*Cough, Cough*

Saturday, November 30

"Yeah...you like that...take it...ugh...take it...ugh," Brandon grunted animalistic sounds as he stared at his poster of NFL cheerleaders. There were five women of various hair colors, and skin tones huddled together in what the teen liked to call his squad. They were his go-to images when he jacked off in his bed. He even gave them names to reflect who they looked similar to among the girls he knew. The busty blonde in the middle was Hannah Woodsen. Next to her on each side were caramel-skinned Tiara Thornton and an olive-skinned member of the Honeybears with a banging body named Rosita Veliz. At the two edges of the group were a big-breasted brunette who filled in for Heather Ravers and a redhead who looked similar to Sharon Miller. Focused on his buxom blonde favorite, he repeatedly **** his eyes away from the Hispanic cheerleader. She wasn't as busty as the blonde, but she had this naughty smirk on her face. One that he now found tantalizing.

"I'll wipe...ugh....that smirk off. Yeah, wipe it off...fuck yeah!" he roared. His sperm exploded into the air, falling back down onto his stomach.

Panting on his bed, Brandon reached over for the box of Kleenex. Damn, it's almost empty?! How many have I used? He struggled to remember how many orgasms he'd had since yesterday afternoon. Did I break my record? Probably. I don't know. I rubbed it out a lot. A whole lot.

With a brain clouded in lust, Brandon tried to recall the number of times he masturbated since returning home from the Riveras. The teen couldn't even remember driving home. Nor did he notice that when he arrived home, the house stood empty. Walking in the door, his only goal had been to relieve the pressure bursting to erupt. Marching upstairs to his bedroom, Brandon dropped his pants after only two steps into his room. Grabbing hold of his above-average cock, it had taken barely twenty seconds for him to spew cum all over his bedroom carpet.

Shit, I'm going to need to clean the carpet.

KNOCK KNOCK

The soft sound at his bedroom door came across to Brandon as if cannons had roared. He raised his head off the pillow so fast he might have caused whiplash.

"Brandon? Sweetie, are you awake?" his mom's voice sent a shiver of fear down his spine.

In a panic, Brandon spotted wads of facial tissue strewn across his nightstand and the floor near his bed. His underwear lay on top of the recliner chair. Turning his head back to look at the door, he hated more than ever that his parents' wouldn't allow him or his sister to have locks on their bedroom doors.

Turning over, he began to hurriedly grab the wads of soiled tissues. Once he scooped them all into his hands, he raced over to drop them in his garbage can. Fuck! It's filled to the top.

KNOCK KNOCK

"Bran? Is everything alright in there?"

Leaving his garbage can the way it sat, he tiptoed over to grab and pull on his boxer-briefs. With them on, Brandon dashed back to his bed. Pulling his covers up, he finally responded to his mother's knocking.

"I'm awake, Mom."

The door opened partway. Vanessa peered around it in concern.

"Sweetie, are you feeling sick? It's almost noon," she asked, seeing her son still in his bed. Stepping into his room, Brandon noticed she wore a pair of jeans and a blouse. For a moment, his mind flashed back to Trent's comment about his mom's skimpy robes, but Brandon quickly pushed that thought aside. He had more pressing concerns as he saw his mom sniff the air.

"Uh, I might have something," he lied. Does my room smell like cum?!

"It smells a little musty in here," Vanessa commented. "Oh, Bran! You look pale and sweaty!"

Freaking out as Mom hurried to the side of the bed, Brandon decided faking an illness might be his best way out of a potentially humiliating experience. A manufactured cough brought more concern to his mother's face.

"I might have caught a cold when we went to look at the Christmas decorations."

"Oh, honey, your skin feels warm and clammy," Vanessa stated, after bringing her hand to his forehead. "I was worried you might be sick. Your father said you never came out of your room last night. And your sister mentioned she heard moans in the middle of the night."

Shit! Maddie heard me? I'm so dead!

"Have you been drinking water?" Brandon shook his head. "Brandon, you know you need to drink fluids. Oh, my! You look drenched in sweat," Vanessa added when the sheet slipped down to reveal more of his chest. "You better get downstairs right now. You need to get some food in your stomach and plenty of water. I'll see what cold medicine we have in the cupboard."

