Twin Trouble

"Eric, didn't your father ever tell you not to stick your dick in crazy?" Alexa said.

"My dad told me to always stick my dick in crazy for the best sex. He learnt from experience; it's how I was born." Eric said. "Besides, the sex has been amazing now Frankie loathes me."

"I take it Erin didn't take this well?" Alexa said.

"No," Eric said, shaking his head. "My sister took it worse than Frankie. She's never liked my life choices regarding my relationships - she's only ever had one boyfriend her whole life. Guess Frankie was the straw that broke the camel's back. She's refused to talk to me since."

Alexa regarded Eric over the rim of her own mug of coffee, and Eric wondered what was going on behind those bright blue eyes of hers. He had never entirely warmed to Alexa - nothing to do with the number of times they had fucked behind Mark's back while she had been dating Eric's friend, but more because she reminded Eric of himself: you could never truly trust a cheater.

Not like Mark: that guy was honest personified. There wasn't a deceptive bone in his body.

*****

Arriving back at his house a few hours later, with the sun now beginning to set behind the cosy rooftops of Petty Moore, Eric was alarmed to find the lights on in his house: he had definitely not turned any of them on when dropping his stuff off before following Mark back to the Kent's abode. With phone in hand, ready to call 999, Eric was relieved to find a familiar girl stuffing her face with snacks in his kitchen.

"Fucking finally," Xanthe Allthrop said, a packet of salt and vinegar crisps in hand. A tall girl at five feet and nine inches, the eighteen-year-old brunette lived next door with her parents, when she wasn't spending her time round Eric's, enjoying herself with his cock.

"Jesus, Xanthe," Eric muttered, placing his phone on the counter. "How did you get in?"

"Left the back door unlocked," she said, jerking her thumb at the kitchen conservatory door.

"Shit... was that unlocked while I was in London?"

"Yeah," she said, crunching up the empty packet. "Don't worry. I looked after the place. Might want to replace your beer, though. We drank the last ones yesterday."

"You cheeky little shits," Eric said with a bemused expression. "I'm guessing Ty was with you."

Ty was Xanthe's boyfriend, who she had a rocky relationship with. The guy was taller than Eric by several inches, but according to Xanthe had a much shorter cock; and like most guys with few inches on their dick compensated with ego and anger issues.

"Where's the asshole tonight?" Eric said.

"He blew me off to watch the game with his mates," Xanthe said.

Eric smiled, knowing where this was going. "Want me to make him jealous?"

In answer Xanthe unbuttoned her jeans, and shimmied out of them with a dancer's grace; Eric tossed aside his own jeans as he approached her. Pinning her against the counter, he kissed the hot teen on the lips, feeling her tongue meet his as they moaned loudly.

Every time Xanthe and Ty argued it always led to Xanthe coming over Eric's for a fuck or two (or sometimes more). She loved to rile her boyfriend up by cheating on him; Ty would drop it all to come round Xanthe's and reassert his dominance, and Xanthe claimed the angry sex with him was the best she had.

Eric had no problem with this horny brunette using him to rile up her boyfriend for some truly epic hate-fucking later tonight. His cock was balls-deep in her in minutes, and not long after that Xanthe was leaning against the kitchen counter moaning loudly as Eric pounded her teen pussy with his massive cock.

This was the third woman today! Eric loved days when it was almost back-to-back sex with one or more partners, and marking his return to the sordid soil of Eroshire with bareback sex with a girl eight years younger than him was just being an Eroshite through-and-through.

Xanthe pulled her t-shirt over her head as Eric unbuttoned his shirt and flung it aside. Her tits smashed against his chest as Eric locked lips with her. His cock a piston of hot meat plunging in her tight pussy without any condom; Xanthe claimed to be on the pill, but honestly Eric couldn't care less. Xanthe was smart enough to deal with the consequences of her actions: all Eric wanted to do was pump his loads into her warm cunt.

After a few minutes he felt Xanthe's arm rest on his shoulder, and Eric turned around to smile at her camera as she took a few shots of their sex act. "Make sure to get my best side," he said.

"I always do," Xanthe said. "He hates you."

"Can't imagine why," Eric said, feigning hurt. "I'm just making sure his loyal girlfriend is given the fucking she deserves. Not my fault if he's not got the cock to make you cum."

"Oh he does... he just needs a little... persuasion..."

