Chapter 31: Mommy’s Worst Idea

The Saturday morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across Erica's toned body as she straddled me. Her hips moved in a hypnotic rhythm, and our bodies joined in passionate union. I latched onto her nipple, my tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as she moaned softly.

"Mmm, does my good boy like Mommy's tits so much because he wants to drink her milk?" Erica purred her voice with desire.

I couldn't help but chuckle at her words, breaking contact with her breast. But as I looked up, I saw her piercing blue eyes narrow, a hint of possessive madness glinting in their depths.

"Keep sucking," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. "I like it when you look helpless."

Her stern words made my cock harder than a diamond. I melted under her touch as she gently but firmly guided my mouth back to her nipple. Her fingers tangled in my hair, holding me in place as she increased her pace.

The room filled with the sound of our mingled breaths and the creaking of the antique bed frame.

"That's it, baby," she cooed, her voice a stark contrast to her earlier command. "You're such a good boy for Mommy."

I whimpered around her nipple, overwhelmed by the sensations. The taste of her skin, the feel of her walls gripping me, the sound of her encouraging words, it was all just perfect.

Erica's movements became more forceful, her powerful thighs flexing as she rode me with increasing intensity. The mattress springs groaned in protest, but neither of us paid any attention. We were lost in our own world, a world where only pleasure and connection mattered.

Her movements reached a frenzied crescendo, her hips slamming against me with an almost violent force. Suddenly, Erica paused, her brow furrowed, and I sensed a shift in her demeanor. Her eyes narrowed, and she fixed me with a glare that I would describe as ‘angrily manic.’ I was excited to think where this was going.

"It's fucked up. We haven't done anal in a while," she growled, her voice dripping with frustration.

Before I could respond, she resumed her relentless pace, her tight pussy clenching around my throbbing cock with each powerful thrust. I gasped, overwhelmed by the intensity of her motions as she milked me.

"I-I'd love to do anal, Erica," I stammered honestly.

Her glare lingered for a moment, but then a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes. With a smirk, she unsheathed my cock from her cunt, and reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand, her fake anger melting away into something far more primal.

Erica squeezed a generous amount into her palm, her gaze fixed on my average-sized cock with an almost reverent fascination as if it was some sort of divine ancient idol. She lathered my length up slowly, her slick fingers gliding over my sensitive skin.

“Fuck!” I moaned out as she made it to my sensitive tip. I was losing my mind just being lubed up.

Without warning, she lifted herself up and positioned the tip of my lubricated cock against her tight, puckered butt pussy. For a breathless moment, our eyes locked, and I saw the hunger burning within her piercing blue depths.

Then, with one fluid motion, she impaled herself on my throbbing cock, enveloping me in the exquisite heat of her tight asshole. A guttural moan escaped her parted lips as she sank down, taking me to the hilt as if she had been craving this delicious fullness for far too long.

"You are mommy’s dirty little slut," Erica purred as she began to move, her hips rolling and grinding against me in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Her blonde hair cascaded around her face, framing the wicked smile that played upon her lips as she rode my cock with savage abandon. "You love fucking your mommy's tight asshole with your slutty cock, don't you whore?"

‘This is new. But it’s kinda fun.’ I couldn't help but moan in response to her, my eyes rolling back into my head as the pressure built within me. The feeling of her incredibly tight insides clenching around my cock was insane, and I could feel myself quickly approaching the brink of ecstasy.

Erica's moans grew louder as she continued to ride me, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. She reveled in the power she held over me, the satisfaction of dominating her lover clear in her piercing gaze. The room was filled with the sounds of our bodies coming together, our gasps and moans echoing off the antique furniture and velvet drapes.

"Fuck, Erica, I'm going to," I started to say, but she silenced me with a fierce kiss, her tongue plunging into my mouth as she swallowed my cries of pleasure. She quickened her pace, grinding her hips against mine with an intensity that left me breathless.

Before I knew it, I felt my release explode within me, my cock pulsing as I filled her tight asshole with my cum. Erica moaned in delight as she felt me come inside her.

But the taste of victory was short-lived as I collapsed beneath her, my body spent and trembling. Erica's eyes narrowed, and a wicked smile spread across her face. The room seemed dimmer, the shadows cast by the flickering light growing longer over her eyes.

Suddenly, she grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, forcing me to meet her intense gaze. "What do you think you're doing, Jason?" she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "We're not done here. Momma needs to cum, you know! So don’t be fucking selfish!"

