Tom looked at his hands resting on his desk. How did his life spin out of control? Even his beloved routine could not comfort him now. How could he have thought that he could handle this? Less than a week ago, his world had been the perfect, orderly, tight ship, and he the captain sailing through calm seas. Now he was buffeted from every side by uncertainty and indecision, two things he hated above all else. He didn’t know who was at the helm anymore, but it certainly wasn’t him.
The weekend had been a bewildering nightmare for so many reasons. When he rose on Saturday morning, determined to confront his wife and son about their behavior, neither was in the house. No breakfast awaited him in the kitchen, and his puffed-up courage deflated like a pricked balloon. He made a halfhearted attempt to cook his own breakfast, giving up when he burned the scrambled eggs. He stood at the window in the breakfast nook where he had so casually figured the gallons of stain needed for his deck a few days ago, and looked out on a sunshine-filled day without seeing a thing. He drank his morning coffee without tasting it, and decided to work on the deck while the beautiful weather held. At least it would be something to do, something else to think about. He and Charlie often did minor projects around the house and yard together, spending a weekend completing something together.
The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea. A father-son project would reset the clock—back to where it had been. He’d go and get the supplies and text Charlie to let him know that he needed to help his father. Yes, that would put things back into perspective and Tom’s control.
He left the DIY store a couple of hours later, determined to immerse himself into the deck project with all the enthusiasm he could muster. When he got home, however, all enthusiasm left. He entered the kitchen through the garage only to find his wife and son in a close embrace, kissing as passionately as they had the night before. While Annie seemed to start with surprise and even look a bit guilty to be caught kissing her son by her husband, Charlie was unrepentant in the face of his father’s stern look. In fact, Charlie continued to hold his mother in their incestuous embrace, and even drew her closer as Tom watched. Charlie kept his eyes on his father’s face as he leaned down to kiss Annie again.
Tom didn’t—couldn’t—stay to watch. He changed into old clothes and threw himself into the deck project, sanding, replacing nails as needed, and preparing to apply the stain. When Charlie joined him half an hour later, the two men did not speak, but continued to work in the rapidly warming air. Tom worked harder than he had in years, trying not to think about the situation inside the house. Ultimately, the distraction failed. With each rhythmic swipe of the brush applying the stain, he felt again the rhythm of the king-size bed as his son stroked his mother’s pussy. Tom found himself aroused most of the morning.
Lunch cured that. When Annie joined them a couple of hours later with sandwiches and cold drinks, the three sat at the round table where it was placed in the yard, not speaking. Tom felt miserable. His family—his whole world—was irreparably damaged by his wife’s and son’s conduct, and he felt angry and abused. He was gathering his courage to speak to the two when Charlie casually leaned across to Annie and caressed her face, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip in the process. The look of naked desire and love on his wife’s face robbed Tim of his breath, and he sat frozen, watching the two. Annie’s smile at Charlie was one of love and passion, one that Tom could not remember ever being directed at him.
Two days later, he still burned at the memory of what he witnessed. It was brief—only a few seconds—but in those few moments, Tom realized that something precious he’d had the opportunity to have for all those years was slipping away. Had he ever had such a relationship with his wife? Tom cupped his forehead with his hands, rubbing at the ache that seemed to have taken up residence there as he remembered Saturday afternoon.
The rest of the day was a blur of hard work, with Tom and Charlie staining the large outdoor decking together in a weird father-son competition to see who could finish first. The hot sun beat down on them, and Tom’s back ached miserably as Charlie continued to stain more square footage than his father. At some point, Annie joined them with lemonade and ice as she always did when they had a home project in the works, and Tom and Charlie stopped and took a break. Again, neither man spoke. Even for Tom, the silence felt unnatural and unusual, and served only to heighten the tension between the three. When Annie announced that she would leave for the grocery store and pick up something for dinner, Tom was relieved.
He and Charlie finished the project shortly after that, and Tom took to the shower, his entire body aching, feeling every one of his 42 years. He stood under the hot water in the shower, head down, letting the water beat down on his back and neck, and felt not an ounce of desire to touch himself, an unusual situation for him. When he emerged in clean clothes a few minutes later, Charlie and Annie were laughing in the kitchen. He stood just outside the door and listened to them talk, feeling excluded and empty. Had at least being present for their laughter and conversation all those years been pleasure for him? He hadn’t thought so, hadn’t really thought he’d noticed either of them, but clearly being the third wheel in this growing relationship was painful. He went into the media room and sat in his recliner in the semi-darkness, not reading, not turning on a lamp or the television. He didn’t know how long he’d been there before Annie came in and turned on a lamp. She sat on the couch across from him and looked at him for a long time before finally speaking.
