They hadn’t seen each other in more than five years, and hadn’t really planned to. Nor did they plan not to, but something always happened. They never wound up at home together, even when Dad got cancer and they were both traveling back there more often. Something about work; something about her spouse or his girlfriend; something more important, always.
It wasn’t that they were angry with each other; they’d just gotten passive, taken each other for granted. They’d spent their entire childhood and high school years together, and before that they’d shared a womb. Their mother died in labor, leaving their then 50-year-old father to raise them. He did his best to do so, juggling that responsibility with his class load and his research responsibilities at a private college. They’d had a succession of nannies, but never a step-mom, even though they’d tried to turn some of the nicer and more attractive nannies into something more, once they got old enough to connive on it. That never worked out either.
Their mother had been 45, and they were her first, and last pregnancy. In private and with their closest friends, they’d sometimes joked that they were lucky not to be Siamese twins, or otherwise deformed. It sounded heartless, but she was nothing to them but a picture in Dad’s bedroom. He never even talked much about her.
And she’d played a joke or two on them – she’d insisted to their father once they knew they had twins, a boy and a girl, that their names would be Daniel and Danielle. Two names so similar they practically sound alike. And as it turned out, a physical similarity that was odd, even for siblings.
As fraternal twins, they were just siblings, genetically. They started with two different eggs and two different sperm. The only oddity is that their mother got two eggs in the oven during one cycle and their father got lucky twice over that month. Nevertheless, they were about as physically similar as two people of different genders can be. He was 5’11” to her 5’8″, which she had sometimes evened up with heels, and they both had well-toned physiques because they both loved to run. Also dark brown hair, skin that tanned easily, and blue eyes. She curved in at the waist and out at the hips and had small, perky breasts. Otherwise, they looked about alike.
When they were younger, it had seemed kind of cute. They couldn’t tell you how many outfits their nannies and sometimes their father bought them that were the same color, or made from the same material. The same polo shirt and jeans, or a suit for him, a dress for her. During college (they made the mistake of going to the same one, across state because their father didn’t want them going to school where he taught) they’d grown tired of the kidding, and the occasional uncomfortable attention from bisexual classmates. In the process, they’d gotten tired of each other. He’d gone to her wedding, they sent each other Christmas cards, and exchanged e-mails, but that was about it.
Then their father got cancer, but still nothing ever seemed to work out. They kept promising to meet up on one of these death-vigil weekends and one of them would stay in town long enough to go have dinner, at least. Dad had asked about it, even, but it hadn’t happened. A few calls on the phone; a few notes left on the kitchen table. sorry, got a big meeting tomorrow and i’ve got to go. love, Dan. They’d both had to keep cycling back to their jobs, trying to keep the days off to a minimum. Banking days off for the eventual need.
Then their father died.
They both got calls from the hospice worker. They’d found the body the day after he passed away peacefully in bed.
They arrived in the little college town their father had lived his life in, their schedule conflicts finally cleared up for a few days.
They first laid eyes on each other after five years, then, at the local funeral home, just in time to plan the service. She pulled a small rolling suitcase and briefcase into the lobby; she’d arrived in a taxi. She wore black slacks with a grey blouse and cardigan; he was wearing the suit he’d shown up for work in that morning, right before he’d gotten the call and caught a flight. They held each other in their arms and sobbed. They smelled of airplane, and wool, with an undercurrent of flowers and death in the funeral home lobby.
Planning the service took about 30 minutes and left the funeral director more bereft than they were. Their father had planned a bare-minimum memorial and pre-paid it, with strict instructions to them not to let the funeral directors talk them into any extras “or I’ll haunt you.”. After they got away Danielle put her luggage into his rented car and sat crying quietly in the passenger seat for a moment. When she composed herself she said “Where to?”
“I figured we’d stay at the house?”
“Doesn’t it…” she didn’t know how to say it.
“Smell bad?” he said, almost laughing. “He didn’t lay around that long. The hospice people were very helpful about getting in and airing the place out. Mainly, it was getting rid of the mattress,” he said, praying she didn’t ask for details.
“Apparently everyone does when they die.”
At this they did laugh, and for a moment they were almost ten, laughing at a fart joke. Then the crying started again, but only for a moment.
“Okay, makes sense to me, but where do we sleep? There was just the one other bed in your old bedroom.” Danielle said.
“You can sleep there. Assuming he still had that air mattress in the camping supplies in the garage, I can sleep on that in the living room.”
