Page 67 of For the Fans
My hand, his hand, his dick, my dick. It’s shooting everywhere, soaking us and drawing out my own.
Head whirling off my body, my stomach clenches, and I lurch forward, biting down on his lower lip while my dick throbs and pulses cum all over us.
Our hips don’t stop moving, rippling into one another while we ride it out, coming fucking everywhere, our dicks slipping and sliding together. My fierce chewing on his lip turns to a sweet suction, foreheads together, heavy panting echoing off every surface of the room.
It’s completely fucking insane. The craziest, hottest, most unexpected thing that’s ever happened in the history of anything.
But it fizzles out quick, as it tends to.
As soon as the orgasm high has worn off, we’re not lost in the moment anymore. Reality whacks us both like a blunt object, and we realize what we’re doing. How far of a stretch this is from where we started only a few minutes earlier.
“Fuck…” Kyran grunts, releasing his grip on my shirt, and my dick, tumbling back on the couch to get away from me.
I clear my throat and back up too, shaking my head. Shaking off the daze.
Get up. Get up and shut off the camera.
Holy fuck, the camera.
Stumbling to my feet, I rush to turn it off before it records him freaking out and I have to edit him attacking me out of the video. Once it’s off, I let out a breath, yanking my pants up. There’s cum all over me. I would have no idea whose it even is.
That was… What the fuck??
That’s what it was. It waswhat the fuck.
“Um… You can,” I start, stopping to clear my throat because I’m way too raspy. “The bathroom is uh… there.” I somehow manage to point in its direction.
Kyran’s eyes are awfully wide for someone who just came in explosive fashion. But to my surprise, he doesn’t freak the fuck out, scream, or lunge at me. He simply nods and slinks off the couch, hauling his pants up as he staggers toward the bathroom.
He’s in there for a long time. More than fifteen minutes, while I’m cleaning up, making sure there’s no cum on the couch, which there definitely is. Just a little, and I manage to get to it with dish soap fast enough that hopefully it won’t leave an obvious stain.
By the time he eventually comes out, I’m sitting on the couch, withSeinfeldback on like nothing happened. Trying to pretend everything is normal… Like it’s just business, which is what we agreed.
Even though my stomach is flipping and flopping in a way that feels very unprofessional.
Across the room, Kyran is hovering, and when my eyes subtly peer in his direction, he looks completely put back together. No longer rumpled, hair brushed back into place.
“So I’m…” he starts, but his words get caught in his throat, and he gives up, stomping toward the door.
“I’ll text you about the...” But he’s gone before I can even sigh out the word, “Money.”
My face falls into my hands and I rub my eyes hard. “What the fuck, man??”
Glancing left, I find Robin, still curled up on the couch in the same spot. She’s been sitting there the whole damn time, which brings a laugh bubbling from within my throat.
“He’s my stepbrother, you know…” I tell her, and she blinks at me, unenthused.
My face slants toward the door, and I shake my head.
My fuckingstepbrother… with whom I now share a very confusing, very complicated little secret.
TheBlarneyBone: So peachy! I wanna lick ur ass...... then pummel that peach pie hole
MeatMan: Make me your chia pet and smear your seed all over me
Distraction is something I’ve gotten very good at over the years.
A skill I learned to hone when I was just a kid. Enduring stuff that makes me uncomfortable while pretending I’m not is a bit of an art form for yours truly.
