Looking For Trouble Ch 04

This is the fourth chapter of five in a story of eighteen-year-old, mixed-sex twins, who find themselves engaging each other in some things that many people don't approve of. I recommend that you read the earlier chapters before reading this one, so that you'll know what's going on.

*****

It was nearly 3:30 when I got home from work that afternoon. As I let myself in the front door, I announced my arrival: "Bree, I'm home."

"I'm in the living room, Brye," came the answer. She was waiting for me, as I expected.

As I moved toward the living room, she came into the hall—wearing nothing but a smile. She was as naked as she'd been when we were born.

It was a welcome, if unexpected, sight. But before I could say anything, she offered, "I've been thinking about what we did last night, Brye."

Appreciatively, I said, "You sure have me thinking about it now!" I reached for my shirt buttons.

"I hope," she said, "you haven't been playing in sheep shit again. A shower would be fun, but I had something else in mind for right now, and I don't especially want to put that off." She moved in close to me, sniffing as she came. "Hmm! All I smell is sweaty guy. Sweaty,

sexy

guy!"

"You're in luck," I said. "I worked inside the store almost all day. It's air conditioned, so sweat's all you're going to smell. Are you sure—"

She reached up, and, as I put aside the task of unbuttoning my shirt so I could could hold her, she smothered my doubts and my protests with a lengthy kiss. When she backed away from that kiss, I looked into her eyes. (I couldn't see her naked body because she'd pressed it against me.) "I thought we were going to talk this afternoon," I said. "Are you sure we should be doing this?"

"Of

course

we shouldn't be doing this. We shouldn't have done what we did last night, either. But I sure am glad we did, and I've thought about it all day, ever since you left for work," she answered me. She wiggled her lower body against the boner I'd grown almost instantly upon seeing her. "And from what I feel in your pants, you're thinking about it, too—now, anyway."

I ran my hands up the sides of her body and back down, saying, "I've thought about it all day, too. And I sure am thinking about it now!" I pulled her in close again and bent for another kiss.

"We can talk after," she said when our lips parted. And, taking my hand, she pulled me toward the hall and then into her bedroom.

==||<>||==

She kissed my chest where her mouth was next to it as we lay in her bed, recovering from our exertions, our naked bodies entwined with each other.

"Brothers and sisters aren't supposed to do that with each other," I said, after I'd regathered my strength. "We were going to talk this afternoon."

"So let's talk," she answered. "Has something changed?"

"Since yesterday?" I asked, "or since this morning? or since the day before yesterday?"

"We both know what's changed since yesterday. So I guess I meant 'since this morning.' We were okay with doing it with each other this morning. Are we still okay?"

"I guess so. I did think about last night all day long at work. I guessed that it was… Well, kind of an accident. One and done, so to speak. We'd agreed that we weren't going to do that with each other."

She replied, "I'm okay with you. And with the way we changed the agreement last night. I thought about what we'd done, too—thought about it all day. And the more I thought about it, the hornier I got for you. And around three…"

She paused to deliver another kiss to my chest.

She went on, "…when I knew you'd be home soon, I got so turned on by thinking about the way you felt last night, moving inside me, that I took off my clothes and waited for you."

She paused and looked me in the eyes. "How are you about it?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said. "I need to think it through."

"You know, you still haven't told me what's changed since this morning."

"I didn't expect it. Either time. We've been so careful to do other things and not go all the way with each other."

"But we did it last night, and we were both glad that we had. And you didn't take very much convincing this afternoon. Or last night, either, for that matter. Did think I wouldn't want to again?"

"You just surprised me, is all. I thought…" I stopped, not exactly sure what I thought.

When she saw that I was out of words, she asked, "Did you think, after we'd done it once, we'd be able to

not

do it again? Especially with nobody around but us?"

"It

was

really good. Both times. My twin sister is a damn good lay," I offered in reply. "I never would have thunk it." I kissed the top of her head.

She smiled. Who would ever have guessed that my twin brother is such a hot fuck?" she asked.

She snuggled in a bit closer, and I squeezed her. We held each other, body to body, skin to skin, each enjoying each other's touch.

I broke the silence. "I take it you're okay with fucking your twin brother."

