We Need to Study Our Math Ch. 02

The four-second shriek must have been just an octave or two below the upper limit of human hearing.

Almost every one of the muscles in my body contracted in the startle reflex the unexpected clamor triggered in me; my hips, almost cocked (Heh!) as they were, bucked. Half the length of my boner forged into my twin sister's pussy.

Then an electronic voice screamed, "Danger! Danger! Fire! Fire! Fire!"

We didn't have any dead people living (so to speak) in our house, but if we had, the racket would've aroused them. Several smoke alarms were networked throughout the house; they all sounded when any one of them detected smoke.

A second or two of deceptive silence followed, and I looked into Madison's eyes. I had just enough time to see that they mirrored the panic and desire she must have seen in my own eyes, and the alarms shrieked again as they began another cycle.

In spite of the racket, and without any intention on my part, my hips took over and began to thrust me in and out, in and out. Maddie's legs—also, evidently, on automatic pilot—wrapped themselves around me and seconded my motions.

"...Fire! Fire!" the alarms screamed to end the cycle.

During the pause between cycles, I heard feet scrambling upstairs, and it dawned on me: whatever had set off the alarms might well be the least of our dangers. Mom and Dad would be downstairs in seconds.

Maddie was thinking the same things."Let me up!" Her voice was barely audible over the alarm's next cycle. "Mom and Dad will be down here right away!" She unwrapped her legs from about me.

I wrapped my arms around her thighs and kept thrusting, back and forth, back and forth. For a brief interval that seemed a lifetime I continued. Her pussy's tight, warm clasp overcame me and I thought; I hoped; I wanted; I needed to finish before Mom or Dad could get to the kitchen. The noises from upstairs continued, but none came from the stairs; and that encouraged me to continue.

She writhed under me, her hands pushing weakly against my hips, trying for all she was worth to escape. "Please, Mase," she begged. "We can't let them catch us." But, even as she pleaded, her own desire was still strong in her eyes.

The alarm cycles continued. We must have been in the sixth or seventh, now.

Still, no noise came from the staircase, but—very much against my will—I realized: they would arrive in the kitchen long before I could get off. Letting our parents catch us with my cock in my twin sister's pussy seemed unwise—even more unwise than letting them catch us together with no pants on. Pressure in my groin notwithstanding, I pulled out and released her.

Instantly, she scrambled off the table and gathered her clothes from the floor. Over the din and between the cycles she said, "When they get down here, tell them I'd just gone to pee when the shit hit the fan." And, clothes in hand, she scampered into the bathroom just off the kitchen.

Footsteps finally sounded on the stairs.

My own pants were about my ankles. I reached down, pulled them up, and stuffed my boner, now shrinking in my panic, into them. It was a tight fit, but I made it work. And, while I fastened up, I saw a thin plume of white smoke rising from the stove. What I'd thought was the smoky scent of her hair had been the smoky scent of... smoke.

I turned on the fan over the stove and grabbed the smoldering pot holder; Maddie had set it down a little too close to the burner she'd forgotten to turn off. When Dad arrived in the kitchen, he found me at the kitchen sink, running water over the pot holder. Mom arrived seconds later, just as the toilet flushed and Maddie emerged—fully clothed and looking panicked—from the bathroom. "What's happening?" she asked, looking thoroughly frightened.

"Thank God you're both okay!" Dad breathed. "You weren't in your rooms!"

That was what had taken them so long to get here—being sure we'd gone to bed, they'd checked our rooms.

Dad went on, over the noise of the alarm, "Mase, get the stepladder from the basement. We'll get the smoke alarms off the ceiling and take their batteries out."

I was halfway down the stairs when the uproar stopped: the alarms had decided there wasn't a fire after all. I returned to find Mom and Dad quizzing Maddie about what had happened.

Of course, all Maddie "knew" was she'd been sitting on the toilet when the smoke alarms went off, so they turned to me.

"We took a break from working on our calculus to have a cup of cocoa," I said. Explaining our unusual Saturday night activity would be easier, I figured, than explaining the even more unusual activity we'd intended—and actually started under the influence of the unexpected commotion. "We didn't get the burner turned off, and the pot holder was too close to it." The pot holder, blackened and wet, was still in my hand: I displayed it.

