But someone else answered.

It's no small relief as your cozy two-story home finally comes into view. Your muscles ache, your heart is thumping, your head is spinning, and your cock is trying to win custody of your blood supply. Nothing would come as a greater comfort to you than to just find your bed face-first and pass the hell out.

Finally breaking the silence just as the two of you pull into the driveway, Theresa mutters a shy-sounding, "Did you have fun today, Bubby?" You glance her way, hoping the fatigue all over your face isn't construed as disinterest. You dredge up a smile, but it just can't reach your tired eyes.

"Yes, sis, it was nice. I dunno about you, but I think I'm just gonna skip dinner and go to bed. You worked me pretty hard."

She giggles a little, biting her lip playfully. "Give it time. Soon that kind of workout will be commonplace and you can come home supercharged and ready for... well... other stuff. Trust me, once you start getting physical, it's hard to want to stop." Damn it all Tess, why does everything she says have to sound like an inviting innuendo? You're already aiming yourself to avoid her seeing your stiffening dick, and her hushed tone isn't making anything easier. With frustration building all over again, you race ahead to the front door and let yourself in, not wanting to wait for Theresa to grab her bags from the mall.

"Mom, Dad, we're home!" You call out and scan over the entryway, but the house is quiet. Dad isn't lamenting his forsaken cigars in the living room. You peek into the kitchen and smell something baking in the oven, but Mom isn't there. If she's cooking something, they didn't go out... what gives? You heft yourself up the stairs, wincing at the burning tension in your legs after such a full body experience, but hear nothing save for the thumping of your heart in your skull. Your parents' room is first up the hall, so you warily give it a knock and take a peek inside.

"Mom? Dad? Everything okay?" No answer. Not only are your parents not in the master bedroom, but there's an array of totes pulled down from the attic strewn about. The totes should be empty, since you had held onto them for moving purposes, but you see layered clothes filling the translucent plastic. Many of the framed photographs and knick-knacks that normally dot the shelf space in the room are also missing. What the fuck?? Were they going somewhere? Your mind spirals a little, worrying that your claiming of the house may have had a more grave effect on their psyches than you first experienced. You didn't want to kick your parents out of their own home!

Surely they were still in the house, right?

Swallowing hard, you continue down the hall, closer to your and Theresa's rooms. Finally, you spot something. A light in your room is on, and you can hear some muffled activity going on inside. You're naturally quiet when opening and closing doors, given how much of a clatter they can make when careless, and you only get your bedroom door open a crack before you're forcefully dragged into a scene you aren't prepared for.

Heavy breathing. Rhythmic grinding of springs. Hair tumbling about. And skin. More skin at one time than you've ever seen away from a computer screen. Stunned to silence, a melodic sigh snaps your attention onto the scene, taking it all in.

Monica—Mrs. Shaw— your own mother is bare and upright, astride your father as she bounces up and down upon him, eliciting a satisfied grunt from each downward impact. Facing away from the door, you can see the cinching hourglass shape of her well-kept frame, swelling downward into a sumptuous set of wide hips and a round, rippling ass thumping away on the cock she's impaled herself on. Even from the back you can see the bulge of her impressive chest, currently being corralled by Dad's thick, strong hands. Years of her wearing thinner tops at home fill in the gaps, you envision the big, pink gumdrops he must be squeezing on the other side of those globes.

Faster. Harder. You think these commands silently, and surely only by coincidence do your parents comply. Mom's hands push down on Dad's chest, giving her brace and leverage to roll those plump hips up and down, mashing her tits between her arms and presenting them to her husband. Her head rolls back with a needy, throaty moan, a curtain of hair dancing across her face and shoulders. Slap slap slap-slap-slap, her glistening folds grip and hug her lover's thick cock, dribbling her juices down across his balls. She wants more, and is taking it for herself as fast as she can will herself to go.

