did come highly recommended by the school guidance counselor.” She’d sounded doubtful.
“I’ll make sure Chase and Chance pass their finals with A’s, or your money back.”
It was done. She paid me every week. I made good on my promise.
It didn’t start out as a fuckfest. If anything, the brothers were pains in the ass to teach. They didn’t like calculus. Worse, they didn’t care about it. They were both doing poorly enough that it was threatening their place on the school team. They still didn’t care. Calculus was for douche bags, according to the brothers Murphy.
But like I said, I needed the money. There was no way I was going to let them get away with anything less than what I’d promised their mother. I could never have paid her back—I’d already spent everything she’d given me on clothes and books and music, the necessities of life.
“If you learn this—” it was the first offer I made them “—I’ll blow you.”
This stopped their stupid scribbling and wiggling around in their seats like puppies that couldn’t be made to sit. Both of them had looked up at me, eerily simultaneous. They weren’t the same person, but they did have a way of moving or saying the same thing at the same time. They were connected, no doubt about it.
“Get the fuck out,” Chase said.
“No fucking way,” Chance said.
“I will blow you both,” I told them, putting my hands flat on the table and leaning over it to look them in the eye, one at a time. I can’t remember which one I looked at first. I didn’t think it mattered then, but it would. “I will make you both come so hard you see stars.”
I would never be a teacher, had never even dreamed of it as a career, but one thing I’d learned about teaching was the effectiveness of positive reinforcement.
That was how it started. They finished their work in record time, and, aside from a few simple mistakes, correctly. As with most things in life, getting the Murphy boys to learn calc was a matter of simple motivation. I wanted them to get A’s, and they wanted my mouth on their dicks.
It wasn’t until they both dropped trou that I started thinking I might actually be getting the better end of the deal. I’d never thought much of Chase and Chance as boyfriend material. For one, they seemed sort of a package deal, despite my insistence to their mother they were two separate people. Two, they were a real pair of Weasleys, my very own Fred and George. Dark auburn hair with the pale skin to match, dark brown eyes. The freckles on their noses might’ve seemed a little Howdy Doody, but when Chase and Chance both pushed their jeans and briefs around their ankles, the only wooden puppet I thought about was the stiff, thick branches of their not-quite-identical cocks. I didn’t know at the time they’d never been with a girl before. All I saw was beauty.
And I was greedy for it.
I made them stand shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. I got on my knees in front of them. The carpet in their parents’ finished basement was thick and soft, a perfect cushion. I took them each in a hand. I slicked them with my spit. I took the first one in my mouth, and then the other. I do remember who was first, because I was looking up at him when I did it. He was looking down.
It was Chase, though it should’ve been his brother, since I picked him totally by chance. Later it would make a difference, but at the time I don’t think any of us cared. I slid his thick, pretty cock as far as I could into my mouth, and sucked, while I used my hand to stroke up and down his brother’s prick.
Both of them groaned at the same time. They sounded the same. They looked the same. In another second I discovered they tasted the same, too.
If I could’ve taken them both in my mouth at the same time, I’d have done it. As it was, they had to be satisfied with my equal but back-and-forth attention. And at the end of it, wanting to watch them both when they came, I left off the use of my lips and teeth and tongue to lean back and finish them with my hands. They shot within seconds of each other, spurting onto their flat, rippled bellies. Both of them had closed their eyes, heads bent. Mouths I would later learn were talented with kissing and licking and sucking were lax and open with their moans.
Chase was the one who looked at me first. His hand, which had been gripping the table behind him, the one on which we’d spent hours scribbling equations, loosened its grasp and stroked along my hair. His thumb passed over my lower lip, which felt swollen and wet. He blinked slowly, as if waking from some dream he didn’t want to leave.
“Fucking hell,” Chance had said, breaking the moment. “That was awesome.”
That was just the first time.
Chapter 3
“Wow,” Meredith said when I’d finished. “That is …”
I didn’t really want her to say crazy. It couldn’t dilute what had happened, couldn’t make it something it wasn’t, but still. I didn’t want her to say it like that.
“Fucking supernova hot,” Meredith said.
I flushed, heat creeping up my throat and down lower. I hadn’t told her the rest of it, but I thought I might, if she asked me. All about that long fall with the brothers Murphy, the three of us graduating from simultaneous blow jobs to cunnilingus and every combination of fucking that two cocks and a pussy can get into. It was over by Christmas.
“It’s absolutely not what I thought you’d say,” she told me with a shake of her head. “Wow. Not at all.”
“What did you think I’d say?” I’d finished my chai and break time was over, but I was curious exactly what she’d thought she knew about me.
“I told you. Hidden treasures.”
I blinked slowly under the heat of her gaze. She’d kissed a girl, sure, but what did that mean? Nothing.
There’s never any point in flirting with straight girls, you understand. Not even the “curious” ones. Straight girls have come to the conclusion that it’s perfectly okay to make out with their bestie on the dance floor as a way to get guys’ attention, or because they’re drunk, or because it’s trendy. Straight girls know that unless you eat pussy you’re just experimenting, and even if you do go down on another girl it doesn’t mean you’re a dyke.
I’m not a straight girl.
I’m not a queer girl, either. I guess you could say I’m sexually fluid. Love comes in all shapes and flavors, and I just want to be able to taste them all. But if there’s anything I learned from working at Morningstar Mocha, where the coffee flowed like Niagara Falls and waistbands expanded just by coming within a few feet of the dessert case, it’s that wanting and having are two different things.
“It was a long time ago.” I sounded lame.
“Can’t have been that long ago,” she pointed out, sounding wry. “You’re barely out of high school.”
I laughed. “Hardly. I’m twenty-six.”
“A baby,” she said, but fondly. “An experienced baby.”
Age didn’t mean much to me. “I have to get back to work. Darek’s
