Here’s an excerpt from A Straight Voyeur Brother’s COVID Incest Story.
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On the night I came back, Dad even set up my old bedroom. It had become a spare room, adjoined to Ronald’s by a shared closet. Dad fished out all my old bedding, cleared the window-side desk so I’d have a nice place for my Zoom work meetings, and even made a plate of peanut butter cookies, my favorite.
With Christmas coming, that first night sleeping in the bed reminded me of how I’d only partly grown up, how the last year and a half with Liz had been months of my life in limbo. Really, I’d never left home, and with COVID-19 raging in the world, this was the right place to be trapped indefinitely.
That first night, I also could tell Ronald was growing up too. He still didn’t have a girlfriend, but he certainly started to jerk off a lot. I know that rhythmic breathing all too well. Quite a contrast to the quiet I was used to hearing through our shared closet door. Little Ron has become shameless, groaning a bit like a porn star.
I couldn’t help the erection that soon sprung up in my gitch. All that groaning from my little brother makes me think of how I’d groan, when Liz would plant her butt before me, on hands and knees, when I’d push my meat inside her butthole.
Dammit, Ron, I think as I slide my hand down to grip my meat. He’s even moaning a bit like Liz would, when I’d get my dick all the way deep inside her guts. Holy shit, I really do need to bust this nut. I’m not used to more than a day holding it in.
Keep moaning, you little slut, I think as I hear my brother’s quick breathing, his little girlie moans, imagining it’s Liz. I’ve got my cock wrapped in my full grip, pulling up and down the rock-hard meat. My length swells to its full eight inches, thrusting free of the underwear band. It won’t take long for me to spray my load. Thanks, little bro, I think, as Ron keeps making all the sounds I need, helps me clear these lusts out of my mind.
“Can we do it doggy now?” Ron asks.
My breath catches inside, halting my charge to orgasm.
There’s a deep voice, very quiet, but I can’t help hear it. The sound of movement. Am I imagining this?
I rise from the bed, cock still in hand. What is Ron up to? Is he watching porn?
Whatever my little brother is doing, I’m helplessly curious. I need to bust this nut.
I’m just being a proud older brother, I tell myself, as I creep toward the closet. I’m the one, after all, who taught Ron about jerking off. Is there anything wrong with wanting to see the results of my mentoring?
The closet door in my room is partway open. I don’t dare slide it the rest of the way, don’t dare let my brother know I’m perving on his pleasure. I squeeze through, shifting between hanging sweaters.
There are slats on the doors. I press my face forward, against the slats that lead to Ron’s room. My hand’s still on my erection, massaging up and down.
Ron’s room is dark. The only light comes from the hall, through his door, which is only open a crack. I can see forms on the bed, defined mostly by shadows.
There’s a second person here. Ron isn’t just watching porn.
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