The vineyard is a multi chapter, narrative rich story that uniquely burns hot and slow at different moments. A multitude of pairings are explored in this series including some same sex couplings. Check the tags of each story for more information. All characters and events are completely fictional and draw no inspiration from real world people or events.
After two years, the newness of the freshly built cottages on the eastern side of the vineyard began to fade. The white stucco walls began to dull, and the foot paths connecting them together and leading up to the main house were worn down by little feet running from one place to the next.
The harvest the year before had been one of the strongest in a decade. Yields were high, the fruit concentrated from a dry February, and the resulting wines were already drawing quiet interest from buyers in Santiago and further north. Sean had used part of the profit to upgrade the irrigation lines and replace two of the older tractors. The rest had gone into the cottages and the slow, steady work of making the property feel permanent.
Sean and Emi had spared no expense, using the profits to call in some of the best architects and builders from Santiago. The cottages sat in a half moon shape, each similar, but holding their own identity. Sofi had built a beautiful garden to the side of her home, much to Lucía’s excitement. She woke every morning eager to pull her mother from bed to check on and water her plants. Sofi would sit on a stool, Catalina latched to her breast, while Lucía happily, but carefully went row by row with her pink watering can.
Ben and Mati had spent the previous year building a sturdy and impressive playground just off the path that connected Lainey and Poli’s cottages. They used solid wood, varnished and sealed, for the main walkways, while attaching various slides, swings, and other activities to the structure. Almost daily, Sofía would rush down from the main house to play on it, only slightly bossing her siblings around.
After Poli’s second son, Lucas, was born, she gravitated towards Marisol, spending her days helping the wizened woman plan activities for the older kids, and caring for the youngest, including Isabella, who Emi had given birth to almost exactly 9 and a half months after they had all decided to move to the valley.
Emi had settled into the role of the family’s quiet center. She still woke early most mornings to nurse Isabella and then carry her to the kitchen, where Marisol already had coffee waiting. The two women had developed an easy rhythm, Emi handling the children’s schedules and the endless small decisions of a large household, Marisol keeping the practical machinery of meals, laundry, and naps running without drama.
In the middle of the cottages, was a large gazebo, where the kids often took their lunches, colored, and played under when the sun was too hot. The occasional dinner was held there, but for the most part, everyone convened up at the Vineyard house for a family meal at least twice a week.
The light was still soft when Sofi stepped outside with Catalina against her chest. The toddler was half-asleep, mouth working lazily at her breast, one fist curled against the warm skin just above the nipple. Milk had already soaked a faint circle into the thin cotton of Sofi’s tank top. She didn’t bother to adjust it.
Lucía was already in the garden.
The girl had dragged the small wooden stool into place and was waiting with the pink watering can held in both hands, serious as a priest. Her dark hair was still messy from sleep. She looked up when her mother appeared and gave a bright, gap-toothed smile.
“Mamá. The dirt is dry again.”
“I know, mi vida.” Sofi lowered herself onto the low stone border of the nearest bed, shifting Catalina so she could keep nursing without interruption. “Start with the tomatoes. Not too much.”
Lucía nodded solemnly and set to work. She moved down the row with careful steps, tipping the can just enough to darken the soil around each plant. Every few steps she glanced back to make sure her mother was watching.
Sofi watched.
The garden had been her project from the beginning. What had started as a few raised beds of herbs and summer vegetables had grown into something denser and greener—tomatoes, beans, rows of lettuce, a tangle of nasturtiums that Lucía loved because of the bright flowers. The air smelled of wet earth and rosemary. Bees were already working the lavender at the far edge.
Catalina made a small sound and latched harder. Sofi winced at the first sting of teeth, then relaxed into it. Her free hand rested on the girl’s back. She could feel the steady pull, the warm trickle of milk when the seal broke for a second and then reformed.
“Why do they get thirsty at night?” Lucía asked without looking up.
“Because the sun drinks too,” Sofi said. “Even when we’re sleeping.”
Lucía accepted this as reasonable. She finished the tomatoes and moved to the beans, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. Sofi watched the small shoulders move under the thin nightshirt and felt the familiar, almost painful swell of love.
She had an appointment scheduled for next week. The papers were still sitting on her bedside table. More than once she had almost cancelled it. Then she would look at Catalina latched to her breast, or watch Lucía carefully watering the beans, and the decision would slip again. She had not told Sean yet that she was still unsure. The door stayed open either way.
