My Twin Sister My Lover

(Author's Note: submitted to Literotica March, 2010 as

Brother and Sister Reunion

. Some minor revisions made once submitted to website. Rejected for content February, 2019. Edited, expanded, retitled and resubmitted June, 2021).

My Twin Sister, My Lover - Episodes from the lives of two incestuous siblings.

1.

A sharp creak echoed through the nocturnal stillness of the house. An old floor betrayed the bare feet passing gently over its wooden slats. With the turn of a glass doorknob, a heavy door swung open for a second, admitted a body, then quickly shut. The figure, a lithe, young woman of eighteen, moved quickly to the bed. She slid quietly beneath the pale blue sheets, sidling against the young man sleeping there. Her voice hardly rippled the blackness in the room as she whispered.

"Dennis."

Sensing no response from the sleeping figure, she brushed her lips against his ear.

"Dennis." For a moment, she considered abandoning the insane situation and returning to her own bed.

God, what am I doing? This is so wrong, but I need it so much.

Her moist breath passed over his cheek. Under the soft, cotton sheets, her hand moved up and down his bare thigh. She had pulled her flowered nightgown up to her waist, and her exposed body urgently pressed against him. Still in sleep, he reacted to her touch. His breathing paused, then resumed. His warm body flexed, almost imperceptibly, then began to press back against her bare pelvis. Elation washed over the young woman's body.

Ohhh, yes. But what will he do when he wakes up?

"Sweet Dennis," she sighed, as she rubbed her hand over his flat stomach in a slow, circular motion. Her fingers slid furtively beneath the elastic band of his white shorts, caressing his silky, brown pubic hair.

So soft. God, yes, I love it.

Within moments, his penis began to stir, becoming tumescent against her slender hand, then growing larger, making a miniscule tent pole in the front of his shorts. As her fingers wrapped around his hardness, he awakened with a mild shudder.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, his eyes still closed.

.

"Be still," she cooed. "You'll like it".

The young man, also eighteen, loved and trusted her, so he let her continue the caresses. Gripping his erection firmly, she began to pump it, slowly, at first, then more briskly, until she found a comfortable rhythm. Within time, he began to breathe more heavily. Still pressed against her body, he began to undulate against her hand, his strong buttocks flexing and pressing firmly against her burning bush.

"Oh, Jesus," the young man whispered. "This feels so good."

"That's what it's supposed to feel like, honey." She squeezed, making him shudder. "Sweet, sweet Dennis," the young woman rubbed her pussy against her brother, her twin, until both climaxed in the still of the night.

2.

"Son of a bitch," Dennis thought, keeping an eye on the slow-moving propane truck lumbering ahead of him, "I'm stranded smack in the middle of another family reunion."

Not that he harbored ill will toward any member of his family, but Dennis preferred interacting with relatives one at a time. Every year, he forced himself to make the long drive south to the small Arizona town in which he was born. His marriage, childless and moribund after twelve years, gave him the perfect excuse to leave behind the wife he no longer loved, at least for a day. Standing outside the red brick VFW hall, he concentrated on the true reason for his attendance.

Here we go.

Taking a deep breath, he plunged into a large roomful of his brethren. After some glad-handing, he went through the obligatory recounting of the past year of his life, in detail, to throngs of well-meaning, mostly elderly relatives.

"Where's Lillian?" one of them would always ask, referring to Dennis's wife.

"She had to stay home, I'm afraid," he lied. "I think she has a touch of the flu."

Bullshit Excuse #7 worked well, if not used too often. It was perfect for distant relatives with poor memories of the previous year's reunion.

"Oh, what a shame!" cried the short, grey dowager beside him. Aunt Betty emoted so much saccharine passion when she spoke. This gathering seemed to be the only thing that dragged her into the sunlight each year, and she made the most out of it. "That poor, dear girl always has a touch of something."

Hmmm. Old Auntie's memory isn't so bad, after all.

After breaking free of the geriatric crowd, he milled through a smattering of other individuals, lingering on a pretty niece whose well-endowed body belied her youth. Studying the snug, black dress sheathing her ample figure, he tried to guess the color of her pubes, since her short-cropped hair had been severely bleached. Oh, what a sweet little fuck she would be.

"Where's your mother?" I asked the seductive nymphet.