I whimpered, my exhaustion momentarily forgotten as a jolt of adrenaline surged through me. Erica's eyes blazed with an inferno of lust and possession, and I knew there was no escape. She shoved her tongue back into my mouth, claiming me with a ferocity that left me gasping for breath.

She pulled her tongue out of my mouth and put her hands on my throat. Within seconds, I felt my cock growing hard once again, straining against her tight asshole’s grip as she choked me. I could feel the twisted love she had for me radiating through her admittedly light grip on my neck.

Erica broke the kiss, her lips curling into a cruel smirk as she surveyed her handiwork. "Good boy," she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now, let's see if we can't make mommy cum this time."

She resumed her position. Her ass clapped down onto me. The feeling of her tight ass around my cock was intoxicating.

Erica's breasts bounced with every thrust, her nipples hard and piercing as they brushed against my chest. I could feel myself slipping further closer to my own orgasm, but I was on a mission for Erica this time. My selfishness be damned.

“Ahhh fuck!” I moaned.

Despite my best efforts, I was simply no match for Erica’s asshole. Selfishness won over. With a desperate cry, I felt myself explode once again, my cock pulsing as I double-stuffed her ass with my cum. Erica screamed in ecstasy, her body convulsing as she finally reached her own release. We collapsed together in a tangled heap of sweat and limbs, our hearts pounding in unison as we struggled to catch our breath.

My dick now a shadow of its former self, smaller but still comfortably held by Erica’s loving asshole. My cum runneth over as it slowly dripped from her ass onto the bed. I closed my eyes in my physical exhaustion. Basking in the comfort and safety of the little world we have in our room, I quickly fell asleep for a little morning nap.

*****

I awake to the soft glow of noon light filtering through the velvet curtains, a smile playing on my lips as memories of this morning’s passionate encounter with Erica flood my mind. The silk sheets caress my skin, a reminder of the luxurious surroundings of the Knight mansion.

Turning my head, I spot Erica hunched over her laptop at the ornate mahogany desk, fully dressed in her usual intimidating attire. Her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as she bobs her head to the muffled beat escaping her headphones.

‘What’s she cooking?’ I wonder as I watch her fervently searching for something online.

Sliding out of bed, I tiptoe quietly across the room, intent on surprising her with a tender gesture. As I lean in to plant a kiss on her neck, my eyes catch a glimpse of her screen. My blood runs cold.

Swastikas. Dozens of them, and the words ‘Boston Ma, Swastika tattoo artist for guys’ are sitting uncomfortably in her Google search bar.

"WHAT THE FUCK, ERICA!" I blurt out, my voice a mix of confusion and alarm.

She jumps, startled by my sudden presence, and yanks off her headphones. "Jesus. Baby, don't sneak up on me like that," she snaps, her usual rough tone tinged with embarrassment.

"Swastikas Erica? What are you thinking? Don't tell me you're an anti-semite. I know I say some tapped shit, but I don’t know dude. That’d be really tough to look past." I gesture at the screen, my mind racing with possibilities, each more unsettling than the last.

Erica's fierce blue eyes soften as she looks at me. "It's not what you think," she says, her voice gentler now. "I'm trying to find a tattoo for you to get. You know, to make you less... rapeable."

I blink, stunned. "Less rapeable?" The newly invented word feels wrong on my tongue.

"Yeah," she continues, reaching out to caress my arm. "I’m really worried about you after what you just went through. People aren’t just going to stop targeting you. I thought if you had something really offensive inked on you, creeps might think twice before trying anything."

I shake my head, torn between feeling touched by her concern and horrified by her solution. "Erica, I appreciate the thought, but... a swastika? There has to be a better way."

Erica shakes her head at me, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of determination and what I can only describe as adorable frustration. Her lips purse into a small pout as she swivels in her chair to face me fully.

"Jason, honey, you don't understand," she says, her voice taking on a softer, coaxing tone. "I've done my research. I looked up the most offensive symbols out there, and this one—" she gestures at the screen, "—is the winner by a long shot. Nothing else even comes close."

She lets out a long, dramatic sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly. Then, with a grace that belies her usual rough demeanor, she stands and approaches me. Her fingers, surprisingly gentle, trace along the side of my neck. Her touch so loving in contrast to the disgusting symbol we’re discussing.

"Right here," she murmurs, her touch lingering. "This would be the perfect spot. It'd be visible, impossible to miss. No one would dare lay a hand on you with this staring them in the face."

The tenderness in her touch contrasts sharply with the horror of what she's suggesting. I feel the panic rising in my chest, my heart pounding against my ribs like a caged animal seeking escape.

