TV Evening

You didn't even get dressed after your interaction with Riley, putting a bare ass to his lap as you eat dinner. These moments once shared with tension now gave way to the free reign of your, admittedly, one-track imagination. You could see yourself in the near future, instead of lounging around on your phone every waking hour, indulging in your brother's naked body, indefinitely. It's not like you had to plug him in every night. Mom's been saying you needed a hobby, though you're aware of the negative impact becoming a full-time homebody could be. Your mother didn't care, and by extension it seemed no one else would either; would that mean you could follow your brother around wherever in public and lay waste to his not-so-virgin asshole?

The screech of forks hitting porcelain conclude the dinner portion of your evening. All the more serendipitous that your Dad walks through the front-door, like clockwork, heaving a leather satchel to the nearby sidetable, and meeting your Mom at the kitchen doorway.

"Welcome home!" she leans in for a peck. "How was work?"

Your Dad grunts, returning a favorable kiss onto your mother's adoring lips. "Tiring," he says as he pulls out of her embrace.

"But I'm glad to be home. You wouldn't believe the road rage I caught on the way-" Your father stops dead in his tracks as he sees you -- to his view, shirtless, an empty plate in front of you, with Riley's flustered face poking out from behind your shoulder. From the look on your Dad's face, the jig was up. He knew what you two were doing, and he had no illusions that what was happening, was not right...

...and then his expression all but faded in an instant. "Boys!" he walks forward, assuming the loving father role as he ascertains his two sons sitting nude, ass on lap. He smiles, "How long's this been going on?'

"This afternoon." You remander, familiar to your father's systematic prodding, but for all you knew this had always been your prerogative. "Did you not... know about this? Are you alright with this?"

Dad chuckles, "Of course I know you're allowed to fuck femboys, I just-- I've never seen the two of you - bond - before now. Caught me a bit off-guard, that's all."

"They've been going like rabbits all day," your mother chortles, "We've saved you some leftovers, dear. I'll grab you a plate."

"No need, May," your father raises a hand before winking to you and Riley. "I'll grab my own and park it around the television. You two can help your mother with the dishes."

As the world moved on, you viewed it in a lens you could label as unhealthy. Every drop of information just another means to foreplay. The thought of shooing your mother while you douse Riley in sudsy dishwater had a certain appeal, but you'd sooner opt for a new witness to your incestuous sexcapades: your father. It beared experimenting; how much of a spectacle was it really? Your mother isn't that loose with her tongue to make an obvious comment. How about Dad?

"Actually, Mom," piping up opposed to your unprompted volunteering, "Would it be alright if me and Riley-" you stifle a laugh, "-fuck, instead? Like, heh, just off the walls, totally..."

You trail off to an uncharacteristic maternal glare. On a sharp inhale, "How do you boys still have the energy?!" she laughs, rolling her eyes. "Go ahead. I can't expect the three of us to fit crowding around one basin."

You practically yank Riley's arm off pulling him into the living room. You shove a tongue down his throat, forcing a finger up his crack. Your dad gives a side-eye to Riley's moaning, forcing his gaze back to the channel selection screen. You wonder...

"Can you play some femboy porn on there?"

"I- uh, I'm not sure we can -- get any -- on here." Dad absently fumbles the remote, not exactly perturbed, but neither inclined to sort for your request.

"That's alright," you shrug off, "We'll have to look into that later."

You thought it ended there, but Riley squirms out of your hold. He faces you with a furrowed brow, his erection pouncing.

"Uh..."

A fluid anger forms and falls onto Riley's face, but he refused to speak. It felt to curtail this so-far perfect evening as your brother stares you down. What did you do wrong?
In an instant, Riley's posture changes. You see something snap in his brain that decides for him to take action, and he lunges -- pushing you onto the couch.

Then, he mounts you. Surprised at your brother's initiative, you reasoned that, for the moment, you weren't in control anymore. It's. not like you weren't gonna put out for him. Riley struggles positioning your penis before slamming his butt around it. You held his hips in the interest of teamwork, but Riley seemed determined to hold up on his own.

"Fuck me, bro!" he cries.

Uh, okay! If you insist!

It helped that Riley had his own plans in mind. I wasn't exactly teeming with creative throughput on degrading things to do with our bodies. I picked up on an instinctive reflex to reach out at random, absently caressing our Dad's shoulder for an instant, before pulling away. I'd have to watch out for that.

I was in heaven, though vividly aware we were displacing the entire couch surface via hip-gyrating. In contrast, Dad seemed a tad uncomfortable sharing a cushion crack to his sons having sex, but he soldiered on. Trying to distract himself with the new releases on Netflix, the trooper.

As much self-control that I had, I was still hoping to poke the bear a little, moaning a coherent sentence. "How was work, Daddd?"

Between the flesh-slapping, Riley's incoherent speaking in tongues, and the unprompted autoplaying of movie trailers, "I'm having a hard time focusing what happened today," I couldn't exactly fault him on his answer.

I could only redirect my attention back toward Riley, as he took to nesting his head into my shoulder and muffling his screams into the couch. That primal touch. He would squeeze down on my forearm and **** his butt with as much weight as he could into my lap. He wasn't holding back the tension, as light as his fingers were. It didn't hurt, simply pressure. But I could tell by his grip, he wanted to strangle me.
I feel a jet of warm goop land on my stomach, and Riley playfully putting teeth against my neck. The last cacophony distracts from the fact that I hadn't cum yet, though I was close. I push Riley onto the floor and stand over him, stroking to finish on his face.

He smiles gleefully, closing his eyes with tongue out. My seed is erratic, landing in both his mouth and on his hair. My previous attempts to keep the floor clean were for naught, but I suspected the path I was going down, cleanliness was a futile endeavor.