Good God! Those screams are sounding again! I sometimes wonder how the fuck I can live under this regime. No, I always wonder why the fuck I still live under my parents regime.

Let’s set a preamble: 23 year old male, law school graduate, home office, consulting attorney, single, and… enjoying life as a fucking 16 year old.

That’s right, my mother is yelling at me again, from the other side of the apartment. What would Freud think of this? I get my lazy ass off my desk (as told) and make my way to the kitchen where… what are those? They are envelopes.

“Take these to Claudia’s, will you?”

“Please, how hard is it to just say…”

“Don’t pull that please bullshit on me, William; give these to the neighbor.”

No matter how many times we call the post office, our address is still registered as Claudia’s.

An ass-hat, Billy-Boy, 23 years old and you are still quite an ass-hat; now do as mommy tells you.

The 23 year old lame ass is now getting up the stairs, thinking about jumping right down the staircase when (conveniently) the door marked with a rusty 36 opens up revealing a couple of kids who get out screaming at the top of their lungs and laughing their heads off. They rush down the stairs, most likely heading to the backyard.

There she is: that early 40’s, blonde, curvy, tanned piece of ass.

A towel is curled around her head; drops slide down her neck, the sweet eau de toilette aroma gets to me, along with some soapy scent. Good God.

She is quite joyful (my mind thinks ‘playful’) for a single mom, she knows my name and asks me to come in; I hear something about me looking like shit (or any other horror film rip-off quote).

I take a seat in the living room while she disappears down the hallway. I hear a hair drier. I help myself a glass of water (previously offered, of course) as I imagine her appearing naked with fishnets or something. She instead appears with her hair half dried and the same outfit with which she opened the door (tight blue jeans and a loose black velveteen blouse). She is still bare feet and I imagine her soles lightly caressing my dog, then my lips brushing her toes (damn! There is a band aid in one of them). I realize the envelopes are covered in a light coat of my sweat (high school sweaty palms all over again, buddy).

She sits next to me in the couch and I deliver the mail. She is wearing dark blue eyeliner. I imagine her makeup smeared across her cheeks, running down with semen, sweat and saliva as she throats me. Moaning, gagging and choking sounds would fill the room while she’d bob her head up and down, fluid dripping onto the maroon suede of the couch. I am beginning to wonder how her ass would feel if she rode me.

Good God.

She is now running around some light talk topics which my mind completely dismisses.

I see her fresh nail polish and surreal me feels those hands cupping my balls, my legs spread lewdly as she tickles my taint; afterwards proceeding to taste the sweat that has dropped into her palms.

We now reach the point in which the conversation dies and I have to get up. Good old Bill has a fully grown erection. She leans in and kisses my cheek, she whispers something into my ear (it could have been anything, from ‘fuck me’ to ‘get my newspaper’) and my skin crawls, I turn around and kiss her right in the lips. I can sense her eyes widening up in surprise.

I am planning to move to another country; I brace myself for a slap and angry screams.

I am thrown down from the couch with a quick maneuver (Single moms. They always know self defense fighting techniques or carry around a can of pepper spray), she sits on top of my chest and looks down at me. She is blushing and I am cringing. She breathes heavily and I wonder if her tits are real.

She pulls me up from the shirt and kisses me again, she has now locked me in her mouth, sucking, slurping, and slippery tongues roll against each other. A firm grasp of hard roundness confirms her breasts are enhanced. Her nipples are erect. She bites my lower lip and I feel it begin to swell, I shiver with pleasure and bite her tongue.

Her blouse is already rolled up over her jugs, her bra ended up next to us. I pull down her pants roughly and get a warm scent coming from behind her bush. Oil is dripping down her thighs, I grab her soft ass and squeeze, massage, rub. She takes my hand and guides it to her cunt; I slide my fingers across her lips, savoring the fact that she is petite. I probe with my fingertips the creases of her puckered asshole.

Her jeans and thong are now lying next to her bra.

Then it strikes us. A sharp, constant sound, it’s coming down the stairs, the unmistakable clicks of stilettos on concrete. Shit, the front door is open ajar.

The noise disappears and Claudia is already reaching behind for her handbag, her blue eyes looking out the void behind her door. She gets out a small lotion bottle and rips open my zipper. The cold fluid is squirted into my shaft, staining my jeans as well. I feel a firm warm grip tightening around my dog, squeezing its way up and slowly sliding down.

My dick is now red, the tip glistening and I am shaking, my mouth is dry and she is sweating. The motion speeds up as she reaches out for her thong.

Quickly, she wraps her underwear around my cock and I feel the big blast erupting through me. When I am finished squirting, I grab her hair and pull her down so I can taste again her luscious, damp mouth. She breaks the kiss, we get up in some sort of hurry; I am about to make my way out when she points down disapprovingly. My cock is still out with her panties wrapped around it. I remove the messed up thong and shove it into my pocket, I stuff my softening cock back into my boxers and I realize my zipper is useless, broken by Claudia’s hungry hands.

How am I supposed to go back home? Good God, I’m a fucking teenager.