("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Harper Valley USA - 8 by AZ Legman (wordsinprogress@gmail.com) *** This is the eighth chapter of what will be a continuing series depicting the melodramatic sexual adventures of a typical suburban family. For those who enjoy pantyhose stories, this series will focus heavily (although, not entirely) on that particular fetish, as well as the pervasive incest themes. (FF, Fbg, inc, exh, bi, oral, rom) *** Author's Note: Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction containing graphic descriptions of sexual acts between adults and minors. While all of the sex depicted is consensual, the author does not intend to promote incest or sexual relations with underage children. The story is written purely for entertainment purposes only. Those who are offended by such material are strongly encouraged not to read this. This is the eighth chapter of what will be a continuing series depicting the melodramatic sexual adventures of a typical suburban family. For those who enjoy pantyhose stories, this series will focus heavily (although, not entirely) on that particular fetish, as well as the pervasive incest themes. Each chapter will be written predominantly from the point of view of one member of the family. I hope you enjoy it. Please send your comments and suggestions. Your friend, AZ Legman (Formerly Filthy Fiction) *** Harper Valley USA - Chapter 8: The Coming of Kayla Shelly woke up on Sunday morning in much the same manner as she had on Saturday, sprawled under the covers in the same seamless nude pantyhose she had worn shopping with Kayla in preparation for her sister's big date with her estranged husband. As she rolled over, the light cast by the bright morning sun glared harshly against her scowling face. Her eyes squinted and she quickly rolled the other way, using the blanket to shield herself from the annoying rays. In her half-dreaming state, her mind replayed images of her and her sister, somewhere in the pulsing heart of Los Angeles, dancing to the wee hours at a seedy nightclub, where the frenetic beat of sultry Latin rhythms pounded from bass-heavy speakers, and a colorful array of dazzling strobe lights flickered too quickly to catch anything more than a fleeting glimpse of the writhing bodies pressed against them from all sides. With their lustful eyes holding each other enthralled, their supple lips temptingly hovered in close proximity, as the uninhibited twosome savored the exhilaration of colliding their sumptuous bodies together, deliberately inflaming the rabid crowd by rolling their shapely hips in loose circular motions, while grinding their open crotches against the resilient pantyhose stretched over their highly energetic legs. They smiled and laughed together as they hadn't done in years, fueled by the rising temperature of their nylon- smothered pussies, both of which dripped with excitement as they lewdly performed in front of the largely male crowd, stoking the flames of their ever- increasing arousal with the thrilling electricity sparked by rubbing their thighs together through the wispy layers of sparkling pantyhose that glittered on their nimble legs as if moistened by the resplendent beads of a steamy tropical mist. While Shelly had always been the better dancer, it was Kayla who seemed to be enjoying herself most. Shelly couldn't help but watch and admire as her suddenly rejuvenated older sister completely lost herself to the primal urgency of the music, recklessly tossing her golden brown hair, as her helpless breasts frantically tumbled in what easily could have been mistaken as a violent effort to shake them right out of her little black tank-top, not to be outdone by the staggering perpetual motion of her rollicking pear-shaped ass, which Kayla had drunkenly developed the ability to swivel and shake like a stunt double for Shakira, miraculously contorting every muscle in her dizzyingly locomotive hips. As Shelly looked on in pure amazement, Kayla seemed to have no concern over the rising hem of her tapered red miniskirt, as it gradually crept up to expose the alluring contrast between the binding control-top, densely-woven around her juicy upper thighs, and the ensuing ultra-sheer pantyhose that shimmered all the way down to the black ankle straps on her 4-inch patent leather heels. Shelly trembled with desire as she watched Kayla use two hands to pinch both sides of her stretchy red skirt, and then sinfully rotate her rounded hips as she wantonly hiked up her skirt another inch. Years of social conditioning melted away in that divine moment of pantyhose intervention, as Kayla embraced her new higher power and reveled in the unabashed glory of suddenly becoming a pantyhose slut. As the din of the club and the presence of drooling onlookers faded into the blurry background, Shelly surrendered her blessedly soft tongue as an offering to Kayla's sexual resurrection, anointing her sister's celestial lips with a subtle lick, a playful nibble, and a deep, lingering, exploratory kiss that ravenously fused their lips together in a mouth-watering binge of swirled tongues and shared saliva that was as sweet as the girl-cum which so plentifully squirted from Kayla's juicy fuck hole. The endless parade of erotic images flashing through the foggy lens of Shelly's dimming subconscious stirred her to the point where her soft regulated breathing grew loud and ragged until her nipples swelled and her right hand instinctively came down to nestle between her nylon-bundled thighs where she dreamily began tracing her fingers over the sticky wet spot, rendering the gossamer threads of her seamless pantyhose utterly soaked and permanently stained by her seeping love juice. She sharply inhaled, moaned audibly and reached her hand across the bed, as her eyelids slowly fluttered open to welcome in the light of day. As her searching fingers felt for her husband in vain, she quickly snapped up, scanned the foreign bedroom, and then realized she had just woken up in her sister's bed. Brutally repelled by the bright sunlight, she instantly blocked her eyes, and then grabbed her forehead, blinded by the excruciating pain that stabbed through the back of her neck and sent sharp waves of dizzying discomfort shooting through her burning skull as if their only means of escape was through her tightly- clenched eye sockets. "Hrrrrrrmmm," Shelly groaned, trying to rub the pain away. "Son of a bitch!" she added remorsefully as the over-indulgent festivities of the previous evening were punishingly restored to her memory. She had no idea where any of her clothes were, but fortunately she fumbled around until her fingers could feel the smooth texture of her recklessly discarded bra, the dark purple satin perfectly matched the color of her lacy camisole top, which clearly from the looks of things could have been anywhere amidst the trail of skirts, tops, shoes and undergarments carelessly strewn across her sister's bedroom floor. Having neither the patience nor the clarity to determine which articles were hers, she forsook the idea of reassembling her full wardrobe, and settled on the simple, if not cumbersome task of strapping her unwieldy double Ds into the comely yet supportive architecture of her frilly push-up bra, which greatly enhanced the breadth and fullness of her abundant cleavage to spectacular effect. Once confident that her massive globes were securely locked in place, she gingerly rose to her feet, and then idly used both hands to shake out what she could only imagine was a horrific-looking mane of long blonde hair that probably made her look even more like a trollop than she must have looked cavorting around on the dance floor like some kind of sex-crazed jungle kitten all night. "I'm getting too old for this shit," Shelly whispered under her breath as she stealthily tip-toed from the bedroom and then wearily descended her way down the stairs. She quietly turned into the kitchen where her sister was already up, looking bright eyed and fresh as a daisy as she stood over a sizzling skillet, making what pungently smelled like eggs, looking every bit like a school teacher with her bronze hair pinned up in a loose bun, wearing a full-length, form-fitting, off- white negligee, and a pair of studious reading glasses, which Kayla promptly lifted toward Shelly, blinking quizzically upon seeing her sister stagger into the kitchen in a begrudging state of semi-consciousness. "Jesus," Kayla said, eyeing the pantyhose which Shelly had obvious slept in all night. "What do you _live_ in those things?" Shelly stumbled up to the breakfast nook, leaned against the bar and dismissively waved off the snide remark. "Too early," she grumbled, having no desire to engage in their usual banter. "God, did we really drink that much?" she said, as she stood there absently enjoying the sensation of swishing her legs together. "You did," Kayla said, quickly correcting her sister like always. "I stopped after my third margarita," she reasonably added, spatula in one hand, glass of orange juice in the other. "I don't know what possessed you to drink those tequila shots with that Mexican dude. You should have known you were going to pay for it." Shelly smiled innocently. "Oh, come on," she argued, folding her arms. "He was cute," she added fondly. "Besides, what's was I supposed to do? It's not like I was paying for them. I didn't want to be rude." Kayla turned, facing