*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.

*.*

Venice Apartments had a sign out front, with the name 'Venice Apartments' in black against a background of the Italian flag of green, white, and red. Encircling the name was the silhouette of a gondola and gondolier.

The complex was comprised of four separate buildings arranged in a square. Each building faced inward, faced the pool and small courtyard. The first building, the northeast building was three floors, with five apartments on each floor. Apartments 101, 105, 201, 205, 301 and 305 were two bedroom units. The three units in between each two bedroom unit were one bedroom units. The southeastern building had apartments 106 and 107 on the ground floor, each a two bedroom unit. The second and third floors had four single room efficiencies on each. The southwestern building was a duplicate of the northeastern building, each floor with a two bedroom unit on the corners, separated by three one bedroom units. And the northwestern building was a duplicate of the southeastern building, a ground floor of two units, each with two bedrooms, then eight one room efficiencies atop. Behind the northwestern building was a large laundry room and an exercise room.

Across the parking lot in front of the northeastern building was the rental office. And on top of the rental office was the apartment building's clubhouse. Each tenant had the right to reserve the clubhouse for parties, but they must notify the apartment manager of the desired time that they planned to use the clubhouse.

#107

The two bedroom unit had a spacious living room. Turning the corner from living room, one was in the dining room. The miniscule kitchen was separated from the dining room by a small counter. That counter had the sink, the dishwasher, and the apartment's twenty five gallon hot water heater. The opposite wall had a small oven and range and four cabinets overhead. The refrigerator dwarfed the kitchen.

To the left of the kitchen, if one was facing the sink, was a three-quarter bath. This consisted of toilet, sink, and small shower stall. To the left of the bathroom door was the first bedroom, a ten by ten foot room.

Stepping out of the small kitchen and turning left, one walked straight into the second bedroom. It was also a ten by ten room, but to the left of the bedroom door was a second door that opened into a full bathroom. Just past the bedroom door was a second door which hide a full closet.

Barbara Garcia glumly looked around the apartment, then nodded to Keisha, the apartment complex manager. Brandon Garcia, Barbara's eighteen year old son looked out the open door of the apartment at the three bikini clad girls that cavorted in the pool.

"Sweetheart? What you think?" Barbara asked her son.

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugged. "Man, kitchen kind of sucks, huh?"

"Yeah, but remember last one we looked at?" Barbara pointed out.

"Huh? That matchbox?" Brandon agreed.

"Okay," Barbara told Keisha.

Three days after seeing the apartment, Barbara and Brandon were putting the last of the flattened boxes into the large dumpster. Brushing her long blonde hair back out of her eyes, Barbara noticed she had an audience; two young men had been watching her stretch to toss the box up into the dumpster. She nervously tugged down the hem of her cut off jean shorts, but the Daisy Dukes were firmly wedged in the crack of her buttocks.

"All right. How about sausage sandwiches?" Barbara suggested to her son.

Barbara turned and glared at the two young men when she heard one of them say something about 'sausage sandwiches' to his friend. The two young men smirked at her, unaffected by her glare.

"Hey," Brandon said, turning to walk toward the two young men.

"Sweetheart, no," Barbara said, grabbing Brandon's shirt sleeve.

Walking back to the apartment, Barbra held onto Brandon's arm. Mother and son did not talk as they walked, each deep in their own unhappiness.

Inside the apartment, Barbara found the skillet and put it on the miniscule stove. Quickly figuring out which button to push, she put the burner to medium high, then put a driblet of vegetable oil into the skillet.

She popped the top on the can of Vienna sausages and sliced them in half length-wise.

The sausages sizzled merrily as Barbara slapped mayonnaise on four slices of white bread, then slapped a slice of American cheese on two pieces.

"Want chips go with this?" Barbara asked as she used the spatula to guide hot sausages from skillet to bread.

"Uh huh," Brandon agreed.

"Not 'uh huh,'" Barbara said.

"Yes," Brandon agreed.

Barbara fished out a small bag of corn chips and put that on the plate with his two sandwiches.

For herself, Barbara used the same skillet to quickly make herself a scrambled egg and American cheese sandwich. She dug out a bag of cheddar flavored potato chips. Then son and mother sat at the small dining table and silently chomped their way through their meal.

"Says its cheddar flavored," Barbara finally said. "Never had cheddar cheese taste like this."

"Uh huh," Brandon agreed.

After Barbara cleaned the kitchen, she went to her bedroom, Brandon went to his bedroom. Barbara slipped out of her sweat soaked clothing then padded to the bathroom. She checked that she had both soap and shampoo in the tub before stepping in and twisting the taps.

"Ooh!" she exclaimed when a blast of cold water pummeled her.

The water quickly warmed and Barbara wet her hair, then lathered it. She grabbed the bar of soap and ran it over her small breasts, her flat belly, and her bald mound.

A check of mound, arm pits and legs showed Barbara that she needed to scrape them with the razor blade that sat on the rim of the tub. She made quick work of whisking pits, legs and mound smooth.

"Not that anyone gives a damn," she thought glumly.

The thirty seven year old woman wondered how Kevin Garcia, her husband of eighteen years could so suddenly, so callously decide that he no longer loved her, no longer loved her son. He was not the boy's father; Barbara had been five months pregnant when Kevin had smiled at her in Early's Grocery Store, had asked the pimple faced pregnant cutie for a date.

But for all of his life, Brandon had thought Kevin was his father. For eighteen years Brandon had called Kevin 'Dad.' So, the boy had two shocks. One, losing the home they'd had for the last twelve years; it had belonged to Kevin's mother and she had given it to her son, and two, discovering that his Dad wasn't his dad.

Penny Jones, her attorney did say that Kevin most likely be ordered to pay alimony, but Penny did concede that child support was an improbability. Brandon wasn't in school, was of the age of majority, and was not Kevin's biological child.

