Guessing Game

Victoria Spires woke to a sound, something just below her range of conscious hearing but still very real. There it was again, a sort of rustling accompanied by an almost indistinguishable creak as if someone had stepped on an old and whiny floorboard. Except there were no wooden floors in their home. They had an alarm system with ADT but nothing had triggered it.

With that sensation that something needed looking into she leaned over and quietly woke Jack. She knew she could count on him to be conscious and ready to act simply because she had seen him do it so often back when he was in Army special operations. As she anticipated he made the jump from sleep to wakefulness in a heartbeat, thanking in her in a whisper for her concern as he reached for the .40 Smith & Wesson pistol attached to the underside of the bed frame.

Victoria would be all right, he knew, because of both her courage and the five-round Taurus revolver she kept in her bedside table. It was compact but more than enough to defend herself with its load of .38 Special +P semi-jacketed hollow points. And she knew how to use it. Jack's imediate concern was not for his wife; it was for their two children.

As he moved through the dark house lit only be the faint glow from various digital readouts on clocks and appliances Jack mulled over just how someone might have bypassed the alarm system. His pistol, a stainless steel Model 4006, carried a full magazine of 11 rounds and he always loaded an additional round in the chamber since the weapon had a thumb-operated safety. He had slid off the safety before he ever got out of bed.

He and Victoria had two children, six-year-old Brandon with the beautiful black locks and his equally brunette sister, Morgan, who at five made up for her one-year junior status with an irrepressible humor and a determination to ask "Why?" endlessly. Jack recalled that Theodore Roosevelt was reputed by secretaries who took the trouble to count them to have often laughed three hundred times a day. He was convinced that Morgan asked "Why?" no less than that remarkable president had laughed.

Odd what you think on the way to someone else's funeral, he considered grimly as he threaded his silent way through the kitchen and into the back entrance to the hallway leading to the children's rooms.

The vicious blow to the back of his head and a simultaneous kick to the side of his right leg took him to his knees, generating a universe of stars all inside his brain. As he struggled to rise, fighting a curtain of darkness, he lifted the pistol up and back, pointing the muzzle directly over his shoulder, intending to fire it upside down. A second hammer to his head put him out. His weapon clattered to the floor and skidded under a small table in the hall.

Half an hour later Jack awoke with a splitting headache, a throbbing knee where he had been kicked, and blinded by lights. The first thing he saw was a police officer; the first thing he heard was his wife weeping. He struggled to re-enter the world of the living as a detective helped him up and to a couch. The man waited courteously while Jack regained his bearings. A solicitous and very professional female officer held on to Victoria as she collapsed in her grief.

"Mr. Spires, I am detective Randy Marks. I am sorry to have to tell you that your son, Brandon, has been taken. We have already issued an Amber Alert and I trust we'll receive word shortly. Right now I need to talk with you about whatever details you can give me."

The Spires never saw their small son again. Grief matured sadly into resignation. Resignation gradually became a collage of distant memories, and the memories were eventually wallpapered over by life itself.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Roger Stokes, captain of the Scandinavian Cruise Lines' Caribbean Sun surveyed his realm of her bridge. He then nodded as his officer of the deck informed him that the pilot was standing by to board for steerage into the Port of Phillipsburg, Sint Maartens, the Dutch or southern half of the large West Indies island known generally as Saint Martins.

With a smile at his junior officer of the deck, he said, "Mr. Zeigler, you have the conn. The pilot will be on the bridge shortly to take us in and three tugs will berth us in our usual place. Call me if you need me...I'm outside."

With those few orders he set in motion all the activities of the great white ship for the next hour. Already he sensed a stir among the passengers as they prepared to depart the ship. He really enjoyed these calls at St. Martins or its Dutch name, Sint Maartens. Their time in port was sufficiently long for his crew and himself to enjoy time ashore on those fabulous white beaches.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

The young brunette with the shiny, shoulder-length black hair pulled her cabin door shut, waited for its solid click as the lock engaged, set her things down long enough to tie a quick ponytail and headed for the top level sun deck where nude sunbathing was the order of the day every day.

