America Part X: Fraternity

Sofia put the cup to her lips and felt the beer against her tongue. It hadn’t been the first time she had tried alcohol, but in this strange house made for many, its walls decorated with Greek symbols, all implying a masculine comradery beyond herself, the taste of the booze now was both liberatory and frightening.

She was very conscious of herself and almost sipped as an anchor, getting herself much more tipsy than she promised herself she would. She had picked out a great pair of jean shorts, and had been excited all day, staring at them sitting, waiting for her on her dorm bed, only for her to struggle with them hours later, nearly stuffing her cheeks within (having her blonde roommate help with those slender and soft fingers pushing that thick brown flesh within).

Now it was nighttime and she stood in a strange place, conscious of the every inch of her bulging, tightly-hugged ass.

Her boyfriend had called her hours earlier, and she lay stomach-down on her bed, feet crossed at her ankles, in rapture with his every word, trying to hold herself together from being washed away in the love and longing for him she felt. “Just a few more weeks, beautiful,” he assured her. “And we’ll have all summer together.”

She beamed at the thought.

When he told her he loved her, she whispered it back, hoping her dormmate wouldn’t hear.

“’I love you!’” the blonde girl repeated artificially, lying naked on her bed with a magazine. “Oh, how sweet!”

“What was that, beautiful?”

“Nothing,” Sofia said. “I’ll see you in summer.”

“I can’t wait.”

She smiled. “Neither can I.”

She hung up the phone. She lay there for a moment, awash in her emotions. Then her dormmate spoke: “I’m jealous.”

Sofia grinned coyly, looking away, proud of her relationship.

“What do you eat to get it like that?”

Sofia looked over suddenly.

“I mean…” her dormmate continued. “How do you get it so big?”

Sofia looked down and over her back to see her naked Hispanic ass just sitting there, glowing under the incoming sunlight.

“I mean…” her dormmate looked down at her own. “I’ve done a thousand squats and it’s only made it more firm.” She smacked her small white-girl ass a few times. She then looked to Sofia’s. “If I had an ass like that though… I’d be the bell of the ball, if you catch my drift.”

The wry smile on the girl’s blue-eyed face sent a bitter pulse through Sofia’s body. An image flashed, one severe and obscene, of a white girl, blonde-haired and blue-eyed, now heavily endowed, being manhandled in a small dark room by hands, lips, and… other parts… of so many men. It sent a revulsion through her, one she felt in the flesh of her ass most of all, and she quickly thought of being at home, in the arms of her boyfriend, to offset the sour taste in her mouth. It was only once that sourness was offset that she began to feel, as disturbing as it was to realize, a certain sweetness leave with it as well.

She turned over, as if to ostracize the thoughts (and her dormmate with them). The blonde girl just lay there, shaking her head, staring at Sofia’s ass, imagining all the things she’d do with it if it were only her own to flaunt and live with.

“Hey, aren’t you in Chemistry 1?”

Sofia looked over, cup clenched in hand, to see a tall man, black and smiling with perfect white teeth at her. She nodded, doing so as if it were only a fact, when in reality, she knew very well that they shared that class. Some part of her wished they shared even more than one.

“Name’s Andre,” he said, extending his hand.

She knew that. She reached her hand out, feeling his fingers wrap around her palm with a strength she wasn’t used to. He stood there in his football jersey, emanating a perfect confidence. She wasn’t used to seeing men this sure of themselves. She recognized relative confidence in many, but, like all women, she could often catch glimpses through the billowing silk which all men wore as façade.

He stared down at her, a giant, the every billowing fillet of silk exposing nothing but polished and ornate stone behind it. He stared at her for a moment. Then he tilted his head forward suddenly with a playfulness. “And yours…?”

Sofia, a little embarrassed, answered.

“Sofia, huh? I should have known.”

“What do you mean?” she said.

“You latin girls all have names like that. Sofia, Selena, Esmeralda…”

“And you’re the seventh or eights black guy I’ve met named Andre.”

“You know a lot of black guys?” He tipped his cup to his lips. He lifted his eyebrow at her.

“Only seven or eight of them. Even one’s too many.”

His cup came back to resting position. He ignored the jab, not even feeling it for a second. “Black guys must specially see something they like about you then.”

She stared at him, feeling engulfed in the warm embrace of something, she knew not what. He stood there, like a figure of some exciting evil, a spirit there to corrupt her into ways of wickedness and thrill. Her boyfriend’s face, his embrace around her, and his trembling at the pangs of love, flashed in her imagination, pulling her back to something reasonable. Even still, she stood there, excited for what he’d say next. She had enough faith in herself to let that happen. She took another sip, brows narrowing at realizing it was empty.

“Another drink it is,” he said, grabbing her by her hand.

She felt something rush through her gut as he took her to the drink table.

As he did, other members of the football team, those he, as their quarterback, lead like he was their alpha wolf, watched with little grins on their big faces, at the ass which jiggled on its way to the table. The confederacy of black and white men looked over at each other, exchanging smiles, exchanging expectations, exchanging excitement.

Sofia tossed the ball, her ass jiggled. It clunked against the table and bounced off onto the ground. A geeky white kid ran to grab it. Andre stood across from her, the onlookers who semi-circled him like pigmies in his shadow. He threw. The ball clunked off the table went up in the air, soaring just over the open mouths of the solo cups. Sofia almost smiled, until the ball met her crotch, tickling it, before bouncing back, landing in the final cup.

She groaned.

“Bottom’s up!” Andre said with a smile, the structure of his cups unviolated. 

She lifted the cup to her chin, stared within, feeling the world vibrate around her in a blissful buzz, one rich with the energy her opponent provided to it with his very words and presence. She lifted the cup again, this time to her lips, feeling the liquid, unrestricted and flowing, pouring down her throat.

The jean shorts which had hugged her ass so tightly now sat loose at her ankles, mercifully relieved of the heavy weight they were supporting all night. She felt it plunging through her, that cock, not believing anything could get inside her that deep. Faces crowded around her, but they had all melted into one, as if they were indistinguishable from the vapor assaulting her nose. Even still, the occasional structure of an eye or two were visible to her, peering not just at her, but inside her, at the very raw material of her soul.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck, this ass! I knew it would be good. I knew it!” Her brown cheeks were luminous with sweat, they jiggled with impossible beauty against Andre’s hips. He thrusted with vulgarity, making sure his cock pushed in with as much depth as possible each time.  

Sofia heard laughing all around her, almost as loud as the slapping which came from behind her. Visions of a face she knew, one she knew she loved, came to her, but faded with every violent tremor in the cheeks of her ass. The whole world vibrated with pleasure, and the only thing she wanted was more.

This was serendipitous, as more was exactly what she was about to get.

Andre stood to the side, sweating and spent, only biding time to build up for more. He looked down at her with everyone else, watching as her ass bounced on his teammate’s sturdy white cock, its cheeks sweaty and maybe even slightly enlarged from delicious abuse. The wide receiver stood in front of her, his black cock being swallowed. Andre felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the second-string quarterback almost nod at him for permission. Andre nodded back and watched as the man kneeled down at her gorgeous ass, finessing his cock inside as its hole bounced up and down. When he was in, her body was airtight, being compressed between three forces, with many more waiting for their shot, all hard or half-hard, needing not much in the way of stimulation, her body, rich and golden, intoxicating, and her moans, where the bare hints of her accent floated out involuntarily, not any less blissful to witness.

As Andre watched the team-building gangbang, a sight so familiar to him, he noticed that this time, something was different. He stared at her, took in her body, took in its every curve, and he regarded the profile of her face as she turned to gain leverage on that cock. Her chin was low and her inner-cheek bulged as saliva spilled from her sloppy lips. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, even with his horniness a little ways off yet. He only stared at her, watching her partners switch, watching her body twist and be pulled between them. He stared like there was nothing else to look at, feeling awkward. After all, nothing like this, this feeling, had ever happened to him before.

One of the cocks, the cock of a white tight-end, must have hit the spot, because she burst with a sudden “ai pappy!” much to the crowds delight, and much, even more so, to Andre’s growing and troubling epiphany.

As the bodies cleared out, spent physically or in terms of entertainment, Andre held Sofia’s naked and drunk body next to his own. He looked at her sleeping face inches from his own on the couch, not able to look away. Her form was wet, soaked with her own sweat, which made her glimmer under the harsh light. She breathed slowly against him.

A big body came near, giving her ass a few wet and luscious smacks. He looked up to see the tight-end. “Looks like we got ourselves a new good one.” He smiled.

Andre smiled back and nodded. “A number one draft pick.”

The tight-end gave her a few more smacks and then left out the front door.

After they were all gone, their smiles and comments both, he lay with her on that cramped couch, his body large and hard right against hers. She was soft and breathed slightly, like a bird.

He kissed her on the forehead. “A good one is right,” he said. “The best.”

“Is he squinting?” a passing voice, younger, asked. “Or is he just Asian?”

John blushed, pretending he didn’t hear it. It was easy to do when he could barely make the figures out beneath the beating light of the sun.

