Stiles slipped back into the mansion that evening, her mind a whirlwind of fury and wicked schemes. The image of Kate riding Derek’s massive cock like a desperate slut burned in her brain, fueling a fire that made her pink pussy throb with a mix of anger and forbidden excitement. How dare that bitch betray her dad—her amazing, loving Scott—with his own best friend? But oh, the revenge… it was going to be delicious. Stiles locked herself in her lavish bedroom, the one with the king-sized bed draped in silk sheets and walls lined with mirrors that let her admire her own stunning body from every angle. She stripped out of her crop top and micro-skirt, standing naked in front of the full-length mirror. Her porcelain-white skin glowed under the soft lights, her full pink lips parting in a smirk as she cupped her massive boobs, thumbs teasing her hardening nipples. They were so big and perky, spilling over her hands, begging to be sucked. Lower, her fat ass curved out invitingly, and between her thighs, her plump pink pussy lips glistened slightly—she was already wet just thinking about stealing Derek away.

“Time to plan, you cheating whore,” Stiles whispered to herself, imagining Kate’s face crumbling when she realized her lover preferred her daughter’s tight, young cunt. Stiles grabbed her laptop, sprawling out on the bed with her legs spread wide, one hand idly tracing her slick folds as she dove into research. Derek was easy to stalk online—his social media was polished, all business mogul vibes, but she dug deeper. Gym selfies at Elite Fitness downtown, early mornings at 6 AM sharp. Business lunches at upscale spots. Weekend golf with Scott. He was a creature of habit, and Stiles was going to exploit every one. “Accidental” run-ins? Flirty touches? She’d make him ache for her, make him forget all about Kate’s used-up pussy. By the time she was done scrolling, her fingers were buried deep in her fat, leaking cunt, pumping slowly as she moaned Derek’s name. “Fuck, that big cock… soon it’ll be mine.” She came hard, body arching, juices soaking the sheets—her first orgasm fueled by revenge.

A few days later, Stiles “accidentally” timed her gym visit perfectly. She sauntered into Elite Fitness at dawn, the place mostly empty except for a few dedicated souls. Her outfit was pure slutty perfection: a tiny black sports bra that strained against her jiggling boobs, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide how her hard pink nipples poked through like little invitations. It was low-cut, her cleavage spilling out with every bounce, and paired with skin-tight yoga pants that hugged her fat ass like a second skin, the material so thin you could see the outline of her bare pussy lips if she bent just right—no panties, of course. She acted all shy and innocent, hair in a high ponytail, batting her lashes at the receptionist as she signed in.

Spotting Derek in the weight room, she felt a thrill shoot straight to her core. He was shirtless, sweat glistening on his ripped torso—those broad shoulders, chiseled abs leading down to a V that disappeared into his shorts. His muscles flexed as he lifted heavy dumbbells, grunting with effort, his dark hair tousled and eyes focused. Fuck, he was even hotter up close. Stiles “stumbled” into his path, pretending to fiddle with her water bottle. “Oh! Uncle Derek? What a surprise!” she exclaimed, her voice sweet and breathy, like she hadn’t planned this at all. She leaned in for a hug, pressing her massive tits against his chest, feeling his body tense as her hard nipples brushed his skin.

Derek’s eyes widened, raking over her body before he could stop himself. “Stiles? Hey, kiddo. Didn’t expect to see you here.” His voice was rough, deeper than usual, and she caught the way his gaze lingered on her jiggling boobs, then dipped to her ass as she turned slightly.

“Yeah, just trying to stay fit,” she giggled shyly, biting her pink lip. “But I’m so bad at this stuff. Could you… help me with some exercises? Pretty please?” She fluttered her lashes, stepping closer so her hip “accidentally” brushed against the growing bulge in his shorts. Oh god, she felt it—thick and hardening already.

Derek swallowed hard, nodding. “Sure, uh, what do you need help with?” He tried to play it cool, but his cock twitched visibly against the fabric.

