Heartless Bastard

"You're just a thoughtless, heartless bastard," my mother yelled at me.

It was a fairly accurate description. 22 years old, only child, unemployed, expecting all washing and cooking to be done for me and contributing nothing financially to the household. Still, I couldn't let her get away with that.

"Well what about you. You're a sad bitch. Forty-five years old and single again, just like I warned you. He was a loser who used you; so what's that make you?"

"Oh how could you be so mean to your own mother," she said bursting into tears and fleeing to the kitchen.

I really didn't need her bullshit right now. I had problems of my own. A month earlier my girlfriend Cheryl's best friend informed my girlfriend that I'd slept with her. Worse, she'd told her we'd fucked in Cheryl's bed, while she was passed out drunk on the sofa.

"Christ. What a silly bitch," I thought, recalling the events.

In my defense Lisa was a flirt and very hot. I'd been looking for an opportunity to fuck her. On that night the three of us had gone out partying and had a great time. Lisa often picked up a guy, but on this occasion she hadn't; so we all returned to Cheryl's and continued to party.

Cheryl was the first to flake, so she had to take some responsibility for what subsequently occurred. As she slumbered on the sofa Lisa and I danced close to slow songs. As you could imagine in our uninhibited, drunken state, one thing led to another. We were soon kissing passionately and my hand rested on her T-shirt, fondling her small, braless tits.

When I'd moved her hand down and placed it on my cock, Lisa became concerned about our proximity to her sleeping friend. I suggested we adjourn to the bedroom; Cheryl's bedroom. She was a bit hesitant, but finally agreed; saying we'd only be getting down to our underwear and kissing.

That commenced immediately we made the bedroom. The problem was she looked so sexy in her frilly bra and thong, while my cock poked like a tent pole through my boxers. The underwear was soon discarded.

"You're wet as hell," I'd told her, my fingers slipping across her shaven lips.

"I know Greg, but maybe we should stop. It's not fair on Cheryl," she'd lamented.

"Cheryl's a drunk and you're a horny bitch," I said. "Now hold still."

She'd not protested any further, opening her legs and pulling them back. She took me in one long thrust and I'd begun to fuck her with a passion. It was clear she enjoyed this and had forgotten about her friend asleep on the sofa.

"Let me get on top," she said after some minutes.

"Sure," I said, rolling over without coming out of her.

Once on top Lisa showed her true form. She began to ride me completely uninhibited, demanding I give those small, shapely tits some attention. I let her ride herself to orgasm and then followed suit, thrusting up hard into her perky little body and finishing with a groan.

She'd collapsed on top of me and we both dozed off. Sometime later I had a vague awareness of her getting up and leaving. Later still I was conscious of Cheryl crawl into bed naked beside me. I moved in behind her, lifted a leg and slipped my still wet cock into her. I'd needed too so she wouldn't be suspicious of the smell. After I was done I returned to sleep.

I took it for granted that neither Lisa nor I would tell Cheryl about our tryst. That seemed obvious to me. To tell the truth I fully expected a repeat session with Lisa at some stage.

Two days later I had Cheryl screaming down the phone at me about being an unfaithful bastard. Evidently, guilt wracked Lisa had confessed all, among floods of tears. She'd also put her slant on what had occurred. She'd told Cheryl she hadn't wanted to, but was drunk and that I'd pressured her.

I told Cheryl that Lisa had me inside her within one minute of our closing the bedroom door. I added that after a brief rest she'd sucked me back to full hardness, jumped on top and ridden me like a champion jockey.

My version contained more truth than Lisa's, but Cheryll would hear none of that. She called me a liar, which hurt and said she was most pissed that I'd fucked her immediately afterwards. She'd forgiven her best friend, but had no intention of forgiving me.

As a result, for the past month, I'd had a bad case of swollen balls. I needed some relief and wasn't too concerned where that relief came from.

At that moment my mother broke into my thoughts with another loud bout of sobbing from the kitchen.

"How could he," I heard her wail, referring to my stepfather of eight years, who'd run off with the waitress at his local Diner. "I gave him everything and now he's dumped me for that bimbo."

"Shut up will ya," I yelled back at her.

"Oh you're so mean. You're heartless. A heartless bastard."

I was about to deliver her another cutting retort, when the doorbell rang. I remained seated and yelled.

