This is a submission for Nude Day Contest 2026. If you enjoy the story please consider voting. Any feedback is also appreciated.

Thank you.

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Dexter stepped inside his parents country estate. It was supposed to be a vacation home, but it was slowly becoming their main residence.

“Hello, I’m back! I got a very expensive cab.” He yelled, his voice practically echoed.

Dexter slammed the door, dropped his bag, and immediately began pulling off his shirt.

He had grown to hate his clothes. For one, his biggest sponsor was a supplement brand whose contract required he wear t-shirts one size too small during the day. Just in case a candid photo surfaced online.

Free advertising they called it. He called it suffocation.

The shirt came off, a mulatto body of sculpted muscle at five percent body fat stretched across a 6’3 frame.

The other reason he wasn’t a fan of clothes was about a year and half ago, his family had decided that clothing was very optional. He stopped short of thanking his pants off, never too careful about visitors, especially when coming home unannounced.

He had come home a day early, he was hoping to surprise everyone, but now, with how quiet his grand entrance actually was, maybe he should have just stuck to the schedule.

But he was excited to see his sister. Promises had been made and he looked forward to them being kept.

He walked across the wide den, high ceiling and a grey and white aesthetic all very clean except the fire place that looked recently used.

The mantle was a practical shrine to his mother. At the top: a Sports Illustrated cover from her twenties. Mid-stride, high contrast, shot from a low angle so she appeared to be flying. Indents of muscle glistened beneath a sheen of track sweat.

Beside it, newspaper clippings from two decades ago bearing the headline that had sold a thousand sponsorship deals: Shayla Williams Sets New Olympic World Record.

Next to that, four encased Olympic gold medals. Lower down, a family photograph.

“Hello? Mom? Dad?” No one responded. “Jacqui?”

He walked the corridor. Two long floating shelves ran along either wall, lined with his and his sisters trophies beginning in middle school.

“Anyone here?”

Jacqui’s wall began early and strong: both shelves filled with first-place trophies, framed pictures of her and their mother celebrating, arms around each other’s shoulders.

Then, as Dexter walked further, her top shelf began to thin. Fewer pictures, longer gaps. The lower shelf filled with second-place finishes. Then thirds.

Then an encased Olympic bronze medal, it hung crooked. He put it back level. It was the last thing she won.

On the opposite wall Dexter’s shelves told the opposite story. It started with thirds and seconds. Then just seconds. Then first place all the way down, more pictures of him on podiums, his mother hugging him tightly. The same hug she had once given Jacqui, transferred like a relay baton. His shelves grew more crowded with each step, while his sister’s declined.

At the far end of the corridor, just before the study, on his shelf, the second-last item was a trophy and a family picture from his last race. He had broken ten seconds for the first time. He was and is only twenty years old.

The photograph was absent of Jacqui, who had apparently forgotten what day the race was.

A blatant lie, she had really hurt him by not being there. But it wasn’t something that a week vacation in the country couldn’t fix.

The last thing on Dexter’s shelf was not a trophy at all. It was a single label, written in their mother’s hand, adhered directly to the wood:

Dexter Williams — Olympic 100m Gold — date: TBD.

His mother had kept her maiden name for a reason. She wanted her children to remember the legacy they had been born to continue.

Dexter took a deep breath. No pressure, right.

The study was also empty, though he got his first sign of life when heard the sound of loud opera music playing.

Puccini. His mother’s victory soundtrack. She played it before every final.

He cracked the door gently to his mother painting room. Her back was to him. She stood looking out to the trees, the land around the home was for privacy but it also made a lovely view.

His mother stood in front of a canvas completely in the nude.

He knocked, but the music drowned it out.

Shayla Williams was a warm shade of Caribbean brown. It glowed. Drawing your eyes to the places it wanted you to look. A deliberate accumulation of mass and leverage, each limb engineered for a single purpose. Raven hair that rested on her shoulders atop a still tight 6-feet of muscle, you wouldn’t believe her age if she told you, and she wouldn’t, she wanted you to guess so she could watch you squirm.

His eyes followed the map of her body, almost reluctantly.

