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Sunny came awake to a delightful tingling of her dainty cunt, and for the first startled moment, she thought she’d napped too long in the backyard sun and was blistering again. With her tender skin, it was so easy to sunburn.
But it was only George, licking at her thighs again, acting silly as a dog could. “George,” she said lazily, “go away, George.”
Her poor mom, thought Sunny. She didn’t have a lover. She’d go soak in the tub, and think about that. Soaping the washrag, she slid the bubbles over her tits, tickled them awhile, and wished as always that they were bigger, like her mom’s boobs. But her mother tried to make those nice jugs look smaller by wearing loose blouses and the like.
She remembered her father as a standoffish type of guy, seldom home and always on the road in his business. The road killed him three years ago–or, more to the point, the freeway. His wife had been a widow ever since, and all his work hadn’t left them much more than enough to get by.
Of course, her mother played the widow bit to the hilt, looking sad and never going out on a date with a man. Sunny rinsed her body and sat up in the tub, shaking her head; after a woman had been fucked for a while, years even, how could she possibly go back to not fucking? You couldn’t return to being a virgin, so why not make the most of your experience? Especially since her mother was such a good-looking woman, only thirty-two years old, tall and willowy, with those big, firm boobs.
Sunny climbed from the tub and leaned over to pull the plug. She stayed in that bent position, twisting her head around so she could see in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.