"Don't fight it, bro."
Chance's words are pitched for my ears only, that's all I can think. Even as close as Aidan and Harper are right now, I'm pretty certain my best friend's advice is only audible because his lips are so near. Practically brushing my skin, in fact, and then that makes me think about how we've made out, Chance and me, and I know what those lips feel like when they're mashed against my own.
My cock throbs even harder in Harper's deviously working fist.
I don't move my arms, though, even as I feel Chance release me. Try not to squirm - or, at least, not more than anyone would, when their buddy is jackhammering their hole raw - as he reaches around me for Aidan on the other side of this bro-meat sandwich.
A moment later, I feel Aidan's whole body stiffen against mine.
"Fuck... you asshole."
My brain doesn't have time to dwell on it, to decode it, because all I can think about is how I'm suddenly getting pounded at double-speed. The gurgle erupting from my throat; a long, drawn-out groan of pleasure and disbelief, as Aidan's staccato thrusts crest over into him jamming himself balls-deep and holding there. Like he wants to bury his entire body inside me, as I feel him flex and throb and realize yet another of my friends is breeding me.
He's only just unclenched his jaw, when he slaps Chance's hands away.
"Dude, get your fucking fingers out of my ass."
Chance laughs, the rumble of it vibrating through my back, and I realize what pushed Aidan over the edge. Some distant, struggling-to-focus part of my brain wonders whether Aidan ever fingers himself while he jerks off. Normally I'd figure it wasn't the sort of question I could really ask, not even of my closest friends, but then again we're all a lot closer than any of us might've predicted, now.
Aidan sags back, slumped onto Chance's knees. It means I don't quite have that sense of being crushed between them, but it also makes it much easier for Harper to grope my rigid dick.
He relents, for a moment. Gives up on that infernal polishing movement around my cockhead, pulling down on it instead. Until I have to tilt my hips, contort to avoid the borderline-painful stretch in my crotch, before flinching as he releases me and my erection bounces up again to slap noisily against my belly.
Riley snorts, amused. He's had a pretty much perfect view, side-on, of me getting nailed twice in a row.
"Don't play with your food," he scolds.
Harper's laugh dims in volume, as he leans down to slurp my dick between his lips.
It's overload, caught in the tangle of them. My three closest friends in the world, crowding in around me and extracting whatever entertainment they see fit to from my naked body. All I can do to tilt my head back and close my eyes, as fingers it's pointless to try to count roam across me. Pinching, stroking, slyly digging, and no part of me off-limits or apparently less appealing. Pushing into my ass and my mouth, skating down my flinching abs and into my hot, sweat-slicked armpits and the hollows behind my knees. As though I'm a map, topography ripe to be explored and understood, and the shifting fingers feed me from the slick of DNA they each left behind.
Harper pulls off me, my muffled gasps apparently betraying how close I am to toppling. His hand taking over, stroking me with a glaze of precum and spit.
I should be embarrassed, how I'm trying to fuck his fist and simultaneously grind myself onto the fingers pressed inside me, but it's too far gone for that. Self-awareness sidelined, delayed, in favor of instant gratification. Even more instant, too, if Harper would only squeeze a little tighter; I whine in frustration as he keeps me teetering on the very edge.
"It's kinda hot, watching you get off, dude," Chance murmurs. Sounding almost surprised at the realization, and it's that jolt of unexpected honesty that has the first spray of cream erupting from my gaping slit.
Heavy, and thick, painting a long line down my chest, and now Harper's giving me that tight, focused grip that I was so desperate for only moments ago. A classic case of "be careful what you wish for," too, because my senses are already cranked up to eleven and his rough strokes are very nearly more than my spasming body can handle.
I'm still bucking and twitching, my balls drained, when he works his shorts down one-handed. Can only watch, in exhausted fascination, as he drags his hand down my chest to gather a slick, oozing wave of cum that Harper then strokes along his erection.
I'm not sure if it's Chance's hand on the back of my head, or Aidan's; either way, one of them pushes me down, making it entirely clear what's expected of me next.
Maybe I ought to feel weird, or freaked out, or like it's wrong to be sucking my buddy's dick right after he's just smeared my own load across it. Or, maybe I should feel embarrassed, at the fact that my best friend's older brother now probably has the perfect view of my well-pounded hole, his younger sibling's cum dripping down my balls. I couldn't exactly blame Riley if he took it as an invitation; can't say I'd really object if he decided now was the perfect time to slide into me himself.
