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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2009.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Harper Valley USA - 9
by AZ Legman (wordsinprogress@gmail.com)

***

This is the ninth chapter of what will be a continuing 
series depicting the melodramatic sexual adventures of 
a typical suburban family. For those who enjoy 
pantyhose stories, this series will focus heavily 
(although, not entirely) on that particular fetish, as 
well as the pervasive incest themes. (teen-cpls, inc, 
orgy, anal)

***

Author Notes: The following story is a work of fiction 
containing graphic descriptions of sexual acts between 
adults and minors. While all of the sex depicted is 
consensual, the author does not intend to promote 
incest or sexual relations with underage children. The 
story is written purely for entertainment purposes 
only. Those who are offended by such material are 
strongly encouraged not to read this.

This is the ninth chapter of what will be a continuing 
series depicting the melodramatic sexual adventures of 
a typical suburban family. For those who enjoy 
pantyhose stories, this series will focus heavily 
(although, not entirely) on that particular fetish, as 
well as the pervasive incest themes.

Each chapter will be written predominantly from the 
point of view of one member of the family.

I hope you enjoy it. Please send your comments and 
suggestions.

Your friend, AZ Legman...

***

Chapter 9: Home of the Brave 

_** Double Episode **_

Jonathan shrewdly leaned forward, as he locked eyes 
with his tall rugged old man, while firmly gripping his 
round leather basketball down by his dusty sneakers.

His strapping father hunched in front of him, bent at 
the knees, with his long sweeping arms cast from his 
broad shoulders, as he squared off against his wily son 
in a gritty afternoon battle on the Harper's family 
driveway. 

Through his narrow gaze, Greg focused on his nimble 
son, as Jonathan confidently stared back and quietly 
calculated his next move.

The score was ten to six, with Jonathan once again 
losing to his overaggressive father, who attacked every 
offensive maneuver with a relentless drive and 
determination. 

Resilient, tenacious, and stuck like glue, Greg's 
stingy defense was possibly even tighter than the form-
fitting pantyhose that Jonathan's attentive mother 
graciously snuggled into at the start of every day, 
since nothing was more consistent than the beautiful 
Mrs. Harper's endless desire to feel them on her 
incomparable legs like an exhilarating second layer of 
soft luxurious skin.

Despite Greg's preference for football, the former all-
state high school quarterback was a natural athlete who 
had little if no tolerance for losing at any sport, 
regardless of whom he was competing against.

Over the years, Jonathan had taken his fair share of 
bumps and bruises at the hands of his highly 
competitive father, who clearly saw no benefit in going 
easy on him whatsoever.

The pin-point accuracy which enabled him to become such 
an effective passer on the field, also endowed Greg 
with a deadly shooting touch. Going left, going right, 
or fading away, he could bury his shot from anywhere. 
Every shot that went down made Jonathan feel all the 
more helpless, while the inevitably lopsided final 
score consistently left him humbled and embarrassed by 
another sickening loss.

Considering his father's punishing and unforgiving 
style of play, for Jonathan, keeping the score even 
relatively close was a victory in his own mind. 

Initially, when Jonathan had first begun playing 
against his father, he was happy to make even a single 
shot.

Now, after weeks of hard practice, he had finally 
reached the point where he actually saw himself as a 
viable threat, a fact he believed merited some well-
earned respect, respect not unlike that given to him by 
his charitable mother after that momentous evening when 
he bravely declared his incurable lust for pantyhose, 
the seminal moment of his 13 years, which started him 
on a path to manhood that ended with the sweet return 
to his mother's suckling womb.

The driveway battle continued, with Jonathan relying 
mainly on speed as the best equalizer to his father's 
clear advantage in size. 

Through persistence, Jonathan had already managed to 
score five times, turning a flurry of quick cuts and 
fancy dribbles into a series of successful driving lay-
ups, all despite Greg's repeated admonitions to spend 
more time working on his outside shot. 

With ball in hand, down by the score of five to six, 
Jonathan found himself running out of options, as his 
tireless father pinned him all the way back to the 
sidewalk. 

With no hesitation, he measured his target, pulled up 
from twenty feet and hastily flipped up a high-arching 
shot that softly went up, gently descended and cleanly 
fell through the net. 

Greg slowly turned and lifted his brow, as Jonathan 
puffed out his narrow chest, raised his skinny arms, 
and smirked with a cocky twinkle in his eyes, as two 
months of after-school shooting drills had finally paid 
off in the clutch.

From that point forward, the friendly game took on a 
completely different tone, as Greg buckled down on 
defense, and then drained his next four shots, which 
poised him on the brink of yet another victory.

Jonathan had already resigned himself to another 
frustrating loss, when his keen-eyed father squared up 
to launch his fifth outside shot, as if purposely 
trying to prove who was truly superior from long range.

With the game on the line, Greg inexplicably tossed up 
an off-balanced lob, hurling it like a stone, which 
fell hard, and then clanked against the back of the 
rim, before sailing through the air and conveniently 
landing in the bushes out of bounds.

Jonathan rested and laughed mildly, as Greg actively 
pursued his own miss, cursing under his breath while 
fetching the long rebound out of the thorny shrubs.

After quickly recovering the loose ball, Greg promptly 
resumed play with a firm bounce pass that caromed into 
Jonathan's waiting hands.

"Your shot," Greg said daringly, pausing to check his 
watch. 

Jonathan read this as a sign of disrespect, but instead 
of shrinking away, he baited his father with a lunging 
fake that instantly shook Greg off his feet, a costly 
moment of rare instability which Jonathan quickly 
seized, with a sharp jab to the left and a blurring 
cross to the right, easily breaking his father's 
pressure with a sudden dash for the goal. 

Jonathan leapt for the open shot, while out of one eye, 
he noted his father doggedly riding his hip. He surged 
upward, fueled by resentment, when he slammed against 
the wall of his father's granite chest. He absorbed the 
contact and skillfully held his balance, as he deftly 
adjusted his weightless body and flipped up a soaring 
underhanded lay-up that crested over the tip of Greg's 
outstretched fingers, and then banked off the wooden 
backboard, as Jonathan tumbled to a hard landing, 
smiling through the pain, as the ball ripped through 
the nylon strings with a resounding swish.

As the air-filled ball fell to the ground in a sporadic 
medley of a noisy bounces, Greg turned to his son and 
regarded him with a steady nod of approval.

"Nice move," his father said, as he reached down and 
hoisted Jonathan back to his feet. "Have you thought 
about going out for JV this year?" he asked. "I think 
you're ready."

Jonathan shrugged. "I don't know," he said reluctantly. 
"Coach Davis thinks I might be too short," he added. 
"But he said I should try out anyway."

"Too short, huh?" Greg said, with a sniff. "Well, you 
tell Mike to remember who threw him that final pass 
when we beat Middleton in the state finals," he said 
brashly, "a perfect spiral ...into double coverage... 
with the wind in my face," he added for emphasis. 
"Remind him about that. Then tell him he owes me one." 

Jonathan smiled. "Thanks, Dad," he said, as he scurried 
to keep the wayward ball from wandering into the 
street. "But I'd rather make the team on my own," he 
added maturely. 

Greg blinked for a moment, before slowly nodding in 
agreement. 

"You know what," he answered, with the same steady nod. 
"As focused as you've been out here lately," he told 
him. "You go after it like that, nothing can stop you," 
he stated, before leaning in and firmly stabbing the 
air with his finger, "and when Coach Davis sees how 
badly you want it," he reasoned, "the decision will be 
easy," he said. "And you'll see what I mean after he 
gives you what's already yours."

Jonathan heeded his father's words with a thoughtful 
nod, blinking in the afternoon sunlight, before he 
leaned over to pick up the errant ball with two hands.

He lazily reared up and quietly tucked the ball under 
his left arm, as he gazed down toward the end of the 
block at the thunderous roar of a reckless driver 
speeding down Somerset. It was a purple convertible, 
with his mother at the wheel driving like a maniac. 

As he peered through the oncoming windshield, her angry 
scowl made his stomach flutter with dread. She turned 
hard, and Jonathan bristled, as she toppled into the 
empty driveway, jamming on the breaks with a loud 
screech.

With a clear angle facing the driver's side door, 
Jonathan waited with tingling anticipation, as his 
mother forcefully kicked up her left leg, and then 
pushed the door open by the pointed tip of her open-
toed shoe. His gazing eyes wandered over the soft wave 
of her sleek elevated limb, with the unmistakable sheen 
of lustrous pantyhose sprawling like a perpetual tan 
from her skinny ankle to her rippled calf, over her 
bended knee, and down the raised slope of her taut 
fleshy thigh. 

The rare sight of his beloved mother spreading her legs 
in broad daylight left Jonathan completely spellbound. 
Yet, before he could take more than a peek at the sheer 
nylon crotch under her short skirt, his irate mother 
exploded out of her seat, slammed the door, and then 
instantly turned her fearsome eyes directly toward him, 
as Jonathan stood there helpless to do anything except 
watch and wonder, when his mother angrily snapped at 
him for no reason.

With sunglasses in hand, she stood by the side of her 
car, head down, cramming the dark shades into her tiny 
little purse. Her head shot up and her eyes slowly slit 
toward Jonathan who stood ten feet away.

She threw out her left hand, pointing her index finger 
like a dagger, as she commandingly motioned toward her 
trunk.

"Well, don't just stand there," she said. "Go help me 
unload!"

Jonathan turned, glancing at his father, who answered 
with a subtle smirk, before turning and stepping back 
into the open garage, presumably to finish working on 
his car. The weary look on Greg's face told Jonathan 
that their father and son battle would most likely go 
unfinished, since neither of them truly called the 
shots.

Fearfully, Jonathan set down the ball, and then slowly 
rose up, as he meekly attempted to gaze at his wrathful 
mother, who boldly stood there in the bright afternoon 
light, with yellow rays beaming through her fiery 
blonde hair, and blue flames circling the dark pupils 
of her harsh glaring eyes. 

Her folded arms made the stringent white cotton of her 
tight-fitting T-shirt look more like a straightjacket, 
as Jonathan briefly considered the brute force it must 
have taken to ruthlessly smother her own enormous tits.

The abrupt length of her cut-off denim skirt aptly 
suited her short temper, while her sun-scorched 
pantyhose radiated ill-intent from her firm towering 
legs.

She scornfully frowned over him in her sassy white 
mules, as she impatiently tapped the base of one shoe 
like a gavel against the hard pavement.

Even her smell was inescapable through the warm arid 
breeze, as Jonathan's anxious breaths forced him to 
inhale the spicy fragrance of her cinnamon perfume.

Her vicious scowl sent Jonathan scrambling, as his 
impatient mother pointed her remote, and then audibly 
unlocked her trunk with a sharp click.

Jonathan then raised the hatch to find what he guessed 
was maybe a half dozen shopping bags, all fully loaded 
with a mish-mash of random groceries, as he quietly 
exhaled, and then sluggishly reached inside using both 
hands to lift out four of what turned out to be seven 
total plastic bags. 

The one previously hidden he keenly noted contained 
several new packages of assorted pantyhose, as he then 
stepped around and lowered his head to quietly cross 
paths with his hawk-eyed mother, who tracked him in her 
steady crosshairs, while he awkwardly tottered his way 
through the open garage and in through the side door, 
which led directly to the kitchen.

With his mother following steadily, clearing her throat 
as if to warn him that he was still moving too slowly, 
Jonathan shook his head, and muttered under his breath, 
as he pondered how Tiffany never got yelled out for 
this sort of thing. 

He lazily plunked the weighty bags on the center island 
with a dull thud, a sound which made his tiresome 
mother spin on her heels, and then snap at him yet 
again.

"Could you be more careful?" she said. "You might break 
something."

Jonathan sighed as he dropped his head and shuffled 
back out to retrieve the remaining bags that were too 
heavy to bring in all at once.

"Hey," Shelly said, tossing her keys, which Jonathan 
quickly snatched into his right hand. "Make sure you 
lock it," she said, with a firm nod. 

Jonathan smirked and shook his head as he turned and 
stepped out again, ignoring his mother for stating the 
obvious as he reentered the garage to see his father 
leaning over the open hood of his car.

Jonathan looked toward his father and quietly smirked, 
as Greg nodded back in sympathy, before eyeing his son 
and curiously wondering aloud, "What's eating her?"

Jonathan answered with a light shrug. "I don't know," 
he said. "But look out," he added. "She's in serious 
'bitch mode' today."

Greg quickly looked down at his watch, and then briefly 
laughed under his breath. "Today's the 20th," he said 
nodding knowingly, "close to her time of the month," he 
explained. "Your mother gets a little crazy just before 
her period," he added. "It'll pass."

Jonathan regarded his father words with a mild shrug 
and a weary sigh, as he headed back down the driveway 
and let his mind wander to a seemingly distant future 
where his parents stopped treating him like a kid. 

It was bad enough having that blonde bimbo, Ashley 
Summers, look down on him. Although, at least with her, 
he could always go up to his room where he still had 
video evidence of the head cheerleader, along with her 
stuck-up friend, Danielle Moriarty, making complete 
whores of themselves, which Jonathan had to say was 
truly an incredible piece of hidden camera work that 
clearly displayed both girls getting the royal shit 
fucked out of them by some beer-bellied red neck with a 
mullet, who capped it off by dumping a huge load of cum 
all over their snotty faces. 

As he passed the dusty old box where his father kept 
his stash of hidden porn, he smiled to himself knowing 
none of them, not even "Teenage Anal Gangbang," could 
compete with actual, caught-in-the-act, footage of the 
two most popular girls in school getting pounded like 
Tera Patrick and Jenna Jameson combined. 

Of course, none of his friends at school were going to 
believe such an impossible story, which was why he had 
already planned to bring his digital camera with him on 
Monday morning, just in case anyone tried to call him a 
liar.

His parent's had bought him the camera for Christmas 
the year before, a thought which made Jonathan wonder 
what his parents might be getting him this year. Not to 
mention, he still hadn't bought any gifts for his 
mother, his father, or his sister either, which he 
could easily afford with the hundred dollars he had 
just made from Tiffany's car wash. 

With Thanksgiving break coming in just a few days, he 
wondered if maybe he could get Adam to take him down to 
the mall on Black Friday, during all the big sales, 
figuring his sister's new boyfriend would want to get 
her something too.

Wondering about Adam instantly stirred up images of 
Shannon, particularly in those navy blue pantyhose that 
looked so amazing on her sweet, round, plum-shaped ass, 
which she somehow managed to carry behind her without 
teetering from sheer lack of balance. 

To say Shannon had junk in the trunk was definitely an 
understatement. 

Unlike Tiffany, with her tight, adorable, perky little 
tush, which sat up nice and high between her trim waist 
and her firm athletic thighs, with just enough 
curvature to fit perfectly in the palm of Jonathan's 
hand, the saucy and vivacious Shannon Resnick, had the 
fullest, roundest, juiciest apple bottom he had ever 
laid eyes on. 

Not even Kayla, with all of her luscious curves, could 
compete with the eye-popping grandeur of Shannon's 
lavishly big and achingly beautiful butt, an awesome 
sight to behold, which filled out the back of 
everything she wore like a luminous celestial sphere, 
heavy from the weight of its own incredible mass, as it 
hovered there begging to be spanked, jiggled, and 
endlessly squeezed.

As he reached into the trunk to pull out the last two 
bags, he quickly rifled through the one with all the 
new pantyhose before bringing them inside. For the 
first time in his young life, Jonathan had begun to 
find himself wondering how the black, nude, suntan, and 
something called taupe, might actually look on someone 
other than his sexy cheerleading sister, not to mention 
his very own mother, whom he now considered his own 
personal MILF, one he actually got to fuck, who also 
unfortunately happened to be in an extremely foul mood 
as she waited for him in the kitchen, probably still 
fuming over God knows what.

He passed his father, who looked far too busy playing 
auto mechanic to acknowledge him again. So, Jonathan 
shuffled back into the kitchen, where he quietly 
reentered to find his mother looking fairly preoccupied 
herself as she hastily buzzed around unpacking 
groceries and loudly stowing everything away. 

Looking to steer clear of what he dearly hoped was only 
a temporary pain in the ass, Jonathan quietly set down 
the last two bags, and then paused for one last look at 
his mother's pretty legs before stealthily sneaking off 
to his room.

His mother continued to absently hustle about, 
recklessly swinging cabinets open, or slamming them 
shut, which in some interesting cases required her to 
reach up toward the higher shelves, while gingerly 
trying to maintain her balance on the fragile balls of 
her pantyhose-covered feet, a highly enticing position 
in which Jonathan paid special attention to the 
alluring manner in which her soft round heels 
delicately floated off the back of her white sandals.

With her toenails painted a hot cherry red, the rousing 
threat of a shoe sliding off looked dangerously 
imminent, as Jonathan imagined wearing backless heels 
with slippery pantyhose made it harder to keep them on 
her feet.

As his mother slowly turned to find him standing there, 
Jonathan relaxed as he noted that her soft endearing 
features had thankfully returned to her warm pleasing 
face. She crooked her head to the side, and then called 
out to him with motherly compassion.

"Johnny," she asked. "What's wrong with you today? Your 
mind seems to be in a completely different world. Are 
you okay?"

Jonathan shrugged and kept his head down. "I'm fine," 
he said. "Just thinking, that's all."

Shelly nodded. "Are you mad at me for yelling at you 
outside?"

Jonathan waved it off. "Don't worry about it," he said. 
"Dad told me you get that way sometimes. It's okay."

Shelly glanced toward the garage with an odd frown on 
her face, before looking back to apologize again.

"Well, I'm sorry, honey," she said. "I ran into Peter 
at the market and the conversation got pretty heated," 
she explained. "I didn't mean to take it out on you," 
she added. "I'm just a little upset right now."

Jonathan returned her words with a thin smile, as he 
idly continued studying the pantyhose, which were lying 
in front of him on the kitchen counter, scanning over 
the various percentages of nylon, cotton and Lycra 
spandex contained in each pair.

"I need to start getting dinner ready," she said. "But 
why don't you come over here for a minute," she added, 
waving her hand.

Jonathan blinked as he slowly looked up to see her 
leaning against the cabinet, with her head tilted and 
her pretty hair falling over half of her face. He 
quietly slouched around the island, with his head down 
and his shoulders shrunk, while his mother took one 
step forward.