"I wasn't yesterday," she said. "But I was last night, and I am today. And I will be from now on.""

"I'm not sure how I feel about fucking my twin sister," I said. "Besides liking it. Liking it a lot! But we're looking for trouble."

"You didn't answer my question. Do you think that, now that we've done it, we can

not

fuck each other? Could you have

not

fucked me this afternoon?"

After a very noticeable pause, during which I had nothing to offer, she said, "That's what I thought."

"Maybe if you hadn't been naked when I got home…"

"If I hadn't been naked when you got home, you would have had to take my clothes off, wouldn't you!" She was grinning wickedly. "So I saved you some time and work."

I thought about that for a few seconds; decided that she was right. "There could be some problems," I said.

"Not if no one ever finds out," she said.

"That's the main problem," I pointed out. "We have to be sure that no one finds out. Ever." I paused. "Mom and Dad, especially!"

She smiled at me. "It

would

be a serious problem if they found out. But they aren't here, and neither of them will be until Thursday."

I smiled back at her. "And this is Friday!"

Her smile deepened. "I think I'm gonna like the coming week," she said.

"I think I am, too," I said, smiling back. We lay there, holding each other, for a few minutes, until I started thinking about getting dressed to go and get us some supper. I began to unravel myself from her body.

"Oh, and Brye?" she said. "There's one other thing."

I looked at her; she was even more serious now than she had been. "What's that, Bree?" I asked.

"I like fucking you, but I'm not in love with you." She paused let that sink in, and then she continued, "I'll never be in love with you, and you can't ever be in love with me. We can't fall in love. That would be an even worse disaster than getting caught: a brother and a sister can't be in love with each other. They just

can't!

"

It took very little imagination to grasp the potential consequences. I looked back at her, adopting a serious air that matched her own. "I really like fucking you, Bree," I said. "But I'm not in love with you, either. I get it. We'd be in a world of hurt if we fell in love."

She reached for a kiss; she got what she was reaching for.

==||<>||==

"That was good," she said. "A bit quick, but good. Very good."

We lay naked in each other's arms, in her bed, recovering from a superb, if quick, fuck.

"I liked it, too," I said. "And we had to make it quick. What time is it?"

She looked at the clock; it was on her side of the bed where I couldn't see it without raising my head—which I was too lazy to do. "It's about four," she answered. "We better get cleaned up and dressed. Dad'll be home in forty-five minutes or so."

It was Thursday, the day of Dad's promised return.

"We'd better," I agreed, giving her a squeeze. "It wouldn't do to have Dad walk in on us like this."

"It sure wouldn't," she said, squeezing me back. She rolled toward me, raised her head, and delivered a soft kiss. Then she went on, her body still against mine, "I'm glad his plane didn't arrive an hour or so earlier."

He had called us the night before to remind us (as if we needed it) that he'd be home and to tell us that his flight would arrive around three-thirty.

"Me, too!" I said, with heartfelt relief. "I rushed home from work so we could have one last quickie. If he'd been much earlier…" I let the sentence hang there."

"I was right when I thought I'd like this last week," she added. "I've liked it a lot."

"Me, too," I said. "Even if you did wear me out."

"Poor, exhausted boy," she said, in mock sympathy, "at the end of your strength. We need to build you up. After all, we've only fucked three times a day, and it's only been a week. And only twice today! But, it seems to me, you were a willing participant every time."

"But four times in the past twenty-four hours," I pointed out. "We did it when I got home from work yesterday, when we went to bed last night, when we woke up this morning, and then again just now. If you weren't so insatiable—"

My sentence ended in a grunt as her elbow took me in the ribs.

"You were so 'drained' that you couldn't get your dick into me quick enough this afternoon," she pointed out.

"Well, maybe I wouldn't have been in such a rush if I hadn't been

politely

accommodating Ms Needed-cock-so-much-she-was-waiting-for-me-naked," I answered her. I went on, with a transparent air of self-justification, "And I knew we had to finish and get our clothes back on before Dad gets home."

"Just the other day, we talked about why I might be waiting for you naked. It saves you time and energy—the energy you're complaining about being in such short supply after only a few fucks."

