The living room was steeped in a dim glow as dusk fell, turning the air dense with anticipation. Jiang Wei sat on the sofa, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, his eyes heavy with the residual desire stirred earlier. The atmosphere still bore the scent of Lin Suyin's lingering presence—peach perfume and that elusive trace of warmth that only skin-on-skin could leave behind.
Before the tension could dissolve into silence, the door clicked open.
It was Lu Meiran, her elegant figure emerging with the poise of a woman who knew her curves held sway over any room she entered. Tonight, her blouse was sheer silk—pearl white with a barely-there inner lining that seemed to highlight her 40F curves rather than hide them. Her skirt clung tightly to her hips, and as she leaned slightly to remove her heels, her breasts bounced freely beneath the light fabric, her cleavage visible even under the dim chandelier.
"I heard someone visited today," Meiran said playfully, her voice like soft honey as she walked toward Jiang Wei, a knowing glint in her eyes. She sank beside him on the couch, legs crossing slowly—intentionally brushing against his.
Jiang Wei looked at her without a word. The flicker in his eyes was unreadable but intense.
Meiran leaned in, her breath tickling his ear. "Don't worry. I'm not jealous of Suyin. She's young, but I know what a man like you truly desires."
Before he could respond, another knock echoed.
"Auntie, it's me!" came a lively voice from the hallway.
Meiran stood with a smile. "Come in, Qiaoling."
Chen Qiaoling entered, the daughter of Lu Meiran, though by age, she was barely a few years younger than Jiang Wei. Her tight crop top hugged her 38D bust, swaying with every energetic movement. Her youthful charm mixed with an unexpected seductiveness, a mix of innocence and temptation that only stirred things further.
"Cousin Wei!" she grinned brightly, bounding over. As she leaned over the back of the sofa to hug him, her chest pressed against the back of his head, the softness undeniable.
Meiran raised an eyebrow. "Qiaoling, behave."
"What? We're family," Qiaoling replied with an exaggerated pout. Then she slid into the seat on Jiang Wei's other side, sandwiching him between two dangerously voluptuous women.
Meiran brushed her hair behind her ear. "Since we're all here, why don't we spend some time together? I was thinking of a little... wine and relaxation."
They moved to the private lounge, the lighting now lower, bathed in a reddish glow. A soft jazz tune played as Meiran poured the wine, her movements fluid, confident. Her bosom bounced subtly as she bent forward—on purpose.
Jiang Wei sipped quietly, his other hand resting on the back of the couch. But as Qiaoling laughed, leaning over him again to reach the wine, her top dipped. The entire upper swell of her chest was exposed, her skin warm and radiant, the shadow of her cleavage deep and clear.
He caught a glimpse, but it wasn't just visual. It was tactile. Her chest brushed his arm, and she didn't move away immediately.
"Oops," she smiled. "Clumsy me."
Meiran watched with a mix of amusement and desire. She sipped from her own glass. "Qiaoling, you really are... bold these days."
"I wonder where I learned it from," Qiaoling teased, stretching her arms—her breasts lifted, cleavage straining the limits of her crop top.
Jiang Wei exhaled slowly. He hadn't moved, but both women noticed the way his fingers curled slightly, the tension building.
Meiran set her glass down, stood, and walked behind Jiang Wei. Her hands rested on his shoulders, gently massaging. Her breasts leaned forward, and she whispered, "You've had a long day. Let us make you forget it."
Qiaoling looked up at her mother. "We?"
"Mm. A little massage never hurt anyone."
Jiang Wei closed his eyes as Meiran's fingers expertly relaxed his shoulders. Then, without hesitation, Qiaoling leaned forward and placed her hands over his thighs—innocent at first, but the heat from her palms was unmistakable.
Meiran's hair tickled his neck. Her voice dropped a note, husky and low. "If you feel overwhelmed, just say the word. But something tells me... you won't."
She pressed her chest against the back of his head, soft and plush, her 40F curves swallowing the space around him. He didn't flinch.
Qiaoling scooted closer. Her fingers traced light circles over his pants, and her 38D chest now rested lightly against his left arm.
Two bodies. One man. No shame.
Jiang Wei finally spoke, voice deep. "You two are... quite close."
"Too close?" Meiran asked, her hands sliding down his chest.
"Not enough," Qiaoling whispered, her breath grazing his cheek.
The next few moments passed in silence—no words, just touch.
Meiran moved to his side again, now facing him. Qiaoling sat across from him. For a heartbeat, he looked from mother to daughter. The contrast was intoxicating: Meiran's mature seduction, Qiaoling's youthful temptation.
And then, Meiran guided his hand to her chest.
It pressed deep into the warm flesh, soft and inviting. She didn't stop him. In fact, she pressed further.
Qiaoling, not to be outdone, leaned forward until her top rode low. She guided his other hand toward herself, placing it directly atop her bouncing curves.
Jiang Wei didn't move.
But neither did he stop.
His fingers curled instinctively, massaging softly. The weight, the softness, the heat—all poured into his palms.
Qiaoling let out a faint sound, half gasp, half moan. "Cousin... you're really... touching both of us."
Meiran closed her eyes. "He deserves it. Every bit."
His thumbs pressed into their soft flesh, slow circular motions drawing out the full shape of their breasts. No words passed now, just breaths, rising and falling. Their chests heaved, cleavage swelling, nipples hard beneath thin layers.
Still no sex. But they were pushing boundaries—the edge of decency torn apart by sensation, heat, and unspoken desire.
The night stretched long, filled with bounce, softness, touch... and more yet to come.