The Cottage - Chapters 1-3 - Sex Stories

The Cottage - Chapters 1-3

... shut. “In you, Aunty?!”

Cherie gasped—along the floor, peeking out from under the closet door, were the bottoms of Emily’s red two-piece polka-dotted bikini.

Cherie froze as Cal emptied himself into her, and despite herself, she grinned slightly at the familiar feeling of young, virile sperm briskly exploring the depths of her womanhood. She looked at Cal, initially with carnal hunger and then with something more complicated. His eyes were open, full of dread, and hung on the closet door. He gulped and faced his aunt; his hands, assuming she wanted off, eased from her chest like she was a wild beast he had only momentarily tamed and fell to his sides. She remained on him—studying him, feeling him in her, mulling things over. Cherie looked down. Cal again had much wetness on his pubic area, but it was whiter and thicker than before, and its source was no mystery. She slid off him, laid on her back, pulled a mushy pillow under her pelvis, and lifted her feet into the air. He rolled onto his elbow, studying her with a furrowed brow and giving her a full view of his body. His cock held its size; even at half-mast, the foreskin stayed back, and she could see its battered head glistening in the sun. She felt the heat build in her again—especially when she spotted the streaks of blood hiding along the ridges of ...

... his foreskin.

“I-I can explain,” Cal started.

Their eyes found each other.

“How long ago?” Cherie asked softly. She didn’t turn when the closet door slid open with a harsh squeak.

“Not even fifteen minutes,” Cal said. “I was pretending to be asleep—”

“Emily, come here, honey,” Cherie cooed, again without looking. She smiled at Cal, but not like a lover, like his aunt.

Emily emerged from the shadows of the closet, naked and with Cal’s residue shimmering around her sex. She held herself like a nervous, embarrassed child—one hand across her chest and gripping her opposite elbow, shoulders forward, head down. When her mother patted the narrow strip of bed beside her, Emily slunk over. “On your back, dear,” Cherie instructed with care, “that’s it, yes. Grab that pillow—yep…” Cherie reached over and touched Emily’s knees, “let’s lift those long, beautiful legs toward the ceiling and sink into the pillow. That’s it, relax.”

Cal’s mouth fell open. He and Emily traded confused glances.

“You don’t want to waste a chance to let them swim up there and find their mates, right?” Cherie said, her voice cracking slightly. “We’re all in this together, now, and if I remember your last cycle…you’re ovulating.”

“What in the fuck is happening here?!”

The lovers threw shocked glances at the open doorway.