Morning light poured through the curtains when I opened my eyes. Vanessa brushed a kiss across my temple and whispered, "I'll go start breakfast. Take your time in the shower, baby." I nodded sleepily and watched her naked curves disappear through the doorway.
After a long, hot shower I decided, since it was Sunday, there was no point in clothes. I padded downstairs completely bare, skin still warm and slightly damp, cock already half-hard from the thought of her. Vanessa was at the stove, just as naked, sunlight glinting off the soft sheen of sweat on her back and the slow trickle of arousal sliding down her inner thigh. The kitchen smelled of coffee, sizzling butter, and her unmistakable sweet musk.
I dropped onto the wide sofa, flicked the TV to the morning news for background noise, and lazily wrapped my hand around my shaft, stroking slow and steady while I watched her move. A minute later she joined me, curling into the cushions beside me, thighs falling open without hesitation. Two of her fingers slipped easily into that pretty pink, dripping pussy, pumping in the same rhythm I was using on myself. We locked eyes, no words, just the wet sounds of skin on skin and our breathing growing heavier.
It didn't take long. Heat coiled tight and snapped at the same moment: thick ropes spilling over my fist while her back arched, thighs shaking, a fresh rush of slick warmth coating her fingers.
She laughed softly, grabbed a towel from the armrest, and wiped us both clean with gentle swipes. We carried our plates to the sofa and ate breakfast side by side, naked and comfortable, legs tangled. Halfway through her pancakes, Vanessa spread her thighs wider, pussy still glistening and swollen. I reached for the honey bear, drizzled a slow golden ribbon over her puffy lips and let it drip inside. The scent of warm honey mixed with her natural taste made my mouth water.
I leaned in and licked her clean, long, slow strokes from entrance to clit, tongue pushing the sweetness deep before lapping it back out. She moaned my name, fingers threading through my wet hair, hips rolling against my face. A few perfect minutes later she came hard, flooding my tongue with that addictive sweet-musky flavor. I swallowed every drop, then rose to kiss her, sharing the taste of honey and her on our tangled tongues while her hand wrapped around my cock again. A few firm strokes and I spilled across her fingers; she brought them to her mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied hum.
Content and glowing, we pulled a blanket over our bare skin, picked her favorite rom-com, and settled in chest-to-chest, legs intertwined, the movie playing softly while the lazy Sunday stretched out ahead of us
The credits rolled and Vanessa stretched against me, her naked curves warm under the blanket.
"Your big sister lands tonight," she said, voice soft. "She's been on tour for weeks. We should go pick her up at the airport."
I nodded, already picturing her.
We showered together, lazy and playful, then dressed just enough to be decent: Vanessa in a light sundress that hugged every curve, me in jeans and a tee. She drove while I slid into the back seat. We parked in the dim arrivals bay, windows already fogged from the humid evening air.
Then I saw her: my "big sister" (technically my wife's older sister, but we'd dropped the titles long ago) striding toward the car. Tall, sun-kissed, luggage rolling behind her, sundress clinging to heavy breasts and a round, swaying ass that made my mouth go dry. She tapped the tinted glass. I popped the door.
She slipped in beside me, slammed it shut, and hit the lock. The world outside disappeared behind blacked-out windows.
"Hi, Mom," she called sweetly to Vanessa in the driver's seat, then turned to me, eyes blazing.
"Hey, husband," she whispered, and crushed her lips to mine. The kiss tasted like airplane coffee and six weeks of missing each other.
No panties under her skirt, of course. I felt the slick heat of her the second she climbed onto my lap. She tugged my zipper down, freed my aching cock, and sank straight down in one slow, perfect glide. A low, shuddering moan vibrated through her chest as her soaked walls hugged every inch of me.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, buried her face in my shoulder, and just… stayed there. Completely still, impaled, pulsing gently around me, her heartbeat thundering against my ribs.
Vanessa pulled out of the parking spot and merged onto the highway.
Every bump, every brake, every turn rocked us together. The car's motion did all the work, tiny, delicious thrusts that made her breath hitch and her nails dig into my back. I tried to move, rolling my hips up, but she tightened her arms and whispered against my ear, voice trembling,
"No… please, husband. Don't move. I just want to feel you inside me the whole way home. I missed you this much."
