I fell in love with Mariela the moment I met her, but because of my father's marriage to her mother, I've been forced to repress my sexual and emotional desires for her. She's my stepsister. When I met her, she was 23, one year younger than me. I'd always had little luck with women and had slept with a couple of whores; my real refuge was porn. Then she arrived, always dressed in black, and I was blown away. I'd never been interested in goth girls until I saw her for the first time. In fact, just to feel closer to her, I started listening to some of the bands featured on her printed shirts. Mariela, with her melancholic, pale, and somber appearance, is a true sexual machine. A real vampiress with a fragile and sad look. We've never been close, but I've been the observer of her passion. I began to notice her overflowing eroticism one winter night. My attractive stepmother had been living in our house for a month. My father and my new mother slept on the third floor, and we each had our own separate rooms on the second floor; her room used to be a storage space for the Catholic religious items of my late mother. It struck me that no one thought about what carnal desires might awaken in me toward my stepsister. I suppose with the excitement of the wedding, no one remembered me, which was a great fortune. Just being near Mariela was a blessing. I remember that night like it was yesterday. Early morning and silence. I was in bed, keeping quiet with the lights off. Instead of sleeping, my phone addiction had gotten the better of me, and I was masturbating while looking at photos of Kristen Stewart's feet. Then, I heard voices. My onanistic pleasure stopped, I tucked away my still-hard penis, and got out of bed. Yes, someone was talking. I left my room. The voices were coming from Mariela's room. She and I had never had any trust, even less so back then when we were just getting to know each other. She was so quiet and grim, inaccessible to conversation; I'd barely heard her voice by that point. But in the middle of the night, she spoke, and what things she said! - Do you like my vagina, bitch? How delicious yours is! We should finger each other at the same time. Like that, how good. Put in two fingers, just like me. I love it when we're each other's slut. What the hell?, I thought. My pretty stepsister, who always had an attitude like she was dead, like a vampire waking up in the middle of the night to suck blood, was having a lesbian video call, God knows with whom! Her words were so dirty that I couldn't help but stand by the door, pull out my penis, and masturbate while listening to her talk. - I wish you were here right now and ran your tongue all over my vagina, like you did the other day. Put a finger in and run the tip of your tongue over my clítoris. Here, on this clítoris right here. Look at my juicy, hard clítoris. Look at my clítoris, bitch. Do you like it? I want you to put your lips on it and suck it. Oh, it feels so good with these fingers inside me! The dirty words lasted for ten minutes. Mariela was the one who talked the most, though it was clear the other woman was also showing herself on the screen. My stepsister, who never speaks, who always dresses in dark clothes and seems to despise the world, was capable of pornographic words. I shot a long spurt of semen onto the carpet, which I quickly cleaned with my hand. On tiptoes, I returned to my room. My heart was pounding, and I almost started laughing in disbelief at what had happened. I thought something like that wouldn't happen again, and if it did, it would be by another stroke of luck and far in the future. But no, that would only be the least of the episodes as a hidden witness to Mariela's intense sex life. A couple of days later, my parents--that is, my father and my stepmother--left the house. And my stepsister went to university. She was studying something related to editing in communications, something like that. And I, being a slacker, stayed home alone. Then, like a good voyeur explorer, I sneaked into her room. It was no surprise to find black sheets and a lot of dark clothing. On the wall, there was a poster of Baphomet and of David Cronenberg's movie Crash. In one of her drawers, I found her underwear. She didn't have much. But the one that caught my attention was a pair of panties thrown on the floor. I bent down to pick them up. They were still warm. I put them over my face and breathed deeply. Then, I left them in the same spot on the floor where I found them. After a few minutes, I thought about leaving since I wasn't finding anything interesting, until I noticed a medium-sized box with skull stickers on top of the closet. I stretched a bit and pulled down the box. To my surprise, inside were several condoms, a dildo, and a USB drive. I checked the time on my phone. It wouldn't be long before she got back from university. In a hurry, I stole a condom and left the box closed and where I found it. I returned to my room. Fifteen minutes later, I heard someone entering the house. I peeked through my half-open door. It was her, quickly entering her room and locking it. She liked her privacy, but sometimes she forgot to latch it. Three days passed until I could finally enter her room again. The next couple of days, she also went to university but locked her door. Her next lapse in protecting her privacy was on a Sunday. We all had breakfast together. I remember she was in jeans and a hooded shirt, but barefoot. Her feet looked like Kristen Stewart's. Her mother made us all scrambled eggs. Sandra, her mother, is tall, elegant, and always wore cleavage. She had the most delicious tits I'd ever fantasized about; I was jealous of my father for getting to enjoy them. My stepmother was cheerful, smiling, unlike her gloomy daughter. Mariela said she was going out with some guy named Marc and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Her mother just said ok, and my father made a surprised face. I know that facial gesture of my father's: this Marc was a affectionate buddy of Mariela's, and the mother allowed her to stay over with him until the