Sniffing My Brother’s Friend’s Underwear 02: Sinking Into Debauchery (Patreon)

OnlyLit Link ;)

Everyone is 18+ and fully consenting.

Chapter 2: Sinking Into Debauchery

The stairs were cold under my feet and the living room was reflecting changing lights from the TV, and Derek was sitting up on his couch-bed with the blanket pooled at his waist, waiting for me. I hovered at the bottom of the steps. He looked at me and did that grin again.

"There he is," he said. "The perv came back."

"You texted me," I said.

"Yeah, I did." He scratched at his chest and let the silence sit for a second. "I could use one more..." 

He gestured to his crotch under the blanket.

I came around the arm of the couch and got down on my knees on the carpet in front of him. I felt like that's where we were at by this point. 

He watched me do it with his tongue in his cheek, and pushed the blanket off his lap. He was hard, sticking up out of his sweats where he'd shoved the waistband down, and my mouth got wet at the sight of it, like a reflex.

He reached over me for his phone, and started thumbing through the screen while I sniffed around his crotch, taking in more of the smell. I think I just loved gooning and all the "gross" parts about him too much. I turned back as he cast some video to the TV, a college gangbang amateur thing, with a girl in the middle of a dorm room floor. But the frame was mostly guys. Four or five of them crowded around her with these big hard dicks out, jostling each other for a turn, and honestly the girl was almost incidental to the scene. It was just a screen full of guys pushing against each other trying to get their dicks wet. I thought, very privately, that this was about the gayest thing a guy could possibly put on and pretend it was straight. I mean, even I liked it.

He turned the volume way up. The moaning and the slapping filled the whole downstairs, bouncing off the walls and even echoing back from the kitchen, and I flinched.

"Nobody's home," he said. "Relax."

But that was the problem. It was my family living room. It was the couch where my dad watched football, and my mom parked the laundry basket to fold it. Now it was full of cock, and a smelly man seducing me into naughty things, porn sounds blasting at two in the morning. It was a lot for my brain to handle. And I kept looking at the dark doorway to the hall like somebody was going to come through it, even though I knew nobody would. My hands felt cold. I wiped them on his thighs.

I choked down all the strange thoughts, and listened to my hormones pulling me into the next phase of my life. I leaned down and put my mouth fully on him for the first time.

When I sucked the head of his dick past my lips, he got into it real fast.

"Look at you," he said loudly over the porn sounds, one hand already touching the back of my head. "You couldn't even wait. I send one text and you're down here on your knees in like thirty seconds."

I hummed around him and he liked that. I could feel him twitch.

"Say what you are," he said. "Come on. Get off my cock for a sec and tell me."

I pulled up, a string of spit connecting my lip to the head of him, and I heard myself say it before I fully decided to. "I'm a perv."

"Whose perv?"

"Yours."

"Yeah you are." His hand tightened in my hair. "You've been sniffing my underwear for a month like a little freak. Say it."

"I've been sniffing your underwear," I said. My face was so hot I could feel it in my ears. "For weeks. Because I'm a freak. Your freak."

"Smelly little boy," he said. 

"Smelly little boy," I echoed, reaching down to touch myself. 

"What're you doing?" he said, more than asked.

"Touching my hairy boy penis," I said, finding the right words for the moment.

He let out this satisfied breath through his nose and steered my mouth back down onto him, and as he pushed my head up and down his thick member, he kept running his mouth over the top of the porn. He'd feed me a line and wait, and I'd come up off him and give it back to him. It seemed like something I shouldn't like, but I loved it. I repeated the fun, humiliating things back to him that he wanted me to say, feeding them back to him, and adding a little extra for him, calling myself things he hadn't even thought of yet, and I watched his eyes go wide when I did that, watched him figure out that I was in this with him and not just taking it.

"Damn," he said. "You've been thinking about this."

"Every day," I said, and put my mouth back on him.

He held me down a little longer that time, until my eyes watered and my throat closed and I gagged around the width of his meat, my whole back seizing up. He let me off and I coughed and gasped and there were slimy strings of drool connecting his dick to my lips, and dripping down my chin. 

He laughed a little, delighted. "You're so obedient."

"I'm a good boy," I said without thinking about it. 

That got him excited. He said "Jesus" under his breath as his hips rocked up into my face on their own.

I bent down again and took him back in, finding it easier this time, arching my back to stretch my muscles which had been in the same position for a while.

I didn't realize that it gave him a good look at my ass from above.

I was on the couch at this point, coming at his crotch from the side, and he leaned to the side to grab my butt cheek, which I didn't even react to. His other hand was still on my head.

"Come up here a sec," he said. "Turn around."

I did. I got up over his lap facing away and he put both hands on me, squeezing and spreading, talking about my bubble butt again like he owned me now. I bit my lip and let him do whatever he wanted. I loved the attention I was getting.

"You ever put anything up here?" he said.

"No, sir."

"Go get something. I want to watch."

I didn't even ask what. I looked around the dark living room and grabbed the first thing that made sense, his toothbrush travel case that was sitting next to his duffel bag on the carpet, one of those hard plastic cylinders.

I got down on the carpet and kept my ass in his view as I tried to work it into myself dry. It did not go in. It hurt and it caught, and it just simply was not going to enter me.

"You have no idea what you're doing," he said. "You need something. Spit or something."

I ended up kicking off my underwear, and padding into the kitchen, weirdly thrilled, my heart racing. I dug through the cabinet by the stove until I found olive oil, and I brought it back out and he lost it when he saw the bottle.

"Cooking oil. You're gonna cook your own ass. That's amazing."

