“Put that dick away, Elliott. I don’t want that little pea-shooter aimed at me while we’re having our lesson,” Elliott heard Jamal say and turned to see the young black man standing next him. Jamal nodded to Elliott’s crotch, where his hand was still wrapped around his spent member.
In the flurry of activity, Elliott had been struck dumb by the various emotions that had overwhelmed him. When Jamal had started fucking his mother’s tits, Elliott had come faster than he’d expected. The blatant way his bully had used his mother’s body for his own perverse desires had struck Elliott with a testosterone jolt as well. His own dick had been hard as rock as he’d watched Jamal slide his massive prick up and down between his mother’s voluptuous breasts, the teasing channel between her tits made slippery and illicitly erotic by a shiny coating of her own spit. Elliott’s prick had responded by throbbing with need, and he’d beat it mercilessly until he’d spewed that milky load into the glass. And then his mother drank it down-no-she gulped it down. Her desire for cum apparently knew no bounds. She was as happy swallowing her own son’s cum as she was from the three bigger boys. It had all been too much for Elliott, and he’d sat there in a daze, until Jamal’s words broke him out of his trancelike state.
“Oh, uh, sorry,” Elliott said as he quickly stuffed his softening dick into his pants and zipped up.
Jamal pulled out a chair at the table and sat next to Elliott. Being this close to the big black youth made Elliott realize how small he really was. “Like I said, you and I are gonna help each other out here,” Jamal said. He nodded towards the books on the table. “I need some help with that shit we’re doing in English, and you need help understanding your way around tits and pussy, right?”
Elliott felt himself flushing, but he nodded nonetheless.
“Good,” Jamal continued. “Now, what is that ancient Greek shit the teacher wants us to read, ‘Oedipus the King’, or some such shit?”
“Uh, it’s actually called ‘Oedipus Rex’, but that does mean Oedipus the King, yes.”
“And this Oedipus dude, he’s the one that wants to be a motherfucker, right?”
Elliott couldn’t help the smile that came over his face. “Well, yes,” he replied with a nod.
Jamal grinned broadly, his pearly whites beaming like a toothpaste commercial. “That is kind of appropriate, based on what’s happening in this very house, don’t you think?” Again, Elliott could only nod in agreement. “Yes, but in your case, he should be called ‘Eat-a-puss the King’. Yeah, that seems right, because between us and your mama, we’re going to keep you busy enough slurping at that cum-filled pussy of hers that you’ll definitely be the king pussy eater.”
EEN-EE… EEN-EE…
They both looked up as that tell-tale noise of the creaking bed came down to them from upstairs. It was quickly followed by a steady thumping that filtered rhythmically through the floor.
“Yeah, they’re gonna be keeping her busy for a while, so let’s get down to it,” Jamal said as he sat forward and pointed to the books. “Teach me some shit so the teacher doesn’t think I’m such a dumbass all the time.”
Elliott opened his books and started talking. Jamal listened intently, and Elliott was surprised by how quickly the boy picked up on some concepts, and how insightful and pertinent the questions he asked were. And as the lesson moved along, the incessant squeaking and rhythmic thumping from above continued. About a half-hour into the lesson, the noise stopped, but resumed less than a minute or two later. Elliott realized they must have just changed positions, and he wondered who was using which hole of his mother’s now.
About fifteen minutes after that, the bedroom door opened and Zeke came down, dressed only in his jeans. The bed continued to squeak in protest as Zeke came down the stairs, and Elliott knew Gunner was still pounding it into his mother.
“You’re up,” Zeke said to Jamal as he pointed up the stairs over his shoulder. “Fuck, that woman loves cock. I don’t think she’ll ever get enough.”
“Well, we’ll try our best, won’t we?” Jamal said as he got up from the table and gave his friend a fist-bump. He turned to Elliott and gestured to the books. “We’ll continue with shit tomorrow. You did good, Elliott. Real good. See if you can do the same with this dipshit.”
Elliott was thrilled by Jamal’s words of praise. Based on what the young man had promised him about being able to eat out his mother, he definitely wanted to keep on his good side. And it wasn’t just his words of praise that made Elliott glad, he was happy to have heard Jamal actually call him by his real name, which he usually held in check for only when Elliott’s mother was around. No ‘Smelliott’, no ‘Smallcox’ this time, just ‘Elliott’.
