But she couldn’t bring herself to worry about it. Having a thousand eyes on her didn’t seem so terrifying anymore. Not after exposing every inch of her smooth curves to the eager hazel gazes of the boys next door while they lounged, fully dressed, against her desk. And definitely not after letting them pull her thighs open wider and wider while she worked her dildo into her moist pussy…
A bowl nudged her hand, bringing her back to Marissa’s backyard. Pretzels, being passed around. Diana scooped up a handful and scarfed them down. Someone was singing, and someone else was singing a different song, and a third person had pulled out a guitar, and in the meantime she was consumed with a total desire to eat everything in the world.
“I’m getting us more food,” she announced vaguely to the circle.
But once she was alone in Marissa’s quiet kitchen, leaning against the humming fridge and spooning peanut butter straight out of the jar, she had to admit the truth: she wasn’t just craving food.
Her whole body felt warm and loose and relaxed. The brush of her skirt against her bare legs made her tingle with excitement. Night air, wafting through the open window, caressed her skin and teased her nipples into hard points against her bra. And being up against the humming fridge…
Jesus, she was actually wondering whether she could sneak into Marissa’s room for some time alone — or casually call Brendan and ask what he and Ian were up to without risking her dignity.
Of course, she’d already done that, three nights ago, right when she should have been one hundred per cent focused on finals.
She’d been in a state of disbelief last Wednesday night, doing her best to study and all too aware of the scrap of paper she’d found on her desk after the twins left: a scrap scrawled with Brendan’s name, his cell number, and the words Call us.
Had she really stripped in front of both the twins? Masturbated for them with the best-kept secret in her underwear drawer? Taken both Brendan and Ian inside her at the same time?
Yes. Yes, she most certainly had. And she managed to stop thinking about the two of them in her bed just long enough to focus on the last days of class. But as soon as she’d headed out into the sunshine to meet her friends on Friday afternoon, she heard Ian’s lust-soaked voice in her head, begging her to suck his cock.
She was busy, she’d told herself firmly. Very busy. So were the twins. She had her life, they had theirs.
But Sunday evening, right before finals — perched at her desk again, slogging through her AP chemistry notes, and trying to ignore the temptation of the dildo under her pillow that she’d already used twice that day — she’d pulled out her phone and impulsively texted Brendan: I need a study break.
Oh God. She practically slammed her head into her desk as soon as she’d hit “send.” Had she really just texted him like that? He’d be out somewhere, doing something, and she’d just thrown herself in his direction. But two minutes later, her phone buzzed: Come over.
When Brendan led her into the O’Brians’ den, his warm hand on her back, three smiling faces greeted her. Well, two smiling faces and one smirk from Ian. The twins were watching baseball — with their parents? How wholesome.
She settled down on the couch next to Brendan, tensing with excitement when he draped his arm around her right in front of his parents, unsure where this was going and accepting a handful of chips when a bowl was passed around. At least Brendan was the kind of guy who was affectionate with everybody. He was always putting his arm around girls and clapping guys on the back and hugging his mom.
Mr. and Mrs. O’Brian were thrilled to see her, and asked her more questions about Yale, her high school career, and her upcoming summer job in a research lab than she would have liked to answer in front of Ian, who shot her occasional glances from where he was lying on the floor in front of the giant TV.
By the ninth inning, it occurred to her that he was looking up her bicycle-printed skirt. She hadn’t even noticed that her legs had slipped open. Her nipples tightened, and heat flooded her cheeks.
“Are you all right?” Brendan asked sympathetically. He rubbed her shoulder. “You look warm. It’s pretty hot in here.”
Thanks, Brendan, she thought. Now Mr. O’Brian was offering to turn up the AC, and Ian was looking back at the TV screen with that innocent expression she knew all too well.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “Don’t worry about the AC.”
She crossed her legs tightly, half-tempted to open them and give Ian a show but knowing she didn’t have the guts to do it with his parents anywhere in the vicinity. Her stomach was turning somersaults now, and Brendan was playing with her hair, idly, like he didn’t even notice. Every movement of his fingers sent a current of excitement down Diana’s shoulders and straight to her nipples.
