The sun fell lazy through the glass, coating the carpet in a fuzzy haze. The sounds of the television became a lulling, imprecise rhythm, fading deeper and deeper into the barely noticed areas of his mind.
The couch cushion smelled of corn chips, and there was a small spring pressing into his side. His thumb, operating independent of his brain, pressed the channel button. Every three seconds. There was a brief moment each change when the screen went black and he could see himself stretched out on the couch in the reflection of the screen.
He was alone in the den. His first day off in over two weeks, and he was utilizing it as best he could. He thought of the days just a year ago when he was balancing school and work. At least in that there was something to keep variety in his day. Different classes, different people, and a varying work schedule. As it was, he was grinding away doing the same job everyday, all day. His only consolation was in the growing bank account.
His father had agreed that it was a good idea for him to keep living at home, continue paying the small monthly rent he'd paid over the past five years, and save his money to get a home of his own. His father was in no hurry to push his children out of the home. Calvin knew this. He saw in those moments when he found his father sitting by himself in the den, staring blankly at the television, that once he and his sister were gone, their father would be alone.
Calvin had worked hard the last year. College was behind him, and he was putting his all into his job. His father had told him in private how immensely proud he was of both Calvin and his sister. They had done all he could ever ask. That made it all worth it.
Calvin heard the door shut in the next room. He didn't move as he clicked from channel to channel. His body appeared every three seconds. He saw himself covering the couch, dressed in his best ripped sweat shirt and boxer shorts. Channel, him. Channel, him. Channel, him. Channel, Anne. She was standing behind him, leaning over the couch.
"You alive?" she asked him. He mumbled something and turned on his side. The spring that had been sticking him, made a popping noise at his increased weight.
"I just finished my paper. I think I did pretty good. Could you read it? Let me know?" She ran a finger over his ear, tucking his hair back.
"Sure."
"How about some lunch?" she asked, bending over the back of the couch until she was just inches from his ear. "You must be famished after all of this activity."
"Not really." He continued changing channels. It took her three clicks of the remote to walk around the couch and then to stretch out next to him on what was left of the cushions. She laid her head on his outstretched arm and stretched her legs out with his. Her bare feet rested on his shins. He put his nose to her hair and breathed in deeply.
"You smell nice," he whispered.
"We have the house to ourselves, you know."
"I know."
"So, you want to keep watching TV?"
"Nothing else to do."
"We could talk about world events."
"Not happening." She took the remote from his hand and punched in the music channel. Someone beautiful was singing something trite. He couldn't remember who it was. It was hard to keep them all straight.
"We could go over my paper." She turned the volume up. He watched the lean curvature of her arms as she aimed it at the screen. His free arm came around and slid under the waistband of her skirt.
"No panties?"
"Laundry day," she said, still fiddling with the remote. "How do I get it to do the picture in a box thing?"
"Blue button." Her skin was warm and smooth. "It's called 'picture in picture'."
"Whatever." She pulled it up and soon there was another music channel showing another beautiful singer; mouthing trite words, he was sure.
"What are we watching?" He slid his hand over her smooth hip and down between her legs. She pulled her legs up and sighed.
"I don't know." They lay on their sides and pretended to care what was on the screen. Every few minutes she would switch the pictures and the music would be momentarily silent.
"It's nice in here. We don't get to have the day together very often," she said softly. He felt her lips on his arm. Soon, it was his lips on her neck. Then it was her hand pressing his hand tighter between her thighs.
She turned on her belly, aiming the remote at the television again, turning it up louder than before.
"I really like this song," she panted. Calvin just pulled his arm out from under her chin and lifted his body over hers. When he was sitting, straddling her thighs, he shimmied her skirt down to her knees, and slipped his shorts down just below his balls.
She was smiling over her shoulder as she flattened her shoulders to the seat cushion and lifted her ass as much as she could. Anne had her t-shirt wrenched up over her breasts as she rubbed against the rough material of the couch.
Calvin lowered himself, pressing gently to her chestnut skin. He slid a hand between them and took hold of his cock. With practices ease, he guided it to her already moist pussy, pushing slowly, inch by inch. He barely heard her soft grunts over the television. Her firm cheeks rubbed against his belly as he moved in and out of her. They took their time. He no longer felt obscene in the daylight. She had told him over and over that they were what they were. She loved him, and he loved her.
She whispered to him and he just picked up the pace. He moved inside her, trying to hold out as long as he could. He never lasted long when they fucked like that. Anne was mumbling something he didn't understand when she closed her eyes and brought her tight fists up under her chin. He felt her body tense and release a few times before she locked onto him. He let go. He just relaxed and buried himself as far as he could inside her. She popped her eyes open and had a look of surprise on her face as he came in her burning cunt.
Every time was the first time for them. It was never boring, or casual. It meant as much physically and emotionally, and had as much impact as the first time they ever fucked. There were times that were more intense, but never more important.
Calvin slid himself off her sweaty body, wedging himself again between her body and the couch back. Neither one made any moves to cover themselves.
His hands smoothed her hair from her face as she turned to look at him. She closed her eyes as he leaned forward. Their mouths met, tasting each other hungrily, and breaking only for air. She slid an arm under him as she turned her body to his, and brought her other arm around his body, holding him close. Her face buried itself against his thick chest, as he wrapped his long arms around her body.
* * * *
Calvin heard a noise coming from the back room. It was a small bedroom that had been converted to a study for their father. He spent a great deal of time in there with his books and his radio. He had disappeared after dinner and hadn't come out since.
Calvin walked down the hall, sipping gingerly from his too-full glass of water. He saw his father sitting on the small leather couch, holding a picture of Calvin and Anne's mother. He was running his thumbs over the glass and looked to have been crying. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks glinted under the soft lamps.
"Dad? Everything okay?"
"Sit down, Calvin."