While she was talking, I reached down and stroked between her pussy's inner lips. Her clit was still hypersensitive from the earth-shaking orgasm she'd just experienced; she flinched noticeably and ended her last sentence with a little yelp when I unintentionally flicked it. As I'd expected, she was slick with our juices. "Somehow, I don't quite believe that it was 'all for my own good.' And I

am

drained. See?" I held my now cum-coated fingers up where she could see them. "That drained out of me!"

She grabbed my hand and pulled it to her mouth, where she cleaned off my hand. (My cock twitched at the sight, the touch, and the sound, but it wasn't ready for further action.) Then she pretended to examine my fingers closely. "I don't see anything but a little saliva," she said. "

My

saliva."

"Cheat!" I exclaimed. "Tampering with evidence!"

"Evidence, my ass!"

"And a very nice ass it is!" I squeezed her again.

"Flattery will get you somewhere!" She kissed me quickly again and rolled out of bed. "But not right now. We've got just time to clean ourselves and the house up a bit. Hurry!"

"Whose turn is it to fix supper?" I asked, as I, too, rolled out of bed.

"Yours!" She said it triumphantly. Meanwhile, tampering with more evidence, she straightened out the bed. "I have to get ready to go to work, and I'll eat there. But maybe you can get Dad to take you out for supper."

"Worth a try," I said as we headed, hand-in-hand, to the bathroom.

==||<>||==

Dad did take me out for a quick supper, after I pleaded near-exhaustion from a hard day at work. (That was a bit of a stretcher, but not by much. And I didn't mention the role that Bree might have had in exhausting me.) Over the meal, he said that Mom was fine and that Cheryl, while pretty uncomfortable, was doing about as well as could be expected at this point. The surgeon had told them he thought he'd gotten everything, and the oncologist was optimistic that the chemotherapy would take care of any lingering malignancy. The current plan was for Mom to come home in a month or so, provided Cheryl had recovered well enough from the chemo.

I had to get up for work the next morning, so I went to bed shortly after we got home from supper. Bree was at work by then, so I didn't see her again that evening. We'd only been sleeping together for a week, but after even so short a time, I found that I hated sleeping alone. I think I missed her presence and her touch even more than I missed the sex we would have shared if she'd been there. (Don't get me wrong. I certainly missed that latter!)

I got up for work at about 5:30. Bree had left a note on the kitchen table. She'd had some customers who had arrived late, taken their good old time, and hadn't even ordered dessert until a half-hour after closing time. So she hadn't gotten home until after one—and she'd gone straight to bed. She'd left unsaid the fact that she hadn't come into my room when she got home. I hadn't expected her to; we both knew why she shouldn't have. And we both knew why she hadn't said anything about not coming into my room in her note.

As I was putting my breakfast dishes into the dishwasher, Dad came into the kitchen. "I hope you don't have another hard day at work," he said—keeping his voice down so as not to wake Brielle.

"Well," I said, "it'll be what it'll be. That's why they pay me the big bucks."

He grimaced. "Big bucks, indeed," he said. (He knew my hourly rate was a little higher than Bree's. But he also knew I didn't get any tips. So, at least by comparison,

she

was getting the 'big bucks.') "You'll do a lot better after you get more education. You won't always be cheap labor."

"I know, Dad," I said. "It's just a summer job. It'll give me a little spending money in school next year." He knew that I was putting most of my summer pay into savings.

"

Little

is right. But 'just a summer job' it is. I wish you could have gotten something at the mill." He was talking about the rolling mill several miles upriver, about halfway to the state university. That mill turned out sheet steel and seamless steel pipe, and it was a major employer in the area where we lived. "Guys your age who get work there make pretty good money. Not as much as the men with some seniority, but a lot more than you're getting now." I reached the front door as he said that.

"Yeah," I said. "I wish that, too. But there was a big layoff a few weeks ago—right after I applied. There won't be any new hiring until after they call those guys back."

He answered, "I know. Only the men who have been there for at least ten years are working right now. But I think they'll be calling people back before too long."

"'Before too long' isn't soon enough to do me much good," I pointed out.

