DOUBLE DONKEY: A Twin Stepbrother Sports Romance (with BONUS book Twin Stepbrother Celebrity)

by Cassandra Dee

  But like it or not, Lauren was now a member of the household, and we couldn’t avoid her forever. The next morning, we’d woken to the delicious smell of coffee, pancakes and bacon on the griddle, my stomach stirring, memories of my mom rushing back. Since she’d left, Croy and I had basically been on our own, pouring cold cereal most mornings. Certainly my dad didn’t cook.

  And when we tramped downstairs, there was Lauren at the stove, an apron on, frying up some eggs.

  “Hey,” she said brightly. “I thought you guys might want something before first period.”

  My brother and I didn’t speak. Instead, we sat down and devoured the meal before grabbing our backpacks and heading out the door. I think she was disappointed, but who knows? It’s not like we talked about it.

  She tried to win us over for a couple weeks, but Croy and I were like fucking ice. Slowly, Lauren gave up and mostly tried to stay out of our way, which was fine by me. But my brother and I watched her covertly, and we noticed how kind she was, how genuine, how she helped people with their homework, did a ton of community service, and seemed really into being a nurse one day.

  But fuck, school is almost over, and we’re off to college. Before we go, we’re having one last party at the house … and our sister’s not invited.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lauren

  I pulled up to the sidewalk and gaped. There were a dozen cars parked outside our house, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say that the better part of the lacrosse team was here. I’d been angling to study at my friend Gemma’s place, but left when she started feeling ill.

  As I walked up to the front door, my ears pounded from the heavy beat of the music. Man, why did they have to blare it at max volume? I shook my head and cringed a bit, my head already throbbing.

  Sure enough, as I opened the front door, I was greeted by a sprawl of guys in the living room. Normal girls would be excited at the discovery, the chance to have ten or fifteen guys’ attention focused on them. But as a nerd at school, I was sensitive to any situation where I could be easily humiliated.

  Sure enough, it started pretty quick.

  “Hey beanpole,” called one dude. His name was Troy, some meathead who I’d known since freshman year. Fortunately, I’d left him behind as I advanced to AP and college prep classes.

  I didn’t really answer, instead mumbling and looking down, hoping I could make a quick escape upstairs to my room. But I wasn’t getting off so easy.

  “Little Goody Two Shoes thinks she’s too good for us, huh?” sneered Troy. “Why don’t you go and cry to Mommy? Wasn’t she some major slut who two-timed your dad?”

  I flushed. It was true. My mom had started seeing the twins’ dad when she was still married to my dad, but that didn’t have anything to do with me! Plus, how did he know about it?

  But Croy chimed in.

  “Yeah, our parents are fucking sluts and adulterers. My dad is a total manwhore who fucked her mom while married. Can you believe it? Plus my mom is a total hottie and Lauren’s mom is a sack of shit.”

  I gasped, my hands flying to my face. Clearly, my brothers had been totally open about how much they detested our parents, sharing our family history with their lacrosse buddies. But that didn’t give them the right to diss my mom! My mom was my mom, and as much as I hated what she’d done, I couldn’t stand listening to her get trashed by these eighteen year-old boys.

  “Shut up,” I said furiously, my face a bright red. “Just shut up, okay?”

  “Oooh, I’m so scared,” said Troy in a little-girl voice. “You scare me. You and your mom scare me so much, the sluts of Farmingdale,” he said, raising his hands in mock-horror. “Actually I am scared. What if your mom wanted to fuck me? Clearly being married is no object,” he said scornfully.

  By now, tears were gathering in my eyes, and I was shaking, angry and upset. But the doorbell chimed, saving me from replying, and Christian got up to answer.

  “Dude, they’re here,” he announced, and the door opened to two … I didn’t even know what to think at first. The two girls were dressed only in lingerie, one in pink and the other in violet. Had they really walked from the car to our front door in such ridiculous outfits?

  Because it wasn’t like the lingerie covered anything. This was stripper lingerie, the g-strings a piece of floss between their ass cheeks, pasties on their nipples and feathers at their hips, emphasizing the sway of their walk.

