Mom took her pill at nine-thirty and was out one hour later.
I could hear her soft, heavy breathing from the hallway when I walked past her door. The lake house was quiet except for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the wooden floors. Peter was already in the living room, shirtless, swimming suits hanging low, a Red Bull in his hand. He looked at me the second I appeared and jerked his chin toward the couch.
Dad was sitting there in the dark, still fully dressed from the day on the boat. He had the television on mute, some nature documentary flickering across his face. He didn’t look up when I entered.
Peter did.
“Lock the hallway door,” he said quietly. “Then come here.”
I locked it. My hands were already shaking.
Peter set the energetic drink down and walked over to Dad. He didn’t ask permission. He just stood in front of him, looked down, and spoke in that same calm, almost casual voice he’d used on the boat.
“You’re gonna sit there and take what we give you tonight. No talking. No stopping it. Just sit there and feel it. Don’t you dare to refuse or your wife will know that you like young boys sucking your cock at public gloryholes.”
Dad’s jaw flexed. He still didn’t speak. His eyes stayed fixed on the muted television even as Peter reached down and popped the button on his jeans.
I watched my older brother free our father’s cock.
It was already half-hard. Thick. Darker and hairier than Peter’s. Heavy in the way older men’s cocks sometimes are. Peter stroked it once, slow, and it stiffened fully in his hand. Dad’s breathing changed. His hands stayed clenched on his thighs.
Peter looked at me over his shoulder.
“On your knees, JJ. Between his legs. And don’t you dare look away from him while you do it.”
I dropped to the floor.
The carpet was rough under my knees. Dad’s cock was right in front of my face, already leaking at the tip. The smell of him was different from Peter’s — deeper, muskier, old school after-shave mixed with the faint scent of the lake and the day’s sweat. Peter kept one hand on the base and used the other to guide my head forward.
“Open.”
I opened.
The head pushed past my lips and filled my mouth in one slow slide. Dad made a sound he’d never made in front of us before — a low, broken exhalation through his nose. His hips twitched once, then went still again. He still wouldn’t look at me.
Peter moved behind me.
I heard him spit. Felt two thick fingers press against my hole and push inside without warning. He worked them in and out while I sucked our father, stretching me open with the same clinical efficiency he used for everything. When he decided I was ready he pulled his fingers out, shoved his sweatpants down, and lined up.
“Keep sucking,” he ordered. “Don’t stop even when I push in.”
He pushed in.
The stretch forced a muffled sound around Dad’s cock. Peter didn’t give me time to adjust. He sank all the way in with one long, continuous thrust until his hips were flush against my ass. Then he started fucking me in deep, steady strokes, each one shoving me further onto Dad’s cock.
The living room filled with wet sounds.
Peter’s voice stayed low and mean, right against my ear.
“Look at you. Mouth full of Dad’s dick, ass full of mine. This is what you were made for, little brother. To be our family’s official cumdump.”
He fucked me harder. Every thrust pushed Dad’s cock deeper into my throat. I gagged. Spit ran down the shaft and over Dad’s balls. Dad’s hands finally moved — not to stop us, but to grip the edge of the couch cushions so hard his knuckles went white. His head tilted back against the couch. His eyes were half-closed, mouth slightly open. He still hadn’t said a single word.
Peter noticed.
“He’s not even fighting it,” he said, almost laughing. “Look at him. Eyes rolling back while both his sons use him. You like that, Dad? You like watching your youngest choke on your cock while I rearrange his guts? You’re call yourself a man of god but your sins are the most perverse.”
Dad’s only answer was a low, involuntary groan when I took him all the way down and held there. His cock throbbed hard against my tongue.
Peter grabbed a fistful of my hair and used it as a handle, fucking me in short, brutal strokes that made the wet slap of skin on skin echo through the quiet house. Every time he bottomed out he forced another inch of Dad into my throat. Tears ran down my face.
“Tell him how it feels,” Peter ordered. “Tell Dad how good his cock tastes while I’m balls-deep in you.”
I pulled off just long enough to gasp the words.