I handed it to him, and bent over the table, arching my ass to let my cheeks separate. He took control and held my ass with one hand, pulling my further open, as he spit onto my hole. He poured a bit of olive oil for good measure, and then he pushed the toothbrush case into me slowly. I gasped when it went in, and he told me to relax. 

When I got used to the case he told me to try the TV remote, sitting back down on the couch. He directed me like a coach as I stuffed the big end of the remote into myself first, because fuck it. I did exactly what he said, and he narrated all of it, how I was born for this, how the case went in and then the fat end of the remote went in next, and how my body was "strange for a boy". I was hard as a rock the entire time.

Then he sent me into the kitchen for the little cucumber he'd seen in the crisper drawer, and I oiled that up too, but when I bent over in front of him and shoved it in, it was too much.

"I can't do that one, sir," I said.

He watched me struggle with it for a second, then intervened. 

"Go back to the remote," he said as he started stroking himself slowly, leftovers of my spit serving as his lube.

I was working the remote in and out, completely forgetting about my dick as I started to enjoy the sensations in my ass that he was directing. Derek was saying something, I don't even remember what, some instruction, and I couldn't really follow it. My brain was on such a high that I couldn't concentrate on what he was saying. 

He grabbed the remote out of my hand and pressed it in deeply, and it hit me out of nowhere. My eyes shot open as I looked back at him. I wasn't ready for it. One second I was attempting to follow orders, and the next my whole body clenched around what was inside me and I was cumming onto the coffee table, my breath holding on its own.

"Are you serious," he said, laughing. "You didn't even touch yourself for it. You just nutted from your ass."

I couldn't answer. I was shaking, and gross. And my hands clenched onto the table as my body braced, my ass pulsing with the waves of orgasm rushing through me. I didn't touch myself, because he hadn't told me to. 

He held the remote where it was and watched as I finished releasing my stringy load. My body hurt, and it felt incredible, and I made a noise I was almost embarrassed of, and Derek was loving it, going on about how quick I was, how he'd never seen a guy cum like that, how my body was basically a "girl's".

He got up off the couch after that. He'd been hard the whole time and he'd had enough of watching.

"Open," he said, standing over my face as I stayed, arched over the table.

I opened my mouth and he quickly fed himself into me, and held my head as he humped my face. As much as the ass play and sucking him off had been erotic, this was what started to actually feel like sex. He did what he wanted with my face as he stuffed it like a sex toy, and I stayed still and let him, sucking in my cheeks and pressing my tongue against him as much as I could. I loved tasting the salt of him and the leftover ghost of the day's sweat that still remained. 

It didn't take long. He'd been on edge through the whole show. His stomach started jumping under his shirt and he pushed in deeper and I felt him release, and this time he stayed in my mouth, filling it, and I swallowed because there was nothing else to do with it, and also because I wanted to. He held me there until he was done twitching.

Then he pulled out and pulled his sweats up in one motion, and that was it. 

He didn't have a line, or a joke, and his hand left my head, just like the first time. He switched the TV back to his regular streaming show before I even had my sweats back up. He lay back down on the couch and rolled toward the cushions, and I got up to head out. 

"Good boy," he said so quietly I barely heard it, just as I reached the doorway to the hall.

I smiled, and headed back upstairs, suspecting that it wasn't the end of this yet. We still had a couple more days to ourselves. 

····[]····

I woke up late with the sun already fully shining on my face through my window, and the house silent. I could immediately tell that Derek wasn't there. He always had some background noise, like the TV or something on his phone.

I came down and the couch-bed was empty, the blanket thrown back. I checked the kitchen and the bathroom and even out the front window at the driveway, like a puppy who couldn't find its owner. 

And he wasn't anywhere. His shoes were gone from by the door. I stood there in the quiet and did the math on it. Maybe he'd taken off. Maybe last night, in the light of day, was too much for him. And he'd gone to a friend's or somewhere else to hide away. Maybe I'd pushed it too far, wanted too much of it out loud, fed him all those extra lines he hadn't asked for, and now he'd woken up and looked at what I was and just... gotten in his car.

I poured a bowl of cereal and sat at the table with it and didn't taste it, just moved the spoon and chewed and swallowed without any of it registering, running the whole night back frame by frame looking for the exact place I'd overdone it. 

I had gotten about halfway down the bowl, my brain digging a deeper and deeper hole for itself, when the front door opened and Derek came in, shirtless and dripping.

He'd been on a run. He had earbuds in and his shorts were literally soaked with sweat. He was glistening down the middle of his chest and under his arms, and his hair was wet at the temples. He was breathing hard with his hands on his hips. He looked incredible. He had the exact godly aura that had started my mental health journey a month prior, and I felt it hit me in the same old place, that first hot whiff of him coming through the door.

"Morning," he said, pulling an earbud out. He was acting normal. I felt relief.

He crossed toward the bathroom, kicking his shoes off by the door and pausing to peel his soaked socks off his feet as he went.

I kept my eyes down on the cereal and moved a few flakes around with my spoon.

"You gonna shower?" I said, quietly, with only the slightest hint in my tone.

He stopped. I didn't look up but I could feel him looking at me, standing there in the middle of the kitchen, figuring it out, thinking about if he wanted to continue what could currently be written off as a strange night between guys. It took him a full minute, and I waited patiently while he figured it out for himself. I watched a piece of cereal spin in the milk, and I let him take his time with it, and I didn't say anything else.

I finally looked up, my eyes naturally puppy-dog-ish. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. He sighed, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his running shorts and his underwear both, and pushing them down together, kicking them off to the side. He stood naked in my family's kitchen, covered in sweat, gently raising his shoulders in a gesture of resignation.

"Fine," he said.