Chapter 6: Daddy's Girl

Leaving my first orgy, I walked out feeling my insides ready to burst, chest swelling like a full body erection, filled a new sense of power and triumph.

When Mom and I first arrived at Megan's party, greeted by nothing but young, beautiful, half-naked women, all presenting their own unique version of the perfect slut, I figured, at some point, even by accident, my dick would likely end up in someone.

Yet, I never expected to hook up with two gorgeous sisters, beyond slutty, centerfold hot, and also the eldest daughters of my British-born, deviant therapist, a statuesque, brown-haired beauty in her own right, blessed with remarkable genes.

Somehow, in one night, I'd thoroughly cum-drenched five different women, white, black, and Latina, all left shuddering in my wake, including my mother, who outclassed all rivals in looks, body, fashion sense, and her willingness to try almost anything, making her the hottest mature single mother to ever wear pantyhose, hands down.

Reaching the car, after drunkenly stumbling through the field, she slurred telling me I needed to drive, then got in and turned oddly quiet, barely saying a word, with no explanation for her random and disturbingly sudden change of mood.

No longer feeling like a conquering hero, her clipped answers led me to question how genuinely proud and content she'd seemed when we left.

Frustrated, curious, stricken by insecurity, the longer I drove, the more time it gave Mom to sober up, as I mildly attempted to break the silence, cautiously testing her mood.

"So I guess the cat's out of the bag."

As I waited for an answer, I lit up a cigarette and watched from the corner of my eye. With a deep breath, she answered softly, head sunken to her chest.

"Guess so." Her head barely moved, nodding just slightly. "To be honest, at first, I was kind of hurt that I had to find out from her. But considering all that's happened lately, it's really not worth getting angry about."

Turning my head, I squinted back, no longer watching the road. I could understand her being worried or nervous, but definitely no more than that.

"Angry," my voice went up, "what for?"

Clearly, it pained her to say the words out loud, sighing heavily again.

"I heard what Megan said earlier. I know you fucked her without telling me. But it's okay. Like I said, I was hurt for a moment. I'm fine now."

I knew she was lying. Once again, I also realized I'd fucked up, wondering how many chances I had left.

"Oh, um, yeah," I stumbled, lifting the cigarette between my shaky fingers, taking an extra long drag. "Probably should have told you about that." I cracked the window, blowing out the smoke. "The day I went to her office something did sort of happen. Not what you think. We didn't have sex. I swear."

Mom sucked her teeth. "Who are you, Bill Clinton? She tasted your cum. That doesn't happen without sex."

"Well, yeah, I know that," I answered, struggling to explain. "But you've met her. You know what she's like. She pretended she was you. She made me jerk off. It was all part of the therapy."

"Oh, I see," Mom said, shaking her head. "So she was just helping you get closure, is that it? Including the part where she was like 'Okay, now I think it'd be really beneficial for you to jerk off and cum in my mouth.' You honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Mom, please," I replied, sighing as well. "It's not like I went there knowing what would happen. And I can't explain her reasons any more than you. But I do know we're much closer now thanks to her. Isn't that what matters?"

Mom rolled her eyes. "What matters is whether or not I can trust you," she said. "You know what happened with me and your father. I won't go through that again."

As soon as she mentioned my father, my tone softened right away.

"You're right," I said, nodding my head. "I know how badly he hurt you. That's the last thing I want to do."

Halfway home, after riding quietly for another minute or so, I went back and gently broached my original concern.

"So what about Joel and Cynthia?"

"I don't know." Mom shrugged. "What about them?"

"Well, they must know what's going on now. What do we do about that?"

"Hmm," Mom sniffed. "Unless they make it an issue, I don't see why we have to do anything."

"Oh," I said, pressing my lips. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, I can't figure out the whole auction thing. I mean, how did she know those girls? She must have some secrets too."

"Exactly," Mom said. "So the best thing to do is wait it out ... see if she brings it up. Otherwise, what we do is none of her business."

It was almost midnight by the time we pulled up to the house. Walking through the door, I turned back and caught Mom reaching in her purse. At first, it appeared she was just putting away her scarf. Then I caught her smiling, turning my stomach, as she slid off to the dining room, cheerfully answering her cell.

Like a paranoid father, spying from the hallway, I fumed thinking who could be calling so late.

