“If it weren’t for you two, Heather and I could be…. together. She said she loves me. It could have been like I’ve always wanted,” he said bitterly.
I let Samantha unfold and put her down. Incredibly, she switched gears from wanting to kick Robert’s ass to consoling him softly.
God what a mess. Ready for the tricky part? Robert was Heather’s younger brother.
How did we get here? Let me back up a few hours…
It was mid-morning when Heather let herself in and wandered into my kitchen wearing a college sweatshirt and a short pair of cotton shorts – it had become her uniform when she ventured outside on summer mornings. The loose thick cotton of her sweatshirt only hinted at the generous chest that hid beneath. The little shorts did more than hint though – they showcased. Their thin, clingy fabric cupped her small round buns and wedged slightly into her crack in a cock-stiffening display. Her blonde hair, already lightened by the summer sun, was piled on top of her head where it was knotted loosely in a scrunchi.
Home from her freshman year, Heather was my other girlfriend. Samantha’s too. It sounds more complicated than it is. The three of us are a happy little love triangle. Sam and I were ecstatic to have Heather home for the summer again. Her school was far enough away that we saw her only on the occasional weekends during term. Now that she was home on summer break, Heather spent most of her time living with us but she’d spent last night at her folks’ place across town to celebrate her brother’s eighteenth birthday. She’d invited us, indeed her parents had invited us, to her brother’s party but we declined, not wanting to intrude on their family event.
“Mornin’,” Heather greeted us sleepily, “Guys, this is Bobbie,” waving behind her. She patted me on the head as she sidled up next to Samantha and begged a sip of coffee from her cup. Heather knew I took sugar – a lot of sugar – and it meant I could keep my coffee to myself. The girls both drank it black so they often mooched from each other.
“Hi.” Bobbie was a few steps behind his sister. Jeans. T-shirt. He looked like a nice enough young guy. He had brassy-gold blonde hair and bright blue eyes like his sister. His youngish face didn’t match his 18 years. Bobbie was probably getting called “cute” more than he was getting called “handsome.” Still, he was better looking than I was at his age. If I’d looked like him in high school I probably would have had more luck with girls back then.
I wished him a happy birthday and Bobbie thanked me with an easy smile and a good handshake. It was hard not to like him. I warmed to him even more when Samantha came over to wish him a happy birthday. He blushed when she leaned up onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Sam was twenty-four and beautiful in a petite, delicate, Mediterranean ballerina way because… well… that’s kinda what she was, on the outside anyway. In the same way that Heather’s bubbly blonde teeny exterior belied her razor sharp mind, the real Samantha inside was anything but delicate. She’s more or less a wolf in sheep’s clothing. At the moment, the only actual clothing Sam was wearing was one of my white, men’s dress shirts over a tiny pair of white cotton panties. My shirt fit her small body like a loose dress. It was a sturdy one, so it’s fabric was thick enough that you couldn’t see through it.