by SC Daiko
I hobble across the yard towards the house. Living with Dad and Rhiannon doesn’t afford us much privacy. There’s a cottage up for rent in the village. If Dad doesn’t soften his attitude, we’ll move in there, the three of us.
DINNER is in the dining room instead of the kitchen, and the table has been set with what must be Rhiannon’s best crockery. Bit by bit, she’s adding her personality to the house. I’ve heard her and Dad planning renovations, and there’s even been talk of them starting a bed and breakfast business. Us moving out will be a help to them, give them more room to expand; it could be a win-win situation for everyone, I hope.
“So, son,” Dad says, pouring red wine into our glasses. “What happens next with the leg?”
I explain about how I’ll need physio after the doctors confirm my bones have fully knitted, but if I walk as much as possible, it will lessen the timeframe for me to be given the all-clear. “I’m going to start helping out in the yard,” I say. “Don’t wanna be a burden anymore.”
“You’re not a burden, bro’,” Liam grunts.
I meet his eyes and skim my gaze over his face. He’s looking frigging tired, and no wonder. Since my accident, he’s taken his horses to Chantilly in France, and then Berlin for the League… not to mention jumping our grade B and C horses in UK events. It’s a gruelling schedule at the best of times, and this is not the best of times.
“You mustn’t ride until the doctors say you can,” Dad reminds me, “or you’ll be back to square one.”
“No, sir,” I resist a salute.
Conversation during dinner revolves around the upcoming London Global Champions Tour. I’m gutted not to be jumping King and Magic. Liam can only compete once in each stage, and will be riding his own horses, so we’re going to have to leave mine at home. I’m only glad their owners are understanding, provided Liam rides them in other five-star events and brings in enough winnings to cover their costs.
I steal a glance at Samantha, who’s sitting between me and Liam, opposite Rhiannon and Dad. She drops both her hands, and I squeeze her fingers, knowing my twin is doing the same. One of the Labradors, Burt, sitting between our chairs and hopeful of a crumb from the table, licks our entwined hands. Samantha snickers and I catch my father staring at us, frowning. I give him a defiant look. Plan B looks increasingly on the cards.
Samantha
After dinner, we watch television the five of us together. Mam, Michael and Aiden sit on the sofa; Liam and I are relegated to giant floor cushions. I avoid looking at my guys, pretending interest in a boring detective series when all I can think about is their touch, their kisses, and their gorgeous cocks. Every nerve in my body tingles for them.
Finally, Mam says she’s tired and ready for bed. I follow her and Michael upstairs, then wish them goodnight at their door. In my ensuite, I shower and change into my sleep shorts and cami. The guys said to wait until the house is quiet. I guess they meant until the antiquated plumbing pipes stop rattling.
I listen.
Hmm, no noise.
I’ll take a chance.
Heart thudding, I tiptoe down the corridor… past our parents’ room. The wooden floorboards creak ominously, and I resist the urge to giggle like a naughty schoolgirl. I’m about to knock on Aiden’s door when Liam opens; he presses a finger to his lips.
Aiden is lying propped up on his pillows, his chest bare, and, God, he looks amazing. His ripped pecs are perfectly defined; he beckons me to him with a muscular forearm and launches the smile that makes my heart thud.
I clamber onto the bed and his ocean-blue eyes look deep into mine. “Finally, we can be on our own.” He laughs… a low laugh that vibrates through me. “I’ve been hard for you for weeks, sweetheart. It’s been agony.”
Liam pulls back the sheet and lies on the other side of me. “Likewise,” he grunts.
I kiss them, hungry kisses, one after the other. “Oh, Aiden, oh, Liam,” I breathe. “I’ve missed this so much.”
I shimmy down the bed until my head is level with their groins, breathing them in, their fresh musky scent. I pull down their boxers, and their divine dicks stand at full-mast. I wrap my hands around them, as fully as I can manage, loving the feel of slick silky skin over hardness.
“That’s nice. Really nice.” Aiden’s hand touches to my shoulder. “Suck us, sweetheart.”
He doesn’t need to ask twice. I hold his cock with firm fingers and cover the head with my mouth, gently sucking and scraping with my teeth. “Fuck, yeah,” he groans.
