It was like staring at a stranger, with all the consequent surprise and embarrassment to both parties. Alex was scarlet, except for the whites of his bulging eyes, and his mouth gaped open, tongue tip slightly protruding. He gripped the arms of his chair with white-knuckled hands, and she could see how his fingers quivered and jerked as he tried to steady himself. His feet were on the floor, but not completely. They moved in little spastic tremors, as if he were taking baby steps and getting nowhere. If she hadn't known he was healthy as a home, she'd have sworn he was a probability for an imminent coronary.
"Oh, God, Alex, is something wrong with you?" she asked in true concern. Springing to her feet, brushing back disordered hair with one hand, Amy hurried to him. She dropped to the floor beside his chair, put her hands on his knees to help steady his trembling.
"Say something, for God's sake!" she implored, looking up at him.
He shook his head, eyes still enormous. Finally Alex exhaled, a long whoosh of breath, and some of the redness began to leave his features. "I didn't say 'Simon Says'," he said throatily, his voice strained.
Maybe it wasn't very funny. Amy laughed all the same, a silvery, high-pitched giggle that made her feel much better, and she drew back one fist to give him a gentle tap in the breadbasket. "Oh, Lord," she said, giggling again. "It looks like you have a problem, younger brother!"
She'd been so intent on his face and its unhealthy color and expression that she'd seen nothing else. But now, kneeling before him, eyes slightly downcast, there was no way Amy could have remained ignorant of the condition of Alex's body.
The lower portion of his silk robe was tented up, lifted very high by the unmistakable pole of an erection. She looked at his face again, her lips curled in unspoken question, and he was starting to blush again. Not in a long, long time had she been so immediately aware of how much she and Alex looked like one another. It was almost like staring into a mirror. The resemblance was uncanny and very disarming.
Alex started to speak but, before he could get a word out, Amy, driven by some impulse she could neither control nor quite comprehend, had opened her fist and, instead of punching him in the belly, she covered the bulge of his cock with the tips of her fingers.
"Hey, don't do that!" Alex yelped, smacking at her hand. But he jerked, and his penis swayed, and before Amy could stop herself or even analyze her action, she had grabbed a firm hold on the robe and its stiff throbbing contents. Her fingers lacked around him, squeezing, and he moaned her name.
There was another sound. Amy struggled to interpret it, and her eyes widened when she realized that she was speaking, that her soft coaxing voice murmured, "Let me, ex… let me touch it…"
But he's my brother! she thought, her hands burrowing into the robe, flinging it open. This isn't proper at all! And by then she'd seized the waistband of his tight, skimpy shorts – they were stretched nearly to bursting by the pecker they tried to contain – and she was pulling them down, catching her first sight of his dick, of its sudden spring into her field of vision. Amy caught the shorts beneath his nuts, and all thoughts of propriety and morality fled her young mind. She had eyes only for his penis, which jiggled like a hypnotist's charm before her gaze. It was a temptation for her eyes, her hands, and her trembling lips. "Oh, wow!" she blurted, grabbing its bare meaty shaft with both hands and moving in closer. "It looks like you've grown a little!"
There had, been a time, when they were very young adults, that Amy and Alex had done a little curious exploration upon one another. Oh, Christ, she thought, that was a thousand years ago! So many years, anyway. One had challenged the other – she couldn't recall which – dam were exchanged, and eventually she tugged down her panties and gave her brother a quick look at the tiny slice between her legs. And of course he'd been obliged to reply in kind, offering Amy a glimpse of his pecker. But it was all so innocent, and there'd never been a replay of it and besides, she knew that most young people performed similar experiments. Not just brothers and sisters – all college kids. Playing doctor, or post office, or mommy and daddy – whatever the game was called – allowed them to touch one another and satisfy their natural curiosities. It proved to them that boys and girls were indeed built from different blueprints.