Before the answer could escape from her pouty, red lips, Dennis spotted his asshole brother-in-law, Bill, milling his way toward them.

Shit.

Bill slid up behind his sexy daughter, squeezing her bare shoulder pronouncedly.

"Well," he asked Dennis with that booming, big-shot voice of his, "what do you think of her?"

Let me take her out back for a quick fuck, then I can tell you, and with the right coach, namely me, her luscious little mouth could blow cock like a well-paid pro.

"She's a beautiful girl," he replied to Bill, nonchalantly, quelling the tinges of lust in his voice.

"This is her first year of college," Bill beamed. "She's studying to be an RN."

"That's wonderful!" Perhaps Dennis smiled a little too much when he said that. He envied the lucky guy who would take her cherry, if she still had one. The erotic seductress shot him a flirtatious glance, as if reading his mind, before disappearing into the crowd. Silently, he mourned her departure.

Goodbye, little fuck. Perhaps I can taste your sweet pussy sometime.

Over Bill's pinstriped shoulder, Dennis noticed a cute blonde approaching; Susan, his twin sister, and Bill's wife of fourteen years. Well into her second pregnancy and about to pop, she walked with slight difficulty but, to her credit, the purple designer maternity dress managed to make her look as sexy as any woman in the room.

"Hello, honey," Susan twittered in a high, superficial voice. His sister hugged and kissed him distractedly. His arms reached out to encompass her extra girth, as her swollen stomach pressed against him. "How are you, sweetheart?" she asked, as if not caring to know the answer. What a performance.

"Fine," Dennis smiled, observing her condition. "It looks like you're about to give it up."

"Should be any time, now," she sighed, sharing a look with her husband.

Dennis glanced at her breasts, swollen with milk and bigger than they had ever been, even during her first pregnancy, so many years ago. Her enlarged nipples were impossible to conceal. Even with layers of fabric covering them, he could see the distinct, half-moon ridge of an areola. That kid would have a mouthful. As Bill's gaze turned away, Dennis glared at his sister.

"Are you kidding?" his eyes asked her incredulously, referring to her husband. Not yet forty, Bill had obviously begun coloring his thinning hair. Why his sister had stayed with such a dipshit, and for such a long time, Dennis could never understand. Susan gave him that familiar leer.

"Behave yourself," she telepathed.

"Fine," Dennis thought. "As long as I can have some, too."

As he conceded to some bullshit conversation, dominated mostly by Bill, the tension began. Dennis eyed his sister intently, studying her face and the movement of her eyes.

"Look at me, damn it," he begged her silently. "Give me a sign." When another alpha-male in-law distracted Bill, he pulled Susan aside.

"So when can we go?" Dennis whispered, touching her.

"Patience, baby," she smiled gently. "We'll go soon, but we have to be careful." Her hand covered his, pressing it against her warm skin.

Within fifteen minutes, Susan began to feign illness. She disappeared into the ladies room for a few moments, then returned, looking decidedly peaked. She should have won an award. Her husband never suspected. After only minutes, Susan and her brother escaped on a shaky pretense. Susan needed some fresh air, so Dennis would take her for a drive; a very long drive. She could breathe the dry air, and they could talk and catch up on our lives. Bill would stay at the reunion and chaperone his succulent little piece of college-aged ass. As for the rest, fuck 'em if they think it odd.

At last, Dennis had Susan to himself. As she entered the air-conditioned vault of his baby blue Oldsmobile, he helped his sister adjust and fasten the lap belt and shoulder harness. Touching her smooth shoulder, he could hardly quell his lust. His lips pressed against her scented neck.

"Careful," she whispered, looking ahead as if I'd done nothing, "we're not free yet."

Dennis gunned the motor and they got the hell away.

The sun waned behind the sand-colored hills in the distance. He had shut off the air conditioner as his sister rolled down the windows. The late-afternoon air blew across his face, carrying a calming, organic scent. They had been driving for about half-an-hour when Susan spotted a decent-looking motel, nestled in a grove of trees, far from the lonely highway.

"This looks fine, babe," she said. Her voice had changed, now that they were alone, into that intimate, loving voice; her real voice, not that of Bill and his fabricated world.

Oh yes, sweet sister.

