Facets of Love Ch. 12

"I think it's only fair that you come first this time," she said.

Leaning forward with her hands clasped behind her back, she kissed the air a couple of times and then stuck out her tongue and made an exaggerated licking motion. Once that strange pantomime was complete, she formed her pouty lips into a perfect circle and slowly moved her head back and forth, starting with small movements and then increasing her range of motion with each stroke.

Even though her mouth was open, she was apparently holding her breath... pulling away every fifteen or twenty seconds to suck in some air before continuing with her odd task. This went on for several minutes and, from the twinkle in her eye, I could tell that Kirsten was enjoying whatever Kristen was doing.

Unlike the previous barrage of commentary, Kirsten didn't say a word when on her knees. With the exception of a strange sucking noise, several moans, and an occasional gagging sound, she was perfectly quiet. Towards the end, her head movements became more rapid, and her breath breaks less frequent until she forced her head further forward than she had previously, held perfectly still for several seconds, moved her throat as if she was swallowing an unseen substance, and then fell back on her haunches.

Regaining her feet, Kirsten reached forward with her hands, grasped air, and fell backwards onto the bed with her legs spread wide.

"Now it's our turn," she said continuing her previous commentary.

"Yes, we're still on the pill...

"Of course we want you in us... and much, much more... We want your cock in our vagina, your hands on our ass, your chest pressed up against our boobs, your lips on our lips and, most importantly, your love in our heart...

"Take your time... let's don't rush things... we've got all day...

The next ten minutes were filled with soft coos, quiet moans, and loving words of affection. But I had watched enough couples have sex to identify the transition point when love turns to lust, and animalistic need replaces the niceties of modern society.

Kirsten's already spread legs rotated upwards into an inviting V. Her breathing quickened, her hips danced, her tummy tightened, and her loving words devolved into a babble of gibberish, culminating in a high-pitched scream of pleasure and dismay as she displayed all the physical signs of a woman experiencing a life changing orgasm.

Or, in laymen's terms, Robbie fucked Kristen into next week and Kirsten went with her.

It took a while for Kirsten to recover from her ordeal. Like a surgery patient coming to after being anesthetized, she groggily opened her eyes, took a cursory glance in my direction, felt around the bed with her hands, and then burst into tears.

"What's wrong," I asked as I climbed into bed with her and held her close. "Did it not work? Are you and your sister still joined?"

"No," she sniffled. "Kristen is gone. I can't hear her."

"Then why are you upset? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes. That's why we initially came to you. But things have changed."

"How so?"

"Today, when we told Robbie that 'we want his love in our heart'... that was the first time I ever told a man that I loved him. But I didn't. Because Kristen told him. And, now that we're separated, she's in his arms and I'm hugging my shrink."

"Tell me Kirsten. If it was the other way around, if you were in the cabana with Robbie right now, what would you tell him?"

"The same thing Kristen is probably saying right now. I'd tell Robbie that I love him. Not 'we love him', but 'I, Kirsten, an individual person, love him'.

"And I will do anything in my power to make him love me back."

-

Robbie Jones

At Grandma's suggestion and with my parents' approval, I quit going to college and moved back home. Both of which I considered a good thing. My college professors weren't teaching me anything that I couldn't get from a book, Dad, or one of his employees and my cabana was less than a hundred feet from Mom's kitchen (and bedroom).

The only thing I really needed in Tampa was Kirsten and Kristen. Mom remedied that for me by moving them into the rooms Aunt Gloria and Grandma used to occupy.

If Grandma had her way, the twins and I would have spent the next three months constantly screwing like bunny rabbits while she documented the results.

"This is groundbreaking stuff. We are on the cusp of understanding a completely new method of communication," Grandma said to the assembled group over dinner. "I'll need exclusive use of all three of their bodies and a good bit of their time.

Dad had a different opinion.

"Robbie is still an employee of Spencer Manufacturing. I own his ass eight hours a day, five days a week. He's also a member of our family. His chores around the house take priority over your science experiment."

"Do his household chores still include screwing every woman on our street?" Grandma asked.

