That's Crazy!

You shake your head, trying to clear your perverted noggin. First masturbation, then serving your own milk to your children?! What was wrong with you?

Actually, it didn't take an Einstein to figure it out; it was all very instinctual. Since your husband left you two years ago... Well, you hadn't exactly found all the satisfaction your clamorous yearnings dictated. All the daydreams, all the websites, and all the dirty, twisted toys in the world hadn't relieved the tension that stirred everyday within you. Even the pills, effective as they were, didn't refrain ALL of your bodily lusts.

Perhaps you should convert to Mormonism?

"Thanks for the grub, Mom. It was fuckin' delicious," your son declared.

"Oh, thank you sweetie!" you exclaim. You normally didn't allow profanity in your house, but, for some odd reason, you felt great this morning, so were willing to let a simple slip of the tongue to go undisciplined. Besides, if you really think he need punishment, you'll have the whole vacant weekend to do so.

"Here you go, baby," you say, handing him a tall, iced glass of OJ, which you'd been filling whilst your brain has been doing 70 in a 45 speed zone.

Sam took the glass and gulped a long, smooth swig. As he downed the drink, his Adam's apple bobbed firmly, pronouncing the tucks of his strong neck. Your eyes rolled to his shoulders, rounded with natural muscle. He was quite the strapping young man.

Finishing off the juice he took the glass to the sink and rinsed it's washed down contents.

"Wow, you were hungry, darling. You sure you don't want another helping?" you ask.

"I would, but I gotta go. Sanders'll fire my ass if I'm late again."

Just then, Sasha, your teenage daughter, walked into the kitchen.

"I have your plate right here, honey," you tell her.

"No way, Mom. I'm on a diet," she says, making her way over to the cabinet and taking a handful of Jumbo Mallows out of their baggie. You and Sam had a smeck at that.

Sasha rolled her eyes, grabbed her purse and started to leave. She was beautiful. Perhaps not as shapely and sexy as yourself, but, at 18, she was definitely a sweet little dish. Her face was narrow, with lean features; a waist of tiny proportions; legs to certainly envy; and pert, defined breasts not too terribly massive, but curved enough to want to kiss all day long...

"Hurry up, Sam, or we'll BOTH be late!" she shouted, speeding out the door.

"You better go," you say to Sam.

"Alright," he replies. "Goodbye, Mom." He leaned toward you and planted a big peck on your cheek.

Hmmmm.....