Yes

The car was crowded. Diana stayed pressed against his back, openly grinding her half-hard cock against his ass while she kissed the side of his neck. Nearby women noticed. One by one they drifted closer. Hands brushed his hips, then his cock through his shorts. When Avery didn’t stop them, the touches grew bolder—sliding under the waistband of his panties, stroking his cock, spreading his cheeks.

Three fingers from three different hands found his hole at almost the same moment—one from the front, two from behind. They pushed in easily and froze for a second when they felt the fresh cum inside him. Then they started moving, fingering him in slow, coordinated strokes while Diana continued grinding against him, clearly enjoying the show. Avery kept his face turned toward the window, cheeks burning, legs slightly open, and let it happen for the rest of the ride.

When his stop approached he gently caught the wrists of the women around him. They looked disappointed but brightened when he quietly gave them his number. Diana kissed him once more at the doors, squeezed his ass in full view of the others, and let him go.

The house was quiet when Avery stepped inside. Martha’s car wasn’t in the driveway. In the living room his sister Blair sat on the couch, long black hair loose, legs stretched out, watching television. She looked up, and her face lit up.

“Avery!”

She stood and pulled him into a tight hug. He felt the half-hard shape of her cock press against his stomach through her clothes. She didn’t comment on it, and neither did he.

“I missed you,” she said, ruffling his hair. “Come sit. Tell me everything I’ve missed.”

They settled on the couch. Blair talked about her senior year, her dorm, the friends she was excited to see again. Avery listened, soft-spoken, answering her questions while the pleasant ache between his legs reminded him of everything that had already happened that day.

The front door opened a few minutes later.

Martha stepped inside, set her bag down, and looked at the two of them on the couch. Her eyes lingered on Avery a moment longer than usual—taking in the faint flush still on his cheeks, the slightly careful way he sat—before she smiled.

“Welcome home, Blair,” she said. “Both of you. I’m glad you’re here.”

She walked over, kissed the top of Avery’s head, then Blair’s, and headed toward the kitchen.

“I’ll start dinner. You two catch up.”

Blair leaned back against the couch, arm draped casually behind Avery’s shoulders, and smiled at her little brother.

“So,” she said, voice warm and curious, “what have you really been up to while I was gone?”

Blair kept her arm loosely around Avery’s shoulders while she talked about her dorm and the friends she planned to see during the week. Avery answered when she asked questions, voice soft, but his mind kept drifting to the pleasant, used ache between his legs and the way Martha had looked at him when she walked in.

From the kitchen came the ordinary sounds of dinner being prepared—cupboards opening, the fridge door, the soft clink of dishes. After a few minutes Martha called out,

“Blair, come help me set the table, would you?”

Blair squeezed Avery’s shoulder and stood. “Be right back.”

The moment she disappeared into the kitchen, Martha appeared in the doorway of the living room. She didn’t say anything. She simply walked over, took Avery’s wrist, and pulled him up from the couch. Her eyes were dark.

“Quickly,” she murmured.