In the days that followed Stiles’s filthy encounters with the Hale patriarchs, the mansion pulsed with a new undercurrent of forbidden tension. Stiles continued her role as the perfect, slutty-dressed daughter-in-law, her porcelain skin and curves on display in outfits that left little to the imagination—tiny halter tops that barely contained her massive tits, shorts that wedged between her juicy ass cheeks, and heels that clicked seductively through the halls. She managed the household with her usual grace, but now, when no one else was around, Daddy Derek and Grandpa Peter couldn’t keep their hands off her. They’d corner her in quiet moments, groping her fat tits or squeezing her thick ass, their touches possessive and hungry. Grandpa Peter would pull her into his study during afternoon naps, his wrinkled hands slipping under her skirt to fondle her curves, whispering, “My little flower, only Grandpa gets to touch you like this, right? You’re my secret slut.” Stiles would moan softly, nodding, her pussy dripping as she let him believe it. Meanwhile, Daddy Derek would catch her in the gym or laundry room, his muscled arms pinning her against the wall, groping her roughly while growling, “You’re Daddy’s little whore now, Stiles— no one else knows how wet you get for me.” He thought she was exclusive to him, just as Grandpa did, and Stiles reveled in the deception, her body aching from their secret attentions, her plump pink pussy staying slick with anticipation.