"Mmmm," Smacking my lips, I rolled over and yawned noisily. Damn, was I feeling good this morning. To hell with that - I was feeling fucking great! With more energy than I'd had in months, I hopped out of bed, ready to take on the world. "Aaaaahhhhhh . . ." I raised my arms in an easy stretch, amazed at how loose, how limber I felt. "It's good to be alive."

When was the last time I'd said that? Hell, I couldn't even remember the last time I'd THOUGHT it.

Snatching a pair of shorts from my dresser drawer, I tossed them in the air, spun around and caught them behind my back. "Gotcha!" Smiling, I slipped them on, already having the best day of my entire life. I had no idea why I felt so good, but I wasn't about to start complaining. After all, I'd done more than enough of that lately.

For the past year - maybe more, I didn't care to remember - I had been sullen, bored, depressed, and frustrated with just about every aspect of my life. Things just hadn't been going my way, and I had been dangerously close to giving up. I don't know that I ever got to the point of considering suicide - and I'm not sure I WANT to know - but death had held no fear for me. Now, looking back, I simply couldn't understand how I had ever let any of it bother me.

Whistling a cheery tune, I skipped into the bathroom and slid open the shower door.

"Second floor," I announced, "Water, soap, shampoo and all your bathing needs." Laughing, I slid the door shut with an exaggerated push, then turned to reach down for the tap. Suddenly, it all came flooding back. "Dad?" I asked myself softly. "Mom?" Dizzy, I feel into the doors, watching the past few days flash by my eyes. No longer interested in a shower, I jumped out of the tub, pulled my shorts back on, and dashed downstairs.

"Morning, son." Naked, Mom busied herself by the sink - stirring something, from what the looks of things.

"Sleep well, son?" Sitting at the kitchen table, Dad was reading the paper - normal enough - but wearing only a watch. Strangely, while I recognized it as unusual, I saw nothing wrong with this bizarre change in routine. Accepting things as they were, I even considered removing MY shorts before sitting down.

Carefully looking him over, I realized I was truly seeing him for the first time. Dad had short, almost-spiky black hair, perpetual five o'clock shadow on his face, and a hairy chest. In his mid forties, I remembered him as being in decent shape, but with just the beginnings of a slight beer belly. The man sitting across from me was nothing like that. A stranger would have guessed him to be 35 (maybe 36), and after a brief 'hello' would probably ask what gym he belonged to.

Recalling a bit more of the previous night - when I had first noticed his physical improvement - I found my gaze travelling lower. When it stopped, I found myself admiring his cock, nearly six inches long when limp.

"Breakfast, Julian?" Beaming, Mom handed me a tall glass of milk with a straw sticking out of it. Brushing my hands across her long, red nails, I looked up and smiled into her beautiful face. Again, I knew I had never really seen what she looked like before. Her long, thick blonde hair had a natural shine to it, and her eyes were the bluest I had ever seen.

Not sure how to ask all the questions running through my mind, I settled for "Ah, why the straw?"

Waiting for me to take my first delicious sip, she confessed "It's a very special brew, honey. If you really want to enjoy it, you have to drink it slowly."

It was hard not to just gulp down the intoxicating mixture, but I trusted her implicitly. If she wanted me to drink it slow, that's exactly what I'd do. Savouring the familiar taste and texture, I wondered idly what was in it, but really didn't care.

"Come to think of it, what IS in it?" Dad asked, putting down his paper. Squeezing her waist, he pulled Mom closer and laughed. "You've been fussing over it all morning."

Mom giggled as she pulled away, coming over to sit in my lap. The feel of her moist pussy pressing down against my suddenly hardening dick had me aroused - but without the guilt I'd been feeling around her for so long.

"Well," she told us, "It's part Mommy's milk, of course, mixed with two full loads of Daddy's sperm."......(cont)