Even at 17, she struggled with her mother over her style. She wore the conflict daily as her rather plain blouses and dresses stood in contrast to her...carefully applied, but secretly acquired, makeup. When left alone things were entirely different, but we’ll get to that. Alicia and I got along like oil and water. At 17, she was a year younger than me, and because I believed that she had a crush, I picked on her. Alicia, another B student, was the shortest of the four of us at only 5 foot. I reached for her tits, and squeezed them. My Mom's tits. Her wonderful full tits. I pinched her nipples, feeling their hardness, tugging on them. My Mom's hard nipples. Hard for me. And, thank you God, I was hard for her. Again.I slowly fucked her, and teased her tits mercilessly. I had both hands back inside her shirt, and nibbled on her neck. "God, Mom. This is incredible. I can't believe how good it feels to be inside you," I whispered. "Don't stop. Just like that. You're going to make. "Chris...were you serious about me only putting your top mark on the report card" "Yeah, why? Is there something I can do to get it?" "No...Well, its just that....I was wondering why you had to go to France to get some titty action..." she undid the buttons of her blouse revealing a black bra and two beautiful, firm boobs. I would guess about 36C and a trim toned body. "Miss Jones...that’s a mighty fine rack you've got there...." "Oh yeah, wanna taste?"I swept the things off her. "Oh, Ron," she whimpered, taking the case from my hands. "Oh, fuck, honey. Can I use it now? I can't wait!" "Not yet, slut. You said you had some surprises, too. Show me." She dropped her eyes, looked embarrassed and hesitated. Her expression changed when I pinched her nipples. She grunted at the pain and pleasure pulsing through her and smiled. When I dropped my hands, she set the case on the bed and scurried to her much larger closet. She grabbed a black garment bag from the barand laid it.