But the boys weren’t done yet.
“We’re gonna go easy,” rumbled Cain. “This isn’t the time or place,” he said to his brother.
Colt just grunted his reply.
“But we can make her cream hard,” he said emphatically.
“Oh yeah,” rumbled Cain. “Oh yeah.”
And with that, big fingers skipped over my pussy to toy with the string between my legs. Because guess what else had been in the treasure chest? Oh yeah, a big pink ball that you insert in your private place. It’s basically a giant ben wa ball, rubber, ribbed, and I’d almost come just inserting it.
“Oh yeah, love this,” rumbled one, his breathing hot on my ass cheeks.
“Do it,” commanded the other. And the fingers began tugging.
I’ve had things pulled out before, it feels amazing, the slide, the delicious passage through my channel, stimulating my insides, rubbing against the g-spot. But the twins finessed it, using subtle technique that made me moan with longing.
The fingers would pull, and then stop, pull and then stop. And I could imagine what the football team was seeing. The pink ball, emerging in glimpses, a peek of pink visible each time they pulled, then disappearing back into my folds, then reappearing again, this time more, before retreating back into my wetness.
It felt so good, I began creaming, the viscous white lubing the ball, rising to the top to the hoots and hollers of the team.
“Get her,” shouted one guy.
“Fuuuuck,” ground out another, no doubt palming himself.
“Oh fuck yeah,” gasped another and from the unmistakable spattering sound, I knew he’d just come, jizz hitting the floor.
It went on for minutes, my brothers teasing me, that ball slowly making its way out, one step forward, one step back, showing itself between my lips, my little cunny stretched and pulled.
And finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. A big finger had reached for my clit, stimulating that little dick, giving it a massage and with a squeal I let go.
“Aieee!” I screamed, my legs straightening, toes pointing as I clenched, my puss shaking with an earthquake of spasms. I couldn’t control it, I was upside down, the plaything of two gorgeous men as ten more watched. My cunny seized, hard, and the ball was forced out with an audible pop, the squelching sound so wet, spatters of my cream flying all over the place.
As if in reply, dribbles of jizz hit the floor, the sign of a dozen men coming hard, their dicks giving it up in the walls of the Donkey Club. Oh yeah, I’d done it. I’d touched only two, but my delicious body had made a roomful of customers spurt, their life force ejaculating with a chorus of moans and hard groans.
And what happened next was even more shocking. Or maybe I should have expected it because dollar bills began to float, drifting down to my hair, landing on my naked body, forming a circle around Colt, Cain and I, like a massive snowfall in green.
We’d made it rain. My brothers and I … together.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Colt
It was un-fucking believable. We’d headed to the strip club as part of our “make it rain” tradition. The belief is making it rain for strippers brings good luck, you’ll demolish the opposition in the next game.
And it’s pretty fucking awesome. Guys like Harry, who’s as big as a refrigerator, standing onstage, showering the girls with dollar bills, hundreds if not thousands in cash, intent on upping his karma.
Or Mikey, who uses fifties, his own personal interpretation of the tradition. But whatever it is, we do it before each game, picking a joint where the girls are willing and hot, the money stream flowing like continuous lava.
And the Donkey is one of our favorites. We knew the blue light was coming, we’ve done it before, witnessed all sorts of shenanigans. Last time Mikey did two girls at once, and that was a mistake … he blew his load so hard he could barely make it onto the field the next day.
But fuck, what happened last night was totally unexpected. The stripper had been gorgeous, her body curvy, those flanks golden and gleaming in the low light. And the mask, the red lips, it turned us on, I could feel my body temperature soaring with each twist of her hips.
But something about her had seemed familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, I was in the throes of pleasure, but the back of my brain was whirring, logging each move, each sinuous glide, something about her was different.
It wasn’t until I had her legs up on my shoulders, taking a deep whiff, that I knew. And it struck Cain at the same time, as soon as his tongue touched her backside. Because it was our sister, Karlie, she was the masked dancer.
