Thank you, readers, for the very kind feedback you sent me for the first part of this story. You encouraged me to add another chapter, and with the progression of this story I hope to be able to add more character development as well as keeping the sex steamy! Thanks also for adding me to favorites and for voting. It really is appreciated - Indigirl :)
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The morning after I fucked my two brothers for the first time, I went to work feeling as though something had changed inside me forever. I almost couldn't look at other people in case it was written all over my face- that I was a slut, and not only that, an incestuous slut who was so greedy for cock she even fucked her own siblings. I swept up old ladies' hair from the floor of the beauty parlour and listened to their non-stop chatter and all the while my pussy throbbed and tingled every time I thought of Max's hands gripping my hips as he slammed me doggy style on my own bed, and then Adam joining in as though I were the best goddamn ride at the best carnival to hit town, ever. I didn't even care about Karl any more; I went from hating the asshole's guts to not even giving a shit what he was doing or even who he was doing. Damonique could have his rancid, floppy prick. I had the two best cocks mankind had ever produced, and two beautiful brothers who knew how to use them as they stretched their sister's grateful pussy to the limit.
And what really turned me on and made me happy beyond belief was that no Damonique or Cindy or any other bitch would ever steal my brothers away from me. Max and Adam were mine. They had always been mine and they would always be mine. We were flesh and blood; joined for all eternity by the bond of being triplets. And when I did get an awkward and confusing sensation, like a voice in my head telling me that what we had done was wrong, I argued back with a bigger, louder voice. My own voice- the voice of a 20 year old woman who had chosen to have sex with the two people who meant everything in the world to her.
Who would never leave her.
Who belonged to her. The way Max and Adam belonged to me, and I to them.
Maxwell, Adam and I were all created at the same time. (Dad always bragged about his good aim, although we never heard Mom showing off about the fact that she released three eggs.) We had all shared the protective warmth of Mom's womb at the same time. Pressed together in the waters while our limbs formed, our hearts and livers and lungs, our little mouths and eyes. We had never been apart from each other, even when we were physically separated. Our minds were joined, our thoughts and feelings shared. In the womb we had shared the same bloodstream and the same nourishment and felt the same vibrations of our mother's voice and heartbeat.
Wasn't it only right that we should take the next obvious step and join our bodies as well?
I bit my lip as I swept old lady hair into a pile and listened to the gossip going on around me. Imagine the scandal if I opened my mouth and told them what I'd done with my own brothers. How I'd moaned like a whore while they took turns at stabbing into my pussy with their hot cocks, one after the other. Laughing and enjoying themselves. All of us lost in the sheer pleasure of doing something that everyone else thought was so wrong. And yeah, I won't deny it- doing something taboo in the eyes of others made it all the more exciting for us.
Like I said, something inside me changed forever. The deed could not be undone. I had fucked my brothers and I had enjoyed it. Hell, I had loved it with every fiber of my being. But there was no way on God's Earth that I was going to tell anyone about it. I decided to just keep on bitching about Karl for the acceptable length of time it took for a girl to get over an asshole who had treated her like dirt.
Although why all of that shit was acceptable while sex with my beautiful, loving brothers was not, was something I would never fully understand.
Maybe people needed to experience things for themselves before they went shooting their opinions off about everything they couldn't comprehend.
But hey- it'll be a cold day in Hell before that happens, right?
When I got home from work, Max was still out but Adam was in his room, glued to eBay. Adam makes himself quite a bit of money selling his movie shit. He's the kind of guy who collected and hoarded stuff from when we were kids. A lot of Max's and my toys got busted and destroyed, chewed up by our dog or run over in the yard when Dad accidentally reversed his jeep over them. (Or, in the case of a really noisy toy, on purpose.) But Adam looked after his stuff. He kept hold of his Transformers and his Star Wars toys and he used to swap duplicates for more desirable items and he would never tell the other kid that- oh, I don't know, the blue version of something was worth more than the standard red version of something. Max and I would laugh at him and call him 'Poindexter' or just 'nerdbrain', but who's laughing now, eh? Adam sells a toy for like, two hundred bucks, while I get to sweep up old ladies' hair. The meek shall inherit the Earth? More like the nerd shall inherit the Earth, if Adam is anything to go by.
Mind you, if all nerds were like Adam, the world would be a great place to live in. We'd all play with Star Wars toys and eat pizza no matter how old we were and when we needed money for rent and shit, we'd just sell some piece of crap from some old martial arts film or obscure 50s schlock horror movie and watch the money roll in- although Adam always argues back that it ain't as easy as all that, because if it was, everybody would be doing it. He gets like, "when all's said and done, Keeley, you're still dealing with other people, and other people can be douchebags."
Which is a fair point, I guess.
I strolled into Adam's room and stood behind him. I admired the back of his head and wanted to kiss the fuzzy nape of his neck, but I didn't. As for him, he didn't even take his eyes off the screen.
"Look at that," he said, in an awestruck tone of voice. "It's the Rocket Firing Boba Fett from 1980!"
"Blah, blah, blah." I put my hands on the back of his swivel chair and tipped him backwards. His knees clunked against the underside of his computer desk and nearly knocked his can of Dr. Pepper over. He made a hissing noise of extreme annoyance.
"Stop it, Keeley," he said, gruffly.
"Stop what?" I kept pushing down.
"Fucking with my chair while I'm trying to work!"
"Work? Ha. You're just looking for pictures of Princess Leia in her bikini." I bounced him up and down and I knew I was irritating him, but it amused me.
"The Rocket Firing Boba Fett is so fucking rare, there was speculation that it even existed."