Shared Signal: Going IRL Ch. 01-03

Shared Signal: Going IRL

Chapters 1-3

By Vera Monroe

Chapter One

The airport's loud speaker dinging right over my head, I jumped, bit the side of my cheek, 'cause fuck the fuck me, but this was stupid.

I swallowed, gave a little shake of my head at no one other than maybe the little girl who clung to her daddy's shoulder.

And I knew--hell, I knew that it was totally dumb, and no, not the kid.

The plan, the idea, the concept. It was totally dumb.

I let out some breath and shifted foot-to-foot in my groovy little half-boot things, and I looked down at that Flight Tracker alert still open on my phone.

For a plane that landed five minutes ago, where were its passengers?

My back dampening with even more sweat, I pretended that my eyes didn't dart around looking for them because what if, like me, they chickened the hell out, didn't come?

I mean, I'd done it twice, okay?

"Nawp, Jamie, no, not this time," the man I now knew as Trip had said. When I'd first met him, it had been in an online hiking forum. His username?

Jaysus, that dillweed's username had been and still was FrankNBeans.

"I'm not sending you another first-class ticket," his younger brother, the man I'd known only as ShartzNotDartz for almost two months, had chimed in from his respective computer screen, his incredible butt chin dusted with five o'clock shadow.

And sitting there, my shoulders slumped, gawd, I'd felt so guilty, but when Trip's office chair had squeaked and he'd literally put the phone up to his nostrils so that I could see every blade of hair and at least one or two boogers, I'd nearly farted across the room in the best-worst fear possible.

"We're comin' to you," Trip had said and shit, if they were coming, then they needed to show themselves because I couldn't tell if I was lightheaded because I was scared or dizzy because I couldn't wait.

What if, right?

What if we didn't jive in person the way we did online or over video chat?

That thought alone made both sides of my neck flippin' beat.

Green eyes up to the clock on the wall just in case the clock on my phone stopped working, I pulled up our group chat and sure, maybe I smiled, but maybe I hurt inside a bit, too.

I mean, what if they didn't like the fact that my smile in real life was crooked?

What if they thought my pictures were pretty, but in real life, they thought I looked like dog shit?

Murphy, I mean ShartzNotDartz, was Will Murphy after all, or that's what he said.

Shit, his brother said it, too, and he was, I was sure of it.

And Will Murphy could have any woman he wanted. He was on People Magazine's Sexiest People list, so why was he hanging out with me, his stupidass dorky eldest brother, and talking video games, hiking spots, hair bands, and bad movies?

I looked at our group text, my insides maybe softening.

It was super cute.

For the last twenty-four hours, they'd sent me horrible videos and pictures of a series Trip now called, "How to Get on a Plane and Not Fucking Flake: An Homage to Homegurl Jamie."

I'd gotten side-by-side pictures of them packing, Trip at his place in the city, Murph at his place in those rich LA 'burbs, and the fact that Trip had had his hair pulled up in a big topknot of a sprocket on top of his head had made me feel the best sick.

I looked up from my phone, the picture of their travel bags, because my heart dashed when I thought I saw some new freaking feet.

Arriving passengers would come down a hall and you'd see their feet before they got on an escalator down.

My temples pounding, I looked at the next one, a short edit Trip had made, and, hell, closed my eyes because if I was smart, I woulda already sold this one to the paps or one of Murphy's many fansites filled with girls and gays who talked about his ass.

It was Will Murphy, the quarterback, sitting on the toilet, pants on the floor, and Trip's caption?

Just re-reading the line made me flush; a giggle start to form deep inside.

Beware: Mud Butt

Mud Butt. Because that is what we were like. We were friends--although I'd never met either one in person.

"I think that's Mom," the man with the girl in his arms said, took a step forward, and I dunno, but I just felt that he was right.

There weren't just more feet; there was more noise, too, and the nausea filled me, a thrush of hot tingling up my back.

What if that natural ease we all had wasn't there?

What if--

Hell and shit, but admitting it made me freeze after my eyes held their blink for too long--

- But we all flirted, okay?

Trip flirted with me and I flirted back.

Murphy? Murphy the fuck did, too, and the strangest part?

Jaysus, I sucked in the air, cold rushing through my nose; I really did see double.

The strangest part was that they both flirted with me, both in front of each other and privately, and I had no idea, okay, how the fuck that was gonna go in person.

Like, would they still do it?

Did I want them to?

And for whatever reason, I flopped forward, hands on my knees, focus totally on these arriving feet. I didn't want to miss them.

Then again, what if they were messing with me? What if they wanted to hurt me, physically or emotionally?

I almost dropped my phone when it vibrated in my hand.

That bish better be here, Trip's new message landed in the group chat, and I felt icicles erupt all over my body so I stood straight, adjusted my corduroy baby doll dress, and I fired right back.

So, I got an APB out for two douchebags, I typed, my smile already the fuck popping.

Ho, please. She ain't coming, Murphy's words lit up my screen, and I felt my throat fucking catch.

Believe it or not, I thought that I'd really hurt him. Murphy, Shartz, the man every woman wanted to be with, had asked me to come to a major game. He'd sent me a freaking ticket.

And what had I done?

I'd sat in the corner of my kitchen, everything in my cabin unplugged and I'd been so gutted that I couldn't even cry.

I blinked at the memory, fought to fight the fear because, yeah, I knew it, okay?

I knew that if I fucked this time up, they'd be through, and I looked down at my phone, started to fire back, but wait, maybe I didn't have to.

Everything around me faded because there was no way it wasn't them.

Murphy stood behind Trip, black ball cap pulled down low, sunglasses on, and they looked at Trip's phone.

And I had no choice; my body just let out a whine, and excitement propelled me towards them for the simple fucking fact that I wanted to get a dig in on them because I so totally could.

Standing right in front of the escalators, I held my hand over my mouth like it was a walkie talkie and I went for it.

"All units! All units! This is base!" it was muffled through my hands, but I was sure they heard it because the woman next to me took a big step away from me.

But those two assholes?

Shit, they pretended to be engrossed in conversation and they kept the fuck going.

"We got two douchebags definitely incoming!" I was up on my toes, those turds walking right the fuck past me with an exaggerated nonchalance.

And then my heart started to thud even more when suddenly, they stopped and, just inches from me, Trip in real life and not over the Internet, tapping his chin, my throat filling with tears.

"See, Murph, told ya she wasn't comin," he said.

But I was right the fuck there and just trying to breathe.

I think that Murphy beatboxed with his mouth and he gave a little shrug. "Yeah, well, I know a great strip club in Centennial."

Feeling like I was sweating combined with the tears that swamped my throat, I slid up even closer behind them.

"Beavis, are you ignoring me or is it-"

Trip didn't even let me call Murphy Butthead because he clotheslined me, his armpit the line and suddenly, I was pressed up against his body, my tears leaking all over that blue henley.

"Jeez, Jamie, it's nice to finally see you," Trip's voice was even better in real life.

It felt like warm caramel in my ears.

And his scent?

He smelled like musk, apple, and birch.

"And what is with the waterworks 'cause ain't no cryin' in online gaming," Murphy's voice was deep and I felt it seep into my skull.

