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Neither of them knew that on their noisier nights I would press my sweating brow against the common wall of our bedrooms. I would hear the staccato slapping of flesh on flesh.

Had the gods of incest conspired to offer me this gift?

That would start a conversation and “dad” would be expected to answer.

Dad was a short stout guy at about 5′ 8″, 220 or so. The thrill of seeing her, the nearness of almost being caught was almost more than I could stand.

He was a successful business owner and a good provider for his family.

Our flight home was delayed because of the thunderstorm that clattered and shook the small terminal. The semi darkness, the change in seats and her drunken state caused her error. You said we were going to join the five mile high club!

I glanced around at the few people waiting for this last flight out.

When I entered puberty she had move from this pleasantly plump authority figure to a voluptuous sex symbol. I turned quickly into the bathroom and closed the door.

That big tit, big booty woman was the imagine I held in my mind when whacked off nightly.

As their tempo built to the inevitable climax, so did mine.

As dad spurted his seed into mom, I spurted mine into a pair of her soiled panties I had filched from the hamper. Their heads were close together, Dad would whisper something in mom’s ear.

At 18 I thought it was very unfair to drag me across country to a funeral for a woman I knew little about. It seemed everyone in town wanted say a remembrance. There was a pain in my dick from being so hard so long. Impulsively I stuffed the wet crusty part of the towel in my mouth. Sometimes dad fucked her without her taking them off. Shortly after takeoff, the flight attendant passed out blankets.

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