"That was my fault," Maddie said. "I wasn't careful enough."

"Well," said Mom, "it sure could have been a lot worse. Just be more careful from now on."

It turned out no further explanation was called for. They weren't especially pleased about having their night's sleep interrupted, but they were glad, they said, we were taking our math so seriously. "I remember calculus from college," Dad remarked. "Well, to be perfectly honest, I don't remember it. But I remember how hard I had to work on it. I spent some late nights trying to puzzle it out, too.

"But it's late. That's enough for one night. You two should get to bed."

And that, as far as the parental units were concerned, was that.

As we rounded the landing halfway up, where the stairs made a U-turn and she knew we were out of our parents' sight, at least momentarily, Maddie reached back and squeezed my cock through my pants.

When we reached the top, we heard footsteps at the base of the staircase. We headed for our rooms, and she whispered, "I liked what I got. But we didn't finish what we started." The look she gave me was full of significance.

And promise.

===||<>||===

I didn't wake up until midmorning the next day. Maddie and I'd been up late the night before, and, after I'd gone to bed, the adrenaline the smoke-alarm ruckus had generated had me wide awake. Nor was adrenaline the only hormone in my bloodstream when I went to bed. I had a major boner that refused to subside, and that was a problem. I eventually found that I had the solution in hand. So to speak.

It being Sunday, Mom and Dad were both home. All day. So there was little we could do, at least until evening, to resolve the tension our adventure the previous night caused between us. Of course, we exchanged a number of significant glances throughout the day. It was clear to both of us we had some things to work out. Things we both would have agreed—if only we could talk privately—needn't concern Mom and Dad. Nor be overheard by either. We did manage to find a few private moments to make some arrangements for the evening.

After we'd finished the supper dishes, when Mom and Dad were planning to watch TV, as usual, in the living room. Maddie and I announced that we were going to retire to her upstairs room to "study our calculus." Sunday nights, after all, were usually study nights, and we would arouse no suspicions—either of an academic nature or parent-worrying nature. Maddie had the better desk in her room, so, as a rule, that's where we studied—Saturday night's session in the kitchen had been an exception.

When I took my calculus book and notebook to Maddie's room, Mom was putzing around at some motherly chore in the linen closet in the upstairs hall. Maddie was already seated at her desk, making room beside her open calculus book for our "study session." In case, I guessed, Mom decided to look into the room before going downstairs. I sat down on the chair to Maddie's left, and, as I did, I heard Mom close the closet door and start for the stairs. Maddie got up and said she was going to the bathroom before we started; I heard Mom's feet on the stairs. Faintly in the background, I could hear the sound of the TV; Dad had already turned it on.

Before she turned to leave the room, Maddie reached for my crotch, explored briefly, found what she sought, and delivered a squeeze. Taken by surprise, I looked at her. She wore a wicked grin. When she'd left, I reflected on what had just happened. Our "study session" hadn't even begun, but it was already off to a good start.

As my cock stiffened in response to Maddie's greeting, I said to myself, Two can play at that game, and I opened my notebook on Maddie's desk. Then, reaching for my zipper, I freed my expanding boner from my jeans to stand proudly in my lap. When I heard the toilet flush, I picked up the open notebook and set it in my lap, where it pressed my cock down to lie between my thighs. That wasn't especially comfortable, but I wasn't going to leave it like that for long.

Moments later, Maddie returned, grinned at me, closed her door, and sat down beside me. She still wore the wicked grin. It seemed clear studying calculus wasn't foremost in her mind; her words confirmed it.

"You can put the notebook away for now," she said, reaching under it to stroke my thigh. "I want to work on something else first."

She didn't yet know it, but I was way ahead of her. The few reservations I'd had left (before the smoke alarms had sounded the night before) about fucking my twin sister had evaporated when her pussy had engulfed my cock—however briefly. The memory of what we, twin brother and sister, had started, but failed to finish, had me more aroused than I think I'd ever been when an immediate fuck wasn't in the offing.

"I've got something to show you," I said, as I reached for the notebook and pulled it away. Thus released, my cock sprang upright.

