Busted

John loved going to his brother's parties. Tom was twenty-three and very popular at the college that both boys attended. But twenty-one-year-old John just hadn't found his niche or clique yet. All his life, he'd hung out with his brother's friends, done what his brother did. And now in college, he just sat back and lived vicariously off of his brother's lifestyle.

Where Tom was bright eyed and buff, John was more slender and dark. Both boys had their father's blonde hair, but John's had gotten darker as he grew older. His hazel eyes were the family trademark, as were Tom's; but John's had gold flecks in them that made them seem brown from a distance. John's figure promised to blossom out like Tom's had, but he wasn't pushing it. He wasn't the perfectionist his brother secretly was. John liked to take things at a more relaxed pace.

Brain-wise, the boys were about the same, both destined to be lawyers, just like their father, mother and uncles and aunts. Theirs was a lucrative private law firm that had been in the family for generations upon generations. Where Tom pushed himself hard to be the best, John knew he would be – it was fate, destiny, bound to happen. So he glided along through school and the social route smoothly, never really stressing.

When it came to parties, he sat back and watched his brother in action, taking up his usual corner of one couch in his brother's condominium and smiling happily while all the girls threw themselves at his brother.

Tonight, however, was quite a different story for John.

Tonight, Susan had come to Tom's party.

Susan was five feet, ten inches of beautiful, curvaceous woman. She was not slender, but certainly not fat. She had large breasts that she couldn't hide, and lovely hips that a man could just imagine putting his hands around. And she kept her brown hair parted to one side, always hanging her head at a certain tilted angle that caused one eye to be shadowed, while the other was bright, exposed.

Her skin looked so smooth, so soft. The kind of skin a man could spend all night caressing, trying hard not to damage.

And John had spent many a night imagining doing just that.

Susan was one of Tom's old flings. Tom had never really committed to a serious relationship. He didn't feel it was necessary.

"This is college, bro," he'd tell his younger brother.

"Don't let some girl tie you down and keep you from really enjoying what will be the best time of your life when you look back in twenty years!"

John had just smiled and nodded, knowing that Tom said things like this mostly for his own good, to justify why yet another perfectly good woman was going to be tossed to the curb.

Susan was just such a woman. But Susan bounced.

She remained friends with Tom after he ditched her. She seemed to have expected it, and taken the short relationship for what it was – a good romp in the sack. She, too, was going to be a promising lawyer one day. She probably realized exactly what Tom meant when he said "it's better this way for the both of us." And she had just climbed right back on the horse again.

She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen now, leaning against the doorjamb and watching everyone like she had some sort of secret.

She never looked in John's direction, but he still felt himself being watched, all nervous and uncomfortable. He squirmed in his seat, adjusting himself as subtly as he could. But his cock was suddenly waking up.

Bad timing, he told himself. Real bad timing, here!

Susan still just looked around the living room, nodding and smiling at everyone, talking to people as they walked past.

A lot of men in the room tried to catch her eye. Susan wasn't the kind of kitten you could walk up to with a good line and a great smile. No, Susan was a tiger, waiting to pounce. You had to look really good and play the role if you wanted to be her prey.

That was the kind of guy that John definitely was not. So he sat on the couch, trying not to be obvious as he waited to see who she would choose, if she would choose anyone at all.

Susan moved a hand to adjust the short skirt she was wearing. And John felt his cock bounce in his slacks as her finger slid slightly up the inside of one of her thighs.

Was she – was she trying to touch herself?

John gulped back another draught of his wine, his eyes wide as he watched Susan. A tall black man came up and stood across from her, apparently a good friend. And they began to chat. John could see there was no sexual tension between the two. If anything, they seemed to be talking shop.

But there went that finger again, slipping up underneath the edge of Susan's skirt. John looked around. Was anyone else catching this? Or was he just seeing things?

This time, Susan put the leg farthest away from John up so that her foot rested against the same edge of the doorway she leaned on. With her knee bent like that, John could see the dark nether regions of Susan's privacy. And that finger was there, grazing along…

Her skin!

John looked away, drinking deeply from his glass.

Oh my god, he thought to himself. Susan wasn't wearing any underwear. And in the most subtle of positions, she was managing to tease herself, and him, right there in a room full of people who didn't suspect a thing. All their eyes would be on her creamy breasts and well-shaped mouth. Only John seemed to be enjoying the real show.

His cock was now beyond comfortable. He would have to do something about that.

"Never let a good hard-on go to waste, bro," his brother had advised him when they were younger. "It's a waste of good blood! And besides, it can't be healthy! Just take care of it!"

Of course, Tom had been instructing John in the art of having more than one girlfriend on the go, at the time. But John was pretty sure the rule was applicable to masturbation too.

And this hard-on raging in his pants would just make him uncomfortable for the rest of the night if he didn't do something about it, right away.

John got up, crouching slightly to put his glass on the table. It gave him a good excuse to subtly put his hand over his lap and move out of the room. He excused himself past several people, most of which didn't even hear his polite words of "pardon, pardon me" over the loud bass music Tom was blaring.

At last, John was in the bathroom, his back pressed to the door as his hand fiddled with his zipper. He had his cock out and in his palm, stroking it hard, when someone pushed against the door, forcing it open.

Before he could push back and lock the damned thing, the person was inside with him. And the lock was being snapped into place.

It was Susan.

John stood there with his cock in his hand, feeling it begin to die with embarrassment, his mouth open in an O of shock and horror.

"Quit looking at me like that," the girl laughed, moving to him.

Susan kissed John deeply, but his shock remained.

"Come on, like I didn't know you were watching me, or why you were coming in here!"

