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Two Members and Ten Sightless Eyes
by Mel Bosworth

Justine combed her mustard hair while Darren clipped his fingernails. Justine wore nothing while Darren wore only socks.

"When will your parents be here?" he asked.

"Ten minutes."

"How do we tell them?"

"It will be easy."

Darren pulled nervously on his hairless scrotum.  Justine scratched her buttocks with pink painted fingernails, leaving three raised red lines on each cheek.

When her parents arrived, the four of them ate breakfast. Mother's tits foundered and her nipples hovered, vigilant, over hash browns dressed in ketchup. Darren asked father to pass the syrup.

"How's work going, Darren?" asked father, absently thumbing his member.

"Fine," said Darren.  "We've had a busy summer."

Justine giggled and crossed her legs, dark pubis crawling up her stomach like an unchecked child. Darren took hold of her wrist as she moved a fork-full of waffle to her lips, causing her to root unsuccessfully.

"What is it, D?" she asked.

"I wanted to tell you I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too, D.  But I can eat my waffles and love you at the same time, can't I?"

Darren cranked up a smile and cursed his penis for betraying him. It jutted out like a log and danced in the overflow of tablecloth. Mother's gaze locked onto daughter while father's flirted with the knick-knacks on the stovetop.

"I'm still trying to adjust to nudism," Darren confessed, crimson faced. "It's almost too free for me."

"Even free things have a cost," said father. "It takes a bit of sacrifice. And time, of course."

Justine tried to bring the waffle to her lips again but Darren held tight. Mother broke in:

"What is it, Darren?  You're behaving oddly. And you too, Justine. What are you kids up to?"

"We're going to get married!" popped Justine.

She moved her head to the waffle and ate. Mother and father began a slow sway of excitement, mother's tit-eyes burying and resurrecting themselves in hash brown.

"That's lovely, my girl!  And my boy!"  said mother.

Father's mouth crafted a flawless O, his flabby arms pumping as if running in place.

"My daughter!  My son!"  he said.

"But that's not all," said Darren.

Still clinging to Justine's wrist, he stood, bringing her with him. Mother and father followed the arrow of his forgotten mushroom Judas as it lined perfectly with the soft navel of their daughter.