Page 27 of Betting Brett

“Perfect! Enjoy your evening." With that, she departs, leaving us all a bit surprised.

"That was... unexpected," Paul murmurs.

Sam chuckles. "This town is full of surprises."

The evening continues in a blur of laughter and shared stories. But when the coffee is finished, and Paul starts yawning, I realize it’s time to call it. We pay our tab and walk out with Paul and Sam, promising each other that we have to do this again soon. It wasn’t planned, but it turned into a solid night of friendship and romance.

I’m not quite ready to let the night end, and thankfully, Andy isn’t either. "Want to head to my place?" he suggests, a playful glint in his eyes.

I nod, excitement bubbling up inside me. "Sounds perfect."

The drive to Andy's is short, but it feels endless. Tension fills the car, a heady blend of anticipation and raw desire. Every red light feels like a curse, every green a godsend. The soft hum of the engine and the slow drawl of a country song mix with our ragged breaths and the occasional touch of fingers on thighs. At one point, Andy's hand slides to my knee, squeezing gently, his fingers creeping higher. I shoot him a look, my eyes heavy with desire, and he smirks, clearly relishing the effect he's having on me.

I park in his parking spot and follow him up the steps, listening to him talk about some television show but only being able to focus on how good his ass looks in his pants. I haven’t been into Andy’s apartment since I helped him move in. Now that he’s all unpacked and has things put away, it looks great. The living room boasts a large L-shaped couch facing a flat-screen TV. One wall is covered with bookshelves, housing a diverse collection of novels, travel guides, and photo albums. It's so Andy – warm, welcoming, and brimming with personality.

Entering, a familiar scent welcomes me – a blend of sandalwood and something that's just... Andy. He kicks off his shoes, gesturing for me to do the same. "Make yourself at home," he grins.

I trail after him to the kitchen, where he's already pulling out glasses and a bottle of whiskey. "Drink?" he offers, pouring without waiting for my answer.

Accepting the glass, I take a sip, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through me, intensifying the arousal that's been simmering all evening. Seriously, it feels like the alcohol goes straight to my cock.

We fall into the same easy conversation and relaxed silences that we’ve always had, but now our chat is punctuated by fleeting touches – a hand resting on an arm, fingers grazing the nape of a neck. With each passing moment, the space between us seems to diminish.

The atmosphere, which had relaxed between truck and front door, thickens again with sexual tension. Every touch, every look is charged. The distance between us evaporates until we're nearly on top of each other, our breaths hot and mingled, our bodies screaming for contact. Eventually, we give up any pretense of conversation as our lips crash together, hands roaming with a hunger that's impossible to ignore. We tug at each other’s clothes, desperate to feel skin on skin. The taste of whiskey on Andy's tongue only adds to the intoxication of the moment. Our breaths come fast and uneven as Andy's hands find the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift motion. I return the favor, my fingers fumbling with his buttons, eager to expose the toned chest beneath. Our lips never part and the urgency of our need evident in every touch, every moan.

My hands slide down to the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease. Andy steps out of them, leaving him in just his boxers, which are visibly straining against his throbbing erection. He quickly rids me of my jeans, our cocks brushing against each other through our underwear, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through us.

In the dim light of the side lamp, I can see the desire burning in Andy's eyes. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of my boxers, pulling them down and freeing my aching cock. I do the same for him, and for a moment, we just stand there, taking in the sight of each other, fully naked and fully aroused.

Fuck. He is beautiful.

The need to be closer, to feel more, quickly ends the moment of admiration.

“Bedroom?” I ask him. Andy answers by grabbing my hand and leading me towards the bedroom. He snaps on the bedside lamp rather than the overhead, and a soft glow illuminates the room, casting a warm, inviting light. The bed, with its plush pillows and soft sheets, beckons to us.

Stopping in front of the bed, Andy turns to me, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and vulnerability. “Wait, Brett… I want more tonight.”

“More? What do you mean?”

He looks down, his tongue licking his lips as he strokes me. "I want you inside me," he whispers, his voice thick with need. “I want you to fuck me tonight, Brett.”

The meaning of his words hits me, the trust and intimacy they convey. I nod, my own desire evident with the way my dick leaks a string of precum. "Are you sure?"

He nods, pulling me close for another passionate kiss. "More than anything."

Andy moves to lie down on the bed and motions toward the nightstand. I reach over and pull out a condom and a bottle of lube. Andy watches intently as I roll the condom onto my impatient cock. I hand him the lube, and he pours a generous amount onto his fingers, reaching between his legs, eyes rolling shut as he rubs himself.

“That’s it, baby,” I practically purr, watching his fingers rub over his hole before pushing inside. A heat like I’ve never felt roars through me, threatening to scorch me into a pile of horny ashes. The sight of him touching himself, his face contorted in pleasure, is almost too much to bear. I have to fight the urge to take him right then and there. But I wait, wanting to make sure he's ready.

He slowly pulls his fingers out. When he nods, signaling that he's prepared, I position myself between his legs, the head of my cock pressing against his entrance. The anticipation is almost unbearable. With a deep breath, I push forward, the tight heat of him enveloping me. The sensation is incredible, a mix of pleasure and intimacy, tightness and heat, that's unlike anything I've ever felt.

Andy gasps, his fingers digging into my shoulders. "Go slow," he tells me.

I nod, giving him time to adjust before I start to move, each thrust slow and deliberate. Honestly, if I went any faster, I’d probably cum in seconds. Slow is fine with me. The pleasure builds with every movement, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

But soon, slow isn’t enough. I pick up the pace, feeling like Andy’s body is sucking me in, feeling his cock throb in my fist with every rock of my hips, burying myself deeper and deeper inside him. Inside of my best friend, the sexiest god damned man I’d ever seen. His chest is flushed red as he grips the sheets, moaning my name as I fuck into him.

The sounds of our moans and the slap of skin on skin fill the room and the pace quickens. Our movements become more urgent, more desperate. I can feel the pressure building, the coil of pleasure tightening in my core. Andy's cries grow louder, his body tensing beneath me.

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