With Mom’s Help – Part 1
Synopsis - A mother learns her son's perverted fantasy and helps him realize it ========================================================== I stared down at the filthy bed. The bed sheets must have been beige a long time ago but now they were dirty yellowish. Several large stains, most likely from cum of hundreds, may be thousands of men covered the bed spread.
There were no pillows except one large square cusion in the middle. Right next to it a new stain had started to form where the my sperm had fallen out of a large, overused cunt. The cunt in question belonged to an overweight, perhaps obese black woman in her forties who stood next to the bed counting the money I had just handed her.
Hello, my name is Larry Lishkin. I am 24 year old and addicted to the sistah's. More precisely I am addicted to fucking black women with certain attributes like Tasheka here. Tasheka is 45,very voluptuous with almost 44FF bra size (tits hanging all the way to her navel) and 60' wide hips.
Even though her eyes are big and quite beautiful, Tasheka is not pretty by any standards. She has thick lips and a flat nose. She puts on deep red lipstick, false eye lashes and heavy mascara and makeup to look presentable. Yes, I like them black.
I like them big. And above all, I like them whores! Not just any whore, mind you. I like ghetto whores. Cheap, street prostitutes who sell their bodies for as little as 50 bucks a pop.
Tasheka charges $40. I am one of the few men who sees her regularly. I know I am only white customer she has. But Tasheka is not the only one.
I also visit Yolanda, Tilisha, Coleen, D'aja and Fatema. I don't see all of them each week but I do see at least one girl each day. This was my third time with Tasheka this week. 'Motha' Fucker!' Tasheka cursed.
I took pleasure in negotiating with the cheapest prostitutes! 'Oh yah you do, you motha' fucker!' she curse again. I knew she lived alone so there was no threat of a big, burly man charging out the closet of her tiny studio and beating me to pulp. 'Seriously baby! I spent all my money on you this week.
' She sighed then shoved the money in the drawer of her side table. Then she smiled and walked over - her naked breasts and belly jiggling with each step. We hugged. I grabbed her wide, black ass as she kissed me deeply.
I loved her! She was the best whore I knew. As it often happens, I was not fucking Tasheka. She was fucking me. Two days later an unmarked envelop showed up at my desk at work.
Inside was a CD with last 3 fuck sessions I had with Tasheka. There were many photos as well. There was no letter, no address, no demand for money but the message was clear. I immediately left work and headed to the largely black and hispanic neighborhood Tasheka had her studio.
The door was wide open. She was sitting on the small couch she owned in a shimmering white dress. Her fat thighs were spread open and I could clearly see and smell her pussy. She smiled when she saw me at the door.
'Do you know about this?' I asked throwing the envelop on her lap. She looked at my coyly from behind the false eyelashes. 'TALK TO ME YOU WHORE!' I yelled. 'RESPECT, YOU MOTHA' FUCKER!' she yelled back.
. . . .