April, Katie, Pops, and Sam
Copyright © 2026 by OmegaPet-58
Chapter 3: Dinner and a Movie
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 3: Dinner and a Movie - Katie is enjoying summer vacation at an Atlantic beach house with her boyfriend and fellow undergraduate Sam. Katie's host is the man she calls "Pops"—who helped raise her—and his voluptuous girlfriend April. Katie is fiercely loyal to Pops, and gleeful when she (and Sam) overhear April being thoroughly plowed in the other bedroom. Sam wants Katie to finally explain her history and her attachment to Pops. Then April comes by their room, and Katie wraps her up in a huge hug.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Humor Sharing Group Sex Anal Sex Cream Pie Double Penetration Exhibitionism Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Squirting Voyeurism BBW Big Breasts Hairy Size Nudism Illustrated
I only had a small glass of wine, so I volunteered to drive out and pick up pizza for the four of us. Taking their orders, Pops requested anchovies, and the ladies looked at him like he’d gone insane, so he backed off with a laugh.
I was beginning to appreciate how much teasing I would be in for as Katie’s boyfriend.
Boyfriend? The word was feeling more and more wrong to me. I was driving, now, and shook my head. When I arrived at Lighthouse Pizza, our order was ready. The bill wasn’t bad, but coming out of the reader, my poor debit card would have whimpered if it could.
Katie was financially secure, with the settlement money from her mother’s tragic accident. Pops and April were both successful in business, and they easily paid for booking our entire trip to the eastern end of North Carolina.
But my insecurities kept pushing me to overspend—mostly on food and anything that counted as entertainment. We split the real bills evenly, the way adults should, but I kept trying to “make up for it” by grabbing every grocery run and every dinner tab. Katie had started to notice, I’m sure, but I still wouldn’t let her pay when we went out.
And then there was my old car. When we first started dating, my sixteen-year-old Nissan, with its torn seats and wheezing engine, felt like something I didn’t want Katie riding around in. So now I was leasing a new little SUV and paying the lease-required comprehensive insurance on top of everything else. My finances were heading into dangerous territory, and tuition was looming only a few weeks away.
I scolded myself for getting gloomy. I was beginning a lovely vacation with the miraculous Katie and my potential parents-in-law. Oh. I’d just shifted from gloom to anxiety. In-laws. Marriage? How long had we been together? Eight months! We hadn’t even gotten close to talking about an engagement.
But maybe we should. Just being away from Katie for thirty minutes left an absence, an empty feeling. Or maybe it was hunger? That pizza smell was overwhelming, and I pulled over and gobbled a slice for my “delivery fee.”
In late June, the longest days of the year, the sun sets just after 8 o’clock. I watched the warming light, thinking Katie could join me on a blanket and watch the sunset over the water east of our narrow island.
Balancing the two large boxes in one hand, I worked the door handle and stepped into the living room. Katie pointed, “Guilty!”
“What?”
“You dripped sauce on your shirt. Driving under the influence of tomatoes. I’ll make you some gruel in the morning.”
Pops walked up and leaned in toward my chest, inspecting the stain. Then he took the pizza boxes from me, pulled out his wallet and gave me two twenty-dollar bills.
“If she’s not going to let you eat any more, I’m going to at least pay for the rest of the slices.”
I thanked him and put the bills in my wallet, then sat down on a sofa facing an elderly, wooden television console, so old it used a huge glass tube for the display screen.
I was still hungry. April had brought four plates. Looking sympathetically at me, she told Katie, “Don’t be gruelish. Sam brought the pizza, it smells great, and he deserves a full share except for the slice he already ate.”
She gestured toward her large chest, joking, “I get stains all the time, and I’m not even driving.”
Pops didn’t miss a beat. “Sounds to me like you should be topless when you eat.”
April scoffed. She shot him that look—the familiar one that meant, “I know what you’re up to.”
“Shut up, Robert,” she said lightly.
She enjoyed the way Pops looked at her—Katie and I had seen that enough times to know. This was why she tolerated—and sometimes even encouraged—his jokes.
But something else did surprise me. It hit me that I’d never heard anyone call him by his actual name before.
Katie caught my reaction instantly—she always did—and she explained, “When I was little, I misheard Claudia calling him Bob and said ‘Pops’ instead. Later, the doctor pulled a lot of wax out of my ears and told my mom I’d probably been mishearing everything. But ‘Pops’ stuck, and we all liked it, so we kept it.”
Pops’ stomach rumbled loudly, reminding us to eat what I’d brought. Katie brought out the bottle of (red) wine, and we stopped talking and stuffed ourselves. A few slices remained to go in the fridge for breakfast. You’ve never had breakfast pizza?
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