" I know you do," sniffed my mother. "I'm pleased that you have good taste. Now, go check on your father. He was trying to climb the stairs, and while...I haven't heard a thump or a yell, I'm worried that I will." Yes, Ma'am," I said, and took off.I wondered a bit about her comment about me having good taste. What did she mean by that? But then I had to help my dad make it up the last three stairs to the second floor, which he had not visited in six months, and forgot all about it.It was a rough. ” My fists are clenched, knuckles white with uncertainty. “Did you fucking hear me?!” You punctuate every word as if it was the end of a sentence. “Take your fucking cock out and stand up. I want to compare them.” My curiosity and lust supersede the envy I’m feeling, and I obey, hoping that the dick you’ve got in your hands doesn’t overshadow my own. I stand and hesitantly drop my shorts to the floor, my taut erection betraying the shame I can’t help but feel. I can hear you both shuffle over. More

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