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Mom and dad sat by the table, drinking their coffee as I sneaked in unnoticed behind the kitchen island and kneeled by my brother who’d learned the routine by now and coaxed out his morning wood from his shorts.

His face looked as if he didn’t like the risk we took by doing it with our parents so close by, but the lack of stamina he showed compared to when we were alone suggested he found the thrill to be more than he could handle.

Sometimes they’d look up and ask him something, which meant he’d have to look and sound casual. He always failed at that. His strained facial expression and jittery voice had them asking if he was feeling alright. That always made me laugh. Or, rather, would have if he didn’t grab my head and force me to gag on his length to muffle my laughter.