The Boys Next Door: An MFM Menage Romance

by Miranda Silver

  As they lay quietly on her bed, breathing together, warmth spread over her body at his muscular arm around her. She squeezed his back. And even though Brendan was just holding her, she’d been crazy to think she could cuddle with him like brother and sister and not feel anything. Her full breasts pressed against his chest. Her nipples puckered through her thin camisole. His hand on her stomach sent flutters through her skin.

  When she shifted against him, his fingers stroked her hair. Oh God — just that touch made her shiver and hug her thighs around his leg. Her pussy tightened with need, and juices were starting to soak her boy shorts.

  Downstairs, a door slammed. The garage opened, then closed. They were alone in her house.

  “Brendan, please…”

  His lips brushed her forehead in a light kiss, and God, she was rubbing her pussy shamelessly against his leg now. She couldn’t wait, she couldn’t help wrapping her fingers around his hand and pulling it to her firm breast, then sliding her own hand over his hard abs to cup the heavy bulge in his shorts.

  “Di,” Brendan said in a low voice, almost a warning. “You want this right now?”

  “Please,” she whispered again.

  When she met Brendan’s eyes, he put his fingers under her chin and tilted her face towards his. His kiss was soft, his lips warm on hers, like that first kiss he’d given her in her room two weeks ago while she’d prickled with nervousness. When she opened her mouth to take in his hot tongue, his touch stayed gentle.

  “It’s okay, baby,” he murmured between open-mouthed kisses. A large hand caressed the underside of her heavy breast through her camisole. Diana didn’t know who he was reassuring more — her or himself. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  She cried out when he cupped her breast fully, his palm warm and firm against her hard nipple. Her hand roamed over his muscled body, stroking the hair on his arm, slipping under his t-shirt to rub his back. Her other hand found the back of his head, holding him close as she moaned softly into his juicy kisses.

  “Good, Di,” Brendan whispered. Yes. That’s what she needed to hear. She was good. Everything was good, everything was all right. She buried her fingers in Brendan’s hair, moaning again when he sucked on her lower lip. “That’s it.”

  Gently, he rolled her onto her back and peeled off her pink camisole. His mouth closed over one rosy nipple. “Mmmm,” he murmured. “You taste so sweet.”

  “Brendan,” she moaned. Her fingers tangled in his hair again. His tongue on her ripe bud was driving her crazy, and she tried to tug his head down to her pussy, but Brendan just kept licking her generous breast.

  “So gorgeous, Di.” He bit her nipple lightly, and her hips bucked toward him. “You know last night was because of you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Everybody wanted you. And you wanted it. You weren’t shy, sweetness. You were you.”

  “Yes,” she panted, “but—“

  Brendan was nibbling her nipple, then sucking on it, the changing sensations making her head spin.

  “Do you want Ian here too?” Hazel eyes flicked up to meet hers. Brendan climbed over her so their gazes were level. He squeezed her full breasts gently, and she shuddered. “Do you want me to call him, Di?”

  “No,” she said stubbornly. She could feel Ian’s heavy body on top of hers. Her mouth was desperate for his hot kisses. She needed to clutch his back, urge him into her soaked cunt, rock with him to release. Be with him. Know him. “No,” she whispered again.

  “Tell the truth, baby.” Brendan looked down at her, his face intent. He rolled both puckered nipples between his fingers, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive buds as she arched her back from the sharp pleasure.

  “He told you not to talk about him,” she panted. “So let’s not talk about him.” Oh God, she wanted Ian here more than anything, but she could never really get everything she wanted from him, could she? She didn’t just want sex. She wanted so much more, she wanted all of him, and it could never, ever work. “I am telling you the truth,” she whispered into Brendan’s neck. She pulled him down next to her and squeezed his thick erection through his shorts, whimpering with need when he pinched her nipples harder and harder.

  As her whimpers rose, Brendan worked his hand into her panties. One finger caressed her aching clit, stroking the little nub firmly until she cried out. “You’re so fucking wet, Di.”

