Family Feud IV

The Family Feud IV

Chapter Four

Wendy’s Journal –Sunday at the Flea Market

STAR COUNT:

WENDY: 43

Get out of jail cards: 1

WHORE: 1,3,0,0,0

JAMIE: 52

Get out of jail cards: 1

WHORE: 4,3,0,0,0

**Note to reader: This is Wendy’s journal from Sunday Morning detailing the events of approximately 11am when she is at the Flea Market and recapping some of Jamie’s journal. In order to increase readability, some of the dialogue exchanged was altered to appear in a ‘narrative’ story format.

“Oh my God” that is what I was thinking as I stood outside the tent while my husband was fucking my darling daughter in her ass. What is wrong with me as a mother, parent and adult that I’ve found myself justifying all of the things we have been doing?

I stood there as my daughter had begged to only take strangers up the ass minutes earlier -That had been my idea.

Why didn’t I tell her to beg not to take anyone up any hole and to just play this twisted game with the least amount of humiliation possible?

I wrestled with those thoughts as well and all the conflicting feelings I had about our financial situation. Bill knew how to make me feel guilty about my boob job (even though it was years ago) and now not warning him we seemed to be heading off a cliff with all the bills due.

I have to wonder if my maternal instincts about being a good mother and a good wife are going haywire because of the hormones they’ve been feeding me? We’ve been on them for over a week now and maybe they have a subtle effect on how I process things? I’ve felt increasingly submissive like it is my place to be beneath the men of the house. That is completely against the programming I received growing up in the 1980s about female empowerment and getting ahead in the workplace.

I have this sneaking suspicion that my mood swings that alternate between anger, fear, and acceptance of my position could be related to whatever is in those hormone pills that make me leak milk. Then again they say whenever you think you have ‘sneaking suspicions’ you really have paranoia.

Bill had given me an affirmation minutes before walking into the tent. He basically did it right out in the open. He would ask “Are you a cumgobbler?” and I would answer that I am. He would ask if I knew I was inferior to the men of the house and I would answer that I was. Then he got on the topic of what he was about to do with Jamie.

“Do you know that I am about to fuck your daughter up her little stinker?”

“Yes Sir” it was always ‘my daughter’ when he wanted to say something bad about her.

“You twisted cunt, you don’t even seem like you are upset about it.” He dismissed me in disgust. I was confused, wasn’t I supposed to take all this on the chin and keep on coming? He walked into the tent and left me to mind our merchandise.

It wasn’t long before I could hear my daughter moaning inside the tent as Bill grunted and emptied his cum in her ass (I can only assume). That made it difficult to give my own situation the full gravitas it deserved considering I was also supposed to be hawking my treasured family heirlooms and decorations to passing strangers.

I hadn’t even told Jamie but this was really making me sad to see all the stuff I bought sold so cheaply. I guess it is like giving a ten dollar blowjob to a stranger. If I just gave it away for free it wouldn’t seem quite so cheap and tawdry as asking for a measly ten dollars.

Bill had marked up a lot of his own stuff and I knew that was his way of subtly reminding me he thought the tacky sports memorabilia and Fingerhut collectibles he considered ‘treasures’ weren’t junk. The elegant wicker baskets, candles and picture frames I had culled from Pier One, American Candle company and Bed, Bath and Beyond were all priced cheaply to demonstrate just how little Bill valued them. I wondered if he’d miss them when they are gone.

“Probably not” I thought to myself smugly. I was dealing with a Haitian man who wanted me to come down on some tumblers that were priced at a quarter for six of them. “I am sorry Sir. I don’t think I am allowed to negotiate prices.” I told him and he acted as if I were the most stuck up person in the world and walked away dismissively.

I overheard Bill and Chris shout “OREO” inside the tent and my mind went wild speculating just what brought that on. I pictured Jamie sandwiched in between the two of them with both of their cocks out jamming into her back and forth. It’s funny how two weeks ago I would have assumed Bill and my son were fighting over the last Oreo cookie if I’d heard that.

