It is Tuesday. I am one month and 13 days into my eighteenth year and I am sitting on a wooden stool that is so low that my knees are higher than my hips. My twin brother, Yuki, is standing beside me talking to a customer. He is close enough that I can feel the body heat radiating off of him and for no better reason than the fact that he is that close to me, I lean my head against him. Touch is my drug of choice and, right or wrong, touching Yuki is as necessary, and as instinctive, to me as breathing.
I do not purr when Yuki's long fingers worm their way into my pigtails, calluses catching on the odd thread of hair, but my breath does hitch in a small, mostly silent, little hum that rumbles low in my throat. Rubbing my cheek against his leg, like a cat scent marking him, I cannot help wishing it were smooth, warm skin touching my face instead slightly rough denim.
Yuki-induced arousal vibrates constantly through my nervous system and in this moment it hums a bit closer to the surface, but doesn't quite tumble from sweet-touch to fuck-me-lust, so we stay that way...Yuki wrecking my braids, playing his nails against my scalp, and me breathing the dried-in-the-sunshine smell of his jeans and beneath that, the spice of his skin.
Yuki laughs at something the customer says and even though I am distracted by the manga I am looking at, his laughter rides through my body like a knowledgeable hand. I smile reflexively, unable not to, all cat-with-cream at the tingling in my tummy, but I make no effort to follow the conversation. The person whom he is speaking with is completely unaware of my presence behind the high counter, so I sit quietly, invisible to the world. At my back, warm where my shoulders rest against it, the wooden structure is like a fortress. I am surrounded by the sawdust smell of books, pine cleaner and the sweet candy scent of the new magazines.
I hear their voices, Yuki's and the customer who exists, not in my world, but only on the other side of the counter, but it is a distant nattering on. To be honest, I am too fascinated by the hentai manga I am looking at to pay attention to what seems to be an oral recap of the Momoyama Period and Oda Nobunaga's role in unifying Central Japan...
Their voices fade from my awareness, casually, without any effort on my part.
The manga is called "4U" and the pages of carefully drawn images are beautiful and nasty. The paper is thick and cool against the pads of my fingers. The black ink is very black against off-white paper and the blood relationship between the characters is sweetly obvious, to me anyway, because of the physical similarities in their appearance. But is the disparity in their sizes that causes me to shift on my hard perch.
Aroused, my skin shrinks...my insides knot. Blood rises, with heat, to the surface of my skin in a flush that I feel everywhere. Unable to stop myself, I squirm a tiny bit, widening my legs just enough so that the seam in my running short's built-in panty stimulates the damp flesh between my legs.
I chew my bottom lip, taste cherry lipgloss, rock my hips minutely and turn the page.
The siblings in the manga are fucking for the first time. She is standing, wearing only panties, with her back pressed against the front of him. The girl looks small and hungry. Her brother is pressed into her, one arm around her chest and the other inside his sister's dainty little panties, fingering her dainty little pussy. The pages slip across my fingertips like a caress, making goosebumps tickle down my shoulders. I breathe through my nose, touching the erotic images in light little circles. Sister is now on her knees, wrapping both hands around her brother's artistically exaggerated cock and she is trying to suck all that hard flesh into her round little mouth.
The stubby-pigtailed girl and her brother remind me so forcibly of me and Yuki that arousal, always simmering, spills through me, scalding hot, making my tummy feel full and tight. I wiggle on the stool, my pussy soft, my swelling labia pushing against and puffing around the seam of nylon fabric that is pushing high into my crevice. The thin fabric is darkening with my juice and clings to my dampening flesh, outlining my sex perfectly. I can smell the heat of my arousal, my sex, and I am both ashamed and further aroused by this. I am shamed, yes, but at the same time I want nothing more than to slide my fingers up the leg of my shorts and explore my own creaming cunt.
I am breathing in shallow puffs, flexing my pussy muscles and continuing to rock my hips in tiny little movements. Bent at the waist, I am fighting simultaneous urges to reach inside my sports bra and wring my itchy little nipples and stick my middle finger as deep into me as deep as I can reach. My doubled over position succeeds in pressing my puss more tightly against the warm stool and I hear myself make a tiny, involuntary noise. A little mew of need, quickly stifled.
"What are you looking at?" I do not know when Yuki's customer left, but he is looking down at me with black eyes, intense, speaking directly to me, so I know no one else is in the store.
I do not answer him with words; instead I hold the manga where he can see it. I am worrying my lower lip with my teeth and fighting all sorts of urges that involve taking my clothes off.
Yuki looks at the manga for a long ten count and then sets it on the shelf beneath the counter. He squats down in front of me and I can see a faint flush across his cheeks. I look at him, breath still shallow, and I can feel my own heated flush warming the air around me.
For a moment he doesn't say anything...then he smiles a wicked smile that makes things low in my tummy go all hot and liquid. "They look like us," he says. Then he is kissing me without touching me and squatting behind that counter, he is invisible now, like me.
I lean forward on the stool, into the kiss, trying to convey without words how much I want him right at that moment. We lick and bite and suck each other, only our mouths touching.
When I can retain enough oxygen to speak, I say, voice low and rough even to my own ears, "I want you inside me like he is inside her on page twenty-three."
Yuki laughs against my skin, his lips trailing down my neck. Licking the dried sweat from my earlier run off of my skin, he hums noises, male and animal, against my throat. His arms remain wrapped around his legs, as he squats flat-footed in front of me, eating salt off my body.
Yuki's tongue laves my collarbone, dipping inside the neckline of my top. "Take it off." He tells me, voice gruff, as lost in the moment as I am.
I do not hesitate. No one will see me. I am invisible. My tank top and bra are not even over my head before Yuki's hot mouth is sucking on my stiff little nipples. His teeth worry them, his tongue bathes them.
I am making tiny little kitten noises, little catches, mewls.
