Chapter 2

They stood outside on the veranda with cold beers in hand. The sun was almost gone now, the sky fading from amber to violet over the lake. A breeze moved through the trees, but neither of them really felt it. Their cheeks were flushed, skin warm—not from the beer, not from the heat, but from everything they’d seen ... and what they knew was still waiting.

They were excited.

And scared.

Mia lit a cigarette, took a drag, then handed it to Kurt. “Here,” she said softly. “It’ll help. Or not.”

Kurt took it. She lit another for herself.

Kurt exhaled smoke and stared out at the water. “Do you think there’s ... BDSM stuff in those tapes?”

Mia turned to look at him, grinning. “Why? What do you know about BDSM?”

Kurt shrugged. “Whips. Paddles. Bondage. Gags and stuff.”

She laughed—low and sweet. “Did you see any of those lying around in there?”

Kurt paused. “No!”

“There’s your answer, silly boy.”

He smirked. “I found a silver buttplug though. It was engraved. Anniversary gift from Mom to Dad.’”

Mia’s eyebrows lifted. “What? Why didn’t you show me that?”

“I was going to,” Kurt muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “But then we ended up laughing our asses off on the bed.”

Mia stepped closer. Her voice dropped. “Did you like the kiss?”

Kurt flushed tomato-red. He nodded.

Mia moved in.

Kurt was tall—just shy of six feet—with a lean, defined build that came from long hikes and swimming, not gyms. His blond hair was messy, slightly sun-bleached, and his blue eyes were bright but unsure, like he was still catching up to the moment. He was beautiful—young, strong, still unshaped by the world.

And Mia—Mia was breathtaking. Her golden ponytail swayed behind her as she stepped into him. Her petite frame was toned and glowing from the summer sun, and her tank top clung to her breasts just enough to make the firmness of her nipples obvious now. Her eyes were soft and wild all at once, full of grief, lust, and something impossible to name.

She slid one hand up the back of his neck and leaned in.

Their lips touched—then opened.

Tongues slid. Breath tangled. Her body pressed into his, and his cock swelled instantly against his jeans. Her nipples grazed his chest, hard and begging.

The kiss was hot. Deep. Searching.

When Mia finally pulled back, they were both breathing heavily. Their hearts were pounding like fists behind their ribs. Eyes locked. Clothes untouched, but barely.

They didn’t speak.

They just stared.

Ready to rip each other open.

But they didn’t.

Not yet.

Mia stepped back. Her lips were wet, her pupils wide.

“Let’s go watch the tapes,” she said.

They sat on the edge of the bed, close but not touching, eyes fixed on the small display screen of the old digital camcorder. The tape clicked softly as it loaded. A faint blue timestamp hovered in the corner—just a date from over a decade ago, long enough to feel like another lifetime.

The screen flashed.

A bedroom—dimly lit, but unmistakably their parents’ old room.

Their mother was on the bed, splayed out, arms above her head, legs raised and wide open. Naked. Beautiful. Her body was soft, golden-skinned, glowing under the overhead fan.

A man—young, muscular, tanned—stepped between her legs. A bull. Confident. Massive.

Their father lay on his stomach behind her, holding her hand. His other hand reached around her hip, squeezing gently. He kissed her shoulder, whispered something inaudible. When the camera panned slightly, a flash of silver appeared between his cheeks—the buttplug. Kurt recognized it instantly.

Their mother was moaning softly, her voice rich and real.

“God yes,” she said. “Best birthday present ever. He’s fucking me so good.”

Their father’s voice was calm, loving, utterly turned on. “He’s fucking amazing, honey. That big cock hits the spot?”

“Oh yeah. Fuck yeah.”

A low voice off-camera: “Fuck her harder.”

Both Mia and Kurt froze.

They knew that voice.

Mia hit pause. She turned slowly toward her brother.

Kurt blinked. “Uncle Arnie?”

“Dad’s own fucking brother,” Mia said, stunned. “What the...”

They both burst out laughing—nervous, shocked, breathless.

Kurt’s laugh faded first. He was panting slightly, mouth dry.

Mia noticed. Her expression shifted.

“Open your mouth,” she said.

Kurt did.

Mia leaned in and spat—hard. It hit the back of his tongue and shot straight down his throat before he could react.