Family Resemblance

I met Diane at her nephew's birthday party.

She was standing by the drinks table in a red dress that hugged every curve — and there were plenty to hug. Full hips, generous breasts, a softness to her belly that the dress didn't hide. She caught me staring, smiled, and handed me a beer.

"You're Marcus's friend from work," she said. "I'm the scandalous aunt."

"Scandalous how?"

"Give it time." She winked. "You'll find out."

Two weeks later, I did.

We've been sleeping together for two months now. Discreet. Her place, never mine. Marcus doesn't know, nobody knows. That's how we like it.

Tonight, she's on top of me, riding slow, her breasts swaying with each movement. Her hands are planted on my chest, nails digging in.

"God, you feel good," she breathes.

"So do you."

She's about to respond when we both hear it.

The front door. Keys in the lock. Footsteps in the hallway.

Diane freezes. "Shit. Chloe."

"Who—"

"My niece. She's staying for the summer. She wasn't supposed to be back until—"

The bedroom door swings open.

Chloe is twenty-two.

I know this because Diane mentioned her niece was finishing up college, staying with her while she figured out her next steps. What Diane didn't mention is that Chloe looks exactly like her.

Same dark hair. Same full figure. Same curves that go on forever. Twenty years younger, but unmistakably the same genetic blueprint.

She's standing in the doorway in a crop top and shorts, grocery bags in her hands. Her eyes are wide, but she's not screaming.

She's looking.

"Well," she says, setting down the bags. "This explains why you've been so busy lately."

"Chloe—" Diane scrambles to cover herself. "This isn't—"

"Isn't what?" Chloe crosses her arms, leans against the doorframe. Her eyes move from her aunt to me. Linger. "Isn't exactly what it looks like? Because it looks like you've been keeping something fun to yourself."

There's something in her voice. Not disgust. Not shock.

Competition.

"You should go," Diane tells her. "We'll talk about this later."

"Will we?" Chloe doesn't move. "Because you've never wanted to share anything with me. Remember when I wanted to borrow your car? Your jewelry? That guy at Christmas three years ago?"

"That was different—"

"Was it?" Chloe pushes off the doorframe, walks into the room. "You've always had to have everything first. Everything best." Her eyes find me. "He looks pretty best to me."

I'm still inside Diane. Still hard. This should be awkward — it is awkward — but something else is happening too. Something electric.

"Chloe, stop it." Diane's voice is sharp. But she hasn't moved to cover herself. Hasn't pulled away from me.

"Stop what?" Chloe reaches the edge of the bed. Close enough to touch. "Looking at what's mine?"

"He's not yours."

"Not yet."

Chloe reaches for the hem of her crop top.

"What are you doing?" Diane's voice rises.

"What you always do. Taking what I want." She pulls the top over her head.

Her breasts are full, heavy, barely contained by a black lace bra. Same size as her aunt's. Same shape. I can't look away.

"You want to watch?" Chloe asks me. "Or do you want to touch?"

"Chloe—"

"Shut up, Diane." She doesn't break eye contact with me. "He's been staring since I walked in. You're not the only one in this family with curves."

She unhooks her bra. Let's it fall.

Diane makes a sound — frustrated, aroused, I can't tell. Her hips shift against me.

"Well?" Chloe steps closer. "You have room for one more?"

I look at Diane. She's flushed, breathing hard. Her nipples are hard, her body still wrapped around mine.

"Your choice," she says finally. "But I'm not giving him up."

"Who asked you to?" Chloe smiles — sharp, triumphant. "I just want my turn."

She climbs onto the bed.

It's not gentle.

They're competing. Every touch, every kiss, every moan is aimed at each other as much as at me. When I'm inside Diane, Chloe is there, touching her aunt, touching me, demanding attention. When I switch to Chloe, Diane doesn't retreat — she presses closer, shows me what she can do.

"Is she better than me?" Diane whispers in my ear while Chloe's mouth is on me.

"Does she feel as good as I do?" Chloe demands when she's on top, her aunt's hands on her hips guiding her rhythm.

I don't answer. I can't. They're both overwhelming.

Same body type. Same curves. Same appetite. But different rhythms, different sounds. Diane is controlled even when she's wild. Chloe is chaos, pure want, no restraint.

Together, they're too much.

Chloe comes first — loud, shameless, her whole body shaking.

Diane watches with narrowed eyes. "My turn."

She pushes her niece aside, takes my mouth in a bruising kiss, positions herself over me. "Watch," she tells Chloe. "Watch how it's done."

She rides me hard. Relentless. Showing off.

Chloe doesn't just watch. She runs her hands over her aunt's body — possessive, competitive. Tweaks her nipples. Whispers in her ear. I can't hear what she says, but Diane gasps, clenches around me, comes with a cry she tries to muffle.

"That's one to one," Chloe says. "Tiebreaker?"

They share me.

One of them on my mouth, one on my cock. They switch. They touch each other, not tender but challenging. Each trying to prove something.

When I finally come, they're pressed together, kissing over me, and I'm not sure which one pushed me over the edge. Both. Neither. Does it matter?

I collapse between them, breathing hard.

"So," Chloe says, propping herself on one elbow. "Who won?"

Diane mirrors her position on my other side. "Draw."

"I don't accept draws."

"Then we'll need a rematch."

They're both looking at me. Same faces. Same hunger. Same competitive fire.

"I might need a minute," I manage.

"Take your time." Chloe traces a finger down my chest. "We have all summer."

Later, I'm in Diane's kitchen making coffee. My legs are still shaky.

Chloe appears in a robe — Diane's robe, I recognize it. "That was fun."

"Is that what you call it?"

"What would you call it?"

I think about it. "Intense."

"Good intense or bad intense?"

"Good." I hand her a cup. "Terrifying. But good."

She smiles, sips the coffee. Diane appears in the doorway, wearing a different robe. The same one from our first night together.

"Talking about me?" she asks.

"Always." Chloe's voice is sweet and sharp. "I was just telling him how much I'm looking forward to round two."

Diane's eyes narrow. "So am I."

They stare at each other. There's real tension there — years of it, decades of competing. I'm just the latest arena.

But underneath the jealousy, something else. Want. Not just for me.

For each other.

"This is complicated," I say.

"Very," Diane agrees.

"Worth it," Chloe adds.

"Is it?" I look between them. "You two clearly have issues."

"We do." Diane moves closer, puts her hand on my chest. "But we've always worked them out eventually."

"Usually by competing." Chloe mirrors her aunt, hand on my back. "Until one of us wins."

"And when neither of you wins?"

They exchange a look. Something passes between them — not quite a truce, but an understanding.

"Then we keep competing," Diane says.

"Until we do," Chloe finishes.

I'm caught between them. Literally and figuratively.

I'm not sure who's winning anymore.

Summer stretches ahead. Three months of this — two women with matching bodies and clashing egos, using me as the battlefield.

It should scare me. Maybe it does.

But when Chloe's hand slides lower and Diane's mouth finds my neck, I stop thinking about should.

"Ready for round two?" Chloe whispers.

"We could make it best of five," Diane suggests.

"Best of seven," Chloe counters.

They're still competing. They always will be.

And I'm the lucky bastard in the middle of it.