Murphy tugged me from his brother, and when he hugged me, he tucked his huge arms around me, total hot dog in a bun.

I felt him kiss the top of my head and my breath hitched.

It hitched when I tried to sniff to lock in his scent because apparently, unlike his brother, Will "ShartzNotDartz" Murphy smelled like dark cherry cured in jasmine, some cedarwood mixed in the blend.

"Told ya she don't deserve to sit at the Big Kid table," Trip said dryly, his caramel voice irritating me for the simple fact that in real life, it turned me on even more.

Yet when I shook my head and looked up at him, I could see from his eyes that my tears did something to him, but when he sighed, took a step to stand right in front of me, and thumbs ran under my eyes to wipe the tears away, for a second, just a second, I thought this dweeb was sweet.

"Jamie, Jamie, Jamie," he clucked his stupid tongue with each Jamie, obviously my name. "You know when you cry it makes all of these freckles on your nose and at the tops of your cheeks flare and flame up, huh?"

I rolled my eyes and smacked his hot hand away.

And when he jumped back playfully as if he was scared, it made me choke on a bite of laughter.

But Murph? He didn't choke on anything.

Those broad, muscled shoulders just fucking shaking as he laughed, I focused my eyes on him.

"At least I have eyes. I mean, who are you, Ray Charles?" I arched my eyebrow as I said it, my heart feeling like it thundered in a race.

And it didn't faze him.

That turd licked his pretty lips, tossed his bag up and onto his shoulder, and he shrugged, his arm going up and over my shoulders.

"Nah, I think I like to think of myself more as a Stevie Wonder," he clapped back, Trip sliding up next to me, both men at my sides.

"Fug that, Murph, what have you won? Like, combined, they have fifty Grammys and a shit ton more of the others," Trip got in on the action.

"Okay, the last time you won somethin', Trip, it was the seventh grade and it was a faux golden protractor," Murphy didn't laugh when he said it because they both always seemed to go for the throat.

"Oooh," I chuckled and I rolled my eyes, my smile so big that my cheeks hurt. "A golden protractor?"

And because Trip was Trip, he was even smoother in person, and suddenly I was under his arm, Murphy shaking his head.

"You should see it, James," he sucked his lip in his mouth and looked up to the heavens.

"Yeah, totally should. I mean, Mom still has it on the fridge along with my Super Bowl rings," Murphy interrupted.

And Trip?

"Yeah, that you got from sitting in the bitch seat and ridin' the pine!" he fired right back.

And I stepped ahead and turned to face them, tires squeaking on the floor above in the parking deck.

"Girls, I bet your mama loves you for what's inside," I said and I made a heart with my fingers, shoving it in the center of my chest, and yeah, I felt my cheeks flush.

I loved that they both dropped their heads, gave in, and laughed, the sounds filling my core even if the exhaust fumes in the parking deck gave me cancer.

Finally, though, Murphy gave it to me.

He tugged his glasses off, and he gave me a full view of his face.

"Well, that escalated quickly," Trip smacked his lips and said it drily, my entire body flaming from top to bottom when he said it because I knew I stared.

And Will Murphy?

He was handsome with or without the sunglasses on, but with them off, he looked like a stereotypical Greek god.

He had the chiseled jaw, the deep butt chin, and two perfect dimples that popped, but his eyes weren't caramel like Trip's eyes and Trip's voice.

Murph's were butterscotch, had a warm, golden hue.

"I'm over here," I gestured with my head and it made Murphy grunt.

"And corduroy, Jamie? Like, what-the-fuck?"

I put my hands on my hips for that and stomped a little harder.

"What the fuck, what the fuck?" I snorted. "Like, dude, you totally picked this out!"

I watched him take a step forward, felt his heat, and smelled his sexy scent, my heart beating in my ears because, yes, people, yes.

As I said, both men had been flirting with me, and I'd been flirting back.

But that wasn't all of what we did.

Just like two nights ago when I'd watched him wail on that ten-inch cock and yes, that was the bare minimum because I was sure that if he straightened the curve it had to the right, it woulda added an inch, maybe even two.

I heard Murphy's hand zip and vibrate over the rough fabric when he slid his hand to the small of my back.

"Meh," he smiled, gave me a smack of his lips. "Maybe I was distracted, huh?"

And the way that fucker tilted his head, the way he opened his mouth and made me see the glint of his teeth?

Fuck, I flushed at the memory, of how he'd grunted my name as he'd jerked that cock.

"Put the camera lower; I want to see how fast your finger is fucking that incredible pussy. I want to hear it," he'd squeaked it.

"If I'm watching you flog that fucking 'phin, Murph, then I can't move my phone too much," I'd shot back because watching him jerk off, the bands in his neck standing up, his eyes simmering and dark, was more than a turn-on.

"I dunno," Trip cleared his voice and really, if he knew that there was an underlying sexual tension, Trip didn't let on--or it didn't bother him because he already knew and that fact alone?

Well, that fact alone scared the shit outta me, okay, because Murphy wasn't the only one I was-

I dunno. I was online fucking?

"Do that again, Jame, please. Rub your tits like that, squeeze 'em, lemme see," Trip's strained voice had requested just two days ago from his position in front of his bathroom mirror, his stubby white hand on his beer can of a cock because if Murphy was long and thin, then Trip's peen looked like a can of soda, and for whatever reason, seeing it always triggered a pulse in my asshole.

"Fuck, Trip," I'd told him breathlessly, the machine that looked like a fucking flower right up on my clit under that heat of my water, my hand rough on my tit because with Trip, I used my phone stand. Honestly, I couldn't lose another phone to the water.

"I wanna, baby, please," he'd whined it like it was painful and my entire world had burst into flames.

Hell, not only had I cum yet the flip again, but he had, too, and watching his cum strings shoot like Silly String had been even better than that sucking flower.

Well, almost.

"Wow, is this it?" Trip pointed to the van and when I nodded, both of those twerps bust out in immediate laughter, my face so hot it was painful.

But I hid it well because, shit, I owned my dork-dom.

"I told you," I gave a shrug. "I work for Darby-Wilson College."

"And are you over the transportation fleet?" poor Murphy looked intrigued, but he kinda looked a little leery.

I manually had to unlock the driver's door and I did, the damned thing creaking just to point out its many flaws.

I hit the "unlock all" button and heard the sharp click and then I looked at them, watched, observed, whatever you want to call it, because--

Fuck a duck, because--

I was half-afraid to leave with them.

I sucked my lower lip in, my heart going so fast.

I felt like I could talk to either of them and both of them about anything--but this.

"Unless I want to broadcast my comings and goings, then this is what you get. My other ride has a driver attached," I shrugged, and I knew I needed to say something, but I couldn't.

Trip knew what I did with Murphy.

Murphy knew what I did with Trip.

I didn't think they got specific, but there were times they snapped at each other over it.

And the bruises on their faces and hands?

Sure, three months ago, they coulda lied, told me anything, but the fact that they'd not said one fucking syllable about it when asked was all that I'd needed to know.

I was afraid they'd fought over me.

Scratch that--

I was afraid they'd fight over me, and this weekend?

Shit, I was scared that they thought it was a booty call.