Together, Penny and Barbara agreed, since spousal support would be minimal, if at all, they'd wait for Kevin to file. That way, he'd be the one responsible for court costs. At that time, Penny would also petition the court that Kevin be made to pay her fees.

"You the one wants this divorce? You pay for it," Barbara mumbled to herself.

Stepping out of the shower, Barbara listlessly toweled off and slipped on a short tee shirt and panties. She then wedged her small feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers.

"Done?" Brandon asked, standing in the doorway of his room, dressed in only a pair of micro-briefs.

"Yes, Sweetheart," Barbara smiled.

He was a handsome young man, even if he was a few pounds overweight. He had dark brown hair and deep brown eyes, a pug nose and pouting lips. Standing at five feet, six inches, he was the same size as Kevin, and the same size as Barbara.

"'Bout time," Brandon teased his mother. "La de dah, think I'll use up all the hot water."

"Uh huh, careful or I'll start the dishwasher," Barbara retorted.

Brandon made quick work of showering that day's sweat from his body. Then, dressed in another pair of micro-briefs, he joined his mother in the living room.

They sat together on the futon and tried to find something to watch on their television.

"Fine, fine, get us a movie," Barbara said, handing Brandon the remote. "Want some ice cream?"

"Uh huh," Brandon said, searching for a movie.

A moment later, Barbara reappeared, fuzzy blanket tucked underneath one arm while holding onto two heaping bowls of ice cream. Brandon took the bowls of ice cream while Barbara spread the blanket over their legs and waists.

"Okay, what are we watching?" Barbara asked.

Brandon named a teen slasher movie. Barbara pouted.

"Ooh, oh Brandon!" Barbara whined playfully. "You know those movies scare me!"

Mother and son watched as one by one, promiscuous teenagers were slaughtered. Barbara cuddled close to her son as the mysterious killer went on a rampage.

"Brandon!" Barbara whined. "Why you like this stuff?"

"I don't know," Brandon shrugged as a nude girl ran, screaming from the unseen menace.

"Like seeing their boobs?" Barbara asked, running her fingernails over Brandon's exposed chest.

"I guess," Brandon shrugged, blushing.

"Well, big deal," Barbara said. "I got boobies too. See?"

"Aw come on, Mom, huh?" Brandon complained as his mother lifted the hem of her snug tee shirt, exposing her small breasts.

"Woo-woo," Barbara giggled, wiggling her chest. "And these are way better than those."

"What? They are not," Brandon said.

"Uh huh," Barbara insisted. "These are real and you can touch these boobies. All you can do is look at those big old fake boobies."

"Mother," Brandon said.

"See? These might not be puffed up like those, but they feel a whole lot nicer, huh?" Barbara said, dragging her breasts over her son's bicep.

"Mom!" Brandon protested.

"Oh, fine," Barbara giggled, pulling the hem of her tee shirt down.

Two 'teen girls' that looked closer to thirty years of age were kissing one another and playing with each other's large chests. Brandon leaned forward slightly, intently staring at the screen.

"Uh huh. Why do guys always like that kind of stuff, huh?" Barbara asked as the eerie music started to play. "I mean, girls don't get all excited watching two guys swapping spit."

"I don't know," Brandon mumbled as one girl began to lift the hem of her friend's tee shirt.

"Is your pee-pee all hard? Watching this get your pee-pee big and hard?" Barbara asked, hand reaching under the fuzzy blanket to cup her son's erection.

"Mom, huh?" Brandon yelled, getting to his feet.

He stood, face a mask of humiliation. Barbara shrank back from Brandon's anger.

"Huh? Rubbing your titties all over me? Grabbing my dick? What is wrong with you, huh?" Brandon yelled.

Without waiting for an answer, Brandon stomped to his bedroom. He slammed the door shut.

Barbara quietly turned off the television as the two girls fell prey to the crazed killer. She grabbed the two ice cream bowls and brought them to the kitchen. Then, dragging fuzzy blanket behind her, Barbara went into her own bedroom.

It took a while for sleep to come. But finally, Barbara did fall asleep.

"Going look for work today," Barbara announced over their bowls of Frosted Flakes cereal the next morning. "I mean, part time at O'Neil's isn't going cut it, huh?"

"Yeah. Me too," Brandon said.

"Oh? Where you going look?" Barbara asked.

"I don't know," Brandon said.

With no real destination in mind, both left the apartment. Barbara went to Kendricks Engineering, as well as other industrial businesses in the area. At each business, she was met with the standard 'okay, we'll hang on to your resume...' brush off.

After a fairly flavorless meal from a local fast-food chain restaurant, Barbara resumed her job search. The heat and humidity, as well as the numerous rejections began to weigh heavily on Barbara Garcia. She finally decided to call an end of this day's job search.

Returning home, Barbara began stripping off her sweaty clothing the moment the front door was closed. Brandon was parked on the couch, glumly watching an insipid dramedy rerun on Channel 12.

"You been in that pool yet?" Barbara asked, standing in just bra and panties.

"Nuh uh," Brandon mumbled.

"Well, I'm going jump in; God! Just how hot is it huh?" Barbara said, shimmying out of her bra.

"Mom, huh?" Brandon whined. "Really? Need see you running around naked?"

"Oh good God," Barbara scoffed as she walked to her bedroom.

A moment later, she returned, stark naked. Her face was tightly pinched.

"Listen. This is my apartment," Barbara snapped. "Hear? I pay rent here. I pay the utilities here. I feel like running around naked in my apartment? I'm going run around naked in my apartment, you hear?"

"Mom, huh? God damn," Brandon yelled.

Barbara was too upset to notice, but even as he complained, Brandon did not tear his eyes from his mother's compact body. Brandon did not take his eyes from Barbara's small breasts, her belly, or her hairless slit. When she turned to stomp back to her bedroom, Brandon did not look away from his mother's tight looking backside.

Barbara put on her bikini, grabbed a beach towel from the bathroom cabinet, then put her flip flops on.

