Snowed In
"A cabin, a blizzard, and three women who've stopped pretending. Stepmom. Stepsister. Stepsister's best friend. By day three, the only warmth is body heat."
The blizzard hits on day two.
One minute we're watching the snow fall through the cabin windows. The next, the roads are impassable, the power is out, and we're stuck.
Four of us. One cabin. Three days minimum, the radio says.
Me. My stepmother Greta. My stepsister Hannah. And Hannah's best friend Kira.
Three thick, beautiful women.
One increasingly tense situation.
Before the Storm
This was supposed to be a family bonding trip.
Dad's idea. He rented the cabin, planned the whole weekend, then got called to an emergency in Singapore. Left me to babysit.
"Just keep them company," he said. "How hard can it be?"
Famous last words.
Greta is forty-seven, my stepmother for five years.
She's five-six, two-fifty, with Swedish features and curves that make her apron strings give up. She's been lonely since Dad started traveling more. I've caught her watching me when she thinks I'm not looking.
Hannah is twenty-four, my stepsister, built like her mother.
Same blonde hair, same thick body, same knowing smile. She's been flirty since the wedding—brushing past me in hallways, wearing less than necessary, finding reasons to be alone with me.
Kira is Hannah's best friend, visiting for the week.
She's Black, twenty-five, and somehow even thicker than the others—five-four, two-seventy, with breasts that deserve their own zip code. She and Hannah share everything, apparently.
Including, I'm beginning to realize, interests in me.
Day One of the Storm
The power dies at midnight.
We huddle around the fireplace, the only heat source. Blankets piled high. Bodies close together.
"This is cozy," Kira observes. She's pressed against my right side.
"Very cozy," Hannah agrees. She's on my left.
Greta is across from us, watching with an expression I can't read.
"We should share body heat," she says finally. "That's what they say to do in situations like this."
"Smart," Hannah says, pressing closer.
"Very smart," Kira agrees, doing the same.
I'm surrounded.
Day Two of the Storm
The tension is unbearable.
Every brush of skin is electric. Every accidental touch lingers. We're all wearing less—"too hot by the fire"—revealing more than we should.
Greta in a thin nightgown. Hannah in a tank top and shorts. Kira in nothing but an oversized t-shirt.
Me in boxers, trying to hide what they're doing to me.
Failing completely.
"We need to talk about what's happening," Hannah says that afternoon.
We're alone. Greta is in the kitchen; Kira is upstairs.
"What's happening?"
"Don't play dumb." She moves closer. "I've wanted you since Mom married your dad. Five years of wanting."
"Hannah—"
"Kira wants you too. We've talked about it." She bites her lip. "And I've seen how you look at Mom. How she looks at you."
"This is insane."
"It's a blizzard." She puts her hand on my chest. "No one's coming. No one's going. For at least two more days, we're trapped here together."
"So what are you suggesting?"
She leans in. Whispers in my ear.
"I'm suggesting we stop pretending."
That Night
Greta finds us in front of the fire.
Hannah is straddling me, her tongue in my mouth, her thick ass grinding against my hardening cock. We spring apart when her mother walks in.
But Greta doesn't look angry.
She looks hungry.
"I wondered when this would happen," she says. "I've been listening for years. Through the walls. Knowing you both wanted each other."
"Mom—"
"Shh." Greta walks toward us. "I've wanted him too. Since the wedding. Since before."
She kneels beside us.
"We're trapped here. No one's coming. No one will ever know." She looks between us. "Why should Hannah have all the fun?"
Kira appears on the stairs.
"Room for one more?"
Four of us.
One fire.
No more pretending.
Greta goes first.
"I'm oldest," she says. "I've been waiting longest."
She pushes me back, straddles me, sinks onto my cock with a moan that echoes off the cabin walls. She's tight, wet, desperate—riding me while her daughter and her daughter's friend watch.
"Fuck—he's so—God—"
Hannah kneels beside us, watching her mother fuck her stepbrother.
"You're beautiful, Mom."
"So are you, baby." Greta pulls her daughter close. Kisses her. "Come here. Share."
They kiss above me while Greta rides. Mother and daughter, lips locked, while I thrust up into the mother.
Kira moves behind me. Her massive breasts press against my head.
"Don't forget about me."
We rotate.
Hannah next. She's rougher than her mother—biting, scratching, demanding harder. Greta sits on my face while I fuck her daughter, and Kira guides them both.
"That's it—deeper—she's close—"
Hannah comes screaming. I come inside her while her mother floods my mouth.
Then Kira.
She's the biggest of all—two-seventy of soft, warm flesh settling onto my still-hard cock. She rides me slowly, savoring, while Greta and Hannah recover.
"I've waited years for this," Kira says. "Watching Hannah pine. Watching Greta watch. Imagining what it would be like to have you myself."
"And now?"
"Now—" She clenches around me. "—we don't have to imagine anymore."
Day Three
We don't get dressed.
What's the point? Every few hours, someone's climbing on top of me. Greta in the morning. Hannah after lunch. Kira before dinner.
Then all of them together.
"I can't believe this is happening," I say at one point.
"Believe it." Greta's mouth is on my neck. "We've all wanted this. We just needed an excuse."
"The storm."
"The storm." She kisses down my chest. "Best blizzard of my life."
Day Four
The roads are still closed.
We don't care.
Greta, Hannah, and Kira have formed a schedule. They share me efficiently, generously, greedily. Sometimes one at a time. Sometimes two. Sometimes all three.
"We should be snowed in forever," Hannah says one night.
"We can't be snowed in forever," Kira counters. "But we can bring this back with us."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean this doesn't have to end." Kira looks at me. "Does it?"
I look at them—three thick, beautiful women who want me. Who've chosen me. Who've been waiting for this for years.
"No," I say. "It doesn't."
Day Five
The roads open.
We could leave. Go back to normal life. Pretend nothing happened.
We don't.
We stay another week.
After
Dad never finds out.
He comes home from Singapore to find his family closer than ever. His wife is happier. His daughter visits more. Everything seems... better.
He doesn't know why.
He doesn't need to.
Some secrets are worth keeping.
We start a tradition.
Every year, same cabin, same week. Snow or no snow.
"Same room?" Hannah asks the first return visit.
"Same room," I confirm.
"Same everything," Kira adds.
Greta just smiles.
"Welcome home."
We close the door.
The storm is inside now.
And we never want it to end.