  “Brendan, please…” She bucked on his hand, rubbing her slick lips against his touch, and gasped when a finger slid into her tight cunt.

  “Say you want him.” Brendan’s whisper was urgent. There was no teasing smile on his face, no sign he was playing with her. His sudden pleading expression, his voice begging her to ask for his brother like it would make things right between the three of them — she hadn’t known Brendan could need something so badly. “Say what we both know.” He squeezed her mound. “Say what you need.”

  She sobbed quietly into his neck, shuddering with excitement and the strain of not moaning out Ian’s name as Brendan massaged her needy pussy.

  “No, I don’t care about Ian,” she gasped. “I want you to fuck me.”

  Brendan took in a long breath, then let it out. Fingers wrapped around her wrist and pushed her hand off the heavy bulge of his cock. His palm gave her quivering pussy one last squeeze, then eased out of her soaked panties.

  “Brendan— No… What are you doing?”

  He was shaking his head. God, his warm body was so close to hers, and she just needed him to quench the heat between her legs right now…

  “Please,” she whispered. She grasped Brendan’s cock again — ragingly hard — with one hand, and tried to pull him on top of her with the other. “Don’t stop. I just want to feel you.”

  She looked up at Brendan pleadingly. She was confused, she knew, but this would help her understand. She was sure of it. And she was so horny. God, Ian hadn’t been kidding when he’d called her insatiable. And she was determined not to think about him right now.

  Brendan hesitated for a minute, his solid body leaning over hers, emotions she couldn’t read crossing his face. Then he sat up. Heaved himself off the bed. Looked down at her. No — yes — he was zipping up his pants in one quick, unBrendan-like stroke.

  “You’re leaving?” Diana stared at him.

  “You wanted some time alone. Right? And you wanted a big brother.” At least the flush on his cheeks showed he was turned on, too. He pulled on his shirt, working to get his breathing under control.

  “Are you kidding me? Is it because I need to shower? I’ll go shower right now.”

  Brendan shook his head again. His eyes flicked over her voluptuous breasts, but before she could react, he pulled up her covers and wrapped them firmly around her. “Just trust me, Di.”

  “You said you’d take care of me.” God, she really was begging shamelessly now.

  “Exactly.”

  “Fine.” She picked up her pillow and threw it at his hard stomach. Brendan caught it, looking surprised. A smile flickered across his face, despite the circles under his eyes. How dare he laugh at her? She was still panting, flushed and turned on. “Go play basketball or go to the gym or help little old ladies across the street. Be the good twin. And tell Ian I don’t want to talk about him either.”

  Brendan’s face turned serious. “Look, Di—“

  “Uh-uh. Go. Goodbye.”

  Instead, Brendan bent down, tucked her pillow under her head, and brushed his lips across her hair. Diana growled, done with talking. At the door, he turned back.

  “You should talk to him, Di,” Brendan said softly. “Talk to him yourself.”

  Diana glared at him as he quietly left the room. Before the door closed, she gave the finger to his retreating back. Then she pulled the pillow over her head again.

  Her mind whispered that Brendan had done the right thing by leaving, and her body shouted that she was furious with him for doing it. Her panties were soaked. Her pussy still quivered from his teasin
g touch. Her bare nipples were two hard buds. Her crotch buzzed with need for his thick cock, and her skin burned in a way that the iciest shower wouldn’t take care of.

  Remembering last night, writhing between the twins and those girls, her own screams bouncing off the walls as Ian thrust into her with all his strength, made her go cold and hot. No matter how much she buried her head under her pillow and pretended that’s where she wanted to be, what scared her most wasn’t that she’d finally lost all control, but that she wanted more.

  Who the hell was she, now that she was done with high school? Would she ever be able to think straight, or straighter than she was now, her thumbs skimming off her wet boy shorts, her hand going right to her pussy, slipping between her moist lips to stroke her warm center?

  Brendan hadn’t left her room. He was right there, in bed with her, kissing a path down her neck, sliding his mouth down to rub his lips against her bare shoulder, laughing softly when she tugged at his shirt and ran her fingers over his muscled chest.

