Becky and Curtis enter together. Your new husband’s brother and sister-in-law, respectively. Becky, formerly your mother Kaitlin, is now dark-haired and a little taller, her features somewhat more arch. Curtis has been aged slightly to make him a more commensurate match with his wife.
The conflicting memories of your mother and brother grapple with this new reality. The orderly is no help, insisting that the paperwork can’t be wrong, that the FBI doesn’t make mistakes this big. “This confusion is normal after a procedure like this. But over time, things will smooth out. Just give it time.”
Becky and Curtis are already holding hands. Whatever memory work was done to them seems to have taken a firm enough hold for such **** behaviour to come naturally. You move closer to David and take his hand in yours, mirroring them. He gives it a little squeeze.
This is a strange new world–but what other choice do you have?
So after a few more hours of orientation, you hop into a van that takes you to an apartment in a different city. The two families are living in a 3-bedroom, quite spacious unit on the second floor overlooking a park. Your husband has a new job starting Monday. You are, at least for now, a housewife. You’re not sure what Becky and Curtis are doing.
The sun has long set by the time you’ve settled in. You’ve just hopped out of the shower. Your towel clings to your damp, bronzed skin, too short to properly cover your hot little bubble butt. You make your way to your room–the room you share with your husband. As you pass the others’ room, you hear noises that make you stop abruptly.
The door is ajar, so you’re technically not snooping, right?
“OH, FUCK!” The voice sounds like Kaitlin’s, but it’s coming from Becky. You ease the door open slightly more to afford you a view of this younger version of your mother, bent forwards over her bed, your brother … in law … thrusting into her from behind with a large, thick cock. Becky’s eyes open wide with each thrust, her mouth a perfectly-rounded O of surprise and pleasure from the sensation of being pounded by her new husband’s penis. “FUCK, yes! Oh, yes, fuck me harder! Spank me!”
Curtis grunts and complies, taking his hands off her hips and squeezing her ass instead. Becky’s butt is nowhere near as juicy as yours, of course–but it’s nice enough in Curtis’ eyes, you grudgingly admit. Pressing her ass down with his left hand, he delivers a stinging slap with his right. “Like that? You like being my bitch?” He slaps her again and starts fucking her faster.
“Yeah, I love it! My old husband could fuck, but he couldn’t hurt me like you do. Ohhhhh. Fuck, you feel so good inside me.” Becky arches her ass up, angling herself higher to maximize his penetration. He continues to slap her, then he gathers her long hair in one hand and pulls it, yanking her head backwards. She squeals happily at the rough treatment.
All this time, you’re in the doorway, listening to their dirty talk and getting more and more turned on. Your hand has, unbidden, snaked up your towel and started to touch your clit. Your fingers are soaked with your juices, which start running down the side of your thighs. You can’t help but moan slightly, then you bring your pussy-soaked hand up to your mouth, covering it in shock, hoping they didn’t hear you.
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