Deana got up and walked towards the sink, stooped down and picked up a white button.
She rolled it between her fingers, ignoring the others that were scattered about. Mental
images of what she imagined happened flashed through her mind. Her body trembled.
When Mary told her daughter she needed to speak to her, Becky’s expression immediately
changed. “You’re not in trouble,” Mary said.
“I know, I didn’t do
“Let’s sit in here,” Mary said, and walked into the living room. She sat on the couch.
Becky crashed down at the other end, facing her. “What’s up, Mom?” She looked nervous
and defensive. “Did I do something? I mean do you think I’m doing something wrong?”
“No, Honey, you didn’t do anything.”
“Then why are we having a talk?”
That was a good question. Mary had decided to tell her daughter about impulse control
issues, but she had no idea how to start the conversation. “Because I want you to be aware of
something. I want you to know I understand you more than you think. You’re a lot like me. I
mean, I was like you when I was your age.”
Becky’s skeptical smirk made Mary wished she hadn’t worn a bra. Her bras were designed
to hide her long, thick nipples and flatten the cones of her exceptionally pointy breasts. Hadn’t
they been a point of contention since she was eleven? All those glares from her mother and
the other church ladies made Mary ashamed of her chest. Gym class confirmed her fears;
something was wrong with her tits. Thank God Elizabeth constantly told her how much she
loved them. She loved to look, touch, kiss, suck and flick the stiff caps across her clit. Mm, the
girl would shove the hard, brown cone into her hot, juicy pussy. Mary stopped being ashamed
of her body once she left home. That was until her possessive husband told her to stop trying
to entice men with her tits. Other mothers started giving her those same church lady glares. It
wasn’t her fault her nipples were so big and responsive, but she hid her features from the
outside world. When Jason got old enough to get aroused, she had to do the same at home.
Oops, except for those times in the bathroom. Evan saw her naked, and the boy hadn’t
stopped looking for her erect nipples since. Her son did the same, and that ashamed her, but
she missed his stares when he stopped looking. Why had he started staring again?
“I’m serious, Becky.” She wanted her daughter to trust her, but how much would she have
to reveal? “I know what it’s like.”
“But you never do anything, Mom. You’re like the model mother. You don’t drink or smoke
or anything. You don’t even date.”
“I’m not…wasn’t—Listen, it’s not what I did, it’s why I did it, and how it happened. You ever
do something and not know why you did it? Maybe you get a feeling or a thought, and without
questioning it, you do something?”
“Is this about how I used to run outside without my clothes? I was a kid, then.”
“Not really,” Mary said, knowing that was exactly what this was about. “Some people have
chemical imbalances in their bodies. People get depressed, too angry and lots of other things
because of these imbalances.”
“Is it because I peed on Paula’s book bag? She said I was flat as a board and easy to screw.”
“She shouldn’t have said that, but did you take any time to consider what you were going to
do or did you just do it?”
“Um, I don’t know, it was awhile ago.”
“Well why you did it is what I want to talk about,” Mary said.
“She called me a slut!”
“I know, Honey. It was wrong saying that.”
“So it was okay what I did?”
“Oh, no, no,” Mary said. “Becky, I used to do things without knowing why, or knowing I was
about to do something I shouldn’t do, but doing it anyway. After, I’d feel guilty, but that didn’t
make me change.” Mary saw the confusion on Becky’s face.
“Huh?”
“It would start with an impulse, a thought or feeling, and I would reject it. Then this tension
would build up inside me. It would get so bad that I’d end up giving in and doing whatever it
was that I was thinking of. That always gave me a wonderful sense of relief and pleasure, then
I was full of regret. Well, not always, but if I got in trouble for it. You ever get like that?”
Becky shrugged. “I don’t think so, but what could you have done that was bad?”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’ve never even heard you swear. You’re a librarian.”
Mary’s cheeks were flushed when she leaned towards her daughter. “I was with another
girl, got caught with another girl, in church.”
Becky’s confused expression was replaced by a slack-jaw look of shock. Mary plowed on.
“My father was preaching about doing the right thing, and I was having an orgasm behind him,
behind the baptismal. We got caught by a deacon.”
“I, ah, I thought your parents died when—”
“No, Becky, no. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. They are both alive, but I’m dead to
them. They disowned me.”
“Because you liked a girl?”
“No, I love her, but I didn’t know how to stop doing things that a pastor’s daughter
shouldn’t do.”
Becky’s mouth closed and her chin wrinkled with motion. “Mom, what did you do? Was it
that bad? Did you kill somebody?”