her full on. "Do you _ever_ say no?" she said, slowly shaking her head. Shelly grinned. "Umm," she stammered, pausing just long enough to think of an answer. "Does it have to be during this decade?" she added, giggling. "Because I think the last time was Walter Crenshaw, sophomore year." Kayla rolled her eyes. "You had to go there, didn't you?" Shelly shrugged. "Cut me slack," she said. "I only turned him down because you dated him first." "What," Kayla said, looking unimpressed, "you want a medal? The guy was a pig. Even you could see that." Shelly crooked her head thoughtfully. "Hmm," she answered, agreeing reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess he was," she said, nodding. "I always figured he'd wind up in jail for shooting up a post office or something. It must kill you to have a guy like that working in the same profession." Kayla sniffed. "We would never hire a guy like that in our district." Shelly scoffed at the insult. "Are you calling our hometown a slum?" "I didn't say that," Kayla said, as she turned to open the refrigerator. "Do you want cheese on your omelet?" "Just coffee," Shelly said, "with milk and sugar," she added. "I never realized you were such a snob." Kayla spun around, glaring back angrily. "Now who's the one calling people names?" she said, smacking down an empty coffee mug, and then folding her arms. "It's not my fault Arcadia has a bigger budget for education." Shelly sucked her teeth. "Don't start talking like Peter," she said, with an exasperated sigh. "I hate it when you do that. Ever since you bought this house, you've acted liked you were better than me. You don't say it, but you carry it around like a badge of honor because you were the one who made it out of Cedar Springs," she said, leaning forward as she tossed her hair away from her face. "For one thing, Cedar Springs was rated top ten in the entire state for college placement," Shelly continued. "And Tiffany's new boyfriend, Adam...he's going to M.I.T. next year on a full scholarship Not to mention my husband...to whom I am _still_ happily married, thank you...also has a degree from USC and he's managed to support both me and my two children extremely well, as far as I'm concerned. So, let's not throw anymore stones in your multi-million dollar glass house. Understood?" Kayla stood silent for a moment, before calmly saying, "Are you done?" "For now," Shelly answered, slouching back, "unless you have anything else you'd like to say about our hometown." Kayla turned away, quietly walked toward the coffee maker, and then turned back, with her chin pointed down as she slowly filled her sister's cup. "You didn't have say that," Kayla said mournfully. "Say what," Shelly said, frowning. "The part about you and Greg still being happily married," Kayla explained. "That was a low blow." Shelly reached across the counter and delicately touched her sister's forearm. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry. You touched a nerve. I didn't mean to get so carried away." Kayla slowly nodded. "It's okay," she whispered, fighting back tears. "We had everything planned so perfectly," she said, shaking her head bitterly. "The hair, the outfit..." she added, with a deep sigh. "You saw me. I looked good, right?" "You looked great," Shelly said emphatically. "Don't blame yourself, Kay. This had nothing to do with you." "Then, why Shelly?" Kayla asked tearfully. "Why would he cancel at the last minute?" Shelly shrugged. "You told me he had to fly New York," she said. "He'll be back in a few days. It's just business." Kayla sighed. "It's always business," she said ruefully. "What about me," she added. "What about Heather and Dylan? Do you have any idea how much they miss their dad?" Shelly nodded sincerely. "I can imagine," she said. "But you can't dwell on that, you hear?" she said, emphasizing the point with a firm shake of Kayla's arm. "You can't worry about things that are beyond your control. You taught me that, remember?" Kayla nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "I remember," she added, half smiling. "We did have fun last night, didn't we?" Shelly quickly perked up. "Last night fucking rocked!" she blurted suddenly. "Where the hell did you learn all those great moves?" Kayla frowned at her sister's use of foul language. "For God sake, Shelly," she said disapprovingly. "It's Sunday!" "I know, I know," Shelly said, with one hand raised toward the ceiling and the other over her heart. "Lord, forgive me," she said, rolling her eyes, and then sighing heavily, with a hint of disappointment in her sarcastic tone. "Just when I thought I was finally getting through to you." Kayla smirked. "What's that supposed to mean?" Shelly laughed. "Oh, please," she said. "Need I remind you what we did in the ladies room yesterday...or what we did with Tony Garcia...or how we made out on the dance floor in front of all those people...or did you somehow magically manage to forget about all that?" Kayla leaned over to pour a drop of milk in Shelly's mug. "No," she said, with a devious grin creeping from the side of her mouth. "I remember," she admitted. "And I did like it," she added, nodding to herself. "I liked all of it," she said, sprinkling in some sugar. "I love my new clothes, my new hair style," she added, cheering up a bit. "I could even get into wearing more pantyhose." "That's the spirit," Shelly said cheerfully. Yet, somehow Kayla didn't look entirely convinced. "But as much fun as it was," Kayla said. "I still feel kind of empty," she added, idly stirring her sister's coffee with a spoon. "I know you want me to be more like you," she said, looking Shelly in the eye. "I just don't think that's who I am." Shelly lifted the mug to take a much needed sip. "You could have fooled me," she said. "I never forced you to kiss me at the mall," she said. "I never forced you to put on a whole new, even sexier outfit when I picked you up last night either," she reasoned. "You obviously knew what you were doing," Shelly concluded. "You said so yourself. You weren't that drunk." Kayla furrowed her brow. "So what are you saying?" Shelly smiled. "I'm saying you're my sister," she said, leaning in once again, only this time, Kayla's inviting lips were just a few close inches away. 'That's right," Kayla whispered, breathing warm air against Shelly's open mouth. "You are my sister...and I love you." "I love you, too," Shelly said, as they softly joined lips and tenderly kissed each other, blending the flavors of coffee and orange juice together for several exhilarating seconds. As their lips parted reluctantly, Shelly noticed a subtle twitch of anxiety in Kayla's shifting eyes. Kayla moistened her lips portentously as she nervously eyed her sister and whispered distractedly, "I have something to tell you." Shelly tilted her head curiously. "It's about Dylan," Kayla added meaningfully. "Go on," Shelly said, unsure what it could possibly be. "I think I he may need to see a doctor," Kayla said. Shelly gasped. "Oh, my God," she said. "Please tell me it's not serious." Kayla shook her head. "No," she explained carefully. "He's not sick or anything," she added, swallowing. "I just think that he, umm..." she paused again, needing a moment to collect herself before quietly speaking again. "He might have a problem," she said, swallowing again, "sexually." Shelly's eyes widened immediately. "No shit," she said. "Has he been groping the girls at school, or something?" Kayla smiled, and then shook her head. "That I could handle," she said. "Unfortunately, the situation is a bit more delicate...for a mother." Shelly got the hint. "You caught him masturbating, didn't you?" she quickly concluded. Kayla's eyes lit up with amazement. "How the heck did you know that?" Shelly smiled. "I have a son, too." Kayla blinked, and then nodded. "Yeah, I suppose that's true," she said. "I just don't know what to do. I called Peter. He talked to him on the phone. It's just not the same. Dylan's getting older now. He needs a male role model." "I could ask Greg to talk to him," Shelly offered. Kayla took a small bite off her plate, chewed her eggs a few times, swallowed, and then shrugged back, "I can't ask Greg to do that. It's not his responsibility. Besides," she said, "I already feel like Dylan is embarrassed enough already." Shelly looked back at Kayla and stated pointedly, "Never underestimate a child's intelligence." Kayla smiled. "Is that another quote you stole from me?" "No," Shelly joked. "I think I heard that one on Oprah." Kayla shook her head and smiled. "So what are you telling me?" "Honestly," Shelly said with no hesitation. "I think you're projecting. I think you're the one who's embarrassed." Kayla blushed. "That's crazy," she said. "I'm not the one who goes running off to his room every night to abuse himself." Shelly eyed Kayla suspiciously. "Every night?" she asked leadingly. Kayla looked down, grabbed the fork, and then shoveled in another bite of her omelet. Shelly leveled her gaze insistently as she took on her mother's strident tone, "Kayla Rose," she said, invoking her sister's full Christian name. "You're lying to me," she said grinning, "and it's Sunday, for God's sake!" Kayla tried to avoid talking by taking another bite. Shelly grabbed her wrist. "Spit it out, Kay!" Shelly ordered. "Tell me everything!" Kayla huffed. "Okay, fine," she said, dropping the fork. "But I swear to God, if you tell anyone