Benefits Day
"Queue at the post office, cashing their giros. They've been eyeing him up for months. Invite him back for a cuppa. The cuppa turns into something else."
First of the month. Benefits day.
The post office queue is out the door—single mums, pensioners, everyone who hasn't worked out how to do it online. I'm only here to send a parcel, but I'm stuck behind the whole estate.
Including them.
Tracey and Destiny. Mother and daughter. The most dangerous women on the block.
Tracey's maybe forty-five but looks older, worn down by life but not defeated. She's massive—proper BBW, tits like cushions, arse that doesn't fit in the chair at the benefits office. Bleached hair, fag-stained fingers, mouth that never stops talking.
Destiny's nineteen, thick like her mum but tighter, younger. Same blonde hair, same attitude, same tracksuit that's probably from Primark but worn like it's designer.
They live two doors down from me. I've been avoiding them since I moved in.
Hard to avoid them in a queue.
"Alright, love?" Tracey turns around, catches me not-looking. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"Been busy."
"Too busy for your neighbors?" Destiny joins in, chewing gum, looking me up and down. "That's not very friendly."
"Leave him alone, Des." But Tracey's smiling. "Maybe he's shy."
"Doesn't look shy." Destiny moves closer. The queue barely notices—everyone's too busy with their own drama. "Looks like he's been avoiding us."
"I haven't—"
"You have." Tracey's voice drops. "Every time you see us in the corridor, you walk the other way. Every time we knock to borrow sugar, you pretend you're not in."
"I'm just—"
"Scared?" Destiny grins. "Don't be. We don't bite. Much."
The queue moves. We shuffle forward.
Tracey cashes her giro. Destiny cashes hers. They wait while I send my parcel.
"Fancy a cuppa?" Tracey asks as we leave. "Least we can do for our shy neighbor."
"I should really—"
"Come on." Destiny hooks her arm through mine. "We've got biscuits and everything."
Their flat is the same layout as mine but messier. Clothes everywhere, dishes in the sink, massive telly dominating the living room. Tracey puts the kettle on while Destiny shoves me onto the sofa.
"So," Tracey calls from the kitchen. "What's your story, then? Why's a fit bloke like you living alone on this estate?"
"Relationship ended. Needed somewhere cheap."
"Ah, she broke your heart, did she?" Destiny settles beside me, too close. "That's a shame. You seem like a catch."
"Des is right." Tracey returns with mugs, hands me one. "Not often we get good-looking ones round here. Most of the blokes are either married, gay, or useless."
"Sometimes all three," Destiny adds.
They laugh. It's practiced, comfortable. They've done this before—the double act, the friendly neighbor routine.
I should leave.
I don't.
"Can I be honest with you?" Tracey sets down her mug. "We didn't invite you for tea."
"We've been watching you," Destiny continues. "Since you moved in. The way you keep to yourself. The way you look at us when you think we're not noticing."
"The way you stare at my mum's arse when she's hanging washing."
"Or my Des's tits when she's sunbathing on the balcony."
They're talking over each other, finishing each other's sentences. It's unsettling. It's also hot.
"We talked about it," Tracey says. "What to do with you. The shy neighbor who's obviously gagging for it but too polite to make a move."
"And we decided—" Destiny leans in, whispers in my ear. "—we'd make the move for you."
Tracey kisses me first.
Her mouth is rough, experienced, tasting like fags and the tea she was drinking. She's twice my age and doesn't care, grabbing my face with both hands and kissing me like she's claiming territory.
Then Destiny pushes her aside and takes over—younger, more aggressive, her tongue pushing into my mouth while her hands work at my jeans.
"Bedroom," Tracey commands. "Not doing this on the sofa. My back can't take it."
Their bedroom is small, dominated by a king-sized bed.
They undress each other first—practiced, comfortable. Mother helping daughter out of her tracksuit. Daughter unclipping mother's bra. It's intimate in a way that probably should disturb me.
It doesn't.
Tracey's body is what I expected—massive, soft, everything sagging but somehow still magnificent. Her tits are enormous, her belly hangs low, her arse is a landscape.
Destiny's younger version of the same—thick thighs, heavy tits, soft belly with a piercing.
"Well?" Tracey puts her hands on her hips. "You gonna join us or what?"
I fuck Destiny first.
She's on all fours, arse in the air, while her mother coaches from beside us.
"That's it, love—give it to her proper—she can take it—"
"Harder, Mum says," Destiny gasps. "She knows what she's talking about."
Tracey's hand is between her own legs, watching her daughter get fucked. It should be wrong. It's the hottest thing I've ever seen.
"My turn." Tracey taps my shoulder. "Des has had enough for now."
I fuck Tracey while Destiny recovers.
She's looser than her daughter but knows how to work it—rolling her hips, clenching at just the right moments, her massive tits swaying as I pound into her.
"That's it, love—oh fuck—been ages since I had one this young—"
Destiny kneels beside us, kisses her mother while I fuck her. They make out like lovers, not relatives, and I should probably examine what that says about them—about me—but I'm too far gone to care.
"Gonna come," I warn.
"Inside Mum," Destiny orders. "She's on the pill. I'm not."
I do as I'm told.
After, we lie in a tangle.
Tracey on one side, Destiny on the other. Me in the middle, completely spent.
"So." Tracey lights a fag. "Same time next month?"
"Benefits day," Destiny clarifies. "We'll be in the queue. You'll be behind us. And then..."
"Back here for more tea?"
They laugh.
"Something like that," Tracey agrees.
I see them around the estate after that.
Tracey at the bins. Destiny at the corner shop. Normal neighbor stuff.
But now there's something else in their looks. A promise. A reminder.
First of the month, every month, I find myself in the post office queue.
Just sending parcels.
Obviously.