The house is finally quiet. I lean against the cold granite of the kitchen counter, waiting. The digital clock on the oven reads 11:47 PM. I’m wide awake, hypersensitive to the hum of the refrigerator and the faint settling of the floorboards overhead.

Rick walks up behind me. He presses his chest against my back.

“They’re finally out.”

I lean back into him. I can feel him getting hard against my ass, his hands heavy and possessive on my wide hips. “They” were our kids- Emma, our sixteen year old daughter and Connor, our seventeen year old son. Emma’s light went out under her door an hour ago. Connor was just down the hall from her. I saw his light go out twenty minutes later.

This is the part we’ve been waiting for. The silence.

Rick reaches past me and unlocks the back door. The mechanism clicks, loud in the quiet kitchen. We step out into the night air. It’s cool on my skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth inside. The deck boards feel rough under my bare feet. I can see the hot tub bubbling in the corner of the yard, the underwater lighting turning the steam into a pale, rising mist. It looks inviting.

The fence is high and the neighbors’ second-floor windows are dark. If they looked, they’d see us. The thought makes my skin prickle. I like it.

Rick pulls his shirt over his head. I watch him. He’s got that broad back I’ve always liked, his muscles shifting under skin I know well. He drops his shorts, and I look down. He’s ready. Seeing him like that, right out in the open air, makes me wet.

I undo the tie of my robe and let it drop to the deck. The night air hits my heavy breasts and stomach, making my nipples harden instantly. The ache between my legs is already a steady throb. Rick looks me over, his eyes dark and hungry, stopping on the curve of my waist.

“Get in. Before you freeze.”

I step into the water. It’s a shock, not the temperature, which is perfect, but the sensation of the heat claiming me. The water takes my weight, making me buoyant. I sink down to my chin. The jets are already running, churning against my lower back, bubbles sliding over my thighs. Rick gets in right after me. The water level rises, sloshing over the side like it’s too full.

He doesn’t stay on his side. He moves right into my space, his knee pushing between mine, his leg hair scraping the inside of my soft thigh.

“Private enough?” His breath is hot against my temple.

I glance at the dark silhouette of the house. “I don’t care who sees.”

He pulls me onto his lap. The fiberglass seat is slippery. I can feel the heat of his cock pressing against my stomach, thick and heavy. He kisses me, tasting like the whiskey we had after dinner. Messy. Eager. I wrap my legs around his waist, positioning myself. He runs his hands over my hips, squeezing the flesh there.

He guides himself in. It’s a smooth, heavy slide, my pussy wet enough to accept him easily. I gasp as he fills me up. It feels different out here, exposed to the night. He grips my waist, fingers digging in, lifting me slightly and then pulling me back down. He sets a rhythm.

“You feel amazing, baby. Now fuck me like a good girl.” I say into his neck.

I hold onto his shoulders, my nails digging in. The water splashes over the edge with our movement, dripping down the sides of the tub. I can’t help thinking about the kids inside. Emma’s window faces the deck. Connor’s room does too. If one of them got up for water, if one of them looked out...

I let out a moan, louder than I intended. Rick puts his hand over my mouth, stifling it. He reads my thoughts. He moves his other hand to touch me between my legs, rubbing my clit while he thrusts up into me. It pushes me right to the edge.

“Quiet. Unless you want an audience.”

“Let them look.”

The words feel filthy. The idea hits me hard. I think of Connor walking onto the deck, seeing us, seeing his mother getting fucked in the backyard. The though makes my insides clench tight around Rick.

“You like that idea, don’t you? Our kids watching us fuck?” He thrusts harder. I nod. Breathless. “You’re such a slut, Michelle.”

That word tips me over. Slut. I want to be his slut tonight.

I cum hard. I grind down against him, my head falling back in a silent scream. He keeps going. “Use me. Own your slut.” I whisper. He drives into me until he hits his limit. He groans and pulses inside me. We stay like that for a minute, the steam rising around us like a curtain, the jets still bubbling away between our bodies.

My breathing is ragged. I can feel the twitch of him softening inside me. The water laps against my chest.

