Keeping It in the Family

The summer I turn twenty-four, I stay with Aunt Dolores.

My apartment flooded. Insurance is handling it, but it'll take two months to repair. Mom suggests her sister's place—big house, spare room, and Dolores has been asking about me anyway.

"She misses you," Mom says. "You haven't visited since you were a teenager."

She's right. I haven't seen Aunt Dolores or my cousin Maya since I was sixteen. Eight years.

A lot changes in eight years.

Aunt Dolores picks me up from the airport.

I don't recognize her at first. She's bigger than I remember—five-six, easily two-sixty now, with hips that strain her sundress and breasts that threaten to spill from the neckline. Her hair is silver-streaked, her face rounder, her smile the same.

"Marcus! Look at you!" She pulls me into a hug, and I'm engulfed. Soft arms, softer breasts, the smell of jasmine and something warmer. "You're all grown up."

"So are you."

She laughs. "Grown out, you mean. Menopause is a bitch." She grabs my bag, starts walking. Her ass sways with each step. "Maya's at the house. She's excited to see you."

"How is she?"

"Good. Thirty now, if you can believe it. Still single, still picky." She glances at me sideways. "Still asking about you."

"About me?"

"You'll see."

Maya is waiting on the porch.

She looks like her mother—same curves, same dark skin, same smile that makes my chest tight. But she's younger, fuller, somehow more. She's maybe five-four, easily two-forty, wearing shorts and a tank top that hide nothing.

"Marcus." She doesn't hug me. Just looks. Up and down. Slow. "You look different."

"So do you."

"Good different?"

I shouldn't answer the way I want to. "Very good different."

She smiles. It's not innocent.

"Welcome home."

The first week is normal.

Aunt Dolores cooks. Maya and I catch up. We watch movies, play cards, act like the family we are. But something simmers beneath the surface. Looks that last too long. Touches that linger.

They're always around. Always close. Always watching.

It's Maya who breaks first.

Day ten.

I'm in the kitchen at midnight, getting water. Maya appears in the doorway wearing a silk robe that barely covers her thighs.

"Can't sleep?" she asks.

"No."

"Me neither." She walks toward me. Slow. Deliberate. "I keep thinking about you."

"Maya—"

"About how you've grown up. About how you look at me." She stops inches away. "About how you look at Mom."

My blood freezes. "I don't—"

"Don't lie. I've seen it. She's seen it too." Her hand finds my chest. "We've been talking about it. About you. About what we'd do if you felt the same way."

"You've been talking about—"

"About sharing you." She presses closer. "Is that something you'd want?"

I should say no. Should push her away. Should remember that she's my cousin and this is insane.

"Yes."

The word falls out before I can stop it.

Maya smiles.

"Good." She takes my hand. "Mom's waiting."

Aunt Dolores's bedroom is lit with candles.

She's sitting on the edge of the bed in a silk nightgown that matches Maya's robe. Same color. Same cut. They planned this.

"I was hoping you'd say yes," Dolores says. "But I wasn't sure."

"Neither was I." Maya pulls me into the room. "But the way he looks at us—"

"I've noticed." Dolores stands. Walks toward us. Her body moves like water—hips rolling, breasts swaying. "I've been noticing since the airport."

They flank me. Aunt on one side, cousin on the other. Two hundred and sixty pounds on the left, two-forty on the right. More woman than I've ever touched.

"We have rules," Maya says.

"What rules?"

"We share equally," Dolores answers. "Whatever you do to one of us, you do to the other. And no one gets jealous."

"Can you handle that?" Maya asks.

I look at them. My aunt. My cousin. Two of the most beautiful women I've ever seen.

"I can handle anything."

They undress me first.

Four hands. Working together. Shirt over my head, pants down my legs, boxers tugged away. My cock springs free, hard and aching.

"Oh my," Dolores breathes.

"Better than I imagined," Maya agrees.

They look at each other. Some silent communication.

Then they drop to their knees.

Two mouths on my cock.