Chapter Two

"So this is it, eh?" Trip nodded his head when he walked back out to my living room and I loved the way he cleaned his glasses on his shirt.

No, strike that.

I loved the way he looked when he wore those brown tortoise-shell glasses.

"Whaddya think?" he'd asked me three months ago as he'd been at fucking Lens Crafters, and yeah, we'd been on hour seventy-five of "Trip Picks Out Frames."

"Hm, I dunno. I mean, I know you said that these are the opposite of what you want, but I think they make you look sexy-smart and they add to your Irish-Setter-fucked-a-pufferfish lewk," I'd replied and I'd loved it when the clerk had laughed yet Trip had looked happily embarrassed, the smile never leaving his face.

"What's this, y'all?" Monica was her name and she'd asked it with a cock of a heavily drawn-on eyebrow.

Trip had been too busy laughing and I'd had no issue explaining it.

"C'mon, Monica," I'd been playful. "Does he not look like a pufferfish when he smiles? A puffer mixed with maybe some dog?"

Monica?

Well, Monica had laughed, and she'd honestly danced around answering because she obviously wanted to keep her job, but that didn't change the fact that due to three uneven deep dimples in his right and two very crooked deep dimples in his left, when Trip really smiled, he looked like a baby pufferfish. It was true.

"This is it," I said, rounding the counter from my kitchen to where he stood in my living room. "The fancy life, right?"

I giggled as I said it, and I stepped forward, handing him a mug of freshly made coffee, and it should've been a quick exchange, yet it wasn't.

I dunno.

It was like his hand was in the handle of the cup but I still held the cup and we were literally that close.

And I looked into his incredibly handsome, pufferfish face, my insides felt like grape jelly.

"And what-the-butt, Jame, but what is up with that laugh?" he said it kinda low and kinda shy.

I jumped because I realized that I still held the coffee I'd given to him, and I tucked some crazy wavy auburn hair behind my ear and took a tiny step back.

"You're just, I dunno, FrankNBeanz, maybe you're even more adorable in person than you are on FaceTime?" I squeaked it out in a question because I didn't want him to know how turned on I was or that my nipples hadn't stopped throbbing.

And, well, fuck me, but since the car ride, I'd definitely decided that if this was a booty call, then neither Trip nor Murphy knew it.

The entire car ride to campus, after all, had been us just riffing.

"You know, I'm not too sure about a girl handling this big machine," Murph had said, his body behind me, his head dashed in the middle of the seat because, yes, they'd fucking fought over who got to ride shotgun.

I'd sat their asses in the back.

"Meh, I think you're right; a tricycle is more like her speed," Trip had added, and I'd looked at both of those dorks in the mirror.

And I hadn't hesitated. I'd gone with the riff. "That's what she said," I replied and that's how the whole car ride went.

It was easy. It was fun.

It was the opposite of a booty call.

I looked back at Trip and I loved that what I said made that bastard smile harder.

And when he tipped his chin up, watch me watch him as he sipped some coffee?

Fuck a duck, I cannot tell you how electricity shot through my body.

"So more adorable in person than on FaceTime, huh?"

My heart hammered when he reached over, slipped his finger through the center of one of my curls, and tilted his head.

"What about my pictures? Do I look like my pictures?"

Jaysus, it was a loaded question and I knew it.

I'd loved his pictures.

I'd loved Murphy's, too.

I had ones of them as kids, ones from college, life.

I had some amazing dick pics too.

My eyes for whatever reason, opted to flutter.

"I mean, the pictures are good, great, but nothing like the real thing, am I--?"

Murphy?

Just like he'd taken over my car, farted to "mark his territory," he took over my cabin, too.

He squirted through, grunting into his cell phone, and as he passed Trip?

Good night, as he passed his brother, he reached right the hell over and stole-snapped the mug of coffee right from his brother's grip.

Then that fucker slurped from the mug, rimmed it with his tongue, sat it on the coffee table, and flopped his fine ass on my sofa, growling, "get it done!" into the call and then hanging up.

"You are such a twat," Trip muttered.

His comment made me feel like I choked on a jelly bean and I followed Trip, started back to my kitchen.

"Who you tellin' to 'get it done'?" I asked as I walked by the sofa, but I didn't get very far.

As soon as I got within a finger-length grasp of him, he grabbed me, hauled me to his chest as he lay there.

And I hoped and I prayed, okay, that he didn't smell what must have been a full cup of my pussy juice because it had only gathered as the day progressed.

"Right now, ho, I tellin' you to get it done, but on the phone?" he sighed, and internally I cried because it was so unfair that he had the chin of Henry Cavill.

It was unfair that Henry Cavill had his own chin; it was so nice.

"Mark and Brian. It's like, fix it, get it done; I don't want to deal with it," he blew hot air from his nose and my belly bobbled.

Mark and Brian were his other two brothers and they managed his life.

Murph said recently he'd felt as if they'd been all up his ass.

"Can I tell you somethin'?" It had been three months ago when he asked, when he'd finally forgiven me, and I'd endured a month of his silent treatment.

We'd been lying in bed.

Murphy had been in his bed in his family home in North Carolina and I'd been in my bed in Colorado.

"Shoot, anything," I'd whispered back.

We'd had our phone propped on pillows.

"Mark is dragging me to the doctor tomorrow and I'm scared," he'd licked his lips and by the way he'd flared his nostrils, I knew that it was true. He'd looked desperate.

"I haven't been able to get it up, like, my dick. Mark says it's affecting my relationship with the guys on the team 'cause I'm not hittin' up the clubs, gettin' laid."

The only reaction I'd had was to shake my head because what in the fuck did I know? I didn't have these types of problems.

"What do you mean?" I'd asked, totally confused, yes, but also massively embarrassed.

I'd dropped my voice even lower. "Was that not you who, I shit you not, shot cum onto the wall two days ago?"

I'd asked it because he had.

We'd been in a video call and he'd been standing as I'd told him how I wanted to lick his dick and stick my tongue in the hole.

Murphy had sighed again and then he'd dropped his voice even lower.

"It's only with you, Jamie. I mean, I can't even get off, like, alone."

Trip didn't even hesitate his step when he came by. He flicked his brother's ear, kept right on going, sitting on my coffee table, our knees the freak touching.

"And maybe you're still not addressing the problem, hm?" Trip offered, but he kept his head down.

Trip?

He tried not to get involved. He'd opted out of the family business and even refused Murphy's money.

And yet?

And yet, he showed up, travelled to every single game on his own dime.

But he didn't care to be involved, and really, up until recently, he hadn't even lived close.

Murphy's hand slid up my lower back, and it made everything tingle.

"I hoped that this would, but it just seems to have made it all worse. Mark is super-pissed that I turned my tag off, and I'm like, fuck it, it's none of your business."

Trip's hand slipped in the crease behind my bent knee and my body strobed.

"He knows you're here; don't think he don't," Trip nodded, and Mark?

I didn't want to think about Mark so I didn't.

Instead of ending the misery of being touched by both, because no, this wasn't a booty call, I pushed up from my seat on Murphy's chest, loving that Trip rubbed my calf when I spun away.

I wasn't a huge fan of Mark's. He'd called me a liar when I'd told him who I was.