  She sighed when he eased her back to run his hands over her tingling curves. She pulled her head out from under her pillow when he whispered that everything would be fine. More than fine. It would be great. There was nothing for her to worry about, he murmured as he cupped her heavy breasts. Just let him and Ian take care of everything.

  And as she moaned softly, Brendan’s sure fingers finding her eager pussy, squeezing her mound, sinking inside her cunt to give her what she craved, a prowling figure climbed into her room, leaping to her bed, clothes flying everywhere, his mouth going right for her neck, sucking so hard she shrieked and bit Brendan’s shoulder.

  Oh God, she really had shrieked, she was shrieking into her pillow, and Ian’s mouth was all over her body, marking her everywhere, and she could only pant and moan as she took Brendan inside her, his cock going deeper and deeper, and dammit, he was groaning and coming, filling her long before she was ready for him to be done, and rolling her firmly toward his brother.

  Yes…Ian plunged inside her now, holding her creamy thighs apart, filling everything.

  Brendan’s warm tongue ran over her ear. “Deeper, Di,” he whispered. “Harder. More.”

  Hazel eyes locked on hers. And oh God, she knew so well now what Ian looked like soaked in lust, wanting to swallow her whole, but there was more than that on his face, and it made her start to shake. Her thighs quivered. Her own fingers rubbed her hard clit, more fingers opening her silky pussy, juice running onto the sheets.

  “Ian…” she whispered out loud. “Brendan…”

  “Yes, Di,” Brendan crooned in one ear. “This is it.”

  “Diana.” Ian breathed in her other ear. “C’mon, love. Do it for me.”

  She gasped and came in a hot rush, her tight pussy convulsing on her fingers — no, Ian’s cock — with ripples of pleasure that spilled over her skin. One muscled body thrust on top of her, one lay next to her, urging her to come harder and harder, until her breath slowed down and she was alone.

  Diana rolled over on her rumpled sheets, her cheeks smudged with sweat, and stared at the open window. The curtains fluttered in the breeze.

  Love?

  Oh.

  Shit.

  *

  Finally, she was able to fall asleep. She kept her head under her pillow and her covers balled around her body until cooking smells, floating up the stairs, woke her.

  Diana groaned, stretched, and flopped over. She’d spent the whole day in bed, something she’d done exactly never, and the most surprising part was that her parents hadn’t tried to rouse her. As good as the meatballs frying downstairs smelled, she was tempted to stay exactly where she was.

  Then she shoved the covers back. This wasn’t her anymore. She was no longer the girl who ran home at the end of the day, yanked her blankets over her head, and cried into her pillow because she’d pulled a B+ on a physics test or couldn’t get up the courage to walk past an epic crush in the hall. She wasn’t the girl who kept her feelings and body locked up tight so no one could come close to hurting her.

  She was going to jump in the shower, put on her bicycle-printed skirt and a fresh t-shirt, and just deal with all those memories of riding bikes with the twins as kids and the very different ride they’d taken her on, these past two weeks.

  She understood now. Brendan saw her as some kind of sexy little sister he’d been all into educating, and she was just some girl Ian had screwed. The two of them got off on seeing how much they could push her limits. She’d gotten off on it too. And she was on board with Brendan being her hot older brother. She could even deal with the education being over. Fine. She’d graduated. But Ian—

  Of course her parents peppered her with questions over dinner. Was she sick? Was she missing high school now that the excitement of graduation was over?

  Her mother put her fork down decisively. “Ian gave you alcohol last night, didn’t he. Did he give you a beer? I swear, that boy is headed for trouble if he hasn’t found it already, and the only saving grace is his brother—“

  “No, Mom,” Diana interrupted. “Ian didn’t give me anything to drink last night.”

  That much was the truth. At least, he hadn’t given her anything from a bottle. Right here in the kitchen with her parents, she could taste his heavy shaft sliding between her lips, feel Brendan’s smooth thrusts into her pussy from behind, hear the excited moans of the girls as their soft skin rubbed against hers.