From the downward curve of her shoulder that shone in the light, sinews of back muscles, the small inward curve on the small of her back and, the bump of her ass, dramatic and pronounced. Thick tree truck thighs, built on the back of years spent in the gym.

The music swelled as his heart raced.

He looked longer that he meant to.

His mother was a sight that was hard to look away from. His erection strained his trousers, lining the upper half of his pant leg. Making it hard to walk and certainly almost impossible to run.

It was no coincidence his performances began to improve after his eighteenth birthday.

Thanks in large part to the woman he was staring at now. He swallowed. Not realising how dry his lips were until he rolled them back.

His mother held the paint brush in her hand like a feather. Light enough that it looked like it moved on its own against the canvas.

Dexter stepped silently into the room, though the music drowned out his footsteps. He closed the distance slowly, the music climbing, he was close enough to smell the scent of whatever lotion she used, it smelled floral.

Dexter slid his hands around her midriff. She tensed, fliching for only a second before recognizing the familiarity of her son’s embrace against her skin.

She exhaled deeply with relief. “You scared the life out of me, Dexter.”

She leaned into his embrace, pressing her back against his exposed chest hugging his arms against her abs.

“I knocked, your music is too loud.” He pressed his crotch into her plump ass, it felt amazing.

He squeezed her, buried his head in the crook of her neck. Caressing her dark hair to one side, resting on her shoulder. He kissed the skin there. From cheek, to neck, to shoulder. She felt warm in his arms.

She set her paint brush down, brought her hand to his cheek, encouraging his movement.

Her body hummed, she pressed her ass against him.

“I thought you were supposed to be here tomorrow.” She spun in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck, perfect round orbs pressed tightly against his chest as she hugged him. “Hmm, I missed you so much, my sweet sweet boy.”

“I missed you too, mom.” He squeezed the small of her back, bringing her up on her toes, enjoying the brief moment of mother and son wholesomeness. Clothing, or lack thereof, non withstanding.

Head low in her embrace he got the more perfect view of her beautiful black ass.

He bit his lip. It looked bigger, plump and round, and so thick.

His hand slide down her back and gripped a cheek tightly with the full width of his palm.

“Hey.” She pulled back but not out of his embrace, smacking him on the chest. “You just got here, young man. Can you take me to dinner first? Or maybe ask me how I am?”

He laughed, letting her his hand rest on the curve of her hips. Her jaw was too square for the poets, her nose not anything aquiline. Her skin stretched tight over cheekbones that could have served as windbreaks.

Her lips were full but perpetually pressed into something that was not quite a frown yet she had an easy smile flanked by deep dimples. Narrow eyes that almost looked closed when she laughed.

“Sorry, though a week was a really long time to be away from you guys.”

“You don’t have to tell me.” She took his face in his hands and kissed him with the fullness of her lips, sliding her tongue into his mouth. A little more than he liked but he didn’t mind. Especially when her hand went between their bodies and began to gently rub his length.

Their heads bobbed, tilting one way, then another, getting deeper, more rough, more tongue, more stroking.

He gathered all his will power to pull away. Breathing heavy and tight.

“What’s wrong, baby?” His mother asked gently, not a second spent in belief that he didn’t want her.

“Nothing, nothing, I’m okay, mom.” He dislodged from her before the feel of her tits got him in trouble. “I just can’t do anything until Jacqui gets a hold of me.”

His mother tilted her head. “Oh, and why is that?”

He plopped himself down on a lounger, stretching his all of his 6,3 frame. The music still quite loud.

“Jacqui said she wanted to be the first to ‘welcome me,’ when I got here. She promised she’d be ‘just mine’, for the whole week.”

She scowled. “She ‘promised’ you that?”

“Yeah, she said it was to make up for missing race. Where is she anyway? And where’s dad? And why are you playing music so loud. I can barely hear myself think.”

His mother looked down, worry or annoyance or disappointment or all three tilting her face.

“What’s wrong?” Dexter asked.

“Nothing, your sister was just being your sister again.” She sighed. “You were supposed to get here tomorrow, sweat heart.” She turned to the easel and picked up her phone.

She paused the music, the speaker going dead. She said nothing.

First, all he could hear was silence. He cocked his head, not sure what was happening exactly. Then he heard it. Soft, coming through the walls, but immediately recognizable.