She looked, and her wicked grin deepened. "I see," she said softly. (The 'rents downstairs were, by now, lost in their TV show, and there was little chance of them hearing anything going on up here. But there was no good reason to take any chances.) "Very... interesting, she said. "I thought there was something I'd like in those pants." And with those words, she reached over and wrapped a hand around my cock.

Then, looking directly into my eyes, she began stroking me. It wasn't the first time she had stroked my cock, but, after all, this was my twin sister, which both excited and unnerved me. The resulting feeling was exquisite. Already, after only a dozen or so strokes, I was on the verge—balanced on a knife's edge. I moaned; it was soft, but probably a little too loud for our circumstances.

"Careful," she whispered as she continued stroking. "We don't want them to hear."

"Oh my God, you're good at that," I whispered back. "You've already got me close..." My hips were bucking in response to the way her hand moved on my cock. I moved my butt forward to the edge of the chair and leaned back. My hips thrust forward, giving her even better purchase for the stroking she continued relentlessly. Almost involuntarily, I closed my eyes. My peak was close. I moaned again—this time, managing to keep it quieter.

And then—only seconds later—I was there. "I'm coming!" I said as quietly as I could. "I'm coming!" I repeated.

"Damn! Already?" she responded.

Head thrown back, eyes closed, I thrust myself back and forth in her grasp. Somehow, I managed to keep from shouting my onrushing ecstasy. We were about to make a mess; I was going to spurt cum all over her desk and our books. I knew that there were reasons—very good reasons—why we shouldn't let that happen, and I knew what they were. But I didn't care.

It was too late for me to care about anything but the now inevitable explosion.

The welcome sensation of orgasm overwhelmed me as the first spasm began; my hips thrust forward and my back arched. My eyes remained closed, but I knew, dimly, she was moving about as she continued to stroke my cock. Then, just as my body expelled the first gout of cum, something warm, moist, and heavenly enveloped my glans. Temblors ripped through me as a succession of blasts followed the first one, each propelling another wave of thick, white cum through my cock. Nothing mattered now, but what was happening to my body.

The spasms died away and I collapsed in the chair. Her stroking continued. So did the warm, moist clasp on my crown, though it now changed from passive envelopment to something more active, something determined to draw the last drop of cum from me. I lay there limply, barely conscious, eyes closed, almost paralyzed, at the mercy of the tremors the milking action caused within me.

When awareness and control returned, I opened my eyes to see what was causing those intense sensations in my cock. Maddie was looking into my eyes, the head of my cock in her mouth. She had captured my cum and, from the looks of things, swallowed it all.

When she saw I had regained control, Maddie relinquished her lips' grasp on my cock and straightened from where she'd bent over in her chair. Still looking me in the eyes, she smiled. "I couldn't let you come all over my room, and I couldn't think of anything else to do," she said. "Was it good?" she asked in an undertone. I hoped I'd been quiet enough during the cataclysm I'd just been through; we sure didn't want Mom or Dad to have heard me.

The lack of noise from downstairs attested they hadn't.

Still catching my breath, I smiled back at her and replied, as softly, "Oh, Maddie! That was..." I stopped; I couldn't think of a suitable word. But the smile on her face deepened and told me she'd gotten my message. After a moment, I stirred and reached toward her belt buckle. "But we need to take care of you, too," I said.

Her smile deepened. "What a good idea," she agreed and she scooted her butt forward, allowing me to get at her clothing better.

Listening carefully, I heard the faint sound of the television downstairs. Mom and Dad were still lost in their program; there was no immediate danger from that quarter.

I undid her buckle and the zipper. I looked back into her eyes as I began to lower her pants. Arching her back, she raised herself off the seat. Her smile was even deeper, but I saw no more of her face for the moment, because her pussy came into view as her jeans and her panties slid down to her ankles. I pulled one of her feet all the way through and out, leaving her legs unconstrained. She spread her thighs wide, and her outer labia separated; the unobstructed view of the center of her femininity commanded my attention. Her intoxicating aroma incited me further. In spite of its exertions only moments earlier, my cock throbbed; I was hard again. I licked my lips in anticipation.

"Put it in me," she whispered. "Fuck me!"

