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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Harper Valley USA - 8
by AZ Legman (wordsinprogress@gmail.com)
***
This is the eighth chapter of what will be a continuing
series depicting the melodramatic sexual adventures of
a typical suburban family. For those who enjoy
pantyhose stories, this series will focus heavily
(although, not entirely) on that particular fetish, as
well as the pervasive incest themes. (FF, Fbg, inc,
exh, bi, oral, rom)
***
Author's Note: Disclaimer: The following story is a
work of fiction containing graphic descriptions of
sexual acts between adults and minors. While all of the
sex depicted is consensual, the author does not intend
to promote incest or sexual relations with underage
children. The story is written purely for entertainment
purposes only. Those who are offended by such material
are strongly encouraged not to read this.
This is the eighth chapter of what will be a continuing
series depicting the melodramatic sexual adventures of
a typical suburban family. For those who enjoy
pantyhose stories, this series will focus heavily
(although, not entirely) on that particular fetish, as
well as the pervasive incest themes.
Each chapter will be written predominantly from the
point of view of one member of the family.
I hope you enjoy it. Please send your comments and
suggestions.
Your friend, AZ Legman (Formerly Filthy Fiction)
***
Harper Valley USA - Chapter 8: The Coming of Kayla
Shelly woke up on Sunday morning in much the same
manner as she had on Saturday, sprawled under the
covers in the same seamless nude pantyhose she had worn
shopping with Kayla in preparation for her sister's big
date with her estranged husband.
As she rolled over, the light cast by the bright
morning sun glared harshly against her scowling face.
Her eyes squinted and she quickly rolled the other way,
using the blanket to shield herself from the annoying
rays.
In her half-dreaming state, her mind replayed images of
her and her sister, somewhere in the pulsing heart of
Los Angeles, dancing to the wee hours at a seedy
nightclub, where the frenetic beat of sultry Latin
rhythms pounded from bass-heavy speakers, and a
colorful array of dazzling strobe lights flickered too
quickly to catch anything more than a fleeting glimpse
of the writhing bodies pressed against them from all
sides.
With their lustful eyes holding each other enthralled,
their supple lips temptingly hovered in close
proximity, as the uninhibited twosome savored the
exhilaration of colliding their sumptuous bodies
together, deliberately inflaming the rabid crowd by
rolling their shapely hips in loose circular motions,
while grinding their open crotches against the
resilient pantyhose stretched over their highly
energetic legs.
They smiled and laughed together as they hadn't done in
years, fueled by the rising temperature of their nylon-
smothered pussies, both of which dripped with
excitement as they lewdly performed in front of the
largely male crowd, stoking the flames of their ever-
increasing arousal with the thrilling electricity
sparked by rubbing their thighs together through the
wispy layers of sparkling pantyhose that glittered on
their nimble legs as if moistened by the resplendent
beads of a steamy tropical mist.
While Shelly had always been the better dancer, it was
Kayla who seemed to be enjoying herself most. Shelly
couldn't help but watch and admire as her suddenly
rejuvenated older sister completely lost herself to the
primal urgency of the music, recklessly tossing her
golden brown hair, as her helpless breasts frantically
tumbled in what easily could have been mistaken as a
violent effort to shake them right out of her little
black tank-top, not to be outdone by the staggering
perpetual motion of her rollicking pear-shaped ass,
which Kayla had drunkenly developed the ability to
swivel and shake like a stunt double for Shakira,
miraculously contorting every muscle in her dizzyingly
locomotive hips.
As Shelly looked on in pure amazement, Kayla seemed to
have no concern over the rising hem of her tapered red
miniskirt, as it gradually crept up to expose the
alluring contrast between the binding control-top,
densely-woven around her juicy upper thighs, and the
ensuing ultra-sheer pantyhose that shimmered all the
way down to the black ankle straps on her 4-inch patent
leather heels. Shelly trembled with desire as she
watched Kayla use two hands to pinch both sides of her
stretchy red skirt, and then sinfully rotate her
rounded hips as she wantonly hiked up her skirt another
inch.
Years of social conditioning melted away in that divine
moment of pantyhose intervention, as Kayla embraced her
new higher power and reveled in the unabashed glory of
suddenly becoming a pantyhose slut.
As the din of the club and the presence of drooling
onlookers faded into the blurry background, Shelly
surrendered her blessedly soft tongue as an offering to
Kayla's sexual resurrection, anointing her sister's
celestial lips with a subtle lick, a playful nibble,
and a deep, lingering, exploratory kiss that ravenously
fused their lips together in a mouth-watering binge of
swirled tongues and shared saliva that was as sweet as
the girl-cum which so plentifully squirted from Kayla's
juicy fuck hole.
The endless parade of erotic images flashing through
the foggy lens of Shelly's dimming subconscious stirred
her to the point where her soft regulated breathing
grew loud and ragged until her nipples swelled and her
right hand instinctively came down to nestle between
her nylon-bundled thighs where she dreamily began
tracing her fingers over the sticky wet spot, rendering
the gossamer threads of her seamless pantyhose utterly
soaked and permanently stained by her seeping love
juice.
She sharply inhaled, moaned audibly and reached her
hand across the bed, as her eyelids slowly fluttered
open to welcome in the light of day. As her searching
fingers felt for her husband in vain, she quickly
snapped up, scanned the foreign bedroom, and then
realized she had just woken up in her sister's bed.
Brutally repelled by the bright sunlight, she instantly
blocked her eyes, and then grabbed her forehead,
blinded by the excruciating pain that stabbed through
the back of her neck and sent sharp waves of dizzying
discomfort shooting through her burning skull as if
their only means of escape was through her tightly-
clenched eye sockets.
"Hrrrrrrmmm," Shelly groaned, trying to rub the pain
away. "Son of a bitch!" she added remorsefully as the
over-indulgent festivities of the previous evening were
punishingly restored to her memory.
She had no idea where any of her clothes were, but
fortunately she fumbled around until her fingers could
feel the smooth texture of her recklessly discarded
bra, the dark purple satin perfectly matched the color
of her lacy camisole top, which clearly from the looks
of things could have been anywhere amidst the trail of
skirts, tops, shoes and undergarments carelessly strewn
across her sister's bedroom floor.
Having neither the patience nor the clarity to
determine which articles were hers, she forsook the
idea of reassembling her full wardrobe, and settled on
the simple, if not cumbersome task of strapping her
unwieldy double Ds into the comely yet supportive
architecture of her frilly push-up bra, which greatly
enhanced the breadth and fullness of her abundant
cleavage to spectacular effect.
Once confident that her massive globes were securely
locked in place, she gingerly rose to her feet, and
then idly used both hands to shake out what she could
only imagine was a horrific-looking mane of long blonde
hair that probably made her look even more like a
trollop than she must have looked cavorting around on
the dance floor like some kind of sex-crazed jungle
kitten all night.
"I'm getting too old for this shit," Shelly whispered
under her breath as she stealthily tip-toed from the
bedroom and then wearily descended her way down the
stairs.
She quietly turned into the kitchen where her sister
was already up, looking bright eyed and fresh as a
daisy as she stood over a sizzling skillet, making what
pungently smelled like eggs, looking every bit like a
school teacher with her bronze hair pinned up in a
loose bun, wearing a full-length, form-fitting, off-
white negligee, and a pair of studious reading glasses,
which Kayla promptly lifted toward Shelly, blinking
quizzically upon seeing her sister stagger into the
kitchen in a begrudging state of semi-consciousness.
"Jesus," Kayla said, eyeing the pantyhose which Shelly
had obvious slept in all night.
"What do you _live_ in those things?"
Shelly stumbled up to the breakfast nook, leaned
against the bar and dismissively waved off the snide
remark.
"Too early," she grumbled, having no desire to engage
in their usual banter. "God, did we really drink that
much?" she said, as she stood there absently enjoying
the sensation of swishing her legs together.
"You did," Kayla said, quickly correcting her sister
like always. "I stopped after my third margarita," she
reasonably added, spatula in one hand, glass of orange
juice in the other. "I don't know what possessed you to
drink those tequila shots with that Mexican dude. You
should have known you were going to pay for it."
Shelly smiled innocently. "Oh, come on," she argued,
folding her arms. "He was cute," she added fondly.
"Besides, what's was I supposed to do? It's not like I
was paying for them. I didn't want to be rude."
Kayla turned, facing her full on. "Do you _ever_ say
no?" she said, slowly shaking her head.
Shelly grinned. "Umm," she stammered, pausing just long
enough to think of an answer.
"Does it have to be during this decade?" she added,
giggling. "Because I think the last time was Walter
Crenshaw, sophomore year."