“Ah, fuck yes daddy… just like that…”

Soft moaning that came from upstairs. Quiet little swears that came out in a familiar rhythm.

“Are you kidding me!” Dexter shot up to his feet.

“I’ll deal with her, Dexter. I’m sure she wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

He paced the room. “No, she’s never trying, she’s just really good at it.”

“Dexter–“

“She missed my race, mom. I broke ten seconds for the first time and she wasn’t there. Then she said this she’d spend this whole vacation with just me and I find this!” He pointed above him to were the moaning could be heard.

He felt heart broken.

“Dexter come here.” His mother reached for him, but he turned around. Not wanting her to calm him down just yet,

She didn’t relent, hugging his chest from behind, resting her head against his shoulder. She was pressing her D-sized breasts against his skin.

“I know you’re upset but you know your sister. Try to look passed it baby, don’t let this stop us from having a wonderful time.”

Dexter breathed ragged and hot. “She always does this, and I fall for it every time.” To think, he had planned to tell her he loved her, like love-love, but now he just felt stupid. “Mom, I don’t know if I want to be here this week, maybe I can take the car and–“

“Dexter that’s enough.” His mother said firmly taking a step back. “I’d expect you to be more mature about this.”

He spun to face her. “Me? She’s the one—“

“She’s a twenty two year old girl, and she is also your sister, Dexter. And quite frankly I don’t think I like the idea of you two cutting off your father and me from your bodies.”

“I wasn’t going to cut you off, and she’s the one who said–“

“But you were happy about it, weren’t you? You were excited about the idea of your sister just being yours while also getting me. Did you even think about your father at all?”

Dexter swallowed, shame slumping his shoulders. “Well…”

She placed her hand against his cheek lifting his face. “When you turned eighteen we offered you two this lifestyle expecting that both of you would be able to handle the responsibility. If we are going to be only exclusive to one another we have to be there for each other. All of us.”

Dexter failed to meet her eyes. “I know.”

“Just because I retired doesn’t mean I don’t still have needs that only you and your father can satisfy.” She held his face in her hands.

“I know, but mom she does this all the–“

“Dexter, let me tell you something. If you and your sister had said you didn’t want to be a part of a free use family, if you had thought we were disgusting, if you had yelled at us and never wanted to see us again.”

“Mom, I would never—“

She silenced him with a finger against his lips. “If all that had happened, do you know what I would have done?”

He remained silent, already knowing the answer.

She slid her body flush against his, resting her temple to his chest. “I would have loved you then, just as much as I do now.”

Dexter gently held her in his arms, humbled by her. “I love you too, mom.”

They stayed like that for a moment. Only for it to be interrupted with more moaning coming from up stair.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes daddy!”

Why was she being so loud? She was never that loud. It grated him.

Dexter grimaced. “Can we turn the music on again?”

His mother laughed against his chest. “I have a better idea, why don’t we put on some clothes and drive into town to get some dinner, just the two of us?”

Dexter smiled. “That sounds perfect. You’re amazing, mom.”

She leaned up to his face. “And I raised the most beautiful and perfect boy.”

Her lips met his firmly, they smacked and they came apart and met again.

Parted at the same time, tongue gliding across each other quickly at first, before coming back together slowly, just the way he knew she liked. His hands lay gently against the small of her back.

He got lost in the moment. No matter what, he was happy to be home, if for just this one moment.

His mother grabbed both his hands from the small of her back, and lifted them down to the warm flesh of her ass, before returning her arms around his neck.

They both smiled against each other. Laughing into each other’s mouth.

The other moments to come later would be fun too.

*******************

Jacqui got out of the shower, the steam following her like a veil. She cleaned the mirror.

She was grateful for her looks, but sometimes she wished she didn’t look so much like her mother.

Jacqui had a less harsh jawline, her skin was obviously lighter, but besides that she had the same pouty lips, the same the narrow eyes, the boopable nose, even the same raven coloured hair.

Her little act of rebellion was to get bronze coloured highlights.

She lotioned her legs first, working her way up. Thankfully she didn’t feel sore. Only Dexter could get her legs to really shake.

She missed him so much.