As his mother slowly descended to her knees, Jonathan 
was taken completely taken off guard, as he dropped his 
head and curiously raised his eyebrows.

"What are you doing?" he asked, as his mother began 
tugging at his shorts.

"What do you mean?" his mother said, with an odd frown. 
"I'm doing the same thing I always do to cheer you up," 
she added. "What else would I be doing?"

Jonathan shyly demurred. "Not right now," he said, 
twisting his hips away. "I'm all sweaty."

Shelly laughed softly. "Never stopped me before," she 
said, smiling up at him. "You're acting like we've 
never done this before," she added, as if mildly 
offended. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think we've 
pretty much established that the way I feel about 
sucking your cock is exactly the way you feel about 
seeing me in these pantyhose."

Jonathan replied to his mother's logic with the same 
sullen look on his face, shrugging his shoulders once 
more, as his mother persistently reached for his 
waistband yet again.

Jonathan stepped back even further. "I just wanted to 
talk," he told her, with a hint of annoyance.

Shelly slapped her hands to her thighs, and then sighed 
wearily as she looked up at him, pursing her lips 
together, as she knelt there on the kitchen floor, 
shaking her head.

"Fine," she said. "We'll talk," she added, rising up 
again. "What's on your mind?"

Jonathan felt a bit stupid saying it out loud, but 
still he said it anyway.

"I'm trying to decide if I should get Shannon something 
for Christmas."

Shelly scrunched her face. "Shannon?" she asked 
bluntly. "Why on Earth would you want to get her 
something?" his mother wondered. "Besides," she added. 
"Isn't their family Jewish?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know," he answered, 
before thoughtfully reasoning in response. "That 
doesn't mean I shouldn't get her something."

Shelly smiled. "You're right about that," she said, 
with a steady nod. "A girl can never get too many 
presents," she said, softly laughing again. "But help 
me out here, Johnny. I already know Tiffany is in love 
with Adam. I mean, she's already told the whole world 
for God's sake," she added, rolling her eyes. "But 
what's going on between you and Shannon?" she asked, 
with a probing squint, as she subtly shook her head. 
"Do you have feelings for this girl?"

Jonathan blushed. While he definitely did have feelings 
for Shannon, he wasn't entirely sure what they were, 
let alone how to explain them. He was already enjoying 
the pleasures of two perfect women, one happening to be 
his middle-aged, cum-craving mother, with the other 
being his equally cum-addicted, teenage sister, who 
evenly supported his obsession with pantyhose, and 
provided him with a profound level of love and devotion 
that most people could never even imagine, let alone 
understand. 

The one risk Jonathan knew he should never take was 
anything that could possibly ruin his good fortune, 
especially by doing something as foolish and avoidable 
as getting involved with the wrong girl. Tiffany may 
have trusted Adam to keep their family life a secret, 
but in Shannon's case, her mouth was probably the only 
thing bigger than her butt.

Since Jonathan didn't really know how to answer his 
mother's question, the best that he could do was lean 
back against the center island, turn his head, and then 
stare down at the floor, as he kicked the tip of his 
sneaker against the linoleum.

Finally, Jonathan shrugged off the question, by 
casually responding, "She's kind of cute," as he 
intentionally tried to avoid looking in his mother's 
deeply discerning eyes.

Shelly quietly laughed to herself, smiling perhaps out 
of sympathy, when she thoughtfully replied. "Maybe I 
shouldn't embarrass you any further," she said. 
"Besides, this might be a good time to get a little 
advice from your father," she suggested, as she went 
back to organizing the shelves. "Dinner should be ready 
around 4:30," she added, over her shoulder.

Jonathan nodded, and then wandered back into the 
garage, where his father was cleaning his dipstick with 
a dirty towel.

"Did you find out what's wrong with your mother?" he 
asked right away. 

Jonathan nodded. "She saw Peter at the market," he 
explained. "I guess they had some sort of fight."

"Whoa," Greg said, tossing the towel. "Is that all she 
told you?"

"Pretty much," Jonathan answered. "She told me I should 
come out here to get your advice on something."

"What about," his father said, with a distracted look 
on his face as he gazed over toward the kitchen.

Jonathan rifled through the various wrenches in his 
father's tool chest. "About women," he answered 
casually, which instantly made his father laugh.

"Your mother sent you out here to get advice about 
women?" he said, snorting under his breath. "I suppose 
when we're done talking, I should send you back to her 
for advice on how to do an oil change."

Jonathan shrugged. "I tried asking her first," he said. 
"She told me to ask you."

Greg leaned back against the front door of his car. He 
folded his arms, and then glanced over at Jonathan, 
with his head turned to the right. 

"Okay, I'll bite," he said. "Ask me what?"

Jonathan pivoted face forward, and then leaned back 
against the tall metal chest of drawers.

"Do you think Shannon would like it if I bought her a 
Christmas gift?"

Greg smiled, and then nodded his head knowingly. "So 
you like Shannon," he figured instantly. "That's what 
this is all about," he added, smirking to himself. "No 
wonder you're mother sent you to me," he reasoned, 
before adding wisely. "She won't discuss it because 
she's afraid hearing about it will make her too 
jealous."

"Why?" Jonathan asked, with a frown. "I love Mom more 
than anything. She knows that."

Greg shook his head. "Don't try to understand it," he 
answered glibly. "You'll just make yourself crazy."

Jonathan nodded. "So what do I do?"

"Depends," Greg told him. "Exactly what is that you're 
hoping to accomplish?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Nothing," he said. "It's not like 
she's my girl or anything like that. I mean, we've 
barely hung out. I just have some extra money, so I 
thought it would be nice to get her something."

Greg stood back, stepped closer, and then patted his 
son on the shoulder.

"You want to know what I think," he said. "If you 
really like this girl and you're trying to win her 
over, then don't waste your money buying some expensive 
gift," he advised. "Girls are smart," he added, "It's 
like they come with a built-in lie detector. They can 
sense when you're being fake. If you want her to know 
how you really feel, then all you need to do is walk 
right up to her and tell her. How do you think I met 
your mother?"

Jonathan listened, and then smiled, as he slowly 
nodded, and then thoughtfully replied, "Rule number 
one."

"You got it," Greg said, as he nodded, smiled back, and 
tousled his son's hair. 

Jonathan lightly shoved his hand away, which quickly 
led to a brief sparring session of playful hooks and 
jabs, before Jonathan finally asked another question.

"So, what about the other rules?" he asked. "Aren't you 
worried if we start letting Adam and Shannon hang 
around more often that it could cause problems later 
on?"

Greg quickly scrunched his face as he briefly shook his 
head. "Not at all," he said. "I figured those two out 
in three seconds," he said. "They'll fit right in, 
especially Shannon... with that little ring in her 
nose...and that butterfly she's got tattooed on her 
chest... you can tell she's a party girl... I can just 
see it in her eyes," he added. "Plus I think her older 
brother's got a little thing for pantyhose himself."

Jonathan nodded. "He steals them from his sister," he 
said. "He told me yesterday."

Greg reeled his head back in surprise. "No shit," he 
said. "He steals pantyhose too, huh? That's how I got 
started."

Jonathan nodded. "I don't know how often, but yeah he 
does," he said. "I guess you could see why he likes 
Tiff so much."

The sound of her name made Tiffany peek her head out 
through the side door.

"Everyone likes me!" she said leaping into the garage 
with her typical enthusiasm.

Greg and Jonathan eyed each other and then suddenly 
went quiet.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, tilting her head mockingly. 
"Is this, like, male bonding or something?" she asked, 
giggling. "Were you two just about to measure each 
other's dicks," she added. "Oooh, can I watch?" she 
said, rubbing her hands together.

Greg quickly cut her off. "Your brother and I are 
trying to have a talk," he said. "This really doesn't 
concern you."

Tiffany sucked her teeth. "Fine," she said, with a 
disgusted smirk. "And I thought Mom was on the rag," 
she added rudely. "Just for that, you guys can't have 
any of my special cookies."

Jonathan frowned. "What cookies?" he asked.

Tiffany answered, while lightly prancing away. "I'm 
baking cookies for Adam," she yelled over her shoulder. 
"Kayla's recipe."

Greg went back to work on his car. Jonathan followed 
Tiffany inside.

"What kind of cookies?" he asked, noticing his mother 
was gone. 

Tiffany had already started pulling out the measuring 
cups and all of her ingredients. 

"Kayla calls them her 'kitchen sink' cookies," she 
said, as she opened the fridge, leaned in, and limberly 
swung back her left leg. 

Naturally, Jonathan noticed that his sister was still 
wearing her white Cowboys jersey, over her blue opaque 
tights and white ankle socks. As her leg came up, 
Jonathan stood behind her, blankly staring at her 
cotton crotch, until she gracefully spun forward 
holding up a stick of butter and a carton of eggs. 

"What's in 'em?" Jonathan quickly asked.

"Oatmeal, raisins, cranberries, chocolate chips and 
macadamia nuts," she answered all in one breath.

Jonathan nodded. "Nice," he said. "Does Adam like 
raisins?"

Tiffany stared blankly. "Hmm," she shrugged. "I have no 
clue," she admitted. "But I'm making him try these 
anyway," she added bluntly. "Don't we have any salt," 
she said, as she loudly rummaged through the pantry.

Jonathan turned, as his mother finally reappeared, 
holding the phone. 

Tiffany must have heard the scraping sound of her 
mother's heels, as she turned back and quickly shouted, 
"Mom, where is the damn salt?"

Shelly was in mid-conversation as she turned to her 
daughter, pointed toward the cabinets and whispered, 
"Look behind the baking powder."

Tiffany sighed, as she dipped her head, and put her 
hand on her hip. "That was the first place I checked," 
she said. "Didn't you put salt on your list?"

Shelly covered the receiver. "I didn't make a list," 
she said. "I'm talking to your uncle. If you hang on, 
I'll find it."

Tiffany sucked her teeth again. "Forget it," she said, 
throwing up her arms. "I need to go burn a CD. Let me 
know when Adam gets here," she said, skipping up to her 
room.

Jonathan checked the clock. It was 2:45. His mother 
resumed looking for the salt, where Tiffany had left 
off.

"I don't know what to do," she said into the phone. "I 
told him I would give him a day. That seems more than 
fair to me," she continued, as she opened every cabinet 
door. "Honestly, at this point, I hope he does leave 
her. Maybe she'll meet someone who won't treat her like 
shit," she said, before finally giving up. "Jonathan," 
she said, facing him with a weary look on her face. 
"Where did you hide the salt?"

Jonathan exhaled. "Why does everyone always blame me?" 

Again, Shelly spoke into the phone. "Hang on, Brian," 
she said, before looking back at her son. "I really 
need some salt," she stated insistently. "I was 
planning to make mashed potatoes and I can't make them 
without it."

Jonathan smiled. "Sure you can," he said. "Just do what 
Dad did that one time."

Shelly frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Jonathan stepped forward as he explained. "When he made 
dinner for your birthday," he said. "You know, when he 
made you that creamy pasta you like."

"Fettuccini Alfredo," she said. "What about it," she 
asked with a puzzled look.

Jonathan looked at her, as his lips curled into a 
devilish grin. "Let's just say," he said, finishing 
with a smile, "Dad used his own special sauce."

Shelly blanched. "He what?" she said, shaking her head. 
"Oh, my God. No, he didn't!"

Jonathan nodded. "He said you loved it."

Shelly got back on the line. "Yeah, I'm still here," 
she said. "No, don't hang up. Just give me a second," 
she said, looking up again. "So, you're telling me your 
father didn't use any salt... just... wow, really?" she 
said, as her eyes fondly lit up.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan said. "I always thought you 
knew."

Shelly shook her head absently. "Had no idea," she 
said. "But I have to say... that was the best pasta 
I've ever had," she said, smiling again.

Jonathan nodded. "See," he said. "It works. We should 
use it in the potatoes."

Shelly considered it briefly. "Hmm," she said, 
scratching her head. "Yeah, I guess we could try it, 
for me and your sister anyway," she said, mulling it 
over. "You know," she realized, with a smile. "If we 
use yours, it might taste even better."

Jonathan blinked. "Why's that?"

Shelly smiled. "Because," she said. "I mean, don't get 
me wrong. I love your father. But if I had to make a 
choice, I would pick yours every time.

Jonathan smiled glowingly. "Really!" he said. "Why?" he 
asked. "What's so different about it?"

Shelly blushed. "It's just sweeter," she confessed 
quietly. "Maybe it's because you're younger," she said. 
"I'm not sure," she added. "But there's something about 
the way you taste that's just, mmmm..." she moaned, as 
she raised her closed fingers up to her puckered lips, 
and then flipped them open with the sound of a kiss, 
"Crème de la crème," she said in a mild French accent, 
while fluttering her blissful blue eyes.

Jonathan enjoyed seeing his mother's playful side, 
which was certainly more fun than the mood she had been 
in earlier.

"What do you want me to do?" he said, as his mother 
quickly resumed her phone call.

Shelly pointed to the liquid measuring cup which 
Tiffany had left on the counter.

"Just squirt some in that cup over there," she said, 
wagging her fingers.

Jonathan frowned with disappointment. "So, you're not 
even going to help?"

Shelly turned. "I'm on the phone," she whispered. "What 
do you want me to do?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "I'm not 
even hard," he whined. "Do something." 

Shelly slowly nodded in compliance, as she quietly 
positioned herself between the microwave and the 12-
speed blender, leisurely resting her lower back against 
the firm kitchen counter top.

With one hand still holding the phone, she slowly took 
her right hand and used it to gradually gather the hem 
of her denim skirt, patiently tugging each side so the 
skirt would only slide up about an inch at a time, 
which made Jonathan sharply inhale, and then watch her 
intently, as her sheer-to-waist pantyhose steadily came 
into view and clearly lived up to their name.

With her golden legs revealingly spread apart in a wide 
open stance, her red-manicured fingers slowly went down 
to settle against the nylon barrier where Jonathan had 
already focused his steady gaze.

In slow, meandering circles, his mother began to openly 
masturbate in from of him, as she stood there in the 
family kitchen, while the lustrous sheen of her suntan 
pantyhose sparkled under the bold fluorescent light.

Her slowly undulating hips were coupled with 
increasingly heavy breathing, as she struggled to 
remain intelligible while speaking through the phone.

"I just...huhh... I just don't know... what to... 
mmmm," she moaned, with her eyes closed, "think any... 
uhh... more..." she gasped. "Huhhh... I mean... 
hmphh... how c-c-could he..." she stuttered, "do 
this... to her."

By then, Jonathan had a full throbbing hard on, aching 
to escape from his baggy shorts. He hunched them down 
to his knees, curled his warm fingers around the 
pulsing shaft, and then consciously began using a firm, 
steady stroking rhythm up and down the full length of 
his rigid member.

Under rule number eight, Jonathan was completely 
prohibited from masturbating on his own, yet the same 
rule also mandated that all self-pleasuring by the men 
in the house had to be done with full consent and in 
full view of either his cum-thirsty trophy wife mother, 
the reigning PTA pantyhose mom of the year, or the cum-
swallowing princess of all pantyhose sluts, his pom-
poms and pantyhose-loving sister, Tiffany.

"Wh-what?" Shelly said, panting in her brother's ear. 
"No, I'm...f-f-fine," she said, shivering, as she took 
one of her long red fingernails and poked it through 
the sparkling fabric stretched between her thighs. "I 
j-j-just g-g-got off the... huhh... ahh... the tread-m-
m-mill..." she said, sighing in relief as her throbbing 
clit was finally set free. "Yeah, oh-oh-okay..." she 
said moaning, while Jonathan focused on the hand 
pressing her swollen clit, the effects of which made 
his mother's eyes roll over in ecstasy, while her voice 
faltered against the phone. "Unnnhgaawwddd," she 
groaned. "Uhh... okay... that... that's fine," she 
said, locking her shiny knees together. "Just c-c-come 
over..." she said, shuddering through a quiet orgasm as 
she hastily smacked down the phone.

Jonathan kept his hand pumping the whole time. He had 
already begun building a good head of steam, steam that 
came from his heavily breathing lungs as he watched his 
mother lewdly rolling and bucking her curvaceous hips, 
firmly encased like nylon saran wrap, shiny gold saran 
wrap, the kind made from nylon, cotton and stretchy 
spandex, used to turn a busty blonde housewife into a 
filthy incestuous cum-eating whore who finds no greater 
pleasure or reward than knowing that her own son is 
ready, willing and abundantly able to provide her with 
the most generous and savory portions of creamy 
masculine sauce that a horny mother could ever want, 
through the simple donning of a beautifully basic pair 
of common everyday pantyhose, just like the ones she 
wore yesterday, the one she wore today, and the ones 
she would wear forever.

"Get the glass!" she said vocally, no doubt recognizing 
the pleasure on his face as his pace rapidly increased.

"Can't reach it!" he said, wincing, as his fist jack-
hammered back and forth, sending pre-cum up to the tip, 
which oozed out like a simple syrup to lubricate the 
endless turbulence of his hand.

Her eyes widened as she noted the slimy residue and 
instantly recognized the urgency of the moment as she 
hopped over to the secure the measuring cup before it 
was too late.

"Hang on," she said, dropping to her knees, as she 
tilted the cold empty glass in one hand, while she 
handcuffed his cock with the other. "Let me take it 
from here."

Jonathan made no attempt to argue, groaning as her soft 
exfoliated fingers replaced his leathery grip. 

"Ohhh yeahhh!" Jonathan hollered. "Your hand is so 
soft. Fuck yeah! Jerk me off!"

Shelly answered with a warm subtle laugh. "I'm using a 
new moisturizer," she said. "So far, I'd say it works 
pretty well," she said, grinning. "Did you see all the 
new pantyhose I bought?"

"Uhhh huhhh!" Jonathan affirmed loudly.

"Is there any style in particular that you'd like me to 
wear this evening?" she asked graciously.

Jonathan trembled, while his mother's clenched fist 
concentrated right around the head.

"Black!" he groaned, with an audible deep breath. 
"Black would be... unhhgg... g-g-good!"

Shelly smiled. "Black it is," she said, nodding 
distinctly. "Now, I need you to cum for me so I can 
start making dinner now, okay?" she asked politely. 
"Could you do that for me, baby?" she kindly requested. 
"All I'm asking for is nice fresh load of that sweet 
tasty cum of yours, okay sweetheart?" she begged 
softly. "Give Mommy a really huge wad, and then I'll go 
make dinner, and after that I'll put on some more 
pantyhose for you," she said cheerfully.

