Looing for Trouble

This is the second chapter of five in a story of eighteen-year-old, mixed-sex twins, who find themselves engaging each other in some things that many people don't approve of. I recommend that you read the first chapter before reading this one, so that you'll know what's going on.

*****

Lola Szymanski was an elderly widow, a member of Dad's church, who lived two doors down. She could hardly hear, but she compensated by being the self-appointed neighborhood snoop and gossip. People on the block knew her, behind her back, as 'Widow Lola'—which had recently become 'Widder Lola,' or just 'The Widder." I heard her voice, very faintly, as she replied at length to Dad. What she was saying, I had no idea, but she seemed to have a lot of it to say.

"Oh, shit!" Bree gasped. "Dad's home early." I looked at the living room clock; it was only about four-thirty.

In near panic, I pulled back from what I had been contemplating, reached for my pants. "Quick!" I urged. "Grab your clothes and get into the kitchen where he won't be able to see you. Get them on as fast as you can and act like you've been in there getting supper. I'll take care of the TV and the DVD." (It was her turn to fix supper that evening, and she'd been working on it when I'd left the house a bit earlier, so this program seemed natural.) In spite of the urgency of our situation, I couldn't help thinking,

And you'd better get used to fixing supper, because you're going to be doing it for the rest of the summer.

)

"Got it!" she answered, getting up, sweeping her sweatshirt, pants, and panties into one hand in a single motion, and heading for the kitchen. I grabbed my own clothes, punched the eject button on the DVD remote and the off button on the TV remote. I grabbed the DVD from the player, punched the player's off button, and ran into my room, clothes and DVD in hand.

Fortunately for us, Widder Lola had never in her life just said "Howdy," and let things go at that. She occupied Dad, who would never be so impolite as to excuse himself from her desire to chat, long enough that we had plenty of time to get dressed. After I had dressed and hidden the DVD under the clothes in one of my dresser drawers, I went back into the living room and noticed that I'd inadvertently left my shoes on the floor in front of the couch.

It wouldn't have been a calamity if Dad had seen them there, instead of near the front door where they belonged, because I could always look sheepish and say that I'd forgotten to take them off before I'd sat on the couch when I got home from work. After all, a wayward pair of shoes isn't nearly as incriminating as a wayward pair of pants…

Nevertheless, Dad's voice, still almost shouting, was now coming from some little distance as he yakked with Lola, and I took the opportunity to move them into the foyer before I went into the kitchen where I could pretend to be helping get supper.

Neither of us breathing hard, or even looked the least bit rattled, when Dad finally escaped and came in just a little before five. But we did exchange some significant glances when his back was turned…

==||<>||==

After supper, Dad asked me to come into his study for a moment.

Shit!

I thought.

Does he suspect that Bree and I were fooling around?

It wasn't that at all. "Brian," he said after shutting the door, "You're being careless with your window shade again, and the Widder's complaining. She says she keeps seeing you in your underwear. She didn't say so, but probably without even your underwear sometimes."

The Widder's house and ours were set back on their lots somewhat farther than the house between, and one of my windows was visible from one of hers.

"She's probably using binoculars," I pointed out. "I wonder if she can see that far without them."

Dad chuckled before he said, "I don't doubt it, but she didn't say anything about that. It's no big deal; this is just a word to the wise. You probably won't make her happy if you stop performing for her. After all, she's been single for a long time, and you're a good-looking young man. But if that's what she really wants she should have kept it to herself. Just try and be a little more careful."

"Okay, Dad," I answered as he headed back toward the door. "I'll try. Thanks for the heads-up."

"That's the ticket," he said. "Let her find something else to complain about." He shook his head. "She will!"

==||<>||==

Brielle was waiting for me, a naughty grin on her face, when I got home from work the next afternoon. (I worked Thursdays, Fridays, and Mondays, from seven in the morning to three in the afternoon, at a local nursery. It didn't pay very well, but it kept Mom and Dad from whining that I wasn't doing anything useful that summer before Brielle and I started school together at the state university dozen miles upriver.)

She greeted me just inside the front door, delivering a hug and a kiss. Neither the hug nor the kiss was exactly what a guy might ordinarily expect from his sister.