I couldn’t help it that my curiosity had got the best of me. I peeped in the tent and saw that I was right about the position Jamie was in. Her father was pulling her hair from behind and her brother was feeding his dong down her throat. How nasty am I that I didn’t rush in there and stop it?

Jamie caught me peeping but she just looked up at me with those beautiful baby blue eyes and flashed me her trademark pearly white smile like she was having the time of her life and not to worry - That girl is a saint. I say that with a certain hint of irony considering she has ‘whore’ tattooed on her ass and was smiling at me while I watched her take two cocks at once. I guess though it’s how she is serving and holding herself up that impresses me.

I wonder if Jamie realizes how magazine model perfect her All-American smile really looks? She never seems self-conscious about flashing that smile and she does it often enough. At that age, I always thought everything I did was awkward and goofy. It’s so nice to know my daughter is more comfortable with herself and didn’t fall into the same self-deceptive behavior that everything she does looks silly. She is just so naturally that ‘girl next door’.

Which is why it’s so surreal watching her pull her ass cheeks apart and let my husband drive his sweaty, hairy crotch into her backdoor and can actually look up at me and smile sweetly.

I didn’t want her to think I was a bigger pervert than it seems I am for allowing this to go on so I retreated back to the counter where I was supposed to be. I smiled at people who were more interested in my tits bouncing around in the short top I was wearing instead of the merchandise on the counter. I tried to think about anything else but all I could keep coming back to was Jamie’s adoring, trusting smile looking up at me. I have to admit I felt more than a bit guilty that so much of this is my fault.

I just wish I could go back in time and not have included her in enslaving Bill and Chris. I should say that I wish I hadn’t ever enslaved Bill and Chris – but I can’t. I mean on one hand I regret hurting them and putting them through it all but so much of this has taught us so much, even though it turned our lives upside down.

So I won’t say I wish I hadn’t enslaved them. I just wish this was all completely on me. I’d even let Jamie be the boss of me just like them. ‘Mistress Jamie’ could be cracking a whip over me and marching me around just like her father and brother and I’d be completely fine with that.

I spent the next several minutes painting a scenario in my mind that worked exactly like that. Jamie was my Mistress and I was jiggling and wiggling beneath her and because she knew me better in some ways than Bill and Chris her affirmations stung even more than theirs. She knows more how the female mind works and her dares and games and tortures would work on me because she knows what would scare her and bring out the submissiveness in her.

I envisioned her in red latex thigh high boots with six inch heels and a matching vest with a crotch less pair of scarlet-dyed leather shorts. She had a long red whip and she was winding it up and lashing into my back and telling me what a horrible mother I am.

“STOP PLAYING WITH YOURSELF SLUT!” Bill slapped me on the boobs and knocked me out of my daydreams. I had actually put my finger under my skirt and that was the first time I had played with myself without being told to do it (at least that I am aware of, maybe I’ve done it when I didn’t realize it and no one caught me).

I was sure he would punish me for it, but instead he handed me a saucer with what looked like pink cum on it. “Lap it up, cum gobbler.”

I did exactly what I was told and I soon realized that this had probably just come from my daughter’s formerly virgin ass. It didn’t taste like shit but I did get a coppery taste from the blood mixed in with the cum. I am smart enough to put two and two together. “You’ll both squat right after you get fucked in the ass and the other one will gobble it up. If you are alone then you’ll gobble your own goo, got it?” Bill liked to use alliteration like Chris liked to use puns.

“Yes Sir, I got it.” I answered. I was still trying to unlock the source of that wicked fantasy where my daughter was my Domme. I would like to say that I think it comes from my desire to protect her from all of this. If they all three focused on training me then she wouldn’t have to do it.

I feel like perhaps if I could be the lightning rod to absorb all the family’s dysfunctions, and all of my husband’s and son’s outrage towards us for what I did and their own shortcomings that frustrate them, that she wouldn’t have to suffer.

