A Bond Between Twins

His hands glided slowly up over the flatness of my belly, teasing me and sending waves of pleasure through me. Then, as he cupped the firm swells of my breasts, he kissed the side of my neck, flickering his tongue against the sensitive flesh along the side of it to send sparks of fiery sensation surging up my spine.

I couldn't believe what I was doing. I stood naked before the window of a luxury hotel suite, facing out toward a splendid view overlooking the city. There was an equally naked man standing behind me, caressing me. I should have been embarrassed to be on display like that, with it being my first time, but I wasn't. Instead I was on fire. My entire body was ablaze with a sexual hunger like nothing I'd ever felt before.

Yes. It was my first time. I barely knew the man who stood with me, but there I was, in the most beautiful surroundings, about to be fucked. And though I was a little nervous, I didn't feel the least bit ashamed or inhibited. On the contrary, I felt as if I was completely in my element.

It was my twin sister who noticed what I was going through and helped me to understand the feelings I was experiencing. At the time we were eighteen tear old seniors in high school and I was an average black teenager with an extremely high sex drive who was chronically masturbating to porn that showed white men fucking black women. I am multi-orgasmic and would spend hours lusting over the hot scenes as I made myself cum and cum. After my sister caught me doing it several times, she sat me down for a serious talk.

"You know this has to stop, don't you. I mean, this jacking off all the time is really getting out of hand and you need to get it under control," she said. "I've caught you. Mom has caught you. Dad has walked in on you while you were doing it. Everybody knows how preoccupied you are with sex and none of them know what to do about it. Especially dad. You know how he is. So I figured I would talk to you and see if I could help."

"Help? Help me sexually? How are you planning to do that? Are you offering to....?" I asked.

"If that would help," she said smiling. Her eyes moved up and down my body as if taking inventory of a smorgasbord of possible sensual delights. "To tell the truth, I would love that and have fantasized about it quite a few times. It's especially hot when I think about us being twins. But we both know that's not what you want.

"You're not a virgin, and Danielle says she's never had it better, so it's not a lack of pussy that has you pulling pud. The problem is that you're not getting what you want out of sex."

I looked at her in astonishment, not believing my twin sister had admitted to a desire to have sex with me. Before that moment, I hadn't even considered the idea of finding sexual pleasure with her. But after hearing that revelation I looked her over from a different perspective.

I had always known she was beautiful. Having just turned legal, with short, pixie cut dark hair that was shorter than mine and fell past the sides of a dazzlingly gorgeous mahogany toned face to stop at her chin, a slender figure possessing trim shoulders, small, pert tits with dark nipples that poked through the front of her opaque blouse, a flat belly, slender hips, and long, slim legs, she was absolutely mouthwatering. Feeling myself begin to grow aroused, I realized that, if my twin sister was so hot to me then I must be equally hot to her.

Though my sister and I are twins, we are not identical twins. We are fraternal twins. Some fraternal twins don't look anything alike, while some look alike except for one thing that shows them to be different. Andrea and I look exactly alike except for there being one thing that showed us to be different. While Andrea was born a girl, I was born a boy.

"So you're hot for me," I grinned, teasingly.

"Yeah. Yeah," she laughed with amusement, poking me in the ribs playfully. "I've got the hots for my little brother, like so many other girls. So what? You're not gonna do anything about it because I'm not what you really want."

"Really? And what do you think I want?"

"The same thing I want," she answered.

When I frowned in confusion she smiled. She asked me to pull up my porn files on my laptop. When I did she started to play one of the videos. It was one of my favorites and showed Adrian Maya in a Brutal Casting video. She moved to the part in the recording where she was being fucked by the white stud in the film with her. Andrea pointed at the vision on the screen.

"That's what you want." She grinned nastily.

"To fuck Adrian Maya. Oh, that's a real revelation. And what guy do you know who doesn't want to fuck her? She's so hot I'd eat her when that guy finished fucking her," I responded.

"Yeah. You probably would. But that's not what you want either," she said.

"Andrea, what are you talking about?" I asked, totally confused.

Seeing my confusion, my sister was surprised. It was apparent that she thought I knew something that I was unaware of. Then she exploded in laughter.