“That’s going to be hard on your back, isn’t it?”
“I’ll make it. We’ll just be here two or three days. The memorial service tomorrow, then I guess we need – we need to pack his stuff up.”
“We’ll take turns sleeping in your old bed.”
“Whatever; it doesn’t matter to me.”
Their father hadn’t been able to take care of things for the past few months, and especially in the last week, and they’d been too preoccupied to do much about it. There were other problems.
“This place is going to need some touch-up painting and carpet cleaning at least if we’re going to sell it or rent it out. The market’s bad enough; we’ll never sell it if it’s not clean.” Daniel observed.
“Makes sense – we’ll do what we can while we’re here and then see. I don’t have to get back to work for a week. My husband’s going to miss me, but we might as well get used to not being on a schedule.”
“Oh, how’s that?”
She grinned. “I’m pregnant. Probably two months along. I just found out last week.”
He gathered her into his arms again. “That’s great! Is he excited?”
“I think so. Don’t know if he will be when I’m big and fat.”
“You’ll be marvelous. He won’t be able to keep his hands off you.”
She laughed. “We’ll see. The hormones are already doing strange things; I can tell you that.”
What they were doing was causing her to have strange dreams. Dreams where she was raped by Phil and Daniel and her father, one after the other. Dreams where she straddled Phil for a nice, normal good-night fuck and was suddenly taken in the ass by Daniel while Phil held her down and sucked milk out of her nipples.
She slapped at him, and laughed. “I’m not going to tell you that. Look it up.”
There was nothing to do between then and the memorial, which was going to be held at the university the next day, so she got into yoga pants and a tee and he got into some clothes he’d planned to go running in, and they started to straighten out the place – throwing out expired food and leftovers, old newspapers, and the like, doing laundry and putting dishes in the dishwasher. This part took them most of the evening, and they sat down to a late Chinese takeout dinner, some beer that had been in the fridge, and the TV. Daniel found the air mattress and pumped it up with a bicycle pump. They found some extra sheets and a pillow to put on it. The travel, the exertion, and the emotions of being back in the house he had grown up in, minus his father, conspired to keep him awake long after Danielle had wished him a good night and the house had grown dark.
Alone in bed, she slipped her panties off and fingered herself. She wished she’d brought a vibrator. She slipped her finger in and out of her pussy for lubrication and worked it around her clit, which was growing larger and wetter as she began to relax and focus on the pleasure. She tried to breathe silently. She pushed a hand up under her t-shirt and played with each nipple in turn, longing for a tongue to bathe them and suck on them. As her orgasm mounted, she fantasized about a big cock penetrating her and stretching her. It finally happened, a weak furtive orgasm that brought a little relief.
He heard the shower in the master bath start and run for a few minutes. He heard the sounds of Danielle moving around in it, and the splashing sounds which probably meant she was washing her hair. Later, the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater. He could hear Danielle crying, but didn’t know whether he should go try to talk with her. He stared at the ceiling a good while longer. He looked at his watch. At one a.m. the bedroom door opened, and he could hear her padding down the hall and down the stairs, then he could see her outline. She was looking at him, trying to decide whether to speak.
“I’m awake, Dan,” he said.
“I know this sounds weird, but I can’t sleep with you out there on that air mattress. I worry that you’re cold, Danny.”
“I’m fine, really.”
“Well, I’m cold. And kind of sad. Can you just get in bed with me?”
He looked her over in the dim light. She was still wearing the yoga pants and a t-shirt. He pushed the idea that it should matter out of his mind, but he didn’t want to have to worry that he would end up accidentally feeling her up while he was half asleep, or getting a hard-on. “Okay, go back to bed. I’ll be there in a second.” He was going to have to put some sweats on, and besides, he was kind of cold.
In bed together, she snuggled back against him, her back to his chest. It felt kind of nice to him. He had a steady girlfriend, but she was big on independence, and while she got in bed with him a lot back home, it was never to sleep. She went down on him, rode his cock, and made him eat her inside out as she screamed his name, but she never swallowed and she never slept with him. She went back to her apartment every night they got together, no matter how late the hour. Danielle smelled like cheap shampoo – probably the stuff Dad had in the shower, he thought as he began to relax and drift off to sleep.
