And now they were offering it to Chrissy as a take-home prize, a souvenir from their night together.
“Oh god,” she moaned, looking at the rubber, holding it up to the light as she licked her lips, remembering the depravity. “Yes, yes, yes,” she sighed.
And with that, Colt and Cain were done. They were courteous, showing her to the door, helping her on with her coat, even walking her to her car, slamming the door behind her.
But when they got back to the house, it was almost as if the girl had never existed.
“Good pussy,” grunted one to the other.
“Amazing,” agreed the other, and that was it. It was onto the next one, I knew we’d never see her again.
And believe it or not, I’ve witnessed this scene multiple times, my brothers bringing up a string of beautiful, creaming women home, the females only too happy to service gorgeous twins. It’s been frustrating, my body shaking and trembling as I watch girl after girl get taken… wishing it were me.
So I’ve been going to the Donkey on nights when I’m desperate, when I have to let the real Karlie out, put myself on display, live my own life, and tonight was going to be my first blue light special. I’d thought about it some … was I really ready to have sex in public? And after five minutes of deliberation, I knew the answer was yes. I wanted it, I wanted to get dick in pussy in full view of an audience, feel the added stimulation of hungry men’s eyes watching me get drilled.
And when Joy squealed about the football team, my interest was piqued. Because that’s what we do for blue lights. It’s not like we go out there and bang a random dude, most girls prepare a little. The standard protocol is to scope out the audience, pick out a hot guy or two, home in on your prey before the show started.
So I peeped out, looking into the gloom and gasped. The entire Saratoga Eagles football team was there, and my brothers were at the center, those chiseled faces, the athletic builds unmistakable even in the dim light.
Holy shit! This could be my chance to do Cain and Colt, it was exactly what I needed. But I didn’t want anyone to know that I was doing them. What to do? Hmmm.
I turned to the “treasure chest” we keep backstage. It’s a box stuffed to the brim with all sorts of things that strippers might need … pasties, lube for you know where, double-sided tape, and props, leftover from past shows.
And oh yeah, the props we use are wonderful … toys, dildos, balls, gloves, and more. I fumbled through the chest until I found what I was looking for. A discreet mesh mask, the fabric as sheer as a stocking, with a cut-out for the mouth. It was perfect, it’d hide my features, giving me an air of mystery, while letting me see the crowd without any problem.
I donned it, and then pulled on a blonde wig to better disguise myself. Thank god it was dim in the club, the wig wasn’t exactly expensive, you’d never think that this was my real hair by daylight. But so long as it covered my brunette locks, that was enough.
So once the blue light flicked on overhead, I assumed my place, crouching in the cardboard box in the corner. It wasn’t exactly classy, no cake or giant shiny present, just a cardboard box that looked like part of the weekly recycling. But I loved it, because no one suspected anything.
And the spotlight felt so good as I languidly pulled the box apart to show my limbs, warm, bathed in the golden light, until I was completely revealed. The roar from the crowd enormous, the men’s grunts and growls turning me on, making me shimmy and shake ever more sinuously, baring myself for the male attention.
But I knew what I wanted. The Eagles were in the back, a group of massive men, toned, athletic alpha males. Colt and Cain were dominant among them, a head taller, darker, with a predatory air even in the dim atmosphere.
I sashayed to the back as stray hands trailed over my curves, men unable to resist stroking my golden flanks as I made my way through the tables. What can I say? This is the Donkey, patrons like to touch.
But I was like a magnet drawn to a pole, my brothers were beckoning, their eyes following my every move, glued to my curves. And finally I stopped in front of Colt, my body twisting in time to the beat, moving with the music.
“Hi big boy,” I breathed. And it was spot on because he had his dick out, that massive boner pointing straight at me, fifteen inches to the max. I gasped and stilled for just a second. Oh my god, what was I getting myself into? Could I take it? Could I do it?
But I was determined to try. They obviously had no idea who I was, no one did. The football team had closed like a circle around us, the heat of male gazes turning me on, making my body squirm with an intensity that jolted me to my toes.