I know that probably sounds really noble and probably like I am being selfless, but I am not trying to sound like a martyr. I just know I can absorb more pain than her and I’ve already been getting fucked regularly so what is the harm if it continues to happen? It isn’t like I can sink any lower now that I’ve crossed this threshold? At least I don’t think I can sink lower.

Then again I had just lapped up a fresh saucer of ass-cum that my daughter dripped out of her ass that came straight from my husband’s cock. It may be premature to declare it impossible for me to sink into further degradation as I am finding each day they think of new and improved ways to humble me.

I suppose it is futile to wish that it was just me as the family pet and not both of us. Then again I wonder if maybe it isn’t so much that I want to save her – because I really do draw strength from our shared sacrifice and experience. Could it be I am such an attention whore I just want all of it on me? That is a horrible theory. I’ll push that right back to the deep, dark, outer reaches of my mind and focus on what I am supposed to be doing.

Which is apparently at this moment in time having my throat grabbed by my son with two fingers and jerked into the tent and thrown on the ground with my naked daughter. “Come on in Cow Tits and take a look at my lovely younger Sister.” He sneered at me like I am truly beneath him.

I don’t blame him for seeing me that way. The way I am behaving, there is no reason to respect me as an authority figure. He may never see me as one again but then he is almost grown anyway. I still see my parents that way but most people don’t by the time they are eighteen. I guess it’s like believing in Santa Claus. Eventually most of us outgrow the idea of believing our parents have some magical authority over us.

For Chris that time has come in spades, because he ripped my clothes off and manhandled me until I was down on the ground with my nose pressed up against my daughter’s pink, raw asshole. He was holding my neck with one hand and bracing my shoulders with another as if I might try to fight to get back up but all he had to do was order it and I would have assumed the position.

“Smell that shitter - you like that?” I tried to nod but his grip was so vice-like around my neck I couldn’t do anything and I was too stunned to answer before he said, “You two fart machines are going to be giving up those asses to strangers today like good little whores, right?”

Jamie must have been too because usually she answers right along with me, “Yes Sir, if you and your father want us to give up our asses, we are your whores to order around.” I blurted out. I was breathing heavy and I could feel my pulse racing now that Chris seemed to be getting out his frustrations on me. The scratchy white gravel was biting into my knees and being naked and exposed with my nose pressed to my daughter’s ass was only adding to the adrenalin of fear and on some level a primal arousal of being conquered and splayed like a freshly caught rabbit on the hunt.

Jamie was just a little slow on her reply to her brother. He didn’t tolerate it and he gave her ass a hard slap that made me wince for her - She wouldn’t soon forget that swat!

He flipped us around face to face and handed us a marker with the instruction to write ‘Pussy broke, use rear entrance’ on each other’s bellies. I knew that people would see that and probably ask and I was already trying to come up with some snarky response that might be funny. Jamie had that adoring, innocently naïve, girl next door smile and it made it hard to look at her.

I don’t know if she could tell if I was thinking about what I’d say to some old man or scornful woman about us parading around with something like this written in marker on our tummies dressed as we are, but I tried to give her a supportive wink to let her know not to be afraid.

Chris had what was obviously an antique Bavarian Pie Roller. He probably picked it up for a few bucks at one of the other stands of people trying to get rid of their junk and he obviously thought it was some sort of fetish device. At first I didn’t really think it would work but he managed to clamp it around my daughter’s boobs and I don’t know if her face was anguish or orgasm or some kind of angasm combination but I watched the entire thing.

He rolled it over her perky tits and said, “Let’s see how many slut squeezings I can get out of your titties, since you like to get milky all the time, Sis.” And sure enough milk started to spurt ever so slightly from her already puffy and sore nipples. I didn’t wait for him to tell me to do it I just opened my mouth and began to lick them. I knew it was an inevitable order and I had a self-satisfied grin as he ordered “Go on fluffer, lap up that milk.” To encourage me to keep going.

