Tabling Frank

Fenton was drunk. Frank was there.

In one swoop, Fenton had cleared everything off the table, shoved his eighteen year old son down, face first onto the table, yanked down Frank''s jeans and rammed his large, hard dick up his son''s ass.

Frank moaned and writhed, his every move making Fenton harder and grind into him with more force.

Neither spoke. This wasn''t their first time. It usually happened when Laura was away and Fenton was drinking though. Because without alcohol fueling the flames, Fenton didn''t have the nerve to fuck his older son.

And all the time, while he grunted and groaned, Fenton imagined it was Joe.

And all the time, he writhed and moaned, Frank imagined doing this to Joe.

And all the time, Joe was upstairs asleep, oblivious to how much his world would change if his father and brother ever put their minds together.

The End.