"No," Dad said after thinking about it. "We've already cut him off from his sisters, so when they come home from college, they either find a man of their own or do without. And, since the rest of you ladies have alternative bedmates, I guess it's okay if the twins have first priority when it comes to my son's overactive dick."

"Not so fast," Aunt Gloria said. "Just because I'm living with Nurse Angela doesn't mean I don't want an occasional cock between my legs." She was referring to my sporadic sojourns next door where I satisfied the latent heterosexual needs of my small breasted aunt and her massively mammaried sex slave.

"How about I take over those duties?" Dad asked.

"That's fine with me," Gloria said, "as long as Mary doesn't mind."

"Not a problem," Mom said to Grandma. "But would it be okay if Robbie spent the night with me when Robert's entertaining Gloria and Angela? I've missed his weekly cuddles terribly.

"How about you, James?" Mom continued. "You're an integral part of this family. Do you have an opinion on the subject?"

"Not really. As long as Martha lays her pretty head next to mine every night, I'm happy to let you young'uns decide everything else that happens on this street. But, before we chisel this in granite, I'd like to hear from our newest residents.

"Kristen, Kirsten, give us your views on the matter."

From their word pattern - each twin taking turns vocalizing their joint thoughts - I could tell they were still mentally bonded. Which made sense. It had been a few hours since I'd bedded either one of them.

"We realize we aren't part of your family... but we agree with most everything discussed so far.

"Just like Robbie... we also have full-time jobs... with flexible hours... so we can harmonize our schedule... to ensure we're available when Robbie or Doctor Spencer needs us. And... since we're not in a committed relationship... at least not yet... if Robbie needs to spend time with anybody else in the family... for any reason... then it's not our place to object."

Even though nobody asked, my opinion of the evening meal's discussion was that it went well.

True, I lost intimate access to Grandma, Gloria, Angela, April, June, and Julie. But gaining Kristen and Kirsten was certainly a fair trade in my book.

I would have preferred that Kirsten and Kristen hadn't of learned about my sexual relationships with every vagina owner on Frank Spencer Drive until much later in our relationships... like maybe after we'd had a half dozen kids together and they were stuck with me. But the twins took it well at the time, although I was sure I had some explaining to do in the not-so-distant future. A discussion I was sure would include what my continued "cuddle privileges" with Mom entailed.

But the best news was that everybody agreed to the new living arrangement.

-

Kirsten, Kristen, and I had a celebratory threesome in the cabana that evening and, after a good night's sleep in each other's arms, shuffled into Mom's kitchen the following morning. Where we found Grandma, fixing breakfast, in her trademark see-through nighty, with her Boobifil restored, braless breasts on full display.

"Have you had sex yet this morning?" Grandma asked me.

"No ma'am," I replied.

"So, I assume you two are still joined," she asked the twins.

"Yes...

"... we are."

"Good. Eggs and bacon are on the counter. I've got biscuits and gravy if you're interested and, if not, there's fruit and yogurt in the fridge. OJ is in the pitcher and coffee's in the pot. Help yourself to cream and sugar. Now eat up, I've got a busy day planned for all three of you."

Uncle James, who was sitting in the breakfast nook drinking coffee, gave me a wink, and then returned his attention to his tablet.

I loaded up my plate with bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy, the girls took the yogurt and fruit route, and we joined James at the table.

After breakfast, Grandma escorted the twins and me into the living room to explain what was expected of us.

For the next several months, the twins and I were to have "sex with a purpose". Not to make babies, that would come later. She wanted to monitor, study, and analyze our copulation habits to determine the optimum schedule for keeping the girls' minds separated. Which meant taking notes on what we were doing.

Once I fucked the girl's minds apart, how long until they could read each other's thoughts again?

Did it matter which girl I fucked? Did bringing Kristen to a sexual peak keep them separated longer than when I did it with Kirsten? Or did the intensity of the orgasm determine how long they were without telepathic powers.