I’d frozen in shock, and it was a good thing I did because my muscles automatically clamped as Karlie began squirming, desperate to get up.
“Colt, Cain!” she’d gasped from between my legs. But I hadn’t let her say more.
“Still,” I’d commanded, all the while breathing in those delicious aromas, the personal scent I’d recognize anywhere.
And we’d done our part, sure. We hadn’t banged her, but we’d made the most out of a blue light, letting that little pussy get exposed, putting on a show in front of the guys. And afterwards, we’d deposited her backstage, giving her a sweet kiss on the lips in front of the other girls.
“See ya,” I ground out, my body still hard.
“Later,” added Cain, his hand swiping between her legs one last time.
And the girl had looked at us mutely from behind the mask, her eyes pleading with us to not say anything, not now, not in front of everyone.
So we’d stayed silent, headed back out to the crowd to the slaps of our teammates, their guffaws and hoots congratulating us.
“You did that girl good,” jawed one dude, he’d literally eaten three steaks at dinner earlier.
“Oh yeah,” added Pat, another massive guy. “And look what I’ve got,” he said, holding up the pink ball. It dangled wetly, almost five inches across, still dripping with her personal juices.
But Cain and I played it cool.
“Oh yeah, we’ll be killing it tomorrow night,” I said nonchalantly. “What are we out? Two thou? Three?”
“At least three,” chortled Jimmy, our equipment manager. “It’s gonna be a blowout tomorrow, Ravens gonna get it.”
And so we suited up the next day, our confidence on high. The team was pumped and stoked, the testosterone level on max, each guy ready to do some serious damage.
Jimmy ran over with a bunch of equipment under his arm. As quarterback, it’s my job to check all the balls before they’re brought out to the refs, after all, I was the one who’d be gripping them.
I squeezed each one, the leather tough, the pebbled grain rough and scratchy. They were fine, and I gave the go.
“Game time,” I commanded, as we huddled. “No mercy.” And with that, it was on.
It was fucking awesome, last night had been good for me. The ball flew in a perfect arc each time I threw it, my arm like a shot put, launching each pass up the field, further, further, until we were in the end zone multiple times.
And Cain, he was a magnet for the balls, the pigskin landing in his arms with a resounding thwack as he darted down the field. My twin was total speed and agility on the green, tucking the ball under his arm one-handed, straight-arming any threats.
So yeah, we cleaned up again. The rain had worked … and we were champions.
But in the meantime, there was still the question of our sister.
“What do you think?” grunted Cain to me in the showers. The Eagles had one of those old-school set-ups, group showers, a huge tiled room with twelve spouts and we were surrounded by a scrum of guys, nude, pure slabs of muscle getting washed and cleaned after another crushing victory.
I knew he was referring to Karlie, not to plays or strategy.
“We’ll see her when we’re back,” I grunted in reply, massaging soap over my pecs. “It’s time,” I added.
“Yeah,” he agreed. Because we’d avoided Karlie for fear of corrupting an inno
cent girl but clearly, we’d misunderstood. Our sister was more than meets the eye … and we wanted to explore.
CHAPTER NINE
Karlie
I gulped, sitting nervously on my bed. Everything was a whir in my head, I was so confused.
On the one hand, I was Karlie the photographer, dressed in baggy black clothes, the girl who was always behind the shutter, shying from the limelight.
On the other, I was Karlie the Donkey dancer, someone who bared it all for men, the center of attention, flaunting my assets … and now my brothers knew.
I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. I’d watched the last football game from the sidelines, holding my breath as Colt and Cain dominated the opposition, their massive, athletic forms sprinting down the field, throwing pass after winning pass.
And it was magnificent, how they commanded the team, their unquestioned leadership, play after play going off without a hitch. After the game, I’d half expected them to confront me, to talk about what had happened, but they’d been surrounded by well-wishers, an impenetrable crowd dancing with glee at victory.
