Looking for Trouble Ch. 01

This is the first chapter of five in a story of eighteen-year-old, mixed-sex twins, who find themselves engaging each other in some things that many people don't approve of. If there are heterosexual activities you object to reading about, you should check the story tags before undertaking to read the story. But you may spoil a surprise or two.

*

It was about three-thirty when I let myself in the front door. I'd barely opened the door when I heard unmistakable grunts, groans, and other sounds of passion coming from the living room, just around the corner. Someone was—or, more properly, some ones were—getting laid in there.

That was quick work, I said to myself. Because I'd only been gone for about ten or fifteen minutes, I figured that, once my twin sister, Brielle was alone, she and her current boyfriend had wasted no time in getting him into the house and then into Brielle. Some brothers might've been upset at the thought of some guy they didn't know laying their sister, but I'm not one of those brothers. After all, we were both eighteen, and she had every bit as much right to enjoy a good fuck as I did. And at least one of the girls I'd laid had been somebody's sister.

They must've been really horny, I thought. Dad was out for the afternoon, and he wasn't due home until about five. Mom wouldn't get home from her job as dietician at a local hospital until a little after that. And Brielle had every reason to believe I'd be out for a couple of hours, so horniness was the only reason for haste..

Always ready for a little entertainment—real-life porn in this case—I closed the front door quietly and tiptoed through the foyer to a point where I could peek around the corner. What I saw wasn't quite what I expected, though.

Yes, two people were fucking in the living room. In fact, after a few seconds I saw that his cock was sliding in and out of her ass—to the accompaniment of more moans and groans like those I'd heard from the front door. It was easy to understand why they'd be moaning and groaning. Though I could only see part of the guy's cock, it looked like it was a monster.

But it wasn't Brielle's ass or her boyfriend's cock. It was two porn actors on the television screen. Brielle, who clearly thought she was alone in the house, was sitting at the far end of the couch. Her pants were around her ankles, and her hand was buried in the sparse bush of her pussy. Her fingers slid up and down her slit as I watched. Her eyes were glued to the screen, so she didn't see me.

It was a fascinating scene. On the couch, that is. The scene on the TV screen was fascinating, too—but not nearly like the other one. I hadn't seen Brielle's pussy since we were something like five, and I'd never seen her playing with herself. Now, a guy isn't supposed to see, think about, or be interested in his sister's pussy. But an unmarried eighteen-year old guy doesn't get to see a live pussy—even if it is his sister's—every day. And any pussy is interesting to an eighteen-year-old guy.

She was pretty cute: Light brown, almost blond, shoulder-length hair with a little wave to it, pretty blue eyes, about 5' 4"—not quite six inches shorter than I—slender athletic build, a really nice rack, and (her best trait) a phenomenal ass. So, I admit it: I'd often thought about her body. And about fucking her—any straight eighteen-year old guy would. And, while I'm admitting things, I might as well confess that by 'often' I mean 'almost every day, several times a day.'

As I watched, her motions intensified. She closed her eyes—in spite of the action on the screen—and threw her head back in concentration. Even from eight or ten feet away, I could see her pussy was getting moister as she played with it.

That was when it came to me that I wasn't going to have to do any of the household chores for the rest of the summer. (It was early June—only two weeks into the summer break—so "rest of the summer" really meant "most of the summer.") I pulled out my phone and started recording. The phone's camera had only digital zoom, so there wasn't much point in zooming in. Besides, if this was going to be good blackmail material, I needed to get both her face and the action in her crotch in the picture at the same time. Getting the action on the TV screen would've been nice, too, but from my position there wasn't any way to get Brielle and the television into the same picture; and unless I did, there would always be doubt that I'd recorded them at the same time and that the hand and the pussy both belonged to the person who owned the face.

I'd been recording for a minute or so, and gotten some pretty good footage, when she shrieked, grabbed a cushion from the couch, and pulled it between me and her naked pussy. "What're you doing here, Brian?" she asked in a panic. Her face turned bright red. "You just left to go shopping. And what're you doing with your phone?"