Kayla rolled her eyes. "You had to go there, didn't
you?"
Shelly shrugged. "Cut me slack," she said. "I only
turned him down because you dated him first."
"What," Kayla said, looking unimpressed, "you want a
medal? The guy was a pig. Even you could see that."
Shelly crooked her head thoughtfully. "Hmm," she
answered, agreeing reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess he was,"
she said, nodding. "I always figured he'd wind up in
jail for shooting up a post office or something. It
must kill you to have a guy like that working in the
same profession."
Kayla sniffed. "We would never hire a guy like that in
our district."
Shelly scoffed at the insult. "Are you calling our
hometown a slum?"
"I didn't say that," Kayla said, as she turned to open
the refrigerator. "Do you want cheese on your omelet?"
"Just coffee," Shelly said, "with milk and sugar," she
added. "I never realized you were such a snob."
Kayla spun around, glaring back angrily. "Now who's the
one calling people names?" she said, smacking down an
empty coffee mug, and then folding her arms. "It's not
my fault Arcadia has a bigger budget for education."
Shelly sucked her teeth. "Don't start talking like
Peter," she said, with an exasperated sigh. "I hate it
when you do that. Ever since you bought this house,
you've acted liked you were better than me. You don't
say it, but you carry it around like a badge of honor
because you were the one who made it out of Cedar
Springs," she said, leaning forward as she tossed her
hair away from her face.
"For one thing, Cedar Springs was rated top ten in the
entire state for college placement," Shelly continued.
"And Tiffany's new boyfriend, Adam...he's going to
M.I.T. next year on a full scholarship Not to mention
my husband...to whom I am _still_ happily married,
thank you...also has a degree from USC and he's managed
to support both me and my two children extremely well,
as far as I'm concerned. So, let's not throw anymore
stones in your multi-million dollar glass house.
Understood?"
Kayla stood silent for a moment, before calmly saying,
"Are you done?"
"For now," Shelly answered, slouching back, "unless you
have anything else you'd like to say about our
hometown."
Kayla turned away, quietly walked toward the coffee
maker, and then turned back, with her chin pointed down
as she slowly filled her sister's cup.
"You didn't have say that," Kayla said mournfully.
"Say what," Shelly said, frowning.
"The part about you and Greg still being happily
married," Kayla explained. "That was a low blow."
Shelly reached across the counter and delicately
touched her sister's forearm. "You're right," she said.
"I'm sorry. You touched a nerve. I didn't mean to get
so carried away."
Kayla slowly nodded. "It's okay," she whispered,
fighting back tears. "We had everything planned so
perfectly," she said, shaking her head bitterly. "The
hair, the outfit..." she added, with a deep sigh. "You
saw me. I looked good, right?"
"You looked great," Shelly said emphatically. "Don't
blame yourself, Kay. This had nothing to do with you."
"Then, why Shelly?" Kayla asked tearfully. "Why would
he cancel at the last minute?"
Shelly shrugged. "You told me he had to fly New York,"
she said. "He'll be back in a few days. It's just
business."
Kayla sighed. "It's always business," she said
ruefully. "What about me," she added. "What about
Heather and Dylan? Do you have any idea how much they
miss their dad?"
Shelly nodded sincerely. "I can imagine," she said.
"But you can't dwell on that, you hear?" she said,
emphasizing the point with a firm shake of Kayla's arm.
"You can't worry about things that are beyond your
control. You taught me that, remember?"
Kayla nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "I remember," she
added, half smiling. "We did have fun last night,
didn't we?"
Shelly quickly perked up. "Last night fucking rocked!"
she blurted suddenly. "Where the hell did you learn all
those great moves?"
Kayla frowned at her sister's use of foul language.
"For God sake, Shelly," she said disapprovingly. "It's
Sunday!"
"I know, I know," Shelly said, with one hand raised
toward the ceiling and the other over her heart. "Lord,
forgive me," she said, rolling her eyes, and then
sighing heavily, with a hint of disappointment in her
sarcastic tone. "Just when I thought I was finally
getting through to you."
Kayla smirked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Shelly laughed. "Oh, please," she said. "Need I remind
you what we did in the ladies room yesterday...or what
we did with Tony Garcia...or how we made out on the
dance floor in front of all those people...or did you
somehow magically manage to forget about all that?"
Kayla leaned over to pour a drop of milk in Shelly's
mug. "No," she said, with a devious grin creeping from
the side of her mouth. "I remember," she admitted. "And
I did like it," she added, nodding to herself. "I liked
all of it," she said, sprinkling in some sugar. "I love
my new clothes, my new hair style," she added, cheering
up a bit. "I could even get into wearing more
pantyhose."
"That's the spirit," Shelly said cheerfully. Yet,
somehow Kayla didn't look entirely convinced.
"But as much fun as it was," Kayla said. "I still feel
kind of empty," she added, idly stirring her sister's
coffee with a spoon. "I know you want me to be more
like you," she said, looking Shelly in the eye. "I just
don't think that's who I am."
Shelly lifted the mug to take a much needed sip. "You
could have fooled me," she said. "I never forced you to
kiss me at the mall," she said. "I never forced you to
put on a whole new, even sexier outfit when I picked
you up last night either," she reasoned. "You obviously
knew what you were doing," Shelly concluded. "You said
so yourself. You weren't that drunk."
Kayla furrowed her brow. "So what are you saying?"
Shelly smiled. "I'm saying you're my sister," she said,
leaning in once again, only this time, Kayla's inviting
lips were just a few close inches away.
'That's right," Kayla whispered, breathing warm air
against Shelly's open mouth. "You are my sister...and I
love you."
"I love you, too," Shelly said, as they softly joined
lips and tenderly kissed each other, blending the
flavors of coffee and orange juice together for several
exhilarating seconds.
As their lips parted reluctantly, Shelly noticed a
subtle twitch of anxiety in Kayla's shifting eyes.
Kayla moistened her lips portentously as she nervously
eyed her sister and whispered distractedly, "I have
something to tell you."
Shelly tilted her head curiously.
"It's about Dylan," Kayla added meaningfully.
"Go on," Shelly said, unsure what it could possibly be.
"I think I he may need to see a doctor," Kayla said.
Shelly gasped. "Oh, my God," she said. "Please tell me
it's not serious."
Kayla shook her head. "No," she explained carefully.
"He's not sick or anything," she added, swallowing. "I
just think that he, umm..." she paused again, needing a
moment to collect herself before quietly speaking
again. "He might have a problem," she said, swallowing
again, "sexually."
Shelly's eyes widened immediately. "No shit," she said.
"Has he been groping the girls at school, or
something?"
Kayla smiled, and then shook her head. "That I could
handle," she said. "Unfortunately, the situation is a
bit more delicate...for a mother."
Shelly got the hint. "You caught him masturbating,
didn't you?" she quickly concluded.
Kayla's eyes lit up with amazement. "How the heck did
you know that?"
Shelly smiled. "I have a son, too."
Kayla blinked, and then nodded. "Yeah, I suppose that's
true," she said. "I just don't know what to do. I
called Peter. He talked to him on the phone. It's just
not the same. Dylan's getting older now. He needs a
male role model."
"I could ask Greg to talk to him," Shelly offered.
Kayla took a small bite off her plate, chewed her eggs
a few times, swallowed, and then shrugged back, "I
can't ask Greg to do that. It's not his responsibility.
Besides," she said, "I already feel like Dylan is
embarrassed enough already."
Shelly looked back at Kayla and stated pointedly,
"Never underestimate a child's intelligence."
Kayla smiled. "Is that another quote you stole from
me?"
"No," Shelly joked. "I think I heard that one on
Oprah."
Kayla shook her head and smiled. "So what are you
telling me?"
"Honestly," Shelly said with no hesitation. "I think
you're projecting. I think you're the one who's
embarrassed."
Kayla blushed. "That's crazy," she said. "I'm not the
one who goes running off to his room every night to
abuse himself."
Shelly eyed Kayla suspiciously. "Every night?" she
asked leadingly.
Kayla looked down, grabbed the fork, and then shoveled
in another bite of her omelet.
Shelly leveled her gaze insistently as she took on her
mother's strident tone, "Kayla Rose," she said,
invoking her sister's full Christian name. "You're
lying to me," she said grinning, "and it's Sunday, for
God's sake!"
Kayla tried to avoid talking by taking another bite.
Shelly grabbed her wrist.
"Spit it out, Kay!" Shelly ordered. "Tell me
everything!"
