Keep It in the Family Pt. 03

Chapter 3 - My twin daughters

After my elder son Michael's ultimatum, that I had to persuade my twin daughters to let him and his brother fuck them the day after they got back from summer camp, I realised that I actually had had a bit of a reprieve. He was playing in a baseball game in the city, and Tony was going to watch as well, wanting to find out, perhaps, if Michael shoving his baseball bat up my cunt was going to bring him luck. Even so, it would give me only twenty-four hours to work something out, and I had no idea how I was going to do it.

The problem was that now my sons had not just pictures of me naked, but much more potent ones of me fucking him and his brother, and I was sure that he'd inherited enough of my character that he would send them to the pastor if I didn't comply. It wouldn't exactly do him or his younger brother any good, but it would destroy all of the life I had built up as and elder in our local church. Even if he didn't do that, showing them to my parents, or my sister and brothers would likely be enough to ruin my life.

I wondered if I would have told my sister, Christine, about my sons, had she lived closer to me. Twins ran in the female side of our family, it seemed. Christine and I were twins, and our mother was one of twin girls. It was often fun being a twin, as you could get away with things as no one knew which of us to punish. On the other hand, though, we sometimes lost out by being treated as a pair rather than individuals, for example having to dress the same. The best thing, though, was that we always understood each other perfectly, often seeming to know what the other would say before she said it.

We'd both married career men, and these days I suppose people would say we sacrificed our own careers for our husbands, though that wasn't how I felt about it at the time. The awful thing was, though, that Christine's husband was an oil engineer, and first they'd moved to the Gulf of Mexico with his work, and then, even worse to the extreme north of Alaska, all for oil. Even the splendid intimacy of twins couldn't survive that separation intact, and we gradually lost touch, though we had kept up intermittent telephone calls, and more recently emails.

Christine had twin boys, and a lone girl, and I wondered if she'd understand that I felt I had to give in to my sons blackmail. I wondered also if she'd understand my desire to fuck my own daughters, as I had no idea where it came from myself. Of course, Christine and I had explored each other's bodies a bit when they started to change, and I imagine every generation of girls has had a fumble or two at summer camp. However, our upbringing had been strict, and in those days, girls didn't seem to have the inclination or the ability to share images of themselves naked, nor to go further. I was pretty sure that any limited exploration I'd made of lesbian delights hadn't even involved me reaching orgasm.

Things were about to change, though, because Christine's husband had left her, though neither she nor my parents would tell me why, and she was moving back to be closer to me. She'd found a place and a good job in the next town, and it was the last few weeks of closing the deals, so that the kids could start the new academic year in their new colleges. I was looking forward to having my sister back close to me, but it was just going to come a bit too late to help me talk things through. Indeed, would I ever have the courage to broach the subject with her, twin or no twin?

After the boys had double vaginally penetrated me: three times, actually before we all managed to come together, I'd persuaded them to let me sleep alone, to give me time to develop a plan for their sisters. So, I was laid in bed, tossing and turning, unable to get to sleep as my brain flip-flopped between fantasies of the delights that lay between my daughter's legs and how exactly their tits had developed, and desperately trying to work out how the hell I'd persuade them to let us fuck them. The former set my cunt tingling, but the latter sent shivers of fear through me, as I was sure that Michael would go through with posting the pictures of me if I failed.

I must have drifted off to sleep, but I woke hot and sweating in the middle of the night, dreaming of what I wanted to do with my little girls. Unfortunately, this only made me want them more, and I had to masturbate - well, twice actually, once for each daughter you might say - before I could get back to sleep.

When I woke in the morning it was late, and the boys had obviously gone off for the pre-match practice and the game itself. I still had no clue what I was going to do when my daughters came back, so I threw myself into the classic housewife's diversionary activities of baking and housekeeping. It wasn't such a bad idea, because all of the fucking we'd been doing had meant that between me and my sons, there was a much bigger backlog of underclothes to wash than normal, and when I looked carefully, there were rather a lot of tell-tale white stains on the floors and chairs from our activities, which I had to clean up.

