Work Out Build Up

Victor pats his dad's head affectionately and goes back to his robots. Troy dries his tears in an overly theatrical fashion and Trisha groans loud enough to rattle the windows. Ash is fine. She's latched on to her dad as well and is more than happy to play with Victor. Wolves and robots can be friends and I move away to break the terrible news to the rest of the family. Troy is back to being a good dad and I make sure to avoid the creaky step on the staircase because there's a nagging thought in my mind that I'll punch right through.

So, it is a bit odd that I do hear a loud creak as I come upstairs. And it is even odder that it happens again and again, steady and strong and I grin. There's another game happening just out of reach. I can open a door and throw myself into it and forgo my high responsibilities. There's even a short sharp gasp and I think a level 3 swear thrown in. The urge is rising and I am needed.

Louise is having a wonderful time, shirt rolled up to her neck, hand roaming and rolling over her breasts. Eyes closed, muscles tense in the best way, teeth working a lip and thighs moved open. There's a shock of red hair between them and Saoirse's putting on a wonderful show. She's in yoga pants. That's a miracle. Every part of her is hugged and tight, body rocking with motion. I just watch. I just watch it all move and shake, caught in hypnotism. I lean against the door frame and mask the urge through my own clothes. It's been a long, long time since I've had to take care of myself like this. I kind of like it.

I've come in on the tail end. It's in the way Louise's eyes are all squeezed tight and that means she's close. And Saoirse is damn good at all this, arguably the best of all of us. Maybe. Troy can put up a good show when he gets going. I work my hand over my growing need. Saoirse's damn good. I think she noticed me and is moving her hips even more now. Her ass is tempting me to run over and fall into the dance. I can have all I could ever want. Then Louise shudders and cries and bites down on her hand so no one actually knows what is going on. There is a veneer of innocence that needs to be preserved for the time being. Louise whimpers and screams and nothing comes out except for the shake and the clench. Louise's legs move and lock Saoirse in so the moment it drags on and on and on.

We're back to being disheveled and discombobulated. I'm hard. I'm eager. There's Saoirse ready and willing and there is a perfect opportunity for me to slide in and have the best time of my life.

"Hi Rachel," Louise moans, "Are the kids still alive?"

"Probably," I shrug, "Troy's in charge now and he's pretty good at that."

"He is," sighs Saoirse, "Louise, go suck his dick. He's the only one that hasn't got anything today. I'd say he's earned it with those turnovers."

"Let me bask for a moment. I need to recuperate before the kids are gone."

"About that," I say, "Bad news. Dad called and they're snowed in. So, they're not coming. We have the kids, but they said they could take 'em for New Years."

I might as well have just brought Ruslana in and shot her. I might as well have said I've spent all of our money on a timeshare. I might as well have said I want a triple divorce. I didn't say any of that. I don't want any of those things. I want to give into that collective urge that is giving my pants a threatening bulge.

"How are you the one who's not losing their mind over this?" asks Saoirse, "I was expecting we'd have number 4 or 5 started by now."

"I have 3 already," I shrug, "that's my biological purpose fulfilled. I really don't need sex anymore."

"That's fucking bullshit and you know it," Louise says, "You have wet dreams like a fourteen-year-old who hasn't discovered porn."

"Oh god," says Saoirse, "Victor and Ash are going to terrible when that comes around."

"Trisha has the capacity for some ultraviolence if she keeps watching all that wrestling."

"No sleep overs."

"I have to agree," I say, "If I had to suffer, then so do they."

"They'll just sneak out and find something."

"Yeah, but we won't have to deal with the cleanup. We're already a lot."

Louise looks down to the spots she made on the sheets and can't deny any of it. Saoirse looks sheepish and meek and keeps looking at me, standing there, playing with myself and ready to burst. Then someone yells from downstairs and that means we might have a fight to break up or an owie to kiss or just something else to do. Troy's been all alone and Louise isn't wrong about him deserving some head. Not for being a good dad, that's an expectation at this point, but because we love him and he has a huge dick.