“Tom, I know this is all a bit much for you.” He looked across at her, seeing how vital and young she looked. Was she glowing? Was she already pregnant? The thought brought a pang of something he didn’t want to address. “I’m not sure what it is you are so upset about, Tom. You’ve not wanted me for a long time. Now that someone does you seem to be depressed and unhappy, and I don’t know why.” Was she really that naïve? Did she really not see how wrong this entire situation was? Could she not understand that he had lost his place in the world?
She went on. “This attitude of yours is unacceptable, and you need to stop pouting.” Tom looked up surprised, and felt moved to respond, even to confront.
“This attitude of mine? How can you say that?” He heard the petulance in his voice but couldn’t stop. “You and Charlie are having sex. You’re having sex with your son.” He watched her wince with some malicious satisfaction.
But then Annie shrugged and tilted her head, a look he recognized, one he had enjoyed for years, knowing it was her way of accepting the inevitable. “Tommy,” she said a bit reproachfully, and something in Tom melted a little. He’d been called Tommy his whole young life, stopping everyone only after he and Annie had been married for a year, thinking that it was time for everyone to respect him as the man of his own house, the husband and father he had become. But he’d missed hearing Annie call him that. “Tommy, the only thing that has changed in this house is that two people who love each other are showing it in a way different than they have before. Charlie and I have always cared deeply for each other. And I have cared for you, and still do. What else has changed?” She watched him process that for a moment and then rose to leave the room. “Supper in 5 minutes, so go wash up.” Tom watched her leave, and then went to wash his hands and join his family at the table.
While dinner should have been an exercise in frustration, it was instead a time for Tom to think. Annie had made sure that his French fries were well done and crispy, just like he liked, and there was a little pot of mayonnaise for him to dip them into. His burger was also well-done, without any extraneous condiments, and he ate with a bit of the enjoyment he’d felt earlier in the week as he’d convinced his wife—he’d thought—that another child was not in their best interests. He watched, mostly silent, as Annie and Charlie talked and laughed, and again, he felt a little like normal was returning to their family. Then Charlie leaned over to Annie and rubbed away a bit of mustard at the edge of her mouth. Annie laughed, glowing and happy, and the two leaned closer so that Charlie could kiss her and give the edge of her mouth a little lick. Tom watched the two and his heart pounded in his chest. How could Charlie be so affectionate and casual? And how could Annie accept Charlie’s gestures of love without leaving Tom to one side? His dinner forgotten, he felt like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away, and he watched with envy as Charlie flirted with Annie.
It was then that he realized what was different. It was then that he realized that, while he had not been affectionate with his wife over their marriage, he had been competitive with his son. And it appeared that his son had won. Tom wondered if Charlie was aware of how defeated his father felt, watching his son and his wife together. When Charlie leaned back after kissing Annie, his casual glance towards his father told Tom everything he needed to know. While it was clear that Charlie loved his mother, Charlie was also very well aware that he had won over his mother from his father, and every moment spent together with his mother and father buoyed Charlie’s confidence even more. The look he gave his father was one of triumph.
Tom pushed away from the table, leaving the remains of his meal where it was and went into the garage, where he stood, his temper boiling. I should just drive away—he thought to himself—I should just leave them both here. But even as he stood there pondering a destination, his anger drained away and anxiety and fear took its place. What would become of him? What was he supposed to do in this new paradigm? How did he fit in? This felt like chaos, something he hated. All he wanted was the comfort of his discipline and routine again.
Tom lost track of how long he stood in the garage waiting and wondering, before going back into the house. He took another shower, this time determined to regain his routine, but when he touched his cock for his biweekly masturbation, the only image he could see in his head was that of his son rising up on his elbows above his mother, Charlie’s young and muscled body heaving as he thrust into his mother over and over again, and Annie’s head thrown back in joy and pleasure as she orgasmed around her son’s cock. Tom gave up, dried off, put on his pajamas, and slid into bed, his exhaustion overtaking him.
When he awoke hours later, it was to feel the now-familiar movement of the bed as Charlie and Annie fucked, but this time it was Annie’s lamp that was on, and it was Annie on top of Charlie, riding him. Charlie’s hands covered her full, heavy breasts and squeezed as she thrust her hips back and forth. It was Charlie’s voice he heard when he awoke: “That’s it mom…that’s it. Ride me, mom….ride my cock with that hot, wet pussy.”
And ride Annie did. Tom never knew that Annie liked to be on top like this—they’d certainly never made love this way. Her head thrown back in ecstasy, Annie rode Charlie and his cock like a professional, first with her knees down on the bed, her body rising up and down, her heavy, full breasts swaying. Tom watched for what felt like hours as she moved and shook, riding and cumming, riding and cumming. Then she leaned down to kiss Charlie and adjusted her position, bringing her knees up and placing her feet on the bed as Charlie thrust up into her, his hands on her hips. Tom watched it all as Annie came over and over and over again.