"Oh wow. You really don't know, do you?" She again pointed at the screen. "Cody, you don't want to fuck Adrian Maya. Well, maybe you do. But you don't want to fuck her as much as you want to be her."

Now I was the one who was surprised. And I thought my sister was crazy until she pointed out some things regarding the pornography I watched that I never noticed before. For instance, all of my porn involved visions of beautiful, slender black women like Skin Diamond, Honey Gold, Kendall Wood, and Anna Foxxx being fucked by white men. And the more degrading the acts performed the more I liked it.

"Haven't you noticed that the women you like to watch are slim bodied like you? Are black like you? And the men you like to watch fuck them are white. It thrills you to watch a black woman being fucked by a white guy and crying out in pleasure. But when you're watching you're not thinking about the pleasure the man is getting, what you think about is the pleasure the woman is receiving. And the reason your concentration is on her pleasure rather than the man's is because you envy her," Andrea said softly. "I understand what you want. I understand because I want the same thing. If you were a girl, mom would understand because she likes the same thing. And most black women, though many would deny it, want the same thing. You want to be a white cock slut.

"Actually, I shouldn't say that I want to be a white cock slut. I am a white cock slut. I absolutely love it when I'm being fucked by a white guy with a big, fat prick. The only reason I'm not a white cock only bitch is because I also like family dick. Mom is the like that too. Though dad doesn't know it, she loves white cock and family cock. She was both surprised and proud when she discovered that I took after her in that way. And I think you do too.

"I think you want to be a girl. But you don't just want to be a girl, you want to be a nasty black whore. You want to be a hot little black, fuck toy for white men, like the women you watch in those films. And the reason you can't stop jerking off to porn of black women with white men is because it is a vicarious release of your desire. Your true desire. But you have to keep jerking off because the vicarious release is not enough. Subconsciously, you want the real thing. You want to be a very real bitch and to be fucked by a very real white dick."

I looked at her in shock. I'm sure she could see the incredulity I was feeling in the expression on my face. I was trying to wrap my mind around so much at one time that my head was spinning. Andrea had informed me that she was a slut for white men who also enjoyed sex with other members of our family. She had informed me that our mother was also a black woman who found pleasure in incest and fucking white men. And she believed that my sexual desires were equal to theirs.

"Mom fucks white men." I thought about that. "How do you know?"

"When she caught me fucking Elijah in my room one day when everybody was supposed to be gone, she didn't kick him out. Instead, she apologized for interrupting and told us to take our time and enjoy ourselves before leaving the room," my sister answered. "A couple of days later we got together and had a nice, private talk. During that conversation she told me everything."

"Even about her having sex with her family? I don't believe that. Why would she just blurt out something like that to you?"

"She didn't just blurt it out. She told me because of you. She had seen the way I was looking at you and she thought I should know, in case I decided to act on my desire." Andrea smiled. "Her reason for telling me about her sexual relationships with members of our family was because of a totally female aspect of biology. The possibility that I might become pregnant. She wanted to let me know that our family had it's own House of Usher thing going and there was a slim chance that, because our bloodline is so close and we are twins, any child we conceive together might have a birth defect."

That made sense, in a way. I was still trying to put everything together in my mind but I was still too shocked by the revelations that had been made to be able to do so. Suddenly, through the haze, a thought came to me.

"You said our bloodline is close.... Does that mean dad is mom's.... what?"

"Dad is mom's husband. He's not family," she responded.

I relaxed a bit. For a second I'd wondered about how to deal with him. If he wasn't related to our mother then nothing between us changed. But Andrea sensed what I was thinking and explained.

"When I said dad isn't family, I didn't just mean he isn't mom's family. I meant he's not yours or mine either. He's not our birth father. Uncle Jake, who is both mom's uncle and father, is our father."

Shit. Uncle Jake had died when we were really young. We were so young when he passed that I barely remembered the man. Just like that I lost two fathers.

"Did dad know?"

"No. And he also doesn't know about Dani and Alicia. He thinks we're all his, but none of us are. He almost found out when Ali was born, but luckily she was black. When she was conceived, mom was fucking so many white guys that there was a good chance she would come out with light skin and blond hair," she laughed, the whiteness of her perfect teeth flashing from between the dark brown softness of her lips. "Mom really dodged a bullet that time.

