Twin Trouble

If only he knew...

Returning to the bar, Eric grinned at Rhian when he caught her eye. "Vodka martini, please."

"Who'd you just fuck?" Rhian said, recognising Eric's order as his traditional post-fuck choice.

"A wonderful, incredible woman by the name of Sheila," he said, pronouncing her name with a terrible Australian accent.

"I don't sound like that."

Eric turned to smile at Sheila as she sat next to him at the bar. "That was fast! How fares Little Miss Pukey?"

Sheila blinked. "Oh... she's fine," she said, after an odd pause. "Couldn't handle her drink." She looked at the bottles behind the bar. "Speaking of which..."

"Thought you said the drinks are on you?"

"Exactly," she said. Giving him a smile. "What are you having?"

"Oh this slut's already ordered," Rhian said, placing the vodka martini on the counter in front of him. "But I hear you'll be paying?"

"I'll have the same," Sheila said, holding out a golden debit card.

Eric whistled when he saw the logo on the side. "Royal Bank of England," he said. "I thought all of their cards were cancelled a while back?"

"Not all," Sheila said. "Just their non-Wealth accounts."

"How much do you need to have to join that club?"

"A lot," Sheila said. "Like... more than the GDP of a small country."

"Should have ordered a more expensive drink," Eric said, taking a sip of his.

Sheila smirked. "You can for the next round," she said. "So... you know those private rooms this place has on the second floor?"

"Don't tell me you've rented one!" Eric said, grinning. "They cost a fortune!"

"Don't need to 'rent' one," Sheila said. Her expression was both naughty and very proud. "Not when daddy has an open tab with the owner of this fine establishment; the last room upstairs is always reserved for daddy, his friends... and me... whenever I want..."

Eric whistled. The rooms on the second floor of the Paradiso Costiero, accessible via the metal balcony that gave one an excellent view of the main dance floor (and part of which they currently sat beneath, as the balcony ran above the bar), was reserved for private functions only. The price of the rooms varied from costly to extortionate; and the price wasn't comparable to the size of the room either, for the best room, the one that had a private window overlooking the stage, was not the largest, but easily the most expensive. It was also permanently unavailable (Ewa had, on several occasions, asked for it, but was told by the PC management that the room had already been taken).

Turns out Sheila's daddy was the one giving Mark's wife, the owner of the Paradiso Costiero, a veritable free-running, always-on tap of money for the private use of one of the best private rooms in this nightclub. Chances were good he was also one of the two investors in the nightclub that Alexa refused to talk about.

"How fucking loaded is your dad, anyway?" Eric said. "Speaking of which... if your dad has a private room upstairs, why did we just fuck in the women's toilets?"

"I don't take just any guy upstairs," Sheila said. "How much of a slut do you think I am?"

Eying her over the rim of his vodka martini, Eric raised an eyebrow. "Was that some kind of test, then?"

Sheila jumped her eyebrows. "You gonna sit there pouting, or are you going to join me upstairs for round two?"

Eric downed his drink, before slamming it against the surface of the bar with as much force as he dared to make a sound audible over the music, but not break the thing (or Rhian would break him, and then Alexa would crush his remains into fine dust to sprinkle over the plants in her garden like some macabre fertiliser).

"Good boy," Sheila said, finishing her own drink just as quickly.

She grabbed his hand and dragged him through the crowd, threading a path between groups of partygoers with the speed and effortless grace of someone who has done this many, many times before. Eric followed in her wake, already feeling his cock harden for some more action. Tonight was turning out to be something special!

He still had no idea...

The steps leading up to the balcony were cordoned off, and a stern-looking bouncer stood at the base, suited in pristine garb that appeared meticulously tailored to show off his considerable amount of muscles, with arms folded and eyes hidden behind very stylish sunglasses.

"Top's off-limits," he said. His voice so deep it made the bass of the band seem tame.

Sheila came to a stop right in front of him, and smiled up at the man. "Do you know who I am?" She purred.

"Not playing that game again," he said. "You know I can't tell the difference."

"Don't be silly!" Sheila said, giving Eric a quick look; too quick for him to see the panic on her face. "Look I know the tall cunt's got the balcony sealed off while the MSB's perform, but I just want to take this fine gentleman upstairs and swallow his cum in daddy's room. Can you let me and this guy past? I promise not to tell Alex..."

