Smashwords

“Steven’s come back to stay here,” Dad told me on the phone. “Broke up with Liz. You know, that girl he moved in with.”

Guilt flashes through me every time Dad’s mentions Steve and Liz. Just before he moved out with her, in my last months living at home, Steve was rather public about his regular romps. It must have been his age—at the time he had just turned eighteen. All those teenage hormones, it seemed he couldn’t bust a nut enough times. One day, I counted eight times they were at it, each time in a different room. Talk about a honeymoon phase. Could you blame me for spying on them more than once?

Maybe not. But you probably could blame me for what I soon started thinking. I was getting bored of my usual circuit, bookstore jerking, secret bus escapades, park walking paths. Here was something new, and a new rush went through me.

The first time, I hid behind a big lampshade. They were in the spare room. They came in, hand-in-hand, so horny. They could have seen me, if they looked my way; they could have seen me, but they didn’t.

Liz got in doggy position, and my brother positioned himself behind her. They didn’t even bother to put pants back on after their previous romp in the master bathroom. They probably couldn’t see anything except their own genitals, so horny and full of lust as they were. They definitely didn’t see the pervert brother, jerking off behind them.

I snuck up, all the way until I was standing behind Steve. Of the three boys, his butt is by far the hairiest, tough and muscular. Even at eighteen he already had a manly look to him. Liz, on the other hand, though they’re the same age, looks youthful.

There was a certain novelty to the image. Horned up, stalking in the shadows, jerking my cock as my brother humped his hairy ass up against this girl’s sopping pussy, I felt like I’d stumbled on a pervert older uncle and his niece, playing their dirty little game.

Imagining it like that turned me on in a new, exotic way. It was a different kind of fear of being caught, how violated they would feel, my own brother, ten years older, caught with his niece. I imagine that…my own brother catching me, but then would he really tell our dad, risk that then I’d give his secret away? The blackmail, the chains we held over each other, the power I’d have over him to tell them they had to fuck for me, fuck in dangerous ways where they might get caught—or else!—oh yeah, something about that fantasy made it all the hotter as I jerked myself behind him in secret.

I came before he did. I aimed my shots so they went just to the right of Steve’s ass, so close they could have hit him, if I got it wrong by a sliver…so close he could have caught me, if he felt my load splatter hot on that hairy butt. That load sprayed out and the whole time he kept pounding at his girlfriend’s pussy, moaning ostentatiously now to tell the world that he was about to have yet another of the best orgasms ever. As he moaned and slammed in, pumping out his cum, my cum dripped down the bedsheets, oozed down in a stream toward the spare room’s hardwood floor.

By the time his pumping ended, all his load out and his cock still buried in his girlfriend, I was off back to my room, realizing my addiction had just levelled up.

And that was just one time. How many times did I spy on them? How many other games, just like that, could I recall right now, where I was a split second from being caught, those final months before I just couldn’t take it anymore?

Smashwords

Smashwords

On the night I came back, Dad even set up my old bedroom. It had become a spare room, adjoined to Ronald’s by a shared closet. Dad fished out all my old bedding, cleared the window-side desk so I’d have a nice place for my Zoom work meetings, and even made a plate of peanut butter cookies, my favorite.

With Christmas coming, that first night sleeping in the bed reminded me of how I’d only partly grown up, how the last year and a half with Liz had been months of my life in limbo. Really, I’d never left home, and with COVID-19 raging in the world, this was the right place to be trapped indefinitely.

That first night, I also could tell Ronald was growing up too. He still didn’t have a girlfriend, but he certainly started to jerk off a lot. I know that rhythmic breathing all too well. Quite a contrast to the quiet I was used to hearing through our shared closet door. Little Ron has become shameless, groaning a bit like a porn star.

I couldn’t help the erection that soon sprung up in my gitch. All that groaning from my little brother makes me think of how I’d groan, when Liz would plant her butt before me, on hands and knees, when I’d push my meat inside her butthole.

Dammit, Ron, I think as I slide my hand down to grip my meat. He’s even moaning a bit like Liz would, when I’d get my dick all the way deep inside her guts. Holy shit, I really do need to bust this nut. I’m not used to more than a day holding it in.

Keep moaning, you little slut, I think as I hear my brother’s quick breathing, his little girlie moans, imagining it’s Liz. I’ve got my cock wrapped in my full grip, pulling up and down the rock-hard meat. My length swells to its full eight inches, thrusting free of the underwear band. It won’t take long for me to spray my load. Thanks, little bro, I think, as Ron keeps making all the sounds I need, helps me clear these lusts out of my mind.

“Can we do it doggy now?” Ron asks.

My breath catches inside, halting my charge to orgasm.

There’s a deep voice, very quiet, but I can’t help hear it. The sound of movement. Am I imagining this?

I rise from the bed, cock still in hand. What is Ron up to? Is he watching porn?

Whatever my little brother is doing, I’m helplessly curious. I need to bust this nut.

I’m just being a proud older brother, I tell myself, as I creep toward the closet. I’m the one, after all, who taught Ron about jerking off. Is there anything wrong with wanting to see the results of my mentoring?

The closet door in my room is partway open. I don’t dare slide it the rest of the way, don’t dare let my brother know I’m perving on his pleasure. I squeeze through, shifting between hanging sweaters.

There are slats on the doors. I press my face forward, against the slats that lead to Ron’s room. My hand’s still on my erection, massaging up and down.

Ron’s room is dark. The only light comes from the hall, through his door, which is only open a crack. I can see forms on the bed, defined mostly by shadows.

There’s a second person here. Ron isn’t just watching porn.

Smashwords