The air conditioning in the rental car had given up the ghost about an hour outside of the resort, so by the time Dad pulled up to the grand, vaguely art-deco hotel entrance, we were all wilting. Mum was fanning herself with a crumpled map, Emma was slumped in her seat, scrolling defiantly on her phone despite Mum’s glares about battery life, and I just wanted to escape the claustrophobic heat and the even more suffocating family dynamic. Holidays were meant to be relaxing. Ours usually felt like a pressure cooker.
“Right then, troops!” Dad announced, slamming the car door. He was always overly chipper at the start of a trip, before the inevitable cracks started to show. “Operation Holiday Fun, commencing!”
I mumbled something noncommittal and grabbed my backpack, trying to avoid Mum’s eye. She had this knack of looking at me that made me feel like an overgrown toddler, even though I was sixteen. Emma, on the other hand, was already halfway to the lobby, probably hoping to find free Wi-Fi.
Dad went to check us in, Mum hovering at his shoulder, occasionally peering over his arm at the screen. I busied myself with dragging our suitcases out of the boot, trying to appear useful. Anything to not be stuck between them in the lobby. I could practically hear the questions bubbling up in Mum’s head: Have you got enough sun cream? Did you pack clean underwear? Are you going to talk to us at all this week, Mark?
Finally, Dad emerged, keys dangling from his fingers. “Alright, good news, we’ve got two rooms, just as planned! Room 304 and 305. Let’s get upstairs.”
A tiny flicker of hope ignited in my chest. Two rooms. That meant… privacy. I imagined a twin room, a glorious sanctuary where Emma and her endless TikToks wouldn’t intrude on my precious, limited headspace. Maybe I could even get some actual sleep, without her duvet rustling or the faint smell of her sickly-sweet body spray polluting the air.
We piled into the lift, Mum giving Emma a look for leaning on the buttons. Emma just blew a bubble with her gum and popped it. Classic Emma.
“Okay, Mum and I are in 304,” Dad said as we stopped on the third floor. “And you two are in 305. Here you go, kids.” He handed the second key card to Emma.
I followed them down the corridor, a strange sense of unease growing. My imaginary twin room was starting to feel a bit too good to be true. Emma swiped the card for 306, and the door clicked open.
She sauntered in first, dropping her small carry-on onto the floor. I stepped in behind her, my eyes scanning the room. And then my stomach dropped.
It wasn’t two single beds. It was just one single bed, just one.
My eyes locked onto the bed. Not beds. Bed. Singular. It was a standard hotel single, neatly made, pristine white duvet, pillow plumped. But there was only one. My brain struggled to process it. One bed. For two people. Me. And Emma.
Emma, meanwhile, had already opened her carry-on and was rummaging for something. “Huh,” she said, pulling out a charging cable. “Looks like they really squashed us in here. Oh well.” She didn’t even look at the bed, not really. It was just another minor inconvenience to her.
“Squashed?” My voice came out a bit higher than I intended, a tell-tale sign of panic. “Emma, there’s one bed. One. Single. Bed.”
She finally glanced at it, then at me, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah? So? Someone probably messed up. We’ll just get a rollaway or something.”
But she said it too casually. Too calmly. I looked back at the doorway, where Mum and Dad were now peering in. Mum’s face had that slightly strained smile she got when things weren’t going to plan but she was trying to project calm. Dad, ever observant, just stood there, hands in his pockets, watching me.
“Mum,” I started, my voice gaining strength, not asking, but accusing. “What is this? This isn’t… this isn’t what we booked.”
Mum stepped fully into the room, surveying the single bed with a sigh. “Oh, sweetie, I know. There was a slight… kerfuffle at reception. Apparently, there was a mix-up with the room types. They’re completely booked out, high season, you know how it is. This was literally the only twin room they had left with a connecting door, and they thought it was for our room, but it’s actually a single.”
My jaw dropped. “A single? For us? Mum, I’m eighteen, Emma’s twenty-four! We can’t share a single bed!” The words tumbled out, laced with a desperation I couldn’t hide. The thought of it, the sheer proximity, made my skin crawl. Emma’s endless hair flicks, her loud breathing, the possibility of accidentally touching her in the night. Ugh.