Kayla huffed. "Okay, fine," she said, dropping the
fork. "But I swear to God, if you tell anyone
this...Mom, Greg, anyone...Then, may God strike you
down dead on the spot. Do you understand?"
"Got it," Shelly said, flipping up one hand. "Now,
talk."
Kayla swallowed hard, before letting out another heavy
sigh. "It happened about three weeks ago," she began
nervously. "I was doing laundry and I noticed Dylan had
some stains on his sheets," she recalled. "It smelled
kind of like urine, so I just assumed that he had an
accident," she figured. "I did the wash as always and
basically thought nothing of it."
"And then?" Shelly asked impatiently.
"And then it happened again," Kayla said. "I mean,
like, literally the next day...these big wet stains all
over his sheets."
"Really?" Shelly said, becoming more intrigued. "Did
you ask him about it?"
Kayla blushed hard. "That's just it," she said. "I knew
I needed to find out what was going on so I went down
to his room..."
Shelly nodded expectantly, "What happened?" she asked.
"Oh, my God, Shelly" Kayla said, clutching her chest.
"You had to see this thing," she added, clearly
disturbed. "It was..." she paused again, gathering
herself, as she looked up toward the ceiling
contritely. "Lord, forgive me..." she said, gazing
blankly over her left shoulder as she turned her head
towards Dylan's bedroom. "His penis was enormous," she
said, exhaling. "I mean...it scared me."
Shelly inhaled sharply as a large phallic image flashed
into her twisted mind. "Are you serious?" she said,
eyes looming large and bright. "When you say
'enormous,'" she asked shrewdly, "exactly how big are
we talking?"
Kayla shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "It's not
like I've seen a whole lot of them to draw
comparisons," she noted. "Maybe seven, eight inches,"
she guessed. "But my God, Shelly...he's only ten!"
"It must be something in the water," Shelly said,
grinning to herself. "I swear to God, every man in this
family is hung like a horse."
"Well, I don't know about that," Kayla replied. "I just
wasn't prepared to walk into my little boy's room and
see...that!" she said, blinking with astonishment.
"Did he see you?" Shelly asked offhandedly.
"What do you mean?" Kayla replied oddly.
"I mean, did he see you?" Shelly repeated, hunching her
shoulders. "Does he know that you saw him...you
know...doing it?"
Kayla stuttered. "Uh, no..." she said. "I mean, maybe.
I don't know...possibly, I guess."
Shelly folded her arms again, and then leaned back,
raising one eyebrow. "It's a yes or no question, Kay.
Either he saw you or he didn't."
Kayla sighed heavily. "Then, no," she confessed. "He
didn't."
Shelly smiled. "So, basically, you just stood there,
spied on him for a while, and then walked away. Am I
right?" she asked, knowing the answer.
"Basically," Kayla replied.
"How long?" Shelly asked, continuing to grill her.
"How long what?" Kayla answered obtusely.
Shelly sighed impatiently. "How long did you stand
there, Kay?"
Kayla looked down again, playing with her food. "A
while, all right," she admitted. "I stood there for a
while."
"Did you watch him finish?"
Kayla glared at Shelly resentfully. "I'm not answering
that," she said firmly.
Shelly smiled. "Oh, I think you just did," she said
with a mild giggle. "I'm guessing the boy shoots quite
a load, doesn't he? Like father, like son, right?"
"Stop it, Shelly," Kayla said seriously. "That isn't
funny."
"No, it's not funny," Shelly said frankly. "Actually,
it's kind of hot."
Kayla grimaced in disgust. "Don't be gross," she said.
"This is my son we're talking about."
"I know that," Shelly said soberly. "But now I have
something that I need to tell you," she stated
ominously, as she flipped her hair back, clasped her
hands together, and then softly laid them on the black
marble counter.
"Oh-kay," Kayla said cautiously, as she slowly turned
her head, eyeing her with a sideways stare. "I'm all
ears...I guess."
Before Shelly felt ready to continue, she steadied
herself with the subtle raising of her head, as she
squared her shoulders, relaxed her arms and proudly
straightened her back.
"Do you remember when I told you yesterday that I was
on a special diet?" she said.
Kayla nodded, "Umm, sure," she said, smiling. "Your
little friend Tony gave me my first sample. Not bad,
either," she added, with a second nod.
"No," Shelly said, "definitely not bad," she added.
"Great, actually," she quickly enthused. "But what if I
told you that your finest source of that nutrient-rich,
revitalizing protein was right here in your own
backyard?"
Kayla smiled widely. "That's easy," she said. "I would
bottle the stuff, sell it online and make a fortune."
Shelly smiled back deviously. "You're missing the
point, Kay," she explained matter-of-factly. "You don't
need random guys like Tony to give you what you need.
The answer is right here at home."
Kayla pondered the thought for a moment, when suddenly
she began to lose all of the color in her face, and
then slowly step back.
"You're kidding, right?" she said, her voice stricken
with panic. "Please tell me you're kidding."
Shelly stood there, completely unfazed. "Why would I
lie about something like this?" she said evenly. "I'm
not kidding," she said rationally. "And it works, Kay,"
she added. "It really works."
"What works?" Kayla blurted. "Having sex with your
children," she shouted. _"That works?!"_
Shelly looked at her sister and patiently nodded as she
circled around the bar and calmly approached her sister
who fearfully backed away.
"This is crazy," Kayla said trembling. "I mean it,
Shelly. This is nuts!"
"Says who," Shelly questioned boldly.
"What do you mean, 'says who'" Kayla retorted. "God,
our parents, the State of California... hell, I'm sure
Oprah does, too!"
Shelly took her sister by the hand. "You're scared,"
she whispered. "I understand that," she said,
maintaining her level voice. "It's natural," she
explained dispassionately. "Tiffany was scared too in
the beginning," she said. "So was Jonathan," she added.
"But once they got used to the idea, they learned to
love it," she finished. "And so will you."
"How?" Kayla said. "How can you honestly expect me to
want to get involved in something so... perverted?"
Shelly smiled warmly as she took Kayla's left hand and
placed it against her soft pantyhose-laden thigh.
"Because I'm your sister," she said serenely. "And I
love you. We all love you."
***
As Shelly drove Kayla back to pick up her kids, the
reticent brunette barely said a word to her younger
sister for the whole twenty minute drive.
Shelly knew, having always been the more sensible of
the two, that Kayla would need time to process the full
range of warring emotions which were no doubt coursing
through her conflicted psyche as she silently sat in
the passenger seat, blankly staring through the
windshield with Arcadia fading behind them and Cedar
Springs looming in the oncoming horizon.
As she turned off the freeway, heading north on
Catalina, cruising passed the strip mall where Tiffany
held the car wash with her friends, she came to a stop
at a red light.
With the hem of her tiny blank skirt hunched well up to
her hips, Shelly sat there absently waiting for the
light to change, as "Fantasy" by Mariah Carey played on
her favorite pop station, and she completely
disregarded the ogling truck driver waiting in the next
lane who was obviously peering down through her open
roof and openly gawking while she leisurely enjoyed the
stimulating rush of the crisp morning breeze passing
through the silky veil of her gauzy pantyhose which
hardly provided any real separation between the cool
morning air and her carelessly wide open crotch.
The light was still red when Shelly suddenly felt the
warmth of her sister's hand which gingerly began
brushing over the smooth surface of her soft blanketed
thigh.
Shelly frowned as she turned to see the utter
desperation pouring from her sister's pleading green
eyes.
"Do you promise me, Shelly?" Kayla said helplessly. "Do
you promise me it really works?"
Shelly patiently responded to her sister's entreating
words by tenderly interlacing their fingers together
and squeezing with pure conviction.
"Rule number one," Shelly said to her lost and beloved
sister. "Always tell the truth."
***
It was three or four more minutes before Shelly finally
turned into her driveway on Somerset Road. She pulled
up next to Greg's Infiniti and then quickly hopped out,
eager to go in and kiss her handsome hubby, and then
shower, so she could change, get groceries, and then
put together a nice Sunday dinner, since Tiffany's had
invited her new boyfriend, along with Shannon, and
Shelly wanted everything to be perfect.
She hadn't yet had a chance to tell Greg about Adam.
She had hoped that perhaps her little pep talk with
Tiffany on Friday might have inspired her to speak to
her father on her own, like the budding young adult
that Shelly had always encouraged her to be.
When Kayla got out of the car, Shelly couldn't help but
smile at how unbelievably different and truly drop dead
gorgeous her sister looked after her amazing makeover.
Shelly wanted Tiffany to see the change for herself, so
Kayla had agreed to wear one of her new outfits for the
trip back.
