My mother, Lisa Dawes, was a fairly successful businesswoman.
We weren’t rich or anything, though we weren’t poor, either. She worked her way up through the company, an advertising business, until she soon ran it.
She adopted me when I was born, just like she’d adopted my stepsister, Lydia, two years earlier.
For Lisa, having children may have initially been the whole “Angelina Jolie” thing—accessorize your outfit with a designer child. The definition of “successful businesswoman” included children, with husband optional. And Mom was nothing if not determined to be successful.
But however we started, we grew to be a real family. Mom made sure we had everything we needed for school, including loving support. When she was 14, Lydia helped her little brother as I was struggling with History in school. And when I was 15, I got my ass kicked one time by three guys that had been bothering Lydia. They were all two years older than me, but I’ll tell you what: I did enough damage to them that they never harassed Lydia again. Ever. And when each of us graduated high school, Mom was there, beaming.
I love my mom and sister, just like they love me. And THAT’S the definition of “family.”
Mom never married. And she never kept a boyfriend too long. I always imagined that she just ... had them service her, and then discarded them before they started thinking they had a claim to anything. That’s the sort of no-nonsense approach Mom took toward everything in life.
Mom was ... imminently practical. And definitely pretty. My stepsister Lydia was pretty too, but more in a “cute” way. And, sure, Lisa would use her looks to her advantage when it behooved her. Underneath it all, she was a practical businesswoman, and she used the tools she had available—especially when I was younger and she was still climbing her way up the ladder at the company.
Every bit of that changed when she started dating Richard.
I was 19. Lydia and I were both still living at home, going to community college.
And Mom ... started acting very unusual ...
Richard and Lisa took Lydia and me out to a restaurant to celebrate their third week dating.
Richard—get this!—had the obtuseness to say to the waitress, “And the lady will have a salad and the shrimp plate.” With Lisa sitting right there beside him. He just freaking ... ordered FOR her. With her right there, perfectly able to order for herself. Normally that would earn him a castrating lecture and sudden severance of any relationship. He’d be on his ass on the street, never again worth a second thought from Lisa Dawes.
Instead, Mom just quietly said, “Thank you, dear.” Her eyes not even coming up in fury from the table. She just ... softly thanked him.
My eyes flicked to Lydia, who was looking back, wide-eyed, at me. Where was the sudden explosion? The harsh death of all Richard’s hopes and dreams? The grinding of his testicles to paste between the mortar of his own stupidity and the pestle of Lisa’s stiletto heel?
To say that that was “subdued” for Mom was an understatement. It crossed my mind to ask later if he was ex-CIA, with access to those interrogation drugs that lower people’s willpower or something ...
I exaggerate a little, but ... wow ...
“I don’t trust him! That’s not the Lisa I’VE known all my life,” Lydia led with when she poked her head into my room later that night.
She walked over and sat on the corner of my bed to share notes on Mom’s date. “Since when does Mom let ANY man order her meals for her? Order ANYTHING for her?”
“Maybe,” I tried, “maybe she’s ‘fallen in love’ or something.” Love makes people do stupid things, right?
“Doug, this is MOM. Lisa loves US. But no MAN is going to push his way in.” She gave a bitter chuckle, “Let alone start running HER life!”
“It wasn’t her life. I was just dinner,” I felt obliged to point out.
“I still don’t trust him,” she said as she stood back up. “I hope she drops him soon.”
I shrugged, and she wandered back to her room.
But Mom did not drop Richard. He hung around. And lasted longer than any of Lisa’s other boyfriends.
And it wasn’t just him ordering her dinner for her. Lisa seemed almost ... submissive toward him.
Mom was never a “huggy” person, but Richard was always holding and grabbing and feeling Lisa up.
Liberties he took right in front of Lydia and me. Liberties that pissed Lydia off to no end.
