"Monica darling."
"Vicky!"
The sisters squealed and flung their arms around each other and turned a circle just inside the doorway. Then they straight-armed each other and beamed and looked each other up and down happily.
"Six years, Vicky!"
"I know. Too long, Monica, too long. Christ, I thought I'd never get back home. All the red tape. God, you wouldn't believe it!"
Monica looked at her sister closely. It was like looking into a mirror still. Except for the hair. Vicky's was long. She still had a deep tan, too, although Monica had been working on hers.
"Are you all right, Vicky?" she asked.
Vicky shrugged. "Me? Sure. I'm a hard nut. You know that. You were the softie between us." She detached herself and nosed her way toward the kitchen. "I need a drink. It's a long way from Venezuela to here."
"Sure, Vicky," Monica said, hurrying ahead. She was dimly aware of hopping for Vicky already. Just like old times.
Vicky lounged in a chair and sipped her drink and sighed. "It's good to be back home," she said finally, her voice soft. "I don't know how I ever let Stan talk me into going to Venezuela."
"It's where the oil is, I guess. Gil was just wondering this morning why he spent a month at a time out on the rig."
"Yeah. A couple of crazy bastards, Stan and Gil. And we suffer for it."
"I wish we could have been there when Stan…"
Vicky looked at her sister. She smiled wanly. "You can say it, honey. He's been dead six weeks now. It was hard at first. But he's gone and I'm alive, and you keep on."
"We just couldn't afford to go."
"I know. It doesn't matter." She took another sip and straightened up slightly. "Well, how are you and Gil doing? Really doing, I mean, Monica."
"Oh – you know."
Vicky laughed. "Still don't know how to handle that big fucker, do you! When are you going to learn, twin sister?"
Monica laughed with her. "Maybe I need some help," she said.
The smile slid from her face. She didn't know what had made her say a thing like that. Vicky looked at her curiously, sipping at her drink, watching Monica over the rim of the glass.
"And how's little Brucie these days? He must have grown some since the last time I saw him, huh?"
"And how," Monica said. She couldn't help a little shiver.
"Oh?" Vicky grinned. "Like that, is it? Got his papa's prick? Monica, you little devil, I didn't think you'd ever have it in you!"
Monica flushed all over. "Now, just what do you mean by that?"
"You know what I mean, honey," Vicky said, thrusting up with her hips in a vulgar bump. "I mean, what the hell? With Gil gone a month at a time… no muss, no fuss, no sticky entanglements of the kind I had too many of… makes me wish I'd had Stan punch a boy kid into me a long time ago."
"Vicky!"
Vicky tipped her head back and laughed with a rich, throaty sound. Her eyes sparkled, just the way they always had. She sat in the chair and began to ooze that sultry come-fuck-me manner she always had.
"Tell me, Monica," she said intimately. "You can tell your twin sister. Has he got Gil's big fat prick?"
"What do you know about Gil's big prick?" Monica cried defensively, the old doubts coursing through her again.
"Why, honey – you've told me about it often enough, don't you remember?"
"You tell me, Vicky," Monica said cleverly. "Have you ever let Gil fuck that big prick into you?"
Vicky sat forward. They looked into each other's eyes. It was like the game from years ago.
"You tell me, and I'll tell you," Vicky said.
"You have fucked Bruce!" Vicky cried with delight.
Monica flushed wildly. "I mean no, I hadn't!"
"Well, I haven't let your husband jab his big fat prick into my pussy, either."
Monica looked at the smile toying at the corners of her sister's mouth. This was always a game of honesty between them, no matter how much it had hurt to tell the truth.
But six years had gone by. They were both grown women now, not children playing a game. The rules could have changed. Monica wasn't quite sure. Knowing how Gil and Vicky both were, she would never be quite sure.
"Tell me, then," Vicky said, sitting back again. "How do you know Bruce has a big prick? Have you been peeking at him? Watch him jack off? See him fuck his girl there on the couch one night? How? Oooo, you've got to tell me!"
She shivered all over with a sexual tingle, and Gil's words passed through Monica's mind – how horny Vicky must be after six weeks without Stan to fuck her.
