Thanks, as always, to LarryInSeattle for his editing skills.
The weeks of celibacy end for the trio of siblings.
Mark and Julie arrive for a weekend at the cabin.
As I climb to my feet I wonder if my brothers or Chad ever feel stupid, or slutty, after they have cum. It may be hard to imagine, that a girl who has been fucking and sucking her twin brothers, would worry about being slutty, but I did. My legs and ass were slick with their jizz. I’m not feeling panic. I’m not on the verge of a meltdown like the one that ended with me being in a hospital having blood drained out of my skull. It is more a sense of wonder than panic. Did I just lie on my back, put my knees by my ears and let my older twin brothers cum on my ass and twat? Yes, I did. Shouldn’t I feel shame, at least a twinge of shame? Forget the fact it’s my brothers. Would I have done that for Chad? For Chad and a friend? Did I have no sense of propriety, no standards?
Two pairs of arms wrap themselves around me. Two foreheads rest against my head, the one on the left gingerly, careful not to wake my still tender scar. A feeling of peace descends over me, as gently as the hammer and feather dropped by the astronaut on the moon. My dad loved showing us that clip, explaining things fell more slowly on the moon because the moon has less mass than the earth. I understand that I have neglected to tend to my mental wall. My distress is all too clear to my silly, over-protective big brothers.
I allow myself to be comforted by their thoughts, their love.
“You aren’t a slut.”
“Think that about yourself again and I’ll kick your ass.”
“Your sense of propriety is to be kind, to not hurt anyone, to protect and care for others. So why don’t you quit being so fucking stupid?”
I swear I hear my mother’s voice. “Sweetheart you’re just horny.”
No words are spoken. No words are needed between us. I allow myself to indulge in their comfort for a few minutes before pulling free of their embrace.
My eyes are wet. “Assholes.” That I say aloud. It seems more appropriate that way.
The last few days before the good doctor and his lady are to be here drift by lazily. The heat returns the next day. We do little more than take a couple dips in the lake and sleep. Late in the night, I snuggle against Gary’s back, I wake to the crash of thunder. The cabin shakes. The wind roars and I hear something turn over on the back porch. As quickly as it blows up, the storm blows over, taking the heat with it. Neither Gary nor Terry so much as twitch in their sleep. I dream of mom and dad, of my brothers when they were little but seemed so big to me, of Chad, and sea monsters and more I cannot recall when I wake.
I crawl out the bottom of the bed. It’s easier than lumbering over either of my sleeping brothers. I head to my bathroom, pee and brush my teeth. Julie and Mark are coming tonight. I stop by my bed and pull the covers back, tousle the pillow, hoping it looks slept in.
I wander down the hall to the kitchen, deciding on tea rather than coffee. As the water heats, I check the back porch. The light lawn chairs have been blown into a heap by the door. I right them. They seem none the worse for the experience. I look out over the yard. I can see a few small tree limbs down. The dock is fine. The lake is as flat as rolled steel. I step out into the yard. The grass is damp. I can’t tell if it is from rain or dew. If it rained, it was brief, just enough to settle the dust.
I walk around the cabin, scanning the roof. The shingles look fine. I spot a few more branches down but nothing serious. Terry is standing at the stove, glaring at the screaming tea kettle. Before I can call a warning, remind him that the ancient kettle’s handle no longer insulates, he picks it up and promptly drops the kettle back on the stove. He waves his hand in the air, no longer glaring but cursing. I hurry to his side and pull him to the sink and hold his hand under cold water as he hops from foot to foot. I try not to let him see me smile. Hopping like that he looks like such a little boy, much as he did splashing and dunking his brother in the lake. I have to remind myself he is a grown man, a lawyer, soon to be a junior partner in our father’s old firm. There is nothing child-like about his body or his cock.
I look at his fingers. They’re red but no blisters. I kiss each one softly.
“Sorry. I was checking the roof. You two slept through quite a little storm.” I kiss his cheek. “You okay?”
He grunts and peers at his fingers as if expecting to see the flesh peeling away from the bone. Like all men of my experience, he appears vaguely disappointed the wound is not more serious, or at least more serious looking.
“There was a storm?”
“Yup, you two could sleep through Pickett’s last charge. It blew over some chairs. There’s a few branches down but the roof is fine. It would appear my highly educated brothers know how to shingle.”