“Goddammit, Richard, you are a PIG!” she snapped at him as his hand moved rhythmically underneath Mom’s skirt. Lisa was sitting in his lap, her arms around his neck. And she kept sighing as her eyelids drooped down, a smile spreading on her face, over and over again.
Even Lydia’s outburst wasn’t enough to disrupt Mom’s happy sighs at however Richard’s hand was entertaining her under her skirt. “Lydia, go to your room,” she commanded sternly, the contented smile not even dropping from her face. Lydia stormed off.
Me? I just found it bizarre that he brought out the ... “cuddly” in Mom. I hadn’t even known she could DO “cuddly” ...
One night, about 10:00, I was doing homework in my room when I heard Richard call from Mom’s bedroom, “Doug? Hey, come in here for a moment, please? I could use a hand.”
It normally takes no effort to talk me into taking a break from homework. So, “Yeah, what can I help with?” I wandered over to Mom’s bedroom. “What did you—YIPES!”
Mom had her—her breasts were out—just ... in the open where—
I mean, she was stripped down to her panties, her breasts just bared, blushing furiously as she sat on the bed, her eyes cast down and leftward to in no way meet my eyes. Her right wrist was loosely tied with a silk scarf to the bedframe. And her left hand was extended toward me, a second silk scarf dangling from her grasp.
Richard—in just a pair of underwear!—chuckled. “Yeah, my little snookum likes her kink,” he said. About Mom. About very nearly naked Mom. About very nearly tied naked to the bedframe ... Mom ...
He gave another chuckle. “Hey, could you tie her other wrist to the frame over there for her?”
“Mom? You—you WANT this?” I asked, bewildered a little numb.
Several moments of thick, hot, humid silence hemmed and hawed from one leg to the other, REALLY uncomfortably ...
“If not, I can—”
“I DO want this, Doug,” she blurted. Then shivered slightly. “I—I ... NEED this.” Eyes steadfastly never moving anywhere near me. “PLEASE, though—please don’t mention this to Lydia. PLEASE.”
“I ... won’t. Trust me, I won’t.”
I ... loosely tied Mom’s wrist ... to the bedpost. For ... whatever reason that she ... wanted it ... It was loose. If she wanted to, she could definitely pull free from it.
No, it would light a fuse in Lydia, if I told her about THIS—Lisa topless, LETTING HERSELF be tied to the bedframe?! Lydia would EXPLODE over that. No way was I going to—
“Thanks, Doug,” Richard smiled, “We’ve got it from here.”
I was excused, and ... wandered back to my room. To ... sit on the bed.
Although ... Lydia somehow DID catch them too. Or maybe Richard let them be caught.
She stormed into my room like an indignant walrus. Her body was still cute, that is, but her emotions were flopping about like a humphing, indignant walrus.
“He had her in there, Doug,” she raged, “TIED TO THE BED! Topless!” She walrussed slightly to the left to shake her fists in impotent rage, then walrussed back, full-on to me. “Mom—just—LET HERSELF—be TIED to the bed!” A little walrus to the right, Fists of Rage again, then back full-on. “She just LET this man—bind her up, HELPLESS!”
I just agreed with Lydia that it was outrageous. That Richard was a pig. That Mom NEVER behaved like this. Never mentioning to her that I ... had helped tie one hand up myself ...
Things got really stormy for a few weeks then. Lydia demanded that Richard go, that he get the HELL out of ALL our lives.
Richard calmly explained that he and Lisa were in love with each other. Mom cooed and nuzzled Richard’s neck. As his hand faintly moved rhythmically beneath her skirt.
“What a PIG!” Lydia raged in my room. “But she WON’T LISTEN TO ME! Mom is—so much—BETTER than him! How can she—STOOP to—
“How can she STAND for him to—”
Lydia LOATHED Richard.
And ... I got the feeling she’d be moving out soon. That made me sad, but ... NO WAY was she going to stay in the same house as “that man!”
Lydia did grow closer to her boyfriend, Greg, over the next few weeks, as Lisa’s doting on Richard drove Lydia further away from her family.
