. His mouth had fallen open. He swallowed as my chest tightened further. No, that was no longer my mother. Not the church-club treasurer. Not anymore.

Did you not understand?

“What?”

Fellatrix. It means cocksucker. Your mother is a very talented cocksucker, is what I meant.

My inside voice was annoying. Doh. The earlier look on my dad’s face had told me she was skilled. Though now his hands crushed the wheel as he stared out into the darkening sky; his eyes remained tight. In clouds of swirling sand, the van wavered and jolted along a rutted trail. Beside him, my mother’s head lolled to the side. Her eyes had closed.

I think I’d like to suck a cock. One day.

What the hell? Okay, that was not my voice! Inside or out. I risked rolling my head slightly to look around once more. But there was nobody in sight. Eyes closed; Shayna was curled tight; her muzzle buried under her paw.

When we finally rumbled into our wide asphalt driveway, I came awake with a start. Looking around while dragging my swollen tongue over cracked lips, I was glad that the nightmare had ended. Then my mother slid from the van. It hadn’t been a dream. My crotch throbbed before the tiny skirt flipped down to cover her red hand-print marred butt cheeks.

Nope, not a dream.

While gazing back through her battered hair, she gave dad a flash of her still hungry eyes and bit her lip before sashaying through the glass-windowed, dark wooden front door. She knew his eyes were tracking every rhythmic movement of her swaying frame.

Mine too.

After a long sigh, dad let Shayna leap down and lowered me to the cracked concrete in front of our ranch-style home. With her tail wagging so fast I thought it may fly away, she raced around, running her nose over everything. While running his fingers through my hair, dad smiled.

“She’s very special, Kyle. Very special.”

When I looked up at him, he was staring at the door. It was still open after my mother had wandered inside.

For as long as I could remember, we’d lived in this house. At the end of a winding road in a typical middle-class neighborhood, it was faced with light gray stonework. While it had little in the way of a front yard, thick hedges masked generous side and rear yards.

Beyond the rear hedge, a swath of dense trees separated us from the neighbor behind us. Living in an upscale two-story home, she was a young red-headed widow, Mrs. Cameron. Julie, I think was her first name. My parents knew her from church. One time, during service, she’d grinned at us, and dad had nudged me, whispering she was “hot.” We’d laughed before my glaring mother had shushed us.

There was only a single neighbor. Another one-story home. Even though I often roamed the cul-de-sac, I hardly ever saw the Winstons or their daughters. Beth and Nina were my age, maybe twins, and very cute. While we attended the same high school, we had no classes together. Beyond them was the only other nearby house, a two-story red brick-faced structure, but I’d never seen the owners. My dad said an older guy lived there.

After rolling into the great room at the front of our home, I marveled at Shayna whipping around, poking her glistening nose into everything. With a snuffle, she disappeared behind the long kitchen counter lined with tall bar stools. When I caught up, she was sniffing at the pantry and eying the refrigerator, where dad had hung rope handles for her to grip.

As dad swept past me to the hallway leading to the master bedroom with another brush of his fingers through my tussled hair, Shayna raced around our large, solid dark wood dining table. Satisfied, she glanced at me before swerving into dad’s bookshelf-lined home office at the front of the house. Nose snuffling, she circled his massive mahogany desk, tall-backed leather chair and sniffed the seats of two high-backed chairs for guests. Although he rarely hosted guests. Instead, it was usually he or my mother, or both, using them to read under strong pole-lights.

When the dog flashed past me, I caught her fluffy golden back with my fingertips. Once again, she ran her nose along plush, dark coffee-colored carpeting to sniff around the great room. A well-worn reddish-brown leather couch and two matching chairs faced a fireplace on the front wall, above which was a flat-screen television. Behind the couch, another set of chairs and a low table were set back, enabling me to roll to a glass door at the back of the house.

When I caught up to her, Shayna was nuzzling into the tracks of the sliding door, her eyes staring out at the pool deck. One of the best indulgences we acquired before dad left his original job; the long, broad white concrete deck was centered on a large free-form pool. While it possessed wide steps, my white steel lift stood in one corner. Whenever I could, I loved to swim. The slab was dotted with lounge chairs, two tables and a large, built-in, stone-faced grill. My dad was quite the “burner of meats.”

Beyond the deck, the tall, thick hedge enclosed a wide back and side yard studded with several tall trees. And above the massive shrubs, the tops of the woods surrounding the entire neighborhood swayed in the warm night breeze.