Morgan Spires was an attractive barely-eighteen-year-old with a slender face, large brown eyes, and a wide mouth that seemed to be always smiling. At five feet and five inches of height she was as tall as her mother with a slender build that was shapely rather than skinny. She had nice legs and enjoyed displaying them. She also had the genetic gift of lovely breasts that exceeded her mother's, warranting museum exhibition.

She shifted the bag with her sunscreen and Dean Koontz' paperback novel Lightning to her left hand and gazed down at her chest, most of which was struggling valiantly to escape the tiny top. They were firm for their size, were large enough to be visible from behind when she raised her arms, and trembled as if they were mounds of honey-hued yogurt.

Her Sassy Fox bikini, a new offering from Prism Designs, concealed absolutely nothing top and bottom, though she wore a terry cloth micro-mini wrap about her waist until she entered the sun deck above. What there was of the poor little bikini thing certainly did not even begin to cover her large dark nipples. Her bottom was actually nothing more than a vee-shaped bit of lycra that covered the lower part of a vertical belt of dense black fur above her cleft, sank into her pussy to reveal her lips, and provided a tiny string that softly crossed her anus and attached behind to the thong's belt above her delicious hard little ass.

Morgan never thought a lot about her breasts when growing up, though her buds appeared at eight and swelled steadily and enthusiastically since that time. At her young age they were simply there and she accepted them as normal. In fact, her expanding chest was anything but ordinary. At one point when Jack and Victoria were hosting a New Year's Eve dinner a close friend of Victoria's asked during a lull in the conversation, "Well, dear, when do you think you'll do something about...umm...how shall I say this... do you plan to do anything about the size of her breasts?"

Victoria searched for words with which to respond; Jack, on the other hand, saw an opening and in fine form slid into it.

"Valerie, do you mean when are we going to size down her tits or get bras that squash them to regular size?"

It was all he could do to withstand his wife's ferocious kick beneath the table. She shook her head imperceptibly, but there was no stopping her husband when he was like this.

Valerie Lawson bloomed tomato-red. "Jack, I only meant to say that...," but he cut her off.

"Oh, Val, what you really are thinking is that our daughter is barely sixteen, that she has breasts the size of jugs right now and will probably be incredibly large well before she's eighteen. Am I right?"

He said all of this with a smile and had their friend been somewhat looser in her attitude the entire thing could have been defused into a joke. But Valerie had all the flexibility of a dinner plate. She glared at Jack with a gaze that could have melted steel.

Victoria, meanwhile, was so angry and embarrassed that she would gladly have sunk out

of sight under the table if possible. As it was with their guests grinning at her husband's boorishness she launched one more vicious kick into his shins and mouthed, "Just you wait, Jack. No pussy for you for a year!"

She had seen Jack several times before when he got like this. When he was on a tear about something there was nothing she could say to slow him down. She had no intention whatever of not having sex with him; that was such a stunning experience and pleasure that the best she could do was threaten. It griped her that Jack knew it, too. What always ripped her off was the "Who, me?" expression plastered across his handsome face every single time he did something like this.

Val's husband Kent was thoroughly enjoying the mess into which his wife had carefully inserted herself and had no intention whatever of either helping her extract herself or of getting huffy at what Jack had said. Valerie had lost and knew it.

Morgan opened the door onto the top pool deck and felt the wall of ocean-scented heat envelope her like a blanket as she ambled out onto the pool apron where the chaise lounges were located. It never ceased to please her. A few sun worshippers glanced her way, started to look elsewhere and then stared back at this young girl with the great and nearly bare chest. She felt herself jiggle deliciously as she leaned over a vacant chair to toss her bag on the deck and arrange her towel.

"Zippy-down-inside" Memories

Victoria was a really special mother for a lot of reasons. One of them was that they were very close and loved each other dearly; and the other, that contrary to what a lot of moms might think and do, Victoria had always spoken easily and openly with her daughter about her young body, encouraging her to enjoy her self as a beautiful gift. She also had been quite flexible in her monitoring of Morgan's dress.

