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by D STEP

  Yuri sat on her right, sandwiching Sophie between them. “I never liked it,” he said gruffly.

  Valeri snickered. “You only say that because you couldn’t win at hide-and-seek. 42 rooms and still I found you every time.” He squeezed Sophie’s hand. “It is a wonderful place to raise children.”

  “I can’t say I like Goragavan either,” Sophie said. “But it will be the safest place to raise a child.”

  “I agree,” Yuri said. “The Odessa aren’t finished with us. We only slowed them down. My son or daughter will be safest here.”

  “My son or daughter,” Valeri corrected.

  Sophie exhaled in exasperation. “Our son or daughter. Can’t you two ever learn to share?”

  Yuri’s big hand ran the length of her thigh. “It’s not our strong suit,” he said. “But I’m always up for new adventures.”

  “Father is going to shit himself at our decision,” Valeri laughed.

  Sophie grinned and stole a glance at each of them. Valeri in his tailored suit, impeccably groomed as always, and Yuri the picture of badboy charm in his biker leathers, his hair and beard in need of a trim. She loved them both; it was impossible to do otherwise. They were a package deal.

  They arrived at Goragavan and settled into the largest suite in the mansion, one that Anatoly and his wife had once occupied. Since the onset of his illness, Anatoly had moved to smaller quarters where he was more easily attended to by medical staff. It seemed fitting that the future Pakhan should take residence here.

  Sophie admired the stunning view of the lake from the picture windows. The water had not yet frozen over, but frost dusted the ground and the nude limbs of trees all around it. “Are you ready?” Valeri murmured as he stepped close behind her. He placed a gentle kiss on her neck where a pearl choker hid the fading marks on her throat. She turned to face him and took his hand. She reached out her other hand to Yuri.

  “Yes,” she said, smiling brightly. They walked hand in hand to the dining hall where Anatoly waited to see them. The full skirt of her white and gold taffeta dress swished with each step. She felt like a bride being escorted down the aisle, and it was not far from the truth. As they entered the room, they found Anatoly standing at attention wearing a military-style dress uniform, two of his aides at his side.

  “Father,” Valeri said, smiling. “You’re looking well.”

  Even Yuri seemed impressed at his father’s recovery. “It’s good to see you on your feet, old man.”

  Anatoly waved a finger at them, a smile creasing his lined face. “Flattery will get you nowhere. “You’ve still got to earn your place, bezdel'niki, you slackers.” He dropped his arm and nodded in satisfaction. “It’s good to see you, too.” His hooded eyes focused on Sophie, a bright spark in their depths that had been absent last time they’d met. “You look lovely my dear,” he said. “Lara, isn’t it?”

  Sophie bowed her head in greeting. “Thank you, sir. My name is Sophie, but I do go by Lara on occasion. It’s my middle name.”

  Yuri chuckled.

  “Valeri?” Anatoly asked, turning his attention to him. “You’ve come alone?”

  “I’ve come to stand with my brother,” he answered. “And our fiancé.”

  The old man’s face twitched. He turned his ear toward Valeri. “What did you say? My hearing is not what it used to be.”

  “I said, our fiancé…our bride-to-be.”

  Anatoly straightened and fixed his wizened gaze upon all three of them. He leaned toward his aides. “Leave us.” The two men exited the room and closed the doors behind them. The old man lowered himself into a chair. “Now, what’s the meaning of this,” he said, his voice cold.

  “We have an announcement, father,” Valeri said.

  “And good news,” Yuri added.

  “We are both going to marry Sophie,” Valeri said.

  “What?”

  “I know it may seem strange, but it makes sense. The succession will be secure,” Valeri explained.

  “That’s insane, that’s polygamy.” Anatoly looked at Sophie, who stood silent during the exchange. “You agree to this?”

  “Sir, I know this is unusual, but yes. I love both your sons very much, and we want to be together,” she said.

  “You said good news,” Anatoly scoffed. “What’s good about this?”

  Sophie took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. You’re going to have a grandchild.”

  The old man looked back and forth between them. “Which one is the father?”

  “Technically, they both are,” Sophie said. “Since they are identical.”

  “Are you saying you’ve both…been with this woman?” Anatoly waved a finger between his two sons.

  The brothers nodded. “One day, our son may be Pakhan, how perfect is that, one child with the blood of two fathers?” Yuri said.

  “It may be a girl,” Sophie reminded them. “Maybe the first woman Pakhan.”

  Valeri grinned. “I like that.”

  Anatoly shook his head. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this. But either way,” a smile stole across his crinkled lips. “I’m going to have a grandchild. That is good enough for me.” He winked. “I hope there will be more to follow.”

  The trio stared at the old man in surprise. “We’ll work on it, father.”

  *

  Sophie groaned in satisfaction as she straddled Valeri, bringing her body down on him and filling herself with his length in long, hard strokes. His lips curled in a mischievous smile as she bounced up and down, grinding into him as though he were the saddle of a Harley. His blue eyes seemed to glow in the semi-dark of the spacious bedroom that was big enough to host an orgy.

