Summer 1946.

It was another hot day. Timmy’s tie was still in his pocket, and his dress shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up. His bare chest glistened with sweat. This neighborhood of East Los Angeles didn’t help. The houses filled the small lots with little room for cooling landscaping. Instead, it was the asphalt streets and concrete sidewalks intensifying the heat.

East L.A. was Timmy’s choice for door-to-door subscription sales. The homeowners were middle-class laborers. Their wives had some discretionary income. He couldn’t get past the housekeepers in wealthier neighborhoods, and there was just no money for magazines in the poorer areas.

Timmy was young and good-looking. This helped with the trapped and bored women who answered the doors. In addition, his hard-luck childhood had given him the skill to quickly judge the character of the people he encountered. So he unscrupulously said anything he needed to make a sale.

He had any number of stories to generate sympathy, instill empathy, or evoke a motherly caring. And with the right dames, he used raw sexuality.

The jane who answered the door he had just knocked on was pure dynamite. The sheer robe she wore hid nothing. She had more curves than Lombard Street. The bush on display, proof she was a bottle blonde.

She eyed Timmy from head to toe and smiled lasciviously.

“What’re you selling, sweetie?” She purred.

He displayed the brochure of magazines while using his free hand to make a suggestive move to his crotch.

“Are you getting everything you need, Sister?” Timmy asked.

She tossed her head, scoffing, and called over her shoulder,

“Hank, it’s for you.” And slinked away without another look.

Timmy, mesmerized by the swaying of her retreating caboose, failed to notice the man now standing at the door. Timmy’s surprise was total. After months of door-knocking, this was the first male he had met.

Timmy instantly sized this joe up as dangerous. The thirty-eight special casually held in his right hand reinforced Timmy’s snap judgment. The rod wasn’t even pointed at him, just hanging like a natural arm extension.

Hank was naked except for his boxers. This displayed considerable muscle, sweat, and hair! Thick black hair bristled all over, from head to toe. The lump in the boxers suggested a significant muscle there as well. Tall, dark, and . . . rugged.

“Sorry to bother, Sir. I’ll just be on my way.” Timmy tried for a quick escape.

Hank grinned. Timmy now knew this guy could sell ice to an Eskimo.

“Where’s the fire? Come on in. You look parched.” Hank invited.

The hand with the gun gesturing inside was all the persuasion Timmy needed.

The living room was modestly furnished and had windows overlooking a shaded patio. Out there was a sand pile with beach paraphernalia and a backdrop of the sea. Lights and a camera on a tripod pointed at this staged scene. The couple’s lack of clothing suddenly clarified what was happening here. They were making pornography photos.

“Grab a seat. Make yourself comfortable. Ethel, bring us some lemonade.” Hank requested.

Timmy dropped into an overstuffed chair. Hank placed the rod on a coffee table and sat facing Timmy. He extended his hand to Timmy.

“I’m Hank. What’s your name, son?” He asked.

Timmy took the offered hand and shook it.

“Timmy.” He simply stated.

“Trying to make a buck, Timmy? I know how little money there is in that line. Most of it goes to your handler, right?” Hank stated. Timmy nodded in agreement.

“How would you like to earn some serious dough? I’m talking about a nice house, a fast ride, level of earning. Would you be interested?” He asked.

“Making smut pictures? What would I have to do?” Timmy asked.

“Smart boy! Get your nuts off while enjoying Ethel’s charms. A very pleasurable way to earn money.” Hank replied.

“It does sound tempting. But those photos are illegal everywhere in this country. Aren’t you worried about a G-man raid?” Timmy asked.

“The organization I work for is well-informed. We would be long gone before any raid arrived.” Hank stated.

Timmy now knew Hank was part of the mob. This could be his big break.

Ethel entered the room with a tray bearing three iced glasses of lemonade that she set on the coffee table.

“Ethel, Timmy may be the fresh face we’ve been seeking. Try and raise wood.” Hank requested.