"Code is one plus our apartment number," Barbara read from the lease agreement. "Get tired of watching that stuff, come out, huh?"

She looped the apartment key on a lanyard around her neck; knowing Brandon would most likely forget his keys and lock them out of their apartment. She left the apartment and walked along the cordoned off courtyard. There was one young lady in the pool, in something that might pass for a bikini but was just two strips of cloth over her nipples and a swash of cloth over her vulva. Another young woman lounged on a chaise lounge, oiled body glistening brown in the sun. The young woman in the pool glanced over and the young woman on the chaise lounge did raise her head slightly when Barbara punched the code into the gate. Then both young women resumed their previous activities.

"Ooh!" Barbara gasped out when she came into contact with the cold water.

The young woman in the pool giggled at Barbara's declaration. The young woman said something to the other young woman and rolled onto her back. The young woman got out of the pool, well-rounded buttocks very visible in her thong bikini bottom. Barbara briskly swam, trying to warm up. She did not watch as one young woman applied suntan oil to her friend. Barbara swam the length of the pool a few times. She did see the young woman dive back into the pool but paid the woman no mind.

Forty minutes later, Barbara decided she'd had enough of the pool, enough of smelling and tasting the heavily chlorinated water and got out. She did notice that both young women watched with some interest as she dried herself. With a curt nod to her neighbors, Barbara left the pool area.

"This is Rodney Prejean," Barbara heard as she entered the apartment. "Today? Our guests are dancers, performers at various night clubs in and around DeGarde, Louisiana. You may have heard of Mickey's, or perhaps the Dead End, or how about the Desire Factory, formerly Elegante? These young women will strip away the mask; they will expose what goes on behind closed doors at these gentlemen's' clubs."

Barbara paused as the camera showed three attractive women. One did seem to be very young, but the other two women appeared to be in their late twenties, early thirties.

Barbara was surprised, none of these women wore any disguises. Their faces were not pixelated.

"Rodney, I'm not that young," one young woman smiled.

"I'm not either," the woman to her left tittered.

"And I'm not either," the third woman declared, smiling widely. "Even though I still get carded when I try to buy beer."

"Oh?" Rodney smiled smugly into the camera.

Barbara had always thought the man looked like a greasy swamp rat. He had pinched features and greased his hair back. His manner of speech was laced with innuendos and sleazy comments.

"No. I'm forty nine; about to hit the big five oh," the first woman declared.

"She's, there's no way she's forty nine," Barbara gasped, plopping her towel onto the couch and sitting down next to Brandon.

"And I'll be forty six in a couple of weeks, the second young woman agreed.

"Me? Thirty nine and holding. Holding everything I can," the third woman stated.

"Huh?" Barbara asked. "There's no way that girl's older than me."

Throughout the hour long program, the three women named the nightclubs they danced for, as independent contractors. They debunked the myth that the women that danced there were suffering from low self-esteem, or had fallen onto hard times, or were actually prostitutes disguised as dancers.

"Rodney, I've got three children in a good private school," the oldest of the trio disclosed. "Dancing puts money in the bank, food on the table. As a secretary, I'd make maybe twenty five hundred a month? And that's before taxes. As a dancer, I make that in a week."

Barbara watched as Rodney 'coaxed' each woman to give a small demonstration of their dances. It didn't take much coaxing; each woman was already wearing their dancing outfits.

"Allison, you danced to 'You Really Got Me' by Van Halen," Rodney observed when the three women again sat, now dressed in pasties and thongs. "But that's not what you listen to at home, is it?"

"At home? I put on Tchaikovsky or Rachmaninov," Allison admitted.

"Girl, give me some good old Johnny Cash, or Loretta Lynn," the second woman said.

"Melissa Etheridge," the third woman said.

"I could do that," Barbara declared, getting to her feet.

"But Rodney, men like Van Halen, they like Bon Jovi..." Allison said.

"Led Zeppelin," the second dancer offered.

"Oh yeah, put on 'The Immigrant Song' or 'Black Dog'?" the third woman agreed.

"Girl, you really got me now, got me so I don't know what I'm doing," Barbara sang as she reached back and unhooked her bikini top. "Girl, you really got me now. Got me so I can't sleep at night."

"Mom, huh? Come on," Brandon yelled as Barbara wiggled and waggled her nude body in front of him.

"You really got me, you really got me," Barbara continued, humping her hips at her hotly blushing son.

"And then, in the, what did that Allison call it? The Hurricane Room?" Barbara said and flopped her nude body onto her son's lap. "I'd..."

"God damn, Mom, come on, huh?" Brandon whined as his mother rubbed her buttocks over his jeans-clad rampant erection.

"Oh yeah, you really got me now," Barbara sang, rubbing her moist pussy against Brandon's hard cock.

"Ugh!" Brandon grunted, filling his briefs with his semen.

"Did you, I made you, you came, didn't you?" Barbara crowed, triumphant.

"Get off me," Brandon sobbed out, shoving her off of him.

Brandon ran to his room, sobbing in shame. Barbara got up, carried her bikini and towel to her room and hung everything over the shower rod.

Brandon would not answer when Barbara knocked on his bedroom door. He did not come out to eat the canned spaghetti she'd prepared. Even the smell of freshly popped microwave popcorn did not entice him from his room.

"Good night," Barbara quietly said.

She even checked; the knob was securely locked. With a sigh, Barbara went to her room.

In the morning, neither Barbara nor Brandon said anything. They both crunched through their Frosted Flakes cereal. As they prepared to leave the apartment, Barbara gave her son a tight embrace, then kissed his lips.

"Love you. Good luck today," Barbara said.

"Uh huh," Brandon said.

At her job, Barbara did approach Tim O'Neil, one of the O'Neil brothers that co-owned the furniture store. She asked about the possibility of becoming full-time and explained her new living arrangements.
"Really? Just up and kicked y'all out?" Tim asked. "Damn. Let me get with Bob and see, huh?"