One on each side. Licking, kissing, taking turns at the head. Dolores sucks me while Maya works my balls. Then they switch. Back and forth, a rhythm that has me gripping the bedpost for balance.

"I've thought about this," Dolores murmurs around me.

"So have I," Maya adds. "Every night since you got here."

They work together perfectly. Like they've practiced. Maybe they have. The thought makes me even harder.

"I'm going to—" I gasp.

"Not yet." Maya pulls back. "We need you inside us first."

Dolores lies back on the bed.

Spreads her legs. Shows me everything—wet, swollen, waiting. Maya climbs up beside her, watching.

"Mom first," she says. "She's been waiting longer."

I crawl between Dolores's thick thighs. Position myself at her entrance.

"I've wanted this since you were eighteen," she whispers. "I know that's wrong. I don't care anymore."

"Neither do I."

I push inside.

She's tight.

Hot. Gripping me like she's been starving for this. And she has—I can feel it in the way she moves, the way she moans, the desperation in her hands on my back.

"Yes—Marcus—yes—"

I fuck my aunt while my cousin watches. Maya's hand is between her own legs, stroking herself in time with my thrusts.

"Make her come," Maya breathes. "Then it's my turn."

I fuck Dolores harder. She wraps her legs around me—thick, powerful, pulling me deeper. Her breasts bounce with each thrust. Her belly ripples against mine.

"I'm close—so close—don't stop—"

I reach between us, find her clit, rub in circles while I slam into her.

She shatters.

Her whole body convulses. She screams—actually screams—and I feel her pulse around me. I want to come with her, but I hold back.

Maya's waiting.

"My turn."

Maya pushes me onto my back. Straddles me while her mother catches her breath beside us.

"Watch this, Mom," she says. "Watch me ride our Marcus."

She sinks onto me.

Different than Dolores—tighter, maybe, or just different angles. But equally perfect. She rides me hard and fast, not gentle, not slow.

"I've wanted this since I was fifteen," she gasps. "Every family reunion. Every holiday. Watching you grow into this—"

"Maya—"

"Don't talk. Just fuck me."

I grab her hips—so much flesh—and thrust up into her. She moans. Dolores sits up, watching us, one hand on her daughter's back.

"That's it, baby," Dolores murmurs. "Take what you need."

"I need more."

They switch.

Over and over. Dolores on top, then Maya. Maya from behind, then Dolores. They share me like I'm a feast they've been waiting for, taking turns, watching each other, sometimes touching each other while I'm inside one of them.

"Together," Maya finally gasps. "I want us to come together."

Dolores positions herself on the bed, legs spread. Maya straddles her mother's face—and my cock—facing me.

I'm inside Maya. Dolores's tongue is on her clit. My mouth is on Dolores's pussy.

We're connected. All three of us. A circuit of pleasure and family and everything forbidden.

"I'm close," Maya gasps.

"So am I," I moan against Dolores.

We come together.

Maya on my cock, Dolores on my tongue, me buried deep inside my cousin while my aunt shakes beneath us. Three bodies, one release, one perfect moment of sin.

We collapse in a heap.

Panting. Sweating. Tangled.

"That," Dolores breathes, "was worth the wait."

I stay the whole summer.

Two months of sharing a bed with both of them. Two months of learning their bodies, their rhythms, their needs. They never get jealous. They only get greedy.

"You could stay longer," Maya says the night before I'm supposed to leave. "Your apartment is ready, but—"

"But?"

"But we're not ready to let you go." Dolores strokes my chest. "We've discussed it. You could move in. Permanently."

"What would we tell people?"

"That you're helping with the house. That you're between jobs." Maya shrugs. "No one needs to know what happens in our bedroom."

I think about my apartment. My life back home. Everything waiting for me.

Then I think about them. Both of them. Every night.

"I'll need to go back for my things."

They smile.

"We'll help you pack," Dolores says.

"And then," Maya adds, climbing on top of me, "we'll celebrate."

Some summers change everything.

This one changed me.

For the better.