Lydia was cute, and much softer than Mom, but she DID have Mom’s steel in her when she needed it, as Greg found out. His kitten began issuing commands, and soon he’d proposed, and they set a date, and Greg found himself married and rescuing Lydia from her home life of hell of late.
Still, Mom partially upstaged the bride, with the risqué little red dress she wore for Richard to the wedding. A number of people paid more attention to the hot minx in red than to the plainer bride in the long white dress.
Lydia and her husband moved into their own apartment.
At least she was free now. Richard couldn’t infuriate her anymore with his perverse ways with Mom.
Mom, meanwhile, continued to act ... odd.
They say that Halloween is for all ladies to try on their slutty side for a night. I won’t say that Lisa was—well, a slut. But her costume WAS a little skimpy. She had this outfit with skeletal hand-bras to cover her top, and a skeletal-hand crotch cover to keep her bottom half decent.
Only, the plastic skeletal hands didn’t keep anything decent. On top, the spaces between the skeletal fingers would easily let you see nipple; and below, the skeletal fingers wouldn’t even succeed in hiding her—well, her pussy lips, LET ALONE her pubic hair.
So Lisa wore an almost-micro hot pink bikini beneath the skeletal hand bikini, to keep her good parts covered, and to keep her legal to be outside of the house.
Only ... well, the top did keep her nipples covered, though I am sure that some adhesive had to be involved in that working. But below, well ... Mom had let herself get kind of fuzzy below. So ... LOTS of hair peeked out from the little hot pink thong.
“Oh, Doug! You weren’t supposed to SEE me like this,” she complained, but made no moves to cover up.
I immediately averted my gaze and held my hand up to the side of my face to protect from any further “crotch glare.” I started to tell her, “Uh, Mom ... you have a little, ehr ...”
She knew immediately what I was talking about. “Fur showing? DAMMIT! I thought I had all that tucked away.” She thrust her pelvis forward and began pushing rowdy pubic hairs back to tuck them under the thong.
“Ah!” I complained as she did this right in front of me, “I DON’T need to get glimpses of THAT while you fiddle with it ...”
Richard joined us then, and hugged one arm around her. Her attention and hands wrapped around him, her miscreant pubic hairs forgotten.
“Ha! Ain’t she great!” Richard admired Lisa. “Your mother’s NOT real big in the tittie department ... but she DOES give a good crotch-flash every now and then, doesn’t she, Doug?”
We SOOO should not be discussing that about my mom.
They went to their Halloween party for the night; and I went to mine. They were already back when I got home, and I tried to slip quietly back to my room. Mom, though, was tiptoeing out of my room, and we surprised each other.
Oh! My! God! She was NOT wearing the pink under-bikini now! And I had been exactly right about how much those three little plastic skeletal hands would NOT cover! “AY-YIKES! Didn’t that thing have a bikini with it earlier?!”
“I—I slipped it off. For Richard,” Lisa replied defensively.
Richard appeared them, calming and soothing Lisa as he laid his hands on her. “And there you have it,” he sneered a little. “Yes, I DID tell snookums to keep the pussy furry. And she OBEDIENTLY did, didn’t you, honey?”
“I—I did,” Mom admitted, right in front of me, “I kept my ‘pussy’ furry ... for you ... Richard.”
He gave a wink and smiled, “But if I asked you to shave your pelt off for me, to make yourself all hairless and smooth for Daddy?”
“I would!” Mom blurted, then swallowed hard. “In a heartbeat. I would shave myself bald for you.” She was ... breathing hard as she admitted this to him in front of me. “WHATEVER you want ... ‘Daddy.’”
He took her to the bedroom for some—for what he and Lisa used the bedroom for these days. I went to mine and tried not to think too much as I wrapped up and went to bed.
Man, I had some bizarre dreams that night ...
Richard with ... ram’s horns on his head. Other ... things ... with horns on their heads too. Family members of his? Or something, it seemed like. And Richard and the things were ... discussing family business.
