Olivia rested against her son's chiseled chest, her plump ass nestled into his muscled thigh, her soaked blue underwear a flimsy shield against the heat of his skin. Abigaille, pressed against his other side, radiated a playful warmth, her bronzed curves molded to him, her purple underwear clinging to her like a lover's caress.
The single chair they shared groaned softly, their bodies entwined in a tableau of forbidden affection, Kafka's arms encircling them both, his hands resting on their hips, a possessive embrace that filled Olivia with a serene bliss. She thought this moment, her son's love, their shared joy, was the homecoming she'd dreamed of, a peace she hoped would last forever.
But the tranquility shattered when Kafka's hands moved, sliding upward to grope her breasts from beneath, his fingers kneading the soft flesh through her bra.
