Read These Demented Lands for Free Online Page A

between the Bird Sanctuary and The New Projects. It was after Brotherhood came back in that old plane. He made them both fall in love with him. Made them. With his handsomeness and money. His father was working like a slave at The Drome Hotel while Brotherhood gallivanted around these hills with Lynne and Rosa in his jeep. He took them in the flying boat, flew them up the coast, low over the Summer Colony chapel, over the beaches at The Inaccessible Point, the birds from the Sanctuary peeling off the cliffs below the tilted wings: puffins and shags dropping straight to the sea. I can just imagine the Erin sisters, who we all felt protective about, noses pressed to the windows.
    â€˜I was just out school then and would slouch at one end of the public bar at The Drome, ‘fore Brotherhood the younger shut it down, making the bar resident only; there he would be, proudly laying off about it in a loud whisper, the stories that he still repeats, word for word to the young wives beside the evening log-fires in the Observation Lounge.’
    â€˜What stories would he tell?’ I mumbled, sleepy sort of.
    â€˜All of his going with the sisters.’
    â€˜Let me guess: he
went
with them
both
thegether, he climbed into the same bed with them or they came into the same bed with him for some triple action? Big deal. I’ve done worse.’
    He spoke out, ‘Well yes. Of course.’
    â€˜That’s no so naughty; just being first to do it in Toytown.’
    â€˜Aye, but its not like you think. Brotherhood, up in the bar would tell, his face back in the shadows: “I can remember it was Lynne I kissed first. The three of us sitting up on the banks of Sorrowless Rigs Burn. An August afternoon. As Lynne’s mouth and mine came together she lay back under me. My hand went to her right leg and I still recall its teenage-smoothness. Rosa, who had put her head back at the same instant on the heather let out a gasp.” Same words as he’ll use on the young wives up at the Observation Lounge who’ll be sitting, legs crossed, as Brotherhood looks into their eyes, watching as the women think . . . 
he’s completely insane. We’ve put ourselves into the hands of a psychopath for a fortnight
 . . . Brotherhood scans, looking for any sign of arousal in the women; he goes on . . . “Lynne and I moaned, but so did Rosa. As I kissed Lynne her sister was moaning! As I rubbed higher on the leg,” (And here Brotherhood might lean closer in the semi-dark lounge.) “. . . I found Lynne was letting me move up under the dress; my fingers brushed over the belly-button and up to a tit. Lynne was gurgling in her throat as my fingers found, on the tip of the left nipple, a single hair.” (Now, Brotherhood is getting into his stride.) “Between thumb and forefinger, I pinched the single hair and ran my fingers down it to judge its length and – amazing – thatincredible hair stretched on and on from the nipple, one foot, two feet, three feet long, it led my hand across to where it ended: the silver ring of the pierced nipple on Rosa’s equally smooth breast. Now Rosa was breathing so hysterically; there was the delight and fascination of discovering where Lynne’s sensations ended and Rosa’s began and I never really defined it that day. Looking into the twins’ faces, their thin noses and black eyes, telepathic lovers co-operating for the pleasure of us all, as I slid a hand to the side of the third leg and judged that ultimate point; felt for the wonder of that same wet confirmation a man to the east of Europe had felt for, as he lay a-top the bag of blood that was a slim young woman minutes before – what his hand found was what mine did, that common bit, that secret where the twins truly shared everything and I entered their single vagina, I loved them. Other men were too afraid; though I wasn’t the first. Look at