tagIncest/TabooThe Other Twin

The Other Twin

bySquall913©

Here's the finished version of my first submission. I did a little rewording, correcting a few tense slips, and tried to lead it more smoothly into Part II.

It's a work of fiction, all characters are 18 or older, etc. This story contains incest, so if that bothers you, feel free to pass.

Thank you everyone who's added me to your favorites, voted, or left a comment!

This story's quick and fun and completely unrealistic. Hope you enjoy!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The three of us had been in the same place, the same desperately lonely place, ever since Mom left. Even though we lived in the same house together, we'd been achingly lonesome without realizing that we could have each other.

That was my first, disjointed thought as I saw Kim sliding down on our father's cock, heard her moaning into the air. The second thought rushed in, as though ashamed at being late. It was the sort of thing I should have thought, watching them fuck. How could they? The thought was full of righteous indignation. Incest. It was disgusting! How could he even get hard enough to do that to her? But he wasn't having any problem with that. No, he groped her slim ass, guiding her up and down his stiff, shiny-slick shaft. So not only was he hard, but she was soaking wet. For her father!

But then the third thought swelled up and devoured the others, devoured everything. I wanted them. There it was, naked, unashamed. I wanted to ride his cock until he exploded inside me. I wanted to lick her and suck her until she gushed into my mouth.

That would teach them to leave me out of it!

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

They should have shut the bedroom door before they fucked, should have tried to keep quiet. Instead, the door was wide open, and they were moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors. They should have been watching to make sure the other twin didn't stumble blindly onto their crime, made sure I wasn't watching with shaky legs and sopping panties.

But he was on his back, helping her rocking on his prick. And she didn't even seem to know the rest of the world existed. Head thrown back, eyes closed, squeezing her pert tits until I thought she would break them. They were so into it, I could probably stand there and frig myself to screaming orgasm without them even noticing.

"Yeah, fuck me, Daddy!" Kim whined, rocking on his member. "Give me that big old cock." She was milking the schoolgirl routine for all it was worth, but my dad wasn't complaining. Her hair was in pigtails, and she wore thigh-high white nylons, but if there had been any other pieces to that costume, it was lost on the floor somewhere. "Fuck your little girl!"

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

My fingers dipped on their own under the bottom of my skirt, sliding over my panty-clad pussy. Heat radiated from beneath the fabric, a 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 absorbed in watching my sister and my father screwing like bunnies.

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 member. He was so thick, stretching her slit around him until it had to hurt. But she grunted in pleasure.

Surreal. It was surreal. Because Kim wasn't just my sister. She was my twin. Identical. Watching them screw was watching me screw him. Her long, chestnut-brown hair was mine, slicked with sweat and dangling from the pigtails. Her tall form, while maybe ten pounds trimmer, was still pleasantly soft, a touch too bottom heavy for an hourglass. Arching, rocking, shaking—mine. Her long legs, swollen slit, toned ass, working for release. All mine.

I shivered as I stared, as I stroked. It's forbidden, disgusting. But in a way, it's kind of the most natural thing in the world. A daughter wants to feel loved by her father, doesn't she? And Kim certainly felt his love then, with his balls nestled against her ass.

"You're so deep, Daddy!" she gasped, her voice whiny, tortured. "Your little girl is so full of your dick!" Her hips had started to undulate, like mine do in the seconds before. It was like she was throwing it in my face. Look what I have. What she had, what she was. What I wanted.

The fabric between my fingertips frustrated me, no matter how thin it was. I had to touch, 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 rushed on my skin, lingered on each hair. With a flurry of full strokes, I was almost caught up with her. My want dripped from my fingers, slicked my thighs. I was drowning in my lust, and in theirs.

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

"Do it, Daddy," she moaned. "Pour it all in your little girl!"

I clutched the doorframe to keep from falling. A third finger worked its way in to join the others, spreading me with that sweet ache. My palm rubbed against my clit with every stroke. I roiled in that warmth. My head was thick with that fog.

"I'm coming!" he roared. If Kimmy hadn't screamed in orgasm at that very moment, squirting her juices around his cock, my moan would have revealed me. The sound of her pussy milking his cock burned my ears; the sight of her juices trickling down him scorched my eyes. For a long moment, all I could do was clutch at the doorframe, let my hips jerk against my hand, bite into my arm to keep in my cries. Then that was too much, and I slid down the frame to the floor. Watching them hold each other.

