Wayward Wife s Punishment
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Another day on the road. Another cheap motel room. This time, it was some Podunk town in Iowa. No scenery to speak of—nothing around for miles but corn and cows—and no hunt at the moment either. Nothing to do but watch TV, sleep, or hit one of the local bars. The town had three of them, plus two cemeteries and a lone convenience store with a pair of gas pumps.
The Winchester boys were both tired when they checked into the dreary roadside motel, but mostly, they were tired of each other's company. It was a little after ten on a Friday night, so Dean decided to take a chance on the bar across the highway. Sam wasn't interested. Instead, he picked up a six-pack of beer and surfed the Internet on his laptop for a while, hoping to find their next gig, but nothing caught his attention. At last, he gave up looking and lay back on one of the queen-size beds, nursing his fourth beer and flipping from one station to the next. There wasn't anything even semi-entertaining on any of the regular networks, but the motel provided an adult channel as well. He didn't watch a lot of that kind of thing, but if there was no other option...
Glancing at the clock, he noted that Dean would be unlikely to return within the next two hours, so it would be safe to watch for a while. Sam hadn't had sex in several months and could use a release, but who wanted his big brother walking in on him in the middle of things?
The movie was already in full swing when he turned the channel. He raised his eyebrows at the sight of two beautiful, long-haired women—a brunette and a redhead—engaging in foreplay. The women lay on their sides in opposite directions on the bed, each with her face pressed between the other's legs, gleefully licking each other and moaning with what Sam suspected was more than a simulation of pleasure. He watched their agile tongues skate over stiff clits and dip into gleaming crevices, their lips glistening with bright red lipstick and each other's juices. Nice.
As the camera zoomed in on the brunette's crotch, the redhead inserted a finger. Her long French-manicured nails looked a little dangerous to Sam, but her lover didn't seem bothered by it. In fact, she spread her legs wider and cooed appreciatively. The sound of her ecstasy made his groin tingle, and he reached down and adjusted himself through his blue jeans.
Now it was the redhead's turn for a close-up, but the other girl was apparently a little more aggressive, inserting two fingers instead of just one. She bent her arm up so that she could straighten her wrist and drive the digits in deep. The redhead groaned and then started chanting, "Yes ... yes ... yes..." Sam licked his lips and took another long drink of his beer, finishing the bottle. He watched the screen with rapt attention for a few more minutes, then quickly retrieved the other two beers, opened one, and made himself comfortable on the bed once more.
When the brunette gave her lover a third finger, Sam's right hand wandered back to the front of his jeans, and when one of her fingers briefly reappeared and then sank into the redhead's anus, he began to massage the denim absently. His other hand picked up the open bottle on the nightstand, and he swallowed more beer while the women continued to finger-bang each other.
After a while, the brunette got up, and the redhead rolled onto her belly, then rose to her hands and knees. When the camera panned left, the brunette reappeared, and Sam nearly choked on his beer. Strapped to her pelvis was a large, neon purple dildo, long and thick and covered with tiny nubs. She crawled back onto the bed, the giant dick swinging between her thighs, and took up a position behind her friend's smooth white ass. The redhead bent her arms and laid her head on the mattress, simultaneously pressing her hips back to open herself. Sam sat up and stared, wide-eyed, as the toy slowly slid into her pussy, then gradually sank back against the headboard and rubbed himself a little harder than before. While she pumped in and out, the girl kneaded her friend's ass with both hands and occasionally spanked her, eliciting an excited "ooh" each time.
Sam finished his fifth beer and opened the last without taking his eyes off the screen. He was really hard now, and his pants were beginning to feel too restrictive, so he pulled them down to his ankles and reached into his briefs, pulling his erection up toward the waistband. That was better.
He looked up again just in time to see the huge purple thing slide all the way out. The redhead turned around then and took it into her mouth, sucking her own juice off the latex sheath. Sam licked his lips again and let his hand close around his swollen cock, stroking the shaft with long, slow pulls.
The redhead reached for something outside of the shot, and her hand came back with a glob of clear gel, which she spread generously over the length of the dildo, leaving a little extra at the tip. Turning around again, she presented her ass to her lover—and the camera—and wiped her gooey fingers between the cheeks. Sam took another drink and watched eagerly as the brunette obtained a handful of the lubricant and worked it into the other girl's asshole, eventually pushing her whole hand inside.
