Page 115 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
Hot, thick semen paints my vaginal walls, pulsing deep inside me. He collapses against my back for a second, breathing hard, before pulling out. Cum leaks from my swollen entrance, dripping down my inner thigh.
The loss of him is a physical ache, but I don’t have to wait.
Asher steps right into his place. He grips my waist and slides his hard cock into my sloppy, used cunt.
I cry out at the change. Asher is different—sharper, relentless. He hits a different angle, grinding against my G-spot with a clinical precision that makes my toes curl.
“You took him,” Asher whispers, his voice filled with wonder and a dark, possessive hunger. “Now take me.”
He moves with an animalistic energy I’ve never seen in him. The logic is gone. The control is gone. He fucks me like a man starving to death, his hips snapping forward like a piston.
“Tessa,” he gasps, his hands gripping my hips tight enough to bruise.
He fucks me until the bed frame bangs against the wall, chasing his own release with brutal efficiency. He stiffens, his head falling back. He groans loudly and dumps his load deep inside my overflowing pussy.
It’s overload. It’s too much. I’m completely stuffed with them.
Asher pulls out, dazed, his chest heaving.
Owen doesn’t wait. He grabs my shoulders, pulls his cock from my face, and flips me over onto my back. He brackets my hips with his knees, pinning me to the mattress face-to-face.
“My turn,” Owen whispers, his eyes blazing.
He grabs my thighs, pushing them wide, and plunges his wet cock straight into my dripping cunt.
“God, you’re so warm,” Owen murmurs against my skin. He drops his weight onto me, his lips moving over my shoulder, kissing the pulse hammering there.
He rocks into me, burying himself deep, his hand finding mine on the sheet and interlacing our fingers.
“Look at our hands,” he commands softly.
I look down. His large hand holding mine.
“We fit,” he says. “We always have.”
The friction builds. The room is a haze of sweat and noise, but I feel grounded by his grip. He fucks me in deep, rhythmic strokes that push me right to the edge of the cliff.
“I’m close,” I gasp, my nails digging into his back. “Owen, please…”
“Don’t hold back,” he urges, biting my collarbone. “Show off for us, Tess. Come for me.”
I shatter.
The orgasm rips through me, a blinding white light. My body clamps down hard around Owen’s cock, milking him ruthlessly.
“Fuck!” Owen yells. He drives his hips forward, burying his face in my neck. He pumps into me hard, groaning as he pours inside me, joining his brothers.
We stay like that for a long time. Tangled. Sweaty. Connected. One terrifying, beautiful organism.
Slowly, the room comes back into focus. The sounds of the street outside—a car horn, a distant siren—filter in, reminding me that the world still exists. But it feels far away. The only world that matters is in this room.
Owen pulls out, collapsing onto the mattress beside me. He drags me against his chest, tucking my head under his chin.
Ethan leans over me, brushing damp hair off my forehead. His hand shakes slightly. He looks at me with a reverence that steals my breath.
“You okay?” he whispers.
“I think I’m dead,” I murmur, my voice wrecked. “I think you killed me.”