He grunts again. I step behind şişli escort him and use a much battered and stained pot holder to pick up the kettle and pour water into the teapot. Terry stretches, drawing my eyes to his cock. Damn. He walks to the front door and opens it. I watch his taut ass ripple as he walks. He stands in the doorway, head swiveling as he assesses my claim that there had been a storm last night. When he turns, I can see the cold morning air has tightened his scrotum. The air has done nothing to his cock, however. It hangs there, swaying as he walks. Damnit, I’m already wet. I’m sure they’ll refuse me. Dr. Mallory won’t be here to give me the all clear until this evening. I’m regretting my offer to have him stay for the weekend. I’ll have the okay for sex but no opportunity while we have visitors. Fuck me, which seems a distant prospect.
“Good thing there wasn’t a tornado,” Terry offers, returning to join me in the kitchen. “We might have woke up dead.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I slept through a thunderstorm.”
I shrug. “Not much of a storm. Just enough to break the heat and settle the dust.” I pour him a mug of tea without asking. I add his usual morning two heaping teaspoons of sugar. In his way, Terry is a creature of habit. Coffee or tea, if it’s the first cup he uses sugar. After that, black. He limits his indulgences, at least when it comes to sweets. My thoughts circle back to yesterday. Do I know my limits? Terry’s? Gary’s?
Before I can turn to hand him his tea, his arms go around my waist and he rests his chin on my shoulder. His body feels warm and firm against my back. I relax into his arms.
“Relax,” he whispers in my ear. “Now you’re the one over-thinking this.” He rocks me in his arms and I feel my body relax.
“My limits are your limits,” he murmurs in my ear. “I won’t hurt you, or anyone, unless they threaten to hurt you or Gary. I’m not interested in convincing anyone to do anything. I want someone who knows what they want. I don’t want anyone weaker than I am. I want a partner not a servant. I’ve no interest in poo.” He gives me a squeeze. “But I haven’t totally ruled out water sports.”
I giggle and elbow him, but gently.
“Room for me?” A sleepy voice asks from behind us.
I turn and open my arms to be engulfed in a brother sandwich.
When Gary’s stomach growls we all laugh and move apart. There is no need to speak as we twist and bend, collecting bowls, spoons, boxes, and for Terry, a couple of eggs. We eat in silence. I make a second pot of tea and we move to the screened-in porch. For the first time Gary notices the branches down.
“We have a storm?”
Terry shrugs and I just smile.
The second pot of tea doesn’t last long. We rouse ourselves enough get dressed, no one clears downed branches in the nude. A couple of the branches are large enough it takes both men to carry them away. We stack them near the edge of the woods. By next summer, they’ll be dry enough to use for a bonfire, or in the stove.
By the time we finish, our forearms are smeared with pine sap and our shirts are soaked with sweat. We need a bath. I’m thinking a group shower would be a perfect way to close out the morning.
I can tell the boys are thinking the same thing. I re-chink my mental wall and gesture toward the house.
They follow without speaking. The master suite, the one the boys had commandeered, has the largest bathroom and the largest shower. It occupies one wall and has two shower heads. I try to recall if that was true when we came here as kids. I think so. Now that I know what horn dogs my parents had been, it makes sense.
We don’t need both showers. I turn on one and let the water run as hot as I can stand. I soap a washcloth and beckon Gary.
“Oldest first,” I ordered.
He steps under the shower and hisses, “Hot.” I let him get used to the water and then reach behind him to shut it off. I don’t want to run out of hot water. I begin to work at the smears of sap on his right arm. I work my way up his arm, stopping to start the shower and re-soap when needed. I take my time. I enjoy the feel of his toned body under my fingertips. I enjoy the idea of bathing him, caring for him, knowing he would do the same for me.
The tough part, getting rid of the pine sap, over, I wash the rest of Gary’s body with my soapy hands. Terry joins me. We trade, Gary and I wash Terry. I insist on washing his beautiful cock. I turn him and he leans against the wall as my fingers probe and clean his crack and ass.
When it’s my turn, I do my best to turn my mind off and simply feel their hands roam over my body. Eventually, the water runs too cold to continue. We shut the water off and I feel a sense of loss.
“What’s going on in that pretty bald head sis?” Gary whispers but his whisper is more than a question. He expects an answer.
I look at him, a question in my eyes.
“Not a peep sis. You’re locked up tight as a bank vault. We’re not getting mecidiyeköy escort a peep from you.”