Barbara knew 'let me get with Bob' was code for 'No.' Quietly, she thanked Tim and returned to her task.

"Now, if you was to maybe blow me," Tim muttered to himself, watching Barbara's compact backside walk away.

Barbara came home to the apartment more mentally drained than physically exhausted. Brandon was again sitting on the small futon, again watching 'The Rodney Prejean Hour.' The topic of the day was Parasols Magazine and Rodney was interviewing Bobby Elswell, the Chief Executive Officer as well as head photographer of the magazine.

"So, as head photographer, you're the one gets to see all these beauties nude?" Rodney leered.

"That man know how do anything but be sleazy?" Barbara commented.

"Bet he doesn't give his own son a lap dance," Brandon spat at her.

"Oh? But his son's probably not as handsome as my son is," Barbara smiled and plopped down on Brandon's lap.

"Mom! Shit, huh? Come on," Brandon yelled.

"Oh calm down," Barbara ordered, kissed him on his lips and got off of him. "Did I? Aw, shoot, I forgot take the chicken wings out to defrost."

Barbara fixed them each a fried egg and American cheese sandwich along with chips. She cleaned the kitchen, then showered and dressed for bed, even though it was still daylight out.

"So, what we watching?" Barbara asked, again holding the fuzzy blanket underneath her arm.

"Nothing. There ain't nothing on," Brandon groused.

"Oh well, get us another movie?" Barbara suggested, smoothing the blanket over their laps.

An 'Eighties style teen sex comedy was selected. Both mother and son rolled their eyes at the implausible plot and the obvious foibles of the characters. Barbara leaned against her son's bare arm as they watched the silly romp. Her left hand rested on his bare thigh, just beneath his micro-briefs.

"She's going tell her she's got a huge crush on her," Barbara suggested.

"You think?" Brandon smirked as the 'teen' did confess to her 'teacher' that she did have a crush on the attractive female teacher.

Barbara's hand brushed against Brandon's throbbing cock as the two women kissed. He jerked slightly, but did not say anything.

"Brandon! How, how big are you?" Barbara asked when her hand again brushed against his five inch erection.

"Huh? I'm about two, maybe two ten," Brandon said.

"No, I mean," Barbara said and lifted the blanket.

"Mom! Shit, huh?" Brandon complained.

"Oh my! You know, Kevin, your father? He was only maybe about three inches; that thing is huge!" Barbara declared.

"Mom, come on, huh?" Brandon whined.

"Let me..." Barbara said, folding the blanket down.

Brandon grunted and jumped when Barbara's hand pulled down the waistband of his briefs. He struggled against her as she wrapped her hand around his hard cock.

"Aw, God damn it, Mom," Brandon screamed as a geyser of semen jetted out of his cock.

"Oh my! Holy cow!" Barbara whooped, watching the semen jetting out of her boy's meat.

"I hate you!" Brandon sobbed out. "Hear me? I fucking hate you!"

"Oh, quit your whining. Here. Let me clean it up," Barbara ordered, still pumping Brandon's hard cock.

"Ugh! Mmmoooommm!" Brandon bellowed as Barbara bent her head and began licking his cock clean of his sticky mess.

"There," Barbara said, pulling his briefs up over his still quite rampant erection.

Brandon sat, seemingly frozen to the spot. When the closing credits began to roll over a backdrop of several scantily clad nubile bodies, Barbara leaned over and kissed his lips.

"Good night," she cheerfully said.

"Uh huh," Brandon mumbled.

She then licked his lips while giving his hard cock a playful squeeze through the fuzzy blanket.

The moment her bedroom door closed, Brandon peeled blanket and underwear down and gripped his cock in his fist. He pumped his hand furiously up and down his cock, reliving the feeling of his first blow job.

In the morning, Barbara was bent over, peering into the refrigerator. She was still dressed in her skimpy panties and short, snug tee shirt. Her compact backside wiggled and waggled as she looked in the depths of the appliance.

Brandon walked up behind his mother, hard cock leading the way. He grabbed her hips and thrust his underwear clad cock against her underwear clad buttocks.

Last night, as he had spurted his load of semen into his pumping fist, Brandon had come to a decision; if his mother was going to be inappropriate, he would participate. He would no longer deny his attraction to her, his lust for her.

"Brandon!" Barbara giggled as her son dry-humped her buttocks.

"Mom, Frosted Flakes right there, milk's right there, what are you looking for?" Brandon asked, still rubbing his cock against the furrow of her buttocks.

"Anything else but Frosted Flakes and milk," Barbara said, thrusting back against him. "But I need to hurry; they did inventory last night."

They sat and ate their breakfast, then Barbara asked him to please put the bowls into the dishwasher. She was already pulling her sleep shirt off as she stood from the table.

Inventory had revealed that at least one person, most likely three or four people were stealing from O'Neil's Furniture. Now, the inventory, the items actually in stock needed to be matched up against sales receipts.

"Looks like you going get that full-time you was asking about," Tim snapped at Barbara as she began the laborious task of sorting through the computer records against the hard copies.

"She's, you're looking go full-time?" Bob O'Neil asked. "Thought you wanted be home for uh, oh shoot, it's on tip of my tongue..."

"Brandon?" Barbara suggested.

"That's it! Brandon! Thought you wanted be home when he got off the bus?" Bob said.

"Mr. O'Neil, Brandon graduated last spring," Barbara smiled.

"Oh! Well then," Bob smiled and ordered Tim to put Barbara on as full time staff.

Tim wasn't pleased; he'd hoped to manipulate the attractive woman into a sexual relationship. His brother, however, just took Tim's only leverage away from him.

Two of the salespeople actually resigned before Barbara could find that they had bumped their sales figures up. Tim ordered Barbara to keep digging; keep looking for more proof, more information.

Barbara was exhausted when she returned to the apartment. Brandon readily agreed that they could order a pizza. This started a friendly argument of where to order the pizza from, and what to get put on their pizza.