Ethel leaned over Timmy from behind to nibble on his ear. One of her hands slid down from his shoulder to play with his nipple. Her other hand slid further down to open his pants and release his sizeable erection. She stroked from root to tip, milking a nice flow of fluid.

“I’ve got wood. Two hands worth!” She declared.

“And photogenic too. I’m glad you were able to get it up in my presence. We can definitely use you. Are you in?” Hank asked.

“Yes! What’s my cut?” Timmy queried.

“Five Franklins a shoot. We usually have a couple shoots a week.”

Timmy let out a low whistle. He could earn a year’s wages in one month. He looked down at his throbbing cock, still being stroked by Ethel.

“Can we start now?” He asked with need.

“That’s the spirit. You must remain hard for the entire shoot, so you can’t release until told. Let’s move to the bedroom. We’ll shoot a Mother/Son sequence.” Hank commanded.

Ethel squealed with delight, grabbed Timmy by the hand, and pranced out of the room. Timmy had to scramble to keep his pants from tripping him as he was dragged away.

Half of the bedroom was decorated like a French bordello. The other half contained lights, cameras, and costume racks. Ethel began undressing Timmy, using a good deal of stroking and groping. Hank was looking through the costumes.

Hank handed Timmy a hanger containing a rich boy’s blue suit from the last century. Knee-length breeches, white shirt with lace cuffs and collar, and a bow tie. The short jacket definitely had an old fashion cut. Ethel was handed a white Edwardian dress with a pink ribbon around the waist.

Once costumed, they went to work. And work it was too. Holding each pose long enough for several shots. Keeping eyes open through the flash. Learning how to make subtle shifts in position to satisfy Hank.

It was also highly erotic. A long, slow tease. Between shots, Ethel and Timmy used small stroking and squeezing to arouse the other to trembling anticipation.

Bit by bit, they were undressed, and the poses got more graphic. They progressed from innocent Mother/Son hugging and kissing through oral sex and on to intercourse. Both vaginal and anal.

The agony was the lack of movement. Holding still with a warm and willing mouth around a leaking hard-on, not humping while inserted in a wet cunt.

The sexually charged atmosphere was not lost on Hank either. Early in the shoot, his erection had pushed out of the fly of his boxers. Timmy had an above-average cock. Hank’s was more extensive by a couple of inches. As time passed, a gooey stream of fluid leaked from the tip, coating the rigid shaft.

Finally, Ethel and Timmy were fully undressed and posing in the most graphic sexual positions. Timmy could feel Ethel’s goosebumps and trembling muscles, signaling her pending climax.

“Time for the money shots!” Hank announced.

He pushed Timmy aside, flipped Ethel over, and entered her from behind. Ethel screamed out her orgasm. Heedless, Hank kept pounding her. He looked over at Timmy with an evil grin.

“You stay hard. Don’t release yet.” He demanded.

He fucked her rough through two more of her orgasms, then flipped her over and hosed her heaving tits with white streams of cum. Hank’s grunting and his pulsing, spewing cock had an amplifying effect on Timmy’s arousal. Timmy battled to prevent his own orgasm as ordered.

Hank got behind the camera.

“Timmy, place your hard-on at the start of my cum trails.” Hank directed.

More photos were captured as Timmy gazed down on the freshly fucked Ethel. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to prevent his release.

“Switching cameras. Ready, now, Ethel.” Hank shouted.

Timmy heard a high-speed mechanical whirl from the camera and felt Ethel push her finger up his butt. The pressure on his prostate triggered Timmy’s orgasm. He, too, coated Ethel’s tits with trails of cum. He screamed with the power of this orgasm, his overwrought mind barely registering the continuous series of flashes.

Drained of energy, Timmy fell forward, his chest landing on Ethel’s messy tits. He panted into her ear, and she wrapped comforting arms around him.

“What was that?” Timmy wondered.

“A special camera that takes hundreds of pictures a second. It captures your cum in-flight.” Ethel gently explained.

Hank was busy gathering film from each of the cameras.