"Mom, I'm not that sick! It...it might be just a cold," Brandon downplayed. One: he didn't want his mom freaking out and taking him to a doctor. Two: he didn't want to be stuck in his room for the rest of the weekend, faking an illness.

"If so, we need to nip that in the bud, right this instance," his mom said, performing her role as a mother as she turned to leave. "I'll get your lunch re—what happened to your carpet?"

Brandon watched as his mom stopped and started to kneel down. Thinking fast, he saw only one possibility.

"Uh, I had a sneezing fit last night. A really bad one. That must be it. Uh, sorry."

"Eww! We'll have to get the carpet cleaner up here," Vanessa remarked, before pausing to think over the matter. "We'll wait until your father leaves. We don't need to hear him complaining. But next time, remember to use a Kleenex."

"Uh, sure, Mom. I...I'll probably need another box. I went through a lot last night," Brandon admitted.

"Bran! That garbage is overflowing. You know that's not sanitary. Those are full of germs. I better get a bag and empty—"

"No! I mean, I can do it. You shouldn't risk catching my cold," Brandon insisted.

"That's very thoughtful of you, sweetie. Now, I'm going to get your lunch started," she said from the doorway. "Maybe take a shower before you come down. Also, turn your ceiling fan on and leave the door open when you come down. This room smells very musty."

"You look like shit."

"Madison! Don't tell your brother that. He's not feeling well," Vanessa scolded her daughter.

"Eww! Stay on that side of the table. I don't want your cooties," the brown-haired girl remarked, moving her lunch further away from her twin brother.

"Here, honey, I made you chicken soup," Vanessa said, placing a bowl in front of her son.

"Mom, I can eat solid food," Brandon pointed out, already regretting faking a cold.

"It's best to play it safe. If you have a fever, you might have the flu."

"Eat the soup, Bran," Madison ordered. "I don't need you puking all over our bathroom. God, you moaned loud enough last night."

Changing his mind again, Brandon went along with his fake illness. His mom might be more gullible, but Madison could put two and two together if she thought it over for too long.

"Where's Dad?" he asked.

"He needed to stop at the dealership for a couple of hours," his mother explained.

Brandon nodded. He caught his sister's eye, and she rolled them in response. They both suspected their father was up to something at work. Waldon Cole had giant-sized ambitions. He had inherited his father's used car lot along with his brother and cousin. Within a few years of transforming the business into a grand success, he and his brother sold their shares to their cousin and built a dealership for new cars across the street. His two children had caught snippets of conversations, suggesting that their father planned a further expansion of some sort. Brandon suspected that as a reason for why he wanted to use his son's local sports fame in a commercial. One that his wife ultimately rejected.

"So, you dropped off the cheesecake without any problems?" Vanessa asked automatically while she cleaned the counter. That question caused her son to spit out his mouthful of soup.

"Eww! That's fucking gross, Brandon," Madison yelled, pushing her chair back from the table.

"Madison, watch your language," her mom scolded her, rushing over with a paper towel to wipe up the mess.

"Sorry," Brandon mumbled.

"That's it, I lost my appetite," his sister announced, standing up.

"Maddie, your father and I have that dinner party tonight. So I'm going to need you to keep an eye on your brother," Vanessa announced.

"Mom!" both twins exclaimed.

"I have my drama club meeting this afternoon. I don't know when I'll get done," her daughter reminded her.

"And Saturday's my date night with Ashley," her son added.

"Brandon, you're not leaving the house in your condition," Vanessa told him. When he protested, she continued. "Do you want to catch pneumonia and end up in the hospital? I didn't think so."

"I'm not rushing home to take care of him. I'm not getting sick too," Madison complained.

"Can I have Ashley come over here? She can watch me," Brandon quickly added.

"I guess Ashley can come over while we're gone. But no funny business, you got that buster?" Seeing Brandon nod, she turned to look at Madison, who tried to sneak out of the kitchen. "Maddie, I want you to come home after your club meeting to keep an eye on them—I mean to check and see if Ashley needs any help."

"Why does everything in this house revolve around him?!" Madison screamed as she stomped out of the room.

"What's up her butt?"

