Wait, what? Anton couldn't forget Brandon at all? And the cheating little fuckboy isn't done with his girlfriend's big brother, either? Honestly, these devious, delusional boys!
If you're in the mood for some seriously messy, sneaky sex, I just released "Sloppy": think shy twink meets muscle jock, trying to keep their bareback exploits secret at work. http://alexpendragon.com/sloppy/
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Happy reading!
-Alex
p.s. People on my free mailing list already read this chapter: subscribers get early access, and a free story for signing up! http://alexpendragon.com/mailinglist/
** My Sister's Boyfriend Needed A Ride - Chapter 7 **
I'd steeled myself, as I walked into the kitchen, to be ambushed again. Ready to put the previous day's commitment to the test: to tell Brandon, and my sister, and my mom that no, I wasn't looking for a workout buddy or gym company. To stand resolute in the face of their protests and his inevitable flirting.
Instead, the room was empty. As if, in my eagerness to snip Brandon out of my life, I'd sliced out everyone else, too. Collateral damage, amid my desperate attempt to wrench back some control.
Even so, it felt like I was holding my breath until I made it to the car. Body only unclenching as I pulled into the parking lot, the mental checklist of the day's focus rising, unbidden but instinctive, in my head. A catalog of machines, and reps, and muscle groups, reassuring in its complexity.
Only to stumble to a halt, at finding Brandon stood outside the sliding glass doors.
"Hey, Anton."
Yesterday's shorts and shirt, the hand-me-downs my mom had dug out for him. Backpack slung casually over one shoulder, only the way he was gripping the strap - his fingers white with tension - gave the game away. That, and how he couldn't quite hold my eye; his gaze skittering, as though Brandon still wasn't quite sure he even wanted to make his presence known.
"What're you doing here?"
I made no effort to soften my tone, to sound welcoming, and he flinched from it like I'd snapped at him. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, gnawing nervously.
"I was... I was hoping we could..."
I forced myself to remember how I'd felt after we kissed. How I'd stumbled back, suddenly feeling overwhelmed; fighting fresh waves of guilt and shame, angry that I kept making the same, stupid mistakes over and over.
"No. Go home." I made to walk around him.
Brandon stepped to the side, blocking me. "Just... just to work out! Please, Anton!"
I rocked on my heels, trying to pull up sharply enough so as not to touch him. That alone felt fraught; enough to stop me from simply sweeping him out of my way now.
"I said go."
It didn't matter how he looked up at me, I told myself. How big his eyes got, under that sweep of fringe. I couldn't rely on some cheating fuckboy to be the grown-up, which meant that I had to be.
After a long, drawn-out moment, he stepped to the side. Gaze heavy on me, as I walked past him and into the lobby.
"Just you, today?"
I looked up, pulling my card back from the scanner.
Ally was smiling from behind the counter, but it was a knowing, pointed sort of grin.
"Yeah," I told him, curtly.
His eyebrow lifted as he looked, conspicuously, past me.
I didn't need to turn to see what - or who - he was looking at. "Stop it."
Ally looked back at me. "You're just going to leave him out there?"
Gritting my teeth, I counted to five in my head. "He's not my problem, okay?"
A slow nod, to that. "Well, maybe I'll see if he wants to come in with me, then."
I stared at him, seething, yet knowing there was no way I could let him see that. We were friends, but it was a sharp, antagonistic sort of friendship. And I knew that Ally would have no qualms whatsoever about inviting Brandon in, and whatever else he could persuade my sister's untrustworthy boyfriend to get up to.
"Fine," I snapped, "it'll be me and a guest, today."
Ally smirked at me, but I ignored it. Pushing open the door instead, and fixing Brandon with a glare.
"What the fuck are you waiting for, then?"
He scurried in as though he'd been scalded.
I waited until we were around the corner, just out of sight from the front desk, before I turned on him. Jabbing my finger against Brandon's chest, as he backed against the wall.
"You're a fucking little sneak, and if you pull that bullshit again I'm going to tell Kirsten everything. Got it?"
He opened and closed his mouth a few times. It would've been funny, had I not been so furious.
"B-but..."
