And so I was there, a grown man crying his eyes out.I’m unaware if my tormentor was aware of any of that, but if he was he certainly made no sign of it. He picked up his rhythm, his hips slapping into mine as if there were no tomorrow. The pain was horrible, I felt I was been torn in half and that I would never be the same (and in a sense, I still think that). His hard dick kept entering and exiting me at great speed, and I was sniveling like a fucking child, trying to get my breathing under control.He picked up his pace even more, grabbing me by my hips and moving my body in time with his, back and forth, back and forth. By now all resistance had left me, my body was nothing more than a puppet for him to move around and use as a cock sleeve. In time, he was able to slide inside of me much more easily, his dick having stretched my insides to fit him; in a way I was grateful for that because the pain started subsiding and started to become much more bearable, but seen from another. "You know those photos of us hugging in our undies as k**s?" I said. "Welook just like that now, only 15 years later." We do. We should take a photo," he said, and picked up his phone from thecoffee table. He hugged me from behind, and snapped a pic, before headingto his room. "Night, man!"I was asleep when I heard my brother's husband try to sneak back into theapartment. I was used to roommates sneaking in while I was asleep, so Iwasn't upset to be woken up. When I heard him go to their room and shut thedoor, I got up and walked to the fridge in the boxers I slept in to getsome water.I was just starting to drift off back to sleep, when I heard noise fromtheir bedroom."Ahh, fuck. Fuck!" Mmm, yeah!"Are they doing what I think they're doing? Undoubtedly. I smiled. Mybrother was 27 and his husband was what, 32? I'd be surprised if theydidn't fuck every single night.The walls were paper-thin, though. It was the moaning that got myattention, but now I could hear everything: the bed.
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