With no help from Shelly, Kayla picked out a sexy,
peach short-sleeved top, sleek and fitted, like a
leotard, flattering her ample curves with a fetching
scoop neck that temptingly revealed the natural sag of
her palm-sized tits, which were pushed up and squeezed
together for maximum cleavage.
She smartly complimented the peach-colored top with a
rust-colored velveteen skirt that zipped up the back
and hugged her buxom hips to create an undeniably eye-
popping and curvaceous silhouette. The hem ended well
above mid-thigh, clearly a deliberate choice which
would certainly make bending over a must-see event for
any man, or woman, if in this case, the one drooling
over her happened to be her envious younger sister who
had already begun preparing a speech for Greg on how
desperately she needed new clothes.
Instead of going with regular shoes, Kayla whimsically
decided on an ultra-chic pair of high heeled brown
leather boots, which came up about two inches below the
knee, and somehow managed to make her 5'7" frame look
even more regal and statuesque.
Of course, none of these items, not the cute top, nor
the pretty skirt, the trendy leather boots, nor even
the gorgeous jasper necklace with the matching
earrings, none of it did anything to detract from the
preeminent beauty of the sheer-to-waist, high-gloss,
coffee-colored pantyhose, which Shelly had made a
deliberate point of explaining were exclusively made by
Peavey and could only be purchased by special order.
The money wasn't important though, as Shelly was more
interested in making sure that her sister could
honestly appreciate the difference between a quality
pair pantyhose made by a real designer and those cheap
disposable brands, which in no way provided the same
level of mental or physical stimulation as a luxurious
pair of truly fine hosiery.
"Is there a problem?" Kayla said, eyeing Shelly
anxiously; as she looked down to inspect her ensemble
for something out of place. "Are my boobs hanging out
too much?" she asked, tugging at her top, which did
nothing but make them jiggle.
Shelly couldn't stop staring. "No," she said, blinking.
"No problem at all," she said. "You just look good
enough to eat, that's all."
Kayla smiled. "I offered you breakfast," she said
humorously. "But you turned me down."
Shelly laughed. "I didn't realize you were on the
menu."
"For you," Kayla said, smiling seductively. "I've got
31 flavors."
"Oh, really," Shelly said, lifting her eyebrow. "Like
what?" she asked.
Kayla tossed her hair back, and then flashed her with a
naughty grin. "Well, let's see..." she said, grazing
the red nails of her manicured fingers over the sunlit
pantyhose spread against her buttery thighs. "There's
coffee..." she said, with her teasing voice accompanied
by the pleasing melody of her hand sliding over the
nylon with a resounding swish. "There's cream..." she
added. "There's even oatmeal."
Shelly wet her lips. "Sounds yummy," she said. "Do you
serve breakfast in bed?"
Kayla smiled mischievously, while Shelly began to note
the last vestiges of her sister's innocence slowly
fading from the jade irises of her sparkling green
eyes.
"Absolutely," she said, dragging her left hand between
her legs, and then lightly tapping her crotch. "I'll
even bring the juice," she added suggestively.
"Mmmm," Shelly moaned. "Sounds like quite the buffet,"
she added, with a subtle wink. "Maybe we should go in
before I have to take a bite right now."
"Right," Kayla agreed reluctantly. "Maybe we should,"
she said, letting her sister lead the way.
As Shelly managed to wrest her eyes away from Kayla's
warm tapestry of earth tones, both women confidently
strutted along the stone path leading to the front
door, while Shelly quietly amused herself trying to
imagine her husband's reaction to the sight of her new
and momentously improved older sister.
As they marched down the stone path, their clacking
heels noisily marked each rhythmic step, as Shelly
turned back, musing over her shoulder. "God, I can't
wait to see the look on Greg's face when he sees you."
Kayla answered curiously. "What do you think he's going
to say?"
Shelly shrugged. "Depends," she mildly explained. "If
the game is a blowout, he'll probably be so frustrated
and bored that he might just jump on you in a
heartbeat. Otherwise," she continued, "if it's close,
he'll probably just wave in your general direction and
never look up from the screen."
Kayla nodded and smiled knowingly as they reached the
front porch. She waited as Shelly stood there jangling
her keys.
"By the way," Shelly said. "You never did answer my
question?"
"About what?" Kayla said with a frown.
"About where you learned all those hot moves?" Shelly
asked. "I know it wasn't just from watching 'Dancing
with the Stars,'"
Kayla smiled. "I do love that show," she said, before
she finally explained. "Actually, about two months ago,
I started taking mambo lessons at a little studio
downtown," she said, "thought it would help me lose
weight."
Shelly widened her eyes in total surprise. "You learned
all that in just a couple months?"
Kayla grinned. "The booze helped," she said. "Not to
mention, I was pretty mad about Peter not showing for
our date. I guess I just needed to blow off some
steam."
Shelly nodded understandably. "Well, you did that," she
said, sliding her key in the lock. "And you steamed up
the whole club in the process. You'll have to teach
me."
"I can do that," Kayla answered with a confident nod.
"So how much weight did you lose?" Shelly asked out of
curiosity. Kayla raised her hand and put up a big fat
zero.
"Guess I've been too depressed to watch my diet," she
said. Shelly nodded, and then smiled as bright as the
sun as she slowly opened the door.
"Kayla Rose," Shelly said dramatically. "You are about
to enter a whole new world."
When they stepped inside, the house was eerily quiet,
save for the subtle buzz of what Shelly instantly
recognized as the sound of Greg watching football in
the living room.
Shelly turned and instructed Kayla to wait by the door
until Shelly gave her the signal, as she then hung her
purse, casually sauntered passed the dining room to her
left, and then turned right into the spacious parlor
where she spotted Greg in a pale blue sleeveless T-
shirt, with gray socks and plaid boxers, hurling
obscenities at the plasma screen mounted on the wall.
Her floral scent must have stirred him immediately as
Greg quickly turned, and then happily smiled at the
welcome sight of his adoring wife.
"Did you get my text?" he asked, raising the remote to
lower the volume.
"You mean the one that said, 'Don't drink too much?'"
Shelly answered, with a wry smile. "Yeah," she said. "I
read it this morning. Unfortunately, by then it was too
late."
"Hmm," Greg said, scratching himself. "Well, next time,
remind me to take my own advice. I got pretty hammered
myself."
"Did you?" Shelly said, as she gracefully slipped off
her shoes. "Well, I'm sorry I made you cut things
short. Kayla was concerned about leaving the kids here
alone all night."
"It's okay," Greg answered. "Spent some extra quality
time with the kids. We made the most of it," he said,
before changing the subject. "So, did you two have a
good time?" he asked sincerely. "How's Kayla doing?"
Shelly smiled. "She's fine," she answered. "In fact,
she's right here," she added, waving for her sister to
step forward.
As Kayla sidled up to her sister, with her doughy
breasts protruding over her plunging neck line, her
wide hips accentuated by the tight grip of her short
narrow skirt, and her thick legs shining like caramel
under the golden luster of her coffee pantyhose, Greg's
head instantly reeled back and his eyes parted to
infinity. He promptly shot up to his feet and then
earnestly pressed forward for what Shelly inferred was
a much needed closer look.
"I'm sorry," Greg said, blinking in disbelief. "I
thought you said Kayla was here," he said, raising one
hand with marked sarcasm in his voice. "You never told
me you were friends with a movie star," he said,
commenting to his wife, before turning to jokingly
introduce himself.
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," he said,
offering his hand. "I'm Greg."
Kayla graciously accepted. "Kayla Walsh," she said with
a playful smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Oh," he said, eyeing her with rich appreciation. "Let
me assure you, the pleasure is all mine," he said, with
a flirtatious smile. "But I'm sorry," he charmingly
continued, "If I'm not mistaken, you said your name was
Kayla. For a moment there, I thought Diane Lane had
just walked into my house. You must get that a lot?"
Kayla blushed. "Usually it's Katie Couric," she said.
"But thank you. I'll consider that an upgrade."
Greg nodded with approval, as he turned to his wife and
smiled. "I guess it's just the weekend for makeovers,
huh?"
Shelly frowned, unsure exactly what to make of Greg's
cryptic statement, as she turned to see Jonathan
strolling in from the kitchen holding a pop-tart.
As her son lifted the pastry for his first bite, Shelly
watched as Jonathan did a quick double take when he
noticed his mother standing next to someone who
required a thorough examination from him as well.
"Kayla!" Jonathan said, as he scuttled forward, with
his bulging eyes lustfully, soaking up every morsel of
her stunning transformation.
"Holy shit!" he blurted. "You look amazing!"
