Sometimes Burt wondered why he bothered watching football at all, especially when his favored team was so embarrassingly bad that watching them play felt like intruding on someone in a very humiliating, vulnerable moment. It had to be some form of torture that he kept watching anyway. Or maybe insanity. Didn't someone - Einstein? Freud? - say that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results? Clearly Burt was insane.
As soon as the TV switched to commercials at half-time, Burt let out a cry of frustration and pulled himself up from the couch. It would be a miracle if his team could make a comeback at this point, and yet he knew his eyes would be glued to the screen the moment the third quarter started.
He went into the kitchen to make himself a snack, grumbling the whole way. As his popcorn was microwaving, he dug into his pocket to pull out his phone so he could see what one of his buddies from the garage had to say about the game, except all he found was lint. He reached into another pocket and only found his wallet. A search back by the couch told him that it hadn't fallen between the cushions either.
"Great," he sighed, and headed for the stairs. It was probably just in the bedroom.
As he passed his son's room, he heard some kind of creaking noise, but only thought about it for a split second before continuing down the hall to his room. Kid was probably rearranging the furniture and pretending he had his own show on HGTV.
He found his phone sitting on top of the dresser, and a quick flick through told him that he'd missed a text from Carole, who was out at some lunch thing with one of her friends. He tapped out a reply (slowly and haphazardly; what was the deal with these touch screens being made for people with nimble little fingers?) and started to head back downstairs.
As he passed by Kurt's room again, the creaking was still going on. It sounded like the kid was jumping on his damn bed, which Burt thought had stopped years ago after one of Kurt's friends nearly smashed her head in during a sleepover. He was about to let it go and trot back downstairs, but then it occurred to him that his step-son's room across the hall was dark and empty. As far as he knew, Finn hadn't left the house today. (Truthfully, Burt had thought he was still sleeping, even at two in the afternoon.)
So what the hell were those kids up to?
Brow furrowed, Burt reached for the doorknob, and it was a last-second instinct that made him turn it quietly and completely, so the latch didn't make any noise as he pushed open the door a crack to peek inside.
The breath was sucked from his lungs.
What he saw was too much to process all at once.
It was - they were -
His eyes darted everywhere wildly, but they kept coming back to Finn's pale ass shaking as he slammed, slammed, slammed his hips forward. The mattress beneath him was shifting with every thrust, which explained the soft creaking Burt had heard from the hallway. He wasn't sure if his heart had stopped or what, even though his blood was roaring in his ears, and he had finally unfrozen enough to have the sense to close to door quickly and quietly when suddenly he heard Kurt's voice.
"Ohhh, mmm, yeah...yes, yeah, oh..."
His heart was working, and it was pounding right in his throat.
Burt made himself look.
Kurt was stomach-down on the bed, knees bent and thighs spread wide. Finn, sitting on his knees behind Kurt, had his big hands splayed over Kurt's hips as he pounded his dick into his exposed ass. They were mostly facing away from the door, so they couldn't see Burt peering in unless they craned their heads, but Burt could actually see Finn's length disappearing into his step-brother's ass and the way Kurt's hands squeezed at the sheets beneath him as he was fucked.
"You feel...uhnnn, you feel so good," Finn labored to say, and picked up the pace, which drew a low, sweet moan from Kurt. "So fucking tight. God, just...just squeezing my dick. Fuuuck." Their bodies were colliding harshly enough that the resulting slaps - sharp and wet - probably could have been heard from the hall now, even if the door had still been closed.
These were Burt's boys. His son and his wife's son, and he knew he shouldn't be looking. Hell, he probably should be putting a stop to it, telling them that they were step-brothers and were acting wildly inappropriately, and it was not going to be tolerated under Burt's roof. But...but...
The zipper of Burt's jeans was pressing painfully against his cock, which was more than half-hard and protesting against its confines. He put a hand over his fly to simply adjust himself, but a liquid heat flared up and felt so fucking good that he just ended up squeezing his erection through his jeans instead. He'd watched porn like this before, he was pretty sure. Nothing with two men, but definitely stuff with crass titles like "He eats his step-sister's pussy till she creams" and "Step-brother stuffs slutty brunette step-sister with BIG TITS."
On the bed, Finn repositioned himself and spread his knees a little wider, resulting in a, "Hohhhh, yes," from Kurt. These weren't actors pretending to be related by their parents' marriage; they were the real fucking deal, and Burt had to grab his dick harder he was so fucking aroused.
"Mm, yeah, you like this?" Finn asked as the slick smacks of his cock pounding into Kurt's hole increased in both pace and volume.
