"I'm home," I said to no one. Saying it out loud was an old habit I'd never break, although I knew the house was vacant. My older brother, Trent, had moved out five years ago and lived in an apartment downtown. The parentals were supposed to be at work, so it was an easy assumption that the house was empty of my other family members and the greeting was unnecessary as I had the entire place to myself.
I had decided just that morning to surprise my parents by coming home instead of going on spring break with some of the girls from my dorm. I set my duffle bag--read laundry--backpack, and purse near the door and headed into the kitchen. I wasn't hungry because I'd grabbed a burrito on the road.
I opened the fridge door and drank straight from the orange juice container. The sweet pulpy juice splashed against my lips and dribbled down my chin when a loud moan stopped me mid-sip. There was no mistaking that sound. Someone was having vigorous sex somewhere in the house. I smiled, wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and went to investigate.
I assumed it was my parents making love. Although they should have been at work, it was like them to sneak home in the middle of the day for a quickie. Trent and I had gotten used to their overwhelming affection for one another growing up. I don't think we knew of any other parents that expressed their love for one another so openly.
Our 'rentals couldn't be in the same room without touching in some way. They kissed or softly caressed each other, a pat on the butt here and there. They tickled one another for no other reason than to see the smile on the other's lips and the gleam in the other's eyes. It was almost sickening to watch two people be so in love, but that was our mom and dad, and really, it was very toothache sweet.
I was a little surprised to find them home. Dad's office was downtown and mom usually spent Friday's volunteering at the homeless shelter. I headed up the front staircase to check that it was indeed them. How sad would it be to have a burglar in the house, and I didn't check because I'd just assumed it was mom and dad, being mom and dad. Then again, what burglar stops to have sex while breaking into a house?
As I rounded the corner to the master bedroom, another loud moan gave me pause. It was familiar but not my father's or my mother's voice. That voice didn't register until my hand froze on their doorknob. It couldn't be, not that. I turned the handle and my eyes confirmed what my ears had heard. The scene that played out before me was so much more than I'd ever considered possible.
I watched as sweaty muscled flesh, slapped against sweaty muscled flesh. My brother's legs were draped over my father's broad shoulders as my dad impaled him on his cock. My father's right hand gripped my brother's own huge cock, pumping it in time to his thrusts and grunts. My brother's mouth was opened in ecstasy as he screamed out his pleasure. He came in my father's hand. Ropey streams of cum spurted from the eye of his cock. I watched as if I were a deer stopped by headlights.
It was a car crash in slow motion unfolding before my eyes and even as my mind screamed the horror of it, the repulsion, my body stirred at the erotic sight. It was the equivalent of watching gay porn. Wrong, gay, incestuous porn but my body didn't know the difference and the start of undeniable arousal pulsed through me. I backed away from the scene and bumped into the closet door, which caused the scream building in my throat to escape at the sudden ache in my back.
"No, no, no..." I said, as I turned and ran away from them.
I tripped over my left foot and stumbled down the stairs. I tried to move faster but my ankle twisted under. I landed on it and tumbled down the rest of the steps. The agony in my right ankle matched the seared images in my head and I crashed to the floor as all the air in my lungs left with no promise to return. My ankle pulsed, an angry red, in time to my rapid heartbeat threatening to pound out my chest.
Tears fell freely from my eyes and I couldn't catch my breath as I tried to get away from everything I'd seen. I heard their voices as if my ears were stuffed with earplugs, they were muted. I landed on my back. I turned over and crawled away on my hands and knees from the staircase towards the door.
"Tara, what are you doing here?" Trent said breathlessly from somewhere close behind me. I didn't know where he was exactly because at some point I'd closed my eyes. I continued to creep closer to the door, my heart pounding, even as my stomach threatened to empty the burrito I'd eaten an hour ago on the road. I couldn't answer him, because if I did, I'd be having my lunch in reverse.
"Tara, are you okay?" My father's voice now, again from somewhere behind me. His breathing was just as labored as my brother's air. I reached the wall and put my back to it. I threw my hands up to ward off any touches from the men in my family. Although my mind was clear that it was wrong, so very wrong what I'd walked in on, my body still pulsed with an immediate horny need. My eyes refused to open and I sat there trying to remember how to breathe for a moment as the pain in my ankle throbbed.
I felt someone closer to me and I squeaked out, "No, don't touch me!"
"But honey..." My father said.
"I saw what...what you and him...and him and you...You! Are you gay? How could you do that to mom? That's gay, right? Or is it incest? Incest and gay? Gross! How could you do that to mom?" I screamed. The words tumbled out of my brain and through my lips without a filter.
"Her ankle," my brother said from further away.
"Yes, I see it," my father responded. "Honey, listen..."