"Fine, get whatever you want," Barbara smiled, unzipping her dress. "I'm going take a quick shower."

Brandon watched his mother undress as she walked from living room to her bedroom. Then he called Domino's and ordered what she had wanted.

Barbara did not close her bedroom door. She did close her bathroom door against the chill of the air-conditioner; Brandon had the unit down to sixty four degrees in an effort to quickly cool the stuffy unit down.

Moments after leaving her bedroom, now dressed in panties and tee shirt, a hard knock sounded at the door. Barbara grabbed her purse.

"Here, you get it," Barbara ordered Brandon, holding out a twenty dollar bill.

"What? You're closer," Brandon smirked.

"Brandon! I'm not dressed!" Barbara giggled.

Brandon grabbed the twenty dollar bill and opened the door just as the girl prepared to knock a second time. He paid for the pizza and accepted the change.

"Brandon, give that girl two bucks, huh?" Barbara ordered from the safety of the kitchen.

"Thanks, ma'am," the girl smiled.

"Domino's? Thought you didn't like them," Barbara smiled when Brandon closed the door.

"Not really, but you like them," Brandon smiled, putting the box on the table.

"Aw! Thanks, Sweetheart," Barbara cooed, putting two plates and two cups of fruit punch onto the table.

"Mom, why we don't get beer?" Brandon asked.

"Because I'm a light weight," Barbara said. "Two beers and I'm out of it."

After they finished the pizza, Barbara ordered Brandon to take the garbage out. She yelped, then giggled when he gave her panty clad buttocks a playful slap.

"So, where'd you go look today?" Barbara asked as they searched for something to watch on the television.

"That A and A soap place said they'd keep my application on hand; there's always turnover," Brandon said.

"Oh! And I could drop you off on my way to O'Neil's," Barbara said.

Brandon conceded and let his mother find a Lifetime movie to watch. She cuddled against him as they watched the movie.

"Aw!" Barbara let out a sigh when the woman's previously unresponsive, emotionally detached boyfriend had an epiphany and became a loving, devoted boyfriend.

She snuggled tightly against Brandon. He rolled his eyes at her.

"You ever get a girlfriend? That's how you should treat her," Barbara counseled.

"Oh? Um, like getting Domino's even when Brick's is better?" Brandon suggested.

"Yes!" Barbara smiled and kissed him on his lips.

She jerked when Brandon's tongue flicked against her lips. She released her hold on his right bicep, scooting slightly away from him.

Brandon took the opportunity to put his right arm around his mother's slim shoulders, pulling her back against himself. Barbara put out her hands. One hand went against his chest, the other against his thigh.

"Brandon!" Barbara now protested.

"What? Rubbing yourself all up against me but now..." Brandon asked, confused.

"Sweetheart, that's just me being silly, being playful," Barbara said.

"And getting naked in front of me?" Brandon continued.

"Oh, come on, it's not like we've never seen each other naked before," Barbara said, getting to her feet.

"Huh?" Brandon said, thoroughly confused by the mixed signals his mother had been sending out.

"Goodnight," Barbara said.

She kissed him on his lips. Brandon returned her kiss, but kept his hands to himself, kept his tongue in his mouth.

In her room, Barbara replayed the incident. She could see how her child could have misconstrued her actions and felt guilt well up in her guts. Laying down on her bed, Barbara did slide her hand into her panties, did rub her little pleasure bump as she thought about her wanton, silly, playful behavior, and the unintended consequences her behavior had created.

"Oh!" Barbara grunted as she thought about the hand job and the semi-blow job she'd performed on her son the other night.

Barbara could now see how Brandon would be confused. Barbara could see how her Brandon might misread her actions, see them as some form of seduction.

The next afternoon, Barbara stopped and purchased two six packs of St. Elizabeth's Lager, along with a pack of hot dogs, a pack of buns, and two cans of canned chili. She hoped that this little 'celebration' would warm up the relationship between her and her son. He'd been very quiet that morning at the breakfast table.

Thinking of breakfast, Barbara also grabbed a roll of cinnamon buns. Kevin had always complained when Barbara bought the Pillsbury brand, rather than the bargain brand, reminding her that money didn't grow on trees. But she and Brandon preferred the Pillsbury over the bargain brand.

"All right!" Brandon said happily when Barbara showed him the beer.

"And since I don't go in until ten tomorrow, I can have two beers," Barbara giggled, delighted at her son's happiness.

They ate hot dogs and chili, each drinking a beer with dinner. Then, they settled on the couch, each with another can of beer in hand.

Again, Brandon let his mother find a Lifetime movie for them to watch. It was a romantic comedy, the woman was trapped in a loveless marriage, was completely clueless to her next door neighbor's attraction to her.

"Aw!" Barbara sighed when the woman finally comprehended her neighbor and friend's romantic feelings.

"See?" Barbara told Brandon. "You love someone? Don't give up. Sooner or later, you going get her."

She belched, then giggled. Brandon manufactured a belch of his own and she gasped, lightly slapping him on his arm.

"Aw!" Barbara sighed as the woman and next door neighbor kissed passionately while the credits rolled.

"Whew! Told you, two beers and I'm..." Barbara said, leaning heavily against Brandon.

Barbara felt hands, loving hands on her breasts. The thin material of her tee shirt rasped against her sensitive nipples. Barbara moaned her approval as the hands lightly squeezed her small breasts. She helped as the hands pulled her tee shirt up and off.

"OH, yes," Barbara hissed when a hot mouth began sucking on her nipple.

"Bite, I like them...ugh!" Barbara moaned.

"Okay, Sweetheart," Barbara coached as a hot mouth clumsily lapped at her pussy. "You're looking for my little bump. Right, ugh! Yes! Yes, right there, that's it, oh!"

"Oh baby!" Barbara enthused as a thick cock pushed into her wet pussy. "Ugh, yes, fuck me. Oh that's it."