next day, which went against traditional values. Though perhaps he was in the process of abandoning being so traditional; after all, he had married a very sensual woman. By eleven in the morning, Mariela left, and I almost ran to the second floor. I checked her door. Again, she had forgotten to lock it. Surely the excitement of going to see this Marc had caused the oversight. I immediately stretched and pulled down the box. I opened it. And took out the USB. What could be on there that was stored with a dildo and condoms? And yes, I still had the condom I stole in my nightstand. I took the USB to my room and plugged it into my computer. I thought for sure there would be a password, and I wouldn't be able to see her secret information, but no: there was no password at all. I found a treasure! Inside were several photos of her naked. Most were selfies, others taken by someone else. There were also short videos of her having sex with women and men. Even a threesome. But that wasn't all! There were photos of her mother and her naked in bed, taken as selfies. Then, I heard footsteps. Someone was in the second-floor hallway! My heart jumped. It was my stepmother. I froze. I had left my stepsister's door closed, and I quickly exited, adjusting my member upward so my erection wouldn't show under my pants. She told me that she and my father were going out for a few hours to visit a huge gourmet supermarket that had opened on the other side of the city, and if I wanted them to bring me something, maybe some special ham or cheese. I said no thanks, that I'm a McDonald's kind of guy. With a beautiful smile, she said goodbye. What tits my stepmother had! Hidden, I watched from the window as the car left. When I was finally alone again, my mind reactivated. Sandra and Mariela had some kind of incestuous bond. I doubt my father would approve. Or who knows. Maybe my father knew things I didn't. I was delighted. I took off all my clothes, put on the condom, and enlarged an image on the screen where Mariela was showing her concha. I started masturbating vigorously and got into a position as if I were penetrating her. - Do you like that cock, you dirty bitch, you fucking zombie? Do you like this cock, you incestuous slut? I yelled as if I hated her. It felt so good! She had delicate, fine tits. But just as I was about to ejaculate, I quickly removed the condom, switched to the photo where Mariela and her mother were naked. I ejaculated over Sandra's thick, huge-nippled, juicy tits. The screen got all stained, and the used condom was on the floor. Sleepy, I copied all the files from the USB to my laptop. Naked, I entered Mariela's room, put back the USB, checked that everything was in place, and as a final touch, stained the tip of her bedspread with a tiny drop of semen: now the place where she slept was imperceptibly marked by my sexual power. I returned to my room and lay down on the bed to sleep. I'd like to say I had great dreams, but no. I didn't dream. I never dream. Two hours later, I woke up. I felt cold and got dressed. Now calmer, the more rational side of my brain activated. What kind of woman had my father married? It was clear that between that mother and daughter there were perverse sexual secrets. But my judgment didn't last long. After all, I'm a pervert too; who am I to pass moral judgments? Months passed without novelties. I entertained myself watching my stepmother bathe on the beach in front of the house. My stepsister only sometimes went barefoot to the beach, walked on the sand, and sat at the edge to look at the sea. She never swam. She always had her gothic look. My father and I were so used to the sea breeze and the beach that we didn't pay it any attention. The truth is there were seasons when I almost forgot that one side of my home faced the beach. I didn't care. They, on the other hand, seemed ecstatic with the marine landscape. I've always given a shit about the sea and its fish. Perhaps nothing peculiar would have happened with Mariela anymore if the following event hadn't occurred: my father, for work reasons, was asked to go on a short stint to Brazil. And he left, along with my attractive stepmother. So my sister and I were left alone. Some would say, there's your chance! You probably fucked her! Nothing like that. She barely acknowledged me. She spoke to me only when necessary. And because of my invisibility, I was able to spy on all her sexual excesses. With them already abroad, as rarely happened, one night she knocked on my bedroom door: - Listen. Now tonight Marc is coming. Don't tell your father. We'll be in my room and also drink downstairs in the living room. Do you mind staying in your room and not coming out? - Don't worry, sister. She smiled. It was the first time she showed signs that she liked me. I tried to respond with the same cold face she usually had. - Seriously, it's no problem? - I'm on your side. I'll stay here. If you need anything, just tell me. I have to do some things on the computer. I'll be writing, with headphones on most of the night, and then I'll go to sleep. No problem. We're siblings; we're here to make things easier for each other. - Thanks -- she said with another soft smile and went into her room. As she walked to her room, I looked with fetishistic pleasure at her feet. They're going to drink; I wonder if she'll go buy liquor, I thought. It wasn't five minutes before she came out of her room and knocked on my door again. - I'm going to buy liquor in Mom's car. Marc comes at seven. From that time stay in your room. Don't come down. We want privacy. - I'm on your side. - Thanks, it's good to have a brother. And she left. Then, I took out from under my bed what I had bought two weeks ago but thought I'd never find the right moment to use. Spy cameras. They were tiny. Almost three centimeters in diameter. Wireless. I placed three in her room: luckily, she forgot to latch it. I also put five in the living room. I set everything up on my laptop and done. On my screen, I could see all eight cameras, in 4K with sound included. From the shelf above my desk, next to the bed, I took