Date: Wed, 28 Dec 2016 15:39:26 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: 12 Tales of Christmas: Starting Over

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/135742750174/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
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*****

"So you're gonna stay awhile, right?" Dad said as we merged onto the
freeway from the airport. "Not just for Christmas?"

"I guess so, if it's OK with you," I shrugged, looking out the window. Home
again. Maybe not under the best of circumstances, but still, it was good to
be back. "I'm on a one-way ticket. Nowhere else to be. Guess I'll start
looking for something new in the new year."

"Good, bud," Dad smiled over at me, reaching across the console to give my
knee a squeeze. Like always, it sent a buzz right up my thigh to my
cock. But he knew that, and it just made him smile even more. "We're glad
to have you home again. For as long as you like."

He ran his big, strong hand a little further up my inner thigh from my
knee, and that set my cock to a full-blown hardon. I grunted a little,
shifting my ass in the seat, loving Dad's low chuckle at my blush, my
bashful smile. Even after all these years, all we'd done, it had been a
little while, and I had to kind of get back in that mode with him. I was
glad to, had been looking forward to it ever since the fucking company had
pink-slipped me and three hundred other employees right before our holiday
party two weeks ago, and Dad had told me to come on home. But it was going
to take me a minute. I still had a lot on my mind. Was still feeling a
little down on myself, worried about what was next. But in the meantime, I
was home, and Dad was here for me, and I was feeling better by the minute.

"Clint's real glad to have you home," Dad said. "He'll be excited to know
you might stay awhile."

"You guys driving each other crazy yet?" I asked with a half-grin.

"We're doing great, buddy," Dad said with a little chuckle, looking over at
me with a smile, his hand now doing that slow, rubbing stroke up and down
my inner thigh with more intention.

I'd wondered about that. None of us had ever explicitly said anything about
it. I'd Skyped with Clint earlier in the year, and when Dad wandered by the
screen to say hey, his hand lingered on my little brother's football-bulked
shoulder with a subtle, but definite intimacy. The way Clint looked up at
him and smiled just reinforced it. Maybe nobody else would notice it, but I
did. I knew about that kind of thing. I knew how Dad's hand felt on your
shoulder like that, how he could look at you a certain way and make you
feel like you were the only person in the world. How it felt to have him
lean in and press his lips to yours.

I knew that look on Clint's face, too. I'd seen it just this past summer,
when he came out to San Francisco to visit me. It had been super-crowded in
my apartment, what with three other roommates, and since I was making
really good money at Spark, I'd gotten a hotel room for the week he was
here. Two beds. We hadn't needed them, though, and the first morning I woke
up with him in my arms, his hand running through the sparse hair on my
chest, that big young dick of his already well awake and pressing into my
thigh, giving me that same adoring look, I knew we were cool. Just like me
and Dad were.

I'd started wondering about them after I left for California, really, and I
guess I was going to find out how things really were. The more I thought
about that, the closer we got to the house, the more my cock throbbed, and
the more the excitement built in the pit of my stomach. Meanwhile, Dad
didn't say anything more about it, just hit the turn signal to get on the
Outer Loop and take us that much closer to home, and whatever it was that
awaited me there.

We'd just got the truck in the garage and the door closed when the door to
the kitchen opened, and there was Clint, my little bro. Well, not so little
anymore. Not in quite a long time. He was playing at tight end over at
State - second string, sure, but whatever, he'd muscled up even more than
when I'd seen him over summer. More than that, all he had on was an old
flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off - one of Dad's old shirts - and his
jock. It was a pretty arresting sight, and I stopped dead in my tracks, my
carry-on hanging there in my hand as I stared at him. His thighs were big,
tight, the quads all thick and defined, and the pouch of the jock hung real
full.

"Hey, Robbie," he said with a big smile.

"Hey yourself," I said finally, smiling back. "Keeping it casual now, huh?"

He shrugged, and Dad chuckled, coming around the truck with my other bag,
giving me a shoulder squeeze as he came by.

"Just us men now, so why not be comfortable, right boys?" he said, Clint
nodding and smiling as he stepped down to take my bag, his big biceps
flexing as he hefted it up the stairs.

"C'mon, let's get your stuff put up so we can chill, man," Clint said, and
I found myself following the muscular shift of his bare ass in his jock as
we went through the house and up the stairs to the bedrooms.

"Take your time, boys," Dad said. "I'll start getting dinner ready. Make
yourself comfortable. No rush."

He gave me a knowing wink and headed into the kitchen, leaving my head full
of questions and ideas.