Father and son shared the same expression of amazement and admiration as the beautiful woman they both loved pleasured herself on her son’s cock. As she moaned and shook, Tom felt his throat tighten as he watched her take control. The pressure of Tom’s hard cock eventually became unbearable, and he untied his pajama bottoms to give himself access. As Annie moved and contorted her body over her son’s body, Tom stroked his cock and came in his hand, then continued to stroke his cock using his own cum as lubricant. When he heard Charlie begin his now familiar mantra—”Mom, I’m cumming, I’m cumming”—Tom joined his son and came again in his hand, harder than he’d ever remembered. As he felt the ropes of cum leave his cock, he realized it was spattering Annie’s leg, and knew that he had moved closer while watching his son and wife together. The three breathed hard and fast in unison as they rested, and Tom again felt both comforted and frightened.
He knew he fell asleep after that, because he didn’t even remember Charlie leaving the bed, and he slept late the next morning, waking long after the sun slanted in the bedroom windows. For a few minutes he lay in his marital bed and thought about the situation, then determined that he would follow his normal Sunday routine with a vigorous run and weights workout. He was sticky however, with the cum he’d expressed, and he took a quick shower first, followed by a satisfying piss. He was whistling when he entered the breakfast nook, so it was surprising that Charlie and Annie didn’t hear him. They were lost in each other, however, as Charlie bent his mother over the sink, his naked body thrusting, his cock in sliding in between her thighs, his arms around her as his hands cupped her full, heavy breasts to pull her back into him. Annie was dressed in a sundress, lifted to her hips, her thong panties pushed to one side to give her son access, moaning in time with his thrusts—”Yes, Charlie, my baby, yes”—and was about to orgasm when Tom walked in.
Charlie noticed Tom first, but didn’t slow his thrusts down at all. In fact, he held Tom’s gaze while he continued to thrust into his father’s wife. Annie’s head was down, her eyes closed, as she gasped in pleasure. Tom felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. For some reason, he thought that Charlie and Annie’s nighttime sex had been all they had enjoyed, that somehow it wasn’t really an affair that they would engage in, but had simply been Charlie servicing his mother’s desire to be impregnated. This—this—was different. This was pleasure, and sex, and…mating…on a level Tom had never experienced. He picked up his pace and ran through the kitchen and through the garage, not stopping, and ran hard and fast until he could run no more.
He eventually stopped, panting and exhausted, in a park a few miles from the house, one where he and Annie had taken Charlie when he was small. Tom sat on a bench and watched children playing, chasing one another around the green grass and sandy play area. Their screams and loud laughter echoed in the late spring air, and the normality of the scene soon lulled him into thought. He remembered Charlie at that age—eight or nine—already a big boy for his age, calling out to Tom to watch him perform some act of daring. Annie had always been the more attentive caregiver, but Tom had enjoyed Charlie’s athleticism, and it wasn’t too many years after the playground time that Tom and Charlie had begun competing in their runs. Charlie struggled at first, but then began to occasionally win in their races. Tom was wondering whether that early competition had led to the current events when he felt a hand clap his shoulder.
“Dad, I thought I’d find you here. We need to talk.” Tom slid down the bench a bit as Charlie dropped to the other end. The men eyed each other warily, then both determinedly looked out to the children playing. “Dad, things are changing. Have changed.” Charlie cleared his throat. “And are about to change more.”
Tom wondered what he could say to regain control here. “Charlie, I don’t need you to lecture me…”
Charlie interrupted. “Mom needed me to give her what you wouldn’t.” Tom looked at Charlie in disbelief, but Charlie wasn’t looking at Tom, and he continued on. “Mom’s always wanted a big family, and it wasn’t fair for you to deny her what she needs. I’ll give her this baby she wants, and maybe more.” Tom continued to stare at his son, wondering if he had indeed missed, for all those years, Annie’s desire for more children, and Charlie finally turned to his father. “And you’re going to make sure she’s happy and taken care of.”
Tom finally found his voice. “Charlie, what do you think gives you the right to tell me how to take care of my wife and family?”
Charlie looked steadily back at Tom. “I love Mom. And that gives me the right.”
The two men looked at each other for a minute, then Charlie turned his gaze back on the children at play. “I can’t wait for Mom to get pregnant—she’ll be so beautiful and ripe. And happy.” He looked back at Tom. “And our child will be beautiful too, don’t you think, Dad?” Tom felt his stomach drop as he considered—for the first time—that if Charlie impregnated Annie, any child she would have would be Charlie and Annie’s child—and his grandchild.
He heaved himself to his feet. “Charlie, I don’t know what to say to you. I can’t—I don’t…” He broke off. “I need to run.” He turned away and started walking to the street, but he could still hear Charlie’s last comment.
“It’s happening, Dad. Get your head around it.”
Tom ran until he could run no more.