He gave me a thoughtful look. "You know, Brian," he said, "in one way, I'm glad the mill wasn't hiring when you were looking for work. A lot of young men get started there right out of high school. They see older men making a lot of money, and it tempts them so that they never continue their education. But the money isn't what they think it is, because it'll be a long time before they have enough seniority to get one of the high-paying jobs. Until they have that seniority, they'll get laid off every now and then. Or moved down to a job that doesn't pay as well. And no matter how much seniority they have, they go out with everyone else when the union calls a strike. I glad you won't be going through any of that."

We'd lived in this community for five years, now, and we'd seen the hard times millworkers experience when there are big layoffs or long strikes. I knew he didn't want that for me;

I

didn't want that for me.

"Dad, I don't think that would happen to me, even if I was in the mill this summer," I said. "I'm really looking forward to going to school in the fall. I think it's where I belong."

He nodded his head in agreement and said, "It is. And it's a lot deeper than just being able to earn more money, too. A good education will be worthwhile no matter what you want to do later. It will make your life so much richer. And if you want to work in the mill then, that'll be your choice—but it won't be your

only

choice."

I looked at my watch; I was running out of time. "Gotta go now," I said, "or I'll be late. See you this afternoon, Dad. Love ya."

"Don't be late. Love you, too, Brian. See you later."

And I left.

==||<>||==

I'd been fast asleep, I knew, and now I was waking up. I was aware that I had a boner, and that something warm, wet, and wonderful was happening to it. I knew that I was on my back and that my hips rocked under the influence of whatever it was. Slowly, I regained consciousness.

When I was alert enough to do so, I groaned and raised my head to look. The white shade on my window, closed now, but glowing in the light of a full moon, lit my room enough for me to see that someone—a female someone who could only be Bree—knelt between my legs and that her head bobbed up and down, up and down to drive my cock in and out, in and out of her mouth. My hips rocked with more purpose, now, helping drive me in and out, in and out; I groaned again in groggy delight.

The bobbing stopped and she raised her head; my cock flopped out of her mouth. Before I could groan again, she hissed, softly, "Shhh! Don't wake Dad, or the shit will hit the fan!"

I still wasn't fully awake, but I was awake enough to understand what was happening. And why I had to be quiet. "Gotcha," I whispered back. "What time is it? What're you doing in here?"

As if I didn't know—very well—what she was doing. I still wasn't fully awake.

"It's about one, and I've been sucking your cock. For several minutes, now. Thought I'd see if I could get you off without waking you," came the whispered answer. "But I'm glad you woke up, because eating you made me even hornier. I'm gonna ride you. But we have to be quiet."

She moved to straddle me where my cock jutted out of the fly of my pajama bottoms.

"Wait," I whispered. "Let me get my PJs off." I was struggling out of the top as I spoke. She stopped, and I saw that she was pulling her nightie over her head. That accomplished, she moved aside to remove the panties she'd had on under it. By the time she finished, I was naked, too. Before she could move again to straddle me, I reached for her and pulled her down onto the bed beside me.

Surprised, she landed with a muffled gasp on her side, facing me. In the darkness, I wrapped my upper arm around her and pulled her soft, curved body close. I reached for a kiss, missed her mouth and kissed her chin. She knew what I was reaching for, and we adjusted our positions until our lips locked and our tongues could play their hide-and-seek game. I felt, more than heard, her moan with pleasure. My own nearly inaudible moan answered her as my hand sought her cleft.

She

was

wet. She rocked against my hand, so that her clit slid up and down the finger I'd laid on top of it. She broke our kiss to whisper, "Please! I need you in me." She started to move, wanting, I think, to straddle me again.

Anticipating her, I pulled my fingers out of her pussy and, rolling toward her, I pushed her onto her back.

She guessed what I was thinking; as I rolled her onto her back and rolled on top of her, she parted her thighs. We came to rest with my boner nestled in her furrow. I reached for her mouth again, and again I engaged her tongue with mine.

Still kissing her, I raised my weight onto my elbows and raised my hips so that my cock left her pussy's cleft to hang, pointing downward, directly above it. I was about to reach down to guide it into her when she reached under me, and I felt her groping for my cock. She grasped it, and, once I knew she had it under control, I lowered my hips while she guided me.