To Your Mom's Tits

"Big Mac! Wake up," Mom shouts at you. She's standing over your bed, revealing her large globes to you down her shirt that shows off her cleavage. The shirts dry fit, meaning it leaves few curves to the imagination. She was probably about to go for a jog.

You roll over checking your alarm clock. It hadn't gone off this morning. You groan, but don't get out of bed because you don't want your mom to see your hard-on. You sit up as your mom leaves, her ass swaying side to side covered by her yoga pants. Your mom has blonde air that goes to her breasts when she lets it down, but she has it up in a bun for her jog after you leave.

A lot of your friends liked to make jokes about her ass, but you generally tried to ignore them because your mom, unlike your sister, tended to treat you pretty nicely. You frown as you think of your sister. She inherited your Dad's dark brown hair, but that's about as close as she got to the men's side of the family. While Mom was more curvy, your sister grew up a bit more but still had sizable breasts that would gently sway whenever she did field hockey (which she never ceased to rub in she was a member of the Varsity team that had won nationals, while you being a Weebo had done Karate where you got beaten up by asian kids who had trained since they were two). However, you were still pretty proud of your noticeable muscles and your tones legs, which you got from doing crossscountry when your school offered it in the Spring. Stretching, you forget about your history and try to shake away the clutches of sleep.

You yell, "Fine. I'll be down in a second for breakfast."