I never thought happiness could shatter so completely in one afternoon.
Dad's affair exploded like a bomb in our living room. Mom—my stepmom, Clara—found the messages on his phone while he was in the shower. I was in my room when I heard the scream. Not anger. Just… pure heartbreak.
By the time I ran downstairs, Clara was on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, her perfect face streaked with mascara. She looked small for the first time since she'd married Dad. My stepsister, Vanessa, stood over her like a furious goddess—blonde hair wild, green eyes blazing, fists clenched so tight her knuckles went white.
"He's been fucking his secretary for eight months," Vanessa spat. "Eight. Months."
Dad tried to explain. Tried to beg. Clara didn't even look at him. She just whispered, "Get out."
Two days later, the divorce papers were signed.
That night, Clara sat on my bed, still in her silk robe, smelling like vanilla and crushed roses.
"Sweetheart," she said, voice trembling, "Vanessa and I… we're leaving. We've got a villa in Belle Meade—Nashville. New start. You're eighteen now. You don't have to come… but we want you. We can take care of you. You'll never have to see him again."
Vanessa leaned in the doorway, arms crossed under her full breasts, watching me with those intense eyes. "You're family, little brother. Real family."
I hated Dad. Hated how he'd broken them.
"I'm coming with you."
The villa was obscene levels of luxury—marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, a pool that glowed turquoise at night. Three wings. My bedroom had a balcony overlooking the hills.
For the first month, it was paradise.
Clara cooked breakfast in tiny satin shorts and oversized sweaters that slipped off one shoulder, revealing the lace of her bra. Vanessa sunbathed topless when she thought I wasn't looking—her breasts heavy and perfect, nipples pink against tanned skin. They treated me like gold. Hugs that lasted too long. Kisses on the cheek that brushed the corner of my mouth.
I tried to be good. I really did.
But I was eighteen. And they were… unreal.
Clara: 38, brunette, hourglass figure, soft full lips always painted red. Vanessa: 26, blonde, long legs, an ass that made yoga pants look illegal.
We were a family. A broken, beautiful, dangerously close family.
It started with a thunderstorm.
Power went out at 2 a.m. I woke up to Clara slipping into my bed, trembling.
"I hate storms," she whispered, curling against me. "Your father used to hold me… I just… can I stay?"
She was wearing a thin silk nightie. No bra. Her nipples pressed against my chest through the fabric. Her thigh slid over mine.
I was rock-hard in seconds.
She felt it. I know she did. Her breath hitched. But she didn't move away.
"Thank you, baby," she murmured, lips brushing my neck. "You're such a good boy."
I didn't sleep. I laid there with my stepmom's perfect body draped over me, her ass nestled against my cock, and I burned.
Two weeks later. 104 degrees. Vanessa decided we needed to "cool off."
She walked out in a white bikini so tiny it was basically string. Her breasts spilled out the sides. The fabric went sheer when wet.
Clara joined us in a black one-piece that hugged every curve, the neckline plunging so deep I could see the edges of her areolas.
They wrestled me into the pool. Laughing. Splashing. Bodies sliding against mine.
Vanessa pinned me against the wall, her tits crushed to my chest. "Got you," she grinned, breath hot on my lips.
Clara swam up behind me, hands on my waist. "Don't let him escape, baby girl."
I was trapped between them. Hard. Aching. Their hands "accidentally" brushing my cock under the water.
That night, I jerked off three times imagining them.
It was a Friday. Vanessa was at a friend's bachelorette party—wouldn't be home till morning.
Clara had been drinking. Not drunk. Just… soft. Vulnerable.
She knocked on my door at midnight wearing a sheer black robe and nothing else. I could see everything—her heavy breasts, the dark triangle between her thighs.
"Baby," she whispered, climbing onto my bed. "I can't sleep. I keep thinking about… how lonely I am."
Her hand slid under my sheet. Found me already hard.
"Mom…" I choked.
"Shh." She stroked me through my boxers, slow, reverent. "You're so big. So beautiful. Let Mommy take care of you."
She pulled my cock out. Stared at it like it was a miracle. Then she leaned down and took me into her mouth.
Wet. Warm. Perfect.
I came in less than a minute, groaning her name. She swallowed every drop, moaning like it tasted like heaven.
Then she crawled up my body, robe falling open, and kissed me deep, letting me taste myself on her tongue.
"This is our secret," she whispered. "But it's only the beginning."
The next morning, Vanessa came home early. Found Clara's robe on my floor. Saw the bite marks on my neck.
Instead of screaming… she locked my door. Stripped off her dress. Crawled onto my bed in just a red thong.
"Mommy got to play?" she purred, straddling my face. "Now it's big sister's turn."
Her pussy was soaked. She tasted like sin.
I ate her out while she ground against my tongue, coming with my name on her lips.
Then she sank down on my cock—slow, tight, perfect—and rode me until we both shattered.