It was two thirty one in the morning when Barbara wearily wobbled out of her bed. She staggered into her bathroom and plopped down on the commode.

Despite a slight headache, Barbara felt an odd euphoria. Dabbing at her pussy with a wad of toilet paper, Barbara felt her pussy lips were plump, puffy. She giggled and gave her clitoris a quick little rub.

Climbing back into bed, Barbara suddenly sat bolt upright. Brandon was in her bed.

Barbara turned on the small bedside lamp and looked. Brandon's face was peaceful as he slumbered. Barbara looked down and saw that her son was nude. She realized, she too was nude. And her son's pubic hair looked matted, sticky.

"Oh no!" Barbara groaned. "We didn't. Did we?"

When she attempted to rouse Brandon, he just grunted and moved away. Resigned, Barbara turned off the bedside lamp

When it was Sunday, she and Kevin would lay in bed, his muscled arms holding her, his hands groping, squeezing her breasts. He would slide his cock into her wet pussy from behind, would thrust into her.

"It's not Sunday," Barbra thought as Kevin's fingers pinched, twisted her sensitive nipples.

His cock was filling her pussy with his cream and Barbara hoped that she'd finally give Kevin the child he'd always wanted. Their little Brandon called Kevin 'Daddy' but Kevin always said he wanted another child, a child of his own.

"Ugh, yes," Barbara hissed in orgasm.

The alarm woke her and Barbara again sat bolt upright. Brandon was in her bed and her mound and upper thighs were sticky with semen.

"Brandon! Wake up," Barbara snapped.

He listened to her for a moment. She tried to be sympathetic, but firm when she told Brandon that what they had done, their having sex with one another was wrong. She told him they would just put last night, this morning down as a drunken incident.

"But I wasn't drunk," Brandon said and kissed her.

"Brandon!" Barbara squealed as he easily pushed her into her pile of pillows.

"Brandon!" she protested, then moaned as his hard cock slid into her wet pussy.

"Love you, Mom," Brandon grunted as he pushed his hard cock into her tight pussy.

"Ugh! Yes, love you too, Baby boy," Barbara keened in orgasm.

Barbara was distracted at work. Thankfully, the hard work was already completed; she could concentrate on that day's receipts.

Barbara dawdled after her shift was over, unsure of what to do. Sooner or later, she would have to go home. Sooner or later, she would have to face her baby boy and tell her baby boy that they simply could not ever have sex again.

"It's wrong; I'm your mother, for God's sake," Barbara rehearsed as she drove home, to their apartment.

"Hey, what? What's this?" Barbara asked when she came into the apartment.

There was the smell of food being cooked. There were two candles on their small table, twinkling merrily. The television wasn't blaring some late afternoon broadcast.

"Meatloaf," Brandon announced. "And string beans and carrots."

"Wow; I should be late more often," Barbara said, hugging him.

She stretched up and gave him a gentle kiss on his lips. Releasing him, Barbara went into her bedroom, unzipping her dress.

"Got time for me to take a shower?" Barbara asked, dropping her bra onto her dress.

"Uh, mm, 'bout twenty minutes?" Brandon deduced. "So, uh, yeah, don't take one of them two hour long showers."

"Brandon!" Barbara giggled, sticking her head into the kitchen. "When have I ever?"

In her shower, Barbara did take the time to masturbate. She also took the time to shave pits, legs, and pussy.

"Damn, was about send Coast Guard out to get you," Brandon joked when Barbara stepped out of her bedroom, dressed in skimpy tee shirt and small bikini panties.

"Oh, hush you," Barbara giggled.

Brandon even served the meal, placing her plate down first. They ate, talking about their day; he'd been to a few places in the Courtyard Mall in Pinoak, as well as a few restaurants in and around Elgee.

"Guess shouldn't have waited until after everyone graduated," Brandon admitted.

After dinner, Barbara debated with herself, then decided she'd have a second can of beer.

"Brandon," Barbara started, after taking a hefty gulp of her beer. "I uh, listen, what we did, what happened last night..."

"Erk!" Barbara grunted as Brandon picked her up in his chubby arms.

His tongue slid into her mouth. Barbara sucked on his tongue, hands entwined in his thick mop of hair.

Brandon carried his mother into her bedroom. He pulled his mouth from her mouth long enough to lay her onto her bed.

"Brandon, this is wrong," Barbara protested as he pulled her tee shirt up and off.

"I'm your mother," she protested as she lifted her hips so that he could slide her panties down and off.

"This is incest; it's wrong, Sweetheart, you do understand that, right?" Barbara pleaded with her son as her fingers wrapped around his rampant cock.

She cried out in orgasm as he slid his hard cock into her drooling pussy. It only took a few pumps and Brandon's sperm was jetting into Barbara's pussy.

"Oh, yes," Barbara hissed, feeling his thick, warm semen flooding her.

Barbara drank her beer, then bent and cleaned Brandon's sticky cock with her mouth. She continued to suck his meat until he again grew hard.

"Now, this, this is one of my favorite positions," Barbara cooed as she got onto hands and knees. "This is also good for ass fucking. 'Course, that fat monster of yours? Don't, oh, ugh, God yes!"

With her encouragement, Brandon slid a spittle wet finger into his mother's rectum while his fat cock pounded her bald pussy. Barbara grunted then keened in orgasm when Brandon slid a second finger into her anal cavity.

In the morning, Brandon made the cinnamon buns while Barbara dressed for work. Barbara ate two of the sticky, gooey treats, while Brandon ate three of them. Then, with a passionate kiss at the door, Barbara left for work.

"This has got to stop," Barbara scolded herself as she drove to work. "It is just wrong, just wrong."

Brandon again had dinner ready when his mother got home. He'd looked up how to make chicken wings and had tater tots to go with the spicy wings. Barbara praised his efforts and they washed down dinner with a beer each.