"You coming, bro?" Clint said over his shoulder, standing on the stair
landing, smiling, his ass almost perfectly flexed. My mouth felt dry. I
nodded, and followed him upstairs.

"Pretty much how you left it, man," he said, loitering by the door as I set
my other bag down and took the place in. It was all pretty much the same, a
total nostalgia rush, down to the posters on the wall, the books on the
shelf, the queen bed under the window.

"I'm real glad you're home, Robbie," Clint said from behind my shoulder,
and I turned to find him standing there, that big smile on his face, that
old look of little bro adoration in his eyes.

"I'm glad to be back, bud," I said, and it as true - it felt right to say
it. San Fran had ended pretty poorly, but I was home now, with my family,
and everything was going to be alright again, I knew it.

Clint stepped in closer, and my arms slipped round his waist on instinct,
just like the kiss that followed. His lips were soft, familiar, warm,
comforting, and when they parted, all moist and humid with his breath
inside, damn but it felt good to slide my tongue inside to fill the space
between them, and beyond. He let out a contented little murmur, clutching
himself tighter to me, as my hands found their way down to the big boxy
muscles of his glutes and squeezed, letting out a contented sigh myself as
I felt his full, firm jock pouch press up to mine.

My cock was raging hard, as I gave in to Clint's talented lips and tongue,
his hands feeling up the firm muscles of my pecs through my sweater. I was
tall and solid like him and Dad, though not as thick-muscled - I was more
of a baseball guy. But Clint had loved my body, loved to explore it all
over, and so had Dad, and I'd repaid their attentions just as eagerly over
the years.

"I missed you, bro," he said quietly when we finally separated, and damn
but it felt good to hear somebody say that. For all my roommates and
coworkers, and the occasional hookup, San Fran had been kind of a lonely
place for me. When I wasn't working all the time, I was reminiscing about
how much simpler life had been back here at home, wishing I could be back
with my family. And now here I was, and it felt like the start of something
great.

"I missed you too, Kid," I said. I'm sure he would've kicked the ass of
anybody else who tried to call him that, but not me. He beamed real big
when I did, squeezing my pecs, putting a quick kiss on my lips.

"This is gonna be great, Big," he grinned, using his old nickname for me.

"Looks like it should be me calling you Big now, buddy," I said, running my
hands up his chunky-muscled upper arms, over his big chest, which he puffed
up proudly for me.

"You wanna see, bro?" he said, with a kind of cute hopeful little-broness
that had always got to me real bad, coming from him. And then slowly
unbuttoned the old shirt, shrugging it off his big, muscle-packed
shoulders, and there he was, jocked to perfection, the very picture of a
perfect young college jock stud.

"Damn, Kid," I murmured. I took him back in my arms, leaning down to kiss
his big smooth pecs, and then took him down onto my bed to get close with
him again, like I'd been dreaming of ever since I saw him last. Found my
little brother just as warm, welcoming, eager and passionate as I
remembered him.

I was surprised to feel my shoulder being shaken gently a little while
later. I opened my eyes, saw the dark outside the window, and looked up
from the bed. Dad was standing there, smiling in the low light from the
bedside lamp. I looked from him to Clint, all nestled up in my arms, still
in his jock, his breathing deep and even in his sleep, his big, muscled
thigh slung across mine. I was down to my boxer briefs, my cock lazily
half-hard. I blushed, suddenly embarrassed that Dad was seeing us like
this, all intimate together, and started to look for the covers to pull
over us on instinct. But he just smiled and gave my bare shoulder a
squeeze.

"Been a long day for you, I bet," he said. "Figured you could use the
rest. Dinner in 20? I've got the grill warming up and the steaks ready to
go on it."

"Uh... yeah, that sounds great Dad, thanks," I mumbled. Beside me, Clint
stirred.

"Hey Dad," he said sleepily, eyes half-open as he yawned and rubbed his
hand over my bare pecs. "Dinner ready?"

"You ever not hungry, Kid?" Dad chuckled, shaking his head, then reached
over to ruffle Clint's short hair as the kid smiled sleepily. Then Dad
looked at me, and ruffled my hair too. He hadn't done that in years. It
sent a little pleasant shiver through me, and weirdly, made my nips stiffen
up.

"Real glad to have you home again, bud. We both are," he said, smiling and
looking over at Clint, then back to me. Then he leaned in close and gave me
a soft kiss on the lips. No tongue or anything like that, just warm and
loving, and still my cock throbbed fully hard again in my shorts.

