tagLoving WivesMore Than Four of Us

More Than Four of Us



No one dies, no one is maimed, no one is injured, hell no one gets anything bad. sorry about that, next time i will BTB, but not this time.


My twin brother was dead. In 32 years of life this was the first time he was not with me on the earth.

We stood there the hospital, next to his bed, touching his withering body, as his wife and daughters held his hand. I had my hand on his shoulder as he looked at me and with his last dying breath asked me to take care of his wife and daughters; and I said "yes" and he smiled at me and then he was gone. Everyone heard his request and my response. We all cried together. I felt a part of me died, the cosmic tie was broken for the first time.

My older twin brother, by nine minutes, was gone. We did not even share the same birthday, which freaked people out. He was born just a few minutes before midnight and three minutes after than it was a new day and six minutes after that I was born. Identical twins, with different birthdays, is what we were. It gave us two days to celebrate because our parents would have a party for each of us; not many twins have that! The really best part is that it was a leap year and he was born on February 28 and I was born on February 29. People went nuts when I celebrated my birthday on March 1, but only three years out of four. Now that is way cool. So if we went out to a bar on our birthday I would bet the bartender that I was entitled to a free drink for me and my brother, if he refused to give me one on my birthday. That is a bartender sort of thing. Then I would point to the calendar, there is always a calendar, and ask where February 29 is on the calendar and not only did I get a drink but my brother did too. Or we would walk into a bar on his birthday and we would both get drinks because they guy would say twins and pour us both a drink on the house. It worked that way for my brother too. We were always pulling that stunt on people.

We were more than brothers, we were best friends and we had this thing, this cosmic link, and that joined us. I knew something was wrong before I even got a call. I was packed and on my way when Mali called me on my cell.

An accident had taken him from us.

Because we, I still think of my brother as we, were still young the funeral was a huge affair with literally thousands of people from the small towns around where he lived and we grew up, turning out to honor him and say good-bye. Mali, his wife of almost eleven years and now his widow was from Thailand and she and her parents had moved to our town when we were in the tenth grade. My brother Jonathan was immediately smitten with her and for the rest of his life there would be no other "true love" for him. Oh, there was the occasional split for a while and they both dated others, and had some casual sex during the separate times, but the real love was Jonathan and Mali and they ended up together knowing what was out there and knowing that it was nothing compared to what they had together.

But an accident took all that away. The funeral was as much a celebration of their life together as it was his passing. All of the family that was alive was there. He was a much beloved man.

Mali had decided to relocate and immediately put her house up for sale. I've lived in a different city, almost 100 miles away, for more than four years so she decided to stay with me for a while and bring along her two ten year old twin daughters, my nieces, to also live with me. After all they heard his request, my agreement, and they were my responsibility now too.

Mali's parents no longer lived in the town and my parents had died, so there was no family for them there. I was it, at least in this part of the world. They did come for the funeral and tried their best to get Mali and the twins to come to live with them but that was a lost cause. Eventually they returned to Florida.

I had plenty of room because I had a nice size of house and since the divorce it was all mine. Despite the fact that Mali's daughters would have to go to school in my town, the move was made. They hated to leave their home but they were familiar with mine and my neighborhood and town, as well as the kids in the neighborhood. After all we were a real family and they had spent many years here for weekends and summers, and vacations too.

[ALERT -- ALERT Ok people, listen up, this is called a limited flashback. Sort of like when you remember something that happened in your past, well the characters in my story do that too. I will warn you a few times then I expect you to pick up on it all by yourselves, just like big boys and girls. I thought of having a little cartoon character standing there with a balloon and the words flashback inside of it and the string going into the cartoon character's mouth but it was probably a little overkill. Then I thought that some of you would not even get it if I put up a fucking flashing light. Yes I know I could do it in chronological order but then you would know everything before I want you too, and so would the characters in the story. This is called "suspense and surprise." It is also called foreshadowing for you wannabe English teachers. ALERT -- ALERT -- DANGER WILL ROBINSON -- OK GET IT? -- I DON'T WANT ANY OF YOU CONFUED! I have been accused of confusing people.]

I had been there when the twins were born and despite being so far away the last four years I had seen them constantly since their birth. I was always in their life. I baby sat them, and I changed their diapers and fed them. I sang them songs and took them to the doctors. I carried them around when they were so tired they could not sleep, they were part of my family, my life.

Weekends were frequently spent with one of us at the other's house. Jonathan and Mali helped me during my divorce and it was only right I helped them now, as I promised. That is what family does. Funny but it is hard to remember my brother is gone.

[ALERT - ALERT -- ok the flashback part is over -- those of you that get easily confused can relax for a while because we are back to current time with some explanation. Whew -- no confusion now I hope. I do have people who get confused with my stories and probably with life too, but this is just a story. I am afraid that I can't help you with your life.]

