MasukDay five and I'm starting to think America might actually kill me. Not the heat. Not the training. The sheer sexual chaos of this household.Steve's at some athletics conference in Atlanta until tomorrow. Megan's teaching summer school. Katie's doing whatever Katie does when she's avoiding me. Lily left this morning for some art thing, kissed me goodbye and slipped her tongue in.I'm alone. Finally. Eating porridge and a protein bar.That's when the taxi pulls up.I watch from the window. Woman gets out. Early sixties maybe. Long linen skirt, silk shirt, proper leather bag. Hair silver-grey, cut short and sharp. Moves like someone who's never questioned whether they belong somewhere.Pays the driver. Walks up the path. Opens the door with her own key.Oh fuck.She sees me at the kitchen island in my boxers and an old Cambridge rowing vest. Stops. Looks me up and down. Not leering. More like she's deciding if I'm worth the bother."You must be the British runner Steve's imported."Amer
Steve's at campus doing coach things. Megan's at her book club which apparently happens every Wednesday and definitely isn't code for anything suspicious. Katie left at dawn for a run and hasn't come back yet, probably avoiding me after yesterday's forest shag made things weird.I'm alone in the house eating leftover burgers for breakfast because jet lag's destroyed my understanding of mealtimes.That's when she walks in.Just opens the door like she lives here. Doesn't knock. Doesn't call out. Barefoot, carrying this massive box, wearing a vintage floral dress that's seen better days and has paint stains near the hem. Dark hair like Steve's but longer, messy. Tattoo on her shoulder that looks like a bird or maybe a fish.Late thirties. Fit in that way arty women are when they don't try but somehow look better than women who do. The kind of woman who gets hotter with age. Christ, I'm developing a type here and it's not good for my life expectancy.She sees me. Stops. Smiles."Well are
Katie Morrison arrived home at eight the next morning while I was eating Cheerios at the kitchen island feeling like absolute death.Jet lag plus guilty conscience plus the fact I'd shagged her mum twelve hours ago equals one rough morning.Door opens. I look up.Oh fuck me sideways.Twenty-three. Tall like Steve but shaped like Megan. Dark hair past her shoulders. Running shorts showing legs that went on for days. Cornell t-shirt, definitely no bra. Trainers that cost more than my flight.Looked like a Nike advert. Or one of those American teen films where everyone's impossibly fit and you know they're all actually thirty."You're Dan." Dumps her bag by the door. "The Brit runner Dad won't shut up about.""That's me. You're Katie, yeah?""Unfortunately." Goes straight to the fridge. Pours orange juice. Leans against the counter. "Jet lag bad?""Yeah, brutal."She looks at me properly. Really looks. Up and down in a way that makes me feel like a piece of meat, which felt kinda pervers
"Because you're here. Because you're young and fit and British and I've been thinking about this since Steve showed me your photo." Her hand slid to my chest. "Because I'm forty-two and I've been faithful for twenty years and I'm bored out of my fucking mind... with a lazy jerk of a husband."She kissed me, wet and hungry. I kissed back, stopped thinking.My hands slid under the t-shirt. No bra. Her nipples hardened under my palms."Fuck," she breathed. "How long since you've had sex?""Three months. Since my ex Emma dumped me.""Poor baby." Her hand felt my cock through my boxers. "Let's fix that."She pulled off my t-shirt, then hers. Christ, she was gorgeous. Fit like rowers are. Gorgeous tits with dark nipples."Your turn," she said, nodding at my boxers.I pulled them down. My cock rock hard.Her eyes widened. "Well, that's going to feel good."She stroked me slowly. I groaned, hips bucking."Condoms in the desk drawer," she said. "Steve keeps them there for the team. Ironic, rea
This one's for you. You'll know why.Enjoy---So I shagged my coach's wife on my first night in America. And his daughter the next morning. Not my finest moment, but definitely top five.I'm Dan. 21. Just finished at Cambridge reading History. Got a 2:1, which means I'm neither thick nor brilliant. Perfectly average at everything except running.That's the one thing I'm actually good at.Been running since I was thirteen. PE teacher said I had natural endurance and should stop being a lazy git. Turned out he was right. County champion at sixteen. National youth team at seventeen. By Cambridge I was running 5Ks in fourteen and a half minutes.Fast enough to catch the attention of Coach Steve Morrison at Ridgemont University in North Carolina. Offered me a summer scholarship. Train with his cross-country team. Maybe a full ride for a Masters if I impressed him."You'll love it here," he'd said over Zoom. American accent all warm. "Great programme, fantastic facilities. My wife makes th
Margaret booked the theatre three weeks ago. Then cancelled two days before because of a cold. Offered us her tickets. "Shame to waste them, Richard. You and Sarah should go."So Sunday afternoon. The Cambridge Arts Theatre. Arcadia. Just the two of us. First proper outing in months, Richard called it.Got dressed that morning. Navy wrap dress. Stockings and suspenders more comfortable than tights for a long performance.Richard in a proper shirt. Made an effort. Looked nice actually. Held my hand walking there.The lobby packed. Sunday matinée Stoppard in Cambridge. Everyone who's anyone.Then I saw him.Tom. Standing near the bar. Suit and tie. Looking at his phone.Fuck.'Alright, love?' Richard noticed I'd stopped.'Fine. Thought I saw someone from work.'We kept walking. Found our seats. Dress circle. Row C. Richard checked the tickets. Seats 15 and 16.Sat down. Richard took 15, end of the row. I took 16.Victorian seats. Narrow. His thigh against mine.'This is nice,' he said.
Elayne was sitting cross-legged on the foot of my bed, looking directly at me. "We need to talk.""We need to talk."The words sent a jolt of alarm racing down my spine as I closed the door to my room behind me. A series of questions rapidly flashed through my head. What the hell was my sister doin
And then her eyes slightly rolled upward, her mouth opened wide, and her entire body violently trembled. She came, and hard by the looks of it, without making a single sound. The sight was more than I could take after everything that had just gone on and I'm not at all proud to say that I exploded,
"Got it." Before anyone could say anything else I hopped to my feet. "I'm gonna go ahead, see you in the car." The last thing I wanted right now was to have a moment alone with Elayne, without our parents around to prevent her from bringing up whatever the fuck was going on. Before stepping into th
Despite knowing that I absolutely should not be looking at any of this, I couldn't tear my eyes away, especially as her fingers slowly drifted upwards to gently pinch her nipples. My cock, which had already been stiffening, reached the point where I was forced to reach down and reposition in it my







