Odessa Hywell

“Hey Oliver. Have you seen—What the fuck?” I stumble to a stop just inside of Oliver’s bedroom, the Fuck Sause Numbing Anal Lube that Nash texted me about an hour ago while I was at work, clenched in my hand as my brain tries to process what my eyes are seeing. Nash is resting against the headboard, knees bent, his fingers buried in curly light brown hair—Oliver’s hair. Because it’s Oliver between his spread thighs. Both of them are naked and Oliver is thrusting against his sheets as he moans and sucks our older brother’s cock like he’s desperate for...

I carefully ease my fingers from Oliver’s wet hole, watching for any signs of discomfort, and slick my cock before dragging him down the bed and into my lap. His ass settles on my thighs as his head rests just below Nash’s soft cock and loose balls. The pair of them watch me—one of Oliver’s hands laced with one of Nash’s hands as Nash strokes Oliver’s flushed throat, and upper chest. Soothing him, maybe.  Even though Oliver is older than me by eight minutes, and does eight minutes really even count between brothers, I’ve always been his caretaker. On bad...

How can Nash be so fucking mean? To say something like that to me, to imply I’m a disappointment, after everything I’ve done, after everything I’ve let him do to me.  I dig my nails into Waylon’s thighs, and swallow around the sudden lump in my throat, even as I try to blink back the tears burning my eyes, but the sob nor the hot tears will be restrained. My shoulders shake as I press my face into Waylon’s thigh. He’s frozen under me for half a second before Nash’s strong arms are pulling me upright and into his solid...

Fuck. I really am an asshole. The worst sort of big brother.  Oliver, with his freshly washed, flushed pink skin, damp hair, and sad eyes, wrapped in clean sheets courtesy of Waylon, looks like an exhausted, kicked puppy, attempting to hide from the world (or maybe just me) as I offer him the pain relievers.  Something I should have done hours ago instead of eating his ass and trying to fuck him again when my dick can’t even stay hard.  So maybe I went too far, demanded too much of him. Especially for his first time having sex. And maybe...

Blue balls are a thing. Just ask mine.  Not that I’m upset with or blaming Oliver. After Nash played so rough with him, he needed his rest. An afternoon in bed just talking about nothing and watching movies while Nash and I tended to his every want or need, and a night of uninterrupted sleep should cure most of his aches and pains.  But waking with Oliver’s back pressed against my chest, my arm tossed over his midsection, one of our hands tangled together, and his bubble butt cradling my hard cock makes it hard to remember all the reasons...

One Year Later We’ve come full circle—my brothers and me.  Mom and Dad back out of the driveaway and wave goodbye before I shut the door, lock it and turn around. Nash and Waylon are right there and if the hungry expressions they’re openly wearing, and the badly hidden erections they’re sporting are any indication, they plan to make the most of the next fourteen days.  I’m not sure I can emotionally or physically withstand whatever they have planned. When I’m the sole focus of one of them, that particular brother uses me until I’m past the point of exhaustion,...

“Breath, pretty baby.” Waylon runs hands up my spine and into my hair. He scratches my scalp and his beard drags against my sensitive skin as he kisses my forehead, cheek, nose, chin and mouth. “Let Nash in. I know you can do it. For us.” I really don’t know if I can. But fuck, I want to try.  All the preparation and training has been leading to this, hasn’t it?  I can’t back out or fail now.  I blow out a breath and relax against Waylon. He wraps his arms around me and holds me tight against his chest....

Who knew the first time we fucked Oliver, had him stretched wide around our cocks, both of us buried balls deep in him, would be so fucking mind blowing? The earth could open up and swallow me whole and I’d die happy. So long as Waylon and Oliver are swallowed as well, of course. “Okay?” I whisper against his jaw as I run my hands down his damp sides.  Oliver hums and nods but doesn’t speak. His eyes are wet with tears but glazed with pleasure as I sit back and ease out of his well used hole with all...

Eventually, Oliver is able to roll to his back after he comes down from his sex high. He tosses one leg over me, and one leg over Nash while peering up at the ceiling. There is still a blissed out little smile on his mouth as he runs his fingers through my chest hair, and Nash’s actual hair.  We pet him too—fingers in his hair, across his smooth chest, down his sides and over his thighs. None of us are attempting to start anything, not right now at least.  For the moment I’m happy to exist in peace with my...