I rolled my eyes, moving to pour him a whiskey as he continued his tale of debauchery. Apparently, the ‘drop off’ had been a ruse, designed to lure unsuspecting prey into her web of vice and debasement.
As the story unfolded, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My poor, naive brother had fallen victim to a harlot who’d not only stolen his cash but also his dignity, flaunting her hairy cooch and ass cheeks like a stripper on stage.
I ached to comfort him, but his pain was quickly transformed into something far more primal as he recounted the harrowing events. In a desperate bid to quench his thirst, he’d begged her for a blow job, only to be interrupted by the revving of a bike engine, sending the floozy into a panic.
As the sound grew louder, she’d leapt up, practically shoving my brother out the door, warning him the exit was one way. With no choice but to flee, he’d abandoned his partially spent cock and the promise of her sinful mouth, escaping into the scorching afternoon sun with nothing but a pocket full of regret and a lighter wallet.
I couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all, my brother’s exasperation only fueling my mirth. As he stormed off to shower, I heard the bathroom door slam, followed by the unmistakable sound of self-administered relief.
I smiled to myself, aware that my brother’s misadventures would be the stuff of family legend for years to come. And as for me? Well, that night, I’d ensure he learned the true meaning of ‘payback’s a bitch’ by indulging in a few well-placed licks and sucks of my own devising.