Her explosive words had barely left her lips when 
Jonathan's cock began spitting like a garden sprinkler. 
His venerable seed spilled into the empty glass, as the 
satin grip of his mother's stroking fingers gently 
nursed him to a generous release, as her cup nearly ran 
over from the sheer quantity of her son's creamy roux.

With a smile, Shelly turned the glass upright, and then 
slowly brought it closer to where she could fully 
marvel over the plentiful results, with a gleaming 
twinkle in her eyes.

"Wow," she said. "You don't mess around, do you?"

Jonathan smiled. "That's what happens when you say the 
magic word."

"What magic word?" she said, playing coy, as she tilted 
her head, and then smiled innocently. "Oh, I'm 
sorry..." she said, teasing him purposely. "Do you 
mean..." she said, twitching her eyes as she emphasized 
the first syllable. "Pantyhose!" she said, repeating it 
purely for his enjoyment. 

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, that's it," he said. "That's 
the magic word."

"Hmm," she said, as he helped her to feet, careful to 
make sure nothing was spilled. "I'll have to remember 
that. I had no idea that little word had so much 
power," she said. "Could come in handy later," she said 
with a devilish grin.

Jonathan laughed. "Oh yeah," he said, nodding 
emphatically. "It never fails," he added, before 
changing subjects as he pulled up his shorts. "Do you 
think we should tell Tiffany that she can still make 
those cookies?"

Shelly eyed the contents of the glass. "Hmm," she said 
thoughtfully. "This is a lot, but I don't think it's 
enough for both," she reasoned. "No offense," she 
added, smiling.

Jonathan shrugged. "It's cool," he said. "They just 
sounded good...Kayla's recipe..." he added, before he 
quickly asked, "Do you know if she's making dinner for 
Thanksgiving this year?"

Shelly pursed her lips together doubtfully. "Hmm," she 
thought to herself. "Not sure about that," she 
answered. "I know it's this Thursday though. So we'd 
better get that all figured out," she suddenly 
realized. "I have to call her tomorrow anyway," she 
said. "I can check with her then."

Jonathan nodded. His mother then explained that her 
brother Brian was stopping by for a quick visit. As she 
said this, Jonathan turned to the booming sound of rap 
music coming from outside. His mother's eyes flashed 
toward the front window. 

"I don't think that's Uncle Brian," Jonathan said, as 
he calmly walked over to open the front door.

***

When Jonathan walked outside, the first thing he 
noticed was Adam standing beside a black 4-door Lexus 
sedan, which was parked on the street facing south 
toward Fairfield, odd considering Adam drove a Ford 
Focus. 

He was holding his cell phone and appeared to be 
texting someone, who Jonathan assumed was probably 
Tiffany, as Jonathan headed down the path, and threw up 
a friendly wave, to which Adam responded with a short 
nod of his semi-bearded chin.

"Nice car," Jonathan said as he stepped closer. The 
stereo was rumbling so loud that he wasn't sure Adam 
could even hear.

"Pretty bad ass, huh?" Adam said, nodding his head to a 
steady beat that sounded vaguely like 50 Cent.

Jonathan nodded, as he carefully admired the gorgeous 
luxury vehicle. It had tinted windows, sparkling rims, 
and what looked like a shiny coat of fresh wax, all of 
which made every square inch of the aerodynamic surface 
gleam like a black panther, as the dark lustrous 
shimmer filled Jonathan's thoughts with the sleek and 
seductive vision of his own luxurious mother wearing 
the dusky black pantyhose she had promised to wear for 
him later that evening.

"Yeah," Jonathan said, straining to raise his voice 
over the music. "This thing is sick," he said, 
referring to the car. "Where'd you get it?

Adam tucked the phone in his pocket, as the boys calmly 
approached one and other, and then casually bumped 
fists. "Belongs to my dad," he explained. "He's just 
letting me use it this week."

Jonathan nodded, and then quickly turned, as the music 
suddenly grew even louder.

The passenger door slowly opened, and that insistent 
bass came throbbing out of the car like her own 
personal motion-picture soundtrack, as Jonathan 
instantly recognized Adam's kid sister, who came 
bopping out of the car, with her head nodding like it 
was on springs, and her shoulders swaying from side to 
side right along with it.

With a rhythmic strut that gradually brought her around 
the rear bumper of the car, she slowly emerged into 
Jonathan's full awareness, with her arms up and her 
fingers popping, as her thick nimble legs floated over 
the curb, high-stepping from one foot to the other, as 
she grooved her way down the path that led straight 
into Jonathan's most lurid fantasies.

"Go shorty, it's your birthday," Shannon lip-synched 
happily, as her hard-popping hips rapidly shifted so 
distractingly that Jonathan could barely look anywhere 
else, save for the fact that when he did finally look 
at her sultry brown eyes, he lost himself in how deeply 
she was staring right back

Of course, Shannon was always dancing. Dancing was her 
thing. She couldn't help herself. She had a motor 
inside of her that made her want to move all the time. 
The reason she never tried out for pep squad had 
nothing to do with her ability. She simply couldn't see 
herself getting involved in something she perceived as 
stupid and shallow, not to mention she hated all of the 
cheerleaders, with the one notable exception being 
Jonathan's sister, although Tiffany had been Shannon's 
best friend long before she ever picked up a pom-pom.

As he looked her over with his own unique sense of 
appreciation, Jonathan for the life of him could not 
understand why all of the other girls seemed to enjoy 
picking on her so much about her looks. In his mind, 
Shannon completely stood out from all the rest for 
reasons he found himself pondering more often all the 
time.

On bare feet, she was maybe an inch taller than 
Jonathan, so she generally stood right between him and 
his sister, with Tiffany standing right around 5'2" and 
weighing all of 105 lbs.

Shannon probably outweighed Tiffany by a good ten to 
twelve pounds, most of that accounted for by the extra 
padding she towed in the rear.

She had long curly brown hair that tightly spiraled 
down over her soft round shoulders; an outrageous shock 
of chocolate brown curls that created a lovely contrast 
against the parchment light color of her smooth creamy 
complexion.

Her vibrant brown hair was matched in color by a 
smoldering pair of large, watchful eyes, with a cute 
angular nose similar to Ashlee Simpson before the 
surgery. Her rosy apple cheeks were lightly dotted with 
subtle brown freckles, while her thin lips would most 
commonly creep into devious little smiles, but 
sometimes opened up to a huge set of pearly white 
teeth, courtesy of her dentist father, who constantly 
annoyed her to keep them that way.

Her voice could be a bit throaty when she spoke, 
something Jonathan also found uncommonly sexy. Often, 
it would sound scratchy, like she was just getting over 
a cold, but it always sounded hauntingly feminine, 
especially when she laughed, which she did often, 
usually with her mouth gaping, her hair swinging, and 
her whole upper body lurching into fits of inspired 
lunacy that echoed through Jonathan's ears and never 
failed to make him at laugh, or at least smile, as 
well.

"So, what's up," Jonathan said, glancing at Adam, 
before quickly returning to Shannon. "Tiffany's 
inside," he added. "Are you guys coming in, or what?"

Shannon shoved him on the arm. "Hey," she said 
playfully frowning, as Jonathan noticed her large 
silver hoop earrings. "Don't you want to dance with me 
first?"

Jonathan looked at Adam. Adam threw up his hands.

"I don't know about you," Adam said. "But I usually do 
what she wants."

Jonathan smiled, and then nodded, as Shannon promptly 
invaded his personal space, pressing her chest against 
him, where Jonathan could smell the delicious wafting 
aroma of what he always imagined Hawaii might smell 
like – if you dropped it into a blender, added 
strawberries, coconut and vanilla, and then called it a 
'Shannon smoothie.'

As her hips began smashing into his semi-aroused groin, 
Jonathan found himself feeling nervous for some reason. 
Perhaps, he felt uncomfortable with Adam standing right 
there, although her brother seemed pretty at ease with 
the whole situation himself. 

It might have been the way Shannon's fingers were 
lightly resting against his pounding chest, as he 
looked down to notice the white tips of her lovely 
French manicure. 

Then again, it was probably just the intense look on 
her face as her eyes dimmed seductively, while she 
quietly focused on him, and then continued to sing 
along, with her frosted pink lips mouthing the 
provocative chorus of a song Jonathan knew very well.

"I'm into having sex...I'm not into making love," she 
whispered, for no one else's ears but his. 

Just when Jonathan was about to have an eruption right 
then and there on the front lawn, his father decided to 
step out from the garage and throw a wet blanket on the 
fire.

""Hey!" he yelled at the top of his agitated voice. 
"Could you lower that shit? You're disturbing the whole 
freakin' neighborhood!"

Adam quickly apologized. "Sorry, sir," he said, waving 
respectfully, before hopping over and instantly 
shutting the engine off.

"Thank you," Greg said, as he glanced over to Shannon 
and greeted her with a friendly smile, which Jonathan 
spotted a mile away. "Hey, Shannon," his father said. 
"How are you doing, sweetheart?"

"Hey, Mr. Harper," she said, waving her little hand. 
"Sorry about the noise."

"It's okay," he said. "I just think if a song is called 
'In Da Club,' then that's really the only place anyone 
should have to hear it."

Shannon nodded and smiled back. It was her big smile, 
the one with all the teeth. 

"That's funny," she said. "Can I steal that?"

"Take it," he said, shooing his hand. "I've got a 
million of 'em," he added, before turning to Jonathan. 
"Hey, son," he shouted. "Did you tell Shannon she looks 
nice?"

Shannon cut him off before Jonathan could speak. "No!" 
she blurted, glancing at him with a playful sneer out 
the corner of her eye. "He never said anything, Mr. 
Harper." 

Jonathan smirked. Adam looked up and snickered. Greg 
just shook his head and walked off.

"You do look nice," Jonathan stammered awkwardly.

"Oh, sure," Shannon said, sniffing and rolling her 
eyes. "Wait for your dad to tell you and then say 
something," she said, tossing her hair. "Now, _there's_ 
a classy move."

Jonathan didn't know what else to say. She did look 
nice. She looked extremely nice.

She was wearing a very sexy top, which Jonathan felt 
pretty sure was black lace. It had long sleeves that 
actually widened at the wrist, and then draped down in 
these lacy little flags of extra cloth that waved 
whimsically with every passing breeze.

Her top was neatly cropped right at mid-chest, exposing 
the soft flat surface of her bare midriff, highlighted 
by a medal ring with a pretty red stone to emphasize 
her tiny navel. 

Directly below her piercing, what Jonathan then saw 
deeply distracted him for several meaningful seconds: 
hanging over the top of her low-riding, white denim 
jeans, was a small patch of skin covered and contained 
by a two-inch swath of black nylon that crept up over 
the top of her belt so conspicuously that it was almost 
impossible for Jonathan to even see her jeans at all, 
as his head instantly went woozy at the thought of what 
he suddenly realized she had purposely worn for him 
under those extremely tight jeans.

"Are you okay, Johnny?" he heard her saying in that 
rich throaty voice.

Jonathan blinked. "Fine," he said, swallowing, as he 
shook his head and snapped himself out of his trance.

Finally, Adam's cell phone rang, and as he quickly 
answered and began to laugh, Jonathan and Shannon 
promptly turned to see what was so funny.

"Tiffany wants to know if you guys are going to come in 
or just stand out here and make goo-goo eyes at each 
other all day," Adam said, snickering yet again.

"Tell Tiff she can bite me," Shannon answered, before 
turning to Jonathan again. "Lead the way," she told 
him, as Jonathan started for the door.

When they reached the entrance, Jonathan played the 
gentleman, holding the door open, as Adam entered 
first, followed by Shannon, allowing Jonathan to once 
again drink in just how amazingly hot she truly looked, 
with his eyes tracking every step of her slow, hip-
shifting walk.

Of course, the view from behind did not disappoint as 
Jonathan had to catch himself from moaning out loud at 
the heart-stopping broadness of her powerful thighs, 
which angled up like a capital letter V, steeping and 
swelling to the size of a thick pumpkin suspended in 
mid-air, as if the back of her jeans, had been 
mechanically inflated like one of his old basketballs, 
a bonafide ghetto booty stuffed into the densely 
overcrowded real estate where her back pockets bulged 
toward his scrambled eyes like a J-Lo video in 3-D.

Capping off everything, as Jonathan finally looked down 
toward the floor, were a fetching pair of trendy cork 
sandals, with a wedge heel, and three white overlapping 
straps, each maybe a ¼ inch wide, crisscrossing over 
the alluring black nylon encasing her nubby little 
feet.

"So when do we eat?" Shannon asked immediately. "I've 
had nothing but water all day. If I don't get some food 
soon..." she said, smirking, "well, I don't mean to be 
gross, but did you ever see that movie about those 
people who have to survive in the mountains after a 
plane crash?"

"It's called, 'Alive'" Adam said, reminding her. "And 
nobody wants to hear you talk like that before dinner, 
you little troll."

Shannon rolled her eyes. "You and your stupid troll 
comments," she said. "You think I don't know I'm 
short," she added, pointing to herself facetiously. 
"You only call me that because you're too retarded to 
think of anything more clever to say," she retorted. 
"Besides, I'd rather be a troll, than walk around 
looking like Neo," she said, snapping back at him. "At 
least all of my 'Lord of the Rings' sequels didn't suck 
like your movies did, you stupid jackalope."

Adam sucked his teeth at her, and then gave her a light 
shove, "Fuck off."

Shannon gave him a slap. "Watch the language, Johnny 
Utah" she said. "We're guests here."

Jonathan couldn't help laughing. Of course, it also 
occurred to him that Shannon seemed to know an awful 
lot about Keanu Reeves, for someone who enjoyed making 
fun of his movies so much.

Tiffany finally came tumbling down the stairs, and then 
leapt into Adam's waiting arms, as they hugged briefly, 
and the Jonathan and Shannon watched with revulsion as 
the couple starting tongue-kissing right there in the 
hallway.

"Yeah," Shannon said. "I'm not supposed to talk about 
cannibalism, but then these two starting eating each 
other's faces."

Jonathan laughed. Adam and Tiffany suddenly realized 
they were being watched and then looked at the other 
pair simultaneously.

"What?" they both said at once. Shannon and Jonathan 
smiled back.

"Nothing," the second couple replied.

Jonathan's mother walked out of the kitchen, with her 
blonde hair pulled back in a white scrunchie, wearing 
the same white top, jean skirt, white sandals and 
suntan pantyhose, which she had been wearing all day.

"Hey, Adam," she said, smiling, as she walked over and 
gave him a short hug. 

Adam squeezed back. Shelly then turned, looked Shannon 
up and down, and then whistled with admiration.

"Look at you, hot stuff," Shelly said. "Love the 
shoes."

Shannon smiled. "Thank you," she said. "You're looking 
pretty hot, too" she added. "But then again, you always 
do," she said humorously. "I keep telling people you're 
a witch, but nobody listens."

Shelly smiled. "No magic here, sweetie," she said, 
proudly posing as she threw out her prominent chest. 
"Strictly diet and exercise."

Shannon nodded back, with a smile. Shelly stepped 
forward, and then leaned in toward Shannon's chest.

"I like your necklace," she said, referring to the 
black and white pendant which Jonathan had just noticed 
himself.

"It's yin and yang," Shannon said. "It's supposed to 
remind me to keep everything in balance."

"That is important," Shelly said. "But my father always 
said, 'everything in moderation...including 
moderation.'"

"Yeah, well, my father's a dentist," she said, with a 
shrug. She looked around at the room as everyone 
quietly stood there waiting for more, when she finally 
said. "I'm sorry. There was no joke there. My father's 
just really dull."

Jonathan turned to her and said, "You mean, except when 
he lets you borrow his car."

She shrugged again. "The parental units went to Cabo," 
she said. "They'll be gone for a week. 

Adam nodded. "Yeah," he said. "The only thing cool 
about it is we get the car and the house all to 
ourselves."

Shelly frowned. "So they left you all alone, right 
before Thanksgiving. That's a little strange."

"Yeah, well," Shannon said, "aside from being pretty 
dull, my dad is also really cheap, too," she said, 
turning to Tiffany. "But that reminds me, Wednesday 
night, before Thanksgiving, I'm throwing a slumber 
party at the house. You can bring Naomi, but I don't 
want anyone there from the squad. Capice?"

"Not even Lisa," Tiffany asked. Shannon relented 
quickly.

"Okay, fine," she answered. "If you promise not to do 
any cheers in my house, or make any references to the 
phrase 'school spirit', then Lisa can come. But 
absolutely no Ashley, no Danielle."

Adam agreed. "Lisa's cool," he said. "She's not stuck 
up like the rest of them."

Tiffany cocked her head suspiciously. "You know her?" 
she asked pointedly. "Where from?"

Adam shrugged. "Just around," he said. "Kevin's had a 
few parties. She comes through with Jill and Monica. 
Plus, I know her brother from way back."

"Oh, I've met Tony," Shelly said out of the clear blue. 
"He's a very sweet young man."

Shannon blinked. "Sweet," she said. "Tony Garcia beat 
the shit out of some guy just for calling his sister's 
a bitch."

"No," Tiffany said. "The guy called Lisa a 'stupid 
Mexican bitch,'" she respectfully clarified, "and then 
Tony beat the shit out him."

"Fine," Shannon said. "So let's make him prom king and 
be done with it already."

Tiffany rolled her eyes. Adam smirked. Jonathan went 
back to staring at Shannon's sexy wedge sandals.

Shannon turned to Tiffany and blurted excitedly, "So, I 
found this guy who said he'll give me another tattoo."

Shelly heard this, and then promptly scowled at 
Tiffany, before she started to walk away.

"Don't give her any ideas," Shelly said, on her way 
back to the kitchen.

Adam teased his sister on purpose, as he quickly chimed 
in to anyone within earshot. "She wants to get a tramp 
stamp."

Shannon punched him. Adam grabbed his arm. Jonathan got 
the impression that she didn't try to pull it at all.

"Would you shut the hell up," Shannon said, as she 
reached back to wiggle up her pants, another frequent 
habit which Jonathan enjoyed watching quite a bit. 
"Anyway," she continued. "I found a guy in East L.A. 
who said he would do it when I'm sixteen."

