[Bianca]
"You're a much better fuck than your prude of a sister, you drunk slut," a familiar voice tore through my apartment, moments after my arrival.
At least I thought it was a familiar voice. My fiancé's voice. I shook my head. I was wrong. Just like every other time. Of course I was.
"Fuck, aah, yes," Brianna moaned as I made my way through the one bedroom I shared with my fiancé, Jason.
"For fuck's sake, Brianna," I muttered under my breath with a sigh. "Fucking boundaries. Stop making me part of your fucked up sexual fantasies," I groaned.
Supermodel Brianna Chase was my twin sister. I loved her to death, but she was also a slut. No two ways about it. Her recent rise to B-list model status made the situation worse. Being in her life and looking exactly like her was my curse.
This was made worse by her creepy kink of men berating me while praising her in bed. The worst part? She was probably fucking some loser who couldn't spell his own name right. In my and Jason's bed. While pretending he was Jason. It just gave me the ick.
"Pulling this shit in my apartment is a new low, even for you Bri—" I was trying to yell through the bedroom door, but she bested me, her howling drowning me out.
That was the fucking last straw. I was throwing her ass and her loser hook up out, dead of the night or not.
"Yes, Jason, yes. Fuck me like you fuck your fiancé. My sister. Fuck my pussy like it's Bianca's. God that's good," Brianna continued to moan as I turned the doorknob, buzzing with the anticipation of calling her out for the umpteenth time.
I couldn't take it anymore. Paranoia set in. She was officially not allowed around Jason unless I was present because fuck, she was a freak.
Once the door opened, my heart stopped, then plummeted into my stomach. The breath caught in my throat. All I wanted to do was drop into a heap and cry forever. Because how fucking could they?
Some part of me always wondered. Was it possible that Jason was fucking my sister behind my back? So why was I still shocked by what I saw? Too stunned for words, my eyes instantly squeezed shut.
Every single time I heard her calling out my fiancé's name in an alleyway or the back of a car seat with her legs spread I told myself it was just a fantasy. My train wreck sister was just expressing her fucked up fascination with my life and the stability I had achieved. Coveting it.
I was a logical person. Becoming a lawyer made it an occupational hazard. My mind would never believe unless it had proof. So I forced my eyes open and made myself look.
It was not my mind playing tricks. There my doppelganger was, bouncing and down my fiancé's dick.
I felt so stupid. Humiliated. Defeated. Of course they were fucking each other. They spent more time together than Jason and I did these days. How many times did he fuck her? How fucking long?
My whole life. Brianna and I shared everything, even on occasion her career, but that wasn't enough. She had to have everything I did. Including, apparently, my fiancé's dick stuffed into her pussy.
"Fuck me like I'm my sister. Just like you fuck her. Damn it, taking things from the pushover is fun," Brianna said, a sickening giggle tumbling from her lips. "She would probably have given you to me if I asked, but taking you is so much better."
"Fucking whore. Is this what all my sacrifices to keep your career alive are to you? A joke? Am I a fucking joke?" I hissed under my breath, my hands turning into fists at my sides, while my blood boiled.
No matter how much of a needy, flaky slut she was, I always helped out by taking Brianna's place when she was too black out drunk to show up for work. I did it because I thought sisterhood meant something to her.
Clearly I was mistaken. Never in my wildest dreams would I have seen this coming.
Fuck the fucking tears filling up my eyes, making me wonder if somehow I could have done something to prevent this. Did I not do enough for her? Did I hurt her somehow? Why could she never just be happy for me?
Not one, but the two single most important people in my life, were actively in the process of hurting me. Breaking my trust. The man I gave my heart, innocence and greater part of my twenties to, was fucking another woman. One I cared about. Couldn't get rid of. He fucking knew that. He didn't even have decency to fuck her somewhere else.
I am standing right in front of you while you fuck her, I wanted to scream, but words failed me. It was like they couldn't see me. Like I might as well not exist. Still I couldn't look away as they pissed away my faith in them for a fuck.
Jason spoke and the betrayal hit me all over again, like seeing them go at it was fresh information.
"I always wanted to fuck you both, but she's too stiff to agree to a threesome," Jason mused, slapping Brianna's ass as she went to town on his dick.
She giggled in between pants like riding my fiancé in my bed was the funniest thing in the world. IN. MY. FUCKING. BED.
"What the fuck do you need her for? I'm a lot more fun, aren't I? She doesn't know how to take care of a man's dick. We should have started fucking years ago. This shit is so fucking hot," a giddy, out of breath, Brianna squealed with glee.
"She takes care of our bills and does your job more often than you. So keep your whore mouth shut and your slutty legs open. Fucking traitorous, sexy bitch," Jason panted, humping up into Brianna like he hadn't gotten laid in months, a satisfied groan erupting from him.
He was red in the face and sweating like a pig. Fucking asshole. Where was all that effort and consideration when he was in bed with me?
"Ssssssshhhhh. We won't say a word. Just keep fucking me behind her back. Little miss perfect is so busy saving the world she will never even notice," Brianna cooed, another string of giggles pouring out of her as her back arched.
She exaggerated her enjoyment, then cried out, "Cuming. I'm cuming. I'm cuming."
Definitely a fake orgasm. Fuck knew in that moment, just for a second, I pitied her (and me) for being hard up for Jason's puny dick.
Practical to a fault, I opened my fists, my entire frame shaking with sadness and hot anger, and closed the door silently. They didn't deserve my love. My rage. My sadness. So why was I wondering how the fuck I let this happen? How come it was somehow all my fault?
"Lazy fucker. You can't even get up and fuck her. How the hell would your little dick have handled us both, you fucking loser?" I ranted to no one in particular.
These words should have been said to his face, but my mother taught me better. Women are seen, not heard was her philosophy. You can imagine how she took me leaving modeling behind for law school. I damn near thought it might kill her.
My mind was reeling with options as a slow, sharp pain seeped into my heart. One week away from the wedding. Brianna was my maid of honor. Hell for all I knew he was cheating on me with her left and right instead of going for auditions like he said he was. He was a lousy actor, but love was blind. I supported him and got myself through law school while he 'followed his dream.' I told myself it would be worth it in the end. That he was worth it.
Turned out, the fucker didn't even respect me, much less love me.
She looks exactly like me, you dumb fuck.
What could you possibly gain from this?
"Maybe he's right and I really am a bore," I said with a sigh, the silent insecurity slipping from my subconscious, where I buried it on a daily basis.
Law school was no joke. Working two jobs, one as a paralegal and the other filling in for Brianna, was exhausting. I did it anyway. One day mom would be proud. She would see I was meant for more than a runway and forgive me. Stop guilting me into "supporting" Brianna, the "only model left in the family."
Moans, gasps and screams still hit the back of my ears as I walked back to the front door of the apartment in a daze.
"Fuck, I don't even know who I am anymore. I never dress up or try to have fun anymore. I'm a fucking grandma in my twenties. Of course Jason is bored with me. Why else would he cheat? I gave him everything," I chastised myself for letting myself go… for allowing myself to pass out as soon as I got home everyday.
Fuck knew when the last time I shaved my elgs or pussy was, nevermind had sex. And damn it, I was horny… but so shit tired every day I couldn't make myself get on Jason's dick, knowing he'd make me do all the work.
I walked smack into Brianna's suitcase as thoughts of how I could have prevented this flooded my mind. Should I try and save my engagement? Was there anything to save?