Now, I have never sleepwalked before in my life. But I did THAT night.
Mom, too, sleepwalked that night—also for the first time ever, as far as I know.
She was naked, down on all fours—as I found out momentarily—purring, “Ohgod, I am your BITCH, baby! Arf! Arf!”
Anyway, I woke up, mid-fall. I had tripped over something in my sleep—Mom’s butt, as it turned out—and the sensation of falling snapped me awake.
She and I landed together in a knot of limbs, me on top of her.
“Mmmph! Doug! You’re ... you’re TEABAGGING me, honey!” Lisa complained.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m TRYING to get off of you!” And I was, desperately. NOBODY wants to ... teabag their ...
“Honey! Honey! Now you just dick-slapped by face!”
Apparently my crotch was in her face, and she had hold of my hips, trying to get my nuts from her cheek. But she was pushing one way when I was trying to twist the other, so we just wound up fighting each other, and I could NOT successfully keep from—
“You just slapped the OTHER cheek! Don’t—don’t poke me in the eye, baby!”
Finally, I managed to roll to the other side and get my penis out of my mom’s face.
She rolled too, then stood, sputtering. “Doug! I belong to RICHARD! You CAN’T be slapping your penis in my—”
What the hell had she just said?! Without thinking, I cut her off, “Mom, NO! You belong to YOU! NOT to Richard!” The Lisa I knew would NEVER be owned by anyone else!
“Richard is my EVERYTHING!” she informed me. “And YOU need to keep your hard-on out of my face, young man! Hmmph!” She strode back to her bedroom and shut the door.
How?! How could Lisa think she BELONGS to some MAN?! She had NEVER thought like that before Richard!
And WHY did we BOTH sleepwalk on the same night?!
And why, on top of everything else, did I randomly pick tonight to sleep nude?!
The next morning, the weirdness just kept on coming ...
Lisa was huddled up with her coffee cup at the kitchen table with me, and she suddenly blushed. And blurted, “I’m ... gong to bleach my anus.”
Disbelief sputtered out of me. That she would ... SAY something like that! “Uhm—I hope—that—”
Still blushing furiously, eyes still firmly averted from mine, she continued, “He ... WANTED me to tell you. For me to ... SHARE that with you.”
It ... wasn’t hard to get out of the kitchen and back to my room, I think Lisa was as ashamed blurting that out to me as I was hearing it.
And WHY did Richard want her to share that with me?! Just to ... humiliate herself?! In front of her son?! What mom shares with her son that she’s getting her ASSHOLE BLEACHED?! How does she ever look him in the eye after she HAS shared something like that?!
It was time for me to move out too. I went online and starting looking around for an apartment.
“Hey, Doug?” came Richard’s voice later that evening. “Come in here and help me for a sec?”
Sighing, I walked over to Mom’s bedroom. “Yeah, I—HOLY SHIT!”
Lisa was stripped totally nude, on all fours on the bed, her ass arched up in the air. Eyes fervently anywhere else but on mine. Silk scarf by her elbow.
Richard was on the other side of the bed—I think, entirely naked. “Yeah,” he chuckled, “Lisa BLEACHED HER ASSHOLE for me. So I was going to open my present, and SPEAR THE PUCKER.
“But snookums feels more secure when she’s tied with silk. It gives her plausible deniability later, when I tease her about how HARD she came her brains out. She pretends like she was tied and didn’t have any choice.” He laughed heartily then, “But then she just BEGS me to DO HER AGAIN, even HARDER.”
I—I knelt by the side of the bed and tied the silk loosely around Mom’s wrist. She ... squeezed my hand and whispered, “Thank you,” as I did.
Then I fled the room.
I REALLY needed to move out of there.
And the next day, I did. I put a deposit down on an apartment, and had my small collection of possessions moved before the end of the day.
Things were quiet that evening, in my new apartment. And sane.