Dennis nosed the car onto the drive. With gravel crunching beneath the tires, he angled the sedan past the side of the shingled main building, parking out of sight of the highway. The place looked old, but well-kept. The elderly caretaker smelled of pipe smoke and Old Spice. Forty dollars was a pretty good deal for this time of year, but anything would have been a bargain. After retrieving a small, token suitcase from the trunk, Dennis led Susan to their room. The moment the door closed, Susan and her brother locked in a tight embrace.

"Sweet baby," he whispered in the dim, murky light, "I missed you so much."

"Ohhh, Dennis," Susan exhaled, her lips touching his ear, "I really need some love."

The sibling ritual began.

For a sweet, lingering moment, their mouths devoured each other noisily, tongues lashing out like battling serpents as saliva dampened their faces. Susan practically tore her brother's shirt off, tossing it aside, as he quickly dropped my trousers and boxer shorts. In spite of her condition, she lunged forward like a panther, pushing him against the wall. Her open mouth pressed against his chest, kissing it and exploring it with her tongue. Dennis closed my eyes momentarily, lost in the excitement of their long overdue reunion.

"Oh, baby," he shuddered, "you know what I want."

Her lips glistening wetly, Susan began to tease his left nipple with her teeth. The teasing turned into suckling as he moaned with pleasure, pressing his face into her hair. Her hand encircled his cock, squeezing it and stroking it slowly. The scent of his sister's flesh, mixed with that familiar perfume she always wore for him, filled his nostrils as he inhaled deeply. Their bodies pressed together, and his erection poked awkwardly against her swollen belly, making her giggle involuntarily. Breaking her suction, Susan turned her face to his.

"Get me naked," she whispered.

Susan pulled her hair aside as Dennis unbuttoned the back of her dress. Kissing her neck gently, he pulled the dress away from her shoulders, letting it slip to her feet. Her bare skin reflected the meager light from the bathroom. His fingers nestled in the curve of her back as he led his sister to the king-sized bed.

As they sat on the flowered bedspread, Dennis helped Susan unhook her bra. Gently, he peeled the fabric away from her engorged mounds. Reacting to the cool air, her areolas puckered and her dark, red nipples became hard and pointed. Kneeling at her feet, he slid her panty hose down her parted legs, gazing at her exposed body. As she had done for years, Susan kept her sweet little bush trimmed in a perfect triangle. She knew how much her brother loved to press his face into her silky floss. As he reverently kissed the inside of each thigh, he listened to her breathing becoming more audible, and smelled the gentle musk of her need. Gazing into her beautiful, gleaming brown eyes, he rubbed her swollen stomach.

"It's almost nine months to the day," he smiled, recalling their last meeting. He cupped her heavy breasts, lifting them, slightly awestruck by their sheer bulk.

"Suck them," she said, then, smiling, added, "they'll dribble all over if you don't."

Nuzzling her thick, erect nipple, Dennis began to suckle his sister's breast, pressing his face into the soft, pillowy mound as his hands clasped around her naked, rounded hips. She sighed with pleasure as he began to draw out mouthful after mouthful of warm, rich fluid. Some of the milk escaped the vacuum of his mouth, trickling down his chin and across his chest. A rhythmic sucking noise filled his ears as he drained Susan's supply. Soon, the flow began to ebb.

"Get the other one, too," she commanded gently. His hungry mouth released her wet nipple and quickly turned to the other, sucking powerfully, as he knew she liked it. "Mmmm," she moaned, running her fingers through his hair, "I never get tired of this." Dennis knew it was true. Whether she was pregnant or not, he could suck his sister's tits for hours, not only before, but after sex, after they had both come.

Back when Dennis had a fully functioning marriage, his wife's nipples would be very sensitive after sex. She would cover her breasts with her arms, then roll over, facing away from him, as if he'd done something wrong by trying to touch them again. Eventually, he learned the best thing to do was to go to sleep, and leave Lillian to her own devices. With Susan, tit-sucking was merely part of a long, slow buildup to another hot round of sex.

As Susan fed Dennis the last of her milk, his hands slid gently around her waist, down to her thighs. Slowly, he brushed against her thick, blonde patch, caressing the swollen lips of her pussy. After having one child and preparing for another, her pussy had enlarged considerably. Parting her legs slightly, she sighed.

"Be careful, baby, you might start it," she whispered, referring to her late-term pregnancy. But she needed to fuck, and he did, too, and the baby was due anyway.

