The Inheritance
"His grandfather passed, leaving him the estate. His step-grandmother and stepmom both live there. They've been lonely together for years. They have a proposition."
The lawyer finishes reading the will.
"The entire estate goes to the grandson, Elijah Marcus Thornton. The house, the investments, the accounts." He shuffles papers. "With the understanding that Margaret and Diana may continue to reside here as long as they wish."
Margaret—my step-grandmother, seventy but looking fifty, silver hair and soft curves and the sharpest mind in any room.
Diana—my stepmother, forty-five, my father's second wife, all voluptuous warmth and a smile that never quite reaches her eyes.
Both of them widows now. Both of them looking at me.
"Of course they can stay," I say. "This is their home."
The lawyer nods, collects his things, leaves.
And then it's just the three of us.
"We need to talk," Margaret says.
She leads me to the study—grandfather's study, now mine. Diana follows, closing the door behind her.
"Elijah." Margaret settles into a leather chair, crossing legs that are still shapely despite her age. "There are things you don't know about this family."
"Things we've kept from you," Diana adds, taking the chair beside her. "Because your father wouldn't have understood."
"What things?"
They exchange a look. Some silent conversation passes between them.
"Your grandfather and I had an... arrangement," Margaret begins. "After the passion faded, we found other ways to be happy. He had his interests. I had mine."
"I don't—"
"And when your father married Diana, she became part of that arrangement." Margaret's eyes meet mine. "She and I have been lovers for fifteen years."
I process this.
My step-grandmother and my stepmother. Together. For over a decade.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because your grandfather is gone." Diana leans forward, her low-cut blouse revealing the swell of her breasts. "And your father was never... open to the life we wanted. He visited once a year, kept his distance. But you—"
"You're different," Margaret finishes. "You've always been different. The way you look at women. The way you appreciate bodies like ours."
"Bodies that society tells us are past their prime." Diana's voice is bitter. "Too old. Too soft. Too much."
"But we're not too much for you, are we?" Margaret's eyes are knowing. "I've seen you watching Diana at Christmas dinners. I've caught you looking at me when you think no one notices."
"This is—you're my—"
"Step," Diana interrupts. "No blood. No biology. Just... attraction. If you're brave enough to admit it."
Margaret stands, crosses to me.
At seventy, she moves with a grace that defies her age. Her body is soft—decades of good living showing in every curve—but there's still power there. She takes my face in her hands.
"I've been waiting twenty years for a man who could handle both of us," she says. "Your grandfather tried. Your father wasn't interested. But you..." She leans closer. "You're the one, Elijah. I knew it the moment you became a man."
Diana appears at her shoulder. "We're not asking for love. We're not asking for commitment. We're asking for company. For pleasure. For someone who sees us as desirable."
"You inherited the estate," Margaret murmurs. "Inherit us too."
She kisses me.
My step-grandmother kisses me, soft and skilled, seventy years of experience in the way her tongue moves. Before I can react, Diana is there too, kissing my neck, her hands working at my tie.
"Upstairs," Margaret breathes. "The master bedroom. It's yours now—and so are we."
The master bedroom is enormous.
Four-poster bed, silk sheets, the kind of wealth I've never felt comfortable with. Diana lights candles while Margaret undresses me with patient hands.
"So handsome," she murmurs, tracing my chest. "So young. Do you know how long it's been since I've touched a young man's body?"
"Do you know how long I've wanted to touch yours?"
She laughs, surprised and pleased. "Silver tongue. You'll need it."
They undress each other like they've done it a thousand times.
Margaret first—Diana's aged hands unzipping her dress, revealing a body that's everything I'd imagined. Heavy breasts that hang to her waist, nipples large and dark. A belly that's soft and round, marked by decades. Hips that flare wide, thighs that press together.
Then Diana—Margaret returning the favor, baring curves that are younger but no less impressive. Full breasts, soft stomach, an ass that strains her lace panties.
Two generations of soft, voluptuous women.
Both of them wanting me.
"I don't know where to start," I admit.
"Start with me." Margaret lies back on the bed, spreading her thick thighs. "I've been waiting longest."
I climb over her, kissing down her body—the valley between her breasts, the soft roll of her stomach, the silver curls between her legs. She gasps when my tongue finds her clit.
"Oh—oh God—Elijah—"
"That's it, baby." Diana settles beside us, one hand teasing her own breasts. "Make her come. She's been so lonely."
I eat my step-grandmother's pussy while my stepmother watches, and I've never felt more alive. Margaret is soft everywhere—soft thighs around my head, soft belly against my forehead, soft moans filling the room.
When she comes, it's with a cry that echoes off the walls.
"My turn," Diana says.
She pulls me up, pushes me onto my back, and straddles my face. Her pussy is wet, eager, the taste of her flooding my mouth.
"Margaret," she gasps. "His cock. Take it."
I feel rather than see my step-grandmother mount me. Her weight settles onto my hips, my cock sliding into her slowly, her body adjusting to me.
"Fuck," she groans. "It's been so long. So long—"
She starts to move, and I'm lost.
Diana rides my face while Margaret rides my cock. Two women, two generations, both using me for their pleasure. I can barely breathe, barely think—only feel.
"Harder, Elijah—"
"Don't stop—right there—"
"I'm close—I'm so close—"
They come within seconds of each other, Diana flooding my mouth, Margaret clenching around my cock. I hold on through sheer force of will.
They switch.
Diana takes my cock this time—younger, tighter, more urgent. Margaret straddles my face—softer, wetter, still trembling from her orgasm.
"We've talked about this so many times," Diana gasps, bouncing on me. "Late at night, in each other's arms. Wondering if you'd be willing. Hoping you'd be... enough."
"Is he enough?" Margaret asks from above me.
"More than enough. Fuck, he's more than—"
Diana comes again, screaming, and this time I can't hold back. I flood her while eating Margaret, my own orgasm crashing through me.
We collapse in a tangle.
Three bodies, three generations of want, finally satisfied. Margaret on one side, Diana on the other, me in the middle like the filling in some forbidden sandwich.
"Stay," Margaret whispers. "Move into the house. Let us take care of you."
"Let us teach you things," Diana adds. "We have so much to show you."
"And in return?"
"In return, you make us feel desired." Margaret's hand finds mine, Diana's joining it. "It's not complicated, Elijah. We want you. You want us. The estate is yours. We come with the territory."
I think about my apartment. My job. My life.
Nothing there compares to this.
"I'll stay."
They both smile—Margaret's satisfied, Diana's relieved.
"Welcome home," my step-grandmother says.
"Welcome to the family," my stepmother echoes.
The inheritance was never about the money.
It was about them.
And I intend to enjoy every moment of it.