"I had a flat tire and no spare a few blocks away, so I had to walk home," I answered her. "My phone? I'm making a video with it. But that isn't really the question, is it! What are you doing? And even more to the point, what are you going to do for me to keep anyone else from seeing this video?"

"Oh, shit!" she muttered. And then she went on, pleading, "You wouldn't!"

Dad was the pastor of a nearby church of a major Protestant denomination, so it should be easy to understand why we weren't supposed to use coarse language, or to take the Lord's Name in vain. Of course, that meant we felt free to do both with each other or our friends as long as neither Mom nor Dad (nor anyone who might tell them) was around. I didn't know any pirates, but I didn't think that any of them were likely to know any words we didn't. Or to use them more frequently.

"I don't know why I wouldn't," I said. "I guess I wouldn't show it to any of the guys, or to Mom or Dad—after all, I'm not a total shit. But your girl friends are another story. After all, it's not every day you get to watch Reverend Turner's daughter playing with herself, so they'll probably get a pretty good laugh out of it. Of course, one of them might show it to her boyfriend…"

"Oh, God! No! You can't show it to anyone. You can't! Please! Delete it! Now!"

"If you really wanted me to delete it without showing it to anyone, you'd be offering to do all of my chores for the rest of summer vacation," I said. I tried to be threatening as I said it, but the situation was too funny, and it was all I could do to keep from laughing. "An offer like that would be a nice start." As I said that, I attached the video to an e-mail and sent it to my computer. Better have a backup copy, I thought, in case she managed to get her hands on my phone when it wasn't locked.

"All of your chores? For the rest of the summer?" she asked, somewhat incredulously. "That's pretty steep. How about half of them for half that long."

"You heard the offer," I said. "No bargains."

"How about all your chores except mowing the grass? And even that's a lot."

"That's the one I hate most," I replied.

"Yeah," she answered, "but it's also the one that Mom and Dad would wonder about. I couldn't do it without them knowing, either, because the neighbors would see. They'd want to know why I'm doing it instead of you, and they'd ask Mom or Dad. Who would want to know what's going on…"

She had a point there. If Mom or Dad discovered the arrangement we were making, or—especially, how we'd arrived at it— our asses would both wind up in slings. "I guess I'm stuck with that one," I agreed. "But there's nothing to keep you from doing all of the cooking, all of the dishes, all of the vacuuming, and all of the laundry." Those were tasks we were supposed to share and that she could do while Mom and Dad were both out of the house.

"It still seems like a lot," she said, pouting now,

"It's up to you," I said. "You know the consequences if you don't agree."

She gulped. "You wouldn't…" she said. But she didn't say it very confidently.

"Try me," I said, my voice as full of confidence as I could make it. I think I even succeeded in getting the confidence she'd lacked into it along with my own. Of course, I probably wouldn't, and I knew that. After all, I did like my twin sister, and, like I'd said, I'm not a total shit. But I wasn't about to admit those latter things to her.

She thought for a few moments; I could almost see the wheels turning inside her head. "All right," she said at last. "I'll do all of your chores except the lawn. Except maybe for the next four weeks instead of for the rest of the summer."

I brought my phone up and started the video. There she was on the couch, naked from belly button to ankles, fingers working where they would do the most good. "It's a really nice video," I said. "Want to see it? I know your friends are going to like it."

"No!" she almost shouted. "You can't. I'll do all the chores. For the rest of the summer. Except for the lawn. But you have to promise that you'll delete the video."

I smiled at her. "I thought you'd see reason," I said. And as I said it, the moans and groans from the scene on the television distracted me. I glanced at the screen. The porn couple were still thrusting away at each other; his gigantic cock slid unceasingly in and out of her ass.

I felt a twinge in my own groin, and I realized that, what with my half-naked sister in front of me (even though I couldn't see through that strategically placed cushion) and the porn flick, I had a boner. And then the guy in the video said, "God, I can't believe I'm fucking my sister's ass!"

Brielle's face turned an even brighter red, hard as that was for me to believe. "Oh, shit!" she said—again—and subsided into a quiet little heap. Even so, she managed to keep that damned cushion in place.