"Get the door. It'll be for you."

I heard her continuing to sob, clearly making no effort to accede to my demand.

"Bitch," I muttered, rising to move to the door.

I pulled open the door to find two conservatively dressed young women standing there.

"Oh fuck; just what I need," went through my mind.

"Good afternoon, we're from the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-day Saints. I'm Sister Clare and this is Sister Samantha. Could I ask if you believe in a higher being?"

I was about to slam the door in their weird religious faces, when I noted Sister Samantha hold my gaze a little longer than a missionary should. That grabbed my interest.

I let my eyes flick over them. Both wore white blouses, with Clare in a red and Samantha an orange skirt. Both came to mid-calf with conservative flat shoes and no stockings. Clare was about as plain as you could want a girl to be and very large. However, Sister Samantha, while not slim by any means, had a very pretty face, with long blond hair and high cheek bones. She looked cute and she appeared to think the same of me. I hesitated.

"Is this a Mormon trick to get through the door, or is this chick just a little bit interested in a good looking boy?" I thought.

"Well my mother believes in..." I started, being interrupted by the sound of my mother wailing.

"Oh dear," said Clare. "Is everything all right?"

"Oh no...no it's not...I mean, it's my mother. My stepfather has deserted us and she's taken it very hard."

"Oh that's terrible," chimed in the pretty one. "May we come in and give your mother some comfort?"

"Sure. Come in, come in. I'm Greg. It's not that tidy in here and I'm not very dressed. I hope you don't mind" I said, indicating to my T-shirt, shorts and bare feet."

"Not at all. It's fine. We'd just like to console your mother," Samantha said, flashing me that look again.

"What is this?" I thought. "This little minx, dressed in her dowdy garb, keeps sending me a 'C'mon' look. Is she for real?"

"Please sit," I said ushering them in to the lounge. "Mum some people to see you. To cheer you up."

I knew my mother had heard me invite them in, because her crying ramped up a decibel or two.

I had no interest in my mother right at that minute. With the two young woman now seated before me, I had the chance to appraise them further.

"God she's plain," I thought, looking first at Clare. "But this other one..."

Admiring Samantha's ample bust, I felt my neglected cock stirring in my shorts. I looked to control that, as I wasn't wearing underwear. The sight of a hard on would surely have these two out the door quicker than you could say 'John Smith'.

"Send them through Greg. I'll talk to them. You never talk to me," my mother called.

"Oh Mum you know that's not true," I lied. "It's just that you've been inconsolable lately."

"It's all been very trying," I said turning back to the two young women.

The sound of my attention seeking mother continuing to cry clearly unsettled them.

"Don't you think you should go to your mother Greg?" Clare asked.

"I'll go and bring her through," I said getting up and going through to the kitchen.

I walked directly over to my mother.

"For fuck's sake, get up you sad old cow and come and talk to these two, will you," I whispered to her, pulling her to her feet.

"But they're Mormons; you don't like Mormons coming to the door."

"I don't care if they're Martians, just be polite for once will ya."

My mother reluctantly got to her feet and followed me back to the lounge.

"Here she is," I said with a smile, pulling my mother through the door.

"Oh you poor, poor woman," Clare began and then launched into a long diatribe about marriage and devotion.

My mother couldn't resist receiving some sympathy. After another bout of sobbing she began to converse with Clare, allowing me to talk with Samantha. I had to take care with her fellow missionary right alongside her, but that look told me all I needed to know.

The conversation was bland, but her eyes seemed to dance as we spoke.

Suddenly my mother rose crying and fled back to the kitchen again.

"Perhaps you should go after her Greg," Clare said.

Now I knew I had to be careful. I had a girl who was clearly showing some interest in me and that interest was out the door if my reply was seen to lack empathy.

"Yes I should, but I've attempted to comfort her on so many occasions. It just doesn't seem to work," I told the two young women, which was an absolute lie; given I'd never once tried to comfort my mother.

"Oh!" Clare said sending a glance to Samantha.

"She sometimes improves if one of her friends goes too her and keeps conversing."

The two women again exchanged glances contemplating their next move.

"Nice one Greg," I thought congratulating myself. "Now to drive it home."

"To tell the truth, I'm just not coping too well myself, at the moment."

"Oh I bet you're not you poor thing." Samantha chimed in. "Your father has let both you and your mother down."