"But we're getting off topic. This ain't about mom's sexuality. It's about yours. It's about the fact that you want to be a girl."

"Really? You think I want to be a girl?" I said.

"Maybe I'm wrong. If I am, oops...., my bad. But if I'm right, then you should come and talk to me. I'm your sister and I love you. I want you to be happy. No judgements. So if you ask I'll help you."

"Help me how?"

"I'll give you something you will really need."

I rolled my eyes in frustration. I really hated that she was always so cryptic and never just came out and said what she had to say.

"And what would that be?" I sighed.

She smiled.

"I'll teach you how to be a girl. No, I'll do better than that. I'll teach you how to be like me and mom. I'll teach you how to be the nasty, whorish, little black cumdump you want to be," she replied. When she looked at me her brown eyes were warm with love. "Think about this conversation and whatever you decide I will do what I can to help you."

"Even if I select Option A, the one where I take you up on the offer to fuck you," I asked with a chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Especially if you decide to go with Option A," she said, the love in her eyes suddenly shifting to carnal heat. She leaned close to me and whispered softly in my ear. "I hope you do. I would love to feel that big cock of yours fucking me hard and deep. I don't think you will though. I'm betting there's way too much bitch in you, but we'll see."

It was awhile before I got together with Andrea again. Immediately after she closed the door to my bedroom I pulled up a porn video and began to masturbate. But my mindset was definitely altered by our conversation. As I watched the sex scene in which Harley Dean was being vigorously pounded with a big, white cock, I realized something I hated recognizing. She was right.

She was right about my perspective. While stroking my shaft my concentration was only on the woman. I noticed the way Harley writhed when having her cunt eaten. I saw the way her brown lips wrapped tightly around the white cock as it fucked in and out of her mouth and throat. I watched the white hands squeezing her gorgeous tits as the man slammed his prick deeply into her snatch. And through it all, I kept finding myself fantasizing about the pleasures she was experiencing. I imagined what it must be like to have her pussy munched. I imagined what it must be like to have a white man pumping his fat dick into her face. And I imagined the ecstasy she must be enjoying when having her snatch stretched wide and pounded deep with a big, white shaft.

That would have been bad enough, but it didn't stop there. I realized that I had always masturbated to something I didn't recognize, but my sister had noticed. While jerking off I would always cum hard, thick gobs of spunk spraying into the air, to the thought of being the woman who was getting fucked and experiencing the pleasure she was feeling. When masturbating the thing that got me off wasn't that I wanted to fuck the girl. Every time I came it was during the moment I saw myself as the woman, so that it was as if I was being fucked into orgasm after orgasm.

So why didn't I immediately get together with my sister about it? If you're asking that question you obviously are an only child. If you had siblings you would know that the very last thing you would ever want your brother or sister to know is that they were right about anything concerning you. So admission of something that scandalous isn't easy. Nor was Andrea the type of girl to accept surrender with grace.

"See? Was that so hard?" She said. "I knew you would come and see me."

That wasn't all she had to say, and I waited until she was finished with her "I told you sos" before I spoke again.

"Okay. I said you were right. Now what do I do about it," I asked. "I don't know the first thing about being gay."

She chuckled in amusement.

"You're not gay. Well, not exactly," she stated. "You don't dislike women and you don't find pussy disgusting. In fact, I think you like pussy just fine. Especially black pussy. But I think you also like white dick."

"So I'm bi then."

"It's more complicated than that. You're a bi-tranny. You're a girl who was born a guy but is attracted to both men and women."

"Shit. What the hell does that mean?"

"You can answer that for yourself by truthfully answering a few questions."

"Okay." I leaned back in my chair. "What do you want to know?"

"When you see a hard white dick in a black woman's mouth how does it make you feel?"

I knew what she wanted to hear, so I told her.

"It makes me feel like I want to kiss her after she finishes sucking him. But it also makes my mouth water to think of sucking it myself," I answered truthfully.

"And when you see a white man fucking a black woman what is the first thing you think?"