this...Mom, Greg, anyone...Then, may God strike you down dead on the spot. Do you understand?" "Got it," Shelly said, flipping up one hand. "Now, talk." Kayla swallowed hard, before letting out another heavy sigh. "It happened about three weeks ago," she began nervously. "I was doing laundry and I noticed Dylan had some stains on his sheets," she recalled. "It smelled kind of like urine, so I just assumed that he had an accident," she figured. "I did the wash as always and basically thought nothing of it." "And then?" Shelly asked impatiently. "And then it happened again," Kayla said. "I mean, like, literally the next day...these big wet stains all over his sheets." "Really?" Shelly said, becoming more intrigued. "Did you ask him about it?" Kayla blushed hard. "That's just it," she said. "I knew I needed to find out what was going on so I went down to his room..." Shelly nodded expectantly, "What happened?" she asked. "Oh, my God, Shelly" Kayla said, clutching her chest. "You had to see this thing," she added, clearly disturbed. "It was..." she paused again, gathering herself, as she looked up toward the ceiling contritely. "Lord, forgive me..." she said, gazing blankly over her left shoulder as she turned her head towards Dylan's bedroom. "His penis was enormous," she said, exhaling. "I mean...it scared me." Shelly inhaled sharply as a large phallic image flashed into her twisted mind. "Are you serious?" she said, eyes looming large and bright. "When you say 'enormous,'" she asked shrewdly, "exactly how big are we talking?" Kayla shrugged. "I don't know," she said. "It's not like I've seen a whole lot of them to draw comparisons," she noted. "Maybe seven, eight inches," she guessed. "But my God, Shelly...he's only ten!" "It must be something in the water," Shelly said, grinning to herself. "I swear to God, every man in this family is hung like a horse." "Well, I don't know about that," Kayla replied. "I just wasn't prepared to walk into my little boy's room and see...that!" she said, blinking with astonishment. "Did he see you?" Shelly asked offhandedly. "What do you mean?" Kayla replied oddly. "I mean, did he see you?" Shelly repeated, hunching her shoulders. "Does he know that you saw him...you know...doing it?" Kayla stuttered. "Uh, no..." she said. "I mean, maybe. I don't know...possibly, I guess." Shelly folded her arms again, and then leaned back, raising one eyebrow. "It's a yes or no question, Kay. Either he saw you or he didn't." Kayla sighed heavily. "Then, no," she confessed. "He didn't." Shelly smiled. "So, basically, you just stood there, spied on him for a while, and then walked away. Am I right?" she asked, knowing the answer. "Basically," Kayla replied. "How long?" Shelly asked, continuing to grill her. "How long what?" Kayla answered obtusely. Shelly sighed impatiently. "How long did you stand there, Kay?" Kayla looked down again, playing with her food. "A while, all right," she admitted. "I stood there for a while." "Did you watch him finish?" Kayla glared at Shelly resentfully. "I'm not answering that," she said firmly. Shelly smiled. "Oh, I think you just did," she said with a mild giggle. "I'm guessing the boy shoots quite a load, doesn't he? Like father, like son, right?" "Stop it, Shelly," Kayla said seriously. "That isn't funny." "No, it's not funny," Shelly said frankly. "Actually, it's kind of hot." Kayla grimaced in disgust. "Don't be gross," she said. "This is my son we're talking about." "I know that," Shelly said soberly. "But now I have something that I need to tell you," she stated ominously, as she flipped her hair back, clasped her hands together, and then softly laid them on the black marble counter. "Oh-kay," Kayla said cautiously, as she slowly turned her head, eyeing her with a sideways stare. "I'm all ears...I guess." Before Shelly felt ready to continue, she steadied herself with the subtle raising of her head, as she squared her shoulders, relaxed her arms and proudly straightened her back. "Do you remember when I told you yesterday that I was on a special diet?" she said. Kayla nodded, "Umm, sure," she said, smiling. "Your little friend Tony gave me my first sample. Not bad, either," she added, with a second nod. "No," Shelly said, "definitely not bad," she added. "Great, actually," she quickly enthused. "But what if I told you that your finest source of that nutrient-rich, revitalizing protein was right here in your own backyard?" Kayla smiled widely. "That's easy," she said. "I would bottle the stuff, sell it online and make a fortune." Shelly smiled back deviously. "You're missing the point, Kay," she explained matter-of-factly. "You don't need random guys like Tony to give you what you need. The answer is right here at home." Kayla pondered the thought for a moment, when suddenly she began to lose all of the color in her face, and then slowly step back. "You're kidding, right?" she said, her voice stricken with panic. "Please tell me you're kidding." Shelly stood there, completely unfazed. "Why would I lie about something like this?" she said evenly. "I'm not kidding," she said rationally. "And it works, Kay," she added. "It really works." "What works?" Kayla blurted. "Having sex with your children," she shouted. _"That works?!"_ Shelly looked at her sister and patiently nodded as she circled around the bar and calmly approached her sister who fearfully backed away. "This is crazy," Kayla said trembling. "I mean it, Shelly. This is nuts!" "Says who," Shelly questioned boldly. "What do you mean, 'says who'" Kayla retorted. "God, our parents, the State of California... hell, I'm sure Oprah does, too!" Shelly took her sister by the hand. "You're scared," she whispered. "I understand that," she said, maintaining her level voice. "It's natural," she explained dispassionately. "Tiffany was scared too in the beginning," she said. "So was Jonathan," she added. "But once they got used to the idea, they learned to love it," she finished. "And so will you." "How?" Kayla said. "How can you honestly expect me to want to get involved in something so... perverted?" Shelly smiled warmly as she took Kayla's left hand and placed it against her soft pantyhose-laden thigh. "Because I'm your sister," she said serenely. "And I love you. We all love you." *** As Shelly drove Kayla back to pick up her kids, the reticent brunette barely said a word to her younger sister for the whole twenty minute drive. Shelly knew, having always been the more sensible of the two, that Kayla would need time to process the full range of warring emotions which were no doubt coursing through her conflicted psyche as she silently sat in the passenger seat, blankly staring through the windshield with Arcadia fading behind them and Cedar Springs looming in the oncoming horizon. As she turned off the freeway, heading north on Catalina, cruising passed the strip mall where Tiffany held the car wash with her friends, she came to a stop at a red light. With the hem of her tiny blank skirt hunched well up to her hips, Shelly sat there absently waiting for the light to change, as "Fantasy" by Mariah Carey played on her favorite pop station, and she completely disregarded the ogling truck driver waiting in the next lane who was obviously peering down through her open roof and openly gawking while she leisurely enjoyed the stimulating rush of the crisp morning breeze passing through the silky veil of her gauzy pantyhose which hardly provided any real separation between the cool morning air and her carelessly wide open crotch. The light was still red when Shelly suddenly felt the warmth of her sister's hand which gingerly began brushing over the smooth surface of her soft blanketed thigh. Shelly frowned as she turned to see the utter desperation pouring from her sister's pleading green eyes. "Do you promise me, Shelly?" Kayla said helplessly. "Do you promise me it really works?" Shelly patiently responded to her sister's entreating words by tenderly interlacing their fingers together and squeezing with pure conviction. "Rule number one," Shelly said to her lost and beloved sister. "Always tell the truth." *** It was three or four more minutes before Shelly finally turned into her driveway on Somerset Road. She pulled up next to Greg's Infiniti and then quickly hopped out, eager to go in and kiss her handsome hubby, and then shower, so she could change, get groceries, and then put together a nice Sunday dinner, since Tiffany's had invited her new boyfriend, along with Shannon, and Shelly wanted everything to be perfect. She hadn't yet had a chance to tell Greg about Adam. She had hoped that perhaps her little pep talk with Tiffany on Friday might have inspired her to speak to her father on her own, like the budding young adult that Shelly had always encouraged her to be. When Kayla got out of the car, Shelly couldn't help but smile at how unbelievably different and truly drop dead gorgeous her sister looked after her amazing makeover. Shelly wanted Tiffany to see the change for herself, so Kayla had agreed to wear one of her new outfits for the trip back. With no help from Shelly, Kayla picked out a sexy, peach short-sleeved top, sleek and fitted, like a leotard, flattering her ample curves with a fetching scoop neck that temptingly revealed the natural sag of her palm-sized tits, which were pushed up and squeezed together for maximum cleavage. She smartly complimented the peach-colored top with a rust-colored velveteen skirt