Stiles led him to the mats, starting with “innocent” stretches that were anything but. She bent over in downward dog, her fat ass thrusting up high, yoga pants pulling tight to outline her plump pussy lips, a faint wet spot forming as she got aroused from his stare. “Like this, Uncle Derek? Am I doing it right?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder with wide, doe eyes, but her voice had a filthy undertone.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting his shorts as his massive dick strained harder. “Yeah, but arch your back more.” He placed his hands on her hips to “guide” her, his fingers digging in slightly, and Stiles moaned softly—too soft for anyone else to hear, but loud enough for him.

Next, she moved to squats, facing him so her boobs bounced wildly with each dip, nearly spilling out of the bra. “Help me balance?” she pleaded, grabbing his arms and pulling him close. As she lowered, her ass brushed his crotch again, grinding subtly against his now rock-hard bulge. She could feel the heat of it, the thickness pressing into her crack through the thin layers. “Mmm, that feels better,” she purred innocently, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Derek was stunned, his breath ragged. Her body was a slutty dream—those huge tits heaving, ass so fat and juicy, and the way she moved… it was filthy, like she was fucking the air. His cock throbbed painfully, pre-cum leaking into his shorts. “Stiles, you… you’re doing great,” he rasped, stepping back before he lost control. But she saw the tent, the way he eyed her like prey.

“Thanks, Uncle Derek! You’re the best,” she chirped, hugging him again, her hand “accidentally” grazing his bulge as she pulled away. She left him there, hard and aching, smirking to herself as she sashayed out.

The next week rolled around, and Scott invited Derek over for a family barbecue in their expansive backyard. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the pool and grill. Scott manned the steaks, looking every bit the handsome CEO in casual jeans and a button-up, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the light. He clapped Derek on the back as he arrived, the two laughing about their latest deal. “Glad you could make it, man. Family time, right?”

Kate was all smiles, playing the perfect wife in a modest sundress, but Stiles caught the heated glances she shot Derek when Scott wasn’t looking. They were civil, respectful—Kate passing him a beer with a polite “Here you go, Derek,” and him nodding thanks, no hint of their filthy affair. But Stiles felt disgust churning in her gut. Hypocrites, she thought, smirking inwardly. Enjoy it while it lasts, Mom. I’m gonna fuck him so hard he’ll forget your name.

Stiles had dressed to destroy: a tiny red sundress that barely skimmed her thighs, the thin straps straining over her massive boobs—no bra, so her hard pink nipples tented the fabric obscenely. No panties either, her fat pussy bare and already slick with anticipation. She pranced around “helping,” bending over to pick up napkins from the low table, her dress riding up to flash her juicy ass cheeks and plump pink pussy lips, glistening in the evening light. Derek nearly choked on his drink, his eyes locked on the view—her tight hole winking at him, begging to be filled.

“Oops, clumsy me,” Stiles giggled shyly, straightening up but making sure to arch her back so her tits thrust out.

Throughout the meal, she kept it up—leaning over to serve food, her cleavage spilling forward, nipples brushing the table. When she dropped a fork “by accident,” she bent at the waist right in front of Derek, ass up, pussy exposed fully now, her lips parting slightly to show how wet she was. Derek shifted in his seat, his cock hardening to full mast under the table, throbbing painfully. He couldn’t look away, imagining slamming into that fat, leaking cunt.

After dinner, as Scott and Kate cleared plates, Stiles seized her moments. In the kitchen, she “bumped” into Derek while reaching for glasses, her hand sliding over his bulge “innocently.” “Sorry, Uncle Derek,” she whispered, squeezing just enough to feel him pulse. Later, by the pool, she hugged him goodbye a beat too long, her boobs mashing against him, hips grinding subtly. “Come over more often,” she breathed into his ear, her hot breath making him shudder.

Derek left that night rock-hard, mind reeling from the teases. But Stiles wasn’t done. Alone in her room, she stripped naked, posing in the mirror. Her body was perfection—boobs heaving, nipples diamond-hard, pussy fat and pink, lips swollen and leaking down her thighs. She snapped a selfie: full frontal, one hand spreading her folds to show her dripping hole, the other pinching a nipple. “For you, baby 💦 Can’t wait to feel your cock,” she typed, but “accidentally” sent it to Derek instead of her fictional hookup.

Minutes later, his reply: “Stiles? What the fuck?” But she knew he was staring, stroking that massive dick.

Stiles smirked, fingering herself to another orgasm. Hook, line, and sinker.