Each muffled smack of flesh on flesh is accompanied by the aching groan of your bed springs, now bearing far more weight than they usually do. A glowing sheen of sweat highlights your mother's pale skin, cutting her out of the darker scene like a work of art. It's mesmerizing. Captivating. Intoxicating. Your breaths catch in your chest, eyes pleading for the scene to continue; for their pleasure to grow and peak for your sake.

You feel a great upwelling of jealousy intermingle with your tightly packed arousal. How lucky Dad is, to have such a marvel of a wife. A lover. Your hand edges down, finding the protruding tent of fabric covering your **** loins. Just a grazing touch makes you shudder, makes you need. You just can't take it anymore.

"Wow, look at them go."

The voice is just a whisper, but it may as well be a klaxon to your ears, raising alarm to all the sinful tension you had built. You jerk and bolt upright, your hand still on the knob of the door yanking back, slamming it shut. You hear a startled shriek from in your room, but pay it little mind as you whirl around, caught in the hall by your sister. Theresa's face is flush, bearing the wide grin of a bird-fed cat.

She's got me, you think. I am a dead man.

Unable to do more than stammer and glow, you freeze as your sister gives your bedroom door a firm set of knocks, calling out even as she looms before your shrinking frame.

"Mom, Dad, we're home! Make sure you're done before dinner burns!"

Aghast, you stare up at Theresa, your legs going limp as you slide down the wall onto the floor. From within, you hear a shameless chuckle from your father.

"No problem, babydoll! We'll be out in a bit!"

"Teddy!" Mom sounds about as mortified as you feel. Oh, the guilt...

"We've been caught, so what? Our kids're old enough to know what's what, n' Tess don't sound like she minds. Besides, we're right there..." Whatever Dad did behind that door quells your mother's complaints, replaced by a squeak and a shy giggle.

"Y-You two, go downstairs," Mom demands, the quiver in her voice weakening her normal authoritative tone. "Go! We'll be down... i-in a minute!"

Theresa's grin only gets wider, your sister taking you by the wrist and guiding your stupefied self up and away from your own bedroom door.

Another mercy gifted to you by your formerly malevolent sister. Having been ordered downstairs, the two of you only had access to one shower, and so she allowed you to go first and "freshen up," as you seemed of a mighty need. In no position to argue or even speak, you just take the offer and lock the door behind you.

Shower. Just had a shower. Need another one. Need to feel clean.

...

No amount of soap or scrubbing helps. You're a pervert, through and through. Lusting after your own mother, how shameless you are. Tamping down the guilt and embracing your fiery, relentless arousal, you jerk yourself vigorously on the images burned into your memory. The hot water only sets you further aflame, your hand buzzing up and down as your mind thinks of creamy skin, wide hips, and luscious brown curls.

It's a quick enough shower, but you hope the water was loud enough to mask the roar of your much-needed release. Theresa's face as you tag out of the bathroom implies otherwise. Fuck.

Dinner is... different, tonight. While your father and sister look incredibly satisfied with themselves, even sharing a giggle at the circumstances, both you and your mother look ready to find a hole to go hide into. Poor Mom's face hasn't stopped glowing red since she came down with her husband, not wanting to look anyone in the eye. Just as well, since you're not willing to stare down anything but the kitchen table.

"Come now," barks Dad with a smirk, "are we all still in high school?" Hey. "We're all adults at this table, and we can all accept that something happened that adults do. It's a perfectly natural and beautiful thing."

You pipe up, "But in my room??? Why in my room? On my bed??"

Your parents' eyebrows raise, something dawning on their faces.

"Oh shit, we hadn't told you yet." Your father's chuckle turns into an amused guffaw. "No wonder you're so thrown off, ha-hah!"

"Gavin, sweetie..." Your mother risks a brief glance at you, making eye contact as long as she can bear. "We, um... we actually meant to surprise you—"

"Consider him surprised!" Dad laughs even as Mom swats his shoulder, making Theresa laugh along with him. They were a cute couple, you had to admit.