"That that's what's supposed to happen. That she is exactly where she is supposed to be, submitting completely to the white guy fucking her."

"So you believe that believe that black women are meant to be fucked by white men. That we are born to submit to the desires of white men. Does that mean you believe white men are superior to you?"

I hesitated a brief second to consider my answer. But it was only a brief second.

"Yes. I guess I do."

Andrea smiled.

"Spoken like a true beta pussy," she said. "And now one last question. When you see a black woman being fucked by a white man what do you want to do?"

Again I hesitated before answering. The question brought a lot of thoughts to mind. When I had them in order I responded truthfully.

"I sometimes imagine myself sucking his cock clean when they finish. At other times I imagine myself licking her juicy, black pussy clean after it's been filled with cum. But the thing I want to do the most is switch places with her and feel that big, white cock fucking me." I lowered my eyes. "I imagine the white man holding me down and slamming his prick into me and I cum so hard I almost pass out."

"So what do you think that means?"

"I'm a bitch. I should have been born a black woman, and even though I wasn't I still feel like a black woman is supposed to feel. That's why I watch the porn I watch and why I feel so sexually submissive to white men," I said. "You said that if I asked you would help me become a woman. Well, I'm asking."

Andrea laughed.

"So my brother's a little faggot who wants to be a real girl, that's so sweet. But that's not what I said I would help you become. What the hell would I know about being a girl? I'm a cocoa fuck bunny. A black slut. And I told you I'd help you become one too, if that's what you want," she said. Her smile became dark and lewd. "That is what you want, isn't it? You want to become a white cock slut like your sister?"

"Yes. But I'm not a faggot. I'm..." What I was going to say was cut off by the flat of my sister's hand slapping me across the face.

Andrea grabbed me under my chin and forced me to look at her.

"You want to know what it's like to be a bitch? Okay, this is your first lesson. Know when to submit. You want me to show you, then submit to me completely. Don't question what I say, just do it. And I'll call you whatever I want. Get used to it, faggot." She saw the anger well up within me and she didn't back down. "Yeah. I said it again. Faggot. Punk. Pansy, Sissy. Bitch. Whore. Fuckboy. Slut. When a guy is fucking you he might call you any of those things. He might like saying them to you while he's got his cock in your mouth or ass. What are you gonna say?"

Her voice changed to become whiney sounding.

"I'm not a faggot." Her voice returned to its normal tone. She smiled comfortingly. "Of course you are. Faggot. And before its over my twin brother will die and I will have gained a twin sister. There's a lot you will have to learn, I hope you're ready."

I had sort of thought it would be easy, kind of like changing clothes. But shedding one skin to put on another is never easy. I wasn't just changing clothes or putting on a costume, I was changing my entire identity. So it took some time for me to learn the things I needed to know.

The first thing we did was go shopping. If anything should have given me a previous recognition of my affinity for things feminine, it should have been the fact that, like most women, I have always enjoyed shopping for clothing. We went from store to store purchasing both sexy and elegant skirts, tops, evening gowns, and shoes. We also bought several matching sets of bras and panties. Though we placed the dresses, skirts, tops, and shoes in the closet with my masculine clothing, which we kept in order to continue the façade of me being a guy, my sister had me toss my male undergarments in the trash and told me that I would only wear panties beneath my clothes.

Andrea taught me about feminine hygiene, emphasizing the necessity to keep my sexual organs (mouth, clit, and ass) clean, and showed me how to apply cosmetics to enhance the feminine features of my face. She showed me how to dress for different circumstances and different social events. I learned how to walk, which was easier than expected in high heeled shoes. I learned how to talk in a more melodic voice. And she showed me how to display a million mannerisms that were expressly female while insuring that I didn't make the usual mistake of overdoing it that many others did.

Also, to make sure I continually felt feminine, she had me choose a feminine name and gave my bedroom a complete makeover. I told her that I wanted to be called Courtney and, working together, we transformed my room from a masculine mancave to a girlish boudoir. The walls were painted a hot pink, frilly coverlets and soft pillows adorned my bed, new white furnishings were bought, my athletic posters were replaced with framed paintings of things like kittens at play, and there were baskets of potpourri in all four corners of the room.