Speaking of Bombshells
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Gwen arrived home and opened the door with apprehension. She realized she would feel that way for a very long time whenever she got home. She felt as if she’d been violated in a way that would hold her hostage for the rest of her life.
On the way home from Kayleigh’s house, she’d thought about the porn star’s explanation of why Mark Craven had thrown them the bone he had, telling Gwen for Kayleigh’s sake what had happened to Cindy. It just didn’t ring true. Kayleigh had introduced him to a woman with a unique talent that she was willing to have filmed? Craven, by admitting his knowledge of what had happened to Cindy, had basically admitted to being involved in adult human trafficking of the worst sort. He was a partner in crime to someone who was basically holding a person against her will, which was the legal definition of kidnapping. This was no small crime he had confessed to. Did Kayleigh have something on him? Was that the reason for his quick confession?
Gwen didn’t know, but one thing she did know was that the story about introducing him to Lynnette Baxter was a cover story, and not a very good one at that.
Her instincts as a detective were firing on all cylinders, and they were telling her Kayleigh had lied. But why? What was the truth that Kayleigh didn’t want her to know?
*******
Mom and I stared at each other as Jenna ran from the room, screaming that the man in the picture was the same man who had raped her when she was little. We followed Jenna to her room, where she lay on her bed sobbing.
We joined her in the bed, lying beside her and holding her as we tried to soothe her, shushing her and telling her it would be okay. Each of us doing our best to help her feel better by telling her that we would get him one day for what he’d done to her.
Mom had raised me believing that consent was more important than anything else when having sex with someone. She had told me countless times when I was little that if what we were doing bothered me at all, I should say so, and she would have no problem with my decision for us to stop. I’d spent my life since age six hearing the words, “What we do is up to you.” She was so careful about my consent that for the first two years of our incestuous relationship she asked me almost daily if I was still okay with it. I remember getting annoyed with the question at one point, but she just told me to get used to it because she would ask until she was absolutely certain I would always be fine with the idea of having sex with my mother.
As we lay in the bed with Jenna, I was angry enough that I wanted to kill someone for the first time in my life, and I said so.
“No, honey,” Mom said. “First, if you ever did that to anyone and went to jail, I would never forgive myself. Second, this is the one person I could never let you harm.”
I looked at Mom, my brow furrowed with confusion. Of course, I knew Mom would never want me to actually kill anyone, but that last statement was very odd.
As we lay there comforting Jenna, I noticed Mom would look at me then back at Jenna before looking at me again, worry etching her face with frown lines. Because I knew my mom so well, I understood she was wrestling with whether or not to tell me something. I knew it was something I probably didn’t want to hear, but Mom was trying to decide if she should tell me anyway.
A hundred strange ideas about what she would say if she decided to tell me whatever it was ran through my mind. At first I thought Mom had maybe killed someone herself, but I dismissed that as too weird. She didn’t have it in her to kill another person, no matter the reason, anymore than I did. I knew it had something to do with Mr. Craven, though, because of her last statement.
She’d said she could never let me harm him. I ran this over in my mind. Then it hit me. Was she in love with this monster? If so, why hadn’t I known that before? She never hid her relationships from me. Never.
But if that wasn’t what she wanted to tell me, what was?
Finally, I just looked at her and said, “Tell me.”
At first she acted as if she didn’t know what I was talking about. “Tell you what?”
“Whatever it is you’re trying to decide whether or not to tell me.”
If we had been in any other circumstance, her look would have made me laugh. Her eyes widened in surprise as it occurred to her that I had correctly interpreted her reactions.
“What makes you think I’m deciding whether or not to tell you something?” she asked.
“Because, I see it in your face. It’s the same way you looked at me when you were considering telling me about you and Grandma. It’s your ‘should I tell her?’ look.”
She looked down at Jenna, whose sobbing had subsided to gentle weeping, before looking back at me. “Okay, but later. We have to tend to your sister’s needs first.”
We lay with Jenna for the next hour, calming her and telling her how much we loved her and that we would do something to get back at Mr. Craven for raping her.
Finally, exhausted from the party the night before and the shock of seeing her rapist’s picture on our TV screen, Jenna fell asleep. Mom and I stripped her to her panties and tucked her in before going to the kitchen to talk and have something to eat.
When we were seated at the table with turkey sandwiches, I said, “Okay, so what is it you don’t know whether or not to tell me?”
“I’m still not sure if I should tell you, sweetie. It’s a rather big thing. And I know for certain you’d rather not know.”
