The house, with its conspiratorial silences, seemed to breathe, each creak of the floorboards a muffled confession. Hannah, Amelia, and I had built a castle of tensions, where every glance was a spark and every touch a promise of ruin. The day dragged on, heavy, as if time knew what was coming. Hannah moved through the house with an almost profane authority, her eyes gleaming with a certainty that was both seductive and terrifying. Her fingers, brushing my arm, were calculated, a whisper in my ear: “You know you’re mine.” Amelia, on the other hand, was a shadow laden with intentions. Her looks cut like knives, promising not just revenge but a slow, meticulous destruction, like someone dismantling a toy to understand how it breaks.
There was an emptiness in the house, an absence I felt but couldn’t name. My father, always mentioned in fleeting conversations, was away on business or so Amelia said, with a tone that mixed indifference and secrecy. “He’ll be back tomorrow,” she muttered once, folding a towel with unnecessary precision. “He always comes back.” Hannah, hearing this, merely smiled, a smile that hid more than it revealed. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. But the idea of him, even so distant, lingered like a shadow, an echo that made our games even more dangerous.
That night, the house seemed to shrink, the hallways narrower, the air thick as a swamp. Hannah proposed a “family” dinner, a performance that Amelia accepted with a venomous smile. We sat at the table, the plates steaming, the clink of cutlery like notes in a funereal symphony. Hannah, to my right, kept her hand on my thigh, her nails digging into my skin, marking possession. Amelia, across from me, cut her meat with a precision that was almost a warning, her eyes fixed on me, a gleam that mixed desire and threat.
“Delicious, Mom,” Hannah said, her voice syrupy but laced with irony that cut through the air. Amelia raised an eyebrow, her fork paused in midair. “I’m glad you like it, darling,” she replied, her tone so sharp it seemed to tear the silence. “Not everyone has… an appetite for everything.” The words fell like a stone in a lake, the ripples reverberating between us. I, caught in the middle, felt cold sweat on the back of my neck.
The dinner ended in silence, each woman sizing up the other, me in the center like contested prey. Hannah stood, announcing she was “getting ready for bed,” her glance at Amelia a blatant challenge. “Don’t take long,” she whispered to me, loud enough for Amelia to hear, before climbing the stairs, her hips swaying in deliberate provocation. Amelia, wiping her lips with a napkin, stared at me. “She thinks she’s already won,” she murmured, her voice low, heavy with a certainty that gave me chills. “But this game has no winners.” She stood, her dress clinging to her body, and walked to the stairs, pausing on the first step. “Come,” she ordered, without looking back. “Now.”
I hesitated, my heart in my throat, the image of Hannah waiting like a trap. But Amelia’s voice, a mix of command and seduction, pulled me along. We climbed in silence, the creaking steps like a lament. She didn’t go to the guest room but to Hannah’s, the door ajar, a sliver of light escaping like an invitation to hell.
I pushed the door open, and what I saw froze me. Hannah was on the bed, naked, her hair splayed, legs parted, her fingers sliding slowly over her pussy, a low moan escaping. But she wasn’t looking at me. Her eyes, sparking with defiance and surrender, were fixed on Amelia. “Took you long enough,” she said, her voice husky, her fingers not stopping. “Thought you’d run.” Amelia, beside me, let out a low, almost feline laugh. “Run?” she retorted, stepping forward, her dress slipping off her shoulders, revealing bare skin, firm breasts, the curve of her hips. “I don’t run. I take what I want.”
The air was electric, every word a spark. I, paralyzed, watched it unfold, my body betrayed by desire. Amelia climbed onto the bed, moving like a predator, and Hannah, instead of retreating, spread her legs wider, an invitation that was also a surrender. “Then take it,” she whispered, her eyes gleaming with a madness that mixed jealousy and desire. Amelia didn’t hesitate. She knelt between Hannah’s thighs, her hands gripping her hips firmly, and lowered her mouth, her tongue finding Hannah’s pussy in a movement that drew a muffled cry. Hannah arched her body, her fingers digging into the sheets, her moans rising as Amelia devoured her, their eyes locked, as if she wanted to consume everything.
I, still at the door, felt my cock harden, guilt and arousal at war. “Come,” Amelia said, her mouth still on Hannah, her eyes now on me. “She wants you too.” Hannah, panting, nodded, a crooked smile on her lips. “I do,” she gasped. “I want you… fucking me.” It was over. I stepped forward, my clothes falling away, and joined them, my body trembling. Hannah grabbed my cock, guiding it to her mouth, sucking with a hunger that was both vengeance and surrender. Amelia, between her legs, licked with precision, making Hannah shudder, her moans muffled by my dick.
The room became a whirlwind of flesh and sweat. I fucked Hannah while Amelia sucked her, then we switched, Amelia riding my cock while Hannah licked her breasts, the two of them touching, devouring each other in a dance of possession and damnation. Every thrust, every moan, pulled us deeper. I came inside Amelia, my cum dripping as Hannah licked it, her eyes locked on mine, sealing our fall.
But then, a creak. The door, slightly ajar, moved faintly. We stopped, our bodies still entwined, the air caught in our lungs. In the dim hallway, a silhouette. My father. He wasn’t away. He was there, his eyes wide, gleaming with a mix of shock and something darker, hungrier. He didn’t shout, didn’t enter. He stood still, his hand sliding slowly into his pants, the movement almost imperceptible but unmistakable. He was watching us, his face a mask of someone who’d seen the abyss and chose to lean into it.
Amelia was the first to notice, a low laugh escaping as she licked her lips. “Look who’s back,” she murmured, her voice syrupy, not stopping her touch on Hannah. Hannah, panting, looked at the door, her eyes sparking with a mix of fear and excitement. “Let him watch,” she whispered, her voice trembling but laced with defiance. I, petrified, felt the ground vanish. He didn’t move, just kept going, his hand now moving more firmly, his gaze fixed, as if he wanted to memorize every detail.
No one invited him in. No one needed to. His presence, silent and voyeuristic, was a promise that this wouldn’t end here. The house, with its secrets, seemed to chuckle softly, knowing the next act would be even more twisted. Hannah moaned louder, as if to provoke him, and Amelia, with a smile, intensified her movements, her eyes locked on the silhouette in the door. I, lost between them, knew we were all damned but what would come next, no one could predict. The abyss awaited us, and he, from the hallway, was already part of it.