"Oh my god," Sam breathed, impressed. He stroked himself a little faster, a little harder.
When she withdrew her hand, the dark-haired girl wasted no time in replacing it with the strap-on. Grasping the other woman's hips with both hands, she aimed the dildo and plunged it into her, all the way to its base. The redhead cried out at the sudden intrusion but soon resumed her previous chant—[I}yes ... yes ... yes[/I]—louder this time as she took the giant thing up her ass again and again.
Sam let his mouth fall open and his eyes roll back as his balls tightened. He couldn't see the girls anymore, but he could still hear the redhead's lustful mantra. She sounded as close to orgasm as he was, and he knew he would come when she did.
Dean was bored. He'd had several shots of whiskey and a couple of kamikazes, but the chick who'd bought him the drinks was long gone now. She'd been very sweet and flirty—even a little on the slutty side—until she'd answered her cell phone. Then she had politely explained that she had to leave because her previously unmentioned husband would be home soon. Dean had smiled graciously and said goodnight, then shaken his head and muttered, "Skank."
That was it. Nothing else had happened in the past two hours, and he'd had plenty of alcohol already. He was feeling a little tired anyway; he might as well go back to the motel and get some sleep. He laid a five on the counter to tip the bartender, got up, and stuffed his wallet into the back pocket of his faded blue jeans. "Whoa," he said, touching his forehead as the room tilted unsettlingly.
"You okay?" the bartender asked him.
"Yeah," Dean replied. "Just stood up a little too fast. I'm fine. Thanks."
The other man nodded and turned away, and Dean headed for the men's room. The motel was just across the road, but he wasn't sure that was close enough. His bladder felt about to burst.
The bathroom reeked of urine and vomit, and he was glad he only had to pee. He tried to hold his breath while he relieved himself at one of the two urinals, but the effort made his head hurt, and he let it out grudgingly, wrinkling his nose at the stench when he was forced to inhale. "Son of a bitch," he grumbled, willing his bladder to hurry up and let him out of here. "Come on."
Before he was done, another man entered the room and stood at the other urinal. At first, Dean ignored him, but it soon became apparent that he wasn't peeing. Dean glanced at him, then did a double-take when he discovered the man staring at him. "What's up?" he asked curiously.
The other man—shorter and broader than himself, perhaps slightly older, with short blonde hair and a quiet face—went on staring and said nothing.
Dean frowned. "Dude, you okay?" he asked, waving his free hand in front of the guy's ice blue eyes. "Anybody in there?"
Still nothing.
Finally, he finished draining his bladder and shook his organ dry. But just as he was about to put it away and close his jeans, he was suddenly thrown back against the wall and pinned there by an unseen force. His eyes widened in surprise, and he looked again at his companion. He'd known there was something not right about the guy, but his whiskey-soaked intuition hadn't prepared him for this.
The man smiled, blinked, and showed Dean his black, iris-less eyes. A demon.
"Son of a bitch," Dean said again. "I should've known."
The demon blinked again, returning the eyes to their normal state. "Yes, you should have," it said. "But you didn't. You Winchesters are so fucking smug. You get so comfy in your pathetic little world and forget all about us bad guys. Tell me, Dean, do you think you're untouchable?"
Ever the smart-ass, Dean grinned. "I think I'm [I]very[/I] touchable, actually. But I don't swing that way. Sorry."
"Is that so?" the demon said slyly, moving in close to him. He reached out and lightly touched Dean's cheek, caressed it.
Dean jerked his head away but was otherwise unable to move. [I]Shit[/I], he thought to himself. [I]I'm screwed.[/I] Aloud, he said, "Yeah, it is. So, you know, I'm flattered. Really. But let's just not go there, okay?"
The other man smiled again and slid his fingertips slowly down his captive's body, tracing the curves of the muscles in his chest and abdomen.
Dean made a face and struggled against his invisible bonds, but to no avail. "I'm warning you, man," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I will personally send you back to hell."
The demon laughed. "Good luck with that. I'm sure you have the incantation memorized, and—oh, you do have a plan to hold me while you recite it, right?"
"Fuck you," Dean said, for want of a better reply.
This earned another chuckle. "Oh, Dean, you're such a dirty boy. I think maybe you swing a little farther than you admit. But that's not [I]exactly[/I] what I had in mind."
