Mishpokhe Means Family

"How fuckin' long, Ma? I mean, have you been doin' this for..."

"Ten years, I guess." Sabella tried to look serious but she giggled, and her eyes looked happily stoned. "It's been really fun."

"Gang bangs, you mean? Holy shit, Ma!"

"Oh, the ad, you mean? No, that's new. Well, the request is new. I've used that paper lots of times."

"So...real people like you use it? I thought it was just..."

"Prostitutes? They're definitely in there. A lot of the replies I get are about money. I have to be very careful, because I've heard about girls getting busted through there. Can you imagine? If I got arrested for prostitution? You know how this neighborhood talks."

"Christ," Noah said. He sat silent for a moment and said, "So, you've been with...lots of guys?"

"Am I the same as a whore, do you mean, without the money? No, it's not like that." She poured the glasses full again. "I guess I'm a lot like you. I just...need something different, once in a while. It's usually just a regular guy. I tell them I need to meet somewhere public, so I can judge whether they're safe or not. But I know you had a couple of threeways, so you know that's good, too, right? I guess a ma can learn from her son every once in a while."

"You...had a threeway?"

"It's spicy, right?" Sabella said. "You know how I like my hot peppers."

That's when food entered Sabella's consciousness, and a wide assortment of it came out of the refrigerator and the cupboards, along with forks and plates and knives. It was a stoner feast of epic proportions.

With his mouth full of well-salted cold chicken, and his eyes freshly sparkling from a lingering glance at his mother's well-stuffed lingerie bra, Noah asked a question he never thought he'd ask his mother. "How come I never knew you were sexy before."

Sabella shrugged her bare shoulders. "You never asked. And I never showed you. Maybe you never looked."

They were solid answers that made Noah nod. His stoned mind liked all three of them. "You never showed me," he said, settling on his favorite.

"You want I should? I mean...when your pop's not home? I wear my sexy stuff a lot when he's away. I can...stop covering it up when you're around, if you're okay with it."

"Yeah, I mean, if you want," Noah said, wondering if he was speaking crazy thoughts. "I'm okay with it. I mean, I feel like we're friends now."

Sabella smiled and nodded. "Is that what happens when you get shit-faced with people? You get this deep friend thing that I'm feeling?"

"Yup. Usually. But I mean, it's different with us. This is blowin' my fucking mind."

"Good," Sabella said. "So, friend, you never answered me earlier. Should I go Brazilian or Full Hollywood for my big night?"

"Fuck, Ma! You're askin' advice, for that?"

Sabella laughed at the look on Noah's face, and wine dribbled out of her stoned mouth. "Oh, crap! My seersuckers!" She stood and took off her shorts as quick as a wink, eager to get the fresh dark purple stain out of them. "I guess you're seeing it," she said, "the reason I need a wax job. It's a good thing I used the scissors already."

Noah was numb again, unable to move. His mother's little panties matched her bra, finely wrought lace that was minimalist in cut, barely covering that which needed to be covered. His eyes were there, and his mind was half there, befuddled by the sight of the scissor-trimmed pubes that the tiny panties didn't try to hide. The other half of his mind was stuck on the two 'S' words, repeating like a skipping record in his head — seersucker scissors, seersucker scissors, seersucker scissors. He giggled and Sabella smiled.

"It's fun, right?" she said. "Me dressing sexy with you? I feel like laughing, too. Is it that weed of yours? I can't believe how much I love it."

"Ma, you got a little..." Noah said, staring at his mother's chest, pointing at his own, right in the center. Sabella looked down and her face showed her horror. "No! It's brand new!" There was a purple stain right in the center of her new white bra, on the little strappy part that spanned across the cleavage between her breasts. "Is this the kind of thing that happens when you get shit-faced?"

She turned away from Noah, with her hands behind her, unclasping, and then the bra was off and she was skittering quickly to the sink, keeping her back to him for the most part.

Noah watched silently again, a sight he never thought he'd see — his sweet Ma, dressed like a stripper, her body bare but for the thong-back of the white panties that emerged from the top of her remarkably nicely shaped ass crack, finely wrought white lace that reached out like thin angels wings, embracing her hour-glass hips. The mole on the top of her shoulder was visible, a birthmark that was probably the most familiar thing in Noah's entire world, a mark that he'd first seen on his first day of life, when his mother lay his baby head there, just moments after he'd first opened his eyes. But on this very adult morning he was stoned, hugely so, and a new 'S' word had been added, and in his head, as he stared at his mother's way-to-sexy ass, all three of the words were circling like a slow-moving hula hoop — seersucker scissors shit-faced, seersucker scissors shit-faced, seersucker scissors shit-faced.