I smiled inwardly and let the silence lie for a minute.

"She seemed to like talking to you Clare. You seem to have a way with her. Maybe you could..." I said.

"Yes that's a good idea," cut in Samantha, far too eagerly. "And I'll have a chat with Greg. Try and sort out your feelings of angst and how you can better support your mother, perhaps Greg."

"Oh yes; Hallelujah," I thought. "We'll try to sort out something; although it won't be my angst."

I saw Clare frown to her partner. Time to act fast.

"I think I'd like that thanks Samantha. That could work well for both my mother and me. I'm so glad you two are here to help us."

"Well; yes it might work...but...we're not meant too...you know Samantha. We're not supposed to split up."

"Oh; that's too bad," I said, giving them my best hang dog look.

"Oh Clare. That's true. But we're here to do the Heavenly Fathers work. This family needs us."

Just then, right on cue, my mother let out a loud heart wrenching sob. Clare looked with concern toward the kitchen.

"Yes; you're right Samantha. I'll go to her; you talk with Greg. Is that alright with you Greg?"

"Yes I think that would be for the best," I said feeling triumphant at how this was panning out. "I'm just so upset hearing my mother that way. Maybe Samantha and I could go to the other end of the house."

I didn't add that the other end of the house was where the bedrooms were.

"Yes, yes, that's a good idea," Clare replied, now very unsettled by the pain filled howl emanating forth from the other room.

"Good old Mum." I thought. "Her self-indulgent, attention seeking manner was for once a blessing."

"Go to her Clare," said Samantha.

As the larger young woman got up and moved through to the other room, Samantha also rose.

"C'mon Greg lets go and talk," she said letting me pass her, to open the hallway door.

"Thanks Samantha," I said, opening the door to allow her through and then closing it behind me.

"There's not much down here except the bedrooms," I said leading the way. "I have a couple of chairs in mine. Would that be alright?"

"Of course it would," the naïve girl replied. "Wherever you feel comfortable."

I led her into my room, closing that door as well. From the front of the house you would be able to hear a blood curdling scream, but generally little else. I had no idea how long my mother would hold the attention of the chubby Good Samaritan, but knew I couldn't be leisurely. I needed to get straight down to business.

Samantha looked around for the chair.

"Where shall we sit Greg?"

"Well, I thought we could just stand for a while. Is that Ok?"

"Sure," she replied, sounding a little perplexed.

I turned to face her directly. She flinched as I picked up both her hands. The physical touch clearly made her a little uneasy, but she didn't speak.

"Samantha, it's just so nice to have you near. It's over two months since I broke up with my girlfriend after she cheated on me. Having a woman close feels so...so therapeutic."

"It is?" she replied widening her eyes.

"Yeah. It's nice for my ego when I see an attractive woman who is clearly attracted to me."

"Well I don't know about that. I certainly did find you..."

"Find me what Samantha? When you first came to the door I saw you hold my gaze. That was the best feeling I've had in months of being stuck here, caring for my unhappy mother."

"I...I didn't really mean to...not like that. I mean I'm not allowed too and I've just never really done that before...It's just that..."

"Just what?" I replied quietly taking a step toward her.

"It was just that...well we've seen a lot of older people recently and it was nice to see a younger man."

"And you liked what you saw?" I asked, taking another step that brought me into her personal space.

Samantha was clearly a little unsettled with the conversation and took a step back. I could see she was fighting to maintain control of the situation.

"Well...yes I guess I did...you look...well you're kind of cute in just your shorts and T-Shirt," she said with a giggle.

"Whoa!" I thought. "There is no way that line is in the Missionary handbook. We're making some serious progress here, Greg my boy."

"I saw you look. It made me feel much better. I have to admit I found you kinda cute as well."

"Oh," was all she replied and this time stood her ground when I stepped toward her.

I rubbed my thumbs across the back of her hands while holding her gaze. I let the silence linger for a time as a prelude to the big statement.

"You've just lifted my heart, much higher than it's been for weeks. Could we just kiss Samantha?" I said, moving in closer to her.

She immediately took another step back, this time hitting my desk, unable to back away further.

"Oh no; I couldn't do that. That wouldn't be right at all."

I glanced down to her blouse and saw her tits rapidly rising and falling, indicating her anxiety.

"Don't you want to Samantha?"

