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Standard small-print: Everybody who engages in sex acts are 18. This is fiction. If I accidentally use your name in the story, it's probably just coincidence.
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--( Ben )--
My cousin, Ben, had come over for a visit.
Ben and I were born one day apart. We joked that we were "almost twins".
My sisters -- who were born 10 minutes apart -- have never thought our joke was funny.
The silly thing is that Ben and I look more alike than Alyssa and Alaina do -- at least to me.
Most people can't tell my sisters apart.
Trust me, as "the runt", "the brat", or whatever my given insulting-nickname-of-the-day was, I can tell them apart just by the way they scowl at me -- or the way their breathing accelerates when they've uncovered one of my attempts to repay any of their heinous (and numerous) acts of sibling violence.
Mom and dad never saw my side of things. They still don't.
For instance, the girls sacrificed brand-new shirts to assault me at the start of my freshman year.
I had started a load of under-clothes and -- somehow -- by sheer chance -- their new, red T-shirts ended up in my load of whites.
I do my own laundry -- from my own hamper -- in my own room -- and had separated the whites out (because I'd learned that lesson long ago) -- and yet mom and dad had the audacity to ignore my calls for divine retribution.
Absolutely, every, single pair of briefs that I owned were pink!
Five days a week -- for the majority of my freshman year -- nearly every, single gym class -- I caught all kinds of crap about it.
Anytime anybody was the subject of some form of locker-room ridicule, the target-of-the-day would call me "Mr. Pink Panties" to shift the ridicule and make them feel less insecure.
I'm pretty OCD about my stuff -- see my notes (above) about sorting my laundry -- so I'm pretty sure the pair of my underwear that ended up at the top of the school flagpole was also the work of my conniving sisters.
You don't just misplace a pair of underwear at school -- it doesn't happen!
They HAD to have taken it from my room and handed them off to one of their friends who were in my PE class.
To make matters worse, two days later, the bitches took a Sharpie and wrote "cunt" on two pairs of their own pink undies -- and then presented them to mom and dad as evidence that I'd decided to "take the law into my own hands".
I admit that I had considered the idea -- but I'd already calculated a two-day grounding would be the end-result -- and dumped that idea.
I ended up grounded anyway -- one day for the "foul language" and two days for ruining their clothes.
Fuck me.
The only people that might even see their underwear would be the girls in their gym class -- who would probably agree with the "cunt" moniker -- or their boyfriends -- who wouldn't be looking at their panties as reading material anyway.
Sisters!
Anyway, the next day was the start of Easter break and Ben was staying over for the long weekend. As soon as he'd run home, dumped his books off, and grabbed his duffle, he was at our house.
Ben and I have several things in common.
In the fall, we run Cross Country.
In the spring, we run relay in Track -- generally on the same 4-man team.
Both of these sports are coed and -- like most males at these events -- we end up discussing which of our classmates (generally starting with our teammates) are "do-able".
So, it's not really surprising that -- a year or so ago -- during one of his visits -- we got to talking about porn.
These days, the first few minutes of any visit were consumed with the sharing of favorite pictures or videos that we've recently come across.
--( The Twins )--
I'm pretty certain that one of us closed my bedroom door.
I'm even more certain that my sisters aren't that quiet -- especially when they're together -- and even more especially, when they're coming to check on their favorite cousin.
Honestly, I'd forgotten they were even in the house.
They're usually at college, these days, and -- seriously -- I'd have to say it's been down-right peaceful around here!
So -- like I said -- I'm pretty sure Ben or I closed the door -- but -- obviously -- I was distracted, showing him my latest discovery -- and he was distracted, looking.
We were looking at an image of a girl-guy-girl-guy "69-circle" -- more like a square -- with the guys facing the middle and the girls facing outwards -- trying to decide if we thought our girlfriends would go for the idea.
"That looks like fun!", I heard my older sister say.
Alyssa was standing over my shoulder; Alaina was behind Ben.
In my hurry to close the browser window, my hand slid too far and I dropped my wireless mouse on the floor.
I was busy, picking up the mouse, when Alaina added, "If only we knew a couple horny teenaged-boys we could convince to try that.."
I hit my head on the bottom of the keyboard tray, trying to get back into my chair with the captured rodent.
By the time I was seated and glanced at Ben, he looked like a bluegill -- gasping for breath in the grasp of an 5-year-old -- who was waiting for mommy to take his picture.
"Ever heard of knocking?" I asked, angrily.
"Not since high school, twerp. In college, you don't even get your own bedroom." Alaina said.
"You've never had your own bedroom, moron." I retorted.
She looked at Alyssa with a slightly-hooded expression and said, "College is different."
The room went silent for a moment.
"So, we just popped in to give Ben a hug.." Alyssa began.
".. but.. if you two horn-dogs are up for some oral action like you were just drooling over.." Alaina continued.
".. we could make it a GROUP hug.." Alyssa clarified.
".. with a happy ending." Alaina concluded.
Ben looked at me and said, "Yes."
He and his girlfriend had been on a time-out for a week or so. Either he was pretty backed-up, or he'd been thinking about my sisters differently than I had been.
Now, I think I'm like most younger brothers.
I've realized that my sisters are turning into "do-able" young women. And I've read -- and looked at -- my share of incest porn.
But that was make-believe -- not the demon sisters that have made my life a living hell since I was born.
I'm pretty sure that -- in that one picture of us -- when I was an infant -- which is still hanging on the living room wall -- there are fingerprints on my neck -- where one of them had been trying to strangle me.
Looking over at my cousin's face, my mind slowly returned to the present.
Ben was in.
I was not convinced.
"You're gonna suck MY dick?" I asked, incredulously.
"Alaina will."
"What?!"
They looked at each other. "I'll suck Ben's. You suck Brad. After the first orgasm, we switch."
"Their's or ours?"
"Ours, of course."
"Fine -- but I don't want him looking at my pussy -- he has to wear a blindfold."
"Mmm. That's kind of kinky! They can both wear blindfolds."
Pause.
I admit to a suffering a slight brain-malfunction at this point.
My fairly-hot twin sisters are discussing oral sex -- where I might actually be the recipient of something good -- and -- in my mind -- I'm getting upset about not being part of the decision-making team.