"Oh! It's, Thursday night? There's that show coming on," Barbara said as Brandon cleaned up their dishes.

They started off watching the show, giving one another gentle touches, soft caresses. By the second commercial break, Barbara was coaching her son on how to eat her pussy to a toe curling, grunting orgasm. By the third commercial break, Barbara was kneeling on the small couch, sucking a second load out of Brandon's fat meat. She turned the television off after he ejaculated down her throat; she had seen very little of the show anyway.

Nearly two months after they'd moved into Venice Apartments, Brandon was hired on at A and A Soaps, working in the shipping department. Cheryl Goodwin, his supervisor was quite aggressive in her flirting, but Brandon informed the heavy-set woman that he had a girlfriend.
"So? I got a husband," Cheryl cackled. "Honey, I won't tell if you don't."

On the days that she got home before Brandon, Barbara made dinner. On the days that he got home before his mom, Brandon made dinner. Their meals were always followed with shared clean up, then hot sex.

"Like my ass, huh?" Barbara giggled as Brandon fingered her slick anus.

"Love your ass," Brandon grunted, driving two fingers into her anus while pumping her pussy with his cock.

"Going stick that big old cock up my ass?" Barbara asked, grunting as his pelvis slammed against her.

"Aw yeah," Brandon enthused.

"Need, ugh, need go slow, baby," Barbara gasped. "You're mighty big."

Brandon watched his mother's light brown anus flower open. The shiny ring of flesh spread as his greasy cock pressed in and he watched Barbara's hole swallow the head of his cock.

"Ugh, oh God damn," Barbara hissed.

"Want me stop?" Brandon asked, even though he had no intention of stopping.

"Ugh, just, uh, oh, God, give me a minute," Barbara panted.

Brandon gripped her narrow hips and pulled her against him.

"Ah, shit!" Barbara cried out as nearly half of her son's cock slid into her bowels.

As Brandon had already shot two loads into Barbara's sloppy pussy, he was able to last a long time, pounding in and out of Barbara's ass. Her rectum was quite raw by the time he finally stiffened, then grunted.

"Oh God, God damn, Baby Boy, going kill me," Barbara whined as Brandon pulled his slimy cock from her hole.

At ten forty that night, Brandon's phone gave a chime. Brandon looked at the text from Cheryl Goodwin, his supervisor.

"Turn on the news?" he asked.

"Huh?" Barbara roused from slumber.

"My supervisor just sent me a text, wants me turn on the news," Brandon said, wiggling out of the bed.

"Be there in a minute," Barbara sluggishly said.

Brandon went into the living room and searched for the remote control. Just as a nude Barbara joined him, he turned on Channel 12.

"Aw, holy shit!" Brandon said, watching as a fire roared at A and A Soaps building.

"Brandon! That's, that's your job," Barbara said, listening as Summer Broussard, the attractive blonde reporter interviewed Captain Richards, the fire captain.

"That's my boss right there," Brandon said as Toni Delacroix stood, sobbing.

"Oh!" Barbara cried out as the building began to collapse.

At five thirty seven in the morning, Captain Richards sent Barbara's cell phone a text message, asking where she was. Barbara's hands shook as she replied, giving their Venice Apartment's address.

Forty minutes later, Barbara was dressed and applying her makeup when a hard knock sounded at the door of their apartment. Brandon answered and allowed Captain Richards to enter their apartment.

"Mrs. Garcia?" the man asked, face blotchy, weary.

"Yes," Barbara asked, face tight.

"I uh, I, well, ma'am, I don't know if y'all got the news, but uh, there was a fire last night, uh, A and A Soaps?" the man asked.

"Would you like some coffee, Captain?" Barbara asked.

"One more cup of coffee and I'm going pop," the man smiled tightly. "But, uh, about this fire."

"I uh, that was where I worked," Brandon offered.

"That a fact?" Captain Richards asked.

Barbara almost fainted when Captain Richards informed her that Kevin and another fireman had been killed when the rear wall fell on top of them. Captain Richards and Brandon guided Barbara to the small couch. Brandon got her a glass of water and Barbara drank it.

"I, you sure, I mean, it couldn't, but, he was always so careful," Barbara stammered.

"So, uh, when did y'all move here? Thought he had, wasn't that house his momma's house?" Captain Richards asked, looking around at the small apartment.

"It is, it was; she died, what? 'Bout twelve years ago," Barbara whispered.

"Again, Mrs. Garcia, I'm real sorry; Kevin was one of the best," Captain Richards said.

*.*

Louella Denson, Kevin's fifty three year old live-in girlfriend refused to vacate 1416 Cort Drive. She claimed that Kevin Garcia had proposed marriage to her, therefore, she was entitled to reside in the home.

Penny Jones filled out the paperwork and had Richard Boudreaux serve the harsh woman with the orders to vacate. For the first time in his short career of being a process server, Richard Boudreaux was pepper sprayed.

Three days later, Richard Boudreaux served the woman again. This time, he slapped the spray from her hand before she could squeeze off the vile spray.

The next day, Lieutenant Elise Richards and her partner, Sergeant Eric Mills forcibly removed Louella and her three cats from 1416 Cort Drive. Cell phone footage of the scrawny woman kicking, screaming, clawing at Elise and Eric, then being taysed by Elise went on the Internet and soon went viral.

Barbara and Brandon listlessly bent to the task of cleaning the house. Louella had been less than fastidious about cleaning up after her kitties, had been less than fastidious about her own hygiene.

"Really, Kevin?" Barbara thought as she gathered Louella Denson's garbage. "This is what you replaced me with? And I thought you were allergic to cats. Why I never could have one."

Somehow, Louella found out about the hundred thousand dollar policy Kevin Garcia had with Young Insurance. Because his death had been accidental, the double indemnity clause paid Barbara two hundred thousand dollars. Louella had Parker Johnson file a suit against Barbara and Brandon Garcia, claiming that the insurance money should be hers; she was Kevin's fiancé.