Shelly cringed as Jonathan swore, but as she turned to
note the look of disapproval on her sister's face, it
shocked her to find that it wasn't there.
Instead, Kayla greeted her nephew with a warm smile, as
Jonathan stepped in and gave her a long hug, which
Kayla fondly returned as she lovingly rubbed his back.
"Thank you," Kayla said, as she pulled back and planted
a kiss on his cheek. "You're looking pretty handsome
yourself.
Jonathan smiled. "You think?" he said, tousling his own
bushy hair. "Tiffany says I need to start lifting
weights with Adam. She says I need to work on my six-
pack."
"Speaking of six packs," Greg said. "I'm going to go
grab a beer before kick off?"
Shelly scowled. "It's 10:30 in the morning!"
Greg shrugged. "Hair of the dog," he said, as he
stalked off toward the fridge.
Kayla then asked, "So who is this Adam I keep hearing
so much about?"
Jonathan took a quick bite of his pop-tart, and then
answered with a snicker. "Tiffany's new boy toy," he
said, with his mouth full.
Shelly promptly corrected him. "He's a bit more than
that," she said, as she turned toward her sister and
solemnly explained. "It seems that our beloved daughter
has found her first love."
Kayla gasped. "You're kidding," she said blinking
rapidly. "Tiffany's in love...since when?
"Last year," Shelly said. "I guess technically they
weren't really together then. They were just sort of
casually seeing each other," Shelly explained. "But
things got more serious once school started again."
"Wow," Kayla said, shaking her head. "I can't believe
she didn't call me."
Shelly smiled. "Come on," she said, rolling her eyes.
"Did you really expect rational behavior from a teenage
girl, especially with the kind of raging hormones we
have in this family? She's almost old enough to drive,"
she added, shaking her head worriedly. "I don't know
what I'm going to do with her then," she said, before
turning back to Jonathan.
"Where is Tiffany anyway?" Shelly asked.
Jonathan shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "Me and Dylan
were up pretty late playing Xbox. I think they're all
still asleep."
Shelly smirked impatiently. "Well," she said, making no
effort to mask the irritation in her voice. "Maybe you
should go up and let your sister know that we have
company."
Jonathan nodded respectfully. He turned, shuffled
towards the stairs, and then stomped up about half way
before Shelly could hear him loudly yelling.
"Hey Tiff, Mom's here...and I think she brought home
one of the Pussycat Dolls!"
Upon hearing this, Shelly then heard the yawn of her
daughter's bedroom door. She stood there next to Kayla,
watching as Tiffany slowly tip-toed down the stairs
wearing a frilly pair of white ankle socks, blue opaque
tights and a white Dallas Cowboys jersey, with silver
and blue stars that barely obscured the private area
that would have been hidden by her panties, that is, if
Tiffany were allowed to wear anything except pantyhose
around the house, as her daughter well knew was one of
their house rules.
As she crossed paths with her younger brother, she
snarled with exaggerated disdain, and then playfully
shoved him in the shoulder.
"Could you scream a little louder maybe?" she said
facetiously. "The neighbors are complaining you don't
make enough noise."
"Sure," he shot back, with a sarcastic nod. "I could
always sound more like you," he offered," before
launching into a spot on Tiffany impression. "Oh,
Adam!" he swooned, fluttering his dreamy eyes. "Oh,
Adam, you are sooo hot," he continued, accenting his
performance by raising his arms and delicately folding
them across his chest. "Oh, Adam, I just love the way
you kiss me," he squealed passionately. "Mmm yeah, come
on baby, kiss me!"
Tiffany smirked. "Go to hell," she said, shoving him
again.
Jonathan scrunched his face like some sort of ghoulish
monster, but Tiffany ignored him as she smugly
continued down the stairs.
When she reached the bottom step, Shelly laughed as
Tiffany's first vision of the new Kayla made her
normally agile daughter nearly trip over her own feet.
"Oh, no fucking way!" she said, with her hand moving up
to her mouth.
"Cute, huh?" Shelly said, beaming with sisterly pride.
Tiffany scoffed. "Cute?" she repeated derisively. "The
Care Bears are cute," she gibed. "This," she said,
taking Kayla by the hand and slowly spinning her
around. "This is hot!"
Kayla smiled gratefully. "Your mom still has a few
tricks up her sleeve."
Tiffany nodded emphatically, and then turned back to
her mother and pointed toward Kayla in jest. "You hold
her down. I'll take the boots."
Kayla laughed. "These aren't even new," she said,
extending her right leg to show one of them off. "Peter
bought me these years ago," she told them. "At the
time, I just didn't have any other clothes that went
with them very well."
"Well, they look great," Tiffany said, as she faced her
mother and gave her a nod, which Shelly interpreted as
a gesture of sincere congratulations. "Love the hair,
too," she said, fluffing her blonde tresses
thoughtfully. "You think I would look good as a
brunette?"
"Absolutely not," Shelly stated flatly. "Don't even
think about it."
Tiffany sneered. "You're just afraid I might look
better than you."
Shelly shook her head. "If there's one thing I've
always taught you, it's that you're beautiful the way
you are. I have no interest in seeing you screw around
with your body. The next thing you know, you'll be
asking if you can get a tattoo."
Tiffany folded her arms. "If you really believe that,"
she said, waving toward Kayla, "then why bother going
through all this?"
Shelly turned to her sister who looked back at her with
a curious twinkle in her eyes.
"That's different," Shelly explained. "What Kayla
needed was a change on the outside to help her see what
was on the inside."
Shelly turned back to Kayla who then nodded back to her
sister as if Shelly's comment had left her rather
impressed.
As Greg paced back into the living room, sipping his
beer, he raised his bottle, tipped it toward the women,
and then resumed his lounging position on the couch.
Kayla looked at Shelly and then quickly asked, "So what
did Greg mean when he said this must be the weekend for
makeovers?"
Shelly knitted her eyebrows, and then glanced at
Tiffany, speaking in a deeply inquisitive tone.
"Tiff," she said, in a lowered voice. "What did you
do?"
Tiffany smiled. "Nothing," she said, laughing
nervously. "Heather and I played dress up last night.
That's all."
"Dress up?" Kayla said anxiously. "What sort of dress
up?"
"It was all my idea," Tiffany said, trying to console
her. "I thought maybe she could use some of my old
clothes, so I offered to let her try some stuff on."
Kayla went quiet, as her own thoughts seem to take hold
and render her momentarily speechless. Shelly leaned in
and took over questioning.
"Please tell me you didn't do anything stupid?"
Tiffany whined. "I didn't do anything. I swear to God.
I just gave her a skirt and a top to try on. It was
fun. She loved it."
"Where is she?" Shelly asked.
"She's still asleep in my room," Tiffany said. "She
loved the clothes so much she wouldn't take them off.
She slept in them all night."
Shelly turned to her sister, and tried to offer her an
apology through her wordless frown.
"Go sit with your father," Shelly said, pointing to the
couch, as she turned and headed directly up the stairs,
to which Kayla quickly followed at her heels.
As Shelly began her steady authoritative ascent toward
her daughter's bedroom, it was Jonathan's bedroom door
that unexpectedly creaked opened. Shelly noted that the
gentle footfalls urgently heading toward them from the
opposite end of the hall were far too hasty and
delicate to possibly be those of her own generally
plodding son.
When he turned the corner and greeted them from the top
of the stairs, Shelly promptly averted her eyes to the
sight of her young nephew who yawned vocally as he
wearily rubbed his eyes, while standing there
completely naked.
After quickly catching her breath, she slowly looked
back and then instinctively zoomed in on Dylan's
flaccid penis, the size of which left her utterly
dumbfounded as she stood there gaping for several
heart-stopping moments.
"Mommy," Dylan said, showing no hint of shame on his
pure and innocent face. "Is that you?" he asked
sweetly, with his eyes blinking half open.
With Shelly frozen in her tracks, Kayla swiftly rushed
forward, stepped around her and then quickly wrapped
Dylan up in her arms, shielding the boy from Shelly's
half-stunned, half-taken, and completely riveted gaze.
Shelly watched as her sleepy nephew hugged and kissed
his mom, staggered by the shocking image which 36 years
of logic and experience could find no way to explain.
As Kayla led Dylan back into Jonathan's room,
presumably to fetch his clothes, Shelly took another
brief moment to consider the implications of a 10-year-
old boy being so astonishingly well-equipped long
before he would truly be ready to actually engage in
sex.
As Shelly breathlessly considered the awesome
possibilities that potentially awaited her once Dylan
reached full maturity, the pussy-dripping implications
made her heart palpitate as she found herself
desperately craving the nearest cock.
