“Hurry the fuck up!”
“I’m drying off.”
It’s been a nightmare since my older brother returned from university. And the worst problem is that he won’t be leaving until their break is over; four more weeks. Some may view it has a chance to catch up. I’m not one of those people. My brother is exactly like my father: a big, muscular, towering giant who annoy the shit out of me, yet I cannot seem to love them both.
Pounding on my door draws my attention. Then the door swings open, banging against the wall. Thank goodness for the rubber stopper cushioning the impact.
“Are you out of your mind?” I shout at the hulking figure rushing past me. Elliot quickly unzips is jeans and lets loose. “You were taking too long. My bladder was about to burst.” He glances at me over his shoulder and smirks. “Nice ass.”
“Fuck off!” Luckily, I’m facing away from him, and he can’t see my blush. This has been a reoccurring theme for the longest time. Ever since I’ve came out of the closet I have been seeking — without realizing it — attention. And I found it . . . in my father and older brother.
Mom has been the “silent” parent throughout my life. Always working extra shifts at the hospital. Thankfully Dad hasn’t been as absent; he owns his own construction company. They did well for themselves in life even though they married young. Dad got Mom pregnant when they were both starting final year in high school. Elliot was born a couple weeks after they graduated. I came along when they were 23, Elliot was five.
One would expect that being 23 himself that he would have finished his four-year course already. He didn’t, he’s still in his second year. The parties at his frat have been keeping him occupied. I’m starting to think that he’s busy getting his degree in partying.
At least Elliot knew what he wanted to go and study when he was a final-year high school student; I’m still unsure. I’m thinking of doing Dad’s admin until I’ve decided.
The toilet flushing reminds me that I’m still naked in front of my hunky brother. I rush out of the bathroom and run down the hall towards my room. I quickly get dressed in my pajamas and go downstairs. I can hear the television playing some sports channel. Although sports aren’t my forte, I still join Dad on the sofa. Dad throws his hairy arm over my shoulder, and I snuggle against him.
I’m immediately enveloped by Dad’s body heat. It’s almost too much, but I don’t move a muscle. When the screen moves to show the commentators Dad finally speaks to me. “Hey, baby.” His baritone voice washes over me and makes me shiver. “Hey, Dad.”
Heavy footfalls make both of us towards the stairs. Elliot reaches the final step and pulls his shirt back into position. “You still coming to get me at the party, Pops?” Party? I didn’t know that he’s going out today. It’s Saturday, does he not want to spend time with his family?
I scoff inwardly at this though. That’s so hypocritical of me: I don’t want to spend every single second with them, and I expect him to? He scratches his left triceps with his right hand. I nearly whimper at the sight of his arm bulging and almost ripping through the seams. I can’t help but think of what his hairy arm would feel like wrapped around my throat.
The “attention” thing I talked earlier about is clearly false. I’m infatuated with both my brother and Dad. I’m lusting after them. I won’t tell them though. I wouldn’t want to scare them away; I’d rather keep this infatuation hidden than ruin my relationship with the two immediate people in my family. “I didn’t forget, Elliot. I’ll send Avery to come pick you up.”
I jolt upright. “Me?” I ask glaring at them both. “I need my beauty sleep.”
“It’s not working, bro,” Elliot says and walks towards the front door, “I’ll see you at two.” Two?! It’s only eight. I have to stay awake for six hours! I don’t have the patience or energy for that. The front door closes. “Really, Dad. Me? I don’t even know where this party is.”
“It’s at Michael’s place,” is all Dad says. Michael is Elliot’s high school friend and works for Dad. “But I don’t want to Dad,” I whine. Dad rubs my head, and the weight of his hand nearly sends me spiraling. Everything of him is exponentially larger than mine. This thought makes me whimper softly. I know that that thought is true for both Elliot and Dad: I’ve seen them both in their sleepwear — only briefs. They both fill out that pouch to near combustion. Those gay erotic stories I read always seem to have a dominant counterpart with a twelve-inch appendage. I live in one of those stories. There’s no doubt in my mind that either one (or both) of them have this organ.
