Daughter's Thoughts

I love my family. I really, really do.

Mom is basically perfect, and it drives me insane sometimes. She’s thirty-six but looks twenty-eight—long platinum-blonde hair always shiny and perfect, big blue eyes with lashes for days, and those lips… God, those lips. Big, plump, naturally full dick-sucking bimbo lips that somehow still look classy on her. They’re the kind of lips that make you understand why every guy stares when she talks—soft, pillowy, always glossy pink like they’re made for wrapping around something thick. Not fake or overdone, just unfairly sexy. And her body is obscene on top of it. Massive FF-cup fake tits Dad paid for, bolted on and round and high, always straining whatever top she’s wearing. Tiny waist, flat stomach with that little gold belly piercing she got “just because,” and then there’s her ass. Jesus. The most perfect bubble butt I’ve ever seen—toned but soft, curved exactly right, not too big, not too small, the kind of ass that makes yoga pants look illegal. It sits high and round, jiggling just enough when she walks in heels to make every guy (and half the women) stare.

She’s sweet, submissive, always smiling, always putting everyone else first. The ultimate good wife, the ultimate good mom. It’s infuriating how flawless she is.

Dad adores her—obsessed, really. He still grabs her ass in the kitchen when he thinks I’m not looking. They’re solid, happy, the couple everyone points to and says “goals.”

And Dunk… my fiancé. Twenty-one, 6’6”, 375 pounds of dark muscle. Gentle giant with me, intense eyes, huge hands that make me feel tiny. Sex with him is incredible but overwhelming—he’s careful, always holding back because he’s so big and I’m… not built for everything he clearly wants to give. I love him so much it hurts.

I trust him completely. I trust Mom completely.

But there’s this ugly little knot inside me that I hate admitting even to myself: I’m jealous of Mom. Not just a little—deep, burning jealous. She’s sexier than me without trying. Guys look at her longer. Dad worships her. And some dark, twisted part of me fantasizes about watching her perfect little world crack. About seeing that sweet, submissive, always-perfect mommy get absolutely destroyed—railed senseless by some massive black cock until she’s a moaning, ruined mess. Until those perfect FF tits are bouncing out of control, that legendary bubble butt is getting clapped raw, those plump bimbo lips are stretched wide and glossy with spit, and she’s begging like a slut instead of smiling like an angel. Just once. Just so she’s not untouchable anymore. Just so I don’t have to keep measuring myself against perfection.

I’d never say it out loud. I feel sick even thinking it.

But last night I had this dream…

I was in Dunk’s apartment, but I wasn’t really there—like I was watching through the wall. Mom was on her knees in those sky-high red heels she loves, white crop top gone, those huge fake tits out and swaying while she stroked him with both hands. Her perfect bubble ass was arched toward me in tight jeans, looking even rounder and juicier from behind. Dunk towered over her, dark skin against her pale, his monster cock—way bigger than I’ve ever managed to take—throbbing between those big, plump bimbo lips of hers. She was whispering filthy things, voice shaking, telling him how much bigger he was than Dad, how wet it made her. And he just smirked down at her like he owned her, feeding inch after inch into that glossy pink mouth that was never meant for anything this obscene.

In the dream I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I just watched as he finally grabbed that platinum ponytail, bent her over, and started wrecking her—slow at first, then harder, that perfect ass rippling with every thrust, her moans getting louder and more **** until she sounded nothing like my sweet, proper mom.

I woke up soaked, heart racing, guilty and throbbing and hating myself for how turned on it made me.

I love my mom. I want her to be happy.

But some secret, awful part of me wants to watch her get absolutely ruined by the man I’m going to marry—just so she’s not perfect anymore.

Just so I’m not the only one who feels small next to her.