She walked unannounced into the sleeping Carter’s room. He lay bare chested with a single sheet covering the bottom half of his body. The tent in his sheet announced the morning wood all young men sported this time of morning. She surveyed his youthful hairy chest. She breastfed this boy when his mom took ill right after his birth. She remembered him hungrily suckling at her huge teat.
She sighed as she turned into his bathroom to empty the hamper. If he sucked one of these big ole tits now, the end might be more than just a full belly. Halvatia position in the family was unique. When she realized no one had “The Talk” with Carter, she took it upon herself. She was part of his sex education in more ways than one.
She dumped the hamper into her laundry basket. On top was a pair of his boxers. Dried jizz encrusted the opening. Because it was on the outside and not the inside, she speculated someone sucked his dick. Probably his sister. Those two been going at it for years.
She brought his soiled shorts to her nose and sniffed. The boy’s scent was strong. It meant he was a potent baby maker. If they were not careful, they would have another baby to match the cute little girl they already had.
She walked back into his bedroom.
“Carter Crafton! Get your lazy ass out the bed! It dam near 10 in the morning and you laying there farting and snoring!”
“Miss Curry! Leave me alone! I want to sleep!”
Halvatia snatched the sheet off him and took in the hard thick pole of his sex. She knew the boy was hung since he was a baby. However, he shore had grown. She reached down and slapped his thigh as he turned and tried to hide his cock.
“Boy, you promised your ma you go see about the costumes. Now get up and get busy, I left some breakfast in the warmer for you.”
Carter grabbed the sheet and held it around his waist as he hurried to the bathroom. He smiled. She treated him like her son.
Halvatia licked her lips as she watched his tight muscular ass retreat into the bathroom. Dat boy had two women mooning over him. Three if you count me.
* * *
June Crafton paid the cab driver and stepped out of the cab in front of her home. She paused in took in with pride the labor of her remodeling. Behind her the cab driver whistled silently as he surveyed the slim hourglass of figure of the 5′ 2″, 105 pound Black woman. She was smoking hot. The only thing missing were the tits.
The old Victorian kept its character while being upgraded with modern conveniences. She strode up the short driveway to the portico sheltering the entryway. She punched the code into the security and heard the click of the door unlocking.
The smell of baking bread wafted out to her as she entered the large ornate foyer. The afternoon sun streamed through the old stained glass windows giving an interesting play of colored light to the foyer and adjacent living area. She reflected that sometimes the flickering light looked like a fire burning as it danced across the walls and furniture.
The click of her 3″ heels echoed hollowly as she strode from the foyer through the large living area with its burnished oak floors and molding. She greeted Miss Curry.