“You’ll never get anywhere with Unshaggable Shulagh, you do know that, right? She’s saving herself for her wedding night; you’d have been better-off taking-on her big sister; the way Bridie Devlin puts it about, they’re going to bury her in a Y-shaped coffin. From what I hear, Shulagh’s on the new Catholic contraceptive pill; you don’t swallow it; you just hold it tightly between your knees. She’s stupid, too; I heard her mother tried to put her on the regular pill but every time she stood up, it fell out…”
Ollie grinned even as he grimaced.
“Unfair, Izzy, even from you, and Bridie Devlin? No thanks, the girl’s a walking clap-laboratory; she’s had every STI known to man, and a few specials she cooked up all by herself; the girl glows in the dark from all those STI’s fighting each other. I’d rather lick road-kill…”
He rubbed his temples tiredly as he grinned.
“I think I’ll concentrate my efforts on wearing Shulagh down, it just needs a little more finesse…”
Izzy grinned at him, and once again Ollie’s hidden self noted just how lovely she was when she let her guard down and her habitual, guarded, wary expression around him disappeared. This evening, however, her guard seemed to be even lower than ever, and he wondered about that.
“You do realise that if you want to fuck her, you’re going to need a permission slip from the Vatican, and a written promise that baby Jesus will forgive her afterwards, signed by God in triplicate? Just saying…”
Ollie grinned at that.
“Yeah, I heard that; right now you can’t pry her knees apart with a pair of tow-trucks! Who am I kidding? She’s never going to give it up; I can see her headstone, eighty years from now; the inscription reads ‘Shulagh Devlin: Returned Unopened’…”
Ollie smiled, his good humour restored.
“So tell me, Izzy, now that you’ve skilfully changed the subject and got my undivided attention, who or what exactly is this problem of yours that only I can help you with?”
Izzy rolled onto her back, gathering her thoughts as she stared at the ceiling.
“Ollie, my problem is Mum. She won’t get off my back, she never lets up for even a second, and she won’t see anything my way; if I say the sky’s blue, she’ll say it’s something else, then ground me for arguing with her. I can’t do anything right, and I’m done with all that shit. It comes down to two choices; move out, now, or fix it so she stays off me permanently. I can’t move out; Dad has to pay my fees for uni, but he won’t pay for a flat, and I have too many classes and lectures at odd times to get a steady job, so that leaves option two; we fix Mum.”
Ollie looked at her in alarm.
“Iz, I hope to fuck you’re not suggesting I… hurt Mum, because you can get the fuck out right now…!”
Izzy waved him down.
“No, no, no, you idiot! Just shut up and listen. The way I see it, she’s frustrated; she misses Dad, she needs what she had before, and she’s not getting it; my room’s above their bedroom, and I used to hear them go at it hammer and tongs every night, sometimes all night. I think that’s what she’s missing and that’s what she needs; she goes on dates, she never says what happened, but she always comes home early, in a really foul mood, with a face like a freshly smacked arse, and just lays into me. She’s had five years of no wild-thing, and enough’s enough. Ollie, I think our mother needs to be ridden like a short-legged fairground donkey: hard and often. She needs to be fucked senseless, and that’s where you come in…”
Ollie stared at her in disbelief, unable to believe his sister had said what she’d just said.
“Iz, are you seriously suggesting I… with Mum… for real? Are you out of your fucking mind? Mum? Get the fuck out of here, I’ve never heard anything so…!
Izzy cut him off.
“Look, either you do it, or I get one of those knuckle-dragging, mental dwarves you hang around with to do it. Did you know, when you’re not around, all they talk about is how much of a MILF she is? They go on about how they’d like to fuck her, what they’d do to her, how often, blah-blah-blah, but frankly, if they tried to wipe their arses, nine times out of ten they’d miss, so that leaves you, and I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud, the brains of the outfit!” That last dig was purely reflexive, and she regretted it as soon as it was uttered, but Ollie never even noticed it; his attention was elsewhere…
He sat back with a dazed expression on his face, but, Izzy noted, his gaze fixed on her smooth, rounded, unblemished thighs and barely concealed panties under her short skirt.
