Two Much for You

by Sky Corgan

  Two Much for You

  A Menage Romance

  SKY CORGAN

  Text copyright 2016 by Sky Corgan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  CHAPTER ONE

  ROSE

  Is it wrong to spy on your next door neighbor with binoculars? And by spy, I mean peek through the blinds of your second story window with your tongue lolling out while you watch loads of shirtless hot muscle suds-downed and scrubbing a Camaro in the summer heat. Soap tastes like shit, but I'd love to lick the glistening wetness off of every inch of my new neighbors' torso.

  Both of them.

  What bros. I smirk to myself as neighbor number two comes out of the house like he's getting ready to step onto the photo shoot of a fireman calendar. Ripped faded jeans. Perfectly styled blonde hair. And what do you know. No shirt.

  My face hurts from all the grinning as I eye him lecherously, thinking about what I could do to that body.

  They're a perfect pair. One brunette, one blond. One broad and chiseled, the other lean and cut. Both of them could be models. Hell, they might be for all I know. They both drive nice cars. Both have looks that kill. Both have filled my fantasies at night ever since they moved in two weeks ago.

  I wet my lips with my tongue as I watch Mr. Blond grab a sponge from the soap bucket to help his buddy out. They have to be gay, I realize with a slight frown. They're too beautiful, and I've never seen two guys wash a car together like this before.

  I pull my fingers out from between the blinds and listen to the metallic sound of them snapping shut, then I turn and press my back against the wall, inhaling deeply. Just watching the two of them has me turned on. Too bad it's all for naught. Even if they weren't gay, it would be all for naught. Realistically, I wouldn't have a chance with either one of them. They're too perfect, and I highly doubt I'm the type of girl they'd go for.

  My eyes drift down to my less than flat stomach. I'm far from fat, but I could certainly afford to lose a few pounds. Guys like them probably date stick skinny girls with perfect hair, flawless makeup, and giant breasts. At least, I have one of those three things going for me.

  I cup my tits and readjust them in the old sports bra I'm wearing. The poor thing has seen so many miles that the elastic in it is just about shot. I need to get rid of it, but it's one of my most comfortable bras, and I don't see the harm in walking around the house in it. Besides, it's not like anyone else will ever see it. Not like they will ever see it.

  I chew my bottom lip for a moment before giving in to the urge to peek at my neighbors again. One is stretching out over the hood while the other is scrubbing down the trunk. I sigh as I watch their bodies glisten from the tiny water droplets beading their skin.

  Maybe I should put some clothes on and go over to introduce myself. That is the neighborly thing to do, after all. I had told myself that's exactly what I would do when I found out that new people were moving in next door...until I saw how gorgeous they were.

  To be fair, I did give it a try. A few days after they moved in I baked them chocolate chip cookies. I got dressed in my workout clothes and pulled my long brown hair up into a high ponytail, hoping to impress them by making them think I care about fitness. It's not really a lie. Does going to the gym once a week with my best friend qualify as caring about fitness?

  I had given myself a pep talk as I walked with the cookies to the front door. But as soon as I opened the door and my eyes landed on my dark-haired neighbor working on his car in his driveway, my cheeks turned about fifty shades of pink and I immediately did a u-turn back into my house. Then my mind went wild with excuses for why I shouldn't go over. Things like, he looks busy. Maybe I should try another time. And, both of them have less than ten percent body fat. They probably don't even eat cookies.

  The cookies sat in my kitchen for days before frustration and temptation got the best of me and I ended up eating the whole plate by myself while sitting on my sofa brooding over my shyness. I knew then what the real excuse was. The odds of me trying to talk to them without blushing like my face was on fire were slim to none. It's always been an uncontrollable reaction I've had to stunningly attractive men—a dead giveaway of my thoughts about them. That is a super awkward way to start a relationship with your neighbors. It's better if they just remain strangers, to save myself some embarrassment.

  I sigh, letting my desire to get to know them fade away. I can stare and try to motivate myself all day, but that's not going to make my feet carry me over to their house. Maybe someday we'll cross paths, but it's not going to be today.

  My blond neighbor glances over his shoulder up towards my window and my breath hitches as our eyes meet. At least, I think our eyes met. I withdrew from the blinds like they bit me, jumping back a good foot.

  It looks like I embarrassed myself anyway. He totally just caught me spying on them.

  For a moment, I feel panicked. But then I decide to let it go. Who cares if he saw me staring? They're both half-naked and yummy. What straight woman wouldn't be trying to catch a peek if she had such a good view? Besides, it's not like I was taking pictures or video or anything(though now that I think about it, that would have been a brilliant idea). No harm. No foul.

  I stand there until the rhythm of my heart returns to normal, then I concede defeat and head back downstairs to find my cell phone. Seeing the two of them was a painful reminder of what's missing from my life.

  Dick.

  No. That's just my hormones talking. I want a boyfriend. I've wanted a boyfriend for the past several months.