"Hush for a minute, Teddy!" Mom huffs, trying to focus. "After the two of you went out, your father and I figured that the one who owns the house ought to have the master bedroom." Now it's your turn to be shocked, mouth going slack. "Honestly, sweetie, it's the least we can do after your generosity earlier. We would have had everything moved around before you got home, but... well..." She smiles sheepishly, letting the statement hang.

"We got a little carried away, son. It happens. No big deal, right? Might be a good lesson to, eh, lock your door if you ever bring a nice young lady home with you, eh?" Ugh, don't wink, Dad. You're only making this worse.

"As if!" Theresa giggles again, thoroughly delighted with the circumstances. "Bubby hasn't even spoken to the girl he's crushing on!"

"Tess! Don't talk about that!"

Your sister bristles a little, calming down abruptly. "Okay, Bubby. Sorry."

Oops. You'd given her a command. "Order rescinded. Sorry, Tess, but that was said in confidence. Please don't make me regret opening up to you."

Theresa's posture relaxes again, but she pouts. "I am sorry, I didn't even think about it. Still, the best thing we can do is get you to talk to her!"

"She's right, son," Your dad adds, taking a drink after a hearty bite of food. "You've only got a few months of high school left. If you don't act soon, you're going to miss your chance forever."

"Yeah, I know... I just... I don't even know where to start." At least the shame of your hopeless social life somewhat replaces the embarrassment of catching your parents christening your bed. Well, it's _their _bed now, you suppose....

"Start with 'Hello,' sweetie." Mom smiles warmly, as relieved as you are to have the conversation shift. "No girl worth your time is going to judge you for being polite."

"Yeah, Bubby, just say hi! Give her a compliment, spark a conversation from there!"

Your face only gets redder as the three of them bombard you with well-meaning advice. Sure, as if it's really that easy!

At least things feel a bit normal again...

~

After dinner, your adrenaline and energy are spent all over again, and the heaving waves of fatigue beat you down all the way to... the master bedroom. You'd almost forgotten just how much your limbs ache, though getting a bit of relief in the shower numbed the soreness a tad. Hesitating at the door, you flinch to feel a soft hand gently tap your back. Glancing over your shoulder, you see Mom, smiling bashfully.

"I just wanted to let you know, sweetie, that... w-well, the bed has fresh sheets on it. We'll be sure to put your things away for you properly tomorrow, once you're off to school." You've never seen your Mom as embarrassed as today. She's normally so peppy and warm and comforting. Drumming yourself up, you manage a smile and bring her in for a hug.

"Thanks, Mom. Not gonna lie, having such a huge bedroom is really cool. Also, I'm sorry for, um... interrupting."

Mom shakes her head, happily hugging you right back. Those tender pillows mashing between the two of you bring flashes of memory. "Let's just move on from that, please? Your poor old mother just can't take it."

"Mom, you're not old," You assure her firmly. "Ask Dad and I bet he'd agree, you're still as lovely and sweet as the day you met him."

"Aww, baby!" Mom giggles and blushes, her eyes twinkling happily. "You keep laying on the charm like that, and you'll have no problem getting that girl to notice you."

You roll your eyes and break away from the hug. You can't help but smile along with your mom, though. "Can we move on from that too, please? Your poor son can't take it either."

The two of you laugh together and wish each other goodnight with a peck on the cheek. Finally, FINALLY your weary body finds a bed and falls into it. It's not the bed you're accustomed to laying in, but you find yourself comforted nonetheless. Possibly too tired to care, you don't even bother to undress or move under the blankets. You lay still, face-down, and let exhaustion take over as you finally bring this day to a close.

...This Day. This single day. How can so many things change in one single day? You almost can't recognize your life anymore. You own the house. You own your sister. Your relationship with everyone close to you has taken a turn, be it slight or stark. It's changing for the better though... right?

So much change, all from a little black marker, your name, and a day.

Your life is never going to be the same.