But it was only a matter of time. I fidgeted with my bedspread again, pretending to study even though the book was a blur before my eyes, the words slipping off the page as the events of the past couple nights ran through my head.
Then I heard the front door bang, Colt and Cain’s low growls filling the foyer downstairs. Oh god, they were coming up the stairs, their heavy footsteps in the hallway.
And I gave out a sigh of relief when their bedroom door opened. They weren’t coming to my room, I wasn’t even sure they knew where I slept, to be honest. After all, I’d been nothing but a fly to them.
But suddenly a low voice growled “Karlie” and I sat up with a jolt. Because Colt and Cain were standing in the doorway, their massive forms imposing, my room too small for their alpha frames. They had moved so quietly, so stealthily, that I hadn’t heard a thing.
“Hey,” I breathed, sitting up, straightening my button down. “How are you? Great job at the game last night,” I added lamely. Oh god, why was I babbling like this?
But my brothers were smooth.
“Thanks sister,” Colt said. “Did you get any good pics of the action?”
Again, I was surprised. Never for one second did I think that my steps had noticed me on the sidelines, I’d figured I was invisible, blending into the posse of photographers capturing every move. But evidently, my steps were perceptive, even in the heat of the moment.
“Um yeah,” I gulped, “this new stop-action shutter helps me capture every move with minimal blurring,” I said.
With that, my brothers smiled. What had I said that was so funny?
But Colt and Cain merely moved into my room, shutting the door silently behind them. Not that Jerry and Karla cared. They never noticed what we did, they were caught up in their own la-la land, the bliss of old people in love. Besides, their suite was in a different wing of the house so we were basically on our own.
“You know we’re not here about last night,” drawled Cain, his face deceptively smooth. “We’re here to talk about the night before that,” he added pointedly.
I gulped. “Oh yeah, that,” I said lamely. There were no words, silence for a moment.
But Cain continued.
“Why were you at the Donkey?” he asked curiously. “What made you go?”
Oh god, the moment of truth had come. What to say? I decided to be honest.
“Brothers,” I said slowly. “I guess you know now that I’m much more than Karlie the photographer.”
That made my brothers laugh, throwing back their heads, perfect white teeth gleaming.
“I think we know that now,” said Colt with a sly grin. “About a hundred times more than Karlie the photographer. You have a lot to offer,” he intimated.
I reddened. Everything these days sounded like a come-on to me, I was so used to being propositioned at the club.
But I had to provide some explanation, so I continued. “Brothers,” I said lamely, “I guess that I was just lonely?”
That made Cain and Colt toss their heads back with laughter.
“Really little girl?” asked Colt. “But aren’t you busy with school? Don’t you have a million friends from classes and stuff?”
“Well I just moved here,” I said stiffly, sitting on my bed immobile. “As a senior transfer it’s not that easy you know.” My eyes stung with hot tears and I steeled myself, willing them not to fall. I would not cry, not in front of these men.
Immediately my brothers were contrite.
“Of course not,” said Cain gently, sitting on the bed beside me. Colt took a seat on my other side and I was suddenly enclosed by two massive masculine forms, pure slabs of muscle, feeling safe, secure.
“It’s just that we figured you’d be making friends, doing a ton of activities, going on dates, that sort of thing,” added Cain. “It’s not every day that a pretty girl like you shows up at Xavier Middlebury.”
Pretty? I’d never heard that before. I was okay, but I wasn’t a blonde bombshell like the girls they routinely brought back.
I took a deep breath.
“Listen,” I began, “you don’t have to be nice to me just because we’ve crossed some lines physically. I know your type, I know I’m not it, that night was a fluke, you guys were tricked,” I babbled.
But Colt cut me off.
“Who said we were tricked?” he asked smoothly.
“Well,” I stuttered, “you couldn’t exactly stop in front of your friends at the club, and you didn’t know it was me, and …”
My voice trailed off because my brothers were smiling at me.
“Karlie,” growled Colt, “you couldn’t embarrass us in front of our friends.”