“Hit the shower while I see how we did,” Hank ordered.

They walked hand-in-hand into the bathroom. It was a pleasant cleanup with much soaping of the other. This became passionate kissing that evolved into a standing fuck with Ethel’s right leg wrapped around Timmy’s hip. They came together and had to clean up again.

Dressed now, Ethel added fresh ice to the abandoned lemonade. Outside, early evening was finally moderating the day’s heat. They sipped their drinks in companionable silence until Hank called them into the darkroom.

The room with strung with overhead wires that each held dozens of wet eight-by-ten black-and-white photos. The garish decor of the bedroom made for strong contrasts when photographed. The same was true for Hank’s choice of their costumes. Hank had an expert eye and was a master photographer.

The photos contained high-quality images that were extremely erotic. They would bring top dollar. As expected, the camera captured Ethel’s sensual body perfectly. What surprised Timmy was how arousing the images of ‘his’ body looked. Especially the fine details of his straining hard-on.

Timmy was starting to understand the amount of money this business would generate and why the mob was involved. No wonder he would be paid so well. Hank was very pleased.

“When paired with incest-related captions, these will sell for double our usual sequence. You two photograph well together. Stick with us, Timmy. We’re headed for easy street!” Hank crowed.

Hank pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and peeled off five C’s.

“Here you go. You earned these. Be back here in two days, at noon.” Hank requested.

Timmy hugged Ethel, shook hands with Hank, and headed out the door. He had a long trolly ride to his cheap apartment in East Hollywood. This required a transfer to the Red line at Union Station. He usually never left the platforms, but with money burning a hole in his pocket, Timmy decided to check out the restaurants in the station proper.

At the head of the stairs, Timmy spotted a young woman in a dirty smock begging. He recognized her from his youth at the Five Acres orphanage. She was a couple of years younger, so she must have just aged out. It was clear she wasn’t getting enough to eat.

“Sally, do you remember me? It’s Timmy.” Timmy asked.

Her eyes lit up.

“Of course, I remember you, cocky son of a bitch.” She crowed.

“As orphans, we’ll never know, right?” They both laughed at the old joke.

“You want to join me for a hot meal?” Timmy offered.

“What’d have I got to do?” She cynically asked.

“Warm my bed for the night,” Timmy stated.

“I’m not a whore . . . yet.” Sally declared.

“Then don’t accept,” Timmy replied.

Sally really considered it. She needed the meal. She wouldn’t mind being in a bed again. Timmy was easy on the eyes. There was no downside to the exchange except she would be closer to selling herself. Needing the meal won!

“Ok, I’ll spend the night with you for a hot dinner…and breakfast.” She negotiated.

“Deal!”

They spat in their palms and shook, childlike.

None of the restaurants in the station would seat them with how Sally looked. So they crossed the street to Cielito Lindo’s and stuffed themselves with taquitos. Then, they strolled along Olvera Street, chatting and letting their meal settle. Several vendors were still open, so Timmy purchased a couple of Mexican peasant dresses for Sally.

“We still have a long trolley ride to East Hollywood, so we should head back to Union Station,” Timmy recommended.

“Wow, you live in Hollywood!” Sally exclaimed.

“Never been to east Hollywood, have you? It’s miles of low-rent apartments. But, yes, it’s full of movie stars or ne’er-do-well actors anyway.”

It was midnight when they got off the trolley at Vermont and Lexington. Sally leaned sleepily into Timmy as they walked the last few blocks to his building. He carried her sleeping body up the two flights of stairs. He tucked her into his bed, crawled in after her, and fell asleep with the light on.

*****

The sun on his face woke Timmy. Sally was gone. So was all the money he had in his pants.

“No good deed goes unpunished.” He muttered to himself.

Timmy checked his shoes. There was still a crisp one hundred dollar bill in each. He had hidden them before heading out of East L.A. This was more cash than he ever had, so he was still better off than two days ago.

