Bigger Brother HBO Ep. 06

Golden brown, slightly ugly globs of cow-pie are sitting on a drip-rack, while Randy stands over a spitting, hissing, deep oil well of grease. How can something so ugly smell so good?

"You want to be the first to try them? I felt motivated to take on the world after a certain, uh, cheer inducing visit from" he glances around, lowering his voice, "my sexy little MILF." Then raising his voice back to normal, "Something made me think of teenage years, so I figured zit-inducing goodness was in order. That and I saw the apples were starting to go bad, so I made apple fritters."

"Holy cow, you can make those things?" I'm staring in amazement.

"How do you think they appear in the first place? Someone has to make them. It's no big deal, you just; well, never mind. Try it first before you comment - they look heinous because I was lacking a few things to add structure and artistic flare, but it shouldn't affect the flavor."

I bite into a still moderately warm, appley treat beyond compare. The glaze had nearly hardened on the outside, the apples and, well, everything, just melting in my mouth. The sugar load was hitting soon after - talk about energizing. My eyes involuntarily close in savory silence.

"You're quiet. That's not good. Did I kill you?"

"Those are so far beyond amazing. You mean all I have to do is..." I open my eyes realizing I shouldn't say what almost came out at that volume level. "... my little MILF lover, any time you need motivated to heights like this, I'm your Mommy." I quietly finish the sentence before diving back in to finish my cow-pie from heaven.

"Of course we have to share with the others, or they'll get suspicious. Or if they find out, they'll lock us in a room until you do your duty and entice me again. These little fritters are good, aren't they?" Then with a sly smile, "Almost as good as their inspiration today."

"I'd thank you personally, but I'm afraid of grease burns."

"That's ok, I'll take a rain check. Can you run these out to Bill and Max - I think they're in the livingroom trying to play safely together after the earlier injury."

I grab the plate of fritters and head off.

I find Max with a club-sized bandage on one hand, cursing as he's trying to make his move against Bill's mastery of checkers. I thought Max would be smart enough to have seen Bill playing all the time against anyone he could rook into it. It seems on the farm and local pubs down South, this would be the highlight of most evenings, afternoons - and listening to Bill, mornings.

"Sorry about your hand. And you having to watch all the teasing of Randy. But if it matters, riling him up induced this," I try to imply his sexual frustrations have been taken out in the kitchen.

Max stares at the plate. Bill doesn't even pause. I presume people down South have a sixth sense about grease, fried foods, and never hesitate when offered something unhealthy for them. He's reaching for a second one before Max even thinks to register it could be food.

Or maybe it was just Max at normal speed.

Annoying twiddle. [chat wants to know!]

Oh really? I start putting a few things together. Someone is trying to help me with the challenge. But, really? Both? A new tingle, this time between my legs not of pager origin. Dammit, you stay out of this, I think harshly at my little moistening friend from below.

Hells bells, here goes nothing.

"Hey, I was asked a weird question in chat and, well, it's embarrassing, but I wanted to see if you were asked, also. If not, maybe bounce some ideas around how I should've answered or, well, it's so embarrassing."

"You've been naked, strapped to an 'X' in front of everyone, even Julie tells you to keep your clothes on. You're embarrassed about something?" Bill gives a soft chuckle.

"Yes! And even Max will admit he was embarrassed about looking up my, well, he was embarrassed. Weren't you, Max?"

"No." Honest son-of-a... "I think I mean, uh, yes. Yes, I mean yes," Max finally finishes the sentence selecting the 'correct' answer.

"That's just Binky talking for you, Maxy," Bill slaps him on the shoulder.

"No, seriously, Bill. Were you both asked embarrassing questions during chat?" I keep things going.

"Someone wanted to know if farmers actually fucked livestock. Can you beat that one?"

"Shit! Do they?" Max, Max, Max... you didn't really just...

"Fuck you. Back to my line, little lady - can you beat that question?"

"The chat folks wanted to know if I've ever been, uh, with, uh done, uh..." I stammer and stutter for effect.

"Spit it out. Nothing is too embarrassing to do or say in here. We're family, whether we want to be or not."

Max looks a little hurt. Apparently some guilt about trying to screw me without the physical pleasures. That's good.

"Thanks. I appreciate that. Ok, here goes: the chat folks wanted to know if I've ever been double teamed," I end in a soft voice.

