All characters involved in sexual content are 18+
It was almost nine o'clock and the family was still tying themselves in knots and tripping over each other to get out the door. The fat uncle almost slipped on the ice and his suitcase when flying into the middle of the street and almost caused an accident. The driver stopped to yell at them but the aunt was already screaming in her husband's face to get a move on, so the driver carefully backed away and moved the suitcase off the road. Wyatt chuckled to himself and put down the binoculars to take a sip of coffee.
Inside the house was more chaos as the twins refused to put away their toys while the girls argued over who had dibs on the back seat of the minivan. Three different dads and moms were tripping over each other trying to get all the suitcases to the front doors so they could finally make it out to the vehicles.
"We're leaving in one minute!" Said Paul, the grandfather -- the only one with any real authority in the family.
Somehow, a minute and a half later, the whole family was crammed into three minivans and the door was locked and they pulled out of the driveway like a well-planned motorcade.
As they drove past Wyatt's truck he ducked down in his seat, smirking as he muttered, "Adiós, Bennett family." And then he started his van and drove off to get the last few things he'd need for that night.
Later that morning, when the family was boarded and on their way to Mexico, something stirred in the quiet house they'd left behind on Elmwood Street.
In the attic, on the mattress on the floor, under the thick covers of the duvet, 19-year-old Zach Bennett woke up with a hardon.
It was one of those extra-rigid hardons that drew all of your attention and as soon as he slipped his hand into his boxers to touch it, it twitched and throbbed.
He rolled over onto his stomach with a light moan, and kept his eyes shut against the sunlight intruding through the window. He pulled the duvet tight against the cold and pressed his cock against his hand and the mattress.
While the attic air was chilly from bad insulation, the air under the duvet got warmer as he flexed his abs and humped his hand.
He started to sweat a little, and he ran his left hand up his abs to feel the moisture on his bare skin.
Nothing could intrude on his pleasure as his mind wandered to thoughts of tight chests and muscular arms, of smooth skin and stubble chins.
He fucked his hand a little harder and pushed his boxers a little lower.
As his toes curled and his legs stretched out he rolled over on his back and threw off the duvet. The cold air hit his sweat and made him gasp as he desperately stroked his cock and shot a slick white load over his chest.
A drip of cum rolled off his chin as the last squirt pooled in his belly button and he returned to Earth from the dopamine high of a satisfying morning stroke.
Finally, Zach opened his eyes, blinking a bit against the bright winter sun.
He looked to the side to see his phone, unplugged. He reached for it. It was dead. Drained by the cold attic air.
He plugged it in and waited a moment, something itching at the back of his mind trying to get his attention as he played with the cum on his stomach.
The phone woke up and Zach saw the time and his boarding pass.
"Fuck!"
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