“Beautiful,” Amy said in mandarin. “Isn’t it?”

John looked to see her bent over, looking into her basket for sunscreen. Her ass, wrapped tightly by its bright-red one-piece swimsuit, the shape of which was insufficient of the shape of her luscious ass. John stared at it, the way it bobbed back and forth, alive with his mother’s growing frustration. John knew that swimsuit, remembered his mom wearing it back in China. It was revealing enough then. But her body since, thickened by the American food and lifestyle, had now made that swimsuit into a joke. Fully-covered, she still looked as if she were nude. Or at least John felt that in his gut.

“Did you forget to pack it?” she said from within the basket.

John was annoyed. “You packed it.”

Her ass stopped moving. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes behind her sunglasses, hiding from her embarrassment. “Did you see me pack it?” John didn’t respond, and she turned around, digging for it further.

John looked back at her ass. I saw you pack plenty, he thought, shocked by his sudden Tomism.

John had been reduced to this in some ways. He had come to the beach with Amy a few minutes earlier, almost terrified he’d have to submerge his lower half in water, just as a way to hide his growing arousal at all the eye candy. He stood there now though, the beach tiny, nothing like what he had seen on American TV (he was realizing with every passing month, just how much of ‘America’ he had known as a youth was really only New York and California). He had come, ready to see beautiful white-pink bodies skipping playfully in the sand, sending up volleys of it, along with volleys of salt water, with their feet. Instead, a few old people and small families, their mothers cursed with measly flat asses, stood there, wading through shallow and unassuming waves. John was embarrassed as well, forgetting Ohio didn’t border any oceans.

His mother sighed, turned and fell into the sand. Her giant ass sent up a puff of it, which blew away unceremoniously in the breeze. She was like a jewel there, red and glowing, encrusted within the sand. John glared at her, almost in disbelief at the vast chasms of humanity between her and so many others here. The thought alone excited and horrified him.

“We can’t be out here for long,” she said. Then in English: “We’ll be burn to a crisp.” She reached down into her purse, pulling out her phone. She handed it to her son. “Showtime,” she said, again in English and began to get up, her body jiggling even from the smallest motion.

John’s mouth began to literally salivate, not only with an ambivalent hunger for photographing his mom’s posing body, but the faint glimmer of what he imagined on the other end, the faces scrolling through Instagram there, her legion of followers, only to find another classic, only to decorate her replies with words and sentences she’d never truly understand, things beyond just their base level vulgarity.

Those famous words, which began to become a staple from the peanut gallery, came to John just as his mom stabilized herself on her thick thighs: “Built for BBC.” John felt his veins run with syrup at the thought, even as his heart beat with a violating shudder.

Just as he steadied the camera, his mom finding her first pose, something happened.

A body, much darker and tanned, but just as shapely, passed in the distance behind her own. Two humongous butt-cheeks jiggled, brown and healthy in the sun. A glimmer ran between them, the gold g-string, all but being swallowed, still somehow catching the sunshine. The lake water was rich in John’s nose, and he knew intuitively that it was that same fresh scent which now played against those moving cheeks; the two cheeks, along with his mother’s, which made every other ass on this beach, in the water or on the sand, irrelevant.

John snapped a photo, making sure to do so just then, that body in frame in the back, in silent competition with his mother’s. It wasn’t until he saw that familiar head of frizzy hair following behind the mystery woman, that he realized whose sweet brown ass he had caught in frame.

Sofia, unlike Amy, wore her sexiness neither as an accessory or as a sore thumb of her being, she just moved through the world being sexy, almost one with it, never embellishing any ounce of it, nor hiding an inch. And this showed, the way she walked across that beach. Her butt-cheeks glimmered in the sun, in smooth motion.

Leo followed behind her, walking just as confidently, his chest muscular and toned perfectly. His cock, though completely flaccid, could still be seen pressing up against the face of his trunks with every second step.

Sofia lay her towel flat with a flutter, her cheeks fluttering with them, as if the towel in the breeze was the sound her ass made at every jiggle. She then fell to her knees, and crawled forward. Leo, already ahead of her, squirted a large amount of sunscreen in his palm.

“Coming right up,” he said, and his hands fell to his mother’s shoulders.

“Is that Sofia,” Amy asked, holding the brim of her hat.

John didn’t respond, only staring, seeing the substance being rubbed by Leo’s dark fingers over his own mother’s cocoa brown body. He then watched, shocked to see those hands running lightly over her ass, rubbing the sunscreen deep into the volume of her cheeks, their entire form shifting with the slightest pressure from those fingers.

“Sofia!”

Sofia looked up to see her friend Amy standing there, with big sunglasses beneath her large-brimmed hat. “Amy, my sweet,” she said.

Leo looked up to see Amy, a little startled, but he kept staring at her body there, barely contained by its one-piece. He barely looked to John, only nodding his head to him, and then back to John’s mother, taking her in as his hands worked the back of his own mother’s thighs.

John likewise, stared down at Sofia, taking her body in in a way which almost made him lightheaded. He had never expected to see so much of her. And there was so much of her to see. The two young men existed there, with duelling mothers, and some part in each of them was aware of this. The eyes of many fascinated men, and jealous women, were all pointed at them as the new focal point of the beach itself.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Amy said, apparently in earnest.

“It is, isn’t it? Enjoying the sun?”

Amy looked down at Leo, confused. Leo stared up at her. Then she blushed, realizing Sofia had said “sun” with a “u.”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “I don’t get enough.” Then she stopped, thinking about it for a second. “But I can’t enjoy it for long.”

“Why not!?” Sofia said, her intonation rising in a sweet bubble.

“John forgot to bring the sunscreen.”

John felt the frustration pull at his forehead.

“Oh, we got you covered here. We have enough sunscreen for the whole beach.”

There was a look on Leo’s face, as he was finishing up his mom’s ankles, which John should have noticed.

“Thank you so much,” Amy said.

John, looked to her, ready to do to her what he had watched Leo do to his own mother, still barely believing he had seen it, but, now that he had, assuming this was a normal practice in this country, sons running their hands nice and sweetly over their mothers, protecting them from that bitter sun.

He moved closer as Amy fell to Sofia’s blanket at Sofia’s request. But just as he did, Leo’s large body, first as a shadow, then with the body which followed it, crowded John off to the side. He fell to his knees just as Amy fell to her chest.

“Okay!” Leo said, squirting a volume to his hands and rubbing them together. “I’m sure I’m no Asian masseuse, Miss Li, but I’ll do my best.”

John could see the nervousness in his own mother, and he felt it, so much worse within his own stomach. And then, he watched her nerves all but disappear from her, and only amplifying in himself, when Leo’s fingers met her white back.

Amy’s mouth fell open, as Leo’s hands became more animated against her white flesh. John watched her breathing go heavy, and he stood there, not knowing what to do. Leo’s hands crawled lower, terrifying John at even her lower back, then he came over her ass-cheeks, and he rubbed some sunscreen into them. Amy’s cheeks gave, even as Leo only ran over them with apologetic and assuring softness. The whole beach watched the moment, either directly or through the corners of their eyes, and John, humiliated, somehow dragged his gaze away from his mom’s ass being manipulated by his friend’s fingers, toward her face. He could see her eyes open now beyond the black of her sunglasses, just as open as her mouth, with her cheeks red, staring into nothing, clearly enjoying the sensation she felt, maybe surprised by just how titillated she was.

John’s sudden but invisible panic was only aided by the arousal he felt watching. He was ashamed to face himself, with these sights he’d sometimes entertain within the privacy of his own imagination, sudden flushes of obscene imagery, which scared but thrilled him all at once. And it was shocking to him, that one of the images which had floated, more times than he could count, looked no different to what he was seeing now. The only difference being that in this very real version of what he was imagining, Leo’s reason for touching his mom’s ass was to apply sunscreen.

John’s cock was erect in his shorts. But no one on the beach noticed it, not with the distraction of Amy’s jiggling, moist ass, nor with Sofia’s ass sitting there, as she stood on her knees, watching with a smile.

Leo’s hands past her, finding her thighs, working them with the same aggressiveness he had used on her back.

“Those look soft,” Sofia said.

“They are,” Leo replied blankly.

Amy lay there, her eyes still open. The things she felt here, while new and particular, had shades of something she had felt before, she realized, and she was lost in thought, thought massaged out of her by Leo’s hand, as to what it could be. That’s when the sound of a roaring crowd below her came back to her from within her memories, camera lights flashing, and the sound of a dominant voice, just behind her, yelled into a microphone, which she heard twice, once on stage, and then over a speaker system transmitted to the crowd.

That exact sensation, that rubbing up against masculinity without stoppage, occurred to her as the source of it all, as she felt Leo’s hands against her calves.

“Okay,” he said delicately. “Now the other side.”

Amy lay there, unmoving.

“Um…” Leo looked at the back of her head.

Sofia prodded her friend. “Amy.”

Amy looked up at her, startled.

“Other side.”