There was a knock on the door. Timmy opened it to find Sally on the other side. She was clean and wearing one of her new dresses but still barefoot. She held a greasy food sack in one hand and an oversized coffee mug in the other.

“Here’s breakfast!” She declared with a big smile.

“Where’s my money!” Timmy demanded.

Oh, shoot! I bet it looked terrible for me when he woke alone, Sally considered.

“I’m sorry. I took a fin and stuck the rest in a sock in your dresser.” Sally apologetically replied.

She put the food down, reached over, and stroked his cock.

“Let me lighten your mood.” She purred.

Sally shrugged her shoulders, and her dress slipped to the floor, leaving her naked. She was skinny enough to show all her bones, but all the parts were there. Timmy’s cock surged erect. Sally’s hands were now full. She smiled again. Timmy pulled her into a hug and kissed her deeply. Still hugging and kissing, they fell onto the bed.

Sally struggled to remove Timmy’s pants without breaking their kiss. Timmy was too occupied feeling her tits and ass to assist. She gave up the kissing in favor of jerking his pants clean off. With Timmy now naked, Sally climbed on top and sat firmly on his hard-on. The sensation of his cock filling her forced a shriek from her.

She pulled off and slammed back on, establishing a rapid pace that had them both panting. Timmy pushed up, meeting her stroke for stroke.

“Yes, ride me hard! Pump all my cum out!” Timmy demanded.

Sally leaned forward, placing her hands on Timmy’s chest, and doubled her pace.

“Give it to me. Paint my womb with your spray!” She also demanded.

The pounding on her clit sent Sally into an intense orgasm. Her muscle spasms triggered Timmy’s release. So he did just as she demanded, spraying cum all up inside her. She collapsed onto him with jerks and spasms of ecstasy, feeling his body respond in kind.

It took several minutes for the random spasms to stop and their breathing to calm.

“Oh wow. Paying for my hot meal was pleasant.” Sally mused in a teasing understatement.

Timmy was still hard and still horny.

“You haven’t paid for breakfast yet,” Timmy stated.

He rolled on top of her and humped casually into her. When Sally’s passions re-awakened, Timmy increased the pace. Soon he was driving hard and fast into her, and she into him.

Sally came. Shortly, she came again. And then a third time. That orgasm got Timmy off. He jetted a few more streams of cum into her womb. Sally’s undernourished body finally ran out of energy, and she went limp under Timmy. He rolled to the side and clear of her, panting from his exertions and giving her space to recover.

“I don’t think I can move. Could you pass me one of the egg sandwiches, please?” She asked.

She ended up eating both of the egg sandwiches before she was sated. Timmy was satisfied with the coffee and half of the bear claw pastry.

“So, why are you carrying so much cash? That much dough would keep me for months.” Sally asked.

“I’d just earned it for half a day’s work,” Timmy replied.

“Three C’s for a half day’s work! Who’d you kill?” Sally wondered.

“Five C’s, actually, and all I did was fuck.” Timmy remarked.

“That must be one lonely rich broad. Does she have a husband I could fuck?” She asked.

“I thought you were concerned about becoming a whore.”

“Five hundred dollars for one night would make me a courtesan.”

“That’s just Italian for whore.” He quibbled.

“Italian for RICH whore!” She retorted.

“It was for a pornographic photo shoot run by the mob,” Timmy explained.

“Oh, Timmy. You’re going in with eyes open, right?” She asked with concern.

“Look, I’m just one paycheck from panhandling at Union Station myself. A handful of photo shoots, and I’ll have my own home, mortgage-free!” He declared.

“Or be dead.” Sally cautioned.

“Or be dead.” Timmy agreed.

“Do you want to join me on this ride? I could use a keeper and a bed warmer. We get some flesh on your bones, and maybe you shoot with me?” He asked.

“That’s the best deal I’ve been offered since leaving the orphanage. Yes, I’ll be your ‘Mob Moll.’ Keep feeding me, and I’ll be here!” Sally said with a lewd grin.