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

I retreated from the doorway as Kim moved, sliding slowly up and off his shrinking member, but peeking around the doorway, I realized she was just backing up so she could get him into her mouth. As she leaned down on all fours, sucking noisily on his balls, I could see her pussy. Pink pounded a raw red, lingering open after their furious session, it oozed a glaze of combined cum. the urge to crawl forward and lick her clean was almost too much.

"You taste so good, Daddy," she cooed. Wiping saliva from my chin—thoughtlessly smearing some lingering slickness from my fingers to my lips—I believed her.

Shuddering, I retreated to my room, traveling most of the way on my knees. My legs wouldn't have supported me. Later, lying in bed fingering myself, I thought about what I'd seen, heard, smelled. What I felt, what I wanted.

I thought, and I plotted.

- - - - - - - - -

"Yeah, I know, but—I'm not—I can't, Jaime!"

The phone was a lifeless, silent hunk of plastic in my hand for a few seconds. That was rare with Jaime, who always seemed to think she had to say ten words a second or the world would explode. Half the time, I couldn't even get out what I was trying to say.

"Well, that sucks," she said finally.

I had to fight a laugh that wanted to break free. "You're telling me? You're not the one puking your guts out."

"All right, I guess I'll see you later. You think you'll feel better tomorrow?"

I hesitated. "I doubt it. I'll probably stay in bed all weekend. I'll call you if things change."

"All right," she said reluctantly. "I'll see you later. Love ya."

"Love ya," I returned, and hung up.

My best friend, since middle school. When school was a battlefield and my friends were spies and traitors, Jaime had been the one I could trust with anything. Still could, more now than then. She'd do anything for me. it hurt to lie to her, made my stomach tumble almost as bad as I'd told her it already was.

It just served as a reminder of how much I was risking. If I couldn't tell Jaime, I couldn't tell anyone. Ever.

I pulled the brush through my hair, again and again and again, though my hair was already smooth and the brush couldn't find any resistance. My hand shook worse with each brush.

Three weeks had passed since that night, three weeks before I could work up the courage to make my move. Three long, sweaty weeks, sneaking peeks at their humping, weeks fingering myself to climax at least twice a day. But it was tonight, finally. The night I had to do it.

Under my red summer dress, my pink cotton panties clung to my pussy like a second skin. I kept myself turned away from my vanity mirror. I couldn't look at myself, not now, not tonight. My face burned, though, so I was sure it was beaming red, enough to match the dress. I wondered what I'd see in my eyes, if I looked. Fear? Excitement? Shame? All three, likely, and a dozen other things besides.

My whole body burned, almost as much as my face. My nipples poked stiff against the cotton, and the dress seemed to pinch and tease them in return, as fingers would. I was sure I'd leave a dark stain on the chair cushion. Slapping the brush down 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 were weak and watery. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes. "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—I opened the window to my room, grimacing when it squeaked. If they asked, I'd say it had been open, and I'd 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 stared for a moment at the floral patterns laying atop the peach stripes on the wall, trying to calm myself. My heart raced like a rabbit's despite my effort.

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

The master bedroom was off the living room near the front door, but both mine and Kim's rooms were past the kitchen, just before the laundry room and the back door. The doors lined up from laundry to kitchen to dining to living rooms, so I could see the front and back doors from my place in the hallway. The laundry room was dark, but the living room glowed with blue light from 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 to exposure and unbearable sensitive, rubbed against my panties, making my legs tremble. I had already called Jaime and cancelled the girls' night out. It was too late to back out. Besides, since that night three weeks ago, I'd been an empty shell of a girl. Longing was my only real companion. I couldn't go on that way.

The bathroom door was shut. I could hear the clicks and clatter of Kim applying makeup. She'd opted out of the vanity, instead getting a pretty nice stereo that had cost the same amount. Great. I'd have to keep circling around the block until her car was gone. We'd both planned dinner dates with our friends tonight. It made me glad we didn't run anywhere near the same circles. Otherwise, she'd find out I wasn't doing what I said I was. And she couldn't learn about it before I was ready.