"Don't worry about a thing, son," he said, trailing his hand down the
muscle of my pecs, through the little thatch of hair between them as he
stood, his crotch nice and full in his jeans. "You're home now. Just relax,
and enjoy yourself."

I watched him walk away, my head kind of spinning, and then Clint was
leaning up, smiling at me.

"Let's eat, bro... I'm fuckin' starving," he said, then kissed me.

Dinner was good - thick steaks, salt-baked potatoes, green beans, all the
things I liked. Dad had always been the cook in the family, even before Mom
left, and he hadn't lost his touch. We had a beer or two with dinner, the
conversation flowing easily - mostly Clint, excitedly filling me in on the
semester since I'd seen him last - but it was good, real good, and I felt
happier than I had in a long time, just soaking in the vibe of being with
my family again.

Clint announced he had to go catch up with some high school buddies who
were back in town for the holidays, and when he came downstairs after his
shower, looking thick and fine in his jeans and sweater, he came in and
kissed each of us on the lips. Like Dad's kiss earlier, soft and warm and
kind of intimate. Like the way we'd always kind of done it - we were a
kissing family, even before the whole dynamic had changed between us - but
with a deeper level to it too. One that firmed my cock in my jeans all over
again.

"Have a good time, guys," he said, with a wink. "Don't wait up. Love you."

And then it was gone, and it was just me and Dad. He poured us both a
drink, some of the Pappy van Winkle I'd sent him this past Father's Day,
and we settled down on the couch in front of the fire he'd set.

"OK, I have to ask," I said, after a long, companionable silence. "What's
going on? Are you and Clint..."

He smiled, shifting his ass to get comfortable.

"We're close, Robbie," he said. "Like you and me were... or are still, I
hope. After you moved away, he missed you. I missed you. I'd always known
you two were playing. That you were both enjoying it, and each other. Like
you and I were. No hurting anyone. Just being close, that's all. And so we
both missed you, and it just... got close between us."

I blushed, stared down at my drink. I'd always had the impression Dad knew
about me and Clint - and the kid was noisy in bed when he got real riled
up, so there was no way Dad couldn't have known, I guess. Too many telltale
signs. Too many nights the big kid's bed went unslept in. And through it
all, even as Clint and me pushed deeper into what we were doing as
brothers, me and Dad still continued. It was like he stepped back a little,
made room, gave me time to show Clint all I'd been learning from our
father. A natural, easy shift in the dynamic between us - one that nobody
would probably understand besides us, I guess. But we got it, and we liked
it, and that's what was important.

"Does that bother you, bud?" Dad asked.

I thought about it. It didn't - it really didn't. Yeah, of course, it was
exciting to contemplate - Dad was a bonafide stud, a big, hairy-chested
ex-jock, rugged and warm and funny, with a big dick that he knew how to use
very well. He'd taken my cherry. Taught me a lot I didn't know, how to
improve at some things I was already doing. And I'd paid it forward to
Clint, when he'd come to me, looking for the same things I'd found with
Dad. I was only too happy to share them with him. It seemed like it had all
drawn us closer together, as a result.

I smiled, shook my head, looking Dad in the eye as he brushed his knee
against mine between us on the sofa.

"No, not at all, I guess," I said. "Just takes... some getting used to, is
all."

I chuckled at the craziness of it. Three family men under the same roof, in
an incestuous love triangle. Not even the French could come up with
something as out-there as this.

"Well, like you said before, son," Dad said, shifting closer, and I found
myself drawing closer to him too. "You've got nowhere else you need to
be. You've got time. We'd love for you to stay awhile. See how everything
feels."

"Everything, huh Dad?" I said, a little huskily, and he smiled, leaned in,
touched his fingers under my chin and tilted it up so I looked him in the
eyes.

"Everything, if you want it, son," he murmured, and leaned in and kissed
me.

It had been nearly a year since the last time for us, but our kisses were
as deep and intense and warm as I remembered them, just as easy, as easy as
the way our clothes came off in Dad's bedroom. He ran his hands over my
body, grunting with satisfaction and pleasure, and I did the same to
him. I'd always loved the warm, furry-chested thickness of his muscles,
padded beautifully with middle-aged beef now. When he popped the buttons of
my fly and pushed my jeans down my long legs, he palmed the big, already
leaking bulge in my boxer briefs with a satisfied grunt.

