The Other Twin

This is my first submission. It's a work of fiction, all characters are 18 or older...you know, all those old disclaimers.

This story contains incest, so if that bothers you, feel free to pass on this one.

This is part one of a pair. It's completely unrealistic, but it's fun and cuts straight to the action.

Any and all constructive criticism is welcome. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy this semi-quickie.

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The three of us had all been in the same, desperately lonely place since Mom left. Even living in the same small house together, we can be achingly lonesome without realizing that we're not alone in feeling that way.

That was the first thought I had, disjointedly, as I saw Kim sliding down on our father's cock, moaning into the air. The second thought was the kind of thing I should have thought as I watched them fucking. How could they? The thought was full of righteous indignation. She was his daughter. How could he even get hard enough to do that to her? But he seemed to have no problem with that, groping her round ass, guiding her up and down on a stiff shaft; a shaft slick with her juices. That meant she was soaking wet, for her father!

The third thing I thought swelled up to devour the others, so that I hardly thought or felt anything else. I wanted them. There it was, naked, unashamed. I didn't just want to ride his cock until he exploded inside me; I wanted to lick and suck her slit until she gushed.

 

That would teach them to leave me out of it!

They hadn't even been careful about it. True, I was supposed to be with Mom, but they should know how reliable she is. They could almost have counted on me to be trudging home, disappointed, when Mom proved too busy with her new boyfriend to take anyone shopping for anything but condoms.

They should have known to shut the bedroom door before fucking, known not to moan so loud it would wake the neighbors. They should have at least been watching to make sure the other twin hadn't stumbled blindly onto their crime; that I wasn't watching them build toward coming as my legs got shaky and my panties soaked through.

But no, he was leaned back in bed, helping her fuck herself on his prick. And she didn't even seem aware that the rest of the world existed, head thrown back, squeezing at her perky tits for all she was worth. I could probably frig myself to screaming orgasm, and neither would even notice.

"Oh, yeah, fuck me, Daddy!" Kim whined, rocking on his member. "Give me your big old cock." Her hair was up in pigtails, and she was wearing thigh-high white nylons, but if there had been any other piece to this costume, it was on the floor somewhere. "Fuck your little girl!"

He groaned in reply, hips bucking up into her. Worse than the sight of them, than the sounds they made—not just their moans, but the obscene squelching of her dripping cunt sucking his cock into her—worse was the smell of them. It filled the room, drifted out into the hall. Sweet and musky, sour and heady, their scents filled my nostrils, mixed and blended so I couldn't tell them apart.

My fingers dipped under the bottom of my skirt, slid over my panty-clad pussy. Heat radiated from my slit, humid warmth that slicked my fingers. I was wet. And as I leaned against the doorframe, prodding with fingers made clumsy by need, I couldn't make myself ashamed. I was too absorbed in watching my sister and my father fucking like rabbits.

Kim had leaned forward to suck on my father's tongue, giving me a clear view of her pussy as it slid up and down on his prick. His shaft was so thick, stretching her slit around him until it looked painful. But her breathless grunts said she loved it.

It was surreal. Because Kim wasn't just my sister; she was my twin. Identical. Watching them screw was like watching me screw him. Her long, chestnut-brown hair was mine, slicked with sweat and dangling from the pigtails. Her tall form, pleasantly plump and just a touch too bottom heavy for an hourglass figure, arching and rocking and shaking, was mine. Her long legs, her pussy, her ass, working for release.

It sent an erotic thrill through me. As much as it is forbidden, it's kind of the most natural thing in the world. A daughter wants to feel loved by her father. And Kim certainly felt his love now, with his balls nestled against her ass.

"You're so deep, Daddy!" she gasped, in a whiny voice that said she was on the edge. "Your little girl is so filled with your dick!" Her hips had started to undulate in the fluid sort of way that suggested she wasn't controlling them anymore.

The fabric beneath my fingertips frustrated me, thin though it was. I had to touch it, had to fill it with something. I was a single, gaping hole of need. Warm, wet, throbbing. Biting my lip, I slipped my hand under the elastic of my panties, plunging two fingers inside all the way. The pleasure seemed to rush along my skin, seemed to linger on each hair. With a flurry of full strokes, I was almost caught up with Kim. My juices dripped off my fingers, slicked my thighs. I was drowning in lust.