John watched his mother turn herself over, her giant tits swung into view then lay hanging against her chest.

John watched Leo’s hand rub into her clavicle, and then go lower, and both he and Amy were breathless as the hands ran over her cleavage, rubbing softly into them, and then, as one, both were somehow, and shockingly to themselves, disappointed to see that he was done, that he wouldn’t even try to go lower than what was truly exposed to the sun. He worked on her flanks and then thighs.

As he finished up, Sofia tilted her head affectionately. “Oh Amy, this beach doesn’t deserve you.”

Amy leaned up on her elbows, Leo being finished now. “What about you?” she said.

Sofia only smiled back.

Leo looked up at John, and John looked down at him apprehensively. Leo smiled at his friend just the same. It worried John more than enough, but what worried him more was the motion, sudden and stiff, he saw in Leo’s swim-trunks.

John stood there, taking pictures of his mother, feeling exposed to the world as he did. What made the moment even worse though, beyond just its inherent nature, was the revelation that he had no eye for photography. “Bruh, you’re butchering it,” Leo said. “John, do you even know what a frame is?” After a few more hurled insults, Amy’s phone was snatched from his hands. “Here. Let me show you how it’s done.”

John stood aside, watching Leo now capture the same body he had ran his hands over just moments before. “Miss Li, sorry. Bend a little more forward.” Amy stood with a hand on her hip, looking confused. She did as she was told. “More. Yeah, more. Come on.” She did it until her ass began to pop, looking as big as it possibly could when viewed from the front. “That’s it! Stop! Okay, good, good, now smile.”

Amy did as she was told. Leo snapped another picture.

Leo and John walked nearly shoulder to shoulder with each other down the length of the beach. It wasn’t until they reached the place where the sand was turned into mud and grass, where they were covered from the sun by the shade of a tree, that Leo looked behind himself. John looked with him to see their moms, distant, but still somehow recognizable through the sore thumb of their shape.

“I can’t believe you’re just giving her away.”

John’s gaze snapped to Leo.

“Does she even know just how many men took a piece of that sweet and sour ass?” he looked to John.

John stood there, his breathing stopped.

“And I think you still owe Tom another go.”

John didn’t have to ask how Leo knew. Leo knew he was already thinking it.

“My ears are as superior as every other part of me is. I hear everything in this town. Can’t say I’m upset. If any ass deserves it, your mom’s does. Might as well get something for your end of the bargain.”

A breeze blew past, chilling John, but Leo stood still, not even breaking eye contact.

“With me though, don’t even bother asking. I don’t need your help.”

John didn’t say anything, but his eyes spoke volumes.

Leo looked over at Amy, on her knees in on her towel, her ass pushing up against her calves, grinning politely at something Sofia said. “I’m going to take her ass. And what’s more, she’s going to give it to me. She wants it. It’s inevitable and you know it. You can feel it. She’s heard about chocolate. What it does to a woman. No matter how different she is, she’s living here now, and she’s gonna give into the same fascinations that every woman here does.”

John looked back at his mother, seeing her there, seeing in her shape the very truths that Leo spoke, feeling oppressed by them. He then looked to Sofia, seeing her joyful beauty--joyful in its every second of life, the thick shape of her, her short stature and the dexterity of her body within the very shape of femininity--turned John on, but felt, implicitly, so far away from himself in almost every way.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking. And yeah, you’re right, John. You’d have to drug my mom to get a piece of her. Just like you did with Tom’s mom. No woman shaped like our moms naturally comes to a guy like you. Even if you’re rich or important, or if you were movie star handsome, they all know, deep down, it just doesn’t hit the same. Your mom is built for me. My mom is built for the furthest thing from you. That’s why there’s no way I’m going to let you anywhere near her. Unlike our friends, I don’t have to stoop to shit like that just to get laid. I just have to…” he smiled and laughed to himself. “…I just have to be there.” John looked up into his friend’s confident eyes. Leo’s arms shot out to his sides as if to present himself. “And here I am!”

They sat under a tree, Leo enjoying the shade and John wallowing in it, feeling his every inch of flesh crawl under its moist embrace.

“It’s kind of your guys’ fault this is happening,” he said. John saw Leo’s cock twitch in his peripheral, like a little confident creature lived in his shorts. “It was when I saw my mom riding that black dildo, giving her all to it… Before that, I didn’t really understand the appeal in milfs. They were just like all other women, but… not good. Past their prime, you know?”

John didn’t answer, only staring ahead at the glimmers on the lake.

“But then when I saw that big ass… my mom’s ass…” There was an uncharacteristic amount of shame in Leo’s voice. He seemed to be forcing the words out after a long period of coming to terms with them. “I saw her riding that black dildo with you all. I saw it getting up in her – deep.” He stared into an oblivion. “So deep…. That’s when I finally understood the appeal. God damn!”

John said nothing, only hearing distant children’s laughter.

“You guys sort of changed me on that day. And now… the chickens have come home to roost.”

John felt a tugging in his throat, an angst and frustration, the kind he always felt after facing consequences for the decision always made by others. He felt like his whole time in this country had been him simply being along for some ride.

“Here,” Leo said, adjusting himself to reach into his pocket (John could see his cock slide along his thigh in his shorts, half-hard). “Look at this.”

The phone was thrust before John’s face, and a video began.

Mia, Tom’s sister, came into sight. John’s heart almost fluttered at her, seeing in her traces of Evelyn, traces he knew intimately. She kneeled at the edge of the bed, nude, leaning forward toward her cameraman, suppliant. Then Leo spoke: “I don’t know, this is my first time.”

John squinted.

Mia’s palm fell to Leo’s thigh. “Oh, but sweetheart. You’re just so big, and… black…. Like your father.” Her white hand slid up Leo’s cocoa thigh, finding his cock, tugging it into the frame. “Mommy has been noticing.” She leaned down, kissing the head of Leo’s cock. “Any girl would be lucky to have this.” She smiled warmly, with motherly benevolence. “My sweet, sweet boy.”

“Oh, mommy.”

She leaned down, taking the cock, as much as she could muster, within her mouth.

John watched, becoming increasingly hard, watching Leo’s cock in action again, watching those blonde features in submission to it, and seeing both Tom and Evelyn reflected in them.

“Mommy wants your big black cock in her tight white pussy,” she said, now with the cock positioned beneath her, right at the lips of her pussy.

“Take it mommy,” Leo said. “You earned it.”

John was ready to see it, those long inches disappear within Mia’s body, when Leo spoke softly, assertively, into his ear: “This is what I’ll be doing with your mom soon.”

The cock head disappeared, and as John felt a horrible sinking, flushing even, within his gut, the rest of that cock disappeared further and further on its way up and within that lily white body.

John gulped, feeling Leo’s gaze on the side of his blushing head.

“Ugh,” Mia choked, just as the cock’s final inch was sucked within herself. Her eyelids hung over her eyes, heavy under their own ecstasy.

John, in only a quick flash, saw his mom’s face in the place of Mia, and felt the shudder of the truth inherent there.

The phone was pulled from John’s gaze, leaving him with nothing except his traitorous imagination replaying what he just saw in the sand.

When they emerged from under that tree, Leo had done so, feeling warmed and welcomed by the rays of the sun. John, as if beaten down by the light, walked with a sunken gaze, his face dark behind the shade of his own skull.

“Where were you two lovebirds at?”  

Leo fell down to the towel, next to Amy. He rested his elbow on his knee. “Just chatting about guy stuff.” He looked over to his mom and smiled, then let his gaze drift over to Amy’s face next to him. When he held his eyes on her for a moment too long, she blushed and looked away.

Leo looked down at his own extended leg, his foot at the end of it, its sole being warmed by the sun. Amy’s leg lay next to it, outstretched and pale. He compared the two of them, not able to help himself, seeing in the contrast some perfect mixture, one as sweet as it was forbidden. He then looked over, seeing Amy’s eyes aimed in the very place his were, at the end of their mutual legs, and he was sure that the thoughts which swam around his mind were not very different from the thoughts which now swam around in hers.

John stood above them, looking down at this dynamic, his thoughts as cursed as theirs were blessed. Sofia sat off to the side, fresh and vivacious, yet invisible to all three in this moment. She looked off at the players at the volleyball net. The ball sailed over as all three on its approaching side stared at it. It landed at the exact point between two of them (two flat and plain women) and bounced off toward the lake. “They’re not very good, are they?”

Leo leaned back, looking past Amy’s blushing body. An old man tried to serve. It bounced off to the side and the party laughed. “Not very good at all,” Leo said. “Shit.” He turned and looked back at the sand. He seemed to mulling over something in his head. “Let’s play after they’re finished,” he said.

Sofia didn’t react, unperturbed by the suggestion. But Amy and John both froze. Neither said anything. Sofia turned to look to her friend. “You ever play?”

Amy blushed. “No…”

“It’s easy,” Leo said.

Amy looked unsure.

He looked at her, gazing into her eyes confidently. “Trust me.”

