Chapter 3

I stood in her bedroom doorway as my half-sister Felicia and her girlfriend Robin kissed, but with far less intensity than before.

“God! This is so awkward, with you watching!” Robin complained.

“Be thankful I’m not making you blow of fuck me. Undress, and get to it.”

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest, feeling a sudden surge of power that made my pulse thrum in my throat. The air in the room had the lingering scent of those stolen cigarettes, but the real musk was starting to build - the scent of nervous, heat-flushed skin. They looked at each other, then back at me, their faces a mix of annoyance and a strange, shimmering curiosity. They didn’t tell me to leave. Instead, Robin reached back and unzipped Felicia’s dress, letting the fabric slide down her shoulders like a falling curtain.

I didn’t blink. I watched the way the light from the bedside lamp caught the curve of Felicia’s spine as she stepped out of her clothes, followed quickly by Robin. Suddenly, they were just two smooth, pale shapes against the navy blue duvet, their limbs tangling in a desperate, clumsy dance. They started to kiss - not the polite, tentative pecks of the backyard, but deep, searching movements that made a wet, rhythmic sound in the quiet of the room. Robin’s hand slid down, her fingers disappearing between Felicia’s thighs with a soft, squelching sound that made my cock stir beneath my jeans.

Felicia let out a soft moan, her head tossing back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut. Robin was focused, her tongue tracing the shell of Felicia’s ear while her other hand kneaded the soft flesh of her hip. They were exploring each other with a restrained, bashful hunger as I stared.

I commanded, “Keep going. Eat her.”

The command seemed to ignite something in Robin. She shifted, her body arching as she slid down the length of Felicia’s thighs, parting them with a focused intensity. I watched, mesmerized, as she buried her face in that soft, blonde heat. When Robin’s tongue first made contact with Felicia’s vulva, there was a sharp, wet slap of skin on skin. Felicia’s hips bucked upward, a strangled gasp escaping her throat as Robin began to lap at her with a rhythmic, starving precision.

I didn’t move from the door, but my hand found the bulge in my jeans. I started to rub myself, the coarse denim providing a friction that sent electric jolts straight to my spine. The sight of them - the contrast of Robin’s dark hair against Felicia’s pale, shivering skin - was an aphrodisia I hadn’t known I needed. Every wet, slurping sound that filled the room made my grip tighten, my fingers kneading the hard length of my cock as I watched Robin drink her in, her tongue swirling around the clit with a hunger that felt almost predatory.

“Oh God, Robin... yes,” Felicia whimpered, her fingers knotting into the bedsheets.

Suddenly, Robin looked up, her chin glistening with Felicia’s essence, and locked eyes with me. She didn’t stop; instead, she slowed her pace, glancing between my hand and the smoothly shaved pussy inches from her eyes.

“You like that, don’t you, Junior?” Robin breathed, her voice a low, husky rasp. She shifted her weight, pressing her chest against Felicia’s thigh, and went back to work with a renewed, aggressive wetness.

Then, the door behind me groaned open. I didn’t even have time to jump back before the sharp, clicking scent of a vape pen hit my nostrils. Aunt Sherry was standing there, her strawberry-blonde curls bouncing as she tilted her head, her eyes scanning the scene - the naked bodies, the tangled limbs, and my hand halfway down my pants.

“Well,” Sherry remarked, her voice dry as a bone, “I knew you two were ‘close,’ but I didn’t realize the bedroom had become a buffet.”

The room exploded into chaos. Robin shrieked, a sound like a tea kettle boiling over, and scrambled backward so fast she nearly tripped over the bedside lamp. “Oh my God!”

Felicia exclaimed, “Aunt Sherry!” Her face turned a shade of crimson that matched Netanya’s hair.

Robin dove for her clothes, frantically pulling on her underwear and jeans with shaking hands, her movements clumsy and panicked.

Felicia looked like a terrified clam hiding in a fabric shell, as I yanked my hand out of my pants.

Sherry didn’t look angry; she looked amused, which was somehow worse. She took a slow, deliberate drag from her vape, the blue light glowing at the tip, and exhaled a thick, vanilla-scented cloud that drifted over us like a fog.

“Junior, get out,” Sherry commanded, though her tone was light. “Robin, honey, take a shower before you leave. I think your mother is expecting you at home, and you two smell like ... well, a busy night at a brothel.”

I backed out of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs, feeling a sudden chill in the hallway. Aunt Netanya surprised me, grabbing my shoulder from behind. “Go sit in you room. Now!”

Several minutes later, Sherry and Netanya closed my door behind them. Sherry held up her phone, which showed video of me at work. “Explain this!” she demanded.

On the tiny screen, I took two small bottles and a vape pen from a display case and put them in my pocket.

I looked up at Aunt Sherry, then at Netanya, feeling the sweat start to prickle at the back of my neck. The silence in the room felt heavy, like the air right before a summer storm. I tried to conjure up a face of innocent confusion, tilting my head and letting my voice go soft and naive.