“Don’t be like that. Be a good boy for Dad and go get your brother later tonight.” This time I must fight the urge to whimper loudly. Fuck! I know Dad’s only joking, but him calling me a “good boy” has me nearly creaming my pajama bottoms. Just to get my mind off what just transpired, I relent and quickly dart upstairs to my room.
If I’m going to have to wait for six hours, I need to do something to stay awake. I lock my door and fall on the bed. If I don’t do something about this incest-induced erection, I’ll still have it when I must go and fetch Elliot.
_______________________
The alarm I set earlier blares out way too loud. I scramble to shut it off; I know Dad and Mom went to bed many hours ago. It’s quarter-to-two. Thankfully Michael’s place isn’t too far from here so the drive over will only take a moment. I begrudgingly get up and get dressed in more comfortable clothes. If I know Elliot, I’ll have to go inside and drag him out by the ears. And I’m not entering Michael’s place in my pajamas.
When I’m dressed, I quietly creep down the stairs, trying to avoid the parts I know that creaks loudly. I grab Dad’s car keys. I open the garage door and climb in the car.
I’m relieved when there’s no one else on the road: I hate driving at night. Before I even turn into Michael’s street, I can feel the car vibrating from the bass playing from his humongous speakers. I remember that he bragged when he got them in high school; he was more protective over them than his own gifted car.
I shut off the ignition when I’m parked behind one of the party-goer’s cars. The vibration gets even worse when I near the front door. It feels as if my eardrums are close to exploding. The door is unlocked and opens easily. I immediately see Michael: front and center. He’s holding up a red keg while someone else pours different liquids into it. The unfortunate soul at the receiving end of the concoction looks dazed out of his mind. That is not stopping him from guzzling down the liquid, though.
A quick scan across the room shows that Elliot is not on the first floor. Jealousy boils in me. I’m not stupid. I know what he’s most likely up to, but I can’t help myself. I want him all to myself and don’t want to share. Unless it’s with Dad. A thought races through my head. Imagine being filled with them both. At the same time. I shudder. I’ll need to prepare my virgin ass if that is to happen.
Michael spots me and enthusiastically waves me over. I make my way over as fast as possible, not wanting to be here any longer than needed. “Buddy! You looking for Elliot?” he asks, slurring his words a bit.
“Yeah. You know where he is?”
He shakes his head. “Haven’t seen him in a while. He better not have pussied out. It’s almost his turn to chug the keg,” he says, tapping the funnel part. “When you see him tell him he’s needed.”
The hell I am! I’m not going to wait for hours in the car while he gets lucky upstairs with someone’s daughter. But I don’t tell Michael that. I only smile at him and make my way to the stairs. He’ll most likely forget that we even had this conversation in a few minutes. I take a quick glance over my shoulder when I reach the bottom stair. My suspicions are correct: he’s already urging the man on to pour more alcohol into the keg.
The walk up the stairs seem to go on for eternity. I’m dreading what I might find in one of these rooms. I know that I won’t find it pleasing in any way, shape or form. Luckily Michael’s home doesn’t have too many rooms, and I follow Elliot’s voice easily.
“That’s it, baby. Slowly.” And I’m rock hard again within seconds. When I stand in front of the room I’m sure his voice is coming from I find the door ajar.
Should I? Will I be able to take it? Seeing him with a woman that is. The slurping sounds from inside only continue while I’m debating on what to do. Open the door or wait downstairs? If I wait this will most likely escalate into full-on fucking. And that sight I will never get out of my head. The jealousy-sadness combination will also never leave me. I guess that leaves me with only one option: open the door and act unconcerned about what is happening in front of me.
When I finally have the courage to open the door, my blood turns frigid. “Fuck, Avery. Good boy!”
What the fuck!
