“We’re almost there,” she snapped.
“But there won’t be any bathrooms at the bridge,” I said reasonably. “I need to go now.”
And she turned on me, the bitch showing her true colors. Before I realized it, she’d slammed the childproof locks into place and picked up speed, barreling down the highway at 80 miles an hour. I saw the sign for “Dyke Bridge” whiz past, and then the bridge itself with the lake beyond.
Suddenly, I realized what she intended to do. Slowly, I put my hand on a crowbar I’d seen under the passenger seat and gripped it. When the car plunged off the bridge into the water, I immediately smashed the window, managing to extricate myself from the vehicle and swim to the dock. Panting and exhausted, I’d hauled myself up, watching as the car sank slowly into the water, only bubbles showing where it’d once been.
I couldn’t move, I was too tired from the frenetic escape, and when voices approached, a woman’s voice asking, “Ma’am, ma’am, are you okay?” I let the black take over, dropping off into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kacey
One year later …
So that’s how I came to know my stepbrothers’ startling past, that they’d once loved a girl who was dead now. Her resemblance to me was uncanny, and I had to ask.
“Patricia mentioned that you were drawn to me because I look like Kathryn, your ex-girlfriend,” I said slowly. “Is it true?”
My brothers took their time answering.
“Baby, we’d be lying if we said it wasn’t,” began Lance, “because you do look like her. The moment we saw you in the Donkey Club, it was like Kathryn come back to life, seven years later.”
“But you are your own person,” stated Logan emphatically. “We’ve gotten to know you in the months since, and while you are like her in some ways, curvy, sassy, sweet and intelligent, you’re also different. You’re the woman who’s our baby’s mother, and Kathryn was a girl we met at summer camp, nothing but a teenage love.”
“Please believe us,” continued Lance, “when we say we’re absolutely committed to you and our son, one hundred percent.”
Because baby Luke had been born two months ago, and was the center of our lives. With his black hair and green eyes, he was a miniature of his daddies, his gurgles and coos ringing through the apartment at all hours.
And I decided to trust my gut instinct. I had no sense that I was a replacement for another woman in the months that I’d known Logan and Lance, no sense that they were trying to fill a gap in their lives through me. Instead, I knew that my brothers treasured me, that the baby and I were their number one priorities now.
But I still had more questions.
“Logan,” I said slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me about Patricia? She said you were engaged.”
His face turned ashen.
“We were never engaged,” he ground out harshly. “That was all in her dreams. She lived with me because she helped me through a hard time, but we didn’t even share a bedroom and I certainly didn’t fuck her after meeting you.”
“Are you moving in with us now?” I asked tentatively.
Logan and Lance shared a glance.
“Sister,” said Lance, taking my hand. “We want to start a life with you. We want to get a bigger apartment, a family-sized apartment, for the three of us and the baby … and more babies to come,” he murmured.
“Yes,” added Logan. “We want Luke to have a sister … and maybe another sister and another brother,” he grinned.
My heart started beating fast. That was four children! But my brothers had foreseen my startled reaction.
“Don’t worry honey, we’ll get nannies to help,” chuckled Lance.
“And the kids won’t want for anything,” promised Logan. “But there’s no time to lose right? Four kids is a lot, and we’re only on number one right now,” he said, looking my body up and down, appreciating those sassy curves.
Suddenly, I knew why I was with these men. They hadn’t cared what the world thought. Not that we were step-siblings, not that they were having a baby with their sister, not that their reputations had been tarnished by two suspicious deaths. Instead, Logan and Lance were totally committed to doing right by me and my baby.
So I felt loved, completely and totally loved by my steps, my heart beating faster as I leaned forward to kiss them.
“Logan,” I murmured, “Lance.”
“God, I love hearing you say our names,” growled Logan. “Come here, sister.”
And he swept me onto his lap, sweetly kissing my neck, trailing his tongue against the elegant slope of my shoulder. Although I’d given birth only two months earlier, my body had bounced back remarkably well, on show in a clingy rose-colored shift.