"You're all hot and sweaty," she said. "And kind of stinky."

"It's a hot day, and I spent most of the afternoon working in the beds outside," I told her. "I'd better get a shower."

She gave me a dirty smile. "Later. I like sweaty!" she said. "Sweaty, smelly guys turn me on." She rubbed herself against me—which turned

me

on.

When she pulled back, she said, "Dad just left for the hospital down in Riverton to call on someone; he'll be at least a couple of hours." He'd spend a half-hour each way getting to and from the neighboring town, I knew. She continued, "Let's finish that porn movie. Where'd you hide it? And I like being naked with you, so I'm going to take my clothes off."

"Are you sure—" I started.

"Yes," she said, breaking in, "I'm sure. You can do what you want to, but I'm going to watch it. And I'm going to take my clothes off."

"Okay," I said. "I'll watch, too. I decided on the way to work this morning that I want to finish it later, so I might as well finish with it with you."

"And your clothes?"

"I'll take mine off, too," I said as I headed for my room to get the disk.

Her dirty grin got dirtier. "Excellent!" she said.

A moment later, I was back. She reached for the remote as I opened the player and inserted the disk.

Before she could restart the video, I stopped her. "Ummm… Bree?" I said.

"Yeah?" she responded.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," I said. "I shouldn't have tried to… tried to…"

I trailed off. I needed to say

I shouldn't have tried to fuck you,

but I couldn't get those last two words out.

She knew what I shouldn't have tried to do. We looked into each other's eyes, and I saw that I didn't need to finish. She answered me: "You're a

guy,

Brian. You were just doing what guys are built to do! I shouldn't have put you in that situation."

"Well," I replied, "when you put me 'in that situation,' you were just doing what girls are built to do…"

She dropped her eyes. She was in the middle of unbuttoning her shirt, and she didn't stop. But she said, "I guess there's some truth to that. But I made you be the one who had to decide. I didn't do anything to help you. Girls aren't 'built' to dodge their own responsibility like that." She looked back up at me, bleakly, and said, "At least I hope I'm not."

"You aren't, Bree," I reassured her. "Telling me to stop was enough. What more—"

She interrupted, "Yes, I did tell you to stop. At least I did that. But I could have

meant

it. And I could have

stopped

you! I could have turned away from you. I could have blocked you with my hand. I could have pushed you away. I could have clamped my legs together. There are lots of things I could have

done!

Girls know how to stop guys—the good ones at least, the ones who are worth hanging onto. But I really…" she paused again and raised her eyes to look back into mine. There were tears in hers. "I wanted you to. I really did. I could tell that you didn't know whether you should put it in me or not. I hoped you would! So I didn't do anything to help you decide not to! I wanted you in me…" She trailed off. There was anguish in her face. But her pain didn't stop her, now that she had her shirt off, from unbuckling her pants.

"I really wanted to, too. But I knew that we shouldn't. That we couldn't. I couldn't decide!" I had my own shirt off, now, and I was reaching for my own belt buckle. The sight of her boobs and the prospect of her pants coming off in a few seconds had already given me a boner.

"That's why I'm sorry, Brye. I knew what

I

should do, but I didn't do it. Instead, I dumped it all on you. I left it to you to decide." She stopped to wipe tears from her eyes. She went on, "I told myself I'd told you to stop—and I wouldn't be responsible for what happened if you went ahead and did what I really wanted you to do—and what I thought you probably would do." She sniffled and wiped her nose. "I was wrong. I'm as responsible as you are for what

we

do

together.

" She paused for an instant, and then went on, "What if we'd gone ahead? And The Widder hadn't caught Dad on the way into the house."

"We'd have been in deep shit! And you're pretty tempting!" The compliment brought a smile to her face. I added, "If you hadn't made me come just a bit earlier, I probably would have."

And she said, "I didn't think of

that

!

"Brye," she went on, "we have to be more careful. We did some stuff yesterday—stuff that a lot of people would think is

bad. Really

bad! And we almost got caught. But I don't care what other people might think. I was okay with kissing you, feeling you, and eating you. And having you kiss me, feel me, and eat me. And I'm still okay with those things. But a brother and a sister can't

fuck

each other. It's

so

wrong! We just

can't!