Eric was doubtful that sex with an angry Ty - fuelled by knowledge of his girlfriend's infidelity - was really that good, but he trusted Xanthe to know what felt best for her vagina, so he kept his cock pumping hard and fast; remembering how she liked him to angle his approach, and before long Xanthe had her head back, spilling her long dark hair all over the fake marble counter, her mouth open as she moaned with pleasure.

"OH FUCK YES! RIGHT THERE!" She moaned loudly. "LIKE THAT! FUCK ME GOOD!"

Eric loved how responsive the teen was to his actions: Xanthe was very much the easy lay, and she came hard three times before he finally began blowing his load into her. His cock throbbed as hot gunk exploded out to slosh around inside her. He gave her several thick loads before Eric pulled his cock out and held it; firing thick jets all over her shaved pussy. Thick white gunk was sent splashing over her toned stomach, and dripping all over her thighs, as Eric's cock fired jets of his virile cum all over the eighteen-year-old's toned groin.

When he finally finished cuming (long after Xanthe had), her pussy was practically dripping in his cum; thick globs landing on the kitchen floor by her feet.

"God, Eric! I look like I've just had a gang-bang with fourteen guys!" Xanthe said, still stunned by how much he could cum despite fucking him many times by now. She aimed the camera at all the mess. "And... snap! Now to click send... done!" She gave Eric a smug look. "Five... four..."

Her phone rang before she finished.

"Hey babe... you got my pics!" Xanthe said cheerfully, walking away from Eric as her boyfriend could be heard screaming down the phone. "Babe... I told you I was horny tonight... it's not my fault you put the football before my needs... you'll be round soon? I'll be waiting babe... oh I'm sure you're gonna make me cum harder than Eric does..." She gave Eric a wink. "Oh yes babe... you're so much the man for me..."

When she hung up Eric leaned back against the counter, his cock still hard and oozing cum all over the floor. "I don't get your man, Xanthe."

"It works for me," she said. "Thanks for the sex, homie: until next time!"

Eric watched her gather up her clothes and hurry out the back door, slipping through a loose panel on the fence back into her parent's garden. He imagined she would be rushing upstairs to her room, eagerly awaiting the arrival of her angry boyfriend. Eric wondered what Xanthe's two mums made of their daughter's strange sex life. Did they know their daughter frequently slipped next door to fuck the handsome bachelor?

Oh, whatever: Eric had just had a great day full of sex. He wasn't going to complain or try and analyse anyone's psychology.

His phone warbled.

Looking at the screen, Eric saw a WhatsApp from someone he never expected to reach out to him. Especially after what she last said to him.

>HEY, NEED TO TALK

It was late, though. Eric decided to decide whether to answer his sister's message tomorrow.

*****

"What's got you all frowning like that?"

Eric looked up from his phone to regard the sexy blonde barmaid. Rhian Carter had only been working at the Paradiso Costiero for a year or so, but she had already become an essential part of the nightclub; Eric loved to talk to the feisty American whenever she was working (and when she agreed to fuck him). "Just my sister," he said.

It had been almost a week now, and Eric hadn't replied to any of Erin's messages. She had sent a few; all of them vague requests to talk to him, just like the first. It wasn't that he didn't want to reconnect with his sister - Eric missed talking to her - but a sense of pride held his hand from reaching out to her: she hadn't, after all, apologised for all the things she had said to him.

Oh, sure: he probably deserved most of it. He HAD been cheating on her best friend, after all, but the truth did indeed hurt, and hurt most of all when delivered by someone he had been so close to growing up. It was a stupid, petty thing, but Eric wanted to hear his sister apologise for what she said, and with none of her WhatsApp messages containing a semblance of an apology Eric had sat on them one day after another, and now here he was, sitting at the bar in one of the nicest nightclubs in Coytoss (although he might consider the Paradiso Costiero as such because his friend's wife ran it) staring at his sister's messages as if the next one would contain the exact sequence of words to snap him out of his stubborn stupor.

"How is Erin?"

Eric shrugged.

"Still not talking to her, hey?" Rhian said. She was cleaning a pint glass (even nightclubs could serve drinks in pints, so long as their clientele knew their limits - Alexa was notoriously strict on anything causing a ruckus in her house) right in front of him; despite the packed club few people were sitting at the bar; it was a Saturday night, and that meant a live band. Tonight was the turn of the Marathon Sex Bunnies, an all-female rock band; Eroshire-born and raised, all of them.

