I've considered writing a one page story for some times. The time is apparently here.
Chapter 2 of Luckiest Guy I Know should be ready in the near future.
As always, all story characters engaged in sexual activities are eighteen years of age or older.
* * * * *
I was in the upstairs shower when the curtain rustled and my sister, hair pinned up, stepped in.
"Morning, sleep well?"
"Hard not to after the way you worked me over last night."
She smiled, folded her arms around my neck, said, "Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you," then leaned into me for a nice long kiss. By the time we were done I was hard and ready to go, but my older sister, the responsible one, said, "Now now, there is only so much hot water and Mom will want to play."
Which is why I was sitting at one end of the breakfast table, checking sports scores on my tablet while Dad, sitting on the far end, furiously texted when my parents' bedroom door opened and Mom emerged. Her open robe exposed her freshly shaven pubes and the inner third of her large round breasts - Mom had perfect tits. She winked at me and holding her robe together, leaned over Dad's shoulder to kiss him and provide me an unobstructed view of her heavy tits and spectacular cleavage.
"Good morning dear, shouldn't you be getting ready to hit the road?"
Without glancing up Dad said, "Bob's car is in the shop. He asked me to pick him up on the way to work, but he can't leave until 8:00, he's got kid-duty. It will work out fine, he and I are working late on the Newhouse project tonight, so I'll be able to drop him off on the way home."
Mom said, "Well, the first priority should be the children. Can I refresh your coffee?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Hey Mom, I'll join you, I can use some myself."
In the kitchen Mom turned into me, I slid my arms around her waist, held her by her sweet rump, enjoyed the way her fat breasts flattened on my chest, and said, "Good morning." She said, "Good morning," and our mouths came together, her tongue gliding along my lips before invading my mouth, where our tongues danced a sexy gavotte.
By the time the kiss ended I was panting and my cock trembling.
Mom slipped her hand through the folds of my blue terry-cloth robe, stroked my dick and said, "It look like the fun and games will be delayed this morning. I hope man-thing here can handle it?"
"He'll have to, I guess."
"Well, we'll see what we can squeeze in and let him know, I promise the wait will be worth it. I'm going to make omelettes. Why don't you let your sister know what's going on. I'm going to slip into something more comfortable before you brush my hair."
* * * * *
I knocked on my sister's door. "It's me."
"Come on in."
Wearing only panties, she was sitting at her vanity. She'd done her hair, now she was applying make-up. The contrast with Mom was, as always, striking. Mom had pale skin, a round face, oversized emerald eyes, thick lips, and high cheekbones, her carefully applied make-up designed to blend those prominent features. My sister's slender face was already a unity, brown almond-shaped eyes with heavy arched eyebrows, freckled with skin darker than Mom's, darker still because of Clara's tan. She needed and wore little make-up.
Noting my gaze she said, "You like what you see?"
"Very much."
* * * * *
Their bodies were as different as their faces. Clara, a dancer, took after Dad. Her 117 pounds were spread over a lean muscular five foot five inch 33-29-37 frame, with "B" breasts and wavy thick red-brown hair which, at the moment, hung loose past her shoulders.
Mom was also five foot five, but weighed 125 pounds and, except for her small breasts, had always been curvy. Over the years she'd talked about augmenting her breasts to match those curves, and while Dad hadn't been against it, he hadn't really been for it; he'd tell Mom in a disinterested tone of voice that she should to do what she wanted. It was not what Mom needed to hear; she was seeking enthusiastic support, not microwaved apathy.
And that is what she eventually got from a source wholly unexpected. The family was at the beach and Mom, wearing a one-piece swimsuit, studied herself in a mirror, then wondered outload how'd she looked with more upstairs. Before Dad could respond Clara said she'd look fricking spectacular, it would go with the rest of her body, that as hard as Mom worked to stay in shape, as carefully as she ate, she deserved exactly the body she wanted, and she'd also look great. Clara turned to me, asked me what I thought, and I, happy to have the opportunity to openly discuss the body I'd been admiring for years, vociferously concurred. Dad pre-empted by his children, agreed, saying she should go ahead. Over the next few days Mom and Clara huddled together, occasionally sought my opinion, and Mom soon announced she'd scheduled the procedure. And with her full "C" breasts, Mom finally came to appreciate her curves, even her slightly plump and wholly delightful butt which she'd spent years futilely trying to get supermodel tight and small.
And, as my sister later observed, it was with these events that Mom began identifying her new look, her new body, not with her husband, but with her children.
* * * * *
"Dad's not leaving for about an hour, he's picking up Bob Peterson on the way to the office, then they'll work late tonight. Mom's making omelettes."
Carla said, "Special sauce?"
She didn't say so, but she did say she was going to slip into something more comfortable so I could brush her hair."
"That's always a good sign. What's she going to wear?"
The sheepish look on my face answered her question.
"Jeez, you like it when we dress alike, but can never remember to ask. Don't worry I'll text her. "
She turned and leaned over her vanity, applying lipstick with one hand, holding herself up with the other, her butt raised high in the air.
I stared at it.
"You always did like me in a thong."
Running my hand on her rump, I said, "Yep."
* * * * *
Mom was standing behind the love seat, holding a brush and wearing a short silk kimono emblazoned with pink flamingos, talking to Dad as he sat in his chair and turned the televison to the local news. I dragged my hand on her ass, confirmed she was not wearing underwear, and said, "Clara said she'd be right down."
"Good, how's she doing?"
"Ready to go, happy to improvise."
"Good, we can always count on your sister."
Dad said, "Shhh, they're getting to the traffic."