As he speaks, I realize I’ve felt nothing from them. Perhaps that’s the reason for my funk. I feel a sense of panic. What if it isn’t my wall that’s keeping them out of my head? What if whatever it was the fall did to my brain has worn off? What if I’m back to ‘normal’?
In my mind I envision a barn door rolling open. Wham. Feelings of worry and confusion hit me so hard I stagger. Terry and Gary reach for my arms to support me, concern lighting their eyes.
“I’m fine. I panicked. I was sure I was back to my old silent self.” I shake my head and try to laugh. “Nope. You’re both coming through loud and clear.”
The worry fades from their faces. I smile at them.
“Better?” I ask.
“Much,” Terry announces as, once again, I become the happy, and lucky, victim of a brother sandwich.
The feel of their bodies along my sides re-ignites my desire. I step away from them and hand each of them a towel before grabbing my own. We dry off in silence but it is an easier, more comfortable silence, one in which the background noise is the soft amorphous hum of their thoughts and feelings.
As I hang up my towel I open myself to them, hoping they can sense, and believe, how good I feel, how ready I feel.
“It’s been more than six weeks, almost eight. Please, can we make love? We have time before Julie and Dr. Mallory get here. Please?”
It’s Terry who answers. “Don’t you think we should wait? Let the doc check you over one more time?”
I sense his conflict. He’s as anxious as I am but he’s still terribly afraid of hurting me. My eyes find Gary. I see the same conflict on his face. I know they want to but the idea of using my ability to “suggest” they act on their desires is repulsive to me. Instead, I open my mind to them. I let them see how good I feel, how unconcerned I am about enjoying my body and theirs. I truly feel it is okay; that Dr. Mallory’s blessing is just that, a ritualistic act not a statement of fact.
A smile brightens Gary’s face and he takes my hand. I follow him to the bed. Without looking, I reach behind me for the hand I know Terry is holding out.
“You guys better wait,” I tell them as I put my knee on the bed.
They look at me with identical faces of confusion. I run my hand over my nearly smooth scalp.
“Your hair is still wet. You should wait till it dries or you’ll both have hideous cases of bed head,” I say with my best sultry sigh, as I stretch out on the bed.
“Fuck that,” Terry snaps. That’s my middle brother. The man with the way with words.
They crawl in and lie on either side of me. Each of them rest their head on my outstretched arms and nuzzle my neck and the side of my face. For long minutes we simply lie beside each other, imbibing the sensation of skin on skin, our scents, the sound of our hearts placidly going about the business of keeping us alive. They are semi-hard against my leg, equipoised between action and meditation.
I love this feeling, this sense of being physically and emotionally wrapped in a bubble of protection. I love it but at the moment I want more.
I signal them to lie on their backs. They do. I pull my legs under me and sit on my knees, facing their feet. I feel one hand begin to massage my back and ass. Another hand works its way between my legs and tickles my sensitive skin on its way to my sex.
My own hands trail over their identical taut abs, trying to stimulate not tickle. They don’t need stimulation. Their cocks are off their bellies, bouncing with each heartbeat, each bejeweled with a drop of pre-cum. I lean forward, wrapping my hands around their cocks, running my palms over the heads. I’m more open to them in this position. Fingers begin to dance over my asshole. Fingers probe my pussy, stroke my clit.
For no reason that I am aware of, other than it is easier to move my right leg, I throw that leg over Terry who happens to be on my right. I’m still facing his feet. I hold his cock in my hand and rub my pussy up and down its rigid shaft before sliding him deep into my cunt in one fluid movement. I hear his sigh of pleasure behind me. His hands find my hips and he helps me begin to ride up and down on his cock. I let my full weight settle onto him at the bottom of each stroke, wanting him as deep inside me as is physically possible. He feels so good. His cock feels so good. I’ve missed the sensation of being filled inside, as if without his cock inside me I am not entirely whole, not complete. My feminist mother would have my head for such a thought.
The head of his cock presses against my cervix and a deep ache blossoms inside my belly. The feel of his cock in this reverse cowgirl position almost makes up for the fact that it is impossible for me to kiss him. As if in answer to a request, Gary rolls onto his knees and moves toward us. He’s stroking his own cock. He straddles his brother’s legs and, still stroking his dick, leans toward me offering me his mouth.
