My Mom Was A Porn Star – Chapter 3

Content Advisory: graphic sexual language.

This is an ongoing serial story. Please see the posting from 9/10/2010 for Chapter 1 and 9/30/10 for Chapter 2.


Recap of Chapters 1 and 2: Carrie Bingham and her girlfriends have decided to write an erotica anthology for their Sonoma State University English class, in order to impress their hunky single professor, Carlo Bianchi. She has had a crush on the bachelor, and fantasizes her attraction to him is mutual. The anthology title will be, My Favorite One-Night Stand, and each girl will do her own. They announce this to him when they see him with a date at a Mexican restaurant. On the way home, Carrie realizes what she’s gotten herself into. She’s never had a one-night stand.

Chapter 2 takes place later that night, as Mr. Bianchi attempts a liaison with the new substitute teacher Leonore, his date. Her luscious body is perfect for him. Although he is extremely handsome and sought-after, he is very shy when it comes to females. He enjoys her forwardness, and with eager anticipation knows this will be the end of a very long dry spell sexually.

But it ends badly. Very badly.

Chapter 3

Carrie’s divorced mother, Jolene, waxed eloquent tonight about how beautiful the sex was with Carrie’s father.

“God! How I loved that great big handlebar moustache. He used to tickle my pinkie something fierce!”

Carrie knew ever since she was ten her mom was referring to the lips of her sex. That was the first and last time she’d asked.

“His long brown hair, those luscious eyes, his full red lips.” Jolene smoothed her palms down over her bulging bust line. Her mom had gotten a boob job thirty years ago, and still the girls weren’t tired or leaking.

My mom leads a charmed life. Not sure how she managed, but someone up there is looking out for her. There must be a special angel for ex-porn stars.

Carrie considered whether this was the right time to discuss finances. Or rather, her lack of them. The wine bottle was two-thirds finished. Jolene was talking about one of her Dad’s most creative endeavors: the big swing. Carrie closed her eyes, readying to hear it again, like she’d heard it every time she visited her mom over the last ten years.

“The flying fuck.”

And there it was. Amazing what kinds of worship a sexual contraption could garner. It wasn’t something she understood very well. But then, she’d never tried it.

Wonder if Mr. Bianchi would like to…

Her mother was staring at her.

“He should have stuck to making furniture,” Carrie said without looking at her mother.

And that ended the mood. They would get around to Carrie’s finances, but first they had to go through the minefield of Carrie’s love life, her schooling, carefully excising the part about the erotica anthology, and then finally ending with her job at Daily Grind.

“You work for slave wages, CB. It’s criminal,” her mom said.

“I get to wear clothes.”

“Can you imagine how well they’d do if they had a couple of pole dancers. Hell, you could do it. You have the body for it.”

“There’s only one problem, though.”

“What would that be?”

Carrie always wondered what anyone else would say if they knew about these mother-daughter talks. “I don’t want to take my clothes off in front of strangers. I don’t even like doing it in front of my doctor!”

“That’s not a problem, just something you learn to get over.”

Yeah, like my sanity. My self respect.

She didn’t mind hearing the same stories over and over about the moving platforms and stages with smoke, bubbles and pink sex jelly he rigged in the geodesic dome. At one time called “The Pleasure Dome” it became the family home. Her father still lived there.

What really bothered Carrie was when she went out with a new guy, and, he would casually ask her if he could meet her mother after a couple of dates. That’s when Carrie knew her date and probably a roomful of others had viewed her mother’s tape, participating in a group jerk off. She’d always felt some expectation when invited on couples outings, as if she liked to screw and perhaps do it in a group setting. She felt her companions wanted to reenact the plot in one of her mother’s films.

It happened for the first time the night of her Senior Prom. And it continued even now, living on her own, going to college, working at the coffee house for tips. She could not get out from under the heavy, tarnished halo visible to all. She thought the whole male world saw her as some knock-off, a clone of her mother.

While her mother and dad had screwed their way to earning a down payment on the family home on five lush acres, Carrie was still technically a virgin, although she wasn’t a prude and had done some experimentation.

Mother and daughter didn’t look alike, either. Carrie was dark-haired, peach-skinned and curvy. She worked hard to keep herself in shape. Her mother, on the other hand, was naturally thin and blonde, artificially enhanced in the bust area and “naturally” tanned. All over.

No, Jolene felt there wasn’t anything wrong with making flesh movies that paid well, rather than to work for a pittance and keep her clothes on. No amount of discussion settled this on-going dispute. So the divide between the two women remained wider than the Grand Canyon.