He woke up with his arm around her waist. Light was streaming in the windows pretty strongly, and he felt pretty good; they must have slept late. His sister looked peaceful, as she had not since he’d seen her yesterday afternoon. He thought about the fact that she’d wake up in a moment and then remember that their father had died, because that was his first thought when he woke up. He tightened his grasp on her waist a little, affectionately, and she nuzzled back against him as she awoke. “Phil?” she called her husband’s name, half-asleep, then smiled as she woke up the rest of the way. “Oops,” she said, then her smile tightened. She remembered why she was here, with her brother in bed with her.
“How did you sleep?”
“Fine, thank you. Sorry you had to deal with your baby sister’s being a baby.” She was born five minutes after him, and he’d always called her his baby sister.
“Quite all right.” The complete absence of tension between them was why they’d drifted away from each other, he thought. Their conversations had a pro-forma quality about them; they seemed to know what each other was thinking all the time.
“What do you want to do first?” she asked.
He looked at his watch. “There’s not much to do, really. It’s eight o’clock, the service is at one, and the house is pretty much ready for any visitors that might stop by, if any do.”
“We need to get that air mattress out of the living room,” she said, closing her eyes again. She wasn’t really ready to wake up.
“That’s about one minute of work. Getting showers and dressing is another 45 minutes or so. Hungry yet?”
“I’m never hungry until I’m awake,” she said, as he knew she would.
“Me neither. Why don’t we stop by the diner on College Street on the way to the service? There’s not much food here.”
“Okay,” she said, her eyes still closed. She put her hand over his. “Why don’t we just stay here a while and talk? Where have you been for the past year, anyway?”
“Aren’t we a regular Franny and Zooey?” he laughed. “I’ve been here. On the even weeks. You?”
“On the odd, brother, always odd,” she said, and snuggled deeper into the covers, and in the process against him. In doing so, she discovered his penis, somewhat turgid.
“Sorry,” he said, backing away, embarrassed.
It had reminded her of one of the dreams, but not a bad one. It excited her a little, really. “Shhhh. I’m a married woman, remember? Phil wakes up like that. It doesn’t mean he’s excited. Sometimes it just means he needs to go to the bathroom. Do you need to go to the bathroom?” She matured a little faster than he did, as girls do; when they were tweens she delighted in asking him embarrassing questions, like a mother would.
“Now that you mention it-” he said, and dashed off to the bathroom.
When he returned, he found that she had gone down the hall to the other bathroom. He got back in under the covers. He had realized he wasn’t in a hurry to get moving either. Yesterday had really wiped him out.
He woke up from a light doze to find Danielle back in bed next to him, laying on her stomach, looking at him. She was on top of the covers: the room had gotten warmer with sunlight. He noticed absently that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Not that she’d be expected to wear a bra to bed, but the thought, along with the way her yoga pants fit low around her hips, stirred a vague sense of excitement that he pushed out of his mind. He reminded himself why they were here. “So what time is it now? she asked.
“All of 8:30.”
“Time passes so slowly when you’re not doing anything. Not that I get much of a chance for that. It’s delicious,” she said, and kissed him on the nose, just like she used to do when he’d done her a favor when they were kids.
“So what have the odd weeks been like?” he said. She did a cat stretch and turned onto one side to face him while she talked. The curve of her breasts, which had grown a bit with maturity and pregnancy, lay under her thin tee, and he could almost see down her neckline. He didn’t remember anything she said, except that it sounded a lot like the even weeks, and when the crying started the lust went back down into its dark hole and he held her close.
After that they both dozed a bit more. They woke up again with a start at ten, with that feeling that you get when you realize you need to be someplace terribly important and there are things you have to do between here and there. They were both hungry now, almost faint with it, and they almost collided heading to the nearest bathroom, stumbling with groggy hurry.
“After you, please,” he said with a laugh. “I just need to get in the shower.”
“Be my guest. I’ve got to pee.”
“Down the hall. This is the only bathroom with towels and stuff.”
“Right now, sorry. Get in the shower; you’re not in my way,” she said, already heading into the separate closet that held the toilet.
“Not going to argue with the pregnant lady,” he sighed, and started finding the towels, stripping and running the water.
Sitting on the toilet after peeing, Danielle fought the urge to start fingering herself again. She felt it would take a long time, and probably not solve anything, and her thoughts kept returning to her brother in the shower, just a few feet away. They hadn’t bathed together since they were five or six years old. They’d had a completely normal childhood. But they were grown now. She wanted to see what he looked like. She wanted to know how he would react. If he acted strangely she could make an excuse about the hot water.
