Golden Week arrived like a blessing in disguise.
Hiroshi called the office Monday morning: "Family emergency. All of us down with something contagious. Doctor says strict home quarantine for seven days."
His boss didn't argue. No one ever argued with Hiroshi when he used that tone.
The front door was locked. Curtains drawn. Phones on silent.
Inside the house, clothes became optional. Then extinct.
### Day 1 – The Living Room Orgy
They never made it past the tatami.
Sayuri was bent over the low kotatsu, breasts swaying with every thrust as Hiroshi took her from behind while Kenta fed his cock between her lips. Mari lay beneath her sister on the floor, legs spread wide so Sayuri could eat her pussy in time with her husband's strokes. When Hiroshi came deep inside his wife, he pulled out and let Kenta immediately slide in—hot, slick seconds that made Sayuri scream around Mari's clit.
They rotated like that for hours, no one sure who was inside whom anymore, only that every hole stayed (except the forbidden one) stayed full and every orgasm rolled into the next.
### Day 2 – The Shower That Never Ended
The four of them crowded into the oversized bathroom.
Steam fogged the mirrors. Water sluiced over naked skin.
Mari pressed Sayuri against the tile wall, fingers buried in her sister's cunt while Kenta took Mari from behind. Hiroshi watched for a while, stroking himself, then lifted his wife's leg higher and slid into her alongside his son-in-law's fingers—stretching Sayuri impossibly full. She came so hard her knees buckled; only their bodies held her up as they filled her from both sides.
Later they sat in the tub in a lazy circle—Sayuri in Hiroshi's lap, Mari in Kenta's—slow-rolling hips under the water, mouths fused, hands wandering. Cum floated in cloudy ribbons around them.
### Day 3 – The Kitchen Counter
Sayuri was trying to make breakfast. She really was.
Apron only, breasts spilling out the sides.
Kenta came up behind her, lifted the apron, and slid home while she gripped the counter. Mari hopped up beside her, legs spread, pulling Sayuri's head down to lick whipped cream and pussy in equal measure. Hiroshi filmed it on his phone—slow, shaking footage—then set the phone aside and took Kenta's place, fucking his wife while their son made Mari squirt across the marble.
They ate pancakes off each other's bodies. Syrup in every crevice. Tongues cleaning it up.
### Day 4 – The Parents' Bed Becomes Everyone's Bed
King-size mattress, sheets never changed—just flipped when one side got too soaked.
They slept in a pile, woke up fucking, dozed off again still joined.
At 3 a.m. Mari rode Hiroshi reverse while Sayuri sat on his face and Kenta knelt in front of Mari, cock sliding between her breasts until he painted her neck and chin. Sayuri licked it off her sister like cream.
### Day 5 – The "Who Can Make Mommy Come the Most" Game
Official rules written on a sticky note stuck to the headboard:
- No stopping until she begs
- Every orgasm must be announced
- Loser does dishes (there were no dishes)
Final tally: Hiroshi 11, Kenta 14, Mari with tongue and fingers 9.
Sayuri lost the ability to speak somewhere around number 27 and just sobbed happy tears into the pillow while they took turns breeding her until cum leaked out with every breath.
### Day 6 – Slow, Lazy, Endless
They barely moved from the bedroom.
Windows open to the spring breeze, bodies tangled.
Hiroshi inside Sayuri missionary, slow and deep, whispering how much he loved watching her get fucked by their son.
Mari spooned behind Kenta, hand guiding his cock in and out of his mother's mouth while she fingered herself to the rhythm.
No rush. No end. Just the wet sounds of family love and the occasional chorus of four voices crying out together.
### Day 7 – The Last Night
They saved the living-room futon again, all four in a perfect circle—mouth to cock, cock to pussy, pussy to mouth, mouth to pussy.
A closed loop of pleasure that went on for hours.
When the final orgasm hit, it hit all of them at once—Hiroshi spilling deep inside Mari, Mari gushing over Sayuri's tongue, Sayuri clenching around Kenta, Kenta flooding his mother's throat. A chain reaction that left them shaking and laughing and crying in a sweaty, cum-drenched heap.
Afterward they lay tangled under a single blanket, limbs indistinguishable.
Hiroshi was the first to speak, voice hoarse.
"Next year," he said, kissing his wife's temple, then his son's, then his sister-in-law's swollen lips, "we're booking the whole week off in advance."
Sayuri hummed in agreement, hand lazily stroking whichever cock was closest.
Mari grinned against Kenta's chest. "I'll bring toys. And whipped cream. And that new lingerie I never got to wear for anyone."
Kenta just sighed, utterly spent and utterly happy.
Outside, Golden Week ended. The world waited.
Inside, no one had been sick once.
But they all agreed—the cure was permanent.
(The End… until Obon break.)