"I…" Monica shrugged, looking away, letting out a little shiver of her own. She looked directly back. "Vicky, damn you, you haven't changed one little bit! All you ever talked or thought about was sex, and you're still doing it!"
"What else is there, honey?" Vicky laughed. "You just wait until you have to go without it and see how wide-ranging your thoughts become."
"You've never gone without a cock up your pussy for more than a week in your life, and you know it."
Vicky finished her drink. She sighed. She put the glass carefully on the little table beside the chair, and she looked at a spot somewhere near the floor and spoke softly.
"You're not going to believe this, Monica. But, since Stan… I don't know. Something's different. I can't put my finger on it yet, but something's different."
Monica looked at her sister and didn't know what to say. She was telling the truth. Yet, it was nearly too much to believe.
"You mean – you've gone for six weeks without…" Vicky grinned wryly and looked up. "No. Not for six weeks. Hell, I'm not that kind of masochist. But it's different. I don't feel right with just a prick fucking up into my cunt. Oh, I get hot and I come and squeal and carry on the way I always did. But afterwards, it just… I keep remembering Stan…"
She put her hand to her face. Monica really didn't know what to do or say now. This was totally unlike Vicky. She tried to imagine what it would be like if Gil were killed out on the job the way Stan had been, and a shiver of loneliness swept over her.
She got up and went to her sister. She cradled Vicky's head against her lap and smoothed her hand over the brown hair, seeing the sun-bleached highlights in it.
Vicky tossed her head up and smiled wryly. "Mother Monica," she said. "You haven't changed either, honey. I'm glad. I'd thought maybe things would be different between us after six years. I was frightened by the thought. I'm glad they aren't."
"Me too, Vicky," Monica said.
She looked down at her sister's face. God, it was like looking into a mirror! Only it was a hot mirror. An oozing, sultry, come-fuck-me mirror.
"Vicky…" Monica whispered.
Vicky licked her lips. She opened her mouth. She started to say it, and then Bruce came into the house from school, letting the screen door bang shut, startling the sisters. He appeared around the corner and stopped dead still, looking at them.
"Aunt Vicky!" he cried happily, his face lighting up.
Monica didn't look at him. For some reason, she watched her sister's face as Vicky turned her head to greet her nephew.
"Brucie! My God – look at you! A man! Monica, you devil, you didn't tell me! You didn't really prepare me!"
Vicky sprang from the chair and ran into Bruce's arms. Monica watched them with a funny feeling. It was like watching herself hug her son, only with the difference that Vicky could put into the act.
Her firm tits mashed against Bruce's chest. Her lips parted as she tipped her face up and drew Bruce's head down. The kiss was long and hot and far too passionate. It made Monica squirm. It reminded her of the kiss she'd given Bruce just this morning.
"Mmmmm, what a man!" Vicky cried, tearing her mouth away from his finally. She continued hugging up against him, rolling her tits over his chest, cupping his thighs with hers, probably trying to get a feel of the size of his prick the way she was so skilled at doing.
"Gosh, I can't believe it, Mom!" Bruce choked, trying to act normally in spite of the wealth of womanly flesh pressing and rolling sensually against his virginal body. "You look exactly alike!"
"How am I going to tell you apart?"
Vicky gave Monica a funny look, a teasing look. "Why would you need to tell us apart, darling?" site said.
"Vicky…" Monica began.
"Your mother and I used to fool people all the time, hasn't she ever told you? We used to make a game of it, and it was a riot."
"Vicky…"
"All I'd have to do is lose a little more of my tan and cut my hair shorter, and – and you wouldn't know your mother from your Aunt Vicky! What would you think of that, Bruce?" she smiled broadly, turning back to him, making her tit press obviously into his arm.
"I-I…" Bruce stammered, licking his lips. He looked from his aunt to his mother. Monica couldn't help looking at his crotch.
The checked jeans were pulled tightly over his prick and balls. She nearly stared. God – oh, God! Was he getting a hard-on?
Her mouth fell open. She looked from her son to her twin sister and felt tingles shoot all through her body and make her cunt twitch.
It was already happening. It was already getting out of control, just the way she'd been afraid it would. Only it wasn't Gil she was going to have to worry about.
It was her son.
