Thanksgiving morning: you’ve never felt more relaxed, more accomplished.
You saw something you wanted (your sister-in-law’s big ole titties) and you worked until you got it. Lying to your little brother was necessary. You don’t feel bad about that. He’ll get to fuck those tits the rest of his life. He can give up one night. One harmless lie.
You decide to drink your coffee out on the front porch and feel the chill of the morning. You see two pumpkins and think of your brother’s wife again. You make a note to “invoke your right” again after she has her first kid. You wanna suck milk from those fun bags.
Fuck, life is good. You may fuck her again today if she’s looking hot.
Your father joins you on the porch. He pats you on the back, “I really thought the family tradition was going to end with me. I didn’t know if modern women could handle it, so I never pressured you to keep it up.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your brother let me know. I’m proud of you.”
What the fuck!? Your made up bullshit lie to fuck your brother’s wife was actually a family tradition? What are the fucking odds!?
“Thanks dad,” you beam. Big tits and your father’s appreciation. Things couldn’t get better.
Then your dad smile fades, “Makes me regret not carrying on my part of the tradition. I didn’t want to pressure you, afraid that you’d think it was weird, but now that you’ve officially joined the eldest brother tradition passed down for generations, I now have to invoke my right as your father. I should’ve done it sooner. You’d have a better marriage if I did.”
“What’s that right, dad?”
“I get to teach your wife how to fuck.”
