Chapter 1: The Accident

I’d been home from college for two weeks, and the house already felt like a trap. Every morning Dad kissed Lauren goodbye in the kitchen—quick peck on the cheek, his hand lingering just a second too long on her waist—before he grabbed his keys and headed to the office. She’d wave at me from the doorway in those black leggings and a gray sports bra, ponytail swinging, calling out, “Have a good day, Alex!” like nothing had changed since I was twelve. I tried not to stare. Tried not to notice how the fabric hugged the curve of her ass or how the sports bra lifted everything just enough to make my throat go dry. But I noticed. God, I noticed.

The summer stretched out empty. College hookups had left me restless—quick, clumsy fucks in dorm rooms that never quite scratched the itch. I spent most afternoons in my room, door locked, scrolling generic porn on my laptop, hand moving mechanically while my mind wandered. Today Dad had left at eight sharp. I’d slept in until two-thirty, mouth cottony, head throbbing from the AC. Thirsty as hell, I padded downstairs in nothing but basketball shorts and an old t-shirt, no boxers underneath. The house was quiet except for a low mechanical hum drifting from the living room. I figured Lauren was out—maybe shopping, maybe at yoga. The hum grew louder as I crossed the hallway. It didn’t sound like normal cardio. It sounded ... wet.

I rounded the corner and froze.

Lauren was on the Peloton, pedaling hard in manual mode, resistance cranked so high the bike rocked with every stroke. Headphones jammed in, eyes squeezed shut, dark ponytail bouncing against her neck. Her face was flushed deep red, lips parted, soft desperate moans slipping out every few seconds—low, breathy, nothing like the polite laugh she used at family dinners. One hand gripped the handlebars white-knuckled; the other had slipped inside the waistband of her black leggings, fingers moving in fast, tight circles right over her pussy. The saddle was soaked. A dark oval spread across the black fabric, glistening under the afternoon light streaming through the blinds. Sweat ran in shiny rivulets down her neck, pooling between her breasts, turning the sports bra almost transparent. Her nipples stood out hard and dark against the damp gray material, poking like they were begging for attention.