"This is incest porn!" I exclaimed. "Incest porn! Those two are supposed to be brother and sister?" My eyes wandered from her to the screen, where they lingered a bit before returning to her. I found myself wishing for X-ray vision, so I could see through that cushion.

"Well, yeah, but…" she mumbled, and paused.

"You've been thinking about…" I left the sentence dangling as I tried to recover from the shock. My eyes drifted to the action on the screen again. That giant dick sliding back and forth in a porn star's ass was pretty compelling.

Brielle figured out what I'd started to say, and replied, "No! It doesn't mean…" She trailed off into humiliated silence, staring, now, at the floor. In a subdued voice, she picked up again: "It doesn't have anything to do with you, Brye. Carol gave me the DVD; she said she thought I'd like it. Just because I'm watching it and it turned me on doesn't mean that I want to… to… to do, umm, something with you."

My jaw was still hanging down to about my bellybutton. I got it back under control and reeled it in as I turned back to her. "Okay," I said. "I guess I can see that. Porn is porn, and it's all fantasy. It just surprised me to find you watching porn in the first place, and then to find out…"

"It really doesn't have anything to do with you, Brian. It doesn't! You have to believe me!" She was really worried, now; she seemed about to cry.

I did believe her, though it occurred to me a few days later to wonder about what she might have said to Carol that would've made her friend think that Brielle would like that particular video.

"It's all right," I said. "I believe you, and I'm not worried about that. Or, come to think about it, anything else."

She gave me a tentative smile. "Then everything's okay between us? You don't think I wanted…" She stopped, apparently not quite able to be explicit about what she was afraid I might think she wanted.

"It's all good," I said. "Especially now that you're going to do most of my chores for the rest of the summer." I gloated a bit as she made a face. Then I looked at the screen, again, so I didn't see that her eyes had dropped to my crotch.

"Brian!" She said it triumphantly. "You're hard! From incest porn."

I wasn't about to admit that having my twin sister just a few feet away from me with her pants around her ankles might have had anything to do with my boner, so I said, "Come on! I didn't know it's incest porn until thirty seconds ago. Even I can't get a boner that fast!" No harm, I figured, in pretending I was a real stud, even with my sister. "If I'd thought they were supposed to be brother and sister, it would probably have turned me off!" That was a little white lie, but I was on uncertain ground here. I didn't want her to know how perverted her twin brother could be, and I figured it was what she expected me to say. I continued, "Porn gives any red-blooded guy a hard-on. And what they're doing really turns me on."

It took her a few seconds to think that over, before she asked, "You like anal sex? Have you ever done that with any one?"

We were back on safer ground, now, no longer talking about incest. We were each pretty open with the other about the general outlines—though not the full details—of our sex lives. I knew she'd fucked two or three guys; she knew that I'd fucked half a dozen girls. So this question qualified pretty much as asking for an update—which I didn't mind giving her. Mom and Dad, naturally, didn't have a clue about what either of us got up to with members of our respective opposite sexes.

"No. But I'd like to try it someday. I know about it, because I've watched some porn, too. But I didn't think any of the girls I've gotten it on with would want to do that. So I never even mentioned it to any of them. Have you ever done it?"

She shook her head. "No. One of the guys I've been with said once that he'd like to try anal sometime. But that was just before we broke up, and I was already feeling a little uncomfortable about him. So I didn't trust him enough, and I didn't take him up on the idea. I was afraid he might hurt me. And none of my other guys ever mentioned it, so I didn't think they'd ever want that."

"I think most guys would be interested," I said. "I know several guys who say they've done anal. They say that some girls who want to stay virgins will do anal instead of real fucking. But none of the girls I've been with has ever suggested it in place of the real thing."

"Yeah," she said, "some of my friends think that way. They say that with the right guy, and if you're careful to use enough lube, it can be pretty good. But none of them could compare it with real fucking, because they stayed virgins by doing that instead."

"I don't know," I said. "Guys who say they've done it have said it was good. But guys lie a lot about what they've done with girls, so I'm not sure they've really done that. I'd probably try it with a girl who wanted to."

