[Continued from "They Know Each Other? (Part 1)."]

The Artist called me.  We arranged to meet at a local dive bar in the afternoon.  I walked over in the rain with my umbrella.  One of the things I liked about rain in San Francisco, was that it was never truly cold when it rained, and that day felt nice.

There were only five people in the bar including the bartender so it was easy for us to have a bit of privacy.  Over a few drinks the Artist and I had a great conversation.  He talked about his work and how he and his brother got into similar lines of it.  He talked about their upbringing which was … unique; without giving too much away, I’ll just say their childhoods set them up to deal with variety of people.

Their upbringing was very interesting in a fucked up sort of way, and certainly more fucked up than mine with my government cheese and my lesbian mother.  There was a funny story about his father embracing a lifestyle that didn’t require clothes, which scandalized his brother, the Artisan, and the Artisan’s wife.

Then I remembered that when I had seen the Artisan and given him that blow job, it was sort of a last hurrah before he got married.  It seemed unlikely from the Artist’s description of his brother that his was an open marriage.

After a while the Artist and I walked in the rain to my place.  We were both a little soggy so of course we decided to take of our wet clothes. Once our clothes were off we went ahead and put our mouths, hands, and genitals to use.

We had good sex but we did not have vaginal intercourse.  That was fine with me, sex needs some variety, but I wondered why not.  The Artist’s brother and I didn’t fuck probably because there was some part of him that could justify the cheating if it was “just” a blow job, but the Artist was single as far as I knew.  It didn’t matter much since we’d definitely had some fun.

So I had been with brothers.  Sibling penises had been in my mouth.  He he.  I liked it.  It’s one of those things I can say, “I did brothers.”  I know such sneaky behavior just for the sake of being able to say I hooked up with brothers isn’t very Ethical Slutty of me, but oh well.

I told my neighbor that I’d hooked up with the Artist.  She gave me a pat on the back and asked if I was going to hook up with the Artisan again.  Because he was married I figured not.  That didn’t stop my neighbor from inviting me to all sorts of local events where she knew both the Artist and Artisan would be.  She thought it would be hilarious if she could witness the moment when the brothers realized they’d both received fabulous blow jobs from me.

I didn’t agree.  If I had seen both of them at the same time I’d probably blush and stammer and in other ways give away the secret.  I didn’t think it would be all that horrible for the brothers to know that they’d both been with me – hell, chances were I wasn’t the only woman who had been with both of them – but I did think that it might not be good for anyone to know the Artisan had been with someone not his wife.

I avoided going to events where both the Artist and Artisan were scheduled to be, which was unfortunate because those events were the kinds of things the Viking and I liked doing.

I was not done with the brothers ….

I swear.  True story.

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