"

"I know," I agreed. "I'm okay with those other things, too. I'm sorry I tried to fuck you. But we didn't do it. Are we okay with each other now?"

"And I'm sorry I tempted you, and then didn't help

you

decide if

we

were going to fuck," she replied. "If you're okay with me, I'm okay with you, and we're okay with each other." She had her pants off, now.

I grinned at her, partly because of what we'd just said to each other and partly because I enjoyed the view she was now giving me. I said, "We're okay, then," as my own pants dropped to the floor and my boner sprang to attention.

She grinned back at me. I leaned over and kissed her. A few seconds into that kiss, she parted her lips. Joyfully, I accepted her invitation, and my tongue entered her mouth to wrestle with hers.

When, at length, we pulled back from the kiss, my hand found a tit, cupped it, massaged it a bit. She smiled, and as I felt her nipple stiffen in my hand, I looked her in the eyes, smiled back, squeezed lightly, and said, "But you'd better believe that I'm not done feeling you up."

She wrapped her hand around my cock and squeezed lightly. "I'm not done feeling

you

up, either," she said as she picked up the remote and pointed it toward the machines across the room. I looked at my watch. It was still only a little before three-thirty; we had an hour and a half, and more, before our parents would get home. Plenty of time to watch a porn flick.

We sat on the couch where we'd sat a day earlier, and she fast-forwarded to the point just where we'd stopped watching Hunk eat Babe.

Hunk pulled back from her. Babe picked herself up from where she had been lying and knelt, facing away from him, at the edge of the bed. Hunk stood up and moved in behind her; his enormous shaft pointed at Babe. Her pussy peeked enticingly at Hunk (and at us) from between her upper thighs.

Brielle's pussy peeked at me from behind her hand, and, when I could spare a little attention from pussy and TV screen, I could see that she was dividing her own attention between my cock and the TV screen.

"They're about to," she said.

"Looks like it," I agreed.

Hunk directed his cock at Babe's rear orifice—which glistened in reflected light. His giant rod glistened, too, as it moved slowly toward her little brown orifice.

"The first time I saw this," Brielle said, "I didn't think he'd ever get that thing in her there. I didn't think it would ever fit."

I reached over, grabbed the remote from where it lay on the couch between us, and froze the screen. Hunk's crown was less than an inch from touching Babe's crinkled little opening. "He's big," I said. "But look how both of them glisten. They're lubed. The part where they put the lube on must have been edited out."

"I didn't notice the lube," she observed. "His dick is so big I didn't notice anything else. But it'll fit! Unfreeze it, so we can see it go in."

I pushed the button on the remote.

Slowly, Hunk's cock approached Babe's back door. He touched her and stopped moving forward. The camera zoomed in to fill the screen with his crown and the orifice it partially concealed.

Purposefully he moved his crown from side to side, then up and down, sliding it around while she wiggled and moaned in response. He pressed, firmly, against her, and she pressed back. We could see that his tip flattened under the pressure. But instead of entering her, he slid down so that his massive tool came to rest against her pussy.

She wiggled against him a bit, and then they repositioned themselves with his tip against that little opening again. He pushed, and this time, the head of his cock slipped into her. She moaned in response and, again, wiggled her ass.

Hunk's tool slid into Babe's butt—not all the way, but for about two-thirds of its length.

Brielle reached over and wrapped her hand around my cock, after pushing my hand aside—I had just, all unconsciously, started stroking.

Babe moaned repeatedly as Hunk began pumping himself in and out of her—slowly at first, but with increasing speed.

Brielle moaned, too, more in sympathy with Babe, I thought, than for any other reason.

Babe didn't seem the least bit uncomfortable from what Hunk was doing; she met his motions with counter-motions that seemed to show her own delight.

Meanwhile, Brielle moved her hand slowly up and down the length of my cock. I sought, found, kneaded, a tit.

After we'd watched for a minute or so, Brielle said, "Damn! That thing is huge! I wouldn't believe they could do that if I didn't see it right there. But…" She paused, her eyes still on the screen. Cautiously, I brought my hand down from her tit to her pussy. She didn't object, so I inserted my fingers into her slit—where I stroked her folds and tickled her clit.