out some expensive headphones I was given last year. I plugged them into the right side of the laptop. Yes, everything worked perfectly. I could see when she entered the house, crossed the first floor, and then reappeared on my screen when she entered her room. My heart was pounding so fast! This was a gift from life. It was 6:20 PM. My sister entered her room and, as always, the first thing she did was take off her shoes. She lay on the bed and got on her phone. She was in such a position that both soles of her feet were fully visible. I saved several screenshots of that beautiful image. Wonderful feet, for the most exquisite tastes. At times, she laughed a little. Almost at 7, she stood up, took off her shirt, which had an image of Ozzy Osbourne. She had a black bra... what a novelty, such an obsession with that color. And she put on a shirt with the cover of Judas Priest. She changed into shorter shorts. I had a mini-fridge in my room and took out a Fanta. I watched her attentively. She looked so beautiful. My penis was hard. But I didn't masturbate yet. I put on dark trip-hop music. She looked so beautiful and fit perfectly with that sound. The posters, the piled-up black clothes, the aesthetic of her appearance, her feet, her hands, her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her violated intimacy, her observed solitude. And then, the doorbell rang. Her lover had arrived, and with him, my fun. She went down. On my screen, she disappeared from her room and appeared in the living room. I turned down the music but didn't turn it off. I wanted to hear what they said well. Marc greeted her. They talked little. He told her she looked gorgeous. And she said she was bored and wanted to get drunk and cock. She closed the door. Boom! The slam sounded. She pushed Marc against the wall, pulled down his pants, and started sucking his cock. His member was flaccid, but it didn't take long to become rock hard. She moaned and said how delicious! He looked up in ecstasy. My gothic little sister was a great slut. At times, she took the member out of her mouth, spat on it, and jerked it. Do you like this, dog?, she asked. Yes, Mariela, I love it, he answered submissively. My penis was hard too. I was surprised by the vigor with which my sister sucked her lover's cock. More than envy, I felt fascination. Yes, suck it, I whispered, while adjusting the headphones well on my head. You could hear the aggressive sucking sounds. Then, she stood up, pulled down her shorts, sat on the leather sofa, and ordered her sexual slave to suck her concha. He knelt and started licking her. Move your tongue more, she said between moans. I could tell her gaze wasn't fixed on him but on the window, looking at the beach. She started moaning more and seemed to have a slight orgasm after a few minutes. - Enough. There's booze over there, pour wine. Hurry up! Marc, without saying anything, obeyed the orders. You're a bossy slut, I whispered as if I could speak in her ear, with a bit of laughter. I felt so good watching them, and I wondered if that's how God feels. I remember in the Catholic Church they told us God watches us all the time, and I always wondered if he watched me masturbate. But there's no God. At that moment, I was a God, and I wasn't masturbating yet, but I had caressed my member a few times. I was dying to see what would happen. They drank a few glasses. They talked about things that were irrelevant to me. When they were already a bit drunk, my sister, with a gesture worthy of a vampiress from Hammer films, the ones that made Dracula movies with Christopher Lee, said: - I'd love to do that thing with the wine now; it's been a long time since we did it. Marc replied that they might make a mess. She said they'd use little wine, and he agreed. She had him completely tamed for her pleasures. Mariela set aside Marc's glass and dipped a couple of fingers into her own glass and then... ran her fingertips with wine over her thigh, near the hairs of her vagina, which she hadn't covered again since her lover sucked her. Marc started licking the thigh. She, with her fingers, started spreading more wine, and he started licking like a dog. You're a little perverse goth, I thought smiling. She quickly took off her Judas Priest shirt and bra and poured a fair amount of wine over her breasts. Marc, as if possessed, started licking them. They were such pretty tits, small but big enough to enjoy. Her nipples were a pleasant light brown that contrasted with the paleness of her skin. - Get drunk on my tits, dog. Then, the feast was interrupted. My stepsister told Marc they'd go up to the room, to the second floor, to make love. But wait a moment downstairs. She'd go up first to tidy some things in her room and also go to the bathroom. - Wait here. She went up, disappeared from my screen, and reappeared before me in her room. And to my surprise, she took the phone and made a video call. Another man's voice was heard. - Marc is about to come up. I'm going to hide the phone behind a shirt, but with the camera free, as you told me, so you can watch us. - Good, hurry up -- the man's voice was virile and firm. The position of my cameras didn't allow me to see the other's face in the video call. My impure stepsister hid the cell phone behind the Ozzy Osbourne shirt. Then, she opened the door and went to get Marc. She didn't take long to return with him. I saw that tall, burly man, bald-headed, trying to look cool, with a face between scared and excited. Mirela knew how to absorb, like a good vampiress, a man's energy through sex. It wasn't the first time I'd seen her naked; I had her recordings from the USB. But live was something else. I started masturbating slowly while watching her lick her lover's entire naked body. That room full of dark clothes seemed like a stage for bondage. After a few minutes, she sat on his phallus and started riding him. She was seeking her own pleasure. She moved trying to make the most of every centimeter of that long, thick penis. He seemed in a trance, as if letting himself be devoured by a devourer. Almost five minutes