But she knew that this wasn't the same thing at all. They weren't the same now. He was almost a full-grown man, and she very close to being a woman. If there'd been any doubt, she'd already shown him how big a girl she really was. God! How could she have even dreamed of putting on a performance like that one? And there was something decidedly non-innocent in the erection of Alex's cock, in its hot throbbing stiffness cradled between her damp palms, and Amy became suddenly and erotically aware that her relationship with her twin brother was about to change drastically, completely.
"It's beautiful," she said intensely, her eyes misting over. And it was. A long, slender rod, straight as a die, capped by a gland whose shape reminded her very much of the Indian arrowheads she and Alex used to find in the desert near Bakersfield, when the family lived there. Her brother's prick wasn't as thick as Steve's, but he was appreciably longer. She could hold Alex in both hands, one fist gripping him above the other, and still the knotty pointed tip and almost an inch of shaft protruded from her two-fisted clutch. Drool began to seep from her tightly closed lips and her mouth was flooding with saliva. Amy swallowed hard, her face moving almost imperceptibly closer and closer to Alex's dick. She couldn't stop herself. Not even when her fucked lips touched the end of his rod and he groaned and she felt his organ give a mighty convulsing shudder in her squeezing fists.
"Beautiful," she said again, her lips flicking soft kisses upon his dong, and she wondered if she could even dream of taking him orally without damning her soul and his, too.
"You can't do this, Amy," he said. "Please stop before something happens that will make both of us sorry."
What could that be? she wondered, drawing her head back. Her eyes flashed up to meet his, and her hands began to move idly on the talk of his cock.
"Kiss me, Alex," she commanded, her voice so insistent that it seemed to leave him no option of refusal. Slowly, as if he were in a trance, Alex leaned toward Amy. Still masturbating him, Amy lifted up, head tilting back, lips presenting themselves.
They came together, his mouth crushing hers in a kiss of fire and passion, her mouth opening to receive his tongue. Alex thrust an arm round Amy's back and pulled her even closer, as if he meant to swallow her entire face, and she gave two more tugs on his cock. It was a live, shuddering thing to her hands, and she could feel his frenetic pulse hammering through his erect pecker. Amy widened her mouth for him, her tongue sloshing spit across his, and before she could jerk him again, Alex's cock gushed cum and she was screaming her excitement, into his open mouth.
The thrill was nearly as shattering in its unexpected intensity and ferocity as Amy's self-induced orgasm had been a few minutes ago. Her body seemed to turn into jelly, right then, right there, and if Alex hadn't been clutching her about the back, she'd have melted on the spot. His cock kept convulsing in her fists, and she knew that both of them were being sprayed by his thick, spattering cum. The more she squeezed, the more jism he shot, and the more jism she felt emerge from his cumhole, the more frantically she squeezed. She could feel the stuff on her belly, soaked already through her thin white shirt, the cream coating warm and sticky on her skin.
And still she manipulated his slender, incredibly stiff prick, teasing from its arrowhead point gush after gush of brother-cum, until her hands were as sticky as if she'd soaked them in a tub of simmering glue. Could she, Amy wondered, ever dare to let go of the rod that had bathed her so excitingly?
But she had to breathe, and with his mouth tight upon hers she couldn't. Amy moved her face against Alex's, disengaging his tongue by degrees, pulling free when she was no longer impaled by it.
She nabbed her wet lips on the shoulder of her blouse, fingers still entrapping his cock in a fierce possessive clutch, and she purred in remembrance of his tongue, of the way it had acted in her mouth. How might a tongue like that feel in her pussy? No!! Wasn't it wrong to think of things, of sexual things, involving herself and… and… her…
But it was just as wrong to do what they'd already done, and she might as well be damned for a sheep. Licking her lips, Amy cocked her head to one side and grinned up at Alex. "You're something else," she said admiringly.
"And so are you," Alex agreed in a husky voice, strained, as if his throat were a little sore. He took her by the shoulders, his face dropping. "My God, what did we do?"