"You okay, James?" Murphy asked, his dark eyebrow arched.

Murphy's hair was dark brown, almost black, yet Trip was fair, looked like their mother.

Christ, I stepped and when I did, I felt it. More of my cream escaped my purring vagina and I didn't dare shift.

"I don't know," I fiddled with the cuff of the sleeve of that burgundy corduroy dress that made me look like a hippy, and I was suddenly super shy.

I just felt like they saw me.

I shrugged a little.

"I dunno, seeing you in person, talking to you in person, smelling you in person--it's weird, but a good weird, and it's comfortable, yet my body is like, is it, and then when I'm like, yea, I dunno, it's weird," I really said nothing, yet I really said everything.

I just doubted anyone could understand.

I felt the heat waterfall around me, Trip now sitting next to Murphy, now seated as well.

And they both crossed their legs.

Trip sucked on the stems of his glasses and pretended to be lost in thought.

Murphy?

Shit, Murphy pushed his pointer finger into his cleft chin. He made a look like he was really pondering.

I swear, okay, I swear it lasted a full minute, but perhaps not.

"It's a good thing, Jamie, that I think I completely agree with you on this," Trip pushed his glasses back on and Murph snapped his fingers.

"It's one of those hard things to put into words, but I mean, I think you just handled how I feel perfectly, but then again, James, maybe that's why you're the expert, huh?"

Just the way he said it fucking lit me on the inside.

These two assholes knew what I sputtered on about.

I walked to the counter to get my coffee, my vagina silently squelching with each step.

"I feel like we're likely in the same realm of economic bracket and yet you live here, drive the school SUV?" Murphy asked and I felt my knees sag.

"Trust me, we're not. You have millions, but I really don't," I said because I didn't.

"Then what are you doin', Jamie, because it's the one thing that I don't get?" Trip asked and I knew it was a question they both had.

I took a sip of my coffee and then I put it down, my hands out in front of me as if I said, "whoa, hold back!"

"That's just it, Trip, I have no idea what I'm doing. When I wrote those stories, I was at the lowest point in my life. They're horrible, nothing that I'd ordinarily write, and when they just popped, went viral, what was I supposed to do, huh? Tell them to stop the presses?" I stopped pacing around.

I picked up and sipped my coffee.

I waited for their judgment.

It came, and it was the same basic discussion Trip and I had had before.

"How can you say Echoes from Home isn't easily one of the most influential bodies of work out there?"

I sighed. The thought, okay?

It made me want to cry.

I stood back on my heels and I shook my head.

"Because for me, it isn't, and I love that people love it; I do, but I don't feel like that's my work," I said it simply and it was the truth.

Murphy squeezed his lips and then he looked over at me, his eyes so warm, yet at the same time, so deep.

"And lemme guess?" he nodded. "You feel like a fraud, and because all of these good things came out of it, you feel obligated, but--"

I nodded along because Murphy, I think, understood.

His story was basically not unlike mine.

He'd drafted low, been expected to be just a practice squad player, then retire.

He'd ridden the pine for two seasons, then been traded.

And because he hadn't shit the bed and he'd taken them to the playoffs with just a half of a season under his belt, it wasn't like Murphy could say no to three-quarters of a billion dollars.

Hm. Same boat, just lesser amounts of water.

"-- But because I don't feel like I deserve it, it all makes me nervous. Like, at the end of this appointment, this college expects the same level of product as Echoes and there is no way I can produce that so every day I sit here and I play around at being a quote 'Writer-in-Residence,' and I run workshops and go to dinner and advise and oversee students, but at the end of it all, what am I supposed to do, huh?"

Murphy leaned back on my couch and he crossed his arms, and Trip?

That shitbrick made sure that I saw him roll his eyes, and then he stood, and he grabbed me by both of the hands.

He parked me next to Murphy, who only made duck lips at me.

"Well, I'm gonna change my position on whatever it is your wearing so maybe you got that right, okay?"

I slagged my shoulders, but I let out a little laugh. It was cute, it really was, and grits, I felt like I was on fire once again.

"That's what you got?" I asked, felt the heat creep up my neck.

Murph shrugged and there was no way he didn't know he was sexy, okay?

"Did it make you pause, your BP go down just a point?" his voice was like molasses, warm and sweet.

I felt prickles of heat dash on my skin, but fuck, this was not no booty call, and Trip? Well, Trip kept it straight.

He pointed a finger gun at me even though we were again knee-to-knee because his butt was on my coffee table.

"It's the socks that sell it, Murph, nothin' else," Trip winked as he lifted my knee up so that the top part of my leg was on his lap, the calf down to the shoe hanging ring in front of Murphy. "You knit them yourself?"

"Naw," I saw like I was some hillbilly hick, my so-called "BP," as Murph called it, cranked up to a solid seven hundred.

I sat next to Murphy. Trip sat on my coffee table, and my leg connected us all.

"Daaammmmnn, I think you're right," Murphy's smile was playful and he tugged on the little boot sock, his fingernails all shiny.

I slapped his hand playfully away.

"Sir, please don't finger my shoe!"

I acted like I was Jane Austen, my hand over my chest, and wiggled away from a hand that tickled me, my back arching as I drooled a bit as I struggled back up to my feet.

"If it's not the socks, then, Trip, it's gotta be the hair," Murphy said it, but it wasn't his hands that tickled me.

His were lower, just above the back of my knees.

Trip's were the ones in my side, and that?

Oingo-fucking-boingo was that confusing yet did my body feel painfully raw.

"Smokes, it's gotta be the hair. It's like the inside of a deep fire. It's both black and it's kinda red. I dunno, Jame, but it's you," Trip said it.

He said it right in front of his brother and I was no expert, no, but I felt like there was a lot of sexual tension.

It felt like wet laundry hanging.

Murphy--

Murphy touched me.

Using his forearm, he ran it under my hair and then his other hand twisted it, cool air hitting where it had once been hot around my neck and fuck that duck, but I felt like I had broken glass nipples that just wanted to cut some skin.

"It could also be the freckles. I mean, they do say everything about her, and they're so incredibly sexy."

Wow, and the way he said it?

It was deep; it was perhaps a growl, and it all made my body want to short-circuit.

Again, this wasn't no booty call and I didn't want to be the one to fuck anything up, but before I passed out, I tried to take a step.

Trip's hands, though?

They skimmed down my arms, felt like the wings of a hummingbird.

He stopped one on my lower back, Murphy still the hell there, his hand wrapped in my hair.

The walls closing in; little shivers of panic disguised as pleasure ran through me.

And just as I tried to open my mouth to remind them that this was not a booty call?

Crikey, I felt his lips smooth over mine in tiny snap of electricity, and I felt myself literally move in.

Trip's mouth was soft, but his kiss was strong. It was never unclear until it was gone.

I stood there like an asshole.

I closed my eyes, then I opened them again, because no, this wasn't me.

"Dudes," I said, but it wasn't like I could look up.

For one, they already knew that my freckles said everything about me and my mood so I had to shield from that.

"This isn't a booty call," I finished it, my entire body shaking, and yeah, I caught Murphy. I caught him with a pen and a folded-up piece of paper in his hand.