"Hooey, that is good."

"Well, have you?" Max blurts right out.

"Max, you ass! She's already embarrassed enough. Give her some time! Go ahead, I apologize for my lunkhead, musclebound, needs-to-learn-to-move-his-hand-as-fast-as-his-mouth friend, here. Shit, that's a mouthful."

"Thank you. And, no, I'm not embarrassed to say, 'No,' I haven't been double teamed by any set of guys."

"You mean, 'not yet.'" Bill philosophically says.

"Is that an invitation?" I continue gently.

"No - sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you further. Just you can't rule out any future events. Who knows what'll happen next week, next month, next year."

"In the next hour?" I ask with my eyebrows raised, a soft, coy smile.

Bill's eyes open wide. I believe he has just decided that my offer might be much better than a sheep - probably without a doubt.

"Really? With who?" Max's clock obviously ticks a tad bit slow.

"I think we could arrange that if you're, well..."

"Yes, I think I am interested." Shut up down there - I know you're interested, but we have to play this smart, I have to snap mentally to my nether regions.

"Now?"

"Yes," I breath out getting more into the idea, my downstairs landlord apparently taking over the show and the mouth.

"Will we get to watch?"

"Max, you dumb-ass! He means we'd be happy to answer your questions and help you out, pretty little lady. Binky's in chat, we can just have Max let us into that private little..."

"She'd fucking kill me. She'd rip off my balls with her teeth, and kill me. Then she'd kill me again."

"Max, she's in chat, if we go in there, no one will know. They'll think we're talking strategy. She'll think we were talking strategy if she finds out. You'll tell her we were talking strategy if she asks."

"But I won't remember any straglies to tell her when she asks."

"And that, my dear friend Max, is completely believable. Let's go."

Holy fuck, I'm going into a room to do two guys at once. And somehow they've made it their idea. Well, Bill made it their idea, but Max won't know the difference.

Max isn't even done locking the door before Bill is stripped out of everything except his boots. I'm sort of hoping he'll keep them on, it makes him look oddly sexy.

Bill is all about helping me off with my robe, quite pleased with how little effort will be needed to get things off under the robe. Quite pleased. About six inches pleased if I'm not mistaken.

He's all over my breasts and body, rubbing his hands up, down, around, through, between... in... I'm already panting, half from the naughty feeling I'm about to fuck two guys at the same, fucking, time. And, uh, half from, um... fuck it. It's all about being enjoyed by two guys at the same time. Ravished and desired by two, wanting me so bad they're going to go at me at the same... fucking... time. I'm all but dripping.

Max finally moves close enough and I try to help him out of his clothes as he's too slow in removing them. He seems more amazed to be watching it all, but I finally get his shorts undone. I hook my thumbs in the band of his underwear and shorts at the same time, pry Bill off my nipples, turn toward Max and push everything down.

With my back to him, bent over at the waist, the position is all Bill needs. He's already in me.

The landlord of my crotch is smiling and yelling out there's more vacancy open. I really have to have a talk with my... Fuck it, talk later, fuck now. My brain's clear control and reasoning tone is drowned from the messages from below. I never knew she was such a demanding little kitty.

Where Terrence was a complete meal unto himself, no room for others - Max stands before me. Yes, that's standing too. And while the length is fine, he's, well, how do I say this politely? "'Roids make your peepee go away" must not be a joke.

He's easily longer than Bill, but much more narrow. Obviously at one time he would've been appreciably hung, but, now, well, I have no clue how Binky could've confused anyone with Max.

Fuck'em' - shhh! Fuck'em at the same... you be quiet! My self control is being wrested by the unit from down under.

"Hell, I didn't mean to just jump..." Bill's apologetic southern accent is very endearing, especially with only his boots on.

"Don't be sorry, I wanted to be jumped."

"No, I mean, well, sorry, little lady - you need to be served up and enjoyed at the same time so you can hold your head up high and answer to your chat buddies."

And with that, he lays back on the bed, inviting me to climb up. He's close enough to the edge his feet dangle dangerously over the side, knees spread wide. Damn, he almost looks like this was practiced.

I must be staring or just have bewildered written all over my face, because he answers my unspoken question.

"Sorry to be so, uh, versed, but, well, in the farmland, men outnumber women by at least two to one. It's a necessity."