She drew in a deep breath of salty air, then undid the tiny white excuse for a bikini top and removed it. She cupped her breasts, relishing their velvety feel and weight as she freed them. It felt so sexually delicious to be topless. I really am big, she thought contentedly as she examined her shapes. The boobs were extremely large for her size and were close together, providing beautiful cleavage. Her nipples began to swell with pleasure when she moved her hands lovingly over them. She enjoyed the size of her areoles. When she wore anything with even a slightly low neckline part of her nipples were visible, and that excited her. As she applied thick, fragrant sunscreen to her body she continued her return to her past.

The Spires had always been a sensuous family in their affections for each other and in the way they displayed those affections with no hesitation when around others. By thirteen Victoria had begun to show her how to caress her breasts and enjoy the sensations rushing through her body in response. She also helped her to begin nourishing her skin with body lotion, paying special attention to her breasts, ass and anal cleft. At fifteen her mother took her to a store where she bought her daughter several form-fitting sweaters with low necklines and two beautiful lacey bras that softly cupped her daughter's young breasts at each side, creating an incredible cleavage on the already well-developed young girl.

Morgan very clearly recalled the conversation that her mother had with her after they returned home and sat by their swimming pool.

"Mother, I really like the sweaters. Do you think they are too low?"

"Honey, they are definitely low-cut, but no, not too much. Morgan, you are already a well developed young lady. Very few girls your age have breasts the size of yours...and you can count on them to grow more before you have matured. Right now you are not as conscious of your lovely babies as you will be at this same time next year. But I want to help you learn how to do two important things: I want you to really enjoy your body, and I want you to know the art of dressing well so that while you look nice you also are excited with what you are wearing."

"Do you think my boobs are pretty? The other day Ben told me they were like mountains and Kerry said I had sweater monkeys. I don't care that much about what they think, but I thought it was silly."

"Ohhh, yes, Baby. They are gorgeous. You are going into sixteen and already you are as large as I am. I want you to be proud of your pretty boobs. Morgan, you have been blessed with such big breasts. Most boys don't mature until they are about twenty-eight; and at first they can be very unkind to anyone who is the slightest bit different from everybody else. Later on some of them grow out of that stage. When they are so blessed that they have fathers who can teach them how to be men, then they are much more pleasant a lot earlier. You are going to have to decide whether you will allow their meanness to make you unhappy of if you will be happy with yourself, thankful for your loveliness, and get on with life."

Victoria watched as her daughter digested this wisdom, resisting her motherly urge to add more very true observations when her daughter really needed time to carefully think about what she had said.

"I want to be happy with myself," the girl said with finality." Are you and Dad happy with me?"

Victoria reached over to touch her daughter's arm. "Morgan, your father and I are totally impressed with you. You are just wonderful you! We adore the way you think and reason, you are so much fun to be around, your beliefs are pleasing to us, and last, you are one of the most beautiful young women we know."

Her daughter quickly pulled her mother's face to her own and kissed her mouth. Victoria felt the swift but very definite insertion of Morgan's tongue between her lips, then it was gone. The look in the teenager's eyes was one of adoration and happiness.

"You don't mind, do you, Mother?" asked the girl, obviously referring to the kiss.

"Mind? Honey, you are always such a thrill. Thank you, Love. Now, let's try one of these new tops and I'll show you several things. Which one would you like first? And, oh, you've probably guessed that I think men are the greatest, Darling. It just takes 'em a little longer to get there."

"I've kinda guessed that, Mom, after watching the way Jack acts toward you and loves you and treats you like a princess all the time."

Morgan recalled that she had selected the light blue long-sleeve sweater that was extremely soft. Victoria asked her to try on the bra. She stood before the mirror in her parents' room as Victoria gently held her boobs, settling them comfortably into the lacy soft support of the half cups. The shoulder supports were attached to each side of the bra, raising her lovely young curves, baring a portion of her large areoles and emphasizing her deep cleavage. Then Victoria helped her draw on the sweater and arrange it comfortably. Morgan's touch upon her daughter's breasts was both comforting and exciting to the girl.