I side-eyed his square of paper and then I looked at him right in those butterscotch eyes, ignoring that they sparked at me.

"And I will not sign an NDA."

This, the NDA, was a beef Mark and I had.

Murphy didn't avoid my eyes when he gave me a shrug of his shoulders.

"I won't make you either, Jamie," he said, sticking it and the pen in the little basket on my coffee table.

"Then what is it that you two want, huh?" I felt like I was inside the bottom of a wave and it pulled my words.

"Fuck that, Jamie, 'cause that's not fair. I know that I, for one, have been super clear what it is that I want so what is it that you want?"

I really didn't have a good answer so I went with the only one I knew.

I went with the truth even though it made me dizzy.

"I-I don-n't want to lose two p-people I con-nsider m-my best f-riends, like, sh-shit, sisters from an-nother mister, but I know," I paused because I had to. I could barely breathe.

I gestured my hands in a circle to encompass both men, the universal "you."

"I just don't think I can make you happy that way. You're both, like, Olymp-pic level, and I-I'm, like Trip said, ridin' a t-tricycle?"

Silence.

I mean, I could hear the clock in my bedroom silence.

And it was digital.

Then Murphy shifted. He pulled on his shirt.

"Not gonna lie, I think she just implied that I'm a whore or somethin'."

"Or a freak. Does she mean I'm a freak, too?" Trip pretended to be angry-offended, but I dunno, the man wasn't, I mean, not really.

"And Murphy, let's not lie, you are a whore."

"I was a whore. I told ya, I haven't been fuckin' lately," Murphy shot back and if they were hoping that their bickering would fucking sway me, then--

Shit, it did.

I tried not to laugh when they both ignored me, turned to face the other.

"I brought test results. All clean, like pristine," Trip was obviously proud.

And Murphy stepped up. "And you think I didn't? I brought two hard copies and I have a copy on my phone because I keep my cookie clean, too!"

"Girl, that's not what all those fangirls on those message boards say, is it, Jamie?"

I rolled my eyes at that.

When I'd finally started to accept the fact that for two months I'd been online chatting with someone I'd see on my TV, I'd found these little nests of viper women in online communities who all claimed to have fucked him.

Naturally, okay, and because I'm curious, I'd joined and gotten some really good dirt.

And, yes, I loved lobbing accusations at him, loved how it made Trip laugh, and Murphy just rolled his eyes.

But the two sets of brown eyes that looked back at me then as I pointed at my chest?

"Oh, me, huh? You remembered me?" I sputtered because they often got fucking lost in their own side-arguments and as cute as it was, I was freaking out over here.

And Murphy?

Welp, based just on the tight frown on his beautiful face, he seemed really pissed, and in less than a half breath, he yanked me to him, and I fucking crashed.

His face plummeting towards mine, his hand on my chin, I heard him say, "And maybe that's the problem, Jamie, I always remember you. I can't get you off of my mind," just before his hands burrowed into my hair, and I had no reason not to do that same, to reach up and weave my hand behind his neck, and when his mouth touched me, Murphy's kiss was wet, and shit, but both those brothers together?

My word, they were both fast, had an energy like no other, and it shattered my space-time continuum.

Chapter Three

For real, my cheeks burned.

"How much wood do you think we need?" Trip asked, his breath cloudy in the cooling air, his brown eyes the chief reason my cheeks burned so badly.

I mean, it was one of those slow burns, if I'm being honest, and I'm pretty sure that, yeah, it was likely from my continuous stupid smiling, or my fucking laughter, for the last ninety minutes because, as hot as Murphy's kiss had been--

And as hot as Trip's return visit of a kiss had been, it was probably a good thing that they hadn't tossed me down, fucked me together just like in so many of my imaginations.

Instead, those two incredible mouths had insisted on a tour of campus, the town attached.              

"Maybe just that armful. Murphy's load is a good start," I said, my eyes on Murph's back as he was on his knees in front of my fireplace, Trip's scent blowing in with the cold and the pending night.

I'd bought them ice cream, and yes, I'd known full well and good that Megan, one of the students in my advising group, saw us, just as I was certain many others I knew saw, too, and when we were stopped?

Shit, when we were stopped, both men were moderately well-behaved.

Trip?

Well, Trip had run his finger one hundred percent up the center of my back and then left his hand on my shoulder all as Mrs. Lowenthal had dished up ice cream and stared at his turned-in dimples.

And that dork Murphy?

Jaysus, he'd attempted to suck my brain from my ear, his mouth wide, his sound like an alien-cow-milking-vacuum-machine, the side of my head just so wet, and all in close proximity to two students, Candace and Flynn.

"That's what she said," Murph's voice was deep. It made my smile deepen, my cheeks burn even more.

And you woulda thought, too, that with each step my long legs took, it would have cooled that sear between my legs, that sharp feeling in my back pucker hole, or even those zings in my tits, but nope, it sure as shit did not.

"Dude," I snapped my fingers at Trip.

I loved that he'd tucked his flannel around me when we'd started to walk back, but it had really nothing to do with the flannel, the fabric itself.

I loved that he didn't ask.

I loved that he just did it and that he made it clear that there was no way you could refuse it.

"Where's your witty one-liner about wood? Maybe, 'this wood's for you'?" I asked, maybe I playfully fucking flirted, okay, and Trip didn't miss a beat.

His shirt dusty with tiny chips of bark, his hands were cold on my hip bones as he pulled my ass to his crotch, his body enveloping me, my body throbbing, moving, finding rhythm in time.

"Cricket, Jamie, I often pine for a good wood joke," Trip's chuckle was always free, and that alone made my nostrils flare like a horse's.

I was really glad his laughter was free in person, in real life, too.

But when his hands came up, fisted through my hair, and he twisted it so that he could hold my head back on his shoulder, I nearly fucking melted.

"Yeah, playah, that was pretty bad," I grunted because I wasn't sure if Trip was playing but my nipples surely were not.

Chafed. At some point, I started to realize that they were perhaps chafed.

"Pretty bad, Jamie, was going through that campus and that town seeing how much those people value you and how uncomfortable that makes you. Like, dude, whether you consider Echoes yours or not, the Library of Congress does," Trip said it from behind me, his hand still wrapped in my hair, what was obviously a hard-on pressing up into my back making any nerve ending that still the hell hadn't joined that party get on deck.

"Pretty bad, Jamie," his voice fell softer, his breath was hot on my neck, and then I felt his mouth, the peppering of kisses, his hand on my breast. "That I loved going with you today because of all the times I've walked that same path with you before, just from the inside of the phone."

And I dunno, okay?

I dunno what took over me.

Perhaps it was the fact that I felt lightheaded and dizzy, maybe even felt like this was the best day of my life, but I curved and curled right back into him, my hips crazy-shifting to a beat that drummed deep inside my body, and his mouth was right there.

I tilted my head back, I gave his hot mouth better access, and it was loud.

Shit, I could hear his tongue roll, smack, and suck over mine, his tongue sliding over the roof of my mouth, and I gasped, back arching.

"Don't run," Trip said it into my mouth, a total shift in his body or maybe it was just me, but everything seemed softer yet increasingly heated, and his hand gripped my ass as his tongue swept into my mouth, showing me just how we were connected.