She closed her mouth around Timmy’s thickening cock to indicate the kind of feeding she had in mind. She savored their dried sexual fluids as her tongue worked him into rigidity. Soon her mouth was full. She sucked hard, attempting to draw out her next meal.

Timmy lay back with his hands behind his head, watching her red curls bob. Contented, for now, he knew he would fuck her again shortly.

****

Timmy picked up a used Deuce for fifty bucks. He tasked Sally with finding a place to rent in a better neighborhood. The Deuce allowed him to drive to East L.A. in a fraction of the time the Pacific Electric lines took. He arrived at the house thirty minutes early. Nobody answered his knock, and the door was locked. He sat on the front steps to wait.

A few minutes before noon, Timmy heard somebody moving around in the house. He got up and knocked on the door again. Hank opened the door, armed like last time, and invited Timmy in.

Standing in the living room was a young man, Timmy’s age, dressed flamboyantly, like a Latin dancer. He had the longest hair Timmy had ever seen on a man. His eyes lit up at the sight of Timmy, and his posture shifted into something that would be sensual on a woman. Hank introduced them.

“Timmy, this is Peeti. Peeti, this is Timmy.”

Peeti extended a limp wristed hand that Timmy shook.

“Delicious!” Peeti purred.

Timmy had a look of fear on his face as he turned to Hank.

“Homosexual photos sell even better than incest photos. I’ll pay you double to fuck Peeti.” Hank explained.

“Listen, honey, I’ll do all the sucking, and you’ll do all the fucking. You’ll still be ‘hederal’ when we’re done.” Peeti reassured.

Timmy noticed that Hank hadn’t put the thirty-eight special down.

“This is a make-or-break decision. Do you want to keep earning big bucks?” Hank demanded to know.

Timmy felt trapped and betrayed. There was no choice here.

“Let’s do this.” He answered.

The bedroom had been redecorated with Art Deco furniture. He was given a tux to wear. Peeti was given a flapper costume, which he adored.

And so it began again. The posing and slow tease. Confused, Timmy found himself aroused and responding to Peeti’s stroking and caressing. His hard cock felt just as good in Peeti’s warm mouth. He desperately wanted to thrust deep when his tip was poised in Peeti’s ass. Even the motionless kissing turned Timmy on.

By the time they were both naked and mimicking the most explicit sexual acts between men, Timmy was ready to cum. Hank didn’t get involved this time. Timmy’s cock was buried deep in Peeti’s ass when Hank called for the ‘money’ shot.

“Fuck him until you’re ready to cum. Then, yell out ‘ready’ and pull out to hose down Peeti’s face.” Hank directed.

Timmy humped Peeti’s ass deep several times. He yelled as instructed. Peeti flipped over to receive Timmy’s cum on his face and in his open mouth. Timmy grunted and sprayed. The high-speed camera whirled and strobed. Peeti grunted, and his untouched erection sprayed his own belly.

“Fantastic!” Hank exclaimed as he gathered up the film and rushed out.

Timmy was alone with Peeti. They were cuddling tenderly.

“I’m confused,” Timmy confessed.

Peeti kissed him deeply. Timmy responded passionately.

“It is within the human sexual experience to enjoy both men and women. It doesn’t make you any less a man.” Peeti explained kindly.

They showered together, kissing. Timmy soaped Peeti clean. Peeti sucked Timmy’s cock clean. Timmy filled Peeti’s mouth with cum. They were dry and dressed when Hank returned from the darkroom.

“Here’s your thousand, Timmy, my boy. The boss man wants to meet his new stud star. He’s throwing a party at his house this Saturday. Here’s the address. Be there at eight.” Hank demanded.

*****

Timmy drove up into Beverly Hills. Like most of the others up here, this estate was walled entirely off from street view. Passing through the gates, he saw a sprawling three-story Spanish-style mansion on the far side of the park-like grounds. Attendants directed him to an unused side lawn where he left his car. It was a good quarter-mile walk back to the front doors.