Catalina’s sucking slowed. Sofi eased her off the breast, wiped a bead of milk from the corner of her mouth, and shifted her to the other side. The cooler air touched the wet nipple and made her shiver once.
Lucía finished the last row and came to stand in front of her mother, watering can empty and dangling from one hand.
“All done.”
“Good girl.” Sofi leaned forward and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. The hair smelled like sleep and sunshine. “Go put the can back. Then we’ll see if Marisol has fruit for you.”
Lucía ran off toward the small shed. Sofi stayed where she was a moment longer, Catalina warm and heavy against her, the garden quiet around them. Somewhere up the path she could hear the older children already on the playground—Sofía’s bossy voice, Mateo’s quieter answers. Life moving the way it always did.
Isabella had been awake since before the light fully cleared the hills. Emi sat in the wide chair in the corner of the nursery wing, the baby at her breast, Nathaniel on a blanket at her feet pushing a wooden truck back and forth with intense focus. The room still smelled of clean cotton and the faint milky scent that never quite left.
Emi’s body ached in the low, familiar way that came with early mornings and small children. Isabella nursed with single-minded greed, one hand resting on the curve of Emi’s breast. Every so often the baby’s eyes would open, dark and serious, then drift shut again.
Marisol appeared in the doorway without sound, the way she always did. She carried a folded stack of cloth diapers and a cup of coffee that she set on the small table within Emi’s reach.
Marisol made a soft sound of agreement and began putting the diapers away. Her movements were economical, practiced. She had been with the family long enough that she no longer needed instructions for the small things.
“Poli was out with Lucas already,” Marisol said after a moment. “Sitting on the steps of her cottage. He was fussy.”
Emi nodded. Poli still had harder mornings than the rest of them. Lucas had come early and the recovery had been slow. Some days the lightest sound set him off. Emi had stopped offering advice. She simply made sure Poli knew she could hand the baby over whenever she needed to.
Nathaniel abandoned the truck and crawled to Emi’s leg, pulling himself up. She steadied him with one hand while Isabella continued to nurse.
“Careful, mi amor.”
Marisol watched the three of them for a second, then asked, “Do you want me to take him so you can finish?”
“In a minute.” Emi brushed her fingers through Nathaniel’s soft blond hair—Sean’s hair—and felt the usual quiet tangle of feelings that came with it. Love. Gratitude. The strange, steady knowledge that this life had become hers so completely she could barely remember the shape of the one before.
Isabella finally released the nipple with a wet sound. Emi lifted her to her shoulder and patted her back until a small burp came. Milk leaked onto the cloth she kept draped there. She wiped it away without comment.
Marisol took Nathaniel when Emi held him out. The boy went willingly, already reaching for the older woman’s earrings the way he always did.
“I’ll feed him in the kitchen,” Marisol said. “Sofía is already asking about breakfast. She wants the sweet bread.”
“Of course she does.” Emi smiled faintly. “Give it to her. She’ll only get louder.”
Marisol left with Nathaniel on her hip. Emi stayed in the chair a little longer, Isabella now heavy and sated against her chest. Through the open window she could hear the distant sound of the playground and, farther off, the low hum of a tractor starting up somewhere among the vines.
Sean would be awake by now. Probably already outside. The thought settled in her the way it always did—warm, certain, without urgency. He would come to her later, or she would go to him. There was time.
She rose carefully, laid Isabella in the crib, and stood for a moment watching the rise and fall of the small chest. Then she smoothed her shirt, wiped the last trace of milk from her skin, and went to help Marisol with the rest of the morning.
To the west, facing the Cordillera de la Costa, stood another cottage. Designed by Sean himself, this was a last-minute addition to their plans. While the other cottages held multiple rooms to house their families, this one held only one large room and a bathroom. Facing away from the vineyard house and other cottages, it had a complete wall of one-way mirrored glass facing the coastal mountain range. A small deck held a hot tub, two lounging chairs, and a small grill.
The morning was warm already, Sean could tell, even though he hadn’t been outside yet. He lay in the king-size bed looking out the massive window in front of him, completely naked. Lainey, who had on a delicate pair of black lace panties, was lying at his hips, leaned over and lazily licking and sucking his cock.
Her body had tightened back up after Emilia, thanks to lots of yoga, and despite her nipples being a couple of shades darker now, her tits had rebounded just as well after breastfeeding. Sean laid a hand on her compact ass and squeezed, causing her to moan into him softly.