Panicking, the elder Winchester brother nevertheless tried hard to play it cool. "Look," he said as calmly as he could, "I think we can come to some kind of understanding here. This really doesn't have to get ugly."
"Oh, but it does," his captor assured him, unmoved. "It really does."
Dean swallowed hard around the lump of horror in his throat and set his jaw, silently resolving to survive this assault and take his revenge at the earliest opportunity. Evidently, this demon was a particularly sadistic bastard and meant to hurt and humiliate him, but he would not go down—so to speak—without a fight. And he certainly wouldn't give it the satisfaction of breaking him. Whatever it did to him, he would take it like a man.
He had somehow forgotten his exposed organ during this brief exchange, but he remembered at once when the demon reached for it. Staring straight ahead, he focused on the opposite wall and prepared himself to ignore the offense, but doing so would prove impossible. His attacker did not simply seize his dick, but instead reached into his open jeans and gripped his testicles, squeezing them tightly within his large fist. Dean's eyes went wide as a jolt of pain tore through his groin like a miniature lightning bolt, and then he felt himself falling.
[I]Timing is everything[/I], Sam decided when he saw the door swing inward. He hadn't heard the key in the lock, and now it was too late to get dressed or even hide under the covers. The best he could do was to grab a pillow and hold it in his lap. With his jeans gathered around his ankles, it would still be obvious what he'd been doing, but at least he wouldn't suffer the humiliation of having his brother witness the act itself.
He quickly snatched one of the pillows from behind his back and laid it over his midsection, then fumbled with the remote, trying to kill the TV before Dean could see what was on it. Not that he wouldn't figure it out in general, but he really didn't need to know the graphic details.
Sam swallowed the last of his beer and attempted to look nonchalant as Dean closed and locked the door and turned around. When his eyes found his brother in a compromising position, the older man paused, cocked his head, and slowly drank it all in. Finally, he said simply, "Wow."
"What?" Sam retorted. "Like you've never done it."
Dean scratched his head. "You know, Sammy, we're gonna have to work out a system, so I don't walk in on you when you have company."
"Shut up."
"So ... are you dating them both?"
Sam rolled his eyes. "Fuck you, Dean."
"Aw, thanks, Sammy," his brother teased. "That's sweet. But you know, there's such a thing as too much sharing."
Sam sighed. "Jerk."
"Bitch."
Under the pillow, Sam's erection throbbed painfully. He'd been on the verge of an orgasm—a really satisfying one, he imagined—when his brother interrupted, and now he was going to end up with blue balls. Great.
Dean raised his eyebrows quizzically. "Did you want me to step out while you say goodnight to your girlfriends?"
[I]That would be nice[/I], Sam thought to himself. To Dean, he said, "Well, you could give me a second to pull my pants up."
"Oh, sure," Dean said, nodding for emphasis. "Do what you gotta do, man. I'll just watch TV." He reached for the remote, which lay on the bed beside Sam's naked thigh, then stopped. "You weren't using this for anything, were you?"
"Uh ... Dean?"
"What? You were?" He pulled his hand back and wiped it on his shirt.
"No," Sam told him, exasperated. "Could you just... ? I don't know. Maybe you could give me a minute [I]alone[/I]?"
"What for?" Dean asked, laughing. "Oh, you wanna finish. Well, that's okay. You won't bother me any."
Sam stared at him in disbelief. "What?" he cried. "Dean, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Ignoring the question, his brother snatched up the remote, sat on the nearest corner of the other bed, and switched on the television. He grinned at Sam when he saw what he'd been watching, but he didn't turn it off or even change the channel. Instead, he studied the scene for a minute and then announced, "I like the redhead." He turned to Sam again and smiled knowingly. "I'll bet you like the one with the dick."
Stunned and appalled, Sam could only go on staring.
Dean frowned at him. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked. "Go ahead and spank it, dude. You know you want to."
"No," Sam assured him, shaking his head adamantly. "I don't."
"Suit yourself." With that, Dean leaned back against the headboard and unzipped his jeans.
"What are you doing?" Sam demanded.
His brother looked at him as if he'd sprouted another head. "You're kidding, right? This ought to look pretty familiar."
