No words the entire drive.
She stood on the curb in a long trench coat, huge sunglasses, wide hat, looking like a celebrity hiding from paparazzi.
The second she saw my car she slipped into the back seat.
Silence. Total, electric silence.
I drove straight to the private boutique hotel I'd booked under a fake name.
Staff handed me the key card and a discreet black bag (condoms, lube, the works) without batting an eye.
Elevator. Hallway. Room 2401.
Click. Door locked.
She dropped the coat.
Black lace bra.
Black crotchless panties.
Black thigh-high stockings.
Nothing else.
Her pussy lips peeked through the opening, pink, swollen, already dripping down her inner thighs.
I stripped naked in three seconds flat.
We stood face to face, breathing hard, saying nothing.
I lifted one finger.
She dropped to her knees instantly, took it into her mouth like it was the sweetest candy she'd been craving for months, tongue swirling, sucking, eyes locked on mine.
Pop. She released it, shiny with saliva.
I brought the finger to my own lips, tasted her.
"Still sweet as ever, Ms. Evelyn."
A visible shiver ran through her. A fresh trickle ran down her leg.
She crawled onto the king bed, lay back, and spread wide.
"Lick every inch of me, hubby… please…"
I didn't make her wait
I crawled between her thighs like a starving man.
First lick: slow, flat tongue up those soaked lips.
She shuddered, hips bucking.
Second lick: tongue pushing inside, curling, tasting how sweet she really was.
Then I went to work, tongue-fucking her deep and steady.
She lost it immediately.
"Mmm—mm—yes—hubby—just like that—!"
Mouth open, tongue out, eyes rolled back, drool dripping down her chin like the perfect little slut.
Two minutes. That's all it took.
She came hard, squirting straight into my mouth, thighs clamping around my head, whole body shaking.
I drank everything.
When she finally collapsed, gasping, she crawled up and licked her own mess off my face like a grateful kitten.
Then I stood.
"Open."
She dropped to her knees, mouth wide, eyes shining with total submission.
I let go, warm stream straight onto her waiting tongue.
She swallowed every drop, gulp-gulp-gulp, never spilling, moaning the whole time like it was the best thing she'd ever tasted.
I pulled her up, spun her around.
"Doggy. Now."
She scrambled into position, ass up, face down, presenting that glistening pink pussy like an offering.
I rubbed the head along her lips once, twice.
She whimpered. "Please—hubby—please—"
I slammed in to the hilt in one brutal thrust.
She screamed into the pillow, back arching, drool soaking the sheets.
I didn't move for a second, just let her feel how deep I was.
Then I started.
Slow withdrawal…
Hard slam.
Again.
Again.
Thirty minutes of pure destruction: wet slaps echoing off the walls, her begging turning into mindless babbling, my hands leaving red prints on her ass.
When we both hit the edge, I buried myself as deep as possible and came, flooding her until it leaked out around my cock.
She collapsed face-first into the pillow, whole body twitching, passed out cold with the happiest fucked-out smile.
I pulled out slowly, watched my cum pour out of her ruined pussy like cream.
Tucked the spare key card under her hand, kissed her forehead.
Left her there, naked, leaking, ruined, and utterly satisfied.
Walked out of the suite like a king
I left the hotel with a stupid grin, afternoon sun still high.
Decided to kill time: movie theater, back-row seat, extra-large popcorn.
Lights dimmed. Credits rolled.
A woman slipped into the seat beside me, perfume like vanilla and sin.
Curvy MILF, low-cut top, skirt riding high, wedding ring glinting.
She leaned over, voice a familiar playful smirk.
"Having fun… little brother?"
Wait.
That voice.
I turned.
My actual married big sister from Dad's first marriage, Sophia (28, arranged marriage, bored out of her mind).
She winked.
"Shh. Husband thinks I'm at yoga."
Then, without missing a beat:
"Mind showing your big sis what she's missing?"
I didn't even answer, just unzipped.
Her eyes went wide, then hungry.
"Much better than the pencil I'm stuck with at home," she whispered.
She peeled off soaked lace panties, stuffed them in the empty seat beside her, and straddled me right there in the dark theater.
No kissing. Just a tight hug, face buried in my neck, and she sank down slow, taking every inch until I was buried to the hilt.
Then she started riding, slow rolls at first, then faster, wet sounds muffled by the movie explosions.
Her nails dug into my shoulders.
"God—finally a real cock—"
Every bounce drove me deeper, hitting spots her husband clearly never reached.
Popcorn forgotten. Movie forgotten.
Just us, the dark, and the slick rhythm of forbidden reunion.
Five minutes of pure, silent destruction.
We came together, her biting my shoulder to stay quiet, me filling her so full it leaked down my balls the second she lifted off.
She slipped her soaked panties into my hand like a trophy, typed her private number into my phone.
"Call me when you want seconds, little brother."
Then she was gone, walking out bow-legged and glowing.
I finished the movie alone, panties in my pocket, taste of revenge (and family) on my tongue.
Best Monday ever.
I walked in, kicked off my shoes, and stripped naked in the hallway like always.
Valentina was sprawled on the couch watching some drama, legs already open, pussy glistening in the TV glow.
"Welcome home, honey."
I dropped beside her, chest pressing against her heavy breasts, cock sliding naturally between her soaked folds, mixing yesterday's loads with today's fresh wetness.
The sofa was doomed.
"You're soaked," I murmured, nuzzling her neck.
"I watched you rail your sister all morning on the security cam," she confessed, voice husky. "Mommy got jealous… and very, very wet."
I kissed her slow and deep, then moved to her breasts.
One lick and warm milk leaked onto my tongue.
I froze.
"Mom… you're pregnant?"
She nodded, biting her lip, eyes shining.