passed, and she didn't slow down. He said: It feels so good, so intense, I'm going to ejaculate if you don't slow down! Marc could barely pronounce these words, to which she responded: - Cum quick, I love making you lose control. Ejaculate inside me like I love. I know she takes pills; I saw them in her room, and I suppose Marc knew too. He let out an orangutan scream as he ejaculated. It seemed he sent a good shot of radical milk. She seemed to reach orgasm feeling herself filled with the white liquid. - Yes, give me all your milk. He was left exhausted, and she still seemed energetic. - Would you like me to do that thing from the other time? - Yes, yes I want it- he answered. She put him on all fours, aiming directly at the hidden cell phone camera. And to my surprise, she started licking his anus. Wow, I said. I wasn't expecting that. My stepsister moved her tongue with great skill. After a couple of minutes of licking and spitting on Marco's anus, she started sodomizing him with her finger. - Do you like this, dog? - Yes, I love it, give me more -- the man moaned. She anally masturbated him for a few minutes until he fell onto the bed writhing in pleasure. She left the room, I suppose to wash her hand. Then, she came back in and looked mockingly at the cell phone, holding back laughter and making a goodbye gesture--without her lover noticing--as if saying goodbye to the hidden observer, her accomplice. Then, Mirela sat next to him. - Marc, my delicate and cute Marc. It was funny that she called him "delicate," since he was a burly man, but he had been completely knocked out. She started getting dressed, and since the guy fell asleep, she shamelessly took the cell phone out of its hiding spot and started texting. After about fifteen minutes, she woke him up and ordered him to get out quick. I saw them say goodbye in the living room with a kiss on the mouth. One that he sought. It was nine-thirty at night, and she returned to her room. I stood up and stretched my body. I had already ejaculated while she rode Marc. What a way to move! I felt dizzy. My stepsister was a true diabolical woman. I felt envy of Marc; I'd love for an oversexed woman to enjoy me like that. I drank the rest of my Fanta and sat on the edge of the bed. I knew women like her existed, but I'd never seen it like this, raw, live and direct. Impressive! When I returned to the computer, she had fallen asleep with the cell phone in her hands. Getting her secret images from the USB was the preparation, and the night I spied on her developing her passion with Marc's body was my initiation. Mirela: my sister became the object of my complete obsession. I wanted to know all her secrets. To know every centimeter of her pleasure. To touch with my eyes every spark of energy from her skin. Thanks to the allowance my father sent me each month, I could buy everything necessary. I acquired several disguises to follow her on the street: old man clothes, fake beard, convincing wigs. The hardware needed to hack her cell phone. Which I achieved in a moment of her carelessness when she went out without it. I put microphones in her backpack. I discovered so much, lived so much through her. And there was more... Much more... Including her mother. We were still alone, without our parents, and she no longer brought any men, didn't masturbate, and changed clothes quickly, so I couldn't take advantage of her nudity. She started spending more and more time out of the house, and that's how I began following her. She always said she was going to university, but it didn't take me long to discover that was false; she went to university only a couple of times a week. Sometimes she wandered through dark clothing stores; there aren't many in the city, so she traveled long distances from one to another. Thanks to hacking her cell phone, I had her GPS location all the time. Sometimes I risked passing right by her, but my disguises were good; she didn't suspect. She loved black band shirts or with melancholic figures and rare movies. Sometimes she bought things like sexy panties. I loved lurking and watching her stand in front of mirrors trying on shirts; she saw how they fit her, and I saw how she saw herself; she tried on the clothes, and I tried seeing her. Sometimes she went to an apartment that I soon discovered was Marc's. As obvious, I didn't have cameras there, but yes the microphone in her backpack, which transmitted directly to my phone. I sat on the bench in front of the building and put on small earbuds. I listened to the moans and sometimes obscene phrases; it was entertaining, almost like an erotic meditation exercise. Mirela, occasionally, met with a girl a bit taller than her, with brown hair and who also dressed in black. They kissed passionately in desolate parks and empty mall hallways. I watched them from a distance. They looked so pretty together, a pair of overflowing goth girls. After walking around for a while, they went to a hotel. They went to the same hotel twice. Spying on her texts, I knew when they'd meet again. I made sure to go to the small hotel first; it was a seedy one. I bribed the receptionist. First, I took a room and put cameras in it. Then, I asked him that when "these two girls in this photo" appear, showing him my phone screen, make sure to give them this room; that afternoon, don't give that room to anyone else. It cost me a lot, but it was worth it. I took the room next door. They arrived at the same time as the other times they went to the hotel. In that lonely adjacent hotel room, I lay on the bed and opened my laptop. Mirela and her lesbian lover appeared on my screen entering their room. The two looked like a pair of dark ballet dancers, delicate and fine. Their lips didn't stop touching, and their hands didn't stop caressing each other's bodies. They threw themselves on the bed. My stepsister's lover took a bottle of vodka out of her backpack. Both started taking small shots. Mirela, cruelly, expressed that the stupid Marc couldn't even smell vodka because it made him gag. Both laughed. Marc has always been a fool, said the other. After the alcohol