  “Hey boys,” said the one in pink. “I’m Porsche and this is Mercedes,” she said. “Did I get a call requesting twincest?” she winked.

  That gave me pause. What was twincest? Both women had beautiful, flowing long blonde hair, clear blue eyes and ski-slope perfect noses. Okay, so their make-up was garish, and the boobs were obviously fake, way too tan and bouncy, but overall, the package was amazing. It was like two Barbies come to life, vapid and cloying.

  “Hell yeah!” cried one of my brothers’ teammates, pumping his fist. A roar of excitement had built in the living room, the tang of testosterone suddenly strong and overwhelming.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” said Christian to me, jerking his head upstairs. And I scampered away, retreating to the safety of my room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Lauren

  I could hear the heavy pound of music downstairs, the catcalls, the clack of the strippers’ heels, and the unmistakable sounds of male grunts. I was too shy to actually peek over the bannister, but I was sure it would be a den of sin. Fifteen teenage boys with two luscious, blonde twins. I bet all the guys were masturbating as the girls danced, it’s not like these lacrosse guys were known for them gentlemanly behavior.

  The music hadn’t stopped when someone put on a porn film, and the rehearsed cries and grunts just added to the din below. What the fuck? Why weren’t my parents around? I realize that they had to work to provide for us, but letting your twin sons host strippers in your home? Seriously, George and Teresa were out of their minds.

  Plus, what about the neighbors? It wasn’t even dark yet, and our quiet cul-de-sac was populated by grannies, families with kids, that sort of thing. Surely someone had seen the two Barbies walk up, clad in nothing but pasties and g-strings, wiggling their asses in broad daylight. Surely someone would report us to the police.

  But the thing is, nothing happened. It was really weird. This wasn’t the first time my brothers had gotten away with murder. The community saw my brothers as star athletes and were more than willing to overlook some “rowdy behavior,” as I’m sure they’d call it. And on paper, my brothers were perfect. They got good grades, had already been accepted to Princeton, and had recently led the lacrosse team to the state championships. So our neighbors were probably under pressure from the boosters to look the other way.

  But it pissed me off. Here I was, trying to do my homework upstairs, the muffled pounding and loud music penetrating even through my ear plugs. I was too mortified to go downstairs for fear of what I’d see, and also because it wouldn’t make a difference. What was I going to do, order the strippers out? Ask them to turn down the music? God. Life was fucking impossible.

  But after two hours of trying to study, I slammed my book shut. I couldn’t take it anymore, and with the nursing exam coming up, there was just too much at stake. I needed to study, and that was that.

  I crept down the stairs. The pocket doors to the living area was pulled shut, but the raucous yells behind them were unmistakable.

  “Go go go!” I could hear men chanting. “Fuck her, fuck her!”

  Man, these guys were so crude. “Fuck her, fuck her”? Like one of the girls had done something bad, and it was like, “Fuck that bitch”?

  I pressed my ear to the door, and could hear unmistakable grunting noises, as well as female squeals and dudes laughing and cackling, the pop of a beer can. God, they must have had the porn on really loud, the grunts and shrieks overpowering the strippers’ music even.

  But as I pulled open the sliding door, I got the shock of my life. The l
acrosse team hadn’t put a porn on. Instead, these two girls were prostitutes, not strippers, and my twin stepbrothers were in the middle of fucking both girls, demeaning them, making them their cumsluts.

  I say this because it was true. This wasn’t sweet loving, or even a quick, hard, satisfying fuck. My brothers were using the two Barbies so hard that one girl looked like she had tears in her eyes even as she moaned her pleasure, her breasts swaying and trembling through the ordeal.

  Porsche, I think her name was, had a net over her head, with a special hole for her lips. She was crouched in front of Christian, her head pulled right up to his groin as my brother fucked her mouth, ramming his dick in with no mercy, desperate choking, gurgling noises emanating from her throat.