---

I'm pressed against Troy's pelvis, staring him dead in the eye through a sharp smirk and a throatful of his dick. I might not be the best, but this is something I don't need to be good at. His teeth are gritted, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched. He's having such a wonderful time right now. I hold him deep, let that groan echo through him and resonate deep within me. It's musical, symphonic joy that sends a wonderful trill through my stomach. I hold him deep and feel everything stretch and start to blink without enough air. Then I pull away as slowly as I can, giving my tongue another simple swirl and touch and shape him. Then I'm on his tip and his breath is shaky but in control. It's a beautiful moment where we both dance away from the edge.

"You really have gotten better at this," he sighs. I pop him out and work down his shaft with a gentle tongue and nestle into his sack.

"I've had practice," I hum.

"You have. Has Louise ever made you go on her strap?"

I shake my head. I use my tongue to get the moans back. It helps drown out the movie playing beneath us. I'm sure it's perfectly appropriate for all ages, unlike the bawdy musical we're putting on. I give my jaw a rest as I work with my tongue. Its warmth and soft, the gentle salt of skin, the sharp hits of his preseed starting to spill over. I feel it start to bleed on to my cheeks. More flushed, more heat, that same wandering hunger that I've started feeding this morning has another feast in front of it.

He likes the tongue and my throat still hurts a bit. I have a hand on him, not quite encircling him and definitely in need of another to cover him fully, but it works in tandem. I feel the tension creep down to his knees. His hands are on the far wall, trying to find some amount of support. He settles for the shower rod above him. I'm not sure if that is completely stable, but I'm too busy to care. I work his sack. He likes that. I like that. We all like that. It's always so easy to forget in the heat of the moment. but it is a wonderful break right now. Another tremor rocks through him and I get another burst of preseed on my body. I shudder. I respond in kind. More things to clean up after the moment, but the bathroom is a good place to clean anyway.

His other hand moves and finds my head. His fingers entwine into my hair and he pulls me up. I let him think he's strong enough to make me go where he wants. I just want to go there too. It is a gentle reign he rules with and I am consenting to obedience. I drag my tongue along the underside of his length to get another bead from him waiting at his tip. The bitter salt blooms over my tongue and I dive again.

He groans and it is music. Troy makes such good noise, and this is one of my favorites. They are all one of my favorites. If I really had to choose, then it would be the whimpers when I am in him and the grunts and pants when he is in me. But it is all beautiful and good.

He moves my head and I follow the pace. He's still mostly in my mouth, the vast expanse of the rest glistening with my saliva. The veins pulse and throb with the rest of him. It is only concerned with his ever-growing pleasure. I am eager to be a part of that urge. I am the point of origin and the vessel for it all. I whirl my tongue on his head and he shivers.

I move faster than the hand wants. His grip tightens. The time hasn't softened that much of him. His stomach has a bit more roundness to it, gray spots on his temples, but the core is still strong and forged. We've all faded and rounded but our foundation is still steel strong. It is beautiful and pure. My hands reach around his waist and grip into his hips. I pull him into me, just off balance. He is resting on me and the bar only. Gravity keeps tugging him down and that adds a terrible thrill to the whole act. I am holding him up and taking him deep. My nose presses against his stomach and I hold him there, humming along to his beautiful piece.

He grunts one last time and the rest of the body clenches and tenses. His release is momentous and terrible and beautiful. It rolls through my throat and settles in my core with immense virile warmth. It suffuses and blooms in my body. So much, so pent up, the pleasures of giant robot cartoons and stuffed animals simply can't compare to what we can actually do when we play together.

So much, always so much, all for me. I don't have to share with anyone else. A thick stream pulses from me, heavy and murky but not my own beautiful release. A prelude, a shadow, a pale imitation. But for once this is not about me. It should be, but I can be generous sometimes. I slowly withdraw, pulling the remnants still pooling in my mouth. It's so warm, so heady and intoxicating. I am filled with a dull pulsing warmth down through my heartbeat. His hands are still entwined in my hair. I look at him over the gentle round hill of his dad pouch and stare him down with smoldering lust.

"Good girl," he murmurs with a gentle scratch of my scalp. The gentle stare turns into a bit of a glower. I kiss his tip and try to make it feel as mean as possible.

"Oh, c'mon," he says, "what am I supposed to say? 'Golly gee whiz, honey bunches. That was just super. Now go get me a ribeye and a cold one?'"