At last satisfied no evil lurked within the house, Shayna nudged into me, muzzling my leg just as my parents’ voices sounded from their bedroom. As I said, the house had one weakness—thin walls. And thinner doors, not that theirs was closed, but still. It wasn’t perfect. Nothing really is.

“Are you okay, hon?” dad asked in a wavering voice.

“Yes.” My mother’s single word ended in a hiss, then she added breathlessly. “Oh God, that feels good. You have such wonderful hands, Dave.”

My dad’s chuckle brought a smile to my face. As much as I wanted to roll just a bit further to peek inside, I stayed in place. While staring out at the backyard, I was focused on what was happening behind us. While Shayna settled next to me, I swallowed as the ache in my pelvis throbbed. Their low voices continued.

My mother uttered a moan—a long moan. “Oh, yes. Right there. He gripped me so hard, dear.”

After she again moaned, he spoke up. “Did he hurt you?”

There was silence but for more groans before my mother replied. “No.” More silence. More low moans. “You want to know, don’t you?”

When my dad’s “yes” came out as a hiss, a quiet laugh slid from my mother.

“Oh my. Look at you. Hard again. Are you thinking about what he did to me—to your wife—Dave?”

Though the voice was my mother’s, it also wasn’t. At least, I’d never heard such a sultry tone in her voice. This time, he groaned. And I really wanted to turn up my music and roll away, but I didn’t. That would’ve been the “normal” thing to do. Except, this was so…. So not normal.

“He fucked me so hard, dear. So very deep. His cock…. Oh, God in Heaven. I’ve never…. He just used me…. And do you know something, Dave?”

There was silence and I figured dad must’ve shaken his head as her breathless, low voice continued. “I loved every second of it. The world spun. And ignited. I’ve never been fucked like that before. Primal. His grunts were like the ravenous echoes of a much larger beast. His long, hard fingers were like claws, digging into my hips with every forceful thrust.”

There was only groaning from both for a while before she added. “And, oh my God, Dave! Could he ever fucking thrust. I thought his fat, round cockhead would poke out through my throat.”

Nope, not normal. My good Christian mother should not be using those words. Or talking that way. Or doing whatever it was she was doing to dad. In the bedroom—with the door open. I should’ve left. Shayna nudged into me; her emerald eyes gleamed. Had they been flecked with gold earlier?

“And when he came…. Fuck, Dave. He spurted so much into me. Way, way up into me. Flooded, Dave. Flooded. Well, you saw, right?” My mother’s hushed voice pulled me from Shayna’s panting face.

“Yes.” That time I caught dad’s hoarse, whispered response.

“Come for me,” my mother breathlessly commanded.

After a wet slurp, dad’s guttural rhythmic grunting echoed from their room. Twice in one evening. My own need throbbed, and I jerked when Shayna nudged into it. As I gazed at her, she did it again. Her shiny black nostrils flitted as she rubbed her furry snout along my bulge. Behind us, my mother again and again gulped.

After wet smacking noises, my mother let out a long bubbly exhale.

“God, I do so love fresh cum.”

There were a few more groans from them both before the shower began.

“I, uh…. I’m gonna get Kyle into the bath,” dad called out.

“Okay, dear,” my mother’s voice echoed from their bathroom.

“And, uh, thanks again.”

“Mm, I should thank you. Tasty.” My mother’s chuckle followed as the reflection of my dad appeared in the glass door.

While trudging closer, he was paler than usual and glancing over his shoulder. As usual with my little trick, I made like hadn’t heard anything. I was bobbing my head to non-existent music. Shayna sat before me, leaning her head over my foot. As he guided me to the bath, my dad was too distracted to notice the stiffness between my legs. With her fluffy golden tail wagging and nose sniffing, Shayna followed alongside.

My parents normally worked together, but the shower continued to run. In silence, he got me stripped and into the lift by himself. Several times, his eyes caught mine, and he appeared close to saying something. But, each time, he’d turn away, glance at the wall beyond which my mother washed, and let out a long exhale.

At last, I floated in the nylon mesh cradle, surrounded by soft, fragrant bubbles. It was one of my great joys, and it was my turn to sigh as dad helped me scrub. When I looked at Shayna, her eyes glittered as she observed how he bathed me.

Just as he handed me a loofa, the shower stopped.

“I, uh…. I’ve got to check on the van. Holler of you need anything. Your mother is….” He paused to look up at the sound of singing from their bedroom. I didn’t recognize the tune. It sounded old—ancient, even. And dad tilted his head, his brows furrowed before continuing. “Well, she can help you…. I think.”