“You have a joint on you?” her mother asked.

“No, you know I don’t smoke.”

Jolene shrugged. “CB, are you still a virgin?” She was rummaging through several drawers in the kitchen.

Carrie knew her mom wasn’t really listening to her, but was on one of her quests for a controlled substance, having tired of the wine. She’d take a pill or a joint—whatever she could get her hands on first.

“Well, I fucked a green lizard alien yesterday. That was nice,” Carrie volunteered.

“Uh huh.” Jolene had crawled on all fours to search through the trash under the kitchen sink.

“But I wouldn’t call that sex, would you?” Carrie asked her mother now buried behind the counter.

Jolene sat up on her haunches. She’d found success in the trash, and was carefully peeling coffee grounds off the tiny roach. She only got one puff before the lit remnant burned her lips.

“Shit!” Jolene stood up and flushed cold water on her mouth. She stopped, as if to consider the medicinal effects of the substance she had just taken into her lungs. She smiled. “Well, if you didn’t go all the way, getting close is only that. You have to have full penile penetration to consider it a good fuck. Actually, I’d say you have to orgasm too, but then that’s just my little thing.”

Carrie would rather talk about cleaning rat cages in her psychology class at SSU, even politics would be a welcomed subject matter, something she never could bring up to her father, who was still mad Nixon didn’t go to jail.

“Even though he was a green lizard?” Carrie looked at her mom nonplussed. Sometimes she just wanted to see if anyone was home. Remnants of the warm wonderful woman she called mom growing up before she knew about the sex business.

Where did you go, Mom? Are you ever going to come back to me?

But that woman wouldn’t show up today.

“Carrie Anne Bingham! You’ve been playing with my toys!”

Carrie drove home, still affected by the interchange with her mother. She had three hundred dollars crumpled in her right hand, the same hand she used to wipe the tears away from her cheeks.

Her mother’s comments about the sex toys ripped a hole in the casement that was Carrie’s chest wall and she screamed at the top of her lungs, “You cold bitch! It isn’t all about you all the time!”

To her credit, Jolene was moved to tears and hugged her daughter, rocking her until both women stopped crying. “Honey, I am so sorry. I’ve been a terrible mother,” she said. Carrie couldn’t remember being held so hard by her mother.

Carrie hated herself for the outburst, but it was the culmination of years of pent up frustration. It wasn’t her fault her parents almost split up before they found out she was going to be born. She had an older brother and sister. Carrie was the caboose, her mother called her. Her “Love Child”. But even the Love Child couldn’t keep the two adults from damaging the bonds they’d tried building again for the sake of the new baby-to-be, and they divorced when she was five.

She never knew what had caused the divorce. Both parents accused the other of infidelity, of all things. Whether one did it as retaliation for the other was a complete mystery, perhaps even to them. Wasn’t like they weren’t used to having sex with strangers. It was their business.

Streetlights came and went, illuminating the crumpled green bills she clutched. Felt like blood money, her anger venting and then getting paid for it with three hundred dollars. Was this so different than taking all her clothes off for money?

She pulled over to the side of the street, burying her head in her hands, and barely breathing through her sobs. She’d gone there to get a loan. And now she felt dirty, like she’d done something awful for money, like dance naked. She started to turn around, but then remembered, if she didn’t have the rest of the rent, her landlord was going to start eviction. Carrie didn’t want the neighbors to see the notice tacked to her front door.

Then she remembered her story.

How can I write about a one-night stand, if I’ve never had one?

She smiled as she thought about the tight black slacks and smooth full lips of her professor, Mr. Bianchi. She brushed her long brown hair away from her face and fantasized what it would feel like to have him bend over, kiss her, become her first lover. Would he do it?

Should I ask him?

She righted the wheels and drove to her apartment, stuffing the money in her bra.

****************

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Copyright © 2010 Sharon Hamilton

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

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About Sharon Hamilton

Writing Hot Navy SEAL Romance (SEAL Brotherhood Series), paranormal romance: angels, dark angels, vamps and others, time travel. Loves gardening, especially vegetables and flowers. Lives in wine country, California, where all her stories take place. "True love heals in the gardens of the heart."
This entry was posted in Erotica Fiction, My Mom Was A Porn Star, Sharon and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to My Mom Was A Porn Star – Chapter 3

  1. Well done! I enjoyed it immensely.

  2. Carly Carson says:

    Good job, Sharon. Hope to be back next week.

  3. sharlene says:

    liked it will be waiting for more 🙂

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