John’s stomach sat uneasy, now with anxiety from two sources. He looked up over the terrifying sight of his friend so close to his mother, up to the game beyond. The ball came over the net. One of the players lunged for it. He swung his palm up underhanded. The ball landed on the crown of his head and bounced off unceremoniously. Everyone laughed.

Sofia and Amy walked on ahead, with their two sons following them, walking to the synchronized rhythm of those asses in motion. John felt Leo’s powerful shoulder lean against his own. Leo’s breath came near his ear, and he spoke in a whisper: “I’m going to be having fun with one of the asses here.” He looked up at Amy’s ass, big, voluptuous, and unruly. “You’re going to have fun with none.” John trembled. “I’m going to touch places inside your mom that no other man has ever seen.”

John looked at his mom’s ass, looked at its size, and its constant state of flux, seeing universes within it. There was a harsh fatalism to the moment, an overcast of inevitability which darkened the rays of the sun. It was made all the more cruel because of Leo’s need to assert his dominance. Not just his dominance, but John’s inferiority, the curse of John’s being, a curse he was forever hitched to. The cruelty of it was daunting, and the need to dish it out may have been Leo’s only flaw. And it was made all the worse because Leo, in some ways, was John’s favorite of the group, or at least the one he looked up to most. Without making it too explicit, Leo had always presented as the alpha of their pack, their impromptu leader, and this general dynamic spilled into the current moment, freezing John into both the tragedy and the thrill of what was approaching.

He pulled his gaze from his mom’s giant ass to Sofia’s. He imagined, as clear as day, those two giant cheeks riding that dildo, and, somehow, the greatness of that sight, no matter how vivid and available, seemed so quaint and distant in light of what was to come.

She spun around, a smile on her face. “Okay, who goes where?”

“Let’s go rookie with pro,” Leo suggested quickly, seemingly having it ready.

“Okay, Amy. Come on.”

“Uh uh,” Leo said. Everyone looked to him. “Two young men against two older women… really, mom?”

“Okay,” she said, looking to John. “Come on, John, me and you are going to show them what we’re made of.” She then looked over to Amy, whose body was stiff with nerves. Her hand came down, meeting Amy’s ass cheek in a playful pat. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

“She’s going to need it,” Leo said. She looked over at him, nervously. He shot her a wink and she turned away quickly.

As John went over to his side of the net, the separation he felt from his mom and friend, and the exclusivity he felt with Sofia, made for a strange but exciting dynamic. She stood there, leaned forward, only a few articles of clothing from being naked. “Watch me, John,” she said. “It’s all pretty basic.”

John looked at her eyes, but the extent of her body filled his peripheral. Leo rolled the ball under the net toward his mom. John watched her bend over, her brown ass voluminous and wide, as she picked it up. She retreated to the back corner, then she threw the ball up in the air and hit it with the heel of her hand. John watched it sail over. Leo leapt up, his body articulating its various glories to anyone who cared to look (all the women including Amy), and he met it with a swat. It smacked into the sand and bounced off. “Maybe tone it done, sweetheart,” his mother suggested.

“Sorry,” he said, with a barely-real embarrassment. “I guess I just get carried away.” He looked back at Amy and winked at her.

Sofia rolled the ball beneath the net on her way up. Leo grabbed it, turned around and approached Amy, who looked like an animal caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. “Here,” he said. “Let me show you how to serve.”

John watched horrified as Leo’s body came near his mother’s, their two forms complimenting the other the way opposites usually did. Leo came behind her, grabbing her blushing hand, lifting it. “Like this,” he said, pulling it downward, pushing it up against the ball. Their bodies were so close, and the look on Amy’s face, as she felt the young man behind her, guiding her with a strong but gentle arm, was ambivalent, both a horror and a thrill expressing itself through the every fibre of her expression and gait.

Then John saw it, the moment when Leo’s ‘bulge’ in front met Amy’s ‘bulge’ behind her. It was a brief moment, but it spoke volumes, as did his hand on her wrist. He lobbed the ball up softly, and then he swung her hand upward. It met the ball, her body jiggled all over (and against him) as the ball rocketed into the air, over the net.

“Good job, Amy,” Leo said, hopping off and away from her, readying himself.

John watched, terrified by the every miniscule detail of the moment. The ball fell just before him, without even a single attempt to account for it. Suddenly, Sofia fell in front of him, meeting the ball with her fists. It popped back up into the air, coming directly on top of Amy. Amy, terrified as she watched it come, extended a fist just at the last moment, her eyes shut in prayer. The ball bounced from her fist, off to the side, and just before it met the sand, a horizontal Leo, gliding through the air, met it, no differently than his mother had. It flew over the net in a wonderful arc. Sofia had found it, and it popped up into the air, nowhere near clearing the net. “John!” she called.

John now, feeling a sudden urge pull him forward, shot to the ball. He pulled his hand back, ready to hit it. He swung upward.

The ball, moving much faster than he could even expect, met the flat of his forehead. His world went black for a second and he opened his eyes with the net much further above him. He was sitting on his ass. The ball rolled towards Leo’s foot.

“Not bad, man,” Leo said. John began to smile, not believing it. And then Leo continued: “Not even close to the net. Leo caught the ball by stepping on it. He pulled his foot back and popped the ball into the air and grabbed it. He turned to Amy. “Looks like you’re my lucky charm!”

John again watched with horror, not even as troubled by the contact between their two bodies as he was by the way they perfectly complimented each other, like chemicals from two worlds, never, not even in the minds of the gods who created them, meant to meet. But upon meeting, they became one as easily as chocolate and peanut butter.

Again, Amy served surprisingly well (with heavy help from her dark and muscular partner), and John tried to focus, not being able to do so truly with his mom’s shapely body rippling from the aftershock. Sofia’s body, also rippling, caught the ball, and it bounced, directly toward John. He didn’t flinch this time, only extending his hand. The ball hit it and made a beeline to the ground. Sand puffed up and assaulted John’s face.

John then, seeing the ball twirling toward the net, hearing Sofia’s encouraging but hollow consolations behind him (being turned on by them slightly), moved to the ball. He met Leo there at the net.

“If you can win,” his friend said low and deliberate, as if the net were prison bars and the warden was approaching. “Your mom is safe.”

John tried to act casual, reaching down for the ball, only for Leo to roll it back to himself with an extended foot beneath the net.

“But only if you win!” he said loudly while moving back to Amy.

John stood there, looking at his mom, who looked over at him, curious about what had been discussed. John stared back at her, almost feeling sorry for how he knew he’d let her down, and, even more sorry for how he knew it wouldn’t be a letdown to her at all. More like a letdown to the version of her he had in his head. The version he wanted to keep alive despite all evidence from the world and coming circumstance, a new factor which could never be reversed or forgotten.

Leo didn’t even go to Amy this time. “Wish me luck,” he said, winking at her. Then he threw up the ball, leapt in the air, his muscles perfect in the sun, and cracked at it. It came down, directly at John, and John lifted his hand, swinging wildly, angrily. The ball popped into the air, and he looked upon it eclipsing the sun with shock. He then shot for it to hit it again, only to hear “no, no, no!” from Sofia, who, despite her shape, moved like an athlete, her son’s athleticism feminized and in miniature, toward the ball. She rocketed it over the net. Amy hit it with her eyes shut and Leo leapt for it. It just barely cleared the net with his assistance, and John prepared himself, though it was Sofia again, leaping into the air, her body as perfect as her son’s, erotic in its thick weightlessness, spiked the ball to the opposing sand.

Leo met the ground fruitlessly. Amy watched the ball hit the ground.

John felt a sudden rush. It was possible, he realized. His doom wasn’t as inevitable as he first thought. Then, just as he rode the crest of that thought, found shelter in that miniscule shred of hope, Leo rotated in the sand, looking to Amy with a grin. “I thought I told you to wish me luck.”

Amy blushed. John’s heart sank.

Playing volleyball for the first time was hard enough. Playing it with two of the most shapely bodies in the world, their huge tits and giant asses barely contained by clothing only built for leisure, if even that, was a hell. Amy, in her awkwardness, and poorly kinesthethitized way, had improved rapidly. She was nothing to shake a stick at, but John was shocked to see her leap for the ball twice (both times he was distracted by the weightless glory of her giant tits), and dive for the ball once, sending sand up and over herself, it billowing through the slight breeze and landing on the giant round surface of her ass. Leo looked down at her, enjoying the jiggles and the decorative sand on the ass he seemed confident he was soon to enjoy.

Even still, the score was much closer than John was expecting it to be. Maybe it was his own desperation, something he was fine with, but the thought that it could be more than that, that it was Leo’s way of playing with his food, sent a chill through his already-aching spine.

Sofia’s body was no less distracting to John than his mother’s. And he struggled to focus because of it. The sun beat down against his side of the net, surrounding his mom’s shapely body with a halo of light. The edges of her tits, whenever she turned, glowed at their fine hairs, and Leo, floating around her, did so with his muscles defined by light.