Which brought up another question. How does one measure the intensity of an orgasm? Is there a standard, like the Richter scale for earthquakes? Perhaps a medical tool, kind of like a stethoscope, except the 'orgasameter' would rate each sexual response from 1 to 5... with a 1 resulting in a warm glow in the lady's nether regions and a 5 meant the girl was deliriously unconscious after the event.

Yeah, there was a shit load of questions to answer and a myriad of combinations to explore, but the twins and I were up to the task. We worked on the project night and day, seven days a week. Wake up blow jobs transitioned to sex in the shower events. My lunch and dinner menus always included a redhead, and I often enjoyed a hearty midnight snack.

We kept this up for five months, our only break being my bi-weekly Saturday night session with Mom. Which, for some odd reason, all of us looked forward to.

In the end, after all possibilities had been explored and all holes had been filled, the answer to the original questions was...

All of the above.

The more often we did it, the longer the girls stayed mentally separated. More powerful orgasms led to less telepathically shared thoughts. The results were the same regardless of which girl I was physically with. And, as an added benefit, I discovered that I loved both girls. Not equally. Differently. The more time I spent with the twins, the more I realized just how distinctive they were.

Kristen was a right brain kind of girl. Artsy, creative, emotional.

Kirsten leaned left when it came to brain function. Analytical, methodical, logical.

Separate the two and Kristen was a better lover while Kirsten was the girl I wanted to run my household.

Combined, they were everything a man could ask for.

-

Two months after Grandma's science project was over, Kristen, Kirsten, and I moved out of the big house and into our own place. We didn't move far. I could throw a baseball from my back yard, over Grandma's house, and into Mom's front flower beds. But the extra privacy, the chance for the three of us to build our own little family, brought on a change that nobody expected.

By that time, due to her amazing organizational abilities, Kirsten had quit her online job and was working for Dad as a manager.

On the morning in question, I woke up with my morning wood several inches down Kristen's throat and, once they thought I was sufficiently primed, Kirsten took over and finished me off using the always reliable reverse cowgirl position. When we were done, she didn't praise my name to the fertility gods and then pass out, but one of the things we left on her sister's to do list before we left for work an hour later was to change the bed sheets.

That's right. Kirsten was a squirter. Unlike her sister, who was more of a screamer. Which would be a problem later in our lives as she had a tendency to wake the kids and amuse the neighbors. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

The reason the large wet spot in the middle of our bed is significant to the discussion is that it proved Kirsten had an orgasm, which meant I had successfully split the girls' brains, allowing them to function as individuals for at least the next couple of hours without having their sibling listen in on her every thought.

We continued our morning domestic routine - shower, shave, breakfast, and goodbye kisses - and then Kirsten and I climbed into my truck, leaving Kristen at home to put the finishing touches on our back patio.

Kirsten and I were just leaving the neighborhood when she yelled,

"Stop! We've got to go back home."

"Why?" I asked.

"There's a big ass snake on the patio."

"How the hell do you know that?"

"Kristen just told me."

"I thought you weren't joined."

"We're not. But somehow, she got through to me."

"Can you hear her now?"

"No. She's gone. But I swear I heard her."

I did my best impression of a bootlegger's turn and was back in our driveway in under a minute. Kirsten ran in the front door to comfort her sister while I grabbed an ax and shovel out of the garage and raced around to the back yard expecting to see a twelve-foot-long anaconda.

The pre-historic man-eating serpent ended up being a three-foot black racer. A good snake to have in your back yard because it was harmless to humans and kept the rodent population down. I herded the snake out of the yard. After a year or so of living next to a swamp, the girls would get used to seeing the occasional snake or alligator.

But the fact that Kristen could send a telepathic SOS message to her sister, even though they were both mentally and physically separated, was an entirely different subject. A subject we spent the next several years exploring, and experimenting with, and developing, until the girls figured out how to turn their telepathy on and off whenever they wanted. To the point that what they once considered a handicap ended up being a hidden advantage.

Imagine being able to momentarily share your thoughts with somebody and, when you're done, tune them out. It was the most advanced communication capability known to man. Except the only man that knew about it was me. And to allow the twins to lead normal lives, we kept their capability in the family.