Vicky opened the bathroom door, and steam from the shower billowed into the bedroom behind her. She had a fluffy yellow towel wrapped around her succulent body. Her skin was scrubbed and healthy-looking, and Monica was pleased with how beautiful she looked. It meant that she looked just as beautiful herself.
"Mmmmm, that felt delicious," Vicky said, rubbing her body with the towel.
She cupped her tits with it, drying the undersides of the firm cones. Her nipples were distended and full. She patted the towel around her waist and the sides of her hips and wiped the glistening droplets from her full, tight asscheeks.
Monica lay in the big bed and watched her sister. She squeezed her thighs together under the sheet and tried to still the tingling in her cunt.
Memory flooded through her. She felt oddly in the past right now, watching Vicky getting ready to come to bed with her. And then her time sense would jump to the present again, and she would realize they weren't children any more, sleeping in the double bed upstairs in the old house.
This was Gil's bed. Hers and Gil's, not hers and Vicky's. She wondered if Gil got as much pleasure from watching her dry herself after a shower.
"You still sleep in a nightie, huh?" Vicky smiled.
"And you still sleep naked?"
"It's the only way, honey."
She flipped the towel to the side and stood before Monica in all her scrubbed, preserved beauty. Monica stared at her sister's pussy. She couldn't help it. The brown triangle of pubic hair was missing, and there were only puffy, soft, sweet-looking cuntlips.
"Like it?" Vicky smiled, parting her thighs, canting her pelvis forward, putting her hands saucily on her hips.
"Vicky, I…" Monica stammered. She squeezed her thighs together tightly under the sheet, but the tingling in her cunt only became worse.
"You should shave your cunt too, honey. You'd be amazed what it does to men. They want to eat it and eat it and lick their tongues all over the hairless lips."
"They-they do?" Monica gasped.
Vicky laughed throatily. "Honey, any time you get tired of getting Gil's big cock fucked up your hole, just shave. You'll see what I mean."
Vicky moved one hand from her hip. She smoothed it over her flat tummy and stroked slowly down her abdomen, fingers extended, toward the top of her puffy cunt mound.
"Look, Monica," she said huskily. "Watch. Tell me if it doesn't make you want to lick and suck my pussy yourself."
Monica stared. She couldn't help it. The sight was terribly erotic. The tips of Vicky's fingers traced over the swollen cuntlips, indenting the puffy flesh.
They separated the bloated flaps slightly, and there was a moist suck as pink tissues appeared inside the satiny cleft. Vicky squatted slightly, parting her thighs more, making her pussylips spread wider and her silken hole come into view between the bald petals.
The tip of her finger traced up the oiled, glistening gap and reached her clit. With no hair to hide it, Monica could see the tented fold and the straining little nub peeping from under it as her sister's finger gave it a twirl. She gasped and let out a soft moan and half closed her eyes.
"Vicky…" Monica breathed.
The memories were stronger now. It was just as if they'd never been separated, never gotten married and gone apart to lead their own lives.
"Mmmm, Monica," Vicky sighed, rolling her finger around the tip of her clit again and again.
The circle widened. Her pussy hole began to leak slippery, warm, glistening juice. Monica stared breathlessly and watched the puffy cuntlips bloat and separate even more.
"Vicky, don't do that," she whispered.
"I want to, honey. It feels good. Do it to yourself and see if it doesn't feel good."
"Vicky, stop. We're not kids any more."
"Oh, you remember," Vicky sighed, tipping her head back slightly, her eyes hooding even more. There was a soft smile on her lips, an expression of growing bliss. "I was hoping you hadn't forgotten, honey. That would be an insult to forget. They were good times we had, weren't they?"
Monica gasped. She tore her eyes from the sight of her sister's masturbating finger, her bald pussy, the red, swollen, wet, slippery tissues of her cunt mouth.
She remembered. She would never forget the way Vicky had been, starting at thirteen, when she had first discovered the tingles and joys of sex.
As in everything between them, Vicky had been the boss, the leader, the one who said what happened. And Monica had been the hesitant one, the frightened one, trying to stop her sister from wild acts.
It had been like a drug back then – the sights, the soft moans, the excited tingles that demanded even more. She'd watched Vicky masturbate to orgasm night after night, until her own body was screaming for the chance to experience the convulsions and the bloated flesh and the slippery, musky oils seeping from her virginal cunt hole.
