My son made our oatmeal in the microwave and then started preparing a TV dinner for himself.“Maybe if you all finish in three minutes I’ll let you...have a banana,” he said. I had brought fresh fruit. Hayden and Waverly murmured “Nummy!” to themselves with pleasure. Betty remained vigilant and silent. Her eyes were downcast on the plate, and her nose was touching it. She was normally a barrel of wisecracks, but she took this ritual very seriously, and I tried to do the same. It was hard not to. She could see the swollen outline of his hardness jerking furiously inside the imprisonment of his jeans, and she continued to move with the teasingly slow lethargy of a girl undressing in the privacy of her bedroom. She gently slithered her shorts down over her smooth, rounded hips and let them puddle uselessly at her feet on the floor. She heard his little quickened gasp, knowing that he was staring with fixed eyes on the soft, puffy mound between her partially spread legs, undoubtedly seeing. More

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