I woke up groggy, eyes still sticky with sleep, and dragged myself toward the bathroom to shake off the haze. Door locked. Mom was already in there, water running.
"Ma, how long? I've got class."
"Forty-five minutes, baby. Relax."
I sighed, leaned against the wall outside, and that's when I spotted them in the laundry basket—her black lace bra and the matching panties, still warm from her body. My pulse kicked for a second. I snatched them up quick, tossed them into the washing machine like it was nothing, like it was just chores. I'm not a creep. I swear I'm not.
Big sis padded in right then, hair a mess, handing me a steaming cup of coffee without a word. She started brushing her teeth at the sink, foam at the corners of her mouth, watching me in the mirror like she knew something. I sipped, throat burning, trying to act normal.
Dad shuffled past in his old robe, phone in hand, already ranting about the headlines. The three of us stood there in the hallway—steam seeping under the bathroom door, coffee sharp on my tongue, Mom humming some old song inside—pretending everything was ordinary.
Perfect little morning.
Mom stepped out in a cloud of steam, skin still flushed pink from the hot water, towel wrapped tight but her nipples were poking hard against the thin fabric. The hallway smelled like her coconut shampoo and warm skin.
Big sis was leaning against the wall sipping the last of my coffee, eyes flicking up.
"You next?" I asked.
"Nah, go. You're already late, perv." She smirked, like she knew exactly how long I'd been standing there staring at Mom's wet shoulders.
I slipped past Mom—she smelled so good my head spun—locked the bathroom door, and cranked the shower as hot as it would go. Steam swallowed me. I stood under the spray, cock half-hard for no reason at all (or every fucking reason), and rushed through brushing my teeth, scrubbed my body fast, shampoo in my hair, trying not to think about the fact that Mom's naked body had been in this exact spot twenty minutes ago, water running down the same tiles, over her tits, between her legs…
I shut that shit down. Rinsed off, stepped out dripping.
When I opened the door, big sis was already waiting in just her tiny sleep shorts and tank, no bra, nipples stiff from the cold air. She brushed past me, hip bumping mine on purpose.
"My turn," she whispered, and shut the door.
Dad was still in the kitchen yelling at the TV news like it personally owed him money.
I stood there in my towel, hair dripping, heart hammering, pretending everything was normal
I finished toweling off, stood naked in front of the fogged mirror, and wiped a streak clear with my forearm. Freshly showered skin, hair still dripping, cock half-thick from all the morning tension I was pretending wasn't there. I flexed a little, smirked at my reflection.
"Damn, you're handsome today."
Mom's voice shot up the stairs like a whip.
"Stop flirting with yourself, you vain little shit, and get down here before your eggs turn to rubber!"
Big sis laughed from the hallway—low, filthy, knowing. "He's probably jerking off to his own reflection again."
"Am not," I muttered, but my dick twitched at the thought of both of them listening.
I threw on boxers (the tight black ones that hug everything), jeans, a fitted white tee that shows the outline of my chest when it's wet. Took one last look. Yeah. I looked edible.
Mom yelled again, sharper this time, almost playful: "I swear to God if you make me come up there I'm dragging you down by your ear, clothes or no clothes."
My cock properly jumped at that.
I grinned at the mirror, grabbed my bag, and headed down—heart pounding like I was walking into something way hotter than breakfast.