I still had no idea how to approach the girls, though I'd deliberately put on a loose top and a medium-length cotton skirt, with a skimpy pair of white panties underneath, which I thought might provide an opener, and at least easy access to my bits if needed. If the worst came to the worst, I thought, I could simply tell them about Michael's blackmail threat, and leave me at their mercy. I'd only just grabbed a sandwich and a coffee for lunch when I heard the bus honk outside, and I knew that Lucy and Chloe were about to arrive, and I'd have to decide what to do.

The door slammed back as they came bouncing through it, flinging their large, soft bags to one side, and running over to hug me. When I say bounced, I mean it literally, as I could see that they weren't wearing bras under their thin tops. I could still remember when my own breasts used to bounce up as much as down when I ran, and as was the case with me, the friction of the top had made their nipples stiff, as I could see from the mobile bumps moving around in front of me.

They looked lovely in their loose, thin tops and short pleated shirts, reminding me of the way Christine used to look when she was that age. Yes, I know, as we were twins, that must have meant they looked like me, but I'd always struggled with seeing myself the way others see me.

"Hi, Mom ..."

"Where's the boys ..."

"Are we too late for lunch ..."

"We've got lots of dirty washing ..."

When I managed to quieten them down a bit, I made them each a sandwich, and after they had snaffled them down, I got them to bring the bag with the dirty washing into the utility room. Fortunately, the washing I had put on had nearly finished, so I would be able to move it over to the dryer. I opened the bag to see what needed washing, whether it would go in one load, and whether I needed to separate things out. Shit, as I opened the bag I could see it was mostly underwear, and I was almost overwhelmed with the overpowering scent of teenage cunt. I'd never been affected quite that way before, so maybe it was my reducing female hormones as I headed to the menopause which made me react more like a man, the same way I'd suddenly found myself attracted to the look of a woman's vulva.

"Wow... " was all I managed to get out before Chloe interrupted me.

"Sorry, Mom, they're a bit ripe, aren't they?"

"We probably should have washed more at the camp, with all the activities we were doing."

"Oh, it's alright girls. I guess Auntie Christine and I wouldn't have been any different when we were your age. Did you know, though, that your smell is really important in determining which men find you attractive? Subconsciously, men are most attracted to women who have a complementary spectrum of antibodies, so their children have the best chance of being resistant to the biggest range of diseases."

"Mom, stop it. You're just making it up. That can't be right."

"Oh yes, it is. I saw a PBS program where they did a profile of the presenter's immune system, a university professor, and of six female university students, about your age actually. They the students slept in some sort of T-shirt, and they bottled them up when they took them off. The professor then smelled the bottles, and ranked them in terms of their attractiveness. When they compared this with their immune compatibilities, he only got two the wrong way around, and these were the closest on the science, but he had the best and worst absolutely right."

"Euw, I wouldn't want to do it. It can't be right, though, Mom, surely?"

"Yes it is, apparently. There's quite a few publications now. The only mystery is how the immune profile determines the smell, and how the man can decode it. Animals have been using scent for millennia, so why not us? I think really it must be the smell of our pussies, not underarm, because it's so much more intense and distinctive, isn't it, and I think the professor should really have smelled their knickers, not their tops. The funniest think is that a lot of women are embarrassed about the way they smell, so what do they try to cover it with? Some sort of perfume, where the base is most often something like musk, which is the anal gland secretions from a deer or some other animal. What sort of men do they think that is going to attract?"

"Perhaps that's why so many men behave like animals," Lucy said, smiling.

At least I thought it was Lucy, but I found it so hard to tell when they dressed the same, as they so often did, having complaining about it for years when I dressed them that way as children.

"Hang on, Mom. We're twins, so presumably our immune systems are identical. Do you mean to tell me our scents are identical, not just alike?"

"Well, I think that must be the case. But why don't we do the experiment? We'd better not use anything from the washing bag, because they have been mixed up, and may have changed since you took them off. Best take off the ones you're wearing."

