‘Uh, dude? There’s a video going round you might wanna know about.’ — my friend Daniel messaged me on WhatsApp.
This was it. The end. My video had been downloaded and reuploaded, going viral enough for even Daniel to find it.
I typed back, trying to sound casual, “What’s that?”
“Daniel is typing…” The ellipses hung there, stretching my nerves thin.
‘Come on,’ I muttered, heart racing in my chest.
Then, the link appeared. Facebook.
Oh god, someone uploaded the video to Facebook. Now everyone could see Mum and Wayne having sex. They were going to prison, and it was all on me.
I trembled as I clicked, my heart thundering in my ears.
No naked skin, no grunts or wet slaps. Just the lead singer of my favorite band, announcing a massive UK tour. Dates, venues, tickets on sale soon.
‘Fancy going? :D’ Daniel messaged.
Relief crashed over me like a cold shower, washing away the panic. I laughed out loud, replaying it twice to be sure. But the dread coiled in my gut like an uninvited guest. What if this was just a brief respite before the storm?
I could still picture the dreaded video, my heart racing as I recalled the raw embarrassment—the shame crashing over me in waves, making my laughter feel hollow. I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to cling to this moment of joy while battling the gnawing fear of what could still unfold. What if the real footage—the one I’d accidentally captured in my haze of shame—had already spread?
A few hundred eyes on Mum’s pussy stretched around Wayne’s thick cock, her tits bouncing as he pounded her from behind. I shoved the thought down, but it festered in the back of my mind.
In that moment, I recognised how close I’d come to ruining everything. The weight of my impulsiveness loomed over me like a dark cloud, reminding me that luck wouldn’t always be on my side. I needed to learn from this—I had to be more careful, because next time, it might not end so well.
I replied with an image of the ‘heavy breathing cat’ meme, keeping my tone light. I often relied on humour to deflect awkwardness or poke fun at myself. Daniel would have seen it as a physical, jokey representation of me finding out that my favourite band was playing, but to me? It represented how I currently felt about something Daniel, and by extension, everyone else, would hopefully never find out.
That night was the last before Dad got back from his work trip. The house felt too quiet, charged with the remnants of their affair. Around 4 a.m., I jolted awake, throat dry, bladder full. The hallway was dark, moonlight spilling through the window like a silver blade. Their bedroom door hung ajar—careless, or maybe deliberate. I crept closer, unable to stop myself, and peeked in.
There they were, tangled in the sheets on Dad’s side of the bed. Mum on her back, one leg hooked over Wayne’s thigh, her full breasts rising with each soft breath. Wayne sprawled beside her, arm draped possessively across her waist, his chest broad and hairy against her smooth skin.
They looked perfect together, like they belonged—her head nestled in the crook of his neck, lips parted slightly. In the pale light, something glinted on Wayne’s wrist: that Rolex, the one Dad had mourned as lost months ago. It caught the moonbeam, flashing like a taunt. My cock twitched instantly, hardening as I stared at them, so peaceful, so forbidden.
I backed away to the bathroom, heart hammering, and locked the door. Leaning against the sink, I yanked down my boxers. My hand wrapped around my shaft, stroking slowly at first, eyes squeezed shut to picture them. Wayne’s strong body pinning Mum down, his cock sliding deep into her wet pussy, making her gasp. The watch—Dad’s watch—was bouncing on his wrist as he thrust harder, claiming her.
I pumped faster, thumb circling the head, pre-cum slicking my grip. Her imagined cries filled my head, her nails digging into his back. I came hard, ropes of cum splattering the sink, biting my lip to stay silent. Shame burned hot after, but so did the thrill. I cleaned up quickly, slipping back to bed with their image burned into my brain.
Morning brought Dad’s return. His car crunched up the drive, and I heard the front door bang open.
‘Home sweet home!’ Alan bellowed, dropping his bag in the hall. Wayne was still there, lounging in the kitchen like he owned the place, sipping coffee in his jeans and a tight tee that showed off his build.
Mum fluttered around, pecking Dad on the cheek, her robe loose enough to hint at the curves Wayne had gripped all week.
