Morning jitters.

The next day, once I go down for breakfast, I find my mother setting up the table. My gaze falls. And, to be expected, she is as naked as a baby's bottom.

"Hey sweetie." At the sound of my footsteps, she comes over to kiss me on the forehead. Her hefty, full breasts dangle like coconuts from a coconut tree, inches from my nose. I soak in the air. They smell nice. "Good morning. Breakfast is on the table."

As she segues up the stairs, apparently to get herself ready for work, I look down on myself, my hairy penis staring back at me as if with an eyebrow to raise. Luckily, I snapped my clothes away soon as she caught wind of my presence. Else she would have thrown quite the fit, probably.

I take a seat and scoot my chair under the table, forgetting to say grace. After swallowing a chunk of toast, another set of footsteps prances down the stairway. My sister bounds down the steps, like Mom, nude and smooth as a pearl. We exchange a quick glance.

I lift my chin up. "Why the backpack?"

"You ever heard of school, John? Maybe you should try it some time." Jessica zips it up, her arm twisting behind her to do so, causing a very accentuating effect on her perky chest, before grabbing her own pair of toast and chugging down half a glass of milk.

I watch her soft, nubile body standing less than an arm span's length away from me.

"But it's Saturday." My eyes zero in on her blonde bush, concentrating. It suddenly turns into a neatly trimmed heart shaped patch as she clinks the glass back onto the table top.

"I know. But theater has a mandatory rehearsal thing today, so I can't miss it," she shrugs, then takes her bare arse over to the front door to slip on her shoes.

Remembering that Jessica is in theater, I take a sip out of my own glass. She's not really actress material. In looks, maybe, but definitely not execution. Nevertheless, I end up pondering how rehearsals are like, anyway. Not because of her, necessarily, but because of all the other pretty faces I recall being part of it.

Maybe I don't need to leave that solely to the imagination, I twinkle to myself, forking a girdle of egg into my mouth.

Suddenly, my mom descends down the steps, dressed in her usual business attire. Directing my gaze at her lower half, I draw her skirt a little higher up her smooth set of legs until it's an inch of space or two above the knee.

An improvement, I think.

The woman looks at her watch as she pulls her purse over the shoulder. "Let's go honey, I'm going to be late."

Jessica rolls her eyes. She was out of sight, but it didn't take a god to pick that up. "When are we ever not 'going to be late'?"

"No snark, young lady. Now, put on your shoes and get that snug butt of yours in the car."

They begin to exit the house. I sit back and look out the window.