My Brother’s Muscular Roommate

"You have to help him!"

My brother Liam dragged his ridiculously muscular classmate home and took a prank way too far—he tricked the guy into taking eight male enhancement pills.

Watching the poor guy's alarming state, my cheeks burned with a mix of panic and secondhand embarrassment. "How... how am I supposed to know what to do?"

"Just do whatever you do with Ethan! I swear I won't look."

Not only did he not look, but he also locked us in the room together...

My name is Isabella Roscente, and let's just say I'm a young wife with... an appetite. I'd practically run my husband, Ethan, into the ground. He was so terrified he volunteered for a six-month assignment at a branch office just to get away.

"Honey, let me go recharge my batteries," he'd pleaded. "When I get back, I'll make it up to you, I promise. If you miss me, just call. I've got other ways to keep you happy."

His "other ways" meant video calls where he'd try to turn me on with a bunch of dirty talk. But when we were together in person, he could barely keep up. A few naughty words over a pixelated screen? Useless.

Forcing him to stay would've been pointless. In his current state, he was only a step above a eunuch. I had to hope this time apart would help him recover.

But my body was paying the price. Right when my desires were at their peak, I was left high and dry.

I ran my hands over my full, heavy breasts—a generous 36E—like two overripe watermelons straining against my clothes. My round, pert bottom was firm and inviting. Maybe I was just born with estrogen levels through the roof, which would explain this body and a libido that could put most women to shame.

Being teased through a screen was a joke. For these six months, my only companions were my battery-operated "friends," poor substitutes for the real thing.

On a quiet weekend night, I pressed my ear to the door. From my brother's room next door, a woman's shameless moans spilled out, punctuated by a man's deep, guttural groans.

With Ethan gone, my college-age brother, Liam, had decided he was worried about me being lonely. So he started crashing at my place every weekend.

That little punk. His company did absolutely nothing to ease my loneliness. He said he was here for me, but he was really just mooching my cooking. Cooking for him during the day was one thing, but what I couldn't stand was how he'd hole up in his room at night, either gaming or blasting adult films. It left me aching with frustration. When I took matters into my own hands, I had to bite my lip raw to stay quiet.

Lately, he'd gotten even worse. He didn't come alone anymore; he brought his classmate, Noah Evans—a guy built like a Greek god.

Was he trying to test my willpower? This was pure torture.

Noah stood a solid 6'2", with muscles that looked carved from stone. For a woman starving for attention, he was like a walking shot of testosterone, stirring desires I usually kept locked down.

And to make it worse, these two hormone-fueled young men would huddle around the computer at night, watching those films with the volume cranked up. It was agony.

Not only did I have to muffle my own sounds, but I also had to endure the graphic soundtrack from next door, each moan feeling like a whisper right in my ear. Did anyone ever stop to think what this was doing to me?