Chapter 700: The Carters (softcore r-18) Jasmine’s thighs were still trembling, slick with her own release, dress bunched around her waist like a surrender flag. The world beyond blurred through the tears in her eyes. She leaned against the railing, one hand clutching it for balance, the other pressed between her legs, trying—and failing—to stop the aftershocks. I stood, slow, deliberate, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. The taste of her lingered—sweet, sharp, family. I chuckled, low and dark, the sound curling into the night like smoke. "Look who was begging her nephew to fuck her," I said, voice rough with satisfaction. "Begging her sister’s son to tongue-fuck her cunt until she screamed on Mom’s balcony." Her whimper was cute I could feel it in my chest. Needy. She tried to stand straighter, but her legs betrayed her, knees buckling slightly. Her panties were still tangled around one ankle, forgotten. I turned and walked away. Just like that. Left her there—wrecked, dripping, aching—while I chuckled, the sound trailing behind me like a leash. "Food’s ready, Aunt Jasmine. Mom’s been slaving over the stove while you were out here begging her son to breed you." She made a broken sound—half laugh, half moan—and I didn’t look back. I slid the glass door open with one hand, the cool food scent from inside rushing out to kiss my heated skin. The scent of garlic, rosemary, and Linda’s famous marinara hit me like a hug. Normal. Domestic. Oblivious. I winked over my shoulder—just once, sharp and filthy—then stepped inside. ** The kitchen was warm, golden light spilling over the marble island where Linda stood, apron tied tight, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon. Her back was to me, humming some old R&B tune under her breath. She had no idea her sister was still on the balcony, legs shaking, pussy still pulsing from her son’s tongue. The same son who fucked her each time she wanted, had nearly fucked her sister too. Talk about ambitions and being the family’s beloved predator. "Smells amazing, Mom," I called, voice perfectly casual, like I hadn’t just ruined her sister ten feet away. Linda turned, smiling bright, flour on her cheek. "Almost ready, baby. Just giving the sauce one more minute. Where’s Jasmine?" I leaned against the counter, hands in my pockets, cock still half-hard and straining against my jeans. "She’ll be in soon. Needed some air." Linda laughed, oblivious. "Tell her to hurry before it gets cold." I smiled. Slow. Wicked. "Already did." Behind me, through the glass, Jasmine finally stumbled in—dress smoothed down, panties kicked off somewhere in the dark, thighs still slick. Her face was flushed, eyes glassy, lips swollen. She avoided my gaze, but her body knew. Every step was a reminder. I pulled out her chair. She sat. And the family dinner began. The dining room glowed like a Norman Rockwell painting that had been dipped in sin. Candlelight flickered over the long oak table, catching on crystal wine glasses and the steam curling off Linda’s homemade lasagna. The scent of garlic, basil, and melted mozzarella wrapped around us like a warm blanket. Linda sat at the head, apron finally off, cheeks flushed from the stove. Emma and Sarah—my twin sisters, eighteen with their dark curls and wicked smiles—flanked her on one side. Madison, my fiancée, my queen, sat on the other, legs crossed, diamond ring catching the light every time she reached for her wine. And Jasmine—Aunt Jasmine—sat directly across from me, thighs still trembling under the table, dress smoothed but eyes still glassy from what I’d done to her on the balcony. {He’s still inside me. His taste. I can still feel his breath. His tongue. And now his sisters are touching him. Under the table. While Linda smiles.} {He just ate me alive on Linda’s balcony. While my sister cooked dinner. While my nieces laughed inside. And I begged him to breed me like a filthy animal.