  Jumping back into the dating game after five years of being single was so much harder than I ever thought it would be. It's not so much that finding guys to date is difficult, it's finding quality guys. And by quality guys, I mean guys who aren't just out to fuck and run.

  Now that I've hit my thirties, it seems like everyone is coming out of divorces and looking to sow some wild oats. Meanwhile, I'm on the other end of things, ready to find someone to settle down with. Never in a million years did I think I'd still be single at this age. But here I am, spending my nights on the sofa having regular threesomes with Ben and Jerry because all the guys I meet are players or losers.

  Just thinking about opening the dating app on my phone makes me want to groan, but then I remind myself that I'm not the sit and wait for it to come to me type of girl. If I'm not proactive about dating, I'll probably be single forever. And surely, I am not the only decent, honest, romance-seeking person on the app. Surely, there's someone else out there looking for love.

  I grab my phone and make my way to the sofa in the living room, practically tipping over from sexual frustration when I toss myself down onto it. Damn those guys for getting me all worked up. At least, they motivated me to give this dating thing another try. I've been in give-up mode for the past few days after a less than promising date with a recovering alcoholic who thought he could charm me by telling me how much of an asshole he is. That guy actually wanted to see me again, but I've never been one to chase after bad boys. Life is full of enough drama without knowingly piling someone else's crap on top of my own.

  I open up the app and sigh as the first image pops up. My finger is
already in swipe to Dislike mode. Dud. Dud. Dud. He's kinda cute. Let's give him a Like and see what happens. Dud. Dud.

  Holy shit.

  My spine straightens, catapulting me into perfect posture as I gaze down at the screen, my eyes flitting from the picture to the distance from me that this Adonis—these Adonises—live. Less than one mile.

  It can't be.

  My brain rewinds to a few minutes ago when I was staring out my second story window at my neighbors. I zoom in, trying to capture the details of their faces. There is no doubt in my mind. I'm looking at a picture of them. Both of them. Sitting at a bar, dressed in business suits, smiling at the camera.

  I scroll through the rest of the photos trying to figure out which one the profile belongs to. Oddly, every single photo is of both of them. There's no indication that the profile belongs to one or the other.

  I glance at the name on the profile and smirk. 2Much4You. Players, the both of them. A screen name like that screams obvious. At least, I know they're not gay now. Or that one of them isn't gay. Though with all of the bro-dum going on in the pictures, one can't help but wonder. Maybe they're brothers. Like, legitimate brothers. One thing is for certain, though, they're definitely attached at the hip.

  Curiously, I scroll down to the space designated for their profile description. A soft huff leaves my lips as I find it empty. Typical. So many guys on this app don't even bother. Proof again that they're only looking to get laid.

  I squeeze my thighs together, a devious thought corrupting my brain. The image of me sandwiched between them is pleasant. And just looking at them turns me on. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad for me to tap the Like button and see what comes of it.

  My finger hovers over the button for a few seconds, my mind going wild with possibilities. Then reality kicks in. If they don't respond or Like me back, not only will my confidence be crushed, but I'll also become paranoid and probably try to avoid them. The thought of being trapped in my house while one or both of them are out in their garage is less than appealing.

  The mischievous smirk I was wearing dips into a frown, and I close the app with a sigh. Maybe that one semi-cute guy that I Liked will get back to me. That's the best I can hope for right now.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GARETH

  “Stop dawdling.”

  I turn just in time to get blasted in the face by the water hose. Devlin is grinning at me, but I'm just annoyed.

  “Such gratitude you show me for helping to wash your car.” I roll my eyes at him.

  “I am being grateful. It's hot. I thought you could use some cooling off.” He smirks before tossing the hose down and getting back to work scrubbing the trunk of his car.

  “I think we're being spied on.” I quickly gesture over my shoulder with my thumb, trying to keep my hand low so that our Peeping Tom doesn't notice.

  “By who? Her?” Devlin looks at the house across the street.

  “Mhm.” I nod before crouching to wipe down the front bumper.

  “So?”

  “Just thought it was worth mentioning is all.” I sigh.

  “Every neighborhood has a nosy neighbor. I guess we found ours.” He shrugs it off.

  “I suppose you're right. It's a pretty quiet neighborhood. You rarely see anyone outside.”

  “Well, that's going to change now that we're here.”

  I snort. “Oh yes, we will be the hated neighbors on the block, always out in the garage on our days off making noise.”

  “They'll get used to it.” Devlin tosses his microfiber sponge into the soap bucket and picks up the hose to rinse the car off. “Are you done?”

  “Yup.” I stand. “I think I'm going to head in and take a shower.”

  “Thanks for the help.” He doesn't even look at me as he places his finger over the hose opening to make the water come out in a spray.

  “No problem.” I toss my washcloth into the bucket before heading inside.