"Damn, I missed this, son," he said, eyes twinkling as he sank to his
knees, tugged my underwear down, and took me into his mouth. I moaned with
pleasure. I hadn't forgotten how amazing Dad was at sucking cock, but it
had been awhile, and the sensations were like rediscovering something you'd
loved long ago, and set aside.

I looked down at the big, handsome, broad-shouldered form of my father,
kneeling down at my feet, stroking my hard thighs appreciatively and
looking back up at me, his mouth stretched around my cock. The man I'd
loved first, and above all others. Still did. I knew I was still young, and
there was still a lot ahead of me, but something about this connection with
Dad... it just felt right, true, real. I knew he felt the same way about
me, and that was maybe the most amazing thing about all this.

I hadn't cum with Clint this afternoon, just spent a lot of time kissing,
and talking, and touching, and just generally reconnecting with each
other. So it didn't take long to get me to the brink, especially with Dad's
pure natural talent, the same one he'd shown and taught and brought out in
me.

"I'm so close Dad, pull back if you don't want me to cum..." I moaned, my
hands holding his handsome head. He winked at me, hummed around my cock,
and redoubled his efforts. My eyes rolled up and I went up on the balls of
my feet, my quads flexing hard under his stroking hands, as he gulped and
sucked and swirled his tongue busily around my thick cockhead. And then I
came, came hard, pumping close to ten shots of thick cum down Dad's hungry,
humming, swallowing throat. God damn, it was intense, just like the first
time he'd sucked me back when I was 16. Left me shaky and a little weak,
just in time for Dad to stand up, wrapping his arms around me to hold me
steady as he guided me back to his big bed and laid me down on it.

Dad remembered how much I liked sharing cum with him, and he fed it to me,
thick and warm and slow, as his big body covered me and ground up against
mine. Even though I'd just dropped a load, I could feel the distant tingle
deep in my loins that told me I was still very much good to go, especially
as my hands roved over the big, beefy power of his mature body, feeling the
thick muscles shift and flex for me. He knew everything I liked, and just
like the dinner he'd made tonight, it was all for my benefit, to welcome me
home. I loved him even more for that.

"You still like to get fucked, buddy?" he murmured against my lips, his
big, thick dick throbbing hot and sticky against my inner thigh. That dick
had scared me, the first time I contemplated taking it inside of me, but
he'd been a skilled, attentive and caring lover, and he'd helped me fall in
love with getting fucked. I didn't fear it anymore. I needed it, and wanted
to show him.

"I like getting fucked by you, Dad," I said, and he growled lustily and
kissed me again as my hands found his big, powerful ass and squeezed it. Me
and Clint had both inherited his fine ass, and it was pure pleasure to
worship the original. Sometime in the near future, I hoped to worship it
even closer, but tonight, right now, this was for him. To thank him for
welcoming me home.

I spread my thighs for him as he slid down, tilting my pelvis as he slipped
his big hands under he globes of my ass, lifted me up, growled again, and
then went on the attack. His stubble added another dimension of sensation
to the work his lips and tongue were doing, licking and kissing and
nibbling on my taint, my crack, my half-drained balls, and then finally my
hole. He made his tongue into as firm a point as he could and slid it up
inside of me, making me moan and clutch at the covers as I clamped my
thighs around his head and surrendered to his amazing tongue. I could have
let him tonguefuck me for hours, and I knew he could go just about as long
on my hole. But I knew he wanted more, needed more, just like I did. So
when he'd gotten my hole well and truly dripping with spit, he pulled back,
face gleaming with it, and grinned at me as he slathered a coating of lube
all over that big, curved Dad cock of his. It was amazing to watch, and by
now my own cock was back to its full thickness too. Almost like a twin of
his, big and curved and thick, capped with a nice, defined helmet shape. A
handsome cock, I'd been told, and I always silently thanked Dad for passing
it down to me.

Dad looked at my hole, grunted appreciatively, and leaned it to give it
another teasing lick, before sliding his lube-covered index finger all
around and then up inside of it, coating my insides with the stuff, probing
to my prostate, making me moan and squirm on the bed.

"Your little brother's ass is nearly as sweet as yours, buddy," he said,
deep and thick and sexy. "Nearly."

"God damn, you better fuck me right now, Dad," I growled, and so he did,
giving my hole a minimal amount of teasing with his fat, slicked cockhead,
before shifting his hips as I bore down and let him inside. He grunted, I
moaned, and his cock slid slowly, thickly inside me to the root. His was
still the biggest cock I'd ever taken, and I was always surprised at how
relatively easily it happened, but never less than grateful for it.

