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Paying Off the Loan

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Big Tits

A quick note on the language. I’m English, this story is set in England and my word processor is set to English(UK). As such my spelling is more O.E.D. and less Noah Webster. In particular, in English English the diminutive version of ‘mother’ is ‘mum’, not ‘mom’. OK?

Even before I got home from college I knew that something was wrong. Ever since dad had left mum and I had always been close. When I went away to college I used to make a point of having a good long natter on the phone at least once a week and, even though she put a good face on things, her worry came across loud and clear. And when I did get home it was even more obvious. She’d lost weight and kept biting her bottom lip.

After a couple of days I couldn’t take it any more and I was determined to get to the bottom of things. I waited until after our evening meal when we went into the lounge to watch the television.

“What’s up, mum? I know something’s wrong. Why don’t you tell me all about it?”

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong.”

Please, mum, tell me. Maybe I can help.”

“Oh, Simon, you’re a good lad, the best son a mother could wish for, but….”

“But what?”

“You can’t help with this one, really you can’t.”

She started crying so I scooted closer and put my arm around her shoulders.

“You could at least tell me what it is. After all, a trouble shared is a trouble halved and all that.”

“I’m deep in debt and I don’t know what to do,” she sniffed through the tears. Ten grand, ten bloody grand. How the fuck am I going to find that sort of money?”

I was shocked to the core. Mum never swore. And what was this about ten grand?

“Please, mum, tell me.”

“I owe… do you know who Andy Grantham is?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of him.” Hell, everyone on the estate had heard of Andy Grantham, the meanest, toughest loan shark in the business. “Are you trying to tell me that you owe Andy Grantham ten grand.”

“Yes, and I have to pay him back by Thursday. I’ve already sold all my jewellery. I’ve nothing left. What am I going to do?”

“How on earth did you get yourself into this mess? Why, mum, why?”

“To pay your college fees. I was desperate and, once he’s got his hooks in you….”

I sighed deeply. She wasn’t the first and I’m sure she won’t be the last. And, as mum said, once Andy Grantham has his hooks in you, he won’t let go. Mum was in deep trouble and all over my college fees. I felt like I’d been the cause of it all.

“We’ll sort something out, mum,” I said as I gave her another hug. “Something will come up.”

But we both knew I was lying. Nothing would come up. There was no way out of this one.

Thursday arrived all too soon and it was mid morning when there was an almighty crash from the front door and two thugs burst in, one holding a baseball bat. They grabbed mum, bundled her into the front room and all but threw her onto the sofa. I was in the kitchen but, when I came to see what was up, I too was grabbed and pushed, none to gently, onto the sofa next to her.

And then the third thug entered, but this one was immaculately dressed and, unless you saw the steel in his eyes, looked more like a successful business man than a gangster. It was Andy Grantham, come to collect what he was owed.

“Good morning, Maureen. I seem to have missed you down at the office this morning. Ten grand on the table by nine thirty, that was the arrangement, wasn’t it?”

“I’m sorry, Mr Grantham I…”

“Oh, dear. Sorry is all very well but it’s ten grand you own me, not sorries. What are we going to do?”

“If I could have just a little longer….”

“Ah, there’s a bit of a problem with that. I’m a business man, plain and simple, and my business works because everyone knows the golden rule; pay your debts in full and on time or bad things happen. No exceptions. Do you see the fix I’m in? If word got out that I’d been easy on you then where would I be? People would start to think that I’d had gone soft and all sorts of things would go wrong. If I let one person off the hook I have to let everyone off the hook and I can’t afford for that to happen.”

“But I haven’t got the money….”

“Oh dear, that’s a shame…,” Andy Grantham turned to the tough who was holding the baseball bat and nodded. The tough barely moved but one backhand swipe of the bat along the mantlepiece sent the ornaments flying. Andy Grantham bent down and picked up the remains of a carriage clock, turning it over and over in his hands.

“Oops! Gazza can be so clumsy! Everywhere he goes he seems to break things. What’s more, if you haven’t got the money then it won’t just be your precious little ornaments that get broken. It’s going to be a real shame to mess up that pretty little face of yours but the message has to get out there; everyone has to know, every one has to see what happens to little slags who default on Andy Grantham. Nothing personal but business is business. OK, Chas.”