There was, of course, method in my madness. Ever since I'd seen their bouncy breasts and smelled their dirty panties, my cunt had been driving me wild, wanting me to stop worrying about what my sons wanted, and just to find a way of fucking them myself. My two gorgeous daughters at first looked a bit shocked, but then they looked at each other, and I could see some of that unspoken twin dialogue between them, and they turned back to me, smiling.

"Are you sure this is just about the science, Mom?"

Damn. They hadn't fallen for it, I thought, but then one of them, probably Chloe, slowly put her hand up under her skirt. As she felt around for the top of her panties, Lucy did the same. They kept looking at me as they slowly pulled them down. Double damn, it looked as if they were going to be able to slip them down from under their skirts without even giving me the merest glimpse of their cunts. I suppose my gaze must have flicked up from sub-waist to their faces, and one of them gave me a big grin, and then hoisted up her skirt, and the other followed, drawing my eyes further south again.

Shit, I was trembling with anticipation as the waistband of their white panties went past the top of their pussy hair, then my vagina seemed as if it had sprung a leak. I saw that they had trimmed lower down, giving me a stunning view of their labia, dangling proudly down from their slits, pinker than mine.

I loved my labia. If I were upset or worried, I found that playing with my ears helped. It wasn't in itself sexual, but it was comforting in the same way as sucking a thumb, or tugging at earlobes, and I guessed it worked the same way, by releasing enkephalins, the brain's internal morphine. One of my first boyfriends told me I was deformed, and nobody would want me, but when I told my mother, she told me everyone was like that, and my sister Christine definitely was, so I stopped worrying about it.

Having been introduced to the world of internet porn by my sons, though, I discovered two things. First was that women's vulvas are much more, delightfully, varied, which was great. The second thing that wasn't, though, was how many of the really young girls seemed to have almost no lips at all, just a slit. Michael said that often celebs and rich young girls had plastic surgery to have their labia removed, as they thought they looked better, and that was what men wanted. I thought it was such a shame, and deserved the same censure as the sort of genetic mutilation which some cuItures still practice, and even without surgery, I suspected it was mostly only girls with tiny labia who were brave enough to post.

I was so fixated on their labia that I almost missed the fact that both of them had a tattoo of a blue bird just above their hair, and over to the right side. Typical twins: even where they could have chosen something different, they had the same. I remembered Christine and I going in to a clothes shop and coming out with the same thing, even when we didn't know what the first one had bought.

"Mom. Hey, Mom, MOM!" Lucy shouted, bringing me back to reality. "You're supposed to be taking these panties, and making us smell them with our eyes shut to see if we can tell any difference, not studying our cunts."

"LUCY! Wash your mouth out with soap! I thought we didn't use words like that."

"We fucking do now we're over eighteen, Mom," Chloe added, smiling.

I might have blushed I think, but I sheepishly took the panties each of them offered me. Fucking hell, as I caught hold of them and felt their warmth and dampness, I thought I was going to come, even though by then they'd dropped their skirts, unfortunately. Still, while I couldn't see their pussies any more, the images of them were burned into my brain. I looked inside the panties at the inevitable little stains, and based on this, for once I was able to work out how to remember which ones came from which girl.

I shuffled them around behind me back, and told the girls to close their eyes. I held them out, and each of them sniffed each of the panties, and so, of course, did I, drinking deep of the lovely scent of my daughters. As I confidently expected, none of us could distinguish between them. I had the extra difficulty that I was enjoying the scent of my daughters vaginal secretions so much, that I kept forgetting to try.

"OK, Mom. You've made you're point - but maybe we couldn't smell the difference between anyone else's either."

"No, Mom, Lucy's right. Given that you started this, how about you letting us smell yours? After all, we're half you genetically, so if we can tell ours from yours, we'll believe you totally," Chloe said, with a wicked grin on her face.

They were certainly going to get the full scent of me, as I felt another gush of cum leak out of my slit, making my panties even damper than they were before.

"Lucy! Chloe! I'm your mother! You can really expect me to let you sniff my knickers."

"Oh, but we do Mom. After all, you've just sniffed ours, and I wouldn't mind betting it wasn't the first time you've done it."

