My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan Was Supposed to Be Straight
Copyright© 2025 by StoriesByTroy
Chapter 7: Beg For It
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 7: Beg For It - When I agreed to a chill weekend at my best friend's place, I didn’t expect his older brother Dylan to be back—or to look like that. I should’ve looked away. I didn’t.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Ma Ma Teenagers Consensual Romantic Gay BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Humor Western Brother DomSub MaleDom Spanking White Male White Couple Anal Sex First Masturbation Oral Sex Safe Sex Size Nudism Slow
Earlier today, Becca almost caught us red-handed. Dylan’s cock was seconds from sliding into me when she knocked on the door, forcing me to yank up my shorts and pretend nothing was happening. But now, minutes later, I was back in his apartment, bent over his bed, my hole still wet from his mouth, and my entire body trembling with how badly I needed him.
“Please Dylan,” I whispered, still on my knees. “Please fuck me.”
Dylan didn’t say anything at first. Just stared down at me from behind. I could feel his gaze, feel the weight of it, the heat. My hole twitched, still slick and needy. I turned slightly, desperate to see him.
He was gripping his cock now, stroking it slowly teasing me. “You think I’m just gonna fuck you because you asked, Spaghetti Noodle?” he murmured. “Nah. Not until you say it properly.”
I whimpered. “Dylan...”
“I wanna hear you say it like you mean it.”
“I do,” I gasped. “I mean it. Please. I want your cock. I want you inside me.”
My voice cracked as I said it. There was no playing now. No teasing. I was trembling under him, soaked with his spit, my body open and aching and ready. I needed him so badly I could taste it, feel it in every pulse of my skin, every twitch of my hole. I looked back, eyes wide, lips parted, and he was already lining himself up behind me, cock heavy, flushed, thick and wet with precum.
He didn’t move yet. Just stayed there, rubbing the swollen head of his cock over my rim in lazy, taunting circles. His hands gripped my hips like he owned them. Like I was already his.
“Tell me how much you want me,” he said, voice low and dark.
“I have been waiting a month to feel your cock inside me,” I said, every word rushed and breathless. “Dylan, please. Please fuck me.”
“Good Boy. You have to know who is in charge, Troy”, he said.
His body shifted forward, and I felt him press his cock harder against me. A single inch of pressure, enough to make my breath stutter and my back arch. He stayed there, not pushing in yet, just letting me feel the threat of it. The promise. His fingers dug into my waist.
“Get comfortable,” he said. “Spread your ass wider. Open up that hole for me.”
I whimpered, shifting slightly, pulling my thighs apart, arching deeper into the mattress. My arms braced, fingers curling into the pillow. My heart was racing. My cock was leaking onto the fabric. He leaned down slowly until his chest pressed against my back, skin warm and tight with muscle, his whole body blanketing me in heat.
Then he brought his left hand around and slid two fingers into my mouth. His right hand snaked under me, dragging slowly across my stomach until it found my belly. He held me there, pinned and breathless.
“Moan for me,” he whispered. “Mon amour. That’s what that French dude calls you, right?”
His voice turned sharper, darker, hungry. “He can’t fuck you like I do.”
And then he pushed inside.