The Boys Next Door Ch. 01

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Shy honors student lusts after the twins next door.
10.3k words
4.77
324.4k
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Part 1 of the 7 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 08/13/2015
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SilverMuse
SilverMuse
1,780 Followers

Shouts and splashes echoed through the late May afternoon, bouncing from the neighbors' backyard pool to Diana's second story bedroom. She stretched out on her unmade bed, trying to lose herself in Hamlet and ignore the party going on next door. Senior year finals were coming up, with graduation two weeks away, and even though she was accepted and set to go to Yale in the fall, the grades still mattered to her. But every time she turned a page, some girl would shriek or some guy would bellow, or another splash would tell her someone had jumped in the pool, and it just reminded her how very hot her room was and how very alone she was this weekend.

Throwing her book aside, she tugged the window open to let in some air, glaring at the O'Brians' landscaped patio and manicured lawn. Beer bottles littered the grass, thumping bass shook her floor, and sleek wet bodies in swimsuits dove into the glistening pool. Her eyes swept the yard for the twins. They'd be hard to miss: tall, muscled, powerfully built, moving with an easy confidence that made her sick with envy.

Her gaze stopped at a tanned male reclining on a patio chair, beer in hand, surrounded by laughing girls. Hard to tell from this distance whether it was Brendan or Ian. Up close, she'd know the difference right away: the cleft in Brendan's chin, the dark freckle on Ian's left cheek below his eye, were obvious signs to anyone who knew them well. But she hadn't been up close to them in years, and she couldn't say that she knew them well. Anymore.

The twin on the patio looked up from the bevy of girls, sipping his beer. Suddenly, his eyes met hers. Shock zinged through Diana. God, she was in her underwear because it was so hot, and spying on her neighbors' party like the social lame-o that she was, and he'd seen her! She ducked down below the window, her heart beating fast. Maybe he hadn't seen her. Maybe he'd seen her, but he hadn't noticed her black lace bra and the creamy cleavage spilling over the top.

Once her heart slowed down, she crawled along the floor and maneuvered back onto her bed. No way would her hand slide into her panties just because a pair of hazel eyes had turned her insides to jelly. Tossing aside her black-rimmed glasses — oversized enough to be hip, if you embraced the hipness in being a complete nerd — she squinted at her laptop, trying to motivate herself to bang out another 500 words before she took a break. But she couldn't forget the eyes that had just met hers. Heat curled through her body that had nothing to do with embarrassment.

Shaking her head, she closed her laptop. How pathetic could she get? Saturday afternoon, sunshine so gorgeous it hurt, and she was alone in the house with Hamlet and her half-written paper for company, ignoring her friends' texts because schoolwork came first, while her parents spent the weekend at the beach with Mr. and Mrs. O'Brian, and the twins, home from UConn for the summer, took advantage of having the house to themselves. Themselves, and thirty other people.

Diana could hear her mother's excited voice in her head: "When you go away to Yale, the twins will practically be your neighbors again! It'll be almost as good as having them next door. You can go cheer for them at their basketball games, and they can get you settled into campus life." Diana didn't have the heart to remind her mother that their schools were an hour apart, and no one would be cheering or helping anyone get settled — except in their parents' imaginations.

She sighed, taking a long swig of the watery iced coffee on her desk and rubbing the condensation over her face and neck. It hadn't always been like this. Ten years ago, she'd been the one splashing in the pool with the twins or playing basketball with them in their driveway while Brendan gave her encouraging tips and Ian teased her mercilessly about her lack of skills. Growing up, they'd been in and out of each others' houses all the time.

Two years older than she was, the twins had always looked eerily identical, with wavy brown hair, bright hazel eyes, broad dimpled grins —and wildly different personalities. Brendan had been friendly and easygoing. Diana smiled, remembering how he'd always taken the time to explain the rules of any game they were playing with total patience. Ian, on the other hand, had pelted her relentlessly with water balloons during the hot summers, dumped ice down her shirt at family picnics, and put fake spiders in her bed when she'd slept over while her parents were out of town, the summer before third grade. She'd quickly learned that with Ian, survival meant one thing: fight back, fight harder. If he dumped ice down her shirt, she'd dump it down his pants. Spiders in her bed? She retaliated with a caterpillar in his cereal bowl — a live one. And even though she'd been scared of Ian, she'd worshiped both the twins when she was little.