Harper's making these cute, choked little grunting noises, and it's probably fucked up but there's a genuine sense of satisfaction tightening in my chest at the knowledge that I'm responsible for that. My mouth, and tongue, and throat, all conspiring to set his thighs shaking and his cock throbbing. I don't even bother turning, don't pause to glance back, when I feel fingers push inside me again. Like my body is communal property, now: holes that any of the men around me can take advantage of.
My brain is spinning from that realization even as Harper spurts into my throat. The surprise of it making me jerk back, the rest of the bro-goo filling my mouth as I nurse happily on his swollen tip.
It's almost a disappointment - offensive, even - that Riley hasn't mounted me by the time Harper pulls away. As though there's something in my head which has clicked through to a new setting, a switch thrown, and all I can think about is how good it would feel to be passed from man to man. Allow myself to stop asking "is this right?" or "should I be doing this?" and, instead, simply enjoy the sensation of being desired and used.
Hardly graceful, Aidan's dismount from Chance's legs and my own slump to the side. Hyper-aware, again, of my nudity amid their clothed - if disheveled - bodies. No ignoring, too, the way my ass is tingling, and how my dick feels fat and heavy, and that my mouth is still full of Harper's slime.
Riley reaches over, and gently taps my throat.
Obediently, I swallow.
For a minute, I think he's going to say "good boy" or something like that, and I'm pretty sure that would get me hard all over again. He doesn't, though; just gives me this knowing look - like he could read my mind, the thoughts were so loud - and then settles back into his spot on the couch. Reaches for the bottles to hand me one, the cold glass shocking against my fingertips.
And so I sip the beer I got free for sucking a stranger's dick, and try to ignore the sensation of two fresh loads drooling out of my ass, and inexplicably - minute by minute - what's happening on the TV catches and holds my attention. Until it doesn't feel so strange, to be the naked dude still sticky from drying cum, because there are idiot football players making brain-dead plays to yell at, instead.
I nod, when Riley suggests ordering pizza, attention still on the home team and their narrowing lead, and it's only when the doorbell rings distantly - and Riley nudges me with his foot - that I drag my eyes away from the screen.
"Go answer that," he suggests, with a look that says it's not just a suggestion.
I look down, pointedly, at what I'm wearing. Or, more accurately, what I'm not wearing.
"Someone else can go?"
He shakes his head. There's a hint of a smirk on his lips, enough that I know there's no point in arguing. Especially when whoever's at the door leans on the buzzer again.
I stand, glancing around desperately for my shorts. Hell, I'd even settle for my shirt, and figuring out the logistics of pulling that down to cover me at the door.
"Lincoln, hurry up!"
Riley's snapped order lands like a smack. Gritting my teeth, I run up the basement stairs.
The buzzer yowls a third time. Somehow it sounds even angrier, even though I know the noise must be the same as always.
I try my best to stay behind the front door as I pull it open. Even if that's gotta look pretty suspicious in itself.
"Hey..."
No prizes for guessing who it is, or at least why they're there. The big, square, zipped-up padded bag with the pizza place's logo on it is the giveaway.
"I started to think I had the wrong address." A guy's voice. He slaps up the visor on his helmet. "Two extra-large, right?"
Riley didn't actually say what he'd ordered - and I wasn't paying much attention to the discussion about it - but that sounds like our usual. Am nodding, even, when I realize the face half-visible is familiar.
"Jason?"
He pauses, in the middle of hauling out the boxes. "Oh shit, Lincoln. I didn't see your name on the order."
I shrug, even though only one of my shoulders is actually visible. "Not my place. Chance's older brother's."
Jason nods. "Is my brother here?"
Aidan and Jason have that stereotypical sibling-angst dynamic going on. Only a little more than two years difference between them, but they're so different from each other. I mean, the fact that they were both adopted explains the lack of physical similarities, sure, but Jason always seemed so much more energetic and upbeat compared to his sarcastic older brother.
"Basement," I explain.
He shakes his head, grinning. "Always wondered where you guys hung out. Guess I know, now."
It makes me wonder what, exactly, Jason does in his spare time - aside from delivering pizza - though I'm not sure it's the best moment to ask that. The gulf between them has meant that we never really got to know Jason all that well, for one. The fact that I'm butt naked is the more pressing issue, of course.