"I'm gonna cum, Kimmy," he warned, his fingers digging into her ass cheeks.

"Do it," she moaned. "Pour it all into your little girl's pussy!"

I clutched the doorframe to keep from falling. A third finger had joined the first two, and my palm rubbed against my clit with every stroke. My stomach roiled with warmth. My head was a fog of need.

"I'm coming!" he roared, and if she had not screamed out in orgasm at that very moment, squirting her juices around his cock, my moan would have revealed me. The sounds of her pussy milking his cock burned my ears; the sight of her juices trickling down his balls scorched my eyes. It was too much. For a long moment, all I could do was clutch the doorframe, letting my hips jerk against my hand, biting into my arm to keep my cries in. Then I lowered myself silently to the floor, to keep from falling, watching them hold each other.

Jealousy churned in the aftermath of pleasure. They left me out.

I retreated hastily from the doorway as Kim moved, sliding slowly up and off his shrinking cock, but peeking out around the doorframe, I realized that she was just backing up so she could get him into her mouth. As she leaned forward on all fours, sucking noisily on his balls, I could see her pussy perfectly. Pink pounded a raw red, lingering open after the screwing it had received, it was oozing a glaze of combined cum. The urge to crawl forward and lick her clean was almost too much to resist.

"You taste so good, Daddy," she cooed, and, sucking in saliva that wanted to run out of my mouth, I believed her.

Shuddering, I retreated to my room, traveling most of that distance on my knees. My legs wouldn't have supported me if I stood. Later, lying in bed fingering myself, I thought about what I had seen, heard, and smelled. About what I felt, what I wanted.

I thought, and I plotted.

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It was three weeks before I could make my move. Three long, sweaty weeks as I snuck peeks at their humping, weeks I fingered myself to climax at least once a day. But finally, the night came when I knew I would be able to put my plan into action.

Under my red summer dress, my pink cotton panties clung wetly to my pussy. Looking at my refection in the vanity mirror as I brushed my hair a few last times, I swallowed. My face was almost red enough to match the dress, and my gray-blue eyes glowed. My whole body burned; my nipples poked out against the fabric, and the cotton seemed to pinch and tease them as fingers would. I was sure I would leave a dark stain on the chair cushion. Dropping the comb on the nightstand, I snapped the hair bands off my wrists, pulling my hair into a loose tail.

I clutched the arms of the chair with both hands as I made myself stand; my knees felt weak. Taking a deep breath, I stared at my reflection. "You can do this," I said. I wanted my voice to be confident, certain, but it wasn't. "You want this." And that was more heated than I meant it to be. Pushing the short skirt of the dress down as smoothly as I could—it felt like my whole body sweated my desire, like I would soak through panties and dress to betray me to anyone who looked—I opened the window to my room, grimacing as it squeaked. If they asked, I would say it had been open before, and I had shut it.

Then, taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse off the table by my bed, flicked the light switch off, and opened the door. My pussy was so swollen that every step I took rubbed it against itself, making me shudder. Stepping out into the hallway, I shut the door behind me, and, staring for a moment at the floral patterns that lay atop the peach stripes on the wall, took a moment to slow my heart.

The house looked exactly as it had in the hours before our mom took off. All pink and peach and tan, all frills and French designs. My mom was not one for subtlety. Not so much as a picture had been moved from where Mom had left it. The house was a shrine to her. And she was still alive.

The master bedroom is off the living room near the front door, but both mine and Kim's rooms are past the kitchen, just before the laundry room and the back door. The doors are lined up so I could see both the front and back doors from my place in the hallway. The living room was lit by the blue light of the TV; I could hear some sitcom going to commercial as I turned that way.

Could I do this? Was it in me? My clit, swollen and sensitive, rubbed against my panties, making my legs tremble. I had already called my friends and canceled, saying I wasn't feeling good enough to go out tonight. It was too late to back out now. And besides, since that night three weeks ago, I had been an empty shell of a girl. Longing had been my only companion. I couldn't go on like that.