"Hey, handsome!" she said, turning my way, pausing to cover the mouthpiece. "It's Doug, sweetie. Go hop in the shower. I'll be up in a minute."

Steaming with jealousy, I bristled at the sight of Mom waving me off, standing there, all smiles, one hip pressed against the dining table, as I watchfully stood guard, admiring her costume: red boots, red gloves, legs gilded in suntan pantyhose, along with the same skintight, glossy, red leotard, dating back 18 years, to the countless hours she'd spent training her body to vault, tumble, and balance on a four-inch beam, molding her soft, formless, teenage figure, shaping it into a work of art.

Presumptuous though it might have been, after hours of fucking, hearing Mom beg for my cock, filling her pussy with cum, in my mind, my rightful inheritance had been firmly cemented. Yet, her wagging fingers shooing me off struck like a punch in the gut; making me summon all of my will to quietly turn and walk away.

Ten minutes passed, as I stood in the shower, rinsing off sweat, pussy juice and dried semen. Feeling slighted, I resigned myself that Mom wasn't planning to join to me, as I stepped out, grabbed a towel, and heard the footfalls of Mom's boots noisily clomping up the stairs.

Leaving the bathroom, head low, towel around my waist, I turned left, slogging toward my room, spinning toward the sound of her voice.

With a pleasant smile, she waved me over, standing outside her bedroom door, as if either she hadn't noticed, or worse, didn't care if I was passed.

After hearing Doug's name, I'd initially pictured myself rushing over to strangle her just like Jasmine. Still, as hurt as I was, I reluctantly stepped forward, drawn toward her outstretched hand, as she stepped back, leading me in, soothed by her delicate touch.

Standing there, face to face, warmed by the sound of her voice, I gradually started forgetting what had gotten me so angry in the first place.

"Sorry I took so long," she said, lips full, begging to be kissed.

Ever the good son, I smiled back, shrugging it off.

"Oh, it's fine. I'm sure he misses you."

"He does," she said, nodding back. "He doesn't like knowing I'm having fun without him. It's cute," she said, with a flicker in her eyes, leaving a mild sting.

Letting it slide, I made the excuse that she wasn't thinking, though part of me felt like a wuss.

"So what did you tell him?" I asked, moving on.

"Not much," she said, "told him we went to a Halloween party. Told him what I wore. Told him the whole thing turned into a massive orgy. You know, nothing major," she said, expecting a smile. "I'm kidding," she quickly followed, noting my face unchanged. "Why don't you lose that towel?" she hinted. "I'll rub some lotion on you. Maybe that'll loosen you up."

Resisting briefly, I nodded back, won over by temptation.

"Um, okay," I mildly answered. "But after that, can we get some pictures of you in your costume?"

Focused on her eyes, the subtle hint of brown there normally boldly darkened, spreading all throughout. Luring me toward the bed, her voice softened to a rich, honeyed, seductive tone.

"What's the rush?" she whispered. "We've got all weekend. For now, I need you to lie down and relax."

Dropping the towel, I sat down and leaned back, sprawling over Mom's king-sized bed.

Head propped, I nestled over her fluffy pillows, tracking her elegant motion as she breezily floated over toward her dresser.

From the neck down, like Eve's apple, her red gloves, red boots, and red spandex leotard rigidly adhered to her graceful movement, vividly shifting from the normal, buttoned down, single mom to the living embodiment of superhero-cum-mother of all sluts, thrillingly brought to life through the resonant maturity of her rich, low-pitched voice; combined with her sweet, spicy cinnamon scent; as I patiently waited to touch her all over, from her broad hips, to her slim thighs, to her long, tapered legs, every inch bright and shiny, with more curves than a red Ferrari, gleaming with the high-gloss shimmer of suntan pantyhose, like a fortune in gold, laid out just for me.

Turning her back, she leaned forward and reached for a bottle of lotion, extending her arm over a colorful assortment of nail polish, eye shadow, and more lipstick. Bending over, I watched from the rear, leotard wedged up her butt, red spandex stretched over golden nylon, sucked up between her cheeks.

Holding the bottle, she walked back, motives unclear, only a cold, blank stare.

Joining me on the bed, she came back, sat down, and slowly began unzipping her boots. Methodically, she slipped off one, then the other, seemingly oblivious to my increasing restlessness, as I started anticipating the feeling her soft, perfumed body pressed up against me.

