The black van slowed down in front of the Valardi household. Behind the blackened windows, Sharon and her friends studied the well-kept lawn and the whitewashed walls.
"So that's the dump where you grew up, right?"Cass’ ample bosoms spilled over the back of the seats. The redhead was squeezed in a black latex tube dress, as shiny as her black lips and fingernails. She had her lower lip double-pierced with small silver rings, and wore heavy makeup.
Sharon nodded.
"That's it," she said.
She stubbed her cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray, and turned the radio stud, silencing Twisted Sister. She grinned at the irony.
"They don't expect me back for another two days," she mused.
Ben patted her thigh. "Are you all right?"
"Fuck, yes," Sharon grinned. "I’ve been fantasizing and jerking off to the thought for a week, now. Let's get this on."
As she spoke, the door opened, and she saw her mother, still in her nightgown, chastely kissing her father as he left.
The Deacon waved his hand, and walked away along the well-maintained lane.
"Shit," Sharon said. "I wanted them all at home together!"
"We're two days early," Ben reminded her.Heidy pushed Cass by the side and leaned forward. The two girls' boobs were aligned on the back of the seats like as many melons. Cassidy's left breast sported a garish butterfly tattoo.
"What do you have in mind, you slut?"
"Hand over!" She pulled out her tongue, her recently-acquired barbell glttering in the morning light. "You and Ben take care of your mommy, me and Cass will see that your daddy drinks up his medicine."
Sharon turned and looked at her old friend.
Ever since she had started regularly fucking Cassidy, Heidy darker side had fully bloomed, and she had evolved into a strange leather-clad bimbo, at the same time completely vapid and thoroughly nasty.
Now the busty brunette gave her a wicked grin. "You know, I always sort of fancied the Deacon."
Sharon chuckled in turn. "You shameles whore!"
With a wink, she pulled out one of the vials and handed it to Heidy. "Have fun, sister," she said.
"You too." Another wink. "Give my regards to your mom."
As the van sped in the direction deacon Valardi had taken, Sharon and Ben walked hand in hand up the lane. Ben carried large duffel bag. There was a guy tending his lawn on the other side of the street. He stared at them. Sharon flipped him the bird and laughed.
With a scarlet-tipped finger, Sharon rang the doorbell, then took a step back and pushed her hands in the back-pockets of her leather pants.
The door opened and the smile on the face of Mary Margaret Valardi, Sharon's mother, died.
Mary was in her fifties, tall and thin, her long hair streaked with white. She wore no makeup, and Sharon was sure she never had.
"Yes?" she asked, warily. "How can I help you?"
Sharon chuckled and cocked a hip. "Fuck, bitch! You could say hi at your favorite daughter, and let us in!"
Mary stared at Sharon.
The young woman had decked herself in full metal slut regalia for the homecoming - calf-high biker boots, skin-tight black leather pants, low-waisted enough to expose her onyx navel piercing, a crop-top revealing the bottom of her boobs, a leather jacket sporting a big pentagram on the back.
Her fingers were loaded in silver rings, and a dozen bracelets jingled on her wrists. She had no less than fifteen piercings in her ears, and the silver stud in her nose sparkled as cruelly as her heavily made-up eyes. Her spiky hair were white in the sunlight of the early morning, and an inverted cross hung from her left earlobe.
Mary gasped.
"Sharon?" she croaked.
Her eyes ran to the curly-haired man standing by her daughter, one hand firmly on her buttock.
"Benjamin?"
Ben gave her a lewd grin. "Hello, Mrs Valardi," he said in a mocking tone.
He was strapped into tight jeans and his usual denim vest, his bulging muscles perfectly defined by the tight clothes. His hair came well below his broad shoulders and his unshaven chin was square and marked by a little scar. His thick-soled biker boots gripped his muscular calves, a dozen shiny buckles glittering in the sun.
Mary Margaret Valardi was aghast.
"But... what...?"
Sharon stepped forward and placed her hands squarely on her mother's shoulders, pushing her gently back.
"Let's get in, old woman," she cooed. "You don't want the neighbours to get the wrong idea, right?"
Mary went even paler, but she backed inside the house and soon the three of them were standing in the entrance hall. Ben dropped hisbag behind the door.