I was, of course, going to let them, but I wanted to draw it out as long as I could. I put my hand up my skirt and tugged the waistband down a little, before acting as if I was embarrassed, only starting again when my daughters urged me again. I tried to look as if I was trying to keep my skirt covering me, but that I was a bit clumsy, but I made sure that so they got a good look at my pussy before my skirt dropped down again as I pulled my panties down to my ankles, and stepped out of them.

I was starting to tingle some more, conscious that now all three of us were naked under our skirts and T-shirts, but I picked up one of their pairs, and shuffled it and mine behind my back.

"Shut your eyes girls, and tell me if you can smell any difference, and tap which hand you think has yours."

They did as I said, and I had a quick sniff myself, before holding out my hands under their noses. There certainly was a difference. My scent was fresh and strong, and as ever was full of musk and spice, with an overtone that I could only describe as sharp and slightly acrid. The nearest I can think of is the taste of a caper, with that not-quite-vinegary tartness. I hadn't noticed it before, but the girls tended more to the slightly fishy end of the spectrum, though pleasantly so, rather than spicy.

"God, Mom, you smell gorgeous."

"And we can tell which is ours," Lucy said, tapping my right hand. She was correct, of course.

"Right, girls. If we wait for that load to finish, we can put all of these in after I put that load in the dryer."

I was tingling all over, but I was still struggling to work out how to move to the next stage with my daughters; but then they took the initiative.

"We've proved that twins smell the same, and different from their mother. This wasn't what the girls at camp wanted to find out, though. They've always been fascinated with us being twins, and one evening, when the instructors had left us in our tents, someone started talking about how all of our cunts were different - you know, the ear and lip sizes and shapes, and the colours. So, we had to prove that despite that, ours looked the same, though we knew it, of course," Chloe explained.

"What we didn't know, though Mom, was how much of the way we are we inherited from you, or whether it just random," Lucy added. "Here, we'll show you ours, then we can look at yours."

The girls used their arms to get themselves up on to the work surface, and they opened their legs, and pulled their vulvas wide open. I could also see that under their T-shirts their nipples were as stiff as steel rods, and their tits were still jiggling slightly from the way that had sat themselves up. It was all I could do to stop myself dashing over and licking and playing with them.

"Wow, girls, I haven't seen those for a good few years. They're gorgeous. I think your lips are even bigger than mine, but the inside of your slits, and even your assholes are so much paler than mine."

I started to reach out my hands to touch them, but the girls batted my arms away.

"No, no touching, Mom."

"Not yet, anyway. You've got to show us yours, Mom. Come on, we came out of it, so don't be shy. Stop shaking."

Oh, I wasn't shy, but I was having trouble containing myself, and my mind was in a turmoil. I was the one supposed to be doing the seducing, not them. Somehow, they had grabbed the initiative somewhere along the line, and I still had no idea how I was going to get them to agree to letting their brothers fuck them.

Still, the sight of my two daughters' wide-open cunts had really got mine excited. I just wanted to find somewhere to sit, pull myself open, and let my daughters see the inside of my slit and up into my vagina. I turned around, and hoisted myself up on the first space I could find. I pulled my skirt up, opened my legs, then used my hands to pull my lips as wide as I could, letting my daughters see every little detail of my vulva and asshole. I was a bit surprised, if pleased, to see one of them whip out their iPhone and take a quick picture.

What I hadn't realised was that it was the washer I'd chosen to sit on, and even if I had, I'd never have anticipated that it would chose that very moment to start its final, high speed spin. I suppose it was the combination of the view between my daughters' legs, the touch of my fingers opening my own cunt for their inspection, and the powerful vibration of the washer up through me that sent me over the top.

"For God's sake finger me and play with my clit," I yelled, starting to obey my own order, masturbating like crazy in front of my teenage daughters.

For a split second I thought they were going to just watch, but then I saw them look at each other and smile. They then bounded over to me, and almost at the same time they both rammed two fingers into my vagina, and started rubbing my clit with their thumbs, pushing my own fingers out of the way. Not only were my beautiful daughters fucking me with their hands, but they were doing it in one of my favourite ways.