Determined to test my patience, she slowly peeled off her gloves, then rolled over, thrilling me with her scent, leaving barely an inch between us, as she leaned forward, nuzzled my ear, and warmed me with her hot, steamy whisper.

"So what was your favorite moment from the party tonight?"

Flipping the bottle, she squeezed hard, lotion squirting in her hand. She briefly rubbed her hands together, warming them first, then reached down and gently laid them against my skin.

Trembling beneath her touch, the smell of lavender rose to my nose, as Mom used her smooth fingers to spread the lotion over my bare chest and shoulders.

From neck to navel, she painstakingly coated with me her floral scent, leaving nothing untouched, as if she intended to mark her territory.

"That's easy," I said, shuddering as she tickled my nipples. "Watching you make out with Chelsea and Emma ... the look on your faces ... cum dripping all over you ... so fucking hot."

Finally, she looked up, eyes connecting with mine.

"Really," she smiled. "I was thinking the same thing. I know we wanted a threesome with Megan, but I never expected to meet her daughters ... and I certainly wasn't expecting them to be so hot. Who did you like better, Chelsea or Emma?"

Slowly, her hand trailed down to my stomach, sliding between my legs, carefully avoiding contact with my swollen balls.

"Hmm," I said, breathing in, thinking on the question. "I'd have to say Emma was a little prettier, but not by much. Chelsea though ... something about her ... I don't know ... just sexy as hell."

The question led me to picture Chelsea in her sexy costume, stunning from head to toe, complete with pantyhose, spawning a firm erection.

"But God, Emma's pussy..." I flinched, as Mom's fingernails grazed my left nut.

"Did you like it?" she candidly asked, leaving me uncertain how honest I should be.

Hesitating a moment, I answered cautiously.

"Uh, yeah ... I mean, obviously not like yours, but, um ... it was pretty tight."

"I bet it was," she said, fingers curling around my shaft. "She's only 21. I'm sure mine was just as tight at her age."

Again, grabbing the lotion, she held the bottle over my cock. Squeezing harder than necessary, a huge glob poured down my shaft, covering her hand.

With no hesitation, my quick answer prompted her smile.

"Trust me. It still is," I replied, feeling vulnerable, cock held in Mom's hand.

"Oh, you think so?" she said, with a playful grin. "Does it feel just as tight as this?" Her moist fingers clenched firmly all of a sudden.

"Errrrmm," I groaned from the sharp pressure. "Not quite!"

Mom laughed, clearly enjoying herself. "Can I ask you another question?"

Covered in lotion, her slick, creamy fingers casually slid up and down. Along with her query, with feather light strokes, she baited me, watching me squirm.

"Yesss!" I shuddered, head swinging back. "Please don't stop your hand!"

Under her breath, with her legs close enough to feel her pantyhose rubbing against me, I picked up a subtle half-snort, half-laugh, with all the bemusement of a trained interrogator plotting to extract information from a known felon.

"What happened in the stables? Why were you gone so long?"

Squeezing tighter, my silence led her to stroke even faster, jolting my hips off the bed. Caving quickly, groaning for relief, I yielded to the pressure of her demanding fist. "Because," I said, clenching my eyes. "Megan took Joel and Cynthia out there with Dante and three other guys. Joel went with Megan. Cynthia stayed with Dante. She took on four guys at once."

Her eyes opened full alert. "Wait, what?" Mom said. "Did you just tell me Cynthia was in a gang bang ... and you saw the whole thing?"

"Swear to God," I nodded. "I shot the whole thing on Joel's camcorder."

Loosening her grip, Mom absently continued working my shaft, clearly distracted, lazily stroking up and down.

"And who were these other guys?" she asked, right hand folded around my cock, soft, teasing, floating up and down.

Breathing harder, I could hear the excitement in her voice, pantyhose rubbing, faster than before.

"One of them was Joel's construction part..."

"Byron!" she blurted, cutting me off. "God, I'd fuck him in a minute. Who were the other guys?"

"Friends of his..."

"So they were all black? Fuck, that's even hotter! Did they all have big cocks?"

I answered with a nod.

"It was one of the wildest things I've ever seen. She even did double penetration ... Dante in her ass ... Byron in her pussy ... Cynthia just went nuts."

Mom shook her head. "I have to see this video."