  Mercedes too had a net over her head, but she was bent over, gripping her ankles so that her ass was exposed. At the moment, Croyden was finger fucking her, or maybe fist-fucking her would be a better description, it was so nasty. It was rough and vicious, and the girl was crying out in lust and pleasure, rocking her hips ever so slightly.

  “Look at this,” Croy said to his teammates. “She’s so fucking wet, look at this shit on the floor.”

  And sure enough, the hardwood floor between the girl’s legs was covered in droplets of creamy white female juice, her pussy making desperate sucking noises as my brother pumped his hand in and out.

  But Croy was one nasty motherfucker. He jerked his fist out and stood up behind the prostitute, pushing her to her knees so that she was almost in a ball, her ass perched in the air. Without any ado, he fucked his dick into her anus, thrusting deep into that dry, tiny hole.

  It must have hurt because Mercedes screamed. Not a yip, or a yelp, or a short squeal, but a full-on scream of pain, humiliation, and pleasure.

  The guys watching loved it. They laughed at the degradation, stroking their dicks as Croy and Christian fucked the strippers, their male bodies hard and glistening, pecs and abs tight in the dim living room light.

  But that’s when everything came apart. My pussy had been creaming heavily because this was the first time I’d seen sex, seen real-live men having sex with women. Sure, it was my brothers, but they were fine specimens of male, their thighs thick, the cocks meaty and long, and the looks on their faces … god, if you could describe alpha male, it’d be my brothers with their dicks buried in twat.

  I’d been touching myself unconsciously, watching as Christian and Croy’s male bodies dominated the soft female ones, their poles hot, hard and heavy. My clit was throbbing, engorged and full, my pussy slick and wet, when it all went haywire.

  I’d gotten so into the scene that I lost my balance and crashed onto the floor into the living room. The pocket doors had given way, and I lay on the carpet, my fingers deep into my twat as I gaped and stuttered, my eyes wide, surrounded by the stares of the lacrosse team.

  The men were silent for a moment before bursting into chants and slurs.

  “Your sister is a fucking slut! Come here slut, come ride my dick little girl!”

  “Hey slut, like what you see? There’s more man meat for you here!”

  And worst:

  “That cunt got off watching her brothers fuck? Fucking disgusting incest, she and her mom are absolute whores.”

  I scrambled to my feet, snatching my hand from my pussy and bolting from the room. But it was too late. My brothers had seen me, and there was no way I could survive the humiliation.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lauren

  Five years later …

  I helped Mrs. Crane put on her jacket, the old lady tottering and cute.

  “Lauren, you are just so sweet, just the nicest nurse I’ve ever had,” she said while struggling to get one arm into a sleeve.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Crane, that really means a lot to me,” I said genuinely. I work as a nurse practitioner in a doctor’s office, specializing in ob/gyn consultations. You’re probably wondering what an older lady is doing at the office, but believe it or not, gynecology isn’t restricted to maternal health. We see a range of women, and Mrs. Crane has been a patient for thirty years.

  Plus, I’ve really hit my stride as a nurse. After graduating from Evergreen, I went on to get a master’s, and was picked up immediately by a doctor’s office in Manhattan. It’s my job to serve as a first-stop for the patients, someone who takes patient medical histories, screens for any obvious red flags before passing them onto the doctor.

  And I love my practice. Nursing is the right profession for me, and it’s kept me busy, really busy, to the point where I haven’t seen my brothers since high school. After what happened that fateful day in the living room, I couldn’t go back to our local New Jersey high school. Instead, I’d finished the semester on independent study, holing myself up in my room and refusing to come out except for the most basic needs.

  Of course, my mom had been flabbergasted on the phone.

  “But honey, you’re a good student! Why do you need independent study for your last semester of high school? Don’t you want to finish and graduate with your friends?”

  I couldn’t tell her it was because my brothers had been fucking prostitutes in the living room, and I’d been caught masturbating in front of their friends.

  “Ma, please,” I begged. “Just try to understand okay?” I pleaded. “Just for a few months and then I leave for California.”