The killing thing hit me again, and I said, “Did you kill someone?”
That shocked her. “Of course not! Why would you think that?”
“Well, you said you couldn’t let me kill someone, and that’s when you started looking like you might tell me something.”
“Cheryl Leanne Taylor! How could you think something like that about me?”
“I didn’t really think it,” I said. “I just sorta… well… thought it but didn’t believe it.”
“I can’t believe you asked me that,” she said. She seemed really upset by the fact I had done so.
“I’m sorry. I just… well, I just don’t know what you could be thinking of telling me. I know it’s something really big because you don’t get that look unless it is.”
“Well, it’s big but not that big,” Mom said, sipping her coffee.
“Then tell me,” I said.
“You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?” she asked.
“No.”
Sighing, she took another sip from her coffee and looked me in the eye. Then, apparently unable to hold that gaze, she looked back at her coffee cup.
Still staring at her mug, she asked, “You remember what I told you about your dad?”
“Yeah.” Mom had told me I was the result of her boyfriend not using a condom one time when they’d made a homemade porn video. I’d seen it, even.
“Well, I’ve always known he wasn’t your dad. That video was made a full year before you were born. I never got pregnant from him.”
I was stunned. He wasn’t my dad? “What? Why?–” I couldn’t form the questions raging through my mind.
“I didn’t want to tell you the truth, honey. I didn’t want you to know.”
Tears stung my eyes and overflowed, slipping down my cheeks. “Know what?” I asked, all the while hoping she would tell me it was a joke. A bad joke.
“I was raped.”
“You–?” So that was it. The rape of Jenna was bringing her own rape to the forefront of her mind, forcing her to think about the lie she’d been living.
“Yes,” Mom said. “I’m sorry, baby. I wanted to tell you but I didn’t want you to think you were the product of something so ugly.” Now her tears were running down her cheeks as well. She reached out to hold me, and for the first time in my life, I pulled back, not wanting the contact. It hurt me to see the hurt in her eyes, but I still refused her touch.
“Tell me about it,” I said. “Were you walking along and dragged into an alley? Kidnapped? What?”
Instead of holding me, her hands grasped each other in an effort to stop the trembling.
“It was a date rape.”
“You knew the guy?”
She looked at me. I could see the shame in her eyes, glowing behind the tears.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she sobbed. “I should have told you, but I couldn’t.”
“Why are you telling me now?” I sobbed. “Why now?”
“Because… because it’s all coming back to haunt me… to haunt Jenna.”
“Who was it? Who’s my father?” I asked her, forcing her to tell me. It wasn’t that I wanted a relationship with him. He’d raped my mom. I just wanted to know.
My mother’s face crumbled into a thousand pieces as she told me the name. I found myself thinking of the nursery rhyme ‘Humpty Dumpty,’ where all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again. I realized my biggest wish at that moment would be that we could put my mom’s face back together again. To make things the way they had been before.
She was right. At thirteen, I would rather have lived the lie.
But my life broke in two that day, as well. Forever, my life would be measured by what happened before I knew who my father really was and after I knew it.
Because my father was the devil in the flesh.
My mother looked at me and sobbed the words she’d been holding in for over thirteen years. “Mark Craven. Mr. Craven, who also raped Jenna, is your father.”
I sat speechless, unable to even think. That monster was my father? Again, my mind went into a strange place and had weird thoughts, as I pictured Luke Skywalker finding out his parental history. I knew how he felt. It would be funny if it weren’t so tragic.
When I found my voice, I needed to know there wasn’t a possibility it wasn’t someone else. “How do you know? Couldn’t it be another man you had sex with?”
“No, baby. He was the only one I had sex with since making the movie three months before, and I didn’t have sex with a man again until I turned eighteen and made my first porn movie. You were already two by that time.”
Sobbing from deep within my chest, I got up to go look at the picture of the man who’d raped my mom and my baby sister, leaving my mother still in the kitchen. Sure, raping my mom had been what gave me life, but that didn’t mean I had to love the man or even like him. He was a rapist, pure and simple. Now I understood why my Mom was so serious about consent.
I looked at his picture, memorizing every line of his face, every feature that separated his face from a billion others.
And I made my vow.
“One day I’ll pay you back, you fucker,” I mumbled to the picture on the screen, doing my best to control the sobs. “I’ll get you back for raping my mom and my baby sister.” I continued to stare at him. “And when I do, you’ll know it’s me and you’ll know why I’m doing it. Just remember, you ass wipe, paybacks are hell.” I stood there and tried to compose myself a bit. I finally stopped crying. I was angrier than anything else at this point.