that zipped up the back and hugged her buxom hips to create an undeniably eye- popping and curvaceous silhouette. The hem ended well above mid-thigh, clearly a deliberate choice which would certainly make bending over a must-see event for any man, or woman, if in this case, the one drooling over her happened to be her envious younger sister who had already begun preparing a speech for Greg on how desperately she needed new clothes. Instead of going with regular shoes, Kayla whimsically decided on an ultra-chic pair of high heeled brown leather boots, which came up about two inches below the knee, and somehow managed to make her 5'7" frame look even more regal and statuesque. Of course, none of these items, not the cute top, nor the pretty skirt, the trendy leather boots, nor even the gorgeous jasper necklace with the matching earrings, none of it did anything to detract from the preeminent beauty of the sheer-to-waist, high-gloss, coffee-colored pantyhose, which Shelly had made a deliberate point of explaining were exclusively made by Peavey and could only be purchased by special order. The money wasn't important though, as Shelly was more interested in making sure that her sister could honestly appreciate the difference between a quality pair pantyhose made by a real designer and those cheap disposable brands, which in no way provided the same level of mental or physical stimulation as a luxurious pair of truly fine hosiery. "Is there a problem?" Kayla said, eyeing Shelly anxiously; as she looked down to inspect her ensemble for something out of place. "Are my boobs hanging out too much?" she asked, tugging at her top, which did nothing but make them jiggle. Shelly couldn't stop staring. "No," she said, blinking. "No problem at all," she said. "You just look good enough to eat, that's all." Kayla smiled. "I offered you breakfast," she said humorously. "But you turned me down." Shelly laughed. "I didn't realize you were on the menu." "For you," Kayla said, smiling seductively. "I've got 31 flavors." "Oh, really," Shelly said, lifting her eyebrow. "Like what?" she asked. Kayla tossed her hair back, and then flashed her with a naughty grin. "Well, let's see..." she said, grazing the red nails of her manicured fingers over the sunlit pantyhose spread against her buttery thighs. "There's coffee..." she said, with her teasing voice accompanied by the pleasing melody of her hand sliding over the nylon with a resounding swish. "There's cream..." she added. "There's even oatmeal." Shelly wet her lips. "Sounds yummy," she said. "Do you serve breakfast in bed?" Kayla smiled mischievously, while Shelly began to note the last vestiges of her sister's innocence slowly fading from the jade irises of her sparkling green eyes. "Absolutely," she said, dragging her left hand between her legs, and then lightly tapping her crotch. "I'll even bring the juice," she added suggestively. "Mmmm," Shelly moaned. "Sounds like quite the buffet," she added, with a subtle wink. "Maybe we should go in before I have to take a bite right now." "Right," Kayla agreed reluctantly. "Maybe we should," she said, letting her sister lead the way. As Shelly managed to wrest her eyes away from Kayla's warm tapestry of earth tones, both women confidently strutted along the stone path leading to the front door, while Shelly quietly amused herself trying to imagine her husband's reaction to the sight of her new and momentously improved older sister. As they marched down the stone path, their clacking heels noisily marked each rhythmic step, as Shelly turned back, musing over her shoulder. "God, I can't wait to see the look on Greg's face when he sees you." Kayla answered curiously. "What do you think he's going to say?" Shelly shrugged. "Depends," she mildly explained. "If the game is a blowout, he'll probably be so frustrated and bored that he might just jump on you in a heartbeat. Otherwise," she continued, "if it's close, he'll probably just wave in your general direction and never look up from the screen." Kayla nodded and smiled knowingly as they reached the front porch. She waited as Shelly stood there jangling her keys. "By the way," Shelly said. "You never did answer my question?" "About what?" Kayla said with a frown. "About where you learned all those hot moves?" Shelly asked. "I know it wasn't just from watching 'Dancing with the Stars,'" Kayla smiled. "I do love that show," she said, before she finally explained. "Actually, about two months ago, I started taking mambo lessons at a little studio downtown," she said, "thought it would help me lose weight." Shelly widened her eyes in total surprise. "You learned all that in just a couple months?" Kayla grinned. "The booze helped," she said. "Not to mention, I was pretty mad about Peter not showing for our date. I guess I just needed to blow off some steam." Shelly nodded understandably. "Well, you did that," she said, sliding her key in the lock. "And you steamed up the whole club in the process. You'll have to teach me." "I can do that," Kayla answered with a confident nod. "So how much weight did you lose?" Shelly asked out of curiosity. Kayla raised her hand and put up a big fat zero. "Guess I've been too depressed to watch my diet," she said. Shelly nodded, and then smiled as bright as the sun as she slowly opened the door. "Kayla Rose," Shelly said dramatically. "You are about to enter a whole new world." When they stepped inside, the house was eerily quiet, save for the subtle buzz of what Shelly instantly recognized as the sound of Greg watching football in the living room. Shelly turned and instructed Kayla to wait by the door until Shelly gave her the signal, as she then hung her purse, casually sauntered passed the dining room to her left, and then turned right into the spacious parlor where she spotted Greg in a pale blue sleeveless T- shirt, with gray socks and plaid boxers, hurling obscenities at the plasma screen mounted on the wall. Her floral scent must have stirred him immediately as Greg quickly turned, and then happily smiled at the welcome sight of his adoring wife. "Did you get my text?" he asked, raising the remote to lower the volume. "You mean the one that said, 'Don't drink too much?'" Shelly answered, with a wry smile. "Yeah," she said. "I read it this morning. Unfortunately, by then it was too late." "Hmm," Greg said, scratching himself. "Well, next time, remind me to take my own advice. I got pretty hammered myself." "Did you?" Shelly said, as she gracefully slipped off her shoes. "Well, I'm sorry I made you cut things short. Kayla was concerned about leaving the kids here alone all night." "It's okay," Greg answered. "Spent some extra quality time with the kids. We made the most of it," he said, before changing the subject. "So, did you two have a good time?" he asked sincerely. "How's Kayla doing?" Shelly smiled. "She's fine," she answered. "In fact, she's right here," she added, waving for her sister to step forward. As Kayla sidled up to her sister, with her doughy breasts protruding over her plunging neck line, her wide hips accentuated by the tight grip of her short narrow skirt, and her thick legs shining like caramel under the golden luster of her coffee pantyhose, Greg's head instantly reeled back and his eyes parted to infinity. He promptly shot up to his feet and then earnestly pressed forward for what Shelly inferred was a much needed closer look. "I'm sorry," Greg said, blinking in disbelief. "I thought you said Kayla was here," he said, raising one hand with marked sarcasm in his voice. "You never told me you were friends with a movie star," he said, commenting to his wife, before turning to jokingly introduce himself. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Greg." Kayla graciously accepted. "Kayla Walsh," she said with a playful smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you." "Oh," he said, eyeing her with rich appreciation. "Let me assure you, the pleasure is all mine," he said, with a flirtatious smile. "But I'm sorry," he charmingly continued, "If I'm not mistaken, you said your name was Kayla. For a moment there, I thought Diane Lane had just walked into my house. You must get that a lot?" Kayla blushed. "Usually it's Katie Couric," she said. "But thank you. I'll consider that an upgrade." Greg nodded with approval, as he turned to his wife and smiled. "I guess it's just the weekend for makeovers, huh?" Shelly frowned, unsure exactly what to make of Greg's cryptic statement, as she turned to see Jonathan strolling in from the kitchen holding a pop-tart. As her son lifted the pastry for his first bite, Shelly watched as Jonathan did a quick double take when he noticed his mother standing next to someone who required a thorough examination from him as well. "Kayla!" Jonathan said, as he scuttled forward, with his bulging eyes lustfully, soaking up every morsel of her stunning transformation. "Holy shit!" he blurted. "You look amazing!" Shelly cringed as Jonathan swore, but as she turned to note the look of disapproval on her sister's face, it shocked her to find that it wasn't there. Instead, Kayla greeted her nephew with a warm smile, as Jonathan stepped in and gave her a long hug, which Kayla fondly returned as she lovingly rubbed his back. "Thank you," Kayla said, as she pulled back and planted a kiss on his cheek. "You're looking pretty handsome yourself. Jonathan smiled. "You think?" he said, tousling his own bushy