Diana kicked at her sheets restlessly, running her fingers through her sweaty dark hair and pulling it off her neck. She couldn't pinpoint when things had changed. She just knew that she'd gone the studious route, the twins had gone the popular and outgoing route, and once they'd started high school, her path stopped crossing theirs completely. She'd always been on the shy side, but as she got older, it got worse, not better. She hated the way she got tongue-tied with boys, and now the twins were definitely boys. Tall, good-looking, and confident; always off playing basketball and having dates with girls and going out with their friends. Or so she heard when their parents got together for dinner and she was the lone kid at the table, politely answering questions about her grades and achievements.

By the time she was in high school, her friendship with the twins felt like a hundred years in the past. They ran in completely different circles. Brendan and Ian were basketball stars, always on the court practicing or pumping iron in the gym. She found a niche in the literary magazine and stayed up late at night working her way to the top of her class. Brendan at least called out a hello the rare times that she passed him in the halls, and she tried her best to say hi back without breaking into a sweat. Ian ignored her completely now.

It wasn't hard to pick up on the gossip about the twins, though, and she knew that Brendan was a reasonably conscientious student, voted "Most Likely to Succeed" and busy with student government, while Ian was giving his parents one headache after another. End of sophomore year, he and some other guys had been suspended for pulling a prank on their biology teacher that involved more frogs than anyone should have access to, and his mother complained he was partying every weekend and doing the bare minimum to keep his grades up in order to play basketball.

Diana snorted now, remembering all the rumors she'd heard about Ian in high school. Knowing him, every word was true: the girls, the pranks, the traffic citations, the mouthing off to teachers, the partying. But she couldn't help feeling warm, remembering what had happened last week, after the twins had gotten home from college for the summer. She'd run into Ian in the grocery store, and right there in the dairy section, he'd looked her over and smirked at her. Turning beet-red, she whirled around and marched off to the produce aisle, where she'd pretended to be choosing just the right bag of cherries until she could be sure he'd left the store. He'd been laughing at her, no question. Leering at her vintage dress, her bobbed haircut, and her glasses while the giant bags of chips in his shopping cart rustled mockingly at her. So why were her breasts tingling, her hard nipples telling her they could still feel his eyes? She didn't even want to think about what she'd done in bed late that night as she pictured Ian unbuttoning her dress in front of the milk and eggs. Of all the people.

But she had to admit: if she was sprawled here on her bed now, listening miserably to the good time next door and thinking about all the parties she'd skipped because she feared the drinking and noise and what might happen with the wrong guy; the times she'd left, uncomfortable, when her literary magazine friends lit up a joint at someone's house; the hard fact that she was eighteen and had never, ever kissed a boy because she was terrified to get close — she had to admit that she was also incredibly, undeniably, inescapably horny.

And this wasn't anything new. She wondered what the guys at school would say if they knew that the shy girl who wore her retro dresses buttoned all the way to the collar, wouldn't dream of getting less than an A, and kept her arms crossed over her breasts when talking to anyone male had fantasized about fucking most of them. In pairs, or separately, or in front of an audience. She'd spent her eighteenth birthday money on a high-quality dildo that arrived in a plain brown package, and god, that thing was good. It only made her long for the real deal even more.

The doorbell startled her. Quickly, she grabbed a robe, pulled it on over her black bra and panties, and ran downstairs, belting the robe tightly before she opened the door.

One of the twins leaned against the doorframe, wearing a pair of blue swim trunks and a big smile. Diana blinked, her eyes darting away from his long bronzed body, then back. His smile was so welcoming that she began to relax. This was Brendan. The cleft in his chin — and the friendly smile — didn't leave any doubt.

"You're all alone this weekend," he said. She caught a whiff of beer on his breath, but he didn't seem drunk — just relaxed.

"You're not." She couldn't help sounding snippy. She had a life too. Brendan didn't have to assume that she had no friends — even if she was avoiding them right now to study.

"You shouldn't be, either. Come on over."

"No," she said quickly.

"No?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I'm studying for finals. Not all of us are done with school for the summer." God, why oh why did she have to get bitchy whenever she managed to talk to an attractive guy?

But Brendan just smiled more broadly. "All the more reason to come over. You need a break. Mom said you're going to Yale. We should celebrate."