"Doesn't matter: Alex will know. She always knows..."

Was it Eric's imagination or did the guy seem to grow a little pale?

"Come on Betty..."

Eric wasn't sure what surprised him more: that this giant of man was called 'Betty', or that he actually stepped aside when Sheila rose to the very tips of her toes and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, as she pulled Eric past, he noticed a very peculiar smirk on Betty's face that Eric had trouble reading.

Whatever: this stunning blonde was practically pulling him along the empty balcony to the one room at the far end that offered a spectacular view of the stage from almost literally right above it. It was a room that Eric had always wanted to go into, and especially in the company of a really hot woman!

When Sheila placed her back against the door marked 'Olympus', grinning like a woman who was about to get some great dick, Eric visibly swallowed. Opening the door she pulled him after her into a room no larger than Eric's living room; lined with seats of plush leather built into the walls around a square table; only one wall was without seats (the door they walked through was between the seats of that wall), and that was the large glass window built at a curved angle away from the chairs and table. Beneath the window Eric could see the stage; the performers facing away at a packed dance floor.

"Don't worry," Sheila whispered in his ear, as Eric stood watching the Marathon Sex Bunnies perform their closing act. "They can't see us." No, of course not: the glass was tempered so that the lights of the club rendered it impossible to see through into the room, but those inside, with the room's much darker ambience, could see through into the club, no problem.

No wonder Sheila's father liked this room: it was the perfect place for someone to observe the people from above, being completely apart from them and given a sense of superiority.

Proper villain lair, this was.

God! Eric was so fucking hard right now!

Standing behind him, Sheila unbuttoned his trousers and freed his cock from the confines of his boxers. As he stood right in front of the window, watching the performance and the dancing of the crowd in front of the stage, Eric enjoyed this horny woman running her hands along the length of his impressive dick.

"So fucking big..." Sheila whispered. It sounded like she was experiencing it for the first time.

Eric chalked it down to his dick being that impressive. Any further thoughts were blown out of his head when Sheila began to furiously jerk his cock. If it weren't for the tempered glass any of the people in the crowd below would have been able to look up from the stage and see him with his cock out getting a handjob from this blonde stunner.

"You like this?" Sheila whispered in his ear. "Standing here, with everyone down below us?"

"This might be one of the best moments of my life," Eric whispered back, keeping his voice at a cool and neutral tone despite how hot and horny he felt right now. He fought the desire to turn around and pin the blonde against the table and drive his cock into her pussy until she came so hard her legs gave out.

"Hmmm... what's competing? I'm jealous..."

Half-turning his head to grin at her, Eric said "getting ridden into the bed by an ex after she'd just threatened to cut my balls off..."

"Hmmm... sexy!"

"...with a chainsaw..."

"Oh... unorthodox..."

"That she buried into the wall above the bed while trying to fulfil that promise of cutting my balls off."

Her hands suddenly gripped his cock like a vice; Eric gasped in shock as Sheila began to wank him off with far more force than she had before. Fingers sank into his thick cock flesh, pulling on his foreskin as she travelled back along the gargantuan length of his cock.

"Jesus fucking Christ almighty that's HOT!" Sheila moaned. Her teeth sank into his neck, low moans escaping her throat - was she cuming as she jerked him off? "I bet she rode you HARD!"

"So fucking HARD!" Eric gasped, struggling not to cum himself as Sheila's hands flew up and down the length of his cock like she was pumping for water at a disused well after days lost in an endless desert. "Thought she was going to break my FUCKING cock!"

"How could anyone break this thing?" Sheila gasped as she continued to viciously jerk him off. "God; this is a fucking glorious cock! I could suck and fuck this thing all day! Jesus Christ! Such a fucking hard slab of fuck meat!"

"Talking about my cock like it's on display at a butcher's!" Eric muttered, with what he thought was indignation but actually sound like the last gasps of a drowning man: Sheila's hands gripped his cock so tightly as she pumped them rapidly up and down the length of his dick that Eric had a horrifying image of blood collecting in his cock veins until it exploded all over the window in a gory mess. Despite the threat of physical harm to his prized organ Eric didn't want Sheila to stop her furious assault on his manhood. This girl wanted cock like a drug addict wanted their fix.