hair. "Tiffany says I need to start lifting weights with Adam. She says I need to work on my six- pack." "Speaking of six packs," Greg said. "I'm going to go grab a beer before kick off?" Shelly scowled. "It's 10:30 in the morning!" Greg shrugged. "Hair of the dog," he said, as he stalked off toward the fridge. Kayla then asked, "So who is this Adam I keep hearing so much about?" Jonathan took a quick bite of his pop-tart, and then answered with a snicker. "Tiffany's new boy toy," he said, with his mouth full. Shelly promptly corrected him. "He's a bit more than that," she said, as she turned toward her sister and solemnly explained. "It seems that our beloved daughter has found her first love." Kayla gasped. "You're kidding," she said blinking rapidly. "Tiffany's in love...since when? "Last year," Shelly said. "I guess technically they weren't really together then. They were just sort of casually seeing each other," Shelly explained. "But things got more serious once school started again." "Wow," Kayla said, shaking her head. "I can't believe she didn't call me." Shelly smiled. "Come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "Did you really expect rational behavior from a teenage girl, especially with the kind of raging hormones we have in this family? She's almost old enough to drive," she added, shaking her head worriedly. "I don't know what I'm going to do with her then," she said, before turning back to Jonathan. "Where is Tiffany anyway?" Shelly asked. Jonathan shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "Me and Dylan were up pretty late playing Xbox. I think they're all still asleep." Shelly smirked impatiently. "Well," she said, making no effort to mask the irritation in her voice. "Maybe you should go up and let your sister know that we have company." Jonathan nodded respectfully. He turned, shuffled towards the stairs, and then stomped up about half way before Shelly could hear him loudly yelling. "Hey Tiff, Mom's here...and I think she brought home one of the Pussycat Dolls!" Upon hearing this, Shelly then heard the yawn of her daughter's bedroom door. She stood there next to Kayla, watching as Tiffany slowly tip-toed down the stairs wearing a frilly pair of white ankle socks, blue opaque tights and a white Dallas Cowboys jersey, with silver and blue stars that barely obscured the private area that would have been hidden by her panties, that is, if Tiffany were allowed to wear anything except pantyhose around the house, as her daughter well knew was one of their house rules. As she crossed paths with her younger brother, she snarled with exaggerated disdain, and then playfully shoved him in the shoulder. "Could you scream a little louder maybe?" she said facetiously. "The neighbors are complaining you don't make enough noise." "Sure," he shot back, with a sarcastic nod. "I could always sound more like you," he offered," before launching into a spot on Tiffany impression. "Oh, Adam!" he swooned, fluttering his dreamy eyes. "Oh, Adam, you are sooo hot," he continued, accenting his performance by raising his arms and delicately folding them across his chest. "Oh, Adam, I just love the way you kiss me," he squealed passionately. "Mmm yeah, come on baby, kiss me!" Tiffany smirked. "Go to hell," she said, shoving him again. Jonathan scrunched his face like some sort of ghoulish monster, but Tiffany ignored him as she smugly continued down the stairs. When she reached the bottom step, Shelly laughed as Tiffany's first vision of the new Kayla made her normally agile daughter nearly trip over her own feet. "Oh, no fucking way!" she said, with her hand moving up to her mouth. "Cute, huh?" Shelly said, beaming with sisterly pride. Tiffany scoffed. "Cute?" she repeated derisively. "The Care Bears are cute," she gibed. "This," she said, taking Kayla by the hand and slowly spinning her around. "This is hot!" Kayla smiled gratefully. "Your mom still has a few tricks up her sleeve." Tiffany nodded emphatically, and then turned back to her mother and pointed toward Kayla in jest. "You hold her down. I'll take the boots." Kayla laughed. "These aren't even new," she said, extending her right leg to show one of them off. "Peter bought me these years ago," she told them. "At the time, I just didn't have any other clothes that went with them very well." "Well, they look great," Tiffany said, as she faced her mother and gave her a nod, which Shelly interpreted as a gesture of sincere congratulations. "Love the hair, too," she said, fluffing her blonde tresses thoughtfully. "You think I would look good as a brunette?" "Absolutely not," Shelly stated flatly. "Don't even think about it." Tiffany sneered. "You're just afraid I might look better than you." Shelly shook her head. "If there's one thing I've always taught you, it's that you're beautiful the way you are. I have no interest in seeing you screw around with your body. The next thing you know, you'll be asking if you can get a tattoo." Tiffany folded her arms. "If you really believe that," she said, waving toward Kayla, "then why bother going through all this?" Shelly turned to her sister who looked back at her with a curious twinkle in her eyes. "That's different," Shelly explained. "What Kayla needed was a change on the outside to help her see what was on the inside." Shelly turned back to Kayla who then nodded back to her sister as if Shelly's comment had left her rather impressed. As Greg paced back into the living room, sipping his beer, he raised his bottle, tipped it toward the women, and then resumed his lounging position on the couch. Kayla looked at Shelly and then quickly asked, "So what did Greg mean when he said this must be the weekend for makeovers?" Shelly knitted her eyebrows, and then glanced at Tiffany, speaking in a deeply inquisitive tone. "Tiff," she said, in a lowered voice. "What did you do?" Tiffany smiled. "Nothing," she said, laughing nervously. "Heather and I played dress up last night. That's all." "Dress up?" Kayla said anxiously. "What sort of dress up?" "It was all my idea," Tiffany said, trying to console her. "I thought maybe she could use some of my old clothes, so I offered to let her try some stuff on." Kayla went quiet, as her own thoughts seem to take hold and render her momentarily speechless. Shelly leaned in and took over questioning. "Please tell me you didn't do anything stupid?" Tiffany whined. "I didn't do anything. I swear to God. I just gave her a skirt and a top to try on. It was fun. She loved it." "Where is she?" Shelly asked. "She's still asleep in my room," Tiffany said. "She loved the clothes so much she wouldn't take them off. She slept in them all night." Shelly turned to her sister, and tried to offer her an apology through her wordless frown. "Go sit with your father," Shelly said, pointing to the couch, as she turned and headed directly up the stairs, to which Kayla quickly followed at her heels. As Shelly began her steady authoritative ascent toward her daughter's bedroom, it was Jonathan's bedroom door that unexpectedly creaked opened. Shelly noted that the gentle footfalls urgently heading toward them from the opposite end of the hall were far too hasty and delicate to possibly be those of her own generally plodding son. When he turned the corner and greeted them from the top of the stairs, Shelly promptly averted her eyes to the sight of her young nephew who yawned vocally as he wearily rubbed his eyes, while standing there completely naked. After quickly catching her breath, she slowly looked back and then instinctively zoomed in on Dylan's flaccid penis, the size of which left her utterly dumbfounded as she stood there gaping for several heart-stopping moments. "Mommy," Dylan said, showing no hint of shame on his pure and innocent face. "Is that you?" he asked sweetly, with his eyes blinking half open. With Shelly frozen in her tracks, Kayla swiftly rushed forward, stepped around her and then quickly wrapped Dylan up in her arms, shielding the boy from Shelly's half-stunned, half-taken, and completely riveted gaze. Shelly watched as her sleepy nephew hugged and kissed his mom, staggered by the shocking image which 36 years of logic and experience could find no way to explain. As Kayla led Dylan back into Jonathan's room, presumably to fetch his clothes, Shelly took another brief moment to consider the implications of a 10-year- old boy being so astonishingly well-equipped long before he would truly be ready to actually engage in sex. As Shelly breathlessly considered the awesome possibilities that potentially awaited her once Dylan reached full maturity, the pussy-dripping implications made her heart palpitate as she found herself desperately craving the nearest cock. She turned, as Tiffany's door slowly opened, and Heather finally emerged in a well-worn naughty schoolgirl outfit, wrinkled and completely stained with day old patches of encrusted semen that soiled everything from the white blouse, which for some reason she wore unbuttoned over the subtle humps of her young petite breasts, to the plaid skirt, which was flimsily hanging about her bowing hips as if a mild gust would blow it right off. The only items that looked relatively clean were the oversized brown loafers on her feet, and the obligatory white knee socks. However, clean was definitely not the word Shelly would use to describe the filthy condition of her dingy pantyhose, their former glow now dulled and less than