My Best Friend’s Brother Dylan Was Supposed to Be Straight
Copyright© 2025 by StoriesByTroy
Chapter 12: I Came From Dylan’s Apartment
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 12: I Came From Dylan’s Apartment - 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 Cheating Sharing Brother DomSub MaleDom Light Bond Rough Spanking White Male White Couple Anal Sex First Masturbation Oral Sex Safe Sex Size Nudism Slow
Dylan’s fingers tightened around my jaw. “Keep looking at me,” he whispered. “I want you to see who’s fucking you.”
I did. I watched every second of it.
His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, perfectly angled to make my back arch and my toes curl. He gripped my thighs tighter, driving into me with full, unrelenting power like he was trying to fuck something out of me. Maybe my guilt. Maybe my memory of Elliot’s soft hands and gentler hips. Maybe the part of me that still didn’t know what I wanted.
“Fuck, Dylan...”
“Yeah,” he grunted, grinding deeper. “Say my name again.”
“Dylan ... fuck...”
My voice cracked on the syllable. He kissed me hard, tongue forcing past my lips. I moaned into it. My legs were wrapped around his lips, and I could feel everything. His sweat on my chest. His cock slamming into me, fast and possessive. His hand stroking mine like he wasn’t just fucking me ... he was laying claim again.
“I bet he kissed you while he fucked you,” Dylan muttered against my throat.
“He did,” I panted.
He growled and slammed harder. “But you came to me.”
I couldn’t argue.
He held my hips down, locking me in place as he started to pound into me.
Thwack
Thwack
Thwack
Every stroke hit just right, slapping against my ass, cock sliding in deep enough to make me gasp.
“You like this more,” he whispered.
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.
He leaned down and bit my neck, then sucked at the spot. “You want slow kisses and eye contact? Fine. But I know what your body wants. And it’s not poetry. It’s this.”
His hand snaked down and gripped my cock. I gasped.
“I can feel your hole squeezing me,” he said, voice thick. “You’re close, huh?”
“Yes ... fuck, so close”
His strokes turned brutal, cock dragging against my prostate with every deep thrust. My back arched again. I was shaking, legs trembling, fingers digging into the couch cushions.
“Say it,” he growled. “Say who’s making you cum.”
“You,” I gasped. “Fuck, Dylan ... Aah...”
“Aaah ... uh ... fuu ... ckkk”
I came hard. Hot and messy across my own stomach. My hole clenched down on him and he hissed.
Dylan stayed buried inside me, grinding with deep, steady thrusts that left no room for doubt. His eyes stayed locked on mine, intense, almost dark with focus. I was breathless, legs wrapped around him, arms gripping his shoulders. He kissed me again, messier now, wet and hot and hungry. His cock kept hitting that spot, over and over, and I was loving inch of his cock inside me.
The friction, the heat, the pressure ... it was overwhelming.
He fucked in deep, his breath stuttering in my ear, and then I felt it. His whole body tightened above me. He let out a low groan, and I felt the heat of his cum spill flood inside me in slow, heavy pulses.
“That’s for you. Keep it in,” he growled.
I gasped, trembling around him, hole clenching hard. The moment was intense. Raw. My thighs shook. His cock twitched inside me.
He didn’t pull his cock out after cumming inside me. He stayed inside, holding me close, kissing the side of my face. His body was hot, slick with sweat. I felt his heart beating against mine, fast and hard.
Neither of us spoke.
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