The chirping of the birds is what woke me up. The summer sun’s rays slithered through the half drawn curtains, lazily swimming around the half drawn covers over my body. I looked down and noticed a tented portion of the material below where it pooled at my hips. The shadows drawn around my pecs and stomach were in sharp contrast due to the mass standing at attention. A lazy smile crossed my face as the remembrance of a half faded dream slithered through my mind. Pillow creases and golden skin, tanned and glistening from the various fluids covering it. It was a good dream. I gave a lazy tug on the material covering my cock, making it stand more at attention, like a good soldier readying for battle. My morning wood is one of the constants of my life that I’ve come to cherish over the years. Two decades of my life, and almost one of it was spent most mornings with my cock in hand, cum splattered across my abs and chest. I lazily drew my thumb and forefinger as I remembered the last time I had cum all over me. Kevin had been . . . exuberant that night. I had painted his cum on my nipples for the rest of the night, christening it for the next morning, when I woke to his cock in my ass, a liquid pool streaming from tip tip of it in my hole.
Hmm. That was a good morning of revelations.
I throw my arms over my head, stretching, letting the materials contrast against my thighs and cramping my stomach to bring in sharp relief the depths and creases of my abs that I have pain painstakingly built over the last three years. A move had me flex my pecs, bringing relief to my back and chest from the night cramps that had saturated them.
I let my hand peruse low, giving one, two tugs to the material over my dick. A bead slithered from the head of my uncut cock and pooled around the skin of the opening, wetting my bedsheet a little. I knew my parents wouldn’t mind a bit of a mess. Considering the type of family we were, I highly doubt they will.
The pressure in my balls tightened a bit at the thought of my family. And before you say anything, let me just let you know right now that we as a family are a bit . . . unconstitutional, shall we say? Yes. You’ll soon know why, don’t worry. I am almost certain that they would not keep their amorous activities to a minimum just because I was home for the summer.
Beads of perspiration draw on my forehead and under my arms as I keep on my cock, the other hand playing slowly with my nipples, hardening them, flicking them. Going down to my balls and cupping them gently. Down, down, down,
the taint,
lower still.
Down to my hole, moist from the summer heat, a bit messy in the opening. I bring the flavour to my mouth and savor it a bit as I continue jerking off. Not too fast, not too slow. Do not want to actually cum. After a while of playing, when my dick stands at full mast, I let it go. It gives a tremor of protest, but I ignore it. Instead, I reach over and grab my phone, checking through socials and going through my emails. Nothing of much import. Good. I do not want to deal with the outside world yet.
I get up after a while when the pressure built up in my bladder demanded a release. I get off the bed, naked, and open my bedroom door. And that’s when I hear it.
Moaning, grunting. Squeaking of tables, furniture. The sound of slapping skins. Like I said, not your normal run of the mill family.
Like a moth to a flame, like waking up, dreaming of phosphorescence, I follow the sounds downstairs, momentarily forgetting my bladder.
They are in the kitchen. And just like the first time I caught (watched) them, I see my dad first. A back made of muscles that refuse to give up, even at the age of 55. His muscles are bunched up, sweat dripping down from his neck. Down. down, down his spine, making their way lower to the divot above his ass.
His ass is flexed, two globes bunched up with power, grit, determination. They have a sole purpose right now, and they will accomplish that goal to the t. The sweat lines drip down the cleft of his ass, disappearing and showering down as he gives a particularly hard thrust, his entire back rippling.
His hands are holding on to the counter, forearms rippling, as a pair of legs thrown over his shoulders jolt with the force. And my mother gives a moan of pleasure as my father’s cock drives into her pussy.
My cock is hard at attention and I watch as my parents fuck on the kitchen counter.
I remember the first time I’d caught them, I was in the throes of my sexual awakening, when all I could think of was cock and cum and sex.
A summer night, towards the end of July, near my birthday. I was very excited all throughout the week about the big party planned for my birthday party. Aside from the fact that all my friends were invited, my parents had also promised me a ton of gifts and shit. Needless to say, I was nigh jubilant about it. So much so that I’d forgotten to go to the bathroom before coming to bed. Ergo waking up in the middle of the night to go pee.
We lived in a small-ish town. It was by no means a small town, and had all the amenities that one could want growing up in the 21st century. But it was certainly not New York or Chicago. But for all its backwater ways, and rednecks abound (I should know, my dad was one, and my mum Indian, theirs was a marriage of love, and they never shied away from it) we were plenty open minded. People here judged less, minded even lesser. Hell, since we were a coastal town, there was, at least once a month, a naked celebration down at the beach where all consenting adults were welcomed. Me and my friends were very excited to turn 18 to know what exactly happened at that party.