He was rinsing off and realizing that he hadn’t brought underwear or clothes with him. “Dan, I hate to ask,” he yelled, “but…” he stopped short as she got into the shower with him. “Hi.”
“The hot water runs out really quick here, if you didn’t remember,” she said, already getting under the shower head and rinsing her hair. “Besides, I’ve got to dry my hair after this.” The water glistened down her breasts and buttocks. “Long as you’re gawking, wash my back. What were you asking?”
“Never mind, really. Quite superfluous,” he said, dutifully getting the washcloth she handed him and soaping it up, running it up and down her tight muscles. He didn’t quite know where to stop, so he rounded the corners of her buttocks, noticing the tiny dimples just above each cheek.
“I’ll take it from there, thanks. I can’t even get Phil to wash me down there. He’s gonna have to learn some new tricks when I get to where I can’t bend over.”
“Okay, then, well I’m done so I’ll be going…” he trailed off, somewhat freaked out. The fact that she was his sister, and they were in a hurry, made the situation more odd than overtly sexual, but he wondered if she’d seen his lengthening penis as he made a hasty exit, almost slipping on the bathroom floor.
When they saw each other again, he was dressed and she was putting on her lipstick. “Ready? I’m starving,” he said, in an earnest effort to pretend that they had not just showered together, or, failing that, that this was a perfectly normal thing for siblings to do.
“Just about,” she said, not looking at him, making the same effort, not telling him how nice he looked in a suit.
The memorial was a fog. It would have been anyway. They had no brothers or sisters, his aunts and uncles were all either gone or too old to travel across the country. His colleagues showed up in force, and his many friends from his clubs and committees. The president of the university made a moving speech, and Danielle and Daniel sat holding hands in the front row, the loving, grief-stricken siblings. No one knew that her body being so close distracted him, or that when she looked down at their fingers she thought about intertwined legs.
When it was over a nice lady from their father’s department asked if she could bring some food over that afternoon and hinted that a few of their close friends would like to join them. They’d always assumed he’d had a bit of a “friends with benefits” relationship with her. They gratefully agreed.
They got back to the house, put the urn up over the fireplace, and hastily finished sprucing up, including moving the air mattress into the master bedroom and closing all the bedroom doors. They greeted the first guests together at the door, but were quickly separated by the growing crowd and the need to keep finding places for the food and booze that multiplied on the table and the bar in the kitchen. This time became a fog too, but a more pleasant one fueled by good scotch and a lot of laughs about their father. He’d led a different life at the university, one they were aware of but never quite part of. When the nice lady left she offered to put one of them up at her house, but Danielle put his arm around her brother affectionately and said “No, ma’am; he’s not getting out of cleaning the house that easily.”
They set about cleaning up the few glasses and plates that the guests hadn’t picked up for themselves. It was getting late, and they were a little drunk. “Good night,” Daniel said, heading to the master bedroom with its air mattress, hoping to masturbate and get a good night’s sleep without worrying that he would start groping his sister, whose naked body had occupied every idle moment’s thought since this morning.
“Come to bed with me,” his sister pleaded, and it was like when they were nine and she had one of her occasional blue spells because she wondered what their mother was like.
They wore the same clothes as last night, grown a little muskier with the previous day’s lying-in and the unseasonable warmth that an overnight front was bringing in. The rain started a few minutes after they turned off the light. “Hey, I want to try something,” she said, turning on her side and facing him. “Turn your back to me.”
“What?” he said, warily.
“I reckon this was how we were in the womb, right? Your back to my front, just nestled in like two peas in a pod,” she said, snuggling up to his back, pressing her breasts into him and putting her arm over his waist.
“Except we were upside down,” he said, trying to be sarcastic and failing. It felt peaceful.
“You’re a great brother. I love you,” she whispered in his ear.
“I love you too.”
She never did get to sleep. She’d hoped his comfort and acceptance would be enough, would soothe her. But whenever she closed her eyes she saw his cock dangling between his legs, and hardening to an impossible size. Oh, god, she was kidding herself. Why was she in bed with her own brother?
He woke up again in the middle of the night. The rain was still falling, a little harder now. He couldn’t feel her legs, arms, or breasts, so he figured she had rolled over and turned her back to his. He realized there was a rhythm to her motion that he could feel through her back, and hear in her breathing. She was trying to keep quiet, but the increasing pace indicated what she was doing unmistakably. Not wanting to deny her release, he tried to keep still so she would think he was still asleep.