“Let’s see what we have here,” rumbled Lance, getting on his knees between my legs. He lifted the hem of the pink dress, exposing my thighs inch by inch. My legs parted of their own volition as he watched with hungry eyes, revealing the moistness at my center, that part of my body wet and desperate for my brothers’ attentions.
“Sweetheart,” growled Lance, never taking his eyes from my cunt. “Are you ready for loving again? Is your body ready?”
I smiled at him, even as Logan squeezed and massaged my teats. “Yes, brothers, it’s going to be okay. In fact, I was thinking of giving you an extra treat.”
“Oh really?” murmured Logan, whispering in my ear as his hands glided over my creamy flesh, stimulating my nipples, tweaking and pulling, making me gasp. “What would that be?”
I slowly extricated myself from their arms and skipped over to the bathroom.
“You’ll see, just give me a moment,” I shot over my shoulder with a wink. “I’ll be right out.”
And I took a quick shower, sudsing myself up, shaving my pussy so it was bald, making myself beautiful. Labor and delivery had been hard, but I was still a woman with two men to please, and I intended to do it like a pro. I wanted to dance for them again, remind them of my sensual rhythm, maybe using a dildo as a prop, self-fucking my chubby pussy while they watched.
But before I could rinse, the bathroom door banged open, and there stood my two brothers, totally nude, masculine and imposing, their fifteen inch dongs heavy and hard, pointed straight at me.
“Honey, it’s time,” said Logan. “No need to get clean.”
“Baby, now,” commanded Lance.
Oh god, I felt my cunny dripping at the size of those massive forms. Their male bodies were perfect, testament to the god Adonis. Tall, broad shoulders narrowed to slim hips, plus heavy thighs which I’d bit in lust more than once. And oh god, those cocks.
I still remembered riding those cocks that first night I met them at the Donkey Club. How I’d been a shocked little girl then, dancing for dollars, willing to experiment for a five thousand dollar bonus.
And the men, god, how these men had changed my life. I was now the mother of their son, they were fathers to my child, and we were brothers and sister too, tangled in a web of relationships. But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the overwhelming love and lust that guided our trio.
“Brothers,” I said sultrily, leaning forward and cupping my breasts. “Suck?” I invited, squeezing the creamy mounds.
And immediately my brothers were on me, stepping into the stall, their massive forms filling up the tiny tiled area. Their shoulders reached from one edge of the enclosure to the other and I was sandwiched in between, the tips of my nipples skimming Lance’s chest while my butt brushed Logan’s thighs, both of their dongs hard, hot and heavy, pressed against my tummy and back.
With a sweet sigh, I got on my knees between them, letting the water pound on us as I took my brothers’ cocks in my mouth. It was fucking amazing. Thirty inches is what gave me my start, and I’ll never regret it. I used techniques they’d taught me, pulling both heads in at once, running my tongue in a figure eight over and around their pink, bulbous glans, lapping up their sweet pre-cum as I tried to burrow my tongue in the sopping
slits.
“Fuck, little girl,” groaned Lance, grabbing my wet hair, stabilizing himself while stroking my shoulder. Lance was the same. Although his body was rock hard, stiff in its ecstasy, he was curiously gentle even with his dong massive and desperate in my face.
“Sister,” he ground out. “It’s been too long. We need you.”
And that’s all I needed to hear. I crouched face down on the shower floor so that I was almost in a ball, my ass waving in the air. Provocatively, I reached my hands back and parted my butt cheeks, holding my flesh apart so I could tempt them with both holes, letting them see straight into my pussy and ass.
“DP me, brothers. Do it,” I breathed.
They didn’t waste a moment. Logan got on his knees behind me, shoving that massive cock deep into my pussy. I shrieked loudly, my cries ringing in the tiled room. Ahhh, it was fucking amazing, I was stretched so tight and full as he ran that fifteen incher into my vaginal canal.