"Hmmm... maybe it is..." She purred into her ear, her voice deep and horny. "If they had shops for cocks, I'd definitely choose yours!"

"Really?" Eric turned his head to look at her. "Would you really choose my little rod over some big black behemoth?"

"Hmmm... sorry to burst that myth, but having fucked quite a lot of black guys I find them just as diverse in cock size as anyone else," Sheila said. "Although if it makes you feel special you're not the biggest dick I've wrapped my hands around."

"Oh... really?" Eric smiled. He didn't feel intimidated: after all, right now it was HIS cock that Sheila was jerking off with all the enthusiasm of a milk addict jerking a cow's udder. Eric wasn't the type of guy to let stories about a girl's previous conquests faze him: if anything it usually only made him more determined to blow her mind. "Pray tell..."

"Fourteen inches."

"No fucking way!" Eric was actually stunned. He knew of a few with genuine foot-long's, but to have two inches over that! "How thick?"

Sheila released one of her hands from his dick to hold it up in front of her; fingers forming the circumference of a 5" circle (or at least her fingers would if they were long enough).

"There's no way you took that," Eric said.

"Maybe... maybe not..." Sheila rested her lips against his ear. "I'll let you imagine..."

"Hmmm... tell you what fuelled MY imagination?" Eric purred back. "Your boast that you can jerk me off with your knees."

For a brief fraction of a second a look passed Sheila's face that thoroughly confused Eric: for a moment she seemed bewildered; surprised by his comment; but then the look passed as quickly as it appeared, and Eric chalked it up to her not expecting him to have remembered such a silly comment made during the height of their passions.

"Of course..." With her hand around his cock, Sheila turned him to face her. Walking backward she guided him to the table, where she sat down on the polished dark wood surface. Lifting both bare knees, she braced her heels against the table as she gripped his cock between her knees.

"This is going to be interesting..." Eric said, as Sheila began to gently pump his dick with both of her knees like she had been working with both hands moments earlier. "How many guys have you given this special treatment to?"

"A few," Sheila said. She smiled innocently up at him like she was a virgin and he was her first.

Eric smiled back as he felt her knees squeeze his cock as she moved them up and down. Using her hips to adjust the position of her legs as her knees worked his dick in a way Eric had not seen before. "Jesus... you're actually jerking me off with your knees!"

"Told you I could," Sheila said proudly. Licking her lips and she moved her hips. "I can work a cock with every part of my body. My pussy..." she lifted her skirt, parting her vagina for him.

"Fuck that's a great looking cunt!" Eric whispered in awe. "Felt so good pumping my load into that!"

Her eyes flashed, though it seemed to Eric to be more like envy than pride. "My lips..." A finger pulled down her bottom lip, revealing pearly white teeth above that deep red lip.

"Felt great having those around my cock as well!"

Strange: that was definitely envy in her eyes. Eric didn't understand this woman, but the way she was jerking him off made that a minor issue: her knees were working the length of his cock in a manner not too dissimilar to her hands earlier, and it felt so fucking good that Eric knew he would be blowing his load all over that pretty face of hers soon!

"My tits..." She caressed her left tit with a hand. Pulling the top part of her dress back to reveal her nipple.

"God, I wanna get my cock between those great tits again!"

"Hmmm..." It was definitely envy in her eyes. Odd. A hand reached beneath her. "My ass..."

Eric opened his mouth to say that her ass was next on his list, but then something occurred to him: the lawyer part of his brain was collecting information, and wanted to test a theory, and so he said "That felt so fucking good on my cock!" instead.

"I bet it did..." Sheila purred.

Wait...

As she furiously jerked his cock with her knees, Eric regarded this woman with a fresh pair of eyes. Same blonde hair. Same style. Same cut. Same bright blue eyes. Same tanned skin. Same black dress. Everything about this woman screamed to him that she was Sheila; not just the way she looked but the way she acted, and the way she sounded. She was Sheila, but Eric had not yet fucked her in the ass, so why would she...?