She stopped. “Dan?” she said in a choked voice.
“Yes?” He turned on his back.
“Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”
“It’s the hormones. And Phil hasn’t touched me since he found out. He’s afraid he’ll hurt something.”
“It’s okay. I’ll go in the other room.” He needed some release too.
“Don’t go. I…”
“It’s exciting having you in bed with me while I’m doing this,” she said, shyly beginning to stroke herself again.
“It’s exciting me too,” he admitted. He turned on his side and began to rub her back through her t-shirt.
“Oh, god, that feels good. The back cramps have already started. I just got past the morning sickness.”
“Okay, it’s working. You’re turning me off again.”
She elbowed him and began the slow rhythm again. “I need to take off my pants.”
“Go ahead. It’s dark.” His eyes had adjusted, and when she was naked from the waist down, lying on her back, her thighs shone in the dimness. They looked about as muscular and long as his own. Her fingers were flicking between her legs, strumming an unmistakable music that was swelling to a crescendo.
“Must – think – I’ve – lost- it, ” she gasped. If only she had one of her toys.
“Shhh,” he said, and raised up. Turning sideways over her, he began to kiss her on the lips, wanting to feel something with her without getting in the middle of what was going on between her legs, without getting in the way of her hands, which were moving like lightning as she writhed in the bed.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh” she whispered over and over. She stopped suddenly and tightened and squirmed, then relaxed. She patted him on the cheek. “Oh, that’s embarassing. I just couldn’t stop.”
“It’s quite all right,” he said, lying down and trying to get comfortable.
Now she’d dragged him into her fantasies and given him a case of blue balls. Her boyfriends had called her a prick tease sometimes back in the day – would her own brother think that about her?
“Lie back. I need to return the favor,” she said, stroking his penis through the cotton material.
“Oh, no, I – I might…”
“That’s the idea. You don’t think I know what men do when they have an orgasm?” She said, reaching for some lotion and a box of tissues by her side of the bed. “Now you take off your pants.”
“I – ” Any idea of a rational discussion was overwhelmed by his need, and the coolness of a soft hand, just about the size of his own, softened by a little bit of lotion and her own juices, lightly stroking up and down its length as she reached under his waistband. She put a naked leg over his thigh as it emerged from the confines of the sweatpants. Soon their legs were intertwined, and he was as naked below the waist as she was. He gave up resisting her and nestled into her breasts as she lightly stroked him with the same slow rhythm she’d been using on herself when he woke up.
“Shhh. I give a really nice handjob. I do this for Phil when I’m not in the mood.” She began to kiss him. It was hard to believe she was not in the mood. She kept up a light pressure and a steady stroke, reaching down to cup his balls with the other hand. “Oooh, no hair on your balls? This must feel great.”
“My girlfriend…” Daniel said and stopped. “This feels so unreal.”
“It’s all so unreal, brother,” she said. She was going pretty fast now. “How am I doing?”
“It feels fantastic.”
“Phil can’t take it this long. He’s spurting it all over my hand by now.”
“I guess it’s because it feels a little wrong.”
She stopped. “If you can still talk in complete sentences, it’s not feeling wrong enough. Take off your shirt.” She stripped hers off as he complied, then climbed on top of him – mouth to cock, pussy to mouth. “Now, no more talking,” she gently ordered, then began to suck him, gently at first, now deep, now licking around the glans.
He’d put his hands on her hips to help move her where he needed her to be, then began to lick the juices which were running down her thighs.
Oh, sweet Jesus that’s what I needed, she thought as his tongue began to penetrate the folds of her pussy. Still not a cock in my pussy, but it’ll do, it’ll do, it’ll do, she thought as she rode it and swirled her tongue around the head of his penis, trying to give as good as she was getting.
Her taste was familiar somehow, and the shape of her hips and thighs. He’d shaved his legs for a while when he was a serious cyclist, and her skin and muscles felt just like that. As he reached her dripping pussy, the folds of her skin were somehow just what he’d expected. The only mild surprise was the raspy feel of shaved hair that had grown out a few days. It spurred him on to suck the pearly knot of her clit, and she suddenly tightened, but in a way he knew meant pleasure, especially when she suddenly stopped sucking him, moaning and gasping as he delicately palmed her breasts.