The bathroom door was shut. I could hear the clicks and clatter of Kim applying make-up; she had opted out on the vanity, instead getting a stereo that cost the same amount. Great. I would have to drive around the block until her car was gone. We had both planned dinner dates with our friends, which made me glad we did not run in the same circles. Otherwise, she would know I wasn't doing what I said I was.

I hardly saw the kitchen at all as I moved through it, the fridge and sink against the wall facing the bedrooms, the oven and counter and cabinets against the wall farthest from me, the island in the middle cleared except for a paper towel holder, olive oil and condiments in squeeze bottles next to the rack, and oven mitts that hung from above on hooks. My sandals clacked against the linoleum as I walked through. The kitchen alone had escaped the pink treatment; everything here was mint green.

The living room is dominated by the large landscape window, which was covered in blinds and thick, peach curtains, to the right, and the flat-screen TV that stood on an entertainment system beside the alcove for the front door, and which was lit in an ad for some furniture company, thirty percent off on weekends. A long peach felt couch divides the room in two, and a tan recliner sits at an angle toward the door.

Dad sat in the recliner, watching the commercial in a glazed sort of way that said it was the last thing on his mind. Sneaking up behind him, I leaned over the side and pecked him on the cheek. He jumped with a curse that he cut short as he realized it was me. My lips stung as if his cheek had been electrified; they felt swollen and almost numb.

"Don't sneak up on me," he sighed exaggeratedly, holding his hand over his heart in a way that reminded me of Redd Fox, though they couldn't look more different. My father was tall, with tanned Greek skin that neither of his daughters had inherited, thick, graceful muscle, smoldering brown eyes, and wavy black hair that he always had slicked back. Even if my father had sweeping wings of grey at his temples, and even if he had the smallest of smile lines, he was hardly going to be lost to heart attack.

My heart fluttered at the sight of him. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I said, my fingers resting on a shoulder bared by his tank top. I hoped he couldn't hear the heat in my voice. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You'd better not," he grinned roguishly. Did his eyes flick down to my tits, where my nipples tented the breezy cotton? Or did I imagine it? "Not when I'm letting you borrow the car." No, he looked at my clothes to tell that he was talking to Missy, not Kim. Kim always dressed trendier, and she had an infatuation with blue.

"Thank you, Daddy!" I said, as I had when I'd asked him that afternoon, and gave him an awkward hug over the side of the chair. My breasts mashed against his chest; I wondered if he could feel my nipples. "I'll be careful." What would the odds be that I would crash the car? I was only driving around the block. But he didn't know that.

"They're on the hook." He patted my shoulder as I turned for the door. His hands touched the bare skin of my back where my dress straps left it exposed, and fire seemed to leap from his fingers to burn me. I wanted more, needed more. I pretended I didn't notice. "Be back before midnight," he called to me as I opened the front door, grabbing the keys from the hook nearby.

I turned, trying to hold down my smile, and my blush. "I will be," I promised. Long, long before midnight.

My father drove a beat-up Toyota, the same pick-up truck he'd had since before Kim and I were born. It was nothing next to the Mitsubishi Dad got Kim for her sweet sixteen—I had opted for monthly payments to a savings account, instead—but it worked as well now as it had the day it had come off the lot.

I opened the door and slid up into the driver's seat, fitting the key to the ignition. As the engine roared to live, making the whole cab shake, I bit my lip to hold in a moan. The vibrations did something unbelievable to my swollen pussy. Shaking my head to clear it, I pulled out of the driveway and into the street.

To my surprise, after one slow lap around the block, my sister's Mitsubishi was gone. Usually it took her all night to dry and primp her hair and apply her make-up. I guess she didn't care if she caught the eye of any guy. She had Dad for that. I smiled, driving back around to the alley behind the house. I left my purse in the truck as I took the key and opened the door; I doubted I would need it tonight.

For the first time, I was grateful that Mom had taken Charlie, our black lab, as I crept around the side of the house. Stacking milk crates I had snuck in over the last couple of weeks, I scrambled as quietly as I could back into the house.

I stood still inside my room, my heart pounding in my chest. Everything would be ruined if he heard me. Seconds bled by; I could hear something on the TV, probably the same stupid sitcom he had been watching. But there were no other sounds. My breath escaped me in a rush.

I used my cell as a flashlight to navigate the darkness of my room, opened the door silently, and stepped out into the hall.