“I like your skirt, Diana,” Ian drawled from the floor. “Makes me want to go for a ride.”
Jesus. She bit her lip hard to keep from laughing, her whole body hot and prickly. Brendan squeezed her shoulder reassuringly, while Mr. O’Brian pointed out that the twins’ bikes were gathering dust in the garage, and Mrs. O’Brian launched into a fond reminiscence about the three of them riding through the neighborhood as kids: Ian speeding ahead, Brendan behind him keeping an eye on Diana, and Diana pedaling extra fast to keep up with both of them.
“I remember when this one was doing bike tricks on the skateboard ramp in the park.” Mr. O’Brian pointed to Ian, who just stretched his long arms over his head. “For some crazy reason, you got it into your head to try too, Diana.”
“It was fun” she said brightly. Brendan’s hand on her back was beyond distracting. “It didn’t seem so crazy at the time.”
Mrs. O’Brian shook his head. “You were flat on the ground. Your poor mom went into in heart attack mode. Brendan was the one who calmed her down. We got an earful later.”
Mrs. O’Brian laughed. “That’s right. ‘I would never consider letting Diana play with Ian if Brendan wasn’t looking out for her…’ It wasn’t the only time we heard that. I can’t blame her.”
“Oh, Brendan was doing it too,” Diana volunteered. “He was the one who taught me how to get both wheels off the ground.” At the surprised look on his parents’ faces, she couldn’t resist adding, “He told me I could handle the ramp and I just needed to watch him. He was an expert. He’d just go at it.”
“Brendan? Really?” Mrs. O’Brian looked disbelieving.
The twins exchanged glances. Brendan gave Diana a firm pinch on her hip, out of sight of Mr. and Mrs. O’Brian, and she stifled a gasp. She needed his hands to slide to her breasts, heavy in the satin constraints of her bra, and…
“Are you sure it wasn’t Ian, Di?” Brendan smiled down at her.
“Probably was,” Ian yawned, rolling over to watch the TV again like the conversation bored him. “Diana was hallucinating after she fell off her bike. She couldn’t see straight. Didn’t she start wearing glasses right after? Explains a lot.”
“Please,” she sniffed. She gave Ian’s shoulder a prod with her bare toes. He wrapped his fingers around her foot, flashing her a lazy grin. But there was something else in his gaze that she couldn’t read. More heat rushed to her face, and she wriggled her foot free of his grasp, tucking it firmly under her on the couch. “I don’t mix you guys up.”
“Well, we certainly never saw the kind of damage on Brendan’s body that we did on his brother’s,” their mother said doubtfully. Jesus, did they have to be discussing the twins’ bodies? Sweat pooled between Diana’s breasts. Brendan stroked her back reassuringly, his touch just inviting more wetness to soak her panties, while Ian smirked at her from the floor. Mrs. O’Brian went on, oblivious. “If there was a rewards card for going to the doctor…all those stitches, casts, and slings Ian racked up…we’d be in great shape now.”
When the O’Brians turned back to the TV, Brendan winked at her and put a finger on her lips. Diana blinked, then looked down at Ian. His eyes flicked up to hers, and he mimed zipping his mouth sh
ut.
Fine. The good twin-bad twin game was Brendan and Ian’s business. She remembered the two of them now, crouched over her on the sticky asphalt after she’d fallen off her bike, their voices a jumble of are you okay and urgent whispers over her head: we can handle this, Diana will be fine, no one needs to know.
More embarrassed than anything else, she’d insisted she really was fine. Brendan had been examining her scraped-up knees and elbows “to see if they’re broken,” acting like he knew what he was talking about, while Ian leaned over her, trying to annoy her with ridiculous faces. Then her mom had driven by, and all hell had broken loose.
Her parents had been so damn protective when she was little, Diana thought, and they hadn’t had the first idea what was going on that year they moved away.