And for many nights after that.
Then one night, months later, there was a knock on my apartment door. I was drinking a glass of milk, and opened the door. “Yes?”
I sputtered milk, all over myself and Lisa.
She was HUGE!
She’d gone from a small B-cup—really, an A-cup wearing a loose B-cup to make it feel better about itself—to—JESUS! What comes after double-D’s?! Like, quadruple G’s or something?!
She was almost at “volleyballs strapped to her chest” big.
“You’re, uhm ...” I came up from bent-over-sputtering to eyeball-to-boob level.
“A few cup sizes larger? Yeah, I had them DONE for Richard a couple months ago. My cups just ... RUNNETH OVER now.”
She got me pulled fully upright and caught my gaze, looking directly into my eyes, “Do YOU like them, Doug?” Just ... utter and total sincerity, like her whole life was hanging on my pronouncement of her boobs ...
“Uhh ... yeah, they DO look nice. HUGE, but ... y’know, nice.”
“Really?!” a huge grin spread across her face. “Really?! You LIKE them?!”
“Uh, yeah. They’re ... really nice.”
Bubbling over, she stepped in to the apartment and shut the door. “Let me SHOW you!”
The dress was off in seconds. And she was ... somehow braless with those ... uhm ...
Well, they really WERE magnificent. God, how do they get them ... shaped like that. They were ... well, gorgeous!
“The nipples are SOOOO sensitive,” she gushed, happy at my reaction, I guessed. “Ohgod!” she giggled, her voice swinging up in pitch, “They are REALLY excited around YOU, Doug!”
She just gazed happily at me ... as I gazed at her, uhm ... mounds.
“You just do something SPECIAL for them,” she giggled, “You put them in a REALLY GREAT mood!”
“They’re ... REALLY nice, Mom,” I assured her, though my appreciation was obvious. My attention was falling all over itself in the presence of her magnificent works of art. My hand was entirely tipped about how I felt. She’d had other work done too. Her lips had been plumped a little; maybe minor touch up on her nose. And her eyelashes—I don’t know if they were artificial, or if there’s some drug that can make them grow full and lush, but—well, she was just ... wow!
She pulled me over to the sofa I’d bought for the apartment, and sat with me, boobs still out. And just ... wow glorious.
“Doug, I have a favor to ask,” she breathed. Then, “May I—may I sit closer to you?”
“Ungh-hungh ...” She slid closer to me. “That’s ... not the favor though?”
“No, it just—it feels REALLY GOOD to be NEAR you, darling,” she breathed. And I felt a little like I was losing myself in her eyes, she was so earnest ...
“Richard and I ... haven’t been getting along as well.”
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, still trying to stay afloat in her eager gaze. Was the man MAD?! You don’t fight with a woman as beautiful as Lisa, even before her “improvements”. And now—
I’m not normally a big fan of cosmetic surgery, but ... well, angels must have performed the procedures on her, because she was PERFECT now. He should never fight with this woman, he should WORSHIP her.
“He’s—he has his eye on some,” she curled her lip distastefully, “OTHER little BITCH now.” Richard was—leaving THIS woman?! To go chase OTHER tail now?!
“Which leaves me ... all alooone,” she breathed. “And y’know ... lonely.” She smiled weakly, hopefully at me, “May I—may I stay with you for a while, Doug?”
“Uhhh ...” Wow! What the—?!
“I ... don’t have ANYWHERE else to GO, honey ...” she breathed.
Okay, my mom had raised me right, and my attention, which had been scattered since seeing the new her, condensed then. “Mom, it’s YOUR HOUSE! You OWN the house!” She should kick Richard to the curb—to the next time zone, really. She could have any man she wanted now. I mean, she could before, too, but now—she—wow ...
“I couldn’t—I couldn’t possibly ask Richard to—to—” she breathed.
She set her hands on my thigh and leaned closer to me, still topless, to where I could very lightly feel her sweet breath puffing lightly on my lips as she spoke, “I WILL EARN my way, Doug. I can be VERY HELPFUL to you, sweetie.