"Noah, honey, you might wanna look away."

Sabella's words made it through the smoky haze in Noah's head, and he looked away, but he didn't know if he really wanted to. The sound of his mother's bare feet padding toward the laundry room drew his corner-of-the-eye gaze, and she was naked there, for all intents and purposes. His view was of the side of her, standing inside the laundry room door, her entire body bare but for a thin white line of lace at her hip. The breast he could see sagged a bit, with a crease below it and a prominent, aroused nipple at its tip. It was a breast that was a true tit, meaty and full, with a ski jump profile that Noah's eyes enjoyed. Her belly sagged just a little, too, which he'd seen when she took off her shorts next to the table. All-in-all the side view of her was more than pleasant, in a slightly-pear-shaped 44-years-young kind of way. It was the kind of sexy, womanly sight that would have given Noah a boner if he hadn't been numb from just below the brain all the way to the tips of his toes.

Through the corners of his eyes he watched his mother put on a shiny piece of underwear, a satin camisole top, lifting her arms—which lifted and stretched her breasts—in order to slip it on. When she walked back to the table and sat down she was a whole new kind of sexy, both inside and out.

"Well that went from sort of dressed to not dressed in a hurry. It's been forever since you've seen me like that. Do you have memories of it from when you were little?"

"No," Noah said, feeling a boner rising through the numbness. It was the way the satin camisole draped on his mother's fleshy, free-moving tits that was doing it; that and the eye-catching bumps from her aroused nipples.

"I can't believe I stained that bra. I just bought it today; well, yesterday. I get my play clothes at The Lacy Drawer, at the mall. Do you ever shop there for your girls?"

"I haven't got a girl, Ma. You know that."

"But you used to. And they still come over once in a while. What's up with that; I thought Leah was with that David Schwartz now."

"She is. She just...I don't know, every once in a while, if we see each other out somewhere..."

"Yeah, I get it. She's a cute one," Sabella said, her stoned eyes half-lidded, in a bedroom kind of way. Her smirking smile reinforced the bedroom vibe. "I shouldn't tell you this, but...I was listening the night she was finally able to give you deep throat."

Noah's boner twitched and a jolt of clarity hit him. "Fuck, Ma! Seriously?"

"Yeah. I'm not proud of it, but..."

"No, I didn't mean that. I mean, it's okay, but...should you be? Listening?"

"It took her a while, huh?" Sabella said. "She always said you were too big, and then, that night..."

"Christ, Ma, can you hear everything?"

"Pretty much. The windows are only ten feet apart. You never thought of it before?"

Noah shook his head. He'd always assumed his Ma and Pop's bedroom window was sealed shut, what with the air-conditioning and all. And there were those heavy curtains in their room. It seemed like it'd be virtually soundproof. But then he remembered the big easy chair right there next to the window, the one he'd never seen anybody use.

"Fill that bong again," Sabella said. "I don't feel so high since I stained my clothes."

"Yeah, that happens," Noah said, reaching for his bag of weed. "Real life shit can knock it outta you."

He packed the bowl and held the lighter while his mother took a big, lungs-full hit. "You're good at it now," he said, watching as she held the smoke and tried to hold back a giggle, a giggle that made her tits jiggle under the loose satin. A glorious buzz made Sabella nicely high again. Noah took a big hit and felt the happy glow, too.

"If I tell you something, you gotta promise me some things," Sabella said.

"Yeah, okay. I promise."

"You promise to leave your window open? Even when you have your girls there?"

"I guess. As long as Pop's not listening."

"He's not. But it's not just me. That's what I want to tell you. You promise?"

"I promise."

"Good. So here's where it gets interesting."

"Fuck, Ma! This isn't interesting already?"

Sabella smiled and sipped her blackberry wine. "You know Millie Titchman, across the road."

"Yeah, sure, Mrs. Titchman." Noah wasn't ready to admit it, but ever since he turned about 14 she'd been known, to him and his male friends, as Mrs. Tits. She's an aging, fifty-something trophy wife—aging quite well if you ask Noah or any of the other men in the neighborhood—with a 38 DDD bust that always seems ready to bust out of whatever perfectly tailored casual summer dress she happens to be wearing.