The ball came down again. Sofia shot before John, catching it, her ass rippling with the shock which started at her wrists. John’s mouth fell open at the sight, watching her giant ass cheeks in motion. He heard the crack of the ball from the other side, looked up frantically to see it coming to him. He extended his hands out, trying to place its trajectory. It missed his hand by only an inch. Then he felt it, raw and uncompromising, against his crotch. He fell down, feeling a slight pain and discomfort, likely shielded slightly from something much worse, by his erection.

The ball touched the top-edge of the net and fell over. Leo, shocked, shot for it, diving. He met it with his fists, met it strongly, only for the ball to meet the net and fall back on his head.

John felt a soft hand move into his. He looked up to see Sofia’s smiling face. “We’re tied now, John,” she said with excitement. The world spun as he came to his feet. John had butterflies in his gut, and the softness of that palm, implying the softness of her whole body, gave him a second wind. “Let’s show them what we’re made of.”

John turned to the net with a duty. Sofia’s hand left his, and he slowly back up to his position.

Sofia grabbed the rolling ball. Picked it up. Looked at it. She smiled, then she lobbed it up into the air. With a leap, sand exploding beneath her, she smacked it with her palm.

It shot across the net. Leo turned to look back, seeing its destination, standing there, pale, thick, and soft.

Amy saw it coming, regarded it with a confidence that would have been impossible at the start of the game.

The ball, moving at the speed of sound, met her forearms in a horrible smack as she shot for it. And that vibration, running through the thick volume of her body, must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Her tit, big and giant and unruly, popped out of her red bikini with such suddenness, it could almost be mistaken for the sound of her arms meeting the ball.

Everyone stared at her, her big tit, naked and exposed sitting there, settling. John watched most of all. That was until he felt a smack against his face. He opened his eyes after the violence of it to see the ball rolling along the ground.

He looked up, watching his mom tuck her giant tit, nipple and all, back into her swimsuit (it was a gargantuan task). It was only after it was gone, her face blushing above, that Leo turned to look at him. He then looked down slowly, seeing the ball there, then up back at John. A grin slowly found his face.

He then spun around, running toward Amy. “You did it, Mrs. Li.” His two hands shot up, expecting two high fives. She put up her hands, still mortified and embarrassed. His hands met hers, their fingers interlocked. John watched their two bodies, locked now in their fate.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Sofia’s voice. “Well, we did our best,” she said, her warm attitude matching the shape of her. John couldn’t even turn around, only hearing that phrase: “Our best.”  

Leo pulled Amy’s hands aside and gripped her in a hug. John watched it, not even daring to turn around and do the same with Sofia, gripping her thickness and flavor against him. Leo was right, he’d never have her. And, even more, Leo would have John’s mom. And John knew it. The hug stopped, and Leo just held Amy by her elbows, staring down into her eyes. The sunlight danced along their edges. They were perfect together. Two bodies, faces, and minds from opposite ends of the world, meeting here, the product of circumstance, which, when examined in this particular occurrence, could be mistaken as nothing other than fate.

The beauty in the two of them, the beauty of them together, was the worst indication to John that what was about to come was final.

“What do we have here?” a voice called.

John didn’t even turn to look, only seeing Leo slowly turn around to regard the interruption. John watched Leo for a moment, seeing him only stare. Slowly, he turned to look.

“Professional volleyball players. Nice.” The interloper stood there, handsome, tall, built, and, most peculiarly of all, Asian. His three friends stood behind him. “Can we join?”

They divided themselves across the net. John looked at them, noting their strength and size, the way they walked and talked, with confidence and authority. He assumed, and was proven correct in assuming, that they were of college age.

“I’m a business major,” said one of them, a black guy, much darker than Leo. Much bigger and more masculine too.

Sofia stared at him. Leo looked to her, squinting in the sun. “I think I’ve seen you somewhere,” she said. She smiled beneath her sun-shielding hand.

“I’m around time to time,” he said, smiling. “I must have left an impression on you.”

John looked to Leo, who was looking at the man with a scowl. John then watched the two white men backing up. They both looked at Amy’s ass, and John knew it was with as much shock to see an ass like that on an Asian woman as it was to enjoy an ass that big at all.

“No, wait a second,” Sofia said. “That’s it. You play football, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Yeah, you’re the quarterback. You play for my college team. My old college.”

“Old college? You’re not in college now?”

“Oh, what a charmer,” she said. “No, that’s my son next to you, if you haven’t figured it out yet.”

The man turned to look at Leo, smiling down at him. “What’s up, man.” He said it in a way that was warm and innocuous, but his grin spoke a different tale.

Leo stared up at him. “Hey,” he said, dryly.

Amy herself stared at the black man, looking up at him, seeing, in his darkness, something frightening, but in his perfection, something impossible to look away from. Leo stood there, aware of this, the changing dynamic, on all sides of him. John did as well, feeling crowded in by the bodies behind him.

“Zhōngguó rén?”

John turned around to see a sculpted Asian body behind him. The man was looking at his mother through the latticed mesh of the net.

Amy nodded. “Shì de,” she said.

“How’s my accent?” he asked in English.

“Tài bangle,” she said, her voice picking up. “Wǒ hái yǐwéi nǐ shì cóng lǎojiā lái de ne.”

“Wow, that’s quite the compliment. No though, I’m an American, for better or worse.”

She stared at him for a moment, almost in disbelief. “Nǐ kào shénme móushēng?” she asked in stereotypical fashion.

“Well, I’m still in school. Computer science. But me and a few friends—all Asians of course--” He laughed. “We’re already neck deep in a new tech startup.”

Amy looked over at John, her expression implying so much, seeing in this young enterprising man, all the empty space which her son could stand to fill one day. He could see all of this in her expression to him, even as it was segmented into pieces by the net.

“We plan to implement finance models into apps which-“

“Blah, blah, blah,” said one of the white guys. “Stop bragging.”

“Bragging? I’m just interested in what I do. ‘Bragging.’” He shook his head and laughed. “Some people have to be passionate about what they’re doing to make money. Not all of us can live off daddy. Business Majors…”

John saw in his mother, the way she stood there, her body reacting, below her awareness, to the words which ran towards and past her on all sides. Again, she looked to John, gesturing to him with her eyes. John stood there, dreading the talk she was going to have with him later.

Leo stood there, completely irrelevant. Not just irrelevant but small.

His mom spoke: “This game’s about to get more exciting.”

As everyone squared up for the first serve, John couldn’t help but noticing. Leo’s face, body, and confidence, when compared to the others, didn’t seem to fit so closely with John’s mom anymore. Sofia, Amy, and the young men seemed to exist now in a class all their own. And when the Asian behind John served the ball, and Leo leapt for it, only being hit in the face for his trouble, Amy’s perfect and shapely curves seemed to drift further and further from his worthiness, settling amongst the foursome of higher masculinity. It was as if she always belonged there.

Every time Sofia or Amy fell into the sand, one of the men were quick to lift them to their feet (doing so effortlessly as the moms giggled). When either John or Leo fell, the guys just hit them with a wise-crack (which hurt all the more coming from those deep, settled voices). “You’re giving us Asians a bad name.” “You’re not tall enough.” “Whoops!” “Nice try, Short-round.”

As John felt himself sinking further and further into a pit of humiliation, Leo sinking there with him, there moms only seemed to get more giggly with time. John was shocked to see his mom hopping and leaping for the ball, doing so with less and less of her characteristic stiffness, and even laughing as she failed, being teased for it playfully. The men jabbed at her in words in a way which John only knew to be a stand-in for their need to jab at her body with their palms and fingers.

The game ended, both teams close to a tie, everyone losing track, so no one could tell who the winners were. Though, it was pretty obvious, even from a distance, that there were clear losers here. For a  moment, the two of them looked at each other through the net, regarding the worry in each other’s expressions, only to look away, as if fearing not only fear itself, but the evidence of fear in each other.

“See that over there?”

Everyone looked, seeing what was a extended beyond the finger of one of the young white men.

Sitting there, like a pearl at the center of a clam, sat a pure white structure on the water.

“A boat?” Amy said.

“A yacht, yeah.”

“Your dad’s yacht,” the asian said.

“And therefore mine.” He looked to the other young white man, a marketing major. “Right?”

“Not when I run things.”

“Before the revolution then, you guys want to go?” He looked to John and Leo, but only as a formality, his gaze quickly snapping to Sofia and Amy. He wanted them on that boat with him so badly. John could see it, see how large it was, but still not large enough, his mom’s body being packed into that space with all of them, herself like a marshmallow packed between the stiff ‘crackers’ of their torsoes, being squeezed. It made John sick, and with Sofia there to compliment it all with equal beauty, John wanted to die.

John looked to his mother. She turned and looked to the boy, the black man smiling behind her on one side as Leo stood behind her on the other, scowling. She opened her mouth, her head shaking: “N-“

“Sure,” Sofia said. “It looks fun, hey?” She turned to her sun with a grin, impervious to his bemusement.

As they waited on the beach, watching him swim to the yacht off the coast, Amy neared up on her son. As the anchor was being pulled up by that rock-hard beige body, she leaned against her son’s shoulder. “You ever think of starting a tech startup?” She asked in mandarin.