Gently pushing her back on the bed, Dennis slid between Susan's legs, pressing his hips against hers. With hardly a push, his cock slid into her sopping, wet pussy. Not much friction was there, but none was expected. As he gently began to pump against his sister's pregnant body, he shuddered.

"Oh, God, I love you, Susan."

"Mmmm," she groaned, trying to control her arousal, trying to savor their time together and to make it last for as long as possible, "I love you too, sweet brother."

The motel room filled with the sounds and smells of animalistic, sibling sex.

3.

As children, my sister and I had the same relationship most siblings do. We were at each other's throats half of the time, and barely tolerating each other the remaining half. Shortly after the time we reached age eighteen, Susan's wild appetites surfaced, and our generic sibling relationship would never be the same. My sister would give "togetherness" a whole new level of meaning; pressing her body against mine as we watched television late at night, exposing herself "by accident" as she exited the steamy bathroom and proceeded to dress, and otherwise teasing me mercilessly when no witnesses could see.

By the time we graduated high school, the whole game had escalated into more. One night, Susan crept into my bedroom and slid under the covers. I was sound asleep until I felt a warm body pressing against me from behind, hands exploring my body, especially my nether regions. At first, I thought I was dreaming, then came the moment I realized it was really happening, my sister was gripping my cock. This was the first time, after a slow buildup of teasing, that she crossed the barrier and committed an overtly sexual act.

Susan and I were fraternal twins. She was a little bit older, having emerged from the womb first. We didn't look exactly alike, but when I faced her, it was almost like looking into a mirror. As she started masturbating me and grinding against me from behind, my first thought was to resist, but then I relented. It was almost like fucking another version of myself. From that fateful night on, years of incestuous mischief awaited us.

Our mother, widowed at thirty-seven, held an administrative position at a local law firm, which allowed her to both support her family and save for the future. Most of the year, her work schedule synchronized with our days at school, so when we were home, so was she. Summertime, though, meant no school for us, and loads of free time to get into the usual mischief teenagers do. After that first night of passion, when we became lovers, summertime took on a whole, new meaning. Now, each weekday morning brought that magic time when Mom left for work and we remained home.

"You two stay out of trouble," Mom said most mornings as she rushed out the door. We had to smile. Susan locked the doors and we eagerly tended to each other.

Our assigned chores took only an hour or so. Most of the day was spent on my sister's bed, under the soft, warm blankets. Writhing together, our nude bodies coupled quickly, undulating insistently to completion. Susan taught me all she knew about fucking, and I tried very hard to be an ace student. By the afternoon, we had to change her bedsheets, which reeked of sex. A quick jump into the shower made us smell sweet and innocent once again.

"My, you two smell good," Mom complimented us on many a summer afternoon, "and you put clean sheets on the bed again."

To my dismay, this dream would not last. Like many independently-minded teenaged girls lacking a strong father figure, Susan developed the hard head of a pack mule and an unwavering resistance to our mother's attempts at authority. Eventually, Susan's activities outside of our loving home had become too much for Mom and, after a mother-daughter catfight over Susan's new, lesbian girlfriend, my sister exited the nest.

My sister and her lover, a short, plump, masculine terror named Theresa, who was five years her senior, took a small apartment in the seedy, low-rent (or trendy, Bohemian, depending on one's outlook) corner of town, down by the university. She had taken a job at the local shopping mall to support her fresh, new independence. There was talk of college, but Susan's objective in those first months of freedom was "to find herself". Of course, I would drop by often, gunning my little Kawasaki motorcycle across town in no time flat. Susan had kindly given me a key.

At the time, the dawn of the '80's, Susan endeavored to live the Punk lifestyle, complete with butchered, spiky blue hair that conveyed to the world her status as a Grrl. Theresa, in contrast, had a short, mannish cut dyed to a deep, bloody red which, I thought, perfectly matched her dark personality. What a motley fucking pair they made.

Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. Their relationship started well before Susan left home. Theresa liked her lovers young, as I would soon discover, and had been patrolling the local hangouts for young, rebellious girls. Theresa was a veteran predator, and soon had my eighteen-year-old sister wrapped around her chubby little finger. Soon, Theresa would come to the house when our mother was at work, and it didn't take long for her to join in on our incestuous activities.