Page 57 of Chasing After You
But the fact of the matter was that sometimes people walked in on other people masturbating, and while that was common enough just to be an awkward accident, it was my reaction that bothered me.
Because I hadn’t walked away, or exclaimed my surprise and apologized for seeing his dick.
I had watched, holding my breath, enraptured by the scene in front of me.
My eyes had flicked back and forth between the screen of his laptop and the hand leisurely stroking the length of his hard cock, slick with lube.
He was intently focused on the porn that played on his laptop, but I was more focused on the drops of pre-cum pearling at his slit. The porn definitely caught my attention, too, though.
The set looked like a locker room. A large guy, around my size, dressed in what looked like a slutty football player costume, lay on his back on the bench, rope tied tightly around him to keep him there. A smaller guy, dressed as a stereotypical nerd, straddled his chest, ruthlessly fucking into the bound man’s throat. The football player’s face was a mess, red and covered in tears and spit.
While he gurgled and choked around the cock abusing his throat, the nerd was grunting out the most obscene dirty talk I’d ever heard.“Such a useless whore. Only good for taking cock. Should leave you tied up here as a gift for the rest of your team—god knows you’d be better at being their cumdump than a teammate.”
On a particularly deep thrust, he wrapped his hands around the jock’s neck and cut off his air completely. And even though the player writhed and flailed, the look in his eyes was one of pure need. He was loving what was happening.
I swallowed a whimper that was threatening to slip out of my mouth and bit down on my bottom lip. A quick glance downwards confirmed what I feared: I was painfully hard and had even leaked through my briefs, creating a small wet spot on my pajama pants.
When I looked back at the laptop, a hard slap to the jock’s face made me flinch. Dorian moaned as he watched the manbeing roughly used. His hand began moving quicker, twisting upward.
A small breath punched out of me when I suddenly saw a glint of silver beneath his hand. That was…a piercing—a godforsaken dick piercing.Lord, have mercy.
I squinted, trying to see it better, almost coming in my pants when I realized there wasn’t just one, but at least three.
I was taken by surprise when Dorian’s thighs stilled for a second before thrusting up one last time into his fist, releasing several ropes of cum onto his abdomen and chest.
I just… I just watched my little brother come.
The realization hit me like a train, causing me to stumble back from the door and rush to my room. I closed the door behind me as quietly as possible, praying that Dorian hadn’t heard me in the hall.
I refused to look at my crotch, already knowing what I’d find.
Fuck.
* * *
I woke up the next morning with wet underwear, a dumb plan, and a desperate need for it to work. One of those “if I do this, then maybe I’ll stop feeling that”plans.
After attempting to scrub the dried cum from my briefs in my bathroom sink so that Dorian wouldn’t notice it while doing laundry, I downloaded a gay dating app and took a few shirtless pictures for my profile.
Pretty quickly, I already had people messaging me. Some just sent dick pics and nothing else, some wrote that they wanted to bounce on my cock, and one asked if I was a catfish.
It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that I finally received a normal “hey, how are you?” message from a thirty-year-old man named Eli.
He was cute, in that very safe, clean-cut sort of way. He worked in IT, loved dogs, and was looking for something potentially long-term but open to other things if the mood was right. He was very polite and nice when I said I wasn’t very experienced. He said he liked that I wasn’t experienced, and that we could go as slow as I needed.
Most importantly, Eli looked like a finance bro who played pickleball and never got white clothes dirty, while Dorian looked like a pampered rockstar who had the money to hire a hitman, but would much prefer to stab a bitch himself.
I felt relieved at how different he was from Dorian. I would go on a date with Eli, hopefully fall in love, or at least hook up, and thenboom, no more hard-ons for my brother. I just needed to get it out of my system, get distracted, and then I’d be cured.
We agreed to meet at a little wine bar near downtown that evening. With a nervous fluttering in my gut, I showered and spent way too long deciding on an outfit. I ended up in a navy button-down with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, dark-wash jeans that definitely didsomethingto my ass, and a few spritzes of a fancy cologne Dorian had bought for me as a move-in present.
On my way out, I walked past Dorian on the living room couch, saying I was meeting up with an old coworker for drinks. The lie sat heavy in my chest, like it physically pained me to keep the truth from him. He just gave me an assessing look, as if he knew I was lying to him but was calculating whether he needed to call me out on it.
I ignored it and told him not to wait up for me.
I needed to get out of that house before I lost my mind.
Eli was already sitting at a two-top when I walked into the bar. It was a nice place, a lot of rich dark colors, velvet cushions on the seats, and a piano in the corner for live music nights. My date welcomed me with a bright smile as I took the seat across from him.