Which was a weird thing to say. But he stood with a grunt, rubbed his hand over his back, and stepped from the bathroom. Shayna wagged as he passed, then sat down on the white tile floor to stare at me. Quiet descended. With a long sigh, I leaned back against the nylon to enjoy the soak before the water chilled.

At a motion in the doorway, I lifted my head. What! Air caught in my throat. My mother padded barefoot onto the tile. Her newly washed, long dark hair, shimmering and smelling of vibrant, fresh flowers, was tied in a ponytail. But wasn’t why I couldn’t breathe. No, my heart had frozen because the only thing she wore was a see-through, red robe that hung from her shoulders. Open, it reached to mid-thigh, but flared even wider with every slow step. I’d only ever seen it when she packed it away for their mountain trips.

As I swallowed, she moved closer, her still swollen, crimson folds glistening, and I swelled beneath the bubbles. With her blue eyes unblinking, she pushed the door closed behind her. Which she’d never done before that night.

“And how’s my baby boy?” she asked while sliding to her knees. A soft squelch resounded when she pressed her thighs together beside the tub.

Trying not to stare at the sharp points atop the round shadows on her swaying full breasts, all I could do was again gulp. From the other side of the bathroom, Shayna’s panting breaths sped.

“You poor thing. You got quite the eyeful”—a grin slid across my mother’s face as her eyes blazed—“and an earful today, didn’t you?”

Before I could reply, still struggling not to stare at my mother’s bite and scratch covered frame, her hand slipped into the bubbles. When her fingers glided onto my rod, I let out a groan. I shouldn’t have simply groaned. I should’ve cried out for my dad. This was wrong. So not normal. After her digits encircled me and began one long stroke, her grin widened.

“Oh my, Kyle. Look at that. Wow, you’ve grown up. Hmm, and out.” Her fingers squeezed my swelling root. “Why’ve I never noticed?” She gazed into the water; the bubbles had dissipated around her slow-moving arm. In that sultry voice, she added. “Such a fine, thick, long cock. Oh.…”

When she again squeezed, I fixated on her parting shiny lips. As a hungry moan left them, my pulse raced. My shaft expanded in her stroking hand.

“That’s right. Get nice and hard for mommy. How big are you now, Kyle?” When her eyes whipped to mine, a shudder zipped through me. Her normally twinkling, happy blue eyes now blazed, tinged with golden flecks, as she stared deep into me. “Mommy is so hungry.”

As I struggled to remember the last time she’d said “mommy” to me, my tip lurched and surged free of the water. With another whimper, my mother tore her gaze from me to inspect its taut dark-purple skin, still rising beneath her stroking hand.

“Oh, wonderful. So pretty. Such a luscious-looking bulb.” Her thumb rolled over the tip, pushing aside one side of my slit and smearing my dome with pre-cum. “So round and full. Don’t tell daddy, okay?”

What was I going to say? That his wife, his high school sweetheart, and oh, by the way—my mother—was getting me harder by the second. When she smiled and leaned into my ear.

“But it’s a much larger cock than daddy’s.”

Before I could even calculate a response, my mother’s head dropped. Soft warmth. Amazing velvet lips, like warm pillows. The lightest sweep of her tongue. And, oh God, such incredible suction. As her mouth twirled languidly around the exposed tip, her tight hand stroked. Between every suck, her tongue skimmed and nudged my trapped flesh. As my mother’s loud slurping echoed about the room, my eyes flashed to Shayna. With her tail slowly thumping against the tile floor, she tracked each of my mother’s gentle motions.

When my mother’s face dove practically into the water, my tip nudged the firm, warm back of her throat. Too much. With a groan, I twisted while thrusting upwards. Her long fingers found my balls. They squeezed.

That was way too much.

After that long day, I couldn’t restrain myself. It was wrong. It was so dirty. It was darned sure un-Christian, and it sure as heck wasn’t my normal—anything, anymore. But I needed—relief!

As a winding groan tore from my shaking lips, my thumping cock spat into my mother’s waiting throat. With my toes curling and entire body tense, each lengthy pulsing jet was accompanied by her loud gulps. All the while, her fingers, their sharp, pretty red-gold nails poking and scratching, fondled my spinning globes.

As I said, she is a talented cocksucker.

All I could do was nod at my insanity-driven inside voice while gasping for air. Cheeks puffing and collapsing, my mother’s suction was pulling deep in my balls. Yes, she was. Very talented. How’d she learned that? When? Where? With whom? Both times she’d sucked him, dad had seemed as shocked as I. So, not him. And, apparently, the man in the desert had only fucked her. Only? Not normal. So absolutely not normal.

