The Tale of the Too Close Twins

With my career as a vet starting to take shape and having met a beautiful girlfriend in the shape of Michelle who was in her final years of medical school, I didn't think of Shane and Karen as much as before as Sydney prepared for the Olympics in 1999 and hosted them in 2000. The next year, in March 2001 the Class of 1991 was having its ten year reunion and I went along, curious to see if Shane and Karen would be there.

Unfortunately for me, nobody claimed the name tags for Shane and Karen Jones and they sat at the table all night. I asked some old classmates if they had seen them in recent years, most no but in some cases yes. One of the girls bumped into them at Darling Harbour around Christmas 1998, proving they did return home to Sydney after three years in England.

A boy said he had met them down in Melbourne one afternoon in 1999 strolling along Southbank, the twins enjoying a holiday down in Victoria. And another guy from our friend group said he had seen them on TV last year, interviewed for the news in Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast when some crazy yobbos on stolen dirt bikes went racing onto the beach, spraying sand over everyone.

Apart from this, nothing. Another six months went by, and one afternoon after work I was putting old newspapers into the recycling bin for collection when I paused. Should I really be throwing out newspapers from September 10, September 11 and September 12 2001? The 10th was the last normal day for the world, the 11th the last normal day for Australia due to the time difference until late that night and the 12th was a headline of horrors.

Deciding to keep them, I took them back inside and later than night happened to be looking through the classifieds for the 11th when I paused, by eyes going wide. Among the obituaries was one for a Raymond Jones. I did think it might just be someone with the same name, but as I looked closer I saw that it was indeed the man I knew.

The obituaries expressed sympathy to Ray's wife Betty and to his son and daughter Shane and Karen. None of the obituaries made mention of Shane and Karen being married or having partners, nor of them producing any grandkids. One obituary from an asbestos diseases group demonstrated that Ray Jones had died from mesothelioma, and I would have gone to his funeral had I known of his passing, only this was held on Friday the 14th of September, this date now having passed by.

And their late father's obituary and funeral notice was the last trace I ever saw of Shane and Karen Jones. I never saw or heard of them again, days turning to weeks, months, years and decades, my old friends with the huge secret fading further into obscurity as time passed by.

I moved on with my life, marrying Michelle in 2003 with us producing a daughter in 2006 and son in 2009, and without sounding boastful, the two kids with a vet as a father and a doctor as a mother would do very well in school.

As for Shane and Karen, who knew where they were? There was no trace of them on social media. In 2007 while having a day at the races at Randwick, I thought I saw Shane and Karen in the crowd, but when I approached them they were just a pair of lookalikes, and from New Zealand given their accents. Likewise a guy I saw near the lighthouse in Wollongong the following year again turned out to be another lookalike for Shane.

Then in 2010 Michelle and I took the kids for a holiday to Bateman's Bay on the New South Wales South Coast and that the duty manager's name was Karen Jones spiked my interest upon check-in. I did think it odd that a scientist might be running a hotel, but who knew? Perhaps Karen had had a change in lifestyle and occupation? However, this Karen Jones was about 20 years older than me, and definitely not the girl I knew in high school.

The year 2011 brought along our high school's 20 year reunion for the Class of 1991, and again I attended. My ex classmates attending were fewer and farther between this year, showing we were approaching middle age, and again no Shane and Karen, with none of the few attendees had seen a trace of them for over a decade.

Another decade would pass, but 2021 would bring no 30 year reunion; we were all locked down and miserable. Even if there was no pandemic, there would probably have been no Class of 1991 reunion anyway, social media rendering such things for the most part redundant now.

By the current year of 2024, my wife Michelle and I were enjoying the results of our hard work and dedication to years of study to become a doctor and a vet. I was a partner in a successful vet practice in Sydney's north, and apart from trying to convince anti-vax cats that they needed their shots, things were great at work. Likewise Michelle as a partner in a practice of General Practitioners, and we had two great kids, a beautiful house and a happy and successful marriage.

This contrasted greatly with my older brother Kevin, who was now a morbidly obese 400 pound loser living on a disability pension in public housing in Mount Druitt, completely broke and still causing our now elderly parents to despair at what an utter loser he was.

Yet behind the hard-working vet and loving family man who was a pillar of the community, nobody else knew my dark secret, and the shame I had kept hidden in my subconscious for decades and which I would take to my grave.

For only I knew that the only thing that could really turn me on was my long-distant memories of my friends Shane and Karen Jones, separated from when they happened and the current date by over three decades now. True, making love to my beautiful wife or seeing something sexy at random such as a pretty young woman's skirt flying up in the breeze to display her knickers could turn me on, but only to a limited extent. Thinking back to a twin brother and sister having sex together as I hid concealed in a wardrobe all those years ago, plus their creepy, weird and flirty behavior in the months leading up to this really got me off, and I would take any available opportunity to jerk off over it.

And it didn't take long for me to jerk off over it when it first happened; I was so turned on and had such a huge erection that I had to duck behind a blue gum, drop my shorts and undies despite the risk of being caught and masturbate into a tissue, my climax taking just 20 seconds due to my levels of excitement. It was the first of too many times to count since then, and sometimes even when I made love with Michelle I would imagine Karen and Shane having sex or just being creepy in general to bring me to ejaculate.

People might justifiably have judged Shane and Karen harshly if they had known of their incestuous relationship, I mean having sex with one's brother or sister is pretty sick and completely fucked up. But I was in no position to judge. I was the one who more than 30 years later who could not get his rocks off without thinking of a creepy and incestuous twin brother and sister. I was the weirdo who upon wakening every morning would hope that this would finally be the day when I would have a chance meeting with one or both of them to rekindle my memories and add more fuel to the fire for jerking off.

And arguably, this made me a pervert with a twisted, fucked-up mind, just as sick as if not sicker than my long-lost friends.

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