Page 107 of Finding Summer


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I coat my finger in her juices, then circle her puckered hole. The sound that comes out of her has my balls tightening. As I thrust my dick inside her hot pussy, I ease my finger in her ass.

She cries out, panting. I pause, letting her adjust. But she pushes that ass back, begging for more. Working my finger at the same pace as my dick, I speed up. When I add a second finger, her walls clench around me.

I feel it all the way in my toes. They tingle, curling. I thrust again. She screams my name, drenching my dick with her release. Her body goes limp as she chokes my dick. Pulling out as far as I can from her anaconda grasp, I thrust again. The wet slap splashes all over my balls down to my thighs. She shakes, and I can’t hold it any more. Starting at my calves, my legs tighten, all the way up to my ass. One more short stroke has the rest of my muscles flexing. With a growl, I come hard.

Before I even finish, Breckin’s leaning over, kissing her. I chuckle, pulling out as I collapse on the bed. Without giving her a second to recover, he tugs her over and rolls on top of her.

Laughing, I wait until I can feel my toes again before I head toward my bathroom to grab a wet rag. I’m already semi-hard by the time I get back. Asra’s moans as my brother slowly deep dicks her have me rock-hard in seconds. I could join them. Breckin glances over at me, and I know he’s more than willing. But, I want to make sure our girl’s alright, give that ass at least one more day to heal before I start pounding it again.

Stretching out on the bed, I watch like they’re my own personal porno. When Breckin sits up and places Asra’s ankles over his shoulders, I tilt her head my way and kiss her. Reaching out, I caress one of her tits. Between the taste of her mouth, their wet slaps, and the curses and moans coming from them, my nuts are already tight. Taking her hand, I place it over my straining cock. She doesn’t waste any time grabbing it and stroking me.

I gasp, seeing stars. “Fuck. Just like that, Prude.”

Her tit bounces in my grasp as Breckin speeds up. She almost makes me go blind from her death grip when he rubs her clit. A string of mumbled curses spew from her swollen lips as she rides out her release. Fuck, I need to get her to make that face so many more times tonight.

As soon as Breckin pulls out, I pick her up. She keeps hold of my cock as I swing her onto my lap. “Time for you to ride me, baby girl. Line me up.” I wait for her to bring the tip to her drenched folds before I slam her down.






Chapter 23

Breckin

“Danny,” I yell fromthe kitchen, “hurry up or you’re going to be late!”

Turning back to the counter, I smear peanut butter on two slices of bread. Grabbing a spoon, I plop a big blob of grape jelly on each of them, then do my best to spread it all out, all the way to the edges. Pulling two more slices of bread from the plastic bag beside me, I smash them down, making two sandwiches. After carefully slipping them into plastic bags so I don’t spill too much of their gooey insides, I toss them in two paper bags.

“Danny,” I call again, “we have to leave in twenty minutes.” If he doesn’t hurry, we’re going to be late for school, again. It’s only the second week of third grade, and we’ve already been late twice. We’re big boys now. Third grade. Daddy says we can get up by ourselves and walk to school on our own now. We’ve been by ourselves all summer while Daddy works. We can do this. I just need Brendan to hurry up.

Shaking my head, I open the fridge and grab two apples, plopping them in the bags as well. Daddy says we need to eat healthy to grow big and strong. Apples are healthy. That should be good.

In the pantry, I find a box of Twinkies. I bring it over to the counter, but sigh when I open it and only find one left. I’m the big brother. It may only be by six minutes, but I’m the big brother. It’s my job to take care of Brendan. That’s what Daddy said. He’ll be sad if I have a Twinkie in my lunch and he doesn’t. They’re his favorite. Without a second thought, I drop it in Brendan’s bag, then fold the bags over, and put them in our book bags.

As I’m throwing out the empty box, Brendan tumbles down the stairs. He’s just as tall and skinny as I am, but somehow he always seems more lanky and uncoordinated.

He grabs a box of cheerios from the pantry and reaches up on his tiptoes to get a bowl from the cupboard.

“We’re out of milk.”

His face falls. He stares back at the big box of cereal. It’s not very good dry. The milk is what makes it taste good. “What else is there?”

I point to the open bag of bread and shrug.

His face falls even more. Cold bread doesn’t taste good, either. At least, not for breakfast. I don’t know if it’s healthy or not. But, it’s all we have.

“I can put some jelly on it,” I offer.

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