Whenever I drift into erotic reverie, my mind is consumed by one of two men. I alternate between them in my fantasies, and my selection depends on my mood. Imagining one man makes me come faster, while imagining the other makes me come harder.

The first man? My husband, Seth. I don't know if that's surprising or to be expected, seeing as how we've been together over five years. Bearded and strong, the way he fucks often borders on rough. And that's how I often prefer it.

It drives him into a frenzy when I whisper in his ear, "I'm all yours; I belong to you." His thrusts grow fervent, unmeasured, and I actually welcome the way his cockhead taps at my cervix. The sensation, not forceful enough to cause pain, prompts me to moan like I'm in some pornographic film. 

He summons forth my climax in record time. Usually, he's covered in sweat, determined to outlast me. When he finally finishes, I've orgasmed at least twice more.  

And the other man I fantasize about? My husband's older brother, Brendan. Almost ten years between them, and it shows. Brendan has the same dark hair, but it's begun to gray. He's clean-shaven and possesses a wirier frame than Seth. He recently mentioned he hates the glasses he now needs for reading. Seth never misses a chance to tease him about his age.

Maybe it's strange, my desire for two men who are almost complete opposites. But Brendan, divorced and seemingly happy with bachelorhood, takes his time in bed. How do I know this? Because I've been in his on several occasions. At first, the guilt of my betrayal tormented me, yet I couldn't resist returning to him.

The man delights in burying his face between my thighs. With his fingers and tongue, he gives my clit an exquisitely sensual massage. Where my husband is demanding, his brother is gentle. Brendan's oral skills repeatedly bring me to a toe-curling orgasm. I now understand what all those silly romance novel heroines mean when they describe seeing stars during climax.

He waits until I'm begging for his cock, and then he gives it to me with a fluid, unrushed rhythm. As if we have all the time in the world. As if we aren't furtively coupling while my husband is playing pool with his friends. 

When Brendan kisses me, his mouth tastes of my juices. "Let me come inside you, Peri!" he begs. I know it thrills him to fill my pussy with his seed, to secretly leave a part of himself deep inside me.

"We shouldn't!" I say, but my protests are hollow. I want it as much as he does.

"Let me," Brendan urges. His eyes lock with mine. 

I whimper yes, and the moment I feel his cock twitch and pulse within my pussy, I come so fiercely that the contractions draw a groan from his lips. 

It's easy to lose myself in such illicit memories, especially on a night like this, when I sit between Seth and Brendan at my in-laws' dining room table. Every two weeks, the five of us gather here for a meal, and every two weeks, I endure the underlying tension, the unspoken resentments that roil beneath the surface of this family's civil façade. 

Brendan sits to my left. He's careful not to let his gaze linger on me too long, though I've worn my hair swept back from my face, the way he prefers it. Seth is on my right; throughout much of dinner, he keeps a possessive hand on my thigh. I don't mind its weight, even as I wish Brendan could touch me, too. I realize I like being shared. As it is now, one brother's lips unknowingly follow the trail left by the other's. Their cocks claim the same mouth, the same pussy. 

I exchange brief pleasantries with my mother-in-law and then fall placidly silent. After dinner, when we all gather in the living room, drinks in hand, I wait until a mild argument breaks out between Seth and his father; it's invariably over politics. Then I pretend to receive an urgent message on my phone. "Something to do with work," I tell everyone apologetically. 

I leave the room and stride down a long hallway. I pass the bathroom, as well as a spare bedroom. After slipping my phone into my purse, I hang the bag's strap on a doorknob. Lingering in the shadows, I hold my breath. I desperately hope he'll appear in the hallway. 

When he does, I recognize his silhouetted frame immediately. Quietly, he closes the distance between us. I don't quite know what to expect, but it's not the urgent way he takes hold of me. Docile in his grasp, I allow him to back me against the wall. We share a forbidden kiss, uncharacteristically rushed; we've never indulged in this kind of risk before.

Brendan's mouth travels to my neck. I feel teeth and tongue on my skin. His hands are busy between us, and my eyes grow wide at the realization that he's freeing his cock from his pants.

"We can't," I hiss, casting a terrified glance down the hall. 

"Let me." He knows I can never deny him.

I'm aware of how insane this is. I fear he wants us to be caught. That doesn't stop me from gathering up my dress in one hand. With my other hand, I pull aside the crotch of my panties. Brendan is fully hard and ready. I imagine he sat in that living room, growing more aroused at the thought of following me back here. Now that he has, he's determined to see this through, no matter the consequences.

After hooking his arm under my leg, Brendan enters me. His pleasured sigh combines with mine. I mostly depend on him to keep me aloft, for I'm balanced precariously on a high heel. As his hips buck at a forceful pace, my other heel slips from the foot suspended in midair. I wince at the sound of my shoe clattering against the hardwood floor, but Brendan doesn't stop, and neither do the voices in the living room.

He fucks me the way Seth does, as if this is the last time we'll be joined like this. Clawing at his back, my hands grab fistfuls of his shirt. His breath is hot on my face. He drives his cock into me until I'm almost limp in his grip.

In little more than a minute, my entire body stiffens. My mouth twists open, but of course I don't scream. Instead, I surrender to the spasms he's coaxed forth. It's not just this new side of him, so insistent and demanding, that makes me come hard. It's also the danger, the threat of discovery. It scares me that such peril fuels my lust. 

"I'm going to come inside you, Peri." Brendan is no longer asking, yet I manage to choke out a yes that makes me sound like I'm the one now begging. He grunts and then shudders, straining as if to impale me on his cock even more. Aftershocks ripple through me, serving to tighten my muscles around him. My body conspires to milk him dry.

Afterward, he withdraws and gently sets me on my feet. I have time only for a brief kiss before I rush into the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I clean myself up as best as I can. Sitting on the toilet, I wait for most of his cum to seep out of me. Then I fix my hair. Though I can't hide my flushed skin, I doubt anyone will notice.

When I finally open the door, Brendan's gone. I return to the living room, where he gives me a deceptively platonic smile. 

It's not long before Seth signals his readiness to leave. Brendan rises from his chair and pulls me into a brief hug. He dares to murmur, "I'm so glad you came, Peri."

During the drive home, Seth flashes me an affectionate smile. "Thanks for putting up with another family dinner."

"I don't mind," I reply in a breezy voice.

Again, he rests a hand on my thigh. Beneath my dress, my panties are uncomfortably wet from my fluids and traces of Brendan's cum still leaking from my well-fucked pussy. 

Seth lifts his hand to my cheek, stroking my skin. He massages the back of my neck until I moan with pleasure. Tonight, he's so tender that I'm reminded of his brother. The two men form an amalgamation in my mind, borrowing traits from each other until they seem like a single entity. 

"I'm all yours," I tell Seth.

But of course, that's not true. Unable to choose between him and Brendan, I now belong to both.