Early morning light filtered through the curtains when my sister suddenly jerked awake, tears already streaking her cheeks. My cock was still buried deep inside her, morning-hard and throbbing. She clutched me tight, voice breaking.
"Why did you leave me, husband? In my dream you left us for another woman… don't ever leave me!"
I blinked the sleep away, heart clenching at the raw panic in her eyes. "Baby, I'm right here. I'm never going anywhere. I love you, wife… only you."
She shook her head, tears still falling. "Prove it. Show me how much you're mine."
A dark, possessive spark flared in my chest. Still seated inside her slick heat, I rolled us so she was beneath me in missionary. I crushed my mouth to hers (hot, desperate, tongues sliding, sharing breath and saliva in messy, hungry strokes). My hands tangled in her hair, gripping tight, holding her exactly where I wanted.
Then I started to move. No gentle morning rhythm this time. Deep, punishing strokes that slapped my balls against her ass with every thrust. The room filled with loud, wet sounds (skin on skin, her soaked pussy squelching around me, the headboard tapping the wall).
She locked her ankles behind my back, nails raking down my shoulders, moaning into my mouth between kisses. "Yes… yes… harder… show me I'm yours…"
From the corner of my eye I saw Vanessa in the doorway, phone already up and recording, one hand buried between her own thighs, fingers pumping fast as she watched us with hungry eyes.
Hours blurred into a haze of sweat, moans, and the relentless slap of bodies. When we finally came it hit like a storm: her pussy spasming wildly around me, milking every thick pulse as I flooded her deep. I collapsed onto her chest, cock still twitching inside, both of us gasping.
She stroked my hair, tears dried, voice soft and triumphant. "I knew it… you'll always be mine, husband."
Vanessa ended the recording, crawled onto the bed beside us, still catching her breath from her own orgasm. She traced lazy circles on my sister's thigh and teased, "So… when do I get my turn with our boy's cock again?"
My sister gave a possessive little growl, tightening around me where I was still buried. "Fine. You can have him at night. Days are mine."
Vanessa laughed, kissed both our damp foreheads, and curled up on my sister's other side. The three of us tangled together (sticky, sated, hearts racing in sync) and drifted into a lazy, sun-warmed nap, my cock still nestled deep inside my wife exactly where it belonged
I woke slowly, still sheathed inside my sister's warm, sleepy pussy. She stirred, gave a little whine when I finally slipped free, and I leaned down to lick her clean (slow, lazy strokes that made her shiver and sigh). When I stood, Vanessa was already sprawled on the edge of the bed, thighs spread wide, fingers lazily circling her swollen clit. A thick strand of mixed release glistened on her inner thigh.
"Come here, baby," she purred, voice husky. "Fuck Mommy's pussy, it's dripping for you."
I shook my head, stretching the pleasant ache from my hips. "I need a break, V. You know I've been inside her non-stop since she got back."
Disappointment flickered across her face, but she smiled softly and nodded. "I understand, love." She blew me a kiss as I padded naked to my own room and shut the door.
The phone on my desk lit up with missed calls. I dialed back immediately.
"Hubby!" My homeroom teacher's voice was breathy with relief and excitement. "Why didn't you pick up? I was worried."
"Got buried in homework," I lied smoothly.
A soft moan leaked through the speaker. "Mmm… tomorrow night, then? A proper date? My pussy's already soaked just thinking about you."
I grinned. "Tomorrow. Wear black stockings, black panties (soaked before you even leave the house), and that tight little black dress."
"Y-yes, hubby…" I could hear the wet sounds of her fingers moving faster. "I'm already dripping… fingering myself right now…"
We hung up with her tiny, desperate gasp still echoing in my ear.
I tossed the phone aside, dropped into my desk chair, and opened my laptop. The game I'd been coding for months (a clean, addictive little puzzle app) was finally ready. I pushed the final build, hit "publish" on both the App Store and Play Store, and leaned back to watch the first real-time analytics trickle in.
Downloads climbed steadily (not viral numbers, but solid for a solo indie launch). Enough to pad my résumé and put a few thousand in my pocket. Perfect.
While a movie played in the background, I booked a sleek private hotel suite downtown (soundproof walls, floor-to-ceiling windows, king bed with black silk sheets). I added a box of ultra-thin condoms and a bottle of chilled champagne to the reservation.
Everything was set for tomorrow night.
Satisfied, I killed the lights and slid into my own bed, the faint scent of sex still clinging to my skin, mind already racing ahead to black stockings, soaked lace, and the sound of my teacher begging in that hotel room. I drifted off with a smile
I woke up aching, cock already straining. After a quick shower I threw on jeans and a loose tee and headed downstairs.
Vanessa was at the stove, naked, hips swaying as bacon popped in the pan. My big sister lounged across the sofa, legs draped over the armrest, skin glowing in the morning light, pussy still glistening from the night before. The whole living room smelled like coffee, sex, and warm skin.
I didn't say a word. I just unzipped, pulled my cock out, and stepped between my sister's thighs. She spread wider instantly, eyes lighting up with those familiar heart-shaped sparkles. One slow push and I sank into her (soft, wet, furnace-hot velvet gripping every inch). She let out a long, shuddering moan that vibrated through her whole body.
I gripped her waist, held perfectly still, and just stared into her eyes. I wanted to watch every flicker, every flutter when she came undone.
Then I started moving (steady, medium strokes, deep enough that my balls kissed her ass with every thrust). The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with the obscene squelch of her soaked pussy and the rhythmic clink of Vanessa's spatula pausing as she watched.
Vanessa grabbed her phone, hit record, and leaned back against the counter. With her free hand she plunged a thick, veiny toy into herself, pumping hard. The air turned thick with filthy sounds: my sister's rising "Ahh… ahh… yes, yes, fuck me, husband, fuck my pussy!" and Vanessa's slutty counter-melody of moans while the toy disappeared inside her again and again.
Minutes blurred. My sister's eyes rolled back, hearts pulsing brighter, tongue lolling out in a perfect ahegao as her walls clamped down hard. I buried myself deep and let go, flooding her with hot pulses while Vanessa squealed, toy buried to the hilt, squirting in messy arcs across the kitchen tiles.
My sister went limp, passed out with that blissful, broken smile on her face. I eased out slowly, tucked myself away, and zipped up. Vanessa was still trembling, phone forgotten, thighs shining.
I kissed the top of my sister's sweaty forehead, gave Vanessa a lazy wink, and said, "Heading out. See you tonight."
Then I walked out the front door, the echo of their satisfied sighs and the scent of sex following me all the way to the car.
I pulled up to the quiet curb.
She was waiting under the harsh noon sun, wrapped in a long black trench coat that swallowed her figure, wide sunglasses hiding half her face, a floppy sun-hat pulled low. Only the familiar curve of her lips gave her away. The moment she spotted my car she slipped into the back seat without a word. Door shut. Silence. Thick, electric silence.
The drive felt endless. Air-conditioning hummed, leather seats creaked faintly under us, the city blurred past tinted windows. I could smell her perfume (something dark and floral) mixing with the unmistakable sweet musk already seeping through her coat.
At the private hotel the valet took the keys without meeting no one's eyes. The concierge slid the keycard and a discreet black box of condoms across the counter, face blank, voice silent. Elevator ride: mirrored walls, our reflections side by side but never touching, the soft ding of each floor the only sound.
We reached the top-floor suite. I swiped the card, pushed the door open, and let her step inside first. Cool air, dim lights, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the skyline. The second the door clicked shut I turned the deadbolt.
Lock engaged.
Silence broken only by the soft rustle of her coat hitting the floor and the sudden, hungry sound of our breathing finally set free.