The light of the TV lit the house in dim, fleshy colors. The realization of just what was on the screen stopped me short outside Kim's room.

"Do you like cock?" A deep, smooth voice asked off-screen. The young, bright-eyed girl blushed as she answered.

"Yeah, I love cock."

"Oh, good," said the voice. He sounded at least twice as old as she was, probably some more than that. A hand reached out to toy with her chin; shrugging her shoulders up, she shied away. "And what's your favorite thing to do with cock, huh?"

The girl moved her eyes up to the screen; she seemed to be talking to the viewer. "I like to put a cock between my big tits. Then I drool on it, and I let him tit-fuck me while I suck his cap." All that was said slowly, with her lips moving to clearly sound every word. Her tongue glistened wetly in her mouth; it was obvious that, embarrassed as she was, she loved to think about it.

Pussy aching in dull throbs, I opened the door to my sister's room and slid inside.

It took me long, sweaty minutes to find what I was looking for. First I searched in the closet, thumbing through the clothes hanging up in there. I could still hear the TV a little, now that I was listening for it.

"So you just put it between these titties?"

The girl moaned. The man must have been fondling her breasts pretty nicely. "Oh, yes."

It wasn't there. But then, I guess she wouldn't want me to stumble onto it on accident, if I happened to want to borrow anything. And she was so happy with her fashion sense she thought I would. Where else could it be, though? In her dresser?

"What about when you get him off? What do you do then?"

She moaned again, louder; his fingers must have moved south. "I lick on his big, fat dick while he's coming. I let it all shoot into my mouth. I love to swallow jizz, but I need to feel it on my tits. So I open my mouth, and it all leaks out onto my huge tits."

God, that turned me on so much. My breasts aren't big enough to tit-fuck, not comfortably, but I wanted to feel his cum all over me, wanted to drink it and drool it and rub it into my skin. Fuck, I had to find it soon, or I'd just crawl to him naked.

The dresser was a bust. Where in the hell else could it be? Then, with all the clarity of a light bulb flashing on in my head, I dropped shakily to the floor, lifted the blanket, and shoved my cell under the bed.

Aha! Kim had always hidden things under the bed. And alongside a metal bullet vibrator, a few booklets of—surprise, surprise, incest stories—and an abandoned teddy bear with one button eye and a cross-stitch for the other, like it was winking, I found what I was looking for. White button-up collared shirt, blue plaid pleated skirt, thigh-high white cotton socks, and brown dress shoes with thick soles. I was in business.

The sounds from the TV had turned into the famous porn-princess gagging on cock, the half-moan of a girl trying really hard to impress her partner. I could smell myself, I swear I could. I thought about changing into white cotton panties she had in her dresser, as well, but even though the thought of me wetting the crotch of panties Kim had likely soaked through herself was so sick and twisted it almost left me thrashing on the floor all by itself, I decided I wanted Dad to see how desperately I wanted him. So badly that everything from my clit to my asshole was drenched in my juices.

Quickly, in the dimness of the cell-lit room, I stripped off my clothes and pulled on my sister's kinky little gigs. Knees knocking, I almost left without an important piece; pulling the bands out of my hair, I made it into the famous pigtails. Then I was ready.

The girl was almost all the way down the man's cock when I looked; his hands were tangled in her hair, forcing her down even further. She was gagging on him, spit leaking out around him in thick strings, but she let him control her head. The sounds of her struggling for air were almost blaring; it was a wonder our neighbors couldn't hear it.

My legs moved on their own, and I was in the doorway. I could see the top of my father's head over the chair, but that was all. The reality of what I was about to do hit me in the head like a brick. How in the hell could I even think about doing this? He was my father! For long moments I stood with my hand on the doorframe, paralyzed by what I was about to do.

"Now I'm gonna fuck your little pussy from behind," the man said, spinning the girl around. Then he bent her over until her head touched the floor, until her naked ass was sticking up, waving in the air.

Her ass and her pussy filled the whole screen, a deep, hungry pink that made my cunt clench. I knew mine couldn't look so different. She was glistening with need, while mine slicked my inner thighs. His cock pressed against her pussy, and she moaned like a wonton whore as he pushed inside her. Gripping her hips, he pulled her all the way back until her ass rested against his stomach.