Starting Over Ch. 03

When I opened the front door, I found an attractive forty-something Minnesota blonde on the porch. Her freshly washed hair hanging down her back, she was smiling and loosely wrapped in the blanket she and her sister had hijacked earlier. "Is breakfast ready?" she asked.

I had last seen her about five a.m. when I slid from a bed occupied by myself and two women after night long on sex and short on sleep. The Pacific fog had rolled into Berkeley overnight and the house was cold. Rather than wake them in an effort to retrieve part of the blanket, I had walked naked in the early dawn light back to my house next door and resumed my night's sleep in my own bed after leaving a note inviting them for breakfast.

"Of course. Follow me to the kitchen. We'll start with some coffee, then an omelet."

"Oh yum. I need some coffee. You wore me out last night." As she spoke she dragged the sagging corner of the blanket back in place so it once again covered both of her breasts.

When we got to the kitchen I suggested she have a seat while I made coffee. With my back turned to her I was struggling with a serious question. It wasn't that I was unhappy to see her. To the contrary, she was beautiful and interesting and the sex had been great. I even knew her name—sort of. The problem was I only knew her last name, Torkelson, but I didn't know her first name. When I left at five a.m. there had been a pair of Torkelsons in the bed—Britt and Freya. We had had a lovely threesome beginning in the early afternoon and continuing until the early hours of the morning. I didn't know which of the Torkelson sisters was now sitting in my kitchen loosely wrapped in a blanket. Was it Britt (my next-door neighbor) or was it her sister Freya. They were identical twins. They looked alike and with their soft mid-western accent, they sounded alike. I remembered that Freya had her hair twisted into long complicated braids that made her look like a Viking Shield-Maiden. I turned to take a quick look. No help. The woman in my kitchen had washed and combed out her hair which, if she were Freya, would likely have eliminated the complex braiding.

As I turned back to my cooking I remembered holding on to Freya's braid the night before while I fucked her from behind. The salacious thought began bringing my cock to life. After the extensive sex I had engaged in the day before I was surprised at my reaction, but there was no doubt about my increasing arousal. I was concerned that my growing cock would push open the robe I had thrown on to answer the door and make and obscene appearance before a woman whose first name I didn't know.

It wasn't just my cock that was aroused. I tried to focus my mind on the prep for the omelet, hoping that the image I had seen in the mirror the day before would disappear from my mind. No luck. The image of Freya's big tits hanging below her body and swinging wildly while I pounded her from behind was firmly fixed in my mind and my cock continued to grow.

When I again looked over my shoulder, I saw that the blonde in my kitchen, whoever she was, had let the blanket slip a bit from her shoulders exposing her large soft tits—tits I had obsessed over the night before. But were they Freya's tits or were they Britt's tits? The women were identical twins—very identical once their clothes came off. I had obsessed over both sets of tits, fondling and pressing my face between them, even titty fucking one set, although by that point in the evening I was no longer paying a great deal of attention to which of the twins I was having sex with. Oh the nastiness of that titty fuck. I could feel my cock pushing against my robe.

The problem really wasn't that I was becoming aroused. Given the sex the blonde sitting in my kitchen and I had engaged in the night before, neither of us would be embarrassed about that. Why would she be shocked to see an erect cock she had been sucking on only a few hours ago? The problem was whether the woman sitting in my kitchen and causing my cock to grow, was Britt or Freya. I had engaged in glorious sex with each of them, but which one was now sitting in my kitchen? It seemed to me that I really should know.

"You really don't know, do you?" she said.

"What?"

"Whether I am Britt or Freya. You don't know do you?"

"Uh, well..."

She laughed.

"You are twins," I said rather weakly.

"Will this help?"

She stood and walked around to my side of the kitchen table, letting the blanket fall away completely as she walked. She was facing me and leaning naked against the table with her hips thrust out. Her naked body was beautiful. Sure she was well into her forties and it wasn't the hard body of the Playboy models I had lusted after in my youth. It was fuller. Filled out, without being flabby. Plump and firm but soft. So soft when my face lay on her nicely rounded belly as her sister sucked my cock the night before. But the full-frontal visual was no help at all. I recognized every detail of the luscious body I was looking at, except for the one critical detail of which luscious body it was, or stated alternatively, which Torkelson was the owner of the body displayed before me.