prep, both started undressing. They had similar bodies; my stepsister's lover perhaps had a slightly more robust body, without ceasing to be attractive. They got into 69 position and started licking each other's vaginas. My penis was hard; though I didn't want to masturbate so quickly, I had to take out my phallus because it was painful to have it so tight against my pants. I caressed the head of my penis while watching my stepsister and her lover suck each other's vaginas. Both moaned with full mouths and twisted their bodies. Sometimes, unexpectedly from my mouth, phrases came out like: Enjoy for me, bitches. After several minutes, Mirela got on top of the other girl and, like a man penetrating a woman, started rubbing her vagina against the other's vagina. The one below hugged her with her legs. Both started moaning. Mirela's face was aggressive, and the other girl's was one of pleasurable agony. Then something happened that hadn't in the encounters with Marc: both started praising the Devil. They said things like Hail Satan, this pleasure is for you or peculiar phrases like Satan, possess me. The two praised the Devil while enjoying each other's bodies. I thought it would end there. Both reached orgasm, and that was when I also ejaculated after masturbating watching them. But it didn't end there. My stepsister's lover stayed lying on the bed. She was very beautiful. I made sure to take several screenshots to keep that image for future masturbations. My stepsister stood up, opened her backpack, and took out the same dildo that was in the box on top of her closet. I didn't see when she took it; perhaps at some moment when I was asleep. It was a medium-sized dildo. Both laughed a bit; it was clear it wasn't the first time they used an item like that together. The girl lying on the bed got on all fours. Mirela spat several times on the dildo, licked the girl's anus a few times, and penetrated her ass. I watched fascinated. The woman being submitted moaned with such intensity that it could be heard in the room where I was. She started shouting even more heretical things than before. She said phrases like Satan, put it in my anus, I shit on Jesus Christ, I am the Virgin Mary, put it in my ass. Maybe 5 minutes passed. Mirela removed the dildo, went to the bathroom, washed it, and now she lay on the bed and raised her legs. What a glorious view!: you could see at the same time her tits, her vagina, the soles of her feet, her anus, and her face. Again, I made sure to take several screenshots for future masturbations. Now it was her lover who spat several times on the dildo and penetrated her anus. Similarly, Mirela started shouting heretical insults: Jesus Christ is a faggot, Holy Spirit, enter through my anus, Satan, bless my ass. I'd say Mirela enjoyed it even more than her lover, and for my fetishistic taste, the girl sucked Mirela's toes a couple of times. For a moment, I even felt like they were doing all that to please me. My penis got hard again, and that show was too stimulating for me. I masturbated while watching the two sodomize each other. When Mirela let out her last scream, I ejaculated again. Similarly, she gave her pleasure for about five minutes, and then my stepsister's lover removed the dildo from the anus and threw it on the floor. Both hugged and kissed on the bed, exhausted. They looked good together, naked; it seemed like a classic painting. Again, I saved the screenshot, not just for future masturbations but to contemplate them, because they were pure poetry: the tits, the faces, the hips, the feet, the delicacy of the hands. What a privilege of mine, to be able to observe like a god the privacy of those beautiful women! Both started taking a nap. I closed my laptop, put it in my briefcase, buttoned my pants, and left the hotel. Spying on my sister wasn't easy. She went from one place to another. I thought following her for a month would be enough; at least it would give me plenty of material. I also couldn't keep putting cameras in hotels; it was madness, that was exceptional. I was thinking about this when almost 27 days had passed, if I'm not mistaken. It was then that, for the first time, Mirela entered an elegant bar and met there with an older man, I'd say about 47 years old, tall, burly, with an authoritative look. I sat three tables away and with headphones on listened to what they said thanks to the microphone in her backpack. Great was my surprise upon discovering that this man was the one from the spy video call who watched the sexual encounter with Marc in our home. They greeted with a peck on the mouth. The man, who had a deep voice, ordered a Johnnie Walker Blue Label whiskey. The conversation revealed many surprises. The gentleman's name was Boris; he seemed to be of Russian descent. - How is Sandra? This opening question surprised me. That dialogue made me discover that Mirela's mother had been a luxury prostitute, hence why she's so flirtatious without ceasing to be elegant. And Boris was one of her main clients. And the mother sometimes passed the spot to her daughter. My father, who always seemed a bit prudish to me, apparently also took Sandra's services, but they fell in love, and my stepmother stopped being an escort. What else was my father capable of? I realized how little I knew him. Apparently, my stepsister, so gothic and delicate-looking, sometimes still had encounters with Boris even after my parents got married. Moreover, the perverse Mirela had been able to receive money for streaming herself fucking with Marc, even giving him the black kiss: Boris was a man of special tastes. I'd love to say this scandalized me. I'd like to say I'm a man with moral conscience who knows how to distinguish good from evil. But I'd be lying. All this made me laugh. Boris paid for a video call that I saw for free. What luck for me! How much did he pay for Sandra and how much for her daughter? It's likely they even had a threesome. I felt full of admiration and envy. Boris received his bottle of whiskey. - My delicious Mirela, always so pretty and in black. It's been a long time since we had