Ooohhh. That makes sense. Or at least somewhere between my legs it makes lots of sense. And my nether region makes note that I need a vacation... down South... in the farmland. Stop that! - Wait - when did my 'reasonable voice' become background noise?

He slides up into me, my obvious wetness slicking around between my legs. He gently plays more with my chest, my hard nipples never having lost interest. He wraps arms around me, laying me down flat on his warm chest, my breasts push hard onto him, my legs outside his own, he spreads us wider.

The view for Max must've made it obvious what should come next, because I feel the head of his joy rubbing up along my folds, just slightly pushing in me, gathering more moisture, then Bill slides most of the way out and...

I'm fucking two guys - at the same... fucking... time. My swollen clitoris pushes hard on Bill's bulge at the entrance to my pussy, his firmness sliding in and out, Max just slightly out of synch, but just as stimulating in and out. The odd sensation of him extending beyond the tip of the shorter, wider one. Balls push hard up against my lips when they dive deep into me.

Bill grabs my ass cheeks, spreads me even wider and they bury deep at the same time, now in perfect time with my throbbing walls.

Fuck Zen. I explode in a seizure-like orgasm, sucking them in deeper, driving me into prolonged spasms of warmth, the flood grabbing me forcibly. My hips seem unsure where to move, each twitch driving me back over the edge in another contraction.

"Here, we can also try it this other way. Don't want you to feel you missed any..."

"Unlock my door!" the pounding and screeching actually cuts through the sound proofing.

"She's going to fucking kill..."

"Max, be cool, man, strategy is all we were talking about. How this little lady is saying she'd love to be, uh, part of the group. See, not even a lie. She's making you an honest man, Max!"

Bill is way too smooth at sliding all his clothes back on - even over his boots. I'm wondering how many close calls he may have faced with any of the farmer's daughters or wives back home.

My robe goes on easy enough. Funny, bringing the fritter plate in here ends up being a perfect cover.

Max is quickly back in his shorts, with only minor difficulty trying to get them over the still firm erection.

I open the door. "We're guilty! I'm sorry Binky!" I burst at her in full emotional confession.

Max's look of genuine panic is precious.

"We did it, I can't lie. I tried to buy him off with these!" I thrust the plate with crumbs toward Binky. Max takes his first breath since the door opened.

"You fucking pig!" She hits Max. "You just better be glad I had a fresh one in the kitchen."

I slide out to finish letting Max get beaten. The tent in his shorts is long since gone. Bill hangs back to help his recently mute friend out. Max needs all the help he can get.

...

I'm thinking I'll give up patting. You know, just give up wiping all together. That now prominent bulge that used to be my hidden clitoris, is pushing the hood well up off my slightly puffy pussy lips. It's so hard to miss, I don't think I'm going to be able to wear anything but my robe for a few days - at least not until it calms down a little. Then again, maybe if I wear a dress and go commando that will work, just as long as my nipples quiet down long enough to settle into one.

I finish my pee without much further incident. Damn, I really need a drink. All this action is drying me out. Well, truth be told, I'm not that dry down there, but dehydrated, yes. It seems down there I'm on constant standby for action now.

In the kitchen I drink several glasses of water, then start doing the dishes. I snack on a fritter - or three - between dishes, pots, and such. Randy really is an authentic, professional cook. He's used just about every utensil in the place; but the results, I can't argue with those.

"Hey, don't get caught in that trap," Laney says seriously.

"Pardon me? I only had, oh, don't ask me how many I had!"

"No, eat as much as you want. Just don't think you have to do 'women's work' and do the dishes." She takes one of the pots from me and starts drying it.

"Oh, that! I don't think that at all. I can't cook very well, but I like to eat. So splitting up the chores..."

"As long as you're not being forced into a gender roll."

"I've been rolled, but only by choice," I giggle.

"All right, then. That's the spirit. I loved them too - let me help."

The conversation is flowing along well and we talk about the life-and-times of Laney as we work our way through practically every cooking utensil in the house, plus a few random dishes and glasses.

We rapidly get into more personal things when I accidentally throw a monkey wrench into the works, "So do you ever miss it?"

"Miss what?" she asks, genuinely not knowing.

"You know, it it. That soft-but-hard feeling. Unless you've found something I don't know about - and I've tried a bunch of different, um, 'toys' - nothing quite compares to the real thing."