"Oh."

Heaven's to Betsy, the sound came from Murphy and I jumped, turned to see him standing there, one of those long matchsticks lit hanging from his fingers.

Me dying because 'what-the-fuck-am-I-doing' was settling in, Murphy made a show of blowing the tiny flame out.

His eyes abnormally wide, he sorta made a finger air circle toward our still-clung-together bodies.

"I didn't know phase three started. I thought it was make a fire, then phase three so-"

He put his hands in his pockets and then that asshole rocked back and forth on his feet and he looked too incredibly cute doing it.

"What's phase 2?" I asked it; the words came out of my mouth, and I was so confused yet so turned on and Trip?

He breathed a bit like a grunting ape.

Murphy threw his elbows out to the side in questioning. "I dunno, Jame, but Phase One is collect the underpants, then there's Phase Two," he paused, the corners of his mouth shaking. "And then there's phase three, profit."

I don't know where it came from, but I let out a whoosh of air, and I turned totally away from Trip, who was laughing.

"You're back on the South Park underwear gnome business plan? How old are you?" I squinted my eyes at him.

And in two steps, I loved that he was right in front of me, the dusting of the whiskers on his face making him look even more rugged and woodsy.

"I dunno; maybe how old are you, huh? I mean, you seem to have gotten the reference," his hand ran up the side of my cheek, fucking razor blades pricking in its path.

I did get the reference.

That was the sad thing.

I got all of their references and they got all of mine.

Feeling like I was gonna puke in his face, I tapped out, gave a shake of my head because for once, I had nothing that even quasi-looked like a comeback.

"Guys," I said it as I pulled away from Murphy's hand. I put both feet back on the floor and returned to normal life. "I'm not this person. There is no way I can keep up and there is no way I'm choosing. I'm not beautiful and most people think I'm a dorky nerd stuck in the middle school AV club.

"No one's asking you to choose," Trip said. "All we want, all I want, is for you for one second to consider the fact that you, yes, you may not consider yourself much. You may not think your body is banging, or that maybe people would love to stare at your ass for days, but some of us do, and I, for one, am one of them, so you owe it to me; I deserve it, Jamie, I do, and I wanna worship your body."

"Gladly," Murphy cleared his throat and he raised his hand like he was in fucking school, my body so hot that my skin felt tight. "I will gladly start with your incredible tits that are so round and huge, just like on our video calls."

I paused my freak-out, but not really. I just couldn't help but call him out. It was who I was after all.

"And they're natural. Do you touch many natural ones?"

"No, not at all so this would be a training exercise, too," Murphy bit his lower lip; he looked all hangdog and sexy.

"I've had lots of practice, too."

I don't know what came over me; I don't, but I felt like I was in slow motion yet rapid fire when Murphy nudged my arms up, and then in seconds that stupid ass corduroy romper was off of my body, tossed on the floor and Murphy's jaw was rough against my palm.

I heard a growl and I savored, felt the feel of his whiskers before I slipped shaky fingers up through the back of his hair.

Our mouths crashed together, teeth clanking, a grind until I turned my head, my body oddly tight like marble.

And then I felt the other one.

I felt Trip.

"Fuck," I heard Murphy say it, but as he turned away, one hand to his lips as if he still tasted that amazing kiss, the other on my hip as if I were a base.

I could tell he watched when Trip kissed me.

I could tell it turned Murphy on, too, because of the way he'd dropped his pants, jerked that amazing thing that hung out of his pants.

And when he slid his hand down the ass of my panties, I shuddered but only because his brother did the same, but he did it to my front.

"Hell, nuh-uh," I tried to prevent it by turning a bit, but poor Trip already felt it.

"Jaysus, Jamie, you're so fucking wet," the way he said it was breathless, kinda flighty.

And it made me self-conscious so I jumped, tried to pull away.

"Word, I know, I'm so sorry, it's-"

"It's nothing," Murphy was too fast; he stole my words.

I don't even think he petted the carpet at all; he literally slipped right in.

"My-good-night," I moved up against one of their fingers. I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't know who.

I also wasn't sure if it was one of them or both of them whose finger fucked up into me, but my breath caught, my hand coming out on Murphy's chest to support myself.

"You guys don't understand," I heaved, tried to twist away, my panties all crooked, my stupid socks slipping into my shoes.

My hand was oddly damp yet I ran it through my hair when I looked at them.

"And what the fuck?" I blinked at them both and yeah, I was having some chest pains.

"When did this happen?" I stared at both of their naked bodies, maybe part of me deciding if this was gay, incest, or just fair play.

Trip made his eyes big.

He gestured to my top. Hard stop. "When did this...?" He gestured to my bottom. "Not happen?"

And I gave it back to him, my arms behind me to unhook my bra.

"It didn't happen when I was too busy creaming my panties. It's dripping!"

I tugged my bra off but slipped my hands right over them, holding them in place so they didn't fester off.

My nipples throbbed.

Alone, they made my back arch.

"Yeah, keep holding those bad boys in because you need a hand to drop those panties," Trip said and that moron kept two fingers of each hand to shield his own nipples as if that fucking coke can of a cock wasn't the problem.

In real life, I had no idea how he walked if he got a chubby in the wild.

And, shit, I had no control, and I let out a laugh, which seemed to infuriate Murphy.

"Fuckin' A, Jamie, you can't laugh right now," he said it as he stepped back close to me, his body all the fuck naked.

The dweeb huffed when he dropped down to a knee, his million-dollar hands on my hundred-dollar cute little ankle boots. "Why are your shoes still on?"

And before I could react?

Murph tugged on a sock and push-pulled off a shoe, nearly toppling me right back on Trip, whose hands were on the little side bands of my panties.

"They have to go. Really, it's the only practical way," Trip said and when he got to the end, he made a face like he was sorry, but I kinda knew that he wasn't because he snapped the side band of my panties just using his freaking man hands.

The next thing I fucking knew?

My legs were half in the air, Murphy twisting, tugging on my ankle, and when he shot back when he tugged too hard, really, it didn't matter because Trip held me in place, his hands up and over my breasts, my naked ass up against his can of Coke that I swear to Satan I felt pulse.

Strike that.

No, keep it and add to it that not only did I feel his dick pulse, but when he buried his mouth in my neck, his hands hard gripping my tits like they were balloons at a kids' birthday party, I felt him shiver, too.

It matched mine and maybe it matched the whine that came from Murphy's face.

That fool was still on the floor, his brother standing behind me, and there was no way that I knew he was going to do it, but why I let him do it, well, shit, I have no clue.

Maybe it was because he didn't ask.

Regardless, I didn't think to stop him when he lifted my foot to his shoulder, and when Trip pulled me back, h-o-l-y f-u-c-k, man, I never knew.

I never knew I could sound like a Sasquatch, but then again, I also never knew that a man would want to spread my legs and then eat the way too much cream gathered in my pussy, but Murphy?

Jiminy Cricket, it was like he was at a buffet.

His tongue hot, he wiped it through my fold once, sending me into shock.

And the second swirl of his tongue?

That made me hiss, a cry sounding right in Trip's ear, when his brother sucked my clit, made me want to pee.