Fullness. Thickness. Completion. Love. That was the cascade of sensations
Dad sent through me as he fucked me, long and slow, hard and fast, shallow
and deep. It maybe only lasted fifteen minutes, but it felt like a year's
worth of pleasure, the two of us shining with sweat as we grunted, huffed
and thrust together. He did that thing where he focused the fat, throbbing
head of his cock against my prostate, knowing how easy it was to make me
cum doing that. He loved getting me off first. Always made sure he
did. This time was no exception, and even though I'd dumped a real
ballbuster of a load down his throat a half-hour ago, I was more than ready
to go again for him. My cum started to blast, up my sweating, crunching
stomach, clear up to my pecs, soaking the fur between them as I moaned and
tightened reflexively around him.

"Fuck yeah, cum for me, baby boy," he growled, and when I reached up to
grab hold of his beefy, fur-coated pecs and squeezed, he dropped his head
and started to tighten up all over too, his fingers sinking into the meat
of my hips as he dropped a great big load of his own inside of me.

The shower afterwards was sweet, both of us enjoying the afterglow, feeling
connected and satisfied and closer than ever. It always felt like that, and
it had never felt as good with anyone as it did with Dad. Sure, it felt
great with Clint too, but that was a different kind of closeness, of
satisfaction. This was something even deeper than that. Contented, with the
man who'd made me, raised me, and bred me so well. We finished our drinks
downstairs by the fire, naked, kissing and talking, just loving being back
together again. When we headed back up to bed, he lingered by his bedroom
door with his eyebrow raised in invitation. I smiled and went wordlessly
with him, snuggling up in his big arms, his lips pressing to the nape of my
neck as he rubbed my stomach and spooned into me, sending me off to a deep,
blissful sleep.

I woke up some time later to the sensation of being softly kissed. I came
up slowly, Dad's lips still pressed to the skin of my neck, snoring softly
away as he held me tight to his big, hairy chest. Clint loomed in front of
me, crouched down beside the bed, smiling in the half-light from the
hallway.

"You guys have a good evening?" he whispered.

"The best," I smiled back sleepily. "You?"

"Yeah, it was alright," he murmured. "Wished I'd stayed home with you
though."

"`S'OK," I murmured. "I'll be here awhile, Kid. We got time."

I looked over my shoulder at Dad, then back to Clint. Lifted the covers.

"C'mon, get in, little bro," I said. He smiled even bigger, and without
hesitation started tugging his clothes off. God, he had a beautiful body, I
thought to myself for the millionth time, as I pressed back more against
Dad to give Clint room. It was a big bed, and I was pretty sure he could
fit. We were going to try, one way or another. It felt like the perfect
thing to do, the way we were now.

Clint's cock was big and rubbery and growing as he snuggled into my chest,
my arms going around his big, muscled young body to hold him close as his
lips found mine. We fell back into our deep, slow kisses, the heat building
slowly but steadily as my cock grew in tandem with his. He half-whimpered
into my mouth as my hands found the spectacular muscles of his tight end's
ass and squeezed it, pulling his cock hard up against mine as I probed his
mouth with my tongue.

"I love you, Robbie," he murmured as we thrust our cocks slowly together
while Dad held me from behind, still sound asleep.

"I love you too, Kiddo," I whispered back, and we kissed deeply again as I
felt his ass clutch and flex in my squeezing hands, the air under the
covers humid with the heat and slow-building moisture from our leaking
brother cocks.

"So glad to be home with you guys," I whispered, seeing his face frown with
horny concentration, knowing he was real close to the edge when his face
got like this. "To be with you. Together. Us three."

"Ah Big," he moaned, then kissed me hard, and sure enough, here he came,
grunting into my mouth, sucking on my tongue as his cum started to pump in
hot jets between us, all over my cock and thighs and stomach. I grunted
right back, the added thick, hot liquid making our cocks even slicker, and
I dug my fingers real deep into the thick muscle of his ass and clutched
him tight to me as I started to shoot my own load. Three in one night - it
had been awhile, but goddamn did it feel good to go like that
again. Especially with these guys.

Robbie slipped out of bed and into Dad's bathroom for a warm, wet cloth to
clean us up, ever the attentive little brother, even if he was just about
as towering and thick-muscled as Dad was now. I held the covers open for
him to slip back in with us again, relishing the muscular warmth pressing
against me on both sides. Yeah. This was perfect. Just what I'd needed.