“Oh, brother,” she said, when she recovered, lying relaxed with her pussy just in front of his face. “Now, where were we?” she giggled, then got up on her hands and knees and dove back down on his cock, determined this time to make him come. This time she kept him down in her mouth, making sucking and gagging noises to drive him over the edge. He pulled on her hips, trying with his last bit of willpower to signal her he was coming, to give her a chance to stop if she didn’t want him to come in her mouth, but she just sped up. He felt her nipples drag along his stomach, and he erupted. She relaxed and stroked his balls while he spurted again and again in her mouth.
She turned around to face him, a Cheshire grin on her face. He moved to kiss her, and she dribbled a little come from her mouth onto his lips. He licked it, and then they were kissing open-mouthed, his semen flowing back and forth as they turned over in bed. He was on top of her now, and the idea that she was his sister was completely forgotten. He made a half-hearted, instinctual move to mount her, but it was too soon, and she laughed and pushed him aside.
“Turns out I don’t taste that bad,” he said, still a little delirious.
“You taste – familiar.” she said.
“Funny, so do you.”
“I guess that’s to be expected, somehow. Sorry, didn’t mean to put you off, literally, but I guess I should save my vagina for Phil.”
“I shouldn’t have tried. I guess we’ve broken enough taboos for one night.”
“No, don’t be sorry,” she said, stroking his chest. They pulled the covers up around them and relaxed in each other’s warmth.
“It feels like-“
“Masturbating, only better?”
After they made the trip to the hardware store for supplies, she stripped down to her panties and one of their father’s t-shirts to paint. “How am I supposed to watch what I’m doing when you’re wearing that?” he’d complained.
“Dad’s old clothes fit you. I came out here in the clothes on my back and my exercise bag. We’re going to have to go back to the store this afternoon, by the way, but I’m not buying new clothes to paint in, so you’ll have to get used to it,” she said, swishing her ass at him. She was feeling better now and was mainly doing this just to be playful, to try to paper over what they did last night, to make it all seem normal again. “And you’ll have to answer the door if someone shows up, too. I’ll be disappearing into the back.”
They’d just about gotten the first coat on the living room when the nice lady from the school showed up. She’d been cleaning out his office (they’d completely forgotten about that), and there were several boxes of books in her Volvo station wagon. “Just the first load, I’m afraid,” she said, but that one load took both of them a couple of trips to take to the garage. As promised, Danielle had disappeared into the back of the house when the doorbell rang.
The nice lady turned to go, and had that look on her face people get when they Want to Tell You Something. Daniel composed himself for what he thought might be a Hallmark moment, but then the nice lady said “Please dispose of the things in the upstairs back room quietly before anyone else sees them.”
Daniel didn’t know what she meant, so he tried to keep a straight face. Secret papers? Severed heads in alcohol? Seeing his confusion, she said, blushing. “You’ll know what I mean. I’ll be back this afternoon.”
When Danielle found the things in the closet, the last little bit of normal faded for the morning. In another context, the items she saw would have meant nothing but excitement or amusement, but as it was she didn’t know what to make of them.
When he got back upstairs, Danielle was in a room down at the end of the hall, the room that had been Danielle’s when they were growing up but was now mostly bare floors and bookcases. Danielle had apparently started pulling things out of the closet, and found a wedge-shaped piece of foam, covered in fabric, Velcro straps attached.
“What would you use that for?” Daniel asked, already guessing as she put it on the floor.
“Well, my guess would be that you convince some lady to lay over it like this,” Danielle said, laying on her stomach with her ass at the apex of the wedge, “and to put her hands in the straps. Then you tighten the straps.”
“Like that. Not too tight. You wouldn’t want to cut off her circulation”
“What would be a good safe word if you were doing something like this?”
“Something like ‘iconoclast.’ You wouldn’t want it to be too easy to pronounce. How do you know about safe words, big brother?”
“I have a kinky little sister,” he whispered, planting kisses on the small of her back where the t-shirt had ridden up over her panties. Her pussy was covered by a tight triangle of fabric. Still no bra, he noticed, which excited him. He pulled her t-shirt up around her neck. Through all this she was mute and passive. Last night could have been chalked up to passion and loneliness; today the sun was streaming in the window. Ten minutes ago they were painting. She wondered if going along and accepting whatever he might want to do to her would help her to get over the feelings that the dreams had left her. She trusted him, and he’d proven to be a considerate, gentle lover in their explorations last night.
He began to finger her through the triangle of white fabric, which was already beginning to darken at the crotch. When her hips were squirming from that, he pushed the material aside and began to lap at her pussy with his tongue. After a few minutes of this she was rhythmically arching her back and panting. He took her up to the edge a few times, then he took her panties off.