Admittedly, we never understood why the twins had their telepathic powers, why having sex with me temporarily suspended them, or how they eventually figured out how to control their sixth sense.

Another unanswered question was why I was the only one who could tell them apart. The twins chalked it up to destiny, a natural karma that existed between the three of us. Grandma insisted I was cheating. But I liked Mom's explanation the best.

"Your Grandma and Aunt Gloria might have taught you how to please a woman," Mom said during one of our overnight cuddle sessions, "but I taught you how to listen, observe, and look into their souls. You, and only you, see the real Kristen and Kirsten."

"Thanks, Mom. Because of you, I've found the loves of my life."

"You're welcome my love. Now quit molesting my breasts and go to sleep."

-

Epilog

2050

Mary Spencer Jones

Lots of things changed over the last decade. And some remained the same.

We obviously all got older. I'm now fifty-one, Robert is a few years shy of sixty, Robbie is thirty-one, and Mom is seventy (with the figure of a thirty-year-old, thanks to diet, exercise, and Boobifil).

We still live in the big house on Frank Spencer Avenue, the mile long cul-de-sac named after my dear deceased Dad, but we've added a few houses.

Uncle James and Mom (Martha) live together in the house to our right. If you didn't know their story, you'd swear they'd been married for fifty years... childhood sweethearts who never kissed anybody but each other. For those of us who do know them, we're all thankful that Mom's seemingly limitless libido hasn't done to James what she did to his brother... love him to death.

Gloria May and Nurse Angela live on the other side of us. Their "mistress - sex slave" relationship has slowly evolved into a more traditional lesbian love affair, although there is no doubt who is in charge. Gloria still borrows my husband every couple of weeks but, even though she and I remain extremely close, we haven't shared a bed together for years.

Robbie, Kirsten, and Kristen got married a year after they moved in next to James and Martha. James swears he had nothing to do with getting the law changed to allow one man to marry two women... and none of us believe him. A year after their marriage, Kristen gave birth to identical twin girls and, on the same day, Kirsten had a set of fraternal twins, one of each. To the best of our knowledge, none of Robbie's offspring are telepathic.

April (my daughter) and her husband live across the street from Robbie and the twins. That pairing caused a bit of a stir since Doctor Gary Goldfield was recruited by Gloria May to be not only her intern but also her son-in-law. Gary is the only male employee in Gloria May's clinic and, if the rumor mill can be trusted, Gloria May and Nurse Angela measured his dick and took a semen sample during his job interview. Gary's sperm count is apparently up to snuff as he and April already have three children with one more on the way.

Julie (Gloria May's daughter) married Robbie's best friend Jerry and moved next door to Robbie and the twins. Gloria May was none too happy about her daughter passing up the man she handpicked for her but got over it once Julie and Jerry presented her with two granddaughters.

June (Mom's second daughter, my much younger sister) lives across the street from Julie. She was the only one of the three sisters to find a husband without familial assistance. According to June, Sven's primary attributes are "a big dick and an even larger brain." All I can say about his male member is that he has no trouble getting June pregnant. His mind, on the other hand, does seem to be oversized. He now runs Robert's entire IT department, and, during their free time, he and June are making AI generated, full-length movies which has Hollywood extremely worried.

So, there you have it. On a pleasant fall afternoon, Robert and I sit on our front porch and watch our numerous kids and grandkids play in the street. Mom and Uncle James often join us, choosing to sit in their reserved rocking chairs. Gloria and Angela are also frequent visitors to our veranda. Gloria prefers a low slung Adirondak with Angela kneeling next to her on a padded mat.

Best of all, when the sun goes down, everybody retires to their own homes, leaving Robert and me completely alone with each other. Which is exactly what we both wanted when we first met, thirty-two years ago.

We never planned to cheat on each other. Not in my wildest dreams (or nightmares) did I envision sharing my husband with two other women, one being my mom. And if you had told the eighteen-year-old Mary Spencer that I would one day consent to letting those two women be my son's sex tutor... well that would have been almost as ridiculous as letting my husband and son have sex with our daughters.