"No way, Erica!" I blurt out, stumbling backward. "Absolutely not. I can't... I won't... Do you have any idea what that would do to my life? To our future?"

‘I would literally do anything for Erica, but she’s really moving the bar to “literally anything” as high as high as the sky.’

For a moment, hurt flashes across Erica's face. Then, to my astonishment, her fierce blue eyes begin to water. Her lower lip trembles slightly as she looks at me, and suddenly, she's the picture of a pleading puppy.

"Please, Jason," she whimpers. "I just want to keep you safe. I can't bear the thought of anyone hurting you again. Don't you understand?"

The sight of Erica, my strong, intimidating Erica, looking so vulnerable catches me off guard. I feel my resolve wavering, torn between my moral objections and my desire to ease her fears. An idea strikes me, born of desperation and the hope of deterring her from this insane plan.

"Okay, look," I say, running a hand through my hair. "If... and this is a big if... if you can get both our parents on board with this idea, I'll do it. But they have to fully agree and understand. No manipulation, no half-truths. They need to know exactly what you're proposing."

I watch as Erica's eyes widen with an arrogant look. It reeks of ‘You dare doubt me, Jason?’ I find myself wondering if I've just made a terrible mistake.

‘There’s no way my mom would let her do that to me, right?’

*****

We are seated inside Princess Pizza. ‘Out of all the restaurants on Route 1, this is probably my favorite. Granted it changes sometimes. Really it’s a toss up between here, Kowloon, and the Border Cafe. There used to be a Fuddruckers too, but the lease owner refused to re-up them after COVID for some reason. Also, Princess Pizza used to just be called Prince Pizza in my world, so that's weird, too. Thank Christ, the pizza is still the same, though.’

While my internal thoughts prattle off, thinking about all my favorite resturaunts, Brooke drops off two Pizzas at our table before heading back to help other customers.

At our table, I sit next to Erica, who keeps a hand on my wrist. Her holding me like this is a huge turn on for me which sucks because I hate having erections in public, but them’s is the break. Our two mothers sit across from us. I’ve noticed Erica has no issues moving mountains and getting our mothers to so easily break bread together despite their apparent torrid past.

My mother, Emily, slumps in her chair, the weight of her recent shift evident in the dark circles under her eyes. Yet, there's an unusual softness to her expression as she watches Erica's hand on my wrist. Her stern facade seems to crack, revealing a glimmer of relief and gratitude.

"You're looking better, Jason," she says, her voice tinged with a warmth I rarely hear. "I suppose I have you to thank for that, Erica." The words seem to pain her slightly, but there's a genuineness to them that surprises me.

‘Mom liking Erica is the literal craziest thing to me. This woman once went a whole year, nearly only grunting at Brooke and me. Maybe she’s better here, in this world? I’ve seen a surprising amount of warmth from her these past few months.’ I can't help but wonder why my cold, distant mother would be different here.

Vivian, sitting ramrod straight in her tailored suit, eyes my mother with barely concealed irritation.

‘I’ve got to know the full story between these too sometime? But not today. I need to build a united front.’

Vivian’s manicured nails tap an impatient rhythm on the table before she turns to Erica, her expression softening. "Darling," Vivian begins, her tone rich with motherly affection, "while it's lovely to see you both, I must admit I'm curious. We only just met with Alicia Carter about Jason's... ordeal the other day. What's so urgent that it couldn't wait?"

Erica straightens, her grip on my wrist tightening slightly. The arrogant gleam in her eye makes my stomach churn with anticipation.

"Mom, Mrs. Parker," Erica starts, her voice steady and self-assured, "I've come up with a solution to ensure Jason's safety." She pauses for dramatic effect, her eyes sweeping over both women. "We're going to get Jason a swastika tattoo."

Erica starts touching my neck to show off where she wants it. Despite how fucking insane the situation is, her strong fingers touching me where I used to have such a beautiful bruise was really a turn-on. I start counting the tiles on the floor to calm myself.

The silence that falls over the table is deafening. Vivian's face contorted in a mixture of shock and disgust, her perfectly manicured hand freezing mid-air as she was about to take a sip of her water.

Vivian breaks the silence, her voice a mixture of disbelief and horror. "Erica Knight! Have you completely lost your mind?" She leans forward, her piercing gaze fixed on her daughter. "A swastika tattoo? On Jason? Of all the preposterous, offensive, downright dangerous ideas you've had, this one takes the cake!"

