All characters in this story are at least 18 years old. Background info on the protagonists' age can be found in the second part of this chapter.
*
Andrew can't believe his luck as he pushes the bathroom door open to find a dark green knee sock lying on the floor. Sarah must have left it there without noticing after a shower.
It's not like he can't snatch one of his twin sister's knee socks from the laundry basket right beside the door of her bedroom, but the consequences of being caught in the act, by none other than Sarah herself, are too unthinkable for him to carry out the plan. Discretion on which he prides himself can indeed be a double-edged sword, Andrew thinks sullenly. Or is he just a coward?
It's not his fault, anyway. It's not his fault that the volcanic temper of his twin sister and his own shyness put much strain on their relationship, making his every fantasy about her remain exactly what it is: a pure fantasy. It's not his fault that his face burns, his pulse quickens and his heart races up every time he catches sight of the smooth, creamy skin on her slender legs between her uniform skirt and those delicious knee socks. He's come so hard and so many times into his hands just by imagining his cum staining her neat school uniform as she twists her legs and moans beneath him, staring up at him with big, glazed blue eyes, her blond hair fuzzy as a bird's nest. As if that's going to happen.
Andrew's brain whirrs frantically in a rush of heat and panic. It takes him a few seconds to break the trance and lurch into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him and pressing his back against it, his heart hammering, his eyes fixed upon Sarah's knee sock on the floor, bewitched. His mouth feels very dry. Stepping up and picking up the knee sock, balling and stuffing it into his pocket with trembling hands, he gets done with his peeing business as quickly as his hardened cock allows. Opening the door and dashing out of the bathroom without looking up, he finds himself colliding headlong with Sarah. Petite and slim, she is dressed in pajamas, her frizzy blond hair down, apparently ready for bed.
"What the fuck -- Andrew! Watch where the fuck you're going!"
"Sorry-I'm sorry-"
"For fuck's sake!"
Storming past him, Sarah slams the bathroom door shut behind her, muttering a string of curses. For a straight-A student at school, Sarah has an incredibly filthy mouth with her brother. What filthy words would she be muttering while he fingers her? God, he is hard. He can't wait to go back to his bed and masturbate to the treasure in his pocket. It feels so scalding that it's as if it would burn a hole through his skin.
Flinging his bedroom door shut behind him, Andrew climbs onto his bed, takes out his sister's knee sock from the pocket and undoes his trousers. Wrapping the knee sock around his cock as hard as a rock, he begins to pump it up and down, panting heavily, his eyes rolling back into his skull as electrifying arousal courses through him. It's Sarah again in his mind's eyes, her school uniform disheveled, her white lacy bras visible under her unbuttoned white cotton shirt, and she is touching herself for him, her magnificent legs in knee socks splayed, her fingers moving frantically around her clit, moaning and squirming, calling out his name-
Andrew comes harder than he can remember. His vision blurs as hot spurts of cum shoot out of his cock and splash across the bedsheet, his stomach and Sarah's knee sock, the shockwaves of orgasm sending tingly spasms through his body. After what feels like eternity, he sits up slowly, shivering, staring down blankly at the stained knee sock still wrapped around his cock.
This is, so, fucked up.
*
"Dad, have you seen my knee sock somewhere? I lost a dark green one for school. Can't find it anywhere."
Perched on the kitchen island one morning a few days later, Sarah turns her head around to frown at their father Daniel, who is seated on the sofa in the living room watching the morning news. While waiting for a reply, she picks up a grape casually from the crystal bowl on the island and puts it into her mouth. Seated opposite her, Andrew steals a peek at his sister, his face burning at the sight of Sarah's little tongue flicking at the fruit, pink, soft and swift. He buries his face in the cereal bowl in front of him, pretending he isn't there.
"No sweetheart, haven't seen anything. Have you checked the bathroom?"
Apparently engrossed in a report about a triple highway accident, Daniel answers absently, his eyes fixed on the TV screen.
"Let's face it, you've never learned to be organized," their mother Olivia says flatly, gazing at her reflection in the full-length mirror beside the main entrance for a last check before work. A successful senior manager at an accounting firm, she is dressed in an imposing navy suit, her wavy long hair tumbling down her shoulders, her leather handbag hanging from one elbow, "being smart doesn't entitle you to being untidy though."