"Okay, well, that's thirty-eight ninety."
The numbers crack through my distraction.
"Uh..."
For some reason, I figured Riley would've paid when he ordered. And, for obvious reasons, I don't have a wallet on me right now.
"Hold on," I tell him, as Jason blinks at me, "I need to... uh... grab some cash."
Slamming the door in his face would be rude, and weird, and so I nudge it with my heel in what I hope is a casual and not-at-all-trying-to-hide way.
The urge to run down the hallway is strong, but then so is the urge to run down the basement stairs and demand one of the other guys deal with all this. Neither option is gonna work, though, I realize that.
Riley's wallet is on the counter, next to his keys. I say a silent prayer as I snatch it up, that there'll be cash inside.
"Dude, where are your clothes?"
Even as I'm spinning, surprised, on the spot, my brain is screaming at me that it's a dumb thing to do. Only the shock of hearing Jason's voice from the kitchen doorway overruled any sensible reaction.
He's pulled his helmet off, and it's dangling from one hand. The pizza bag, half-zipped up, is in the other. I can take all that in with a brief glance, which means plenty of time to focus on the confused expression as he stares at me.
"Uh..."
My hand's on autopilot, reaching out with the bills clutched tightly in my fingers.
Jason looks a little dazed himself, as he takes a couple of steps forward to retrieve the cash. Goes to lift his hand, then apparently realizes he's still got the pizza bag swinging from it.
It'd be funny - him trying to extricate the big pizza boxes, slide them onto the kitchen table next to me, all the while punctuated by these nervy, curious glances my way, like he can't quite help himself - if it wasn't so mortifying.
Eventually, he drops the empty bag, and reaches out to carefully take the money from me. Stuffs it, uncounted, into the pocket of his black jeans.
"Dude," Jason says, softly.
The intonation is nebulous, but I figure it's a question.
"Long story," I tell him, hoping that'll be enough.
My skin prickles, as he looks me over again. Slower, this time, and more pointed: not the antsy, stolen moments of before.
He's seen me swimming; it's not like my body is entirely unusual to him. Only I was wearing trunks at the time, not naked and smeared with dried spit and cum.
I just about squash down my flinch, as Jason takes another half-step closer. A curious expression on his face, nose wrinkling.
"Dude, you fucking stink. Do you guys work out down there, or something?"
It'd be a good excuse. Only it wouldn't hold up, if Jason went down and saw there were no weights, no fitness equipment at all. Plus, there's that whole matter of me being naked.
"Not... no, not really," I fumble out.
He nods, then gives me a sly look. "You got a girl down there, is that it?"
The snort escapes me, before I can clamp down on my reaction. "Bro, come on."
His eyebrow lifts. "I was gonna say, you're dating Hayley, right? Can't see her putting out in some random basement."
It's my turn to frown. Not like my relationship - as fucked up as it is right now - is a secret, but I can't really imagine why Aidan's younger brother would know, or care, about it.
"You know Hayley?"
He reaches up, scratches the back of his head. "No, no... I mean, I just heard... you and her..."
"There's no girl," I say, interrupting. My tone is probably sharper than it needs to be, but I also need to cut off any possible confusion or potential rumors that I'm sleeping around behind my girlfriend's back.
I mean, I am, I guess, but it's with guys. That's different.
"I didn't mean anything by it." From the look on Jason's face, he's worried I'm pissed at him.
"It's fine," I tell him, because I really don't want another thing to feel guilty over. "It just gets... hot down there. You gotta stay comfy, right?"
There's the hint of a grin, twisting his mouth.
"You tryna tell me you're a nudist, Lincoln?"
I shrug, because I don't have a fucking clue what I am, these days. Riley says exhibitionist, attention-whore. Chance seems convinced I'm just a horny bastard. Harper... well, I get the sense that Harper would say just about anything, if he thought it increased the possibility of me fucking his throat again.
"Mom and Dad get all uppity, even if I'm just walking around in underwear," Jason says, rolling his eyes like that's peak-uptight. "I mean, it's just skin, right?"
I shrug again, and if my expression's a little sheepish, that's only because I'm very aware of how my skin currently has quite a few guys' cum smeared across it.
"Not like you've ever been shy, though," Jason adds, knowingly.
For a minute, I think he's talking about the pool again. Then he raises an eyebrow, and there's something about that look which brings the memory flooding back.
