The morning sun, a New San Antonio gold, spilled through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, happy spirits. The smell of sizzling bacon, fried potatoes, and Nadia's strong, bitter Russian coffee created a symphony of scents that was the very aroma of home. But the real music, the new rhythm that had enveloped our lives, was the sound of us. Of him.
Sael moved through the kitchen with a new, profound grace. It was in the way his shoulders, once perpetually hunched as if carrying the weight of the world, now sat back, broad and confident. It was in the easy, genuine smile that touched his lips when he caught my eye. Ever since my brother had… changed… the very air in our small Hardcox family apartment had shifted from a tense, quiet waiting into something vibrant, alive, and thick with unspoken affection.
He passed behind Mom, who was tending to the stove. His hand didn't just brush her back; it settled there, a large, possessive palm on the curve of her waist. He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. I saw her shiver, a tiny, almost imperceptible tremor that ran through her entire body before she leaned back into him for a second, a soft, contented sigh escaping her lips.
"Morning, Mom..." he murmured, his voice a low rumble that was both a greeting and a promise.
"Good morning, my baby," Mom breathed out, her American accent softening at the sight of him.
He then moved to Grandma Nadia, who was setting the table with a severe efficiency that was so very Russian. He didn't hesitate. He simply cupped her strong jaw, turned her face to his, and planted a firm, slow kiss directly on her mouth. A faint blush colored her usually stern cheeks.
"Dobroye utro, babushka," he said, the Russian words still slightly clumsy but filled with an intimacy that made them sound fluent.
"Dobroye utro, Malysh," she replied, her voice a low, pleased purr. Her eyes, usually like chips of ice, had thawed, shining with a warmth reserved only for him.
This was our new normal. Morning kisses that lingered. Hugs that were full-bodied and meaningful, not just polite gestures. He was no longer distant, a ghost in his own home. He was the sun we all orbited, the man of the house in every sense of the word. And we—Mom, Vera, Nadia, Bella, and I—we loved him with a ferocity that went far beyond simple family bonds. It was primal, devoted, and utterly complete.
As I sipped my orange juice, my eyes tracked Sael as he sat down at the head of the table. It was impossible not to think about the… arrangements. The government mandates that had, strangely, woven our family into an even tighter, more intricate knot.
It was only natural, of course. Mom, Cathy, was in charge of teaching him about sex. It was her sacred duty as his mother, a federally mandated curriculum of intimacy designed to ensure the propagation of strong, family-centric genes in our sector of New America. I'd hear them sometimes late at night, the rhythmic creak of his bed frame through the thin wall we shared, a steady, pounding metronome. Mom's voice, usually so composed and gently wife, would fracture into breathless, high-pitched pleas.
"Yes, Sael! Right there! Oh god, yes!" It wasn't disturbing. It was… right. He was learning, and she was his first and most devoted teacher.
And then there was Grandma Nadia. Her situation was more direct. She was Sael's Government Mandated Match. A decree had been issued, a document stamped with the official seal, stating that his prime genetic material was to be paired with her proven, robust fertility. He had to impregnate her. She had to carry his child. It was the law. Seeing his hand rest on the still-flat plane of her stomach as they talked quietly was a jolt of reality. He was seeding our future inside her. The thought sent a thrill, hot and sharp, straight down my spine to settle deep in my core.
Last night, however, had been about a different kind of lesson. A different kind of claiming.
Bella and I had been lying in our bunk beds—me on top, her on the bottom—in the room adjacent to Sael's. We'd been whispering, as we often did, about when Aunt Vera would finally get her turn. She watched him with such hungry, liquid-dark eyes, her full Mexican lips often parted in a silent sigh of want.
We didn't have to wonder long.
It started with a low, throaty laugh from Vera—a sound we rarely heard—followed by the solid thud of Sael's bedroom door closing. Then, silence. A tense, anticipatory silence that made Bella and I freeze in our beds, holding our breaths. Then it came. A sharp, breathy gasp from Vera.
"Ai~ Papi~…" Then a deep, guttural groan from him. "You are mine now. Puta! PAH!!".
The sounds that followed were a symphony of raw, unvarnished passion. The frantic, slapping rhythm of flesh against flesh—SMACK-SLAP-SMACK-SLAP—a brutal, beautiful percussion.
Vera's moans were not gentle; they were ragged screams, muffled then unleashed, cries of "¡Sí! ¡Más duro! ¡Ay, Dios mío!" that rang through the apartment. Sael's grunts were animalistic, primal, a steady "Uh… Uh… Uh…Fuck! Grip that cock, puta!" that spoke of pure, physical exertion and dominance.
The headboard of his bed began a relentless assault on our shared wall—BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM—a vibration I felt through my mattress, each impact echoing the thrust of his hips into her willing body. Bella and I didn't speak. We just listened, our own bodies coiled tight with a tension we didn't dare acknowledge aloud. He had dominated and claimed Aunt Vera as his third wife, after Mom and Grandma. And the entire apartment, the entire family, had borne witness. And, I wanted it too, Nadia, Mom and Aunt Vera had got their turns, and now it was time for mine.