I took the skillet off the heat and walked over to her. I could feel my three-quarters erect cock wagging, barely hidden by the cover of the robe. There is something so nasty about walking across a room while your unrestrained, partially engorged cock flops back and forth. When I stood before her, she said, "Perhaps this will help." She picked up my hands and placed one firmly on each of her breasts. I hefted each breast and then let it drop, watching it wobble. I fondled each breast, rubbing the rapidly engorged nipples with my thumbs. I pushed them together rubbing the nipples against each other. I was in heaven, well at least an erotic heaven. My now almost fully erect dick made its appearance, pushing its way out through my loosely tied robe and rubbing against her thigh smearing it with a bit of precum. Suddenly my need-to-know which Torkelson blonde was in my kitchen was becoming of less and less importance. I leaned forward and put my lips on her throat, just where it connected with her collar bone and began to kiss and lick the sensitive flesh. Just as the night before she gasped and threw her head back.

"Oh Dave, you are such a bad boy," she said as her hand slid between us and grasped my cock.

"Moi?" I responded, as I continued to fondle her breasts and lick the sensitive flesh of her throat.

"Yes you," she said. "Yesterday you seduced me and fucked me repeatedly while you did the same to my sister and then you ran off in the middle of the night leaving us an invitation for breakfast... she gasped as I pinched a nipple... but... but now you've barely poured me a cup of coffee and you're playing with my tits again without pausing long enough to show me that you know my name."

"It's Torkelson," I said as I slid a hand down between her legs and cupped her mound.

She gasped again.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she whispered. She was stroking my cock with both hands now. It was fully erect and leaking precum she was using for lube.

"Good." I slid a finger further down her mound so it was between her labia. Then I dipped it inside her just long enough to get it wet and return it to stroking the soft flesh between her rapidly swelling lips.

"Dave, I really think... "

I silenced her by mashing my lips against her and beginning a long, sloppy, wet kiss, our tongues dueling and each of us nibbling at the other's lips. It went on and on, while my left hand continued to maul her breasts and my right slid two fingers well into her warm, wet cunt. For her part she had released the belt on my robe and was dragging one her breasts (whichever one I wasn't fondling) against my chest while she continued to aggressively stroke my rigid cock.

I pulled back from the kiss and said, "You don't really care about breakfast do you?" I was looking straight down into her eyes which were gleaming with lust. "That's not why you came over here this morning is it?"

"No," she said. "I want more of this." She was stroking my cock with both hands and had spread her legs apart so my fingers could more easily penetrate her.

"Well suppose I tell you aren't going to get any more of that cock unless you tell me which Torkelson sister you are." I used my free hand to pinch one of her nipples as I spoke. It was a bluff I wasn't prepared to backup. She wanted me to fuck her and I wanted it too. Neither of us was going to let the little issue of her first name get in the way.

"Oh fuck." she gasped. "You're mean Dave. Don't be mean. Just fuck me and let's not worry about which Torkelson sister I am."

"Oh and I suppose you want me to talk dirty too don't you, you slut. That's something both you sister's liked—my deep voice and the filthy things it says while I'm fucking you."

"God yes. Just fuck me and talk dirty to me like you did last night."

"All right you slut," I said as I spun her around and pushed her face and upper body down on the kitchen table. As I was peeling my robe off she was wiggling her plump, round ass at me.

"Here it is Dave. Come and get it. It's a Torkelson ass and you love them don't you?"

"Such a fucking tease," I said. I slapped her ass twice and pushed her feet apart so she was at the right height. "Enough talk, you slut. When I'm done with you I expect you to tell me which Torkelson sister you are." Then I slid my cock into her waiting hole. Oh my god she felt good. So fucking good. Her cunt was warm and wet and just tight enough to pressure my cock everywhere. That was when I knew. I remembered the difference between the two sisters.

She grunted as I pushed it in and then we quickly moved into a nice rhythmic fuck: In... gasp... out... gasp... in... gasp. "Oh fuck Dave. That's so good. So fucking good." We went on like that for several minutes. It was a delicious morning-after fuck.

She raised her hips up a little, just enough so she could get her hand under belly and begin to rub her clit.