With a delicate red nail, I traced Colt’s boner, reaching down to squeeze his sacs, running those balls between my fingers before massaging a vein that pulsed along the top, the beats growing more insistent as I stroked it.
“Like it big boy?” I breathed again, smiling under my mask.
And Colt was in the grip of a pre-orgasm already, his jaw clenched, head thrown back as he struggled not to move, his dick literally shaking with energy as I palmed it. I took the opportunity to reach down and massage that little space below his sacs, that sensitive spot that only the dirtiest of girls know, smiling slyly.
And that did it. With a roar, Colt seized my hips and pulled me onto his lap, spinning me around so that I faced forward. With big hands, he pushed me down so that my legs were up on his shoulders, headfirst between his knees. What the? This was a position that I’d only seen on-screen, done by professionals. Oh wait, but I was a professional now.
And I didn’t have long to wait. With a gust of warm air, he was on me, his mouth kissing my twat, savoring each slick fold, devouring me from up above.
“Aieee!” I squealed, squirming, almost losing my balance in the precarious position. But Colt held me securely, he was a big man, those thighs like tree trunks, his biceps bulging as he pinned his prey in place.
It was so delicious that I almost passed out, right then right there, with a dozen men’s eyes on me, my pussy getting licked in clear sight. But I hadn’t counted on what happened next.
Cain took his place in front of me, I could see the tips of his shoes in my sightline. And my brother had unfastened his jeans, I know because there was the unmistakable fall of sticky substance to the floor, another drip drip as he maneuvered closer, the sticky cum the liquid of life.
And then, oh god, I felt another pair of lips on my ass, caressing the round mounds, lightly tickling my cheeks with his tongue, making the hairs on my body stand up with electricity. So this is what it felt like to have two men on you, two aroused, hot, hungry twins determined to take.
And while Colt sipped at my cunny, Cain made his way over to my crevice, lightly tonguing that beautiful flesh, the skin bouncy and elastic, filled with my arousal.
But suddenly his knees straightened as he stood abruptly.
“Karlie,” he ground out, for my ears only.
And I gasped. Cain had recognized me – from the contours of my ass, the rolling hills and mounds unmistakable although he’d only kissed me there once before.
I started squirming with panic, my legs flailing a bit, my breath coming in pants as I struggled to right myself, but Colt’s arms locked in place, holding me down. Thank god my face was buried between his knees, out of sight from the crowd, because the shock was probably visible even through the mask.
I kept squirming, but Colt’s big biceps were relentless, I was immobilized.
“Stay still,” he ground out into my pussy, his voice muffled by my folds. “Don’t move,” he commanded.
And Cain reached over then to stroke my back, running his big hands down the curves, like he was calming a wild animal. Surprisingly enough, it worked. I felt a sense of peace descending, the fear and panic dissipating as his big hands massaged, my muscles relaxing, my breathing growing even.
“So little girl,” he rumbled as his hands did their magic. “This is where you’ve been.”
I couldn’t reply, I was upside down in C
olt’s lap but I wiggled my ass in response, drawing chuckles from the men.
“Oh yeah, this is where she’s been,” agreed his brother, and I was again surprised. They’d noticed my absence? Colt and Cain, who barely noticed that I was even alive?
But the boys weren’t done yet.
“We’re gonna go easy,” rumbled Cain. “This isn’t the time or place,” he said to his brother.
Colt just grunted his reply.
“But we can make her cream hard,” he said emphatically.
“Oh yeah,” rumbled Cain. “Oh yeah.”
And with that, big fingers skipped over my pussy to toy with the string between my legs. Because guess what else had been in the treasure chest? Oh yeah, a big pink ball that you insert in your private place. It’s basically a giant ben wa ball, rubber, ribbed, and I’d almost come just inserting it.
“Oh yeah, love this,” rumbled one, his breathing hot on my ass cheeks.
“Do it,” commanded the other. And the fingers began tugging.
