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The succubus find out a few more secrets about Lewis.

Her husband had never asked her to wear an outfit as slutty as Joseph had required, and would certainly not have done so outside of the privacy and safety of the bedroom, but that again added to the special thrills she was experiencing. She really didn't know what to expect from her son, what he might ask of her, require of her. She could feeling her cunnie lips moistening and melting at the thought, at the expectation, the anticipation.

Still, it was also a bit demeaning to have her son ogle her like that as she bent over to pick up something from the floor, her largely naked bottom coming back into full view, his hand at times reaching out to give her a little affectionate pat, perhaps even a fondle and caress. It was the hand of her son! It just felt so wrong, so bad, so disrespectful and inappropriate. But, she could see that her son was indeed becoming more confident, more assertive, and that was most certainly a very good thing.

Dinner was particularly difficult, as her breasts were so wantonly displayed. She had originally been planning on serving chicken, but decided against it. Puns about thick, juicy breasts would, of course, be quite silly and juvenile, but she would prefer to simply avoid them altogether. Plus, their presence on the dinner table would only further accentuate the presence of her own, if any further titillation was really possible.

She was also struck by how much her bosoms wiggled and jiggled as she passed around the plates and ate her own meal. They were really impossible to keep still or ignore, and it was evident that Joseph was enjoying the feast for his eyes as well as the more conventional one for his mouth. At times he wouldn't even look away when she caught him staring at them. He would just smile at her.

"You really do have lovely breasts, mother," he eventually acknowledged. "This ham is really good too." It was only natural to compliment the meal that mom prepared, and it seemed comparably natural to compliment her looks.

"Uh, thank you, Joseph," Deborah replied.

"They really are very nice, Deborah," Susan agreed. She in fact was feeling a little jealous. Joseph had so much enjoyed her breasts the other night but it was clear now where his full attention was focused. But, this was not a competition among women, sisters no less, this was an important therapeutic process and she had to maintain her professional detachment. Much as she would like Joseph to notice her own breasts again, it was important for him to bond, to connect, with his mother. She would not interfere with that.

"Yes, well, thank you as well, Susan." Such a compliment from her husband would have been comfortably received, but their comments only made her even more self-conscious about their exposure.

"Is your blouse irritating your nipples, mother?"

"What?" She looked with concern at her son.

"I was just thinking that maybe without a brassiere, and with them swinging around like that, beneath your blouse, that they might feel a little scratchy, or itchy."

Deborah could feel her face turning red again. "No, no, they're fine, son. They're fine." She wondered if he was going to suggest that she remove her blouse. She would certainly prefer not to, but given its sheerness it really wouldn't make that much difference.

"Why don't you try rubbing your glass of ice water against them. Maybe that will help sooth them."

"Excuse me?"

"Just rub each one of them a little bit. I think they'd like that."

"That's a very wonderful suggestion, Joseph," Dr. Lowenstein agreed. "How very considerate of you."

Deborah sighed deeply, her breasts rising with the intake of air, then falling with the release. She reached for her cold glass of ice water, upon which there was considerable condensation. She pressed the cold, wet glass against her left nipple, releasing a little whimper as she did so, both in response to the feel of the very cold, wet glass against her nipple, and at the realization of what she was doing, in front of her son, and her sister.

"Rub it around a bit," Josep

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