"Shut up." It was hard to keep my voice down, condense my rage into a low, seething hiss. "Do whatever I tell you to do, today. Don't fuck up, don't get in my way. Understand?"
Brandon nodded, the motion jerky. Seemed to sag down, as if deflating, when I pulled my hand back.
I could feel his eyes on me, as I pulled off my hoodie and tossed it into a locker. Ignored it, though, simply holding out my hand for his backpack, so I could stuff it in there too.
"W-what are we..."
"Upper body," I interrupted. "Keep up."
The galling thing was, I could tell he was trying to. Stoic in the face of my snapping temper; not giving me the backchat I was baiting, and which he'd undoubtedly guessed I'd use as an excuse to send him away. Working around my scant instruction - what was needed to be safe, yes, but not a scrap more - as I led him through a punishing routing of biceps, triceps, shoulders, and chest. No wheedling plays for the pity it was clear I'd never deign to supply.
And with each concession, each accommodation to my foul mood and blunt guidance, I felt my anger growing. Hating Brandon, but hating myself more, for the white-hot kernel of frustration buried in my chest.
I pushed him flat on the bench, a hand on his shoulder. Stabbed the pin in one further weight down: knowing I was testing his limits, calling his compliant bluff.
He went to pull the bar, tensed against it. A look somewhere between confusion and surprise, when he glanced up at my thundery expression.
"I... I don't know if..."
"It's five pounds more than before," I snapped. "You need to spend less time making excuses, and more time concentrating."
He frowned, shuffling a little on the seat. Bare muscles straining, as he dragged the bar down.
"One," I counted off, watching him with my arms folded.
His face was red by the third rep; sweating, by the fourth. Elbows wobbling a little, though I could tell from his expression that he was trying to focus. To remember what little guidance I'd given, on form, on pacing.
"If you want to give up..." I let the offer hang there, between us.
Brandon didn't answer. Jaw clenched tight as he made the fifth, and the sixth reps.
I squatted down, in front of him. My voice low, pitched only for the two of us to hear.
"I'm sure you'd rather just cheat your way through this."
The seventh was fueled by anger, I knew.
"One more... though I don't know if you can do it," I taunted. Shifting, knowing that it would pull the sweatpants tight around my crotch, and gratified a moment later by Brandon's predictable glance down to the outline of my cock.
It looked like he was on the verge of exhaustion, but he still managed to drag the bar down and then - visibly shaking - lower the weights to avoid them clattering together.
I stood again, feeling his stare on me. Knowing he was waiting for something, for anything: praise, or acknowledgment of what he'd done, or whatever meager sop I might be willing to dole out.
"You did fine." Narrow-eyed, I gestured at the bench. "Now move."
Brandon winced, as he stood. Face suddenly colorless, as pale as if all the blood had drained from his body, as he stumbled.
I caught him as he fell into me, my arm quickly pinning him. Thinking it was a ruse, a trick for physical contact, then realizing just how limp he was.
"Fuck," I hissed, under my breath. Feeling panicky in my chest, even as I tried to ignore it, to focus on hefting him.
He was panting, as I laid him back down on the bench. Legs splayed around it, clothes sticking to a cold sweat.
I nudged his cheek with my water bottle. "Drink. You're dehydrated, I bet."
Brandon turned his head, lips closing around the straw. Gulping, slowly at first but then more eagerly. Until I yanked the bottle away, leaving him gasping and coughing.
"Fucking idiot," I muttered, but I knew I was only really angry at myself, for letting it happen. A childish sort of regret: the stab of sickly guilt at the cracking plastic of a favorite toy, and the sudden fear that you went too far and might never be able to fix things. "We should stop."
"N-no." He sounded distant, until he cleared his throat. "No, it's fine. I'll just... I'll just watch. You finish."
Shaking my head, annoyed still, I let him drag himself off the bench and onto the floor. Handed him my water bottle, his grip on it tight as he wrapped his arms around his knees. Attentive, even though still wan, as he watched me slide the pin much further down the stack.
