Stiles stepped out of her sleek black Mercedes, the one her daddy had gifted her on her 21st birthday just a few months ago. The engine purred to a stop in the driveway of their sprawling mansion on the outskirts of the city—a massive estate with manicured gardens, a infinity pool that overlooked the skyline, and more rooms than they could ever need. It screamed wealth, the kind that came from Scott’s empire as a CEO of one of the biggest tech firms in the country. Stiles loved it all; it was her playground, her kingdom. She flipped her long, silky black hair over her shoulder, the strands catching the afternoon sun like polished obsidian. Her skin was flawless porcelain white, glowing with that natural luminescence that made heads turn wherever she went. Full, pink lips curved into a shy smile as she waved at the gardener, but inside, she knew exactly the effect she had.

Today, she was dressed in one of her favorite slutty little outfits—a tiny white crop top that barely contained her massive, perky boobs, the fabric stretched so thin you could almost see the faint outline of her hard pink nipples poking through if the light hit just right. It rode up high on her torso, exposing her flat, toned stomach with a delicate belly button piercing that sparkled like a diamond. Paired with it was a pleated micro-skirt in soft pink, the kind that fluttered dangerously with every step, threatening to reveal her fat, juicy ass cheeks. Underneath? A skimpy thong that did nothing to hide her plump, pink pussy lips, already a little slick from the way the fabric rubbed against her as she walked. She loved how it made her feel—naughty, desired, but she always played it off with that innocent, wide-eyed look. “Oops, did my skirt ride up again?” she’d giggle to anyone who stared too long, batting her long lashes like she hadn’t planned it.

Her life was perfect, or as close as it got. Spoiled rotten by her dad, Scott, who was everything a girl could want in a father. Handsome as hell at 45, with sharp features, salt-and-pepper hair that only made him look more distinguished, and a body honed from early morning gym sessions. He ran his company with an iron fist, but at home, he was all softness for Stiles. “My little princess,” he’d call her, slipping her extra cash for shopping sprees or surprising her with designer bags. They’d married young—Kate at 18, him at 24, an arranged match between two powerful families—and Stiles had come along right after. Scott adored her, defended her against anyone, especially her mom.

Kate. God, Stiles couldn’t stand her. At 40, Kate was still beautiful in that polished, mature way—long legs, curves that turned heads, and a face that could grace magazine covers. But she was a controlling bitch, always nitpicking. “Stiles, that outfit is too revealing. You’re asking for trouble,” she’d snap, her voice dripping with fake concern while her eyes flashed with jealousy. Kate acted all sweet and doting around Scott, batting her eyes and cooing about how she was “just trying to guide our daughter to be a proper lady.” But Stiles saw through it—the way Kate’s gaze lingered on her body, comparing, resenting how Stiles’s youth and beauty outshone her own fading glow. Scott would step in gently, “Let her be, Kate. She’s grown up now,” but it never stopped the passive-aggressive jabs.

Stiles’s heels clicked on the marble foyer as she entered the house early from college—classes had let out sooner than expected, and she was eager to lounge by the pool in something even skimpier. But as she kicked off her shoes and padded toward the living room, strange sounds stopped her dead in her tracks. Moans. Deep, guttural grunts mixed with high-pitched whimpers. Her heart raced. What the fuck?

Peeking around the corner, Stiles’s world shattered. There, on the plush leather couch in their sunlit living room—the same one where they hosted fancy dinner parties—was her mom, Kate, completely naked and straddling a man. Not just any man. Derek Hale. Derek, as everyone called him. Scott’s best friend and business partner. The guy who’d been over for barbecues, holidays, everything for the past few years since they met at that conference.

Derek was a fucking god. At 40, he was tall, over six feet of pure muscle—broad shoulders, ripped abs that flexed with every thrust, and arms corded with veins that popped as he gripped Kate’s hips. His face was chiseled perfection: sharp jawline shadowed with stubble, dark eyes that smoldered with intensity, and full lips curled in a smirk. He was rich as sin, running his own rival-turned-partner company, living in a penthouse downtown with views that could make you dizzy. Single, or at least that’s what everyone thought—no wife, no kids, just a string of rumored flings that kept the tabloids buzzing. But here he was, balls-deep in Kate, his massive cock—holy shit, it had to be at least 9 inches, thick and veined, glistening with her juices—pounding up into her as she rode him like a desperate whore.

“Oh fuck, Derek, your cock is so big… stretching my tight little pussy just right,” Kate moaned, her voice filthy and breathy, nothing like the prim and proper act she put on. Her tits bounced wildly, smaller than Stiles’s but still full, nipples hard as she ground down on him. “Better than that limp-dicked husband of mine. He hasn’t fucked me like this in years.”

Derek growled, his hands slapping her ass hard enough to leave red marks. “That’s right, you cheating slut. Ride my fat dick like the whore you are. Been pounding this married cunt for a whole year now, and you still beg for more. Tell me how much you love betraying Scott—your precious, clueless hubby—while I fill you up.”