"You know how she walks that little dog of hers?" Sabella asked. "Well, she walks it right between our house and our garage sometimes, late at night. She's always good about it, picking up after him with her plastic baggie. But here's the thing—she does it about ten minutes after you bring home one of your girls. She's home alone a lot, you know. Mr. Titchman buys the raw diamonds in Africa and your Pop sells the finished ones in Asia."

"Yeah, I know. But what are you sayin' Ma? She's...listening too?"

Sabella nodded, her face nearly glowing from the mischief in her stoned-red eyes and smirking mouth. "She doesn't know I know, of course, but she's had the hots for you since, oh my gosh, probably since you were in middle school. She sits on our stoop right under your window, and she listens to you when you fuck whatever girl you have up there. Here's the kicker, though — at a Hanukkah party a year ago, when she was loopy on this very same blackberry wine, she told me her husband's bagged more dark-skinned girls than Bill Cosby. That's how she put it. I guess Saul and your Pop have the same expense account when they travel."

"Fuck, Ma! Should I know this?"

"I think you should. Maybe it's that weed that's making me say words I never said before, but I think you should invite her up to your room sometime and fuck her, when Saul and your Pop are out of the country. She'd be the happiest woman in the city."

Noah felt numb again, staring open-mouthed at his mother.

"It's just a thought," she said. "I seem to be full of them tonight. Maybe you're not interested in older women."

Noah truly didn't know what to say. He was in the biggest fog he'd ever been in, with bizarre sexual thoughts ping-ponging around inside his head. The rapidly brightening dawn outside the kitchen window caught his eye, and he wondered if he had the mental capacity needed to walk up the stairs to his bedroom, let alone answer big, life-changing questions. "Fuck, Ma. The sun's comin' up, and...I haven't ever had a night like this in my life."

Sabella's dark eyes twinkled as she looked deep into her son's brown ones. "So, are we good?" she asked. "You know about my life, and I know about yours. And neither one of us is telling, right? This is all just between you and me. And maybe Millie Titchman. Your girls and your friends don't find out about any of this, right? It would embarrass me if any of them found out."

"Yeah, Ma, we're good. I won't say anything. I almost forgot about your thing. When are you...doing it?"

"Monday evening. I thought about waiting 'till the weekend, but it was too far away."

"I don't know if I like the idea," Noah said. "The guys are all...from that sleaze-bag paper?"

"It's not that sleazy, Honey. It's always worked out pretty well, but the other times were always just one guy, or those threeways I told you about. To be honest, I'm a little nervous about this time, being a...you know...a whole gang. But that's the thrill of it. I mean...that's the whole point, right?"

Noah shook his head. "I got nothin' to compare it to, Ma. And I can't believe I'm sitting here talking to you about it. I guess I'm...not really liking the idea, if I'm being honest."

"Be nothing but honest, Noah. Please. Both of us should be."

Sabella's request shut down the conversation for a few awkward seconds.

"My mother, gettin' gang-banged," Noah said, feeling a crazy rush of highness as the words left his mouth. "How many guys?"

"It looks like it's only going to be four, after I weeded out some questionable ones. I was sorta hoping for more, but...four's good. Right? You ever...done one?"

"A gang bang? No. I luck into, like, a little orgy every once in a while, and one big one a couple years ago," he admitted, amazed that he was confessing such a thing to his mother. "But no, nothin' with a bunch of guys and just one girl." The word 'girl' gave him pause, because he realized his mother was one, a sexual one who did the things sexual girls do. "How do you know the rest of them aren't sleazy?"

"Trust, I guess. Being horny makes you do risky things. You know that. One of them's a cop, so maybe that's a good omen."

"A cop? Holy shit, Ma!"

"Yeah. NYPD. He's the one with... I guess I should ask you how many details you want."

"I don't know. All of 'em, I guess."

"He's got the biggest dick. I've learned you can't always trust the pictures you get, but I'm hoping he didn't do any PhotoShop."

"Who else?"

"A long haul trucker that looks sort of like that Greg Allman guy, with a pony tail. A plumber who promised to wash his hands so they don't stink. I didn't even ask him to. Maybe he's had complaints? The fourth guy wouldn't tell me much, but he's good looking and seems nice. He's your age." Sabella tried to gauge Noah's reaction to that last little tidbit, but he was too drunk, stoned and tired for much to phase him.

