Him: I had a good time tonight. We’ll have to do that again sometime. You suck cock like a pro.
My hands shook as I stared at the message. I now had all the confirmation I needed that James was sleeping with the neighbor downstairs. Not only that, but the guy was clearly just using him for sex. I wasn’t sure which irritated me more. However, that didn’t stop the image of James on his knees filling my mind again. My cock throbbed against my jeans, and I let out a small groan.
For a moment I almost put the phone back, not wanting to hear any more details about what thisstrangerdid to my stepbrother. But that’s when my curiosity got the better of me. I turned one ear toward the bathroom. The shower was still running.
I had time.
I scrolled up through the messages, my heart pounding harder with each swipe. The conversation went back several days, starting from that first night I’d arrived. The first message was a picture of the guy’s cock.
Him: You looking?
James: If you can host, I’m down.
Him: Come over. First floor, 1A.
My jaw clenched. That was the night I’d first come to stay. The night I’d forced my way into James’s life without so much as an apology. And while I was sleeping on that godforsaken couch, James was sneaking out to get fucked by that asshole.
I scrolled down further, skimming through messages. There were at least three more pictures of the stranger’s cock before I found something that nearly made me drop the phone.
It was James,naked, standing in front of his bathroom mirror. His cock was hard in the photo, long and thick, onehand wrapped around it. His face was visible and his eyes were hooded with lust. The caption underneath read: “What do you think?”
I knew what I thought.Goddamn.
The next photo was him in the same mirror, but turned around this time, his perfect ass on full display. My mouth hung open as I stared. Before I could help myself, I scrolled to the next message. It was a video from James. When I clicked the play button, all I could do was stare.
It was James, lying on his back in bed. He had his legs pulled up against his chest, the most intimate parts of his body out for all to see. His cock was hard and leaking against his belly as he fucked himself with a clear silicone dildo. Each thrust of the dildo drew a moan from his lips. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard.
My hand was down my pants before I knew what was happening. I stroked myself inside my jeans, my eyes glued to the screen as I watched James pleasure himself. The sounds he made, those breathy moans and gasps, went straight to my cock. I’d never been so hard in my life.
The video was only thirty seconds long, but I replayed it three times, memorizing every detail as I stroked myself. The way his hole stretched around the toy. The way his cock twitched and leaked. The way his back arched off the bed when he hit the right spot.
I was breathing hard now, my hand working faster. This was wrong. I knew it was wrong. I was violating his privacy, jerking off to private photos he’d sent to someone else. But I couldn’t stop. I didn’twantto stop.
I scrolled further, finding more photos. James in different positions, different angles. One had him on his hands and knees, looking back over his shoulder at the camera. Another showed him with his legs spread wide, two fingers buried inside himself.
My balls tightened. I was close, so fucking close. I fumbled with my zipper, freeing my cock just as the shower shut off. But I couldn’t stop myself. A stifled grunt escaped my lips as I came, painting the edge of James’s bed with cum.
Panic flooded through me. I shoved my cock back in my pants and dropped the phone on the bed, stumbling backward toward the couch. I grabbed a spare shirt, running back to his bed to wipe the evidence away. I had barely enough time to do that and cover the wet spot with a blanket. I threw myself onto the cushions, trying to look casual, trying to ignore my still pulsing cock leaking cum against my thigh.
The bathroom door opened and steam billowed out. James emerged wrapped in a towel, his hair dripping wet. He glanced at me, then at his bed where his phone lay face-up on the hoodie.
His eyes narrowed.
“Were you going through my phone?” His voice was dangerously quiet.
“What? No.” The lie came out too quick, too defensive.
He walked over to the bed and picked up his phone, checking the screen. I watched his face change as he realized what I’d been looking at. His cheeks flushed red, but not with embarrassment. With rage.
“You fucking asshole.” He turned to face me, gripping the phone so hard his knuckles went white. “You went through my private messages?”
“I didn’t mean to?—”
“Bullshit!” He crossed the room in three strides, standing over me. “My phone was in my hoodie. You had to actively go looking for it.”
I couldn’t deny it. Couldn’t explain it without admitting things I wasn’t ready to admit.
“I just wanted to see who you were talking to,” I said lamely.