The other thug, the one without the bat, reached down and grabbed mum’s wrist pulling her off the sofa. A quick rip at her housedress and the cheap material kartal escort gave way leaving it gaping open. Mum screamed so he span her around and held her against him, clamping his hand across her mouth. His other hand reached down, into her panties and his grip on her groin was strong enough to all but lift her off her feet. She tried struggling but Chas’ grip was firm and, try as she might, she was going nowhere. The other thug ripped the last shreds of mum’s housedress aside and used his bat to her in the stomach. The threat could not have been more real.

“Shut it slag!” Chas snarled.

“She’s not a slag! Leave her alone, take your hands off her.” I shouted out before I could stop myself. I got half way up from the sofa before a firm hand shoved me back.

“Ooh, hark at Galahad,” Andy Grantham laughed. “Wants to protect his mum. Do anything for your her, would you? Take the beating instead of her? Do you love your mum, sonny, really love her?”

“Of course I do.”

“How much do you love her? Do anything for her?”


“Anything, really anything, because, if you really mean that I might just have a way out for all of us. Amongst my business interests is a company that makes videos. Nice, tasteful art videos; I’m sure you know the sort of thing. One of my more specialist web sites features videos of lads like you who really love their mum. I’m always on the look out for new talent, especially when the punters can tell that the participants aren’t just any old actors but really are mother and son. You’ve got your mum’s looks, you know that? There’s no mistaking whose cunt you popped out of. So, here’s the deal. Chas and Gazza escort the pair of you down to the studios and, if, by the end of the day, my producer says he’s got a top notch video, then I’ll knock five grand off the tab and give your mum a little more time to pay. Understood?”

“You want mum and I to star in a porn video?” I gasped as the import of what he was saying sunk in.

“Porn video, that’s such a brutal way to put it. Why not think of it as a graphic display of your love for each other? Or let’s put it this way, your mum is late with her payments and that means she’s going to get fucked whatever happens. It’s your choice whether it’s nice and easy in front of the cameras or whether Gazza has some fun with his baseball bat. Hey, maybe your mum won’t be the only one who gets fucked. Chas here is fond of a bit of anal and he isn’t too fussy whose arse it is as long as they’re squealing like a pig as he does it. And remember, if you don’t do the video then not only do you get fucked over but your mum still owes me the full ten grand. Well?”

I looked at mum, squirming in Chas’ grip, the tattered remnants of her housedress hanging open. She tried shaking her head but, when she did so, Chas’ grip tightened and a muffled scream came from behind his hand. She was already in pain, what on earth was to come? I knew that Andy Grantham’s threats were all too real.

“I don’t think we’ve got any option. We’ll do it.” That brought another muffled scream from mum.

“Good Lad. In that case I’ll be on my way. Oh, I’ll leave Chas and Gazza here with you. They can make sure you get to the studios and that no one gets any silly ideas about running away. And, remember, if I haven’t got a usable video by the end of the day all bets are off. Understood?” And, with that, he turned to leave.

Chas effectively threw mum back down on the sofa.

“Simon!” she all but screamed at me. “If you think I’m making a porn movie….”

“Mum, mum, we have no choice. It’s porn movie or… or….”

There was an almighty crash as Gazza’s bat made short work of a display cabinet.

“Listen to your son, Maureen. Porn star or you’re next, it’s make your mind up time.”

Mum just sobbed so I put my arm around her and held her close.

“OK,” I turned to Chas, “What happens now?”

“First things first, we need to get you dressed. Although you shouldn’t count on staying dressed for long you ought, at lest, to start off wearing something nice and sexy. Come on, let’s see what we can find in your wardrobes. Mum first.”

Mum was still pretty catatonic but she had come around to accepting that we had no other choice. I helped her up off the sofa and we all went through to mum’s bedroom. Gazza went straight to mum’s wardrobe and started pulling everything out, throwing it on the floor. Meanwhile Chas demanded to see the contents of mum’s underwear draw. He pulled the draw right out and emptied it on the bed. Mostly her stuff consisted of plain white cotton but there was a dark blue lacy number which caught his eye. He picked it out and handed it to mum.

“Here, put these on.”

“What here, in front of you?”

“Where else? And, for fuck’s sake, quit snivelling or I’ll give you something to snivel about. Come on, get your kit off and put these on. Right now, or do I have to make you?”

Slowly, reluctantly, mum shrugged off the remains of her house-dress. Chas stood by, evidently enjoying the show. Meanwhile Gazza had all but emptied her wardrobe and was surrounded by her discarded cumhuriyet mahallesi escort clothes. From this chaos he picked out a blouse and skirt for mum to wear. He turned round to see that mum was down to her underwear and nervously reaching behind herself so as to undo her bra.

