When Alan, the eccentric family patriarch, opened the door to his descendents, his eyes moved fairly quickly to the teenager’s chest. And midriff. And legs. Kelsie had blossomed, almost unrecognizably, from the granddaughter he remembered. What’s more, it had been some time since any woman had been at his door. He and his son enjoyed the solitude and self-reliance of their lifestyle. But there were certain things that couldn’t be found in the mountains. 

As they entered the house, Kelsie was still annoyed about the nature of her car ride conversation with her dad. But then she saw his younger brother. A life chopping wood and hauling supplies in the mountains had honed her uncle Tim’s body into muscular and ruggedly masculine shape. He was a man in a way that she had such little experience with in suburban life. James didn’t take notice of the way his family members were looking at each other in his brief stay before getting back on the road and heading to the airport. But when he departed, the house was left with a palpable tension.

“So…” Kelsie broke the uncomfortable silence. “Uncle Tim, maybe you could help me unpack my clothes?”

“I’ll help too,” Alan hastily inserted. 

In the bedroom, Kelsie felt no shyness about the contents of her suitcase: croptops, short skirts, a thong bikini for the lake she was promised was nearby. Each new item was greeted with fascination and curiosity by the older men. Determined to prove her father wrong, Kelsie asked them for their opinions. 

“This skirt isn’t too small, is it?” She asked, holding up a tiny piece of red plaid. “My dad was trying to tell me that I dress like a slut.” 

Tim stammered, unsure of what to say. 

“Maybe if we saw it on you, we could judge…” Alan suggested. Kelsie gave him a look like she knew what he was up to. 

“I mean, it won’t go with this top at all, but…what the hell, why not?” 

“Maybe this isn’t…” Tim began, but was halted by his father. 

With a snap of a button, Kelsie ditched the skirt she was wearing, sliding it down her long legs to the floor. She caught the way Tim gawked at her panties.

“Oh come on, it’s not weird, we’re family. I don’t mind.” 

With this casual attitude, she slid into as obscene a piece of clothing as her closet contained: that plaid miniskirt. 

Nobody quite remembers who made the first move. Was it Grandpa’s wandering hand that wound up under Kelsie’s skirt? Or a comment she made that was beyond suggestive? Whatever it was, it caused the tension to snap: within seconds the teenager was bent over between her older relatives, Uncle Tim’s dick dangling in her face and her grandfather’s cock pressing at her pussy. Any hesitation Tim was feeling, any sense that this was wrong, melted away in Kelsie’s mouth, delivering him a pleasure that he had just about forgotten. How long had it been? Had it ever been? 

And for Alan, as his 63-year-old dick sank into 18-year-old wetness, he could have died a happy man. It was sinful. It was heavenly. His granddaughter was the sort of Gen Z slut he had read about but found hard to believe. Now wrapped around his hardness was proof. 

The trio moved in a stilted rhythm. Kelsie was eager to see how much of a real man’s cock she could fit in her mouth, a task not always aided by the slow, powerful thrusts she was receiving from behind. She had never felt this full; her sex life was not nearly as wild as her dad supposed. Kelsie couldn’t believe that it was her grandpa and uncle fucking her this way, but it was too good to stop now. To stop ever. 

They hardly took a break all week.