Stiles stretched out on her bed that morning, the sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains of her room, casting a warm glow over her skin. She was 22, and damn, she knew she was a knockout—white skin that practically shimmered like fresh snow, full pink lips that always seemed a little swollen, like she’d just been kissed too hard. Her body was the kind that turned heads without even trying: big, perky boobs that strained against whatever top she threw on, and an ass so thick and round it made her jeans look painted on. And down there? Her pussy was fat and pink, always a little sensitive, like it had a mind of its own, getting wet at the dumbest things. She loved it, though—loved how her body felt alive, ready for anything.

She rolled over, glancing at her closet, which was basically a shrine to all things slutty. Today, she picked out a tiny crop top that barely covered her tits, the fabric thin enough you could see the outline of her nipples if the AC kicked on, and a pair of high-waisted shorts that rode up her ass cheeks just enough to be distracting. No bra, because why bother? She slipped on some strappy heels that made her legs look endless, and headed downstairs, her hips swaying like she owned the damn world.

“Morning, sweetie!” her mom, Claudia, called from the kitchen, flipping pancakes like it was the most normal thing. Claudia was 45, still gorgeous with that effortless mom charm—long hair tied back, apron on, but you could tell she took care of herself. “You look… well, you look ready for the day.”

Stiles grinned, leaning over the counter to snag a piece of bacon. “Thanks, Mom. Gotta keep things interesting, right?” She was flirty like that, even with her parents, but in a sweet way—not creepy, just playful. She was smart, too, acing her online classes in business while dreaming up ways to start her own thing someday. But underneath the slutty outfits and the teasing smiles, she was good-hearted. Like, volunteer-at-the-shelter good. She just liked feeling sexy, liked the power it gave her.

Her dad, Noah, wandered in from the living room, newspaper in hand, his glasses perched on his nose. He was 45 too, fit for his age, with that salt-and-pepper hair that made him look distinguished. “Morning, princess,” he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. “You sleep okay? That new bed treating you right?”

“Like a dream, Dad,” she replied, hugging him tight. They adored her—spoiled her rotten with the big house, the allowance, the freedom. Noah ran a successful consulting firm, and Claudia had her own boutique downtown. They treated Stiles like she was their greatest achievement, and honestly, she kinda was. No siblings, just her, the center of their universe.

Meanwhile, across town—things were changing.

Derek Hale—Derek to his friends—pushed his glasses up his nose as he stared at the spreadsheet on his screen. He was 40, tall and muscled from those quiet gym sessions he squeezed in before work, but he hid it all under button-up shirts and slacks. CEO of a mid-sized tech firm, making bank, but you’d never know it from how shy he was. Kind to a fault, always holding doors, remembering birthdays, that sort of thing. His office was neat, bookshelves lined with nerdy stuff—coding manuals, sci-fi novels, a framed photo from college with his old senior, Noah.

Noah had been like a big brother back then, guiding him through frat parties and finals. They’d stayed tight over the years, grabbing beers now and then, talking life. Derek valued that—real friends were rare in his world.

But home? Home was a different story. Allison, his wife of 15 years, was beautiful—40, with sharp features, long dark hair, a body she kept toned with yoga classes she bragged about. But she was a bitch, plain and simple. Always complaining, nitpicking everything from the way he folded laundry to… well, everything else.

That night, before the move, they’d been at a friend’s dinner party. Allison had a few glasses of wine in her, and there she went again. “Oh, please,” she’d laughed, loud enough for the whole table to hear, “Derek’s idea of foreplay is asking if I’m in the mood. Like, honey, just take charge for once! No wonder our sex life is drier than the Sahara.” The others had chuckled awkwardly, but Derek just stared at his plate, cheeks burning, mumbling something about work being stressful. She didn’t stop there—went on about how he was too shy, too vanilla, how he’d cum too quick or not at all, spilling details that made even their closest friends shift in their seats. “And kids? Forget it. Probably his fault we’re still childless after all this time. If he could just man up in bed…”

Derek never fought back. He just took it, like he deserved it. Maybe he did—maybe he was too soft, too hesitant. But it stung, every time.

Now, their house was under renovation because Allison “couldn’t stand the outdated vibe anymore.” Marble counters weren’t enough; she wanted quartz, smart lights, the works. So they’d rented a place in Noah’s neighborhood—right next door, actually. Noah and Claudia were thrilled; they liked Derek a lot, saw him as family. Allison? They tolerated her, but those public degradations made them cringe. Still, they stayed out of it—couple stuff was couple stuff, right? Best not to meddle.