I am not sure where he got the term ‘fluffer’ from, but it’s a lot better than ‘Cow Tits’. He was probably sizing my chest up to see if he could fit the pie roller around it but fat chance of that. Score one advantage for having giant tits in all of this. They are normally big balloon targets for guys but at least for this exercise I get a free-pass.

So much for my, “I wish I was the only one serving” fantasy of the self-less mother who wants to absorb all the family’s anger, lust and scorn to spare them the negative consequences of having no outlet. I am so confused, I sometimes feel that way and then other times I am half-grinning ‘at least it isn’t me’. I think that might be my competitive side coming out.

Chris was doing an affirmation with his Sister, I really wasn’t listening. I should have been because I can sometimes anticipate the theme of his questions and start to plan my answers when I do. I also actually learn some things about myself when I listen to Jamie’s answers wondering if I would have phrased it exactly like she had or not.

I just kept licking and playfully biting at her nipples alternating between the left fat nub and the right one. I can tell now they are getting firmer and that has to be the hormones at work plus the constant blood-flow struggling to get to the tip through the fat ring piercings she has bobbing up and down. I used my tongue to flick them up and down and spin them a little through the hole of the piercing . I imagined them like tiny door knockers ‘Hello, I am your mother, can I come inside? Open up.’ I laughed out loud as I painted the mental image in my mind.

Perfect timing, because they were laughing about something else at the same time so it sounded like I was just joining in. Chris’s sour mood had evaporated and he was no longer acting like the stern task master with an axe (ass?) to grind. Isn’t it amazing how our absorbing his frustrations can make him more placid and affable, even loving?

I had started to wonder if maybe some of his jokes were intended to make himself not feel so guilty about punishing and training us. He once sternly handcuffed me to the shower rail and then said “Hang around” in this serious voice, but it was obvious he was joking because he did it in that Austrian Arnold Swarzenegger voice he sometimes uses to deliver short ‘Get to the Choppa!’ and ‘I’ll be back’ comments.

It is really hard to say what goes through Chris’s mind. I didn’t have a lot of time to think about it because he had arranged me and Jamie side by side on all fours with our knees, the flat of our palms and our toes pressed into the digging gravel. He slathered Ben Gay on my pussy lips and I suddenly wished I had been paying attention to his instructions because then maybe I would have anticipated it coming and prepared better.

I began dancing and hopping and squirming trying to endure the sensation of icy-hot tingling all along what is obviously one of the most sensitive parts of my body. He got it all up in my clit hood and it was all I could do not to bite Jamie on the neck just to control myself. I shut my eyes and wiggled in what was probably something like her “Angasm” earlier combining anguish and orgasm.

He said something while leaning into my asshole like “Clean up on Aisle Sixty nine, there has been a spill, it’s wet all over” and you can add gigglegasm to the list of terms I am making up today because even though I was digging my nails into the gravel and squirming I managed to gasp a little laughter too.

I wanted to joke, “Chris have you Ben Gay?” but I couldn’t bring myself to dare delivering the pun. I looked over at Jamie who was feeling it too and just rode out the feeling until it started to settle down. He told us we’d be applying this every time we get fucked as compensation for not giving up the pussy.

I don’t think that is really fair. I’d give up my pussy, it just isn’t fair to Jamie if I will do more than she will so I was doing that to support her. I guess no good deed goes unpunished because now not only are we going to squat and drink the cum out of each other’s butts, but we are going to ask the guy to lather up our twats and if he won’t do it right in front of him. Chris called it “Tits for Tats” that we’d have to give him something in exchange for not giving up what was his by right.

I guess in retrospect that is fair. He had us stand up and perform jumping jacks while he zipped himself up and left the tent. I wanted to say something to Jamie about how the day was turning out but she was having to deal with the tit roller flying up and hitting her in the face as she jumped up and then back down adding its weight to pull her tits down and slam into her belly as she exercised. I kept my mouth shut and just wondered if they were going to fuck my ass like they had Jamie before we start. I have to stop wondering so much about what happens next and stay focused on the moment at hand.