She turned, as Tiffany's door slowly opened, and
Heather finally emerged in a well-worn naughty
schoolgirl outfit, wrinkled and completely stained with
day old patches of encrusted semen that soiled
everything from the white blouse, which for some reason
she wore unbuttoned over the subtle humps of her young
petite breasts, to the plaid skirt, which was flimsily
hanging about her bowing hips as if a mild gust would
blow it right off.
The only items that looked relatively clean were the
oversized brown loafers on her feet, and the obligatory
white knee socks. However, clean was definitely not the
word Shelly would use to describe the filthy condition
of her dingy pantyhose, their former glow now dulled
and less than flattering under the dry plaster of white
powdery sperm.
Kayla and Dylan turned as Heather greeted her mother
with a low-key smile and lazily meandered toward Kayla
and her brother who greeted his sister with a cheerful
smile of his own.
Shelly stepped over to brush her niece's arm, and then
Heather turned to her and softly whispered good morning
over a mild yawn. While Shelly was only mildly
concerned that Heather was neither sophisticated nor
worldly enough to wear such an adult outfit at her age,
she was more concerned about her sister's reaction, as
she turned to see Kayla quietly walking back.
"Mom?" Heather said, blinking rapidly. "Is that you?"
Kayla smiled calmly. "I was just about to ask you the
same thing."
Heather paused, and then quickly looked down as if
suddenly remembering how different she must look
herself.
"Oh," she said dimly. "This is from Tiffany," she said,
pulling down her skirt, and then holding out the hem,
with a slight curtsey. "Do you like it?"
Kayla took her time responding. "Yes," she said
finally. "I do like it. It makes you look very grown
up," she added, "very stylish."
Heather beamed. "Really!" she said surprisingly. "You
don't think it's too sexy?"
Shelly noticed as Kayla began chewing her bottom lip,
an old habit which her sister had developed as a kid,
especially whenever she needed to really concentrate.
Finally, Kayla turned to her daughter and reasonably
answered. "I wouldn't let you wear it to school. But I
guess you could take it home."
Heather sprung with excitement. "Yes!" she shouted.
"Thank you! Thank you, Mommy! Thank you so much!"
Kayla stroked her daughter's hair and kindly whispered,
"You're welcome, sweetheart."
As Heather began twirling in celebration, scooting her
little tush from side to side gleefully, Shelly's eyes
fell on Dylan, whose reaction to Heather's joyful
gyrations gave her another moment of tremendous pause.
As her nephew stood bare-assed in the middle of her
upstairs hallway, Shelly felt her chin slowly begin to
drop, while in turn, Dylan's wondrously elongated penis
slowly began to rise. As the pink foreskin slowly
rolled back, the smooth elevating shaft slowly craned
upward, until the domed tip pointed straight forward,
only to continue its towering ascent, hoisting itself
clear up to his navel like a sailboat extending its
mast.
Shaken beyond comprehension, Shelly's first and only
reaction was to reach for her sister as if to urgently
warn her of some of impending natural disaster about to
strike.
"Uh, Kay," she said, clutching her sister's forearm, as
she nodded toward Dylan with the subtle pointing of her
chin.
As Kayla noted her sister's signal, she slowly turned
her gaze away from Heather, when her upper torso was
violently seized by the sudden need for air. Her eyes
jolted open, her nostrils flared, and all of her
muscles completely locked up as if struck by lightning.
With both sisters unable to speak or even move, the one
person left to handle the dire situation was the 12-
year-old dead ringer for Britney Spears, who eyed
Dylan's monstrous cock like a surgeon would a paper
cut.
Without a moment's hesitation, the brave pantyhose
novice sauntered over in her brownie-turned-slut
uniform, sank to her knees, yawned her lips open and
dutifully proceeded to slurp down her brother's swollen
member like a flesh-colored popsicle.
The second Shelly saw Heather kneel down to suck
Dylan's cock, she instantly knew that she and Tiffany
had done way more the night before than play dress up.
Her swirling tongue and her fondness for using extra
spit had Tiffany's technique written all over it. Greg
must have known something too since he came home early
from the bar that night at her request. How much he had
actually been involved was difficult to say, but Shelly
found herself getting a clearer picture when Heather
began moaning ecstatically as her brother's infernally
succulent cock suddenly penetrated the base of her
forcibly opened throat.
As if to save her from committing mortal sin, Kayla
reached for her daughter desperately, but Shelly
quickly and wisely blocked the way. She grabbed Kayla,
pulled her back and held her with all her strength.
Kayla stared back with her helpless green eyes brimming
with sheer panic and utter distress, as Shelly did
everything she could just to hold her at bay.
"Let go of me!" Kayla shouted. "Why won't you let go?"
"Because," Shelly said forcefully. "You need to see
this," she strongly added. "You need to learn why this
is so important."
Heather looked too far gone to stop no matter who was
watching. Her head was bobbing a mile a minute, as
Dylan quickly figured out that his cock could go even
further down his sister's esophagus if he held her by
the back of the head and used her stingy throat like a
natural sheath for his long fleshy sword, constantly
thrusting his hips back and forth, with all of his
boundless 10-year-old energy.
As Shelly watched, her arousal began to slowly consume
her to the point where something simply had to be done
about it right then and there. She was still afraid if
she let go of Kayla, that her sister's conscience would
get the best of her, to the ruin of all that Shelly had
been working to accomplish since their day at the mall.
With that in mind, Shelly decided her best course of
action was to use all of her pent up sexual energy,
harness those emotions, and then take her frustrations
out on her sister. She aggressively pressed Kayla's
back against the wall, and then smothered her
defenseless older sister with a hostile kiss that
recklessly denied her sister of vital oxygen, until
Kayla finally whimpered and relented to letting Shelly
have her way.
After a torrid series of sloppy, thirst-quenching
kisses courtesy of Kayla's excessively juicy mouth,
Shelly broke away, and then reached down between her
sister leg's, clawing her fingers over the crisp
resistant fabric of her skintight pantyhose, which
pitifully guarded the door to Kayla's unruly little
cunt.
"Drop your skirt," Shelly insisted only once.
Kayla reached behind her back, unzipped, and shimmied
until gravity did the rest. She quickly stepped out of
her rust-colored skirt, left on her boots, and then
kicked the discarded skirt off to the side.
With Kayla partially undressed, Dylan quickly took
note, gaping in lustful admiration as if witnessing a
vision in which his angelic mother had descended from
above, glowing from the radiant aura emitted by the
brilliance of the coffee pantyhose that shimmered like
honey on her tapered legs.
Using her sharp red nail, Shelly knifed through the
cotton crotch, in a justified sacrifice to the nylon
Gods, as she shredded her sister's pantyhose with evil
intent, using her middle finger like a hot poker to
brand Kayla's wayward pussy as one of her own.
"Huhhh!" Kayla gasped. "Ohhhgawwd! Yes! Put your finger
inside me!" she pleaded urgently.
Shelly twisted her hand, curling her finger to expertly
flog Kayla's G-spot. The delicious squelching of her
softly congealed snatch was music to Shelly's ears, as
Kayla trembled and sputtered nonsensically from the
skillful ministration of Shelly's jostling finger.
Still not satisfied, Shelly smooshed in a second finger
as Kayla shrieked, and then bit down on her bottom lip
hard enough to bleed. Judging through Shelly's mindful
eyes, Kayla's increased focus meant only one thing.
Shelly taunted her, as she knowingly whispered, "You're
about to cum, aren't you?"
Kayla nodded frantically, as Shelly enjoyed the sounds
of her halting ragged breaths.
"Say it!" Shelly ordered. "Say it to my face!" she
added, twisting her fingers.
Kayla wheezed like she had just lost her inhaler. Her
head rocked to and fro as she grimaced and then wildly
sobbed.
"I'm gonna cum! Ohhhhggggaaawwwdd! Ahhh! Ohhh yesssss!
OH FUCK YESSS!" she swore out loud.
Shelly smiled wickedly. "If you _really_ want to cum,"
she snarled ruthlessly, "then you _need_ to watch!" she
insisted.
As her sister's words suddenly sunk in, Kayla's eyes
opened intently, before slowly and courageously turning
to the abhorrent sight of own daughter kneeling before
her son, worshipping at the altar of her own brother's
all-mighty rod, slavishly polishing his golden idol
using her frenetically agile tongue, along with copious
fountains of lubricating spit.
