“So tell me, kid,” said Momma Ann, “ what's your name? And what got you in this miserable shape?” I replied while gnawing on some spare ribs: ...��Name's Lucille. I ran away from [chomp] home [chomp, chomp]. Just tired [chomp] of being the good girl [chomp]. So I [chomp, chomp, chomp] just crashed here [chomp].” “Poor thing. Tired of being the good girl, huh? We've all been there, Lucille. But let me tell you that if you want to stop being the good girl, this might not be the best place. Why?. "She isn't k**ding."For the next hour we enjoyed dinner and talking openly about any and all thoughts, desires and fantasies that came to mind about the new relationship we were starting. Mom gave me a detailed description of what Dad liked with men which sounded exactly like what I hoped to be. Very versatile but able to be a submissive bottom for the right guy. Mom and Bill were so relaxed about talking about all their lovers and experiences that it made it impossible for me to be uptight at. More

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