Sister wives?

Morning light filters through the blinds onto three tangled bodies.

Brooke is still wearing the black turning your wife into my slut tee. You are naked except for the soft pink SLUTTY MILF pants pulled up around your thighs. Jamies is asleep on the other side of her, the camo hat tilted on the nightstand. The sheets smell like sex and the new, permanent arrangement the clothes have forced into existence.

You wake Brooke with slow kisses down her neck and a hand between her legs. She is wet before her eyes even open. You make her come quietly on your fingers while Jamies sleeps, then whisper the plan against her ear.

“We’re going hunting today, baby. You’re going to help me get one more.”

You dress her yourself.

The camouflage Cougar Hunter sweatshirt is oversized on her twenty-year-old frame and looks filthy in the best way. You settle the I ♥ hot moms hat on her dark hair and tug the brim low. The black tee stays underneath so the words turning your wife into my slut peek out at the collar. You put the full pink set back on your own body—cougar tee, SLUTTY MILF pants, open MILF jacket—and the two of you leave Jamies a note on the kitchen counter:

Borrowing the hat and the sweatshirt. Bringing home another one. Be ready.

Greg’s first wife—the one he left for you more than a decade ago—is easier to find than you expected. Her name is still Carol. She is forty-two now, the older-sister version of you that Greg once traded in. A few public posts, one mutual acquaintance, and a carefully worded message get you an address and an afternoon invitation for “coffee and catching up.”

Carol opens the door of her quiet suburban house in yoga pants and a tank top, smiling the polite, wary smile of a woman who never expected to see you again. The smile falters when she takes in the soft pink SLUTTY MILF lettering on your ass and the twenty-year-old standing behind you in the Cougar Hunter sweatshirt and I ♥ hot moms hat.

You do not waste time with small talk.

Inside of twenty minutes you have her against her own kitchen island, the MILF jacket open, your mouth on her neck, Brooke’s younger hands sliding up her shirt. Carol’s protests turn into shaky breaths, then into moans. You and Brooke undress her together, kissing every newly exposed inch, and then you pull the remaining costume pieces from the bag you brought. The soft pink cougar tee goes on Carol’s older body. The SLUTTY MILF pants are stretched over her hips. The MILF jacket is draped around her shoulders. Standing there in the full set she looks like the third version of you—the one who never left, the one who aged in place.

The lesbian threesome that follows is slow, hungry, and inevitable.

You eat Carol on her own dining table while Brooke sits on her face. Then you switch. Carol’s mature body responds like it has been waiting years for this; she comes hard on your tongue, then again on Brooke’s, then a third time when the two of you scissor her between you. You keep the clothes on as much as possible—pink velour and camo sweatshirt and the black tee that started everything—so every time one of you looks down the titles are there: cougar, SLUTTY MILF, Cougar Hunter, I ♥ hot moms, turning your wife into my slut. By the time the three of you stumble into Carol’s bedroom and fall into a sixty-nine with you in the middle, the older woman is fully converted. She is kissing Brooke like she never wants to stop and reaching for you like she has finally been given permission.

You do not let her recover.

You load both women into your car still dressed in the costume pieces and drive them home. Jamies is waiting on the couch in nothing but the black boxer briefs he pulled on after his shower, already hard from the note you left. His eyes go wide when the three of you walk in—you in the open MILF jacket and SLUTTY MILF pants, Brooke in the Cougar Hunter sweatshirt and hat, Carol in the full pink set that makes her look like your older twin.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes.

You smile, push Carol toward him first, and watch your younger husband realize he is about to fuck three versions of the same woman.

The four-way is pure, relentless heat.

Jamies starts with Carol, bending the forty-two-year-old over the arm of the couch and sinking into her while Brooke and you kneel on either side and take turns kissing her and feeding her your tits. Then he moves to Brooke, still in the camo hat and sweatshirt, and takes the twenty-year-old from behind while you sit on Carol’s face and grind. When it is finally your turn he pulls you into his lap and lets both other women worship you—Carol on your left breast, Brooke on your right, their hands everywhere—while he fucks up into you in deep, steady strokes. The living room fills with the wet sound of skin and the overlapping titles printed on all three of your bodies.

You rotate without shame.

Jamies fucks Carol while Brooke sits on his face and you sit on Carol’s.