I wasn't sure if he was counting my sets, or indeed what Brandon might be thinking as he stared at me. Mute and practically unmoving as I worked my way through the day's routine, as if he'd decided that his silence was my price for allowing him to observe.
Finally, sweat dripping down me, my shirt clinging to my skin, I stood. Grudgingly held out a hand to him; waited, a moment, for him to reach up, and allow me to tug him to his feet. I braced for the feigned stumble, the conceit which would see him topple into me, but it didn't come.
For a moment, I didn't want to let go of his hand.
"We're done," I said, and headed for the locker room.
Ally was putting fresh towels out on the shelves when we got there. His sweeping stare across me was, I figured, 80% professional curiosity, and the remainder just for his own, personal interest.
"Good workout?"
I glanced at Brandon, finding he was already looking at me. Probably wondering if I was going to bring up his premature finish.
"Fine," I said, shortly. "Nothing special."
Ally nodded, grinning. "I don't think there's anyone in the sauna, if you've got time?"
Usually, I'd shower and head out. Then again, usually I was working out on my own, with only my thoughts to accompany me.
"Sure," I told him, "we've got time."
He held out a pair of towels, and for a moment I thought he was going to stand there and watch as Brandon and I undressed. Not like I'd put it past him.
After a moment, though, Ally laughed. "I'll let you get on with it, then."
I tugged off my shirt as he turned away. Tossed it down on the bench, then caught sight of Brandon out of the corner of my eye. He wasn't undressing.
"Don't you want to?"
No reply, but he started pushing down his shorts. Adding them to the pile on the bench, before pulling his shirt off. The white briefs underneath were soaked through with sweat, practically translucent. I turned away as he peeled them down.
By the time I was undressed, pulling one of the towels around my waist, I realized Brandon was already ready. His towel hanging low on his slim hips.
He'd follow, I figured, as I headed past the shower down to the sauna.
Ally had been right: the wood-paneled room was empty. The heat level already high, a haze of it that felt like walking through something thick and tangible. As though the air had started to solidify, resenting our bodies for the space they took up in it.
I sat down, on the upper tier of benches. Brandon taking a spot a couple of feet away; I could already hear his breathing, slightly labored in the heavy air.
Casually, I pulled my towel apart, letting the ends flop down onto the wooden slats. Saw, a moment later in my peripheral vision, Brandon slowly doing the same.
Silence, then, bar the ticking of the coals and the rasp of our breath.
"Why did you come?"
I saw the jerk of his head; the way he tried to catch himself, a split-second later.
"To... to work out."
"Liar."
I let my head loll back, against the rough wood. Eyes closed, the heat building around me like a dense cloak. It was a different kind of sweating, this, compared to outside, straining at the weights. As though your insides were swelling, bloating in your skin, and no room for your body's moisture but to squeeze through your pores.
"I didn't want it to be over."
I laughed; it was a raw sound, leaden with disbelief. "You didn't want what to be over? Cheating on your girlfriend? Pissing me off? Showing what a greedy little asshole you are?"
"You liked fucking me." Brandon sounded frustrated.
My shoulders scraped against the wall when I shrugged. "I like tight holes and friction," I told him, letting amusement ease into my tone. "Don't take it personally."
It was easier to say it, when I couldn't see him.
"I... I can still be a hole for you."
Opening my eyes, I let my head loll to the side. So that I could see his flushed face, the expression I could only read as hopeful.
"No, you can't."
Brandon's lips narrowed, though I didn't get a chance to hear what he planned to say.
The door swung open, Ally strolling in with a towel around his waist and a grin.
"Thought I'd join you boys."
I could see Brandon shift a little, clearly wondering if he was meant to cover himself up again. Not that Ally would encourage any such thing; he sat down, on the bench opposite, and tugged his own towel away.
"Aren't you meant to be working?" I asked him.
Ally winked. "Shift finished. Figured I'd find out how your workout went. See if you were still... pumped."
I'd seen his predatory stares before. Ally made no disguise of his appetite for guys, though given he looked like he did, I didn't think many of those in his crosshairs ended up complaining about the experience.
"So, which part of him did you work out?" His grin was salacious.
I scowled at him. "Don't."
