I couldn’t explain it, but I was drawn to her. Partly because she was smart and was in all my advanced classes; partly because she clearly shared my resentment of the jock mentality of our school; partly because she was a sweet girl who seemed to be nice to everyone, even the ones who weren’t so nice to her; partly because she stood up for what she believed in; partly just because she was so darn cute. It also didn’t hurt that she often wore what looked to be pantyhose to school, a rarity in a school of over a thousand students, where even the teachers seldom wore them.
As I daydreamed about her somewhat, I thought it would be cool to have a partner in crime as I solved injustices by making rich bitches, cheerleaders and stuck-up jocks become cock hungry sluts for my big fat cock. Fat chance of that happening though because so far as I knew, she didn’t even date.
The only other particular moment of intrigue that day was when Ms. Watson asked if I would tutor Amber. Amber was the blondest, dumbest cheerleader in the world… the one who could be the poster girl for every blonde joke ever coined. I tried to repel the idea, but Ms. Watson said it would look good on my resume, and she would owe me a favour (my first thought was My big fat cock in that pretty pussy-licking mouth of yours), so I reluctantly agreed… and plans were made for Amber to come to my house the next afternoon, which was a Saturday.
The day ended, I went to the bookstore and purchased the book I’d had them order for Ms. Chan, then I returned home and waited for Mom. I giftwrapped the book, inscribed a gift card (“Happy birthday to my guru of life”) and waited for the clock to do its job.
When Mom texted me she was heading home, I ordered Chinese food to be delivered to Ms. Chan’s house at 5:30.
I texted back to Mom: Bring the toy you bought that we forgot to use this morning.
Mom responded: Will do. I also got a couple other things.
I asked: What?
Mom responded: You’ll have to wait and see. I have a wicked idea. I was glad to see this sign that even when we were playing, she didn’t always feel she had to be submissive.
So I strolled over to Ms. Chan’s with the wrapped present a little before 5:30. I walked in and found her watching a soap opera. I joked, “Watching those suds will rot your brain.”
“Too late,” she smiled, then as I handed her the gift she objected, “you shouldn’t have.”
“Of course I should have,” I responded, as she opened the envelope.
She read the card and said, “Of only life?”
“All sex is a part of life,” I pointed out, wondering if my truism sounded Zen enough.
“You’re learning, Grasshopper,” she smiled.
“Thank you, sex sensei,” I responded, placing my hands together and bowing slightly, martial arts Silat style.
“And I’m also your cum-craving cock-sucking servant,” she countered.
“Of course,” I laughed, as she unwrapped the book.
“Are you trying to tell me something?” she asked as she saw the title.
“I’m foreshadowing the rest of your birthday present,” I said. The book I’d bought her was “Regain That Feeling: Secrets to Sexual Self-Discovery”.
“Really?”
“Sensei, you were born to be a three-hole slut. And you can’t fulfil that destiny without trusting someone to help you,” I said, sounding helpful and like a pervert both at once.
“Food’s here,” Mom called out from the front door.
“To be continued,” I said.
So we ate dinner chatting festively about inconsequentials, and Ms. Chan blew out candles from the cheesecake Mom had bought.
It was Mom who then announced, “Birthday girl, it’s time for the rest of your present.”
“I’m not so sure about this,” Ms. Chan said nervously and looking unsure, which was both adorable and heartbreaking at once. She was such a strong woman, she was continually giving me such amazingly helpful advice, and yet she was insecure within her own body.
“Tonight, I’m in charge, Yu Yan,” I claimed.
“What? How could you know to call me that? No one calls me Yu Yan anymore,” she said, surprised.
“Three hours of chasing down Google leads. That is your real name, correct?” I asked.
“Yes, it is,” she nodded.
“And its meaning is so apt,” I assured her.
“What does Yu Yan mean?” Mom asked.
“Woman with a beautiful smile,” I revealed.
“Then you’re aptly named indeed,” Mom agreed.
“You two are so sweet,” Yu Yan said, blushing like a schoolgirl.
“As are my cunt and my son’s cum,” Mom interjected, killing the precious moment.
“Can’t argue with that,” Ms. Chan laughed.
“Now open your first present,” Mom ordered, handing her a wrapped box.
“How many are there?” Yu Yan asked.
“Two,” Mom answered.
Yu Yan opened the present and examined the strange head cock contraption. “Believe it or not, I’m not completely sure what this is for.”
“It’s to fuck me with,” Mom answered, before adding, “while my son fucks my asshole.”
“Aaaahhh,” Ms. Chan nodded, turning it around in her hands and looking at it more closely. “It goes over my mouth doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Mom nodded, strapping it onto Ms. Chan’s face.
“That looks really weird, but so hot,” I said.
“Get naked, son,” Mom ordered, as she began doing the same.
“I thought I was in charge,” I mock objected, as I did as Mom requested.
“Today we tag team our slut,” Mom said, her earlier concerns clearly gone.
“Our slut?” I asked, now naked, and Mom wearing only a black garter-belt and stockings.
“We need to begin gathering our own collection of sluts,” Mom informed me.
“An additional form of mom and son bonding,” I joked.
“Indeed,” Mom agreed with a smirk, as she rolled Ms. Chan in her wheelchair into the living room. “Yu Yan, I suspect you’re a switch, am I correct?”
“I can be, although I’m definitely much more a submissive. I assume tonight I am to address you as my Mistress, am I correct, Mistress?”
“For now, yes. Good girl,” Mom replied, completing the formalities.
“Mom, I’m still not sure where you’re going with this,” I said.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Mom answered evasively, as she rolled our pet’s wheelchair to the back of a couch.
I still wasn’t sure what Mom was envisioning here, but she ordered me, “Kevin, go stand on the couch. On the cushions.”
I did as she instructed, and then watched as she sat herself on the backrest of the couch from the far side straddling the wheelchair, settled her feet on its wide arms and asked, “Son, can you steady me so I don’t fall backwards, and pull the plug out of my asshole?”
“The things I do for you,” I sighed, as I braced one hand against the small of her back and reached down with the other to pull it out, in awe of the position she was trying for. I looked around for someplace to dispose of the plug, and smirked as I reached over to deposit it in an empty candy dish on a side table next to the couch.