Then I move over to Liam’s dick and suck it into the back of my throat, bobbing my head slowly up and down.
Aiden’s shaft is straining now, veins tight and proud. My pussy is suddenly so hot; I can feel the wetness. Heat smouldering between my legs, I pull off my panties and camisole. Aiden shuffles down the bed and I manoeuvre myself onto all fours, so my cunt is level with his mouth.
Liam kneels in front of me, his long cock bobbing in front of my face. I’m sopping, and I mewl as Aiden slips two fingers inside and rubs my throbbing clit with his thumb. “Mmm...”
Liam lifts my chin and presses his thumb across my lower lip. Wrapping one hand around the back of my head, he uses the other to gently tilt his swollen dick to my lips. I open my mouth. At the same time, I feel Aiden’s tongue sliding into me, his hands on my hips. He strokes my thighs and they quiver in response. Oh, God…
I moan around Liam’s shaft and swirl my tongue around his tip, into the slit. Tilting my head back, I meet his hot gaze. His cock pulses between my lips. I flatten the back of my tongue until the urge to gag passes, and swallow him deep into my throat.
“Fuck, babe, you’re so good at this,” Liam grunts, fisting my hair.
I pull away from him to take in a deep breath. “I want you both inside me,” I groan. “I need the three of us to be one.”
“Ride me, sweetheart,” Aiden rasps. “You know the form.”
I shift down the bed and straddle him, bending to cup his face and kiss his eyelids, his nose and his beautiful lips. I trail my fingers down his hard pecs, and he leans back on his elbows, looking down as my fist closes around his heavy cock. I pump it, keeping my eyes fixed on his, drowning in the deep passion and love reflected in his stunning blue irises. He suddenly grits his teeth, and a pained expression crosses his face.
“Oh, my God. Did I bump your leg?”
“Just a twinge,” he breathes. “All is good.”
“Phew.”
Liam gets behind me and starts kissing down my spine, going lower and lower until he arrives at my ass. Eek, I feel him pull my cheeks apart with both hands, and push his chin between my buttocks. His stubble is scratchy but sexy at the same time. “Fuck, Sam, your ass is fucking beautiful. I fucking love it. I fucking LOVE YOU.”
I let go of Aiden’s cock and I grind my hips against him to suck him into my wet pussy. “Ah...”
Groaning, I drop my head to his shoulder, my hands bunched into the sheets. I bend a little further, opening myself up more to Liam. It feels incredible with my cunt squeezing Aiden’s cock and Liam’s wet tongue rimming my puckered hole.
Aiden and I kiss again, our tongues sliding back and forth while he rocks his dick into me.
“I need some lube,” Liam says, pulling away and reaching into the bedside table drawer.
It feels cool and slithery as he rubs it into my asshole. My body stiffens and I twist my head from side to side.
“Okay, babe?” Liam asks.
I can only nod.
He presses a finger into me, and I let out a moan. “Well done, Sam. I’m going to add another finger.”
And he does.
Ouch!
“Relax, let me in.”
“Ok,” I rasp, and then a third finger joins the other two. My groans of discomfort morph into grunts of pleasure. Liam is using his fingers as a kind of lever, pulling my body up and down on Aiden’s cock so that he’s fucking me to my depths.
Sweet Jesus!
Aiden
has moved his fingers to my tits, and he’s caressing and tweaking my nipples. I whimper and writhe against him.
Liam is still working his fingers into me, scissoring and twisting and opening me up. He withdraws, and squirts some lube, making me gasp. He holds my hip with one hand, and I feel him press the tip of his cock against my rim. “Ah!”
I bend again and cup Aiden’s handsome face, kissing him while clenching my pussy around his shaft. I moan and groan and squeal like a crazy bitch. Aiden clamps his hand over my mouth. “Shush, sweetheart. We don’t wanna wake up the parents.”
“We’re behaving like teenagers,” Liam laughs.
We are, and I know it. The situation is ridiculous; we’re ridiculous. We should just tell Mam and Michael to let us be.
Liam’s hot wet lips are on the back of my neck, now. “Relax, babe.”
Aiden touches his lips to my forehead. “Let Liam in, sweetheart.”
Inch by inch, I feel Liam pushing into me. “Fuck,” he groans. “Your hole is so tight. So fucking tight.”