Closing his eyes for a moment, Sam tried hard to comprehend what was happening here, but he couldn't begin to fathom a reasonable explanation. Finally, he opened them again and saw that Dean had pulled out his erection and was now stroking it. Sam immediately clamped one hand to his face, shielding his eyes, and shouted, "Dude! Seriously! What the fuck are you doing?"
"It's called masturbating," Dean said matter-of-factly, then continued: "Or, if you prefer, jerking off, choking the chicken, spanking the monkey, beating my meat, stroking my bone ... Pick a euphemism."
"Yeah, I get that," the younger man retorted. "But why the hell are you doing it [I]here, right now[/I], in front of [I]me[/I]?"
"Oh, that." Nodding understanding, Dean shrugged and explained, "Well, we both have beds, boners, and babes on TV. And I'm drunk, so what do I care if you watch? Just make sure you tip well."
"I don't wanna watch!" Sam cried.
"Well, that's your problem, not mine." Dean eyed him with amusement while he continued to pleasure himself.
For a while, Sam remained silent, keeping his eyes both closed and covered. But when his brother started to moan, he couldn't take it anymore. "Oh my god," he muttered. "Dean, stop. [I]Please[/I]." In his recollection, Dean had never been so drunk that this would have been acceptable, or even thinkable. And it certainly wasn't acceptable to Sam. Even if they were both gay—which neither of them was—they were [I]brothers[/I], for god's sake! You just didn't do shit like this with your brother. Not cool.
But Dean apparently disagreed. "Shut up, Sam," he groaned. "I'm almost there."
"Oh, come on!" Sam complained.
"I will in a minute if you'll shut up."
"No!" Standing abruptly, Sam faced his own bed and quickly pulled his underwear and jeans up over his hips. "You just—" he began, but couldn't find words to express himself. "Guh!"
To his dismay, Dean was suddenly behind him, his strong hands encircling his waist. He felt hot breath on the back of his neck, raising the hairs there as surely as any evil entity they'd hunted had ever done. "Where you going, Sammy?" Dean whispered against his skin.
[I]This is not happening[/I], Sam told himself. [I]There's no way in hell this could be real. I must be dreaming[/I]. But if he was, it was the most vivid, lucid dream he'd ever had, and he desperately wanted to wake up.
"Dean," he said as calmly as he could, "what are you doing?"
"Come on, Sammy," Dean crooned at the back of his ear. "Haven't you ever been curious?"
Sam stiffened. "What? No."
"Well, look, we're both horny—"
"Dean—"
"And it's not like anybody's gonna see us—"
"[I]Dean[/I]—"
"I just wanna feel your—"
"Dean!" He spun around, facing his brother with eyes wide, and found himself wishing he hadn't had all that beer. It was making him a little fuzzy—and slow.
Because Dean was a few inches shorter, he had to look up into Sam's eyes. "Relax, Sammy," he said softly, running his hands up over his chest and clasping them together at the back of his neck. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
Now Sam squinted at him, wondering if this was some kind of elaborate practical joke. Dean's waistband was still at his waist, so maybe he hadn't really been jerking off all this time. Maybe he'd only been jerking Sam's chain. If that was the case, it was in poor taste.
But a moment later, it became apparent that this was no joke when Dean suddenly kissed him on the mouth. At first, Sam resisted, but the alcohol and his own arousal conspired against his judgment, and he soon relaxed and allowed himself to be kissed. Dean's tongue touched his lips. He tensed but couldn't find the will to pull away, and his brother tasted his mouth again. It felt good.
[I]Stop this[/I], he told himself silently. [I]It doesn't matter how it feels. It's wrong, and you know it[/I].
Yes, he knew, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to care. His mouth seemed to have a will of its own now, and he gradually gave in to it, letting it open and invite Dean inside. A second later, he tasted his brother's tongue and gasped as a thrill like an electric current shot through his body. It seemed to pool in his groin, refueling his passion. As the kissing continued and his excitement grew, he slipped his arms around Dean's waist and pulled him closer. Dean responded with a murmur of desire, sliding his hands down Sam's back to his hips.
Breathing hard now, they peeled each other's shirts off and embraced tightly, dropping the garments on the floor, caressing each other's naked backs as their mouths collided once more. Now that they'd started, neither was inclined to stop or even slow down.
Again, the older man took the initiative and drifted downward, licking and sucking his brother's smooth skin from neck to navel. Sam moaned appreciatively and ran his fingers through Dean's close-cropped hair as he sank to his knees.
