Mom's favorite

Mom was a good victim, so you decide to treat her to a nice breakfast. Donning nothing but an apron, you fry up some turkey bacon just the way she likes it, and carefully place an egg, sunny-side up, on a golden brown piece of toast. You even pour her a big glass of apple juice, but add a splash of piss on a whim.

When she finally comes down the stairs, Mom is dressed in a pantsuit and walking with a slightly wider stance than usual. Her eyes light up a little when she sees that you've cooked for her, and sits down eager to try it. As she crunches on a strip of bacon, you lean against the counter next to her.

"Well, how'd I do?"

"Sweetie, it's ****; your pleasure is all that matters. And, judging by how much... semen... you left in me, I'd hazard a guess that you were very pleased?"

You grin, suddenly a little embarrassed; "I meant the food, actually."

"Oh," Mom laugh. "You know you're the only one of the kids who can fry a proper egg! The bacon could be a little crispier, though."

Suddenly, a slender arm darts over Mom's shoulder and steals a strip of meat.

"I like it a little chewy," your sister Dana shrugs, snatching the glass of apple juice. She sips it and frowns, "And I think the juice is going bad, though."

You watch Dana's ass as she strolls into the living room and flops unceremoniously across the couch, then sit next to Mom and lower your voice a little.

"Should we talk about the, uh," you gesture vaguely toward her abdomen, "baby... thing?"

"Don't worry about that, John! Mommy overreacted a bit in the heat of the moment. I'm not ovulating or anything, so the odds of me getting pregnant the first time is too low to really matter. But, if it makes you more comfortable, I'll stop somewhere for a morning-after pill just in case, okay?"

"Okay," you nod, your head spinning a little from talking so casually about **** over breakfast.

"And like you said, I'm a whole set of holes. You haven't even touched two of them yet."

Mom gives you a sly wink as she sops up the last bit of egg-yolk with a corner of toast and heads for the door, swaying her ass a little more than usual.

There's a tent in your apron; you're already rock hard again. But with Mom gone off to work, who can you use it on?