He laughed. "So touchy. You need to get laid, Anton. Clearly the endorphins from lifting aren't hitting the spot any more."
"Can we not just sit here and enjoy the heat?" I stared at him, until he mimed zipping his grinning lips.
He was older than me, bigger too. A beefier, showier sort of muscle; a look I knew went down well, when people came in looking for trainers. The fact he was handsome and had a big dick probably didn't hurt, either, and I wondered if his was the first uncut cock that Brandon had seen. Ally had been my first experience with one, in person anyway.
"I can turn the temperature up," he suggested, "if you think you can take it?" Watching Brandon as he asked.
Brandon stared right back. "I can take it."
Ally smirked, flashing me a look. "Oh, I bet you can."
"More steam," I said, interjecting, "less talking."
He was laughing as he reached for the dial. Billowing clouds quickly following, though not so thick as to prevent me from seeing Ally's knowing expression.
"What?" I snapped.
He raised an eyebrow, as if to remind me that I'd been the one demanding silence.
I glowered at him. "What, asshole?" Said softer, but no less caustic with it.
"I mean, if I was interrupting something..."
It didn't take much imagination to finish his sentence for him. "You weren't," I said, coldly. Part of me wanted to glance at Brandon alongside me, to see his reaction, but I didn't let myself.
Ally made up for it, anyway. The stare he gave my sister's boyfriend was positively ravenous.
"Can I borrow him, then?"
"No," I said, through gritted teeth, "he's taken."
"Oh yes." Ally seemed amused, though that didn't stop him from spreading his muscled thighs a little wider, too. It wasn't clear just whose benefit that was for, though he didn't seem to mind attention from whatever quarter it might come from. "Your sister."
The emphasis on 'sister' left me glaring. "Right. Exactly."
He laughed, looking between us. "And I'm sure she" - there was that heavy-handed tone again - "knows exactly what to do with a boy like that. Though maybe not quite so well as her angry older brother does."
"Ally."
I wanted him to stop talking. Mentally kicking myself for being so stupid as to bring Brandon into the gym with me, for letting us get redirected to the sauna. I should've known Ally would try to stir things up somehow.
"Oh, come on Anton... we're all friends, here."
I clenched my fists, still glaring at him. "Are we?"
His chuckle said I was hilarious. Ally turned to Brandon. "He's a rough fuck, isn't he? I mean, I wasn't complaining, but I'm sure hate-sex isn't to everyone's taste."
For a moment, his casual, conversational tone lulled my brain into complacency. It took a moment for the words themselves to sink in. Too late, though, to get in first, before Brandon could pipe up.
"I think he actually hates me."
Ally licked his lips. "Then I'm surprised you could walk, after he was done with you."
Brandon shrugged. "I wasn't complaining," he said, echoing Ally's own words.
A pointed glance down, the smirk spreading even wider. "Yeah, I can tell the memory isn't exactly off-putting for you, either."
I followed Ally's stare, to the hard twink cock jutting up in Brandon's lap. His arms hanging limp at his sides, no attempt whatsoever to cover himself up.
"Jesus."
Ally snorted at my reaction. "Surely you remember what it was like being eighteen."
"He's a pervert," I snapped, angry again.
Somehow Ally's second glance across Brandon managed to be even more lascivious. "Interesting. Wanna come sit on my lap, little pervert, and tell me all about it?"
I'd learned my lesson; spoke quickly, before the little fuckboy could even take a breath. "He's not interested."
"Well no, it doesn't take a genius to figure out who he's interested in." He turned, focusing on Brandon again. "You'd blow him right now, wouldn't you."
A nod.
I grunted annoyance.
"And what if he wanted to fuck you. Right here, on the bench, with me watching?"
Another nod.
"Would you sit on his cock, and spread your legs, so I could see you get stretched by the fat dick I know we've both had inside us already?"
With a hiss of frustration, I turned to grab Brandon's chin. Suddenly desperate to stop him from moving his head any more, from giving those infuriating nods which betrayed all the fucked-up stuff he and I had been doing. "Enough!"
Brandon blinked at me. If it was uncomfortable, my fierce grip, he wasn't letting it show.