He didn’t even answer, only looked at her as if she were someone he never knew.

They all neared the dock, waiting for the smiling white man to pilot the boat there.

They then all hopped on. “Beautiful,” Sofia said. “Isn’t it, Amy?” The boat took off.

John watched as the shore grew distant, until it was equally as miniscule as the shore on its opposite end. They were in the dead center of the lake. Just then, one of the guys neared up behind Sofia, putting his hand on the small of her bare back. “You ever see the beach from this far?” he asked.

She turned, looking up into his eyes. “No, I haven’t. It’s beautiful.”

He only stared down into hers. “It sure is…”

Leo just stood there, staring at his own mom’s ass and thick thighs.

There was a sound of clanging glass. John looked over into the shaded area to see the yacht’s “owner” coming up with liquor and glasses. He then ducked down again, coming up with more glasses.

“Is it legal to drink out here?” Sofia asked. The white hands slid from her back and fell free.

“As long as we have a designated pilot, it is.”

“And that’ll be you?”

“Nope.” He began pouring.

Amy looked around sheepishly, clearly stressed. Then a hand, one much darker than the hue of her body, met her lower back, the inverse image of the contact with Sofia. She looked up, almost expecting to see Leo standing there, instead seeing another dark face.

“At my lake house, we have rice wine. I love that stuff. It’s pretty popular where you’re from, isn’t it?”

Amy stared, then slowly nodded. “Yes, it is.”

He repositioned his hand, wrapping his fingers softly above her hip, getting himself more comfortable, and her more comfortable with him being there. “Maybe sometime I can show you the lake house.”

She only stood there, looking nervous, but like she enjoyed being there. Leo couldn’t even look at her. John couldn’t look away, smelling the alcohol being dredged up from the cupboard behind the bar, knowing, from experience now, what alcohol did to a situation. As it rose, offensive and sweet to his nostrils, the sound of it being poured competing with the sounds of the waves on the yacht’s hull, he watched that thick black forearm, on those confident black fingers, against his mom’s white body. Her ass, big and luscious, just below. John was hard now.

Sofia snaked herself a path, as best she could, through the male bodies, her soft flesh at war with their sturdiness, toward the bar. “You know though that they can’t drink?” She pointed to her son.

Leo sunk within himself further, feeling smaller. Only John noticed though.

“And no one’s forcing them to,” the young man said, watching the stream of rum fall into the glass.

Sofia’s body began to settle.

A glass was slid before her. “Bon appetit,” the young man said, now pouring Amy’s glass.

“No,” Amy said, extending her palm outward.

The young black man stood there, his hand still on her back, surprised by her outburst.

She looked to John. Then back at the bartender. “I don’t drink.”

“Not even rice wine?” the black man asked, his hand sliding along her back.

“No,” she said, then catching herself. “Only on special occasions.”

He looked down and into her eyes. “And this isn’t one of them?”

There was a silence for a moment between them, then it was interrupted by the one at the bar: “I got a special occasion for you. It’s the beer pong championship. Look.” He turned from the bar and grabbed at folded ping-pong table leaning against the counter. “The best athletes in the world, all on this one boat, ready to establish their worthiness. Their ability to get this little tiny ball…” He held it up, white and pure in his fingers. “…into one of these open mouths.” He leaned down again, pulling up red solo cups. He began removing them from their plastic wrap and placing them on the counter. “Hey, don’t just stand there, make yourself useful.”

The black hand left Amy’s back and grabbed for the table. Sofia helped him and they unfolded it. As they did, Sofia’s body jiggled. The one placing the cups watched it until it settled. He took the cups he placed and put them on the table, went to the cooler for a case of beers, and everyone stood silently, watching him fill the lower fourth of each with beer. Leo was the only one not looking, only staring at the floor.

“Sure you don’t want to try?” the black one asked Amy.

Again, she turned, looking to John. Then turned back and shook her head. John got a sinking feeling imagining this boat, everything the same as it was in this moment, but with him not there.

“How ‘bout you?” He turned and looked to Sofia.

She laughed nervously, then: “It’s been a while since I…” she stopped for a moment. “Yeah, yeah, I would. I would.”

Leo looked up for the first time in a while, seeing the playful joy in his mom’s face.

The boat got quiet as Sofia squared up, ball in hand, and something in John told him that it wasn’t the interest for the sport itself which brought this atmosphere on. The ball clicked off the table and fell to the floor, rolling past Leo’s feet. John’s suspicion was only confirmed further when her opponent squared up himself. His body was tight and rock-hard, and John couldn’t even bring himself to look to see what his mom looked like as she took in the sight of that onyx body. Everyone was silent, everyone hanging on the possibility of, the hope for, Sofia’s drunkenness. The ball clicked against the table. The next noise it made was a plunge.

“Oh!”

“What can I say,” he gloated, teeth perfectly white in his night-black face. “I’m just built different.”

It would have cost nothing for Sofia to sink her next shot, yet everyone rooted against it anyways (even John felt himself one with the energy of the sentiment). They weren’t just banking on her drunkenness, but banking on her domination, even just in this playful little game. John looked over to his mom, seeing in her body, its perfect voluptuousness, that which these young men sought to dominate.

The ball clicked the table. Then it clicked the floor.

The laughs abounded, but both John and Leo heard them as they were: cheers.

“Let’s see. It’s not so hard.” Her opponent readied himself, ball in hand. “I just imagine them like they’re my wide receivers.”

Click

Glulp

“Aw!” Sofia exclaimed, looking down into the occupied cup.

He shrugged. “Bottoms up!”

She sighed as she fished out the ball, then she tipped back the second cup, the one everyone knew to be the second of many. And as it went down her throat in gushing waves, everyone, including John, watched the soft flesh of her thick body give with each.   

John watched the victorious black hand as it rested on Amy’s shoulder. Amy’s thighs were thick against the seat. Her tits were nice and big and white, their cleavage long and dark and unbroken, sitting there next to that rock-hard onyx chest. He took a sip of his beer. “Look at this joker,” he said, appealing to her.

The white guy took his shot and missed.

“What’d I tell you.”

Amy giggled.

The Asian readied himself.

“You’re rooting for him. I just know it.”

He took his shot. It landed in the center cup.

The young black man (his name was Derrick) turned and smiled at her. Then his smile slowly fell away. He began to squint his eyes for a moment. Then, suddenly, they went wide.

“Wait a minute! I think I’ve seen you before.”

“Oh, stop with the ‘racy’ jokes,” the asian one said. “’I loved you in Police Story.’ That’s the first thing you said to me.”

“No, no, I’m being serious. You’re-“ He stopped, probably realizing what he was asking, and what he’d be risking if he had been mistaken. He leaned back, squinting. “You ever go to any concerts?”

Amy looked at him, nonchalantly, then nodded her head. “Sure,” she said. “Sometimes.”

“Any rap concerts?”

She stared, her white face slowly going red.

As it did, his face began to go wide in a smile. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

The Asian one looked over at them. Then he looked to John, seeing John’s face just as crimson.

Just then, Sofia plopped down on the seat next to Amy, their thick thighs now next to each other, looking perfect as one. “I taught her everything she knows,” she said, her words slurring slightly at their edges. “Dancing, I mean. Not… Those moves she showed up there, all mine.”

“You weren’t the other one, were you- No.”

“No, that was our other friend, Gianna. There’s no way I’d…”

“Flash your holes to a whole crowd of people?”

Sofia laughed and shook her head. “No, no way at all.”

Leo looked over, mortified.

“Ohh,” the Asian one said, the ball bouncing behind his turned back. “You were the one at that ZZaxx concert!”

Amy’s entire body, every inch of pale flesh, including her giant tits and her thick thighs, were now tomato red and tense.

“That’s badass!” he said.

Amy looked up at the Asian tech-genius, shocked by the response.

He turned to the white one. “You seen that video?”

“Yeah, I did!”

“Oh my god. I didn’t know one of us could move like that.”

“I taught her everything she knows,” Sofia repeated.

“Ah,” the Asian said. “Big Chinese booty moving to some latin spice. That makes sense.”

Derrick took a sturdier grip of Amy’s shoulder as the rest of the crowd got around her.

“I knew you were too hot to be just anyone,” one of the guys said. “What about the other girl. Can you call her out here?” another said, and everyone laughed.

“Her too!” Sofia said. “Taught her those moves also.” She got up, and Leo looked up at her, his eyes wide.

She turned around. “Let me demonstrate,” she said. “As so.” She placed her palms on her thighs and looked over her back at her thick ass. Then her cheeks began to pop. She was twerking, doing so for the happy crowd.  

“Mom,” Leo said, leaning forward. “Mom!” becoming more assertive immediately. “Stop!”

“I’m just having fun, sweety.”

“Mom!”

She didn’t respond, her ass unstoppable.

The men watched, sipping from their cups under alert and focused eyes. “Fuck yeah!” one of the white ones said. “Look at that mamacita bounce!”