“I love you.” He presses a wet kiss to my shoulder.

“I love you too.” I run my hand down his arm, feeling drained. Heavy. “This hot tub is the best purchase we ever made.”

We laugh quietly, the sound drifting up toward the dark windows.

----- The house is dead quiet. It’s the heavy silence of deep night, broke only by the hum of the air conditioning. I wake up with a dry throat, sliding out from under Rick’s arm without waking him. The floorboards are cold under my bare feet as I navigate the hallway in the dark. I don’t check the kids’ rooms. I just head straight for the kitchen.

I don’t turn on the overhead lights. The only light comes from the refrigerator door as I fill my glass. The water dispenser gurgles, loud in the stillness. I drink it down in one go, the water cold and clean. I press the condensation-slick glass against my forehead to cool down.

That’s when I see the glow in the backyard.

It isn’t the security floodlights. It’s softer, warmer. The hot tub is on. The surface of the water is moving, catching the underwater lights and sending shadows dancing across the steam rising into the night air. I know we turned it off earlier.

I set the water glass down on the granite island. The stone feels freezing under my palms. I lean forward, putting my face close to the darker glass of the patio door. My breath fogs it up, and I wipe a clear circle with the side of my hand.

The tub isn’t empty.

Two shapes are moving in the steam, dark silhouettes against the churning white water. I hear a laugh, muffled by the glass but definitely female. My first thought is annoyance. Connor must have sneaked a girl over. I frown, feeling a flash of territorial irritation, and look closer.

The girl has her arms around his neck, her legs straddling his lap under the water. They make out like teenagers do. All hormones and friction. I watch his hands grip her waist. It makes me think of his father. Maybe it was hereditary.

Then the girl twists. Her back arches, and the underwater light catches the wet sheen of her skin and the curve of her jaw.

It isn’t a stranger. It’s Emma.

My daughter. With my son. The distinction hits me hard, but instead of horror, I feel a sudden, sharp spike in my pulse. My body reacts before my brain does. Connor’s hands slide up from her waist to her ribs. His thumbs brush the undersides of her breasts, pushing the bikini top up. Emma lets her head fall back.

They are doing a lot more than kissing.

Emma’s hips roll against him, slow and grinding. The water sloshes around them. Connor is wearing his dark swim trunks, but the fabric clings tight to his thighs. I can see the outline between his legs. He is hard. Thick and heavy. And Emma is grinding right down against that hardness.

I don’t turn around. I don’t knock on the glass.

The steam swirls and parts. I watch Connor’s hand slip beneath the fabric of her bikini top. His fingers disappear under the cup. Emma arches closer, her fingernails raking down his chest. I see the exact moment he pinches her nipple. Her body jerks. My own nipples tighten instantly against my nightgown, the friction sudden and abrasive.

My daughter is dry humping my son.

Thinking about it acts like fuel. Acknowledging the taboo makes the pleasure sharper. My face feels hot.

Connor’s other hand slides down between them. His fingers disappear beneath the waistband of Emma’s bottoms. Her thighs fall open wider to let him in. She lifts her hips, offering herself to his hand. I can’t see but I know exactly what he’s doing. I can imagine the slick heat of her. I can imagine his fingers parting her, finding the spot that makes her shake.

I press my thighs together. The seam of my panties feels tight, digging into me. I shift my weight, the cotton dragging against skin that is already damp. I’m hungry for it. The counter edge digs into my hips as I lean closer to the glass.

Emma’s head snaps forward. Her mouth crashes onto Connor’s. The kiss looks dirty, aggressive. I can see the push and pull of their mouths, their tongues darting in and out hungrily. Her hips are rolling in sharp, desperate circles now. Connor groans. I can’t hear it but I can see the pleasure on his face. My fingers twitch against the cold granite.

I slide my hand down my stomach. My nightgown rides up as my fingers slip beneath the elastic of my panties. I am already wet. Soaking wet. The first touch makes me bite my lip. My breath hitches in the silent kitchen. I lean my forehead against the window. The glass is cold against my forehead, but my skin feels on fire.