I’ve had things pulled out before, it feels amazing, the slide, the delicious passage through my channel, stimulating my insides, rubbing against the g-spot. But the twins finessed it, using subtle technique that made me moan with longing.
The fingers would pull, and then stop, pull and then stop. And I could imagine what the football team was seeing. The pink ball, emerging in glimpses, a peek of pink visible each time they pulled, then disappearing back into my folds, then reappearing again, this time more, before retreating back into my wetness.
It felt so good, I began creaming, the viscous white lubing the ball, rising to the top to the hoots and hollers of the team.
“Get her,” shouted one guy.
“Fuuuuck,” ground out another, no doubt palming himself.
“Oh fuck yeah,” gasped another and from the unmistakable spattering sound, I knew he’d just come, jizz hitting the floor.
It went on for minutes, my brothers teasing me, that ball slowly making its way out, one step forward, one step back, showing itself between my lips, my little cunny stretched and pulled.
And finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. A big finger had reached for my clit, stimulating that little dick, giving it a massage and with a squeal I let go.
“Aieee!” I screamed, my legs straightening, toes pointing as I clenched, my puss shaking with an earthquake of spasms. I couldn’t control it, I was upside down, the plaything of two gorgeous men as ten more watched. My cunny seized, hard, and the ball was forced out with an audible pop, the squelching sound so wet, spatters of my cream flying all over the place.
As if in reply, dribbles of jizz hit the floor, the sign of a dozen men coming hard, their dicks giving it up in the walls of the Donkey Club. Oh yeah, I’d done it. I’d touched only two, but my delicious body had made a roomful of customers spurt, their life force ejaculating with a chorus of moans and hard groans.
And what happened next was even more shocking. Or maybe I should have expected it because dollar bills began to float, drifting down to my hair, landing on my naked body, forming a circle around Colt, Cain and I, like a massive snowfall in green.
We’d made it rain. My brothers and I … together.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Colt
It was un-fucking believable. We’d headed to the strip club as part of our “make it rain” tradition. The belief is making it rain for strippers brings good luck, you’ll demolish the opposition in the next game.
And it’s pretty fucking awesome. Guys like Harry, who’s as big as a refrigerator, standing onstage, showering the girls with dollar bills, hundreds if not thousands in cash, intent on upping his karma.
Or Mikey, who uses fifties, his own personal interpretation of the tradition. But whatever it is, we do it before each game, picking a joint where the girls are willing and hot, the money stream flowing like continuous lava.
And the Donkey is one of our favorites. We knew the blue light was coming, we’ve done it before, witnessed all sorts of shenanigans. Last time Mikey did two girls at once, and that was a mistake … he blew his load so hard he could barely make it onto the field the next day.
But fuck, what happened last night was totally unexpected. The stripper had been gorgeous, her body curvy, those flanks golden and gleaming in the low light. And the mask, the red lips, it turned us on, I could feel my body temperature soaring with each twist of her hips.
But something about her had seemed familiar. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first, I was in the throes of pleasure, but the back of my brain was whirring, logging each move, each sinuous glide, something about her was different.
It wasn’t until I had her legs up on my shoulders, taking a deep whiff, that I knew. And it struck Cain at the same time, as soon as his tongue touched her backside. Because it was our sister, Karlie, she was the masked dancer.
I’d frozen in shock, and it was a good thing I did because my muscles automatically clamped as Karlie began squirming, desperate to get up.
“Colt, Cain!” she’d gasped from between my legs. But I hadn’t let her say more.
“Still,” I’d commanded, all the while breathing in those delicious aromas, the personal scent I’d recognize anywhere.
And we’d done our part, sure. We hadn’t banged her, but we’d made the most out of a blue light, letting that little pussy get exposed, putting on a show in front of the guys. And afterwards, we’d deposited her backstage, giving her a sweet kiss on the lips in front of the other girls.
“See ya,” I ground out, my body still hard.
“Later,” added Cain, his hand swiping between her legs one last time.