Mali had decided that she was going to go back to Thailand for an extended visit so moving in with me and letting the twins stay and go to school here sounded like a good temporary idea. When she got back she would take the money from the sale of her house and any settlement from the accident and buy a home close by me, or not. It was not like my brother could give her away; I was there to help and only help. If she stayed around I would be an anchor for her and my nieces, until she married again. Damn that would be hard to take, Mali marrying a man who was not my twin brother. Well when she did it would be my job to make sure his daughters never forgot about him and what a wonderful father her was.

For now, the girls were given their own rooms as was their mother. Actually they were given the entire house and I got my own room. Living with three females results in loss of - - well everything you thought was yours. I had originally bought the house with an eye toward lots of children so it was not like I did not have enough room. Actually they had enough room and I was sort of short on room myself.

We spent the first few months getting used to each other in our daily life. Even though we saw each other constantly before Jonathan died, there is something different when you live together. School took up much of our time and then there was something called work, which I had to do every day. Mali did now what she did when Jonathan was alive; she took care of the twins and the house. Even that is strange. "The twins" had become their alternative name, just like it had been with Jonathan and I. Some twins don't like that name but others revel in it. Jonathan and I loved it and the twins do too.

I was an engineer and was able to do a lot of telecommuting but still I had to go into the office two times a week and out on site to look at the projects and come up with solutions to real life problems the rest of the week. The telecommuting was just my not having to stop into the office on the way to the field, so I actually ended up commuting five days a week to work. Work just changed addresses for me. Once in a while I used the home office.

It was fun dealing with the two angels and learning what ten year old girls do every day is a feat in patience for a parent, or an uncle. Mali handled it well but she had been a ten year old girl and as a ten year old boy I did not pay attention to them at all. "Yuck" or "Yucky" was part of the vocabulary for a ten year old boy when talking about ten year old girls.

There were sports after school, and dance lessons, music lessons and trips to the mall because at ten you really need mall time. There were friends I did not like and they did; and almost friends that I liked and they didn't. At ten they are not small adults they are more like large babies. You have to treat them firmly but not break their spirit. You want to keep them safe but you have to know they have to learn what it feels like to fall off the bicycle all by themselves, but you still try to catch them when they do fall. I still remember that hollow watermelon sound their heads make when the fall on the floor when they slip or are learning to walk. They have to go through it but if you knew when it was going to occur you would be right there with them to catch every misstep.

I, on the other hand, had a few problems and homework was one of them. Getting the kids to do it was a pain so every night we sat down after dinner at the same table to go over what the assignment was and if they did it. Mali would bring desert and getting desert was part of doing homework. Ok it was bribery but it worked. Part of my job was to make sure they did it right and understood it. Usually they did it immediately when they got home, but with sports and all the other things they had to do, well after dinner would have to do. No TV or phone calls or computer until it was done.

But my real problem was the words they got used to hearing, "You are not wearing that out of this house." Those words were said by me so many times that everyone would recite them with me. It is hard telling ten year old girls that what they wear on TV are "costumes" and not everyday ware, even if the program shows the characters wearing it "everyday." I mean even the Disney channel can look like "young slut whores in training" sometimes.

I was hit with the obligatory "You are not MY father" or "You are not OUR father" more than once. I did not bat an eye, or shrink in shame and fear. They were immediately hit with, "Young lady as long as you live under my roof you will follow my rules."

All I had to do was remember those stupid fucking things my parents said to me and repeat them back. To them it was new, they would learn. There were times I almost broke down laughing at some of the things I said. It even confused Mali as she did not grow up here. She was a great mother and she kept them in line on the girl things that are outside a man's pay grade.

Then the also obligatory "MOM!" from one or both of them, as if I was a big brother pulling on their pigtails. We had a division of labor in our home. Notice now it is OUR home. It started out as MY home, went quickly to OUR home and any day now I fully expected it to be THEIR home and I am a guest in it. I think it is a woman nesting thing that causes them to do stuff like that. Curtains showed up with flowers on them. These flower shit things, potpourri I think they call it, showed up in the bathrooms, even mine. Frilly cushions started breeding all over my home. The windows got opened every day for "fresh air" and the house lost that wonderful fresh cooked steak smell that I loved to inhale when I came home and opened the front door. There wasn't a damn water stain on a single piece of furniture and look as hard as I could not one damn empty beer can could be found anyplace outside the recycling tub. I would turn on the TV and have to listen to Nickelodeon, or Disney, or Thailand Today, or the cooking or better homes and gardens, or the weather channel. Now the TV had the censor on it and no porn stations were allowed. The fucking computers had NetNanny and all my favorite sites were blocked. No one would tell me who set the passwords on the cable TV or the computers. The computers were the worst because it was set for the cable and not the individual computers. The closest I ever got was "Not everything is good for little girls," from Mali. There was not one darn way I could argue with that logic. I did not even ask for the passwords, I figured by that time we had reached the third stage I had mentioned; I was a guest in THEIR home.

But I digress; back to the division of labor. What Mali wanted to do she did and what she did not want to do, I did, if she said I could do it. This was different than what happened between my Ex and I. Despite my lack of impute in any decision, other than when to take a shower, wait I don't even get that one, I have to wait for the girls to have theirs first, I think I liked this new way much better.