Sharon smirked at the smiling painting of Jesus looking at her from the wall, and with three long strides was in the simple living room of the Valardi's. She took in the beige sofa and chairs, the low table, the small library with the few books her father approved.
"Shit, this place is really a dump," she said. She turned to her mother. "I guess there's not a drop of something to drink in this house, right?"
Mary stuttered, trying to act normally. "There's water, and iced tea..."
"The tea is fine," Ben said. "It was tea with me, right?"
"What's the meaning of all this?" Mary finally managed to ask.
Sharon laughed. "What do you think it means?" She pulled Ben closer and she slowly tongue-fucked his mouth, rubbing herself against his muscular chest while he gripped firmly her rock-like buttocks. He hummed obscenely, pressing a leg against his crotch.
"Stop it!"
At that, they got even more obscene. Sharon sneaked a hand inside Ben's jeans, and he bent down to nuzzle her cleavage. She grasped his hair and brought his head up again, and bit on his mouth like she was hungry.
When finally Sharon disentangled her tongue from Ben's, she turned and gave her mother a nasty, vulgar smile. "Stop it or else?" she asked.
She sucked on her fingers, staring at the older woman mockingly.
"I don't know what got into you," Mary blurted out, "but your father will have nothing of this! You will have to explain yourself, young lady..."
Sharon laughed. "Oh, shut up! Do you think I give a fuck about what that lame-ass dildo of your husband thinks? Explain myself? I found out I like to fuck my man and get drunk and stoned together, that's it."
Mary gasped again.
"And as for what's got into us..." Sharon grinned. "Where are the girls?"
Mary kept looking from Sharon to Ben and back. "Samantha and Clarisse are at the kid's camp... they are giving Bible classes to the kids. They'll be home late tomorrow."
"How sweet," Sharon chuckled. "And to think that I used to fall for that crap too..."
"Watch your speak, young lady!"
"Oh, you cut the crap, bitch!" Ben blurted out. "Belive me, Sharon's not a lady in any sense, and you have eyes to see that." He slapped Sharon on her ass, and the blonde squealed, and laughing called him a motherfucker. "Your daughter is a hot piece of ass," Ben went on, slapping Sharon's buttocks again. "She's a badass biker chick, exactly what she always dreamed of being. And she's a fucking fury in bed, the sort that can really give a man's cock a workout."
Mary swayed and sat heavily on one of the stuffed chairs.
"And it's a good thing," Sharon said, caressing her man's bulging crotch, "that Ben's got all the tool I need. It's long, thick, hard as steel, and tastes wonderfully."
Mary was crying, her world slowly crumbling around her. Sharon saw that she was moving her lips, forming a useless prayer.
"Go fetch some tea, lover."
She walked to her mother and squatted down to bring her eyes at the same levels of the older woman.
"You wanted to know what got into us," she said. "Well, you are about to know, because it's about to get into you, too."
She placed her scarlet-tipped fingers on her mother's mouth. "There's no use in praying, you old fool. Soon your soul will be free."
Ben came back from the kitchen with a high pitcher of cold tea.
Sharon picked it and placed it on the table. Then she extracted one of the vials. She remembered how much she had fought, to keep Ben's vial stopped. She smiled to herself, and slowly poured the black goo into the drink.
Mary's eyes were fixed on the glass.
"What's that?" she whispered. Her pale tongue wet her dry lips. Already she wanted to taste it.
Sharon glanced at Ben, then back at Mary. "You want it, right?" she asked.
Mary just nodded.
Sharon held the pitcher up in front of her. "So drink it up, old woman," she whispered, her eyes burning. "Drink up the darkness, and become what you deserve to be."
With a trembling hand, Mary reached for the pitcher.
"I don't want any of this," she said.
"Oh, yes you do."
"No..." Mary said, but there was a trembling in her voice, and a fever in her eyes as she picked the glass and held it in her fingers. But she drank the full glass, lips trembling and tears streaming from her eyes, and then let the pitcher fall from her limp fingers.
Sharon stood up and scuffed her hair.
Ben came back from the corridor, and dropped his bag in front of Mary.
“Here’s something you might need later.”
She gave him an angry stare.
"Go away," Mary hissed angrily. "Just go the hell away! Both of you!"
"Yes," Sharon said. "While you wait here and turn, I think me and Ben will go upstairs and have a long rough fuck in your bed."
No comments:
Post a Comment