Chapter 15: He Gave Me A Spare Key
Recap: Earlier tonight, Drew bent me over the weight bench in the middle of his gym and fucked me so deep the security camera caught the whole thing. And of course, Jason (my ex) sent us a screenshot of Drew balls deep inside me. But that didn’t stop Drew. He pulled out long enough to look at the picture, then grabbed my hips and pounded me even harder. Came in me with a phone still buzzing in his hand. We collapsed together, sweaty, breathless, everything between us out in the open now. And that was just round one.
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When I say he fucked me again the second we got back to his place, I mean I barely made it past the front door.
Still-naked under my jacket. Still dripping.
Drew slammed me against the kitchen counter and shoved himself in like he hadn’t just finished inside me twenty minutes earlier. My thighs were sore from the gym. My hole was sore from him. And I still took it.
That was the kind of night it was.
So yeah, when I woke up the next morning, I was face down in his bed, ass sore, cock hard, one arm thrown over his pillow and the other groping for the phone I couldn’t find.
The whole place smelled like sweat and sex. Sunlight was pouring in through his blinds, warm on my bare back. My boxers were on the floor. His tank top was halfway under my thigh. And my entire body felt like I’d been split open and bench pressed back together.
Which, honestly? Kind of hot.
I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes, groaning. Drew wasn’t in bed anymore. I heard him moving around the kitchen. Plates clinking. Cabinet doors opening. He was making breakfast or so I thought
.
I looked down at myself-dried cum on my abs, a handprint still faintly visible on my left thigh and thought,
What the fuck are we doing? Because let’s be clear: I wasn’t living here. I had a whole apartment across town. A roommate who would absolutely murder me if he found out I was spending every night with my ex’s brother, letting him raw me like a personal stress toy.
Drew was already in the kitchen when I stumbled out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of briefs. He had a spoon in his mouth and a massive bowl of cereal in front of him, leaning against the counter like he hadn’t just railed the soul out of me six hours ago.
“Morning, sunshine,” he said, mouth full.
“Shut up,” I groaned, rubbing my face. “I need to go home. Shower. Get to work. I’m late.”
He grinned. “Maybe you should keep some clothes here. You know, just till I find a new roommate.”
I snorted. “My hole needs a rest, Drew.”
He gave a fake pout. “I’d fuck you right now on this kitchen counter if I didn’t have a gym to run.”
“Wow. Romance is alive.”
He held up the milk carton and tilted it toward me. “Want some?”
I gave him a look. “No. That ain’t healthy. You’re a fucking gym trainer. You should know better.”
He shrugged. “It’s protein.”
I rolled my eyes, walked back into the bedroom, and started fishing my wrinkled clothes out of my gym bag. Yesterday’s jeans. Sweat-dried shirt that still faintly smelled like his sweat and my own desperation.
By the time I left, Drew was already rinsing his bowl in the sink. “Text me when you get off work,” he said casually, like this was a normal arrangement.
I didn’t answer. Just gave him a look that probably meant
we’ll see but definitely meant
yes, obviously, fuck me again later.
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Work was hell.
I sat weird in every chair. My lower back ached. My hole throbbed. My whole body was one long, vibrating flashback to the night before. Every time I bent over to get something, I remembered the way his hands had pressed into my waist. Every time I crossed my legs, I felt phantom thrusts.
Around 7 p.m., I logged off from work and dragged my half-broken ass back to my place.
I was planning to stay the night at Drew’s again and then I remembered what he said that morning; the whole
“maybe you should keep some clothes here” line and I laughed to myself, standing in my doorway like an idiot. Then I turned right around, went to my room, and grabbed a bag like I was packing for a damn sex retreat.
Couple button-ups for work, two T-shirts, shorts, gym clothes, a hoodie, socks, underwear, deodorant, toothpaste, lube. No condoms, obviously. We’re fucking raw, baby.
I tossed it all into a duffel bag like I was prepping for a week-long dick appointment.
Texted Drew:
Yo I’m tired, not gonna work out tonight. Heading over to yours.
He replied in 0.2 seconds with an eggplant and peach emoji, followed by a mirror selfie of him flexing shirtless in the gym locker room; abs tight, smirk cocky as hell, that same energy that said
I am going to fuck you tonight.
So I headed over.
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Drew had given me a spare key to his place. Like I was already his roommate. But I wasn’t planning on getting railed again tonight.. at least that's what I was telling myself. My body needed a break. My ass had been through enough in the last twenty-four hours to qualify for trauma therapy. I figured I’d just chill on his couch, eat something, maybe watch a movie. He had a good TV setup. Big flat screen. Comfy throw blanket that lowkey smelled like him. . I flopped onto the couch, started something dumb on Netflix, and let myself just... exhale.
I was lazied up on the couch, one leg slung over the back, a throw blanket half on me like I lived there. Lying down like it was already my place. Half-watching the movie. Half-horny from the sun-soaked beach scene playing on screen... some shirtless actor in a tight tank top with glistening abs and a cocky little grin. I had a semi pressing against my thigh and didn’t even try to hide it. I was comfortable.
And then, my phone buzzed. Right in the middle of the hot scene.
Another ping.
And another.
Three in a row.
I glanced over, squinting. It was Jason.
That little fucker. What the hell did he want now?
I unlocked it.
The preview showed one line of text, followed by a link.
Below that, a video file.
“Lover Boy Gets Railed.”
I blinked. Clicked. And just like that, the tab opened to a porn page I’d definitely seen before. Not amateur. But it looked like a homemade video. Shot in someone’s apartment. Dim lighting, bedsheets kind of messy, nothing polished or staged. It felt real. Too real.
Right at the top, the channel name popped up:
Brad & Cody XXX.
The video auto-played on mute. I didn’t even press anything. Just sat there, mouth slightly open, eyes narrowing as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing.
Just a camera set up at the edge of a mattress while three guys went at it like they’d been doing this for hours. On the left side of the screen was a really fit, muscular guy: abs sharp, arms flexed holding a phone in one hand while laid back on the bed. He was pounding into someone sitting on his cock, reverse cowgirl style. The bottom’s back arched, bouncing in rhythm. In front of him was a handsome, clean-cut guy...cute in that cocky college-boy way...stroking himself while feeding his dick into the bottom’s mouth. The three of them moved in a rhythm.
The sounds were off, but I could see the way his back arched. The way his fingers dug into the sheets. The way he opened his mouth like he wanted more.
The guy getting fucked started sucking the third guy’s cock while the one behind kept pounding into him from below. His body moved like he wanted all of it. Like he was born for it.
And then my eyes locked onto a detail that made my stomach drop.
I looked at the bottom and saw the scar on his back and immediately knew it was Jason. That small scar near his left shoulder blade; the one he got when we tried hiking that summer and he fell trying to climb a stupid boulder. I used to run my thumb over it in bed. I knew it like I knew his voice.
There was no mistaking it.
It was my ex. Jason getting used by two of the hottest pornstars I had seen.
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[Chapters 16-23 are already posted on Patreon early before they drop here]
