When I felt him near to coming, I moved his cock away and nudging him just a little further forward, plopped his balls into my mouth. They felt good. My tongue went up and around to the back, tasting and testing. My thumb tip too, pressed against his arsehole and without fully pushing it in there, I pressed it about.
“Babe,” Shah groaned. I knew prolonging the ecstasy would be too much agony. He came on my face, and to get it even sooner, I sucked on his cockhead. “Ooh, sensitive,” Shah said, and pulled back, one more slurp from the source, and he sat back. I looked right up at him, satisfied.
“Want to go again?”, I asked.
“Sure, let me get a drink first.”
Shah jumped off and walked out naked, pausing at the door to make sure the coast was clear. He brought back two glasses of water.
“Chris is back, the light’s on under his door.” I was glad, he was almost a man now I guess, but he was still my kid brother and I didn’t want him in trouble.
“Do you think he heard us, the little perv?” I asked.
“Should I check our doorknob for cum?”
I realised my face and hair were cum-coated, and the water was going to make me pee soon. I didn’t fancy walking out to my Dad in the middle of the night or even the morning in this state. “Let’s shower, and then we can do some more.”
Shower together we did, and play while doing so, I actually peed while the shower was running, Shah finding a way to take some into his mouth the naughty boy, and when we got back to our rooms, we fell asleep straight away. It was just after midnight.
I was woken by a shake of my shoulder. It was Mum. It was still the middle of the night, her frame backlit by the sitting room light. “Do you want a drink with your Dad and me?” she whispered. Shah and I were completely nude, and had kicked off the top-sheet in the heat. He was still asleep, on his chest, face to the side as he normally was after we’d been fucking. “Come, sweetheart, we’ve hardly spent any time together these past few days…put something on, bring Shah.”
She sashayed away, I kissed Shah on the mouth and ruffled his hair. “Wake up, love, Mum and Dad want to have a drink with us.”
“What time is it?” It wasn’t dark enough for the luminous hands on his watch to glow. “I think it’s about 2,” I said.
“You want to?”
“Sure. Put something on.”
He had an Indian-type thin cotton nightshirt which he pulled over his head, and put on some boxers. I stepped into my bikini bottoms and put on a T-shirt of Shah’s that was handy.
A quick comb of my hair, a little spritz of scent, and we emerged into the sitting-room lights. Dad was in one of the rattan-backed armchairs, wearing just shorts. Mum, in a new kaftan she was wearing off her shoulders, was just getting some glasses ready, and getting some ouzo and water and ice out of the fridge. Chris must have still been in his room.
Mum brought the tray over, I poured. Cold ouzo wasn’t a favourite but it was better than warm, that’s for sure. Mum turned off the main lights and turned on the ornamental table lamps. Shah was in the armchair by Dad’s, I sat on his lap after doing the honours. The ceiling fan tried its best but the night was still humid and sticky. Mum parked herself on Dad too, her free arm around his neck, facing me. Our bare feet touched. She stroked my calf with her big toe. We soaked in the silence, sipping ouzo all the while.
Mum was the first to take a refill. “I fancy some music? Shah, love, can you do the record player?” There was an old unit with some records on it which we’d only turned on once in the past five days, Greek dance music wasn’t really us so it hadn’t been used again.
“Quietly, so as not to wake Chris,” stage-whispered Mum. At 2.30 in the morning, with ouzo to go with it, the music sounded pretty good, actually.
Mum kissed Dad on the mouth and then got up, pulling me up by the hand too. “Let’s dance,” she said. Mum swayed to the music, her white embroidered cotton kaftan lit from the back, it was clear she wasn’t wearing panties. Her hips moved from side to side, she twirled me around, and as she did so, I could see down her dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra, either. Why should she, right?
Mum swayed like a boneless cobra, I moved with her as well as I could, but I was sometimes just a spectator, mesmerised by her. Just like my Dad and Shah were. All the moving was making me sweat, Mum too. And as I brought my arm up to wipe some sweat off my face, Mum just lifted the whole T-shirt off my body. I had nothing on but my bikini bottoms.