On the next day we reached the lake house just before sunset.
The place looked exactly the same as last summer: weathered wood, the long dock stretching out over the dark water, the thick line of pine trees that started right behind the property and climbed up the hill. Mom went straight inside to open windows. Dad started unloading the cooler and bags with that same quiet, efficient way he did everything. Peter caught my eye as soon as the adults were busy and jerked his head toward the side of the house.
I followed him around back.
The second we were out of sight he shoved me against the wall, one hand on my chest, voice low and sharp.
“Tonight. After they go to bed. You’re coming with me into the woods.”
“What?”
“Shut up and listen.” His eyes were dark with something that wasn’t just lust. “Dad’s been weird the whole drive since the rest stop. He knows something’s off. I’m gonna make him see it. You’re gonna get on your knees out there and suck me where he can find us. When he shows up, I want him to watch. And when he does, I’m gonna make sure he understands he’s not the only one who’s used that mouth.”
My stomach twisted, but my cock was already half-hard.
“You’re crazy.”
“Maybe.” Peter’s grip tightened. “But you’re still gonna do it, because you’re a freak too. That’s why I like you so much, little brother.”
He ruffled my hair aggressively.
I didn’t answer. He smirked like he already knew I’d fold.
After dinner the house settled into the usual quiet. Mom went to bed early with a book, she said she was super tired from the drive. Dad stayed in the living room a while longer, pretending to watch the news, but I could feel him glancing at us every few minutes. Peter acted completely normal, loud, restless, talking about fishing in the morning.
We waited another five minutes and Peter announced to our father:
“We’re going on a little brother’s adventure. Have a great night dad. C’mon bro.”
Then Peter stood up, grabbed a flashlight, and nodded at the back door.
The night air was cool and smelled of pine and lake water. We walked past the dock and into the thicker trees behind the property. Peter led the way without using the light until we were far enough that the house was only a faint shape through the branches. He stopped in a small clearing where the ground was soft with old needles.
“Here.”
He shoved his sweatpants down just enough and pulled his cock out. It was already hard, the same thick, veiny, left-curving dick that had face-fucked me at the rest stop. He leaned back against a tree and looked at me.
“On your knees. And make it loud enough that someone could hear if they came looking.”
I dropped down. The forest floor was cold through my jeans. The second I took him into my mouth Peter let out a low, deliberate groan, louder than he needed to.
“Fuck yeah… just like that, little brother. Suck it, you’re my personal bitch now.”
I worked him with long, wet strokes, taking him as deep as I could. Spit ran down my chin. Peter kept one hand on the back of my head and made sure every sound carried — the wet suction, the quiet gagging when he pushed too deep, the filthy encouragement he muttered just above a normal speaking volume.
“That’s it. Take your big brother’s cock. You’ve been practicing on Dad, now you get mine again.”
I don’t know how long we stayed like that. Long enough that my jaw ached and my own cock was leaking hard inside my pants. Peter’s breathing had turned rough. He was getting close when a branch snapped somewhere behind us.
Peter’s hand tightened in my hair, keeping me in place.
Footsteps. Slow. Careful.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Peter raised his voice just enough.
“Come on, Dad. Don’t just stand there in the dark like a fucking coward.”
Silence.
Then more footsteps, closer.
I could feel my father standing somewhere behind the trees, watching. The knowledge made my throat tighten around Peter’s cock. Peter felt it too, he thrust deeper and let out a loud, broken sound.
“Yeah… look at him, Dad,” Peter called out, voice thick with cruel amusement. “You’re not the only one who uses this little slut in gloryholes at rest stops. Turns out the family faggot is open for business.”
A sharp, strangled noise came from the trees — half shock, half something darker.
Peter laughed, low and mean, and started fucking my face harder, making sure the wet, choking sounds were impossible to miss.
“You should see how good he takes it. Just like he took yours. Probably he likes mine better than yours.”
I heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper. Then the wet rhythm of a fist moving fast. My father was jerking off in the dark while he watched his oldest son use my throat.
Peter’s grip turned almost painful.
“He’s watching you choke on me, JJ. He’s stroking that thick daddy cock while his youngest son gets face-fucked. How’s that feel?”
I couldn’t answer. I could only gag and take it.
The sounds from the trees got harsher, faster. My father was close. Peter knew it. He shoved himself all the way into my throat and held me there.
“Come on, Dad,” he called out, voice rising. “Show your boys how it’s done. Cum for us.”
A broken, almost animal cry tore out of the darkness. I heard the heavy splat of cum hitting leaves and dirt. My father had just shot his load onto the forest floor while watching us.
Peter laughed — loud, delighted, vicious — and immediately started cumming himself. Thick pulses flooded my mouth. He kept my head locked in place until every drop was down my throat, then finally let go.
I pulled off, gasping, chin wet, the taste of him thick on my tongue.
For a few seconds the only sound was the three of us breathing hard in the dark.
Then heavy, stumbling footsteps retreated fast through the trees, back toward the house.
Peter looked down at me, still half-hard, a dark, satisfied smile on his face.
“Guess Dad needed a little privacy,” he said, almost cheerful. He wiped a streak of cum from my lower lip with his thumb and pushed it into my mouth. “Clean it.”
I sucked his thumb clean without thinking.
Peter pulled his sweatpants up, ruffled my hair roughly, and started walking back toward the lake house like nothing had happened.
“Come on, little brother. Big day of fishing tomorrow. You’re gonna need your rest.”
I stayed on my knees a few seconds longer, the taste of him still in my mouth, the image of my father stroking himself in the dark burned into my head, and the clear knowledge that whatever line had been left between us had just been completely erased.
Then I stood up on shaky legs and followed him home.
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