Erica opens her mouth to argue, but Vivian cuts her off with a sharp wave of her hand. "No, I don't want to hear it. Jason is far too... too..." She pauses, searching for the right word. Her eyes flick to me, then to Erica's possessive grip on my wrist, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head as she can clearly tell how into her daughter I am. She reconsiders her choice of words.

"Well, 'innocent' isn't quite the right word, is it?" Vivian sighs, “But he’s a good boy! To marry him with such a disgusting and insidious icon….”

"Actually," my mother interrupts, her voice cutting through Vivian's tirade like a knife, "Erica might be onto something here."

The table falls silent once more, all eyes turning to my mother in disbelief.

"Not about the swastika, of course," Mom clarifies quickly, her face contorting in disgust. "That's absolutely abhorrent. If anything, a symbol like that might make someone feel more justified in... assaulting Jason. They might think, 'Well, he's a Nazi, so he deserves it.'"

‘What the fuck, Mom, come on!’

"But," she continues, leaning forward with an intensity I've rarely seen outside of her work, "the idea of a deterrent tattoo isn't entirely without merit."

Vivian's jaw drops, "Emily, surely you can't be serious?" she sputters.

I find myself equally flabbergasted, my mind reeling at the unexpected turn of events.

Mom ignores Vivian, her sharp brown eyes scanning the table as if we were at a crime scene briefing. "We need something that would make a potential attacker think twice. Maybe gross them out?” She spitballs ideas.

Erica's eyes light up, her creative juices flowing. "Oh! What about a bunch of tally marks on his stomach?" she exclaims, her hands gesticulating wildly. "Like hundreds of them, stretching from his navel to his chest. We could make them look old and faded like he's been keeping count for years."

I feel my face flush as Erica's fingers dance across my abdomen, tracing imaginary lines. "Each mark could represent...Well, you know." she trails off, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and something darker.

Vivian gasps, her hand flying to her mouth in horror. Her eyes dart between Erica's animated face and my reddening one, clearly imagining my skin marred by countless lines. "That's... that's barbaric!" she sputters, her usual composure cracking. "To deface Jason's body like that. You would reduce him to a whore?”

Mom, however, tilts her head, considering. "It's gross, completely vile. It would probably stop me, but I’ve never raped anyone, so I’m not sure how much my opinion weighs in here.” She speaks as though she genuinely wants to simulate it in her mind but is annoyed with herself for not being degenerate enough.

"Enough!" Vivian's voice rings out, sharp and commanding. Her eyes, usually cool and calculating, now burn with a fierce protective instinct. "We will absolutely not mark this boy!"

The force of her words seems to physically push Erica and my mother back in their seats. Even I find myself shrinking under the intensity of her gaze.

"He is to be my son-in-law," Vivian continues, her voice lowering but losing none of its vehemence. "The Knight family means something in this world, and no son of mine will bear such disgusting marks without giving their own consent!"

A hush falls over the restaurant. The sizzle of pizza ovens and the clink of cutlery fade into the background as all eyes turn to our table. Vivian sits tall, her designer suit a stark contrast to the casual ambiance of Princess Pizza. She's every inch the powerful businesswoman, her presence filling the room.

Erica's face darkens, her blue eyes flashing dangerously. She opens her mouth to argue, but Vivian silences her with a look that could freeze hell itself.

"Not another word, Erica," Vivian hisses. "This discussion is over."

To my surprise, my mother doesn't jump to Erica's defense. Instead, she seems to deflate, the fight leaving her body in a long exhale. Her eyes meet Vivian's, and something passes between them, a flicker of understanding tinged with what looks like... guilt?

"You're right, Vivian," Mom says softly, her voice barely audible over the resuming chatter of the restaurant. "I don't know what I was thinking. This... this isn't the way." She runs a hand through her hair, suddenly looking every bit as tired as when she first sat down. "My job, it sometimes... it warps my perspective. But that's no excuse. Jason, I'm sorry."

I blink, stunned by my mother's apology. It's so rare to hear those words from her that, for a moment, I'm not sure how to respond.

Vivian slowly sinks into a more comfortable position, the fire in her eyes dimming but not entirely extinguished. She reaches across the table, her hand hovering uncertainly before gently patting my arm.

"Jason, dear," she says, her voice softening, "I hope you understand. You're family now, and in this family, we protect our own. But not like this. Never like this."

“This is fucking bullshit, Mom. You never have my back when I need it!” Erica sulked next to me despite the fact that her mother was constantly bailing her out of trouble before we met.