Stiles, though? She’d had the biggest crush on Derek since forever. Back when she was a kid, he’d come over for barbecues, all tall and handsome, even with the glasses. As she grew up, it turned into something hotter—fantasies about those strong arms, that shy smile. She hated Allison for how she treated him, like he was some loser instead of the sweet, successful guy he was. Why didn’t he stand up for himself? It made her blood boil, but also made her want to show him what real appreciation looked like.

When she heard they were moving in next door, her heart did flips. “Oh my god, Mom, really?” she’d squealed, trying to play it cool. Inside, she was already planning outfits that would make him stutter.

The evening they moved in, boxes still piled in the driveway, Noah and Claudia invited them over for dinner. “To welcome you to the hood,” Noah had said over the phone, clapping Derek on the back virtually.

Stiles’s heart pounded as she heard the doorbell. She adjusted her top—tonight it was a low-cut red dress that hugged her curves, short enough that bending over would flash everything. Slutty, sure, but she felt powerful in it. Her big tits were on display, ass popping, and she knew it’d make Derek flush like always.

Claudia opened the door, hugging Allison first—polite, even if forced. “Come in, come in! Dinner’s almost ready.”

Derek stepped in behind, looking tired but smiling that shy grin. “Hey, everyone. Thanks for this—moving day’s been chaos.”

Noah pulled him into a bro hug. “Anytime, man. Senior privileges—I get to boss you around still.”

Stiles hung back for a second, then sauntered over. “Uncle Derek,” she said, her voice all honey and tease, even though he wasn’t really her uncle—just a family friend thing. She hugged him tight, pressing her body against his a little too long, feeling him tense. “Missed you. Neighborhood’s gonna be way more fun now.”

He cleared his throat, cheeks pink. “S-Stiles, hey. You’ve… grown up so much.” His eyes darted away from her cleavage, but she caught it.

Dinner was laid out—steak, potatoes, salad, wine flowing. They sat around the big oak table, the one with a faint scratch from when Stiles was a kid drawing on it. Random chatter filled the air: Noah asking about Derek’s work, Claudia complimenting Allison’s new highlights.

“So, the renovation—big plans?” Noah asked, cutting into his steak.

Allison rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, god, yes. The old place was so blah. Derek didn’t care, of course—he’s fine with boring. But me? I need excitement.” She shot him a look, sipping her wine.

Derek just nodded, poking at his food. “Yeah, it’ll be nice when it’s done.”

Stiles sat across from him, her foot accidentally-on-purpose brushing his under the table. She smiled innocently when he glanced up, startled.

Then Allison leaned in, voice dropping but not really. “Speaking of boring… our sex life could use a reno too. Right, babe? No foreplay, just straight to the point—like, who does that? And kids? Ha, at this rate, we’ll never have any. Probably his shyness holding us back. Too vanilla, too quick to finish, you know?”

The table went quiet. Derek’s face turned beet red, his fork clattering a bit. “Allison, come on…”

Noah coughed, changing the subject. “Uh, pass the salt?”

Claudia shot her a look. “Allison, honey, maybe not at the dinner table? Private stuff.”

But Allison waved it off. “Oh, please. We’re all friends here. It’s just facts—Derek’s too damn shy. No passion, no nothing. Blames work, but really, it’s him.”

Stiles’s fists clenched under the table. How could she say that? Derek looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him, mumbling apologies. Stiles wanted to scream, to tell Allison to fuck off, but she bit her tongue. Instead, she caught Derek’s eye and gave him a small, sympathetic smile—flirty, but kind. “Everything’s perfect as it is, Uncle Derek,” she said softly, double meaning hanging in the air. “Some people just don’t appreciate what’s right in front of them.”

He blinked, flushing deeper, but there was a spark in his eyes, like he heard the layers.

After dinner, Claudia and Allison cleared plates, heading to the kitchen. Noah and Derek wandered to the living room for a beer, talking old college stories. Stiles lingered in the hall, pretending to check her phone, but really eavesdropping.

In the kitchen, Allison was at it again. “God, Claudia, you don’t know. In bed? It’s like pulling teeth. No kissing, no touching—just wham-bam, thank you ma’am. And his shyness? Turns me off completely. Last time, he couldn’t even keep it up half the time. Whispers ‘sorry’ like it’s his fault we’re barren. If he wasn’t so damn passive…”

Claudia murmured something polite, like “Marriage is tough,” but Stiles seethed in the shadows. How the hell did Derek end up with this bitch? He deserved better—someone who saw how kind he was, how hot under that nerdy exterior. Someone like her.

Her heart raced, pussy throbbing a little at the thought. This neighborhood thing? It was gonna change everything.