Brothers LaFon, Part One: Crucial Lessons (Volume 1)

He wanted to prolong the delivery for as long as possible and just savor the sweet moment—the moment he would watch the man crumble before his very eyes. It was going to be exhilarating.

Louis had sobbed, Miah had gotten hard, and Jen, Miah’s secretary, had been summoned to assist poor Mr. Stevens out to a waiting town car.

Having just downed two fingers of Basil Hayden's bourbon from his corner bar, Miah was about to duck into his personal washroom to rub one out when he heard a hollow knock followed by Rod’s treble voice at the doorway.

“Mr. LaFon?”

Fuck! Leave it to Rod to screw up the perfect ending to a rare treat.

“Yes?” Miah snapped, glancing over his shoulder.

“Um, sir? I have my final report…on the matter I’ve been working on,” Rod said while holding up a manila envelope.

Turning back to the bar with a hidden smile, he measured two more fingers into the cut crystal glass. Not bothering to address Rod directly, he slid the LaFon and Sons decanter back in place, and ordered, “Place it on my desk and leave.”

Once he heard the door close, he turned around, his erection half-gone, and took the whiskey to one of the windows that lined an entire wall of his spacious office.

Standing there sipping the slightly burning liquid, he reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Glancing back at the envelope as he brought a flame to the cigarette’s tip, he smiled again and drew in a breath. Prolonging the opening of the prize made his dick rethicken with anticipation.

The only thing tarnishing the exquisite occasion was Rod being connected to it—in any way. Rod was a good fact finder, perhaps the best, but Miah despised him. He despised the investigator’s soft mannerisms, despised his forced politeness, and despised that he was one of the few living people who knew Miah for the psychopath he was. Rod was a temporary, but necessary, evil. And once Miah was done with the little freak, Rod would disappear without a trace. He’d long ago formulated the plan.

With a final deep drag of the sweet clove cigarette, he stubbed it out, his eyes landing on the envelope once again. He allowed his fingers to lightly draw along and tease the bulge of his gray slacks while he swallowed the last of his bourbon.
Picking up the envelope, Miah sat in the deep leather chair and looked around the personally designed office. He’d taken the flagging glass and decanter company he and his brother, Alexander, inherited and turned it into a business which would be passed down for generations. Not that Alexander had set foot in the place since their father had died. It wasn’t that Miah really gave a shit that half of the profits went into his cunt of a brother’s checking account each month. No, it was the fact that his brother had been in hiding for the last decade that really chapped his ass.

He slid the sharp glass letter opener carefully along the seam of the envelope, knowing full well what was inside—otherwise, Prissy Rod wouldn’t have called the job finished—and held his breath as he reached in. This was the moment he’d waited years for.

His trembling fingers pulled out the photographs as his breath caught. The top one was enough; the others would only be a bonus.

The cheap hotel room’s interior served as the backdrop to the focal point in the foreground; his brother’s thick, condom-clad cock buried tightly into a nearly hairless pussy.

The pair were lying on their sides, with Alexander wearing a shirt, tie, and blue jeans. The jeans weren’t even pulled down, just unbuttoned. He was pushed up against the young, dark-haired girl’s back. She had one delicate leg bent at the knee and hitched up to allow him inside. A muscled arm was snaked over her side and stretched down her slim, light-brown abdomen. His thick, long fingers had her soft, sticky folds pulled back exposing her sensitive clit.

Miah let the stack of pictures slide to the desktop as he reached for his own straining cock, shifting it from the left side of his pants over to the right. Squeezing the rigid flesh through the tailored fabric, he closed his eyes and sighed. This is it. I’ve fucking got him!

He glanced back down to the photo and saw the girl’s devious, almond-shaped, dark eyes staring at the unseen camera. Her bright-white teeth and pink tongue were set off by the pleasured O of her mouth. Alexander’s stubbled jaw grazed her collarbone as the shutter went off. His handsome face was clear, lit, and in focus.

It could have been a shot taken directly out of some skanky skin magazine, but it wasn’t. It was so much better; it was his high-school-educator brother fucking one of his students. And it was fucking perfect.