"Remember the first time, Monica?" Vicky moaned softly, her finger swirling and circling over her stiff, throbbing clit.
She moaned and shivered and cupped her crotch firmly, shaking it. She tossed the covers back on her side of the bed and spun onto her back next to Monica.
Her legs parted widely, one of them lifting and coming over Monica's. Even through the sheet, the touch of it was burning hot.
Monica gasped and stared again. She could see the sharp tilt of her sister's firm tits, thrusting up from her chest. She could see the heave and pulse of her flat stomach, the soft rounding of her hairless cunt mound down into the cupping palm of her hand.
"Ohhhh, God, do you remember, Monica?" she moaned again.
Her hips lifted and circled. Her pelvis canted up, and she fitted her wet, silky cunt more tightly into her hand. Then she began shaking her hand up and down over her pussy in earnest, and there was no doubt in Monica's mind that her sister was going to masturbate all the way, right there beside her.
"I remember, Vicky," she whispered heatedly.
She wished her body wouldn't tingle so. It shouldn't tingle. She shouldn't be getting hot. She'd come and come, last night with Gil and this morning with thoughts of Bruce. Now she was getting hot over the sight of her sister's heaving, sucking cunt.
"You didn't have the nerve to fuck it yourself, remember? You were afraid. You thought it was dirty. I had to do it for you. Remember, Monica? Remember how it felt when you came for me for the first time?"
"Y-Yes, Vicky," she gulped.
It was happening. She was going right back to that psychological state. She was growing weaker and weaker. She knew she should assert herself and tell Vicky to stop or get out and sleep in the empty bedroom.
She opened her mouth to do it. Nothing came out. Her pulse raced, and her heart pounded violently. She crossed her thighs high up and squeezed them together until her cuntlips were flattened against each other and juice spurted from between them and smeared over her satiny flesh.
"Ohhhh, Vicky – stop! Stop!" she gasped.
The sound was weak and unconvincing. Vicky didn't stop. She groaned heatedly and fucked two fingers up her cunt hole and rolled her clit with her thumb.
The sounds coming from her cunt mouth were unbelievable. It sounded as if she were sloshing her laundry around in her wet cunt.
Her arms squeezed in at the sides of her tits and made the mounds thrust upward and jiggle. The nipples stretched far from the tips of the white cones and throbbed like ruby beacons, begging to be sucked.
Monica stared at them and shivered all over with a flood of memory. She had sucked those nipples before. She had drawn on them avidly, flipping the rubbery nubs with the tip of her tongue, feeling the pulse of them between her soft, hot ups.
She, parted her lips now. She licked them with her tongue. Hot breath came from her mouth. She moaned as she stared at Vicky's hot nipples, and she remembered clearly.
"Oh-h-h, don't…" she moaned pleadingly, one more time.
"Oh, Monica – I'm so hot! Don't make me stop! You don't know what it's like to lose your husband. I need… God, I need it so bad! Help me, Monica! Finger my pussy! Fuck me! Suck my pussy! Ohhhh, make me come! You used to! We used to do it together, don't you remember?"
"Yes! Yes! God, I remember! But it's over, Vicky! We're not kids any more! And it isn't right! It was never right! We're two women!"
"You mean you've never done it with any girl but me?"
"No! God, no!"
Vicky turned her head. She thrust her fingers deeply into her pussy and left them there, making small circles with her hips to maintain the sliding friction in her cunt.
"What if I were your brother instead of your sister, Monica? Would it be right then?"
Monica gasped. "Oh, God…"
"Or your son!"
"Vicky!"
Monica gasped until she thought she wouldn't ever get enough air in her lungs. Everything was going in circles in her mind. Even the room seemed to be spinning.
"Imagine I'm Bruce lying here next to you. Think of my big, fat, hard prick, smooth and white and virginal. Think of the way it would be throbbing and aching to fuck all the way up your wet little cunt right now! Think of it, Monica!"
"Vicky, stop! God – stop!" Monica wailed.
