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Arriving at Ms Shepherd's home at 12 noon, Nigel, still a bit upset from his earlier ordeal with her son, Ray, rings the doorbell. ‘I wonder who that can be,' Ms Shepherd says to herself, as she goes to answer it. Marie is casually dressed in washed blue denims, a white half-cup bra that accentuates her 38DD breasts, a white 4-button waistcoat and white high-heeled shoes. Opening the door, I see a young, ordinary looking, bespectacled teenager who is somewhat upset. "What seems to be the matter?" I concernedly ask him. "It's your ‘sun', Ms Shepherd," he blubbers. "Ray!" I exclaim. "Has something happened to him?" I concernedly enquire. "He, he," the boy stammers. "Yes, he what?" I venture. "He humiliated me in front of his friends," he eventually tells me. "There, there," I say, taking his hand and inviting him in, which is the least I can do. Sitting the upset young man on the sofa, I ask him his name. "I'm Nigel," he replies. "Ok Nigel, you sit right there and I'll go and get you a drink, then you can tell me all about it." While I'm pouring us a drink, orange for Nigel and something stronger for me, I suddenly feel sympathetically attracted to his frailty.

"Here you go, Nigel, drink this, it should make you feel better," I assure him. Having finished the juice, I ask Nigel what happened; however, what with his continued bemoaning, I am unable to make it out. Deciding to motherly comfort him - Ray actually being my stepson - holding Nigel in my arms, with his head resting against my breasts, he soon calms down. When Nigel's ready, he informs me that, Ray told a ...

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