"Remember my 'business trip' last month? I seduced my boss. No condom. He's divorcing his wife and marrying me next month. Billionaire, baby. We're moving into his villa after your graduation."
I blinked.
Then grinned.
"Congratulations, Mommy."
I lined up and pushed inside in one smooth thrust.
She moaned, legs locking around my waist, pulling me deeper.
"Thank you, baby—ahh—now celebrate properly."
I did.
Wet slaps filled the living room, her milk dripping down my chin as sucked and fucked in perfect rhythm.
She came first, walls milking me like they were trying to keep me forever.
I followed seconds later, pumping her already-pregnant pussy full again.
When pulled out, a river of us poured onto the couch.
She lay there glowing, rubbing her belly.
"Sleep here tonight?" she asked softly.
"Nah. Shower and bed. Long day tomorrow."
I kissed her forehead.
"Night, future billionaire wife."
She laughed, milk still leaking, totally satisfied.
I headed upstairs, leaving her basking in the mess we'd made.
New house, new stepdaughters, new fortune.
Life just kept getting better.
Same night, across the city, in a penthouse overlooking the skyline.
Alexander Voss, 42, billionaire CEO, Valentina's boss and soon-to-be husband, had his 19-year-old daughter from his current marriage pinned beneath him in missionary style.
Chloe Voss, blonde, perfect body, daddy's spoiled princess, legs wrapped around his waist like she never wanted to let go.
He kissed her deep, tongues dancing, saliva mixing, while driving into her with long, powerful strokes.
Wet slaps echoed off marble walls.
"Yes—yes—Daddy—fuck your little girl—make me cum on your big cock—!"
His balls slapped against her ass with every thrust, the bed creaking under billionaire money and forbidden rhythm.
She clawed his back, eyes rolling, heart-shaped pupils glowing just like her future stepsister's.
Minutes blurred into pure possession.
When they hit the peak, he buried himself to the hilt and flooded her, thick ropes painting her walls while she squirted around him, soaking the Egyptian cotton sheets.
They stayed locked, panting, kissing lazily as his cum leaked out around his still-hard cock.
Eventually he pulled out with a wet pop, both groaning.
While dressing, he dropped the bomb casually.
"I'm marrying another woman next month. Valentina. She's probably carrying my child already."
Chloe, still naked, legs spread, cum dripping, just nodded like it was the weather report.
"She has two kids, right? A boy and a girl?"
Alexander smirked, zipping up.
"Yeah. The boy's your age. Apparently makes his stepmom cum nonstop. Valentina couldn't stop bragging."
Chloe's eyes went wide.
Then glazed.
She slid one hand between her thighs, rubbing slow circles over her swollen clit, the other squeezing her breast.
"A brother…" she whispered, voice breathy. "I'm getting a big brother…"
Her hips started rocking on their own.
Alexander chuckled, already heading for the door.
"Wedding's next month. Try not to wear him out before I do."
He left for his meeting.
Chloe stayed on the ruined bed, fingers moving faster, moaning to the empty room:
"Brother… brother… gonna make you fuck me so good…"
She came again just from the thought, squirting on the sheets a second time, passing out with a dreamy, obsessed smile.
Next month couldn't come soon enough.
Same night, Chloe's bedroom, five minutes after Daddy left.
Still naked, still leaking, Chloe hit video call on her private phone.
The screen lit up instantly.
Her older sister, Scarlett Voss (22, college senior, red hair, even bigger curves), was bent over her dorm bed getting railed doggy-style by some random frat guy.
Wet slaps and moans filled the call.
Scarlett looked over her shoulder at the camera, face flushed, eyes rolling.
"What's up, little sis—ahh—how's Daddy's cock tonight?"
Chloe didn't even blink at the scene.
"Good news, big sis. Daddy's marrying another woman next month. She's got a son our age. We're getting a brother."
Scarlett froze mid-thrust.
Then her whole body convulsed.
She squirted so hard it splashed across the guy's pants and the floor.
"What the fuck?!" the guy yelped, pulling out and stumbling back, soaked.
Scarlett didn't care.
She shoved him toward the door with one hand while the other rubbed her clit frantically.
"Is that true? A real brother?"
Chloe nodded, biting her lip, fingers already back between her own thighs.
Scarlett kicked the door shut on the confused guy, collapsed onto her bed, legs spread to the camera.
"I can't wait… gonna make him fuck us both… every day…"
Both sisters started masturbating on the call, moaning the same word in perfect sync:
"Brother… brother… brother…"
They came together, squirting on their screens, laughing and panting like possessed angels.
Call ended with both of them whispering the same promise:
"Next month can't come soon enough."
Alexander Voss's private jet, cruising at 40,000 feet.
His phone buzzed.
Wife's name on screen.
He answered with a smirk.
"Honey, what's up?"
Her voice came through breathy, satisfied, and way too happy.
"I met my future stepson today."
Alexander raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
A soft moan in the background, like she was still touching herself.
"He's… perfect. Made me cum twice in a movie theater. Told him your cock was tiny and you never last thirty seconds. He believed me."
Silence on the jet.
Then Alexander's low, dangerous laugh.
"So you let my future stepson raw you in public… because you told him I'm inadequate?"
"Mmm-hmm," she purred. "Jealous, hubby?"
Alexander's knuckles went white around the phone.
"Jealous? Baby girl, tonight I'm landing at 11 p.m.
When I walk through that door, I'm fucking you until you forget his name, my name, and how to walk."
A shiver in her voice, half fear, half excitement.
"Bring it on, Daddy."
Call ended.
Alexander leaned back, already hard, eyes dark with possessive fire.
He texted his pilot:
"Full speed. I've got a wife to remind who she belongs to."
Somewhere across the city, his wife bit her lip, pussy already clenching in anticipation.
The real wedding night was starting early.
And the battlefield was set.