} Her fork shook in her hand. The lasagna tasted like ash. Every bite stuck in her throat. Nobody said a word about the shooting. Nobody mentioned the blood. We just ate. "Pass the garlic bread, baby," Linda said, smiling at me like I was still her little boy. I passed it. My foot brushed Emma’s under the table. She smirked. Madison’s bare foot slid up my calf—slow, deliberate—her toes tracing the seam of my jeans. Emma’s joined a second later, twin heels pressing against my shin, then higher. They moved in sync, like they’d rehearsed it. Sarah watched from across the table, fork paused mid-air, lips curled in amusement. She didn’t touch—just watched, eyes glittering with the same dark thrill that lived in all of us now. Jasmine’s wine glass trembled as she lifted it. {They know. They all know. They’re doing it right now. Under the table. While Linda smiles.} The rim touched her lips—lingered—then pulled away untouched. {If I drink, I’ll moan. If I speak, I’ll beg. If I look at him, I’ll come again.} Linda passed the garlic bread. "Jas, you’re quiet tonight. Everything okay?" Jasmine’s voice came out a rasp. "Just... savoring." Madison chuckled with a knowing laugh and look while her foot pressed harder—toes curling around my cock through my jeans, squeezing just enough to make me shift in my seat. Emma’s heel dug into my inner thigh, pinning me in place. Jasmine’s eyes flicked down—then up—then away. {He’s hard. They’re touching him. His sisters. His fiancée. And I’m sitting here... pussy still wet... with my cum still on my thighs. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Her pussy clenched—empty, aching, ruined. The balcony replayed in her mind on a loop. {I’m a dirty fucking aunt... I want him to fill me with family seed...} She shifted in her seat. The chair creaked. Linda looked over. "You okay, Jas? You’re flushed." "Fine," Jasmine croaked. "Just... hot." {Hot. Burning. Drowning.} Madison’s toes unbuttoned my fly—silent, practiced, deadly. The tablecloth hid everything. Linda kept talking about school. Normal. Family. Under the table, Emma’s foot slid inside my boxers. Madison’s joined. Two sets of toes stroking my cock—slow, teasing, claiming. I didn’t flinch. Didn’t moan. Just smiled at Linda like a good son while my sisters and my fiancée jerked me off with their feet. Jasmine’s eyes flicked up—met mine. She saw it. The way my jaw tightened. The way my hand gripped the edge of the table. She knew. Her thighs clenched under the table. I could smell her again—fresh arousal, sharp and desperate. She shifted in her seat, trying to hide it. Failed. {He’s going to come. Right here. While his mother passes the salad. While I sit here pretending I didn’t just let my nephew tongue-fuck me until I screamed.} "More wine, Aunt Jas?" I asked, voice perfectly steady. She nodded. Couldn’t speak. Madison’s toes circled the head of my cock—wet with precum now. Emma’s heel pressed against my balls, rolling them gently. Sarah bit her lip, watching, waiting for the moment I’d break. I didn’t. Mom stood to clear plates. "Dessert’s tiramisu. Peter, help me in the kitchen?" I stood—cock still hard, tucked back in, zipper closed by Madison’s foot in one smooth motion. "Of course, Mom." As I passed Jasmine, I leaned down—just enough for her to hear. "Next time, I’ll fuck you at this table. While Mom serves dessert. While your nieces watch. While you beg me to fill your sister’s womb with the same load I’ll pump into you." Her fork clattered to her plate. Mom didn’t hear what I just told her sister. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞 The family dinner continued. **** A/N: This moment—this raw, forbidden crossing of every line we were never meant to touch—feels like the perfect bridge into the next 700 Chapters of this wild, unapologetic ride we’ve been on together. To every single one of you who has stuck with me through the slow burns, the explosive scenes, the taboo depths, and every filthy, heart-pounding twist: thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, for commenting, for staying, for letting this story live and breathe in your minds as much as it does in mine. You’ve made this journey possible, and I’m endlessly grateful. Now... who’s ready? Who’s ready to watch these two sisters—beautiful, complicated, aching with years of unspoken want—finally kneel side by side, lips parted, eyes locked on the same cock? Who’s ready to see them share it, taste it, worship it together, no more walls, no more secrets, just pure, unrestrained surrender? Raise your hand if you’re ready. Because we’re going there. And it’s going to be fucking glorious.