Shocking Confession Of A Mother!! “I Sleep With My Son 5 Times A Day For Money”
Last year, everything started going downhill. My husband divorced me, I couldn’t afford the rent on my apartment anymore, and I couldn’t manage the deposit for even a cheap apartment. Then the convenience store I worked at shut down. My son Jimmy and I started to live in my car.
My old boss Mr B., who had always seemed the nicest guy in the world, gave me a few bucks to tide me over, but it ran out. I went for another loan and he offered me a “job” with would come with money and a trailer to live in. He said all I had to do was have s_ex with my son for his amusement every weekend. I threatened to tell the cops, he pointed out it would look like I was trying to get revenge.
I slapped him and stomped away. Three weeks later, after not eating for two days and with winter coming and still living in my car, I talked about it with Jimmy. We both agreed that we didn’t have a lot of options. So I went back to Mr B. and asked if we could take up his offer. It’s been a year now. We live in a nice trailer that’s actually bigger than our old apartment. Jimmy’s back in school.
On Friday night we drive over to Mr B.’s house and stay until Sunday night. It’s always different. Sometimes he makes us act out skits, sometimes he tells us to “do our own thing”, sometimes he has one of us jump and force ourself on the other, sometimes he just randomly has us do different positions. Every evening ends with one or both of us “blowing” Mr B. He never participates otherwise. He paid extra for a Christmas performance last year.
At some point I stopped looking for a new job. I think we’ve both accepted that this is our lifestyle now. Jimmy actually looks forward to the weekends, and he’s begun touching me and has on occasion gotten into bed with me on weeknights. I can hardly object to anything, seeing as we’ve done things even my husband never did with me. Mr B. says he’ll give us the deed to the trailer if I get pregnant. Jimmy and I are considering it. I don’t know if I should be disgusted with myself or glad that I didn’t starve to death.