Page 27 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers
TOMMY
I rollover in my bed and groan in defeat. My dick is hard, bordering on painful, and I have no clue why, considering I masturbate once a day to avoid this problem.
Zack says it’s because my biological clock or whatever is ticking and I need to get laid.
Well, technically I need to lose my virginity first, then get laid. You would think, being a fucking Sterling, that I would be swimming in pussy, but the truth isn’t that pretty.
It’s not that I don’t have offers. Plenty of women have offered to fuck me.
But I don’t want just a random fuck for my first time, and most of those girls aren’t exactly my type. Zack says I’m being picky, but Chloe says Ishouldbe picky. Honestly, the two of them can never agree on anything, which is why I don’t understand how they make their relationship work, but they do.
And maybe I admire them for it too. Because I know if two people like Zack and Chloe—my best friends—can somehow find a way to be happy together, there’s hope for me. Someday.
Call me crazy, but I want my first time with a woman tomeansomething. I want it to be with someone special.
I rub my eyes, my cock twitching with need. I need to piss. I push myself out of bed and head down the hall to the bathroom, trying to acclimate to my surroundings. The TV is blaring, so I know my brothers must be home from their night out.
My two older brothers, Russell and Freddie, play for the Lions. Their team is like a family—or so they say. So in between their travel games and stuff, they’realwaysgoing out. For someone’s birthday or some celebration or whatever, or sometimes just…to go pick up girls and do what most single guys do.
Except, the only one in this house who actually gets any action is Russ. Freddie insists he doesn’t want a girlfriend, that he’sfineby himself. He has hockey, his family…
I wish I could say I felt the same, but I don’t.
Everyone assumes the same about me—that I’d prefer to be alone, because apparently the fact I’m autistic means I’m automatically cut out of the sex and relationship narrative.
Which is bullshit.
Iwantto have a girlfriend.
Iwantto have sex—partly because I feel like a damn alien for being a twenty-three-year-old virgin, and partly because I just want to see what all the fuss is about.
Masturbating is a chore in itself. If I don’t do it routinely, I end up hard at the most inopportune times. Like at a fucking family picnic with my brother’s girlfriend and her perfect tits staring me right in the face as they practically spill out of her damn top.
I groan, not wanting to think about Nora—my oldest brother Brett’s girlfriend.
Up until I met the woman, I’d even started to wonder if I was asexual. I hadn’t feltdesirefor any of the girls my age at school, and porn wasn’t exactly thrilling to watch. It just looked…messy. Everyone all oiled up and covered in cum, and all the overexaggerated moaning and stuff. Gaping holes and…just…gross.
Though it’s a necessary evil for me, I guess. Ihaveto stimulate my brain first, before I can stimulate my dick. And even then, it takes forever. I’d rather spend my time doing something productive—like going to the gym or hanging out with Zack and Chloe or doing an intense Lego build—than forcing myself to come.
But everything changed when Brett brought Nora home to meet all of us.
I’d never just looked at a woman and gotten hard before, so I thought it was just a fluke. But as Nora started to come around more—even when Brett was out of town for games—I found it harder and harder to try and control my dick.
I found myself stealing glances of her tits, because my God, she hasperfecttits—big, swollen, round tits that I’ve often fantasized about, even though I know I shouldn’t. I know it’s not her fault that they’re the size they are. Chloe’s a C-cup, and she says she has trouble finding clothes that fit her chest, so I can only imagine Nora has the same issue, though I have no clue what her bra size is. I tried to look up references once, but didn’t get much help.
Then there’s her curves. Her wide hips. Her round ass. Her lips.
Family gatherings got real awkward, real fast, when I found myself constantly popping boners and having to excuse myself to take care of business.
Of course, Zack figured out what was going on and forced me to open up to him about it—which I felt weird about at first, but then again, it’s not like I could have gone to my brothers about this. Or…about sex in general.
It’s a touchy subject for me, and I know how most guys would react, and they’re mybrothers.I don’t need them knowing about my weird dick problems or my lack of experience and think I’m more of a loser than I already am.
I slide my hand over my cock, wincing when I do because fuck, it’s sensitive right now. I need to pee and then maybe jack off if that doesn’t solve the problem, which is already making me anxious. It takesso longto get there.
I know that’s not normal. Zack says it’s because I’m too in my head. That I need to focus on what feels good, instead of thinking about everything else.
But how the hell does one turn their brain off tonotthink? Do people just not thinkat allwhen they have sex? How does that work? How do you just…notthink?
