Page 29 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers

But I can stillhearthem.

“You want me to make you come, Nora?” Russ’s voice sounds different. I’ve never heard him sound like this before.

“Yes,” Nora breathes, and I try to squeeze my legs tighter. But the pressure against my cock doesnothingto help matters. I turn over on my knees, my arms hugging myself as I try to focus onnotcoming.

I’ve never felt like this before.

Even when I masturbate, I’ve never felt theurgelike this. I’m acutely aware of how full my balls feel right now and how my cock is twitching, how I’mleakingprecum all over my boxers and my thighs. And I’m not even touching myself! The pressure as I squeeze my cock between my thighs does nothing to quell my desire. I’m so hard, it hurts.

Fuck, I’m going to come!

“Come for me, baby,” Russ demands, and then I hear Nora’s cry, and I just…know.

I’ll never be able to erase this from my mind. Ever.

I have half a moment to get my hand around my cock before I come all over the floor. Hard. I clench my teeth, fighting back the urge to moan as I fill my hand with my cum.

Oh, fuck.

Shame and guilt blanket me as I come, panic mixing in with the shame. My stomach twists with nausea because I know this is so fucked up on so many levels.

For starters, Nora is Brett’s girlfriend. I just listened to my brother’s girlfriendcheaton him. With our other brother.

My cock spurts cum like a fucking geyser, my head feeling slightly dizzy. I never comethismuch when I masturbate.

Scratch that, I don’t think I’ve ever come this much, period. In my life.

When my cock finally stops spilling cum, I regretfully look down to see my hand covered in thick white spend. My boxers are covered too, and there’s a steady string of cum dripping from my cockhead to the carpet.

Shit!

I wipe my hand on my leg, panic and anxiety lacing me. My chest and throat tighten as I realize my cock is spent, but it’s not soft yet.

I use my free hand to collect the string of cum and wipe it from the carpet. I carefully, quietly get up, noticing that Russ and Nora are still on the couch, curled together. Asleep.

I breathe a guilty sigh of relief as I sidle down the hall to the bathroom and take my piss. I close my eyes, trying to discount what just happened. What I just witnessed.

Should I say something? To Freddie? To Brett? Nora?

Or should I just pretend I never saw this? Pretend that it never happened?

Never speak of it and take it to my grave?

I wash my hands, then grab a clean rag to clean up my mess. In the light of the bathroom, it’s more than apparent just how much of a mess I’ve made.

I wash my dick, waiting for my semi-hard appendage to settle down so I can go back to sleep. So I canforgetabout what I saw, even though I know I’ll never be able to forget that.

Just like I’ll never be able to forget how hard I came.

I do my best to clean myself up enough and quietly sneak back to my bedroom, passing a snoring Russ and Nora. I stop for a moment, realizing they’re both out cold, in nothing but their clothes, no blanket. I peer over the couch, noticing the large wet spot on Russ—where he came in his pants.

Equal parts envy and disgust lace me. Disgust, because he crossed a line, knowing she’s with Brett. Envy because I wish it wasmeinstead that was kissing her. That it was me eliciting those moans and that she was callingmyname.

Shame hits again because I know that’s equally as fucked up as listening to them get one another off.

My gaze drifts to Nora. How peaceful she looks. Her long eyelashes stand out against her pale, freckled cheeks. I’m tempted to count how many there are. Like I count the simulated stars on my ceiling from my projector sometimes, when I can’t sleep.

A shiver runs through her, and that shatters everything. Because despite what happened, I know it’s not going to change how I feel about her.