“Come on, Maureen, let’s see what you’ve got. Give us lads a bit of a show. Get your kit off and give us a twirl. There’s no point in being shy, it will all be on display soon enough.” Chas reinforced his demand by taking a flick knife from his pocket and releasing the blade. “Or maybe you want me to help. That’s it, all off, now give a twirl.” Trembling all over, mum had no choice but to comply.

“She’s not bad for an old bird,” Gazza commented to me. Nice tits and her legs aren’t too bad either. What do you think?”

“I think mum’s really pretty,” I said with what defiance I could muster.

“Yeah, but have you got the hots for her. Does she rock your boat? Does she make you hard? You’re going to be fucking that in a couple of hours and you’d best make it good. Mr. Grantham won’t be paying anything for little wimps who can’t get it up, you know.” He turned back to mum. “OK, show’s over. You can put your knickers on.”

Once mum had put on her bra and panties Gazza handed her the clothes he had selected. The blouse was so sheer it was almost see-through and the skirt shorter than anything I had ever seen mum wear before.

“God, I haven’t worn that since…. since never mind. I hope it all still fits.”

Chas and Gazza stood and watched as she put on the skirt and blouse. When she had finished I have to admit that she did look pretty hot. The skirt, along with the pair of strappy high heels that Chas found for her helped accentuate her legs. I’d never really thought of mum as a sexy woman but there was no doubting that she still had some pizazz.

Then it was my turn and, together, we trooped across to my bedroom. As soon as he opened my wardrobe, Chas zoomed in on my old school uniform. God knows why it hadn’t been thrown out; I’d thought I would never see it again, let alone wear it but, in Chas’s eyes, it was just the thing for the porno shoot. I felt slightly ridiculous as I put it on but at least it still fitted and I guess it made me look younger than eighteen which is what I was at the time.

With us both ‘suitably’ dressed Chas and Gazza led us out of the house and down to their car, a recent model BMW Five Series. Chas drove with Gazza sat next to him in the front. Mum and I were bundled into the back. I was not surprised to find that, when I surreptitiously checked, the kiddie locks were on and we were effectively trapped.

Mum was still shivering with fear so I put my arm around her and held her tight.

“I’m so sorry, so, so sorry,” she sobbed. “You should never have agreed to do this.”

“Mum, really, we didn’t have any choice. You know what he’d have done if we hadn’t agreed. Remember Emma Anderson; it was weeks before she even got out of hospital and even now she walks with a limp. We’re just going to have to get through today the best we can. At least, this way, we might get out of this in one piece.”

“But we’re going to have to….”

“I know. Good job you’re the sexiest mum I know!”

“How can you joke about it.”

“Because I’m too scared not to.”

And we rode the rest of the way in silence.

The studio, when we got there, turned out to be a warehouse at the back end of a trading estate. From the outside it was all but anonymous and, even inside, there wasn’t that much to see. We went into an office where we were introduced to Bill, the director/producer, Jim the cameraman and Tracy, the gofer.

“OK, just to make sure there are no misunderstandings you’re both here for the mother son MILF shoot and no one has any problems with going bareback or doing anal, agreed?”

We both had lots of problems but, with Chas and Gazza looking on, we weren’t going to voice them so we both just nodded.

“Fine, well, if you’ll just sign these consent forms here, here, and… here and then strip off and stand against that wall.”

I glanced at what we were signing but it was all small print legalese and, anyway, there was no way we were not going to sign. Then, rather shyly, we both took off our clothes and stood against the wall. Bill had us both strike numerous poses.

“Not bad, not bad at all; you can put your clothes back on now,” Bill said once he had finished looking us up and down. “There’s a pretty good market for that ‘mum next door look’ and that schoolboy thing works as well. It certainly makes a pleasant change to be working with actors who aren’t covered in tats. I gather from Mr Grantham that you’re complete amateurs and neither of you have ever done anything like this before. Well, there’s not too much too it. Just try and relax and do what you’re told and we’ll all have a good time and end up with a nice sexy video we can be proud of. OK? Here, this is what I have in mind for you.” He handed us both a copy of the script and sent mum off with Tracy to sort out her hair yunus escort and put on some make up.