"Brandon John, do not speak like that about your sister. Can you two not kill each other tonight? Or do I need to find a babysitter for tonight?" Vanessa questioned.

"Mom, we're eighteen!"

"Yes, I'm well aware of your age, but the two of you don't seem to be."

"Fine, we won't fight," Brandon reluctantly agreed.

"Good! Now finish up your soup before it gets cold," his mother told him.

Brandon did as she asked but still felt hungry after he drained the bowl. I'll have to make an actual meal for dinner once they leave. Getting up, he brought his dirty dishes to where his mother stood at the sink.

"I forgot to ask earlier. Did you find the gifts you wanted yesterday?" Vanessa inquired.

"Yeah, I took care of you and Ashley."

"I hope you didn't spend too much on me, Bran. Now, what about your sister's present?"

"Uh, no, but Trent gave me an idea," Brandon admitted, piquing his mother's curiosity. "Am I the only one that doesn't know about Madison and this role-playing stuff?"

"Oh, that's right. Trent's been around when your sister tried to explain it to me. I'm still not sure I understand," Vanessa recalled. "Your father knows a little, but don't say anything about it around him. He thinks it's not a ladylike activity, and told her to stop. So what did Trent suggest?"

"Pretty much the same as you suggested yesterday. He said she's into some fantasy stuff, and that I should get her an outfit for that. But I don't have a clue," Brandon passed on.

"See, your mother isn't stuck in the past. I got some cool ideas, don't I?"

"Yeah, I guess. So, what exact outfit should I buy?"

"Oh, that I don't know," Vanessa admitted with a bit of embarrassment. "But, I did suggest asking Lisa or Delilah."

"Yes, you did," Brandon replied, feeling queasy over having to talk to Lisa after yesterday.

"Bran, you look even worse all of a sudden. Take some of this, and go upstairs and relax, she ordered, handing him a bottle of cough syrup."

Brandon followed his mother's suggestion and went back to his room. He cringed upon seeing his cum stains on the carpet. I better take care of that while they're gone tonight. Dad will pitch a fit if he sees it.

Plopping down in his recliner, Brandon turned on the television. Immediately, he wondered how messed up seeing Lisa nearly naked had left him. It's rivalry weekend! How the hell did I forget that? He flicked through the channels and settled on two different college football games to switch back and forth. Realizing another item he forgot, Brandon went and pulled his phone out of the pocket of his pants.

"Shit," he muttered, noticing all the missed calls and texts. There were numerous ones from Trent asking where he was last night, that Trent was going to the party without him, and finally, his friend bragging about how awesome it was at the party. A final text with a picture attached, showed Trent's hand groping a naked tit. Chuckling at his best friend's antics, Brandon sent him a message telling him that he passed out last night and likely had a cold or flu. I might as well stick to my story.

Ashley had only sent him a few texts last night. She told him she missed him, and later that she hoped he was having fun with his friends. The messages caused Brandon to feel guilty over all his masturbating after seeing Lisa in that ribbon and bow. He sent off a similar message like the one he sent to Trent but added that his mom said that she could come over later. Ashley immediately replied back, expressing concern over his health, and vowing to play nurse for him.

KNOCK KNOCK

"Bran, I thought that since you're staying home today, you might want to take care of those gifts," Vanessa said, entering his bedroom. "Here's a little of everything. Use what you want and save some for Maddie's present."

"Yeah, I might as well. Thanks, Mom," Brandon responded, not really paying attention.

"I'm going to take a nap for a couple of hours. Last night was a madhouse at the restaurant, and I'm still tired," his mother informed him. "If you feel worse, don't hesitate to wake me."

"I'm sure I'll be okay, Mom. Go get some sleep," Brandon replied, feeling worse for lying and worrying her.

Once Vanessa left the room, Brandon decided to head over to his desk and see what she left. There, he saw two different rolls of wrapping paper, a couple of gifts bags, and colored tissue paper. Noticing one gift bag appeared already filled, he peeked inside. It held gift tags, bows, and rolls of ribbon. Brandon's eyes locked in on a red bow and a roll of red ribbon. A jolt of electricity shot through his body.

"Not again!" he whined, feeling his cock stiffen.