Mommy's Girl Update - The Birds And The B-Cups

Dee Williams stood before the mirror, wrestling her tits into a dress that pushed them up like an offering. The neckline barely contained her, nipples threatening to spill out with the next breath. Marykate Moss appeared in the doorway and stopped dead. Her eyes locked on that cleavage and hunger flashed across her face. "God, when are mine gonna get big like yours?" she breathed. "They're so... full." Dee turned, amused and uneasy. "They're fake, sweetheart. Bought and paid for." Marykate's brow creased. "Why does Dad stare at them so much if they're fake? What's so special about them anyway?" She looked genuinely bewildered. "What does he get from looking at boobs?" The question landed like ice water. Dee set her lip gloss down. "Did your mom ever sit you down for the talk—the real one?" "She told me where babies come from. The rest was just shrugs." Dee exhaled through her nose. "Come here." She patted the bed. "If you're asking, I'll answer." Marykate perched on the edge, knees together, curious and uncensored. Questions tumbled out—penetration, clits, mouths, what made a woman's body heat up. Dee answered blunt, anatomic. Then the girl paused, lips parted. "Can you... touch mine? So I know what it's supposed to feel like?" Dee's hands hovered, rationalized. Knowledge beats ignorance. She cupped Marykate through her thin shirt, thumbs grazing hard nipples, feeling the small buds tighten. Marykate's breath hitched. Another minute and fabric was tugged aside, and Dee's mouth replaced her fingers, tongue circling flesh. Marykate mirrored everything—eager, clumsy, desperate to practice. She sucked Dee's heavy tits while Dee guided her head, harder, slower, teaching pressure and rhythm. Then Dee leaned back against pillows and spread her thighs, one hand parting slick folds. "Watch." Marykate's tongue replaced that hand soon after, tasting, testing angles until Dee's hips jerked and she cursed through clenched teeth. By the end, innocence had burned off like cheap cologne. Marykate's mouth shone; her fingers knew how to curl just right. Dee pulled her close and both of them caught their breath in the half-dark, gala dress still pooled somewhere on the floor.