Meanwhile, Lance straddled my back, leaning forward to let his dick trail against my anus. I moaned, and he took that as a sign of readiness. He pressed that donkey dong against my tight little button, and I tensed automatically, my rectum resisting the penetration. Lance wasn’t deterred though, chuckling a bit at my instantaneous reaction. He rimmed me with his finger, massaging me, getting me used to the feel, before applying pressure again, and this time my anus popped open, admitting a few inches of cock.
I moaned, my cheek pressed to the shower floor, my breasts smashed against my knees as both brothers rode me from behind. I was stuffed to the max, their penises rubbing against each other through my thin vaginal wall, beginning a deep and highly satisfying rhythm.
“Unnh, unnh, unnh!” I squealed, as they penetrated me, one dick in and the other out, over and over again.
“Shit,” ground Logan. “You’re so fucking tight,” he panted, burying himself up the balls again and again.
“Keep going, brother,” growled Lance. “Because I’m about to come in this sweet little butthole!” And with that he let out a load roar, dominating my ass, his penis spurting heavy ropes of cum again and again into my anal chamber, reaming it, making my cry out in pleasure, totally spread and open, their fuckdoll for the taking.
As Lance filled me with his seed, Logan too wanted a piece of my ass. Once his brother pulled out, he pushed into my anus, creamy seed dripping down my thighs, splashing onto the tile floor, oozing out around his penis. He too fucked my butt, enjoying the sloppy used feeling before letting himself erupt.
“FUUUCK!” he roared, his fifteen incher letting loose inside me, his deposit joining his brother’s semen, sweet and virile, coating my GI tract and shooting so deep I could almost taste the saltiness in the back of my throat.
I too released, my cunt and ass clenching down hard on his dick, spasming as I milked him for each jet of cum, hoarding each precious spurt, my body a hungry cumslut. My breasts were raw, massive and trembling, and I fingered my nipples as I was violated from behind, the sensations overwhelming, magnificent, rippling in waves through our bodies.
As I slowly relaxed, letting my breathing stabilize, still curled up on the floor, I realized what a sordid picture we made. Naked, steamy, our privates rubbed raw and sore from the uninhibited fucking, pools of semen and pussy cream around us, male cum leaking from both my holes.
But I wouldn’t want it any other way … these are my brothers, my men, and I love them. My body and mind belong to them, and they to me as well.
EPILOGUE
Kacey
I guess you can tell I had no trouble getting pregnant. Logan, Lance and I fuck daily, sometimes twice or three times daily, and it’s been going on for years now. I’ve had three kids with my brothers so far, and I’m due to deliver the fourth any day.
“Luke, Lindy, Loren,” I called. “Lunch is ready.”
And my sons and daughter scampered over, their chubby legs running as fast as they could. They settled in their seats, cries of “Mommy, milk! Mommy owange juice!” starting up.
I sighed but laughed as well. Life has settled into a predictable pattern which I appreciated, now that the events of the past had blown over. We’d endured a criminal investigation into Patricia’s death but had been immediately cleared, as she’d been the one at the wheel.
There was also some publicity about our relationship bringing with it a cloud of suspicion. I mean, Logan and Lance are known around town, and when they were seen squiring me about, my form ripe in pregnancy, naturally people began to talk.
“Isn’t that their sister?” they whispered with judgmental glances.
“Oh my god, is the baby going to be deformed?” hissed another.
“Who’s the daddy? They’re twins,” added another voice, confusedly.
But we minded our own business and never let the talk get to us. Sure enough, with gay rights, marriage equality, and celebrity trans folks all over the news, our little ménage was soon forgotten, just another permutation in the many ways to love.
And so I’ve settled into a “normal” life, if you can call it that. I take care of the kids and am studying for my bachelor’s degree as my brothers rebuild their careers in real estate. Sometimes I dance, but only for Logan and Lance’s eyes now. It’s still one of my best skills, and I’m forever grateful to the Donkey Club for bringing us together.