Jonathan pointed down at her chest. "How did you get 
that one," he asked, quirking his brow at the small 
multi-colored butterfly above her right breast.

Shannon shrugged. "It's a henna," she said. "My mom 
freaked over it big time," she added. "But oh well," 
she said, with a second wiggle. "I got to be me."

Tiffany cut her off at that point, as she leaned in to 
whisper something neither Jonathan nor Adam could hear.

"I guess Tiffany's taking me upstairs," Shannon said. 
"If we're not back down here in an hour, then, 
umm...just assume we already ate," she said, grinning.

Adam and Jonathan glanced at each other, and then 
glanced back at the girls, who were already half way up 
the stairs, completely ignoring the puzzled looks on 
both of their faces.

Greg came marching through the living room, with his 
hands and face covered with dark greasy smears. 

"Did your mother say what time we're eating?" he asked.

Jonathan answered, "4:30."

Greg checked his watch. "If you're mother's looking for 
me, tell her I'm in the shower," he said as he trudged 
down the long hallway toward the master bedroom.

Ten minutes later, Jonathan watched as Adam stood at 
the center island, chopping up lettuce and tomatoes for 
a quick salad. 

Jonathan's mother was also standing in the kitchen, 
just to Adam's left, when she leaned forward to open 
the oven and check the temperature of the chicken. 

With the oven open, she hunched almost completely over, 
causing her jean skirt to automatically rise up and 
bring out a few extra centimeters of her L'eggs 
pantyhose, when Jonathan instantly caught Adam pausing 
to take a good hard look over his left shoulder. 

Jonathan then sat there and waited until Adam glanced 
up again, before he smiled at him knowingly, as Adam 
smiled in return. Seeing that both he and Adam shared 
the same head-turning reflex in the presence of 
pantyhose made Jonathan smile and acknowledge their 
mutual understanding with a quiet nod.

"Okay," Shelly said, slowly closing the oven, before 
springing back up, making her tits jiggle. "I think the 
chicken should be done in about thirty more minutes," 
she said, pulling down her skirt, "that means that I 
have just enough to time take a shower and get 
changed."

"Dad's already in the shower," Jonathan said.

"Then, I'll just have to join him now, won't I?" she 
said, licking the corner of her mouth.

She then suddenly pulled out her scrunchie and tossed 
her messy hair, as Adam and Jonathan looked on 
lustfully, before Shelly seductively exited the 
kitchen, switching her hips as she temptingly walked 
away.

She glanced over her shoulder, and then hiked up her 
skirt on purpose, as she playfully yelled back, "I know 
you're watching me."

Jonathan laughed to himself, as Adam just stood there 
following her with his needy eyes until she finally 
disappeared from view. He turned back to Jonathan, and 
then slowly shook his head.

"Damn," he said, exhaling. "Your mom is just too hot," 
he firmly stated. "I don't know how you stand seeing 
that everyday. I think I'd go crazy."

Jonathan shrugged. "You live with Shannon," he 
reasoned. "Same difference."

"Yeah," Adam said, with a smile. "I guess it's all 
relative."

Jonathan laughed. "Yeah," he said, grinning. "You could 
say that."

***

Shelly's 26-year-old younger brother, Brian Anderson, 
pulled up on his motorcycle about ten minutes after 
Jonathan's mother went to join her husband in the 
shower.

When Jonathan's uncle finally arrived, with his long 
straw-colored hair, piercing blue eyes, and charming 
million dollar smile, to Jonathan, it was like seeing 
the male version of his mother staring him in the face: 
a tall, blonde, glorious physical specimen, who hovered 
over Jonathan's head at a good 6'3", while easily 
weighing a solid 200 lbs, most of which he seemed to 
carry in his long sculpted arms, with his ripped biceps 
that were usually being shown off in loose-fitting, 
sleeveless biker T-shirts, with well-worn Levi's, 
leather belts with huge silver buckles, and his 
trademark black cowboy boots. 

He stood out on the porch, striking an imposing figure, 
as he flicked his lit cigarette on the ground, and then 
stomped it out, before strolling inside, brimming with 
confidence, as he dropped his grey duffle bag on the 
floor.
  
Besides his father, Jonathan's Uncle Brian was probably 
his biggest male influence. Unlike Kayla and Shelly, 
his birth had not been planned, and with an age 
difference of ten to twelve years between him and his 
two older sisters, Brian had always felt more like the 
older brother Jonathan had always wanted to have.

Jonathan had always heard that his uncle had a certain 
way with women, which evidently meant that he enjoyed 
sleeping around quite a bit, a lifestyle which in of 
itself didn't sound so bad to the young seventh-grader 
who idolized him so much, perhaps except for the fact 
that Jonathan's uncle was also known for changing jobs 
about as often as he changed girlfriends.

Along with a brief stint in the Army, Brian had also 
done everything from pumping gas, to construction, to 
driving a tow truck. Jonathan had even heard his mother 
once talking about him working as male stripper for a 
while, which didn't seem too far fetched considering 
the way that Jonathan's mother would often go on about 
how he reminded her of one of the Matts, either Damon 
or McConaughey, Jonathan couldn't keep them straight. 

Although Brian was actually rather mild-tempered and 
soft-spoken, people often assumed due to his large 
build, his mangled unwashed hair, his multiple tattoos, 
and the dark stubble all over his face, that he thought 
of himself as some type of bad ass, even though 
Jonathan always remembered him best as the guy who 
taught him how to surf and could quote lines from 
almost any episode of "South Park."

If things hadn't changed, as they so often did with the 
so-called 'black sheep' of his mother's family, then 
Jonathan's Uncle Brian was probably still renting a 
modest apartment somewhere in North Hollywood, 
supporting himself doing various odd jobs for an 
endless string of celebrity, or at least wannabe 
celebrity contacts, while pursuing his true passions 
which were freelance photography, playing guitar, 
drinking, smoking pot, and having sex with countless 
numbers of nameless women.

"What's up, Johnny boy?" he said in his boyish, mellow 
voice, a voice that seemed to suit his cool, easygoing 
manner, as he stood there, in the family living room, 
checking out the family photos, with one leg forward, 
and one shoulder leaning back, and his thumbs tucked 
loosely into his pockets.

"I'd tell you that you're getting bigger all the time," 
he said, smiling jokingly, "but from the looks of these 
pictures, you're still the same little runt you always 
were," he said, wagging his head back, with a quiet, 
self-amused laugh, as he spun around, and then smiled 
as if to make sure Jonathan knew he was just teasing.

"You must be Adam," he said, stepping over to Tiffany's 
boyfriend, and then throwing out his big hand, in a 
fingerless black leather glove.

As Adam reached out and gave his hand a firm shake, 
Brian jerked Adam forward, snarled in his face, and 
then pointed his menacing finger.

"You fuck with my niece," he threatened severely, "and 
I'll beat your ass harder than you've ever beaten your 
little shriveled dick. You hear me?"

Adam nodded instantly. "I got it," he said, turning his 
head away from the acrid combination or beer, 
cigarettes, and God knows what else Brian had probably 
been eating.

"So," Brian said, sniffing food in the oven, "your Mom 
asked me to come down and crash here for a few days," 
he said. "I guess you and I are gonna be bunkmates," he 
said, slugging Jonathan in the shoulder.

"Cool," Jonathan said. "Mom went to get changed before 
dinner. She should be out in a few minutes."

"It's all good," Brian said, throwing his arms up 
casually. "If there's beer in the fridge, I can manage 
on my own for a while."

Jonathan nodded, as he headed toward the fridge. "My 
dad usually has Bud or Bud Light, I think."

"That's fine," Brian said. "Just one though. Never cool 
to mess with another's man stash without asking first."

"Don't worry," Jonathan said. "He won't mind."

"Is my bike safe out front?" Brian asked. "I figure it 
should be as long as it's parked next to that Lexus out 
there. Is that your car?" he said, looking at Adam.

Adam shook his head. "Parents are on vacation," he 
said. "I'm just the babysitter."

Brian smiled. "You're the babysitter, huh?" he said, 
nodding. "Well, that baby looks pretty sweet. We may 
have to go for a little spin later on. Have you ever 
been down to the Treasure Chest?"

Adam blinked. "The strip club?" he said. "I'm only 
eighteen."

Brian nodded. "Sounds about right," he said. "I can 
still get you in."

Adam smiled. "Okay," he answered. "I guess we could do 
that," he said, as he turned to the sound of footsteps 
tramping down the stairs.

As Jonathan reentered the living room, he handed Brian 
an open bottle of Bud Light, and then he, Adam, and his 
beer-swilling Uncle Brian, all turned to meet the new 
arrivals with curiosity in all of their eyes.

Adam nearly fell over when Tiffany first strolled into 
the living room, with her swimsuit model face 
decorously enhanced under a full layer of ravishing 
make-up, and her natural blonde hair draping over bare 
shoulders, along with a surprised yet dazzling twinkle 
in her flirtatious blue eyes, as she instantly noticed 
Uncle Brian, upon which the two shared a brief moment 
of mutual wide-eyed admiration.

From the waist up, her shamelessly hot outfit was 
mostly nothing but skin, luscious patches of 
breathtaking tawny radiant skin, naturally bronzed from 
all of those countless hours worshipping the sun, with 
a svelte, lean, and athletically-trained hardness to it 
that only years of daily physical activity could 
achieve.

Wrapped around the inviting protrusion of her full 
high-set rack, she wore a hot pink stretch bandeau top, 
which fit snugly around her ample chest, as her nipples 
visibly reacted to their cool surroundings.

She smiled as she slowly turned around, and then leaned 
forward to accentuate the form-fitting appeal of her 
matching pink boy shorts, which Jonathan saw as an 
enticing mix between a thong and full panties, drawing 
just the right amount of focus to that provocative one 
or two inch gap where her upper thighs began to curve 
upward and outward in that fleshy lower region that 
ultimately rounded over to form her perfect little 
California peach-shaped ass, which Tiffany playfully 
bounced by wiggling her slender hips, as her baby soft 
cheeks wobbled delightfully.

As perfect as it was, Jonathan didn't spend much time 
staring at her sister's lovely ass, with her tight 
gymnast legs wondrously refinished to illuminate the 
entire room in a dazzling pair of sparkling silver 
pantyhose that glittered like an infinite galaxy of 
glowing comets and flashing supernovas, as if his 
sister's resplendent legs had been sprinkled with pixie 
dust, a magical effect which miraculously caused 
millions of twinkling little stars to appear in the 
middle of the day.

Scanning her legs all the way down to the floor, 
Jonathan took a moment to appreciate her choice of 
strappy white platform heels, a perfect finishing 
touch, which eradicated any concept of the pure, 
innocent girl next door and replaced her with the 
enchanting pantyhose princess whom Jonathan simply 
adored.

Tiffany slowly walked over to Adam, and then greeted 
him with a soft kiss to the lips, before turning to 
smile at her uncle, who loomed over her with a hungry 
look in his eyes like he wanted to eat her face too. 

"Fuckin' A, sweetheart," Brian said, foaming all over 
himself. "Your mother sure as hell raised you right."

Tiffany blushed. "Thank you," she said. "It's good to 
see you to too," she added. "You don't know how much I 
miss you when you forget to come see me."

Brian nodded, and then answered with a short sniff. 
"I'll tell you what, baby doll," he said, straining his 
neck to examine her from all angles. "I think that's 
definitely gonna have to change." he said, taking a 
swig off of his beer. "It looks little Tiffany is all 
grown up."

Tiffany smiled, and then reached up to give him a hug, 
which as Jonathan noticed, wasn't quite so hard to do 
in those extremely high heels.

"Okay, guys," Tiffany said, as she turned around, 
looked toward the stairs, and stood beside all the men. 
"Now, I really had to talk her into this," she 
explained. "So be nice because I know she's a little 
nervous," she requested politely.

Brian nodded, as he gruffly answered. "If she looks 
half as good as you, then she won't have shit to worry 
about."

Tiffany smiled. Jonathan smiled too. He had a pretty 
good feeling that he knew what was about to come. His 
stomach had already begun to roll up into tight knots 
just thinking about it. If it was anything at all like 
he hoped it would be, then he would definitely take 
'half as good' any day of the week.

"Okay, Shannon," Tiffany called up the stairs. "You can 
come down now."

Jonathan listened, as Shannon yelled down from 
somewhere outside Tiffany's room.

"It's too quiet down there. Can you put on some music 
or something?"

Tiffany turned toward her brother.

"I can do that," Jonathan said, dashing over to the 
full-sized entertainment center where he helped his 
father set up the surround sound system with speakers 
in every corner of the living room.

He quickly found a CD that he thought Shannon would 
like, choosing a track simply titled, "Oh!" by a female 
R&B singer named Ciara.

As soon as the first tremulous notes came booming out 
of the reverberating speakers, Jonathan could hear 
Shannon upstairs howling with approval.

"Ohhh hell yeah," she shouted. "That's _my_ song!"

Jonathan grinned happily about his wise choice, and 
then paused to take deep a breath, as he expectantly 
trained his eyes up the rising staircase, and then 
patiently waited for what seemed like an eternity.

It began with a single black platform high heel. The 
look and design was identical to the shoes worn by his 
sister, save for being the completely opposite color, 
worn by a young girl who to Jonathan, in many ways, had 
a sensuous appeal that was also completely different 
from Tiffany as well.

The second shoe appeared soon after the first, and 
Jonathan watched attentively as the base of each shoe 
carefully came to rest on each descending run in 
perfect synchronization to the pulsing melodic beat.

It continued up to her legs. Unlike his sister's slim 
bendable limbs, these legs looked much harder. She had 
extremely firm calf muscles, soft knees, and broad 
sturdy thighs, creating a shape much like the beer 
bottle Brian was holding if he held it upside down. 

The pantyhose Jonathan had spied her wearing when she 
had first arrived were no longer there. In fact, 
Shannon wasn't exactly wearing pantyhose at all.

Instead of just regular pantyhose, her strong dancer's 
legs had been fenced into a pair of seductive black 
chain-link fishnets. Jonathan had seen fishnet 
pantyhose on the Internet, but the effect of seeing 
them up close took him completely by surprise. The 
evenly intersecting black diamond pattern added a new 
cosmic dimension to every bending curve and each supple 
nuance of her tight sinuous legs. 

Not to be overlooked, her petite malleable breasts 
vibrated steadily from the rumbling insistent bass, 
while her black fence-net pantyhose had been 
thoughtfully paired with a matching black fishnet top, 
laced over a red satin bra that served up her pointy 
tits like tasty strawberry morsels, offering them for 
Jonathan's rich admiration with a constant tantalizing 
quiver.

As she stepped off the bottom run, Shannon's smoky 
brown eyes steamily settled on Jonathan, with her hips 
doing that incessant winding motion, spontaneously 
popping both sides of her overactive hips like tilt-a-
whirl, with her arms swaying in mid-air, and her her 
reckless brown hair teasing him with only passing 
glimpses of the euphoric look on her alluring face, 
before she seductively turned to offer her captive 
audience an extended view of her generous hind region, 
as she hypnotically proceeded to rock, swivel and 
bounce her sumptuous rump over the raucous and raunchy 
beat. 

Where her fishnet hose ended is where a microscopic 
pair of camouflage hot pants boldly zoomed into 
Jonathan's staggering view. The ultra-tiny short shorts 
must have been borrowed from Tiffany because they were 
simply way too small, and look way too perfect 
strangling her corpulent asscheeks, with those jiggling 
buns puffing out like soft biscuit dough, as Jonathan 
nearly came in his shorts from the sheer throbbing 
spectacle.

In that instant, Jonathan recalled his father's earlier 
advice to claim exactly what he wanted as he stepped 
forward and marched right up toward Shannon with only 
one thing on his mind.

Shannon's eyes were still looking his way, when their 
mutual gaze was broken by Adam, who swooped in at the 
last second, grabbed Shannon from behind, and urgently 
started bumping and grinding his pelvis against her 
large juicy ass.

"You don't know how long I've waited to see you dressed 
like this," Jonathan heard Adam tell his sister from 
just inches away.

Jonathan sunk his head, and then turned toward Brian 
and Tiffany, as he slumped his shoulders, gritted his 
teeth, and then quietly stepped out of the way.

"Man," Brian said, pulling Jonathan aside. "Can you 
believe the size of that thing?" he said, nodding 
toward Shannon. "I don't know about you," he added. 
"But down where I live, we call that a 'badonkadonk.'"

Tiffany heard Brian, and then started to laugh. 
Jonathan cracked a weak smile.

Moments later, Greg appeared, with his chestnut hair 
still a bit damp, and his mustache and goatee neatly 
groomed, wearing a crisp white button-up shirt, black 
slacks and a pair of matching socks. 

"You kids" he said, shaking his head, as he looked 
around at all the cavorting going on. "Always starting 
the party without me."

He then walked over to Brian, and the two gentlemen 
greeted each in their standard, well-rehearsed manner.

"Harper," Brian said, thrusting his hand forward.

"Anderson," Greg replied, squeezing and shaking 
emphatically.

"You takin' good care of my sister?" Brian asked 
suggestively.

"Every night," Greg answered, with a subtle wink.

"Good man," Brian said, with a firm nod and a friendly 
smile.

The men grew quiet when Jonathan's mother finally 
reappeared. Adam had Shannon locked in a tight embrace, 
with their lips dangerously close to touching, while 
Jonathan stood by the stereo, smirking to himself, 
while staring daggers through Adam's unguarded back.

"Well, isn't this a lovely family gathering?" Shelly 
said, as she slowly sauntered across the room, making a 
grand entrance in an ensemble that briefly managed to 
rid Jonathan of his justified ill-temper.

Like the planets orbiting around the bright yellow sun, 
Shelly's presence became the radiant focal point of 
everyone in the room.

For his part, Jonathan took a special amount of 
pleasure from the fact that his mother had indeed lived 
up to her promise.

With the gradually fading afternoon sun casting a hazy 
ethereal light against her back, Jonathan's heavenly 
golden-haired mother floated into the spacious parlor 
with a ghostly aura, as if her glamorous figure and 
phenomenal beauty drew their enthralling powers from 
some otherworldly source. 

The longer Jonathan found himself poring over her 
mesmerizing charms with complete awe and reverence, the 
more her bewitching ensemble transported him back to 
their first dreamy encounter.

