Part 1
It was almost nine o'clock and the family was still tying themselves in knots and tripping over each other to get out the door. The fat uncle almost slipped on the ice and his suitcase when flying into the middle of the street and almost caused an accident. The driver stopped to yell at them but the aunt was already screaming in her husband's face to get a move on, so the driver carefully backed away and moved the suitcase off the road. Wyatt chuckled to himself and put down the binoculars to take a sip of coffee.
Inside the house was more chaos as the twins refused to put away their toys while the girls argued over who had dibs on the back seat of the minivan. Three different dads and moms were tripping over each other trying to get all the suitcases to the front doors so they could finally make it out to the vehicles.
"We're leaving in one minute!" Said Paul, the grandfather -- the only one with any real authority in the family.
Somehow, a minute and a half later, the whole family was crammed into three minivans and the door was locked and they pulled out of the driveway like a well-planned motorcade.
As they drove past Wyatt's truck he ducked down in his seat, smirking as he muttered, "Adiós, Bennett family." And then he started his van and drove off to get the last few things he'd need for that night.
Later that morning, when the family was boarded and on their way to Mexico, something stirred in the quiet house they'd left behind on Elmwood Street.
In the attic, on the mattress on the floor, under the thick covers of the duvet, 19-year-old Zach Bennett woke up with a hardon.
It was one of those extra-rigid hardons that drew all of your attention and as soon as he slipped his hand into his boxers to touch it, it twitched and throbbed.
He rolled over onto his stomach with a light moan, and kept his eyes shut against the sunlight intruding through the window. He pulled the duvet tight against the cold and pressed his cock against his hand and the mattress.
While the attic air was chilly from bad insulation, the air under the duvet got warmer as he flexed his abs and humped his hand.
He started to sweat a little, and he ran his left hand up his abs to feel the moisture on his bare skin.
Nothing could intrude on his pleasure as his mind wandered to thoughts of tight chests and muscular arms, of smooth skin and stubble chins.
He fucked his hand a little harder and pushed his boxers a little lower.
As his toes curled and his legs stretched out he rolled over on his back and threw off the duvet. The cold air hit his sweat and made him gasp as he desperately stroked his cock and shot a slick white load over his chest.
A drip of cum rolled off his chin as the last squirt pooled in his belly button and he returned to Earth from the dopamine high of a satisfying morning stroke.
Finally, Zach opened his eyes, blinking a bit against the bright winter sun.
He looked to the side to see his phone, unplugged. He reached for it. It was dead. Drained by the cold attic air.
He plugged it in and waited a moment, something itching at the back of his mind trying to get his attention as he played with the cum on his stomach.
The phone woke up and Zach saw the time and his boarding pass.
"Fuck!"
Part 2
It was so long past when Zach was supposed to get up that he didn't even bother. He stripped off his boxers to wipe up his load and lay on his side under the blankets to start scrolling his phone.
There were a bunch of general wake up and go texts in the family whatsapp group, but nothing directed at him. He didn't have any missed calls or texts, and when he checked his father's social media all he saw was a smiling selfie with his mom, sitting together in first class clinking champagne glasses with the caption, "On time and on board," with a little Mexico flag emoji.
"They fucking left me?" Zach muttered under his breath. Had just forgotten he existed? Or maybe a bunch of them ended up staying behind and his parents had just fucked off for a second honeymoon?
Zach crawled over to his pile of clothes and pulled on a pair of sweatpants under the duvet. The shirt he had from the night before was stained with spaghetti sauce thrown by his little cousin, so he just pulled the duvet with him as he stood up, ducking his head a bit to avoid the ceiling beams.
The attic stairs were cold wood under his bare feet, with naked insulation along the walls, but as soon as he stepped down into the second floor hall he was standing on fluffy warm carpet, surrounded by rich burgundy walls. The house was still a work in progress in some ways -- an early retirement project for his wealthy parents to occupy themselves while they waited for Zach to finally leave. Banishing him to the attic so the girls could have his room was one of their subtle hints.
For the full year they had lived there Zach had never heard the house so quiet. There were no screaming cousins, no arguing aunts and uncles, no repair men or drywall guys or plumbers banging on pipes.
He looked in his bedroom and the bed was a mess, but the girls' bags were all gone, leaving it looking like it always did. There were few movie posters on the walls, one bookshelf full of DVDs and Blurays, several boxes of more DVDs and Blurays and books, and then just his double bed on the left and a hand-me-down flatscreen TV hanging on the opposite wall. Perfection.
Rather than get dressed, Zach continued wandering with his duvet cloak.
The other guest rooms were similar, a few had made their beds before leaving, but mostly sheets were tossed around with a few odds and ends like hair brushes and shampoo bottles abandoned in the chaos.
His parent's room was tidy and well-furnished, full of decorative pillows and one enormous teddy bear even larger than a real grizzly, which Zach's dad had bought his mom for a joke anniversary gift, but she'd ended up liking it better than the car he had waiting for her outside.