THE END
A SNEAK PEEK
SOLD AT THE AUCTION
By Cassandra Dee
CHAPTER ONE
Ellie
“Seriously El, you can’t wear that,” said my friend Rachel.
I looked back at her, a little miffed.
“Why not?” I asked plaintively. The jeans I had on were nice, a dark denim wash, and I’d paired them with a long-sleeve top, crushed velvet with a scoop-neck. “Looks okay to me.”
Rachel snorted.
“Seriously El, we’re in Vegas for the week. We’re going clubbing at a place that doesn’t even have a name, it’s so hot. You can’t wear the stuff you usually do, now take it off,” she commanded.
I thought about refusing flat out, putting down my foot and digging in. But the thing is my friend is the one with the fashion sense, Rachel always looks amazing, knowing exactly how to do herself up for every occasion. In comparison, I was a little frumpy, dazed and confused most times, my brown hair unfashionably curly, my curves unfashionably round. So yes, I got invited to good parties because I was Rachel’s friend, but I didn’t look like any of them, skinny minnies all.
And frankly, it was amazing that Rachel and I are friends at all because we’re so different, she’s swan-like, thin and elegant, with a modeling portfolio, whereas I’m round and small, an A-student. So our interests are poles apart, not to mention our paths in life. But we’ve known one another since we were five, and have seen one another through thick and thin again and again. Take last year, for example, when Rachel’s parents got divorced. I was her confidante, her therapist, and her anchor when she was lost at sea, adrift on waves of sadness. And I know she’d do the same for me if our situations were reversed. So despite the fact that outwardly, it looks like we have nothing in common, in fact we have a bond that goes deep, far further than mere clothes or personalities would suggest.
And since my body changed, my friend’s fashion advice was even more important. Because gone was the old Ellie from two years ago, an underweight mouse shaped like a broomstick, and in her place was the body of a woman, like Venus de Milo incarnate. I have big boobs now, a huge ass that sways when I walk, and generous hips making it hard to fit any type of pants. In fact, it’d been a struggle getting into my jeans tonight, I’d had to hop up and down desperately a couple times before they squeezed on, and the button was threatening to pop off any second.
So I sighed again.
“I don’t have anything else,” I repeated plaintively, gesturing with open palms. “There’s nothing else, look at my suitcase, nothing, nada.” And flipping open the purple travel case to reveal the interi
or was uninspiring. There was nothing haute couture or racy, just a couple more colored tops and a pair of grey jeans to mix things up.
Rachel pulled a face.
“Really, you didn’t bring a dress? Something a little slinkier?” she asked, picking through the stuff in my bag.
I shook my head.
“Nope, you know I don’t wear dresses that often,” I reminded her. “I’m more of a tomboy.”
Rach pulled another face.
“Tomboy, schmomboy, El, you’ve got a body now that’s decidedly not tomboyish anymore,” she emphasized. “Come on, you’re gonna have to wear something of mine then.” And with that she began pawing through her things, flipping through the closet where she’d hung a million outfits, each one colorful and gaudy, some even with pom-poms and sequins.
“No, Rach, no,” I pleaded. Even if I wore something of my friend’s, we weren’t the same size, not even close. My blonde friend was your typical petite vixen, about five one and a size zero. Whereas now, I was up to a size fourteen, maybe. Possibly a sixteen, it depended on what I’d had for breakfast, or sometimes dinner the night before. There was no way I could squeeze into one of Rachel’s outfits, I’d rip it at the seams like a juicy tomato busting out.
But my friend couldn’t be deterred.
“How about this one?” she asked brightly, pulling a dress out of the closet.
I groaned. It was terrible, all psychedelic colors, oranges swirling with purples, great big globs of green here and there.
“No Rach,” I said firmly. “Absolutely not, I’m getting a headache just looking at it.”
She sniffed, her pert nose wrinkling.
“Just so you know El, this dress is by Missoni, they’re a famous Italian design house known for their zany patterns.”
I shook my head still.
“I’ve never heard of this designer, but no Rach, it’s like an acid trip,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t.”
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