"It's okay, Jamie, do you like it?"

I fucking liked something because Trip played my nipples like maybe he played a fiddle and between that and his brother's lizard-like tongue, there was a lot to like.

"Fuck," I shook from the feel of Murphy's mouth and Trip kissed me harder, my legs spreading more for Murphy, who now let his finger help.

His finger pushing inside of me, his tongue moved against my clit, Trip's mouth, his whiskers scratching my neck as he kissed it, his fingers never stopped their twists of my hard ass nipples.

I felt hot from all sides, like a weird bean and cheese burrito from the microwave.

Trip dropped my tits when he stopped kissing my mouth, and from behind me, I grunted when his strong hands gripped my asscheeks.

He spread them like they had never been spread before and it was like electricity and it burned.

"Y-you don't have to; i-it's okay," I choked and garbled on some extra spit when Murphy stopped whatever the hell his mouth had been doing to my pussy.

It was like he was a goat suckling, but he kept his finger there, fucking me slowly, well, until I said that, and when I told him it was okay not to eat my pussy, it was like it pissed him off.

And fuck me, but Murphy just shot straight up.

He was right there in my face with his brother kissing my neck, his dong in my buttcrack like he could do no darn good wrong, my body shooting off fire-rockets.

"I have thought about eating your pussy ever since you informed me that men don't like to eat pussy. I have been taking online classes, you know," Murphy said it, his lips literally like this far from my own, and sure, yeah, it may sound gross, but I could totally smell my pussy juice on his face.

And yes, okay, it turned me on.

But I have no idea what happened when he kissed me.

Because when he kissed me, he went in with his full tongue, and it was like he wanted to transfer the thrill of my taste back to me, and damn him, but when he bit my lower lip when he pulled back, it was just like how he'd nibbled parts of my pussy, and I felt another pulsing shock.

And then they switched.

And really, I don't know how I felt about Trip going right in for a kiss; I cannot tell this lie, but at the same time, there was no way his kiss wasn't slow, it wasn't deep, and there was no way he didn't taste me from the kiss from his brother.

"Fuck, baby, look at this ass," Murphy hissed as he pawed at it, his hands like those of hamsters.

He squeezed it, handled it, moved it in different directions, my asshole burning.

"It's incredibly nice, isn't it?" Trip said it and then he bit my nipple, my head falling back on Murphy because, hell, it all felt good.

"Ohmygawd, you duuunnnttt haave ttttaaa," it was all one big slur, but I reminded Trip just as I reminded his brother that he didn't have to put my vagina in his mouth and then he did--

But that wasn't what made me whinny like a horse; my shoulders shoot inward and almost touch.

Damn them, but it was the way Murphy held me totally open for his brother, his hand slow-sliding up my mound, over my belly, and back to my tits as his billy stick slipped up and down the cleft of my ass.

The orgasm crashed and it crashed hard.

"Fuck, Jamie, fuck, fuck, fuck," Trip talked as he ate, little flicks of his tongue on my clit, his finger so fast and hard in my pussy, my smell all around us.

Bands in his neck that were new to me, Trip pushed up from the floor.

He punched his hand and took a step from me and then he was back, Murphy pulling my tits like he milked me, me squeaking like a fucking field mouse.

"How many times have you cum, James?"

"Like, lifetime?" I asked because nothing was making sense, and yet I totally felt like I could touch God. I was throbbing, one intense warm sensation after the next and a dentist's drill resting on either side of my clit.

That, for whatever reason, made Murphy growl.

Then he slapped my ass--hard.

And fuck, I let out a cry and he squeezed where he slapped and it all hit my wet, sucked-on nips and hit with that orgasm, and I chucked out his name.

Murphy hung his head a little, looked like a sexy forlorn bitch as he did it, and then he spoke into my neck.

"Wh-why? H-how? How would it be 'lifetime'?"

Jaysus, he made me spark.

"I told you," I whined. I struggled to not spin, and I was breathless, and yet at the same time, I knew--

I knew that they wouldn't let me fall and yet I'd just met them in person six hours ago.

"I don't have much experience. I told you two, and--"

My words really stopped at two and at the gravity of that meaning, and suddenly, yet not suddenly because it really wasn't a big space, the two of them were right there and I don't know why I did it, but shit, I did.

My right hand grabbed Trip's penis.

My left? Hell, you got it.

And both men?

For a second, they both looked like those really tall sunflowers, but they'd been sliced at the knees, their bodies kinda bowing in the middle at just my hand.

"Yes, like that, Jamie, just like that," Murphy was focused; his eyes seemed to beg me, and the man acted like I held the key to a universe.

Trip just shook.

He closed his eyes, too.

I took it to mean that he wasn't displeased just because he looked very, uh, pleased.

I felt like I was sexy and I don't know, it was like an autopilot clicked on.

I dropped to my knees, the not-so-secret secret porn I'd been watching helping me out.

I hadn't looked at what they called their "paperwork," their blood results that they claimed were clean.

And I dunno, but I slid my hand around Murphy's tight balls, but my tongue sneaked out of my mouth, found Trip's tip, and the bead there tasted so salty in my mouth.

Trip's sigh and his grunt, though?

They were magic to my ears and I felt a shake start in my tits that ended in my toes.

"Perfect, just perfect," he cooed, each lick leading closer to a suck until finally, I was close.

The size of a shoe, the corners of my mouth stretched when I pulled it in, and I don't know, but I was like a duck to water, every part of me feeling his whole body change.

And when I felt a hand on my head that wasn't Trip's, I felt my pussy tighten, moisture flow because I will not lie, but it was Murphy.

When I saw the way he looked at me like I was a goddess, I flushed and felt so good when I thought that he approved.

"Just like that."

Jaysus, I heard him say it.

And I rubbed Murphy's balls as he fisted my hair, pushed me faster on his brother for a beat or two more and, well, then he was done.

Or one of them was.

"Fffrrreeaakkk iiittt, no," Trip whined and it caused me to pause, my vision hazy because Will Murphy's baby arm of a dick was right there.

Trip?

He seemed okay with it.

He seemed okay with the fact that his brother's hand was still in my hair and that he guided his baby arm dong right in there.

"Take as much of it as you can," Murphy said as he watched me keep my mouth wide.

I sucked him partway in, my cheeks, my face already so wet, and when I did, I felt him shake, and I dunno, but it pushed me on, my nipples burning, my asshole feeling fire.

It was so dirty that I was surprised I could.

Murphy didn't taste like his brother, and perhaps that was what made my pussy drip, but then again, maybe it wasn't, but I grabbed Trip's balls and rubbed them, too, as I bobbed my head and went slow so he didn't gag me, my toes curling and releasing.

"It's like watching my own personal porn," Trip informed me and everything around me felt warm; it felt like lightning zinged and touched the floor.

Both of them played with my hair and that alone was the best weird.

Until I switched, this time Murphy gathering my hair in his hand and holding it at the nape of my neck.

"Just breathe, Jamie," he whispered, his words soft, my nipples sore, and I slid my hands up to Trip's balls, his hips pushing him in, Murphy's hand holding me in place.

