*I must make a correction for my readers. The events of Chapter One occur in the early morning of March 28th, not the night of March 26th. If any other glaring errors are present, your feedback would be appreciated.*
My dad had showered, saying he'd think about my mother's proposition as he went off to work. I heard him walking down the hall, and thought for a moment maybe I should stop him. But I didn't. What should I say to him? "No, Daddy. That's wrong," or "Please Daddy, I want to know what it's like to make a man cum..."? How could I say either? Did I mean either of them? Why... maybe I meant both! I just wasn't sure: What if I could... It's not as if I didn't trust my dad.
Incest had never occurred to me as an option before. Sure, I read erotica, so I knew that some people appreciated that but... Until I had heard my mother and father in their room late that night, I had never been turned on by the though of either of my parents having sex.
What was my mother thinking? She had just volunteered me for a sex act! With my father!
Never mind not asking me... I know that she feels as if my brothers and I don't pull our weight around here, but she hasn't done any housecleaning in years! Does our effort count for nothing there?
But I was tired, and confused, and anyhow nothing but sleep could help the situation. Perhaps my dad would be disgusted with the idea, and it would never come to fruition. I just hoped that it didn't result in my parents' divorce. Sure, my brothers and I didn't have jobs but we were going to school, and stable because we had the support of two parents. I hate to think what might happen.
So I went to bed. Time to stop thinking.
... Jillian shut off the second alarm at 6:30 A.M. She rolled out of bed and set her clothes out for a shower. She knew her youngest would still be in the main bath, so she used the ensuite for her morning pee and had a rinse in the shower. She would take a bath when she got home, to shave and wash her hair. She just wanted to feel awake.
She hadn't changed her mind since last night. In fact, the idea seemed better and better to her.
They were adults, right? No harm there. Even her baby, Jonah would been an adult soon. His birthday was on the third of April. He was a likeable boy, so sweet and generous. He never brought his friends home, and sometimes this bothered her. But he was still a child, after all. It was okay if he felt too shy, inviting people into his home.
Vincent, the middle child, had never been shy. He brought his friends over on occasion, but not recently, and never any of the various girls he dated. That part did worry her. He was 19, in spectacular shape, and had a wonderful smile. All mothers believe their children are wonderful, yes, but mine actually are, and they deserve love.
Stephanie didn't usually get up until just before Jillian left, if not later, so Jillian had her morning smoke (outside, because she believed a house that smells like cigarettes to be low class) and went in to talk to Stephanie. Her daughter was only 5'5'', but Rob's family was short. It couldn't be helped. Strangers always said that they looked so much alike, but when Jillian looked at her daughter she saw Rob: large, puffy lips, dark eyes, and thick, dark hair. The children all looked like each other, and to her they were each reminders of Rob, who had knocked her up but luckily was a wonderful husband. Just wonderful.
Stephanie was sprawled out on the bed, already looking up toward the door. She had pulled the blankets up to her chest, and was breathing a mile a minute.
"Did I scare you again?"
"Yeah Mom, try not to open the door so loudly."
Jillian chuckled a bit, then crossed her arms and went to sit on the bed. "Are you not wearing a bra again? I told you that you need to wear one when you sleep. Otherwise you'll sag when you get old."
"I am wearing one. I was just surprised."
"Show," Jillian demanded, and her daughter reluctantly fished out a black strap from her T-shirt as evidence. "Don't let anyone convince you that you don't need one. You're a C cup, and that is more than enough to sag."
Putting the strap back, Stephanie made a noncommittal noise and nodded. That was as much affirmation as Jillian expected.
"Steph, you really aren't pulling you're weight around here..." she began, noticing her daughter's face drain white, but continuing, "I know you try hard, but there are so many little things to do around here, and I can't do all of them."
Stephanie was of the private opinion that her mother did hardly any of them, but kept her mouth shut. This was a usual enough conversation.
"Your father and I agree that you should help out more, so we're going to give you another responsibility. We'll talk about it more when we both get home. Okay?" Jillian said. Her tone allowed for only one answer of course.
Stephanie nodded.
... Alone, I wondered what I was thinking. Had Dad called her already, saying that he had made up his mind? It seems more like mom was just doing whatever she wanted to do regarding the situation. I knew that my dad liked to think about major decisions... And if asking your daughter to give you a blow job wasn't major, what was?
