By the time the kitchen door opened, Diana and the twins were sitting calmly at the table with their cards fanned out.
“Gin,” Brendan said.
“Diana!” Mrs. O’Brian exclaimed. “What a lovely surprise.”
“Thanks, Mrs. O’Brian. Hi, Mr. O’Brian.” Her heart hammered in her chest. “I hope you had a nice trip.”
Mr. O’Brian hefted a suitcase over the doorstep. “We didn’t expect to see you here. It’s been awhile.”
“We asked Diana to come over ‘cause she was all alone in her house.” Brendan was all sympathetic concern.
“Ian, what happened to your neck?” Mrs. O’Brian looked worried.
Great, Diana thought. A bit of strawberry still clung to Ian’s neck where she’d smushed it in, and now that she saw it, she wanted to lick it off.
“Diana threw a strawberry at me.” Unconcerned, he wiped it off with his napkin. “High school kids. They’re so immature.”
“Diana, do your parents know you’re here?” Mr. O’Brian asked.
“I’ll tell them,” Brendan said blandly, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I have their number. We’d hate for them to think she’s in trouble.”
Diana, sweating under her dress and hoping the O’Brians wouldn’t notice the water-soaked fabric, could only imagine what he was texting: Hot 3way last night with your daughter and my brother. Don’t worry, she was in good hands. Very well-behaved. You’d be proud.
Mrs. O’Brian beamed, setting her purse down on the counter. “It’s so nice to see the three of you spending time together again.”
“The twins are great hosts,” Diana said, smiling back. Someone’s knee pressed hers under the table. Her pussy still tingled from Brendan’s touch. Her heart rate had rocketed through the roof, but she couldn’t resist. “You’ve raised them well. They really know how to make someone feel at home.”
And even if she didn’t dare actually meet the eyes of those hosts right now, a little curl of excitement wound out from her stomach along with the nervousness. She was starting to see why Ian liked walking the line of getting in trouble. It was a rush, to get away with something.
“Glad to hear it. Especially about this guy.” Mr. O’Brian clapped Ian on the back. “Be a good influence, okay, Diana? He’s been scraping by at college, but we have a feeling he’s partying a lot. Half the time, we expect a call in the middle of the night saying he’s been arrested.”
She did manage a look at Ian then. She’d expected a shrug or that cocky smirk, but instead he scowled and turned away. His ears looked a little red.
“Please come over again soon, Diana,” Mrs. O’Brian said, as Brendan walked her to the door. “We hope to see you often.”
She could only nod. As soon as she walked through her own front door, told her parents hello, and pleaded off going shopping to spend some quality time alone with Hamlet in her bedroom, she ran straight upstairs and locked her door.
Stripping off her sundress and swimsuit, she jumped into bed, sliding one hand into her dripping valley and the other to her heavy breasts, burying her moans in her pillow and massaging herself to a deep, slow orgasm as she remembered everything that had happened with the boys next door.
Chapter 3
Blue ink looped across the paper in front of Diana. Her own pen was writing, and she was the one making it move. But she couldn’t say what words she’d scrawled in her notebook, or what her AP World History class was so busy discussing right now. She’d just made some brilliant comment, and she couldn’t even remember what it was.
What day was today, anyway? Wednesday. Three more days of classes before her last-ever round of high school finals, eight days until graduation and freedom, and four days since she’d given her virginity on a silver platter to the boys next door.
No one had noticed anything different on Monday. Well, except her friend Janelle’s comment that Diana looked a lot more smiley than usual, and maybe she was in looooove.
Diana had shrugged off the laughter and questions with a “I just got really into Hamlet this weekend.”
“It’s okay,” Marissa had broken in. “We all know your safety school was a convent.”
What her friends didn’t know was why, when they’d traded notes ages ago about their dream dates, she’d scribbled a few lame lines about a bookstore, a walk, and a peck on the cheek. She couldn’t handle the confession that her dream date started with sex, ended with sex, and had more sex in the middle.