I could only have been seventeen, barely. A sleepover at Aidan's house; dashing to the family bathroom at 2am. Figuring I didn't need to put clothes on over the briefs I'd worn in bed, not with everyone else asleep, and then bumping - very nearly literally - into my friend's younger brother in the hallway.
We'd both looked different, then. Me, not so tall, not so muscled. Jason skinnier and shorter still; his eyes wide under a mop of unruly black hair, as he blinked at me in the greenish glow from the nightlight. His PJs making me extra-aware of just how close to naked I was.
I'd stuttered out some excuse, some explanation, even as I was pushing past him and shutting the bathroom door. Was still cringing at the memory - the shocked expression on his teenage face - when I slipped back under the sheets on the beat-up inflatable mattress in Aidan's room.
"I'm surprised you even remember that," I say, feeling my cheeks redden at the memory. I'm not sure why the thought of getting caught back then remains somehow even more humiliating than the fact that I'm totally naked in front of Jason now.
He gives me a more pointed look, gaze tracking down my bare skin and then up again.
"You look different now."
I snort. "Compared to when I was seventeen? No shit."
"Guess we've all grown up, some," Jason replies.
Not all that long ago, a comment like that wouldn't have even registered. Now, though, it's as if something in my brain has woken up. Can read subtext I never even knew was there to decode.
The hair's still pretty messy - maybe that's the helmet's fault - and the dark brown eyes are the same, but Jason's definitely taller than I remember him being, and his shoulders broader. Narrow waist, and long legs; the denim isn't skintight, but it's not hiding much.
Not a kid any more, then.
He's grinning, when my eyes reach his face again. No, not grinning: smirking.
"This answers the question, anyway."
I frown, just slightly. "What question?"
"What you had in those briefs," he explains, looking entertained.
There are questions you can ask, when someone's nineteen or maybe twenty, that you can't when they're fourteen or fifteen.
"And you were looking, were you?"
Jason flashes me a big, toothy grin. "I was a curious boy."
It's funny, because when he does that, it reminds me of Aidan. Even though there's no blood relation between them.
"Dangerous thing, curiosity," I say, mildly.
"So's walking around naked in someone else's house," Jason counters. "A guy could get the wrong idea of what you've been doing."
"Wouldn't want that," I agree.
He shakes his head, amused. "I'm nineteen, Lincoln. You think I don't know what cum smells like?"
It's hard, to keep my face from giving anything away. Never mind stopping my dick from twitching. I know I should shut this conversation down - that it's wrong, out of line - but I'd be lying if I said there wasn't some part of me enjoying the attention.
"I wouldn't want to presume."
Jason chuckles. "Question is, whose is it?"
"You're assuming it's not mine."
He tilts his head. "Fine. Did you jerk off all over yourself?"
Any answer to that is a terrible idea.
"Nope," I tell him, then frown. "Well, yeah, but it's not all mine."
He looks surprised, at my bluntness, but he rallies fast.
"If fourteen-year-old me had heard that," Jason says, taking another half-step closer, "you'd have blown his little mind."
"And what about nineteen-year-old you?"
I wish I could see myself through his eyes, know if I'm actually holding back my grin or if I'm fooling myself thinking it.
"Like my parents always say," Jason suggests, "he's working out his options."
He leans in, nose close enough to my chest that I can feel the rush of air as he inhales deeply.
"Fuck, you smell good."
His body was lean, compact, when I last saw it. Skin already darkening from his time poolside; long legs appearing almost burnished, the wet nylon of his shorts clinging to his upper thighs. But that was a year ago.
"Do you hit on all your brother's friends like this?" I tease. Wonder if he'll call me out on it; try to deny that this is flirtation at all.
He tilts his head, looking up just enough that I can see the gleam of one eye.
"Only the hot ones."
"And that includes me, does it?"
Jason laughs. It's a richer, altogether dirtier sound than his chuckles before.
"You know it does. You just want me to tell you, because you like the attention."
I laugh too, because he's caught me there, but we both know there's zero chance of me admitting it.
"Did you hook up with my brother?"
Saying yes would be accurate, but not quite tell the whole story.
"Among others," I admit.
Jason snorts. His nose is almost brushing my neck, under my jaw. If there's a gap between our bodies, it can't even be an inch.
"Growing up," he murmurs, "our parents always told us to share our toys."