Hours later, after a protein shake for dinner, he lay in bed, waiting. He had to admit to himself that he was already aroused, that he had no desire to masturbate in the shower, that he wanted, with everything in him, to lie next to his wife and son while they fucked or mated or made love or whatever it was they chose to do. He finally acknowledged that somewhere in himself what they were doing made some strange sort of sense, and while it confused and bewildered him, it also excited him more than he’d ever been excited.
When Annie came to bed, she first removed her robe and stood next to the bed in the circle of light from her lamp, naked and glorious, her mature curves soft and full. She looked at him, lying still on his side of the bed, facing her, no book in his hands, no excuse for his presence, and smiled at him. He was too breathless to return her smile, but he continued to gaze at her as she climbed into bed, and this time, she slid across to kiss his forehead. “Tommy,” she breathed, as she caressed his cheek.
Tom tried desperately to think of something to say—anything—but, before he could think of a thing, she was already turning away as the bedroom door opened, and Charlie entered. Charlie was fully naked, and Annie opened her arms to him as he slid into bed. Tom watched helplessly as Annie and Charlie embraced, Charlie’s mouth brushing Annie’s before sliding down the side of her neck to Annie’s delighted laughter. Charlie’s lips took hold of her right nipple before Annie could even speak, and Tom watched the two wrestle lightly before Charlie began to suckle Annie’s breast in earnest.
He was lightheaded with envy. He wanted that breast, wanted to suckle on those breasts he had ignored for years, wanted to clutch her other breast with its soft, full flesh as he used his mouth and tongue and teeth on its partner. The rest of it—he couldn’t really get his head around—but he knew that watching Charlie suckle Annie’s breasts was excruciating. Charlie didn’t stay there long tonight, however; he had other plans. After paying tribute to the twins, Charlie slid lower, his face coming to rest in front of his mother’s shaven pussy. Annie threaded her fingers through Charlie’s curly dark hair with a long, drawn out sigh, and Charlie began to lick, making his tongue flat and broad, first sucking her puffy lips into his mouth, then trading them for her clit, then pointing his tongue and thrusting it into her hole. She moaned once, then again, while Tom watched and unconsciously moved closer, fascinated by Charlie’s skill. Tom certainly hadn’t been able to satisfy Annie at 20—rarely satisfied her at all—and the fact that Charlie seemed to be able to give Annie exactly what she needed left Tom wondering if he was the only man who hadn’t gotten lessons in how to please a woman.
But something else was tugging at his attention. Annie’s beautiful heavy breasts were left unattended, and Tom wondered what would happen if he reached out and simply—touched the one closest to him. Would Annie or Charlie protest? Jeer at him and humiliate him? Would they even notice him? Charlie was occupied with his ministrations to his mother’s pussy, and Annie’s eyes were closed, her hands fondling and caressing her son’s head as he pleasured her.
He was so close, perhaps a foot away. He slowly reached out a hand and touched Annie’s nipple, stroking it with one finger. Annie made a sound in her throat and Tom almost snatched his hand away, but a look at her face showed that she was smiling and looking at him. He kept his finger on her nipple, stroking and flicking, and the increasing pressure in his cock told him last night’s excitement was nothing compared to this.
Keeping her left hand on Charlie’s head between her thighs, Annie lifted her right arm above her head, and Tom had more room to touch, so touch he did. He cupped her heavy breast in his hand and slid it underneath, lifting it slightly up and away from her chest. His mouth watered and his breathing grew heavy and rapid as he stared at her fleshy tit, dying for a taste. He moved toward her, and Charlie stopped and lifted his head at the sudden movement; for a moment the two men stared at each other, then Charlie deliberately lowered his head back to his mother’s pussy and renewed his efforts.
Tom drew a deep, deep breath and inhaled Annie’s scent. He didn’t realize how much he’d missed it until he smelled her: musky and slightly fragranced, with a unique scent that was all her own, like tart ripe fruit. As he lowered his mouth to her nipple, his cock began to ache with its own fullness, and for a moment he thought he might cum in his pajamas before he even touched her. But he maintained, and the first taste of her after so long was as heady as the scent had been. He licked, then sucked, then took the entire nipple into his mouth, and for a moment felt lightheaded again, but then the world seemed to right itself as Annie curled her arm around her husband, holding him to her breast while he suckled. It was only a few seconds before Tom felt his cock throbbing and then he knew he had cum, a slow and enervating drain of his cum out of his cock, untouched by his hands, soaking his pajamas. He breathed hard against Annie’s nipple for a moment, then continued to suckle, his right hand cupping her breast, his left against his own cheek, feeling the relief and release of the pleasure in his cock and balls as the pressure decreased.
And then the unthinkable happened—something that had never happened before. As he suckled on his wife’s breast, while his son voraciously licked and sucked her cunt, before Tom could stop, before he could even believe what was happening, he pissed himself.