"My sweet Morgan...! You are so attractive...and you are so...so large."

Morgan remembered that she was starting to become aroused. Her mother's compliments coupled with the truly pleasant feel of the bra and sweater gave her a deliciously warm tingle inside. The delicious feel of the soft sweater on the bare half of her breasts caused little electric jitters in her chest and tummy. She could not describe it very well but knew that she'd certainly like to experience it again.

"Let's look at you now," said her mother softly and with obvious pride.

She turned Morgan around by the bed and instructed her to walk over toward the mirror. The girl's chest shook gently as she took each step. Her soft curves were rounded well above the edge of the sweater in the invisible half-bra.

"Morgan, do you see how your breasts shake when you move? That is oh, so very exciting and attractive. What do you think about what you see in the mirror?"

"Mom, I really like to see myself this way. I never knew I would look like this. It makes me feel....mmmm...kinda zippy down inside. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes, Darling, I do. It's called sexual arousal, and it is a wonderful sensation. We can talk more about that later. Something I want you to understand early in life is that you will be a lot more attractive and exciting with that lovely body of yours when you are dressed certain ways than if you are naked altogether. That may be hard to figure at times, especially because you've seen your father and me at home and at the beach and we haven't had a stitch on. But you can wear pretty dresses with high and low necklines, you can wear tubes, you'll have sweaters of all kinds, blouses that you can unbutton. And I'll take you to get some tie-tops. You will definitely like those. And there are also short skirts and dresses."

"I saw Priscilla in a tie-top the other day at the beach and I wished I had one. Her boobs aren't as big as mine but she was really pretty. Will mine show?"

Morgan recalled with a chuckle her mother's reply.

"Honey, I can't think of very many clothes that would stand a chance of hiding those gorgeous things. We'll get you some with sleeves and some without. Depending on how you tie them, Baby, you can show more or less of your chest. As your mother I would suggest that we find out how to show off those big babies without your looking tacky. I thiiinnk I can help in that department."

Morgan loved her mother for a host of reasons. Her attitude about her clothes and her willingness to help her buy pretty and exciting styles was just one.

"How would you like to go with me to the store? Just to make you feel all right I'll wear my sweater like this. In fact, let's pretend we are twins...you wear your white jeans and I'll wear mine."

Morgan giggled silently at the memory. No matter what her mother suggested, it seemed that Victoria was never hokey...well, rarely, at least. It was understood among teens that moms and dads had a 007 license to frequently be dorky along life's way. It was the task of ever-suffering teens to understand that and not be unreasonable in their expectations. Morgan sensed that because she showed responsibility in other things her mother didn't mind allowing her privileges that many parents would refuse.

They dressed alike, her mother in a tight blue sweater and denims even tighter than her own. Her father, Jack, always said that his wife had a cute ass and that her pants were so tight if she had stuffed paper money in her hip pocket, the faces on the bills could be seen through the white fabric.

They had a grand time at the grocery store and the mall. Morgan noticed that quite a few people were staring at her and her mother, but it still didn't register quite what was creating the stir until Victoria whispered, "Honey, look in the glass windows as we walk. You'll see why people are staring."

She did so as they ambled toward the corner of Starbuck's in the mall concourse and prepared to turn toward the food court. The sweater left much of her chest open and the great curves of her breasts shook with each step, so much so that it was hard to believe she was wearing anything underneath. Her entire chest seemed to be in motion. Yet the bra was so comfortable. Before they left the mall her mother stopped by The Big Eye camera store and paid to have the photographer come out into the mall and take several pictures of the pair.

First, they faced each other from about eight feet away and bent over, each toward the other, as if they were bowing after some contest. Their breasts fought to free themselves from the women's sweaters, and the two began to attract a small but definitely admiring crowd. Then the photographer instructed them to hug, ordinarily an act that was wasn't particularly noteworthy between two women. But when Morgan and her mother embraced warm, soft flesh swelled and nearly overflowed the revealing sweaters.