Their Brazen Bride

I didn’t just look. I stared, ogled even, and dreamed. Dreamed I would someday stand with them and recite wedding vows like Theresa and Emmett.
One Landry was fair, the other dark. One broad, the other slim. One mild, the other brooding. I shouldn’t want two such different men, but I did. My heart wanted what my heart wanted, and that was the crux of my problem. It had been instant, the interest in them when I was younger. Every time I saw them since, it was like my heart skipped a beat. But with not having seen them for so long, the desire for them was immediate. Intense. I’d never felt anything like it before. I could admire them, as they were no hardship on the eyes. They were more than handsome. They made my body heat all over whenever they glanced my way at the picnic the day before. Surely every woman in town felt the same way.
I wanted to feel how soft Gabe’s beard was beneath my fingers. I wanted to know how hard Tucker’s sinewy shoulders were. I wanted to hear Gabe’s deep voice whisper in my ear how he would claim me. I wanted Tucker’s broad body pinning me beneath him. I shifted on the hard pew, for my body was achy with need, a need I had never had fulfilled. And yet I was willing to slake it with the Landry brothers.
Late that night, I thought of them unbidden. Just the night before, I’d lifted up the hem of my nightdress, parted my thighs, and touched myself. I thought of their large hands and imagined it was their fingers slipping inside me, sliding over my wet folds. I’d climaxed, my body tense and awash in pleasure as I whispered their names into the darkness. No, this was no girlhood fancy. Not any longer.