An intimate squeeze on her shoulder pulled her back to the O’Brians’ den. It took every ounce of focus to breathe normally as Brendan’s knowing hand massaged her back. Ian’s gaze kept roving over her clinging t-shirt and the firm points of her nipples pressing against her bra.
When a male palm slipped under her shirt, caressing her bare stomach, she clenched her thighs together. Fingers teased the underside of her heavy breast, stroking her sensitive skin through the lacy cup.
She didn’t dare look at Brendan right now, so she looked at Ian instead: eyes right on hers, challenging her to keep quiet under Brendan’s touch. God, the good twin was feeling her up behind his parents’ backs, and if either Mr. or Mrs. O’Brian turned around—
“Are you turned on, Di?” Brendan’s whisper was so soft. Her throat went dry, and she managed a nod. “Thought so.”
Ian just yawned, but his eyes moved downward. Diana realized her thighs had slipped open again. “Turned on” didn’t begin to describe what was happening between her legs. This time, she left them open.
Leaning over, making sure Mr. and Mrs. O’Brians’ attention was glued to the amazing play on the screen, aware Ian was watching everything, she got up the nerve to whisper in Brendan’s ear, “Are you?”
Immediately, fingers pressed her palm over a firm bulge, bursting through soft cotton. Diana gasped out loud, pulling her hand away before her instincts took over and she yanked Brendan’s shorts off.
Mrs. O’Brian turned around, concerned. “Are you all right, dear?”
“Great!” she managed. Brendan’s arm rested on the back of the couch like it had been there all along. He patted her shoulder, looking equally concerned. “Best I’ve ever been.”
“Calm down, Diana.” Ian’s grin stretched from ear to ear, and she glared at him. “I know home runs get you excited. Keep your pants on.”
Once the game was over, Brendan ushered her out to the patio, chips in hand. Ian followed like he didn’t have anything better to do. Mrs. O’Brian brought them a watermelon, beaming like seeing the three of them together was the highlight of her weekend.
And for the next half hour, sitting outside getting college advice from Brendan and bickering with Ian while they spit watermelon seeds at each other and finished off the chips felt…normal. It felt nice. Familiar, even comfortable, if she just ignored the ache between her legs.
“When did you guys start?” she finally felt relaxed enough to ask, interrupting Brendan’s suggestions on how to get the classes she wanted, when she wanted, even when she was a freshman. “When did you start being good and bad?”
Both twins looked surprised. Someone squeezed her bare leg under the table. She wasn’t sure who, and she wasn’t going to peek underneath to find out.
Brendan smiled easily. “We’ve got a good thing going, Di. Don’t knock it. We’ve worked long and hard for this.”
“Okay, but how much is true?”
No one answered. Brendan’s eyelids closed halfway, a thoughtful expression on his face. And Ian— When she turned toward him, he spit a watermelon seed right at her chest. She swiped the nearest wedge of fruit, sucking out the seeds to retaliate.
But once the last of the strawberry lemonade had been drunk and the last crumbs of chips had been argued over, the conversation died down. Diana looked up to find two pairs of hazel eyes on her, waiting. A knee pressed against hers, a foot rested on her ankle. Ian reached over and took her glasses off, dropping them on the table without a word.
As soon as the O’Brians had poked their heads outside to say goodnight, the three of them had gone back to the treehouse. The things they’d done there, and whose mouths and fingers and cocks had been where, and the noises she’d made — it all blurred together in a hot sensual haze.
“Hey, Diana!” Marissa’s kitchen door swung open. “Everything okay in there? Did you eat all the food?”
Rubbing her warm cheeks, Diana put the peanut butter back in the pantry, scooped up some snacks at random, and carried them outside to her friends. The food disappeared as soon as she set it down.
“Let’s toast that fine hall of academic excellence.” Someone raised a red plastic cup.
“Hall of academic bullshit, you mean.”
“Things I learned in high school: boys drool.”
“Because they didn’t drool before that?”
Things she’d learned Sunday night: that frantically pulling the twins’ clothes off while Brendan unzipped her skirt and Ian tossed her bra aside could actually work. That passing watermelon mouth to mouth, the juice running down her chin, was sexier than she ever would have guessed. That Ian crushing chunks of fruit over the heavy swells of her breasts and rubbing it in, while Brendan licked his way down her body, was even sexier.