Lainey pulled off of his cock and looked out the window as a pretty woman strolled by the outside of the cottage on the way to the vines. Lainey knew the woman couldn’t see her from the outside, but she still felt a bit of a rush when a vineyard worker would walk by the window.
“What about her?” Lainey half-joked, giving his cock a few slow strokes with her small hand.
“I told you, amor. I don’t sleep with the workers,” Sean said, smiling.
Lainey hummed and leaned down again, licking the head of his cock with deliberate care. “Someone, though. Eventually. The rest of us are already closing that door… or almost.” She glanced up at him. “I don’t want this to stop growing just because we’re being careful.”
“Then we wait until it feels right,” Sean said, his hand kneading her ass.
Lainey laughed softly against his skin. “Sean, when has ‘waiting’ ever been how this family works?”
Sean scooped her up and pulled her onto his lap. He sat up, taking one of her pert tits into his mouth. Lainey pulled her panties to the side and sank down onto his cock with a soft, pleasant squeak.
“Shouldn’t we though?” Sean asked against her skin. “I love our family. I don’t need anyone else. Besides, it would have to be someone who fits in with all of this.”
Lainey rolled her hips in a slow, deliberate rhythm, barely lifting off him, keeping him deep. She leaned down and kissed him, tongue sliding against his.
“We all want the family to keep growing,” she murmured against his mouth.
She began to grind forward harder, not faster, working him with short, controlled rolls of her hips. Sean’s hands gripped her ass, spreading her as he thrust up to meet her. The wet sound of her cunt filled the quiet room.
“Córrete en mí, mi amor… lléname…” she moaned, but she didn’t stop moving. She kept riding him through the words, steady and intentional.
Sean drove up harder. When he felt her cervix he came, thick pulses flooding her. Lainey shuddered and followed him, clenching around him, milking every drop. She collapsed forward for a moment, still impaled, breathing hard against his neck.
They stayed like that, joined, while the aftershocks faded. Sean kissed the side of her throat. Lainey nuzzled into him, then slowly started moving again—tiny, lazy circles, keeping him inside her while he was still half-hard.
“You know my little sister is coming to visit next month,” she said quietly.
Sean’s hands flexed on her hips. “Daniella.”
“Mm.” She rose a little and sank back down, testing the sensitivity. “She’s twenty. Just finished university. All-girls school the entire time. Our parents kept her even more locked down after I left.”
She kept the slow rhythm, using the slide of him inside her to punctuate the words.
“She’s never been with anyone. Not even kissed, as far as I know. Completely untouched.” Lainey gave a small, breathless laugh when she felt him twitch. “There it is. You’re already interested.”
Sean thrust up once, deliberate. “I’m listening.”
“She’s curious, though.” Lainey’s voice stayed low, almost conversational, even as she worked herself on him. “She’s been asking about my life here for months. About the kids. About Ben. She still thinks Valentina and Emilia are his.” She leaned forward, palms on his chest, and took him deeper. “She has no idea about any of this. About you. About what we really are.”
Sean’s fingers dug into her ass. “And you want to change that.”
“I want her to see it,” Lainey said. Her breath was starting to catch again. “I invited her to come stay. Not just for a weekend. Longer. I want her to feel what we have here before she decides anything.”
She sat up straighter and rode him with longer strokes now, tits moving with every rise and fall. The one-way glass still showed the empty path outside.
“What if she finds out the truth?” Sean asked, voice rough. “All of it.”
Lainey didn’t slow down. She kept taking him deep, eyes on his.
“Then I’ll be the one to help her understand,” she said. “I’ll walk her through it. She’s my sister. If she’s meant for this life, she’ll feel it the same way the rest of us did. And if she is… I’ll take care of her. I’ll protect her. The same way I protect everyone else who belongs here.”
She leaned down again, forehead against his, still moving.
“But I’ve started thinking about more than just her with you,” she admitted, quieter. “I’ve caught myself imagining her with me too. The way Emi and Poli are with each other. It scares me a little. But it also feels… right.”
Sean pulled her hips down hard and held her there, fully buried. Lainey let out a soft, broken sound.
“I want to meet her,” he said finally.
Lainey smiled, small and a little shaky, then started riding him again—slower, deeper, like she was sealing the conversation with her body.
“Good,” she whispered. “Because I already told her she could come.”