flattering under the dry plaster of white powdery sperm. Kayla and Dylan turned as Heather greeted her mother with a low-key smile and lazily meandered toward Kayla and her brother who greeted his sister with a cheerful smile of his own. Shelly stepped over to brush her niece's arm, and then Heather turned to her and softly whispered good morning over a mild yawn. While Shelly was only mildly concerned that Heather was neither sophisticated nor worldly enough to wear such an adult outfit at her age, she was more concerned about her sister's reaction, as she turned to see Kayla quietly walking back. "Mom?" Heather said, blinking rapidly. "Is that you?" Kayla smiled calmly. "I was just about to ask you the same thing." Heather paused, and then quickly looked down as if suddenly remembering how different she must look herself. "Oh," she said dimly. "This is from Tiffany," she said, pulling down her skirt, and then holding out the hem, with a slight curtsey. "Do you like it?" Kayla took her time responding. "Yes," she said finally. "I do like it. It makes you look very grown up," she added, "very stylish." Heather beamed. "Really!" she said surprisingly. "You don't think it's too sexy?" Shelly noticed as Kayla began chewing her bottom lip, an old habit which her sister had developed as a kid, especially whenever she needed to really concentrate. Finally, Kayla turned to her daughter and reasonably answered. "I wouldn't let you wear it to school. But I guess you could take it home." Heather sprung with excitement. "Yes!" she shouted. "Thank you! Thank you, Mommy! Thank you so much!" Kayla stroked her daughter's hair and kindly whispered, "You're welcome, sweetheart." As Heather began twirling in celebration, scooting her little tush from side to side gleefully, Shelly's eyes fell on Dylan, whose reaction to Heather's joyful gyrations gave her another moment of tremendous pause. As her nephew stood bare-assed in the middle of her upstairs hallway, Shelly felt her chin slowly begin to drop, while in turn, Dylan's wondrously elongated penis slowly began to rise. As the pink foreskin slowly rolled back, the smooth elevating shaft slowly craned upward, until the domed tip pointed straight forward, only to continue its towering ascent, hoisting itself clear up to his navel like a sailboat extending its mast. Shaken beyond comprehension, Shelly's first and only reaction was to reach for her sister as if to urgently warn her of some of impending natural disaster about to strike. "Uh, Kay," she said, clutching her sister's forearm, as she nodded toward Dylan with the subtle pointing of her chin. As Kayla noted her sister's signal, she slowly turned her gaze away from Heather, when her upper torso was violently seized by the sudden need for air. Her eyes jolted open, her nostrils flared, and all of her muscles completely locked up as if struck by lightning. With both sisters unable to speak or even move, the one person left to handle the dire situation was the 12- year-old dead ringer for Britney Spears, who eyed Dylan's monstrous cock like a surgeon would a paper cut. Without a moment's hesitation, the brave pantyhose novice sauntered over in her brownie-turned-slut uniform, sank to her knees, yawned her lips open and dutifully proceeded to slurp down her brother's swollen member like a flesh-colored popsicle. The second Shelly saw Heather kneel down to suck Dylan's cock, she instantly knew that she and Tiffany had done way more the night before than play dress up. Her swirling tongue and her fondness for using extra spit had Tiffany's technique written all over it. Greg must have known something too since he came home early from the bar that night at her request. How much he had actually been involved was difficult to say, but Shelly found herself getting a clearer picture when Heather began moaning ecstatically as her brother's infernally succulent cock suddenly penetrated the base of her forcibly opened throat. As if to save her from committing mortal sin, Kayla reached for her daughter desperately, but Shelly quickly and wisely blocked the way. She grabbed Kayla, pulled her back and held her with all her strength. Kayla stared back with her helpless green eyes brimming with sheer panic and utter distress, as Shelly did everything she could just to hold her at bay. "Let go of me!" Kayla shouted. "Why won't you let go?" "Because," Shelly said forcefully. "You need to see this," she strongly added. "You need to learn why this is so important." Heather looked too far gone to stop no matter who was watching. Her head was bobbing a mile a minute, as Dylan quickly figured out that his cock could go even further down his sister's esophagus if he held her by the back of the head and used her stingy throat like a natural sheath for his long fleshy sword, constantly thrusting his hips back and forth, with all of his boundless 10-year-old energy. As Shelly watched, her arousal began to slowly consume her to the point where something simply had to be done about it right then and there. She was still afraid if she let go of Kayla, that her sister's conscience would get the best of her, to the ruin of all that Shelly had been working to accomplish since their day at the mall. With that in mind, Shelly decided her best course of action was to use all of her pent up sexual energy, harness those emotions, and then take her frustrations out on her sister. She aggressively pressed Kayla's back against the wall, and then smothered her defenseless older sister with a hostile kiss that recklessly denied her sister of vital oxygen, until Kayla finally whimpered and relented to letting Shelly have her way. After a torrid series of sloppy, thirst-quenching kisses courtesy of Kayla's excessively juicy mouth, Shelly broke away, and then reached down between her sister leg's, clawing her fingers over the crisp resistant fabric of her skintight pantyhose, which pitifully guarded the door to Kayla's unruly little cunt. "Drop your skirt," Shelly insisted only once. Kayla reached behind her back, unzipped, and shimmied until gravity did the rest. She quickly stepped out of her rust-colored skirt, left on her boots, and then kicked the discarded skirt off to the side. With Kayla partially undressed, Dylan quickly took note, gaping in lustful admiration as if witnessing a vision in which his angelic mother had descended from above, glowing from the radiant aura emitted by the brilliance of the coffee pantyhose that shimmered like honey on her tapered legs. Using her sharp red nail, Shelly knifed through the cotton crotch, in a justified sacrifice to the nylon Gods, as she shredded her sister's pantyhose with evil intent, using her middle finger like a hot poker to brand Kayla's wayward pussy as one of her own. "Huhhh!" Kayla gasped. "Ohhhgawwd! Yes! Put your finger inside me!" she pleaded urgently. Shelly twisted her hand, curling her finger to expertly flog Kayla's G-spot. The delicious squelching of her softly congealed snatch was music to Shelly's ears, as Kayla trembled and sputtered nonsensically from the skillful ministration of Shelly's jostling finger. Still not satisfied, Shelly smooshed in a second finger as Kayla shrieked, and then bit down on her bottom lip hard enough to bleed. Judging through Shelly's mindful eyes, Kayla's increased focus meant only one thing. Shelly taunted her, as she knowingly whispered, "You're about to cum, aren't you?" Kayla nodded frantically, as Shelly enjoyed the sounds of her halting ragged breaths. "Say it!" Shelly ordered. "Say it to my face!" she added, twisting her fingers. Kayla wheezed like she had just lost her inhaler. Her head rocked to and fro as she grimaced and then wildly sobbed. "I'm gonna cum! Ohhhhggggaaawwwdd! Ahhh! Ohhh yesssss! OH FUCK YESSS!" she swore out loud. Shelly smiled wickedly. "If you _really_ want to cum," she snarled ruthlessly, "then you _need_ to watch!" she insisted. As her sister's words suddenly sunk in, Kayla's eyes opened intently, before slowly and courageously turning to the abhorrent sight of own daughter kneeling before her son, worshipping at the altar of her own brother's all-mighty rod, slavishly polishing his golden idol using her frenetically agile tongue, along with copious fountains of lubricating spit. Convinced that Kayla was now able to follow orders, Shelly promptly pushed her to the next level, adding more pressure against the spongy roof of her vagina, and then rotating her expert fingers against that exquisitely sensitive location, as Kayla's orgasmic simmer slowly rolled to a steaming boil. "Tell her," Shelly demanded viciously. "Tell your daughter what to do!" Kayla quickly blurted out her lustful words, as if to vault them over the slowly receding walls of her moral fortress. She vehemently called out to her pre-teen daughter with a quiver of desperate envy in her wounded voice. "Suck it, sweetheart!" she cheered heartily. "That's it, honey, suck his cock!" Shelly smiled triumphantly as she heard his sister's words, before proceeding to spike the moment even more. "And then what?" she added mercilessly. Without flinching, Kayla turned to her daughter and vocally begged out loud. "Make him cum in your mouth!" Shelly and Kayla turned as Dylan suddenly cried out like he'd just been shot. Heather leaned back, smiled at her brother, and then wantonly opened her mouth with anticipation of her brother's imminent load, to which Dylan began launching his