Her heart was pounding, just like it had when he and Ian had taken her to school almost four years ago. No. She couldn't handle the party next door. Thirty people she didn't know, college-aged, drinking and yelling and laughing. Her throat went dry just thinking about it. And here was Brendan, looking at her expectantly.

"Why are you inviting me over when we haven't talked in years?" she managed, doing her best not to stare at the floor — though she really, really wanted to. Brendan may have been hot in high school, but now he was gorgeous. His face was more chiseled, his body more filled out. His eyelashes were thick and dark, and a soft line of hair divided his hard abs and disappeared into his swim trunks. She forced her eyes to stay on his face.

He looked up at the doorframe, then back at her. "Can I come in?"

"Oh. Uh, sure. Sure." Quickly, she stepped back as he entered and closed the door behind him. His arm brushed hers, and her stomach lurched. God, she was wearing a bathrobe, and she'd forgotten that until this second.

"I saw you watching," he said softly.

Blood rushed to her face. So the twin on the patio had been Brendan. "Sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be sorry. I figured you were up in your room studying and wanted to have some fun. So go get your swimsuit."

Diana blinked at his authoritative tone. He was probably used to telling people what to do — telling girls what to do — and having them listen. The easy confidence in his stance made that much clear. And what's more, it was making her stomach lurch again. Her whole body prickled.

"I'll be right back," she heard herself saying.

As soon as she made it up the stairs, she shook her head in shock. Had she lost her mind? No way was she going over there, and no way in hell was she parading around in front of Brendan — or his friends, or definitely Ian — in a swimsuit. The last time she gone swimming, it had been with her family and she'd worn a giant t-shirt the whole time that she'd been out of the pool.

But just out of curiosity, she pulled her swimsuit out of her drawer and tried it on to see if it still fit. It was a retro two-piece, yellow with red trim. The waistband was high, but the top showed plenty of cleavage. The bottoms laced up on both sides, ending in cute little red bows, and the top laced up the middle. The kind of suit she pranced around in for her fantasies, but didn't have the guts to show off in real life.

Brushing her bangs to the side, she took off her glasses and turned around in front of her full length mirror, studying the body she'd always considered a liability instead of an asset. Her curves were almost cartoonish, she thought, like a pinup girl's and then some, with a narrow waist flaring out to her round hips and ass, and oversized breasts that threatened to spill out of the top of the swimsuit. Without glasses, her big blue eyes looked like a doll's, she thought disgustedly. Put them together with her pert little nose, her rosebud mouth, and her heart-shaped face, and it was basically a given that she needed to wear glasses to get taken seriously. Her straight dark hair, growing out from the bob, tickled her shoulders. Even if she had the guts to go next door and lounge on a pool chair like she belonged there, she'd stick out like a sore thumb among the tanned, athletic partiers frolicking across the grass. Her skin was pale, and she stayed as far away from sports as possible.

But for just a second, staring at the mirror, Diana let herself see a pretty girl. A...sexy girl. A hot girl, built for action and ready for a good time. The girl starring in her fantasies, who wasn't afraid of boys and didn't worry what might happen if she let go.

A knock on her door made her jump.

"Are you okay?" Brendan's voice came through the door.

"Fine," she croaked.

"Can I come in?"

"Uh—" She blinked as the door opened. Brendan's broad grin turned her prickling skin into liquid heat. Too startled to look away, she stared into his hazel eyes.

"You look great. Let's go."

"I— I can't." She shook her head.

"What do you mean?" He crossed to her and put a hand on her bare shoulder. Oh God, why did he have to do that? His palm was so warm, his hand big and masculine. She could smell his male scent, cologne or deodorant or something else, salty and fresh. He didn't even seem to notice that he was touching her, but she could barely breathe. "You're all ready. You don't have anything else important to do." He cocked his head teasingly toward the pile of books and papers on her desk next to her laptop. "Come have fun."

"You don't understand." And she hated the way her voice dropped to a whisper. Dammit, when would she get past this insane shyness? When would she just be able to express herself like a normal person, as easy and comfortable as Brendan was right now? "I don't do parties. I don't hang out with people I don't know."

Brendan looked surprised, but he didn't take his hand off her shoulder. "You need to get past that. You're going to college soon. Everyone you meet will be a person you don't know, and the parties—"

"I'm scared."

