Swoon: A Brother's Best Friend Standalone

The video ends and I immediately rewatch it, before checking my phone for a text from Colin that’s not there. Shoot. I take a long swig from my bottle and then watch the video a third time—this time, while drunkenly trying to do The Sure Thing on myself. But it’s impossible. I can’t reach the spot deep inside me Ball Peen Hammer has described. And I certainly can’t dirty-talk myself—which, apparently, is a crucially important component to this technique. Dammit!

I check my phone again, and when there’s still nothing from Colin, I decide to bite the bullet and take matters into my own hands.

Me: Hellooooo? I’m still awake and waiting for you to do everything you said downstairs! Are you there?

After pressing send on my text, I stare at my screen for a long moment, hoping to see, at least, three wiggling dots. But when nothing happens, I decide to pass the time by googling this Ball Peen Hammer dude. He looks vaguely familiar to me, but I can’t place him.

My search quickly yields results. As it turns out, Ball Peen Hammer is an actor named Keane Morgan . . . as in, the older brother of none other than Dax Morgan of 22 Goats! Which means . . . Holy shit! Colin has definitely watched this video about The Sure Thing and maybe even learned about the technique directly from Keane! Either way, I’m now certain Colin not only knows how to do this amazing technique, but he also knows how to do it well. And that’s got me buzzing like a horny bumble bee!

I take another long swig of vodka and decide I can’t wait a second longer for this boy to hit me up. Time to light a fire under that man’s hot ass.

Me: Hey, Colin! It’s time to get your hot ass to my room to do everything you promised after our kiss. Eat my pussy and do The Sure Thing to me, baby! Fuck my brains out until we see God! Our amazing kiss fulfilled my biggest childhood fantasy about you. Now it’s time for you to fulfill my far more ADULT fantasies about you. Room 709. I’m waaaaaaaiting.

A few minutes after pressing send on my text, I hear a bit of a ruckus outside my door in the hallway. Was that someone yelling? My heart in my mouth, I wait for a knock on my door. And when it doesn’t come, I stride to my door and fling it open . . . and then furrow my brow in confusion at the emptiness confronting me. There’s nobody in the hallway. Nothing but closed doors and a bottle of booze on the carpet in the middle of the hallway. Was that bottle there when Mom and I arrived at my room?

Deflated, I stagger back to the bed and flop onto my stomach on the bed, determined to stay awake for Colin, whenever he finally gets here . . . But soon, I can’t keep my eyes open a second longer, so I decide to rest them for a bit, just until Colin knocks on my door . . . And the next thing I know . . . the world blurs . . . and then fades to black.

Eleven

Colin

As Amy rides my cock, a faint rumbling noise slices through my consciousness. Is that a train rolling past Amy and me—a small one, like the kind toddlers ride at malls? And why do I give a flying fuck what’s making that noise, when Amy is riding my cock and on the cusp of coming? I return to massaging Amy’s clit as she rides me, enjoying the way her perfect tits bounce and jiggle with her gyrations. But a female voice jerks me out of it again.

“Thank you, yes,” the woman says.

It’s Violet. What’s she doing here, while Amy is riding my cock?

Violet continues, “Put everything on the table, please. Thank you.”

Suddenly, my mother is standing next to Violet, watching me fuck Amy.

“Well, aren’t you going to fuck her on the table?” my mother asks. “You’re not going to make me a Beretta-O’Brien grandbaby like that.”

My eyes wrench open in horror, as a male voice asks, “Will that be all, ma’am?”

Violet replies, “Yes, thank you so much.”

There’s that same rumbling sound again. And when I turn my head to look, there’s a room service cart rumbling past me, pushed by a male hotel employee in uniform.

“Enjoy your breakfast, ma’am,” he says.

I rub my eyes and sigh. I’m lying on a couch in Dax and Violet’s plush suite. Other than Violet and me and a shit-ton of breakfast food, the large room is empty. Presently, Violet’s pouring herself a cup of coffee from a gleaming carafe, her back facing me.

Fuck.

As my brain shakes off sleep, it’s beginning to show me jagged swatches of my drunken misdeeds from last night. Oh, shit. I kissed Amy. And then whispered something . . . naughty . . . into her ear.