So I held her close, hands splayed over the warm curve of her ass, breathing in the coconut scent of her hair and the faint salt of travel on her skin. The city lights streaked past the tinted windows, the engine hummed, and for the entire drive she stayed perfectly seated on my cock, wet and fluttering, clenching every time the road made us shift.
By the time Vanessa turned into our driveway we were both shaking with need, but we didn't separate, not yet. My big sister stayed exactly where she wanted to be: wrapped around me, full of me, finally home
The garage door rumbled shut behind us, sealing the car in cool, dim quiet.
Vanessa leaned over the seat, one eyebrow raised. "You two coming inside or what?"
My big sister (still impaled on me, skirt bunched around her waist, thighs trembling) answered in a husky, breathless voice, "No. I'm keeping my husband right here. I'm going to fuck him all night in this garage."
Vanessa laughed softly, shook her head, and kissed the air toward us. "Fine. I'll head to bed. Have fun, babies." The side door clicked shut behind her, leaving only the low amber security lights and the faint smell of oil and warm leather.
Silence fell for a heartbeat. Then my sister finally rolled her hips (slow, deliberate, devastating).
"Ahhh… yes, yes… I missed you so much, husband," she whimpered, nails scraping down my back. "I'm never leaving again… never."
She kissed me like she wanted to devour me, tongue hot and possessive, teeth nipping my lower lip. The car rocked gently as she lifted and sank, lifted and sank, her soaked pussy gripping me so tight I saw stars. The windows fogged completely; the air grew thick with the scent of sex, coconut shampoo, and the faint metallic tang of the seatbelt buckle pressing into my hip.
Hours blurred: slow grinding turned to frantic bouncing, her heavy breasts pressed against my chest, nipples hard through the thin fabric of her dress. Every thrust drew broken moans from her throat; every clench of her walls around me pulled a groan from mine. Sweat slicked our skin, the leather creaked beneath us, and the car filled with the wet, rhythmic slap of bodies finally reunited.
When we finally shattered, it hit us together: her back arching, a strangled cry muffled against my neck as her pussy spasmed and flooded hot around me, milking every pulse of my release deep inside her. She shuddered through the aftershocks, thighs shaking, breath ragged.
Exhausted, glowing, she collapsed forward, arms looping around my neck, cheek pressed to mine. My cock was still buried to the hilt, softening slowly inside her warmth.
"Don't pull out," she murmured, already half-asleep. "Stay inside me… just like this…"
I wrapped my arms around her, kissed the damp hair at her temple, and let the steady rise and fall of her breathing pull me under. The garage was quiet again, the car still faintly rocking from our weight, and we drifted off exactly like that: joined, sticky, perfectly home
Inside the quiet house, Vanessa lay alone on the living-room sofa, the only light coming from the glow of the big screen. She was completely naked, thighs spread wide, skin still flushed and shining with a faint sheen of sweat. Between her legs her pussy glistened, swollen and dripping, a slow, steady trickle of arousal sliding down to the cushion beneath her.
She tapped play on the remote. The video filled the room with warm, familiar sounds: wet skin slapping, breathy moans, the creak of the bedframe. On screen, I had her in deep missionary, buried to the hilt, her ankles locked behind my back while we kissed slow and filthy, tongues sliding, saliva trailing between our open mouths. Every thrust rocked her body; every gasp and whispered "I love you" echoed through the speakers.
Vanessa's fingers found her clit immediately, circling in tight, desperate strokes. The air smelled of her own thick arousal mixed with the lingering trace of sex from earlier. She watched herself on the screen, breasts bouncing with every slam of my hips, watched my back muscles flex as I drove into her again and again. The filthy soundtrack spilled out: "Fuck my pussy, baby… yes, just like that… fill Mommy up…" and her moans rose to match it.
Her hips lifted off the sofa, thighs trembling, fingers plunging deep inside herself now, curling hard. The room filled with the wet squelch of her hand and the endless loop of our recorded fucking. A few frantic minutes later she came with a broken cry, back arching, pussy clenching hard around her fingers, a fresh gush soaking the cushion beneath her.
She didn't bother stopping the video. Spent and trembling, she curled onto her side, one hand still lazily cupping her pulsing sex, the other arm tucked under her head like a pillow. The screen kept playing: moans, wet thrusts, breathless "I love you"s, and those raw, shameless pleas bouncing off the walls long after her eyes fluttered shut. The house smelled of sex and warm skin, the filthy audio looping softly into the night as Vanessa finally drifted into a deep, satisfied sleep right there on the sofa.