I, too, wanted to fuck. Wanted very much to fuck.. But the orgasm I'd just had dulled the sharp edge of my desire, so I was rational enough to see that the time wasn't right. It was risky—too risky. Even what I had in mind was dangerous enough.

"I'd like that. I really would. But not now," I whispered back. "It's too risky. We'd both be so distracted that if Mom or Dad came upstairs for some reason, neither of us would hear until it was too late. I'm going to eat you."

"Ooo, I'd like that!" was her reply, and somehow she managed to spread her thighs a bit wider as I knelt between them. Her outer labia spread even farther apart; the folds and shapes of the structures between them beckoned me. Slowly, deliberately, I bent forward, reaching for them with my mouth.

I pressed my lips against her where the entrance to her body lay, almost concealed, between her inner labia. I held the kiss for a little while before I pressed harder and extended my tongue as far as I could into her sheath. She was wet, slick with the juices of her need.

I heard her soft moan and withdrew my tongue far enough to lick slowly upward—still moving slowly, still taking my time. She writhed gently under me. She brought her hands to the back of my head; pulled me into tighter contact with her sensitive regions. She encouraged me to move my tongue upward more quickly, but I resisted—wiggling it from side to side as it left her orifice and began to glide along her inner lips.

I must have been doing something right. Her moans became more intense, and her hips began to bounce a little as I brought my tongue closer and closer to the little button at the upper end of her cleft. The upward pressure from her hands increased, but I paid it little mind.

Eventually, I reached her clit, and I heard the sharp intake of her breath when my tongue first touched her sensitive little organ.

Having finally reached my ultimate target, I concentrated my attention there, gently licking, tweaking, even scraping it with my teeth from time to time. She stopped trying to get me to move upward, but she made it clear I was not to stop what I was doing. I hadn't planned on stopping.

She thrust her hips repeatedly against my probing tongue, seeking stronger stimulation. I gave her what she seemed to want. Her thrusts grew in strength as they became less coordinated until I felt her body stiffen under me in her climax.

I knew a little—not very much, not nearly enough—about what girls like, and so I knew better than to stop. I kept licking, tweaking, and scraping, more vigorously now than before. She wasn't particularly coordinated at the moment, but her hands' pressure confirmed I was still in the right, umm... groove. So did the muted sound escaping from her mouth. That sound was cause for concern, but she managed to keep it within the bounds of safety. I felt her muscles soften as her upheaval subsided; no sound other than the television's came from below.

As she relaxed, I softened my attack on her clit, reducing it to gentle licking by the time she was back in control of her body. Her hands continued their encouraging clasp, in thanks, maybe, for not quitting yet.

After a bit, she pushed me gently away, causing my tongue to disengage from her slit. Her voice, soft and relaxed now, came to me: "Enough. That's enough. I'm too sensitive for more." Underlying her gentle admonition, the voices from the television downstairs continued uninterrupted. Mom and Dad were still absorbed in whatever they were watching. If we could just get our clothes back where parents were likely to think they belonged, we would get away with what we had just done.

Quietly restoring our clothing took little time, and soon we were sitting again at her desk thumbing through our calculus material. We hadn't accomplished any studying...of calculus. And we probably wouldn't be able to concentrate very well before bedtime arrived. Nevertheless...

"I guess we shouldn't have done that," Maddie said quietly. "But I'm glad we did it. It sure was nice. Somebody really taught you how to eat pussy!"

"We probably shouldn't have," I agreed. "But it sure was good. I sure did like the hand job you gave me." I paused for a while before continuing: "Maybe..." I let the thought hang while I tried to think of a good way to put what I wanted without being offensive.

As it was, I didn't need to say anything—she was on the same page.

"Yeah," she said. "But definitely, not 'maybe.' I've been thinking about it ever since our adventure with the smoke alarms last night. You sure felt good moving in me, even with the distractions. I want more! We need to finish what we started. When we get home from school tomorrow, they'll be at work, and I'm going to fuck you. I've got to see if you're as good at that as you were at this."

"Purely," I suggested, tongue firmly in cheek, "out of curiosity, I imagine."

And then, in response to the broad grin I gave her, she grinned back and added, "I thought you might like to hear that! And curiosity might not be quite my only reason..."