Baker Family Fun
Copyright© 2025 by OmegaPet-58
Chapter 1: Emma and Michael
Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 1: Emma and Michael - Siblings Emma and Mike Baker, high school students, live in a tiny city apartment with their two parents. Surprise! After three years of exile there, they're returning to their suburban house, and reconnecting with their next-door neighbors and friends, Dora and Paul Lincoln. All four are similar ages, but puberty has changed them. A lot. Their four parents are reconnecting too. The Lincolns have added a pool, and some pineapple-themed decor. Hmm.
Caution: This Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction Sharing Group Sex Swinging Anal Sex Double Penetration First Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Sex Toys Voyeurism Nudism
[Author’s Note: A portion of this story includes sexual discussions between teen siblings, but NO intimate physical contact.]
It was my turn to scrape the plates and load the dishwasher. A completely ordinary evening—except for the tension tightening Dad’s jaw. He’d barely spoken during dinner. My sister Em scrubbed the pans beside me, humming without really noticing she was doing it.
I figured whatever was bothering Dad would come out sooner or later.
When the kitchen was clean, we started to leave, but Dad’s voice stopped us.
“Hey—come sit back down for a minute.”
That got my attention. Dad wasn’t a “family meeting” guy. Em raised an eyebrow at me and plopped down in her usual chair. I sat, too, watching him glance at Mom before speaking.
He cleared his throat. “I’m giving you as much notice as I can. We’re going to move.”
“WHAT?” Em shot to her feet so fast her chair scraped backwards. “Not again?”
Mom erupted, “Emma Louise Baker, SIT DOWN.” Mom didn’t raise her voice often, but when she did, it sliced right through the room. Em folded back into her seat, arms crossed.
“But why?” she asked, now softer.
“Because we’re going home.” Dad took a breath. “Back to Ash Street.”
For a moment, none of us reacted. It was like my brain misfired. Then Em’s eyes widened, and she made a small choking sound before launching herself at Dad and wrapping her arms around him. Even he looked surprised at her enthusiasm.
“We’re serious,” Mom said, smiling. “We’ve talked it through.”
Three years ago everything spun sideways. Mom lost her job in the COVID chaos, and not long after vaccinations rolled out, Dad’s company yanked him back into a strict in-office schedule. Our house on Ash Street—Mom’s childhood home—was suddenly too far for his daily commute. So we packed up and moved downtown into a cramped apartment near his office.
It was two bedrooms for four people, one tiny bathroom, and half our life sealed in storage boxes. My six-foot frame didn’t fit on the sofa, so I spent a year sleeping on an air mattress wedged into the living room.
Mom rented out the house after we moved—she hated being a landlord, but we needed the income. I didn’t realize how much I missed the old place (and my real bedroom) until I heard we were finally going back.
“What about the Sangers?” I asked. They’d been leasing the house.
“I’ve talked to them,” Dad said. “They’re moving in with their relatives to save money. The timing worked out. We’ll be moving back thirty days from tomorrow.”
I nodded, processing it all. “Is your commute even possible again?”
Dad actually looked proud of himself. “I renegotiated my schedule. Four longer days in the office, and Fridays I work from home. It’s ... workable.”
Em tapped the table, asking about our old neighbors. “What about the Lincolns? Are they still there? Do they know we’re coming back?”
Mom laughed. “Yes, they’re still there. And yes, I called Beth. I arranged a get-together for the four of you, like old times. They put in a pool last spring—you’re going to love it.”
“Not exactly like old times,” I said. “We used to run through their sprinklers like maniacs.”
“And before that,” Mom added with a nostalgic sigh, “you two were toddlers who refused to keep swimsuits on at all.”
“Please never tell anyone that,” I said, dropping my face into my hands.
Mom stood. “Speaking of swimsuits—both of you need to find yours. If they still fit, great. If not, we’ll get new ones. I’m saying, try them on tonight.”
Dad raised his hands. “A fashion show.”
Em groaned loudly, but she headed down the short hallway to her bedroom.
I went digging through the boxes labeled MIKE—CLOTHES. I finally found one with my old trunks at the bottom.
When I turned around, Mom called out, “Found ours!”
Dad, Mom, and Em stepped into the main area wearing their swimsuits—nothing dramatic, just casual swimwear that reminded me of trips to the beach long ago.
I shook my head, laughing. “You three are unbelievable.”
Mom beamed. “Your turn.”
“I’m not doing a runway walk,” I warned, folding my arms.
I stepped behind a chair with a tall back that obstructed their view of my lower body. Quickly, I removed my clothes and squeezed into the old suit. Finally, I stepped out into clear view.
Mom looked up into Dad’s eyes. “Henry, just look at those beautiful humans we created.”
He hugged her and said, “The beauty comes from you, Ellie.”
Em stuck two fingers into her mouth and pretended to vomit, but I scowled at her. My exceptional sister did take after Mom, and I often ran into guys at school who wanted my help in getting to know her. I couldn’t pretend not to notice Em’s green eyes, long waves of auburn hair, and curves—curves now straining at her undersized bikini.
I realized I was staring—at my sister(!)—and I tried to focus on a far corner of the room.
Dad squinted at me. “Hmm. Looks like your suit’s a few years too old.”
“It’s ... tighter than I remember,” I admitted.
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