"You really think they're all who they say they are?" he said. "I don't like it."

"I appreciate your honesty, but...all that matters is that I like it."

"Can't you just...do what you were doing, one at a time? Why's it gotta be four? Testosterone's funny, Ma. If they get wound up they could... It's not like you're big and strong, not that it would matter with four of them. But shit, Ma, you're five foot two and like a hundred and ten pounds or somethin', right?"

"Noah, you're missing the whole point. I guess maybe you have to be a woman to get it. That submission, that loss of control, that's what the whole thing's about. That's why they call it a gang bang. It's not a nice soft-spoken group of gentleman bang. It's a gang bang."

"Can't you bring a friend? How about Mrs. Titchman?"

"I'm not getting her into something like that, no. Up into your room with you some night, yes. A gang bang in a cheap motel, no." Sabella thought for a moment. "There's only one person I'd trust, and I'm pretty sure you're not interested."

"Of course I'm interested. Who is it?"

"It's you. I meant you."

Both of their softly floating highs were suddenly grounded, with clarity that left them both tingling. "Fuck, Ma!" Noah said, and then the silence hung there.

Sabella's mind spun out thoughts faster than she could grab them. "You could...be the photographer," she said. "I was going to prop up my phone to record it all, but..."

"You do that?"

"I never have, but...I was hoping to. I mentioned it to the cop and he said he'd bring some masks, so we'd have them if we decide to do it that way."

"Fuck!"

Sabella's eyes twinkled. "You'll be my bodyguard. You've always been good at protecting me."

"Sounds like you...want me there."

"Well, look at it from my point of view," Sabella said. "You're the only one who knows, and you're the only one I trust, and now you've got me worried, so...yeah, I guess I want you there. If you hadn't found out about it on your own I sure wouldn't have told you, but, now that you know..."

"But why not just call it off, Ma?"

"Oh no. I've been looking forward to this for too long. It's definitely happening."

-

Noah, on his way back to his room to get some much-needed sleep, saw Millie Titchman out walking her little dog. He would have waved, but she wasn't looking—probably a good thing because he had a bag of weed in one hand and his big bong in the other. He walked the ten feet to the garage and climbed the stairs to his room. His front window looks down at the street and across to the Titchman's house. He opened the curtain to see what he could see, and Millie was there, waiting for her dog to do his business. He'd never called her Millie before, and never thought of her by that name. She'd always been, he was ashamed to say, Mrs. Tits, although he'd never called her that to her face. Her big cleavage stunners were there, on display that morning, as they almost always were, no matter what the season or the weather—those magnificent orbs of fleshy flesh, the crowning glory of her hourglass body, the tits that every husband and son in a five block radius knew about.

Noah, still high, stood there numbly, watching as Millie caught sight of him. His new knowledge of her eavesdropping habits swirled in his head, making his cock harden, tightening the already tight confines of his jeans. Millie stood still, too, wondering what was happening, wondering why the neighborhood stud was gazing down upon her.Is it my dress, she wondered? Is this the one? Finally, the one that makes him notice?

-

Later that day, at Temple with his mother, Noah saw Millie again. She wore a different dress, one that was high of neck, covering every bit of those fleshy breasts of hers. The dress had buttons down the front of it, all the way to the below-the-knee hem, and it made Noah think of a story he first heard when he was a teenaged boy. He didn't see it with his own eyes, but legend has it that Mrs. Titchman, when she took a deep breath to read aloud a portion of the Torah on a summer Shabbat morning, popped three buttons off of her button-front dress, one of which hit Old Man Menchle square in the back of the neck. They were the buttons at the bosom portion of the dress, and the story goes she was wearing a violet purple bra that day, and maybe every day, and it appeared to be just barely holding things together. It's a tale that's been told over and over, for years now, going down in Temple lore in a way that makes even the Rabbi smile, or so Noah was told.

"Hi Millie," Sabella said. "That's a beautiful dress."

Noah wondered if his mother remembered the story about the buttons and the violet bra, too, or if maybe the telling of it only happened amongst the men and boys.

"Oh, thanks," Millie said. "Hi Noah."

"Hi," Noah said, tongue tied by Millie's womanly beauty.

"I hope I'm not being nosey," Millie said, "but, I saw your lights on this morning. You two were up extra early. Is everything all right?"