Eric shrugged again.

"You know you're being an ass?" Rhian said, jerking her head to toss her blonde fringe from a pair of grey-green eyes that peered at Eric with obvious judgement through her thick glasses (an infrequent wearer: the short-sighted Rhian usually preferred to wear contacts, but her eyes had been itching that morning, perhaps something to do with the pillow of the guy she had fucked a few times the previous evening, and Rhian had spent the whole day wondering if she was mildly allergic to memory foam).

"I'm normally being an ass," Eric said, displaying a rare moment of self-awareness: something not common to the Winters. "Tell me something that's new... like..." He looked at her while his palm supported his head on the polished marble surface of the bar. A sly grin crept across those pale features of his.

Rhian too was smiling: "You want to take your guess so early in the evening? Not going to let a few drinks cool those brain cells of yours first?"

"I'm feeling lucky," Eric said. "I think I have it."

"Oh... he thinks he has it... OK then... let's hear it..."

Eric snapped the fingers of the hand previously supporting his head. "San Francisco!"

"Nope."

"MOTHERFUCKER!" Eric yelled, slamming his fist on the bar; causing the few people sitting along its generous length of seven metres to look at him in amusement. "Seriously?!?"

In answer Rhian slowly walked away, giving him the most smug of smug smiles.

"Damn..." Eric muttered. Noticing that his outburst had caught the attention of the blonde on his right - two empty seats between them - he switched on the charm and gave her a smile. "Not my night, apparently."

She returned that smile: her long, tanned face suddenly blossoming with a beauty that stirred Eric's loins. "Apparently... So what was that all about?" She said, her accent delightfully posh, in a 'BBC English' kind of way; Eric wondered where she was from, and what expensive private school she had gone to. Sitting it was hard for him to judge how tall she was, but her long, bare legs - skin smooth and tanned - seemed to go on for fucking ever, as did her blonde hair; spilling out all over the bar as she lazily supported her head to regard him. She wore a dress of the most sultry black that seemed to hug her curves like a drowning man hugged a liferaft; it certainly did push those large tits of hers up even higher, giving Eric a great sight of some tanned cleavage.

Not a single tattoo either, which was unusual for an Eroshire chick.

But then she didn't sound like an Eroshire chick... someone from out of town?

"Ah... so Rhian and I have this little game," Eric explained, pretending to be embarrassed. "She was born in Albany, New York, but her parents moved to a big city when she was a few years old. Apparently something big happened a few years back - some wedding, although she's a little bit sketchy about whether it was hers or a friend's. It was so bad Rhian ran halfway across the world to this fair wondrous city to avoid it."

"That's a little drastic... what happened?"

"Dunno: Rhian won't talk about it," Eric said. That was true: the blonde barmaid refused to tell anyone what had happened in her past to cause her to move to the UK. "She won't mention the city either. But she will let me guess. Only I get one guess each evening."

"How cute. What number guess was that?"

"Seventeen," Eric admitted. "She took pity on me a few weeks back and let slip it's on the coast, though she hasn't said whether east or west. Although I'm sure it starts with an 'S'."

"Oh? Why are you so sure about that?"

"Caught her about to tell someone the name, but she saw me and cut herself off," Eric said. "It definitely started with an 'S'." He sat straight, sighing. "I was so sure it was San Francisco."

"You only get one guess each evening?"

He nodded. "Those are the rules."

"What happens if you guess right?"

Looking at her, Eric grinned. "Rhian will let me fuck her in the ass."

The woman laughed: it was a magical, melodious laughter that reminded Eric of Giselle, and a surge of lust caused his cock to strain against his jeans. "I love that!" She said; her blue eyes were glittering in the lights of the nightclub. "I admire a girl who keeps her most precious hole under a lock and key."

"Most precious?" Eric said. As he spoke the band on the stage changed to a much louder song than the one they had been playing, and he used their new noise level as an excuse to shift to one of the empty seats between him and her - leaving one empty seat between them now. "What hole would be the least?"

"The mouth," she said immediately, placing a finger on her full red lips.

"Why the mouth?" Eric said. He was enjoying the energy this woman gave off: he had come to the bar alone tonight hoping to score (and if not with a fellow customer then a barmaid). This hot blonde piece of ass was looking promising.

If only he knew what was to cum tonight...