And the girl had looked at us mutely from behind the mask, her eyes pleading with us to not say anything, not now, not in front of everyone.
So we’d stayed silent, headed back out to the crowd to the slaps of our teammates, their guffaws and hoots congratulating us.
“You did that girl good,” jawed one dude, he’d literally eaten three steaks at dinner earlier.
“Oh yeah,” added Pat, another massive guy. “And look what I’ve got,” he said, holding up the pink ball. It dangled wetly, almost five inches across, still dripping with her personal juices.
But Cain and I played it cool.
“Oh yeah, we’ll be killing it tomorrow night,” I said nonchalantly. “What are we out? Two thou? Three?”
“At least three,” chortled Jimmy, our equipment manager. “It’s gonna be a blowout tomorrow, Ravens gonna get it.”
And so we suited up the next day, our confidence on high. The team was pumped and stoked, the testosterone level on max, each guy ready to do some serious damage.
Jimmy ran over with a bunch of equipment under his arm. As quarterback, it’s my job to check all the balls before they’re brought out to the refs, after all, I was the one who’d be gripping them.
I squeezed each one, the leather tough, the pebbled grain rough and scratchy. They were fine, and I gave the go.
“Game time,” I commanded, as we huddled. “No mercy.” And with that, it was on.
It was fucking awesome, last night had been good for me. The ball flew in a perfect arc each time I threw it, my arm like a shot put, launching each pass up the field, further, further, until we were in the end zone multiple times.
And Cain, he was a magnet for the balls, the pigskin landing in his arms with a resounding thwack as he darted down the field. My twin was total speed and agility on the green, tucking the ball under his arm one-handed, straight-arming any threats.
So yeah, we cleaned up again. The rain had worked … and we were champions.
But in the meantime, there was still the question of our sister.
“What do you think?” grunted Cain to me in the showers. The Eagles had one of those old-school set-ups, group showers, a huge tiled room with twelve spouts and we were surrounded by a scrum of guys, nude, pure slabs of muscle getting washed and cleaned after another crushing victory.
I knew he
was referring to Karlie, not to plays or strategy.
“We’ll see her when we’re back,” I grunted in reply, massaging soap over my pecs. “It’s time,” I added.
“Yeah,” he agreed. Because we’d avoided Karlie for fear of corrupting an innocent girl but clearly, we’d misunderstood. Our sister was more than meets the eye … and we wanted to explore.
CHAPTER NINE
Karlie
I gulped, sitting nervously on my bed. Everything was a whir in my head, I was so confused.
On the one hand, I was Karlie the photographer, dressed in baggy black clothes, the girl who was always behind the shutter, shying from the limelight.
On the other, I was Karlie the Donkey dancer, someone who bared it all for men, the center of attention, flaunting my assets … and now my brothers knew.
I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. I’d watched the last football game from the sidelines, holding my breath as Colt and Cain dominated the opposition, their massive, athletic forms sprinting down the field, throwing pass after winning pass.
And it was magnificent, how they commanded the team, their unquestioned leadership, play after play going off without a hitch. After the game, I’d half expected them to confront me, to talk about what had happened, but they’d been surrounded by well-wishers, an impenetrable crowd dancing with glee at victory.
But it was only a matter of time. I fidgeted with my bedspread again, pretending to study even though the book was a blur before my eyes, the words slipping off the page as the events of the past couple nights ran through my head.
Then I heard the front door bang, Colt and Cain’s low growls filling the foyer downstairs. Oh god, they were coming up the stairs, their heavy footsteps in the hallway.
And I gave out a sigh of relief when their bedroom door opened. They weren’t coming to my room, I wasn’t even sure they knew where I slept, to be honest. After all, I’d been nothing but a fly to them.
But suddenly a low voice growled “Karlie” and I sat up with a jolt. Because Colt and Cain were standing in the doorway, their massive forms imposing, my room too small for their alpha frames. They had moved so quietly, so stealthily, that I hadn’t heard a thing.
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