Saturday morning sunlight streamed into the Hale household. Unlike weekdays, today both Derek and Jennifer were home. Stiles had woken earlier than usual, humming to herself, deliberately picking out her most revealing outfit from the trunk she had secretly brought.

She came downstairs in a tight, short black dress—low-cut enough for her massive breasts to nearly spill out, the hem barely covering the curve of her ass. With every step she made sure her hips swayed.

At the breakfast table, Derek nearly choked on his coffee when he saw her bend slightly to place Grandpa Peter’s plate down, her cleavage spilling into view.

Jennifer’s eyes sharpened like knives, her jaw tight, but she kept her lips sealed.

“Good morning, sir… good morning, grandpa,” Stiles purred, deliberately brushing her fingers over Derek’s shoulder before moving to Peter’s side. She crouched low beside him, feeding him toast, her tits practically in his face.

“Such a good boy… opening that mouth for me,” she teased softly, pushing the bite of food between his lips and licking a crumb off her thumb slowly, making eye contact with Derek across the table.

Derek shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat, his cock stirring against his pants. Jennifer noticed—her nostrils flared.

The rest of the morning was torture for Jennifer.

Stiles paraded around dusting shelves in her skimpy dress, bending at the waist so her thong peeked whenever she stretched. She “accidentally” brushed against Derek’s arm while handing him water.

“Oops… clumsy me,” she giggled, pressing her chest against his arm for a second too long.

“Careful,” Derek muttered, avoiding his wife’s glare.

Jennifer’s fingers dug into her lap. She wanted to scream—but somehow, the slutty maid had a hold on both men.

By late afternoon, Stiles slipped into Grandpa Peter’s room. He was already waiting, his face flushed with hunger. As soon as the door shut, he yanked her by the wrist.

“You filthy girl,” Peter rasped, his voice low and heavy. “Parading around like that in front of my son and his wife? What the fuck are you trying to do?”

Stiles smirked, licking her lips.

“Mm… you liked it, didn’t you, grandpa peter? Seeing their faces while I acted like a whore just for you.”

“You’re shameless,” he hissed, gripping her chin hard.

“Yes,” she whispered back, eyes gleaming. “I’ve always been a slut for old men like you.”

Peter froze for a second, shocked by her boldness. Stiles leaned in close, her breath hot on his ear.

“You think you’re the first? Mm-mm… every house I worked in, I let the grandfathers use me. Bent me over the couch, took me in their chairs, even in front of their families sometimes. Old cocks taste so good… and I love making them hard when they thought they couldn’t be anymore.”

Peter groaned, his cock twitching in his pants. “Goddamn… you’re disgusting.”

“And you love it,” she whispered, sliding down to her knees, rubbing his stiff length through his trousers. “Tell me, grandpa… am I your filthy little slut maid too?”

Peter shoved her head closer, growling, “Open that dirty mouth and prove it.”

Stiles grinned, unzipping him, and wrapped her lips around his cock, moaning like she’d just tasted the sweetest thing alive.