She crept closer to them. What a bunch of drunken bums! Tim lay across his bed with his long legs dangling over the edge, his bare feet resting on the icy floor. Brian lay upside-down, his silvery hair trailing off the foot of his bed. Another few inches and his head would be hanging off as well. Mike's head was mashed against the headboard of his bed, his chin resting on his chest, his legs spread wide and hanging off either side of his mattress. A beer can sat on his chest and butted up against his chin. The room reeked of beer, with beer cans scattered everywhere. For a moment Janet had the sadistic urge to get a butcher knife and slice off the three worthless peckers that lay like ivory billy clubs against her brothers' bellies. But before she realized what she was doing, she was leaning forward to kiss each of the three peckers, feeling each silky hot cock press hard against her lips in an automatic reflex. As she kissed each pecker, each brother muttered in his sleep.

Wake one of them up, a small voice in her head whispered. Take a chance. You need to get fucked. But as she listened to the voice she was aware of a throbbing sensation in her left asscheek. That's where Tim had kicked her that one and only time she'd tried to wake him up. She couldn't understand why her brothers were so touchy about having their sleep disturbed. They thought nothing of roaring around town on their motorcycles or laying rubber with their souped-up cars until three every morning, waking up half the town countless times every night. But let them get into their own beds and they were ready to kill any intruder on their slumbers.

Giving the three hot cocks a last longing look, Janet crept back out of the room, tripping over two empty beer cans on the way out. Shit! If she'd waited up for them to get home they'd all probably be fucking her right now. But then, maybe not. They might have been dead drunk when they got home and worthless as fuckers.