She didn’t expect anything more to happen between her and the twins. She couldn’t. She might be inexperienced, but no way was she naive enough to consider that crazy, hot, and totally unexpected weekend to be anything more than a hookup. With breakfast. The two of them had decided to help her out for old times’ sake, and that was all.
She did have to admit that, back at school, she’d felt less shy about meeting boys’ eyes, even having short conversations. It couldn’t hurt that none of the guys at school were really in the twins’ league, or that since the weekend, she’d been more ragingly horny than ever before, too distracted to worry about being awkward.
Diana shook her head, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook and listening to the argument about some year BCE with half an ear. Brendan had at least been polite enough to call on Monday evening. Of course she’d been doing dishes in the kitchen after dinner, and of course he’d called the landline and gotten her mother.
“Brendan!” Her mother had sounded surprised, but pleased. When Diana had come home from the O’Brians’ house the day before, her parents had commented on how nice it was to rekindle old friendships. “I’m so glad you called. I wanted to thank you for looking out for Diana this weekend.” A pause. “Yes, I know she’s all grown up, but parents do worry about their only daughter when they’re away.”
Diana almost choked, covering up her laughter with a fit of coughing when her mother glanced at her.
“Yes, of course, Ian too,” her mother said grudgingly in response to something on Brendan’s side. “I’m sure you were both very hospitable.”
And the conversation just went on from there. Diana did her best to linger over loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters while she eavesdropped, wondering why the hell Brendan was chatting up her mother. From her mom’s half of the conversation, which involved three-quarters of the talking, it sounded like she was catching up on Brendan’s entire life story from his past two years at UConn, and he was asking all about her yoga classes and her knitting club. Diana could only marvel.
“Oh, you want to talk to Diana?” her mother asked. Like it was an afterthought. “She’s right here.” Beaming, her mother held out the phone. “He’s such a nice boy,” she stage-whispered to Diana. “If he and Ian weren’t twins, I’d wonder if they were even related.”
Diana took the phone like it was a hot ember, wondering if she could casually bring it into her bedroom — or if that would raise her mom’s suspicions — or if Brendan would unleash a stream of dirty talk about her sweet pussy and get off on knowing she was trying to keep it together in front of her mother…
She needn’t have worried. The entire conversation was disappointingly wholesome. Brendan asked about her finals and said he hoped she had time to relax. She managed a question or two about the internship he was starting in a couple of weeks, some financial job somewhere that meant wearing a tie. He mentioned casually that Ian would be working at the gym nearby, which would involve not getting up early. Diana made a noncommittal response.
Should she give Brendan her cell number? Play it cool? Which was more of a turn-on, Brendan in a tie or Ian in a tank top? Was this going anywhere at all outside her head?
While she debated, her dress starting to feel uncomfortably hot, Brendan asked, “Do you want to talk to Ian too? He’s right here.”
“Um,” she said. Her throat was dry now. Her mother was busy sorting through library books on the dining room table, humming. She heard Brendan’s muffled voice on the other end, impos
sible to understand, and some brief response from Ian.
“Another time.” Brendan was back on the phone. “Talk to you later, Di. Sweet dreams tonight.”
And that had been it. Diana tuned in briefly to Ms. Fielding’s imploring voice, begging everyone to organize their thoughts before they wrote their essays for their final, then tuned out again.
Obviously, Brendan had called because that was the nice thing to do after you talked a girl into a threesome with you and your twin brother, and he was a nice guy. At least, most of the time. And if Ian didn’t have the decency to get on the phone, two days after he’d taken her virginity — well, that was about what she’d expect from Ian.
“Right, Diana?”
Shit. Ms. Fielding’s voice. Everyone in the classroom turned to stare at her. She crossed one leg over the other. It hit her: her thighs were slick.