“Well you know,” I said helplessly, trying to explain, but my words were garbled. “The football team is so macho, I’m sure you didn’t want to stop or show weakness in front of them.”
“You’re right, we wouldn’t want to stop,” said Cain mildly. “Especially not with your cunny open and steaming like that.”
The heat immediately shot to my fingertips, my insides burning, my chest feeling hot. Oh god, my steps weren’t beating around the bush, mincing any words.
“Yes,” I said slowly, “I was doing the blue light that night. I guess I’ve taken up at the Donkey because it speaks to something in me. I’m not sure what, but sometimes I get the urge to bare it all, to make men look. It’s … enlightening in its own way, I guess.”
My face was on fire, I was sure they’d shoot me down, make me feel small, or at least start laughing, saying I had no idea what I was talking about, I was just a little girl.
But instead, my brothers looked at me with new respect in their eyes.
“That’s the first thing I’ve heard you say from the heart,” growled Colt. “Keep going.”
And I took a deep breath and tried to explain the jumbled up feelings inside.
“It’s weird being at XM,” I began. “I don’t know anyone, I’m always disappearing into the woodwork at school and at home. Brothers,” I said slowly, “I’ve been watching you bring home girls right and left, doing them until they can’t walk the next day, begging you for more still.”
That caused my brothers to quirk their eyebrows but they remained silent.
“And it made me feel … I dunno, hungry inside I guess. I feel like I’m always on the outside looking in. I’m an outsider at school, I’m a photographer so I’m always watching, never participating, and then finally at home,” I said helplessly, gesturing with hands, “You guys are always having fun, teasing girls, using their bodies, and I’m always watching you know?”
Silence. Oh god, I’d been speaking in circles, repeating myself like a ridiculous parrot. What if they didn’t understand?
But Colt’s hand was soft on me knee.
“Well sister,” he said, deceptively mild. “What made you watch us?”
What made me watch? M
aybe the fact that their room was two doors down from mine, maybe because they were loud, the squealing, groaning and grunting impossible to miss, maybe because I wanted to see their massive forms naked and straining, dominating new girls each week.
But I said none of that.
“I don’t know,” I said quietly. “Because you’re gorgeous?”
And that made my brothers laugh again, throwing their heads back, a gleam in their eyes, deep voices rumbling throughout the room.
“Sister,” they said, “We have just the solution to help you feel included.”
“So you’re not mad?” I asked slowly, hopefully.
“We’re not mad,” confirmed Cain. “Colt and I … I guess you could call us feminists,” he shrugged. “We believe that women have a right to control their bodies, and who are we to say what’s right and wrong? After all, Colt and I subject our bodies to the grind of football day in, day out, the wear and tear irreversible. We’re lucky we’re not in full-body casts,” he remarked.
“Oh yeah,” growled Colt. “The shit that happens on the field is far worse than the Donkey. There’s a reason why we have trainers, PTs, team doctors, the whole she-bang. In fact, there are days when I practically can’t get out of bed, I feel like a sixty year-old man,” he said matter of factly.
“So you’re saying that you approve of the Donkey?” I asked with amazement. This was beyond my wildest dreams. I’d never expected my brothers to endorse my extracurricular activities.
“Maybe not exactly approve,” said Colt, “I wouldn’t go that far. But we’re not going to tell you what to do and what not to do. You’re in control of your own destiny, like any modern woman.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling as if I’d been freed from a cage. The air suddenly seemed lighter, I could breathe again, and a weight was off my shoulders because my brothers knew everything and didn’t look down on me. They didn’t condemn my choices, didn’t treat me like a leper or second-rate goods. I was just me, only me, and they weren’t passing judgment. I could tell why they were co-captains of the team because they instilled confidence, renewed my sense of self without beating me down, without making me feel two inches high.
DOUBLE DONKEY: A Twin Stepbrother Sports Romance (with BONUS book Twin Stepbrother Celebrity) Page 5