The horror deepened.

She had known he was watching him? She had known he was going into his brother's bathroom in the midst of a swinging party to jack off?

He didn't think he could ever live this down.

But then Susan lay one hand upon his cock, and he felt it jump back to life in her palm. Carefully, considerately, she stroked it, her other hand on his shoulder, her face smiling softly into his.

"Did you like the show I put on for you?"

John gulped, and nodded.

"You know, I've always only ever thought of you as Tom's little brother. But," Susan said, looking down. "Now I can see maybe you should be his big brother." That comment made John blush. It wasn't something he really dwelt on. He had never really been vain enough to compare penis sizes with his brother. But having someone who had been his brother's lover say something like that – it caused him a certain amount of pride.

Susan pushed John back onto the toilet seat.

"There's a bathroom upstairs people can use, if they need one," she whispered as she sank to her knees in front of John.

"Now, show me what you were going to do with this."

She released his cock, and looked up at him, expectantly, smiling.

John couldn't believe it. Was she serious?

She was waiting, smiling, not moving.

Slowly, he put his hand around his cock, taking his eyes from Susan's and watching himself, willing himself to get hard again. But he wasn't sure if it would come right now. He could feel a lot of stress over having a gorgeous woman like Susan watch him while he played with himself.

Shyly, he avoided her eyes.

"Awww, come on," she said encouragingly. "It was a lot harder than that when you came in here. I saw."

Again, John blushed.

"Yes, but I had inspiration then," he said, not realizing until afterwards how bold that sounded.

Susan took it for what it was, though, and immediately stood up.

"What on earth do you mean?" she said, putting her foot on the edge of the elegant porcelain tub near John.

Her one leg was raised again, and he could smell the scent of her hot womanhood. Susan lowered her nearest hand to her straight thigh, and let one long finger trail up underneath the skirt hem. As John watched, he could see it touching her shaved pussy lips, and he felt his mouth water. In his hand, his cock jumped.

"Touch it," she whispered. "Show me what you would have done…"

John began to stroke himself, avoiding Susan's eyes and just watching her finger. A second digit joined the first, and she was soon parting her lips, showing John the sleek wetness within. He could see the bright pink edges of her clitoris, and it made his cock harder. Under his grip, he could feel every vein and bulge along the shaft.

"Mmm," moaned Susan, and John dared to look up.

Her head was tilted at that angle, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open as she began to finger herself. The perfection of the look of pleasure on her face made John sigh. Then he lowered his eyes to her fingers again, watching where they disappeared within her folds.

Susan would dip them deep inside, wetting them, then she would drag the wetness out from her dark hole and lather her clitoris with it. She would fiddle with the lust button for a bit, but then would let her fingers head back inside for more. Deeper and deeper went her fingers, and harder and harder got John's cock.

Watching Susan finger herself like this, going faster and faster, was making John wish it was his tongue where her fingers were, his mouth over her clitoris and pussy lips.

Then, he grabbed her uplifted thigh and pulled her close. Susan squealed and reached out desperately to hold the shower curtain rod with one hand and a towel rack with the other. John had her suspended own in front of his face. With ease his muscular body took on her weight, and the lifted position of her thighs pushed her skirt's hem up to her waist.

Her wet pussy was now exposed to his mouth, and John drew her closer.

He felt more confident now, for some reason. More sure of himself. There was no going back. This girl had come in here to see him get off. The tiger had picked her prey.

But she had picked him on the basis that he was his brother's shadow.

She had picked wrongly.

Firmly, John held Susan to his mouth, his tongue curling out and flicking over her clitoris. He moved one hand down her thigh to cup her ass, holding her there so she wouldn't fall. It was up to her to keep her torso up and safe. He would take care of the rest.

His tongue, long and thick, pushed into her folds, shaping itself around her hard clit, and moving down to lick each inch of her pussy. John pushed it slowly, aching slowly, into her hole, the way a woman loved a man's tongue to move. Then he withdrew it. Then he pushed it back in, deeper, harder.

Susan moaned as John fucked her with his tongue, something he was pretty sure his brother had never done.

Any man could lick and suck on a pussy. John had taught himself with his few girlfriends how to really make love to one.

His tongue curled slightly like a hotdog bun, and he pushed it deeper up inside Susan. His fingers gripped her buttocks, and she moaned, feeling his lust and need for her. More foolish girls worried that when a man went down on them, he was doing something he didn't like. John slathered his tongue over Susan's vagina, showing her that this was the thing he most desired to do just now.

Carefully he placed her legs on his shoulders, burying his face in her lap, both hands on her ass. And he began to undulate her body, up and down, pushing her to his mouth and then drawing her off again. His tongue never left her hole.

Soon, Susan was writhing, moaning, struggling not to scream. John could feel her legs shaking around his head.

He slipped his hands up to her lower back, pulling her torso forward so that she could let go of the shower curtain rod and the towel rack. And Susan did, leaning forward and resting her hands on the bathroom cabinet behind John's head.

Still he loved her pussy, his tongue thrusting into the tight, hot wetness. He moved Susan up and down, up and down, until at last, shaking and rocking in waves of ecstasy, she came all over his face.

Gently, he lowered her until he was cradling her. Susan trembled. The tiger had been tamed.

"Your…your brother never…"

"I know," John whispered, nuzzling Susan's hair.

A moment of shyness crept over him as he smelled her sex on his own lips, and his face turned red. Susan put a hand to his cheek, feeling his flushed skin.

"You poor shy dear," she whispered.

"You still haven't shown me what you came in here to do."

And John smiled, all shyness disappearing.