creamy discharge as if his sister's tongue was on fire, hosing her down under punishing waves of hot liquid sperm that rocketed in relentless surges of watery semen until her face was completely drowned. Seeing this sent Kayla to another dimension where all sense of morality instantly evaporated and in its place came the flooding waters of an explosive squirting orgasm, an epic downpour of raining juices that left everything within spitting distance completely wet, including the alarmed faces of her own two children. Glistening under the dripping residue of their mother's historic eruption, Heather and Dylan stared at each other with wide-eyed horror, before turning to their mother with matching looks of total shock on their deeply concerned faces. "Mom!" Dylan cried urgently. "Are you okay?" As Shelly leaned against the wall, drenched in her own sweat, along with her sister's unique bodily fluids, she listened quietly as Kayla forcefully exhaled, a comforting sound that seemed to signify all the years of sexual repression and emotional denial being purged suddenly, once and for all. As Shelly reached down and took her sister by the hand, she listened again as Kayla turned to her precious son and daughter and whispered in a voice laced with pure contentment. "Yes, sweetheart," Kayla said. "Mommy's fine." *** It took another ten minutes or so before Kayla managed to fully calm down to where she could help Heather and Dylan get cleaned up and finish packing their overnight bags, which included more clothes from Tiffany that she and Heather gratefully accepted, until finally all of their belongings were packed up in preparation for the journey home. To Shelly, it seemed like Kayla actually was home, finally, her real home at least, the place where she was surrounded by the people who truly loved her and would do anything to see her stay as happy and beautiful as she was now. It took some doing, but Shelly felt fairly confident that Kayla had finally come to understand the secret to great health and sexual vitality which she and her family so richly enjoyed. She was certain as long as Kayla resisted falling back into her old ways, then she would clearly see that her perverted little sister had been right all along. From that day on, the rest would be up to her. As Shelly led Kayla to the door, she decided to leave her with just a few simple, yet significant parting words. "Rule number two," Shelly said meaningfully. "Always keep family business inside the family." Kayla stared blankly. "What is it with you and all these rules, all of a sudden?" Shelly smiled. "It's just something we use to remind ourselves who we are." Kayla nodded. "So, there's more?" she asked curiously. Shelley smiled back cryptically. "No more questions," she said. "I'm just proud of you for coming this far. Go home, now. Get some rest. I'll call you tomorrow." "Do you need my help with dinner tonight?" Kayla kindly offered. "It's no problem." Shelly waved it off. "No," she answered. "I think I can burn the chicken just fine on my own. Stay home and relax. Spend some time with your kids. They need you right now." Kayla nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I really need them, too," she added, before giving Shelly one last kiss, saying goodnight to her niece and nephew, and then heading off for the long drive back to Arcadia. *** Once Kayla finally went home, Greg and Shelly went down to their room and took turns explaining all of the events that led up to that morning. Greg started by telling Shelly that the Trojans game on Saturday night was pretty much a bust, so when he got her text asking if he wouldn't mind stopping by the house to check on the kids, it was no big deal, even though he was already pretty tipsy by then and he really shouldn't have driven himself back home. He then explained how he came in and found everyone half naked in Jonathan's room, and how things pretty much escalated out of control when Heather started to show off her new oral talents. Shelly then told him that she had just witnessed their niece performing said talents on Dylan and that they really needed to reward their daughter for teaching her so effectively. Greg suggested perhaps getting her a car for her sixteenth birthday, which Shelly agreed was definitely a great idea, as long as she wasn't the one giving her the driving lessons. Shelly then proceeded to explain to Greg everything that had happened with her Kayla at the mall, how she had discovered her ability to squirt, how she had taken Kayla out dancing after Peter stood her up, and how she firmly believed that Kayla was not only completely enamored with pantyhose, but also seemed more than ready to join them in their special brand of family recreation. The more she spoke, the more Greg started to get worked up, until hearing her talk about how jealous she was that Kayla was probably going to go home and suck Dylan's massive cock led to a spirited bout of rowdy sex, which ended with Greg delivering Shelly a hot mouthful of cum, for which she happily thanked him, as it provided her with the perfect pick me up she needed before heading back out to pick up some groceries for dinner. Shelly then used the opportunity to bring up Adam, upon which Greg surprisingly informed her that he and Tiffany had already talked about it while she and Kayla were upstairs. He said that Adam seemed like a nice young man and as long as they were careful, he saw no reason why Tiffany should have to lie about her family to someone she obviously cared so much about, almost as much as them. Shelly gave him a tight hug, adding a comment that moments like this were the reason why she was still as madly in love with him as the day they met. Greg smiled, kissed her, and then returned to the living room, so he could polish off another beer or two and watch the end of the game. Shelly took a quick shower, dried her hair, and then briefly touched up hair and make-up. She tip-toed over to her dresser, slid open the drawer and casually withdrew a fresh pair of L'eggs Sheer Vitality pantyhose, greeting them with a warm smile as she stroked the silky sheer-to-waist nylon like a family pet. With the sun shining brightly outside, Shelly decided the best color to wear was definitely suntan. They were her favorite anyway. Something about that golden shimmer was so tantalizing even to her. She sat down on the edge of her bed, pointed her toes and carefully stretched them up one leg a time. She inched them over her firm round thighs, aroused by their soft yielding embrace as the velvety nylon gradually slid up to her waist. She stood up in front of her mirror, fondly admiring how the sheer velvety threads reflected the light like glass, along with the flattering manner in which they lifted and held her ass nice and high, as she silently took pleasure in the pantyhose encasement of her firm upraised cheeks. The finely spun netting also allowed her legs to breathe, and stimulated her circulation, while balancing out her fair skin tone so the lush golden color looked nice and even all the way down. She smiled at her own reflection, nodding with approval, before throwing on one of her half dozen short denim skirts, a staple of any slut's wardrobe, which combined an understated sense of casual style, along with comfort, and of course, maximum leg exposure. Her top was just one of those standard garden-variety baby tees, more of a trifle than a fully qualified shirt, with pink and yellow daisies printed on the front of stretchy white cotton that strained against the massive protrusions of her conspicuous jugs. Once ready to go, she slipped into a pair of white mule sandals, grabbed her keys and sunglasses, kissed Greg, and then cheerfully jiggled out the door sans bra or panties. She hopped into her sporty purple convertible, and then sped down to the local market, where she pulled into the first empty spot, stopped the engine and decisively swung opened the door. With a graceful pirouette, she happily spun about in her low bucket seat, and then balletically extended her radiant stems in an elegant stretch that soothed the tight weary muscles of her well-toned legs. With the California sun beaming through clear skies, the bright morning rays spotlighted her crimson red toenails and the lily white sandals she carelessly dangled by the lone strap spanning the sculpted arches of her dainty little feet. As she slowly rose to her modest height, just above average at 5'5" tall, she realized she was not exactly a supermodel, so she took particular satisfaction in the added stature provided by her heels, along with the added bonus of the way that they lengthened and accentuated the muscles of her firm calves and thighs, which in her own personal opinion, still looked pretty good, despite having been a few weeks since she had last seen a Stairmaster. She checked the time, slid up her shades, and then paused to adjust her miniskirt, giving it a firm tug, before she locked the car and began her confident strut toward the main entrance. She loudly announced her arrival via the rhythmic steps of her three-inch heels steadily striking the asphalt. As she quickly traversed the busy parking lot, which teemed with dozens of other weekend shoppers, the further she walked, the more she couldn't help smiling to herself over the handful of men who were unexpectedly treated to the intriguing sight of her big natural tits cheerfully bouncing under her skimpy white T-shirt. As she entered the store, Shelly couldn't help noticing some of the other female shoppers walking in alongside her. She never understood how so many women could go out in public wearing baggy sweats and ratty old flip flops. Her father had raised her to believe that a woman should look her best no matter where she was going. She worked hard to keep her body in shape also, so naturally, showing it off had always been half the fun. At the main entrance, she was greeted by a friendly- looking older gentleman who handed her a shopping cart and gave her the kind of appreciative smile she was used to getting from men his age. His kindly voice startled her. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" the man said. "Beg your pardon?" Shelly answered, in her warm mellifluous tone. "I said it's a beautiful day," he repeated with a friendly grin. "Been like this all weekend. Hope it lasts." "Oh," Shelly replied awkwardly. "Right, it sure is. I hope it does too." "You have a nice day now," he said with the cordial tip of his head, which vaguely reminded Shelly of her late grandfather. As she continued on, even from a distance, Shelly could almost feel the old man's eyes tracking her as she walked away. Not that it really bothered her. She imagined the dirty thoughts he was surely having as he looked her over, certain that as soon as his day was done, he would probably rush home, pull out his cock and desperately jerk himself off. The thought alone got Shelly's pussy steaming inside her pantyhose. Only minutes later, in the produce section, as Shelly was bending over, she noticed yet another lonely looking old man doing an embarrassingly poor job of hiding the fact that he was staring directly at her legs. She amused herself by pretending not to notice, assuming her new admirer would take advantage of his good fortune by taking however many seconds he required to get in a few harmless looks, before quietly moving on with nice treat to remember later. She grabbed some tomatoes, slipped them into a plastic bag and then turned, facing him full on. She leaned over, carefully placed the bag into her cart, and smiled as the man stood there brazenly eyeing her up and down. She tried looking him in the eye, but clearly the sight of her high heels and shiny pantyhose had rendered him completely mesmerized. Of course, with so much of it running in her family, Shelly could always spot a pantyhose lover right away. Still, the lucky shopper seemed to be completely lost in his own world, so Shelly just shook her head, smiled to herself and continued on like he wasn't there. Anxious to get home and start dinner, she did her best to make her rounds about the store quickly. She limited the cosmetics to bare essentials: hairspray, nail polish and shampoo. Naturally, she couldn't forget to buy more pantyhose, some of which were on sale that week, either Hanes or L'eggs, one of the two. She couldn't remember. Still, she made herself a mental note to grab a few pairs for her and Tiffany on the way out. Unfortunately, it was also drawing close to the third week of the month, which meant that both she and her daughter could also expect that their monthly visitor would be arriving soon as well. Knowing this, Shelly continued through health and beauty to stock up on a few feminine products as well. As she turned the corner, she spotted a strikingly handsome gentleman, wearing a well-tailored gray pin- stripped suit, with perfectly coiffed, sun-kissed blonde hair, much like her own. The gentleman looked instantly familiar, but Shelly had no idea why or how this individual could be standing here of all places, especially now. Fueled by anger and adrenaline, Shelly promptly marched over to find out. "Peter?" she called out, scowling with every seething step. As her sister's unfaithful (and potentially former) husband turned to see Shelly charging at him with a full head of steam, his face lit up into one of his notoriously plastic smiles, as if for just the right price, he would gladly offer her a great deal on her own shirt. "Shelly!" Peter said, with his blue eyes sending out distress signals, despite the pleasant lift in his distinctly well-mannered voice. "My goodness," he said, shaking his head with admiration. "You look terrific!" Shelly ignored the weak compliment. She couldn't stand how the diminutive Abercrombie & Fitch reject always tried to use his charm and good looks to manipulate women. She slit her eyes, as they stood toe to toe, and then instantly snapped at the complete lack of remorse showing anywhere on his puny arrogant face. "Cut the shit, you lying son of a bitch!" Shelly said. "What the hell are you doing in Cedar Springs?" she asked, fuming as she looked down to notice a white box in his hand with the letters, E-P-T printed on the front. "Kayla told me you were in New York?" she said. "Why the fuck did you lie to her?" Peter quickly stopped smiling, as his head dropped toward the floor. "It's complicated," he said quietly, looking unwilling or unable to meet her outraged glare. "Really?" Shelly said. "Then maybe you could start by telling me why the fuck you're holding a pregnant test?" Peter cringed. "Shelly, please," he said, checking over both shoulders and raising his hands. "Could you at least lower your voice?" "No!" Shelly shouted. "I will not lower my voice. Not until you explain yourself, you son of a bitch! Do you have any idea what Kayla's been through these last few months?" she asked bitterly. "Do you have any what _I've_ been through just to keep her from completely giving up on herself?" she added. "I still don't understand why you left to begin with...what the hell were you thinking?" Peter sighed, and then smirked as he slowly shook his head. "If I could just get you to calm down for a minute, then maybe I could explain," he offered wearily. Shelly folded her arms. "I haven't got all night," she said, tapping her shoe. "I actually have a family I need to get to home to. You do remember what that's like, don't you?" Peter turned and quietly shook his head. "You've always been the feisty one," he said, laughing to himself. "True," Shelly said. "And you've always been an asshole," she harshly replied. "So I guess we're even." While still holding that deceptively small yet hopelessly incriminating white box, Peter casually slipped his hands behind his back, slid out his left foot, and then leaned his shoulders to the right. "How are the kids?" he asked unexpectedly. "Have you seen them lately?" Shelly threw up a finger and pointed it sharply. "You don't get to ask that," she said. "Not until you decide that you're ready to be a real father," she said, eyeing the box which he so obviously wanted to hide. "Ironic considering the reason why I'm guessing you're here." Peter responded by blowing out a puff of air, and then checked around for nosy spectators, before whispering discretely. "Lacey missed her period." Shelly laughed under her breath. "Lacey?" she repeated mockingly. "You left my sister for some airheaded bimbo named, Lacey. Oh, that's pathetic." "Like I said," Peter answered, his voice brimming with aggravation. "It's complicated," he repeated simplistically. "Either way, I thought if I drove down here, there'd be less chance of running into one of my neighbors," he added, with chagrin. "Go figure." "Right," Shelly said smugly. "Go figure." "Shelly, I don't know what to do," he confessed, his voice sounding more desperate. "I barely know this girl. I mean, we dated for like two weeks." "Cheated," Shelly said, correcting him. "The term is cheated, not dated." Peter held up his hands. "Fine," he admitted. "I cheated, okay. Shoot me. I know a few things about your past, too. Let's not forget." Shelly smirked. "So what," she said, with a dismissive shrug. "I'm supposed to feel guilty because I let my brother take some nude photos of me just to help his career. That's nothing compared to destroying your marriage over some stupid white trash whore." "Right," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "Whatever you say, Miss holier-than-thou," he added snidely. "Listen," he said, as he stepped forward assertively. "All I ask is that you let me handle this my way," he added, "quietly." "Sure," Shelly said, nodding agreeably. "I'll let you handle it. In fact, I'll give you twenty four hours to handle it," she sternly advised. "And if you don't tell Kayla exactly why you blew her off last night, then you can bet your miserable worthless ass that I will," she promised. "Are we clear?" Peter slowly nodded his head, as he eyed her boldly and simply answered, "Crystal." Before turning away, Shelly pointed in his face one last time, scowling viciously as she firmly repeated, 'Twenty four hours!" She then heatedly spun around and fiercely stormed off, punctuating her furious goodbye knowing that Peter would watch every step, determined to make him feel the pulse-pounding reverberations of her thunderous heels as she angrily stomped away. To be continued... wordsinprogress@gmail.com - Copyright@2008 *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* The author does not condone child abuse, this story is meant as an erotic fantasy not real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real life" can look forward to many unproductive years getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their local prison. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 23