"He was going divorce her, and that bastard kid of hers," Louella sniped at Judge Marie Robichaux.

"There is no record of Kevin Garcia filing a motion for the dissolution of marriage," Judge Robichaux mused. "Ms. Denson, who was Mr. Garcia's attorney?"

"I, uh, I don't know," Louella had to admit.

Nor could she provide any text messages, emails, or other communications from Kevin Garcia stating his intent to divorce Barbara Garcia. Louella was further unable to show that Kevin Garcia and she were engaged, that Kevin had any intention to marry her.

"Dismissed," Judge Robichaux decided, banging her gavel down. "Now, Mrs. Garcia, I see you've filed a counter-suit, asking that Ms. Denson be responsible for your attorney fees, as well as seeking a protective order?"

"I ain't paying shit," Louella sneered.

"Really Kevin? This? This is what you threw me out for?" Barbara asked herself

One morning, driving in to work, Barbara had the radio on, listening to K.U.L.D, the station out of the University of Louisiana at DeGarde. A commercial for a sanitary napkin brand came on and Barbara almost slammed on her brakes. She no longer heard the commercial as her brain raced.

"When was my last period?" she asked herself out loud.

Even as Barbara asked herself the question, she knew the answer. The day after she and her son had moved into Apartment #107, she had finished her period.

Barbara found it impossible to focus on her work. Thankfully, Tim was out of the building; one of their delivery men was out. Bob smiled in understanding when Barbara confessed to not feeling well.

Arriving home, Barbara saw that Brandon's car had three flat tires, as well as smashed tail lights. Brandon glumly told her that Louella had been by that afternoon.

"You didn't go out there, did you?" Barbara asked.

"You crazy? Seen her, immediately called the cops," Brandon said, putting the finishing touches on their dinner. "Man! They was here...like that!"

"That smells good," Barbara complimented. "My Baby Boy's becoming quite the cook."

"Mom, whatever, huh?" Brandon beamed under her praise.

Over dinner, Barbara was quiet; trying to come up with the words to tell her son that she was sure she was pregnant. She was also wondering when Louella's reign of terror would end; the woman would not respect the order of protection the Garcias had against her.

"Sweet Oak," Barbara suddenly said.

"Hmm?" Brandon asked, looking up.

"Your dad," Barbara started.

"Not my dad, remember?" Brandon snapped angrily.

"Your dad was originally from Sweet Oak, Texas," Barbara said, ignoring Brandon's outburst.

"And?" Brandon said.

"Baby, we got two hundred thousand dollars, plus whatever we could get for this house," Barbara said. "We could move there, no one knows us there. We could make a whole new start and our baby could grow up and wouldn't have to be afraid of that insane Louella Denson and whatever she feels like doing."

"I'm not moving just..." Brandon started, then cried out. "Baby? BABY?"

Carmen Davis came out, inspected the home and agreed they'd list it for ninety four thousand.

Tim O'Neil wanted to tell Barbara she could take her two weeks' notice and shove it up her ass. Bob though smiled sadly and told her she would be missed. Then he brightened.

"Sweet Oak? Met a guy, um, damn it, Tim, what was that guy's name, got them rent to own places? Remember? Met him at that convention?" Bob asked his brother.

"Deubler? Damn, that guy's wife was HOT!" Tim said.

"Edward Deubler," Bob agreed. "Let me call him, see if he could use you out there."

Carmen Davis had an offer on the house and Barbara and Brandon again found themselves packing to leave 1416 Cort Drive. Barbara's last day at O'Neil's Furniture, she got a five hundred dollar bonus from Bob, a 'little something help y'all get settled.' And a glare from Tim O'Neil.

Deubler hired Barbara to be an assistant manager of his Sweet Oak store and hired Barbara's much younger husband, Brandon Garcia to work on the delivery truck. When Edward fired the manager of the Great Oak Deubler Furniture & Appliances, he moved Barbara to that store, promoting her to manager. Edward also moved Barbara's husband to that store's delivery team.

Soon, Barbara's baby bump began to show. Edward shrugged his shoulders; his own wife was also sporting another baby bump.

There's this Dr. Pruitt, real good Ob/Gyn," Edward offered. "My Terri goes see him; want me get his number for you?"

"See Baby Boy?" Barbara whispered to her son as they cuddled in their bed that night, his semen oozing from her pussy. "I told you moving here was a good idea."

THE END

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories.

I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. I thank those that take the time to rate my stories, and those that 'Favorite' my stories.

I do not, however, read emails. If you have anything to say, simply leave the comments here so that we can all enjoy your words.

A&A Soaps is from the 'Wealth' series in both Lesbian Sex and Mature categories. The fire that destroyed the building was started in 'Nudge' in the Loving Wives category.

Edward Deubler, Deubler Furniture & Appliances are featured in 'Hesitation' in the Mature category.

O'Neil's Furniture is mentioned in several of my stories, those stories that are set in the DeGarde, Louisiana area. O'Neil's Furniture is prominently featured in 'Quick Repair Service' series.

Cheryl Goodwin, Brandon's supervisor is a character in 'Azalea' in the Incest/Taboo category.

The two police officers, Elise Richards and Eric Mills are from 'Love, Bullets and Badges' series in the Romance category, as well as 'Jellybean Theif' in Loving Wives category.

Carmen Davis, the real estate broker can be found in several stories, but her start is in the 'The Broussard Sisters' series in the Group Sex category. At that time, she was Carmen Simone.

Penny Jones, the attorney, as well as Richard Boudreaux are characters from 'Righting A Wrong' in the Romance category. Richard Boudreaux was first introduced in the 'Yearbook 2005' series in the Novels/Novellas category.

Dr. Pruitt, the Ob/Gyn that Edward's wife Terri goes to is a character from 'Paint It Black' in the Incest/Taboo category.

Again, thank you for reading my stories. Have a swell day. And some of you? Have a swollen day.