"Yeah, ohh," Kurt replied, voice sounding strained. "Fuck me, fuck me!" Burt had never heard his son use filthy words like that before.
"Unng, yeah, take it," Finn said, voice rising to nearly a shout as he took his hands off Kurt's body and visibly clenched the muscles of his ass taut as he continued to slam into him.
"Quiet," Kurt panted in a sudden, harsh whisper. "Quiet, so Daddy doesn't hear."
Burt's hard dick twitched so violently he nearly came in his pants.
In a mad scramble, he unzipped his fly and reached into his underwear to pull out his hot, aching cock, and actually had to hold his jaw tight to keep from moaning in relief at finally being exposed and grasped in his fist.
"Burt's...watching football," Finn groaned, slowing his hips to a roll. Beneath him, Kurt whined and settled deeper into the mattress, pushing his ass back for more. "He's never gonna hear."
"Okay, but keep fucking me, come on, come on."
Burt brought his hand to his mouth and gathered up some saliva to dribble onto his palm. He slicked up his cock, but it wasn't enough, so he did it again until the slide of his cock through his tight fist felt smooth. Jesus Christ, if only his son and step-son knew that their daddy was peeking in the cracked door like a complete pervert. What would they say if they knew he'd seen it all, seen the two step-brothers fucking like the horny teens they were, completely unashamed that they were technically related?
His hand moved greedily over his cock as he watched Finn settle his hands on the mattress on either side of Kurt, positioning himself so that it almost looked like he was going to do push-ups. There was a short moment where he struggled to get his wet cock back into Kurt's hole, but as soon as he did, he started slamming his hips in a pretty impressive display of strength. Kurt immediately started to whine and encouraged his step-brother with breathless pants of, "Oh, yes, yes, yes!"
Breathing rather hard himself, Burt jerked his cock quickly, feeling like he was chasing an orgasm that was going to come too soon; he just needed it so fucking badly.
His boys were so filthy, fucking like this while they thought Burt was downstairs. He bet they did this all the time, sneaking into each other's rooms and sucking each other off, trying to keep quiet so Burt and Carole would never know what they were up to. Christ, "We're doing homework" had probably meant "We're fucking while you're doing the dishes" all this time. And fuck, Burt thought as he pulled desperately at his dick and reached to fondle his tight balls, that was so fucking hot.
Beneath Finn, Kurt snaked a hand under his stomach. Burt watched his elbow move like he was stroking his cock and almost involuntarily moved his own hand at the same pace. "Fuck," Kurt whined, "fuuuuuck, I'm gonna come, oh god, I'm gonna come."
"Yeah," Finn moaned, dropping to his elbows but keeping up the same swift pace, "yeah come on, fucking come, Kurt."
Kurt let out a broken wail and his whole body shook beneath his step-brother, his eyes squeezing shut as he must have come all over the sheets beneath him. Burt was so goddamn close it actually hurt, and as soon as Kurt husked, "Shhh, shhh!" to Finn's growing moans, Burt exploded, biting on his wrist to keep himself from being discovered. His jizz splattered up his plaid shirt and spilled over his fist as he tugged and tugged out each last drop. Finn's hips stuttered and his whole body went taut as he climaxed, and Burt swore he saw stars. Jizz was still dribbling out of his cock like he was never going to stop fucking coming, and his lungs protested as he restricted them from the air they needed by trying to keep his breathing silent.
For a moment, Finn collapsed over Kurt's body and they just heaved there, mouths open and sucking in harsh breaths. Burt's dick finally started to go soft, and he wiped his hand on his messy shirt before tucking it back in his pants, leaving the fly open.
He had to go. Now.
Still, he watched as Finn rolled off and they moved to kiss one another, tongues first. Kurt was still on his stomach, and for a moment Burt actually stared at his ass and the white mess between his round cheeks. Finn hadn't even used a condom, those dirty, horny boys.
Slowly and carefully, Burt turned the doorknob with his clean hand and moved the door back into the frame, holding his breath. It made no noise as he let go of the knob, but he still waited for a second. He didn't hear anything from the other side of the door. So he crept away.
Twenty minutes later, Finn and Kurt came down the stairs to rummage in the kitchen and found Burt in a blue T-shirt as he watched the football game intently.
"What've you boys been up to?" he asked casually.
"Hmm?" Kurt said, pulling open a cabinet. "Just some homework."
Those filthy sons of his. Burt just smiled to himself and kept watching the game, no longer caring who was winning and who was losing. His boys might have their little secret, but now Burt had one, too.