Alan clapped Wayne on the shoulder.
‘Good to see you, brother-in-law. Keeping the place in one piece?’
Wayne grinned, his wrist casually lifting to show off the Rolex. Alan didn’t even glance at it.
‘Glad to be home!’ Alan said. Just hoping you didn’t let my plants die while I was away.’
He ruffled my hair and headed to unpack, completely oblivious to the lingering scent of sex in the air, or the way Mum’s hand brushed Wayne’s ass when she passed him the sugar.
‘Got the night shift on Saturday,’ Alan casually told us. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll be back for Matthew’s birthday the next day.’
Mum and Wayne knowingly looked at each other.
I was honestly gobsmacked. How could Dad be so blissfully unaware of everything going on around him? It dawned on me that maybe he just couldn’t fathom the idea of incest in someone he knew. Sure, he knew what it was, but the thought that it could happen within our family likely never crossed his mind, leaving him completely oblivious—even to the Rolex glinting on Wayne’s wrist.
Wayne hung around for days, ‘helping’ with chores while Dad napped off the drive. Not once did Dad ask why Wayne kept coming over.
They stole touches—a quick grope in the pantry, the faint sound of Mum’s giggle muffled behind the door as Wayne’s fingers dipped under her skirt. I caught them once in the laundry room, the warm scent of freshly washed clothes hanging in the air. Wayne’s pants were down around his ankles as she knelt beside him, her hand working him slowly. The rhythmic sound of fabric rustling against skin echoed softly, mixing with the distant hum of the washing machine. She shooed me away, but the heat in her eyes said she didn’t mind if I watched, sending a thrill of confusion and shame racing through me.
One evening, tension crackled. Dad wanted a quiet night in, beer in hand, TV droning. Mum shot me a look across the dinner table, her foot nudging Wayne’s under the cloth.
‘Matthew, why don’t you keep your dad company downstairs? Show him that new game you got.’
I nodded, stomach flipping. Wayne smirked, excusing himself to ‘help Mum with birthday stuff.’
Clever. My birthday being in a few days would be a good way for Mum and Wayne to be upstairs. They could even play on their “sneakiness”, in a “Ohhh, don’t come upstairs, Matthew, hint hint” way. So as far as Dad was concerned, they were simply wrapping my presents or something.
Minutes later, as Dad and I settled in the lounge, I couldn’t help but feel the silence from above—a silence that was heavy with the knowledge of what was happening.
They weren’t wrapping my presents. They were together. Right now, in Dad’s bed. I pictured Wayne’s cock buried deep inside Mum, her legs wrapped around his waist as he moved slowly, deliberately, the intimacy of their connection playing out just out of earshot.
Dad chuckled at the screen, clueless, while my ears strained for every thud and gasp. My own dick stirred, but I forced focus on the game.
Then disaster loomed. Dad paused mid-bite in his chocolate biscuit.
‘Hang on, I need to grab that thing from the bedroom. Your birthday’s on Saturday—can’t let you snoop.’
He stood, heading for the stairs.
Panic surged. I bolted up.
‘Dad, wait! Uh, let me get my phone first.’
‘I don’t want you seeing it, it’s a surpriiise,’ Dad said in a sly, drawling tone.
‘Mum’ll get it,’ I said.
‘Your mum doesn’t know what it is,’ Dad replied, equally as sly.
I raced ahead, taking the steps two at a time. The bedroom door was closed, yet hushed movement could be heard.
I burst in. In the dim light of the room, Mum and Wayne were already under the covers, their bodies nestled together in a spooning position. All I could make out was their top half, shadows mingling in the darkness. Mum’s breasts were barely visible beneath the thin fabric, creating a silhouette that felt both intimate and unsettling. Wayne propped himself up on his left hand, the gleam of his Rolex clasp catching the faintest glimmer of light. His right hand rested gently over Mum’s waist, fingers intertwined with hers above the covers, an act of tenderness that ignited a wave of nausea in my stomach. Mum’s left hand lay casually on her pillow, her own Rolex and wedding ring catching the darkness, twinkling like deceptive stars in a night sky that felt too close. In that moment, it was impossible to ignore the intimacy they shared.