No way to hold back the groan, as his fingers wrap around my half-hard shaft. Not stroking, not even really squeezing. More like he's weighing it in his fist, testing how real all this is.
Despite everything that's happened today, all the times I've cum, and been cum on, and the loads sprayed inside me, my dick's still thickening. Responding as much to Jason's face nuzzling in under my chin, as to his hand. There's something hungry to it, needy even. A sense of being desired that my body automatically reacts to.
He's rigid, when I palm the front of his jeans. Cock straining, a thick swell I can't help but be curious about.
Aidan would be fucking furious at me, if I had sex with his brother.
I can't claim otherwise; can't pretend he'd see the funny side of it. This isn't Riley and Chance, and the relationship just isn't the same. There's always been this tension between Aidan and Jason, an undercurrent of competition that I'd never felt brave enough, or articulate enough, to challenge my friend on.
The way Jason's levering his dick against my groping fingers suggests he's not really bothered about what his adopted sibling might think of the matter. Or, maybe he knows exactly how enraging and destructive all this could be, and he wants it anyway.
I'm a sick fuck, clearly, because the thought of that - his hunger for me overwhelming everything else - only makes me throb harder in his grip. The sensible thing would be to sidestep every possible thought, or discussion, of Jason's brother. Pretend the family-fracturing potential of all this hadn't even occurred to me.
"What would Aidan say?" I ask, instead.
I feel Jason's chuckle more than hear it. Vibrations through my jaw, as he licks up the side of my face.
"He knows I like guys."
I frown, because Aidan never mentioned that. Then again, it's not like the topic ever came up before.
"Just guys?"
Jason pulls back, just enough to eye me with amusement. "Why? Am I gonna find a pussy down here?"
No way not to think about Chance's words, his taunt, as Aidan plowed me. "Lincoln's the pussy, now" my best friend had teased, and I couldn't exactly argue. Not with his load already spilling out onto his lap from my well-fucked hole.
It's another thing I don't have the words to explain. Not with the pizza cooling on the table behind us, and my buddies downstairs waiting. Even with all the time in the world, I'm still not convinced I could describe what this new sense of awareness - of my body, of its potential, and of the ways I'm suddenly inclined to use it - to the nineteen-year-old currently stroking my dick.
So I take his hand, instead. Guide him, by the wrist, away from my cock and behind me: pushing Jason's fingers between my cheeks.
He catches on fast. Barely a second or two, before his fingertips are worrying at my hole.
"Damn." There's a buzz of admiration in there, in amid the lust. "How many guys have you taken today?"
I shrug, because that's not the point. It's not a competition, more an invitation.
This close, I can see how his pupils swell as he pushes the first finger into me. The score of red, blooming across each cheekbone.
"Did my brother fuck you?"
It's funny, how sibling rivalry can still take hold even in a situation like this. I grab Jason's chin, holding his gaze as he toys with my ass. Nod at the stairs to the basement.
"We've got, like, three minutes before they come looking for me."
He licks his lips. When he swallows, I feel the flex of it against my fingertips.
"I can make that work."
I chuckle, but he's already turning me. Pulling his face from my grip, spinning me around to face the kitchen table. The scent of melted cheese and pepperoni drifting up, as I hear the jangle of his belt behind me.
Jason pauses, like something's just occurred to him.
"Is this, like, a one-time thing? My only shot?"
I look back, over my shoulder, at his serious expression. Then glance down at the thick cock jutting out of his unfastened jeans. I don't know what it says about me, that my insides are practically itching to feel it gouge into me, but I can't help licking my lips.
"Two minutes thirty," I warn him, with a wink.
"Fuck."
The curse spat out, only I don't have time to be amused. Not with Jason's hand between my shoulders, shoving me down over the back of the chair. Barely a second for the fat head of his dick to dredge up through the glaze of bro-cream between my cheeks, before he's pushing at my hole.
"Oh shit," I gasp, as what feels like a foot and a half of dick slides into me.
He's not that big, of course, but he barely gives me time to relax around him. Relying on the loads already inside me to ease his way, youthful eagerness and cum conspiring as I feel his body slam into my cheeks.
For a moment I think he's going to pause, savor the sudden sensation of closeness and absolute intimacy. Clearly, though, Jason took my deadline warning seriously: he yanks back, ignoring the gasp that rattles from deep in my lungs, before driving back into me.