Jamal bounded up the stairs and into the master bedroom as Zeke crossed behind Elliott and made his way to the fridge. “Yeah, I’m gonna need one of these to keep up with that mother of yours,” he said as he pulled out a can of Red Bull and came back to the table. As he sat next to Elliott in the seat Jamal had vacated, Elliott saw the fine sheen of perspiration on the boy’s muscular chest, and he could definitely detect the smell of sex coming from his body. It was an intoxicating combination of the three Cs: cock, cunt, and cum. If he could smell that coming off of Zeke, he wondered what his mother’s room smelled like. Probably like a cheap whorehouse. Just the thought of that had Elliott’s perverse mind spinning.
“Yeah, math,” Zeke said after popping open his can and taking a big gulp. “I’ve always sucked at math. And my mother’ll kick my ass if I don’t even get a fifty. Do you think you can give me a hand?”
Elliott shrugged and reached for his books. “Uh, sure. Let’s give it a shot.” As he opened his math book, the sounds coming from above seemed to change in volume slightly, the squeaking and thumping getting louder, as if someone had turned the knob up a notch or two. The change caused Elliott to instinctively look up at the bedroom floor above him.
EEN-EE… EEN-EE… THUMP… THUMP… THUMP…
“Don’t worry about that,” Zeke said. “That’s just Jamal puttin’ it to your mom. You’ll get used to it.”
Wondering if he would ever get used to the erotic sounds of his powerful black bully pounding his mother into the mattress, Elliott did his best to try and tune out the lewd noises. He started in on some basic geometry problems with Zeke, who, surprisingly, did seem willing to learn. Elliott didn’t know if it was because the boy was relaxed from having dumped a load or two into his mother, or what, but he was able to concentrate on the math problems Elliot gave him.
They kept at it for close to forty-five minutes before he could see Zeke was starting to zone out. His brain was shutting down due to information overload. Just as those thoughts were going through Elliott’s mind, the bedroom door upstairs opened and Gunner came out. Like Zeke, he was bare-chested with only his jeans on. Through the floor, the sounds of the noisy bed continued, with Jamal working Elliott’s mother over on his own.
“Oh fuck, that woman is so fucking hot,” Gunner said as he went to the fridge and pulled out a Red Bull as well. He popped it open and took a big slug right there on the spot, almost draining the can in one fell swoop.
“Good, I need you take over here,” Zeke said as he got up from the table. It was clear that he was happy that his lesson was done. “Just listening to you assholes giving it to her has got me all primed to give her a few more loads.”
“Don’t worry, pal,” Gunner said as he took his spot in the seat next to Elliott. “She can take all we’ve got to give, and still want more. Man, what a hot piece of ass.”
“That mouth of hers is something else, eh?” Zeke said, shifting from foot to foot, clearly itching to get back upstairs.
“Oh fuck, it’s not just her mouth. Her pussy, her ass, those huge fucking tits. It’s not only that she’s got a gorgeous face and a perfect body, it’s what she can do with it. You definitely need some of this stuff just to keep up with her.” Gunner held up his can of Red Bull and then drained it before setting it down on the table with a firm slam as he gave off a contented burp.
Elliott noticed how casually the two boys talked about his mother in that way right in front of him. He realized they didn’t care what he thought at all. The truth was, he loved hearing them talk about her that way. He felt himself flushing as waves of excitement flowed through him as they discussed what an amazing fuck she was.
Zeke bounded up the stairs, his fingers already working to undo his fly as he entered the bedroom and closed the door behind. Gunner flicked his hand casually toward the books in front of Elliott. “Well, Smallcox, go ahead and teach me something. If the other two can sit through this kind of shit, I can do it too.”
Elliott was quickly getting the picture that Gunner was the biggest hardass of the group. Jamal could be, but Elliott could see already that Jamal only did that when necessary. The black youth could definitely turn on the charm when it suited him, which Elliott realized he’d done with his mother, and he’d likely used on Mrs. Tremblay. But with Gunner, it was different, definitely different. There was no ‘Elliott’ when he spoke to him by name. It was ‘Smallcox’, this time anyway. He was sure ‘Smelliott’ was the other option that had run through Gunner’s pea-brain prior to him speaking.
“Uh, you’re having trouble with math too, right?” Elliott asked.
Gunner laughed. “Trouble? I guess you could say that. Math, fuck… I hate that shit.”
“Um, well…” Elliott said, unsure of even how to continue.
Gunner could see the hesitation in Elliott. He sat forward and tapped the open textbook that Elliott had been working from with Zeke. “Like I said, if those other two can do it, I can do it. So let’s get started. I want to get this over with so I can go back and fuck your mother some more.”