Actually they were great kids but they had a loss as we all did and their world was now different, very different. I went from being an uncle to a father figure, but more of that later. It was just lucky I was there to fill in until someone else came along. Damn, I did not want to think of that. I mean I loved those little girls and it would break my heart to have to watch them being taken away from me. As it is now I know what my big brother put up with.

We went out to movies and dinners and even parks and the zoo. We took hikes and had picnics. It was not a sedentary life and I enjoyed their company even if it was brought about under the worst possible circumstances. It is not like we did not already know and love each other, we did. It was that they just needed time to completely take over my life and home and make it theirs.

To an outside observer the children had a gift because I looked like their father, but I didn't, not to them. They could always tell us apart, no matter if I was talking or not. Jonathan and I even wore the other's clothes and they could recognize us. We took still pictures and they could recognize who was who. We got creative and had two pictures of the same one of us put into one photograph with different clothes on and they said it was the same person twice and said which one of us it was. Only the twins and Mali could do that, not even our parents could.

And then there was the therapy. I am not sure who needed it most, the girls, Mali or me. We went as a family and individually. It is hard losing a twin, there is a special connection. Then Mali and the girls needed help with their loss. Sometimes they were together and sometimes it was just Mali and a few times just the twins. It was never one twin without the other. We faced these problems daily and we faced them together. It helped that I was a wimp and they could walk all over me.

Some days one or more of us would go into a funk and nothing could pull us out of it, it just had to pass. There were times that I just held the girls and felt their little bodies shake with emotion and the tears just flowed; at other times it was me holding Mali, and then there were the times one or all of them held me. We needed each other.

I tried to be there for them but I was not Mali's husband or the twin's father. But as far as the twin's were concerned I was damn close to being a father. I did what I could to make it a loving home environment but they ended up helping me as much as I helped them. It was their idea for the flowers in my room. I never mentioned I was allergic to one of the flowers, but Mali realized it because Jonathan was allergic to the same one and told the girls not to bring in that one. They were wonderful girls to have around, despite our little dust up's, and I loved them like all get out.

I had no children and I always thought of them more like daughters, which is probably one of the reasons why I was divorced. My Ex thought I was spending too much time with my own twin, or some such crap as that. I think she just wanted to breed with this black dude she was bumping uglies with.


It was in the eight month at my house, ok their house, when Mali came into my bedroom. Mali had on a long terrycloth robe tied around her waist. I sleep naked, I don't care who is staying with me. She woke me from a sound sleep, it was after midnight.

"I can't sleep. I have difficulty sleeping alone. I miss your brother. Can I sleep with you?" Mali said.

I have to admit that I was at a loss for female companionship at the time. I was not going to bring a strange woman home to bed her while Mali and the girls were living here. Mali's trip to Thailand appears to have gone south, at least for now, and this was my, our, their, new family dynamic. And it just did not feel right to go out and do some dating. If my brother's widow wanted to sleep in my bed who was I to object. Ok I wanted a woman in my bed, even if sex was not going to happen.


Then I thought back. I had always been more of the big tit, big ass, fair skin, blonde bimbo type of guy. Frankly I didn't understand my brother's concept of beauty when it came to a short, brown, skinny, assless, titless, Asian's with straight black hair, and black almond shaped eyes. Round blue eyes was my idea of beauty.

It had been a few years since my blonde slut decided that sharing that big ass and tits was better than saving them for me and with the help of a few friends, and an eight and one half pound black baby, I was able to get the house, save all my retirement, and use all of the community assets to pay off the bills that the bitch ran up. She walked away from our marriage debt free but with nothing else other than her black baby and no black daddy to help pay for it.


So now I am going to let into my bed exactly what I don't find attractive. I am damn stupid or am I just horny? Maybe she just wanted what she said, to sleep with someone. Why not sleep with the twin brother of her husband; he looked like her dead husband. Except I did not look anything like Jonathan to Mali or the twins, they could always tell the difference.

"Sure Mali, get into the bed." I said as I threw the sheets off of me. Even with only the light coming in the window she could see I was naked. My cock was laying across my thigh and she had a good look at it while it started to expand. I was getting excited watching her standing by my bed staring at my hardening cock and telling me she wanted to sleep with me. I guess that shit about a type did not always apply, I was getting heavy thinking about sleeping with a woman again.

She was not what I wanted in a woman. She was way to brown and way to skinny for me and had no substance to her, but we needed to hold each other and that was good for us both.

Who the fuck am I kidding? I had lived with her for eight months. We shared a home not just a house. We had known each other since the tenth grade and she had been family for eleven years. I had not dated for one reason and one reason alone, I thought I had fallen in love with her, but I would never make a first move on my brother's widow. I fell in love with HER not sex or passion, but her. I was fighting the feeling, she did not need her brother in law, the man she should be able to look to for support and protection to become a letch for her to run from.

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bycantbuymy© 43 comments/ 55739 views/ 13 favorites

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