Inside, Dean was raging. His body was no longer under his control, and he couldn't believe what it was doing. And Sam wasn't stopping it! Worse than that, he seemed to be [I]enjoying[/I] it. Immensely.
Now Dean was on his knees, helplessly watching his own hands as they pulled down his brother's jeans.
And his briefs.
Sam stepped out of them willingly and stood in front of him, his erection pointing nearly straight out from his body—inches from Dean's face. [I]Oh, hell no![/I] Dean shouted, but the sound did not reach his throat. [I]Sam, stop me![/I] he tried again. [I]Please, Sammy, I'm begging you.[/I]
But of course, Sam couldn't hear him.
While he had no motor control, he seemed to possess heightened senses, and he perceived every touch, every kiss, every [I]thing[/I] with a level of awareness he'd never known and did not want. He saw in sharp detail his brother's swollen cock and the patch of dark brown hair from which it protruded. He heard every breath each of them took and the lustful sounds they made. He felt Sam's fingers in his hair; felt his own mouth open and fought ineffectively to close it or turn his head. He smelled the sticky, acrid scent of desire, and he knew that, if he didn't find a way to stop it, he would soon taste the drop of pre-cum that clung to the head of Sam's dick.
Alternating swiftly between horror and rage, he tried to close his eyes, look away, pass out, or even drop dead—anything to avoid having this memory. But it was no use. He was more than fully conscious when he took his brother's erection into his mouth and sucked him deep into his throat.
Sam pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a rather bestial growl, then seized his brother's head and began to rock his hips, riding his mouth. Dean screamed inwardly and prayed to whatever benevolent entity might be listening to please just kill him now. But as he expected, no one saved him.
Finally, Sam reached the critical point and quickly disengaged himself, sparing his brother the humiliation of the spit-or-swallow dilemma. Dean was grateful for that, but his fury was undiminished—and now focused on Sam.
[I]Why didn't you stop me?[/I] he demanded. [I]How could you just stand there and let me—? No, check that. You didn't just stand there and let me. You fucked my mouth! How could you do that to me?[/I]
He could hear the demon laughing at him, relishing his torment.
[I]I'm gonna fucking kill you[/I], he told it. [I]I swear, I will find you, and I will fucking annihilate you.[/I]
It didn't answer him, but continued to laugh as it animated his body once more. Standing, he saw himself push Sam roughly onto the bed behind him, remove his jeans and briefs, then crawl on top of him, straddling his chest. His right hand pumped his cock a few times, then pressed the swollen head to Sam's lips. "Suck me, Sammy," he heard his voice say.
And Sam obeyed.
Now Dean watched his own dick slide in and out of his brother's mouth, glistening with saliva. The image repulsed him, but the hungry suckling gave him an intense rush such as he'd never felt. Sam's jaw worked steadily, gently squeezing, while his tongue stroked the sensitive skin on the underside of the shaft.
[I]Oh my god[/I], Dean thought. [I]It feels so ... No. No, this is all wrong. Oh, god, I'm sorry, Sammy.[/I]
But Sam didn't look sorry. In fact, Sam looked like he was having a decidedly good time. No one was forcing [I]him[/I] to do this.
Okay, so maybe there were things Dean didn't know about his little brother. Maybe he shouldn't have teased him so much about being a pansy. If Sam was in the closet, then Dean was the world's biggest asshole. But he'd never seen anything that even hinted at the possibility—not really. Sam was more sensitive than he was, sure, but that didn't really mean he was gay.
Now he studied Sam's face carefully, at first trying hard to ignore his mouth. His eyes were closed but seemed to be completely relaxed. There was no sign whatsoever that he was struggling with either the morality or the enjoyment of this activity. He was into it.
Finally, Dean let his eyes be drawn to the action. Sam sucked him eagerly, almost insatiably, as if he desperately wanted to taste his brother's cum—or perhaps even swallow it. Dean tried hard to keep that mental picture out of his mind, but it surfaced anyway and stayed with him until he heard his own voice again. "Sammy," he said in a hoarse whisper, "I want you in my ass."
Immediately, Sam's mouth slid off of him, his tongue making one last pull along the shaft, and then he licked his lips and smiled sheepishly. "Was I any good?" he asked.
