Breakfast in the Kitchen

More good mornings are exchanged as your family gently bustle around the kitchen table. As usual now most everyone is wearing minimal, loose clothing, so your nudity (along with Sables always-nakedness) isn’t made a big deal out of. Jenny is only wearing a small yellow tank top, sashaying around bottomless as she places down plates. You can’t help but stare at her bare ass, then her bare pussy as she turns. She gives you a glance too, smiling at your ever erect cock then gifting Sable a quick peck on the cheeks to welcome her into the room.

Your mother is at the sink, her back turned, tight t-shirt and shorts barely there. Your father is sitting already at the head of the table, his wifebeater faded and blue-grey, his boxers checkered. He is flicking through a digital almanac. He looks up at you, helps himself to the gloriously curvaceous view of Sable before giving you a quick nod of acknowledgement then takes a sip from his mug of black coffee.

“Have a seat, Sable,” says Betty, pulling out a chair for the girl whose waist still has your arms hooked around it. “I’ll plate up some fresh sprouts for you to go with the peaches.”

“Let me help,” Sable replies with a shake of her head. She breaks free of your embrace with a graceful stride. Jenny smirks at you as she seats herself and the cow passes behind her.

“No no, dear, I won’t have it,” your mother says, turning and blocking Sable from entering the breakfast prepping zone of the kitchen counter with her arms. She was curt but kind in her manner but Sable still frowns. Your mother’s face is soft like her smile. “You work on the farm but when you’re in our house you’re our guest, okay?”

At this Sable can’t stop herself from pouting and you realise she almost flinched at the word.

“I don’t want to be treated like a guest,” she says, earnest and quiet. She doesn’t like how… temporary it sounds. Your mother’s eyes widen, brow wrinkling with with sympathy. She takes the morphed bovine’s slender hand in hers.

“Aww Sable, that’s not what I meant,” she assures the cow gently. “You’re family, of course. Come here.” Your mother opens her arms but doesn’t really wait for Sable to to come to her. She wraps the girl's sizeable bust into her own, hugging her warmly, which Sable seems surprised at at first but quickly warms to. Your mother’s hand then slides up the cowgirl’s arm, along her shoulder and neck, then she takes the side of Sable’s head, turning her mouth to give her kiss. You watch the two beautiful creatures tasting each other’s lips and tongues and you ache a bit at the crotch. Everyone in the kitchen takes a few seconds to watch in fact, Sable’s tail swaying happily behind her. “Mmm…” hums your mother after they finally break from the drawn out kiss, wiping at the corner of her mouth with a finger. “Tastes like you had a bit of fun this morning,” she notes, winking at you. Blushing furiously Sable clears her throat.

“Please Mrs Jones, let me help with something,” she insists, craning her neck over to where Betty is picking up more full plates. Your mother glances over her shoulder but shrugs.

“Well… there’s nothing else to be done, dear,” she says, gently stroking Sable’s side. You look over the tablespread which is pretty set with warmly steaming pancakes today, some fresh sliced peaches on the side. “Just sit. I promise you can help out next time.”

There’s not much Sable can say to that, but she still seems a little upset that there’s nothing for her to do. She wants to be of use. She slowly moves over to a chair next to yours, unreasonably dejected.

“Actually, we’re out of milk,” says Betty. You and Sable both look up at your sister who is leaning on the fridge and holding two empty glasses.

“Hmm?” Your mother tilts her head curiously. “I thought we still had a couple bottles.” She grabs onto the fridge handle, meaning to open it, but Betty doesn’t budge from her spot against the door.

“Nope,” she says, passing your mother the empty glasses instead. Mom smiles and takes the glasses.

“Ah I see,” she replies with a knowing nod. She turns to the table and places one cup by her husband’s plate and another by Jenny, who pauses in her syrup pouring to look at the glass. “Sable, Jon, can you two see about some fresh milk then?” requests your mother.

You both blink dumbly at the matron for a second.