The kitchen was mostly tidy with a bunch of cereal bowls thrown in the sink to rot. A bottle of orange juice was out on the counter. Zach reached for it, letting the duvet fall off his bare shoulders as he chugged straight from the bottle.
He put it back down empty, wiped his mouth, and looked around once again at the silent, empty house.
"They fucking left me," he said again, but this time he was smiling.
At Home Depot, Wyatt looked through a discount bin hoping for some duct tape but came up empty handed. Down one of the aisles he found what he needed and he looked around for any employees before he slipped a roll of tape into his jacket. He walked around the place a bit longer and chatted up a cute guy working the paint counter before he walked out the front.
Zach was having the best fucking day.
Moans and squeals of pleasure echoed through the house mixed with some classic Christmas songs as the porn on the home theatre system in the living room competed with the Alexa speakers for dominance.
Zach had cranked the heat and tossed his sweatpants aside, enjoying the freedom of walking around the house completely nude. He sat on the best recliner with a TV tray loaded with cake, pie, waffles, a gourmet mocha, and an assortment of chocolate liqueurs. As the twink getting fucked on the TV threw his head back and shot a load on his chest, Zach threw his head back and ate whip cream straight from the can.
He played video games and watched Call Me By Your Name. He pulled a nice bottle of wine out of the cellar to have with dinner. He tidied up a bit around the kitchen, and then he watched some more porn. In the evening he ordered pizza, and only put on a bathrobe to answer the door. Before he knew it, he was yawning near the end of Casino Royale and he retreated to his bedroom, leaving behind half a bottle of wine and some pizza, ignoring the nagging feeling that his family should have tried to contact him by now.
Wyatt parked on the corner in the shadow of a naked oak tree. He had his ski mask and crowbar, and a backpack with the roll of duct tape inside. His hands were shaking a little bit but he smacked himself in the face a few times and thought about all the jewelry and cash he was going to find inside. Families like the Bennetts had tons of cash lying around, and with the neighbourhood mostly empty for the holidays it was all easy picking. He had nothing to worry about, he told himself.
The driveway and path around the side of the house hadn't been shoveled, so Wyatt stepped softly with oversized boots. If some over-eager forensics guy was going to try and track him on shoe sizes, Wyatt was going to throw him a curveball. He almost lost one boot when it slipped half-off his foot, but it seemed like a good plan to him.
At the side of the house was a small conservatory of glass that wasn't wired with the rest of the house's security system. When he was still helping his dad install these systems, Wyatt had helped out with the Bennett house. Breaking in wasn't the career path his dad would have wanted, but fuck it.
Using the duct tape, Wyatt pulled out a loose glass pane and reached in to unlock the door.
The house was quiet, and the carpet was soft, so Wyatt left his heavy boots at the door and continued in socks. There was a pretty nice TV in the living room and a nice computer in the office, but nothing small enough to be a target. He looked around for a safe, but found nothing. He didn't know how to crack a safe, but he had a stethoscope with him so he figured he'd give it a try if the opportunity came up.
Upstairs he crept past a few open bedrooms to the master suite. The first thing he saw was a makeup table with a pair of jewelry boxes. Bingo. The second thing he saw was a giant fucking teddy bear and he nearly yelled. Its big round head was the size of a coffee table and it bumped up against the ceiling.
Wyatt approached the bear to see how soft it was and didn't hear Zach come up behind him with a baseball bat.
It was dark, and his head was pounding. Wyatt tried to make sense of what was happening. He tried to move, but his hands were tied behind his back. He shifted his weight and it felt like he was laying facedown on a soft, round bed. Fuzzy fabric against his cheek.
"What are you doing in my house!" The gravelly voice echoed in Wyatt's ears. It sounded like an angry yell through a robot synthesizer. He looked around for the source, but something was covering his eyes.
"Why are you here?" The voice demanded.
Wyatt could feel himself start to shake. He could barely move, so there was no way he was getting away with this. The cops would come and he'd be arrested and everything was fucked. He tried to twist his hands away and realized they were tied with his own duct tape.
"WHY ARE YOU HERE?" The voice shouted again.
"I'm sorry!" Said Wyatt. "I needed some money and I thought everyone was gone! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"The cops are on their way," the voice growled.
"No! Please don't hand me over to them! I'll do anything!"
Wyatt listened for a response but all he could hear was someone breathing nearby so he continued, "I promise, I'll do anything you want. I just need a chance! Please!"
Zach thought for a moment. When he had hit him with the baseball bat, the burglar fell into the lap of the teddy bear, so Zach just bound his hands behind his back with some duct tape from the guy's bag and rolled his ski mask up over his eyes. He hadn't called the cops yet because the whole thing seemed to be over so fast, and now he just had this guy tied up in his house.
The house he had all to himself.
