Page 19 of My Ex's Brothers

Marriage? Kids? Yeah, of course Iwantthose things, but right now all I want to do is play hockey andbetwenty-four. Which I couldn’t do under his roof, but under Dane’s…

My stepbrothers don’t care who I bring home or how late I come walking through the door. All they care about is that I do my part around here with the chores and maintain my grades, and honestly, that’s a relief.

Not that I bring a whole lot of women back to the house or anything. At least, not anymore. My focus is on trying to land a spot on the Badgers.

Rusk, number 69, is set to retire this year, and I graduate in May.

This is it—this is my shot. Probably the only chance I’ll get to try out for the Badgers, so I need to make it count. No distractions…

My cock protests, and I groan. I really thought this fucking hard-on would have died by now, but I can’t seem to shake it. Which means there’s only one way to really get rid of it, and thankfully I’ve got the house to myself for thirteen minutes.

That should be more than enough time for me to jerk off.

I head toward my room, not bothering to close my door because I’m alone. I waste no time getting on my bed and wrestling my cock out of my pants, reveling in the relief.

One of the nice things about Dane’s place is the spacious bedrooms. Three of us live here, but it’s not crowded in the least. My bedroom alone is big enough for a king-size bed and a sofa, which is a nice change from the nine-by-thirteen room I had at Betsy’s place.

One glance at my clock tells me I’m down to ten minutes, which means I don’t have time to edge myself like I normally like.

I spit into my hand, lathering my cock in my saliva as I start with fast, even strokes. My head falls back into the pillows and I close my eyes, focusing on the feel of my hard cock, wet and warm in my hand.

But my thoughts wander to other things that are wet and warm. Things that would be wet, warm, and tight, wrapped around my cock. It’s been awhile since my cock’s felt such things.

Like I said, no distractions. I haven’t brought a girl home since the Memorial Day BBQ last year…

Like bleeding chaos, my mind slips back to that day. To Amelia, standing there in that tight little yellow sundress, her golden hair pulled up in a bouncy, full ponytail. Those long, pretty legs that begged to be licked and kissed all the way up.

I groan as I remember the sight of her bright smile as she talked to the neighbors, the curve of the fabric that outlined her plump little ass.

And then those thoughts dissipate, bringing forth the sight of her now. Swollen breasts and fuller hips. My cock throbs, precum spilling out of my slit as I think about those full breasts exposed. How pert and perfect those stiff nipples would be, and what they would taste like in my mouth.

The strangest thought pushes through, because I don’t remember her breasts being so big before, and the reality hits me and my cock full force.

Probably because she’s breastfeeding. Or pumping. Or whatever.

The thoughtshouldjolt me out of my arousal and kill my boner right here, but it doesn’t.

“Fuck,” I groan as my balls draw tight. My cock twitches in my hand as I suck in a breath. I roll over onto my stomach, my hand still wrapped around my cock as my thoughts get all jumbled.

I imagine sucking those perfect, full tits, imagine watching them jiggle as I fuck her. My cock slides through my wet fist as I bury my face in my pillow, my mouth slightly agape as I moan out my ecstasy. My mind wanders to those hips, and images of those long legs wrapped around me push forth.

My thrusts come faster, harder, my palm warm and slick from the amount of precum and saliva coating my cock. With my eyes closed, I can pretend this is what she feels like.

The thought lands just as I find the pinnacle of my release.

I groan a muffled sound into my pillow as I cover my cockhead. Cum fills my hand until it forces its way through my fingers, and my eyes practically roll back in my head from the ecstasy.

Well…that’s new.

Usually when I jerk off, I don’t have to really think. Just touching myself is enough. But I can’t deny that thinking about Amelia—even though I know I shouldn’t—was way better.

I let out a heavy sigh as I hear the click of the door, and I know I need to get cleaned up. I peel myself off my bed and note the wet spot in my wake. When I make it to my en suite bathroom, I take my time cleaning myself up and then decide to shower too.

The water is warm against my skin, and it feels good, even if my dick feels sensitive.

I push the weird fantasies out of my brain. What’s done is done. It’s not like it’ll happen again.

When I get out, I take my time getting ready and dressed before I head down the hall. Dane is in the kitchen, sitting at the counter and scrolling on his phone.

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