“I can be your maid, dear. Your live-in always-on-call MAID.
“And I can help with LOTS of things ...
“Just LOTS AND LOTS of things ...”
There’s ... no way I could turn THAT beautiful woman back out on the street. She stayed with me the next few days, and she WAS, remarkably helpful.
Naked, except for thigh-high boots, she cleaned the kitchen. And she—gulp—still retained the pelt she’d grown for Richard ...
Naked, and with great care and love, she cooked for us. Lisa. Cooked. Annnnd ... she wasn’t half bad ...
She talked me into taking baths, instead of showers, and ... she helped. She’d ... soap my back ... sometimes having trouble finding the soap and having to ... grope around for it ...
I’d soap up HER back ... and her front ...
God, her front ...
With everything, she hung with bated breath for my approval. Besides, y’know, hanging onto me. Always nude, always eager to please ...
Things were ... hitting the weird point. And I decided we were going to take a trip, to visit Richard and see what the hell was going on.
So I drove us over to Lisa’s house, where we found—
Oh. My. God.
My cute older sister had ... had even more cosmetic surgery done?! So much so that she was ... just this side of grotesque.
She was still on this side—the hot side—of the line, but she was not far from crossing over into grotesque territory.
“I don’ wanna talk about it,” she informed me.
“But—what—” I gestured breastally, “When—how—?” What the FUCK?!
“I. Don’t. Want to. Talk. About it,” she repeated, giving me the “big sister” pronunciation that lets little brothers around the world know they are within sighting distance of their own death.
“Mm-kay.” I always backed off when she gave me that tone. Not a big fan of my own early death, and all ...
Then she shook her head, “I mean ... I mean I had EVERYTHING done at once. For Richard.”
“I had my TITS STUFFED. I got BLOWJOB PILLOWS for lips. Contact lenses that are so light they’re unnatural.
“My ASS is HUGE now. But ... Richard likes it that way ...
“And you can’t tell through this industrial-strength bra,” her tits WERE even bigger than Mom’s now, “but my NIPPLES are just INSANE!
“They are ALWAYS on HIGH-BEAM! Stiff and EXCITED!”
She swallowed hard, obviously reluctant to admit whatever was coming next to her little brother. “And I am HORNY. I’m ALWAYS HORNY out of my MIND now, Doug”
She wriggled. “I am ALWAYS SOOO FUCKING HORNY!”
“That’s, uhm, not from ... I mean there’s no cosmetic surgery than can improve your ... libido, or anything, is there?”
“No,” she sighed, “there’s no operation for it. Richard just makes me so WET that I DROOL ICING OUT MY TWAT for him ...”
Meanwhile, Mom had slipped out of her clothes and wandered over to the window to look out.
“Anyway,” my now huge-boobed, massively-phat-assed, and apparently pussy-drooling, horny-out-of-her-mind-now sister sighed as she looked over at naked-Mom, “How’s Mom been? STILL can’t keep CLOTHERS on the BITCH?”
That seemed a little harsh. Though, “I—ehr ... she ... DOES tend toward ...” I shrugged, “nude now.”
“Yeah, look at her,” we both looked over at Mom by the window, not a stitch of clothing on her, “She’s like some naked mole rat.”
Lydia sighed with disgust, “She’s been just a BITCH-IN-HEAT since she had her TITS STUFFED for Richard.”
And ... it suddenly clicked for me. LYDIA was the “other bitch” that Richard had his eye on now! He’d—Jesus! He’d discarded MOM to ... do whatever he did—is DOING—to Lydia?! And Mom, lonely, came over to my apartment to stay with me ... and, it seemed, desperate for my attention and approval ...
“He’s here!” Mom bubbled loudly with joy from the window, “Richard is here!”
Lydia shed her shorts and tank top and military-grade bra in an eyeblink. “DADDY!” she rushed to the door, fidgety with excitement.