Ah shit! Eric was so lost in thought he'd let slip his orgasm control. The way she was working his cock, with the way she was playing with her tit while looking up at him with blue eyes filled with such lust and want had tipped him over the edge: with a gasp he felt that familiar sensation of a thick, hot, sperm-filled load travel up the length of his cock.

Cum blasted out the tip of his dick, splashing all over Sheila's tits. Thick white gunk splashed on her neck, across the dress as it followed the contours of her stomach, and over her face; thick gunk dripped from her chin as jet after thick, cream jet of baby-making spunk exploded from his cock with the force of a hosepipe.

All that Sheila(?) could do was sit there on the table as Eric gave her a veritable cum bath. Jet after hot jet of cum blasted over her. Painting her tanned skin with his white gunk.

After almost a minute of ejaculations, Eric's dick stopped.

She sat there, covered in his cum, breathing deep and hard like she had just orgasmed herself.

"Fuck me!" She gasped, sounding like she had just experienced his load for the first time. "You can CUM!"

Eric regarded her with bemusement. "OK, you're not Sheila," he said. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Oh shit," she said, with a guilty smile on her face. "Busted."

***** FIVE MONTHS EARLIER *****

The patriarch of the Carpenter household sat on the expensive five grand sofa in front of the twenty grand 80" OLED screen and tried to concentrate on the game (West Ham versus Coytoss United), while the large mansion, deep in the heart of the Shashan Grey Estate, was filled with the sounds of his twin daughters fighting.

Again.

August Carpenter had become used to his daughters and their constant feuding, much to the annoyance of their mother. Time had taught him there wasn't much he could do, and to just sit here, grin and bear it until eventually they left the house for the evening; not to be seen until the afternoon tomorrow.

August didn't care about his daughters going out and fucking random men. He was just happy to have them out of the house. The longer they spent arguing the more likely they would do that thing he hated most-

"DADDY!"

Drag him into it. "Yes dear?" August said, sighing loudly, although he didn't turn away from the colossal screen: West Ham was losing 2-1.

Sheila Carpenter threw herself down on the sofa next to her father, giving her sister a look over the back of the sofa as she tossed her long, golden blonde hair over a bare shoulder. "Tell Joelle to leave Johnny alone!"

"And why would I do that?" August said, still not looking away from the game to regard one of his two twenty-four-year-old daughters; Coytoss United was on the offence, and August didn't want to look away in case their star player, Musa Mayowa, scored another goal; the kid only had one season under his belt in the Premier League, but was already proving to be possibly the best purchase CU's manager, Amadeo Farro, had made in his short time on the job. The kid was very good, and August was debating whether to take Farro's invitation to invest in CU...

"He's MY boyfriend!"

Behind the large sofa, sitting at the expansive island in the middle of the open kitchen, Joelle Carpenter snorted in derision. She had been meticulously painting her nails for the last hour or so, and had filled the cavernous living room/kitchen, with its two-storey windows that looked at the Eroshire Valley on its way to Clinterus and the University, with the powerful aroma. "You've never had a bloody boyfriend in your life!" She said. Her voice virtually identical to her sister's.

In fact so alike were the twins that even August's dear wife Matilda, who had pushed them out of her vagina over two decades ago, had difficulty identifying which daughter she was speaking to. August himself occasionally slipped up, despite his almost supernatural ability to read people giving him a mostly accurate impression of which twin he was speaking to at any given time.

The twins, of course, knew this. They had spent their life dressing, looking and acting just like each other. At first it was cute - back when they were little girls running around in dresses - but then the first onset of jealousy took root, and after a while it became apparent to August that his daughters continued to confound people only to take advantage of each other's lives.

It started with the little things: Joelle would be given a free ticket to a concert by a friend, then Sheila would steal that ticket and go with said friend, pretending to be her sister. Sheila would be invited out for drinks by a few male admirers, and it would be Joelle who would do (her dear sister mysteriously indisposed for the night). The little things: the material things.

Then, when they grew older, it spilled over into boyfriends. Or, as Joelle maintained 'guys with benefits'. August had grown to accept that his dear daughters had inherited their mother's huge appetite for sex; August himself, despite being a considerably attractive man in his early fifties, had rarely shown much interest in the act. He was quite happy to allow Matilda to spend time in the company of many, many male admirers, and this attitude to casual sex had been picked up by her twin daughters.