Breakfast with the kids

The big item of your day is a bail hearing for a client of your law firm. It took you longer than it should have but you finally graduated from law school and passed the bar exam. You've been with the firm for about a dozen years, and while you haven't made partner yet, you think things are starting to break in your favour.

Stepping out of the shower, you dry yourself, admiring the body that is still ripe and firm after 20 years and two kids. A few small stretchmarks, and your tits sag just a little, but your body is a tribute to how hard you work to keep in shape. You blow yourself a kiss in the mirror before going to pick out your clothes for the day.

You've never lost your fondness for sexy lingerie. It makes you feel sexy and all woman, and today you select a black lace set that highlights your lush body. You add a garter belt and stockings, loving the old school look of yourself in the mirror, then put on a conservative, but tight fitting business suit. It has never hurt your case to appear in court looking sexy but professional, and today's judge is a slightly notorious old lecher.

Dressed, you leave your bedroom, knocking on the doors of your kids bedrooms to wake them up and getting muffled replies from each of them. Downstairs in the kitchen you make a pot of coffee and scoop some yogurt into a bowl before sitting down to eat and watch the morning news.

A few minutes later your daughter Bethany joins you, giving you a bleary smile and a muttered good morning. She just turned eighteen, and has inherited your lush body, although her hair is dirty blonde from her father. As usual in the morning she wears the oversized t-shirt she slept in, and when she stretches to grab a bowl out of a cupboard it rides up to show that she's wearing no panties. You shake your head, saying nothing, remembering your own casual approach to your body when you were her age.

"Where's your brother?"

"Dunno. Sleeping or jerking off probably." You make a face at her sarcasm, but ignore that too, turning your attention back to the news. A few minutes later your son Andrew stumbles in wearing a pair of sweats and a wife beater shirt.

"Morning Mom," he says with a nod. "Hey Brat."

"Piss off," Bethany says, completing the morning routine they've gone through for the last few years. He puts some bread in the toaster and pours a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter as he sips it. Bethany sits opposite you, eating a bowl of cereal, slowly waking up. Andrew stretches, and you can't help but notice how fit and well defined he is. You know he's a favorite of the girls at the junior college he attends, not to mention a few of the neighbours. In fact, your old college girlfriends have made joking remarks about how fuckable he looks, and you wouldn't put it past them to give him a try given the chance. Hell, if he wasn't your son, you might be right up front of the line you think to yourself.

Breakfast finished, you put your dishes in the sink, kiss your kids goodbye and grab your briefcase before heading out the door.