We can always figure this out later

Your father decides he's having too much fun to worry about the cause right now, helping you pull your mother off his cock by a hunk of hair so you can eagerly take it down your own throat. Your mother struggles needlessly hard against his grasp, sacrificing many hairs trying to pull away, beginning to tug at your hair in the same way. You don't even mind much, desperately trying to bob on him despite her, it feels pretty great, actually.

Your brother behind you switches from your mother's ass to yours, much to your delight, pulling your thin thong aside and sliding inside with great ****. That feels awesome! You're having a great time, and getting better, as your pissed and angry mother crushes your closest breast with spite. You begin nearing orgasm already.

Your orgasm hopes are as crushed as your tit, with your father suddenly taking his cock away from you and feeding it to your mother, just to stop her attacks on you. Not that you seem to mind them. Pete pulls out as well, discussing with your father ways to keep you from fighting each other. They decide to move you out from under the table, placing you on top of your mother, both doggy style, out on the kitchen floor.

Your brother moves quickly between your two stacked assholes with a couple strokes each, while your father lets you both take turns bobbing crazily on him. Your mother was chosen for the bottom since she seemed to be abusing you more than the other way around, and being on all fours under you keeps you from getting abused while they are both inside you instead of her.

Unfortunately it doesn't work out that way. You reach around and crush her big tits in the same way she was crushing yours, not out of spite, but because you wish someone would do it to you. Your father thinks about stopping you, but mom starts to orgasm violently around his cock, so he lets it slide for the moment.

Pete offers a trade as your mother comes down, so they walk around you. Pete begins fucking both of your throats violently, which you appreciate. Your father begins working his way up and down all four stacked holes, trying to move as quickly as possible with one thrust each. You appreciate your turns in this as well, though you wished it was more painful. Err, pleasurable? Whichever. You just want someone to hit you.

"Someone fucking hit me!" You blurt out without even thinking, not that it would have stopped you. Your mother tries to agree as well as she can around Pete's pounding thrusts. This is going even better than he hoped. Your father isn't so sure.