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Disclaimer:
All characters in this story are over the age 18.
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My bedroom was hot and the air thick with mingled hormones as Saturday morning cartoons played quietly on the tiny TV in the corner. The door was locked, and the curtains had not yet opened. The entire house was still, except for me and my twin-brother.
Globs of thick lotion dribbled onto various heroic characters that adorned my brother's He-Man themed quilt. A bottle of vanilla scented St. Ives body lotion, taken from my nightstand, leaked its elastin beside the two of us. We were both flushed red, and covered in sweat as we masturbated together all through Tom and Jerry, The Smurfs, and the thousands of commercials in-between.
He-Man was on now, but neither of us cared. Skeletor was berating Beast Man as we moaned in dyadic unison, sharing an intimate moment that only twins, or soulmates could share or comprehend.
His hands slid up and down his creamy, messy shaft, making short little squelching sounds that could be heard over the Lite Brite commercial currently playing. His slathered rod slipped from his grip every so often, slapping against his belly with a thwack.
It made me smile, almost giggle.
I loved how he touched himself for me. His quivering legs, and stochastic breathing was awkward, but this vulnerability allowed me to feel completely open too.
I folded at the waist, in an awkward position, pressed against the footboard at the other end of the small bed. I watched him stroke, penetrating him with lustful eyes that worked him up and down as tenderly as my fingers worked my slit.
Tender folds rippled and squished between my fingers as I brushed it back and forth against my smooth mound, rolling my little hands up and down my vagina with the same St. Ives lotion that I provided for my twin-brother.
He had given me the lotion as a birthday present, along with some my little pony scratch-n-sniff stickers, and some jelly bracelets.
I gave him an action figure. Ram Man.
His head was propped up in a weird angle by a pillow that had Man-At-Arms face on it. His black and yellow Adidas track pants were bunched around his ankle, twisted around the leg that he was unable to free when I asked him to pull them down. His color-matching Batman T-shirt had ridden up his chest, and now, one of his dark brown nipples was exposed.
It was the exact shade of brown as mine.
As Fraternal twins we shared many physical traits, my favorite being our eyes and brows.
I loved his eyes. Our eyes.
Mine were wide open, and focused now, but he kept his tightly closed.
Every so often his eyes would open, and they would sparkle. I wanted to lose myself in those beautiful hazel orbs, but he kept bashfully bowing his head whenever we made eye-contact.
He was afraid. Afraid I would catch him spying, as if he were a little-boy peeking from behind a door, a keyhole, or the crack of a window.
He was Prince Adam, timid and shy.
But I wanted He-Man.
I wanted my veiny, muscled, He-Man brother to stare down at me. I wanted him to tower over me in victory, to look at his twin sisters' long open legs, and tiny exposed breasts as she fingered herself to orgasm.
I spread myself wider for him, and cooed.
I was exposed from the breasts down. At some point during Papa Smurf's lecture, my moist panties had fallen to the carpeted floor. I noticed a smear of my wetness streaked across them.
I can't remember when, or how, but I had managed to shimmy my strawberry-shortcake inspired dress up above my chest, and so my dark-brown nipples were alert, my puffy budding breasts riddled in gooseflesh, despite the humidity and heat of the room.
I was quivering, when my right leg spasmed, and my foot bumped into my brother's thigh.
It was the first time we had touched during this incestuous encounter, and even as slight as the contact was it sent vibrations up my entire leg. My eyes fluttered, and I finally dipped a finger into my tight, lubricated hole.
I moaned, bit my lip and grabbed a wooden footboard post to reposition myself. In a desire to dip all the way up to my top knuckle, my cute little bum raised off of the bed for a brief moment and it flexed tightly.
He peeked through the corner of one of his eyes and groaned.
I moaned with him, hoping he had seen my tiny butthole, because I felt lotion dribbling down onto it, and it was one of my favorite parts of my body. Sometimes I would put my pinky finger into it when I masturbated, and if I had a mirror on the floor, I could see it wink at me.
It was summer now, and I had spent many days exploring my body, while my brother mowed the lawn, shirtless. It was the reason I was still so pale, while he had become so bronzed. Tanned. Golden. Hot.
He always wore the same pair of camouflage cargo shorts when he went outside to work, and he had developed an adorable tan line that started at his waist and ended at his knees. His crotch and thighs were as white as mine, and the contrast against his golden chest was a sight to behold.
Yesterday I had made myself come thinking only about that bit of white that peeked out from the top of his green and yellow shower towel which to no surprise was also He-Man themed. He looked like a tribal warrior whenever he walked around the house in it.
As we explored our bodies on his bed, I wondered if anyone else had ever seen his tan lines before? Mom maybe, but certainly not his friends. I was probably the only one.
I felt so special, to see him sprawled on his bed, pumping his long white penis that had never seen the sun before.