"I don't mind him watching."
"Shut your fucking mouth, you stupid little hole." The words stabbed out of me with venom, not caring that Ally was listening. The only thing that seemed important was stopping Brandon from saying things that I might have to hear.
I saw his eyes dip down. Not so much triumph as hunger there, when he met my gaze again. "You're hard."
"You talk too much."
I felt his swallow, against my fingers. "So shut me up, then."
It was as though my body was on autopilot, yanking Brandon's head down into my lap. My own jaw clenched, as his mouth closed around my cock. Pushing my fingers through his lank, sweaty hair; gripping tight, as I pulled him in close to my crotch and felt his throat spasm around my tip.
I stared daggers through the steam, at Ally's chuckle.
"Knew it."
"Fuck off," I snapped.
He sat back, looking undaunted by my anger. Arms folded across his broad chest, watching me pin Brandon's head between my legs. "You might want to let him breathe, at some point."
I jerked my hips up. Only an inch or so, but enough to leave the little fuckboy writhing across my thigh as I dug deeper into his gullet. "He gets what he's given."
Ally's grin quirked. "Now, there's the fun Anton."
I waited until Brandon's fingers were digging near-painfully into my leg, before I dragged his head up. The sound of his coughing and spluttering loud, though only for a moment. I felt the rush past my spit-slicked cock from his frantic gasp for air, as I mashed him back into my groin.
"What?" I demanded, at Ally's amused look.
He shrugged, idly reaching down and pulling at his cock. It looked thicker than before, fatter, and there was something undeniably satisfying at knowing that was from watching me ream Brandon's tight throat.
"Just pleased to be here, to witness this thawing of hostilities," he teased.
I rolled my eyes, half-distracted by the way Brandon's tongue was trying its best to lap around me. Levering my hips up, a rhythmic stab that felt softer and squishier with each deep stroke, as the broad, swollen flare of my tip dredged more and more throat slime from him. "You talk too much."
Ally licked his lips. "You gonna abuse my throat to shut me up, too?"
I snorted, in disbelief. Reached down into Brandon's contorted lap, to shove his legs apart even as he sucked me. Pinching his cock at the base, and wagging it, pointedly. "You think he doesn't like it?"
A chuckle. "Clearly 'abuse' was the wrong word." He stroked himself again, easing back the loose skin. "So this isn't the first time, then?"
I pulled Brandon's head up, just enough that he could suck in air around the first few inches of my shaft. Even in the heat of the sauna, his drool felt hot as it ran down between my legs. Spreading my thighs was enough for him to get the message, his fingers gently kneading at my balls.
"You don't need to tell me it's a bad idea."
Ally shook his head, as if I'd said the most ridiculous thing imaginable. "Don't come running to me for your moral compass," he told me. "Hell, I wanna see you ruin the little slut."
I felt more than heard Brandon's groan, vibrating through my crotch. My fingers were already soaked with the precum that'd been liberally slopping out of his rigid teen prick; he was slight enough that I could reach down, along the length of his back, and push those greasy digits against his hole.
Another groan, as I dug inside him. One finger first, but quickly adding a second; pulling up, sending Brandon squirming onto his knees to try to alleviate the stretching of his tender ass.
When I jerked his head up, off my dick, his eyes pupils were swollen. Panting, the bottom half of his face a mess of drool. Cheeks flushed red.
The urge to kiss him was intense; I could feel Brandon straining against my fingers knotted in his tangled hair, desperate to bring our lips together.
Ally laughed. "Just kiss him, already."
My grip on him had barely loosened, and Brandon was surging forward.
Mouth on mine with an intensity that made me gasp, wriggling up into my lap as his arms snaked around my neck. The kiss animal and needy, as the head of his cock scraped against my abs.
No obstacle, then, for both my hands to toy with his hole. Brandon's thighs straddling mine, spreading him as I ground a third finger into his clenching body. Working him open, pulling and stretching, as he grunted and whimpered into my mouth.
"I want to see his face, when you dick him."
I wasn't sure if the annoyed noise came from my chest, or from Brandon's. Frustrated at the interruption, at Ally's reminder that we weren't on our own, now. Even if the thought of flaunting his cheating twink body as I slam-fucked him was a turn-on of its own.