"You can get me a ribeye and get me a cold one," I say with another little lick. He's still hard. It's not enough. It's never enough. We could have all the time in the world, every second spent with one another laid bare and free and it would never fill the need.

"Then I'd have to make everyone a ribeye and we don't have the steaks for it. And I've cut out beer. I have a belly now. I'm doing my best so that it doesn't turn it into a beer belly."

He's talking and I don't care about what he says. He's still hard and that means we should keep going. I'm hard and I never stopped, so we definitely need to do something about that. We're in the shower. It's the perfect place to do something.

Then a knock comes at the door and I want to break something. Not Troy. Not the curtain rod because Troy worked really hard to put that up. Maybe the door. We could use a few less doors in the house so we could make it a much more open floor plan.

"Maty," says Trisha, "I need to go."

And I can't break the door because that would probably hurt Trisha in the process. I don't want to hurt Trisha.

"One second sweetie," I sigh, "I'm helping dad with something. You can use the one in our room if you really need it."

"I am so glad we taught them to knock," Troy mutters.

The footsteps leave without a thank you and that's a bit rude. Troy's hand is still on my head. That's not rude. But he is starting to soften with the interruption and so am I. The train of thought has been derailed. I try to get another rise out of him, but that's a futile gesture. He's focused on the shower rod.

"I really did a good job with this didn't I?" he says, testing it again with his weight. Not even a creak.

"Dad did most of the work," I say, "don't get a swelled head."

"I borrowed his drill. That's all he contributed. And then he gave me my own drill. If this thing breaks, then it goes right back up."

He tests it again and this one does get a little protest. He stops. Fate has been tempted and we are supposed to be done. At least this particular round doesn't have a lot to put back together. I have a dinner to make and I can't spare the time.

---

Everyone's full. Everyone's warm. Everyone's a little sleepy, but all those things tend to happen after dinner. The toy piles are still mostly piles, but they are neat piles. Ruslana is curled up in her bed, snoring gently. A twitch runs through her legs before she settles down again. We even decided to start a fire, much to Troy's and the kids' delight, while I took care of more important things. I sip a mug of hot chocolate and that is amazing. One of my many talents that has sprouted up over the years. Truck driving, heavy lifting, cuddling, sex and hot chocolate. That's at least 70% of my life's needs met through those five things. The other 30% is definitely covered by the rest of the audience in the living room.

"'Tsmok reached down to his belt, but his sword was gone,'" says Saoirse, "'Snally felt the warmth of her cannon crawl up her arm only to fizzle out at her elbow. In front of them, the dragon roared over its mound of gold. The sound swallowed all of the magic between them.'"

Trisha's enraptured by the promise of literary violence. Victor likes dragons and whatever an eclectic cannon is. Ash looks back to me and I give my Mr. Fangy a sip from my cup. She's appeased and then goes back to the story. Saoirse turns a page.

The dragon roars again and Saoirse's pretty damn good at it. Tsmok and Snally run away, but heroically. Louise turns to me and presses her lips into my shoulder. The Mr. Fangy arm then turns into a Mr. Fangy and Louise arm. She is a very good snuggler. Tsmok and Snally fall into a pit, but I think their friend Pesia will turn up in the nick of time to save the day. He's an annoying shit like that.

Louise finds another inch of me to slip into. She has a hand across my stomach and my hand is sneaking down her side. Her shirt's ridden up a bit and I brush against her soft skin. She shivers and shimmies and there is still so much space between us. Troy's corralled the kids, body blocking and making them safe. I'm acting as sentry and Trisha's doing her best to act as vanguard for Troy.

Pesia shows up with a handy dandy rope and a toothpick of a sword and an old black powder flintlock and that will solve everyone's problems. I have no clue what the world building and lore for this book is, but I don't think that's the main appeal. That's the end of the chapter and Saoirse closes the book with a satisfying thwump. Victor protests, but whatever he could say disappears behind a big wide yawn. That's the cue for everything to get up and go to bed. He sets off Louise, but I manage to tamp it down.