Wearing his new suit, Timmy approached the attendant/armed thug checking guest names. The attendant informed him that the boss wanted to see him when his name was given. A maid in uniform was summoned to lead him. She guided him up the stairs and away from the party in progress.

He was shown into a large office with an oversized man in an expensive suit sitting behind a desk. Leaning on the desk was a beautiful woman in a ball gown. She was flipping through a coffee table book with Ethel and his costumed picture on the cover. It was titled ‘Mother and Son.’ They both looked up as he entered.

The woman had lust in her eyes.

The man stood quickly and stepped forward with his hand extended.

“Ah, Timmy. The man of the hour. Let me shake your hand. Your book is raking in millions.” He boomed.

“Let me introduce my wife, Helen.”

“Please to meet you, Timmy,” Helen replied.

She offered her hand. Her eyes drifted to his crotch while they shook. She gave an extra squeeze at the end.

“Well, listen. I still have some business to conduct. Helen, could you introduce Timmy to our guests?” He commanded.

“It would be my pleasure.” Helen purred.

Timmy offered Helen his elbow. She daintily placed her hand on his arm, and they sashayed out the door. When the office door closed behind them, Helen started jogging for the back of the house, pulling him along.

“Keep quiet and move quickly. We won’t have much time.” Helen hissed at him.

She opened a guest bedroom door, drew Timmy in, and locked the door. She rushed to the bed, hiked up her floor-length gown, and fell backward onto the bed. The only things she wore under the gown were her high heels. Her wet bush spread open to invite Timmy in.

“Looking at your cock fucking Ethel made me horny. John hasn’t fucked me in years. Get that gorgeous pole in me now!” She demanded.

Timmy opened his pants and freed his cock as he strolled forward. When he got to Helen, he was hard enough to enter her. He plunged in deep. Helen bit her palm to keep from screaming her pleasure.

“Fuck me hard, but don’t make a sound. John will kill us if he finds out.”

Timmy pounded harshly into Helen. Her giant bouncing tits sprang free of the small halter attempting to contain them. Fortunately, the bed was sturdy. It didn’t omit a squeak or bump. Helen came quickly. Timmy didn’t even slow, continuing to thrust.

“Yes, do me,” Helen hissed.

Timmy saw movement out of the corner of his eye. There was a girl’s face in the door to the bath. She was a younger version of Helen, even down to the lust she displayed. Her expressions and movements suggested she was rapidly rubbing herself.

Helen came again.

Timmy repositioned slightly so the girl could see his cock entering her mother.

“Cum in me. Fill me up. If I have to entertain John’s dull business associates, I want to feel your cum running down my thighs. I want them to smell the sex!” Helen whispered.

Between Helen’s dirty words and the girl’s watching eyes, Timmy’s arousal peaked. He continued to pound into Helen, pushing his jets of cum deeper with his pistoning cock. Feeling it, Helen had a final orgasm.

She hadn’t even recovered her breathing when she pushed Timmy aside and dashed for the door. She adjusted her top to ensure her tits were contained.

“Wait ten minutes, and then head downstairs,” Helen instructed.

She quickly closed the door as she left.

“Get out here, young lady,” Timmy called.

The girl came dashing out of the bathroom. She was wearing a sailor-style school uniform. Her panties were around one ankle. She gripped Timmy by the cock, still hard and covered in cunt juice, and pulled him toward the bathroom.

She acted just like her mother.

She opened a panel in the back of the room that led into a servant’s hall. There were many identical panels, each labeled for the space they accessed. She quickly towed Timmy down the hall to a panel labeled ‘Gail’s Bath.’ She opened it and dragged Timmy in.

She towed Timmy into her bedroom and up to her bed. She bunched up her skirt and fell back onto her bed. Her wet bush spread in invitation.

“Fuck me too!” Gail demanded.

Timmy was just getting into the rhythm of fucking Gail when he heard the door open. He saw Gail’s panic-stricken face. He never saw the angry mother or the revolver she used to shoot him dead.