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Relax! Like that was going to happen. And, as for a video I could be proud of, it was obvious he didn’t know that mum and I were there under duress. What’s more, given how prepared they all were, it was clear that Andy Grantham had set this up some time ago. There had been no doubt in his mind that we would acquiesce. I tried to look at the script but I really couldn’t concentrate.

It was barely five minutes before Tracy and mum returned and we went through to the back of the warehouse where two sets had been constructed. One was set up as a bedroom but basically it was little more than a huge bed and some random props. The other had a large leather sofa in what purported to be a living room. It was there that we were going to start. Chas and Gazza settled down where they could watch all the action. Jim fiddled with the camera until he was satisfied all was working. The studio lights were switched on and…

“OK, scene on, sonny comes home from school, mum is sitting on the sofa. Action!”

“Hello mum” I came in, put down my schoolbooks and sat next to her on the sofa.

‘Hello son. How was school?’ Mum turned towards me. Her blouse was unbuttoned almost to her waist and she was wearing a really skimpy bra. I couldn’t help but stare at her breasts.

“School was fine,” I replied.

“Are you staring at my tits?”

“Sorry mum, but they’re so lovely.”

“That’s nice of you to say. You can see more if you want.” Mum undid the last few buttons of her blouse and took it off. “What do you think?”

“Gosh, mum, they’re gorgeous! You’ve got the best tits ever!”

“Cut! OK, let’s do it again and, I know you’re both nervous, but try and sound like you mean it.”

We tried two more times and, each time, Bill wasn’t happy. After the third time I asked for a moment or two alone with mum. There was no way Chas and Gazza were going to let us out of their sight so we went over to a quiet corner.

“Mum, we’ve got to do this,” I urged.

“I know but… you’re not the one flashing your tits out.”

“No, I’m the one who’s going to have to get an erection. There’s only one way to do this. We’ve got to stop being Maureen and Simon Armstrong and start being, what was it, Candi Moreton and her son, Jack. We’ve got to stop being who we are and start pretending, really pretending, that we’re porn stars. Act at being actors sort of thing. We’ve got to because, if we can’t get it together…. Andy Grantham will want his pound of flesh. Anyway, it’s OK for you, at least you’ve got a body worth showing.”

“Simon, I’m thirty six for Pete’s sake. I’m an old hag.”

“No you’re not. You’re the beautiful sexy MILF porn star, Candi Moreton, whose son Jack can’t wait to get his hands on your tits.”

“Candi Moreton, I’m Candi Moreton.”

“Yes you are. Now let’s go out there and show them how it’s done.”

My pep talk actually worked, as much on me as on mum. Once I started being Jack Moreton mum, or rather Candi, really did have a great body and, yes, it was sexy watching her take her bra off. But it was more than that; although it was hard to get past the fact that we were mother and son, the fact that we were doing this under duress and the fact that we were doing it in front of the cameras, not to mention Chas and Gazza, once we were Jack and Candi the whole thing was a turn on. The only way to survive this was to go so far into role that I really was a young lad who was getting his rocks off with a hot, sexy woman who, in turn, was making no secret of the “fact” that she fancied me like crazy. It was as if the line between acting and reality was getting blurred. The more we pretended the more real it felt. When I was kissing mum’s nipples and she gasped ‘oh yes, like that, but harder!’ was it for the cameras or was it real or, possibly, was it a bit of both.

“OK, that’s fine. Let’s move on to the blow job,” Bill ordered. By this time mum was down to just her panties and I was naked above the waist.

“Ooh, this feels big and hard,” mum purred as she stroked my prick through my trousers. “How about I give my son a blow job?”

“A blow job! Oh, yes, please, mum!”

Mum slid from the sofa so that she was kneeling on the floor while I turned to sit with one leg either side of her. She reached up, unfastened my belt and pulled my trousers down to reveal my rampant prick. Lovingly she wrapped her fingers around it, pumping it even harder before leaning forward and taking me into her mouth.

“Oh, mum, that feels so good. That’s the best thing ever!”

The line between acting and reality was getting more and more blurred. Part of me was all too aware of the lights, the ever intrusive camera, the way Bill kept on having us stop and do things again, the way that everything was forced, choreographed. Nor was I ever going to forget that, just outside the circle of lights, Chas and Gazza were watching and making lewd comments between scenes. On the other hand, Jack Moreton was getting his very first blow job from a very sexy woman and one who, to my slight surprise, seemed to be no novice at what she was doing. Her lips and fingers were playing a very merry melody on my pleasure flute and I’d have had to have been made of stone not to have a world class boner. Under other circumstances….

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