The yacht owner turned up the music.

Leo looked around, his stomach dropping as he saw figures on the beach, watching. A yacht passed nearby, its occupants also stealing glances at his mom.

John looked to his mom, seeing her sink within herself. She sat there in Sofia’s twerking shadow, and as she did, Derrick seemed to be getting closer to her. The shadow of Sofia’s expansive ass loomed and jiggled over Amy’s face. Derrick leaned, whispering something into her ear. Her gaze shot up at him. And she blushed, not in the usual way she always did, but in a way which made John’s stomach turn.

Sofia’s body became looser as her cup was filled and refilled, and even replaced by new cups when she lost the old ones. She was no longer walking along the yacht floor, but stumbling. And though she danced, she did so now with none of her usual expertise and grace. The delight from the men came from the way she twerked.

Derrick sat there, his arm still around Amy. Sofia’s ass fell to his crotch. “You looked like my husband,” she slurred over her shoulder, her hands on her knees. “You remind me of him… when… when he was young and like you.”

“Ah,” he said, and took a sip of his drink, not even looking down at the ass which sat on his crotch. “He was black too?”

“Hell yes he was!” she said, thrusting her fist in the air in triumph. She then began shaking her ass.

As it bounced on Derrick’s cock, Derrick turned, talking to Amy as if nothing was happening. His hand slid down, his palm then resting on her hip, his fingers fallen to the side of her ass.

Leo looked over, seeing his mom’s ass push aggressively against the young man’s swim trunks. He could see the cock in them, half-hard, disappearing between his mom’s butt cheeks. The rage in him swelled. It had been swelling, but it was beyond reason now, and just as he was about to shoot up, a hand fell to his mom’s shoulder.

The Asian one stood there, looking down at her warmly. “You getting tired at all?” he asked coyly. “You’ve put back quite a few.”

“No, no!” She said, shaking her head. “I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m-“ she stumbled in place.

Leo saw Derrick’s cock, free of his mom now, bounce up and down within his trunks.

“-I’m free.”

“There’s a bed downstairs. Maybe you should get some rest.”

Sofia stood there, swaying in place. She seemed to be thinking about it. Then she shrugged. “Maybe I can just rest my head for a minute or…”

Everyone watched as he guided her down the stairs. “Whoa! Watch your step. Yeah, like that.”

There was an awkwardness, and Amy look at the now-empty stairs, concerned. Then the Asian one came back up. He looked to Leo with a smile. “You have a cool mom.”

Leo only stared back, not impressed.

Amy smiled awkwardly. “She is very good dancer.”

“She was. We all saw it,” the asian one said.

“Yeah,” said Derrick. “No wonder she wanted to show it off.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?” the Asian one asked, sitting next to John, opposite of Amy.

She shook her head.

He nodded. “So,” he said, eyes fixed on her. “What’s it like being with a big rap star.”

John blushed.

“It was nice,” Amy said.

John’s face fell, knowing that his mom didn’t know what ‘being with’ meant in this context.

“Only-“ he blurted out, almost shooting to his feet. Catching himself, he froze there. Then sat back down. “Only Gianna was ‘with’ Zzaxx that night.”

Everyone stared at him, except Leo, who was looking at the mouth of the stairway.

Amy looked to John, confused, then her eyes shot wide. “Yes! Yes,” she said. “Only Gianna—my friend—was with Zzaxx. I just… danced…”

Everyone stared at her. “Ah,” the Asian one said, nodding. “Well… I can see you learned from the best.”

“I’m going to head to the washroom,” one of the white ones said, heading downstairs. He had an apprehensive look on his face, like he thought he need permission. No one responded. It was his yacht after all.

“How long have you lived in America?”

“Less than a year,” Amy said.

“And you spoke English in China?”

“Not a lot. I learned most of it here.”

Derrick pulled her close. “But your English is great.”

“Really?” she said.

“Yeah. I mean…” He began to smile. “Mostly. Where it isn’t, it’s pretty cute though.” He took a confident swig of his drink. His eyes, confident, peering over their rim.

John couldn’t tell if his mother was swooning or dying inside, and worse, he feared there was no difference between the two in the hearts and spirits of women. He almost wanted to look over to Leo, who understood women better, but Leo’s eyes were fixated on the white of the floor.

Derrick looked to his phone sitting at his side. Then he looked up and at the beach. He stretched, his black hand leaving Amy’s body. “Ahhhh, I’m going to the little boy’s room,” he said.

No one responded as he got up and headed downstairs. Amy watched him go. Then she stared at the stairway mouth for a moment. Then she looked over, seeing John staring at her. She looked down quickly.

John sat there, drinking water, doing so less out of thirst and more to occupy himself, trying to bare the waves (in this waveless lake) of the flirtatious comments made at his blushing and voluptuous mother.

The yacht owner was back, now sitting on the bar top, staring at her assertively as he spoke. The other white one was with him, behind the bar. The Asian one and Derrick were gone.

John looked around, noticing not only their absence, but the length of it.

“So where in China are you from? Hong Kong?”

“Hong Kong’s not in China, bro.”

“Singapore then?”

“You’ll have to excuse my friend. He’s a little on the slow side.”

John looked at the stairs. They sat there innocuously, the beach and beach-goers in the distance behind them. Even so, John felt a sinking sensation as he watched. He sat there for minutes more, sweating, his stomach churning, until he finally worked up some courage. He got up and moved toward the stairs. He didn’t look over.

“It’s right on the left when you get down there,” he heard calling from upstairs. He continued further. “Don’t go any further. It’s a mess down there.”

John found flat ground. A hallway sat before him. He turned to the left, seeing the bathroom door open. It was completely unoccupied within. No line-up, no human body whatsoever. There were only two door beyond, one to the left and one to the right. He moved near them, slowly, one step at a time, and he heard a voice as he got closer. “Hurry the fuck up.”

“Don’t rush me.” It was Derrick. “We’re not all… uh…. we’re not all two pump chumps… oh fuck yeah…”

John got closer to the doorway, his palm gliding against the wall with each step. He saw a pair of bikini bottoms, tiny, resting on the ground appear within, in the small crack of the doorway. His heartrate picked up. He leaned around the corner.

On the bed, beyond the young Asian man, Sofia struggled to hold herself up. Behind her, that onyxed body, so perfect in the sun, sat, also nude, pummelling her from behind. “Fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!” he exclaimed in hushed intervals.

John’s mouth fell open. He looked at her giant ass, nude now, her crack open to him, being covered by that stiff black body with every thrust. Sofia looked sloshed, with empty glasses and a bottle of vodka on the bedstand, half-empty. Her tits swung, and John’s cock grew hard in his trunks as he watched them. Those two black hands, the ones which had accosted Amy all day, now came down, gripping Sofia’s cheeks and spreading them open. John marvelled feverishly at her butthole peeking back at him, and at the cock which thrusted into her and was sucked back out, a weird vicarious thrill flowing through him at the realization that it, in length and girth, was much bigger than Leo’s. John saw the way it stretched Sofia’s pussy, doing it much more so than that black dildo ever could.

“Pound that ass. Pound it,” the Asian one said, overtaken with lust. “Fuck that spicey ass.”

“Yeah,” Derrick purred, gripping ass cheek in his palm, watching and feeling it spill through his fingers. “God seasoned this ass nicely.”

“He sure did. Nice homecooked Latin meal. Big ole’ dump truck. Bitch didn’t even know what hit her.”

“She can twerk though.”

They both laughed at her expense.

Derrick was still going at it, his pace not slowing down one bit. “She must love black cock though. Look how wet she is. Jesus. She’s dripping.”

“She has no idea what’s happening,” the Asian one said, defensively.

“Her son is black. She definitely has a type. This whore loves dark meat.” Her brown cocoa ass flesh spilled through his night-black fingers.

“Sure,” said the Asian one. “She’s just like all the rest.” There was silence for a moment. John peered in, watching. Then the Asian one continued. “Well not just like all the rest. That ass is gold. Holy fuck.”

“I know. You took two pumps and were done. That’s not a lot. Even for you.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“No, I’d rather fuck this. All this.” He squeezed the same ass he pummelled. “’Mom I’d Like to Fuck’ all right.”

“And her son is still up there,” the Asian one said with glee, almost giggling to himself. “Fucking idiot.”

“And the other one,” Derrick said. “That guy is practically retarded. We could have had both of them down here, neither of those two idiots would have known.”

“Did you see the tits on that bitch? An Asian? My whole family’s Asians and none of them look like that. My mom just goes up the whole way, completely vertical.”

“Fucking bitch. Doesn’t drink,” Derrick said through grit teeth. “We could have been tapping both right now.” His thrusts were large, unwieldly and animated, taking out the frustration on Sofia’s ass. “Go up there and get that big titty bitch to drink.”

“I should.”

“Seriously. Go. Do whatever you have to. Just… We got the bitch on a boat. What the fuck are we doing just…”

The Asian one was deep in serious, even grave, thought. “There has to be something….”

“There is… ughh…  Just get on her level. You were doing it earlier.”

