Next to it, less significantly, lay the girls’ regular aid, just the standard six inches, built for pleasure rather than as a test of one’s mettle... its wear apparent. Eleanor would step-in for Bridget, limping bow-legged and dripping from their room and falling into place between her mother’s thighs, and it would next be Bridget’s shouts and bed-wrecking for forty more minutes so soon after the door was closed. And then, again finally, Gretchen from the other side of those walls, alternately. I looked down and realized the issue. The lounge pants I was wearing had a fly with a button on them, and I wore them without underwear regularly. They hadn't ever been even close to an issue, so the sight I saw completely shocked me. My flaccid penis wasn't just peeking out the fly. It was hanging out, completely exposed to five of my closest family members all within five feet of me. I knew, without a doubt, that everyone at the table had a good look at my dick for at least a couple seconds. More

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