I do my best to empty my mind, make it an open conduit, letting what Gary feels flow through me and into Terry, and vice versa. I want Gary to be able to feel what Terry’s cock is feeling. I want them to feel what I’m feeling, to feel the sensation of being stretched and filled by another’s flesh. Even more, I open myself, hoping to feel what Terry feels, to feel what it is like to have part of me surrounded by another’s flesh.
Suddenly, it works. A dam has bursts and my mind and body are overwhelmed with sensation. It’s too much and an orgasm rips through my body. It is so intense and so unexpected I cry out. My brothers must have experienced some of what I’ve just felt. Gary’s cum splatters my belly and chest. Terry is so deep inside me when he cums it feels as if he’s ejaculating straight into my uterus, not my pussy.
I start to laugh. “Jesus. We need to work on that. A little more control is required.”
“What the fuck was that?” Terry pants behind me.
“I was wondering if we could share in what each other was feeling. Apparently we can but all at once like that was a bit much.” I laugh again.
“A bit much? That’s how you put it. Christ, sis, I thought my body was exploding,” Gary says. His voice is muffled. His head is buried in my neck.
As we catch our breath, I feel my brothers exchange a thought. I keep my mental ear muffs in place.
“Raise up,” Terry commands, lifting with his hands. As I sit forward on my knees, Gary flips onto his back and slides his head under me. His hands replace his brother’s on my hips and he pulls me to his mouth. As he tongues and licks and sucks me clean, Terry moves around and does the same to my chest and belly.
They don’t stop when they’re done. Gary’s tongue probes my cunt and flicks my clit while my other brother’s mouth and hands work at my tits and nipples. It takes only a few minutes of their concentrated attention to draw another orgasm from my body. I want to share the feeling, but this time I imagine not a dam but a tap, one I can control and open a little at a time. My brothers are still and I feel their bodies begin to shake. They start panting again and Terry’s mouth leaves my nipple. I can see both their cocks twitching as subdued looking streams of cum ooze from their cocks.
Gary is easier to get to. I simply lean forward and take his cock in my mouth. When I turn my head, Terry offers me his and I happily take it before turning around to kiss and lick my other brother’s face clean.
We loll in a post-orgasmic haze as the shadows begin to stretch across the yard. I’m amazed that I feel so sated. We’d barely started before my little sharing experiment resulted in a three-way simultaneous orgasm. If someone had asked me yesterday, once I was given the okay to have sex, how long would the session last, I would have said “days”. Yet, here after at most ten minutes of fooling around all I wanted to do was fall asleep.
I don’t want to fall asleep. I rouse myself and sit up. The boys roll around me, one arm thrown across my lap, their foreheads meeting behind my butt. Their top legs flop atop mine. Typical, unless I was blowing them or sprawled offering my pussy to them, they’d want to take a nap.
I smack each of them on the hip.
“Come on,” I say, trying not to sound hectoring. “If we fall asleep we’ll be here all day. Let’s go outside. Enjoy a little sun. It’s August you know. In three weeks I’ll be packing for Boston.”
Saying that out loud made the fact real to me, real for the first time. In less than a month, I will be leaving. My brothers will have each other. I’ll be alone.
“Donna? Sis? This summer has been unbelievable but don’t imagine Terry and I have this much fun in the real world.” Gary’s voice is gentle, soothing but I’m not buying it.
“You guys live together,” I protest. “Forget sleeping together, you get to see each other every day.”
“You spent four years in Austin, sis? How is going to med school any different?” Terry asks as he caresses my back. I know it’s his hand, not Gary’s. Weird.
“Of course it’s different,” I object. “When I left for TU we weren’t fucking. Austin is a couple hours by car, Boston is half a continent away.”
“Don’t go then,” Gary offers. I gape at him.
“What do you mean ‘don’t do’? Give up med school?”
“Or go here. If you really don’t want to go, don’t go. I’m not saying that’s what you should do but that’s the only option I see.”
The fact that Gary is being reasonable does nothing to assuage my irritation or dismay.
“I’m not dropping out of med school before I start.”
“Good,” Gary booms, rolling out of bed. “If you don’t get the fuck out of Dodge we’ll get fired from our own practice. You didn’t think we’d spend the next fifty years fucking and eating did you?”
I grab a pillow and throw it at him. He dodges, not evening bothering to pretend it was hard to dodge my throw.
“Fucking and eating? You forget sucking, bro.”
Terry easily dodges the pillow I throw at him. I want to stay irritated, maybe even a little sad but it’s impossible.