It was easy for me to keep pace with my daughter given I’ve been doing cardio like this for years - “Like this” I mean with the exception of being naked in a tent with Bengay ointment still simmering on my cunt lips.

It must have been fifteen minutes before Bill and Chris walked back in to check on us. We didn’t cheat while they were outside because you never know if they are supervising us secretly. My daughter would probably tattle on me if I did anyway.

“Do you two walking cum stains need to piss or shit before we have you walk the length of the flea market to earn your keep?” My husband asked but he didn’t tell us to stop so I kept going.

“No sir, but aren’t one of you going to come with us, to supervise?” I was suddenly aware that without either of them to supervise it also meant we’d have to be the ones to walk up and ask. I am sure it sounded like I am becoming more reliant on them to keep me in line and probably on some level I have, but this was for the purely selfish reason that it was going to be far more difficult to be aggressive with strangers now that I’ve spent over a week being submissive with them.

Bill explained he was going to lunch with Chris and that we were to be back in exactly one hour. We were to take the camera, and to earn extra stars we could take naughty and daring pictures and send them back. It was less a suggestion and more of an implied expectation. I was already noting the look on my daughter’s face as she was probably wondering how she could win the contest. I had to smile that she was so much like me because that is exactly what I was thinking.

Chris told us we couldn’t negotiate the prices, they were fixed. I assumed he would want us to charge more since we were in such a financial pickle but he didn’t want us wheeling and dealing with the clients “tricks” as they are called on the “track” (Hey, compared to Jamie I am a seasoned whore, so I know these terms).

I thought Bill might countermand Chris’s instruction but he just nodded and told us that we’d probably try to give deals to the good looking ones and piss off the ugly ones. Speaking for myself, He was more than half right on that one, I guess he is right about me being naturally manipulative. He made it clear he’d try to send a ringer to test us so we’d better play along.

We got dressed quickly and took each other’s hand and sauntered playfully out of the tent – wiggling what the good lord blessed us both with. Jamie even dared a sultry “Wish us luck, Sir” as we picked a random direction in the maze of toasters, vacuum cleaners and cheap samurai swords for sale in the stalls of the flea market.

There is quite literally nothing you ‘need’ in any of these shops. One place sells knock off perfume the next place sells homemade pickles that completely crushes the sweet smell of ‘Brittanee Speers Fanta-C Night’ knock-off ‘Compare to Brittany Spears Fantasy Midnight’ scent with its garlic pickle kosher goodness.

We weren’t going to get permission to eat but I was already getting hungry from the smells of the fried foods and pickles. I had always eaten healthy and lean foods but right now even cum would have been a welcome relief to the growls coming from my stomach. I didn’t want to take the guys up on their offer to let us piss and shit before we left because I knew that would involve complete inspections but I probably should have answered yes when they asked if we had to go. If I texted them back now to ask they’d probably say ‘no, you had your chance’, which serves me right for keeping my mouth shut.

We were on the hunt to find ‘tricks’ to fuck us in the ass and earn as much money as we could for our bills, and money permitting, to get Bill to his internet user conference. We’d probably be done with this training by then and I’d definitely go with him and try to enjoy my new freedom - that is if he wanted me there.

I sure hope they want us in their lives after seeing us as such trampy whores. I wouldn’t blame Bill if he didn’t trust me after this.

“Should we try to take pictures first, or look for customers?” I asked my partner in crime Agent Assface.

“I guess if we take the pictures, it could probably drum up some business.” She replied sweetly.

“No fair putting your thumb over the camera lens when you take my shots.” I joked with her as I spun the purse with the condoms, camera phone and Bengay in it on my wrist.

She laughed and said “We could always try to find a guy to work the camera for us, to be fair.”

“No, they’d probably get us to move further and further back as if they are zooming out for a wide shot then run off with the camera and all the pictures.” I remembered a scene from National Lampoon’s European Vacation where that very thing had happened. You know it’s funny, as a teenager in the 1980s watching that movie I didn’t realize at the time it was so naughty. Rusty went to a titty bar and ran into his mom and dad there. That was kind of a fucked up movie – Do families have vacations like those?

