My Filthy Cravings

Wrecked Ass

AYRA POV

My phone beeped, and a text popped up — it was from Bianca, my best friend.

“Where are you?”

Oh my goodness, I whispered.

Bianca and I had planned on having a nice time today, just me and her. I’d been looking forward to this for weeks. Ever since I started working as a nurse at Riverside Memorial Hospital, life had been a nonstop blur of twelve-hour shifts, code blues, and coffee that tasted like nothing but survival. I graduated from Northview College of Nursing a little over two years ago, and honestly, I don’t think I’ve stopped moving since. That’s why Bianca and I planned this hangout — a small break from reality, a chance to breathe, laugh, and just exist outside hospital walls.

Just when I was supposed to meet her at the appointed time, that was when I stumbled upon this nasty scene.

Sometimes I wonder how my life twisted into what it is now. My mom had been so close to something extraordinary — a full scholarship to Johns Hopkins for her master’s program — the kind of opportunity most people only dream about. But she gave it up, thinking love and family would be enough.

She had been with my dad for over three decades. She had sacrificed both her time and dreams for him, including that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to complete her master’s program at Johns Hopkins, which offered full scholarship benefits she’d been chasing for over five years. But she let it go just to please him, only to discover that he wasn’t worth her sacrifices.

She caught him cheating on her with her own sister.

I still remember the look on her face that night — shock, heartbreak, and then that quiet, unyielding strength she always fell back on.

The divorce was swift, cleaner than anyone expected, like she had finally reached her limit and refused to let anyone dim her again.

A few years later, she met Michael — my stepdad now — calm, patient, the kind of man who listened before he spoke. He didn’t rush her, didn’t try to “fix” the past. They got married just a few months ago, and that’s how I ended up here, in this house, in this new chapter of life, learning how to navigate a blended family.

And then there’s Justin — my stepbrother. He’s… infuriatingly cool, with this effortless confidence that makes people take notice whether he wants them to or not. Tall, lean, sharp-featured, with those dark, steady eyes that could make a woman spread her thighs without him even trying.

He’s a soldier — Army, active duty — the kind of man who carries discipline even in the way he breathes. He came back just a few weeks ago after nearly nine months deployed overseas. Not exactly war, but a high-risk security assignment that left him with a couple of new scars, a harder jawline, and a silence that sometimes feels heavier than any words he doesn’t say.

There’s a seriousness about him now, something shaped by long nights on base, sleeping in shifts, endless drills, and orders he had no choice but to obey.

At home, he tries to slide back into normal life — early morning coffee, the gym at six, long runs that look like he’s trying to outrun memories he never talks about. But every so often, I catch him staring out the window after a run, jaw tight, eyes distant. Like he’s fighting something inside. And in those moments, he’s not just my stepbrother, not just the perfect soldier—he’s human. Vulnerable in ways he won’t admit, even to himself.

He has been really nice to me since the first time we met, and I have been a little bit into him. Every time he walks past me, close enough that his scent brushes my skin, something warm and unsettling coils low in my stomach. I tell myself it’s nothing. Just admiration. That’s all.

Life here is an adjustment, though. Between my shifts at the hospital, early mornings, and chaotic nights, I barely have time for myself. I crave the little things: a quiet cup of coffee on the porch, a new erotica novel to escape into, the occasional binge of bad reality TV—and mostly, especially, porn movies.

I turned twenty-two about six months ago, and I am still a virgin, what others liked to call … “unclaimed.”

A small chuckle escaped me because that was the wrong perception. Being a virgin didn’t mean I didn’t know what I wanted. While my body hadn’t experienced s*x, my head was filled with fantasies—wild, demanding, impossible to ignore.

Yes, I am in that stage of my life where all I crave is s*x. I have spent nights watching porn and reading steamy erotica novels. I did it all in secrecy, never wanting anyone to know my little secrets—not even Bianca.

Everyone thinks I am a saint. Saint my ass… LOL.

Having spent my past years being a good student and focusing on my studies, now I had graduated and stepped into the world outside, still untouched. Not even once. Most girls my age already had boyfriends and experiences, including Bianca.

As for me, I never really had time for s*x, but the past few days have been different. The s****l urge, the itch between my p***y, the fantasies—they had been driving me mad. I even found myself touching myself, and now s*x sat at the top of my bucket list.

Presently, I had no boyfriend, no crush—except Justin. My stepbrother. I had dated a few guys in college, but they had been naive, clueless about pleasuring a woman.

They didn’t even know where my p***y was even if I drew them a map. One even tried to kiss me like a dying fish, awkward and desperate. After that, I walked away.

I wanted something intense. Something memorable. Something real. Something like Justin—someone who made my skin tingle and my mind spin, even without touching me.

I was lost in thought until I heard a sharp voice cut through my daydream.

“Keep quiet!!!” Justin growled. His hands clamped over Janet’s mouth, muffling her next moan as he pounded her harder.

Even from where I stood, I could sense the tension in him—the way his jaw tightened, the subtle flare of his nostrils. He wasn’t just giving in to lust; there was a controlled intensity to him, a focus that made me shiver. His movements weren’t random—they were precise, almost protective in a strange way, like he was making sure she could feel everything without letting it get out of control.

“F-f**k!!!” she whimpered.

“Mm… ngh… f**k me till I see stars,” she gasped.

I slid my phone into my pocket, finally deciding to leave. But just as I was about to turn, a shrill scream stopped me dead in my tracks.

“I am cumming!!!” Janet cried out.

Justin didn’t lose rhythm. His hands gripped her hips firmly, his expression flickering briefly—a flash of relief, satisfaction, maybe even pride in knowing how he could drive someone wild. His eyes never left hers, searching, reading, almost gentle in their intensity despite the force of his movements.

“Yh baby,” he murmured, his voice low but threaded with that controlled heat he always carried.

*Taaarh, Taaarh,* skin on skin, the sound loud and relentless. He was giving everything he had, yet somehow there was restraint there—a professionalism of lust, if that even made sense. I could see it: Justin wasn’t just lost in desire; he was aware, precise, owning every second.

“Want me to stop?” he murmured, voice hoarse.

She shook her head, breathless.

“No—f**k me,” she gasped, and he didn’t hesitate.

Suddenly, my phone rang. Bianca. “f**k,” I whispered.

“Who is there?” I heard Justin’s voice sharply, his head snapping toward the door. There was a flash of something human there—alert, protective, maybe even startled. Not just the dominating soldier or the experienced lover—just him reacting instinctively.

I stepped back from the door, my heart hammering. Our eyes almost met through the crack, and for a brief second, I saw him—the real Justin, my stepbrother, the man who could be fierce, careful, and alive all at once.

I ran straight to the front door, my heart in my mouth, hoping he hadn’t seen me.