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A normal family dinner starts it all. Timothy’s sleeping over after hanging with Max. Natasha and Cyrus grin at their kid’s friend, throw another plate on the table, and everyone digs in. Halfway through the roast, Timothy catches Natasha giving him the side-eye. Her foot finds his under the table and lingers. He blushes, glances around, but nobody else sees a damn thing. Later he’s staring at the ceiling, dick half-hard from that look she slid him. Can’t sleep, can’t jerk it in Max’s guest bed either. He gets up to pace and hears low grunts down the hall. Door’s cracked. He leans in. Cyrus has Natasha bent over the bed, pounding her from behind. Her tits swing every thrust, mouth open on a moan. Timothy’s frozen, cock twitching in his shorts. Cyrus clocks him, doesn’t miss a beat. Instead of yelling he crooks a finger. "Get in here, kid. She’s greedy tonight and one dick’s not cutting it." Natasha looks over her shoulder, eyes glazed, lips shiny. "Yeah, baby, come feed me," she pants, already reaching. Cyrus slaps her ass, keeps driving deep while he waits for Timothy to drop his shorts and step up. Natasha licks her lips, hungry for the extra cock like dessert just walked in.