“Mark, honestly!” Mum’s eyebrows shot up, her voice taking on that familiar edge of exasperation. “It’s one bed, it’s just for a few nights until something else opens up. They promised to keep an eye out for a twin or a family room for us. It won’t be forever.”
My gaze darted between her and the ridiculously small bed. “A few nights? Mum, have you seen what Emma wears to bed?” The words were out before I could censor them, a desperate flailing attempt to make her understand the sheer horror. My face flushed, I could feel the heat spreading up my neck. I immediately regretted it, but it was too late.
Emma, who had been quietly unpacking a makeup bag, froze. Her head snapped up, a predatory glint in her eye. “Excuse me? What I wear to bed is none of your business, Mark. And it’s certainly not ‘nothing’ or ‘skimpy,’ you absolute pervert!”
“It is when I have to share a bed with you!” I retorted, my voice cracking slightly. “You wear really short nighties.”
“Ill wear what the fuck I want and…” Mum stopped her, “ENOUGH. Both of you. You are sharing and that is it. Mark I am sure you can put up with her for a few nights and keep your hands to yourself. Just saying. I know what your hormones have been like lately.”
My jaw dropped again, but no sound came out. I could feel the blood rushing to my ears, a hot, suffocating wave. She didn’t just say that. She couldn’t have. Emma was there. Dad was there. It was the worst thing anyone had ever said to me.
Emma let out a short, disgusted laugh. “Oh, Mum, please. He’s disgusting. See? He’s already thinking about it.” She pointed at me, though I was sure I was just a rigid, scarlet statue. Her eyes narrowed, enjoying my torment. But now mum planted that seed in my head got me looking at my sister real closely. In a way I never looked at her.
The day went on we had beach time where Emma was in her bikini and I looked at her. I was sat next to dad with a beer.
Dad cleared his throat beside me. “Everything alright, son? You seem a bit… twitchy.”
I jumped, nearly spilling my beer. “Yeah, fine. Just… hot.”
After dinner, the walk back to the rooms felt like the longest journey ever. Mum and Dad went into 304. Emma and I stood outside 305.
“Well,” Emma said, unlocking the door, “here we are again. Our humble abode.” She sounded sarcastic, but also resigned.
I clenched my jaw, stepping inside. The room felt even smaller now. That one single bed seemed to mock me. It was barely wider than a camp bed. I stripped to my boxers as Emma grabbed her small nightie and went to the bathroom to get changed.
Few moments later she walked towards the bed, god her nightie was short. I stared at her legs as she got into bed next to me. She was about to say something but was cut off by banging noises and moaning. Then she smirked to me, “Sounds like dads giving mum a good time, god I am jealous.”
As soon as she said she was jealous she intrigued me. “What, you… jealous of them?” The words were out before I could think, my voice thin. I gestured vaguely towards the wall.
Emma shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. She shifted slightly on the bed, and the duvet rustled. Her legs, bare in the dim light, were unsettlingly close. “Well, yeah. Sounds like they’re having fun. It’s been ages since I had a good… time.”
My stomach tightened. My heart started thumping. I could feel the blood rushing, a familiar, unwelcome sensation. No, no, no. Not now. Not with her. My body, infuriatingly, had a mind of its own. My dick was hard, and mums moaning got louder.
“Sounds like they’re really going for it,” Emma whispered, a little too loud.
My face was burning. I didn’t dare look at her. I just stared straight ahead into the dimness, at the wall that separated us from the… activity next door. The sounds were unmistakable now. A rhythmic creaking, soft thuds, and Mum’s gasps.
“Are you okay, Mark?” Emma’s voice was closer now. There was a hint of amusement, or maybe just curiosity.
“Fine,” I mumbled, my voice a strangled squeak. I tried to clear my throat, to sound normal, but it was impossible. My heart was hammering against my ribs. This was a nightmare.
“You’re very… still,” she observed. She probably thought I was just being a moody teenager. Little did she know. She looked under the covers and saw the huge tent in my boxers.
“Oh,” she said, the single syllable drawn out. Her voice was flat, but I could hear the hint of something lurking beneath it – amusement, maybe, or just a detached observation. “Impressive. You know, mum and dad shouldn’t be having all the fun. I am down if you are, obviously your hard and need it.”