I guess now that we have been through all this, we would.

“True, plus I trust you to be fair on the pictures.” Jamie smiled. Awww, how cute and trusting can that little slut be? I had plans to crush her in this competition and she has to go and play the sweetheart card on me. Naturally, I had to play it right back and add “Oh look, Shake Weights!” in the same sweet, excited tone that she used.

The box says it’s a ‘new and revolutionary way to energize your work out’. It looks like a dumbbell but the box explains it, ‘Shake Weight® Utilizes New Workout Technology Called Dynamic Inertia, which can increase Muscle Activity to nearly 300% compared to a Standard Dumbbell.’

That translates in laymen’s terms roughly to ‘You hold it like a giant cock and then shake it up and down like you are jacking off a horse’.

I picked up one from one of the many ubiquitous ‘As seen on TV’ stands in the flea market. I gingerly, sniffed it and looked right at Jamie and then kissed the top. “Take a picture” I said playfully as I started to pump it up and down. I have to admit that if you do it the way they intend it really does work your muscles, but almost immediately after Jamie brought out the cell phone to snap away a few shots people started watching it bob up and down in my hand with giggles on their lips.

I remember Medieval Steve saying ‘You only get the jokes you are supposed to get’ when he made some saucy comment about how ‘hard’ it was to hit us ‘lovely girls’ with tomatoes at his Renne fair pillory. He was talking to a family with some kids to explain why the father got his obvious penis jokes and the kids were just laughing at the obnoxious slapstick of pelting two women with semi-rotten fruit.

Tomato is a fruit right? Who cares, I guess going through something like this changes your perspective on what is important and what is trivial knowledge.

When it was Jamie’s turn, we had actually gathered a small dedicated crowd of a couple people to watch us. It seemed like perverted old men mostly but there were a few people standing there more out of morbid curiosity.

Jamie one-upped me immediately by taking two smaller Shake Weights one in each hand and began pumping them alternating one up towards her mouth as she brought the other down. She even pushed her tongue into her cheek on the opposite side of her face to simulate the shake weight if it were the head of a cock throbbing in her mouth. I had to give her credit even I was laughing at that - Clever girl.

I took some pictures and when she had carried the joke on just long enough to hold people’s interest she added ‘Mom, how do you know when you are done? Is something supposed to squirt out?”

The people passing by tried to pretend not to be watching and the ones who made no bones about watching us all laughed in unison at her raunchy question.

I was on the spot to deliver a witty response in retort but all I could come up with was to examine the tip of one of the Shake Weights and flick my tongue out to lick it, “No, I don’t think so. They don’t have the technology.”

Apparently my dumb slut act was cute enough to garner a little laugh but not as much as the one Jamie got.

“I sure wish we had some real ones to suck, I am getting a little hungry.” I added aloud hoping one of the guys standing around might understand my not so subtle hint and introduce himself. Flea market clientele are not known for their ability to pick up on subtle entendre and I should have known we weren’t going to get any bites with that approach.

Jamie just gave me an ‘Oh mom’ look as she rolled her eyes at me. I was wishing we had Chris with us to help us initiate the transactions because he could be blunt and I didn’t have to transition into a more aggressive role and try to negotiate the sale of our asses. I remembered the last time I did something like this was over a week ago at Rahjid’s motel (When it was just Bill and I) and it all seemed like a blur to me now but I remember one of the parts I liked least was the awkward negotiations with strangers. I hadn’t really settled into the feeling of submission I have now so it was definitely one of the parts that left me feeling most disgusted about our little mission.

Jamie gave me a ‘this is how it’s done’ glance and walked right up to the nearest man and asked him very directly “Would you like me or my mom to suck your dick?”

He just smiled at her, and nodded yes but started to walk away by backing up. He had obviously become very overwhelmed by the directness of her approach.

I grinned at her now deflated ego, “I guess this isn’t going to be as easy as we thought.”