I woke up the next morning to the smell of coffee and the warmth of Clint
in my arms again. Dad's side of the bed was empty, the covers pulled up
over us. I blushed to myself again, knowing he'd seen us together, probably
smelled the spent cum between us... and then I smiled.  Extracted myself
from Clint's embrace and left him sleeping heavily in Dad's bed, while I
brushed my teeth, pulled my underwear and jeans back on, and shuffled
downstairs.

Dad was just pouring himself some coffee, his hair a little askew from
sleeping, looking handsome and comfortable in his sleep pants and an old
T-shirt. He smiled at me and pulled another mug from the cabinet.

"Black and two, right?" he said, setting it down on the counter beside me,
before taking me in his arms and kissing me, long and slow and tender. I
felt my cock firming again, and he did too, but he just chuckled, sliding
his hands down my back to squeeze my ass.

"You have a good night, bud?" he said when we separated, but he stayed
close as he sipped on his coffee, watching my face.

"Yeah, I did," I smiled. "Really good. Thanks."

"Thank your brother too, if he ever wakes his ass up," he grinned, and I
blushed, but smiled back at him. This time, I was the one leaning in to
kiss him, and it deepened into a slow, intimate exchange of tongues. No
urgency, just pleasure.

"Jeez, get a room, you two," Clint said as he shuffled in, half-grinning as
he stretched, then yawned.

"If I'm not mistaken, we did, Sport," Dad said, eyebrow cocked. "And still,
you showed up."

"Eh, you know how it is, Dad," Clint shrugged, taking the mug Dad handed
him and filling it. "I just can't help myself sometimes, y'know?"

Dad laughed, pulled Clint in close to him on his other side, and kissed
him. I could see the pink, moist slip of Clint's tongue meeting Dad's, and
while part of my brain still got a little hung up on the awkwardness of all
this, that part was outweighed by the tug of my cock inside my
underwear. That, and the deep sense of love I felt for these guys. My
men. My family. Showing me what home meant - that it was here for me now,
for as long as I wanted it.

Christmas morning, once we'd got done handing out all the gifts, me and
Clint looked at each other, smiled, and stood together. Dad looked up at us
from the couch, still a little sleepy, cradling his coffee. I took Clint in
my arms and kissed him, slow and wet and soft, watching Dad out of the
corner of my eye, the way his hand fell to the big, fast-growing mound in
his sleep pants as he smiled and watched his sons make out for him. Our
brotherly makeout progressed to slowly stripping each other, Dad grunting
appreciatively at the show. Then I took Clint by the hand and led him to
the couch, the two of us straddling one of Dad's big thighs each and
tugging at what little clothes he was wearing.

We'd paired off in different configurations in the week or so I'd been
home, but we'd never really been together-together. Not all three at once,
one mass of family flesh, tongues and cocks connecting as muscles
entwined. Not yet, anyway. But that was our gift to him, Dad's boys
becoming one with him completely. We pulled him up off the couch after a
long, deep, extended familial makeout, and upstairs to his bed, where we
stayed for most of the rest of the day.

So Christmas came and went, and I never bothered booking a ticket back to
California, or anywhere else. One of my roommates put my Golf on a
transport truck back east with the rest of my clothes and a box of my other
stuff in the trunk. I found a job at a new company in the fast-growing
little tech corridor downtown. Began making a fresh start again.

It still felt weird sometimes, to be as open as the three of us
were. Swapping tongues with my brother on the couch, dipping my hand inside
the back of his beautifully filled sweatpants while we half-watched the
game, with Dad kicked back in his armchair across the room. Having him kiss
us both on the lips and wish us goodnight as we retreated to my room, where
I knew he could hear the sounds of us as I sank the length of my big
brother cock deep inside Clint's hard, tight, beefy jockboy ass. Clint
wandering through the kitchen while Dad had me pinned up against the sink,
feeding each other our tongues in a slow, sloppy exchange while dinner
cooked on the stove, and all Clint could do was roll his eyes with a grin
and ask us when dinner would be ready.

Stuff like that.

And then, there were the times when it was the three of us, Dad making love
to us both, us making love to each other, and to him. Coming together on
his big bed, or in front of the fireplace, and come the spring, at the old
family fishing cabin he still had up at the lake. Us three, naked and
sliding together, tongues and lips, fingers and cocks, sighing and moaning
and cumming and bonding. Making love as family. Sticking together, in every
way.

It got less weird every day, every time. Started to feel natural, to feel
right, and then it just was. It was us. It was home. It was everywhere I'd
ever wanted to be, and I was pretty sure I was going to be back for good
now. With my family, where I belonged.