“It tastes so good, dad…”
Peter shoved me back down before I could finish.
“Louder. He needs to hear it.”
I tried again between thrusts, voice wrecked and wet.
“Your cock tastes so fucking good, Dad.”
Dad’s hips jerked up. For the first time he pushed into my mouth instead of just taking it. Peter laughed under his breath and matched the rhythm, fucking me harder in time with Dad’s shallow thrusts.
“That’s it. Both of you. Use him. He’s just a hole for us tonight.”
The next ten minutes blurred into pure sensation — the thick stretch of Peter inside me, the heavy weight of Dad on my tongue, the quiet, broken sounds our father couldn’t hold back anymore. Peter kept talking the entire time, voice rough and relentless.
“You came so hard just watching us in the woods. Now you get to feel it. Feel how wet and greedy his mouth is. Feel how his throat opens up when I fuck him hard enough.”
Dad’s breathing was ragged. His cock was leaking steadily now, the taste of precum coating my tongue. His hands finally left the cushions and settled on the back of my head — not forcing, just resting there, fingers trembling.
Peter noticed that too.
“He’s touching you,” he said, almost soft. “Dad’s holding your head while you suck him. You feel that, JJ? He wants this. He’s wanted it since the rest stop.”
I moaned around the cock in my mouth. Peter cursed and drove into me harder, the angle changing so he was hitting that spot inside me with every stroke. My vision went white at the edges. I was so close it hurt.
“Don’t you dare cum,” Peter growled. “Not until he does.”
He reached around, wrapped a rough hand around my cock, and squeezed the base hard enough to kill the orgasm. I made a desperate sound. Peter just fucked me through it, using my body like it existed for exactly this.
Dad was getting close. I could feel it in the way his cock swelled, in the way his thighs started to shake under my hands. Peter felt it too. He leaned over my back, mouth close to my ear, and spoke loud enough for both of us to hear.
“Swallow your dad’s cum, little brother. Don’t waste a single one. Let him feel you take it all.”
Dad came first.
A deep, strangled groan tore out of him as he flooded my mouth in thick, heavy pulses. I swallowed convulsively, eyes streaming, taking everything he gave me while Peter kept fucking me through it. Dad’s hand tightened in my hair for a second, then went slack. His cock kept twitching on my tongue even after the last spurt.
Peter lasted maybe twenty more seconds.
He buried himself to the hilt, cursed under his breath, and came hard inside me, filling me in long, hot pulses while he ground against my ass. I came next, leaking cum onto the carpet like I was squirting. He stayed locked there until he was empty, breathing heavily against the back of my neck.
For a long moment the only sound in the living room was the three of us trying to catch our breath after our explosion.
Peter pulled out slowly. I felt his cum start to leak down my thighs. He wiped the head of his cock on my ass once, casual, then stepped back and looked at our father.
Dad was still sitting there with his jeans open, cock wet and softening against his stomach, eyes closed, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile. He still hadn’t said a word.
Peter reached down, wiped a smear of cum from the corner of my mouth with his thumb, and pushed it between my lips.
“Eat it up.”
I did.
Then he looked at Dad again and smiled that same slow, mean smile from the boat.
“Same time tomorrow night? You’re gonna use your son’s pussy, old man. I know mom is not a fan of sex, I hear your conversations.” He was being mean and laughing.
Dad’s eyes opened. He looked at Peter, then at me still on my knees between his legs, chin wet, throat raw, his own cum still on my tongue. Something complicated and dark moved behind his expression.
He didn’t say yes.
But he didn’t say no either.
Peter ruffled my hair like nothing had happened, pulled his sweatpants back up, and grabbed his beer.
“Come on, JJ. Let Dad sit with it for a while. Let’s have a walk in the woods. See if there’s
more pent up married guys for you to serve.”
I stood on shaky legs. My hole was still open and leaking. I can still both of their cocks. As I followed Peter down the hallway I looked back once.
Dad was still on the couch in the dark, jeans open, staring at the muted television like it might give him an answer for what he’d just let his sons do to him.
He never pulled his pants up.
Not while I was still watching.
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