When my mother lifted her face, her eyes gleamed as she downed one last long gulp of my seed.

“Mm, yum. You taste better than daddy, as well.” My mother chuckled while sweeping her tongue over her shining lips and standing. “Our little secret, right?”

What could I do? I gave her a quick nod as she smiled and opened the door. The open red robe skimmed her curves as, smacking her lips, she sashayed through the doorway. My eyes flicked from the bare curvaceous buttocks under massive crimson fingerprints to her toned back muscles marred by scratches and bite marks. A shiver shot down my spine.

Very talented.

I nodded once more at the voice of insanity in my head. It seemed fitting after this madness-inducing day.

Except it wasn’t over. My dad returned, yawning, and none the wiser. After hoisting me out and drying me off, he slid me into the cool sheets and kissed my forehead.

“Good night, Kyle.”

I should tell him. Warn him. That his wife was—not normal. Except, once my gaze met his tired, narrowed eyes, all I did was swallow. After another yawn wracked him, he stood with a groan.

“Good night, dad.”

Maybe everything would return to normal tomorrow? Perhaps this was just one of those dream inside a dream kinda things? Maybe.

As I sank into my pillow, Shayna curled up on a blanket dad had placed for her. Once I started my music, it wasn’t long before I began to drift off.

“I don’t care! Just do it!”

At my mother’s loud command, my chest froze, and I rolled my head to my open bedroom door. Whenever they had sex, they closed it. And then theirs as well. And my mother never cried out. Certainly not in such a strident tone.

“You’ve never….” dad’s wavering voice replied.

“God damn it, Dave. My pussy belongs to him right now. Fuck my ass! Now!”

Him? The desert man’s? What? The dream within a dream concept was fraying.

“Oh yes! That’s it. Oh, fuck. Baby…. That’s so good. Deeper. Oh, fuck me! Faster, damnit!” My mother’s voice trailed off into a loud groan.

“I don’t want to hur—”

“Just fuck me, Dave. Goddamit! Deeper. Take me. Now!”

As my mother’s groans grew louder, flesh-slapping and wall-thumping noises resounded from their room.

“Harder! Fuck me, harder. Goddamit, Dave. I’m fucking serious. Make me your bitch again!”

The bed’s creaking intensified. Their bodies smacking together, and the thumping became faster and louder. My eyes went to Shayna, who was now sitting up. Her ears swiveled at the rhythmic panting and moaning as well as the ever more forceful slamming of my parent’s bed against the wall.

Just as my mother loosed a bloodcurdling scream, dad cried out.

Your mother is also a very good fucktoy.

“What?” I murmured.

Once more lying on the blanket, Shayna dragged her long pink tongue along a paw.

Wahchintonka named her that. She liked it. Your mother really likes to fuck.

Doh. Internal voice was telling me the obvious. Wait! Who the hell was Wahchintonka? Before I could focus on that, my mother’s voice rang out once more.

“Hold me, Dave. Hold me tight. Fill me, baby.”

“God, I love you,” dad’s wavering voice ended in a muffled slurp as they kissed. Probably.

Wet noises lasted for some time, and I yawned before closing my eyes once more. This time, I turned my music volume all the way up and fell asleep.

After all the insanity of the day, at least I ended with the nicest dream. As I slept, a slender, small-breasted Native American girl with glinting dark eyes and long straight black hair, smelling of flowers and sunshine, slid into my bed. Once snuggled tight to me, her angular, elegant-looking face lowered to my chest as our eyes met. The hard points atop her soft cones mashed into my ribs as her dainty fingers found and held my swelling shaft.

While her lips moved as if she was speaking, I couldn’t make out her words.

Such a delightful dream. I’d never had that one before. Beth and Nina, spread-eagled and chained, naked, to the walls of a castle dungeon? Yeah, that one I’d had. Several times. But this was nicer, calmer. And I slept well.

In the morning, dad helped me by himself. He didn’t mention why my mother wasn’t there like she usually was, and one look into his eyes told me not to ask. Red-rimmed and narrow, they were tired. And that conflicted expression was still there, even as he smiled while moving me into my chair. Across the room, Shayna sat; her tail wagged slowly as she observed dad’s movements. Every single motion he made. If he blocked her view, she moved so she could sit and watch once more.

That was a preview of A Fair Trade. To read the rest purchase the book.

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