“Total freedom,” said one of her friends said dreamily. “This is what summer feels like.”
Yes, thought Diana, feeling the ground press against her back. This is what summer feels like.
Brendan's hot mouth between her legs, tonguing her dripping pussy, keeping her on the edge of an orgasm while she moaned and pleaded around Ian’s cock; Ian looking down at her, his eyes half-closed, as she sucked his thick rod — not teasing, not talking dirty, not begging, just staring at her movements in the darkness of the treehouse; warm cum splashing suddenly onto her full breasts and Ian's grunts of satisfaction; Brendan filling her juicy cunt and fucking her firmly under his brother’s gaze, then pulling out and spurting more streams of cum on her smooth stomach, because she’d asked — asked! — him to…
Afterward, she’d sprawled on the blankets heaped in the treehouse, exhausted. Her skin was sticky with watermelon juice, the twins’ fluids, and her own cream. Brendan swung himself down the tree to get towels from the dark house, while Ian’s tongue played in her mouth, one hand wrapped in her hair and the other resting on her ass.
She’d expected him to make some crack about what a hot mess she was, and with the little corner of her mind that could still think straight, she started to get a retort ready. But neither of them had said anything at all.
Before she knew it, she’d felt the sudden touch of soft wet cloth rubbing over her breasts and belly, wiping her skin clean. Brendan was back with the towels. He’d gently but firmly parted her thighs, holding them open while he told Ian to take care of her pussy, and she’d jumped and moaned when the warm cloth brushed her swollen lips, sponging her own juices off her thighs and cunt while Ian teased her about her self-control and told her to hold still…
God, by the time he was done, she was more dripping wet than before. Brendan spread her lips, massaging her juices all over her pussy from behind.
“I’m proud of you, Di,” he murmured in her ear. “You started this tonight. We're here because of you. You've already come such a long way.”
He wrapped his hand around her knee and crooked it upward. As she opened her legs eagerly, Ian nestled the head of his thick cock against her tender opening. One push and he sank right in.
Diana rolled over in the grass, her whole body throbbing at the memory. She was hearing her friend's voice. Her name.
“What? What did you say?” she giggled. It was suddenly completely hilarious that she had to ask
.
“Your neighbors. The hot ones. Are they around this summer? Diana lives next door to the O'Brian twins,” Marissa announced to the circle, fanning herself to demonstrate the level of hotness.
“Oh, I remember them.”
“Who doesn’t?”
“Jocks,” someone said dismissively.
“How do you even concentrate with them next door to you?”
“I’m used to them.” Diana kicked her legs in the grass. She couldn’t hold back her laughter. “They’re basically my big brothers. We grew up with each other.” Everyone was looking at her like they expected more. “When I see them, you know, I just think about — about —“ she fished around for a random innocent memory — “them being eight years old and racing around the neighborhood in superhero costumes on Halloween.”
She’d raced around with them too, dressed like a mashup of Snow White and a cat. Ian had swiped all her Snickers bars, she remembered, and Brendan had worked out a deal with him to give them back — except the two Ian had already eaten.
In fact, now that she thought about it, the twins had been busy with a lot of deals when they were kids. Agreements — that was it. They never fought; they came to agreements.
“Whatever.” Janelle’s voice broke in. “I’d do either of them in a heartbeat, and I don't even care which one. How sick is that?”
“I’d go for them both at the same time,” Marissa said dramatically. “I’m not even kidding.”
Shrieks bounced around the circle. “Marissa, you are so dirty!”
“Could you even tell them apart once they’ve taken their clothes off?”
Oh, I can, Diana thought. Naked or not.
“Diana can hook us up, right, Diana? Just tell them no strings attached. Either guy. One’s as good as the other.”
She pressed her face into the grass. It was so nice and cool. Grassy. She couldn't stop giggling.
The Boys Next Door: An MFM Menage Romance Page 10