So Tracy let her brother wash her breasts. So what? They were cute and fun. "They're just boobs," she kept reiterating. To her, this made sense to reiterate.
Seay's boner fidgeted every time she hammered this point again. He was fondling his sister's boobs. They were showering naked together. She had a hold of his wrists and was helping him fondle her.
Less cute and fun, however, was the rest of the shower. Trying to fit both young-adult-sized teens in the cabin's cramped shower was a chore at best, and an awkward gauntlet at worst. There was simply no non-awkward way of trading places to get under the shower's spray any time it was one or the other's turn to rinse off. They would sidle, bare wet butts bumping into each other, around and past each other. One butt would be hot and wet, the other would be cold and wet. Then it was the warm-butted twin's turn to stand there, shivering, hugging themselves, and wait for their turn back under the spray. Had they been a couple, they could have cuddled under the spray and shared the warmth. But they were siblings.
"H-hurry," Tracy complained. Her teeth were chattering.
"I-I'm g-going as fast as I c-can," Seay griped, struggling to rinse all the soap suds out of his hair. Did it always take this long for the lather to wash out? Had he just never noticed before? His cock was totally exposed while he was stuck doing this. All shower, he had been uncertain whether to cover himself, or perhaps turn his hips to make it harder to see, or whether instead to simply own his nudity, since that was purportedly the whole point of today's experiment.
"Can I just, like, join you under there? I'm f-freezing."
Tracy stared as nonchalantly as she could at her brother's wet erection. Shower water ran glistening through its dark blonde trapezoid of pubic hair. She glanced up to make sure Seay's eyes were still closed as he finished rinsing his scalp. Then she glanced back down. Ew. Her brother's penis. It looked incredible. Gross. Yum. Oops, he had said something.
"W-what?"
"I'm almost done."
"Ugh. Fine. But then get out so I can get in."
He felt around his wet blonde hair. No more shampoo. He was excused. He begrudgingly exited the warm, soothing spray, ceding it to his desperate sister. She scurried under, groaning with relief. She faced the shower and held her hands up, sort of 'catching' the water as it ran all over her, and inadvertently squeezing her breasts together. Seay felt himself reverting to his reflexive look-away routine. She just looked so peaceful and content, it felt wrong to ogle her anymore. The last little glimpse he permitted himself was of her wet, shiny butt. It was cute. It was a cute, sisterly butt.
He toweled off. He looked at himself in the mirror. He wondered if he should hang the towel back up or leave it wrapped around his waste. He wondered if he should wait for Tracy to finish showering, or leave her in here alone. If he left, he could go upstairs and masturbate again. And if he hurried, he could hopefully even cum in private. He was pretty sure he needed to cum again, stat. While he was tentatively okay with trying this weird "return to normal" his sister was on about today, he was not okay with being this painfully horny around her. It was disorienting. He kept accidentally thinking very unbrotherly thoughts. He kept accidentally feeling very unbrotherly feelings.
It was still vital that he cum, though, right? To masturbate anyway? He'd try his best not to think about her. But if he didn't cum stat, things were only going to get that much harder. He left the bathroom. He closed the door behind him.
"Bye?" his sister said after he'd already shut the door. He barely heard her. But he felt a twinge of some emotion - guilt, oddly enough - that he swiftly and blindly compartmentalized. Never mind where it wound up inside him, so long as it was out of sight and mind. He stole up the ladder into the loft, draped his towel over the railing overlooking the main room, and crawled naked into his stinky bed. He realized with a minor, refreshingly non-incestuous thrill that it was in fact laundry day, meaning he could be as messy as he wanted, since these sheets were about to get washed anyway.
He closed his eyes and felt his hard cock in his hand and tried hard not to think about Tracy's wet, glistening, bubbly butt in the shower. He tried not to think about washing her breasts. She'd made him use his bare hands. She'd phrased it as 'letting' him. He'd felt the heft of her breast fat, and how her nipples hardened automatically simply from the attention, and she'd held his wrists to keep his hands there even after he'd more than sufficiently cleaned them.
