I spent five years working abroad, and after such a long time away I expected there to be a period of time where everyone adjusted to my return. It had been a while since I had even had the opportunity to spend time with my husband and daughters. I'd called and video chatted often, and planned on returning sooner than I had, but the demands of my work kept me away and distracted from the passage of time.
The twins had been fourteen when I saw them both in person last. They are nineteen and almost unrecognizable to me now. When I left half a decade ago both girls were studious and sweet. They weren't the most popular kids at school but they had a good group of friends and both of them seemed set to succeed in every aspect of life. The girls I returned to were... strange. They were obsessed with their father, my husband.
Aside from the fact that he was their father, why wouldn't they be? He was an athletic man with broad shoulders and thick arms, a square jaw, and a thick head of brown hair that hung down just past his shoulders. His name was David, and he was the same age as me. We met in college when we were both 18, and a whirlwind romance had me pregnant before I'd even finished my first semester. He was handsome, but it was his kindness that drew me to him, though our sex life had never been bad either which helped. When the girls were born he was the kind of man that any mother would want for her children. He was patient, loving, and attentive. He would do anything to keep our girls safe and happy. He worked a lot, but I had never had a reason to suspect that he was anything other than the man I loved. Now, I couldn't help but wonder.
The girls had never been the most attractive young girls, their features being plain and unremarkable compared to some of the preppier of their classmates. They had been uninterested in makeup or self care. When I had left them they were skinny teenage girls who had only just begun to fill out a little bit. The pictures I saw over the five years I was away were one thing. They told a story of young ladies growing up and becoming the beautiful people I knew they always were destined to become. In person, they had grown into nubile young women with voluptuous breasts and full behinds that immediately drew your attention. They had figures that made men behave like cavemen in their periphery for the mere chance of getting their attention. Their bodies were slender and primed for sex. They were often on full display in the skimpiest clothing when my husband was home as if to drive all of this home to both of us.
I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at how my body had faded with time and childbirth, my breasts not bouncing in that same way, and a bit of tummy hanging over my jeans. The girls didn't have anything like that. Their bodies were tight and toned and their large busts seemed to defy gravity with how little jiggle they had to them. Their legs were long, their hips wide and skin perfectly smooth. They walked like they wanted to be fucked, and my husband seemed to know that. He watched them parade themselves around unabashedly. His smug smile made me feel uncertain in my own home.
As much as their bodies had changed, their minds seemed to have changed more. They had gone from shy and timid to being openly sexual with me and anyone else around, especially my husband. The three of them had always been close, but the closeness had become more suspicious with age. Now that the twins were adults I was glad that they still got along so well, and I couldn't blame them for wanting to keep their family unit strong, but there was something unsettling about the way they were together. Their constant closeness, the way they flirted with each other. My husband seemed to think it was cute, but it didn't seem right to me.
I had been gone for far too long, and I knew I would need to adjust.
My husband, though he had been understanding, seemed distant from me now. He was constantly preoccupied, and the twins were often monopolizing his time. When I first returned I thought maybe it was the stress of a new job, the family adjusting to my return, so I didn't push it. If I was honest with myself, the dynamic between all of us made me a bit uncomfortable, but I was trying to keep an open mind. I was sleeping in a bedroom next to my office. I hadn't felt ready to sleep in our old bed again after so long. I needed time to adjust. One of the girls had volunteered her room and offered to share the other with her sister. I hadn't thought much of it until one day when I overheard something that changed the context of every interaction I'd had since I'd returned home.
It was late, and I was in my office working. It had been a long day of unpacking. I was finally approaching the point of being done, and I had finally had a moment to myself. I had told David and the girls I was tired, and I retreated to my wing of the house, my mind clouded with exhaustion and anxiety. I wanted to get this work done, then try and get a good night's sleep and tackle the next day anew. It had been two weeks since I had returned home, and I was starting to settle into my old routine. I looked over my documents and tried to focus on the task at hand, but I was having a hard time. I sighed, closing my eyes and rubbing them with my palms.
The noise was faint, but I could hear something from upstairs. It sounded like the TV, but it was quiet and muffled. I couldn't make out what was being said.
I sat back in my chair, closing my eyes and listening. It was silent for a moment. Then, faintly, I heard the noise again. It sounded like the TV, but still a little more than that. A mixture of both. Then suddenly, a gasp? Moaning? My brow furrowed and I listened, trying to understand the sound. It was quiet, then louder, and then a rhythmic pounding. It was mixed with the sounds of a TV, but someone was fucking upstairs. I was tired and my brain was foggy. It took a moment to realize that the sounds were coming from the direction of the master bedroom.
Was it my husband, fucking someone around our girls? Maybe it was the TV, and I was imagining the noise. He was watching porn, I told myself. I sat and tried to convince myself the sound wasn't what I thought it was, but I couldn't deny what I heard. It was the unmistakable sound of a woman getting fucked. Something in the back of my head told me that the voice sounded like Julie. She was always the more vocal of the twins.
