Chapter 3 - My twin daughters
After my elder son Michael's ultimatum, that I had to persuade my twin daughters to let him and his brother fuck them the day after they got back from summer camp, I realised that I actually had had a bit of a reprieve. He was playing in a baseball game in the city, and Tony was going to watch as well, wanting to find out, perhaps, if Michael shoving his baseball bat up my cunt was going to bring him luck. Even so, it would give me only twenty-four hours to work something out, and I had no idea how I was going to do it.
The problem was that now my sons had not just pictures of me naked, but much more potent ones of me fucking him and his brother, and I was sure that he'd inherited enough of my character that he would send them to the pastor if I didn't comply. It wouldn't exactly do him or his younger brother any good, but it would destroy all of the life I had built up as and elder in our local church. Even if he didn't do that, showing them to my parents, or my sister and brothers would likely be enough to ruin my life.
I wondered if I would have told my sister, Christine, about my sons, had she lived closer to me. Twins ran in the female side of our family, it seemed. Christine and I were twins, and our mother was one of twin girls. It was often fun being a twin, as you could get away with things as no one knew which of us to punish. On the other hand, though, we sometimes lost out by being treated as a pair rather than individuals, for example having to dress the same. The best thing, though, was that we always understood each other perfectly, often seeming to know what the other would say before she said it.
We'd both married career men, and these days I suppose people would say we sacrificed our own careers for our husbands, though that wasn't how I felt about it at the time. The awful thing was, though, that Christine's husband was an oil engineer, and first they'd moved to the Gulf of Mexico with his work, and then, even worse to the extreme north of Alaska, all for oil. Even the splendid intimacy of twins couldn't survive that separation intact, and we gradually lost touch, though we had kept up intermittent telephone calls, and more recently emails.
Christine had twin boys, and a lone girl, and I wondered if she'd understand that I felt I had to give in to my sons blackmail. I wondered also if she'd understand my desire to fuck my own daughters, as I had no idea where it came from myself. Of course, Christine and I had explored each other's bodies a bit when they started to change, and I imagine every generation of girls has had a fumble or two at summer camp. However, our upbringing had been strict, and in those days, girls didn't seem to have the inclination or the ability to share images of themselves naked, nor to go further. I was pretty sure that any limited exploration I'd made of lesbian delights hadn't even involved me reaching orgasm.
Things were about to change, though, because Christine's husband had left her, though neither she nor my parents would tell me why, and she was moving back to be closer to me. She'd found a place and a good job in the next town, and it was the last few weeks of closing the deals, so that the kids could start the new academic year in their new colleges. I was looking forward to having my sister back close to me, but it was just going to come a bit too late to help me talk things through. Indeed, would I ever have the courage to broach the subject with her, twin or no twin?
After the boys had double vaginally penetrated me: three times, actually before we all managed to come together, I'd persuaded them to let me sleep alone, to give me time to develop a plan for their sisters. So, I was laid in bed, tossing and turning, unable to get to sleep as my brain flip-flopped between fantasies of the delights that lay between my daughter's legs and how exactly their tits had developed, and desperately trying to work out how the hell I'd persuade them to let us fuck them. The former set my cunt tingling, but the latter sent shivers of fear through me, as I was sure that Michael would go through with posting the pictures of me if I failed.
I must have drifted off to sleep, but I woke hot and sweating in the middle of the night, dreaming of what I wanted to do with my little girls. Unfortunately, this only made me want them more, and I had to masturbate - well, twice actually, once for each daughter you might say - before I could get back to sleep.
When I woke in the morning it was late, and the boys had obviously gone off for the pre-match practice and the game itself. I still had no clue what I was going to do when my daughters came back, so I threw myself into the classic housewife's diversionary activities of baking and housekeeping. It wasn't such a bad idea, because all of the fucking we'd been doing had meant that between me and my sons, there was a much bigger backlog of underclothes to wash than normal, and when I looked carefully, there were rather a lot of tell-tale white stains on the floors and chairs from our activities, which I had to clean up.
I still had no idea how to approach the girls, though I'd deliberately put on a loose top and a medium-length cotton skirt, with a skimpy pair of white panties underneath, which I thought might provide an opener, and at least easy access to my bits if needed. If the worst came to the worst, I thought, I could simply tell them about Michael's blackmail threat, and leave me at their mercy. I'd only just grabbed a sandwich and a coffee for lunch when I heard the bus honk outside, and I knew that Lucy and Chloe were about to arrive, and I'd have to decide what to do.
The door slammed back as they came bouncing through it, flinging their large, soft bags to one side, and running over to hug me. When I say bounced, I mean it literally, as I could see that they weren't wearing bras under their thin tops. I could still remember when my own breasts used to bounce up as much as down when I ran, and as was the case with me, the friction of the top had made their nipples stiff, as I could see from the mobile bumps moving around in front of me.
They looked lovely in their loose, thin tops and short pleated shirts, reminding me of the way Christine used to look when she was that age. Yes, I know, as we were twins, that must have meant they looked like me, but I'd always struggled with seeing myself the way others see me.
"Hi, Mom ..."
"Where's the boys ..."
"Are we too late for lunch ..."
"We've got lots of dirty washing ..."
When I managed to quieten them down a bit, I made them each a sandwich, and after they had snaffled them down, I got them to bring the bag with the dirty washing into the utility room. Fortunately, the washing I had put on had nearly finished, so I would be able to move it over to the dryer. I opened the bag to see what needed washing, whether it would go in one load, and whether I needed to separate things out. Shit, as I opened the bag I could see it was mostly underwear, and I was almost overwhelmed with the overpowering scent of teenage cunt. I'd never been affected quite that way before, so maybe it was my reducing female hormones as I headed to the menopause which made me react more like a man, the same way I'd suddenly found myself attracted to the look of a woman's vulva.
"Wow... " was all I managed to get out before Chloe interrupted me.
"Sorry, Mom, they're a bit ripe, aren't they?"
"We probably should have washed more at the camp, with all the activities we were doing."
"Oh, it's alright girls. I guess Auntie Christine and I wouldn't have been any different when we were your age. Did you know, though, that your smell is really important in determining which men find you attractive? Subconsciously, men are most attracted to women who have a complementary spectrum of antibodies, so their children have the best chance of being resistant to the biggest range of diseases."
