Chapter 1

My parents had let me throw a party at our house, and the place had been packed for hours with friends and music.

They were out of town for two weeks on a work trip, which left my Aunt in charge of the house. She had lived with us for years after the death of her husband back in Japan, so it wasn’t unusual for her to be the one keeping an eye on things.

My Aunt (who we’ll call “Mio” from now on) is full Japanese, born and raised, small and petite at just over five feet, maybe five two at most. She’s honestly very beautiful. Even in her fifties she has this almost doll-like look, with smooth skin and almond eyes that always sparkle when she smiles.

Her body is slim but fit and really curvy, shaped by her years of weight lifting and Pilates.

All night she floated around the party, talking with the girls in my friend group, hopping into photos, laughing, having some drinks, and being playful. She was definitely the “cool” mom that night.

By the time things started winding down, the crowd had thinned until only a handful of people were still lingering.

Eventually even they left, everyone except for my friend Monica.

Monica was one of my closest friends. She’s pretty tall, around five eight, white and slim, with long blonde hair. Her body had that lean, athletic tone you could tell came naturally, her arms and legs subtly defined, her hips giving her just enough curve to stand out. She had that classic American prettiness that never felt forced.

Despite her looks, there was always an innocence about her. She wasn’t a huge partier. She didn’t drink or smoke much, but she loved hanging around while the rest of us did.

Monica had been coming around my house since seventh grade, and over time, she and my Aunt had gotten almost as close as Monica and I were.

My Aunt would hug around her waist in this cute way and joke that Monica was her “only daughter,” and Monica would always play along, calling her “my other mom.”

It was sweet, and it made me feel good about the people I chose to keep close.

That night, Monica couldn’t find a ride home, so it ended up being just the three of us.

My Aunt told her she could spend the night, but she teased her, half joking, half serious, making her promise that she’d stay downstairs.

“You two are not staying in the same room, you’ll just get into trouble,” she said in her cute accent.

We all laughed, because to us it felt ridiculous. Monica was pretty, sure, but she was also very innocent, and our friendship had never been anything more than platonic.

After helping clean up a little, I went upstairs to get ready for bed. I could still hear Monica and my Aunt talking downstairs, their loud, excited voices bouncing softly through the open living room.

They sounded like they were having fun, their laughter rising now and then, stories spilling out without pause. I smiled to myself and let them be.

It was around one in the morning now. Lying in bed with my window cracked open, I smoked a little and let the cool night air wash over me. The voices below dulled into background noise, fading into the night, and eventually I drifted off.

I don’t know how long I slept, but when I woke the house seemed quiet. Or at least at first I thought it was silent, but then I noticed something faint seeping through my closed door.

It was muffled, steady, and rhythmic. I couldn’t place it at first.

Curiosity stirred in me, pulling me upright. I walked over to the door and pressed my ear against it.

When I pressed my ear to the wood, it struck me all at once. The sounds weren’t voices. They were moans.

And not just any moans. They sounded like my Aunt. Deep, breathless, slipping out uncontrollably.

Confused and unsettled, I turned the knob as quietly as I could and cracked the door open, easing it until the gap let the sound spill through clearer.

My pulse quickened. My feet moved down the hallway almost without thought, each step cautious and quiet until I was only a few feet from the railing that overlooked the living room.

Our house was pretty big, with high ceilings and an open layout that revealed the entire living room from above. From the upstairs hallway you could lean over and see everything below.

Directly under the railing sat our massive L-shaped couch. The very spot where Monica should have been asleep.

The moans were mixed with something else now. Wet, sharp smacks. The unmistakable sound of skin meeting skin, layered with faint shushes, as if someone was trying to calm her.

For a split second my mind scrambled for explanations. Monica was supposed to be sleeping on the couch, wasn’t she?

My curiosity pushed me closer, overriding the warning in the back of my mind. My heart pounded, my throat tightening as I edged forward and leaned slowly over the railing.

The moment my eyes caught the scene below, I froze in shock.

Directly below me, Monica sat slumped into the couch cushions, her legs spread wide. Strapped tight around her waist was a short, thick, life-like strap-on, sticking rigidly upright.

And there ... sitting in her lap with her back facing her ... was my aunt. She was squatted low, back arched to the limit, head dangling forward, her ass pushed back out as she bounced up and down onto Monica’s lap.