Double Teamed

By: Gia Blue

MATT


I’m wondering if it’s wrong for me to want my stepbrother, Matt. And not just a casual want, either. We’re talking “bow chicka bow bow” al night long kind of want.

I’ve had the hots for him for a hel a long time. Actual y, not just him, but his best friend, Shaun, too.

I started noticing them while I trudged through puberty. They made my heart flutter and gave me tingles in those “we don’t talk about them” places.

My mom was widowed when I was two and then married Matt’s dad when I was twelve. Four years later, Mom died of renal failure, which left me living with my stepdad and Matt.

So, yeah, technical y, Matt isn’t real y my brother. He’s my stepfather’s son from his previous marriage. We aren’t bound by blood.

And my stepfather never adopted me. So there.

Technical y, we’re not real y, real y related. Which means I can pounce on him.

Matt is three years older than me and just hit twenty-one a week ago.

Of course he had to go out and party with his best friend, Shaun, as soon as they could get the night off. They headed out, and when Shaun had final y hauled Matt’s ass home from the bar, hammered beyond belief, I helped him drag Matt into his room to sleep it off. After Shaun left, Matt hauled himself vertical and reached for me, petting me, soft fingers stroking my exposed skin.

And those touches had definitely been in the “bow chicka bow bow” kind of way. Matt rose from the bed and I backed away, trying to keep distance between us. This was territory we’d never ventured into. But he’d cornered me and slipped a hand into my shirt, cupping my breast while he slurred against my neck, rambling about how much he wanted to fuck me, that he would if I weren’t his stepsister.

To be honest, that fucking turned me on.

Hard.

Fucking.

Core.

Matt’s gorgeous, chicks swoon over him, with shoulder-length brown hair, cornflower blue eyes and lips that look made for kissing. He’s tal , nice and fit from working in my stepfather’s body shop al day. I like to sneak over and watch him work shirtless when the day gets super-hot. We live in Tucker Point, a smal redneck town dead center in Arizona, and the body shop doesn’t have AC, so when the temp hits a hundred degrees, Matt and Shaun both ditch their shirts.

That’s when the true fun begins. I often come up with some dumb excuse or another to head over there, just to ogle them while they work.

Now Matt’s a hotty, no doubt, but Shaun has a different brand of sex appeal. He has dark skin from his Latino blood and intense chocolate-brown eyes. It almost feels as though he can melt me from the inside out with just a look. He isn’t as tal as Matt, but he is twice as muscular. When he’s not working on cars, he’s at the gym, boxing.



I’ve seen him go at it in the ring a few times with Matt, and he’s fast and furious. Shaun’s also a lesson in contradictions. Normal y, he’s gentle and attentive, a real pussy cat. But in the ring, he becomes a hungry predator. His coach says he’s a real gem and could go far if he worked hard.

The two of them do it for me, al the way.

And, of course, whenever I delve into my fantasies, they’re the stars. A lot of the time.

They say teenagers are nothing but big hormone-fueled kids. They’re preaching to the choir. In my case, I’ve been an exceptional y horny teen. I lost my virginity at sixteen. Did half the footbal team at seventeen. One third of the cheerleading team as wel . I’m a slut queen and I’m proud of my title. I don’t have sex because of poor self-esteem or any of that other stuff. Nope, I just like sex. A lot.

At eighteen, I’m seriously considering a career in the sex industry. I have a nice little body.

Tight firm ass. And a nice rack. I might not be Hol ywood beautiful, but I’ve never had to beg for compliments. Per my last fuck buddy, I’ve got those big, brown fawn eyes that make men want to scoop me up as if I were a damsel in distress.

Couple them with my pale skin and silky, black hair, and I can lure just about any man I want into bed. Somehow, I’ve been blessed with the ability to persuade men out of their pants, and I have no idea why. General y, when a guy I’m interested in gets a good look into my eyes, hears the whisper of my bedroom voice, he loses al wil power and is ready to give me what I want. Typical y, that’s only one thing: sex.

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