She had let his boner tap occasionally against her butt, the small of her back, and the sides of her hips without once letting go of his wrists. She giggled, in point of fact, every time it happened. She liked that it embarrassed him. Sure, his penis felt strange, but his misery felt normal. She sometimes even wiggled back in response, trying to make it happen again, trying to deepen the color in his cheeks. But Seay could turn himself into a parenthesis, keep his poor, clumsy erection momentarily out of reach until he was reasonably sure she'd calmed down again.
She had thankfully never tried to grab him outright. Privately, the notion that she could have both terrified and electrified him. What if, right? What if she had just straight-up grabbed him by the cock? What if she had offered to wash it, since he had washed her tits?
She hadn't. But now his imagination was stuck imagining it. He jerked and jerked and jerked. He tried to imagine anything remotely as arousing. Nothing came to mind.
He had his eyes closed, but he could picture her. She was naked with her back to him. She was peeking at him over her shoulder. She was letting him touch her, but only in the places her wrists allowed him to reach.
"Hey," Tracy said, and her head appeared at the top of the ladder. She had a towel wrapped around her hair. She had another towel around her midsection. As she clambered up onto the carpeted floor, she looked like his sister, fresh out of a shower. Nothing really all that sexual about it.
Except his cock was out, and his fist was wrapped around it. He snatched up the covers, covering himself all the way past his face. His heart exploded with panic.
"I mean, I knew what I was probably walking into," she said. "You mind if I join you?"
"Y-you c-can do whatever you want. In your own bed." He stuck a hand out from under his covers and pointed blindly toward her bed across the carpet.
"Lovely," she said, and removed her midsection towel. Fine. Let him not see her little surprise. She left the towel right there on the carpet near the top of the ladder. She crawled naked into her bed. She got comfy on her stomach. "I like to start on my tummy," she announced.
"G-great. Please stop talking."
"Oh," she frowned. She whispered now, "Sorry."
"S'okay. Just... let me focus."
"Okay."
They masturbated in relative silence. It was hard for him. It was easy for her. He stroked and stroked, but kept losing focus and softening again. She meanwhile, rubbed and diddled and cooed and gasped and groaned as she gave herself orgasm after orgasm. She tried valiantly to keep her covers about her, like her brother was doing, but of course sometimes she kind of lost focus and might have let a stray leg or boob slip out.
"Gosh, this was necessary," she finally sighed during a hard-earned breather. Her head lolled to the side, still wrapped in its damp towel. She blinked lovingly at the shape of her brother completely hidden under his rustling covers, quietly (but for the miserable old bedsprings) jerking off.
"You still not there yet, Bro?"
"N-none of your c-concern."
"I see," she giggled. She sighed again. She laid out completely flat, and stared up at the ceiling. It was so close. She reached up a hand. She couldn't quite reach it. But she left her hand up there, anyway. She liked looking at it. Along the inner edge of her ring finger she saw a little streak of her own happy goo. She squinted at it. She turned her hand slightly in the ambient light glowing up from the carpet where a stripe of sun shone in from the window between her and her brother's headboards. She brought her knuckle to her nostrils and sniffed. She had just showered, so the only odor present was her funky, barnyardy, sweet-and-sour arousal. She licked the smelly smear off. She chewed her lip and tasted it.
She smiled and shut her eyes and imagined what it would be like if her twin brother was a twin sister instead, whose pussy tasted like this. She imagined licking her twin sister's pussy. For science! What if their pussies tasted exactly the same? Would it be so terribly, unbearably strange to want a taste to be sure? Wasn't that actually pretty normal, to want to know what it was like to taste one's own pussy from outside one's own body? Didn't everybody kind of want to know what it was like to go down on themselves?
"Hey, Sis?"
"Hm?" she sniffed, opening her eyes again.
"What are we doing?"
"Masturbating again, I guess."
"But why?"
"Because we have needs."
"You're my sister."
"Yup."
"And I'm your brother."
"We're twins. Yes."
"Twin siblings shouldn't just... don't just lay around masturbating together."
