Mark waited for me to finish my breakfast, but he had that look in his eye, the one that told me he needed a little time with me, so I made haste; Mark isn’t normally demanding or possessive of my time; as long as I’m nearby, within earshot or touching distance he’s at ease and calm in himself; he knows I have a house to mind and two little ones to care for, but occasionally I pick up on his need for a little cuddling time too, especially after he’s had to spend time away from us at the Bristol office, and now was one of those times.
“Do you want to go somewhere more comfortable, Lost Boy?” I asked him softly, and he nodded gratefully, so I took his hand and led him back up to the bedroom; if we were going to pillow-talk, I damn well wanted some pillows to do it on.
Once we were stripped-off, I climbed into bed and beckoned him over, Mark grinning as he slid in next to me so I could run my hands over him, to once again feel and stroke and luxuriate in the nearness of him and lose myself in his alluring scent complex. (All through both my pregnancies I had to cover my pillows with his shirts so I could smell him while I slept, something that amused him no end, as he could smell nothing, but I could have tracked him on a pitch-black, windy night by that scent; I still can; I love how my man smells.)
Mark seemed to feel the same way I did, spooning me close, his warm hands roaming gently over my flanks, my tummy, cupping my breasts and gently brushing my nipples, then slipping down to cup my pussy and stroke my inner thighs, while his lips nuzzled gently at my neck, not to excite or arouse me, just keeping contact, maintaining that closeness that was so much a part of who we were.
As we lay there we talked, about the children, his work, our plans, some of the good memories of our childhood (and we did have those, too, despite what our mother had been like; mine all revolved around Mark, who’d done his level best to bring me up despite being just a little boy himself, my teenage crush on Jamie Morrison, the day I realised what I was feeling for Jamie was nothing compared to what I felt for my brother, all those things we’d done together…)
While we talked, the memory rose up again of his face when he’d told me about his double, the flash of real fear I’d seen there, the memories of the little boy suddenly gripping the man, and a sudden thought struck me, literally an idea out of nowhere.
“Mark, about what you told me last night; you’ve been mistaken for this other bloke in Bristol, this ‘Darryl’ person, time and again, yes?”
Mark grunted assent, not really wanting to talk about it, I knew.
“Supposing he looks so much like you because he’s some kind of relative? What if we have a relative wandering around Bristol? After all, we don’t know where mum came from, or if she had any family, nothing about her at all; all we know is she was born in somewhere called ‘South Mead’; what if this ‘Darryl’ is one of her relatives?”
I was guessing this bloke might be mum’s relative; much as it pained me to admit it, Mark and I looked a hell of a lot like her. I even had her green eyes, so it was unlikely he was some relation of Mark’s father (or mine, I suppose…), not if people were mistaking Mark for him.
Mark sighed softly.
“Then I don’t want to know; she’s dead and gone, and her past is gone with her, and that’s just fine by me; where were they when we were young and really needed them, how come we never saw hide nor hair of them? We have Mum and Dad Morrison, Jamie and Nia, Shelagh, Bethany and Corey; they’re our family, they’re the ones we turn to, and they’re the only ones I care about!”
I wasn’t done, though; the whole idea intrigued the hell out of me.
“Mark, what if this ‘Darryl’ guy is our relative but he doesn’t know it, what then?”
Mark pulled me closer, and when he spoke I could hear the finality in his voice.
“Then it doesn’t matter, Tink; let sleeping dogs lie, it’s better this way. We have our family. They’re the ones that matter; they’re the ones we love and keep close. That’s enough for me, and it should be enough for you, too. Let it go, Tink, please!”
I knew him better than to try and pursue this conversation any further; besides, he was right; we lived in the middle of a warm and loving family circle, we didn’t need ‘what if’ to make our lives complete. Still…
*
DARRYL:
Work over the next few weeks kept my nose more or less to the grindstone, with only the knowledge that Lena, David and Mo-Mo were waiting for me at the end of each day keeping me going. I was really starting to flag; the relentless workload was beginning to tell on all of us; then suddenly the Trust reversed its position and started cutting elective surgery patients off the waiting lists, only allowing medically sanctioned surgery to be carried out. Suddenly I was working a 40-hour week again, the vacant posts in the surgical team were being advertised, and I had time to spend my weekends with my beautiful wife and kids again.
The weekend after I’d worked my first normal week in God knows how long, I woke with a sense of happy well-being at the thought of no work for two whole days, and an even more pleasurable feeling lower down; Lena had me in her mouth, and the warm wetness was what had woken me. As I opened my eyes, she looked up at me, her brilliant blue eyes wide and innocent, and completely at odds with her devilish grin as she suckled on me.
“Hi sweetheart, can I help you?” I grinned, with Lena grinning back at me as she slid her lips off my swollen cock.
“Now you’re awake, Dar, I want you to do something for me!” she smiled, that slow, dirty smile she does so well, and I felt my spine prickling with anticipation.
“Anything for you, Princess, you know that!” I replied.
Lena slid up and on top of me, her lips a fraction of an inch from mine.
“I want my big brother to fuck me really hard!” she murmured, a wicked grin on her lips. “I want you to shove your big cock inside me and make babies in me, in your naughty, slutty little sister!”
As she spoke, she squeezed and rubbed me, turning my already respectable erection into a throbbing, blue-steel hard-on; Lena has that effect on me. I pulled her closer by the simple expedient of clenching her taut buttocks and pulling her up to me, our lips meeting in a most enjoyable kiss, while she rolled her stomach against mine, squeezing my trapped erection between us.
“Lift up, baby”, I instructed, but she shook her head.
“No Dar, I want to do it this way…”
So saying, she slipped off me and knelt-up on the bed, holding the headboard as she stuck her round and juicy little rump out. I needed no second prompting, and quickly got into position behind her, kissing and nibbling her neck while my hands squeezed her breasts and rubbed her nipples, before drifting down to lightly rub at her hooded clitoris, making her gasp and press back against me.