After I had finally gotten control, I returned to Mom. I had a few more questions.
Sitting down in my chair, I looked at Mom and said, “Why did you say that about how he was the one person you didn’t want me to hurt?”
“It’s kind of a long story,” Mom said. “Do you want to hear it?”
I nodded. “In for a penny…” I said.
“When Mark found out I was pregnant, he denied you were his, of course. Men always seem to do that, and it was fine with me. I didn’t want to marry him or anything. I just wanted financial help raising you.
“He continued to deny you were his, but he was willing to help me make money by putting me in his stable of girls. I made good money, but I didn’t really begin raking it in until my porn career took off.”
I interrupted her explanation. “He denied I was his but he helped you financially?” This made no sense to me.
“Honey, he made more than I did from my work. He still does. It wasn’t money out of his pocket, really. It was the money I made turning tricks, and now it’s from the sale of my movies.”
“Oh, I didn’t think of it like that,” I said. Then another question hit me that I wanted answered. “Why didn’t you go to the police after he raped you? You could’ve had him arrested.”
“Honey, he was a very powerful man. Still is. I was attracted to that and when he asked me out, I couldn’t believe a man like that wanted to take me on a date. He was already in his thirties, and I was barely fifteen. I was mesmerized by what I saw as his sophistication.”
“What did Grandma think of you going out with this older guy?”
“Grandma didn’t know. I told her I was spending the night with a friend.”
Then Mom continued with her explanation. “Originally, I had planned to go to bed with him, so in a way it was almost like consensual sex, but in reality it wasn’t. We went up to his penthouse apartment and he gave me champagne, and not the cheap stuff, either. I’d finished the first glass and he just grabbed me and threw me down on the sofa. He practically tore my clothes off; some of them did get ripped. Then he was on top of me and putting his dick inside me.
“The truth is after it was over I never mentioned the word rape. At least not then. I acted as though I wanted it. He asked me if I wanted to make a lot of money. ‘I could make you a millionaire if you want,’ he said. I was still wanting to go far in life, and to be honest I wanted to be what I am today, even then. I knew who he was. After all, our date had consisted of dropping in on a shoot where I watched two girls fuck this guy and each other. I was really horny right up to the point he forced himself on me. I guess it was more like unfulfilling sex than it was rape.”
“Don’t say that, Mom. If he forced himself on you, it was rape, no matter what your intentions for the evening were.”
“In any case, he got what he wanted. After I had you, I contacted him. He had no idea I had gotten pregnant until then. I reminded him he’d offered to make me a millionaire. He said I was still too young to do film work, but that he had a spot for me if I was willing to use my, as he put it, ‘magnificent body’ to make the cash.
“I was barely sixteen with no money, no future, and a baby I had to support. It was an easy decision.”
“Couldn’t he get into trouble using a sixteen-year-old girl for prostitution? What was the difference between that and making porn movies?” I asked.
“Honey, with porn movies, the production company is required to maintain certified copies of the birth certificates of everyone who appears in a movie and is involved in any part of a sex scene, even as a voyeur. Otherwise, it’s child porn. Since prostitution is illegal anyway, there are plenty of girls out there who are underage. The pimps aren’t required to keep any records at all.
“So that’s how you started as a call girl?” I asked.
“Yes. Once I moved over to the film side of the operation, I mentioned to him that what he’d done was without my consent and therefore it was rape.”
Mom looked at me and our eyes met. I could see she wanted to make sure I got this next part.
“He told me he didn’t give a fuck what it was. He said he took what he wanted, and he had wanted me. He mentioned that if I ever came after him for the rape, though he always referred to it as ‘alleged rape,’ that he would make sure not only would I regret it, but so would you and my mother. He even knew the address where she lived back east. He quoted it to me, down to the apartment number.
“That’s why you can’t harm him, sweetie. He’s very powerful and his reach goes all the way to Grandma’s apartment. If you tried to hurt him, he’d take it out on you, me, and Grandma. Probably Jenna too.”
She smiled at me and reached out to brush my hair behind my ears. “Besides, he may have raped me, but look at the beautiful girl I got for those ten minutes of torture. I would say you’re worth it.”
“But, Mom, he raped you! And he raped Jenna when she was just a little girl. Don’t you want to get back at him?”
“Of course, I do. But not so much I would gamble your life, Jenna’s life, and my mother’s.”
“What about your life?” I asked, wondering why she left herself out.
“No, I’d gamble it if my life was the only thing I could lose. But I know I could never lose you or Jenna or Grandma.”