************************
'Something is definitely going to happen now,' sitting on the edge of Emily's bed, leaning back against the cool wood of her headboard, still basking in the pleasant ache in my muscles from the night before.
The door creaked open and Emily slipped in, closing it softly behind her. The faint scent of her shampoo—strawberries and cream—filled the small space. She didn't say a word. She just crawled onto the bed, her movements fluid and quiet, and settled herself between my legs, her back leaning against my chest. She fit there perfectly, the curve of her skull nesting under my chin.
"Alright, Em… what is it?". I wrapped my arms around her, holding my little sister close. Her heart was beating a swift, fluttery rhythm against my forearm.
Then, slowly, deliberately, she reached down and took my right hand in both of hers. She guided it upwards, over the soft cotton of her t-shirt, and placed my palm directly over her left breast. It was a giant, perky mound, so full and heavy in my hand even through the fabric.
"GRAB! SQUEEZE~". I didn't need any further instruction. I let my fingers curl, gently kneading the soft flesh, my thumb finding the hard little nub of her nipple and circling it slowly. A soft sigh escaped her lips.
"Hmmmm… Last night," she began, her voice a whisper, laced with a nervous tremor. "You and aunt Vera… you were… really loud."
I winced internally, a pang of guilt hitting me. Our rooms were too small, the walls too thin. "I am sorry for that, Em…," I murmured into her hair, "We did not mean to disturb your sleep..."
She shook her head, her hair tickling my nose. "We weren't sleeping…. At all," Her hand came up to cover mine, pressing it more firmly against her breast, encouraging my ministrations.
"Bella and I… we were awake. The whole time. We… we were listening….". She said, as she gets my hand to grab even harder.
Her confession hung in the air, thick and heavy. I continued to massage her breast, feeling the pebbled texture of her nipple under the cotton. I wasn't shocked. In this new world of ours, very little could shock me anymore.
"You listened, huh?" I said, my voice low.
"Mmmm…" she hummed, arching her back slightly to push her chest more fully into my hand. "It was… impossible not to."
"And did you… like what you heard?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
She was silent for a long moment, and I could feel the heat of a blush rising on her cheeks. "Kinda," she finally admitted, her voice even smaller.
"It was… exciting. But it would have been even better if… if we could have watched you doing it… Seen you... fucking her senseless…".
"Oh… really? don't know if aunt Vera would like that…". I chuckled. The image her words conjured was potent: Emily and Bella, eyes wide in the dark, watching me pound into Vera's lush body. My cock, which had been semi-engaged, began to swell insistently against the small of her back. She felt it immediately, a slight shift of her hips acknowledging it.
"How many times," I asked, my voice dropping an octave, becoming rougher, "did you and Bella… finish? Listening to us?"
She let out a shaky breath. "A lot…. I lost count... Three… maybe four times each? It was so intense… The sounds you were making… the way Tía Vera was screaming… we couldn't help it, you know…."
My hand stilled on her breast for a moment before resuming its gentle torture. The conversation was crossing a line, but it was a line that had been blurred beyond recognition in our home.
"You must have been so horny," I stated, the crude word feeling appropriate.
"We were," she confessed, squirming against my growing erection. "We were so wet and aching… we… we ended up pleasuring each other."
Now that got my full attention. My whole body went still. "You and Bella? How?".
"Scissors," she whispered, as if sharing a sacred secret.
"We got into a sixty-nine…. I was on top. We… we were tongue-fucking each other's pussies. Schlllllp…. Mmmm. And fingering each other at the same time...".
The onomatopoeia, the graphic detail, sent a jolt of pure lightning straight to my groin. My mind painted the picture in vivid, explicit detail: Emily's smooth, hairless pussy hovering over Bella's darker, curlier one, their tongues delving deep, their fingers frantically working each other's clits.
"Wow, that's hot," I breathed out, a mix of awe and intense arousal. "How often do you two do this together?"
"Regularly," she admitted without hesitation, her honesty absolute. "Mom and Vera and Grandma Nadia do it, too... Sometimes all together... We're women. We get… pent up really quick and really fast… Especially with you right here, and already fucking Mom, Nadia and now Aunt Vera like…every night…it's just driving us crazy."
A possessive fire ignited in my gut. I tightened my arms around her. "Heh… don't know that you both felt that way… by the way, I don't mind that you do that with each other," I said, my voice firm, leaving no room for argument. "It is natural…. It is family. But." I paused, making sure she was listening.
"I preferred that you do not do this with other men… I am quite possessive you know… if we be fucking… that pussy is mine… get it?"
She turned her head to look up at me, her blue eyes wide and serious. "I go it, Sael. I and we would never…. The entire family… we only want you. We have never, and will never, be with any other man. You are our everything…."
She tilted her face up further, her lips parted slightly, an unspoken question hanging in the millimeter of space between her mouth and mine. The rhythm of the house was about to change once again.