sex. - I'm free tonight. - Maybe. - A few dollars wouldn't hurt. - Of course. Though it's your mother I miss -- said Boris pouring whiskey into his glass. - She's married now. - She got married... what a shame... I know... Your mother was a true master. Lucky the man who owns her. - I think the same. - Have you slept with her new husband? - No, though he's not bad-looking. I would if he asked me. Boris laughed. Then he talked about his businesses and successes. Boring things. The man ended by saying he had engagements tonight and maybe they'd meet again in a few months. He drank more than half the bottle. He gave Mirela a thousand-dollar tip for sitting and chatting with him, and they both left, each in different directions. Two weeks were left before my father and stepmother returned. At that moment, I felt calm. It was in the following days that my head started spinning. I stopped spying on Mirela and started masturbating with all the material I had collected about her. I felt like I was going to explode. I felt annoyed, lustful, and even a bit scared. One of the days Mirela went to university, I entered her room and took one of her dirty shirts that was thrown on the floor. It was a black shirt with the cover of Burzum's first album. I went to a clandestine brothel I had visited five years earlier. I walked through the hallway with women selling their bodies and chose the one who most resembled Mirela. I gave her specific instructions on what I wanted. All that made the price triple, but I accepted. The girl with features similar to Mirela, but with a more decadent face and not matching her in beauty, took off all her clothes and put on the Burzum shirt. I kissed her neck, licked her legs, sucked her toes imagining they were Mirela's feet, tongue-fucked her vagina like the lesbian lover had done. I got on top of her and put it in her vagina. I squeezed her tits over the dark shirt and spat in her face. - Do you like this, you satanic bitch? - Yes, give me more, put it in me, I'm an insatiable slut. I spat in her face again and penetrated her with greater tenacity. - You're a dirty slut prostitute and daughter of a prostitute. How I enjoyed it! All the tension in my body was expressed in each thrust. The whore seemed to be enjoying my roughness. Praise Satan!, I ordered. And the woman started saying the word Satan several times while moaning, I don't know if for real or acting. I was enjoying like never before. Then, I put her on all fours, spat several times in her anus, and penetrated her ass. I fucked her almost maliciously by the hips and gave it to her hard. - Take it in the ass, you damn slut, since you like it so much in the ass, you satanic piece of shit, you cynical bastard- I yelled with anger and pleasurable joy. I ejaculated inside the whore's ass. The woman lay next to me, expressed pain, and said I was rougher than I had said. She asked for a bit more money, and I paid her more; I didn't care. This changed her demeanor, and she told me that for that amount we could do the same another day. I got dressed, she gave me the shirt, and I returned home. In an hour, Mirela would arrive; I left the shirt where I found it. That dirty shirt now impregnated with her stench and that of the whore I had fucked in her name. I took off my shoes and socks and walked around my stepsister's room, feeling her floor under the soles of my feet, and then returned to my room. I lay on my bed, and then I started crying, not from sadness, but from how free I felt. And so the days passed, and my stepmother arrived without my father. This surprised me; it was the first time I saw them separated. Now that I knew Sandra had been a luxury escort, she seemed even more attractive than before, and I started feeling greater attraction to her than to her daughter. The perfection of her tits, her mature features, the whiteness of her skin, her big eyes, everything about her appealed to my senses; now I could see her in her full erotic dimension. My father apparently had work issues and would have to stay a month longer. Sandra returned earlier to not lose the plane ticket, as the flight dates couldn't be changed; my father would have to buy a new one. At the beginning of that month, I dedicated myself to observing the mother-daughter interaction. I lied to them and said I was doing a personal computer project in my room and would hardly come out. Sandra, with her usual sweet smile, told me it was fine and that whenever I wanted, I could come down to be with them. Mirela, in her usual style, answered me coldly. My cameras in the living room were still active, and luckily, mother and daughter sat barefoot on the leather sofa in front of the huge TV watching Netflix all day. I could watch them from several angles. It was hard to decide who was more beautiful: the attractive voluptuous MILF or the pretty thin goth. Both were physically similar. The eyes were the same; and with my eyes, I watched them, every micromovement. The conversations were normal; they talked about this and that, and even laughed together watching horror movies. I watched them. I zoomed in when their feet touched, when the mother's cleavage was accentuated, when one of them was in a position interesting to me. I took screenshots of manner constant. Passed about four days in which both spent the day lying on the sofa watching movies Mirela commented that she saw Boris. - What did he tell you? --asked with relaxed voice Sandra. - He wanted to know about you. - Boris is harmless --said laughing Sandra--. He'll stay away. So he still pays you to send him videos of your hole. You send so many free videos to your affectionate little friends, I hope at least you're charging him well. - I sent him one fucking with Marc. - Poor Marc --Sandra laughed--, he's a good boy. Though perverted. - You're more perverted mom --answered with a mischievous smile Mirela giving a kiss on her mother's breast. I almost let out a scream of surprise. In my mind was the photo of both naked. That quick kiss on her mother's breast showed that there was an incestuous tint in their relationship. And yes, they