Rather than dive right back in, he admired the long line of her body, so much like his. He walked around to her head and took off all of his clothes, then knelt down in front of her. She understood what he wanted. She began to suck his cock; little kisses on the head at first and and then slipping the tip into her mouth. He began to knead her back muscles roughly, which turned into gripping her hips and fucking her face, slowly at first. He was trying to be careful, but as the pleasure built he began to care less and less.
She couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like an out-of-body experience, and it was pleasurable in a way, but to find out her father had kinky sex and light bondage items in a forgotten room, and to be strapped down to one of those items and used as a fuck toy by her twin brother just a few minutes later – it was getting overwhelming. She tried to relax, but she was relieved when he suddenly stopped fucking her face.
Less so when he started looking in the closet and, finding the inevitable bottle of lube, applied some to her tight little anus with inquisitive fingers. “I know you said you want to save your vagina for Phil, but how about this?” he said, inserting a finger and gently probing.
She was nervous and excited. Her heart was pounding from fear. Phil was well-meaning and had tried not to hurt her when they’d tried it, but it had still not been a pleasurable experience. Not so much excruciating as non-arousing, past an initial thrill of naughtiness, and something that left her sore, in a way that might only have been worthwhile if it had been a souvenir of a shattering orgasm. She nodded her head anyway. They had to try it together, somehow. It seemed inevitable, at least if she was going to keep her brother out of the one hole that seemed to represent her dignity, what was left of her standards, herself.
“Okay. Careful,” she sighed, and lowered her head. As if reading her mind, Daniel loosened one of the straps so she could get a hand free and start frigging herself. He was up to two fingers now, which were all the way in. She twisted and squirmed, still fighting it, not wanting to submit to him.
Then he put his hand on her lower back. Mine, it seemed to say, and it strangely calmed her. The head of his cock replaced the fingers, and she felt the emptiness in both holes, which was soon quenched by the feeling of him pulsing against the walls of her sphincter. She willed it to relax, and her arousal built as her hand spasmed against her clit. He continued to slide deeper in, and dripped more lube on his cock, presumably from the bottle he kept in his other hand. Thoughts about Phil and her father and the rightness or wrongness of what they were doing fled into the shadows. There was only Daniel’s cock in her ass, pumping away, and their hearts beating fast together, Siamese twins.
Just as quickly as it had clicked together, it all fell apart. She began to panic, and to tighten up. She felt like she was going to come, and the idea of losing control frightened her. “Intercourse! What’s the fucking word?! Chromosome! Fuck!”
Daniel pulled out, and loosened the other strap. She got off the wedge, pulled her t-shirt down and started to cry.
He pulled her to him gently. “Did I hurt you?”
“It wasn’t really hurting. Somehow I got scared,” she sobbed. “We’re making a mess here…”
“Go take a shower. I’ll take care of this, and the painting things we left downstairs,” he said.
When she walked back into the room, everything was back in place, and it looked like a normal study like a normal college professor would have, and she and her brother, both fully clothed, sat down on a couch.
“I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “How did we get here?”
“I started it,” she said quietly.
“I wanted it. I never thought about wanting it before,” he said, realizing it was half a lie only once he said it. The image of Danielle when she first began to mature, years ago, flitted through his mind.
“I need to tell you why I started it, and why I panicked,” she said, and began to tell him about the dreams she’d been having. At some point she got up and turned around so she could lay against him, and not face him. He stroked her hair.
“I’ve heard that a lot of pregnant women have strange dreams.” He sighed. “I hate to ask, but did Dad ever really…”
“No, never. Not the merest hint. I never even remember seeing him in his underwear around the house. He was extremely embarrassed by being in his bedclothes the last few weeks, even as sick as he was. “
“Well, that’s better than the record I’ve maintained, as of the last couple of days.”
“We’re consenting adults now. I can’t sort out if it was right, but you certainly can’t blame yourself.”
He put his chin on the top of her head. “You know, sometimes I think we just have one mind between the two of us.”
“You’re saying I have half a brain?” she laughed.
“No, it’s just – we seem to know what each other’s thinking. It’s hard to feel like it’s wrong because – it’s like you said…”
A knock on the open door of the room startled them, and Danielle jumped up. “Hi, sorry. The door downstairs was unlocked and I’d knocked a few times.” It was, of course, the nice lady.