Her utter nakedness was thinly veiled by a long silky 
black robe, draping down her statuesque frame from head 
to toe, while loosely fastened at the waist by a 
glimmering rhinestone clasp, a sparkling gem that paled 
against the brilliance of the diamond necklace 
suspended over her generous bosom, which randomly 
played tricks with the light, as Jonathan noted the 
changing spectrum of flickering colors glinting above 
her proudly heaving chest.

Of course, nothing in the room stood out more proudly 
and visibly than her enormous set of God-given tits, 
which sat high atop her chest, busting out of a black 
mesh bra that seemed to be missing the upper half of 
the large DD cups required to fully support her huge 
rack, providing her milky white jugs with the excessive 
freedom to spill out almost completely, which Jonathan 
noted with firm and painfully throbbing approval.

As if his eyes were deceiving him, Jonathan slowly 
scanned down toward his mother's legs, blinking 
multiple times, with his blurry gaze fading in and out 
of focus, as the air suddenly caught in the back of his 
throat, his body shivered, and his aching penis yearned 
toward the forces of zero gravity, which would 
inevitably consume his total being.

It wasn't that his mother had simply delivered on her 
promise. Naturally, that was never enough for her. 
Clearly, her thirst for cum and her lust to get all she 
could swallow from anyone living under her own roof 
drove her to continue finding new ways to keep 
Jonathan's precious balls perpetually filled with that 
sweet ambrosia, aching and ever-ready to be drained 
into her warm gurgling mouth at any moment.

Jonathan licked his lips, and his mother instantly lit 
into a smile, a sure sign of the deep satisfaction she 
clearly took in knowing that her choice of dress had 
obviously captivated him beyond all reason. 

The sheer fibrous material he saw there calling to him 
from across the room appeared to have been painted 
against the smooth canvas of her legs by some inspired 
artist using delicate brush strokes to lovingly and 
painstakingly cover every flawless inch of her 
porcelain skin until all of her firm naked flesh had 
been elegantly dressed in a translucent shade of soft 
misty black.

As if that weren't enough to make her son's mouth water 
and his cock remain steadily hard for countless days 
ahead, the alluring shadows spread over his mother's 
captivating legs were patterned with dark lines of 
gorgeous winding calligraphy, as if that same artist 
had taken a quill, dipped it in black ink, and then 
scrawled his name up and down each leg in bold cursive 
letters, like a sweeping roadmap leading Jonathan's 
eyes from the twinkling array of rhinestones studded 
down the steep heels of her shiny black stilettos to 
the apex between her sculpted legs where a spot of 
moisture had already soaked through the nylon seam 
leaving rousing evidence of his mother's own seething 
condition.

"Good God Almighty," Brian said, as if speaking for the 
entire room. "If the Good Lord made anything more 
perfect, he sure as hell didn't tell me about it."

Shannon regarded her brother's comment with the 
practiced flip of her long blonde hair, as she 
playfully tossed him an offhanded smile.

"I'm glad you approve," she said. "Maybe if you weren't 
such a stranger, you'd get to see it more often."

Brian nodded toward his duffle bag. "I brought all my 
stuff," he answered. "I figure between Kayla serving up 
a nice feast on turkey day, and you strutting around 
looking like Aphrodite in heat, this will probably be a 
good place to hang out for the next few days."

"Our house is your house," Shelly said, smiling again. 
"I just took out the chicken," she added. "I admit, it 
is a little dry, but the good news I also tasted the 
mashed potatoes and they are completely to die for," 
she said glowingly. "Jonathan, why don't you go get the 
good china from the dining room and start setting the 
table, okay sweetie?"

Jonathan answered blankly. "Okay, Mom."

"Thank you, darling," she said. "Once the table is set, 
we can all sit down and enjoy a nice meal. I need to 
speak with Brian for a few minutes, but I will be right 
back," she said, turning to her brother. "May I see you 
in my room, please?"

Brian nodded, and then smiled, as he promptly answered 
back. "Shit, in that outfit, I'd follow you down to 
hell holding a hand grenade."

Shelly smiled as she led Brian out of the living room. 
Jonathan led everyone else toward the dining table, 
while he quickly noticed Adam and Shannon passing 
meaningful glances to one and other, while they quietly 
strolled along hand in hand.

***

Jonathan took a seat at the at the family dining table, 
a wedding gift from Greg's parents if he remembered 
correctly, where his mother had laid out an 
unexpectedly appetizing roast chicken dinner along with 
steamed vegetables, warm dinner rolls, a fresh garden 
salad, homemade iced tea, and two distinctly separate 
bowls of buttery mashed potatoes, one of which Jonathan 
explained to Adam over a whisper was in smaller bowl 
meant only for the women.

Brian did not join the family for dinner. Apparently, 
he had some type of business to take care of, which 
came as no surprise to Jonathan, as his wayward uncle 
seemed to get uncomfortable if he stayed in one place 
for even more than a few hours. 

This however still left Jonathan with the majority of 
his family, along with their two neighbors, to settle 
around the table, where they could all just try to 
relax and enjoy their time together, or at least, that 
was what Jonathan had spent the last few minutes 
telling himself he should do, rather than allowing 
himself to ruin everyone else's evening by simmering 
over Shannon apparently choosing to be with Adam.

Tiffany was seated directly across from him at the long 
rectangular mahogany table.

She and Adam sat beside each other on one side, with 
Shannon and Jonathan seated next to each other on the 
other. 

Naturally, Greg took his seat at the head of the table 
to Jonathan's left, while the lone empty seat waiting 
on the opposite end, had been reserved for Jonathan's 
mother, who had gone to see out her brother before 
joining everyone at the table.

"I hope no one mind's if I start eating," Shannon said. 
"We don't say grace or anything like that in our 
family. We're heathens," she added with a smile.

"Go right ahead," Greg said. "I think everyone here is 
pretty hungry."

Shannon nodded. "Not that I couldn't afford to skip a 
meal or two now and then," she said, snapping the band 
on her tight shorts. "Tiffany had to find a shoe horn 
to get me into these things."

Greg laughed mildly. "I'd say you look quite 
exceptional," he told her, peeking around Jonathan for 
a short glance. "Truly exceptional," he added, flexing 
his eyebrows, before sipping his iced tea. "You both 
do," he then said, turning to Tiffany, who pivoted in 
her seat and then quickly raised her right leg.

"Do you like these, Daddy?" she said, referring to the 
pantyhose she had worn in honor of the occasion. 
"Aren't they nice?" she added. "Mom ordered them for 
me."

Greg's eyes quickly lit up. "They're beautiful, 
sweetheart," he said. "How on Earth do they make them 
sparkle so much?"

Tiffany quickly stood up and then placed the heel of 
her left shoe between her father's legs, as she fondly 
began stroking the glittering fabric, while she 
pleasantly explained.

"They're made with some called Lurex," she said. "I'm 
not sure what it is, but I know that's what gives it 
that sparkling effect," she added, with a smile. 
"Pretty cool, huh?"

Greg had already begun dragging his hand over his 
daughter's thigh. "They definitely work for me," he 
said, with a steady nod. "You should wear these again 
on Thanksgiving."

Tiffany smiled playfully. "I might," she said, with the 
flirty tilt of her head. "Or I may have something else 
up my sleeve," she added, with a wink. "You'll just 
have to wait and see," she told him, before stepping 
back and returning to her seat.

As Greg prepared to answer, he and Jonathan both turned 
to the orgasmic moans coming from Shannon, who was 
leaning over her plate with her eyes closed, and a 
forkful of mashed potatoes stuck in her mouth. 

"Mmmmmm!" she moaned audibly, before slumping back and 
lolling her head around blissfully. "Oh... My... God!" 
she then said emphatically. "These are the greatest 
mashed potatoes I've ever tasted in my life!"

Jonathan smiled. "We made those just for you," he said. 
"Mom said they came out pretty good."

Shannon used her index finger to scoop up a hefty 
sample, and then shoved it right into her mouth. Her 
eyes rolled in pure ecstasy. "Mmmm!" she said. "God, 
damn these are unreal. How do you get them so creamy?"

Jonathan smiled again. "It's a secret family recipe," 
he explained, before leaving it at that.

Shannon started to press further, and then turned as 
Jonathan's mother elegantly reappeared, and then 
regally took her seat.

"Looks like everyone is enjoying their meal," she said, 
smiling like a beauty queen.

"Yeah," Tiffany said teasingly. "We should probably go 
get the camera. No one's ever going to believe this."

Shelly smiled at her daughter's joke. "It's not like I 
can take all the credit," she said, stroking Adam's 
arm. "Your boyfriend here is pretty handy in the 
kitchen. We may have to have him for dinner more 
often," she said, with a subtle wink. "Would you like 
that Adam?"

Adam responded shyly. "Umm, sure, Mrs. Harper," he 
said, blushing. "I would love that."

Tiffany started to comment, when she glanced toward her 
mother, crooked her head, and then frowned, with an odd 
look on her face, making Jonathan turn to look at his 
mother as well.

"Mom," she said, pointing to a glob of viscous residue 
left on the side of her neck. "I think you missed a 
spot."

Jonathan leaned in for a better look, which instantly 
confirmed the gooey substance as a pearly souvenir 
obviously left there by his uncle Brian. He turned away 
and quickly leaned forward, trying to hold in his 
laugh, as he snorted loudly through his nose.

Greg reached over and swatted Jonathan in the back of 
the head, and then turned to chastise his giggling 
daughter.

"Tiffany," he said, through a deep frown. "You should 
know it's not polite to embarrass your mother in front 
of company."

Tiffany nodded readily, and then glanced at Jonathan, a 
look which sent both of them into a second fit of 
snorts and giggles.

Greg just shook his head at them, and then quickly 
attempted to change the subject.

"Where is Brian?" he asked, ignoring the laughter on 
purpose. "Did he take off already?"

Shelly nodded, as she gracefully drew one of the dinner 
napkins from the table, and calmly proceeded to dab 
away the sticky remnants in mid-conversation.

"Apparently, he works nights tending bar at some strip 
club," she explained. "His shift starts at six 
o'clock... and this club...Pleasure Chest or 
something... I guess it's way on the other side of 
town," she explained. "I told him he could sleep in 
Jonathan's room or he could crash on the couch whenever 
he gets off for the night."

"Hmm," Greg said, "little strange, don't you think. I 
mean, he could have at least eaten with us," he added, 
"pretty rude of him to just come and go." 

Tiffany and Jonathan instantly burst out laughing, with 
Shannon joining in equally loud. Adam quickly turned to 
Jonathan's mother apparently out of shame over his 
sister's disrespectful behavior.

"I apologize, Mrs. Harper," Adam said. "I'm not sure 
what's so funny, but I know my sister would never make 
fun of you on purpose," he said glaring angrily toward 
his sister. "Right, Shannon?" he said, waiting 
expectantly for an answer.

Shannon glanced at Adam, and then her eyes quickly 
shifted to Shelly, before glancing back to Adam, while 
she sat there with her mouth half open, floundering for 
something to say.

Adam suddenly kicked her under the table as if to 
forcefully jog her out of her momentary lapse of table 
manners.

"Oww!" she said, wincing dramatically. "That hurt, fuck 
face!"

Adam snarled at her through his gritted teeth. "Say 
you're sorry," he told her, clenching his eyebrows. 
"Now!"

"Okay!" Shannon whined. "You made your point. You 
didn't have to kick me in the friggin' shin. That's 
gonna leave a mark," she complained, as she reached 
down to rub her sore. "God, you're such an asshole," 
she muttered under her breath, before finally raising 
up to offer a weak apology through her faint smile. 

"Forgive me, Mrs. H," Shannon said. "I have this 
disease. It keeps me from knowing when to shut up. I'm 
deeply sorry if I offended you in anyway," she said. 
"Oh, and by the way, your brother is totally hot!"

"Shannon!" Adam yelled, with his eyes glowering at her 
and his veins bulging from his forehead.

Jonathan looked on, when his mother calmly reached over 
and gently touched Adam's hand. Adam quickly turned in 
her direction, and then instantly seemed to relax, as 
Shelly consoled him with a maternal smile, before she 
turned to regard his impertinent sister in a soft well-
mannered tone.

"As it so happens, I actually agree with you one 
hundred percent," she said evenly. "My brother is very 
good looking," she added, through a subtle smile as she 
calmly held Shannon's gaze. "If you would like, I'd be 
happy to arrange a more formal introduction."

Shannon faltered. Adam jumped in to quickly answer for 
her.

"Shannon was just kidding," he said, glaring at her 
again. "Weren't you?"

Shannon nodded, stammering as she spoke. "Uh, yeah," 
she answered. "He's cute, but umm...the whole country 
thing... that's not really how I roll." 

Shelly accepted the answer with a quiet nod, before 
leaning back against her seat, smoothly raising her 
left leg, and then gracefully crossing it over the 
other, as Jonathan noted the stirring sound of her 
silky thighs rubbing together through the distinct 
rustle of her pantyhose. "I see," she said, addressing 
both of them with the same question. "So, tell me 
exactly how you both feel about what goes on in this 
family?"

The question made Shannon turn to look at Jonathan, 
while Adam looked over toward Greg, who quietly eased 
back against his seat, and then expectantly folded his 
arms.

Adam responded first. "Umm," he stumbled, as he 
nervously fumbled with his fork. "We're uhh... we're 
pretty cool with it, I guess. I mean, you know, we're 
still getting used to the idea."

Shelly thoughtfully nodded, before shifting her steady 
gaze toward Shannon.

"Yeah, it's still pretty weird to us," Shannon added. 
"I mean, just to keep it real, when I first heard about 
it, I was, like, this close to calling 911," she 
honestly admitted. "But for some reason, I decided to 
just go with my gut," she then explained. 

Greg tilted his head curiously. "Interesting," he said, 
causing Shannon to turn toward Jonathan's father.. "Why 
do you think that is?" he asked her pointedly.

Shannon shrugged. "I'm sure part of it is because 
Tiffany and I have been best friends for so long," she 
said, brushing back her hair. "She's probably the most 
normal person I know," she stated. "Plus, she and I 
have been through all sorts of drama and she's always 
had my back no matter what," she added. "I've always 
felt like I could trust her."

Greg asked Shannon bluntly. "Can we trust you?"

Shannon nodded, and then smiled. "You can trust me, 
twenty four-seven," she said, before chinning toward 
her brother. "Him you might have to worry about."

Shelly slowly looked toward Adam, while Jonathan noted 
the sudden panic etched into his wide-eyed face, an 
anxious-looking expression which slowly faded under the 
soothing tone of Shelly's seductive voice.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Shelly said, lightly 
brushing her fingers against Adam's hand. "After 
hearing what he did yesterday, with my sister's 
daughter, something tells me Adam can keep a secret 
just fine"

Adam squirmed, as Shannon went on the attack.

"Her sister's daughter?" Shannon said, angrily leaning 
across the table. "You never said anything about anyone 
being there except you, Tiffany and Mr. Harper," she 
shot back. "Why did you leave that out, huh Adam? 
Google that one for me, douche bag!"

Adam quietly shook his head. "I didn't lie about it on 
purpose," he explained, with his head down at just a 
slight angle. "I just left it out because it didn't 
seem as important. It was nothing, anyway," he said, 
with a shrug, "just a quick blowjob."

Greg swiftly intervened. "Nobody's on trial here," he 
said, pronouncing his judgment to the whole table with 
the decisive wave of his hand. "If everybody's done 
eating, why don't we turn the music back on, and then 
maybe have a little dessert?" he suggested.

"Great idea, honey," Shelly said, smiling. "I have 
chocolate and vanilla ice cream in the fridge, plus all 
the fixings, if anyone wants to make their own sundae."

"I'll have some," Jonathan said, turning to his right.. 
"Would you like some, Shannon?"

Shannon paused momentarily. "Hmm," she said, pursing 
her lips, as she fluttered her lashes thoughtfully. 
"Can we share?" she finally replied.

Jonathan smiled. "That's all we do in this family," he 
answered, rising from his seat.

"Exactly," Shelly said, as she calmly uncrossed her 
legs, with a second pantyhose swish. "Sharing is rule 
number six," she said, turning toward Adam as she 
slowly elevated from her seat. 

Jonathan then watched with envy, as his temptress 
mother leisurely strolled over to Tiffany's boyfriend, 
and then slowly opened her robe to reveal her plentiful 
assets. She peered down over Adam with a blank 
expression, which Jonathan saw as a look of total 
power, when she swung up her left leg, planted her foot 
on the opposite side of Adam's chair, and then calmly 
sank into his lap, where she straddled him in his seat.

"Speaking of rule number six," Shelly continued, as she 
turned and smiled at her lovely daughter, flashing her 
crystal blue eyes. "There is something I feel that I 
really must do before we all call it a night," she said 
urgently.

Tiffany turned to her mother with a slow nod, followed 
by the gradual broadening of her own gleaming smile. 
"It's no fun if you say it to me," she said, sliding to 
the edge of her seat. "Say it to him," she said, 
glancing toward Adam.

Shelly smiled, and then nodded perceptively. She then 
slowly turned, as her long silky blonde hair fell into 
Adam's face, while she grinded against his lap with her 
full rotating hips, which Jonathan pictured below the 
table firmly encased in those patterned black 
pantyhose, as she leaned forward and softly purred 
against his visibly trembling lips. 

"So, I've been thinking," she said, sliding her fingers 
over his muscular arms, and then down across his flat 
chest. "And I really believe that before your father 
and I agree to let you and our daughter consummate this 
relationship," she whispered, chewing her bottom lip as 
if to relish the thrill of her own seductive powers. 

"As Tiffany's mother," she added, while steadily 
grinding her pelvis against his groin, which Jonathan 
saw as an exquisite form of torture. "I feel it would 
be purely in her best interest if I were to... umm," 
she said, waiting before finishing her thought, "take 
you out for a little test drive," she then stated.

Jonathan quickly glanced toward his father. His father 
then glanced back, and returned the same knowing smile, 
before shaking his head, as if to indicate that poor 
Adam had no idea the amount of trouble he was about to 
have on his hands.

