As night fell, Emma lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The house creaked, memories of the day replaying. Justin's casual entitlement, the girls' submission, Jefferson's bold exposure. Her hand slipped under the covers, fingers circling her c**t almost unconsciously. She pictured it—his fat c**k sliding into her, stretching her p***y wide, pounding until she broke. A moan escaped her lips, soft and guilty.
Down the hall, Justin texted Jefferson: She's pissed, man. But damn, those girls were fire.
Jefferson replied: Forget them. Your sister's the one I want. Give me an in.
Justin: I can try to talk to her, but only if she agrees to, gosssh she hates you Jeff.
The game was on, and Emma had no idea how deep she'd be pulled in.
The next morning, Emma woke to the smell of coffee, her body