My eyes were on the screen, too. But after Brielle had been silent for a bit, I prompted her: "But what?"

"…but from the noises she's making, she must be enjoying it. Or do you think she's that good an actress?" Brielle continued, seemingly wonderstruck.

I watched, in awe, at what Babe had accomplished, and was accomplishing, with Hunk's machine, and I replied, "She must like it. Her acting was terrible when she had clothes on, and I don't see why being naked would improve it."

"No," Brielle answered, "and I can't think of why it would be any better because she has a giant dick shoved up her ass, either." She was still stroking gently up and down my own cock; I was still playing with her pussy.

We fell silent for a while, both of us intent on what was goin on in the movie—not to mention on the couch.

Hunk pumped away, pulling himself almost all the way out of Babe, and then shoving back in for somewhat more than half his length. Babe continued her own motion—as well as the sobs, cries, moans, and whimpers that signaled seemingly impossible pleasure that she derived from what they were doing.

After a bit, Brielle took the remote from my hand and froze the movie—just as Hunk reached the deepest extent of a stroke. She looked at me, and at the boner that her other hand was still wrapped around. She stroked several more times, and then she said, "So you've never done that with anyone? Either?"

"No, never," I said. "Like I said yesterday, I never thought any of the girls I've been with would want to."

She said, "I've always been afraid a guy might hurt me, so I've never let anyone know that I might…, umm…, be interested. I wonder what it feels like."

"Do you think you'd do that? Do you think a guy could get himself in you there? Without hurting you?" I asked.

"Hey!" she answered. "If she can do it—and enjoy it—with one as huge as that guy's, I could do it with one like yours." She looked into my eyes, and, smiling conspiratorially at me, she continued, "Who knows? Maybe I'd like it, too. We're the only ones here. Mom and Dad won't be home for at least an hour and a half. Want to see?"

I didn't have to think about that for very long. I was pretty sure it would be good—for me, at least—and I was at least as curious as she was. So I said, "Sure! But we need some kind of lube. What—"

"I've got that covered," she interrupted, letting go of me. "I'll be back in a minute." And she left the room. A few seconds later, I heard her open a drawer in her room.

When she got back, she had a partially used tube of KY jelly. I asked her, "Is that lube? If you've never done this…" I paused, not wanting to rock any boats, lest she withdraw her invitation.

"If I've never done this, why do I have lube?" she finished for me, handing me the tube. "I always keep it handy. This stuff is great for getting the knots out of those little chains of my lavalieres. Even though people use it mostly for the kind of thing we're getting ready to try. I never thought I would…"

Then I had an unwelcome thought. "Do you think we should?" I asked. "Really? You're my twin…"

"It

is

kind of like fucking, I guess," she answered. She had grabbed my cock, and was stroking it again. Now I regretted suggesting that what we had in mind wasn't a good idea. "But it isn't

real

fucking—any more than it's real fucking when one of us eats the other." She paused. Then, still thinking it through, she went on, "After all, some girls do it to stay virgin, so if we put you into my butt, we won't have

really

fucked. So we're okay. Besides, seeing your dick, and watching that movie really turned me on. And I want the first time I try this with to be a guy I really trust."

"No, I guess it isn't

real

fucking," I said. "And I can see why you'd really want to trust the first guy you try this with."

"Yeah," she said. "I think it'll work—especially with this lube. But you have to promise me that you'll back off if it hurts me."

"I promise," I said. "We'll take it easy—as easy as we can. I really don't want to hurt you. You have to tell me if anything goes wrong so I'll know we have to stop. And if it doesn't work, we'll need to get each other off some other way."

She stepped up against me and threw her arms around my neck. I put my own arms around her and pulled her delightful nakedness up against my own nakedness. Looking up at me, she smiled wickedly and said, "Oh, you don't have to worry. We'll take care of each other one way or another. And you aren't going to hurt me without hearing about it. Believe me, if I didn't know that you don't want to hurt me, we wouldn't be trying this." And then she reached up for a kiss.

It turned into a long, deep kiss. If I hadn't already had a boner, that kiss, from a naked girl in my arms, would surely have given me one. As it was, I think my cock climbed at least 75 points on the Brinell hardness scale.