They were still joined, still moving in that unhurried rhythm, when the door to the one-room cabin opened hurriedly. Ben came into the room, his eyes landing on the sight of his wife straddling another man, cum leaking out from around his still-buried cock.
“Sean!” he gasped. “Sofi. Andrés… you need to get down there now.”
Sean had thrown on his shorts, and nothing else. He was halfway out the door before Lainey had time to throw on a silk robe before following him. The three rushed outside and into the waiting pick-up truck. Ben drove, whipping through the vineyard with little care. It took them under fifteen minutes to reach the front gate to the vineyard.
Sean jumped out of the truck before it fully stopped. Sofi stood barefoot in the dust, wearing nothing but a pair of black lace panties, her dark hair wild, eyes burning. Andrés was backed against the closed iron gate in only his briefs, hands raised, face pale.
“¡Cobarde de mierda! ¡Te cagaste en todo, weón!” she snarled.
Ben was right behind Sean. Without a word he stripped off his own shirt and shoved it into Sean’s hand. Sean stepped forward and draped the shirt around Sofi’s shoulders, pulling it closed over her bare chest. She didn’t even look at him. Her fury stayed locked on Andrés.
“You did it on purpose,” she spat, voice shaking with rage. “You reversed the vasectomy… ¡querías meterme un hijo tuyo!”
Andrés’s face twisted. He looked past her at Sean.
“She’s my wife,” he said in English, voice rising. “I have the right.”
Sean took one slow step closer. “You don’t.”
Behind them, Lainey’s voice cut sharply. “Sean—”
He glanced back. Lucía was coming down the long gravel path in her pajamas, half-carrying, half-leading a sleepy Catalina who kept trying to put her feet down and walk. The raised voices had clearly drawn them. Lainey tightened the belt of her silk robe, face calm but urgent. She moved quickly to intercept them, crouching to their level, speaking softly, turning them away from the gate and guiding them back up the path toward the main house.
Sean turned his full attention to Andrés.
“You betrayed her,” he said, voice low. “You lied, and you tried to force a baby on her.”
Andrés’s fear flashed into anger. “You don’t own her. Or my kids.”
Sofi let out a raw, furious sound.
“They’re not yours, weón! ¡Nunca lo fueron!”
Sean didn’t need the words spelled out. The way she screamed them, the way Andrés flinched, told him everything.
Andrés lunged.
Sean moved without hurry. He caught the incoming fist, turned the man’s momentum, and drove him face-first into the iron bars of the gate. Andrés grunted, the breath knocked out of him. Sean kept the arm locked high between the man’s shoulder blades, pressing him hard against the metal.
“Ben,” Sean said quietly, turning around, while still pinning Andrés to the gate. “Bring Sofi to her sisters, then grab him some clothes.”
Ben nodded, then wrapped a protective arm around Sofi’s shoulder. She hesitated to move for a second, glaring at Andrés, before allowing Ben to steer her towards the main house.
Andrés struggled, breathing hard, and forehead against the cold iron as they left. “You can’t just throw me out like this.”
Sean leaned in, voice even. “I can. And I am.”
He held the pressure a second longer, then released him with a controlled shove that sent Andrés stumbling sideways into the dirt.
Andrés pushed himself up, mouth opening for another protest. Sean’s eyes went dark.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave without another word.”
Ben brought Sofi to the master suite. Emi and Poli were already there. They took her from him without a word and closed the door. Lainey arrived a few minutes later, having left the children with Marisol. The copper tub was filling, steam rising thick with lavender and rosemary.
Sofi stood in the center of the room like she didn’t know what to do with her own body. Emi stepped in first, hands gentle as she unbuttoned Ben’s shirt and slid it off Sofi’s shoulders. The fabric dropped to the floor. Sofi’s arms stayed loose at her sides. Her eyes were red, but dry now.
“I keep thinking I should have known,” she said.
Emi shook her head. “No, mi amor. No.”
Poli tested the water, then held out her hand. “Ven. Get in.”
Sofi took it and let herself be guided into the tub. The heat pulled a long breath out of her. Poli climbed in behind her and simply held her, arms around her waist, cheek resting against the back of her shoulder. Lainey knelt at the side of the tub and began washing Sofi’s hair, fingers slow and thorough. Emi sat on the edge and ran a cloth over Sofi’s arms and collarbones.
No one asked questions. No one offered speeches. They just stayed close.