She grinned slyly as she leaned back and crossed her legs, the soft, silky whisper of skin brushing against skin almost deafening him.
“Mum used to go at it like the night express with Dad, but he’s gone, so we need someone to fill the void, so to speak, and while Moxie’s built like a bull, he’s hung like a hamster; either all that stuff about black guys is just not true, or the steroid abuse has finally got to him. The rest of your mates are all talk; I know the desperate skankzillas they’ve been with, so I know they’re all single-shot, one-and-done spazzes; Mum would suck ’em dry and spit out the bones, which leaves you, matey-boy. Let’s face it, Ollie; Mum’s been doing without for five years now. Think about it; five whole years. I think she’s about ready to fuck doorknobs, and much as I hate the idea, if you do it, and do it right you’ll get further than you ever did with Holy Saint Shulagh, Fulham’s very own Vestal Virgin, I guarantee it.”
Ollie just shook his head, ‘No’ written all over his face as he stared in shock at his sister, while another part of his mind entirely noted just how hot she looked right now as she laid out her preposterous plan
“So you’re saying you’d never even contemplate taking Mum for a ride in the bed-sled?” she insisted, pushing him to say what she wanted to hear.
Ollie’s eyes bulged.
“Too fucking right, you’re out of your tiny mind, Iz, what the hell have you been smoking..?!”
Izzy smiled triumphantly.
“So, you say never, ever, no chance, not even a glimmer of a chance, not even with those big tits and all that yummy-Mummy hotness begging for, nay, demanding, a good, hard, old-fashioned hot-prodding, you’re saying a definite no, that’s what you’re saying right now, hand on heart, yes?”
Ollie nodded dumbly. Still smiling, Izzy marched over to the computer, jiggled the mouse to take it out of Sleep-mode, clicked on the ‘miscellaneous’ folder, then clicked again on one of the Mother/Son porn clips. As the screen lit up with an older woman, almost a perfect double of their mother, enthusiastically fucking a much younger man with a freakishly large penis, Izzy pointed dramatically at the screen.
“So, Ollie, if you’ve never, ever thought about it before, what’s this?”
Ollie gulped, flushing beet-red as his guilty fantasies played on screen, telling Izzy all she needed to know. He slumped back in his chair, guilt, embarrassment, defeat, and… something else flickering across his face.
“Look, Iz, I didn’t… that’s not… that’s not Mum, it’s just some porn-star woman who coincidentally, and purely by chance, happens to look like her…” he blustered, trailing off as he listened to just how weak and implausible his excuses sounded. Izzy grinned happily, that slight edge of malice still there in her grin.
“So, big brother, let’s negotiate; you do as I ask, and let’s face it, deep down in that grimy little coal-shed you call a soul, this is something you’d give your right arm for. You get to do nasty things to our hottie Mum, I burst in and find her busily bouncing on the bedsnake with you, go “Ah-haaa, gotcha, you dirty cow!” and voila, I get that frustrated bitch off my back forever; who loses? After all, it’s not like I’m going to tell anyone, although she won’t know that! Think about it; Mum gets to feed that thing of yours into her juice-box, and I’ve seen your cock, by the way, congratulations, she’ll be begging for more; you get your end away, repeatedly, you can forget late-night Snickers Bars and wanking over Shulagh Devlin, and I get some fucking peace and normality at last!”
Her eyes narrowed threateningly.
“The alternative, brother dearest, is I show her that video. Don’t worry, I already have a copy. Then we’ll see how long Prince Ollie gets to swan around in this house like Ollie the untouchable! Do we have a deal?”
Ollie’s eyes narrowed too, real anger simmering inside him at his sister’s threats, and Izzy quailed at the sight, at what he must be thinking of her, but stood firm.
“If you dare…” he managed to get out before she cut him off.
“Oh yes, I very much dare! Let’s just call Mum in here and see what she says, shall we?” she taunted, motioning towards the closed door. Ollie stood his ground, but when her hand was actually on the doorknob, his nerve failed him.