It's fast, and hard, and makes how Chance and the other guys treated me feel like sweet lovemaking in comparison. Not just meeting the demands of that needy itch, but overloading it. Loud, too, as Jason's body pounds mine with a volume that has me half worried it'll summon my friends from downstairs.
I can't focus on that, though; can't really focus on anything, bar the friction of him inside me. Allow myself to be repositioned, his hand pulling on my leg to guide my foot up onto the chair beside me, until I'm better spread for him. Open and accessible, as Jason's sly fingers grip and squeeze. One moment stretching my hole wider with his thumbs, gaping me around his thrusts; the next tugging on my balls as my hard cock wags and spatters precum from the urgency of his strokes.
I should be keeping track of the time, I know I should, but it's pointless. An arbitrary countdown, anyway; a tease, spurring Jason into action, rather than a genuine prediction. And with the heat of him pressing into me, the rhythmic stab of his hips, I can't exactly say I'd be inclined to stop even if my buddies came up and caught us. Hell, I'd figure out a way to apologize to Aidan later.
Though who knows, maybe the knowledge that his adopted brother had to make do with his sloppy-seconds would be gratifying enough.
My whole body flinches at how wrong that thought is, and how incredibly hot, and a split-second later I hear Jason gasp. His fingertips digging harder as my hole clamps down on him, muscles rippling as he plows me with teenage desperation.
"Oh fuck..."
It's the only warning I get, not that I have any intention of pulling away. Jason's clothed form wrapped around my own, squeezing tight, as his cock throbs. His hands clinging to me indiscriminately, as my ass takes yet another load.
I hear him suck down a breath.
"Was that three minutes?"
The snort escapes me before I realize it. Amusement bubbling over, even as Jason pulls back and his still-hard cock tugs from my hole.
Both of us jerk around, startled, by the sound of a throat clearing behind us.
Riley slow-claps.
"Really, the pizza boy?"
I chuckle, then jerk my chin at Jason. "Aidan's brother, actually. Don't tell him, though."
Riley's eyebrow arches. "I wouldn't dare."
I glance at the nineteen-year-old who just slam-fucked me. His expression is wary, as he straightens his jeans and then runs his hands through his hair.
"Chance's older brother, Riley," I say, by way of explanation. "He's gay, too."
Jason gives me a look that I can only assume means "that's a shitty introduction, asshole." Riley's expression, when I look across at him, suggests much the same.
"Was that your ham-fisted way of coming out?"
"No, no, I..." I frown, at the idea of it. I'd really just meant to compare the two of them, that's all. "I'm not gay, I'm just..."
"Easy?" Riley prompts.
"Gooey?" Jason sounds amused.
I glare between them. "Fuck you both."
Jason glances at Riley, a little pointedly, then at his watch. "I'm down for that... but I'm also on the clock."
Suddenly, I really, really want to see him out of his jeans. Preferably undressed completely, on all-fours maybe. My fingers twisted in his messy hair, tugging his head back.
I swallow. If they ask me why I look like I'm about to start drooling, I'll tell them it's the smell of the pizza.
"Did you pay yet?" Riley winks. "For the food, I mean. Not the sex."
He's an asshole, so I hold his eye as I open his wallet again and extract another twenty. Hold it out, pointedly, to Jason.
"I forgot the tip," I explain.
Riley smirks. "I think you got more than just the tip, no?"
I flash him an unimpressed look.
He makes a face, like he's low-key disappointed in me for not playing along with his stupid pun. Still, he doesn't protest when Jason plucks the bill from my hand and pushes it into his pocket.
"I should..." He gestures at the hallway, then frowns. "Look, my brother..."
Riley mimes zipping his smirk shut.
Jason nods, still looking a little uncertain even as he tugs his helmet back on. A moment later, there's the sound of the front door closing.
When I turn, holding the pizza boxes, Riley is already staring at me.
"What?"
"You work fast."
Three minutes, I think to myself.
To him, though, I just shrug. "When opportunity knocks..."
He shakes his head, though he's laughing too.
I wink as I push past him, headed down the stairs.
"Oh, and thanks for the pizza."
Riley's curses drift down to the basement after me.
Thank you for reading, and for your comments and ratings! We're getting toward the end of this story, and I really appreciate you all coming along for the ride. If you're looking for more hot hookups, I think you'll enjoy "Seven Days To Squirm": it's all about what happens when you lose a bet with your best friend, and have to wear a vibrating remote-control buttplug for a week...