‘Matthew! Get out!’ Mum hissed under her breath, pointing to the door.
‘Dad’s coming!’ I whispered.
They froze. Mum scrambled, yanking the duvet over them as they dove under the covers.
‘Shit,’ Wayne hissed, but they bunched up, bodies pressed tight, trying to look innocent.
I positioned myself in the doorway just as Dad crested the stairs.
‘What you standing there for? Go get your phone then,’ Dad muttered.
He pushed past, entering the room. The bed lump shifted slightly—Mum’s foot poking out? But Dad rummaged in the wardrobe, back turned, pulling out a wrapped box.
‘Avert your eyes, son,’ he joked, referring to my birthday present, and not to the two silhouettes under the sheets, or the musky scent of sex.
Dad was already halfway down the stairs as I turned to close the master bedroom door. Behind me, I caught the unmistakable sound of Mum and Wayne giggling—far too loud, far too careless for two adults tangled in something so dangerous. Their laughter echoed with the recklessness of teenagers, oblivious to the fact that what they were doing could land them in prison.
Dad plopped back on the couch, none the wiser. Moments later, Mum and Wayne came downstairs, trying to act casual, yet both had a flushed look about them. It was a good job Dad was too focused on the game to notice.
The next evening, it was Dad’s night shift. Mum and Wayne found me in the kitchen before Dad had left.
‘Close call, yesterday’ Wayne said, clapping my shoulder. His hand lingered, the Rolex cool against my skin. ‘Thanks for the heads-up, kid. Owe you one.’
Mum smiled, her robe slipping open to reveal a lace bra cupping her heavy tits.
Dad’s car had barely pulled out of the driveway, the taillights fading into the night, when Mum turned to me in the kitchen, her eyes sparkling with that mix of mischief and desire I’d only glimpsed before.
‘Your dad’s gone till morning, love,’ Mum whispered, her voice thick with secret longing and a tremor of guilt. ‘Your birthday’s nearly here—let’s make it unforgettable.’
As Mum lingered in the doorway, her eyes burning in the low light, heavy with hunger and something darker, desperate, she glanced at me with a mix of longing and understanding.
‘Matthew, I know this is all new and confusing for you. But I want you to get it out of your system. No spying, just be here with us for once. Come upstairs with us. Watch. Be part of us tonight—just watch, just for this one time.’
Wayne’s hand slid over the curve of her lower back, fingers slipping beneath her robe, claiming her with a slow, possessive stroke. The flash of his Rolex shimmered—a stolen promise glinting in the shadows.
My heart hammered, arousal and dread twisting inside me, hotter and sharper than any fantasy I’d ever conjured alone. This was no longer a secret in my head.
‘Okay,’ I breathed, my voice barely more than a tremor, and followed them up the stairs, helpless to resist, every step shrouded in the thrill of crossing some sacred, forbidden line.
Mum gently grasped my hand, leading the way up the stairs, while I could feel Wayne’s firm hand resting on my shoulder, an unspoken dominance behind me.
The marital bedroom was dimly lit by the bedside lamp, casting warm shadows over the king-sized bed where Dad and Mum usually slept side by side, innocent and routine. Tonight, it was theirs—Wayne’s territory. I hesitated in the doorway, but Mum gently held my hand and guided me to the armchair in the corner, right beside the bed, close enough to hear every breath, smell every scent.
‘Sit here, Matthew. Get comfortable,’ she breathed. ‘This is for you too.’
She kissed my forehead, her lips soft and lingering, before turning to Wayne.
They undressed slowly, almost performatively.
Mum let her robe slip to the floor, revealing her full, heavy breasts swaying free, nipples already pebbled in the cool air. Her panties followed, dark curls framing her pussy lips, already glistening. Wayne stripped off his shirt, muscles flexing under tanned skin, then shoved down his jeans, his thick cock springing out, hard and curving upward, the head flushed purple. He was so much bigger than me—confident, commanding. I shifted in the chair, my own dick twitching in my pants, trapped and aching.