  “Fine honey, fine, but if there’s something wrong, call me immediately okay? I know I’ve been traveling a lot with George, but you’re still my number one priority,” my mom replied.

  “Sure mom, of course I will,” I sighed, relieved. Of course I wouldn’t be calling her. My mom was so fucking clueless when it came to my brothers’ debauchery, but what can you do? I was a teenage girl with limited means and influence.

  And of course, I hadn’t been able to avoid Croy and Christian completely. We still lived in the same house, and even though I was a virtual hermit in my room, it was impossible to ignore them altogether.

  One morning, after I’d heard them leave for school, I crept downstairs to pour myself some cereal.

  Instead, Christian and Croy were there, casually leaning against the breakfast bar, cocky and assured, as if they’d been waiting for me to come down.

  “Hey sis,” remarked Christian. “Long time no see.”

  “Yeah, you’ve made yourself scarce recently,” said Croyden, “with good reason I guess.”

  Oh god. My face flushed with shame, I could feel the red heat creeping up my chest, no doubt making me look like a tomato. But oddly, my steps weren’t smirking or laughing at me for once. The look on their faces was actually empathetic, as if they understood what I was going through.

  Christian cleared his throat.

  “Listen sis, what happened was … bad, I admit,” he said. “You caught us at a bad time, and we caught you at a bad time too.”

  “Bad time?” I said, my voice going almost an octave higher. “You call that a ‘bad time’? It was more like you were in the midst of fucking and sucking two whores and I got caught fucking myself!” I cried.

  “Yeah, it was pretty depraved,” said Croy. “Plus the fact that you got caught touching yourself in front of our friends … not great,” he concluded.

  “You think?” I sputtered. I was reliving the embarrassment, not even able to look into my brothers’ eyes without cringing. Plus, I was fully aware that I was dressed in nothing but a short nightie which barely covered my ass, my legs long and bare. Was it my imagination, or had my brothers’ eyes widened when I appeared in the kitchen? Well, whatever it was, the moment was gone and I was burning with humiliation again.

  “Lauren, we understand if you’re on independent study now,” said Croy. “Heck, I would be too if I were a girl,” he added. “But seriously, it’s not so bad.”

  “Not so bad!” I almost shrieked. “What isn’t so bad about what happened? Really, what?” I asked. I was on the verge of hysteria now.

  “Well,” said Christian slowly. “It helps
a lot that you’re cute, I mean, guys always like to see a cute girl touch herself.”

  That made me shut up. I was cute? They’d only ever made fun of my body, never praising or complimenting my clothes or the fact that I tried to work out.

  “Yeah, you’re cute,” said Croy, nodding slowly, “and trust me, pretty girls get away with everything. You won’t even remember this a year from now,” he winked.

  By now, I was breathless. My brothers had humiliated me in front of their friends, forcing me to drop out of high school, and were now telling me that I was attractive? No way was I believing a word they were saying.

  “Listen,” I said slowly. “I know you never wanted me to move in. Trust me, I know that. But I’ll be gone in a couple months and so will you. So let’s just try to stay out of each other’s hair until then, okay?”

  There was silence while my brothers gave me a long look.

  “Sure, sis, whatever you say,” said Christian.

  “Yeah, absolutely no problem,” said Croy.

  “Thanks,” I huffed before marching back upstairs with as much dignity as I could muster. I could have sworn there were male eyes glued to my ass and legs, but maybe it was my imagination.

  But that’s how it ended. I went off to California and they stayed in New Jersey, our paths rarely to cross again. I avoided coming home because their house had never really been my home. Instead, I stayed at school for vacations and breaks, burying myself in my studies.

  But I’m twenty-three now and ready to face my past. You see, it’s our five-year high school reunion, and I’m looking forward to it. The invitation’s been burning up in my mailbox, and I have a new dress picked out that highlights my curves, skimming over my new womanly shape. Plus, I hear Croyden and Christian are going to be there … my gorgeous, lustworthy stepbrothers.

  THE END

  Continue to Part 2 next