  Just that short period of time spent in the sun has my body feeling overheated. I turn the shower on to cold and shiver as the water kisses my skin. The stickiness and heat melt away, making me feel instantly better.

  Then all of a sudden, the water gets scalding hot.

  I cringe and jump out of the shower, cursing Devlin. No doubt, he's in one of the other bathrooms laughing his ass off. Such a dick, that one. I'll get him back though. Maybe stick his hand in warm water while he's sleeping. I could spend an entire year pranking him and still not catch up to all of the hell he's put me through since we met in middle school. Being a practical joker is his thing, though, not mine. I've always been the serious one. Perhaps that's why we balance each other out so well. His weaknesses are my strengths, and my weaknesses are his strengths. He always jokes that together we make the ultimate person. Maybe he's right.

  I finish my shower and towel off my short, blond hair before slipping on a pair of boxer briefs and heading into the living room. Devlin is sitting on the sofa grinning up at me like a loon.

  “Did you have a nice shower?”

  I glare at him. “You wait.”

  “You always say that.” He gestures at me absentmindedly before refocusing his attention on the football game on TV.

  I could not care less about football. Especially college football, which is what he's watching. Basketball is my sport. We have a rule, though, that whoever gets to the TV in the living room first gets to pick what we watch. We both have televisions in our bedrooms, so it's not like I couldn't just get up and go to my room. I feel too lazy to move right now, though.

  Out of boredom, I grab my phone off of the coffee table and open a game. It's one of those match-three games, a guilty pleasure that I typically only indulge in when I'm waiting around somewhere.

  “What are you doing?” Devlin leans over to look at my screen during the commercial break.

  “I'm ignoring you. What does it look like I'm doing?” I furrow my brow and tilt the screen away from him.

  “Pfft. Playing your little girly games? You should be using your time for more productive things.”

  “Like?”

  “Like finding us a date for tonight.” He smirks, putting on his player face. I can't help but laugh at him. He looks so damn cheesy.

  “Finding us a date for tonight.” I nod. “Does that mean we're looking for hit it and quit it?”

  “Naw, man. I thought we talked about this already.” His expression twists in offense.

  “We did.” I exhale deeply as I close the game and pull up the dating app.

  To be honest, after nearly six months of unsuccessfully trying to find a girl who wants to be in a relationship with both of us, I've just about given up. It's a lot easier to find someone who just wants to have a threesome. Sex is uncomplicated. But I know deep down that's not what either one of us needs. We need something with more substance. Something regular. Something real.

  “I really don't think this is working. Maybe we should try something else.” I scan through the girls at a fast pace, not really putting much effort in. Devlin should be the one doing this. He's the one who still has some optimism left.

  “Oh, don't look so excited. And don't be so picky.” He snatches the phone out of my hand when he realizes I'm not really looking, just going through the motions.

  “I'm not being picky. I'm being a realist.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the sofa. “Finding a girl who wants to date two men is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “We found Debra.” He doesn't even glance at me, and I cringe knowing that he's Liking every single semi-attractive girl he comes across, trawling the never ending sea of girls in the area, hoping to catch one that's willing to accept the strange arrangement that we want. It's proof that he's starting to wear down too. I can tell, even if he won't admit it.

  “Debra.” My heart aches as her name rolls off of my tongue. I haven't said it in such a long time—haven't tasted the sweetness of it.

  “The one that got away.” There's a
hint of depression in Devlin's tone.

  “Yeah. The one that got away.”

  I can still remember the day she boarded a plane to go teach English in Japan. We had both loved her, and she had loved us. Because of that love, we let her go. Not like we could have stopped her.

  I remember the weeks prior to her leaving spent talking to Devlin about whether or not we should follow her. With my career in the radiology field, I could have easily picked up and left. Devlin is in the army, though, and he couldn't just throw away twelve years of service to chase after her. He tried to get a transfer, but it didn't go through, and he thought it was cruel to make her wait for us for an undetermined amount of time. The selfish part of me thinks we should have asked her to wait—the part of me that was so in love. That seems like a lifetime ago now, even though it's been less than a year.

  “I wonder what she's doing right now,” I say thoughtfully.

  “Probably sandwiched between two Japs, not even thinking about us.” He quirks a halfhearted smile.

  “That's not even funny.” I tilt my head towards him, not appreciating the joke.

  The only guys I want to imagine Debra sandwiched between are Devlin and I. For as long as it's been, I can still remember the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. The taste of her lips. But it feels like those memories are fading with each passing day.

  Devlin sets the phone down on his lap for a minute, looking at me seriously. “She's not coming back, Gareth.”

  “I know.” I puff up my cheeks and blow out a painful breath.

  “This.” He picks back up the phone and shows it to me. “This is our only chance of being happy like that again. We found Debra. We'll find someone else to love us. Even if you are boring as fuck.”

  His expression cracks in amusement, but I don't smile back. My eyes are fixed on the screen. There's a very familiar face there. One I'm sure I've seen before.