"We'll be up in a moment," Louise says. Troy has Victor and Ash in his arms. Trisha's just a bit too big for the trick and Saoirse's not really interested in pushing her limits. Both of the other adults pass me by and I get a pair of little pecks on the crown of my head. They're too far away for me to return the favor right now. The birds have flown too far away. Troy sneaks in a little wink and I have no idea what he could mean by that. I also don't want to know where Saoirse's hands are roaming for the moment.

We both hear them disappear up the stairs and we just have a dying fire to tend to. It's down to embers and coals, glowing, dancing, but done for now. Louise pokes me in the ribs and makes me lean in close.

"I want to tell you a secret," she says with another peck that's not quite as innocent, "I like you."

"I like you too," I reply. I get to her lips and it's a simple bit of pressure, given and taken.

"I really like you," Louise says again.

I don't say anything because then we'd just be bouncing back and forth, ever escalating until the entire sentence is just hundreds of 'reallys' that then mean nothing. I squeeze her into me and that says more than enough. She puts her legs over mine and comes to something like sitting in my lap. She wiggles and presses and giggles with that same fatigue that has been dragging us all down throughout the day. All that work has caught up to us and there's no sense in fighting it. We just wallow in the cobwebs and rust until something comes along to break us free. She's grinding on me again, rolling her soft ass against my crotch and slowly riling me up.

"Third time," she sighs, "This the third time today you've gotten something. I'm not sure that's fair."

"Not really," I say, "Troy was the focus of the second time and I think Saoirse needed the first. And besides, you had some fun with her this afternoon."

"She was wearing the yoga pants. What was I supposed to do? Not give her the ol' buenos dias? That's what it was there for. And then she grabbed me and threw me and then I was in no place to stop anything even if I wanted to."

Louise is very good at being wriggly and getting me where she wants me to go. My hand traces up her night gown, over the faint stretch marks and up to her chest. She sighs. The squirm turns to a simple rock and bounce and that is even better.

She takes my hands and moves them to be more in line with what she wants. She takes her head to my chest and starts kissing me through the thin fabric. I'm not sure what that's supposed to do. I don't really feel it. I don't really get anything out of it. But the motions are more than enough to have something for me. It works even better as she starts to roll my shirt up and actually kiss my skin.

She's gentle and tired and I'm much the same. My other hand on her thigh slowly opens her legs. She helps me take down the hem line of my own pants and I'm only left with a thin layer of my underwear before I am full free. She grinds again, against my bulge, in shapeless motions that only impart an indistinct pleasure. It's just her pressure. It's just her weight. It's only Louise and that's so damn beautiful. Louise leans into my neck and keeps kissing me. I sigh for her and I think that's one of her favorite noises.

"Are we just having this between us?" I ask, "Or do we want to break in on Troy and Saoirse?"

"Us for now," sighs Louise, "I want some alone time with you. I haven't had that in a while. Kids kind of get in the way of that."

I don't disagree, but it is something that I don't want to manifest. We all brought this upon ourselves and it is worth it every time. Although it's not quite the same as what Louise is doing to me. She's getting something for herself, judging by the creeping blush in her cheeks and the ragged edges of her breath. It's hot against my neck. I rumble deep in my chest as she presses her soft thighs against my burning length. They are smooth and warm, rubbing up and down. I feel her own heat from her core start to bleed out as she keeps getting more and more excited. That need runs into the tired sluggish malaise and mixes into a rounded need that encourages weight and want and she buries herself in me. I pierce through her thighs, my own tip exposed to the night air. I kiss her cheek and move to her lips. The scent of our sex is perfuming the air and running to my head. It's a swimming, twirling intoxication. I taste like sweet milk chocolate. She's nicked some of the leftover candy canes and I feel the peppermint dance on her lips. It's sweet. She's sweet. She sends her legs in a tight circle and that gets a noise from me. She giggles. She likes the noises I make, even when I have to stifle it so everyone's innocence is retained.

I think she's getting more out of this than me. I'm right on her entrance, pushing and folding and riding along her. I don't have to do much. Just attend to the rest of her so the simple motions have something to mirror up top. And I like playing with her. There is so much to do here, even as she simply sits in my lap and rides me. Her underwear's shifted out of the way. I feel her bare entrance on me, her arousal starting to seep out in burning tears, They impart more lust unto me. I have more to give back.