Sofi’s breathing eventually evened out. She leaned back into Poli and closed her eyes. Milk still beaded at her nipples and drifted into the water in thin white threads. After a while she turned her head and pressed her face into the side of Poli’s neck.
“I don’t want him to be the last thing that touched me,” she said, barely audible.
Poli’s arms tightened. “Entonces no lo será.”
Lainey’s hands stilled in Sofi’s hair. Emi’s cloth paused on her shoulder. The air in the bathroom shifted.
Sofi was the one who moved first.
She turned in Poli’s arms, water sloshing, and kissed her. It wasn’t desperate. It was deliberate—slow, searching, like she was reminding herself what a mouth was supposed to feel like when it belonged to someone who loved her. Poli made a soft sound and kissed her back. Sofi’s hands came up and cupped Poli’s breasts, thumbs brushing the puffy nipples until milk welled and spilled over her fingers.
Emi slid into the water. Lainey followed.
Sofi broke the kiss with Poli and turned to Emi next, pulling her in by the waist. Their mouths met, deeper this time. Sofi’s hand slid between Emi’s thighs under the water and found her already slick. She stroked her slowly, learning the shape of her again. Emi’s breath stuttered against her lips.
“Así… just like that,” Emi whispered.
Lainey waited until Sofi reached for her. When she did, Sofi kissed her differently—softer, almost careful—before guiding Lainey’s small hand between her own legs.
“Touch me,” Sofi said. “I want to feel something that isn’t him.”
Lainey did. Two fingers, gentle at first, then surer when Sofi’s hips rolled to meet them. Poli moved behind Sofi again, arms around her, mouth open against the side of her neck. Emi leaned in and took one of Sofi’s heavy breasts into her mouth, sucking the milk that spilled freely now. Sofi’s head fell back against Poli’s shoulder. A low, broken sound left her throat.
The water moved with them. Hands and mouths found skin without urgency, but without hesitation either. Sofi came the first time with Lainey’s fingers inside her and Emi’s mouth on her breast, her body tightening in a long, silent wave. They held her through it. When it passed, Sofi didn’t go soft and distant the way she had earlier. She turned, eyes clearer, and reached for Poli again.
This time she pushed Poli back against the curved wall of the tub and slid down her body. The water lapped at her shoulders as she closed her mouth over Poli’s cunt. Poli gasped, fingers threading into Sofi’s wet hair.
“Weón… Sofi—”
Emi moved behind Sofi, hands on her hips, and Lainey leaned in to kiss Poli while Sofi’s tongue worked her open. Sofi took her time. She licked slowly, then deeper, two fingers sliding into Poli while she sucked on her swollen clit. Poli came with a sharp cry, thighs trembling around Sofi’s head. Sofi stayed there until the last tremor faded, then turned to Emi.
She pulled Emi to the edge of the tub, spread her thighs, and put her mouth on her the same way—deliberate, hungry, reclaiming. Emi’s hands fisted in Sofi’s hair.
“Ahí… no pares,” Emi breathed.
Lainey knelt behind Sofi and reached around to stroke her clit while she ate Emi out. Sofi moaned into Emi’s cunt and pushed back against Lainey’s hand. Emi came hard, hips lifting, a rush of wetness against Sofi’s tongue. Sofi didn’t stop until Emi gently pulled her up and kissed the taste of herself out of Sofi’s mouth.
They shifted again. Sofi ended up straddling Lainey’s thigh, grinding down while she kissed her. Poli pressed against Sofi’s back, one hand reaching around to roll her nipples, the other sliding down to where Sofi rubbed against Lainey. Emi stayed close, mouth on Sofi’s shoulder, fingers occasionally joining Poli’s.
Sofi’s second orgasm hit harder than the first. She broke the kiss with a raw sound, body shaking, milk spraying across Lainey’s chest as she came. They held her through it, hands steady, mouths soft against her skin.
Afterward the water had gone lukewarm. They stayed in it anyway, limbs tangled, breathing slowing together. Sofi’s forehead rested against Lainey’s. Her voice was quiet when she finally spoke.
“Todavía estoy aquí.”
Emi’s hand stroked down her spine. “Sí. You’re still here.”
They got out when the chill started to settle. Dried her carefully. Led her to the bed. Poli on one side, Lainey on the other, Emi at her feet. Sofi’s eyes were already half-closed.
Outside, the vineyard held its quiet dark. Inside, the four of them stayed close, the last of Andrés washed away.