"Well, it's not a matter of what I want; it's a matter of what's right and wrong. It's just that...that I've been away as a missionary for over a year now. A kiss would be nice, but I'm unofficially engaged to Darrin. We'll see each other again in 6 months and kissing you wouldn't be right at all."

"Darrin's not here, he'll never know and a woman has needs just like a man. I know you want to kiss me; you know you want to kiss me. No one will ever know," I said stepping forward.

I was now very close effectively pinning her to my desk. I saw her tongue dart out to purse her lips. It was all I could do to stop reaching up and placing a hand on that heaving breast. She dropped my hands and braced them at her hips, maybe to push me away or maybe to wrap around me.

"Yes they will. The Heavenly Father will know. He sees everything."

"Not in my room he doesn't. You want to kiss me; you know you do."

She didn't deny it. I watched her lick her lips; clearly torn between values and desire. She was alone in a bedroom, with a boy and couldn't hide the lust she was feeling.

"Please Samantha. A kiss would be the kind of therapy that would go so much further than mere talk."

"I...Ok...if you put it that way...maybe," he stuttered, her tongue darting across her lips again; telling me her morals were capitulating.

"Oh Samantha," I said as I moved my lips softly onto hers.

It was what her body wanted and she couldn't deny it any longer. She lifted her head to accept the kiss and the poised arms moved around to the middle of my back.

I breathed in her light perfume and moved my hands to her waist. Her lips were soft and moist and she pulled me harder into her breasts. I delighted in there fullness. I probed her lips with my tongue, but felt no reciprocation. I persisted. Eventually she couldn't resist opening her lips just a little. I moved in, so our tongues touched.

It was like I'd jolted her with an electric shock. Suddenly I felt her push her groin forward into me and open her mouth. Our tongues dueled as the kiss became full blooded and passionate.

This was blissful and as the kiss lingered my cock swelled. However I knew I didn't have all day. Time for a bold move. I brought a hand onto the front of her pastel orange skirt and pressed in firmly. Her eyes flew open and she broke our kiss.

"Oh!" she exclaimed as my hand encountered a dense bush. I cupped it. Her legs had been slightly parted and she hurriedly closed them jamming my hand where it lay.

"Please don't. You shouldn't." she said breathlessly.

"Why not? You like it."

"No I don't. You must take your hand away."

"You're lying, you like it and you'll like it even more if I do this," I said, moving it as much as her clamped thighs would allow.

"Ohhh gosh," she trembled, clearly feeling some sort of sensation that she looked to deny herself. "No; you must remove it."

She grasped my wrist, trying to remove the offending digits.

"Ok; I'll move it if I can place it elsewhere. Put your hands together behind your back."

She looked directly into my eyes searching to see what this could mean. Then she slowly moved her hands behind her back.

I smiled and moved my hand away from her bush, across her hip and around to her wrists. I wrapped fingers around both and held them tightly. She was a strong girl and not easy to hold.

"Don't struggle Samantha. I just want to touch you some more. Please," I said, now placing my free hand on her breast.

"Oh dear Greg, you have to stop now."

"I'll stop when I'm certain that you really don't like it," I replied beginning to gently knead her large mound.

She shuddered and closed her eyes tight shut. I could tell she liked it alright and even more so when I located her nipple pressing through the bra.

She made no more protest, so I continued pressing into her. I let my now erect cock press into her stomach. She must have felt this, but made no acknowledgment.

I needed to see more of her and began to unbutton her blouse.

"What are you doing?" she said trying to free her hands.

"I want to see you,"

"No; you can't."

"But I can," I said, repeatedly flicking open each button down to the bottom.

I pulled the blouse open and off her shoulders, to reveal a very plain white bra...with a T-shirt underneath.

"What the fuck," I said as the blouse slipped down her arms. "You gotta T-Shirt on under your bra."

"It...It's my garment. We all have to wear them. I have one down the bottom as well," she said indicating to her skirt.

"Show me," I ordered forcefully

"No. I shouldn't," she replied.

"C'mon baby it'll be ok. You've come down to my room. We're just having some innocent fun...here..." I said bending in to kiss her again.

This time there was no hesitation. The poor little love starved missionary had clearly enjoyed our first kiss and was keen for a bit more. Our tongues dueled between firmly pressed lips. I let her wrists go free.