This is all to say that I was not surprised to see my parents’ bedroom door opened. It was a common practice to keep our doors either half closed or fully open in this house, which had led to its fair share of embarrassing getting caught with my hand on my cock moment. Mostly with my dad, since he was the one who came to wake me up most mornings. He’d once even caught me with cum on my chest and on my bedsheets, but that’s a story for another time. Needless to say, my puberty and sexual awakening was very straightforward and accepted.
Given all that, it still caught me by surprise that night when I crossed my parents’ bedroom on my way to the washroom and caught them on the floor, my mother sitting on my father, a look of pure ecstasy on her face. I was shocked, kinda mortified, also hella scared of seeing something I absolutely knew I should not be seeing.
They’d most probably thought I’d gone to bed and had not bothered to close their bedroom door to let the cool breeze play though the house, in lieu of manufactured cool air.
As such, unintentionally, they let me have the first vicarious sexual awakening of my life.
I came to a standstill outside of their door, before quickly hiding against the wall beside it. They had not noticed me, and I did not want them to. Whatever they were doing (at that time I’d only just discovered jerking off, and even though kids at school talked about sex, I was quite unexposed to that fact since I had not learnt about porn yet, though I would soon thanks to my best friend Kevin), had to be rather hurtful, since the moon graced my father’s face revealing a tightening to it I had only seen when he was extremely worked out at the home gym, and was controlling himself from going full feral. He was a work of art, my father.
And my mother had her head up, eyes closed. One hand was on my dad’s chest, on his nipples pinching it almost painfully. It was red and swollen around the areola. The other was on her (‘OH MY FUCKING GOD THAT”S HER BREASTS!!!!’) chest as she played with her breasts, the twin globes of it full and heavy.
A second or two had passed since I found them, and in that time they had not moved. Which changed the second after.
‘You good?’ my father’s gravel voice grunted. Exertion leaked from the words and onto the floor of jubilation.
My mother whimpered a bit, and in lieu of answering with words, she moved. Her hips undulated, her boobs (‘BOOOOOOBSSSSS!!!!!’) bobbing up and down.
Now I was a lot of things: reckless, a little devil, the one who always got into travel. But I loved my parents, and thought they hung the moon. And they loved me back. And so, try as I might, I could not make myself move from there as I saw what sex looked like in real time.
My father’s cock was big, girthy. For a second pride flowed through me. That’s the cock that had made me. Made me the man I was going to grow into one day. Strong, kind. Respectful. That is what my father had taught me a man was supposed to be.
‘He should be a good listener, first and foremost. And then a supporter. The rest of the world might rest on his shoulders, but even so he should not forget to be kind. You hear me, Ash. That is what a man is supposed to be.’
And I tried my damndest to live up to his words. To be strong, supportive. To never take advantage of someone just because I could.
And this time, instead of words, my dad showed me what a man is supposed to be with his body.
He held up my mum through her waist, large hands covering her as he let her set the pace. Lube and something else made his cock glisten as it disappeared inside my mother.
My cock, unbeknownst to me, stood at attention. I gave it a light tug, the other going to my nipples as they hardened.
After a while of going like that, my father said, ‘You ready, baby?’
‘Yes,’ she moaned. ‘God yes.’
‘Are you sure? We can go on like this for a while, let you - shiiiiitt.’ His words ended in a drawn out breath as my mother slammed her hips down hard.
‘John?’
‘Fuck fuck fuck. Yeah?’
My mother leaned down, covering John’s body with hers. When they were face to face, my mother dragged her tongue up and down my father’s nose, licking his eyes, lips, the exposed jut of his Adam's apple. ‘Am I yours, John? Am I your good girl?’
And I saw the change come over my father in real time. Like a switch had been flipped, gone was the respectful man. The man who took time with his words, thought things through.
‘You remember your safe word?’ he asked, voice commanding.
A bead of precum oozed out of the head of my cock, which had turned red from my lack of notice. I crushed the tip between one hand and squeezed the life out of my nipples with the other. My asshole clenched at the tone of his voice, and I did not know what to do, how to even breathe, as my mother replied, ‘Yes, sir.’
A small smile graced his face. Almost animalistic. Raw. ‘Good.’
And then my father moved.
Gone was the civility, the slow pace. He thrust up in my mother like a dog rutting into his bitch. My mother shouted at the sudden change in pace, her voice a mixture of pain and pleasure. My father shushed her, whispering, ‘that’s my good girl,’ and, ‘who’s daddy’s girl, yes you are,’ and, ‘look how good you take me, sweetheart, like you’re made for me.’
And my mother soared at the praises. Later I would learn it was a praise kink and that a lot of nights had gone into learning one another enough to be comfortable with the role they’ve enacted, But that all came later.