She looked confused as if she couldn’t understand why a grown man would turn down an offer to get his dick sucked from a pretty teenager. I could think of a dozen reasons but the one that stuck out in my mind - he was intimidated. It’s primal in their nature that men are the aggressor and the hunter. They don’t want their prey stalking them and turning the tables.

I tried to explain my theory to her as we walked on to look for a new target to try and past stands of Dooney Bourke purses which I assumed were knock off and t-shirts that were just as offensive as anything we had seen at the county fair.

I think the shirts were probably more racist than dirty but some managed to do both with “If I had known all this would happen, I would have picked my own cotton” on the front was a picture of a black civil rights march. On the back -the picture of a pretty, young, white girl holding a black baby and the caption ‘If I had known this would have happened, I’d have just sucked his dick.”

I had to laugh out loud because that one was clever. It was pretty racist, but it was clever. You gotta laugh at how absurd this stuff is and it’s laying out in front of elderly grandmas and people’s kids right there where you can see them. I think in the 1980s there was more stuff like that and in a way the Flea Market is kind of a time capsule back to that time when things were more overtly inappropriate and tacky.

That could explain why we seemed to fit in and despite a reasonable amount of stares no one really did more than follow us with their eyes.

“Wow, can you believe it’s almost Halloween?” She looked up at some knock off costumes. There was “Batman” with a generic “B” on his chest right next to a trampy trailer park slut costume designed for a pre-teen with the word “80’s girl” written right on it.

I had to laugh because I think the guys had that exact costume in the ‘slut box’ at home where they pick our outfits. I just knew there had to be a place that sold this kind of stuff.

“Yeah, and we better find some tricks, or else we won’t get any treats.” I laughed in response as we eyed up two handsome guys in their twenties. “Are you sure you want to do this? Really be a whore?” I whispered.

“Aren’t I already?” she indicated her body and the way she was dressed with her hands.

“You haven’t sold your ass for money though have you?” I answered back realizing how silly it was to whisper in a crowded flea market that was in full hustle-bustle mode.

“I’ve had it tickled, tattooed, spit on, touched, stroked, licked, I think I am ready mom.” She stuck her tongue out at me playfully.

I took a deep breath and let out a tiny sigh. I suppose I was trying to let myself off the mental hook by hearing her say she was willing to take one more step in this direction. I don’t know what I would have done if she had said she wasn’t ready. That is the problem with asking questions – you might get the answer you didn’t expect.

I looked back at the guys. They were now my targets and I was a sopwith ace fighter pilot flying down from the clouds with the sun to my back. I swooped in and made sure the first thing they saw when they lifted their head from the dollar bins they were rummaging through was my smiling face.

“Hello Guys” my daughter stepped on my foot to warn me I was supposed to say “Sir” but guys seemed so much more conversational. I smiled and pretended I didn’t notice my daughter’s friendly reminder as I asked if they didn’t mind a little company.

The guys flirted back and unlike most of the people at ‘Flea World’ they actually had a little game and flirted back.

After a few exchanges of pleasant conversation I finally lowered the boom on why we were really talking to them.

“Things are kind of expensive here, and I forgot most of these places don’t take credit cards, do you think we could work out a little trade, Sir?” I felt dumb trying to negotiate and call them Sir, like I was forever in an Oliver Twist play asking for more porridge.

They ignored the odd title and one of them asked skeptically “What kind of trade?”

“Well, we could suck your dicks for twenty a piece, if you can be cool about it Sir?” I added, mentally summoning up all the courage I could to be so forward. I noticed Jamie was getting antsy and I assumed at the time she was just as nervous as I was.

The look on their face was so priceless it was a ‘jackpot’ moment and they both looked us up and down hungrily drinking us in. They had been smug and confident in returning our advances but now they knew they owned the entire ballgame and the two of them were mentally slapping each other a high five I am sure of it.