"You, have thought of it," Vicky chuckled huskily. "Ohhhh, Monica, you should see your face right now, darling! Ohhhh, God – if I had that big cock jutting out of my pussy hole right now, you'd get it all, clear to the back of your sweet, shaking cunt!"
"Ohhhh, Jesus – stop talking like that!"
"Let me see it," Vicky said breathily. She reached out and flipped the covers from Monica's body. "Ohhhh, let me see how wet your cunt is right now!"
She lifted the hem of her sister's nightie and gazed down between her thighs. She hissed softly with in drawn breath and shook her fingers inside her sopping cunt again and again.
"God, honey – I remember it. Ohhh, it's still a pretty pussy after all these years, after all the fat prick Gil's fucked up it again and again."
"Vicky, don't – please, please don't…" Monica whimpered, feeling all resistance seep away from her with each drop of cunt juice seeping from her sweltering hole and coating her pussy lips and pubic curls.
Vicky reached out slowly. Monica watched the hand come. She knew what it was going to do. She remembered. Her breath sucked in, and her heart pounded. Her cunt throbbed and squirmed and sucked with involuntary spasms of anticipation.
Vicky's fingers brushed through the damp curls. They circled. They slid up and down the hollows of thigh and torso, teasing. Monica's hips lifted involuntarily.
"That's the way, darling," Vicky whispered softly. "That's the way you used to do it. You didn't want me to touch, but you just couldn't resist. I'm glad it's still that way, Monica. I'm glad."
Monica groaned loudly. She tried to make words of protest out of the sound, but it was just a groan. She could feel her cuntlips bloating to impossible puffiness, separating, parting, two protective petals swelling aside to end their protection and bare the juicy, red, silky hole of her pussy mouth.
Vicky watched her sister. There was a smile of happiness and satisfaction on her soft lips. There was a hooded, lustful quality to her eyes. Her own long hair fell silkily over her shoulder and trailed erotically over Monica's thighs.
Her fingertips still teased and taunted, moving and caressing all about Monica's puffed cunt mouth.
"Are you ready, darling?" she asked softly. "I'm going to touch your pussy now. I'm going to slide the tip of my finger right up into that silken, wet groove. I'm going to twirl the tip of your hot, straining clit. The magic is still in the tips of my fingers, Monica. I'm going to make you come hard with them, just the way you used to do."
"Ohhhh…" Monica groaned, unable to do anything but lie there and watch her sister watch her.
If she had felt vulnerable and shameless the first time, many years ago, when Vicky had done the same thing to her and had said the same things to make her unbearably hot, it was nothing to what she felt right now. There might have been some excuse for what they'd done as children. Virgins, experimenting, learning the sensations and discovering the exciting mysteries of sex.
But there wasn't any excuse like that now. She didn't even have the excuse of being horny. It was just Vicky – just the relationship between them that was still there and now seemed likely to always be there.
"Here they go, Monica," Vicky whispered, her voice hot and filled with urgent undertones.
Monica gasped. A loud wailing moan escaped her lips. She hissed breath and snorted through her nose. Her whole body jumped and burst into flame.
The tip of Vicky's finger circled around Monica's clit and drew closer and closer. When it touched the throbbing, straining nub of sizzling flesh, Monica's cuntlips flapped and spasmed wildly, and slippery, hot juice poured from her muscular hole.
"Oh, darling – you still like it! Oh wonderful, Monica!"
"Ahhhh!" Monica cried. "You're going to make me come! Vicky, don't! Stop! We're girls! Don't make me come!"
"I'm not a girl, darling," Vicky whispered. "I'm Bruce. I'm your son. And here comes my big fat prick up your wet pussy!"
Vicky slid her fingers down the satiny, oiled slit between her sister's pussylips. She fucked all four of them into the hot, flapping, sucking cunt hole, pushing them deep.
Monica's hips shot upward. Her pussy tipped and opened wide. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and the image of Bruce's big cock filled her mind.
"Yaaaagh!" she bellowed.
Her pussy sucked and spasmed wildly around the fucking bunch of fingers. Her muscular cunt mouth squeezed and shuddered around them as if they were the fattest prick she'd ever had up her dainty little pussy.
Bruce's prick!
"Fuck me, darling – fuck me!" she screamed. "Fuck Mom hard, Bruce!"