Kate threw her head back, laughing wickedly between gasps. “God, yes! Fuck me harder, Derek. Make me cum all over your cock. Scott’s too busy spoiling that bratty daughter of his to notice. Little Stiles with her slutty outfits, prancing around like she owns the place. But this pussy? It’s yours. Cum inside me, breed me like the bitch I am.”

Stiles stiffened in the doorway, hidden by the shadows. Rage boiled in her veins—how dare that controlling cunt cheat on her amazing dad? With his best friend, no less? Scott deserved better than this backstabbing whore. But even through the anger, Stiles couldn’t tear her eyes away. Derek’s cock was mesmerizing—huge, throbbing, sliding in and out of Kate’s dripping hole with wet, obscene squelches. Stiles’s own pussy clenched involuntarily, a traitorous heat building between her thighs. She bit her lip, stunned by the size of it, the way it made Kate scream. 

They didn’t see her. Derek was too busy flipping Kate onto her back, slamming into her missionary style now, his balls slapping against her ass. “Take it, you filthy married slut. I’m gonna pump you full—mark you as mine while your husband’s out making us richer.” Kate clawed at his back, begging for more, their bodies slick with sweat.

Stiles backed away silently, tears stinging her eyes as she grabbed her keys and bolted out the door. Her mind raced—anger, betrayal, a twisted flicker of arousal she shoved down deep. She drove straight to her best friend Allison’s place, a chic apartment in the city paid for by Allison’s own sugar daddy adventures. Allison was just as slutty as Stiles, maybe more—22, with curves that rivaled Stiles’s, massive tits always spilling out of low-cut tops, and an ass that jiggled hypnotically in her yoga pants. They met in college, bonded over their love of teasing guys and pushing boundaries, always acting shy but knowing exactly how to make men drool.

Allison opened the door in a sheer babydoll nightie that left nothing to the imagination—her pink nipples visible through the lace, her shaved pussy lips outlined against the thin fabric. “Stiles? Baby, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Stiles burst inside, collapsing onto the couch in a heap of sobs. “Allison… oh god, it’s awful. I came home early and… and I saw my mom… fucking Derek! On the living room couch! They’ve been having an affair for a year!”

Allison’s eyes widened, her hand flying to her mouth in a dramatic gasp. “What? Kate? That bitchy prude? With Derek? Scott’s hot best friend? Holy shit, Stiles… that’s fucked up. Come here, sweetie.” She pulled Stiles into a tight hug, their bodies pressing together. Allison’s huge, soft boobs squished against Stiles’s even bigger ones, the friction making their nipples harden through the fabric. Stiles could feel Allison’s heart racing, her own tears soaking into Allison’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, babe,” Allison murmured, stroking Stiles’s hair. “Your dad’s the sweetest guy ever—he doesn’t deserve that. And with his best friend? That’s low, even for her.” She rocked Stiles gently, their curves grinding together in that comforting yet charged way they always did when they hugged. Allison’s hand slipped lower, rubbing Stiles’s back soothingly. “Shh, it’s okay. Cry it out.”

Stiles pulled back slightly, wiping her eyes, her anger bubbling up again. “She was riding him like a total slut, Allison. Talking so dirty—calling my dad limp-dicked, begging Derek to breed her. And his cock… fuck, it was massive. I couldn’t stop staring.” Her cheeks flushed, a mix of rage and that unwanted heat.

Allison’s eyes sparkled with mischief, even as she pouted sympathetically. “Wait, massive? Like, how big are we talking?” She tried to lighten the mood, but seeing Stiles’s distress, she switched gears. “Okay, seriously—that’s betrayal on another level. But… why don’t you turn the tables? Seduce Derek yourself. Steal him away from her. Break that bitch’s heart and shatter her pride. Imagine her face when she realizes her precious affair is over because her own daughter fucked him better.”

Stiles froze, then a slow, wicked smirk spread across her pink lips. The idea ignited something dark and delicious inside her—revenge, laced with the thrill of forbidden lust. “Oh my god, Allison… that’s genius. Make her watch as I take what’s hers. Ride that big cock right in front of her, show her how a real slut does it.” She laughed, the sound turning filthy and breathy, pulling Allison back into a hug. Their slutty boobs mashed together harder now, grinding deliberately as they giggled, nipples rubbing in teasing circles. Stiles’s micro-skirt hiked up, her thong-clad ass exposed, while Allison’s nightie rode up to reveal her own juicy cheeks.

“Mmm, yes! We’ll plan it out—your outfits, the teasing, everything,” Allison purred, her hands sliding down to squeeze Stiles’s ass playfully. “You’re gonna make him beg for that pink, fat pussy of yours. And Kate? She’ll be left with nothing but her jealousy.”

Stiles moaned softly at the touch, her anger morphing into empowered horniness. “Fuck yes. Thanks, bestie. You’re the best.” They held each other, bodies entwined, laughter fading into heated breaths as the chapter of revenge began to unfold in their minds.