Convinced that Kayla was now able to follow orders,
Shelly promptly pushed her to the next level, adding
more pressure against the spongy roof of her vagina,
and then rotating her expert fingers against that
exquisitely sensitive location, as Kayla's orgasmic
simmer slowly rolled to a steaming boil.
"Tell her," Shelly demanded viciously. "Tell your
daughter what to do!"
Kayla quickly blurted out her lustful words, as if to
vault them over the slowly receding walls of her moral
fortress. She vehemently called out to her pre-teen
daughter with a quiver of desperate envy in her wounded
voice.
"Suck it, sweetheart!" she cheered heartily. "That's
it, honey, suck his cock!"
Shelly smiled triumphantly as she heard his sister's
words, before proceeding to spike the moment even more.
"And then what?" she added mercilessly.
Without flinching, Kayla turned to her daughter and
vocally begged out loud. "Make him cum in your mouth!"
Shelly and Kayla turned as Dylan suddenly cried out
like he'd just been shot. Heather leaned back, smiled
at her brother, and then wantonly opened her mouth with
anticipation of her brother's imminent load, to which
Dylan began launching his creamy discharge as if his
sister's tongue was on fire, hosing her down under
punishing waves of hot liquid sperm that rocketed in
relentless surges of watery semen until her face was
completely drowned.
Seeing this sent Kayla to another dimension where all
sense of morality instantly evaporated and in its place
came the flooding waters of an explosive squirting
orgasm, an epic downpour of raining juices that left
everything within spitting distance completely wet,
including the alarmed faces of her own two children.
Glistening under the dripping residue of their mother's
historic eruption, Heather and Dylan stared at each
other with wide-eyed horror, before turning to their
mother with matching looks of total shock on their
deeply concerned faces.
"Mom!" Dylan cried urgently. "Are you okay?"
As Shelly leaned against the wall, drenched in her own
sweat, along with her sister's unique bodily fluids,
she listened quietly as Kayla forcefully exhaled, a
comforting sound that seemed to signify all the years
of sexual repression and emotional denial being purged
suddenly, once and for all.
As Shelly reached down and took her sister by the hand,
she listened again as Kayla turned to her precious son
and daughter and whispered in a voice laced with pure
contentment.
"Yes, sweetheart," Kayla said. "Mommy's fine."
***
It took another ten minutes or so before Kayla managed
to fully calm down to where she could help Heather and
Dylan get cleaned up and finish packing their overnight
bags, which included more clothes from Tiffany that she
and Heather gratefully accepted, until finally all of
their belongings were packed up in preparation for the
journey home.
To Shelly, it seemed like Kayla actually was home,
finally, her real home at least, the place where she
was surrounded by the people who truly loved her and
would do anything to see her stay as happy and
beautiful as she was now.
It took some doing, but Shelly felt fairly confident
that Kayla had finally come to understand the secret to
great health and sexual vitality which she and her
family so richly enjoyed. She was certain as long as
Kayla resisted falling back into her old ways, then she
would clearly see that her perverted little sister had
been right all along. From that day on, the rest would
be up to her.
As Shelly led Kayla to the door, she decided to leave
her with just a few simple, yet significant parting
words.
"Rule number two," Shelly said meaningfully. "Always
keep family business inside the family."
Kayla stared blankly. "What is it with you and all
these rules, all of a sudden?"
Shelly smiled. "It's just something we use to remind
ourselves who we are."
Kayla nodded. "So, there's more?" she asked curiously.
Shelley smiled back cryptically. "No more questions,"
she said. "I'm just proud of you for coming this far.
Go home, now. Get some rest. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Do you need my help with dinner tonight?" Kayla kindly
offered. "It's no problem."
Shelly waved it off. "No," she answered. "I think I can
burn the chicken just fine on my own. Stay home and
relax. Spend some time with your kids. They need you
right now."
Kayla nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I really need them,
too," she added, before giving Shelly one last kiss,
saying goodnight to her niece and nephew, and then
heading off for the long drive back to Arcadia.
***
Once Kayla finally went home, Greg and Shelly went down
to their room and took turns explaining all of the
events that led up to that morning.
Greg started by telling Shelly that the Trojans game on
Saturday night was pretty much a bust, so when he got
her text asking if he wouldn't mind stopping by the
house to check on the kids, it was no big deal, even
though he was already pretty tipsy by then and he
really shouldn't have driven himself back home.
He then explained how he came in and found everyone
half naked in Jonathan's room, and how things pretty
much escalated out of control when Heather started to
show off her new oral talents.
Shelly then told him that she had just witnessed their
niece performing said talents on Dylan and that they
really needed to reward their daughter for teaching her
so effectively.
Greg suggested perhaps getting her a car for her
sixteenth birthday, which Shelly agreed was definitely
a great idea, as long as she wasn't the one giving her
the driving lessons.
Shelly then proceeded to explain to Greg everything
that had happened with her Kayla at the mall, how she
had discovered her ability to squirt, how she had taken
Kayla out dancing after Peter stood her up, and how she
firmly believed that Kayla was not only completely
enamored with pantyhose, but also seemed more than
ready to join them in their special brand of family
recreation.
The more she spoke, the more Greg started to get worked
up, until hearing her talk about how jealous she was
that Kayla was probably going to go home and suck
Dylan's massive cock led to a spirited bout of rowdy
sex, which ended with Greg delivering Shelly a hot
mouthful of cum, for which she happily thanked him, as
it provided her with the perfect pick me up she needed
before heading back out to pick up some groceries for
dinner.
Shelly then used the opportunity to bring up Adam, upon
which Greg surprisingly informed her that he and
Tiffany had already talked about it while she and Kayla
were upstairs. He said that Adam seemed like a nice
young man and as long as they were careful, he saw no
reason why Tiffany should have to lie about her family
to someone she obviously cared so much about, almost as
much as them.
Shelly gave him a tight hug, adding a comment that
moments like this were the reason why she was still as
madly in love with him as the day they met.
Greg smiled, kissed her, and then returned to the
living room, so he could polish off another beer or two
and watch the end of the game.
Shelly took a quick shower, dried her hair, and then
briefly touched up hair and make-up. She tip-toed over
to her dresser, slid open the drawer and casually
withdrew a fresh pair of L'eggs Sheer Vitality
pantyhose, greeting them with a warm smile as she
stroked the silky sheer-to-waist nylon like a family
pet.
With the sun shining brightly outside, Shelly decided
the best color to wear was definitely suntan. They were
her favorite anyway. Something about that golden
shimmer was so tantalizing even to her.
She sat down on the edge of her bed, pointed her toes
and carefully stretched them up one leg a time. She
inched them over her firm round thighs, aroused by
their soft yielding embrace as the velvety nylon
gradually slid up to her waist.
She stood up in front of her mirror, fondly admiring
how the sheer velvety threads reflected the light like
glass, along with the flattering manner in which they
lifted and held her ass nice and high, as she silently
took pleasure in the pantyhose encasement of her firm
upraised cheeks. The finely spun netting also allowed
her legs to breathe, and stimulated her circulation,
while balancing out her fair skin tone so the lush
golden color looked nice and even all the way down.
She smiled at her own reflection, nodding with
approval, before throwing on one of her half dozen
short denim skirts, a staple of any slut's wardrobe,
which combined an understated sense of casual style,
along with comfort, and of course, maximum leg
exposure.
Her top was just one of those standard garden-variety
baby tees, more of a trifle than a fully qualified
shirt, with pink and yellow daisies printed on the
front of stretchy white cotton that strained against
the massive protrusions of her conspicuous jugs.
Once ready to go, she slipped into a pair of white mule
sandals, grabbed her keys and sunglasses, kissed Greg,
and then cheerfully jiggled out the door sans bra or
panties.
She hopped into her sporty purple convertible, and then
sped down to the local market, where she pulled into
the first empty spot, stopped the engine and decisively
swung opened the door. With a graceful pirouette, she
happily spun about in her low bucket seat, and then
balletically extended her radiant stems in an elegant
stretch that soothed the tight weary muscles of her
well-toned legs.
With the California sun beaming through clear skies,
the bright morning rays spotlighted her crimson red
toenails and the lily white sandals she carelessly
dangled by the lone strap spanning the sculpted arches
of her dainty little feet.
As she slowly rose to her modest height, just above
average at 5'5" tall, she realized she was not exactly
a supermodel, so she took particular satisfaction in
the added stature provided by her heels, along with the
added bonus of the way that they lengthened and
accentuated the muscles of her firm calves and thighs,
which in her own personal opinion, still looked pretty
good, despite having been a few weeks since she had
last seen a Stairmaster.