"I'm not smart, I'm just hard-working," Sarah says haughtily, straightening up, "anyway, only narrow-minded people focus on trivialities like whether the color of their eyeshadows goes with that of their lipstick."
"When you've reached my age, sweetheart," Olivia leans closer to the mirror and dabs carefully at one corner of her eye with the tip of one finger, "you'll stop laughing at appearances."
"Thank you for your support for feminism, you of all people," Sarah snorts.
Satisfied with the final effect, Olivia turns around to face her daughter.
"Well, I'm very glad to tell you that I've spoken with Mrs. Willington, Sarah," Olivia is trying hard to squeeze out a smile in the face of her daughter's belligerence. Mrs. Willington has been Sarah's math competition tutor for two years, "and she really thinks your university application is going to be a huge success."
"My daughter's got perfect marks all right," Daniel interjects, still a bit absently, "all the way straight to the most selective faculty of math in the country-"
"Perfect marks aren't enough, as I've already said a thousand times," Sarah interrupts coldly, "they'll look at your application holistically. Besides, it if weren't for your wandering around doing God knows what, I'd have already been in university now instead of high school at nineteen-" Olivia took two positions abroad a few years back, and the twins went to local public schools whose different curriculum made academic equivalency difficult and themselves older than their cohort after they came back.
"Your dad just wants to give you a compliment. Are you really so bent on making everyone around you miserable?" Olivia's face darkens, her voice rising. Mother and daughter have rarely been on amiable terms.
"Oh really? I'm sure there're other more useful things he can do," Sarah says sharply, clearly referring to Daniel's status as a househusband. Olivia clears her throat, but says nothing. Daniel still fixes his eyes upon the TV, as if unaware of whatever is happening in the kitchen. Without a reply from the parents to continue the fight, Sarah suddenly turns to Andrew.
"Are you finished? We're going to miss the damned bus again if you keep wasting time like this."
"Sarah," Olivia says slowly and sternly, as if giving an ultimatum, "leave your brother alone."
Sarah ignores her, tapping her fingers impatiently on the surface of the kitchen island. Andrew pushes the empty bowl aside, standing up, his head cast down.
"Let's go," he murmurs. So much for being the dumbest in the family, he thinks bitterly. No presentable marks or extracurricular to speak of, not a clue what to do with his life, awkward around guys and girls alike. So dumb that Sarah doesn't even deign to attack him as she does their parents. And here he is, wanking off to his own sister like a pervert in a cheesy porny novella. Well done, Andrew. You've scored a perfect mark in being pathetic.
*
You can be abysmally paranoid about getting caught even in an empty classroom in an empty building after school. Or perhaps this is exactly what makes it so exquisite.
"What did you say?"
Gabriel is walking slowly around the desk to which Sarah's wrists and ankles are tied, a ruler in his hand. He is tall and muscular, his tanned skin and black hair giving him an exotic air. Sarah lays half-naked, her hardened pink nipples poking out from partly undone bras and quivering in the air, her plaid skirt bunched up to her lower stomach, her thighs parted, exposing her pink slit glistening with wetness. She wriggles and squirms, trembling, little begging noises escaping her gagged mouth.
"Nod if you want to speak," Gabriel says calmly, stroking himself as he walks. He is fully dressed except for the unzipped zipper of his trousers, through which his cock, thick, red and hard, stands erect. Sarah nods frantically, feeling drips of her arousal trickling down her thighs. She is so on edge, so much needs to be fucked right now. Gabriel has been playing with her nipples and slit for twenty solid minutes by now, spanking, kneading, twisting, pinching, licking, suckling and squeezing, chuckling at her moans and wails and begging. God. She wants to bite his head off. They're in the same year at school, and have been fucking for the last three months, starting from Gabriel's eighteenth birthday. It's he who has awakened the submissive self in her that she never knew existed before. Rumors have it that he's involved in some pretty hardcore BDSM circles, and Sarah guesses he's just showing her some fringe stuff for her to get a taste of it. She doesn't have much time or energy for it now, anyway. School is getting too stressful.
Taking the gag off her mouth, Gabriel lands another spank with the ruler on her tits, making her shudder. Coughing and panting, Sarah murmurs something indistinct to Gabriel's ears.
"What did you say?"
