Polly strolled into the house and called her daughter. Vicky came running down the stairs and gave her mother a big hug. Polly turned her daughter in the hall so that Lance, Vicky's 19 year old boyfriend, viewed mother and daughter crushed against each other from a side profile. Polly's tight white t shirt emphasising her deep olive tanned skin against her daughter's pale pinkish hue. The t shirt encasing her huge solid boobs bulged obscenely as she pushed them against her daughter's flat chest. Her tiny waist and flat tanned stomach showed slightly as her t shirt rose up to climb over her monumental chest. She knew the effect that image would have on Lance and that didn't take into account her pert muscular bubble shaped arse and strong slim legs in her tight jeans. Vicky looked like a pale uninteresting young girl with no shape to her body compared to Polly's voluptuous figure.
Then Polly turned sharply to look at Lance, her green eyes sparking, her astonishingly pretty tanned face pressed cheek to cheek with her less pretty daughter's smiling innocent face.
"Well Lance said he couldn't believe we were related honey. What do you think now Lance, compare us."
"Uh well...," said Lance, struggling for something to say. What he wanted to say was that Polly was the hottest woman he had seen and her daughter was a non entity compared with Polly's hot body. He couldn't really say that though.
Polly saw Bernard struggling with the bags in the car and smiled at Lance:
"I think Lance is struggling for words. Maybe he is struggling to say that he is shocked at how much prettier I am than my daughter."
"Uh, well..."
"She is teasing you silly," said Vicky.
"Prettier and bustier, eh Lance? I always say she can't be my daughter, she is so flat chested."
"Mum please," said Vicky sharply.
"Vicky, stop moaning! You are just jealous."
Vicky was shocked and suddenly looked like she was about to cry as Bernard arrived huffing and puffing at the door holding the bags.
"You could have helped me Lance," he said with more than a hint of irritation in his voice.
"We were just having a debate honey," said Polly with a glint in her eye. "Who has the better body, me or Vicky?"
"Stop being so immature Polly," Bernard said irritably. "You are both beautiful." He walked through to another room shaking his head.
Polly smiled at her daughter and said:
"I am going to get changed for dinner; can I borrow a top darling?" She cupped her monumentally large solid boobs and smiled at her daughter: "Do you think you have anything I could fit these into?"