He let me twist him, our sweat easing the maneuver, until he was reversed on my lap. Slim legs dangling, and my cock pressed into the small of his back. I could see Ally's fascinated stare from over Brandon's shoulder, the hunger in his expression. Wished, suddenly, that I could see the scene from his perspective: witness my own bad decisions as though from across the room. Know that the knot of guilt and shame and overwhelming lust was someone else's problem, not a mistake that I kept on repeating.
A mistake, but that didn't stop me from lifting Brandon, my hands behind his thighs. Splaying him wide as I did it, and feeling the wet head of my erection slide between his cheeks.
He reached down, straining to contort himself. Fist wrapped around my shaft, just below the fat tip, guiding me into place.
The moan, as I stretched him open, left me wondering if I'd cum almost instantly. Imagining the spray of it, the way it would leak down around my shaft and drip across my balls.
Brandon reached back, his palm flat against my cheek, and the unexpected intimacy of it set my brain reeling. Losing focus for a split-second, dropping him down so that my whole length skewered him in one, quick stab.
"Oh fuck oh fuck..."
His panicked exclamation and Ally's snort of amusement blending together, as the blood rushed in my ears and I grit my teeth from the surge of pleasure radiating out from my groin. Brandon's body a vice around my dick, a universe of squeezing hands all seemingly competing to grope at me with the greatest intensity.
When the tunnel-vision gradually cleared, I realized Ally was jerking off as he watched us. Fat cock easing through his fist, the half-exposed tip gleaming as it bubbled out his own, natural lube.
There was something about being watched, about knowing Ally was getting off on seeing me deep in Brandon's hole, that was dizzying. Leaning forward, I brushed my lips across his neck. Tasting the sharpness of his sweat, as I fought the urge to bite down, just to see what would happen if I marked him so obscenely.
His hips were already shifting, tilting forward and back. Body chasing the friction of my cock working inside him. Brandon hissed as I lifted him, then let him sink back down until I felt the weight of him against my balls.
I tugged him up again, only a few inches yet the both of us groaning. Building up a momentum, faster and faster, until he was bouncing on my lap and his squeaks of stretched pleasure were louder than the hiss of the steaming coals.
I caught his earlobe between my lips, feeling him stiffen as I gently worked on it with my teeth. "Finger yourself, while I fuck you."
"A-Anton..." It was a wheedling, desperate little whine. "It's too much."
I stabbed my hips up, feeling him shudder in my grip. Waited until he'd just about stopped writhing. "It wasn't a suggestion, you little shit. And if you make me tell you again, I swear to god..."
I wasn't even sure what I was threatening, or what fears swarmed Brandon's mind. Only heard his desperate whimper as he reached down, and then seconds later the squirm of his fingertips around my shaft.
"I...I ... I'm too tight!"
"Fuck," I hissed, losing my patience. Yanked his legs up and to the side, so that I could wrap one of my arms around both of them at once. Pinning him against my chest, his lean body easy to wield; stroking my palm down the smooth skin, only pausing to tug his erection out so that it strained, twitching and leaking, against his tightly-squeezed thighs.
I reached down to grab his hand. Working my fingers into the clench of his fist. A halting breath, the sound of it catching in his throat, as I pushed two of his digits out.
My mouth was so close to his ear, I could feel the soft skin of it brushing my lips. "What are you?" I demanded, my voice little more than a hiss.
Brandon wriggled, just once, in my hold on him. As if to test my grip, yes, but more than that: my conviction that this was how I wanted to use him, now.
"H-hole."
Holding his hand, I stroked his fingertips around the taut spread of his muscle, pulled around my dick. Showing him the way his body had opened to me. "Louder."
"A... a hole!"
He gasped, as I pushed the first digit in. The tip of his index finger stretching him wider still, pressed tight against my shaft.
"I knew you could take it," I taunted. "Such a sloppy little cheat."
A reedy groan, the breaths coming out in sharp little jags, as I worked his second finger in alongside the first. Biting back my own growl of pleasure, as his body tightened around me. The urge to thrust into him uncontrollable.