“Right. Absolutely.” She smiled brightly. God, she could feel Ian’s hot tongue playing over her clit, while Brendan coaxed her to take more of his cock in her mouth. Even though she hadn’t loved the taste of his cum, she wouldn’t mind trying it again. And she hadn’t gotten to taste Ian…
“You always have something to say on this topic. I thought you’d want to chime in.”
“I guess I’ve already said everything.”
A few people laughed. Across the aisle, Marissa rolled her eyes.
“Where’d you go?” she hissed. “If it was anyone else, I’d swear you’re high.”
She broke off when Ms. Fielding eyed them, sighing. Seniors, her expression said. She gave Diana a particular look, like she expected more of her. Diana nodded apologetically, her pen scratching across more blank paper.
None of her high school friends knew the O’Brian twins had been like her brothers, long ago. Everyone knew who they were, of course. Brendan’s popularity as student body president, Ian’s pranks, their basketball success, and their identical good looks still echoed off the school walls.
But Diana had drifted from her childhood friends, the ones who giggled about her “neighbor twins,” during her year away. And she doubted the twins’ friends remembered the girl next door who’d hung around like an annoying little sister, trying to keep up with the jokes, trash talk, and death-defying skateboard stunts.
As for the twins? They’d moved on. They probably teamed up to seduce a new girl each weekend, and were already trotting off to make their next conquest. But she couldn’t help reliving every single burning minute of their time together — the pool, the treehouse, their parents’ bed, the kitchen — and imagining more.
Even as she told herself sternly to focus, right here, right now, in her mind she was on her hands and knees at the front of the classroom, taking Brendan’s impossibly slow, deep, sensuous thrusts from behind while she swirled her tongue around Ian’s pulsing cock. When Brendan began caressing her clit and Ian gripped her hair with both hands, she clenched her thighs together in her seat, pushed her glasses casually up her nose, and smoothed her strawberry-printed skirt over her knees — the kind of clothing that had earned Ian’s “librarian-on-crack” comment.
When she glanced to the side, she saw Alex Noriega, the boy next to her, checking out her full breasts. It was the sort of thing that would have made her expire from shame three days ago, unable to meet his eyes or talk to him for the rest of the year. Now, with lust arrowing through her body, it made her stomach lurch with excitement.
She watched Alex calmly until he glanced up. Their gaze held for a minute before he looked away — him, not her.
As soon as the bell rang, she gathered her books, panted “Meet you outside” to Marissa, and sped to the nearest restroom. Leaning against the wall in the furthest stall from the door, she reached inside her damp panties and stroked her swollen clit, trying not to moan.
God, her pussy was so hot and wet, and oh yes, Alex was on his knees in front of her, his head under her skirt, lapping up her cream as she purred and stroked his head. When she was about to come, she pushed him away and— Jesus, Brendan’s cock was sinking into her again, filling her, stretching her eager cunt, while Ian grunted about how fucking good her tongue felt on his shaft and flooded her mouth with hot cum.
She shuddered, her thighs trembling, as Brendan teased her clit with aching patience and murmured about what a good girl she was. Yesssss…his thrusts were getting deeper, almost painful and so very good. She bit her fist to keep from shrieking as she came, her whole body spasming and her still-tender pussy clenching tightly while she circled her clit until she was limp against the wall of the stall.
As she washed her hands and splashed water on her cheeks, her ears ringing from the three girls gossiping about last week’s prom by the tampon machine, sanity slowly returned.
Her friends would be waiting for her outside the cafeteria, tapping their feet over her lateness. She needed to be careful. She was a ball of lust right now. Alex had been cooperative in her fantasy, but who knew what signals she might send out to him or any other boys at school if she didn’t watch herself — or how they’d react?
*
Voices and laughter surrounded Diana as she edged into the crowded hall. Arousal still flushed her curves, juices soaked her panties, and her throat begged for a nice cold Coke. Her glasses kept slipping down her nose, and she would have just taken them off if it didn’t mean the hallway fuzzing out in front of her.
Turning down the nearest staircase, she walked on wobbly legs toward the cold drinks she knew were waiting at the bottom. Every step made her pussy twinge.