[I]Don't say it[/I], Dean pleaded silently. [I]Please don't say[/I]—
"Oh god, yes."
"Good," Sam said. "I was just trying to pay you back."
[I]Oh god.[/I] The last thing Dean needed to be good at was cocksucking.
"Okay, let me up," Sam instructed. "I don't think I can do it this way."
[I]Shit! He's really gonna do it.[/I]
Sam scooted out from under him and crawled down the mattress to take a position behind him. Still a bit drunk, he lost his balance for a moment and nearly fell off the bed, but he caught himself against Dean's hips, his cheek pressed to his brother's ass. He laughed, then stuck out his tongue and licked the smooth skin. "You have a really beautiful ass," he commented, admiring the firm, round cheeks. "Do you know that?"
"Um, thanks," Dean said. "I didn't know you were an ass man."
"Usually not so much," Sam laughed again. "But damn, Dean, yours is perfect. I'm jealous."
[I]Bullshit[/I], Dean thought. [I]Like you need a perfect ass to go along with all that sensitivity.[/I]
"Yeah, ok," he said aloud. "Then just make sure you don't damage the merchandise."
"Don't worry; I'll be gentle."
[I]You better be.[/I] Knowing he couldn't stop it, Dean did his best to prepare for what was about to happen to him. He'd never imagined it would—least of all with his brother. How would he ever be able to look Sam in the eye again after this?
It occurred to him now to wonder whether Sam had ever done this before. If not, he might have no idea how to properly prepare, and Dean would suffer greatly. He wished he could at least tell him that much, but the demon had commandeered his voice. If only the sick bastard would have his taken his consciousness, too. But of course, this was the torture the demon had had in mind when it possessed him.
Fortunately, Sam seemed to know a few things about anal sex. Maybe he'd learned them just tonight while he watched the redhead take the dildo. Either way, Dean was thankful, at least, that he wouldn't be fucked dry.
Easing his brother into a more accessible position—on elbows and knees with legs apart—Sam licked his lips and ran his index finger down the crack of Dean's ass. He stopped at his anus and teased it with a wiggle of his fingertip.
Dean heard himself hum appreciatively. If he was honest, it didn't exactly feel [I]bad[/I]. Still, he was mortified at the thought of going further. He'd had anal sex before—with women—but of course, he'd never been the receiver. And since most women wouldn't let him do it, he had to assume that it wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world. He was happy to assume and never know from experience, but it seemed he wasn't going to have that choice anymore.
Now Sam surprised him again. A few seconds after the finger-tease, he felt something soft, warm, and wet at his hole, and he knew it could only be his brother's tongue. This was far kinkier than he'd ever imagined Sam might be, and he was oddly impressed by it. Still, shouldn't he be doing this with someone else? Anyone else. What kind of sick, twisted pervert would voluntarily lick his own brother's asshole?
Apparently, Dean decided, whatever kind Sam was.
He pushed his tongue inside, spreading his brother's cheeks apart with both hands to allow deeper penetration. Dean tried to ignore it, pretend it wasn't happening, but the sensation was unlike anything he'd ever felt. Before long, he even began to enjoy it. He barely noticed when Sam's index finger rejoined the party—until it was suddenly buried inside him. Then it was incredible. There was no pain, only a satisfying sort of friction within his bowels, and a longing to be filled with it. He wanted more.
Sam seemed to read his mind and gradually worked in a second finger, and then a third, all the while continuing to lick around them. After several minutes, he began to twist his hand as he pushed and pulled, then spread his fingers repeatedly to further loosen the tight hole. The demon made Dean moan, but Dean no longer wanted to resist. This was the sweetest torture he'd ever endured, and it had ceased to matter that his lover was related. By the time Sam withdrew his fingers and buried his tongue once more, Dean was ready to take his brother's cock without complaint, and the demon could no longer use it against him. Round One went to the Winchesters.
Inserting his thumbs, Sam gently pulled Dean's hole open and spat into it, giving him as much lubrication as he could work up. He then reached forward and placed his hand under Dean's face. "Spit in it," he instructed, and when Dean complied, he rubbed the saliva all over his erection.
As Sam positioned the head against his brother's anus, preparing to enter him, Dean said suddenly, "You do realize you're about to fuck your brother in the ass."
Angelica
- 17.09.2022
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