"No tapping out, fuckboy," I warned him, and then gave up on holding back.
Levering myself up, off the bench, to drive my cock into him. Brandon practically vibrating as I clutched him to me, squeezing his legs together with my arm behind his knees. Feeling the rub of his fingers as he pulled at his tender, overloaded hole, and over it all - over his panting and whimpering, my grunting as I pounded him, and the gooey, sticky, lewd sounds of his mauled ass - the wet slap of Ally's stroking hand as he watched us rut.
I locked eyes with him, past Brandon's shoulder. Gaze caught on the wolfish twist of his smirk: like he'd known this was in me all along, this hunger for pleasure and control, shot through with an exhibitionist streak.
Part of me wanted to cuss him out, for being so damn smug, but I was having too much fun knowing he was watching as I long-dicked breathless sobs out of Brandon's pretzeled body.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck... Anton, I'm... oh... Anton!"
He shuddered in my grip, and then a second later I felt the hot, heavy splash of cum across my legs. Brandon's trapped cock spewing indiscriminately, as he whined and twisted, his hole spasming around me.
I buried my face into the sweat-slicked meat of his shoulder and roared as I unloaded in him.
The sound of it louder as I churned that cream inside him, already feeling it ooze out through the gaps between his fingers and my shaft. The smell of cum strong, fighting with the animal musk rising from his body.
Reaching down, I yanked his hand free. Ignoring Brandon's hiss of shock at the sudden loss inside himself, as I pushed his gooey fingers to his mouth and watched him lap up my spew.
My cock slipped out of him with an audible pop.
"There's cum all down your legs, bro," Ally pointed out, still stroking.
I could feel it dripping, ticklish against the hairs. Shoved Brandon off my lap, down onto his knees; he wobbled there, expression glazed.
I nudged him with my foot. "Clean your mess up, asshole."
He bent, supporting himself on his hands, and ran his tongue up my outstretched calf.
A slow drag, as if he couldn't quite believe where he was, what he was doing. Sweat and cum gathering across his tongue and smearing around his mouth, Brandon's lips glazed with it.
He paused, as he reached my knee. Looked up at me, eyes wide.
"Show me."
Lips parting: the slop already drooling out of the corners of his mouth. His nostrils flaring as he panted.
"Keep going."
Less of a rasp, from his tongue, as he swiped it across my thigh: the friction diluted by the building goo. Bubbles of it as he snatched each breath, his hands gripping my legs to steady himself.
It was a plaintive, desperate, needy look on his face, when he reached my groin. Staring up, my half-hard cock against his cheek: I wasn't sure if he wanted permission or forgiveness.
"Did I tell you to stop, fuckboy?"
Brandon's expression was unreadable, but his dick was still hard. Wagging between his spread legs, as though he'd not cum in a month.
I hissed through clenched teeth, as he tilted his head back and slipped the fat length of my cock between his lips. Suckling me with his mouth full of slime, a teasing bath for what'd just been reaming him.
"Fuck, that's so fuckin' hot," Ally grunted, pushing his fat prick down. Hips bucking as he fucked his fist, abs clenching. Scant seconds later, and he was spraying Brandon's back with his load. Splashes of it landing heavy on the eighteen-year-old's smooth skin, some of it reaching his hair. "Fuck!"
Brandon jerked, as though burned. Like he'd forgotten there was anyone else in the sauna but the two of us, him and me.
And suddenly, I was furious.
"What the hell, dude?" I yelled at Ally, as he panted and milked out the dregs of his load. Pushed myself up, off the bench - Brandon almost toppling back in surprise - to glare at my friend. "That's my sister's fucking boyfriend!" Reaching down, I dragged Brandon up by the bicep.
Ally was staring at me with a look of bemusement. "Overreacting, much?"
"Not okay, dude!" I snapped back.
I knew I was being ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. The thought of Ally's load dripping down Brandon's spine left me inexplicably outraged.
Words beyond me, I shoved open the door and pushed Brandon out of it, following quickly on his heels. I could still hear Ally's laughter as the glass swung shut.
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