It was around 3am on a Saturday when I [22] heard what sounded to be the bed squeaking from my parents' room.

I just got out of the bathroom, and being curious, I stepped closer to the door of their room, leaned in pressed an ear just so against the door.

What I heard was muffled because their bed is some feet away. But it was enough for me.

The bed squeaking. Their soft moans and grunts. Dad's noises accompanied by breaths heavy and thick. He must be giving every bit of stamina he contains — suggested by the quick succession of the bed's squeaks.

Then, they exchanged words (roughly translated from my language) that made me pitch a tent in my boxers.

In between moans she said softly, "Oh, yes, deeper, deeper!"

To which dad [54] replied with a grunt, "This as deep as I can go."

Dad didn't sound offended. Her moans continued their rhythm, his grunts remained deep. As far as I can tell, there may be a sound of lips sucking on nipples.

That made my tent wet at its peak.

I returned to my room and laid on my bed. I took pleasure in the knowledge that me and my dad share the same genes — under endowed, curved down. I pictured what we share in that primal, human act — and whether that with what we've given, the receiver feels as good as the sender.

And what I beheld at that moment past and present, is what my dad has given me — and it's exactly what he contains within him.

At this point, it was impossible to overhear them in the act again — unless I had superhuman hearing that can transcend concrete.

But the image of my father aroused and acting on that arousal — and his accepting to his under endowment — were enough to send me to orgasm.

I wasn't able to help myself but moan like they did, too.