"No, I..." I felt his hands on my calf and my eyes flew open, "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
My body was confused by his touch. Electrical pulses flew through my body straight to my sex at his gentle hands on my leg. A once so familiar, so comforting touch, burned me now that it was laced with sexual urges and vivid images of where his cock had been moments ago.
My father's hands hovered above my leg and he was crouched down, naked in front of me. Trent zipped up his blue jeans near the staircase. I had a thought that my father's cum must be leaking out his anus, staining his jeans and once again my stomach churned. Dad's penis was still erect and it pressed against his stomach. He turned his head to look at Trent who was slumped, as if defeated, against the railing near the stairs. Trent's neck and chest were flushed, they were both red and sweaty from their exertions. Once more my stomach rolled.
"Go get an Ace bandage from the medicine cabinet and some ice from the fridge while I try to get her to the sofa," Dad said as he turned back to face me.
"And some sweatpants or something for dad," I said weakly. Trent paused for a second. A look of confusion crossed his face as if he were trying to figure out what to do first and then he darted back upstairs.
"Okay honey, let me help you to the sofa," Dad said, his voice was firm and calm.
I just stared at him for a moment and then I cleared my throat.
"No, I can do it myself," I whispered.
My father stood up and backed away from me holding his hands out, as if to say he was harmless. I found him anything but as his erection bobbed in front of my eyes. Images of the offending appendage danced before me as it plunged into my brother. Had that really happened? I shook my head and used the wall to support myself, putting little pressure on my sore ankle as I stood.
My foot couldn't take any of my weight and I stumbled. My father shot forward to catch me, but with just a look, he stopped and let me struggle on my own. The last thing I wanted was to have my naked father touch me.
He seemed completely at ease with his nakedness. Of course, he'd just fucked his son and I'd witnessed it, sure, but did he have to be so casual about it? Erotic images of their coupling clouded my head as I limped around the couch. I used the back of it to move to the front of the leather monstrosity. I could smell the sex on him even from that little distance between us. I sat down on the fluffy cushions.
"God dad, could you put some clothes on? What's wrong with you?" I said as my eyes opened and closed, taking in my father's naked body in minute pieces.
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, it was a good body. He was muscled and lean with broad shoulders. He had a slightly hairy chest with a little bit of gray hair. Most of his hair was dark brown hair. He wore it short on his head, and he had a strong face. A face I'd loved and adored over the years. I'd always found my dad handsome in a fatherly way. The sight of him with his cock buried in my brother's ass, my brother being a younger version of my father minus the hairy chest and all, eww, was all I could think even as it stirred things lower in my body.
"Listen honey." My dad sat down on the opposite end of the couch and put his knee up which blocked my view of his impressive cock. I manage to ignore that I was a little disappointed at the loss of the sight of it. He took a deep breath and turned his head toward me. He didn't look embarrassed or ashamed. He appeared calm, which annoyed me to no end. "I didn't realize I'd raised such a homophobic."
I turned bright red. "I'm not!" Of all the nerve. For him to accuse me of being the one with the problem. As if anything I'd seen fit in with what was socially normal.
"Oh really?" His eyebrows raised and a quick smirk played on his lips.
I turned the conversation back around to where the blame belonged. "YOU were having sex with your son. Forget the part of where it's a guy you were doing. That's not important, really it isn't. The guy, your son. You're married to mom. So, you were cheating on your wife with your son. See that's where the issue is. The incest. The adultery. Not the gay part, although, yeah, are you gay?"
Trent returned to the room. He handed dad a pair of jeans and then my brother approached me with an Ace bandage and a baggy of ice in his hands. He silently handed me the items and retreated to the corner near the fireplace.
Dad stood up and put on the jeans. I watched Trent while my father dressed. His shoulders slumped forward, his head was down, his hazel eyes looked anywhere but at me. He looked ashamed. It was clear to me he'd heard my last statement, I'd been yelling. I sighed heavily, some of my anger dissipated as I looked at my guilty older brother.
"I'm not gay. The only man I've ever had sex with is Trent. It wasn't about the sex, though. It was about loving him. Loving him completely, even showing him my love physically." My father said and then he looked at my brother in such a way that was very familiar to me. He looked at my mother the same way. Dad sat down on the end of the couch again.
I shook my head and laughed. Images of them together said different to my mind, "Oh really?"
"Really. I love your brother. I love your mother. I love you. We were just loving each other. Granted, it was in a way society doesn't agree with, but it was nothing more than that." He crossed his arms over his bare glistening chest.
"You love mom? If you love mom so much, how could you do this to her?" I asked and crossed my arms under my breasts.
"Your mother knows all about it. In fact, you could have just as easily walked in on your mother and your brother together. Would that have been better for you? At least it wouldn't have been 'gay' as you put it." He glared at me.
