Lake House Summer
"Every summer at the lake, the tension builds. His aunt watches him watch her daughter. His cousin watches him watch her mother. This year, they stop watching and start acting—together."
The lake house has been in my family for forty years.
Every summer, the whole extended clan descends for a week. Aunts, uncles, cousins—a chaos of sunscreen and barbecue and too many people crammed into too few bedrooms.
But this summer is different.
This summer, it's just me, Aunt Patricia, and her daughter Emily.
Everyone else had conflicts. Work, weddings, a cousin's rehab stint no one talks about. The three of us are alone for seven days.
I'm twenty-six. Patricia is fifty-one. Emily is twenty-four.
By day three, I'm losing my mind.
Patricia is impossible to ignore.
Five-eight, easily two-sixty, built like a fertility goddess. She wears swimsuits that strain to contain her—breasts enormous, belly soft and round, thighs thick enough to crush a man. She's tan from years of summers at this lake, freckled across her shoulders, beautiful in a way that makes my mouth dry.
She's also my mother's sister.
Also completely off-limits.
Also the reason I've been taking cold showers every morning.
Emily is worse.
She's everything her mother isn't—petite, barely five-two, maybe a hundred and five pounds. Dark hair, sharp features, a body like a dancer's. She wears bikinis that are basically dental floss and sunbathes on the dock like she's daring me to look.
She's my cousin.
She's also been watching me watch her mother.
And I've been watching her watch me.
Day Three
I'm swimming when Emily joins me.
"You know I can see you, right?" She treads water beside me, close enough that her leg brushes mine.
"See what?"
"The way you look at Mom." She tilts her head. "You've been staring at her all week. At her tits, her ass, her—"
"I have not."
"Liar." She swims closer. Puts her hands on my shoulders. "It's okay. I don't blame you. She's gorgeous."
"Emily—"
"And I've noticed something else." Her legs wrap around my waist under the water. I feel the heat of her against my cock. "When you're not staring at her, you're staring at me."
"You're my cousin."
"I know what I am." She grinds against me. "I also know you've been hard every time we're in the same room. I can see it through your swim trunks."
I'm hard now. Pressed against her, no way to hide it.
"So here's what's going to happen," she continues. "Tonight, after dinner, you're going to come to my room. And we're going to stop pretending."
"And your mother?"
"Let me worry about her." Emily kisses my cheek—quick, cousiny, innocent to anyone watching from shore. "Tonight."
She swims away.
I stay in the water until my erection subsides.
It takes a long time.
That Night
Emily's door is unlocked.
She's waiting on the bed in a thin t-shirt and nothing else. Her legs are bare, crossed at the ankle, and she uncrosses them as I enter.
"Lock it," she says.
I do.
"Strip."
I do.
She looks at my cock—hard, straining toward her—and smiles.
"I knew it." She pulls off her shirt. "I knew you wanted me."
I'm on her in seconds. Kissing her, touching her, tasting the cousin I've fantasized about since she hit puberty. She's so small beneath me—fragile, almost—but she fucks like she's trying to break something.
"Inside me," she demands. "Now."
I slide in. She gasps. Tight, wet, burning hot.
"Fuck—yes—right there—"
We're not quiet. We should be—Patricia's room is down the hall—but neither of us cares. The bed creaks, Emily moans, I grunt with each thrust.
When I come inside her, she screams my name.
And then her door opens.
Patricia stands in the doorway.
Robe open, nothing beneath. Her massive body on full display—breasts hanging heavy, belly round, thighs bare.
She's not angry.
She's smiling.
"Started without me," she says. "That's not very polite."
I try to scramble away.
Emily holds me in place. Still inside her, still hard somehow.
"I told you to let me worry about her," Emily whispers.
"You—you planned this?"
"We planned it." Patricia walks toward the bed. Drops her robe. "We've talked about you for years. Every summer, watching you grow up, watching you become—this." She gestures at my body. "We decided last summer it was time."
"But you're—we're—"
"Family?" Patricia climbs onto the bed. "Does that make it wrong? Or does it make it better?"
She kisses me. Her mouth is soft, tastes like wine. Her breasts press against my back—so much flesh, so much warmth.
"Emily goes first," Patricia murmurs. "She's young. Impatient. Then you're mine."
"And then?"
"Then we share."
They take turns with me.
Emily first—riding me while Patricia watches, fingers between her own thighs. My cousin comes twice on my cock before she lets me finish inside her.
Then Patricia mounts me.
She's so different from her daughter—big where Emily is small, soft where Emily is firm. But she feels just as good. Maybe better. She swallows my cock completely, grinds down, moans as I fill her.
"God—you feel—your father never—"
"Don't talk about him." I grab her hips. "Just fuck me."
She does. Rides me until she comes, screaming, her massive body shaking. I pump into her, add to what I already gave her daughter.
Both of them. Filled.
Both of them. Mine.
Day Four
We stop pretending.
The three of us share a bed. They wake me with mouths and hands. They use me by the lake, in the water, on every surface of this house.
Patricia rides my face while Emily rides my cock. They switch. They compete. They share.
By day seven, I've come inside each of them more times than I can count.
Last Night
We're tangled together—me in the middle, Patricia on one side, Emily on the other.
"Same time next year?" Emily asks.
"Same time every year." Patricia traces patterns on my chest. "This is ours now. The three of us."
"And if someone else comes?"
"Then we're careful." She shrugs. "But I have a feeling we'll find reasons to be alone."
Emily curls against me. Small and warm.
Patricia does the same. Big and soft.
My aunt. My cousin. My summer.
I wouldn't have it any other way.