He fucks Brooke while you and Carol make out above her and take turns sucking her nipples.

He fucks you while the other two women hold your legs open and whisper that you look so pretty taking your husband’s cock between the older and younger versions of yourself.

At one point all three of you are on your hands and knees on the large living-room rug in a perfect row—Carol, then you, then Brooke—and Jamies walks behind the line with the I ♥ hot moms hat back on his head, taking each of you in turn. He finishes inside Carol first, then Brooke, then you, marking all three versions of the same woman while the soft pink lettering and the camo sweatshirt and the black tee bear witness.

He does not stop after the first round of marking.

Still hard, still wearing the hat, he starts the line again. This time he fucks Carol slower and deeper, hands gripping the SLUTTY MILF lettering stretched across her older ass, while you and Brooke lean together and make out, watching every thrust over your shoulders. When Carol comes with a broken cry he pulls out, moves to you, and drives into your cunt in one long stroke. Brooke’s younger hand slides under you to rub your clit in time with his hips; Carol, still shaking, turns her head and kisses you messily. The dual attention makes you clamp down hard enough that Jamies has to grit his teeth to keep from finishing early. He lasts only long enough to push you over the edge before he pulls out, shifts to Brooke, and gives the twenty-year-old the same deep, claiming pace. You and Carol both reach over to hold her open and stroke her hair while she takes every inch and comes with your names on her lips.

Jamies finally pulls out of Brooke and strokes himself through a second thick orgasm, painting all three of your upturned asses in long, messy stripes that land across pink velour, bare skin, and the edge of the camo sweatshirt. The three of you stay on your hands and knees for a moment, breathing hard, cum dripping down your thighs, the titles on your bodies now literally marked by him.

You are still not finished.

You push Jamies onto his back in the middle of the rug and climb on top of him, sinking down onto his half-hard cock until he is fully hard again inside you. Carol swings a knee over his head and lowers her cum-streaked cunt onto his mouth. Brooke straddles his chest facing you so the two of you can share her young tits and kiss around them. The four of you rock together in a slow, filthy rhythm—you riding your husband’s cock, Carol riding his tongue, Brooke grinding against his stomach while the two of you worship her. The I ♥ hot moms hat is knocked askew but never fully leaves his head. The black turning your wife into my slut tee is still twisted around Brooke’s shoulders like a trophy.

You come first, grinding down and shaking. Carol follows seconds later on his tongue. Brooke lasts longest, finally tipping over when you slide two fingers into her and curl them while sucking hard on her nipple. Jamies holds out until all three of you have finished, then grips your hips and floods you a second time with a low, guttural groan.

The living room is quiet except for the sound of four people trying to remember how to breathe.

Eventually you lead the entire sweaty, cum-covered group to the bedroom. The costume pieces come off only far enough to clean the most sensitive spots with tongues and mouths; most of the fabric stays on because none of you want the titles to disappear. Jamies takes each of you one more time on the wide bed—Carol on her back with her legs over his shoulders, Brooke riding him reverse so you can lick where they are joined, you on your side with both women pressed against you so he can fuck you while they kiss you and whisper that you look so pretty taking him between the older and younger versions of yourself.

When he finally softens for good the four of you collapse in a tangled heap of pink velour, camo, and bare skin. Carol’s head is on your left breast. Brooke’s head is on your right. Jamies is stretched across all three of you, one hand cupping your cunt, the other resting on Carol’s hip, the I ♥ hot moms hat somehow still clinging to his messy hair.

No one speaks for a long time.

Then Carol’s quiet, stunned voice breaks the silence.

“I don’t think I want to go home tonight.”

You smile at the ceiling, stroke both women’s hair, and feel Jamies’s hand tighten possessively between your legs.

“You’re not going home, baby,” you tell her. “Neither of you are. The clothes already decided. You’re both ours now.”

Brooke makes a soft, happy sound against your skin. Carol’s older body relaxes completely into the pile. Jamies presses a tired, satisfied kiss to the nearest patch of skin he can reach—your collarbone—and leaves it there.

Outside, the city keeps moving.

Inside, the three versions of you—twenty, thirty-two, and forty-two—belong to the same younger man, and the younger man belongs to all three of you.

The costumes have finished their work.

And the new marriage the black tee promised has only just begun.