"Oh! That 'it!'" and she laughs, but doesn't really answer the question.

"So dump the dirt! Which brand of toy am I supposed to be looking for, for, uh, you know, when the urge for music hits, but the band isn't around, if you know what I'm saying. Maybe I don't know what I'm saying, either," and I laugh, trying too give her an out if I've become too personal.

"Well, I do have my favorites, but, I've known I was a lesbian long since before college. So you might say I've always enjoyed the girl bands and haven't, uh, listened to a boy band."

"Never?!" I gasp. Oops. "Oh, my gosh, I'm so sorry - that sounded horrible."

"No, not horrible at all - just honest. I like that about you - a naive honesty."

"Funny, I've heard that before, but it still doesn't mean anything to me," I answer.

"See? Like that. That's exactly how not having, you know, with a stinky, obnoxious boy, feels or doesn't feel. There's nothing to compare it to or not compare it to. You know what I'm saying?"

"Wow. I can't imagine, really. I mean, the hot hardness, yet filling softness of their, uh, instrument is just so unique. Wow. Never?" I try not to sound so shocked.

"Never. Never really wanted it, either, to be honest. Well, ok, every so often, like now, I mean - sometimes I'll be talking with a bi-gal and, well, the way some talk about it, sort of makes me curious, you know?"

Luckily she doesn't ask if I was ever curious about 'you know' with a girl, because I'd have a hard time denying that one now.

"Yes, I definitely know what you're talking about. Like when people travel and they talk about amazing places I know I'll never get to visit. Sometimes I wonder if it really would be so wonderful, or, like when reality hits you, those amazing places are packed with smokers or biting bugs, or something that just ruins it." I try to reason it all out.

"See? You understand more than you think. Thank you," she says with a nod.

"I guess I do. But the chances of me ever going to a foreign country, well, just not gonna happen in my lifetime."

"That's how I feel sometimes."

"But you're very pretty - I mean, you could, well, enjoy the music, almost any time."

"I guess, but I'd be afraid of, well, it'd be awkward. I mean, I'm a non-virgin virgin, and there's no way I'd want some boy I didn't trust to be a, well, be a great, uh, musician. And if I'm gonna hear that kind of music only once, I want to be sure it's pretty darn good tune if I'm going to drop down that low on the food chain. And I definitely don't really want to play the trumpet. That's just gross," she says.

"This is embarrassing, but this whole conversation has been turning me on. Sorry to be so forward, but, I've been a little, uh, edgy lately," I discretely admit to her.

"I know, I'm slicked up too. This house, the lack of a good solid, hard pumping song to sing to - I'm edgy too. Maybe that's why I'm even opening up and talking about all this with you. Which unfortunately is tweaking up some seriously horny memories."

"Well, would you ever want to try out different music? I might know a great musician right here in the house."

"You're serious? You mean Binky isn't the only one getting action? Do tell," she probes.

"Instead, how about I introduce you to a different type of music."

"When? I feel so tingly... and saucy! How can you do that with all these people around?"

"Tonight, I'll get you up and..." I start in a hushed tone.

"You're gonna be there, right? Not that I'm afraid of a guy or anything, I mean, I can take him, but, I'm..." Her words are rushing out.

"Calm down, he's gentle. And please don't break him, I might like to listen to the music as well some time."

"I'm sorry, just, I'm... this is so lame - I'm scared," she dips her chin down, bashful and quiet.

"Of course you are! It's completely new for you. It'll be..."

"You have to be there," she cuts in again.

"Okay," that was easier than planned. "You don't have to twist my arm. I like music." Since when do I like it this much, though?

"Dammit, I have to go to the toilet and dry off. This is so embarrassing," she cuts my inner conversation trying to confuse my verbal one.

"Not at all - it's when you can't wear panties because they stay soaked all the time. That's embarrassing," like right now my brain mumbles an accusation to the regions below demanding action after all that sex talk..

"See you tonight. Hell, it sounds like I'm making a date."

"More like, uh, concert tickets," I correct.

"I like that better - Rock and roll," and she moves off to the restroom area.

Which sounds like a good idea to me, too.

...

Dinner goes way to quick - or maybe not quick enough, depending on what part of me you ask - or maybe when you ask. Luckily when I finally put on clothes, I put on a medium length skirt, which means I can occasionally use my napkin and very gently dab the wetness below.