"Are you ready to cum you slut?"

"Yes. Oh Fuck yes. I'm close. So fucking close. Just keep fucking me Dave. Don't stop, don't stop. Whatever you do don't stop."

I was glad she was almost there, because I had been hanging on the ragged edge for too long. It was time to bring this fuck to a climax.

Come on you slut, I said. Cum for me just like you did all those times yesterday." I slapped her on the ass and then I felt my cock begin to shoot it's load deep into her. I groaned, "Oh fuck, Britt."

She screamed, "Dave," and I felt her cunt try to crush my prick. Her climax was intense but quick, and then she collapsed onto the tabletop. She would have slid off and to her knees if I hadn't been holding her hips.

When we had each recovered and were sitting naked at the table sipping a warmed-up cup of coffee, she said, "You knew Dave. You knew it was me all along. How did you know. Freya and I have fooled so many men. Men we had known for a long time. Men we both had made love to repeatedly. But we barely know you. How did you know? Did you know as soon as I rang the doorbell?"

I smiled. "No." I wasn't sure I wanted to tell her. I held a long silence.

"You're not going to tell me?"

"Alright. I didn't know until I slid my prick into you. The only thing I remember different about the two of you from last night that was different was the feel of first sliding into you. You were much tighter."

Britt smiled. "My my, you do have a mind for detail. Well, that's what three years of celibacy will do to a woman."

"It wasn't a complaint mind you. You girls were both great sex. Just different in that one small way."

Britt shook her head and laughed.

"Is that promise of an omelet still good?

"Sure. I'm hungry too," I said.

"Oh and one other small detail. You don't paint your toenails and Freya does. I suppose that says something about your personalities, but I don't know you that well yet."

"We will just have to cure that," she said.

"And the effect of your lengthy enforced celibacy."

"Yes, that too," she said with a lewd smile.

When the omelets were done Britt suggested that we take our food and coffee and move to the back porch. I paused for a moment.

"Is there a problem?" Britt asked.

"I guess not.... It's just that we're naked and... Ellen and I never went into the backyard in the nude."

"Dave," she said. I'm not Ellen. Ellen's gone."

"Yes, and so is Doug," I responded.

"Yes, that's true and those are both hard things.

But more importantly," she continued. "Your house and mine are the only two houses on this little cul-de-sac and there's nothing behind us except that big water tank up the hill that belongs to the city, so, unless Freya is spying on us through that broken board in the fence you found, there is no one to see us."

"Oh yeah. You're right. there is no one to see us. And we are both starting over."

"Yes."

We sat naked in the sun enjoying our coffee and breakfast in silence.

"Do you suppose there is anyone doing maintenance on that water tank that can see us?" I asked her.

"Not a chance. I'll prove it." She stood up facing the water tank and did a shimmy shaking her ample breasts in a show for the workman she was confident weren't there. "Come and get it boys," she yelled to a resounding silence.

I laughed hard. "Okay you win. We have the backyard to ourselves. And if Freya is watching, who cares. She has already seen all of us there is to see. Shall I get some more coffee?"

"Umm. Yes. You make good coffee Dave Chandler."

"I have other skills too," I said over my shoulder as I walked into the house.

"Yes you do. Freya and I agree on that."

When I returned I set the coffees on the table and sat down. The sun felt delicious on my naked body. "So how did you know about the hole in the fence?" I asked.

"Dave, it's my fence too."

"Oh. Right."

"But Freya knew about it too and she knew you were there watching her last Friday. You made some noise. Freya loves to be watched. She probably would have just laid in the sun for half an hour if she hadn't heard you moving around and decided you were watching her. Once she knew that she had to masturbate."

"I did too," I confessed.

"That's hot," she said. "I have this lewd image of you stroking that big cock of yours as you peeped through the hole in the fence at my sister as she got herself off. Did you spray cum on the fence?"

"Yes," I said with a smile.

I shook my head. "It was lewd all right. Things like that didn't happen when Ellen and I lived here."

She smiled and reached out and took my hand. "It's okay Dave. You're starting over."

"Yes. I am."

"And that was a good start."

"On becoming a pervert?"

"Take it from me. I'm a trained professional. Having perverted sexual tastes can be very healthful. Believe me, it beats depression every day."