would show it to me! - No girl is as pretty as you mom. Sandra smiled and they gave each other a kiss on the mouth and continued watching TV. More than mother and daughter they seemed like a couple. - When I'm with women it's never like with you. - I've told you we have to be careful with our games in this house --said Sandra--. No one can see us, especially my husband or his son. Besides the scandal, think about the money and luxuries we're getting from this marriage. The mother, contradicting her own words, took out a breast, Mirela sucked it a few times and put it back in the cleavage. - Discretion above all --emphasized Sandra. These are a pair of crazy sluts, I thought to myself. - We should take advantage that your husband isn't here. And his son is holed up in his room. - Let the movie end and we'll go up to my room on the third floor --pointed Sandra. I ran out of my room, went up without my steps being heard to the third floor and put the few cameras I had left in strategic places. I didn't know how much was left for the movie they were watching to end, so I had to hurry. Everything ready, I left the room. I heard they were getting up. I went down quickly. They mustn't see me! I passed just before them and locked myself in my room. If they saw me everything could be ruined. I sat in front of my laptop. I put on the headphones. And yes! Mother and daughter entered the room they usually occupied husband and wife. The cameras focused perfectly. 4K. Good sound. Several angles. Nothing was happening yet and my penis was about to burst. The morbidity of this was making my head fly. Sandra and Mirela lay on the bed. - Mom, you're so pretty. You drive me crazy with that cleavage. The two males in the house have their eyes on your tits. Both laughed and I felt embarrassed. Was it noticeable? These sluts were terrible. Sandra took off her blouse and her daughter started sucking her tits. - It's been so long --said Mirela. She concentrated on the right breast. She sucked that huge nipple in such a way that it seemed the mix between the sucking of a lover and a baby nursing. It was noticeable the physical and psychological pleasure both had from that experience. I started caressing my penis before that incestuous scene. After a while, Mirela raised her head and released the nipple from between her lips. - Mom, I've been spitting on my partners, just like we like to do between us. - How delicious! I love that my daughter learned from her mother. They kissed with passion, each invading the other's mouth with the tongue. - Spit on my tits daughter and lick them, as you know I like. Mirela spat several times on her mother's robust tits. Sandra moaned with pleasure. Her daughter started licking those breasts filling them all with saliva and leaving them shiny. Meanwhile, the mother lifted her skirt, took off her panties and started rubbing her vagina. It didn't take long for her daughter to go down between her legs and start licking her genitals. - Like that, daughter. Suck your mom's vagina who loves you so much. Sandra put her feet on her daughter's back. And her daughter, still in jeans, had her ass toward the camera and also showed the soles of her feet. What a delight. I myself started taking off my clothes, touching my own skin and masturbating. I also stuck out my tongue and moved it as if I were the one sucking that concha. Then the mother lifted her daughter's face and spat in her face and gave her a strong slap, enough to redden her face, but not to leave a bruise. She spat on her about three more times and gave her a couple more slaps. - I love being your bitch, Sandra. - Don't call me Sandra. - I love being your bitch, mom. They kissed again with passion, and then both were completely naked. I was so excited that I stood up from my chair, walked in circles around my room breathing deeply and returned to my post with the headphones sitting in front of the laptop. It's hard to describe the coitus between a mother and daughter. Both beautiful and transgressive. There's an eroticism that has a different tint, a kind of affection that isn't that of couples. The way they kissed their bodies, it seemed they were going to eat each other. Sandra got on top of her daughter and started rubbing her vulva against hers. - Yes, mommy, how good, ride me! - Are you mommy's little slut? - Yes, mommy, I'm your little slut! The way those wonders of breasts bounced. The beautiful faces. The bodies in movement. I masturbated hard and loose words came out of my mouth for how impressive what my eyes perceived was. And then, something surprised me. The mother started praising Satan, and her daughter continued the praises. - Hail Satan! --said both in unison. Then, the sex stopped being sex and became a type of ritual. The mother got on all fours and the daughter started saying something that seemed like a long prayer to Satan, and between phrase and phrase licked her progenitor's anus. And then, the reverse, the daughter got on all fours, and the mother did the same operation on her daughter's anus. And thus concluded that encounter between both. My father has always told me I'm a slacker. The truth is that all my spying led me to ask my father to study audiovisuals. I'm about to finish. I've taken special interest in photography. I removed all the cameras and left my stepsister and stepmother in peace. At any moment they could discover my spying articles. My father sent me to study outside the country, so I lost track of what those two terrible women would be doing. I'm walking along the boardwalk of the beach near my place of study. It makes me think of the beach in front of my father's house. Here, far away, I've learned to contemplate the sea. I'm full of contradictory feelings. My father sent me an extensive email where he tells me that Mirela is pregnant by him; now my stepsister will have my nephew. And at the same time, she continues her relationship with Sandra. He asks for understanding and tolerance. The roar of the sea seems to whisper satanic litanies. I raise the camera that hangs from my neck and take a photo of the beach.