“So why did he tell Gwen he owed you?”
“I guess because he knows down deep that you are his, and he denied it for selfish reasons. Maybe since he knows I’m taking care of Cindy’s daughter that he sort of owes me for that, too.”
I had one final question. “Did he keep his promise?”
“What promise?” Mom had no idea what I meant, of course.
“To make you a millionaire. Mom, I don’t really know anything about the money side of our life. Are you what he said you’d be? A millionaire?”
“Honey, this house is worth nearly two million. I have lots of money invested in stocks and bonds. Money market accounts. I have a very good financial advisor. Yes, he kept his promise. I’ll say that for him. But keep in mind, the more money I make the more he makes, and what he makes would dwarf what I make.”
After hearing my mother explain why I shouldn’t harm the ass wipe, I decided I wouldn’t do anything right now, but I still planned to do something one day. I was determined he would pay one day. I went to my room and spent the next hour fantasizing about doing all sorts of things to the man who had impregnated my mother. A lot of my fantasy involved rope, scissors, his penis, and a very long time at my task. Once I knew about his relationship to me, I never referred to him as my father or my dad. He was always ‘ass wipe’ or ‘the man who impregnated my mom.’ Nothing else.
I suddenly understood the words of Khan in that Star Trek movie my mom and I watched one time on tape. I never had understood the words before. “Revenge is a dish best served cold.” It became my life’s obsession. I didn’t know it was from Shakespeare then, but it’s amazing how spot on that guy could be about things.
*******
Wednesday finally arrived. The last day of school. My seventh grade year had ended. I kept ass wipe in the back of my mind and did my best to enjoy my summer. I was thirteen and constantly horny, it seemed.
That was the summer that Jenna first molested me in my sleep. Soon, I was returning the favor. It became a game to see how long we could do things to the other without waking our prey. We even began to time it to the second with the stopwatch we had on our wristwatches.
I ended up holding the record for that summer at 19 minutes 47 seconds. I began to wonder if I could become a cat burglar or something. But instead of jewelry, I would steal sleep tops and panties while tasting all the girls and women in the house.
One morning Mom saw me sneaking naked through the house to Jenna’s room.
“Molestation time?” she asked.
I looked at her. This was about six weeks after she’d told me the truth of my birth, and things were getting back to normal. I had forgiven her during a tearful apology by both of us. I had told her I was also sorry for pulling away from her embrace, and she’d said she understood even through the pain that had caused her. And I told her I didn’t blame her for who my father was, that I knew she’d made up that story to protect me and that it was a sort of wish for her.
My relationship with my mom hadn’t gone sour. In fact, I adored her more than ever.
“Yeah,” I whispered to answer her question even though I was still way too far from Jenna’s room to be heard. “But it’s a seduction, not a molestation.”
“Sorry. Mind if I watch?” she asked.
“You have to be quiet,” I whispered. Normally, my mom would be hands-down against doing something like this, but she knew we enjoyed it. She even knew we’d made a sort of contest out of it. She understood that consent had been given in a sort of carte blanche way.
And besides, we were always horny, so it gave us the orgasms we craved.
Mom got up and crept down the hallway with me to Jenna’s door, stripping herself along the way and dropping various articles of clothing on the floor. She was naked by the time she entered Jenna’s room with me.
Before I moved to the bed and my sleeping beauty, I turned to Mom and kissed her, running a finger up her slit from her vagina to her clit as I did. She was already soaking wet, and I wondered what she’d been doing or thinking about before I got up and made my way to my little sister’s bed. She was much too wet for this to have happened just between the kitchen where she’d been drinking coffee and Jenna’s room.
I plunged my sticky wet finger into my mouth and savored the flavor of my mom’s pussy. The white goo covered my finger before I sucked it all off. Then I kissed my mom again, pushing my tongue into her mouth, allowing her to taste herself as well.
Approaching my sister, I started my stopwatch and moved quietly onto the bed, being careful not to disturb Jenna. Her breathing was deep and slow. She was totally asleep.
This was the point where I could remove her clothes without her knowing because she was so deeply asleep. I noticed she was wearing a cream-colored cami top and panties with Ren and Stimpy on them. They were a bit small for her, so I called them her Ren and Skimpy panties. She always laughed when I called them that and would do a sexy little dance in them when I said it, which of course was the biggest reason for making the play on words.
I carefully worked the little straps of the cami off her arms and gently pulled the soft material off over her head. I always removed her top first because that was the hardest article of clothing to remove without waking her.
