(note-this is a repost, I added a description of the mother and aunt, and changed the ending)
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I'd like to start out by giving you a little background information about myself. First off, I never knew my father, he died before I was born. At least, that's what I've been told my whole life. I've always had this feeling in the back of my mind that he was alive somewhere, and my mom had her reasons for telling me he was dead. But enough about that, it's always been myself and mom, and Aunt Bettie. mom's twin sister. Money was never a problem, mom had enough squirreled away to take care of us for life. I don't know where the money came from, but it's not important. We weren't rich, but we were comfortable, the three of us. We never really had any major problems. Until I was 15.
As you know, when a young man gets to a certain point in his life, his hormones kick into overdrive, and the single overriding thought in his brain is getting laid. I was no exception. In that aspect, I was just like every other red-blooded teenager in the United States. However, with me, there was just one teeny little thing. A three inch wide by one inch thick by one foot tall band of human flesh. The band of flesh that had physically joined my mother to her sister back to back. It also made my life torture.
Let me explain that like some people, I developed a fetish, a strange sexual attraction. For some people, it's feet, others, amputees, still others, inflicting and/or receiving physical pain. My particular fetish was Siamese twins. By some sick twist of fate, my mother and Aunt Bettie just happened to be Siamese twins. Which is why, except for meals, I generally kept to myself at home, and tried to spend as little time with them as possible. They probably thought I was being moody, or introverted, or antisocial, or, like most teenage boys, wanted as little contact with my mother as possible. The truth is, I couldn't spend more than ten minutes in the same room with them without developing the uncontrollable need to go to the bathroom to, as I liked to put it, "take matters into my own hands." Yes, I wanted to fuck my own mother, and it had nothing to do with an Oedipus complex. Which is why I tried to avoid them whenever possible. I thought by removing myself from their presence, I could control my urges. Which is why, when I went to college, even though we lived less than two miles from where I chose to go to school, I lived in the dorms. Of course, I gave them that "I want to be on my own, experience dorm life, blah," bullshit. It worked, at least I think it did, until my 21st birthday.
Let me take a minute here to point out that my mom gave birth to me on what was her and Aunt Bettie's 19th birthday. Which means, my 21st birthday was their 40th. But they didn't look it. They looked like they were in their mid-20s, and, except for the fact that they were joined at the back, could pass for models. They stood 5'9", with the classic "36-24-36" measurements, and weighed a combined 250 lbs. They had shoulder length platinum blonde hair, and green eyes. Unlike some pairs of identical twins (as Siamese twins are, as anyone with a basic knowledge of biology will tell you, always identical), they embraced their identicalness, wearing the same hairstyle, clothes (especially seeing that most of their wardrobe had to be specially tailored, owing to their conjoinment), and makeup.
Anywho, back to my 21st birthday. My roommate, who was almost a year older than me, decided that there was only one place on God's Green Earth I should celebrate my final passage into legal adulthood: Las Vegas, Nevada. After checking into our hotel rooms, he told me it was time to give me my present. An all-expenses paid outing to the Chicken Ranch (Sorry, that's a different story for a different time).
When I returned, sans virginity, I decided to go back to my hotel room to take a quick shower and change my shirt before hitting the bar for my first legal beer. Before I could turn on the light, I heard a voice, which was familiar, but still nearly scared me shitless. "We hope you're still horny," my mom said, as I turned on the light, and saw her and Aunt Bettie sitting on the corner of the bed. They were wearing a yellow strapless sundress, which was cut in such a way to expose half of the band of flesh that joined the two of them as one, as well as open toed espadrilles which showed off their French pedicures.
"I am now," I thought to myself. "How did you two get in here?" I asked.
"Kevin let us in," Aunt Bettie said. "We flew in last night, hoping to surprise you."