I hardly saw the kitchen at all as I moved through it: fridge and sink against the wall facing the bedrooms; oven and counter and cabinets against the wall farthest from me; the island in the middle cleared but for a paper towel holder, olive oil, and condiments in squeeze bottles next to the rack. Oven mitts hung overhead, empty hooks behind them showing where the pots and pans had went before my mom left, when the dishwasher got emptied regularly. One of the few jobs she had, and neither Kim not I was about to take over for her. 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 was dominated by the landscape window—covered in blinds and thick peach curtains—to the right, and a flat-screen that stood on the entertainment system beside the alcove for the front door. It was lit in an ad for some furniture company, thirty percent off on weekends. A long felt couch divided the room in two, and a tan recliner sat 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. Walking closer behind him, I leaned over the side of the char and pecked him on the cheek. He jumped with a curse that was cut short as he realized it was me. My lips stung as if his cheek had been electrified, felt swollen and almost numb.

"Don't sneak up on me," he sighed exaggeratedly, holding his hand on his heart like Redd Fox, which was funnier because of how different they were.

My father was tall, with tanned Greek skin neither Kimmy nor I inherited, thick, graceful muscle, smoldering brown eyes, and wavy black hair that was always combed back off his face. Even if my father did have sweeping wings of gray at his temples, and even if he had the occasional smile line, I was hardly going to lose him to a heart attack. Unless he could suddenly read minds.

My own heart fluttered at the sight of him. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I said, my fingers resting on his bare shoulders where his tank top failed to cover. I hoped he couldn't hear the heat in my voice. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You'd better not," he said with a roguish grin. Did his eyes flick down to my tits, where my nipples tented the breezy cotton? "Not when I'm letting you borrow the car." No, he'd looked at my clothes to tell us apart. Kim always dressed trendier, sportier, and she had an infatuation with blue.

"Thanks, Daddy!" I said, as I had when I'd asked him that afternoon. Then I gave him an awkward hug over the side of the chair. My breasts mashed against his shoulder; 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. Fire seemed to leap from his fingers to burn me, where his hand touched the bare skin of my back. I wanted more, needed more. I pretended I didn't notice. "Be back before midnight," he called, as I opened the door, grabbing the keys from the hook nearby.

I turned, trying to hold down my smile, hoping he couldn't see my blush. "I will be," I promised. Long, long before midnight.

My father drove a beat-up Toyota, the same pick-up 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 opted for the savings account instead—but it worked as well now as the day it came 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 life, 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, it only took one slow lap around the block to find Kimmy's Mitsubishi gone. Usually, it took her al night to dry and primp her hair and apply makeup. I guess she didn't care if she caught the eye of any guys. She had Dad, now. I smile, driving back around to the alley behind the house. I left my purse in the truck as I took the key out and opened the door.

For the first time since she'd left, I was grateful mom had taken Charlie, our black lab, as I crept around the side of the house. Stacking milk crates I had snuck home 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, wiping sweaty hands on my dress; I could hear something on TV, probably the same stupid sitcom he'd been watching before. But there were no other sounds. No footsteps, no warning to a robber that he has a gun—he doesn't.

My breath escaped me in a relieved rush.

I flipped my cell open, using it as a flashlight to navigate the darkness of my room, open the door silently, and slide out into the hall.

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

"Do you like cock?" a deep, smooth voice asked off-screen. The blonde, maybe a year older than I was, blushed as she answered.

"Yeah, I love cock."

"Oh, good," said the voice. He sounded at least twice as old as she was. 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. It seemed like she was talking right to me. "I like to put a cock between my big tits. I drool on it, and I let him tit-fuck me while I suck his cap." All that was said slowly, her lips moving to clearly sound every word. Her tongue glistened wetly behind her lips. Obviously, as embarrassed as she was, she loved thinking about it.

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

It took me long minutes to find what I was looking for. First I searched the closet, thumbing through 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 right here? Between these titties?"

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

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

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

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

God, that turned me on. My breasts weren't big enough to tit-fuck, not comfortably, but I wanted to feel Daddy's 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? Why hadn't I looked for it weeks ago, instead of on the night I actually needed it?!

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 open cell under the bed.

Aha! Kim had always hidden things under the bed, things she didn't want other people to see. 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.

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