"I'll see what I can do," I said, changing the subject. By then, Mom's unwillingness to quit rubbing her pantyhose against me had nearly driven me insane. "So now can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she said, smiling away, knowing each brush of her smooth, angel soft, heavenly pantyhose would only continue to send chills racing through my nervous system.

"When I was at the stables, how did you hook up with Chelsea?"

Changing position, she sat up, resting on her knees, squirting another fistful of lotion.

"You saw her costume," she said, with a twinkle in her eye. "As soon as you left, the first thing I asked her was 'Where did you get those tights?'"

Nodding back, I smiled as Mom patiently continued manipulating my aching hard-on. I should have figured it was something hose-related.

"Oh, so I guess you had no trouble finding something in common."

"Not at all," Mom said, talking and tugging all at once. Like most single mothers, she'd always been able to multitask. "She's actually a designer. She made that whole costume herself. She just opened her own boutique over in Inman Square. We work like three miles from each other. She even said if I came down she'd give me a discount on pantyhose. How awesome is that?"

"Pretty awesome," I said, losing focus, rapidly nearing the brink. "So what then," I asked, clutching the blanket, grimacing over the pressure her hand stimulated in my balls. "You just ran off to Daphne's room, stripped down and started munching away?"

Kneeling beside me, blushing in her old uniform, the look on her face turned so innocent I briefly forget how old she was, picturing her back in high school, down in the locker room, jerking some random cock, yearning for cum on her leotard.

"Well, yeah," she answered, somewhat embarrassed. "I mean, there may have been a couple glasses of wine involved," she added, smiling again. "But you missed seeing us in Daphne's room, stripped to our pantyhose. We did this thing where we scissored our legs together and grinded our pussies against each other over the hose. God, I came so hard. I'm wet just thinking about it."

Painting a vivid picture, her words had me ready to spunk.

"So how many girls have you been with?" I asked, listening intently.

She paused for a moment, flexing her fingers, lubing her opposite hand.

"Just one, back at the agency," she said. "Remember my friend, Kelly Eubanks, the redhead."

"Hmm, not really," I frowned, shaking my head. "I remember the name Kelly from somewhere, not sure where."

Mom laughed. "Probably when you were sneaking around, reading my journal ... I still owe you for that," she casually threw in. "Anyway, when I worked at the agency, my best friends were Kelly Eubanks and Robin Nixon. For the most part, our co-workers had no idea they were really a couple. To my knowledge, Robin's never been with a guy, but Kelly's actually bi-sexual. Long story short, Kelly and I hooked up one night, when she and Robin had a falling out."

"Did Robin ever find out?"

"Not right away," Mom answered. "But I guess she had her suspicions. Kelly's a total flirt," she said, tilting her head. "It's all in my journal. You must have skipped that part."

Despite my lingering guilt, I suddenly wished I'd read through it more carefully.

"I honestly didn't read that much ... just a few passages here and there."

"Oh," Mom said, increasing her pace, making me quiver. "Did anything in particular stand out?"

Heavily breathing, I dipped my head, shutting my eyes briefly while I thought. Opening my eyes, I looked up and saw Mom leaning forward, hanging on every word.

"I used to think you wore pantyhose around the house to keep me from seeing you naked," I explained. "I never expected to read all those crazy things you did ... you really were quite a tease."

Pursing her lips, Mom quietly reflected for a moment, hazel eyes holding me in thrall.

"I see," she whispered. "Is that what you think? You think I'm just a tease. Interesting..." She stopped there, lips curling to a smirk. "Okay, that's fine. But then again, if I'm just a tease, do you think I'd ever do this?"

With her left hand fastened around my cock, she leaned forward, head bending over my crotch, spitting a huge wad of warm saliva. Letting it roll down the head, she closed her fingers, squeezing tighter, quickly starting to pump. The combination of spit, lotion, and dribbling pre-cum created a sound like mouthwash swishing back and forth, as Mom speedily fucked her own fist, milking my slippery pole.

"Now, I know you've had a busy night." Her voice simmered with rising expectations. "It honestly doesn't matter to me how many times you've already cum. I'm still your mother. I still get to drain you whenever I want. So don't even think about holding back. I want every drop."

Grueling would best describe the intense pleasure gripping me at that moment. Her persistence was so undeniable that even after already climaxing twice that night, I knew that I'd still have to cum or die trying, not a bad way to go out.

