When you grow up in Nashville, as I did, you quickly realize that all those clichés you hear in Country & Western songs about broken hearts, cheating men and all that sort of stuff, are really quite true. Especially when you're part of a real Country music family, like I was. My mom is a famous Country & Western singer and my dad was her producer and the architect of her success. But behind the facade of their successful careers, problems always simmered.
Mom had her kids when she was really young. She had me at seventeen, country-style, and my three sisters in succeeding years. Sharon, the year after, and the twins, Heather and Patty, a year after that. And while mom's belly was always big with a young 'un, dad was off hunting for fresh young pussy. A well-known, successful record producer in this town can get all the pussy he wants. No one's more willing to spread her legs for an opportunity than some young aspiring hillbilly singer, new to Nashville, and desperate to be the next Country sensation. And dad made sure that a lot of these babes were routed his way.
This went on for years but it took almost two decades of marriage before it all ended. Finally dad announced to mom one day that he had met another woman, intended to marry her, and wanted a divorce. Mom was only thirty-seven, but an old woman by dad's standard's. His fiancée was fifteen years younger than mom.
Naturally, when mom heard of dad's plans to dump her for a younger woman, she just about flipped out. She couldn't stand being replaced by a young tart like Tracy. Tracy was a sleek, platinum blonde dish who, everyone said, had been a stripper in Vegas, where dad met her when he and mom were doing a show in one of the big hotels there. He was instantly smitten with Tracy. But then again, just about any man would be. For Tracy was what you'd call a piece of
very fine
ass.
Well, a few months ago mom and dad were divorced, and dad married Tracy. After that mom became increasingly bitter, ranting and raving about dad and his new 'slut' wife, drinking heavily and just not in a very good frame of mind at all.
One weekend I went up to her place, the old plantation house she and dad had bought when they were at the height of their success, and which mom got with the divorce settlement.
"I still can't over it," she fumed. "That cunt, that white trash little piece of shit, that dumb bitch, taking your dad away from me. What did I do to deserve that? I mean, look at me. I'm one fine-looking woman, aren't I? Shit, I'm only thirty-seven. It's not like I'm some ancient hag or something."
"Yeah, you still look great, mom," I said.
"What is she? The greatest fuck on earth or something?"
She probably was, I thought to myself, if dad decided to marry her.
"Mom, try to forget about it," I said.
"Forget about it?!" she stormed. "Forget about it!? Your dad is sharing his bed with that blond bitch and I should forget about it? I mean, the man has really fucked me over. But what do you expect, that's what he's best at. Let me tell you, honey, this time he really did to me, he crushed me. I don't know if I'll ever be able to feel like I'm attractive to another man again."
"It'll be okay mom," I said, giving her a hug.
"Do you really think so, baby?" she said, looking up at me with pleading eyes. I kissed her on the forehead as I held her against me, her body trembling as she quietly sobbed.
"Hold me, hold me, tight," she begged.
But mom just started drinking more and more and I didn't know what to do to help her get over it. So I invited my sister Sharon to come over, telling her I wanted to talk to her about mom. Sharon was home from college for the summer and I was always able to talk to her about problems. But when I called Sharon and told her all about how badly mom was taking it and how I needed to talk to her, Sharon just laughed, telling me not to take it to heart. Mom was always a drama queen, she said. She'd get over it.
Sharon was my mom's oldest daughter and the one she was always closest to, and so I thought Sharon might have some thoughts on the matter, some suggestions about how to help my mom get back on her own emotional two feet. But obviously she thought she could dismiss it all.
"Listen, Hank," Sharon said, trying to reassure me again. "It ain't no big deal, believe me. She hated dad, she despised the jerk and she's lucky to be rid of him. But you know her, there's nothing she loves more than feeling sorry for herself."
Sharon was probably right. Our father was not exactly Mr. Popularity, especially with his own children. And mom did love to carry on about how she was always being wronged.
"What she can't stand," Sharon continued, "is that some other bitch took her place. But hell, all that woe will probably get her writing some new songs. Shit, she'll get herself a top-ten single off her troubles. Just you watch."
Sharon was probably right, I knew.
"Okay, let's talk about something else," I said, finally, pouring her another glass of wine.
I had noticed that when Sharon came over, she brought several bags with her.
"What's in all those bags?" I asked.
"Oh, I got an early start, so I stopped at the mall on the way over here and did some shopping."
My sister just
loves
to shop and always has. We've grown up with a fair amount of money, us kids, and Sharon always seemed to spend every cent she got on clothes.
"What did you get?" I asked.
"Some new clothes. Would you like to see them?" she asked. "I'd like to show you."
"Sure," I said. My sister always looks great in clothes, and has fabulous taste. So I was curious what she had bought for herself this time.
She opened a bag and took out a sweater.
"Hundred percent cashmere," she said. "feel it."
I felt the luxuriantly soft fabric.
"It's beautiful, and I'll bet it looks great on you," I said.
"Yeah, it does," she said, then her eyes suddenly brightened.
"Say? Would you like me to try it on for you?" my sister asked. "I thought it looked pretty good on in the mirror in the store, but I wouldn't mind getting your reaction. You've always been a good judge of what looked good on me and what didn't, Hank."
"Sure, try it on, sis."
"Okay, but turn around. I'm going to take my blouse off."
I turned around but there was a mirror positioned on the wall in such a way that I could see my sister take off her blouse, revealing herself in her bra as she put on the sweater. Of course, I couldn't help peeking. I always had admired her sleek, lovely body, even if she was my own sister.
"Okay, turn around again," she said.
The cashmere sweater clung to her spectacular figure and looked great. Though she was slender, Sharon had big, firm tits and a thin waist. If anyone looked good in a tight sweater, she did.
"You look great in that," I said.
"You really think so?" she said, smiling happily. "I'm so glad you like it on."
"What else did you get?" I asked.
"Oh I got a cute little pleated skirt to go with the sweater. Should I try that on for you too?" she asked.
"Sure, go ahead."
Again I turned around, and again I stared at the mirror as my sister took off her jeans to put on the skirt. Then she told me to turn around once more and have a look. It was a real short skirt and revealed her long, shapely legs beautifully.
"Looks great, and it goes great with the sweater. What else did you get?" I asked, pointing to another bag.
"Oh, I don't know if I can try
these
on for you, Hank," she said, with a sassy smile, taking out a pair of baby blue bikini panties and a matching half-bra. "You know how I've always had a thing for sexy imported underwear."
I sure did. I remember mom chastising Sharon more than once for wearing such provocative undergarments at a young age.
"Sure you don't want to try them on for me?" I teased.
"I don't know, Hank," she smiled, teasing me. "It is
underwear
after all."
"Yeah, I suppose it is," I said, realizing that perhaps it was little much expecting my sister to try on a pair of panties and a bra right in front of me.
"How badly do you want to see me in them, Hank?" she asked, a strangely seductive smile lighting up her face now.
"Oh, pretty badly, I guess," I said, hoping.
"Okay, turn around again then."
Suddenly, this was all getting a little strangely arousing.