In that same afternoon, Jonathan had already witnessed 
his mother go through at least four radically different 
mood swings, which based on his father's credible 
theory was best explained as some type of abnormal 
mental disorder, which occurred every month just before 
her monthly female cycle, a temporary sort of mania, 
which saw Jonathan's mother switch from highly pissed 
to highly pleasant, from a shameless and desperate cum-
thirsty slut to the stately and dignified queen of the 
castle, and then suddenly a woman who was all business 
one moment, to a woman who now appeared to be 
dangerously horny, with a rabid look in her eyes that 
Jonathan could see clear across that table, an 
insatiably hungry look, which seem to suggest that 
Tiffany's eager boyfriend had suddenly become the main 
course.

While part of him wanted to stay to see exactly what 
his mother had in store for Adam, when Jonathan looked 
over to Shannon, he then saw her smiling back, which 
quickly reminded him of her previous request to share 
some ice cream.

Jonathan quietly excused himself, and then took Shannon 
by the hand, before leading her from the table and 
walking the short distance down to their open kitchen, 
where he then hastily pulled out every flavor of ice 
cream he could find from the freezer. He then opened 
the fridge and took out a can of instant whipped cream, 
before he then grabbed a bottle of chocolate syrup out 
of the pantry.

Shannon asked for both chocolate and vanilla. So 
Jonathan scooped some of both into a medium-sized bowl, 
after which Shannon squirted in the chocolate syrup, 
and then liberally sprayed on the whipped cream.

She hastily dipped in, pulled out an icy spoonful, and 
then leaned forward as if to offer Jonathan a taste, 
before shoveling the whole thing into her own mouth, 
and then flashing one of her devious smiles, as 
Jonathan easily fell for her little trick.

Jonathan responded by scooping out a cold spoonful of 
his own, before politely offering some to Shannon as 
well. 

As Shannon parted her mouth, Jonathan gradually raised 
the spoon toward the alluring sight of her sensuously 
extended tongue. He patiently ladled the frosty ice 
cream into her waiting mouth, before tipping the spoon 
and purposely smearing the melting remnants against her 
unsuspecting lips.

Instinctively, Shannon attempted to clean the mess, 
wiping at it with the sexy flick of her tongue, which 
Jonathan stifled insistently.

"Let me do that for you," he said, leaning in to 
carefully dab away the excess with his own curious, 
softly pressing mouth.

The candied flavor of Shannon's warm breezy lips 
instantly merged with the sweetness of her island 
scent, unleashing a passion in Jonathan that swelled 
from his loins, up through his beating heart, and out 
through the force of his gasping lungs, while Shannon's 
breathless moans blended with his own, causing the 
gentle peck to quickly escalate to a feverish level, in 
a rush of open mouth kisses that swallowed them both 
beneath the surface of their all-consuming lust, until 
both came up sucking for air. 

With her eyes dimmed, Shannon slowly floated back, 
shuddering, as she absently sampled the intriguing 
flavor she suddenly found on her lips.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, before complimenting him. "Now 
that was smooth," she said, lighting up with a winning 
smile.

Jonathan grinned. "I'm a quick learner."

Shannon nodded with agreement, and then dropped her 
head, wincing as she briefly closed her eyes.

"God," she said, rubbing her temples distractedly. "I 
don't know what was in those mashed potatoes," she 
said, as she quickly looked up, and then lightly tossed 
her hair. "But I'm so wet right now I could die," she 
added, with a loud sigh.

Jonathan crooked his head, returning her statement with 
a light frown. "How do you know it isn't me?" he asked 
smugly, as he watched her soft features warm into a 
sultry smile.

Shannon answered in that throaty voice that made his 
spine tingle. 

"Of course, it's you," she said, with a sexy grin. "But 
it takes more than a smooth line and a great kiss to 
get in these pants," she added, with her hands rubbing 
her full upper thighs.

"You're not wearing pants," Jonathan said, blinking.

Shannon pursed her lips. "True," she said, sweeping her 
hair to the right, as she randomly changed the subject. 
"Can I ask you a question?"

Jonathan nodded, as she Shannon then quietly turned her 
back, slid her heels together, and then gradually 
leaned forward, while purposely arching her back.

She flipped her hair back the left, looked over her 
right shoulder, and then asked casually. "Do you think 
I have a big butt?"

Jonathan stood there, fazed by the lurid image of her 
deeply-wedged camouflage hot pants, in a mottled 
pattern of bright green and brown that seemed to be 
stretched to the extreme limits of its elastic capacity 
by the staggering width and the meaty volume of 
Shannon's healthy asscheeks.

He paused to quickly admire the narrow key hole formed 
by the union of her strong upper thighs, before finally 
nodding, after musing on the subject thoughtfully.

"It depends," he said. "Do you mean 'big' in a good 
way, or 'big' in a bad way?"

Shannon slowly turned back around. She grimaced, as she 
loathsomely replied. "I mean big, as in ice cream is 
the last thing I should be eating," she said, rolling 
her eyes. "Besides," she wondered. "Is there really a 
difference?"

Jonathan smirked, as he threw his hands up, and then 
deeply knitted his eyebrows. 

"Of course," he said, wondering to himself how this 
could possibly require an explanation. "Big butts 
rule!" he quickly enthused. "Look at Jennifer Lopez, 
look at Beyonce, look at Kim Kardashian," he argued 
passionately. "A big butt is what you want," he added 
vehemently. "My mom has a big butt. My aunt Kayla does 
too," he said, demonstrating the width by holding his 
hands out from his chest. "That thing is sweet," he 
added emphatically. "I'm just saying...if I were you, I 
wouldn't be worried about it. I'd be proud," he said. 
"The only thing you don't want is a flabby butt," he 
told her. "You know, like, with all that bumpy stuff 
all over it," he said. 

Shannon nodded knowingly. "Cellulite," she said, before 
flashing him with another one of her enticing glances. 
"So how do you know my butt isn't flabby," she said, 
with a sly grin. "Have you been checking it out behind 
my back?"

Jonathan blushed. He dipped his chin, and then 
scratched the top of his head, before clearing his 
throat.

"I've looked," he said, as he blankly stared back.

Shannon tilted her head slightly off center. "So if a 
girl has a flabby butt, you can tell just by looking?"

Jonathan answered with a confident nod. "Usually," he 
said, as he leaned back against the island.

"Hmm," she said, as she wet her lips, and then looked 
down toward the lukewarm pool of creamy soup now 
sitting on the counter. "I'm not so sure I trust your 
expertise," she said, sliding the bowl away. "Maybe you 
need to get a little more 'hands on' with your 
research," she said, smiling suggestively.

On that note, Shannon assumed a provocative position, 
as she once again slid her heels together, drawing 
Jonathan's eyes down the sprawling chain-link pattern 
of her stylish fence-net pantyhose. She folded at the 
waist, rested her elbows on the counter, and then 
flexed her back, offering her fleshy round humps for 
Jonathan's careful inspection.

Jonathan swallowed, as he slowly raised his hands, 
spread his fingers, and then softly inhaled, before he 
timidly and quietly closed in.

"Go on," Shannon said, with a playful jiggle that made 
her cheeks clap together in a manner he found more than 
a bit distracting. "They won't bite you," she added, 
with an innocent giggle.

"They?" Jonathan asked, lifting his eyebrows.

Shannon smiled, as she reached back with her left hand, 
firmly grabbed hold of her left cheek, and then 
steadily jiggled it around.

"This is Paris," she said, wearing a silly grin, as she 
switched hands, and then quickly jiggled the right. 
"This is Nicky," she added, laughing to herself, as she 
seemed to be highly amused by her apparently self-given 
nicknames for each of her own stunningly round and 
perfectly symmetrical asscheeks.

Jonathan smiled, as he thought to himself that between 
the two Hilton sisters, Shannon's moneymaker was 
clearly worth a fortune.

After hearing her offhanded joke, Jonathan felt more 
relaxed, as he proceeded forward to examine her wares 
most thoroughly.

He took hold of her of soft yielding flesh, palming it 
with the gradual pressure of his widely spread fingers. 
He first noted the invigorating warmth, and then the 
wonderfully smooth outer surface, followed by the 
comfort of his fingers easily sinking right in, which 
led to the unexpected resistance of her muscular 
glutes, as they consistently restored each luscious 
hemisphere to its solid curvaceous shape.

Jonathan nodded with deep approval, and then stated 
conclusively. "Like I thought... tight as a drum... 
probably from all that dancing," he assumed.

At that moment, Jonathan turned to the catchy sound of 
music returning to the living room, as Shannon's eyes 
lit up, instantly recognizing a familiar hip-hop song 
by Akon called, "Smack That!" 

"C'mon, let's go dance!" she said excitedly, as she 
instantly turned and then hustled out of the brightly 
lit kitchen, rocking her hips and swaying her shoulders 
to the irresistible beat.

As Jonathan followed her down the hallway, passed the 
stairs, and then back toward the living room, the 
afternoon sun had already begun to fade, while in its 
place a full moon had already risen from the back of 
Shannon's tight booty shorts, with Tiffany and her 
sparkling silver pantyhose providing the evening stars.

Jonathan stepped over and stood beside his father, who 
had already downed half of the beer he was holding, as 
he leaned against the wall, with his eyes focused on 
Tiffany's lively gyrations, before Shannon suddenly 
marched into the center of the room in her black 
platforms, standing completely erect, with her heels 
planted in a wide stance, when she suddenly dropped her 
ass straight to the floor, as Jonathan then watched 
with rapt attention while her downy cheeks slowly 
levitated back up, like a lush balloon filled with so 
much hot air.

Tiffany cheered her friend on, smiling and applauding, 
when Shannon spun around, kicked back her right heel, 
and then scooted right up to Jonathan's sister, who 
leaned in for an urgent kiss, which Shannon eagerly 
returned, much to the smiling enjoyment of both 
Jonathan and his father.

After trading a hot series of licks, nibbles and 
kisses, Shannon broke off to resume her rousing 
performance. 

As the song continued resonating throughout the house, 
again Shannon turned her back and started wiggling her 
juicy thighs, while her doughy buns began to tremble in 
a rippling effect of rolling waves that made Jonathan 
shake his head in total amazement.

As soon as the song's tempo increased, and Jonathan 
heard the first rapid-fire lyrics, "Ah, looks like 
another club banger," peaking from Eminem's distinct, 
high-pitched voice, Shannon's quaking thighs 
immediately went into overdrive and her turbulent 
cheeks started bouncing and slapping against each other 
at a staggering rate, as if motorized by some invisible 
hydraulics, which made Jonathan's mouth gape open to 
the point where he finally had to step over and join 
her.

He then promptly heeded the song's instructions, by 
walking right over, lifting his hand, and then striking 
Shannon's turbo-charged backside with a resounding 
smack, hard enough to hear despite the loud music.

Shannon turned around instantly, and then smiled, as 
she threw her arms around his neck.

"I was beginning to wonder what I'd have to do to get 
you over here," she said, smiling.

"I'm sorry," Jonathan said. "I was just enjoying the 
view," he added, before leaning in for a second 
lingering kiss.

As the pair continued dancing, Greg and Tiffany 
followed suit, which quickly led to a steamy 
father/daughter make-out session in the family living 
room.

When Jonathan turned and glanced across the foyer, he 
instantly noticed the action that was simultaneously 
going on in the dining room, where Adam had his mother 
stretched out across the dining table, with her 
pantyhose ripped, and his tongue buried deep in her 
fully spread twat, as he hungrily feasted on her savory 
juices, with her lacy black pantyhose-patterned legs 
openly kicked out, as she flailed them around wildly.

The throbbing hard-on instantly produced by the lurid 
sight of Adam sucking his mother's pussy made 
Jonathan's mouth water with envy as he suddenly found 
himself with a critical need for more dessert.

He took Shannon by the hand, and then urgently led her 
directly toward the dining room, where he then propped 
her up on the long mahogany table, and then set her 
down on all fours – face down, ass up – with her legs 
spread and his primary target clearly in sight.

He forcefully struggled to remove her painted-on 
shorts, which finally relented to the insistent 
jostling of his hands, as her enormous rump suddenly 
billowed out, to the rousing sight of her thick bulbous 
cheeks straining against the black chain-link material 
making a useless effort to hold them back.

The ecstatic sounds of his mother's building moans 
spurred Jonathan toward Shannon's waiting crease, as he 
grabbed the fishnets between two hands, urgently 
snapped the threads open, and then dove in head first 
to gorge himself on the bounty of her all-you-can-eat 
buffet.

"Hhhuhhh!" Shannon instantly groaned. "Mmmm fuck!" she 
added, slapping the table. "Yeah, get your face right 
in there. Mmmm yeah! Go on, Johnny, lick my pussy! Lick 
my fucking pussy!" she shouted vehemently.

Jonathan kept his hands roaming over her rolling 
cheeks, while his tongue deeply invaded her steaming 
hole, slurping and sucking on her soft tangy folds, 
with Shannon bucking and writhing against his face, as 
he urgently continued to lick away.

Through his right ear, Jonathan could still hear his 
mother panting and moaning, while Adam seemed focused 
on passing Mrs. Harper's exam like he was cramming for 
SATs. 

"I want you to fuck me now, Adam," said Mrs. Harper. 
"Fuck me as hard as you dream about fucking Tiffany," 
she said. "It's the only way to get that big cock of 
yours inside my daughter."

As if completely enraged, Adam instantly shot up, and 
then tore her pantyhose even more. He vengefully railed 
Jonathan's mother with his cock so hard that the bone-
chilling scream broke Jonathan's concentration, as he 
looked over to see Adam snarling over Shelly, with his 
hands around her throat, and his hips pumping like an 
iron freight train.

Shannon loudly encouraged her brother over her own 
panting and husky voice.

"Hell yeah!" she shouted. "Fuck her, Adam! That's it, 
fuck her nice and hard!" she yelled. "Fuck Mrs. Harper! 
Go on, motherfucker! Fuck the shit out of her!"

With his sister loudly spurring him on, Adam must have 
been acing Mrs. Harper's test, as the vocal outcries 
ringing in Jonathan's ears quickly gave way to a rising 
series of short halting breaths that peaked into a 
soaring chorus of piercing orgasmic bliss, a sound 
Jonathan knew all too well, as his mother violently 
came all over Adam's cock.

With her limp arms curled around his neck, and her 
silken stems still wrapped around his waist, Shelly 
wearily strained to take in a single complete breath, 
as Jonathan listened, while Adam loomed over his 
gasping mother, and then coolly whispered.

"Did I pass the test, Mrs. Harper?"

Shelly inhaled deeply, and then laughed. "I definitely 
give you an 'A' for effort," she said, and then 
strongly exhaled. "Tiffany's in for one hell of a 
ride," she said. "Makes me wish I was her age again."

Adam laughed. "Tiffany told me you can still fit into 
your old uniform."

"Oh, it still fits," Shelly said unequivocally. "It's a 
little harder to breathe, but I can still get it on."

"I'd love to see that," Adam said, while Jonathan was 
busy flicking his tongue against Shannon's clit, a spot 
he could not have found if not for the teaching of said 
Mrs. Harper.

With his tongue dancing circles around Shannon's pink 
engorged nubbin, Jonathan could feel her hips flinch 
with every deliberate pass over what he soon determined 
was clearly her perfect spot, doubling his efforts as 
he flapped his tongue rapidly, as Shannon's raspy moans 
choked out like a sputtering engine, echoing throughout 
the entire room, until suddenly preempted by the sultry 
voice of Jonathan's mom.

Softly, Shelly whispered. "Are you ready to fuck your 
sister now, Adam? It's the only reason we invited both 
of you over." 

The question made Jonathan stop once again. Shannon sat 
up, to which Jonathan quickly noticed as she and Adam 
instantly turned to each other across the table.

"I know I'm ready," Adam said, stroking his throbbing 
cock, still glistening with fresh pussy juice from his 
girlfriend's mother. "Are you?" he asked, as he 
intently focused on his delectably robust little 
sister.

Shannon didn't answer out loud. Instead, she glanced 
over to Jonathan, who stared back at her blankly, 
unsure what to do or even say in that awkward moment. 

When Shannon turned back to Adam, it seemed to Jonathan 
that her eyes were not fully focused on anyone in 
particular, when she slowly nodded her head twice.

"I'm ready," Shannon finally answered softly.

Adam settled himself in the dark wooden, soft 
cushioned, tall dining room chair, which was seated at 
the head of the table. Shelly slid down and stepped out 
of the way, before taking Shannon by the hand to safely 
guide her down as well.

Jonathan quietly stepped back, easing toward the front 
door, while his narrow yet watchful eyes observed 
everything from afar.

With Adam smiling, and his stiff penis rising like a 
scepter, Shannon quietly stepped out of her shorts, and 
then gradually approached, before steadily squatting 
down over him, with her legs slowly bending over both 
sides of his lap, as her brother's hands patiently slid 
down across the swollen reaches of her sumptuous ass.

In that moment, Jonathan could do nothing except look 
away. He steamed through his nose, and then quickly 
turned his back, as he angrily stalked toward the 
stairwell.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed his sister 
calling out to him from the direction of the living 
room.

"Where are you going?" Tiffany asked, while steadily 
undulating above her father on the L-shaped sofa, where 
she appeared to be riding her daddy's cock in the same 
straddling position as Shannon was now doing with Adam.

"To the bathroom," Jonathan said, as he bitterly paced 
upstairs.

On the final run, as he turned the corner to make a 
firm B-line toward the peace and quiet of his room, as 
he walked passed Tiffany's bedroom, from the corner of 
his eye, he noticed a pile of clothes lying on her bed, 
a rare sight considering how much his sister insisted 
on keeping things extremely tidy.

Inspired by mere curiosity, he quietly wandered into 
his sister's room, to find sitting there on Tiffany's 
bed, scattered in a messy pile, were all of Shannon's 
discarded clothes from the original outfit she had on 
when she first arrived that afternoon. 

Jonathan instantly walked over, and then idly began 
fumbling through all of Shannon's things, struggling 
like crazy to block out the mental images of what Adam 
must have been doing to her quite vigorously 
downstairs.

As he quietly sorted through the pile, his fingers 
suddenly tingled from the smooth velvety texture of the 
densely-woven black pantyhose Shannon had worn under 
her low-rise white hip-huggers.

The soft resistant fibers smelled like a sandy beach on 
the remote shores of some deserted paradise, which 
Jonathan could vividly see in the opaque darkness of 
that dreamy black material.