  “Oh yeah, ride me baby,” he said, gripping her ass cheeks as they rose and fell against his groin, making a delicious slapping noise with each stroke. Her breasts bobbed tantalizingly above her rounded belly as she moved, rocking their baby to sleep in a most naughty way. She paused briefly, settling onto his big rod as she panted for breath, their skin slick with sweat.

  “Not so fast, devushka. No pleasure without pain,” Yuri said as he knelt behind her, pressing his huge and hardened cock between her cheeks. He leaned her forward to lie against Valeri’s chest, exposing her ass to the air. With a whooshing noise, the tip of Yuri’s leather belt swept downward and smacked her right cheek with the force of a whip.

  Sophie yelped, even though the impact set her pussy humming in wild arousal. Again the belt came down, to land on her left cheek. Hellfire spread across her backside, her pussy muscles clenching, resisting the urge to come until he’d finished his work. Another strike, harder than the first; she whimpered in both pain and excruciating ecstasy. More, she wanted more. The slap of leather echoed in the room as it cracked down one more time, delivering a shockwave of burning pleasure. Sophie’s world went white, her nerve endings short-circuiting into a sizzling field of electric, carnal heat. She succumbed to its power and came harder than she’d ever thought possible.

  Orgasm+ flooded over her like a tidal wave, paralyzing her in its wake. She imagined their baby cradled to heaven as the waves of bliss crested and receded. Her pussy clenched around Valeri’s thick cock still embedded in her and as her senses returned, heard Yuri spit into his palm. He spread his warm saliva in the crack of her reddened, tortured ass. Sophie’s muscles brooked no resistance as his cock entered her tender anus and pressed inward to full penetration.

  With her ear to Valeri’s chest, she felt both the comforting beat of his heart and living pulse of their unborn child resonating between them. Her body was completely at peace with both her beloved brother-husbands nestled inside her. They pumped her in alternating strokes, a unique rhythm that was all their own, playing in perfect harmony.

  Sophie rode out the dual pleasure with the strength of a road warrior until both men had climaxed inside her. As their bodies stilled from their exertions, she heard the low, sexy rumble of Yuri’s laughter. “Now that’s what I call a joy-ride,” he said, backing away from t
he bed and reaching for the decanter of vodka on a nearby table. “Anyone thirsty besides me?” He poured the strong, clear spirit into a crystal tumbler.

  Valeri kissed Sophie and rolled her tenderly onto the bed beside him. “Parched,” he said. “Pour me a shot, too.”

  “Sophie, will you have a drink in your…delicate condition?”

  Sophie turned her expanding body onto her side and looked over at Yuri, his powerful, muscled form standing before her in all its sculpted glory. He called me Sophie! She smiled, and shivered with renewed arousal and the anticipation of doing it all over again with her two loves, Yuri and Valeri. “It’s all right, I’m in second trimester now. I’ll have a double shot.”

  “A double?” Valeri asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

  “I’m drinking for two now,” she said, looking back and forth between them. A playful smile curled her lush lips. “And besides…what if I have twins?”

  - End of Book Three-

  Brat in the Woods

  A Taboo Backdoor Tale

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2016 Hardcore Erotica Stories

  Published by Hardcore Erotica Stories

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  First HARDCORE EROTICA STORIES Printing July 2016

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 – My Stepbrother, the Dick

  Chapter 2 – In the Woods, Gone Wild

  Chapter 3 – Forbidden Lust and the Backdoor Pass

  Note: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The story contains explicit adult content of a sexual nature and should not be read by anyone under the age of 18.

  Chapter 1

  The first time it happened was last summer. I remember it perfectly – and I remember it not just in my mind, but in my skin, my bones and blood, like I can feel it happening over and over again. It’s the most terrible thing, what we did – and the most wonderful.

  I can’t think of it – of him – without getting hot and wet and breathless all over again. What we did – what happened last summer – was like my whole world cracking open. It changed everything – it changed all of me. I knew then I’d never be the same; I knew that I didn’t want to.

  I had just turned 20 and was home from college for summer break, staying at my stepfather’s mansion for a few months, taking it easy between the end of exams and the start of my summer job. My stepbrother Ben, a few years older than me, was living also living at home, whence he was ostensibly launching a hedge fund. (In reality, from what I saw that summer, he occupied most his time lounging in front of the bigscreen in his bedroom.)

  I had gotten “strange feelings” around Ben early on, for years - even before our parents had married and Mom and I moved in with Ben and his dad at their sprawling country estate. Since the first time I met him, I think – those “strange feelings” had popped up like a not entirely un-welcome stranger, making me wet down there and hot all through my breasts and belly. The feelings gripped my body and sent my mind racing, telling me to do things I knew I shouldn’t do, to feel things I knew I shouldn’t feel.

  The worst part was that I didn’t even like him – most of the time, I couldn’t stand him! Ben. What a dick. He’d spent our teen years teasing me mercilessly, and tormenting me by calling my mother a “gold-digger” behind her back. He pulled my hair and snapped my bra and called me fat, and whenever I’d be trying to study or read he’d distract me and pull faces and taunt me until I screamed at him to stop. Honestly, I know everyone bitches about their step-siblings, but Ben was the worst – just a merciless asshole, always looking for new ways to upset me.

