Ethan Cole burrowed deeper into the cloud-like embrace of his king-sized bed, the silk sheets whispering against his skin. At twenty-five, he still slept in soft cotton pajamas printed with tiny cartoon stars—pale blue, loose, and ridiculously comfortable. There was nothing wrong with a grown man liking cute things. Right now, his arms were wrapped around a massive teddy bear, its plush fur warm and impossibly soft against his chest. The room was dim, heavy curtains drawn tight to block the morning sun. Even though it was already past nine, Ethan slept like the dead, snoring lightly, completely lost in a dream.
In that dream, he was surrounded by mature women—curvaceous MILFs with heavy, swaying breasts and thick, jiggling asses. Their skin glistened with sweat as they knelt before him, pink pussies dripping wet and glistening, begging to be filled. The air was thick with the scent of arousal, their moans echoing in his ears. His cock throbbed painfully in his pajamas, fully hard and straining against the fabric, a damp spot forming where pre-cum leaked steadily from the tip.
A soft click broke the silence as the bedroom door opened.
Sophia Reed—his thirty-year-old step-sister—stepped inside. She had become family five years ago when Ethan's father married her mother, bringing the stunning, sharp-tongued Sophia into the household. With her five-year age gap over Ethan, she never let him forget who was "older and wiser." Today, she was dressed for the office: a fitted white blouse that hugged her ample breasts, the buttons straining just enough to hint at the deep cleavage beneath; a tight black pencil skirt that accentuated her wide hips and round ass; sheer black stockings that clung to her toned legs; and glossy high heels that clicked authoritatively against the hardwood floor.
She paused at the sight of him—curled up like a child, hugging that ridiculous teddy bear. Her full lips pressed into a thin line, and she crossed her arms under her chest. The motion made her large breasts jiggle noticeably, the soft flesh shifting under the thin fabric of her blouse. A faint, expensive perfume—vanilla and jasmine—wafted into the room as she moved closer.
"Hey, lazy cat," she said, her voice a mix of exasperation and amusement, low and husky from the morning. "Wake up already. It's past nine o'clock. When are you planning to get out of bed?"
Ethan heard her clearly, but laziness won. He groaned softly and rolled over, turning his back to her, the sheets rustling around him.
Sophia sighed, her heels clicking as she stepped closer to the bed. "Hey, wake up. We have an important family breakfast downstairs. Everyone's waiting."
Still half-asleep, Ethan playfully shook his hips under the covers—a lazy, mocking "no."
Her eyes narrowed. "You disrespectful little bastard. Are you seriously talking to me with your hips?"
In response, he shook them again, more deliberately this time, a clear tease.
That did it. Sophia's cheeks flushed with anger, her breasts heaving as she drew a sharp breath. "That's it!" she snapped, spinning on her heel. She stormed out, the door slamming shut with a resounding boom that rattled the frame.
Ethan chuckled into his pillow, flipping onto his back and spreading his arms and legs wide like a starfish. The teddy bear flopped to the side. He resumed his snoring, loud and exaggerated, but his mind drifted back to the dream. Those MILFs... their big tits bouncing, asses clapping, wet pussies clenching around nothing...
His cock twitched harder, the ache becoming unbearable. The morning wood was relentless, pre-cum soaking through his pajamas. With a lazy sigh, he reached down and tugged the pants lower, freeing his thick shaft. It sprang up like a soldier at attention—veins pulsing, the head swollen and glistening with slick pre-cum that dribbled down the length. The cool air of the room kissed his exposed skin, making him shiver pleasantly. He didn't stroke it yet, just let it throb there, twitching occasionally as he imagined plunging into those dripping pink folds.
Down the hall, Sophia marched angrily toward her room, her hips swaying with each furious step. Her ass jiggled enticingly under the tight skirt, the black stockings whispering against her thighs. Her breasts bounced with the rhythm, nipples faintly hardening against the lace of her bra from the friction—and from lingering irritation mixed with something else. "That punk," she muttered under her breath, voice low and heated. "Daring to mock me with his hips like that..."
She pushed into her bedroom and headed straight for the en-suite bathroom. Grabbing an empty bucket from under the sink, she bent over to place it under the faucet. The motion pulled her skirt tighter across her round ass, the fabric riding up slightly to reveal the lacy tops of her stockings. Cold water gushed out, filling the bucket with a steady rush.
While waiting, Sophia pulled out her smartphone, scrolling through news feeds to distract herself. But her mind kept replaying the image of Ethan shaking his hips under the sheets—playful, defiant, almost... provocative.
Minutes later, the bucket was full. She lifted it effortlessly—years of yoga and gym sessions had made her stronger than she looked—and carried it back down the hall, water sloshing softly.
Back in Ethan's room, he was still lost in his fantasies, cock standing rigid and leaking, when the door opened again.
This time, Sophia entered quietly, closing the door behind her with a soft click. She didn't lock it—yet—but the bucket was heavy in her hands.
Her eyes widened instantly at the sight before her.
Ethan lay sprawled on the bed, pajamas pushed down to his thighs, his hard cock fully exposed and twitching in the dim light. It was thick, long, the shaft glistening with pre-cum that trailed down to his balls. The head was flushed deep red, a fresh bead forming at the slit.
Sophia froze, breath catching in her throat. Heat flooded her body instantly, pooling between her legs. Her soft, full lips parted as she bit the lower one gently, a tiny whimper escaping despite herself. One hand gripped the bucket tighter, knuckles whitening, while the other—almost unconsciously—drifted to her chest. She cupped one heavy breast through her blouse, giving it a slow, firm squeeze. The nipple hardened instantly under her palm, sending a jolt straight to her core.
Inside her lace panties, her pink pussy throbbed, growing slick with arousal. Warm wetness leaked out, soaking the thin fabric and trickling down her inner thighs, making the stockings feel damp against her skin. The scent of her own desire faintly reached her nose—musky, sweet.
She stared at his cock, watching it twitch again, imagining how it would feel in her hand... or deeper. A soft moan slipped out, barely audible, her fingers kneading her breast more urgently now.
But then reality snapped back. Breakfast was waiting. It was getting late.
Sophia released her breast, though her nipple ached in protest, and cleared her throat. Her voice came out softer this time, almost loving, laced with a husky edge. "Honey... sweetheart... it's really getting late for breakfast. Please get up, take a shower, and freshen up."
Ethan heard every word—the gentle tone surprising him—but he ignored it completely, staying limp and "asleep," his cock giving another lazy twitch.
That pushed her over the edge.
"That's it, you motherfucker," Sophia growled, her arousal twisting into frustrated heat. She raised the bucket high, cold water gleaming inside.