As he slowly began to clench his fingers around 
Shannon's pantyhose, gripping them in his tight fist, 
the scintillating textures of cotton, spandex and nylon 
suddenly began to rejuvenate his flagging spirit with a 
silky electricity that promptly emboldened him, as he 
bravely inhaled, and then instantly spurred himself 
into sheer undeniable action.

With her pantyhose firmly in hand, as if fueling his 
determination, Jonathan began a stolid march back to 
the dining room, head up, eyes forward, with each 
downward step taken at a balanced and deliberate pace.

Reaching the bottom step, he then turned toward the 
offending parties, spying them in his level gaze, as he 
trained on them immediately.

With nine decisive steps, Jonathan closed in on Adam, 
with Shannon still squatting over his lap. 

With no words, Jonathan seized Adam by his elbow, to 
which Adam quickly turned, and then slit his eyes 
defiantly, with he and his sister still joined at the 
hip, as Jonathan firmly stated his intentions without 
pity, without fear, and without hesitation.

"I'm taking Shannon upstairs," Jonathan said. "Alone."

Jonathan then stood there expectantly, waiting for 
immediate compliance, while Adam sat there quietly 
blinking, apparently having lost his capacity for 
speech for reasons which Jonathan had no clue, and 
couldn't care less, so long as Adam didn't say or do 
anything that would even remotely suggest that he might 
try to stand in his way.

Jonathan then leaned toward his mother who was still 
there by the table, as he quietly whispered something 
in her ear, something about rule number nine, which was 
only meant for her to hear. He waited for his mother's 
tacit approval, which she quickly granted with a 
complicit nod, before he turned back, and then raised 
his hand toward Shannon, steadily watching her, with 
his hand elevated in rigid suspension.

Shannon instantly rose to her feet, turning to Jonathan 
with a quiet sigh of what may have been relief, as she 
reached out to firmly grasp his extended hand, before 
quietly stepping away from Adam, and then weightlessly 
trailing after Jonathan, who urgently hauled her up to 
his waiting bedroom.

As she hastily followed him inside, Jonathan guided her 
toward his queen-sized bed, before he turned, and then 
meaningfully walked back to purposely close his open 
door.

As he faced her again, Shannon stood by the foot of his 
bed, with her back toward the large window, and the 
receding afternoon light burning warmly through the 
dark-roasted color of her smoldering brown hair.

"Somebody means business," she said, as her eyes 
flickered, with a flirty smile. "I like that," she told 
him, as Jonathan slowly approached.

Jonathan slowly nodded, as his hands quickly snared her 
around the waist.

"I don't like being in second place," he said. "And I 
don't like coming off the bench."

Shannon smiled, and then nodded readily. "No one asked 
you to," she said. "Trust me," she added fondly. "I do 
remember how good you are," she whispered sincerely. 
"But I would like you to do me a favor," she added 
politely.

"Okay," Jonathan replied.

With the back of her hand, Shannon took her fingers, 
and then gently brushed them down his cheek.

"What we did yesterday," she said softly. "In my room," 
she added, widening her pretty brown eyes, as if 
bracing for his reaction. "It was very nice," she said 
kindly. "I mean, you're very sweet... and I do like 
that about you," she explained, before leaning in with 
her breasts against his chest. "But I don't want you to 
be nice to me anymore," she said, staring deeply in his 
eyes. "You're not a little boy, Johnny," she said 
directly. "And I need you to fuck me like a man.

Jonathan read her eyes, as his hands slowly began 
brushing against her sides, before sweeping across the 
ridge of her spine, and then slowly careening down the 
slope of her back.

"I'm pretty sure I can do that," he said confidently. 
"But I need you to do me a favor, too," he asked.

"Anything," Shannon said, warming up to him, as 
Jonathan felt the heat rising from her open mouth.

Jonathan then met her ready gaze with his own level 
stare, as he spoke again with all seriousness.

"I need you to tell your brother that you may be his 
little sister," he said, as his hands slowly crested 
the curving slopes of her soft precious cheeks. "But in 
this house," he said, with an emphatic squeeze. "This 
ass belongs to me."

Shannon breathed warm air against his face, filling 
Jonathan's nose with the minty scent of her breathe, 
when suddenly he felt the thrilling rush of her lips 
urgently kissing him, as his penis instantly swelled to 
the point of throbbing inside his baggy gym shorts.

Shannon came away gasping, as she heatedly whispered, 
"Yes, sir," against his softly brushing lips.

Jonathan then stepped back to watch as Shannon removed 
her shoes, and then turned around to climb up on the 
bed, where she then leaned over, with her back turned, 
using both hands to clutch the distinct spheres of her 
round meaty cheeks, which from Jonathan's view looked 
exactly like the symbol for infinity, as Shannon slowly 
began to paw her own supple flesh, smiling over her 
shoulder, before spiking the moment with a solid smack 
to her right cheek.

Shannon smiled, as she mildly teased him from a 
distance.

"So since you seem to think that you've got what it 
takes to claim this ass," she said, patting it firmly, 
"then stop talking and come treat it like it's already 
yours."

Jonathan smiled, as he set her worn pantyhose down at 
the foot of the bed, and then quickly climbed up beside 
her.

Shannon flipped her hair, as she turned, and smiled at 
him over her left shoulder, when Jonathan steadily 
inched over, and then placed one hand against the 
fishnet material over her stomach. He then settled his 
other hand against the small of her arching back, 
before sliding down to gently sweep his fingers over 
her plump left cheek, before swinging back, and then 
firmly striking her with a reverberating thwack.

As Shannon flinched from the blistering sensation of 
his hand stinging her without warning, Jonathan stared 
indifferently, blinked once, and then flatly stated.

"I never liked Paris anyway."

Shannon smiled, as their torsos heatedly pressed 
against each other, and then Jonathan took firm hold of 
each cheek, squeezing them like soft pillows, until the 
grainy texture of the chain-link threads became more of 
a distraction. He ripped them quickly, freeing his 
roaming fingers to fully enjoy the smooth unfettered 
surface of her broad arching humps.

Their mouths eagerly came together with none of the 
same tenderness as the previous exchange between them 
in the kitchen. Jonathan offered Shannon his tongue, 
and the curvy brunette accepted it hungrily, before 
quickly returning the favor, by which Jonathan showed 
his appreciation through the rapid expansion of his 
ever-swelling cock.

Their juicy lip lock escalated into a mouth-watering 
bevy of pooled saliva, sloshing and dripping down their 
chins, as their tongues continued to swirl and tease 
one and other with all of their youthful vigor. 

As Jonathan savored the cloudy sensation of Shannon's 
petal-soft lips, combined with the zesty flavor of her 
warm tongue, his mind continuously fought to ward off 
the disturbing images from the dining room, as his 
building frustration caused his rough-edged fingernails 
to dig their way into Shannon's tender vulnerable 
flesh.

Her muffled moans worried him that he was mauling her 
too hard, as he quickly broke free, and then gave her a 
subtle nod of concern, as Shannon smiled in response, 
and then quickly set his mind at ease.

"Trust me," she said. "I'm well padded," she added, 
with a light smile. "You won't hurt me," she stated, as 
her husky voice dropped even more seductively. "All I 
want you to do is use me," she added. "Just use me like 
a toy."

Jonathan crooked his head, as he narrowed his eyes, and 
then questioned her carefully. 

"I can do anything?" he asked cautiously. Shannon 
responded with a devious smile. 

She crossed her arms, and then pulled off her fishnet 
top, casting it aside, as she moistened her lips, and 
then stared back intently, as she answered simply, 
"Well, I didn't come up here to play Xbox."

Jonathan smiled back, as he quickly removed his T-
shirt, and then kicked off his socks and sneakers, 
before sliding up to the head of the bed, where he 
hurriedly tore off his shorts.

He paused to admire Shannon in her fetching red bra, 
with her legs beautifully adorned in those stylish 
fence-net hose, continuing to stare quietly as he 
steadily eased down his boxers, and then gradually 
reclined, with his back resting against the headboard, 
and his hand leisurely stroking his cock.

He continued to watch as Shannon's own riveted gaze 
slowly descended, and then settled on the sight of his 
pulsing erection, as her brown eyes flickered with a 
sudden flash of appreciation, while she smiled again 
playfully.

"Is all that for me?" she asked, with a cheerful grin.

Jonathan nodded. "I got you an early Christmas gift," 
he said, grinning back.

Shannon smiled. "Are you sure?" she said. "From here, 
it looks more like the whole damn tree," she added, as 
she slowly crawled over, and then laid her head between 
his open legs. She wet her lips again, as her hand 
reached out and gently took hold of his clean-shaven 
ball sac, which she then weighed using the delicate 
palm of her hand.

"Hmm," she continued, with a smile. "You've got some 
pretty big presents under there, too," she said. "I 
wonder why they're so full."

Jonathan smiled back. "It wasn't the mashed potatoes," 
he said. "Maybe it's just you."

Shannon turned up to him, and then blinked. "Are you 
ever going to tell me what was in those?"

Jonathan smirked. "Hmm," he said, choosing his words 
carefully before he answered. "Honestly," he explained 
cryptically, "the secret is right under your nose."

Shannon crooked her head, and then squinted briefly, 
when her eyes slowly started to widen with recognition, 
as her hand slid from Jonathan's balls to slowly close 
around his rigid shaft.

"Wow," Shannon said. "Now, that's pretty far out 
there," she added, with a smile. "You really are a 
naughty boy, aren't you?"

Jonathan blinked. "I'm just a Harper," he said. "Pretty 
far out there is just how we live," he said, before 
politely asking. "Can you handle that?"

Shannon paused, with her lips hovering over the tip of 
Jonathan's extended rod. "I won't lie," she said, as 
she softly inhaled. "It's a lot to swallow," she said. 
"But luckily, I've got a pretty big mouth," she 
whispered, as her lips suddenly closed around the head, 
making Jonathan buck on contact as Shannon slowly 
guided the shaft over her warm adventurous tongue.

Shannon quietly went down and leisurely began teasing 
the sensitive end of his cock with a light-sucking, 
tongue-swirling series of shallow bobs and short head 
twists, teaming the efforts of her mouth with the 
coercive powers of her steadily stroking hand, which 
repeatedly took over where her mouth left off, keeping 
Jonathan's cock in a perpetual state of pulsating 
hardness from her constant groin-shivering stimulation.

Jonathan closed his eyes, purely to focus on the 
urgency with which Shannon used the persistent suction 
of her soft spongy mouth in her diligent efforts to 
bring him to his full throbbing potential. She curled 
her fingers around the shaft once again, and then slid 
down to run the tip of her tongue over the smoothness 
of his balls, slurping on them with her able mouth, as 
her hand rhythmically churned his cock to the slick 
noises of her greasy stroking fingers. 

"Have you been thinking about this since yesterday?" 
Shannon asked, with her face nuzzled against his 
hairless sac.

Jonathan looked down at her, and then quickly nodded. 
"I don't know what it is," he said, struggling to 
speak, with her hand feeling so incredibly silky with 
each light twisting stroke. "I can't get you out of my 
mind."

Shannon grinned, as she quickly came up to kiss him 
softly, leaving drool on his lips, to go with her hot 
breath, as he quickly trembled from the throaty sound 
of her voice.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," she said, steadily 
jerking him off. "Don't you want me on your mind?" she 
asked, before giving his stiff penis a deliberate 
squeeze. "It feels like you do."

Jonathan groaned. "Unnnggghh... of course, I do," he 
told her. "But we have rules in this house," he said. 
"Rules that wouldn't make sense to anyone outside of 
this family," he explained.

Shannon nodded, while her even hand motions kept his 
blood heated at a steady simmer. "I know," she said, 
stroking down to the base. "And I don't expect you to 
explain it all one day," she added, sliding to the tip. 
"But I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you," she 
said, twisting her grip around the head. "The least you 
could do is trust me too," she said, swabbing the tip 
with her velvet tongue. "I may not be as experienced 
your Mom, or even Tiffany," she admitted, before 
dragging her tongue down the shaft. "But I'm sure 
there's nothing they can do that I can't do for you 
too."

Jonathan smiled. "Hmm," he said reservedly. "We'll 
see," he added, as he leaned back, spread his legs, and 
then guided Shannon's head back down to his waiting 
balls.

Shannon promptly resumed using her moist lips and dewy 
tongue to thoroughly cleanse his sweaty genitals of 
their dank musty grime, as her hand regained firm 
control of his hard-on and skillfully took to patiently 
jacking him off, when Jonathan placed his hand on top 
of her head to guide her down even further.

"Lick my ass," Jonathan said, as Shannon blinked 
nervously. Jonathan responded by pulling back his 
knees, exposing his anus to Shannon's gaping eyes, 
until she quietly and gingerly leaned in to softly dab 
the puckered ring with the fragile tip of her curious 
tongue.

"It won't bite you," Jonathan said, with a smile. "Mom 
does it for me all the time."

Shannon then looked up at his blank expression, and 
then sniffed at the mild challenge implied in his tone. 
She quietly nodded, with a soft smile, and then 
promptly extended her tongue, before she wiggled it 
deep inside his narrow crease.

"Ahhhh yeah," Jonathan moaned. "That's it," he said, 
praising her. "Good girl. Nice and deep."

Shannon moaned as well, possibly from the knowledge 
that she was pleasing him. Her tongue began flapping 
and poking into his rectum at a rapid pace, while using 
her right hand to keep his cock nice and hard, as her 
left hand suddenly disappeared from sight.

"Ssssssss," Shannon hissed, as Jonathan realized her 
free hand must have gone down to rub her pussy between 
her legs. "Mmmmm," she moaned. "You've got tasty little 
butthole," she said. "How does my tongue feel in there, 
huh? Do you like it?" she asked, poking it in for 
emphasis.

"Hhhuuunngghhaawwwwwdddyessssss!" Jonathan groaned. 
"Fuck yeah! It's good! You're good! God damn, you're 
good!"

"I'm a quick learner," she said, with a wink. "But I'm 
dripping wet right now," she added desperately. "I 
really need to get fucked," she told him. "May I sit on 
your cock?"

Jonathan nodded and smiled. "You've been good so far," 
he said. "I guess I'll let you."

Shannon smiled back cheerfully, and then urgently 
climbed up over his lap, hovering over his swollen 
head, while resting one hand against the headboard, as 
her other hand carefully guided him in.

"Oooooohhh," Shannon moaned blissfully, as she slowly 
helped the moist sleeve of her pussy to easily slide 
down over his sturdy pole. She swooned from the instant 
thrill of penetration, and then quickly reached behind 
her back to whip off her bra, before taking Jonathan's 
hands, and then forcefully placing them over her soft 
buoyant breasts.

Jonathan gamely began fondling and squeezing her pert 
breasts, which perfectly fit within the palms of hands 
like ripe tomatoes, as he studied her shuddering 
reactions, while she rolled her hips and firmly gripped 
him inside her aggressively tight snatch.

Shannon grabbed the headboard with both hands, and then 
threw her head back, bucking her hips faster and 
harder, as Jonathan rolled her nipples between his 
fingers and then added a hard pinch.

"Hhhhunnnhhh!" Shannon gasped. "Hmmmfffuccckkk! Yesss! 
Harder!" she pleaded, with her eyelids tightly 
clenched, and her head nodding rapidly. "Do it harder!" 
she begged.

Jonathan then dug in with as much force as he could 
muster, sending Shannon's blissful sobs wailing through 
the walls, when her head suddenly swung forward, and 
Jonathan looked up to see her glistening face snarling 
over him through the narrow slits of her lustful brown 
eyes.

"Goddamn it, I love your cock!" she uttered thankfully. 
"It is so fucking hard in my pussy," she added 
breathlessly. "I'm almost ready to cum."

"Turn around," Jonathan quickly ordered. "Turn around 
so I can see your ass."

Shannon cracked a knowing smile, releasing the 
headboard, as she quickly spun the opposite way, when 
Jonathan scooted down, and then laid his hands firmly 
against the domed arches of her plump cheeks, which as 
soft as they looked, felt hard as boulders as Jonathan 
held them in his tight grip.

In one steady motion, his hands pressed down, while his 
hips pushed up, which forcefully impaled Shannon's 
slick pussy with the full length of his steely cock, as 
both of them groaned in unison from the pure bliss of 
such thorough penetration, which Jonathan followed with 
a vigorous flurry of hip-thrusting power strokes that 
resoundingly pushed Shannon over the edge.

Jonathan could only listen as her raspy moans peaked to 
the shattering volume of an on-coming siren, with her 
savage brown hair tossing through every one of her 
shivering disjointed spasms. 

Her stamina amazed him as her hips urgently resumed 
their lewd winding motion, and the animal scent of her 
steaming pussy rushed through his nose, filling him 
with even greater hunger, as Shannon began riding him 
frantically.

With his hands free, Jonathan watched as Shannon 
actively bounced on his raging cock at breakneck speed, 
leaving Jonathan completely cock-eyed by the thunderous 
impact of her hard-slapping cheeks.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" Shannon said, teasing 
him viciously. "You like seeing my big ass bounce up 
and down on your cock?"

Jonathan groaned. "Ahhhhh... sssssss... oohhh... 
fffucckk... yyeeeaahhh... ride that cock!" he said. 
"Ohhhggaaawwwddd your ass looks so fucking good!"

Shannon even added a little extra oomph, as Jonathan 
noted her tight glute muscles tensing up, and releasing 
with each furious rocking motion.

"It's not my ass anymore, Johnny," she said, reminding 
him. "This is your ass now."

Her words almost made Jonathan explode then and there, 
as his chest heaved, his eyes closed, and his hips 
suddenly reared off the mattress, before he finally 
managed to catch his breath, opening his eyes to stare 
at the ceiling and distract himself until the imminent 
force of his ejaculation finally abated.

As he briefly rested, he quietly inhaled, as his eyes 
fluttered, and he suddenly noticed his miniature wooden 
baseball ball sitting on his window sill. The replica 
Louisville Slugger had been signed by several players 
from the Los Angeles Dodgers, a gift from Jonathan's 
grandfather, which was one of his most prized 
possessions.

He quickly sat up, reached for the bat, and then eyed 
Shannon with a challenging look, as he patted the 
narrow wooden baton against the palm of his hand.

"Time for a new game," Jonathan said. As Shannon sat 
up, and then peeked over her shoulder suspiciously.

She looked at the bat in his hand, and then smiled 
suggestively, as she whispered in her throaty voice. 
"And just where do you plan on sticking that?"