Roused by the sound of words spoken in her sultriest tone, I listened as Mom taunted me while jerking me off, tightly squeezing beneath the head, blurring my eyes, stroking with relentless determination.

"Come on, you can do it?" Mom whispered. "Remember the story I read to you when you were young ... the one about the little engine..."

I think I can ... I think I can ... I think I can...

"That's it, concentrate," Mom continued. "I'll even countdown from ten. When I reach one, I want you to cum for me as hard as you can."

Leaning back, I turned my head, biting down hard on the pillow. With my eyes tightly shut, I sensed her movement, weight shifting by my feet.

Blind to her location, I still couldn't mistake the texture of nylon, as I pictured Mom repositioned, straddling my leg.

"Ten..." Mom began, feeling her pussy grind steadily against my lower leg.

"Nine..." I felt her pantyhose pressed softly against my naked skin.

"Eight..." She switched hands, pouring more lotion down my cock.

"Seven..." Her right hand quickly took over, stroking double time, left hand given a rest.

"Six..." My mind went elsewhere ... Mom and Chelsea ... rubbing their clits together on Daphne's bed.

"Five..." If only I'd shown up sooner ... Chelsea in silver Lurex tights ... Mom in suntan hose...

"Four..." The image was just too much. Mom on the bed, one leg suspended mid-air, Chelsea on her back, legs open, wet pussies grinding together over sticky nylon.

"Three..." All I needed was a couple more seconds. I think I can ... I think I can ... I think I can...

"Two..." Hmm, was I crazy? Were Mom's pantyhose really that wet? Was her pussy juice really dripping down my leg?

"One..." Wait! What? No! Don't let go! Fuck! NO! Oh, oh shit! No, you fucking BITCH!

Mouth gaping, vision blurring, caught between heaven and hell, my dream turned to a nightmare, cursing in agony, groaning through bitter pain, able to make out the fuzzy image of Mom, clinically watching me suffer, as I lay there under her pantyhosed legs, penis flopping, spurting against my stomach, like an errant water hose, spraying without warning, showering sperm on my chest.

That satisfied look on her face pissed me off more than anything, cheerfully grinning, as I lay there covered in my own spunk.

"That'll teach you not to sneak around behind my back."

Though it may have been all in my head, for a moment, I swore she'd actually snickered under her breath.

Ten minutes later, after taking another quick shower, I came down to find Mom sitting in the living room, idly flipping channels.

"Are you staying up for a bit?" I asked, joining her on the couch.

"Yeah, I'm a little too wired for bed right now."

I understood fully. Lucky for her, I had the ideal remedy.

"Wanna smoke a bowl?"

Her eyes lit up. "Sure!"

I hopped up, eager to help her relax. "Say no more," I said, running upstairs, returning quickly, after fully packing my bong.

Within minutes we were high as fuck, laughing at South Park reruns, eating Captain Crunch.

"That was fucked up, what you did to me," I wanted her to know.

"I know. I'm sorry. But you have to admit, you did deserve it."

"Hmm, yeah," I nodded reluctantly. "Maybe a little," I added, changing the subject. "So what's happening with you and Mr. Wonderful? Your phone call went on for a while."

"Oh, well, um," she started slowly. "I was actually planning to tell you tomorrow, but, uh, since you brought it up ... he'll actually be in town next weekend. He's planning to take us all out to dinner next Friday. Then Saturday he's taking me to the Berkshires to see the fall foliage. We're staying overnight at a bed and breakfast."

"Oh," I said, biting my tongue. "So dinner will be me, you and him?"

"And Mia," Mom said. "He said we can pick any place we want. I was thinking somewhere in the North End."

While Mom was busy thinking of restaurants, I was busy pondering the rate at which all this was happening so quickly.

"So him and his daughter?"

Finally, she stopped rambling, turning her head.

"Yeah," Mom replied. "We both agreed that if we really intend to move forward with this relationship, then both of our children need to be part of it." Even high, I could tell she was completely serious. Her voice lowered to a sobering tone. "Now, Chris listen, this is very important. About six years ago, two years after his divorce, Doug's ex died in a car crash. She was killed by a drunk driver. Doug basically raised Mia by himself. So when it comes to his daughter, as you can imagine, he's very overprotective, worse than me. You get what I'm saying?"

"Keep my dick in pants."