She checked the time, slid up her shades, and then
paused to adjust her miniskirt, giving it a firm tug,
before she locked the car and began her confident strut
toward the main entrance. She loudly announced her
arrival via the rhythmic steps of her three-inch heels
steadily striking the asphalt. As she quickly traversed
the busy parking lot, which teemed with dozens of other
weekend shoppers, the further she walked, the more she
couldn't help smiling to herself over the handful of
men who were unexpectedly treated to the intriguing
sight of her big natural tits cheerfully bouncing under
her skimpy white T-shirt.
As she entered the store, Shelly couldn't help noticing
some of the other female shoppers walking in alongside
her. She never understood how so many women could go
out in public wearing baggy sweats and ratty old flip
flops. Her father had raised her to believe that a
woman should look her best no matter where she was
going. She worked hard to keep her body in shape also,
so naturally, showing it off had always been half the
fun.
At the main entrance, she was greeted by a friendly-
looking older gentleman who handed her a shopping cart
and gave her the kind of appreciative smile she was
used to getting from men his age. His kindly voice
startled her.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" the man said.
"Beg your pardon?" Shelly answered, in her warm
mellifluous tone.
"I said it's a beautiful day," he repeated with a
friendly grin. "Been like this all weekend. Hope it
lasts."
"Oh," Shelly replied awkwardly. "Right, it sure is. I
hope it does too."
"You have a nice day now," he said with the cordial tip
of his head, which vaguely reminded Shelly of her late
grandfather.
As she continued on, even from a distance, Shelly could
almost feel the old man's eyes tracking her as she
walked away. Not that it really bothered her. She
imagined the dirty thoughts he was surely having as he
looked her over, certain that as soon as his day was
done, he would probably rush home, pull out his cock
and desperately jerk himself off. The thought alone got
Shelly's pussy steaming inside her pantyhose.
Only minutes later, in the produce section, as Shelly
was bending over, she noticed yet another lonely
looking old man doing an embarrassingly poor job of
hiding the fact that he was staring directly at her
legs.
She amused herself by pretending not to notice,
assuming her new admirer would take advantage of his
good fortune by taking however many seconds he required
to get in a few harmless looks, before quietly moving
on with nice treat to remember later.
She grabbed some tomatoes, slipped them into a plastic
bag and then turned, facing him full on. She leaned
over, carefully placed the bag into her cart, and
smiled as the man stood there brazenly eyeing her up
and down. She tried looking him in the eye, but clearly
the sight of her high heels and shiny pantyhose had
rendered him completely mesmerized.
Of course, with so much of it running in her family,
Shelly could always spot a pantyhose lover right away.
Still, the lucky shopper seemed to be completely lost
in his own world, so Shelly just shook her head, smiled
to herself and continued on like he wasn't there.
Anxious to get home and start dinner, she did her best
to make her rounds about the store quickly. She limited
the cosmetics to bare essentials: hairspray, nail
polish and shampoo. Naturally, she couldn't forget to
buy more pantyhose, some of which were on sale that
week, either Hanes or L'eggs, one of the two. She
couldn't remember. Still, she made herself a mental
note to grab a few pairs for her and Tiffany on the way
out.
Unfortunately, it was also drawing close to the third
week of the month, which meant that both she and her
daughter could also expect that their monthly visitor
would be arriving soon as well. Knowing this, Shelly
continued through health and beauty to stock up on a
few feminine products as well.
As she turned the corner, she spotted a strikingly
handsome gentleman, wearing a well-tailored gray pin-
stripped suit, with perfectly coiffed, sun-kissed
blonde hair, much like her own. The gentleman looked
instantly familiar, but Shelly had no idea why or how
this individual could be standing here of all places,
especially now.
Fueled by anger and adrenaline, Shelly promptly marched
over to find out.
"Peter?" she called out, scowling with every seething
step.
As her sister's unfaithful (and potentially former)
husband turned to see Shelly charging at him with a
full head of steam, his face lit up into one of his
notoriously plastic smiles, as if for just the right
price, he would gladly offer her a great deal on her
own shirt.
"Shelly!" Peter said, with his blue eyes sending out
distress signals, despite the pleasant lift in his
distinctly well-mannered voice. "My goodness," he said,
shaking his head with admiration. "You look terrific!"
Shelly ignored the weak compliment. She couldn't stand
how the diminutive Abercrombie & Fitch reject always
tried to use his charm and good looks to manipulate
women. She slit her eyes, as they stood toe to toe, and
then instantly snapped at the complete lack of remorse
showing anywhere on his puny arrogant face.
"Cut the shit, you lying son of a bitch!" Shelly said.
"What the hell are you doing in Cedar Springs?" she
asked, fuming as she looked down to notice a white box
in his hand with the letters, E-P-T printed on the
front. "Kayla told me you were in New York?" she said.
"Why the fuck did you lie to her?"
Peter quickly stopped smiling, as his head dropped
toward the floor.
"It's complicated," he said quietly, looking unwilling
or unable to meet her outraged glare.
"Really?" Shelly said. "Then maybe you could start by
telling me why the fuck you're holding a pregnant
test?"
Peter cringed. "Shelly, please," he said, checking over
both shoulders and raising his hands. "Could you at
least lower your voice?"
"No!" Shelly shouted. "I will not lower my voice. Not
until you explain yourself, you son of a bitch! Do you
have any idea what Kayla's been through these last few
months?" she asked bitterly. "Do you have any what
_I've_ been through just to keep her from completely
giving up on herself?" she added. "I still don't
understand why you left to begin with...what the hell
were you thinking?"
Peter sighed, and then smirked as he slowly shook his
head. "If I could just get you to calm down for a
minute, then maybe I could explain," he offered
wearily.
Shelly folded her arms. "I haven't got all night," she
said, tapping her shoe. "I actually have a family I
need to get to home to. You do remember what that's
like, don't you?"
Peter turned and quietly shook his head. "You've always
been the feisty one," he said, laughing to himself.
"True," Shelly said. "And you've always been an
asshole," she harshly replied. "So I guess we're even."
While still holding that deceptively small yet
hopelessly incriminating white box, Peter casually
slipped his hands behind his back, slid out his left
foot, and then leaned his shoulders to the right.
"How are the kids?" he asked unexpectedly. "Have you
seen them lately?"
Shelly threw up a finger and pointed it sharply. "You
don't get to ask that," she said. "Not until you decide
that you're ready to be a real father," she said,
eyeing the box which he so obviously wanted to hide.
"Ironic considering the reason why I'm guessing you're
here."
Peter responded by blowing out a puff of air, and then
checked around for nosy spectators, before whispering
discretely. "Lacey missed her period."
Shelly laughed under her breath. "Lacey?" she repeated
mockingly. "You left my sister for some airheaded bimbo
named, Lacey. Oh, that's pathetic."
"Like I said," Peter answered, his voice brimming with
aggravation. "It's complicated," he repeated
simplistically. "Either way, I thought if I drove down
here, there'd be less chance of running into one of my
neighbors," he added, with chagrin. "Go figure."
"Right," Shelly said smugly. "Go figure."
"Shelly, I don't know what to do," he confessed, his
voice sounding more desperate. "I barely know this
girl. I mean, we dated for like two weeks."
"Cheated," Shelly said, correcting him. "The term is
cheated, not dated."
Peter held up his hands. "Fine," he admitted. "I
cheated, okay. Shoot me. I know a few things about your
past, too. Let's not forget."
Shelly smirked. "So what," she said, with a dismissive
shrug. "I'm supposed to feel guilty because I let my
brother take some nude photos of me just to help his
career. That's nothing compared to destroying your
marriage over some stupid white trash whore."
"Right," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you
say, Miss holier-than-thou," he added snidely.
"Listen," he said, as he stepped forward assertively.
"All I ask is that you let me handle this my way," he
added, "quietly."
"Sure," Shelly said, nodding agreeably. "I'll let you
handle it. In fact, I'll give you twenty four hours to
handle it," she sternly advised. "And if you don't tell
Kayla exactly why you blew her off last night, then you
can bet your miserable worthless ass that I will," she
promised. "Are we clear?"
Peter slowly nodded his head, as he eyed her boldly and
simply answered, "Crystal."
Before turning away, Shelly pointed in his face one
last time, scowling viciously as she firmly repeated,
'Twenty four hours!"
She then heatedly spun around and fiercely stormed off,
punctuating her furious goodbye knowing that Peter
would watch every step, determined to make him feel the
pulse-pounding reverberations of her thunderous heels
as she angrily stomped away.
To be continued...
wordsinprogress@gmail.com - Copyright@2008
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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is
meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting
out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to
many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a
fellow convict in their local prison.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 23