"I'm kind of curious about it," she said. I'd probably try it with the right guy. He'd have to be someone I know I can trust to stop if he's hurting me. I'd want to use plenty of lube, and he couldn't have a dick as huge as that guy's is." She pointed at the screen to emphasize who she meant by "that guy."

"I can understand that," I said. "What about Mark?" Mark was her current boyfriend.

At least, I thought he was her current. She said, " I broke up with him last week. He… just didn't interest me the way I first thought he would. At first, I really liked fucking him, but…"

"What went wrong?" I asked.

"It got kind of routine. And he got kind of self-centered. When I ended it, he'd gotten like fucking was all about him, and he didn't much care whether I got off or not."

"He didn't last for long," I said. "You never said anything about it, though. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It didn't last long enough that I got all that invested in him, so breaking up wasn't really that big a deal. What about Phyllis?"

Phyllis was my latest. I answered, "We ran out of steam, too, except it happened week before last. So I guess we're in the same boat there."

There was a minute or two of silence. I watched some more of the action on the TV screen, where the pumping was still going on.

"Now you've made me miss part of that video, because we've been talking," she complained.

"I think what you've missed has all been pretty much the same thing—more of what they're doing now." What they were doing hadn't changed since I walked into the room, though the camera had moved around a bit. I went on, "But you could restart it and we could watch it together," I offered.

She snorted and replied, "Watch porn with you?" But she paused for a few seconds and considered my offer. Then she went on, "Still, I suppose it would be fitting to watch incest porn with my twin brother." She picked up the remote and punched a few buttons. As the video restarted, I sat down on the couch, a yard or so to her right.

A hunky-looking dude—the guy I'd seen earlier, of course—walked into a bedroom—a bedroom that was much too frilly to be his in a porn flick I already knew wasn't gay porn. There on the bed lay the babe. She wore only a thong and a very skimpy bra that must have had steel straps to support her mammoth tits. She appeared to be engrossed in something on the screen of the phone she was holding, and she didn't seem to notice him.

When he said, "What's up, Sis?" she looked up at him with an amusingly phony air of surprise and said, "Oh! I didn't hear you come in. I'm just surfing a little." She set the phone down.

Hunk already had a bulge—a large bulge—in his jeans. "You can't be very comfortable in What you're wearing," he said with a leer. "I'll help you take it off."

Babe gave him a look of dismay. "I don't want to do that," she said. "You just want to fuck me again, and we have to stop doing that."

"What's wrong with you?" he replied. "We did it yesterday and the day before. In fact we've done it every day since last week, when I got back from school for winter break."

He reached for her, and she rolled away from him. "No," she said. "I don't want to any more. We have to stop. You're my brother! I shouldn't be fucking you. It's so wrong. We can't keep on doing that. What if Mom and Dad find out? We have to stop!"

"We sure can keep on doing it," he said. "Nobody knows but us, and neither of us is going to tell anyone. So what's the harm?"

As he said that, he unbuckled his belt and opened his jeans. He pulled them down, revealing that he wasn't wearing any underwear. The hugest cock I've ever seen popped into view. It was hard, at least nine inches long and proportionately thick.

I tore my eyes away from the screen long enough to look at Brielle. She looked back at me and said, "I'm glad none of my guys ever had one that big.."

"I think I get that," I agreed. "But she's some babe! She's even cuter than you are."

Brielle sneered at me. "I know guys have to say shit like that to their sisters. But look at that 'babe' again," she said. "I'm pretty plain, but she isn't even as cute as I am, and it isn't much of a contest. From her hair and the way her room is arranged, she's supposed to be a teenager—no older than we are. Stop staring at her boobs for a minute and look at her face. She's old!"

I looked back at the screen. Babe's tits were a distraction. But I saw that she was, indeed, old. Well preserved, but old. Really old. Probably over forty.

She looked at that huge cock with what I guessed was supposed to be enthusiastic lust.

"You and I will know," Babe said. "I really don't think…"

She stopped as Hunk moved in. Pretending (there's no calling what she was doing 'acting') she was almost hypnotized by Hunk's machine, Babe reached out and wrapped a hand around it. Hunk stepped out of his jeans.