"A blowjob is an easy thing to give," she said. "A girl can suck a cock that means nothing to her, but to let a guy fuck her in the vag... that's for someone she wants to please her. Make her CUM." The woman said the word with such a dirty glint in her eye that Eric almost did himself. Oh he just HAD to get his dick in this woman's vag tonight! "Woe to he who doesn't... but her ass... oh, her ass is a precious thing... it's not for anyone but a man she KNOWS will please her... Not all women cum from anal, you know... so it's something we give to a man entirely for his pleasure, knowing that he will give back tenfold."

There was something about her that told Eric this woman would have no hesitation answering a question so vulgar: "So how many guys have you given for his pleasure?"

"One," she said immediately, her blue eyes flashing with glee. "Are you looking to be number two?"

"Definitely."

"Hmmm..." She moved one seat closer. Now she was sitting right next to him. Eric could smell the perfume she was wearing - strawberries and something else that he couldn't identify. "That's not something I can give freely, even if you are quite cute."

"Cute?" Eric feigned offence. "And here I am considering myself to be ruggedly handsome."

"Hmmm... to be 'rugged' you would need to be less kempt than you are," she said, tracing her finger along the contour of his chin as she spoke; her skin soft and warm against his as it passed over his shaven face. "A little stubble maybe..."

"Not a fan," Eric said confidently. "I prefer to be cleanly shaven."

"Just on the face?" Her eyes invited a specific answer.

"No," Eric said, and those eyes of hers widened with obvious hunger. God, he wanted to pound this sexy piece of ass silly right now, but it was also fun flirting with her. Besides: "I didn't catch your name."

"I didn't give it."

"I can give you mine."

She paused, as if weighing whether to keep this affair anonymous. Then: "Sheila."

"Eric."

"Hmm..."

"What?" He said, smiling at her bemused expression. "Don't I look like an Eric?"

"No."

"What does an Eric look like?"

"Not as hot as you, that's for sure," Sheila said.

"Didn't figure a Sheila to sound as English as you," Eric said.

"Sorry 'bout that," she said, switching to an Australian accent. "I only sound like a posh bitch to get the fellas all hard and ready for a good ride."

"Not the first time someone's said that to you?"

"No," Sheila said, switching back to her English accent. "But normally I'm asked if I'm actually from Australia. I have to confess I'm a little annoyed now: I thought my accents are good."

"Accents?"

"I'm not just Australian," Sheila said, switching again to a different accent. "Sometimes I can be a little French."

Eric was genuinely surprised: she sounded almost exactly like Giselle. Uncanny. "You're good," he said. "You've got the regional inflections down. Spent some time abroad?"

Sheila nodded. "Grew up in Sydney," she said. "Moved when I was eight to France. Lived there for another four years before moving to Florida." As she spoke her accent shifted to pitch perfect Floridian - a definite contrast to Rhian's accent.

"When did you move here?" Eric said. Having spent his entire life in the UK it was fun hearing of someone who had spent so much of her young life moving from one country to another.

"About six years ago," Sheila said. "We moved to Fenshire for a while, before daddy got a job in government in Eroshire and we moved again."

"You live with your parents?" Eric said. "No judgement."

"Good," Sheila said, although she seemed bemused, not insulted. "We have a large house."

"Let me guess: Shashen Grey girl?"

"Hmmm... if only you had that kind of luck guessing that barmaid's city. You'd be balls-deep in her ass by now."

"I'm not interested in HER ass," Eric said, a slight smug grin on his face.

"I don't give it up that easily, Eric," Sheila said; though she too wore a wicked grin. It was quite obvious to him that she was enjoying this conversation as much as he was. "So what does a guy like you do for a living?"

Well, she had told him quite a bit about herself. He was still interested to know if that second accent of hers was her original, and whether this posh English tone she had returned to was just a fake, but that was something he could learn later (if at all). "I'm a lawyer," he said.

"Really? Tell me: is it illegal to have sex in the toilets of this club?"

"Technically: yes," Eric said. "But that's if we get caught."

"What made you think I was offering? Maybe I was just asking for a friend. Maybe I was going to invite one of those handsome men," she said, gesturing with a jerk of her head towards all the people dancing to the Marathon Sex Bunnies's closing act. "That one in the skinny jeans looks to be a good fuck."

"Nah," Eric said. "Skinny jeans don't hide anything: he's got nothing down there."

"Size isn't everything, Eric."

"True, but it helps," he said confidently. "I've never had a girl tell me I was too small."