“She’s difficult. But maybe… maybe there’s…” He stood there, his face away from John. John could almost see the busy-ness in the young man’s mind through his tuft of hair. “Something…. I’ll…” He turned around, too fast for John to respond to. And when he did, he froze.

John stared back at him. Their expressions were strange, like the mirror image of other’s just an hour before, with the young Asian tech startup looking back with nervousness, unease, even horror, and John looking at him, with a centered expression and a look of enterprise in his eyes.

“I’m not even gonna finish in this bitch,” Derrick said, not knowing he was being watched. “Not until we get the Asian one drunk and down here. So go up and-“

He turned. His body froze, except for his thrusting hips and the lid of his eye. The former slowed down a bit, tapping, tapping, tapping, and an increasingly slower rate, before finally stopping. His eyelid though twitched, some of his muscles with it. That’s when John noticed. His balls were twitching to.

Derrick fell out of Sofia, and John saw the cum which dripped from outside of her. Same as the cum which came from the tip of Derrick’s impossibly large cock. John’s mind flashed to Leo’s face, the quiet and simmering anger there. He imagined how Leo would react to the BBC just below him, and the cum which dripped from it, dripping from his mom’s pussy as well.

John stood there, in the doorway, staring. Shocked, terrified, but with something rising within himself, something that grew in relation to the fear and embarrassment of the two before him.

“I… I… can explain. Don’t…”

“If you don’t want to be kicked up of college,” he started, shocked by his sudden firmness. “You’ll do what I say.”

They both looked at each other, Derrick still holding Sofia by her hips as she dripped over the sheets. Being kicked out of college was the least of their worries now. They both looked at John and spoke over the other. “What do you want?” “What do we do?”

They all came up, first Derrick on his own, followed by John and the Asian one so as to not look suspicious. The Asian one, who John now knew was named Will, had his arm around John’s shoulder. “That’s brilliant. That’s really brilliant. I haven’t thought of that.”

Amy looked over. She was sitting there between the two white boys.

“You ever think of getting into tech?” Will asked John. “It’s pretty good you noticed that discrepancy without any traditional learning.”

“I learn a little. Here and there,” John said. “I don’t know. I thought it was stupid.”

“It’s not… I’m going to run this by my partners and…” they both sat down.

Amy stared at her son, astonished.

Derrick sat on a stool by the bar, lifting a solo cup to his lips. “Hey you,” he said, after his swig. He was looking at Leo. “You haven’t said a word this whole time. You shy?”

Leo glared up at him. “No.”

“Then moody?”

Leo scowled.

“You played good at volleyball. For your age, I mean.” He took another sip. “There’s no reason to be a sore loser about things.”

Amy looked over at Leo, saying nothing. Leo looked to her, seeing her, sitting between those two, perfectly-sculpted white bodies, as she seemed, without moving an inch, to be drifting away from him.

“I mean, John’s not upset. He’s even giving Will good tech tips. Asians helping Asians. Shouldn’t you be giving the same courtesy to me? I mean, we’re brothers, right?”

“Leave him alone,” Will said, interrupting his glazing of John. “He’s just a kid.”

The second white guy got up and headed downstairs nonchalantly while everyone spoke.

“He still has a lot of room to grow.” Will then turned back to John with absolute interest, as if he were consulting a sage. “I’ll text you later about this. Maybe get you in on a group call. I can’t guarantee any money straight away. But if this ends up being part of the final product… who knows…” He took a sip from his drink, staring into John’s eyes. Amy looked at her son, astonished, then over at Leo, who looked truly, in her eyes now, like an impotent child.

Will winked at John subtly over the brim of his cup.

John stood in Tom’s backyard. Leo stood in front of him, looking within the house. He slowly closed the door so it didn’t make a sound. He then spun around. “Listen. I lost. I admit it.”

John stared at him.

“It took me a few days to come to terms with it. I mean, I would have had her ass if it wasn’t for those douchebags. You know that, right? But whatever. I’m not going to be a sore sport about it. I’m a grown man.”

John said nothing.

“Listen, I need your mom now more than I ever have. I can’t live knowing I was that close to clapping those big cheeks only to come away with none. So…”

John held his breath.

“I’m not willing to trade my mom for her. It’s out of the damn question. A son who drugs his mom might as well be a faggot as far as I’m concerned. No offense.”

John stared.

“But I have something almost as good waiting upstairs.” He put the back of his fingers on John’s chest. “Why don’t you come and see. And you decide if it’s worth your mom’s ass.”

They both went in softly. Leo turned and signalled silence with his finger. “They’re too busy jerking off down there,” he whispered. “Be careful on that third step, it squeaks.”

They both went upstairs, avoiding the third step.

When they got to the door in question, Leo pushed it open. Sitting there, waiting on the bed, was Tom’s sister. She lay there, breathing and alert, a blindfold on her eyes, her wrists tied together. “Leo?” she asked the darkness. “Is that you?”

“Shh!” he said. “It sure is, and I’m coming for you.”

She began to smile devilishly beneath her blindfold.

Leo looked to John with a smile and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Go get her,” he mouthed.

John moved closer, the delicious flesh becoming real to him with every gained inch.

As he did, doing so on the second floor of Tom’s house, he reminisced about what happened beneath that yacht.

“Whatever you ask,” Will said. “Just don’t tell.”

“I won’t,” John said.

Derrick stared at him, completely nude, his hand still on Sofia’s ass, sensing a catch. “Is that all?”

John looked at him, then he looked down at Sofia’s ass.

He neared up behind, nude now on the bed as the two men watched. He came behind her, seeing her thoroughly used hole. The thrill rose in his as he felt the back of her thick thighs meet the trembling front of his own. He lifted his cock, needing no help getting hard, and rather than use the hole most travelled, he only dipped his cock against her wet and dripping hole, using the cum, then pushing his cock upward, pressing is against the asshole which teased him, the one which sat between those two gargantuan brown cheeks.

As it plunged in, assisted by the lubricant, Sofia groaned. He got balls deep, then began thrusting. John thought about his unworthiness for this moment, his unworthiness for Sofia. Leo’s smug face, under the shade of that tree, flashed back at him.

He kneeled now, thrusting into that big, soft ass, its brown cocoa color intoxicating. The two young men watched, flabbergasted and shocked, frankly impressed by the vigor with which John slammed his cock into Sofia’s brown ass.

“He’s lasting longer than two pump,” Derrick said to Will slyly.

John’s chest fell against her back, and his lips fell against her cheek and the side of her face. He had done it, somehow, through some strange brew of chance of opportunism. He kissed her, taking her, having her for himself as Leo sat upstairs, taking in the full shape of her body, the shape which had teased him, beckoned him all day. He never could have imagined being this close to it, being inside it. His cock felt so big within her hole, bigger than it had ever felt before. It was tighter than Gianna and Evelyn, even tighter than his mom’s pussy. He thought of her sitting up there, the pussy he knew intimately, and the secrecy of the moment down here, and the secrecy and sacredness of the hole he penetrated, feeling himself deep within.

He licked the side of her face. He adored Sofia deeply, had looked at her as his mom’s only stabilizing force in this country. More genuine than Evelyn, more responsible than Gianna, more available than Autumn. Now here she was, drunk beneath him, under his control and the sway of his dirty and uncompromising lust. She moaned beneath him, and it, with her nudity and her shape and the feel of her thick flesh against his, was pulled within him, the memory of this, of her, both inside and out, forever being a part of John.

John felt similar as he stared down at Mia, fucking her from behind.

“Ughh!” she said. “Harder!”

Leo shushed her from the doorway and then stopped himself, realizing his mistake. Either way, Mia didn’t notice.

Just like with Sofia, being watched, John came in Mia’s hole.

After he was finished, he fell to the bed, embracing her like he embraced Sofia’s thick body, completely fulfilled. Mia lay there too, equally as fulfilled. The strange sensation of it this time though made her feel like she must have been getting ‘bigger’ down there, as Leo’s cock didn’t stretch her out like it usually did. The thought past though the second she felt that liquid, creamy and thick, swimming inside her. Perhaps there was more of it now than any other time.

“Thanks, babe,” she said.

Before John could accidentally speak, Leo moved into the room, ducking his face near her ear. “No problem… babe.”

They came back out into the backyard, after a hanging around for a nonchalant hour with their friends downstairs.

“So how many times are you going to have to drug her? I mean, you owe Dylan. You owe Liam. You even owe Tom his seconds. And then me.”

“Only once,” John replied.

Leo squinted at him. He turned looking in through the glass door, thinking he saw a shadow. Then he turned back around to John.

“Summer’s not over,” John said.

Amy looked up from her phone, her ass big in her jean shorts.

“There’s more we can do. Especially with the weather so nice.”

She put down her phone. “Yes,” she said in Mandarin. “What do you want to do, Yixin?”

“I was thinking maybe we could go camping.”

She looked at John for a moment. Leaned back in her chair. The summer wind spilled in from the window. She looked out at it, then back at John. She smiled.