At the foot of the stairs, she stopped. No. Not this vending machine. Not the one by the gym, the one she’d avoided so carefully for the past four years.
Slowly, she walked forward, eyeing the tall humming box. She’d made it a point of pride not to walk by the gym or use the vending machine down here — first on purpose, then by force of habit.
She didn’t need to relive middle school P.E.: boys staring at her bouncing chest during the dreaded mile run; girls whispering in the locker room, where there was no private place to change. She didn’t need to rub shoulders with the jock population. And she definitely hadn’t needed to run into the O’Brian twins, who no doubt had camped out down here.
Now, the machine in front of her, glowing invitingly, looked just like the vending machine on the other side of school. Of course she’d stop here for a Coke. It was so much closer to her AP World History class — and the doors to meet her friends outside. The hallway was dimly lit, empty and quiet right now. Why had she been so terrified for four years?
But, as she slipped her dollar into the machine, her heart still pounding and her body flushed from her orgasm minutes earlier, she suddenly remembered the one other time she’d come here for a drink.
Sophomore year. March. Trees were budding outside. After school, she’d run down from a literary magazine meeting on the top floor. Craving caffeine and sugar, she’d headed straight to the basement hallway she’d always avoided, streaking down the flights of stairs, still thinking about Angela Delfina’s stubborn insistence that the magazine change its format and wondering whether she’d have the guts to push back.
The smell hit her first: a wave of chlorine, sweat, and springtime-fresh deodorant that announced gym. It stopped her halfway down the staircase.
But the sight at the bottom froze her in place: a tall, half-naked, muscular guy bent over the vending machine, scooping out a can. A towel was slung around his neck. His shorts hung low on his hips.
Obviously, she needed to turn and dash upstairs, right now. Getting a fast Coke wasn't worth the awkwardness. But the lines of that bare back, a few feet away, were graceful enough to keep her frozen for a second.
It was a second too long. Before she could move, he straightened up. Diana looked right into two hazel O'Brian eyes. Her panicked gaze moved to the freckle under his left eye, then the startled expression that quickly became a mocking smile.
Oh no. No way would she turn tail and run now. Not with Ian lo
oking at her like she was intruding on the sacred vending machine of the PE department.
As she strode down the stairs, looking straight ahead, he jumped back. With an exaggerated sweep of his Sprite, he gestured her towards the vending machine.
Diana marched past him, fished a dollar out of her purse, and fed it into the slot. The machine sucked the bill from her fingers. Her cheeks had to be as red as her sweater and matching skirt. Out of the corner of her eye, Ian was loping away -- thank God -- to the wall by the vending machine.
Unfortunately, he'd positioned himself so she could see all of him. The lights in the hallway were dim, but not dim enough. Had she thought the back was beautiful? The front was gorgeous. What a waste. Brendan might deserve to be hot, but Ian? Not a chance.
As if to prove her point, Ian let out an enormous yawn, stretching both arms high and wide.
Diana looked quickly away from the dark patches of hair under his arms. So rude. If he burped, she'd die. Ian had had a talent for roof-raising burps when they were kids. She sneaked another look in his direction.
Immediately, she wished she hadn't. Now Ian was running the cold can of Sprite over his bare arms and face, up one side and down the other, his head thrown back in fake ecstasy, like he was a girl in a centerfold just cooling off.
Diana punched the nearest button. How could he do this to her? How dare he invade her Coke-buying experience? She had enough to deal with in her day. Her face was on fire, along with every other part of her body.
“Aaaaahhhhh,” Ian sighed loudly, radiating satisfaction.
Diana didn't know whether to be pissed, mortified, or burst out laughing. Clamping her lips together, she ignored him until her can clattered out of the vending machine.
Just then, the door to the boys' locker room burst open. Another pair of hazel eyes met hers, this time with a look of pleased surprise. Brendan strolled out, as stripped down as his brother.
The Boys Next Door: An MFM Menage Romance Page 7