  So how to explain the “feelings”? How to explain the fact that the sound of his voice made my nipples hard and my thighs tremble? I wish I could explain it. But I can’t. And I sure as hell can’t control it – never could. God help me, for years - as soon as I smelled that wild, honey-laced rugged scent that meant Ben was near, my knees went weak and my insides turned liquid.

  So ashamed of my feelings, and determined to prove to myself that I wasn’t a sick pervert, I got to college and lost my virginity to the first guy who bought me dinner. He was a disappointing nebbish from my World History survey-class, and his cock was slimy and small inside me. The fuck lasted barely five minutes, and I had to grit my teeth and picture Ben’s face and body the whole time just to keep myself wet enough to get through it.

  But neither that short-lived relationship, nor the other underwhelming flings and partners I’d had during my freshman and sophomore years at college, did anything to lessen the pulsing between my legs when I came anywhere near my stepbrother. If anything, having sex with those other guys just made it all worse – my feelings for Ben became more intense. He invaded my dreams, and I spent my nights sweaty and wet, tossing and turning as he fucked me silly every which-way in nightly fantasy after nightly fantasy. I’d wake up in my moist sheets, ashamed and exhausted, desperate to rid myself of this horrific longing for my step-brother – and even more desperate, deep in every tissue of my body, to have his cock far up inside me for real.

  It all stayed in my head though – confined to the realm of my filthy fantasies and X-rated dreams; my own private, perverted secret. As long as I never acted on it, I reasoned – as long as it stayed buried in the deep confines of my imagination – it was okay. I could maintain plausible deniability; I was not, as far as anyone knew or could tell, the disgusting brother-fucking pervert that my body and mind so desperately wanted to be. I was safe from my own sick desires – or so I thought.

  Everything changed last summer. Everything. I’m mortified to admit it – to think about it even – but at the same time, it was the most wonderful, delicious day of my life. How can something be so wrong and yet feel so right?

  Chapter 2

  The point of no return came one scorching Friday in July, at the end of the hottest week on record ever in our part of Virginia. I’d been home from college for a couple of weeks, and my desire for Ben had grown stronger than ever, like an itchy bug-bite that I just couldn’t scratch.

  Terrified and confused over my lusty feelings, and trapped as I was in the same house with him, I had taken to going on long runs through the woods lining the mansion. I’d never been much of an athlete, and I found running to be boring as hell, but at that point I was willing to do just about anything to get out of the house and away from the sweet, dusty scent of Ben that made my underwear wet and my hips squirm. As it turned out, I became quite fit that summer.

  Down through the dark forest that spanned out behind the mansion, out along the jagged rocks of the river bank and up to the little cliff over the waterfall, I’d run and run and run and run, letting the hot sun beat down on my skin and my sweat run down my back. My feet would pound the dirt and my limbs stretch and pump, as if I might just be able to outrun what I felt for my stepbrother.

  After I’d reach the rocky cliffs over the waterfall at the edge of the river behind the forest, I’d turn a wide loop, curving back down the water and around through the woods leading home. I’d done this same run a few times already this summer, but it was still a challenge to find my footing along the rocky riverbank, the sun glinting in my eyes and my sweaty hair plastered against my face and neck.

  On this particular Friday, my run started out like any other. Silent and sweaty and alone in the hush of the forest and the rush of the river nearby. Sweat poured down my skin and soaked my sports-bra through as my sneakers hit the soft forest earth. It was just after noon
and the sun was still high in the sky, boring down on my bare shoulders. My mind raced with visions of Ben from that morning – shirtless in his pajama bottoms, groggily pawing at the coffee-maker and scratching his ripped eight-pack belly as he waited for the water to heat……mmmmmmmm.

  I increased my speed, pumping my legs into a sprint, forcing myself to run faster, faster. Maybe, just maybe, with enough velocity I could run right away from my shameful, inappropriate fantasies. A cramp pinched at my side, but I kept running, desperate to rid myself of my dirtiness, to sweat it all out of me if I had to.

  Just then I heard a rustle behind me. I stopped short and turned with a jump to see who or what was behind me.

  With a cry I saw him – Ben. There he was, having followed me in secret and snuck up inches from my face. His arms lurched out as if he were going to grab me and his eyes were wide with excitement.

  “BOO!” he cried, startling me so badly that I stumbled and fell ass-first into the dirt.

  “Ben!” I yelled. “Ben, you shitface, what the hell!”

  He’d done this a few times before, though not for years. When we were younger, he’d loved to jump out and scare me any way he could. As I said, Ben has always been a dick; an arrogant, entitled and occasionally cruel piece of work. Anything he could do to unsettle or scare me, he did – and then some. It was as if my fear and annoyance were his fuel, and his purpose in life was to get a rise out of me any way he could.

  Regardless, by that summer I thought he’d grown out of his more juvenile pranks – like jumping up behind me on a run and scaring the bejeezus out of me like some dim-witted human jack-in-the-box. I’d thought we were at least past that level of dickishness. Clearly, I’d thought wrong.