Jesus, had she really just admitted that? And was Brendan moving closer and putting his arm around her? He couldn't be. Yes, he was. He was standing right next to her, right up close, with his arm around her shoulders. And all she could think was that she was in her swimsuit, with her skin more exposed than covered, and he was almost naked too, and tall and muscular and very male, and she was hot and cold—

"What are you scared of?" he murmured.

"People," she muttered. "Guys especially."

"Tell me," he said softly. "Why guys?"

Oh. My. God. He was rubbing her back, gently, and she felt like her body was on fire. Her crotch, especially. Her pussy was going to explode. "I—just don't trust guys. And I don't know what to do with them." She looked up from the floor. Brendan's head was cocked toward her, listening. His hand still stroked her back. "I've never...I've never kissed anyone. I've never even let a guy touch me the way you are, since—" she broke off. She'd said way too much. Any minute now, Brendan would flee her house, repelled by her complete uncoolness. He definitely wouldn't be leaning toward her the way he was right now, turning his head and lifting her chin with his fingers as he—

His lips met hers in a light kiss. She stared at him, shocked, as he pulled back. Smiling hazel eyes met hers. "Now you have," he said softly. "Not so bad, right?"

It was a second before she found her voice. "That was a peck," she said hoarsely. "That wasn't a real kiss."

Brendan's eyebrows shot up. Before she could backtrack, he cupped her neck, twining his fingers in her hair, and pulled her close. No. Yes. He was kissing her, his lips soft and alive, the beer on his breath sexier than she could have expected, and — oh God, that was really his tongue snaking into her mouth, hot and wet, touching her tongue, even licking it. Her nipples were achingly hard, her whole body quivering. Her hands were pressed against Brendan's chest — yes, his bare chest, feeling thick hair and hot skin. Her bikini bottoms were completely soaked with excitement. His other hand still toyed with her back, sending shivers down her spine and straight into her pussy. And her mouth was opening eagerly to his as he sucked on her lower lip. He let go all too soon.

"Come over," he said softly. "We'll take care of you."

We? Meaning who, exactly? Him and Ian? He had to be crazy. Ian certainly wouldn't take care of her. And even though Brendan had his arms around her right now, caressing the back of her head in a way that made her want to scream from the fever pitch of excitement building in her, this couldn't possibly mean anything to him that even came close to what it meant for her. He'd kissed a lot of girls, she was sure of it. Screwed a lot of girls, most likely. And if she went next door, he'd probably introduce her to everyone, dutifully, and then forget about her.

"Not this time." Her voice was soft. "I really can't. But thanks."

"Then come over after everyone's left. When it's just me and Ian. You can handle that, right?" He smiled encouragingly at her, as if he didn't even notice that her thighs were quivering as he massaged her back.

Maybe you, she wanted to say, but not Ian. He's an asshole who won't give me the time of day. What came out, weakly, was, "I don't think Ian likes me very much."

"Sure he does. Come over around eight. We'll go swimming." Brendan grinned at her as he gave her back a final pat and unwound his arms from around her. She was rooted to the spot as he left the room. A minute later, the sound of the front door opening and closing sent a sigh of relief through her.

This hadn't meant anything to him, she told herself, as she tugged down her damp bikini bottoms. It felt all too good to peel off her top and let her breasts surge free. Her nipples were deep red, puckered with excitement, just begging to be pinched and caressed. She shook her head quickly. Brendan had been tipsy and horny, and probably would have gone for anything woman-shaped. She just happened to be available. Or he'd felt sorry for her and had given her a pity kiss. Or...or...

Two seconds later she lay flat on her back in bed, moaning, rubbing her swollen clit and teasing her birthday dildo in and out of the juicy entrance to her pussy. "Brendan," she moaned. "Oh god, fuck me, Brendan." She might stutter with boys in person, but in her fantasies she was wanton, confident, all woman and all about sex. As her aroused pussy clasped the thick dildo, she imagined Brendan on top of her, smiling like they shared a special secret, working his cock carefully into her most private place. And — oh God, Ian was there too, watching exactly the way he'd looked at her in the grocery store, his eyes exploring every detail of her writhing naked curves beneath his brother's muscular body as he smirked at her. And stroked his hard cock. And— She groaned out loud as her tingling pussy clamped down on the rigid spear buried in her depths, her frantic circles on her clit peaking in a long spasm that left her gasping as she came again and again.

SilverMuse
SilverMuse
1,780 Followers