Mary laughed. She was happy to know she had raised her daughter to think murder was a
worse offense than being gay. Her parents would have forgiven an act of violence, but
refusing to say she didn’t love Elizabeth required banishment and eternal fire. “Becky, what’s
important is that you know that you can never do anything that will make me stop loving you,
and I need you to trust me. I need you to know you can tell me anything.”
“I know that,” Becky said. “I do, I trust you, but what did you do?”
“Like the book bag thing, I did things that other people probably would have stopped
themselves from doing. Just because I felt horny didn’t mean I had to satisfy myself, but I
would. Not always, but too often, and in the wrong place.”
“Is something wrong with me?”
“No, nothing,” Mary said and moved close to Becky. “I don’t think you’d ever do anything to
hurt yourself, but if you find you’re acting on thoughts or impulses without considering the
consequences, let me know, please.”
“Mom, do you know about Darlene?”
“I do. You aren’t exactly quiet when you’re in your room together.”
“I, um, oh—You’re not mad?” Becky asked.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t want you to get into trouble, though.”
“I know. I’m not breaking any laws.”
“That’s not all there is to worry about. If you think you need birth control, will you let me
know? I’m not saying you should be doing that, but if you find yourself—”
“Okay, I understand,” Becky said. “I will. What happened with your, um, what we’re talking
about? How did you stop and become the perfect mother?”
“I’m not perfect,” Mary said. “I did start taking medication right after you were born.”
“Do you think I’m doing, um, think I need medication?”
“Honey, I don’t think anything. I only want you to know about it. I want you to know that if
you’re ever doing anything that could hurt you, or you ever need to talk about anything, I’m
here for you. There’s no reason to be embarrassed. I’ve done it all.”
“I will, I’ll talk to you, but I don’t want to start taking medication.”
“I’m not saying you need to and I’ll never make you do anything you don’t want to do,”
Mary said. “Just know that it’s available.”
“Okay, thanks, Mom.”
“Wake up,” someone said and bounced on him. “Evan, wake up.”
Evan rubbed his crusty eyes and found his face surrounded by a cloak of black hair. “What
the hell?”
“I’m trying to wake you up.” Deana threw her hair over her shoulders.
“I need to ask you something,” she said.
He grimaced. “Jeez, what?”
“Are they too small?” Deana asked and pulled her top up to her chin. “I could get them
made bigger.”
They weren’t big, but his sister had the most incredibly unique tits he had ever touched.
Her nipples were like pink, cotton balls, swelling out of firm mounds of flesh. “Dee, they’re
perfect.”
She smiled and kissed the tip of his nose. “Thank you. See you later.” She rolled to the edge
of the bed and bounced to her feet. He watched her walk to the door. It was a miracle she
didn’t say anything about his eye, so he resisted the urge to ask again why she was wearing a
bikini.
“Don’t let anyone wake me up,” he said as the door closed. “No matter what.”
Once Deana was gone, Evan started thinking again. It was more like obsessing, though. If he
went downstairs, it would be the first time he was home with Deana and Candy, together.
What would it feel like facing the woman he had been making love to while she was in her role
as their mother? He wouldn’t be able to touch her, he knew that, but could he even look at her
without Deana reading his expression? He groaned, rolled over and put a pillow over his head.
Hours later, when Evan finally woke up, he was surprised he hadn’t pissed the bed. That’s
how bad he had to go. Plus, he was starving. He slept through lunch and dinner.
Downstairs, Evan peed, brushed his teeth and planned to raid the refrigerator, but when he
walked into the kitchen, Gloria was sitting at the table. Her full attention was on whatever she
was drawing. He wanted to see what her perverted mind was creating, but before he reached
his sister, her head snapped around. “Evan, good,” she said and stood up on the chair.
“What are you—”
“Are my boobs too big?” Gloria asked.
What am I, Goldilocks, Evan thought, these tits are too small, these tits are too big, these
tits are just right!
“Jayda said they are. What do you think?” she asked and pulled her shirt and bra up.
Evan’s mind tried to process what he had just seen. Gloria had lifted her breasts with her
bra, then dumped them out. They fell, bounced and spread into their natural resting position.
He wanted to have it on video so he could watch it over and over again. He could slow it down
and see her nipples plump in slow motion.
“Well?” Gloria asked, standing there with her elbows pointed at the ceiling and her hands
holding her bra and shirt up to her neck.
Fuck, he thought and looked directly into Gloria’s eyes. They were the wrong color, but
they were still Candy’s eyes. “Gloria, you shouldn’t show me your boobs…ah, in the kitchen,”
he said and watched her expression change as his cool hands collected her tits and pushed
them together.
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