Moving to her lower half, I hooked my fingers under the elastic band that formed the waistline of the panties. They were skimpy, as I said, and they were also very tight against her skin, so much so that she had a pronounced camel toe each time she wore them, which was another reason I knew she and I both liked these panties.
Gradually her bald pussy came into view as I edged the elastic over her slim hips. My mouth was already watering.
Once I had her naked, I touched her as softly as possible to avoid disturbing her sleep. I started with her nipples and newly swelling boobies. Her breasts had very recently begun to grow. This had started as nipple growth, first the left nipple then the right, over a period of a few weeks. She had what was known as ‘bee-sting’ boobs by this time, just softly protruding nipples forming a very small cone on each breast.
After tenderly tweaking her nipples, I moved my head down to her chest and gently suckled her. I started with her left nipple, teasing it with my tongue until I could feel it begin to stiffen from the erotic contact. I was always very careful with her boobs because of how painfully tender they could be when they began to grow.
It was always at this point that Jenna would begin the process of waking up, though it sometimes took a while for her to become awake enough to notice what was happening and say something. The sleeping person speaking clearly to indicate she knew what was going on was the cue to stop timing the sleep seduction. We had begun to call our game the Sleep Seduction to avoid the negative meaning of the word molestation. After all this wasn’t a molestation at all since both participants were very eager for it to happen.
As I licked and sucked her nipples, she gave a slight moan, indicating that even in her sleep, she was enjoying what was happening to her. I knew that somewhere in her mind she was having sexual thoughts, which often led to sexual dreams.
I took a chance this morning since Mom was watching — and playing with herself of course — and I turned Jenna over as gently as I could to be able to get to her butt.
Kneeling between her spread legs, I placed my wet tongue on her butthole, which had been cleaned during her bath the night before. I moved it slowly back and forth and she began to stir some more as her hips began moving just a slight bit, though not rhythmically as they normally would. Because she was asleep, her hips would move in a jerky rhythm, as if her body wanted to react but her mind was attempting to prevent her from feeling it.
I moved my mouth lower and licked at her slit, tasting the cream that was forming in her pussy due to what I’d been doing to her. Reaching between her legs, I placed my hands on her butt and my thumbs on her outer lips and spread the flesh there to reveal the slick treasure beneath. To say it looked delicious would not do justice to the beauty of my sister’s pussy. It looked heavenly.
In Greek mythology ambrosia was the food of the gods. I always felt when I spread a pussy and looked inside that I was looking at ambrosia, and I felt no different this time.
Pushing my face between her legs and butt cheeks, I managed to get my tongue inside the wet slit. I could hear breathing from both Jenna and Mom, who was now standing at the foot of the bed where she was masturbating while watching what I did.
From this position my nose was pressed into the lower crack of her ass. She was clean, so there was no foul odor to deal with. My tongue finally made contact with my baby sister’s clit, and I could hear the difference in the rhythm and depth of her breathing. She moaned and grunted slightly. Then I heard her say, “Oooh, yes” softly.
As much as I didn’t want to stop for even a second, I had to sit up and stop the timer on my watch. Twelve minutes, seven seconds. Not bad.
Swinging one leg over my sister’s body, I placed my pussy within easy reach of her mouth. She giggled softly and soon we were completely involved in a wild sixty-nine. She came first, of course, seeing she had a twelve minute head start, and my mom was the next to come, which again was no surprise since she’d been touching herself the entire time as well.
I was last, but it was an amazing orgasm. The throbbing of my clit and the clenching of my vagina that accompanied the climax felt as if heaven itself had decided to change its location to my pussy.
Soon, all three of us were lying in Jenna’s bed, cuddling and smooching. It was a wonderful morning, as many of them were that summer.
Mom let me have a slumber party a few weeks later as well. I invited all the girls who’d been at the last one, plus my Aunt Emmy and Deanna’s sister, Elizabeth, who was kidded quite a bit about her homemade videos when she was younger. Marie’s mother was also invited, but she declined because she had somewhere else to be that night. It was fine. I had all the other girls and women I loved there. My mom joined us of course, and it was a real blast to have her at the party.
All in all it was a wonderful couple of months off from school, despite what I’d learned at its beginning. It was a great summer because it was spent with my family as we did our best to capture the joy in our lives every day.
But I also thought about what I would do to get back at the ass wipe. I knew what I planned to do. All I needed was to set up the opportunity. I’d need help with that, along with a lot of luck.
That turned out to be several years coming.
Continue on to Chapter 41