  As soon as she’d swallowed the last bite of spaghetti and meatballs, she told her parents she was going for a walk and slipped outside.

  The June air was warm and sweet, without the stickiness of the night before. A soft breeze blew her skirt around her bare legs. Her feet took her to the big park around the corner.

  This park had belonged to her and the twins, when they were kids. At least, she’d always thought of it that way. Now, she wondered if they’d been as possessive of a few grassy patches as she’d been.

  Though it was still light out, the park was quiet. A couple lounged under a tree, a few guys were shooting hoops on the wide court, but the stretch of land by the creek lay empty.

  Diana flopped onto the velvet lawn, pulling up random daisies and tossing them aside. Grass pricked her bare arms and legs and tickled her through her t-shirt. Taking off her glasses, she let them fall to the ground.

  Lying flat on the grass was all she could handle right now. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d just lazed around, with no assignments hanging over her head, no tests to ace, no contests to win. Nothing to prove. No commitments.

  Actually, she did remember. Brushing her wet hair off her face, she let her eyes close. Back when she was eleven. The twins were thirteen.

  It was the summer before she’d started sixth grade, before her family had moved out of town. The last summer she’d really hung out with the twins. She hadn’t known about the move yet, though it happened just two weeks later. Her parents hadn’t told her.

  She’d expected to go to school nearby, where the twins went, and she wasn’t at all sure what would happen once they were at the same school. Already, she was getting tongue-tied around them, noticing that Brendan and Ian were boys — very cute boys.

  But that day near the end of summer, the three of them sprawled right here on the grass while the creek gurgled by, she hadn’t worried about how she looked or how she sounded or what to say. Nothing had been awkward.

  Brendan had been calmly telling her exactly what to expect on the first day of school: what everyone was wearing, what they were listening to, where to sit in the cafeteria, and how to get on Mrs. Morton the secretary’s good side.

  She’d had so many questions for him, and every time she turned toward him with another one, something — a bug? A leaf? — had tickled her arm, or her knee, or her neck, and she’d tried to brush it away, only to meet with air.

  Finally, when Brendan couldn’t hide his grin and laughter split the air behind her, she rolled over fast enough to catch Ian teasing her w
ith a long blade of grass. She so clearly remembered grabbing her own fistful of grass and furiously stuffing it down Ian’s jersey while he smirked at her and Brendan chuckled on her other side.

  “I hope it gets in your underwear,” she snarled, and Ian’s smile just got bigger. Then she’d dissolved into laughter along with the twins. The three of them had started throwing grass at each other, and they’d gone home sweaty and stained with green and slurped down the Cherry Coke in the O’Brians’ fridge, and Diana’s mom had yelled at her when she came in for ruining her clothes. It had been a perfect day.

  Two weeks later, her family had moved. Innocent grass fights felt like a world away. Back at home the next summer, she’d avoided the twins’ eyes when she passed them playing basketball in their driveway. She’d swerved when she’d spotted them on a trip to the mall, sure that couldn’t be her Brendan was waving at. And she’d refused to go to the O’Brians’ annual Fourth of July barbecue, where Brendan had let her win at ping-pong and Ian had stolen her dessert for more years than she could remember. Her parents had tried to convince her as she lay in bed with a stack of books, roasting in her second-story bedroom and refusing to move, until they threw up their hands and went next door.

  Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the flaming wash of sunset across the sky. Who knows what might have been different, if she’d stayed in town? Would these past two weeks have happened?

  Smoke curled through the trees. A group of people were passing around a joint, further down the creek — people she recognized, people from school. She knew that smell now. She knew so much more, so why did she feel like she knew nothing?

  When night fell, Diana made the slow walk home. Behind her closed bedroom door, she opened her underwear drawer, found what she was looking for, and sank down on the floor. She hadn’t reached for her dildo this time. The butt plug and lube had stayed in their brown paper bag. She’d ignored the lacy bras and colorful thongs. Instead, she’d pulled out her journal.