"Exactly," she said, nodding her head. "I mean it, Chris. I swear, if you even lay a finger on her, God knows what'll happen, but it won't be good."

If nothing else, I had to respect Mom's honesty. Yet, inside, it felt like I finally understood her priorities. Above all, she was more concerned about Doug's feelings, along with protecting her own security, which solidly placed me last on the list, sealing my decision to break up her relationship with Doug, by any means necessary, leaving no doubt that Mia Vincent was going to be my next conquest.

Saturday morning, Mom and I planned to sleep in and go out for breakfast. Then Cynthia called and woke us up around 7:30.

Half awake, I listened as Mom slowly got up, mumbling into her phone.

"Mm hmm ... sure, sounds good ... yeah, I'll bring him. Uh huh, we'll be right down."

"What was that about?" I asked, one eye open.

"Cynthia wants us to come down for breakfast. She sounded stressed. Guess she wants to talk."

"Really," I said, with a light flutter in my stomach. "Why so early?"

"I'm sure it's about last night." She stood up and walked to her closet, fully naked. "Anyway, get dressed. It shouldn't take long."

Hauling out of bed, I rubbed my eyes, sighing, as Mom rifled through her shirts.

"Shouldn't I shower first?"

Frowning, Mom peered at me behind her closet door. "You took two last night. I think you're clean enough."

With most of her make-up worn off overnight, brown hair long and frizzy, she came out wearing a light denim shirt, no bra, no panties, shirt buttoned half way. After hustling downstairs, she waited for me by the door, where I came down barefoot, in khaki shorts, and a black Walking Dead T-shirt.

On the first floor, we let ourselves in, Mom leading me down the hallway, headed toward the kitchen, where we found Cynthia busily preparing breakfast.

Over hip-hop coming from the living room, Cynthia combined looking sexy and domestic, dancing to "The Motto," hips popping side to side, with fresh fruit and orange juice waiting on the table, her son, Miles bouncing and giggling in his high seat, smiling on our arrival.

Half asleep, I walked in, shuffling like a zombie, noting how Cynthia's tits jiggled as she spun forward, greeting us with energy likely from too much caffeine.

"Good morning," she smiled, speaking a mile a minute. "I have to tell you, I'm not the best cook. But Joel went to Natick to buy supplies. My nanny has the weekend off. So it's just us ... and I really needed to see you guys."

"It's fine," Mom said, giving her a hug. "Last night was crazy for everyone. I think we're all still in shock. What are you making?"

"Oh, um, I thought I'd try making some blueberry muffins," Cynthia said. "I just put them in. Meanwhile, help yourself to some fresh strawberries or a glass of orange juice. There's coffee too. Make yourself at home."

Moving toward the table, Mom sat first. Then I walked over and sat to her left, facing the cabinets. Glancing up, I watched as Cynthia turned around, reached up and struggled to pull down a coffee mug high above the sink. Raised on her toes, her little arms stretched overhead, with white letters spelling out "Juicy," on the back of her hot pink boy shorts.

In full agreement with the apt description stretched out across her butt, my eyes fell from the plentiful thickness of her bulging asscheeks, to the fatty region where ass meets thigh, and the sudden hike of her shorts, where in spite of her soft, fleshy, visible lack of muscle, my dick was still throbbing as I looked over and saw Cynthia's buns pop out, jiggling as she came down and set her heels firmly on the floor.

Mug in hand, she turned back, stopping to take the coffee off the brewer. Filling her mug, she walked back, setting the mug down on the table.

"Did you want some coffee?" she asked Mom.

"Oh, no thank you. I was about to ask if you have tea."

"Sure, we've got Lipton. I'll just have to boil some water."

"I'll get it," I said, jumping up, stepping around the baby.

"Oh, okay," Cynthia said, scooping Miles out of his seat. "I actually need to feed him, so I really appreciate your help," she said, sitting down, leaning toward Mom. "You don't mind if I do that while he's in here, do you?"

"No, not at all." Mom shook her head. "It's perfectly natural."

As she untied the knot, Cynthia reached up behind her head, causing the apron to slip down over her mountainous breasts. Standing by the microwave, I looked on as Cynthia sat there in front of Mom, chatting away, huge tits plainly visible, even from behind, heavily sagging from her chest. With the front of her tank top pulled down over her right nipple, Miles clamped his little mouth, sucking and cooing, happily nursing from his mother's breast.