Richard stepped in, and Lydia was all over him with excitement, hugging him, pressing those massive mounds of hers now into his arm and chest. Richard saw Lisa, also grinning eagerly with excitement, then he looked over at me. “Oh hi, Doug. Good to see you.”
He swatted Lydia’s big ass cheek, then turned her around away from him to face me as he cupped her boob. “Your sister has something to tell you. Go ahead, snookums, tell him.”
“Doug, I was SOOOOOOO WRONG about Richard!” She was reaching one hand behind her back, and started ... squeezing Richard’s bulge through the front of his pants. “He is just an AMAZING man!”
“What about Greg?” I reminded her. “Your ... y’know, husband?”
“Oh, I just threw him back. Set him free—all that.
“After Richard FUCKED MY BRAINS OUT, I’m not going to settle for JUST A GREG. C’mon!”
She was getting distracted with squeeze-stroking his crotch behind her through his pants, so Richard prompted her as he nibbled on her neck and fondled her naked crotch, “So, continue ...”
She took a deep breath to focus. “And all those bad things I said about him—I was just being a LITTLE CUNT OF A BITCH.
“I was strung SOOOOO TIGHT, just DESPERATE to GET LAID by a REAL MAN. Like Richard.
“So Richard finally BENT ME OVER and STUFFED SOME SENSE into me between my thighs!
“OHGAAWWWWWWD, I’m thinking CLEARER now!”
She spun around and pushed Richard down into the chair behind him, then sank her face toward his crotch. “I LOVE you, Daddy!” she sighed.
“Okay! That’s enough!” I blurted, afraid my big sister was going to start sucking Dick right there in front of me. “Uhm, Richard, could I ... talk to you a minute in the kitchen?”
He shrugged, pushed a disappointed Lydia back from his pants zipper, and followed me into the kitchen.
I spun around, not understanding any of this. “What in the—?! Lydia DESPISED you, right down to your toenails. YOU’RE why she moved out. And NOW, she is—”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “SPREADING EAGERLY for me these days. Cuddly little kitten.”
I didn’t understand how that could happen, but ... “Awwwwright, and Lisa—we couldn’t get her to stop gazing lovingly at you, last we saw. But now—she’s—since she came to my—”
“I know, right? I mean, what am I going to do with Lisa now? You can only pull the teeth out of a dangerous attack dog once.” He shrugged. “When all the teeth are out, you ...“
Lisa wandered into the kitchen then, and made a beeline to me. She wrapped her arms around my neck, nuzzled her tongue and lips to my neck, and applied her body to mine like a decal to a windshield, molding her posture to press the most parts erotically to me, grinding her crotch to mine through my clothes, probably staining the front of my pants wet with her excess lubricant.
Richard finished, “... rename her to Gummy and pass her on to her stepson.”
I paid his last statement hardly any attention. I had a really horny woman on my hands at the moment. “L-Lisa?!”
“I LOVE you, darling!” she gushed, “I just want to STAY with you. Forever! I am YOURS, baby! I belong to YOU, Doug! I NEED you, sweetheart!”
Lydia followed Lisa into the kitchen with us, and pressed her wide, wet booty back against the crotch of Richard’s pants and began to give him a pleasant-looking penile butt-cheek massage.
“Meanwhile,” Richard continued, “I go on to the next dangerous puppy.”
“I love you SOOOO MUCH, Daddy!” my big sister moaned longingly, grinding back against the man she had despised, the man she now sought to tempt into fucking her.
“I’m just ... making the world safer,” Richard concluded, “one barking dog at a time.”
“Isn’t cuddly SOOOO much better than bitchy?” Lydia moaned, stacking the sexual debate for her and Richard’s side ...
To be totally truthful ... Richard was right: Lisa WAS a lot nicer, all defanged and ... cuddly.
And Lydia DID seem a lot happier with her life—AND her body—molded around Dick.