I whimper and my breath is jagged.
I fall onto Aiden, feeling his cock filling me, and I love it. I love the warmth of his breath on my face, I love the way he strokes my hair and holds me tight. I freaking LOVE HIM. And I love Liam, love the way my ass aches so good as he fills it. I freaking LOVE HIM TOO.
Liam pulls back slowly, gently, about halfway before thrusting again, pushing me onto Aiden. I reach between our bodies to stroke my clit, and my fingers are mashed against my pussy. The sensation is beyond amazing. My cunt clenches around Aiden’s cock, bathing him in my wetness.
“God, I’m almost there,” Liam pants, speeding up his thrusts as I grind my ass back against him. “You feel so hot, babe.”
His thrusts push me against Aiden. I kiss him, my tongue probing deep. He slips his hand between us, pushing my own hand away to stroke my clit. Mmm…
My orgasm is building, warm tingles spreading out from my cunt. My pussy pulsates, my whole body curling and cum flooding out of me. I grip Aiden’s shoulders and cry out. To hell with Mam and Michael hearing me.
Liam gives one final thrust. “I’m fucking coming,” he pants.
And it’s enough to tip Aiden over the edge. I feel him spasm inside me as he takes my face between his hands and kisses me again, his moans filling my mouth while he shudders his release.
We disentangle and flop back on the bed, Liam and Aiden spooning me between them. Aiden strokes my face, and his eyes say so much.
I lie between them, floating in bliss.
Oh, my God, there’s a noise.
Footsteps in the corridor.
Shit!
What if it’s Michael? What if he barges in here?
My heart almost beats out of my chest.
I listen again, but there’s only a clunk from the water pipes. I’ve come down from my endorphin high, though, reality has hit me like a punch in the belly. “I don’t like sneaking around behind our parents’ backs. I don’t like keeping our love a secret,” I whisper.
Liam nuzzles the nape of my neck. “It’s time we told them about plan B, I think.”
“I agree,” Aiden adds. “We’re adults and are fully entitled to live our own lives.”
I chew my lip, keeping my next thought to myself. Something tells me living our own lives isn’t going to be that easy, not with Michael Roberts in the mix.
16
Aiden
A WEEK AFTER I graduated to crutches, I’m in London with Samantha and Liam. It’s the second day of the Global Champions… another swanky show like the one in Paris. We’ve been helping Liam with his horses, and now he’s in the process of warming up Odin, getting him ready to compete in the Grand Prix jump-off.
He went clear earlier on, along with ten other riders, the best in the world, and I’m so frigging proud of him I could explode. With a pot of three hundred thousand Euros in prize money up for grabs, it’s a tough, highly technical course, featuring fences designed around iconic London landmarks… including Big Ben, the Underground logo and classic red telephone boxes. Liam did well to ace the first round, putting in the fastest time, and I’m relieved he’s having a better day than yesterday.
Twenty-four hours ago, Sundancer had a pole down in round one of his first competition; he was going like the wind and got a bit strung-out at the wide oxer. Liam was philosophical about it last night. “Win some, lose some,” he said. “Hopefully tomorrow will be a win.” We’d hunkered down the three of us together in the lorry, enjoying the privacy, making love without having to worry about keeping quiet. It made us even more determined to resolve our situation asap.
Samantha is standing by my side now, at the edge of the arena, and if I didn’t have to hold onto these frigging crutches I’d reach for her hand. Fuck it, I want the whole world to know how I feel about her.
A hot August sun beats down on us. Samantha is dressed in a white cami top with shoestring straps. Her cute little tits form tiny peaks under the thin material, and I can see a small amount of midriff at the top of her jeans. Hot as fuck.
“I still can’t get over how amazing this place is,” she says, her eyes huge and filled with wonder.
And it is amazing. Frigging amazing. We’re in the grounds of the Royal Hospital, Chelsea, a sixty-six-acre site in the heart of the West End, close to the banks of the River Thames. It’s been a retirement home for British veterans in need of assistance for over three hundred years. Some of the money brought in from this event will go to the charity that pays for the upkeep of the beautiful gardens and the stunning Sir-Christopher-Wren-designed buildings, not to mention the care of the pensioners themselves, so deserving of living in this iconic place after the sacrifices they’ve made for our country.