 Love has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. I never imagined that a rainy evening at that quaint little café would change my life forever. The soft patter of raindrops against the windows set a rhythm, almost like a heartbeat, and that’s when I noticed him—sitting alone, sipping coffee, lost in a book.

Our eyes met for a fleeting moment, but something clicked—a silent recognition that neither of us could ignore. He smiled, the kind of smile that warms you from the inside out, and I felt my pulse quicken.

We talked. Hours slipped by unnoticed. Words flowed effortlessly, laughter punctuating our conversation, our hands occasionally brushing, sending sparks through my veins. There was a tension, a magnetic pull neither of us could resist.

That night, as the city lights blurred through the rain-streaked window, he leaned closer, his lips grazing mine in a soft, tentative kiss. It was electric. My senses were ignited, every touch, every sigh, drawing us closer in a rhythm that felt both familiar and dangerously thrilling.

The connection we shared wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, intoxicating, and utterly consuming. Each encounter deepened our desire, our conversations turning into whispers, our glances into promises we didn’t need to speak.

Love, passion, intimacy—they intertwined effortlessly between us. It wasn’t rushed, but inevitable, like two rivers finding their way to merge. Every touch was tender yet hungry, every kiss a language of longing that spoke louder than words ever could.

By the time the first rays of dawn slipped through the curtains, we realized that this wasn’t just a fleeting encounter. It was the beginning of something profound, an intoxicating journey where hearts and bodies became inseparable, and desire became the poetry we wrote with every glance, every caress, and every whispered confession.

Love, in its rawest form, had found us. And we surrendered, completely, beautifully, to it.

 Love isn’t always about grand gestures or fireworks. Sometimes, it’s in the little moments—the way your heart skips a beat when their name pops up on your phone, the comfort of a shared silence, or the warmth of holding hands on a rainy afternoon.

True romance lies in connection: in the laughter you share over small jokes, the gentle glances that speak volumes, and the support you give each other when life feels heavy. It’s in the way two people can be completely themselves, without masks or pretenses, and still feel like they belong together.

Every love story is unique. Some start with a spark, others with a friendship that slowly blossoms into something deeper. But the essence of love remains the same: patience, understanding, and the courage to open your heart fully.

In the end, love is about being present, cherishing each shared moment, and building memories that linger long after the day is done. So, hold close the one who makes your heart smile, and never take the quiet magic of true love for granted.

💖 Because in love, it’s the little things that matter the most.

 In today’s world, dating isn’t just about finding someone —

it’s about finding someone who truly understands your energy.

We match, unmatch, connect, disconnect…
But in the end, we all want the same things:
✨ Someone to talk to
✨ Someone to trust
✨ Someone who chooses us every single day

Love isn’t rare.

The right connection is.
So don’t rush.
Don’t settle.
And don’t let temporary people make you forget your worth.

Somewhere out there…
someone is looking for exactly your kind of heart. ❤️