I was hoping Jamie would chime in but she just smiled that pretty smile of hers and shuffled nervously. “We’d probably have to suck a lot of dicks to get the money we need, so I’ll tell you what, I’d like you guys… we’ll let you fuck us both in the Ass for fifty dollars a pop if we can do it in your truck or something.” I laid my final cards on the table.

Their eyes further widened reminding me of Millhouse when I offered to kiss him at the fair, but instead of the fear and shock it was more like the look of someone who just won the jackpot on Wheel of Fortune.

“Mom, can I use the cell phone, I really need to text Chris and Dad.” Jamie blurted out quickly.

“Whoa, that’s your daughter?” one of them asked me in joyful surprise.

“Did you think we were Sisters, sweet heart?” I felt like sweet heart wasn’t disrespectful and was a nice change of pace from Sir. I was reaching in my purse to hand a suddenly frantic Jamie the cell phone.

JAMIE: S1r this Assface, can I plz sh1t?”

CHRIS:

No, you shuld hv gone when you were asked.

JAMIE:

Plz, Plz, Plz, Sug3r on TOP!

Jamie was discovering something I had learned about getting fucked up the poop chute and that is about fifteen minutes later your bowels loosen from all that rooting around that just happened back there and you feel like you have to take a massive dump. I tried to salvage the ‘date’ I was setting up with our ‘tricks’ while my daughter tapped the text messages out to obtain permission.

CHRIS: Dad sez U can go if you give 1 star, or it’s a correcshun when u get home.

JAMIE: Fine, correction, plx Sir!1!!

She was stamping her feet when the final order came

CHRIS:

U can sh1t anywhere but a bathr00m, lol kk thx bai

Jamie looked up at me with an expression I recognized. Bill and Chris enjoyed making us do the ‘pee pee dance’ and hold going to the bathroom. I understand their reasons beyond the immediate enjoyment of just watching us suffer as, desperate to piss and shit, we have to hop around in agonized anticipation of a satisfying release.

I suppose on some level it is similar to the blue-balled release of teasing them and making them wait to masturbate for me when I used to be their boss. I think also they know that for a woman this is a very private experience and it really gets inside our head to have to ask permission to do something we took for granted for our entire lives. When we finally do get to release, the endorphins of pleasure are released and we associate being able to drop a deuce with the relief and pleasure and are actually thankful to them for letting us go.

Jamie scurried off as she tossed the cell phone my way calling out her apologies. I glanced over the cell phone message and smiled at how sadistic my son could be - He really was very clever at times.

“What was that?” one of the guys asked skeptically.

“Just a message from our pimps, I could do you both or we could wait for her to come back.” I smiled as I changed the subject back to closing the deal.

“Come on man, I think this is a bait and switch, they get the young girl to act like she is part of it, and then she has to run off, so we are stuck with just the older one.”

His friend nodded and added, “Yeah man, are they trannys are what? Why no punani?” I hadn’t heard the word ‘punani’ before, I assumed it meant pussy. I wanted to offer them a feel under my skirt if they were concerned but they were already walking away giving me a disgusted look.

I don’t blame them, I guess it did seem suspicious but I still took a little hit to my pride on being called the ‘older one’ even though that is obviously true - I didn’t think I was a ‘bait and switch’ dog though.

When I found Jamie she was behind a Korean man’s stall squatting in a puddle finishing emptying her bowels. The shoppers could not see her but the Korean man and his entire family who sold blinged out cell phone cases and knock off electricians were watching and laughing.

She stood up when she saw me and slipped her skirt down with apologies to the family. They were laughing at the dumb white woman and although they were speaking Korean I could definitely hear the words ‘air dry’ and ‘slut’ followed by a lot of laughter. I wanted to ask if they knew Madame Chang, the sadistic woman who ran a little shop at the county fair but I thought that might be racist to assume just because someone is Asian they know some other Asian person.

That might not have been a bad question to consider. Jamie had hiked her skirt back up (without wiping, the poor girl) and as we (quickly) walked away from the laughing asian family ‘You leff something behind’, we bumped into a familiar face from the county fair.

That was a real shocker, let me tell you!