I stare at the fans, waving their Union flags, and, again, my heart fills with pride in my twin. His achievements are my achievements; it’s always been that way for us. Dad shouldn’t be so uptight about us both loving the same woman; he brought us up to share everything.
I groan to myself. I know it’s because Samantha is our stepsister, and we’re serious about her, that he’s so frigging riled. Never having had a daughter of his own, he’s turned into an overprotective stepfather. Crazy! He needs to take a pace back, realize she’s an adult, we all are, and focus on his life with Rhiannon instead. I’ve said as much to him, but it’s been like talking to a brick wall.
I grit my teeth. Our parents are up in the grandstand, having arrived a couple of hours ago to watch Liam compete; we’re going to tell them about our plan B before we set off back to Herefordshire tomorrow. Not looking forward to that, but I can’t see any alternative.
I’m distracted from my thoughts by a cheer from the crowd; the first competitor has come into the ring. It’s Clark Smithton of the USA, and he puts in a fast, clear round of 38.63 seconds. Carl Weber of Germany follows, and has a pole down at the second vertical. André Lublin of Canada doesn’t incur any penalties, except his time is a lot slower than Smithton’s. Emma Rivers is next, and she ups the revs to finish clear… just half a second behind Clark. We watch with baited breath, but the rest of the field either incur penalties or are way behind the two Americans. I catch Samantha chewing the corner of her thumbnail. Liam is next.
He comes through the gate, wearing the London Victors red team kit, which matches the scarlet-coated Chelsea veterans. The crowd goes wild, cheering and waving their Union flags. Samantha smiles and lets out a whoop; she’s as proud of him as I am.
Silence falls as Liam salutes the judges and waits for the starting signal. I can almost hear my own heartbeat. Odin is an acrobatic, athletic horse, fast against the clock, but he’ll need to give it his all. His dark brown coat gleams in the sunshine, and he pricks his ears forwards as Liam guides him towards the first fence. He lifts over and makes the tightest of handbrake turns into the next obstacle. The crowd gasps.
Fuck, has he come in too close?
But no, Odin sails over and Liam spins him in forty-f
ive-degrees to head for double. Shit, there’s an ominous clunk, and the pole rattles.
We hold our breaths along with the fans.
Phew, it doesn’t fall.
I love watching Liam ride this horse; he knows exactly what works and what doesn’t. He turns Odin’s head away from the wide parallel bars of the oxer, taking his attention off it for a millisecond, and then turns his head back in so Odin is fully focused. He jumps it at an angle, in that way shortening the distance left on landing. Frigging cleaver tactic! He gallops around the rest of the course, flying over the last two fences to go into the lead at 38.62 seconds. Samantha and I let out a loud whoop.
Liam exits the arena grinning from ear to ear, rubbing his hands down Odin’s neck. “Wasn’t he awesome?” he says. “What a horse!”
“What a rider!” Samantha and I say together, and then laugh.
Odin nickers as Samantha offers him a peppermint. Liam jumps down, and goes to join Emma and Clark on the podium. They spray each other with champagne from the shaken-up bottles someone has handed to them and, again, the crowd goes wild. The fans go even wilder when the pensioners, wearing their trade-mark long red coats and black hats, enter the stadium for the prize giving ceremony. I stare down at my frigging leg; I should be up there instead of Smithton, sharing the limelight with my twin. This time next year I’ll be there, I swear to myself. And, in a couple of years’ time, maybe even Samantha… the three of us on the podium together.
Samantha
I lead Odin to the cooling-off area, next to the stalls at the side of the park. He’s still sweating and breathing heavily from his exertions, so I walk him in circles until his breaths are regular and his coat is dry. “You’re an absolute star,” I tell him.
The wooden stables are lined up like army barracks and I take him to the middle block. His halter is hanging up on the hook where I left it. I undo his nose band and throat strap, and then slip the bridle off over his head. I fill half a bucket with water from the standpipe and he drinks it down, thirstily. I’ll give him more later, when he’s fully cooled down, or he might get colic. After removing his saddle, girth and saddle pad, I leave them upside-down in the passage way so the sweat can begin to dry, all the while chatting to him and praising him for a job well done.