A whole fucking week away from her brother was nightmare she hoped to never endure again. Next time she would just travel with him. They could sneak into each other’s hotel rooms and fuck till sunrise.

Her father was amazing but he just didn’t have the same hunger and… stamina as the rest of them. It was her mother that had passed on that genetic defect to her and her brother Dexter.

Jacqui couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

Yes, she had had missed his last race, and she did feel shitty about that. But honestly, was she really supposed to fly hours to watch him set a national record just for her mother to tell her how much better her little brother was compared to her.

It seemed like just yesterday Jacqui was the favourite. Winning races like it was breathing. Then she stopping coming in first and Dex won his first hundred meters.

Jacqui was practically discarded overnight.

She had set school record after record, but Jacqui was the daughter superstar Shayla Williams which meant everyone expected her to be better than a former world record holder, in a completely different event!

Jacqui was the hurdles, the toughest event there was, while her mother had done middle endurance races, they were completely different, but no one cared.

Jacqui was 5’11 and 140lbs of tight muscle, that might have been big for some girls but it was painfully average for the girls in her event, and no where near enough to just walk off taking an ten inches of thick cock for two hours straight.

She stared at her body for a second. Did her dad and brother actually life C cups or did they just say that because it was her. If it wouldn’t affect her form she would consider turning them into Ds, after all her frame would support it.

She got on her toes and turned her hips to look at her butt, it was still plump, but…

“Dad! Did my ass feel smaller?” She yelled towards the bedroom.

“It felt fine, Jacqui!” He replied.

She rolled her eyes. So not what I asked.

It was fine, she’d ask Dex when he got here. He loved her ass and she had an itch he needed to scratch anyway.

God, the next few days were going to ruin her. Her mother’s body was practically made to take large cocks, meaning she could never understand what Jacqui had to recover from.

Though if she explained that of course it was just Jacqui making excuses.

“‘Oh Jacqui, just use your hands more. Get better at blowjobs, stop being lazy Jacqui.'” She said to mirror, mimicking her mother’s voice. “Your brother’s trying to win a Olympic medal, Jacqui, how is he supposed to do that was a rock hard cock throwing off his stride.'”

Like it was Jacqui’s fault her mother had given birth to a son with a with a fucking donkey dick.

Her mother assured her that draining large cock was also for her benefit.

Jacqui mother had come up with a theory that women got massive spikes of estrogen after especially hard, and depravitory sexual encounters. Increasing everything from muscle mass to endurance.

Jacqui knew if she ever said that out loud to a crowd of people they’d laugh her out the room, but Shayla Williams won eight Olympic medals. Four if you asked her, as ‘Williams’ only count gold.’

Apparently during her record breaking season Jacqui’s parents were fucking non stop. It’s actually incredible that her first pregnancy was only at twenty four years old and not much sooner.

Not to mention her mother had retired before Dexter turned eighteen, which meant she had set a world record before she found out that she was living under the same roof as an ten inch python that could have been rutting her guts whenever she demanded.

Making Jacqui twice the failure. Though also twice as satisfied.

She turned around, look back the mirror, she lifted her ass with her fingers and watched counting how many times i bounced.

It was definitely smaller.

“Jacqui!” Her father called from the master bedroom. “I hope you’re planning on paying the water bill this month.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, dad. The shower isn’t even running.” She pushed open the bathroom door, left ajar in case he had wanted to watch and leaned against doorframe in the nude.

“Plus I asked you if you wanted to shower with me and you said no, so really you’re the one wasting water.”

“I would peanut, but your mother prefers I spend my shower actually showering.”

She sighed, yet again, her mother was finding another way to make her life miserable.

Her father had his back to her and was almost done making the bed.

Her eyes lingered on the wide and powerful back muscles and toned pasty butt of his.

Her dad turned to face her, he had a long scar on his left cheek from when a cable snapped in the gym and whipped his face. His hair salt and pepper and clean jaw line had sent several of her girlfriends into a tizzy.

Now she would pretend to be grossed out while spending movie nights sucking him off next to her mother sucking off Dexter.

His eyes were a pale blue and utterly still. Thick chest hair and thick arms and traps stared back at her. Her eyes wondered south, 7 inches of wood, not as long as her brother but thicker. She bit her lip.