Mattress on the Floor

I grew up in a quiet coastal village, married with two young kids. I met my husband, Lucas, at a beachside festival when I was 17, and we married a year later. Barely a year into our life together, his uncle, Marcus, arrived from the bustling city of Charleston. He was in his mid-forties, strikingly handsome with a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and a fit physique that made him seem younger than his years.

Lucas welcomed Marcus warmly, setting him up on a pull-out couch in our cozy living room, as our small home only had one bedroom where we slept with our infant daughter. Marcus agreed to stay for a week, as Lucas had to leave for a fishing job three hours away, working long shifts on a boat. Lucas asked him to keep an eye on the house until he returned, and Marcus obliged.

That first night, around 1 a.m., I crept out to the bathroom to relieve myself. The bathroom was adjacent to the shower, separated only by a thin curtain. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, I caught sight of Marcus in the shower, his hand moving rhythmically, his body illuminated by the soft glow. His manhood was thick and imposing – unlike anything I’d ever seen, certainly not like Lucas’s slimmer, smaller frame. My breath caught, a rush of heat flooding my body.

My mind spun, arousal mixing with curiosity, imagining what it would feel like to touch something so formidable. I watched him step out, wrapping a towel around his waist, and head back to the living room. Heart pounding, I returned to my bedroom, grabbed a towel, and decided to shower, deliberately planning to pass by him. As I walked through the living room, I felt his eyes on me. I let the towel slip to the floor, bending slowly to pick it up, my body exposed, curves catching the faint light. His gaze was heavy, embarrassed but intrigued. I sauntered to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar.

Stepping into the warm shower, my thoughts raced, a forbidden thrill pulsing through me. I lathered my skin, the soap’s scent mixing with my anticipation. Then, I heard the creak of the floorboards. Turning, I saw Marcus, naked, his arousal evident, standing just outside the shower. He asked, voice low, if he could join me, citing the humid night. My eyes flicked to his impressive length, and I murmured, “No problem,” my voice betraying my excitement.

He stepped in, the water cascading over his muscular frame. He moved closer, his lips finding mine in a hungry kiss. I responded eagerly, my hands reaching for him, fingers struggling to encircle his thick, pulsing hardness. The sensation was electric, his veins prominent under my touch. He gently rinsed the soap from my skin, his hands lingering on my curves, then wrapped me in a towel and lifted me effortlessly, carrying me to his makeshift bed in the living room – a soft mattress on the hardwood floor.

He laid me down, the towel falling away, and parted my thighs with a gentle but firm touch. His eyes locked on mine as he entered me slowly, his size stretching me, a mix of pressure and pleasure that made me gasp. Each thrust was deliberate, deep, igniting a fire that had me clutching the sheets, my moans filling the quiet house. The rhythm built, his hips moving with a primal intensity, my body arching to meet him, lost in waves of sensation.

He paused, breath ragged, asking if I was protected. I nodded, mentioning my IUD, and he let go, his release warm and overwhelming, spilling inside me, a slick warmth trickling down my thighs. He turned me over, his hands exploring, suggesting another intimacy. I hesitated, saying Lucas had tried it, but his size was nothing like Marcus’s. He relented, whispering how much he craved my “perfect curves,” his voice thick with desire.

We continued through the night, insatiable. His hands roamed my body, teasing my sensitive skin, each touch reigniting my arousal. I fell asleep beside him, our bodies tangled, his warmth pressed against me. Even in rest, he stirred, his hardness brushing my skin, his lips grazing my neck, whispering how he wanted more. I refused at first, but his persistence wore me down. He asked me to please him orally, and I did, my lips stretching, the act intense but unyielding. He begged again for more, and I agreed, setting the terms – I’d control it to manage his size.

He lay back, and I straddled him, guiding him slowly, the stretch sharp and overwhelming. I winced, gripping his shoulders as he kissed my breasts, his tongue circling my nipples, sending shivers through me. He began to move, his thrusts powerful, opening me further, my cries a blend of pain and ecstasy. “Hold on, you’re so tight,” he growled, his voice raw as our bodies collided, the sound echoing in the quiet room. When he finished, the intensity left me trembling, my body aching yet alive.

Exhausted, I collapsed beside him, his now-softened form pressed against me. He murmured, “You’re incredible, my sweet niece,” his breath warm against my ear.

The next afternoon, Lucas returned unexpectedly, the fishing job canceled due to bad weather. Marcus, who’d planned to stay longer, packed up and left for Charleston. I was left with a restless ache, craving the intensity of that night.