Regretfully Amy released his cock. It had begun to go soft, but she knew that a few careful passionate caresses would have him up big and hard in just a couple of minutes. She knelt in sadness, watching his prick deflate before her eyes, and she licked her lips once more as she studied the gobs of cum clinging to the silk of his robe. Her skirt and blouse bore the remnants of his orgasm, too – glistening bubbles of butter milky cum on the white of her clothing, seeping through to wet her tingling skin. She knew that she had transgressed a particular and very ancient rule of humanity, but she didn't feel like a transgressor. No regrets, no compunctions.
Far from it, indeed. As Alex stared up at her from the chair, he seemed no longer to be just her twin brother. Just? Yesterday just her twin brother had been plenty. And today? Alex was someone very different, even – yes – someone special. And though Amy had just met that different, special someone, she was fully aware that she would meet him again.
Stepping back, she laughed softly. It was a pleasant, husky laugh. "You know damned well what we just did," she told her brother. "And talk about kinky aftertastes! I… I think I'm going to go take a bath. I smell like a Chinese whorehouse, and you really blasted me with that stuff. God, when was the last time you got your rocks off, younger brother? Didn't Dad have a little talk with you about growing boys and their urges?"
She shrugged, as if it was of no importance, but she knew she was lying and she was damned sure he did too. Amy turned, her short skirt swishing about her thighs. "Maybe I'll go to bed early," she added. "This has been a freaky day."
She didn't need eyes in the back of her head to know that Alex was watching as she strutted up the staircase. Amy could feel his stare and she walked with her back straight, head high, ass twitching no more than usual.
What must he be thinking now? About her? About himself? How was he cataloging his experience in his mind? Did he have any frame of reference to compare it to? Amy couldn't even guess. An hour ago she'd have said, "Yes, I know Alex like a book. After all, we're twins, and we've always been very close." But now – now? Her hands shook so much she had a difficult time undoing the buttons of her tennis top, and she had to lean one hand against the shower door while she caught a much-needed breath. Amy Messenger saw no way of denying that she was more excited at this moment than at any time in the past eighteen years. She stripped, then hurried into the shower, turning the water to very hot. Her hands raced across her young body, smearing on a froth of sweet-smelling soap. She rinsed it away, then smeared on more. The water flowed in sheets across her flesh, adding to the excitement she felt already. And, though she heated to leave the steamy atmosphere of the shower stall, redolent with her soap and body oils, she stepped onto the rug, and dried herself with care.
Amy found the talcum and applied it to her scrubbed, shiny body until she smelled like a newborn baby. She looked at her face in the minor, saw that it was still flushed and glowing. Or is that me at all? she wondered. Gathering up her clothes, Amy hurried to her room, closing the door behind her with a firm slam.
She saw the flash of her bare body in the vanity mirror, and she preened, turning round and round. Assuring herself that the curves of legs and ass and tits were spectacularly beautiful, that she was a lovely, attractive woman, that any man in his right mind would jump at the chance to hold her hand, let alone – perfume! She eyed, her selection, choosing Midnight Desire. Alex had given it to her a couple of Christmases ago, and she only wore it on special occasions because it was very expensive. Also, very erotic. Or so she'd always thought. Amy tipped the bottle in her hand and dabbed scent onto her red nipples, into her smooth-shaven armpits, into the nape of her neck, behind her ears, and lastly, ran a trail of perfume from the depressed circle of her navel downward, into her beaver, straight to the lips of her pussy itself.
"Ooohhh," she said, lifting onto tiptoes as her fingers twined amid her pubic, curls, depositing a medium-sized drop of Midnight Desire on the very lips of her cunt. It tickled. She wet her fingertip again and smoothed a little more perfume onto the slash of her sex, mingling the aromatic oil with her own fragrant juices. She put down the bottle then, smiling in appreciation. Her body smelled of perfume and feminine arousal. Was there anything else to do?
Only crawling beneath her bed sheet. Only waiting.