Right then, it was the moonlight through the open window, my father’s sweaty body, my mother’s glistening one. And there was me, at the door, unknown to them, my cock in my hand, almost purple from how hard I was squeezing the life out of it. My arms flexing, my body equally covered in sweat. The humidity was a living thing whispering down the column of my spine and over the clothing of my bunched up underwear.
My father flipped my mother over, taking her under him. He braced his feet on the ground, planted them thoroughly enough to be able to drive into her with force, all the whilst whispering to her. I was enamoured, transfixed. This was not the dynamic I was used to. It was always my mother leading, my dad a solid, steady presence at her back, and by her side.
This was new. Wrong. Oh so wonderfully wrong. And it was then, as that thought circulated through my mind, that I slipped up. Quite literally.
A pool of sweat had drenched me, and my shoulder slipped from where it was leaning against the doorframe, bringing me into the moonlight leaking from the window. The light reflected off the sweat coating my body like a second skin. It was only for a second. But it was enough.
My hand on my cock the other bracing against the door, I looked up with uneven breath to see my father’s eye directly trained on me.
I stopped breathing and stood stock still. His eyes were like hot coal on a cool surface, streams of perforation wafting off of the point of contact, where they gave a lazy perusal over my face, my neck, my chest, my hand covering/tugging on my cock. And he -
‘Fuck, John. Fucking hell,’ my mother screeched out as my father gave a particularly hard slam into her. His eyes on me, he braced himself on one hand, lowering till I was blocked from my mother’s view. His other hand was reaching down.
It was on her breast, abusing the hell out of it as my mother gave a high pitched growl. Then down on her stomach, giving it a gentle perusal as if saying sorry for the last few seconds. Then it reached her clit.
And I knew enough about human anatomy through my friends at that point to know he had hit that jackpot when he gave a twist and my mother shouted in pleasure.
All. The. While.
Looking. At. Me.
And I did not stop. Did not run, captivated in his gaze. My hand resumed their progress on my cock, the other squeezing my nipples. One after the other, as hard as he flicked her clit. He smiled as he saw that, something possessive in his eyes. A shallow nod of approval had me going at it faster. Stance widening a bit as my hand dropped from my chest to my balls.
Lower.
My father stopped moving abruptly, his face caught in a rapture of reverence.
Without looking away, he said to my mother, ‘You ready for the climax, Mary?’
My mother nodded against his chest where her face was licking his nipples, his underarms, softly, vigorous in their servitude.
‘Good girl,’ he turned away from me then. But keeping to the moonlight to give me a clear view whilst commanding her attention as he slowly braced himself on his arm, forearm muscles bunching and flexing. He looked upon her in the same way he’d looked at me, as if we were something to cherish. To protect. He popped his cock out, redolent and swollen to the hilt like a sword ready to spear and protect and provide.
He held it over her body. No words were exchanged as he looked at her and she looked at him. As if none were required for what was about to happen. And when his cock flared, the head expanding just so slightly, his chest and stomach hardening, when the first spurt of his piss left his cock and hit my mother’s breast, I was done for.
My finger found my hole, and the other wringed my cock to high heaven as I watched my father let go and piss all obert my mother. My mother put her hands over his neck and brought him down to kiss him. The motion made his whole body lower and the piss rained over his chest and abs, mixing with my mother’s body and they intertwined.
I made the smallest of sound as the scene crescendoed, the piss reaching almost to their mouth.
My father’s eyes flicked up at me, tongue in my mother as the piss stream slowed and he slowly lowered his hips letting the last few streams hit my mother’s pussy directly.
And I lost it.
White, creamy sperm shot out of my cock. It painted my hands, flowing down to my balls. And the floor ahead of me in creamy bliss. My father’s eyes widened slightly at that and without warning he slammed into my mother even as he hadn’t finished pissing. My mother cried out at the intrusion and the other hand was on her clit, rubbing furiously.
She came with a long, drawn out cry, her pussy fluid glittering in the spoiled moonlight. And then came my father.
His eyes slid closed, face bunching up, teeth gritted as his body paused, shuddered. He gave a guttural growl and I knew he had cum inside my mother as his hips jerked, picking up speed, brutality. Until it slowed down, pace leisurely. His eyes opened to me with my hand in my mouth, my cum on my tongue. His breath jerked a second time. Caught at the sight. I looked at him, eyes hooded, and closed my lips over my finger.
Time stretched, constricted. It was only him and I. Me and him. And we were all that remained, and I was flying, flying, flying out of my skin and he was there to catch me, keep me from slipping away, because I was his and nothing and no one could have me, and i was -
‘John?’ my mother’s voice, jerking me out of the trance we’d slipped into. My father’s eyes closed, head bowing a bit.
In all this, I forgot the reason I’d gotten up was to go pee. But fuck that.
And I did the only thing I could. I turned and ran back to my bedroom.
TO BE CONTINUED.