“Oh, sorry, let me go down and help you with those things,” Daniel said with excessive cheerfulness. The nice lady gave Danielle a strange look, and went down with him.
“So is that it?” Daniel asked the nice lady once they’d finished moving the boxes from the car into the house.
“That should do it. Only…”
“I’ve taken care of those items.” He’d really just put them back in the closet, but no one would be going through them without his or Danielle’s knowledge. Especially once he had the locks changed.
“Thank you. I’m sure your dad wouldn’t have wanted them to wind up in the estate sale.” She laughed a nervous little laugh.
“They won’t. I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, and embraced her briefly. She smelled of floral perfume.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she whispered as they moved apart.
“About what?” he asked, evenly.
“Exactly.” With that, the nice lady drove off in her Volvo.
When he got back upstairs, Danielle was crying again on the couch. He sat down and she crawled into his lap. “Oh, you smell like her now,” she said, and sobbed.
He took her hands in his. “I’ll go change. I’ll shower.”
“I’ll go wash my face while you do. Then let’s go somewhere for dinner. Anywhere but here.”
They had dinner at a Italian place downtown, one frequented by college kids in love for generations, complete with singing waiters who were voice majors. They drank wine, and talked about everything and nothing; Phil and the changes that were coming in her family, Daniel’s girlfriend, what to do about the house and the stuff in it, carefully avoiding the things in the closet. Piece by piece, and with surprising ease, they put back together the world they’d grown up in.
When they got home, it was almost time for bed. This time he really thought it best to go sleep by himself, but she embraced him in the hallway and, with a few more tears, convinced him to sleep with her yet again. They’d gotten little done on the house that day, but what they’d dealt with would perhaps help them resolve to work on it, work through it, get it over with. The nightmares were just that, and if they came again she wanted him sleeping beside her.
He dreamed his girlfriend was sucking his cock, getting it hard so they could screw. It was raining and the grey dawn light was beginning to come in the window of his old bedroom where he grew up. She was between his naked legs and sucking and licking his balls while she softly and slowly fucked him with her hand. It made him feel like taking off his shirt, which he did, then stroked her dark brown hair as she went down on him.
He didn’t completely wake up until his sister’s pussy began to grip the head of his cock and she lowered herself slowly onto him. They were both naked as the day they were born, and her breasts hung over his mouth. She was offering them to him, and they were refreshing cool fruit, which he licked and sucked on gently, while his hands rested on her gently rocking hips.
“Oh, perfect. Oh, perfect. Yeah, perfect,” she kept babbling over and over, and it was. His cock fit her pussy perfectly, pumping in and out of her at a slow, steady pace. The sweet look of bliss and relief shone on her face. The muscles deep inside her gripped him greedily, trying to take him up in her as much as he would go, needing it, willing it. She’d had three orgasms before she realized they were happening, then she laid her head on his chest, taking a breather, his steel-hard cock still an unanswered question buried deep in her.
He lifted her gently off of him, then laid her on her back. With his cock poised again at the opening to her wet pussy, he whispered in her ear. “Do you still want it?”
“Oh, yeah, I need it,” she sighed, and he pushed it smoothly back in. Now her hands rested loosely on his ass and she relaxed as he did the work, gently biting her neck and nipples, taking her right where she wanted to go all along, . An electric jolt went through her, and it caught him on fire. He began to fuck her fast and hard, slowing down just before they both climaxed, her wet pussy squirting on his balls as he came, buried deep in her.
He reached for his shirt and cleaned them both up as well as he could, then she nestled in his arms. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I was having the best dream, and then it was really happening,” she sighed. “Are you okay?”
“I think I’ve fallen in love with my married twin sister, who is also pregnant.”
“You haven’t fallen in love with me, you just love me, like I’ve always loved you,” she said quietly and kissed him on the cheek.”This is just a weird thing that happened. It could happen again, but not very often.”
“You’re right about that,” he said, staring at the ceiling, which was still growing lighter with the dawn.
“We’re just alike. It’s like fucking yourself. Isn’t it?”
“In a way.”
“We’d get tired of each other. It would always be the same way. Oh, probably not as spectacular, and it was spectacular, big brother, but we both need the otherness. Besides,” she said snuggling up beside him, stroking his chest, “will you want me when I’m six or seven months pregnant?”
“I’d like to find out.”
She punched him lightly in the ribs. “Maybe you will, brother, maybe you will. Something tells me Phil won’t.”