Jonathan smiled, as he answered, with a simple shrug, 
"In your ass, of course."

Shannon only paused for a moment, before she rolled off 
long enough for Jonathan to kneel behind her, and then 
she graciously hunched down on all fours, with those 
tremendous asscheeks rising up in two perfectly shaped 
orbs, with her legs fettered under a lattice of black 
fishnet, as Jonathan crept up from the rear, and then 
dove straight for her tasty asshole face first.

"Ohhhhh!!" Shannon squealed unexpectedly. "Goddamn it!" 
she added loudly, as Jonathan returned her previous 
favor by eagerly giving her a long, loving rim job. 
"Hmmmyyyesssssssss!!! Uhhhhhyyeeeahhh Johnny!!!" she 
hollered. "Stick your FUCKING tongue up my ASS!!!"

"Mmmpphhhh shhhllllliccckkk shhhllluurrpp," Jonathan 
answered, greedily munching on her tangy crease.

He rapidly licked and copiously drooled all over 
Shannon's edible bung, greasing it with warm saliva, 
before carefully invading her with a finger, which 
easily wormed its way in, followed by a second, as 
Shannon wiggled her hips to lewdly accommodate his 
probing digits.

With two fingers fully ensnared by her tight rectum, 
Shannon reared up briefly, as she turned over her 
shoulder, with her curly brown locks spilling down 
across the bedspread, as she casually whispered. "So, I 
guess you're planning to stick your cock in there, 
too."

Jonathan nodded. "What gave it away?" he said smiling.

Shannon smiled back. "Nothing," she said, "except the 
fact that you've barely looked at my face since I got 
here."

Jonathan nodded again, before considerately asking. 
"So, it's not a problem?"

Shannon paused, as her eyes sparkled with reverence. 
"You own it now, remember," she said, with a wink. "You 
can do whatever you want."

Jonathan slowly evacuated his fingers with a subtle 
squelch, as he caught Shannon eyeing his greasy fingers 
with perverse longing. Her eyes quickly flashed up, as 
if to silently express her lewd intent, before she then 
wet her lips, which Jonathan finally read as a sign to 
bring his hand forward.

Shannon sat up, turned over her right shoulder, and 
then parted her lips, as Jonathan brought his soiled 
fingers up to her extended tongue.

"Taste," Jonathan said, to which Shannon quickly 
complied by slurping and sucking his dirty fingers in 
her wet steamy mouth, a sight that made Jonathan gasp 
in disbelief at how filthy she could truly be.

"Mmmmmm," Shannon said. "Hot and juicy," she added, 
with the playful flick of her tongue. "Almost as wet as 
my pussy," she stated. "I think it needs a cock in 
there," she teased. "Any takers?"

Jonathan placed the tip of his miniature bat against 
her narrow crack. "Let's loosen you up first," he said, 
as he pressed her head down, with her vaulted cheeks 
perched up nice and high.

He then bent down for a good thorough licking, 
sandwiching his face as far as it would go, until he 
felt nothing except the sublime pressure of her cheeks 
mashed against his cheeks, with his tongue bulleting in 
and out of her spongy rectum, savoring the heady scent 
of her steaming anus, as well as her rich creamy cooze.

Jonathan quickly came up, and then dragged the tip of 
the skinny model club, trailing it along the groove 
which divided her massive cheeks, before nestling the 
blunt tip against the ring, where he patiently waited 
for the winking eye to gradually dilate on its own, 
before steadily and patiently guiding the wooden bat 
through the air-tight hole.

Jonathan listened as Shannon sucked in a sharp deep 
breath, and then steadily released the air through her 
mouth, as the tightness of her stingy walls gradually 
began to relax around the intruding shaft, which slowly 
worked itself in until Jonathan guessed she had easily 
handled the first three inches.

"How does it feel?" he asked patiently.

"Like a two-by-four," Shannon said, before quickly 
nodding. "I'm fine though."

Jonathan blinked. "You're sure?" he said, double 
checking. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

Shannon shook her head, and then laughed softly, before 
she honestly confessed. 

"It hurts...but in a good way."

Jonathan then watched as Shannon started to rub herself 
between her legs, and the circular motion of her 
writhing hips gradually assisted her gaping ass to 
cozily accommodate the miniature bat, as she easily 
took another two inches through her own steady and 
obscene efforts.

"Let's leave it in there until you feel comfortable," 
Jonathan said, rubbing her back, as he leaned upright. 
"In the meantime," he added, suddenly taking her by the 
hair. "I need you to come over here," he said, as he 
quickly stepped off the bed, and then dragged her off 
as well. He leaned back against the edge of the bed, 
and then planted her down right in front of him, on her 
knees.

With half of the wooden bat still hanging from her 
backside, wearing nothing but her torn fishnets, with a 
daringly submissive smile, Shannon waited with her 
hands by her sides, as Jonathan gave the next order.

"Suck," Jonathan said sternly, a directive to which 
Shannon quickly responded by instantly reaching up with 
her right hand, until Jonathan forcefully slapped away. 

"No hands!" he quickly snapped. "Just open your mouth," 
he then ordered bluntly, before peering down, and then 
adding ominously, "and I'll try not to choke you."

Shannon's pleading eyes quickly reached up, as her pink 
lips curled into a genuine smile. "What if I want you 
to choke me?" she asked him surprisingly.

Jonathan returned her question with an uncertain frown. 
"You want me to choke you?" he replied, scratching his 
head.

Shannon nodded. "I can't deep throat like Tiffany," she 
said. "I've tried. It just won't go down," she 
explained. "But I still like the feeling of having no 
control," she added. "I like to be gagged," she 
confessed, much to Jonathan's shock and dismay. "I love 
it when my eyes water," she told him excitedly. "That's 
the best!"

Jonathan needed a moment to let the whole idea of being 
gagged on purpose gradually register. "What if I go too 
far?" he asked fearfully.

Shannon blinked. "Then I'll tell you to stop."

Jonathan pursed her lips for a moment, before he 
finally looked down at her again, and then slowly 
nodded. "Okay," he said, with a mild sniff. "Spit on it 
first," he then told her, as he pointed the swollen 
head closer to her mouth.

Shannon smiled, and then pooled up a fresh serving of 
saliva that she lewdly expelled in a huge oozing 
mouthful of warm spit, all over the tip of Jonathan's 
cock, which then dribbled all the way down his vein-
laden shaft. 

"Good," Jonathan said, smiling with approval. "Now open 
your mouth nice and wide," he told her.

Shannon instantly complied, with her eyes trained to 
look up and watch his face, as he took her by the hair, 
and then speared his cock straight into her willing 
mouth.

"Ggggluurrrkkkk," came the sound from Shannon's 
penetrated gullet. "Vvvlllummmppphh hhhmmmppphhh 
sssslluummmppp bbbluurrggg gggluuurrrkkkk!" the lewd 
noises continued, as Jonathan thrust back and forth, 
loving the warm spongy sensation of her welcoming mouth 
as foamy threads of long ropy spit spewed all down her 
chin, as Jonathan found Shannon's mouth to be every bit 
as sopping wet as her pussy.

"Man, that's good," he said, admiring her skill and 
commitment as she repeatedly let him fuck her face. 
"You really do love my cock, don't you?" he said, 
snapping her head back and forth as he jabbed his dick 
against the back of her throat several times before 
giving her a short break.

"Unnnggaaaawwwdddddd," Shannon gasped, as she came away 
sobbing. "Ohhhh ffuucckkk yeaaahhh!" she moaned, under 
dribbling fountains of her own copious spit. "I love 
your cock! I love your fucking cock!" she cried. 
"Punish me with it! Don't stop! Treat me like a whore!" 
she sobbed earnestly.

Jonathan watched as Shannon's tears leaked down her 
face just as she had hoped, smiling with joy and 
amazement, as he promptly continued fulfilling her 
request to be viciously manhandled, with his balls 
battering her chin from the relentless piston action of 
his lunging hips, while Shannon's strangled breaths 
blissfully gurgled from the back of her ravaged throat, 
as Jonathan imagined how good his cock was going to 
feel in the coming moments when he finally got to pound 
it deep into that deliciously fat ass.

"Hhhhummppphh ssssslluurrpppp ggggllleeecckkk 
vvvllummmppphhh," Shannon repeated, with a tireless 
dedication to completing her oral marathon, aided by 
Jonathan forcefully yanking on her hair, when he 
suddenly pulled too hard, and his cock bottomed out 
somewhere beyond her epiglottis, to the guttural sound 
of Shannon reaching her utter limit, with a desperate 
and urgent sounding, "GgGglllloOogggGhhhhhH!!!!!"

Jonathan instantly withdrew, and as he slid out, along 
with all the foam and drool dripping from his 
thoroughly slobbered cock, came a giant web of thick 
crystalline phlegm, which Shannon inexplicably caught 
in her hand, holding the warm glob of goo, and then 
lewdly smearing it against her chest, where she 
liberally began rubbing it all over her perky tits like 
body lotion.

Shannon looked up at Jonathan, grinning through her 
frothy smile, as she meekly asked. "Am I doing a good 
job? Do you think I'm as big a slut as Tiffany and your 
mom?"

Jonathan refused to smile on purpose. "Is that what you 
want?" he said, taunting her. "Do you want to be as big 
a slut as them?"

Shannon nodded readily. "Yes," she said. "But I just 
want to be your slut," she said. "I want to be your 
good little whore."

Jonathan nodded only once. "Stand up," he said 
commandingly.

Shannon quickly obeyed, as Jonathan then directed her 
to bend over the side of the bed. 

He calmly approached her from behind, and then, before 
her removing her fishnets, he carefully dislodged the 
wooden plank from her ass, and then leaned over to 
replace it with something a bit more substantial.

Like the good little whore she so eagerly wanted to be, 
Shannon coaxed his imminent anal entry by fanning her 
fingers across the meaty humps of her heart-shaped ass, 
and then spread them completely wide open to expose the 
little eye, as it peeked out from all that spectacular 
padding, which Jonathan now claimed as his own.

"Come fuck this big ass," Shannon begged. "Fuck it till 
it hurts," she added. "Fuck it like you just don't give 
a shit."

As Shannon spoke, Jonathan listened knowing full well 
he could never really do exactly what she was asking. 
He might not have understood how he felt about her that 
morning, but in the hours that passed his feelings for 
her had become quite clear. For all the times he had 
made fun of Tiffany and her boundless affection for 
Adam, his feelings for Shannon had grown to become much 
the same.

As his exalted penis triumphantly entered Shannon's 
exquisitely tight sphincter from behind, his mind 
reeled at the concept that his life could not possibly 
get any better than it was at that very moment.

With his aching cock firmly inserted in her hallowed 
rear chamber, Jonathan gingerly began testing her 
tolerance level, pushing lightly, with an easy thrust 
that sent his shaft tunneling clear through her narrow 
sheath like a hand in a glove, as his makeshift wooden 
dildo had clearly done its job, when his well-greased 
cock easily slid all the way home. 

The moment Jonathan began vigorously rutting his cock 
back and forth in her warm spongy walls, Shannon 
instantly came from the intense pleasure, the searing 
pain, or some perfect balance of the two, either way 
the overwhelming determination with which she 
tenaciously locked onto his penetrating drive through 
her anal rim was far too intense even for the rugged 
young Mr. Harper, who had finally found someone who 
made him truly feel like a man.

At the penultimate moment of his fateful eruption, 
Jonathan once again held back with all of his will, as 
he sharply withdrew, and then took a step back, able to 
see nothing except the unfathomable beauty of Shannon's 
stupendously massive ass.

"Why did you stop?" Jonathan heard Shannon say from 
across the bed.

"Couldn't hold it anymore," he said as he stood there 
with his cock pointing at her, stiff as a board.

"I don't want you to hold back," Shannon told him. "I 
want you to cum for me," she whined. "Don't you want to 
cum for me?"

"Yes!" he said, as he absently began jerking himself 
off. "I can't even think about anything else right 
now."

"So, what's stopping you?" Shannon said. "Do you really 
need more incentive than this?" she said, sliding her 
hands down and then slapping her ample cheeks. "You 
know, Tiffany told me everything about you," she added. 
"You know that, don't you?"

Jonathan blinked. His hand had begun pumping faster.

"She did," he said, stroking his rigid shaft. "What did 
she say?"

Shannon kept her back turned, with her succulent cheeks 
perched as high as she could lift them, as she softly 
went on.

"For one thing," she told him, in her low sultry tone. 
"She told me how much you love pantyhose," she said. 
"It's true, right? Pantyhose are what really get you 
off?"

Jonathan started to perspire. His knees had already 
started to shake.

"Y-y-y-essss," he said breathlessly. "It's true," he 
answered, unsure exactly where this was leading but 
knowing he had to hear more.

"Do you know what I want you to do?" Shannon said, 
again speaking in that husky tone, which made her sound 
so much older and sexier than a girl of fifteen, with 
her round bodacious hips, and the sculpted marble ass 
of a fully grown woman as well.

"What!" Jonathan panted, slapping his meat like a 
mental patient as he started to feel a bit faint. "Just 
tell me, PLEASE!" he begged.

Shannon paused, and the room went quiet, before she 
slowly answered in a low voice filled with yearning.

"I want you to cum all over my ass," she said. 

"I want you to shoot so much cum on my ass that it 
leaves streaks running all the way down my legs," she 
said wantonly. 

"And then," she continued. "I'm taking these sexy black 
pantyhose," she said, reaching for them at the foot of 
the bed, "which I wore just for you," she added, "and 
I'm putting them back on." 

"That way," she hotly explained. "Your warm dripping 
cum will keep these black pantyhose glued to my big 
juicy ass for the whole ride home," she said. "Can you 
imagine that...all of your hot white sticky cum just 
soaking through my soft sheer black pantyhose?" she 
added. "Do you have any idea how good it will feel to 
go home tonight and still be able to feel it stuck to 
my skin," she said excitedly. "Even later tonight, as 
I'm lying in bed remembering how much cum you shot all 
over me...smiling to myself, as I fall asleep...in my 
dirty pantyhose."

As Shannon uttered her magic words, Jonathan 
experienced a nuclear ejaculation, the sheer force of 
which seemed to empty itself out of every pore in his 
skinny body, surging like white waters to produce an 
avalanche of cum, with streaming rivers of rich foamy 
jism pouring down her naked thighs...

***

As the overhead light of day slowly gave over to the 
rising shadows of early evening, Jonathan calmly 
escorted Shannon to the black Lexus where her brother 
quietly sat in wait until she and Jonathan said their 
goodbyes.

True to her word, Shannon stepped out of Jonathan's 
room wearing all of her original clothes, as she 
proceeded downstairs to hug Tiffany goodbye, thank 
Jonathan's parents, and then begin her trip home with 
nothing between her and her tight white jeans, except a 
soggy pair of black pantyhose completely saturated by 
Jonathan's cum. 

"So, I was just wondering," Jonathan said, as they 
walked along the stone pathway hand in hand. "I'm sure 
I could ask Tiffany, but as long as you're here, I 
figure I'll ask you myself."

"What is it?" Shannon asked.

"I just need to know if your family celebrates 
Christmas," he said.

Shannon nodded. "We do," she explained. "I'm only half 
Jewish. My mother was born in Greece," she said, as she 
turned facing him. "Why?" she asked, tilting her head, 
with a charming half-smile. "You weren't thinking of 
buying me a gift, were you?"

Jonathan smiled. "Well, yeah," he said, with a casual 
shrug. "I wanted to get you something. I don't know 
what though."

Shannon eyed him with a hint of disappointment, as she 
shook her head, and then mildly answered through a 
slight frown. 

"Hmm," she said, pursing her lips. "There you go being 
nice to me, again."

Jonathan smirked, and then looked away, lecturing 
himself quietly, before turning back to face her again, 
with a warm humble smile. "You're right," he said, 
scratching his head. I'm sorry."

Shannon smiled back, and then leaned in, setting her 
hand on his chest. 

"Besides," she said, in a hushed sultry tone, as she 
fondly gazed into his eyes. "You already gave me three 
gifts today," she softly reminded him. "Four if you 
count what I'm still wearing," she added, slowly 
rubbing her jeans. "Keep it up and I'll be completely 
spoiled well before Valentine's Day," she said, wagging 
her little finger.

"I got it," Jonathan said, with a steady nod. "I need 
to pace myself."

"Exactly," she said, with a grin. "Less is more," she 
told him. "Although, in your case," she said, stepping 
in to firmly rub his crotch. "Less is still quite a 
bit."

Jonathan smiled. "Thanks for the advice," he said. "Can 
I call you tomorrow?"

Shannon smiled, as she tenderly leaned forward, and 
then softly pecked him on the lips. "That's not up to 
me, remember?" she gently reminded him again. "You can 
do whatever you want. I'm just your little pantyhose 
whore," she said, with a sassy wiggle.

Jonathan replied with a simple nod, to which Shannon 
then quietly preceded her departure by slowly reaching 
inside her jeans, gripping the elastic band around her 
waist, and then pulling up her filthy black pantyhose 
by a good six inches, before evenly smoothing the gummy 
fabric around her lean belly. 

When she slowly turned her back, Jonathan quickly 
looked down, as his steady eyes proudly drank in every 
shiny little drop of the pasty white spackle stuck 
against the small of her back, vivid evidence that the 
saucy and vivacious Shannon Resnick was a true 
pantyhose slut through and through.

"Goodnight, Jonathan," Shannon said, switching her hips 
as she patiently walked away.

"Goodnight, Shannon," Jonathan said, following each 
bouncy step, until she gracefully folded into her 
father's car.

As the car steadily made its way down Somerset, 
Jonathan trembled, as their eyes met again briefly, 
when Shannon suddenly winked in his direction, and then 
softly blew him a kiss.

Jonathan beamed, as he slowly turned away from the 
setting sun, and then lightly stepped toward the 
driveway, when he saw his basketball still in the same 
spot where he left it down by the curb.

As he picked up the ball, with the sun still hovering 
faintly overhead, he spotted his father once again hard 
at work in the garage.

"Hey, Dad," Jonathan said, as he pulled up for an 
outside shot that easily fell right in. "Ready to 
finish that game..?"

To be continued...


Copyright@2008
AZ Legman

wordsinprogress@gmail.com

_~ For Roxy ~_

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a 
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 23