I felt a pang of anger and jealousy. Here I was working downstairs, trying to get back into the swing of things, and upstairs he was fucking one of my daughters. Was I going crazy? Was it fair? I had been working so hard. Had he fucked her the day I came back, while I was working? Had they been fucking this whole time and I just hadn't noticed? I closed my laptop and sat there fuming for a moment, spiraling. The sounds from upstairs continued, and I found myself sitting, waiting for it to end. The more I listened the more aroused I became, and that angered me further. This was one of my children, and I was getting horny listening to her fuck her father. What was wrong with me?
The pounding from upstairs went on and on, and as I sat and listened, the rage began to truly war with my arousal. The sound of the girl's moans were muffled, but clearly in the extremes of ecstasy. She was gasping for air and I realized after a moment that she must have been orgasming. My cheeks flushed. How many times had they gone? How many times could she go? I had never heard anyone fuck like that, and I found myself growing soaking wet. I had been frustrated, not having the time or privacy to masturbate since I'd been home. It had been even longer since I'd made love to my husband, as it had been two years since he came to visit me, and we hadn't made love since my return. My body was aching for release, and the noises were driving me mad. The sounds from upstairs grew faster, more erratic, and then a man's voice groaned loudly and the noises stopped.
I sat in my office, breathing heavily, my face flushed. After a moment, the sounds of a movie title track echoed through the house. The shower began to run. I had never been a confrontational person, and as aroused as I was I couldn't find it in myself to go upstairs. I went into the bathroom and washed up, brushed my teeth, and readied myself for bed. I went back to my office and closed my door, locking it behind me. I was exhausted and frustrated, but I decided that it could wait. I needed to get off to think clearly. I undressed, and my pussy was soaking wet and hot.
I crawled into bed and began to touch myself. I tried to forget about what I had heard, focusing on my arousal, but the images in my mind were impossible to ignore. My husband, naked, his thick cock driving in and out of one of my daughters, his large hands gripping her hips. Her mouth hanging open in a soundless cry, her eyes rolled back, her silvery blonde hair a mess. Her massive breasts swinging, her thick nipples rock hard. The sounds of his groans, her cries, and the sound of skin slapping skin. I found myself fingering my pussy hard, trying to cum before the thoughts in my head pushed me over the edge. I wanted to get it over with, cum, and fall asleep.
I pictured my husband's massive cock, and imagined it sinking into one of my daughters' tight pussies. It was wrong, so wrong. How could I think this? My arousal was undeniable, though. I imagined myself being the girl he was fucking, and my orgasm hit me fast and hard. I gasped and cried out as I came, and tears ran down my face. The shame and the guilt of my fantasy and orgasm crashed over me and I cried. It was a small thing compared to what was to come.
I slept restlessly that night. I could hear the TV still running when I climbed into my bed. When I woke the next morning the TV was still on. It was an early Saturday morning, and the house was otherwise silent. I got out of bed and opened my door. As soon as the door cracked the smell hit me, a heady aroma of sex and sweat. I tried not to think about what had happened the night before, but the smell was undeniable. The girls were cheery and rosy cheeked at breakfast. Both of them were as usual, wearing matching gray name-brand underwear, their golden hair cascading over their shoulders. It was impossible to tell Britt from Julie like this.
Somehow, David always could.
David was sitting on the couch, shirtless, reading the paper. The girls were being extra flirty with him, and I noticed a bite mark on his shoulder. He had a smile on his face and his eyes were tired. He hadn't shaved, and his stubble was a few days old.
"Well don't you all look comfortable?" I said. The girls were both smiling and laughing, and didn't look at me.
"Hey, hun." David said, looking up. "Good morning."
"How was your night last night?" I asked. "You were up pretty late."
David smiled. "Oh, not too bad. We had a bit of fun. The girls and I were just watching some movies, and we all fell asleep on the couch."
"Sounds like fun." I said, turning back towards the counter and taking a sip of coffee. I turned around, and both the girls had taken a spot on either side of him, their arms draped over his shoulders, their breasts pressed into him. They were all looking at me, smiling in unison. I eyed the places where their skin touched with an eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, daddy sure did have fun." Britt said. "Right, daddy?"
"Oh yeah, it was really nice." He replied. He smiled, and it was a little forced. I could tell that he was trying not to laugh. He was hiding something. It was painfully obvious.
"What kind of 'fun' did you have?" I asked, exercising the fullest extent of my ability to confront reality.
"Oh, you know, the usual." Julie said. "We just did what we always do, then we watched some movies and fell asleep."
"What do you mean, what you always do?" I asked, taking another sip. I felt tense but the three of them seemed utterly relaxed in each other's presence.
"Oh, mom, it's not a big deal. We just did some of the stuff we always do." Julie said, rolling her eyes.
"Don't mind them." David interjected lazily.
Julie laughed. She looked at her sister, and they both turned to look at their father. He had a wide grin on his face.
"Daddy? Should we tell her?" Britt said.
"Nah, girls, you shouldn't bother her. You know she doesn't like us talking about that kind of thing." David replied. His face said otherwise.
"Come on, Dad," Britt said, turning and kissing his neck. "We aren't really going to be able to hide anything for much longer."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Melanie?"
