Long Lost Innocence
My mom often shamelessly turns her tricks at the house, the raggedy bitch that she is. It’s not like she used any of the money to make sure any of my needs were taken care of, so why the fuck did I have to endure hearing it on top of everything else? The creaking of her old mattress filled me with disgust.
The sound of her fake moaning mixed with the grunts of whatever John was paying her that day. I could hear it plain as day even with my Apex hearing shut off. The walls in this house might as well have been made from paper. Dad never cared as long as he got to snort up the money she was making while my empty stomach continued to ache.
Not Javier’s mom. He had a nutritious meal in his belly before his mom went and worked the next town over to keep him from being exposed to her dirt. The contrast between our mothers was like comparing a polished diamond to a steaming pile of dog shit.
Sometimes she would make enough to offer me a plate. I loved her cooking. I loved watching her cook too. She moved through her kitchen dancing and banging her spoon on the pot to whatever Latin rhythm that was blasting from the bluetooth speaker. Ms. Carmen Garcia, a Goddess in my eyes.
Her thick hair is always freshly dyed that fire engine red color to match the crimson lipstick she always wears. It’s a dead giveaway that she’s sweet hell in the sack. Her pheromones could have driven me to the brink of sexual insanity on several occasions if I didn’t have so many other girls to keep my needs satisfied.
There was just something about the way she ties that apron around her little waist that razzles my dazzles. MILF and cookies is what comes to mind for me. She’d bend over into that oven nice and slow to check on her roast and potatoes, then shoot a quick and subtle glance over her sleek shoulder, checking to see if I was watching her. Believe me when I tell you, I was definitely watching.
Ever since I turned 19, there’s been a bit of sexual tension between us and something tells me if it wasn’t for her love of Javier, she would have been a lot more brazen with me. I respected her for restraining herself. No son wants his mom banging his friends, especially his best friend.
I can guarantee you if I didn’t respect Javi as much as I did, I would have already fucked her brains out every chance I got, but he’s like a little brother to me. I’m confident I could give a woman like her multiple orgasms.
I’m no stranger to pussy by any means. I had my first piece at seven years old thanks to my crackhead babysitter, Melissa. I will always be confused and appalled by adults who could actually get turned on by a child that hasn’t even reached puberty, the sick fucks. The very first time Melissa violated me; I told my dad right away when he came home from work. He punched me in the chest and told me to, “Stop being a little faggot.”
He said I should be grateful to be getting a taste of “God’s greatest invention” at such a young age. Just another reason for me to hate that useless piece of shit that calls himself my father. He was the most racist, homophobic bigot I had ever met.
Even as a young boy I never understood it. I couldn’t give two shits about someone’s color or sexual preference. Aint no skin off my back so why be so hateful? Doesn’t make any sense at all. He wasn’t wrong about one thing. Pussy truly was God’s greatest invention and if he made anything better, I’m sure he kept it for himself. But I’m rambling now, as I tend to do a bit too much at times.
Back to the poor excuse of a babysitter and human being. She used to bribe me with fist fulls of small chocolates and loose change. Even as an inexperienced child, I knew a woman shouldn’t smell the way she smelled. The memory of her stench could turn my stomach if I thought it about it too long. Her clothes reeked of mildew and her armpits smelled like raw onions. A few of her front teeth had rotted out of her mouth. The ones that remained were blackened and holding on for dear life.
I hated smelling her, hated looking at her, and hated when she had to babysit me. It wasn’t long before I grew tired of being violated and eventually, I spoke up for myself since I realized my dad wasn’t going to help. Her response to my resistance was upping the bribe to a few loose dollars instead of the stale chocolates and spare change that lingered in the bottom of her dingy pockets.
Even that grew old pretty fast and soon I just refused her flat out. Would you believe that ugly, twisted bitch tried to spank me with a belt for denying her? Pfft, she was fucking with the wrong kid. I clutched my stolen skateboard tightly in my little hands and knocked her in the face with all the might a prepubescent boy could muster. I busted her nose and knocked out another one of her front teeth.
I never saw her after that and my parents opted to just leave me by myself instead of finding another sitter, but the fact of the matter was that she certainly opened Pandoras box. My innocence was gone, and I played “House” with any pretty little girl who would let me. Hiding in closets or behind the bushes to grind a hole in our shorts was a normal occurrence during playtime.
Now that I really think about it, I was never the one who even initiated those games. It was always the little girls that wanted to hide away and do “grown up stuff.” I’m pretty sure it was probably an idea put into their young minds by some sick adult. As an adult I understand that now. Kids don’t do those type of things with each other unless an adult has stolen their innocence.
I was one of the first boys in my school to hit puberty too. I’m not sure if my molestation or my Apex genetics had anything to do with that, but I was enjoying the change in my body. I marveled at my new, more grown up physique. I borrowed my mother’s full length mirror every chance I got, taking in the sight of my abs and biceps with confidence.
The deep V shaped cut that separated my torso from my hips brought me the most pride. Girls in my high school call it a “dick root.” I quite like that term, “dick root.” Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Even before I got to high school, I was screwing with high school girls. I got some pretty lousy head from a sophomore my last day of 8th grade. I couldn’t blame her. She was still fairly inexperienced.
I just appreciated getting some head from an older girl in the first place. I fingered her and she had her first orgasm ever because of me. I’m pretty sure I was probably the only 8th grader that knew what a clit was, how to find it, and how to touch it just right. Thanks again Melissa. The raggedy bitch was good for something afterall..... I guess. I know it probably makes older adults cringe to hear about high school students being sexually active, but it’s a reality.
Most of us had our innocence ripped away long before we hit puberty, and we were just dealing with our long-lost innocence the best way our young minds and bodies knew how. Shit, I’m rambling again. I told you I had a bad habit of doing that. Where was I? Oh yes, Ms. Carmen Garcia AKA the Goddess. On this particular day I was hoping that I’d be able to get a hot meal out of her, but I definitely wouldn’t just go up in my friend’s house begging for food. I’m a man with pride and common courtesy after all. I’ll admit that I’m a hood rat, but I still have some class about myself.
As I approached Javi’s house, I was greeted by the sagging porch and the peeling paint. It was a stark contrast to the neat and tidy interior I knew awaited inside. The sound of salsa music buzzed throughout the house. The fresh scent of lemon pledge collided with the savory scent of deep-fried empanadas, made with love and seasoned to perfection. A welcomed contrast to the stale and musky smell of my perpetually unkempt house. No luck on the meal. I walked in to find that dinner had already been served, and Javi was busy in the sink washing the dinner dishes as his mother was getting dolled up and ready for a night of hustling.
“Hey Jordan,” she called from the threshold of her room, “could you come help with my zipper? My hair got caught in it.”
I gently helped her free her hair from the metal teeth, slowly zipping up her dress, and savoring the brief moment I got to stand that close to her curvy backside. I lingered behind her for the briefest of moments, taking in her faint yet noticeable scent. She always smelled like freshly bloomed roses.
I turned on my heels to get back in the kitchen with Javi, but Ms. Garcia stopped me and bought 30 dollars’ worth of weed from me. I felt a wave of relief wash over me and all I could think about was going to buy myself a burger with the money she put in my hands. That still left me with enough left over to buy a pack of smokes and some laundry detergent.