It wasn't until his cock hit the back of my throat that I realized, holy shit, this man is fucking my mouth, and I dunno if it's just me, but it made me cum with a pulse, a cry, and a shiver, a drop of something sliding down my leg, I dropped my hand from Trip's sack, ran my fingers through my fat pussy, my nipples even shuddering.

"She just came again," Murphy told on me, but it wasn't me I was worried about.

It was them.

They both looked at me, stared, and I felt like I was in a tunnel.

I felt like they wanted me.

On Trip's last pump, it hit the back of my throat, I gagged, and suddenly, he was down on the ground next to me, and I was in his arm.

Hand flittering between my neck and my chin, he pressed his mouth to my tired one, and when he kissed me it felt like doves dancing on my tongue.

I think it was the kinda kiss people call "tender."

Not that it mattered because when Trip pulled away and smiled, he tugged me by my hand. He tugged me back to my bedroom.

And shit on a shingle, I felt huge drums clap over my body when we walked in there, Murphy on my bed and on his side.

"Please come here, baby; I won't hurt you."

His words fucking purred; they felt like velvet, and upon reflection I shoulda wondered if they'd roofied me, but there was no way they had, but everything felt good.

Everything felt right.

Maybe not the wisest, considering this was the first time I'd met them, seen that they had skin and bone, yet I didn't hesitate.

I kept going.

Shit, when Trip paused, I reached out, waited for that asshat to join me.

And somehow Murphy had made my bed feel like grilled cheese, and I slid in next to him, his smile, his chuckle making me want to go cry, but crap, there was no time.

Murphy's lips stuck to mine, and he moved our mouths around, a grunt from time to time.

Then he tipped me back in his arm.

"We're gonna do this from the side because I don't want to hurt you, Jamie," he said and that was how he had me positioned, just leaned out a little more, a seventy-five-degree angle instead of ninety.

Suddenly he seemed so serious and it made me feel weird.

To cover that feeling, I went with a jab.

"Is this a Big Dick Problem thing?" I shot; I tried to be playful.

And fuck me, but I felt like the biggest ass when he shook his head, his palm flat rubbing my pussy, Trip watching us from the side.

"No," he said flatly, gave me a roll of his damned eyes and then he slipped a finger right into my pussy with no warning. "It's a I-don't-wanna-hurt-Jamie-problem-because-I-want-to-see-her-again-problem, okay?"

I flinched, and none of that flinch was from how he slow-finger fucked my pussy, and I sighed when he pulled his finger out, Trip pulling up my leg 'cause he jerked his cock right the fuck there, and suddenly I realized what they were going to do to me.

"Wait," it was pretty breathless and the thing was that Murphy was just about to suck the pussy juice off his finger.

They both fucking waited.

Even Murphy mid-finger to his lip.

"I-I d-don't know if I can; I mean, I just think I don't have the capacity, shit, I mean, for two or even, like five, and..."

"Ohmygawd, so cute, Jamie, but nothing like that is happening, at least not now; sorry to disappoint," Trip said it and the way he said it left it hanging, my body buzzing a bit bolder because, shit, I couldn't help myself, but I'd been dreaming of what it would be like to be in between them almost as much as I'd dreamed about being with each of them, and what was worse?

I'd told them; they knew it.

Jaysus, okay, we'd watched porn together about it.

"Yeah, yeah," Murphy said as he gave me a tug deeper into his arms, Trip spreading my legs, his hand on my legs as Murphy started to pull us together. "Can we un-pause now?"

Feeling something in my throat because he listened, they both listened, and I didn't feel unsafe, I made a noise when I kissed Murphy, gave him all the permission he needed, and when the head of his cock brushed through my hair as if he rubbed it through my pussy hair to get it wet.

"Mmmm, right there, stay right there," he sounded as if he was in metaphorical heaven, his mouth half open. I so totally wanted to see what he looked like slipping inside, but then again, I also liked looking at his face--

Just not when I was screaming, which is what I did next, Murphy not even close to pushing half of it in.

""Fuck, just fuck," I mewled it, Trip coming to the side of the bed, his hand squeezing my asscheek, my shoulder, my thigh.

And all of it?

Shit, all of it fucking mattered. It only heightened how Murphy fucked me.

"I wanted this for so long," he sounded lost in my ear, his words all leaned together.

He pumped slow, and then he pumped faster. He gave me a grunt as his cock banged into me, each push hitting a wall, my ass aching.

Things sparkled because, yep, I wanted them both there, too.

Trip's hand gripped my tit and he was rough. He pulled, he pinched, and he squeezed so hard that I did this feral little cry, Murphy getting even deeper.

Clouds of sprinkles got heavier behind my vagina and with each thrust, it felt like more sprinkles fell.

I needed it harder and Murphy delivered.

He pulled me closer, wrapped around me, undulated his thrusts, and suddenly, I was there, my nipples screaming, my ass weeping, I came hard like a shower, his face buried in my neck.

And I felt it.

I felt his seed shoot not once, but twice.

And I felt him.

I felt him grind it and hold it as if he told it who the boss was and hell, it turned me on even more.

My nipples blaring, I gasped for air when I leaned back, ready yet again.

Murphy gave a little laugh thing in the back of his throat that sounded like a mouse, and I don't know why, but the man kissed me.

Three tiny kisses into my mouth as I reeled and panted from his amazing fuck and the doofus kissed me and took off, Trip filling his brother's spot.

"So," I said it because I felt good. He was on his side and jerking his cock and I flat licked his nipple. "You both gonna fuck me later?"

I felt him shiver and I watched the little bitch curl his lip, give that little shrug. "I dunno, maybe. I mean, that's why we picked a three-day weekend."

It wasn't a question, no, and neither was his cock.

He was no tripod, but Trip was thick.

He was under me and I sat on top.

Murphy grabbed my tit, his hand sliding to my ass.

He helped move me and, well, I let him. I had no idea what was going on, but I felt oddly protected.

"He's really gonna stretch you; it's gonna hurt; you might tear; and this way, you control it," Murphy panted his words into my ear and yep, I'd seen that he was hard.

But not as hard as Trip's literal knob.

I grunted as Trip watched me, did his best to help me down, Murphy doing nothing more than watching us, helping support my weight.

Aye, and it burned.

I was so wet and yet it hurt badly; my cry into Trip's neck raw, but then--

But then it stopped the burning; I felt it.

I sucked in air, my pussy releasing, letting Trip in.

It burned on the edges and my nipples ached to be touched.

"Fuck, Jamie, fuck," Trip cried it up against my neck, and I felt like I'd never walk.

It was like my pussy remembered the hard steel of a rod that had just be there and then it added in the briefcase that was Trip.

I was heightened; I was on fire, and fuck, I rode Trip, his brother helping, but it was Trip who came first.

It was a bubble, a mushroom cloud, and deep inside, and when it popped?

I felt it as he whimpered, squeezed my shoulder blades as he ran his hands down my back just hard enough.

And people, I slid down panting, my head dizzy, my body throbbing, everything running so high, and when I collapsed in my bed, Trip was to my right, Murphy was to my left, and hell, it was the only sin that I knew.

Will Jamie dare to explore the reality of wanting two brothers? Find out what happens next...

Chapters 4-6 coming soon!

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