CHAPTER TWELVE
Pax
Practice had been brutal as usual, sprints, tackles, blocks followed by two hours of weight-lifting. Exhausted, I walked into the locker room to the sound of loud laughter and hoots. That was nothing new. Our teammates were rough around the edges, a bunch of apes.
“Check it!” laughed Bulger, aka Big Studly. “Check it, check it!” he whooped, his eyes glued to the screen of his laptop.
Jermaine, a tight-end with magnetic hands, peered over his shoulder, eyes wide, practically drooling.
“Man, she’s hot, isn’t she? Man, oh man,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never liked blondes, but this one? Maybe I’ll change my mind.”
And that we had to see. Jermaine is one of those guys who has a type, and that type was ebony beauties, girls with the air of an African queen, graceful with elegance and dignity. So to hear him rave about a blonde, maybe even switch sides, was something.
Standing over Bulger’s shoulder, we narrowed our eyes, squinting at the grainy video. And I cocked my head to the side, disbelieving. Because it was our stepsister Ana, or Stacey as she’s known now.
We lost touch with our sister after graduation, unsurprisingly. We’d left Ana in the forest after taking her virginity, and admittedly, it wasn’t one of our best moments. Peyton and I had sworn never to take a virgin, it was just too much responsibility, too much weight on our shoulders, the endless crying, the need for reassurance, the midnight calls for so-called “emergencies.”
So Peyton and I stuck with girls who were experienced, who’d been around the block a couple times. After all, practice makes perfect and the more you do something, the better you get at it, so wouldn’t you want a girl who’s slept with a couple guys before? They understand their bodies better, know what turns them on, and best of all, can handle two massive dongs … most of the time.
But we’d taken a wrong turn with Ana. Secretly lusting after her had clouded our judgment or maybe we’d just been flat out wrong. I can admit it. Maybe her ability to take two in her mouth the first time had convinced us that she couldn’t be a virgin, no way. But never judge a book by its cover, it’s always the most demure girls who turn out to be wanton, ready to let it all go.
So why hadn’t I followed my own advice? Goddammit. Ana had been able to take two in her mouth, but so what? It didn’t mean she was practiced down there, it just meant that she had good oral skills. At the very least, we shouldn’t have left her in the woods again, we should have picked her up, put her together, stroked her and petted her, given her some good after-loving. But it was too late now, we’d beat feet like assholes, complete dicks.
But she’d come out okay, at least from what we see on TV. Because little Ana is now gorgeous Stacey Light, the hottest new sportscaster to hit the national scene. In some weird twist of events, she’s become the preferred reporter for the NFL and we see her on the sidelines at games, interviewing our teammates, joshing with producers, all the guys trying to get a piece of her, flirt with the pretty blonde.
Although when it comes to the Jones twins, somehow she always manages to avoid Peyton and me. There’s always a co-worker ready to take over, someone else to hold the reins, so she’s been able to escape a one-on-one with us … so far.
But the video was unexpected to say the least. We watched, scandalized and hungry, as the girl humped a dildo in the shower, her face a mask of ecstasy, little shrieks of pleasure and gasps of delight emanating even with another dildo in her mouth, her body convulsing, long, blonde hair plastered to her back, droplets streaming off that beautiful female form.
She’d filled out, oh yeah. Skinny Ana was now voluptuous Stacey and the camera missed nothing, zooming in on those bouncing breasts, the luscious ass, the wide hips wriggling right and left, up and down, enjoying inch after inch of pounding delight from her wall-mounted friend.
And you know what? This was the best porn we’d ever seen, every guy in the locker room was now watching the vid, most of us with our dicks in our hands as we watched the little girl take two monsters. And was it my imagination, but did I hear her softly moan “Pax, Peyton,” beneath the drum of the water, her lips forming our names, chanting an unspoken melody?
Shaking my head, I shot a look at my twin, our eyes meeting in agreement. Time to get back in touch with our stepsister pronto.