I sipped my coffee and was quiet for a moment, enjoying the touch of Britt's hand on mine.

"So tell me more about your sister. She and I didn't talk much last night."

Britt chuckled. "No, but you sure as hell fucked her a lot."

I shrugged. "Someone was encouraging us and I didn't hear her complaining. But I would like to know. You're a shrink. Is she a shrink too?"

Britt laughed. "Hardly," she said choking on her coffee.

Once she recovered she said, "Let me think. How do I describe my sister?"

I already know what she looks like. I..."

"You certainly do don't you, you peeping tom."

"I never did that before."

"Was it fun?"

Now it was my turn to laugh. "Yes," I said. "I felt guilty as hell, but I couldn't resist going back to the hole in the fence again and again over the next two days to see if she was back."

"You are a dirty boy, Dave Chandler, "and you're blushing."

"Well I'm starting over. But really, what does Freya do for a living, if she doesn't shrink heads like you?"

"She's an artist. She has a little studio in a building between an auto repair joint and a porn shop down on San Pablo Avenue, almost in Albany. She lives upstairs from it. Freya came out to California two years before me. She had been studying art in college in Minnesota, while I was taking all the hard pre-med classes. She had to leave after a big scandal so she went out here and got a bachelors and an MFA from CCA."

"CCA?"

"California College of the Arts. It's a big deal private art school in Oakland. Lots of big-time artists and designers as alums. Freya is quite successful. She paints big abstract canvases that she sells through a gallery over in the City and another smaller gallery in Napa. Just signs her name as 'Freya'. Then there are the smaller paintings and drawings she sells over the internet. She has another name she uses for those—'Lydia.' There is no connection in the art world between Freya and Lydia. Lydia's paintings are totally realistic and very pornographic. I think she makes more money with the porn than she does with the high-priced abstract paintings. Volume helps and sex sells. You'll have to get her to show it to you. Maybe you can write a story about one of her paintings or she could do some illustrations for some of your smut postings."

"What was the scandal," I asked.

"Freya was fucking the dean of the College of Arts and Letters."

"Oh my,"

"And she was fucking his wife."

"At the same time?"

"Yes, but neither of them knew about the other's relationship with Freya until it came out in a local newspaper. It was quite a headline—'UM Arts and Letters Dean and Spouse in Illicit Relationship with Sophomore Coed.' It made Freya sound like a victim, which was far from the case. The newspaper missed the most important part of the story. They described an illicit threesome with two middle aged professors exploiting an innocent coed. All wrong. Freya's relationship with the Dean and his wife was really two relationships, each a secret from the other. When the whole story came out, the marriage blew up and my father told Freya to find somewhere else to go to college. Dad was a well-known farmer and politician who served on the University Board of Trustees. He and Freya are still not on speaking terms."

We talked for another half an hour about Britt's and Freya's childhood, growing up on a big farm in Southern Minnesota, raising hell in college, especially Freya while Britt was working hard on the pre-med courses, some of her odder relatives, and so on. "Okay," Britt said. "I must admit I wasn't that pure in college. My virginity was gone by the end of my first quarter, and while I couldn't match Freya as a party girl, I was far from celibate. And I guess my odd relatives wouldn't be considered so odd here in California. Minnesota was and still is a very conservative place. They may vote Democrat, but socially they're still strait-laced protestants."

She looked at her watch, (the only thing adorning her nude body) and said, "I'm sorry Dave, but I do have to get some clothes on and get down to my office for a counseling session this afternoon. I better wrap myself up in the blanket and head home."

"No need to wrap up in the blanket," I said. "Let me get a pry bar and I'll fix that broken board in the fence so you can just go through the fence into your backyard. Who knows, maybe Freya is sunning herself again."

"No such luck Dave. She went back to her studio to paint. But if you want to open a hole in the fence, fine."

I got a crowbar and pulled off the broken board. My late wife, Ellen, could have easily slid through the hole I made, but not my more voluptuous neighbor Brit. Her tits and hips wouldn't clear no matter how she twisted. So I took the pry bar to the fence and tore off a second board. She slinked through and I stood watching her tasty looking round ass as she walked across the lawn to her back door. I left the two boards leaning against the fence.