Bro to Hoe - Part 24 (Patreon)

Everyone in this story is 18+

Atlas leaves the bedroom door wide open when he heads for the shower. Simon and I stay on the bed in the matching pink lace, both still hard, both still breathing like we just finished a set. The water starts running down the hall. For a minute we just listen to it.

Simon picks my phone up off the sheets and unlocks it with the code I gave him earlier. He angles it toward me.

“One more while he’s in there?”

I nod. He takes a few shots of me still on all fours, then has me roll onto my back with the lace pulled halfway down my thighs so everything is on display. The shower is short. We only get through a handful of pictures before the water shuts off.

Atlas strolls back in less than two minutes later, completely naked, skin still damp, a towel dragged once over his hair and then dropped on the floor. Droplets run down his chest and stomach. He looks at the two of us, at the phone in Simon’s hand, and the grin spreads slow.

“Shit. I’m mad worked up. How about a goon session? You guys down?”

Before either of us can answer, the front door opens downstairs and Jude’s voice carries up the stairwell.

“Yo, anybody home?”

Atlas cups a hand around his mouth. “Upstairs. You’re gonna want in on this.”

Jude’s footsteps come up fast. He appears in the doorway still in his gym clothes and stops short. His eyes move from me to Simon to the pink lace to Atlas standing there wet and naked with his cock already half-hard, and for a second nobody speaks. Then Jude’s mouth quirks.

“The fuck kind of day did I miss?”

“The fun kind, I walked in on them taking some pics together. I figured we might as well just goon?” Atlas says it completely matter-of-factly. He grabs the remote off the nightstand, turns the TV on, and pulls up a bisexual compilation without any comment or warning. Two guys and a girl, then two guys alone, the kind of mix that doesn’t force anyone to pick a side. He drops onto the bed like it’s the most normal thing in the world and palms his cock, giving it a few loose strokes while the video starts playing.

I like that he doesn’t make a speech about it. No big announcement, He just puts it on and assumes we’ll handle ourselves. It takes some of the weight off my chest.

Jude watches the screen for a second, then looks at me. I give him a small nod. That seems to be enough.

“Fuck it.”

Jude strips without ceremony, shirt first, then shorts and underwear in one push, and climbs onto the bed on my other side so I’m between him and Simon. His cock is already filling out, the head darkening as it grows.

Atlas is the first one really moving, fist working steady, free hand occasionally rolling his nuts. Simon pushes the pink lace down far enough to free himself and starts with slower strokes, almost experimental, thumb swiping over the head every few pulls to spread the wetness that’s already gathered there. I shove the lace down my own thighs and spit into my palm before wrapping it around my shaft, matching the rhythm on the screen without meaning to.

Jude sits close enough that his bare thigh stays pressed against mine the whole time. He strokes with one hand and lets the other rest on my knee, fingers occasionally flexing against the muscle. When the video shows one of the guys getting his nipples played with, Jude’s free hand drifts up in his nipple, light at first, then harder as his breath stutters.

Atlas keeps glancing around at all of us, openly watching who does what. Simon has started using both hands.

The room fills with the wet sound of four fists and the low noise from the TV. Nobody’s talking much. Jude’s shoulder stays against mine, solid and warm. Every time his knuckles brush my hip on a stroke it sends another small current through me. I can feel how hard he is, the substantial weight of him moving in his fist right next to my leg.

Simon finishes first. His rhythm goes short and tight, focused right under the head, both hands working now. A rough sound gets caught in his throat and then he’s exploding across his stomach in thick jets, the last few weaker spurts landing on the bunched pink lace still around his thighs. He keeps stroking through it until his thighs shake and he has to let go, chest rising and falling hard.

Atlas watches him the whole way through and lets out a low appreciative breath. His own hand speeds up. He pinches one of his nipples hard between finger and thumb while he strokes, hips lifting off the mattress, and then he’s coming in long heavy ropes that stripe up his chest and catch in the hair on his stomach. He milks himself slowly after the first few spurts, eyes half-closed, a deep satisfied sound rolling out of him as the last drops bead and drip over his knuckles.

Jude’s breathing has gone uneven beside me. His hand on my knee tightens. I feel the moment he tips over, the way his whole body goes rigid for a second. Warm drops spatter across my hip and the side of my thigh as he comes, some of them sliding down my skin in slow trails. He keeps stroking through it, jaw clenched, eyes locked on the mess he’s leaving on me until the last weak pulse leaves him.

The sight of it and the feeling of those warm drops on my skin push me over. My fist tightens and I finish hard, aiming across my abs in several strong sprays that keep coming longer than I expect. Jude’s hand slides from my knee to my thigh and stays there, grounding me while I stroke out every last drop, the pleasure rolling through me in waves until I’m twitching and oversensitive.

The video keeps playing on the TV, but none of us are really watching it anymore.

Atlas is the first one to speak, voice rough and pleased.

“Yeah. We’re doing that again.”

Nobody disagrees, certainly not me.