“Oh shit really sis,” I said, the words a raw whisper. My mind was reeling, but my body felt like it was humming, a tight, desperate thrum. “You’re… you’re serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” she whispered back. Her voice was flat, almost bored, but her eyes never left mine. “You’re obviously uncomfortable. And you’re clearly, um, excited.” She glanced down at my shorts again. The tent was still very much there. “I will prove it, let me get my knickers off, come on get it out.”
I pulled my boxers down my cock sprung free and I got on top of her and I was excited and pressed my cock to her pussy. I pushed forward and sunk inside her ah fuck it felt good.
Her breath hitched. A small moan escaped her lips as I moved. It felt… impossibly good. Too good. My mind screamed no but my body screamed more. The sounds from Mum and Dad next door seemed to amplify, a perverse soundtrack to our own, sudden, secret act.
Emma’s hands gripped my back. Her eyes were closed. She started moving with me, slowly at first, then faster. My breath hitched too. This was… insane. Wrong. But right. So, so right in the moment.
“Oh, Mark,” she whispered, her voice husky. “Faster.”
It was a blur. The heat, the friction, the sheer unbelievable reality of it. Every thrust was a paradox of pleasure and disbelief. My ‘problem,’ the thing I hated and feared, was now driving me, here, with her.
She arched into me, her legs wrapping around my waist. The rhythm picked up, frantic and raw. I could feel the sweat on my forehead. Her nails dug into my skin.
My own moans were trapped in my throat, just harsh gasps. The bed creaked with every thrust. I was lost in the sensation, in the moment, in the shocking reality of it all.
“Unngh ahh fuck, Em your fanny feels so fucking good,” I just kept fucking her hard. I pushed her nightie right up. I wanted to see her tits. I pulled on one side of her bra and started sucking her tit.
Emma gasped, a sharp, choked sound that was almost a sob. Her back arched further, pushing her breast deeper into my mouth. The taste was musky, warm, a sweet shock. My tongue swirled around her nipple, suckling hard, as my hips continued their frantic rhythm, driving deeper into her with every thrust.
“Oh… God, Mark, yes!” she panted, her voice cracking. Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling, urging me on. The sounds from Mum and Dad next door seemed to fade, replaced by the thud of our bodies, the creak of the narrow bed, and our increasingly desperate gasps. It was like a competition, a race to oblivion, fuelled by their distant moans.
My hand fumbled for the other side of her bra, tearing at it in my haste, wanting both breasts free, wanting to devour her. Her other nipple sprang into view, hard and inviting. I switched, sucking on one, then the other, a frenzy of sensation. Her legs locked tighter around me, her hips rising to meet every plunge.
“Faster… please, Mark, faster!” she begged, her voice barely a whisper, ragged with desire.
I obeyed, abandoning all control. Every muscle in my body strained. The world narrowed to the feel of her slick heat around me, the taste of her, the sound of her gasps, and the primal urge to push deeper, harder, faster. My hips slammed into hers, a relentless, primal beat.
A guttural growl escaped my throat, primal and raw. Her nails dug into my shoulders, leaving crescent marks on my skin. I could feel the tension coiling within me, a tight, vibrating spring ready to snap. Her moans were getting louder now, less inhibited, a desperate, rising crescendo.
“Oh, Mark! I’m… I’m almost there!” she cried out, her body tensing beneath me, her inner muscles clenching around my dick.
That was all I needed. With a final, desperate surge, I emptied myself into her, a roaring, shuddering release that consumed every part of me. My body went rigid, then slumped forward, pressing my chest to hers, my face buried in the crook of her neck.
She shuddered beneath me, a long, drawn-out moan escaping her lips as she convulsed around me. The last trickle of sound from next door finally faded into silence, leaving only our ragged breathing, the frantic thumping of our hearts, and the overwhelming, shocking aftermath of what we had just done.
For a long moment, neither of us moved. I could feel the dampness on our skin, the slick stickiness between our bodies. The small room felt charged, heavy with the unspoken. My breath hitched, still trying to catch itself. Her fingers still clutched my hair, weakly now.
Then, slowly, Emma stirred. She took a deep, shaky breath, and said, her voice hoarse, “Well… I guess Mum and Dad weren’t the only ones having fun.”