Mum turned toward the smart speaker and, with a breathy murmur, said, “Alexa, play my sex playlist.”
The opening notes of Anastacia’s ‘Left Outside Alone’ drifted through the room—dirty, defiant, impossibly perfect for what was about to unfold between us. The music seemed to sanctify the forbidden, making the air heavy with anticipation and the thrill of crossing a line that should never be crossed.
God, the music makes it all feel so much more real, I thought, my heart pounding. How can something so wrong feel so right with the right song playing?
Mum climbed onto the bed first, lying back against the pillows on Dad’s side, her legs parting invitingly. Wayne joined her, kneeling between her thighs, his hands roaming her body—squeezing her tits, thumbs circling the nipples until she arched with a soft moan.
‘I’ve wanted this all day, brother,’ she murmured, pulling him down for a deep kiss, tongues tangling visibly.
He positioned himself at her entrance, rubbing the fat head of his cock along her slit, coating it in her wetness. Then, with a slow push, he entered her in missionary, her pussy lips parting around his girth like they were made for him.
She gasped, legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his ass to urge him deeper. He sank in fully, balls pressing against her, and held there, grinding his hips in circles to stir her insides.
From my chair, inches away, I could see it all—the way her folds stretched taut, clinging to his shaft as he began to thrust. Slow at first, pulling out almost to the tip before sliding back in, the wet squelch of her arousal filling the room.
This is wrong, so fucking wrong, but God, it’s hot, I thought.
My thoughts raced: Look at her face—pure bliss, eyes half-lidded, mouth open in those little pants. He’s claiming her, right here where Dad sleeps. And I’m just watching, like some pervert son.
The music changed to “Push the Button” by the Sugababes.
What the hell is this song doing on her playlist? It was so wrong, but the cheeky, bouncy beat kicked in right as things got heated, adding a playful, almost conspiratorial energy to the initial thrusts—like the whole thing was a game they knew they shouldn’t be playing.
Wayne picked up the pace, hips snapping forward, the bed creaking under them. Her tits bounced with each impact, and she clutched onto his back.
‘Oh god, Wayyyyne,’ she begged, her voice husky.
He let out a low ‘Yeahhh,’ pounding deeper, his grunts mixing with her moans. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping onto her chest. I imagined the heat radiating from their joined bodies, the slap of skin on skin echoing in my ears. She’s so wet for him. That pussy Dad never satisfies—swallowing him whole. The taboo twisted in my mind, fueling the fire in my veins.
After a few minutes, they shifted. Mum pushed him onto his back, straddling him in cowgirl, her hands on his chest for leverage. She hovered over his cock, teasing the tip against her clit before sinking down, inch by inch, until she was seated fully, his length buried to the hilt.
‘Mmm, feels so good,’ she sighed, starting to rock her hips, grinding forward and back. Her ass cheeks flexed as she moved.
From my angle, I watched every inch of Wayne’s thick shaft vanish inside Mum, her slickness glistening over his heavy balls. The sight of Mum’s Rolex brushing his hairy chest sent a jolt through me—something so elegant wrapped up in something so depraved. His big hands locked around her hips, forcing her to ride to his rhythm, thumbs pressing deep into her yielding flesh. The clasp of his Rolex flashed over her pale thigh with every thrust, glinting like a secret signal just for me, and I felt my cock twitch, painfully hard. Sometimes I wondered if it was even them turning me on, or just those gleaming, forbidden watches marking their bodies as off-limits and utterly filthy.
How can this be so fucking hot?
“S Club 7 – “Don’t Stop Movin’” came on and I almost laughed. Mum, really?
She leaned forward, tits dangling in his face, and he captured a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard enough to make her yelp. She rode him faster now, bouncing up and down, the bed springs protesting louder. Her moans grew sharper, breathy. She’s in control now, but he’s still so deep. Look at her pussy gripping him—milking every thrust. I wish I could touch her, feel that heat. But this… this is enough. More than enough. My face burned, heart pounding as I watched her pleasure build, her body undulating like a wave.
They didn’t stay there long—Mum wanted more angles,…
