Family Reunion
"Dad gets called away from the annual reunion. His stepmom and stepsister have been waiting for this. They've discussed it. Tonight they stop pretending."
Dad's car isn't even out of the driveway when Linda turns to me.
"Finally."
That one word holds three years of tension.
My stepmother is standing in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed beneath breasts that strain her sundress. She's forty-four, Black, built like a goddess of abundance—wide hips, soft belly, thighs that could crush a man's skull. I've been trying not to stare at her since I was nineteen.
I've failed constantly.
"Mom." Kayla appears behind her, my stepsister, twenty-three and just as dangerous. She's her mother's daughter in every way—same dark skin, same generous curves, same knowing smile. "You promised I could go first."
"I promised we'd discuss it."
"We discussed it. I called dibs."
"You can't call dibs on your stepbrother."
"I just did."
They're talking about me like I'm not here. Like I'm a piece of meat they've been circling. Like this is something they've planned.
"What the fuck is happening?" I manage.
Linda's smile sharpens. "Language, baby. And what's happening is—your father just left for three days. Emergency work thing. And Kayla and I have been waiting for this opportunity for a very long time."
They close in from both sides.
Linda from the left, Kayla from the right. I back up until I hit the kitchen counter.
"This is insane."
"Probably." Kayla's hand lands on my chest. "But I've been watching you watch us for years. The way you look at mom's ass when she bends over. The way you stare at my tits when you think I'm not paying attention."
"I don't—"
"Don't lie." Linda's hand joins her daughter's. "We've compared notes, baby. We know exactly what you want. The question is whether you're brave enough to take it."
Her hand slides down. Cups me through my jeans. I'm already hard—I've been hard since she said finally.
"Feels like he's brave enough," Kayla murmurs.
"Feels like he's ready," Linda agrees.
They look at each other. Some silent communication passes between them. Then Linda steps back.
"Kayla goes first. Like she wanted." She settles into a kitchen chair, spreading her thighs beneath her sundress. "I'll watch. Get myself ready."
Kayla doesn't waste time.
She drops to her knees right there in the kitchen, yanking at my belt with practiced hands. My jeans hit the floor. My boxers follow. And then her mouth—
"Fuck."
She takes me deep, no hesitation, her full lips stretched around my shaft. Her eyes never leave mine. She's proving something—to me, to her mother, to herself.
"That's it, baby girl." Linda's voice is husky. I glance over to see her hand moving beneath her dress. "Show him what you can do."
Kayla moans around my cock, the vibration making my knees weak. She's good—too good, taking me to the base, her throat working, her hands gripping my thighs.
"Don't you dare come yet," Linda warns. "That's for later. For both of us."
Kayla pulls off with a wet pop, standing to strip off her top. Her bra follows. Her breasts spill free—heavy, dark-nippled, perfect handfuls that overflow my palms when I reach for them.
"Upstairs," she breathes. "I want you in my bed. Where I've been thinking about you every night."
She takes my hand. Leads me toward the stairs.
Linda follows, shedding her sundress as she walks.
Kayla's room is pink and grown-up, a girl's room becoming a woman's. She pushes me onto the bed and climbs on top, still in her shorts.
"I've wanted this since the first time I saw you," she says, grinding against my cock. "Mom married your dad and suddenly there was this boy in my house. Looking at me. Wanting me."
"Kayla—"
"Shh." She leans down, kisses me. Her tongue tastes like mint and sin. "Just feel."
She reaches down, shoves her shorts aside, and sinks onto me in one smooth motion.
We both groan.
She's tight, wet, scorching hot. She rides me like she's been practicing for this moment, her heavy breasts bouncing, her nails digging into my chest.
"Oh God. Oh God, you feel even better than I imagined—"
"My turn soon." Linda's voice. I look over to see her naked in the doorway, one hand between her thick thighs. She's even more magnificent than I'd imagined—rolls and curves and soft brown flesh, nipples like dark berries, a belly that hangs heavy and beautiful.
"Not yet, Mom. I'm not—I'm gonna—"
Kayla comes with a scream, clenching around me, her whole body shaking. I hold her hips and thrust up into her, chasing my own release—
"Not yet." Linda is suddenly there, pulling Kayla off me. "You come inside me first. Then her."
Linda straddles me before I can protest.
She's heavier than her daughter, her weight pressing me into the mattress. When she sinks down onto my cock, it's like being swallowed by something warm and endless.
"Fuck," I breathe.
"Language." But she's smiling, starting to move. "Your father hasn't touched me in months. I've been saving myself for this."
She rides me slowly, deliberately, making me feel every inch. Kayla recovers enough to crawl up beside us, offering her breast to my mouth. I suck her nipple while her mother fucks me, lost in a fantasy I never dared to voice.
"You're ours now," Linda gasps, picking up speed. "This weekend. Every weekend your father travels. You understand?"
"Yes—"
"Say it."
"I'm yours. I'm yours."
She comes with a shudder, her walls gripping me, and I can't hold back anymore. I flood her with everything I have, three years of wanting, three years of pretending, all released in one endless pulse.
"We're not done," Kayla says when I catch my breath.
"Give him a minute," Linda laughs, rolling off me. "He's young, but he's not superhuman."
"He will be by the end of this weekend."
They curl up on either side of me—Linda's soft warmth on my left, Kayla's younger curves on my right. Both of them satisfied. Both of them already planning what comes next.
"Dad can never know," I say.
"Obviously." Linda traces circles on my chest. "This is our secret. The three of us."
"Four years," Kayla murmurs. "Four years I've wanted this. Was it worth the wait?"
I pull them both closer. Their bodies mold against mine.
"Every second."
We fuck six more times that weekend.
In the shower—Linda on her knees, Kayla behind me, kissing my neck. In the living room—Kayla bent over the couch while Linda sits on my face. In my father's bed—both of them taking turns while the other watches, coaches, participates.
By Sunday night, I can barely walk.
By Sunday night, I never want to leave.
"Same time next month," Linda says at the door, her dress back in place, the picture of a respectable stepmother. "Your father has a conference in Chicago."
"I'll be here."
"I know you will, baby." She kisses my cheek. Kayla kisses the other. "You're family now. Really family."
Dad comes home an hour later, tired and apologetic.
I sit through dinner with my stepmother and stepsister, making small talk, passing the salt, pretending everything is normal.
Under the table, Linda's foot finds my calf.
Across the table, Kayla smiles like butter wouldn't melt.
This is my family now.
This is my life.
I wouldn't change a thing.