Twins in College

"Sorry, Dad," I said, "but I really need to stay here for Thanksgiving and help out at the video store."

"Okay," he said through the phone. The letdown was clearly evident in his voice. "I understand, although I know your mother will be disappointed. But I'll soften the blow for you somehow. What about your brother?"

"Actually, he was planning to stay as well," I replied. "He's got a major paper due at the end of the semester, so this is a good time for him to focus on research, plus he doesn't really want me here by myself for Thanksgiving Break, which I guess I can understand."

*****

Weeks later, Thanksgiving had finally arrived. Yes, my big brother had research to do during Thanksgiving Break. Yes, he did not really want me to be here on my own while the rest of the family would have otherwise been together. Yes, I had planned on putting in a significant amount of time at the video store, primarily picking up closing shifts.

Yes, we both wanted to have one day entirely to ourselves. In fact, almost everyone in the building was gone, headed to various places across the country to spend Thanksgiving with family or with a friend's family, and since we lived in what was largely a student neighborhood and thus virtually everyone for blocks around was gone, we were very much alone.

That was exactly what we wanted.

I awoke first that morning. No classes, no job, and purposely no homework or research to mar the day. I awoke in my big brother's arms as usual, feeling protected and loved and cherished, with my nude body pressed snugly against his underneath the covers. After a gentle kiss to his cheek, I rested my head upon the pillow and closed my eyes, inhaling my big brother's natural scent.

I thought of the day ahead. The only true plan we had was dinner, plus our parents would almost certainly call sometime during the day. Other than that, we had plenty of DVDs we could watch, we had a small collection of games we could play on the PS2, or we could take a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood.

Or, of course, we could spend the day loving each other, engaged in a sexathon. I had read more than a few erotic tales online of lengthy sexathons, and had fantasized about it for several weeks, but certainly had no expectations that it would happen today, especially not with the likelihood of our parents calling at some point during the day.

My mind drifted. I imagined my forbidden lover cloned multiple times, multiple horny "copies" of him surrounding me, all of them spewing their illicit love upon me while I was on my back across a table, another copy rutting violently into me while my head tipped backward off the opposite edge of the table and another forbidden phallus filled my throat and my hands squeezed and pumped other identical manhoods.

A soft moan brought me back to reality, and I realized that there was indeed a manhood in my hand. I gently stroked my big brother's sex, reveling in the lengthening and the hardening, taking great pride in knowing that I was the cause of his arousal. He still seemed to be asleep, however, which was particularly thrilling to me.

I stroked his head as I stroked his sex, and he whimpered again. He had already almost reached his full length and hardness, but seemed to be lost in that hazy phase between sleep and consciousness. His lips moved, and I thought he was lipping my name, but I was not certain.

My big brother's arms tightened around me, yet he still did not seem to be fully aware of what was happening. I hugged him close with my free arm while I continued to stroke him, my ears finely tuned to his breathing, which was becoming a little more ragged by the minute, as he moved against my hand.

"Vicki!" he suddenly gasped, and my heart nearly burst from the overflowing love at hearing my name in this particular moment. Even though he was "stuck" between sleep and consciousness, I still filled his every thought – could there possibly be any greater evidence of his love for me? I rolled him back to his back, kissing him fiercely as I rolled upon him. Something took over my body, and I began furiously humping his hot sex, my own sex dripping upon him as he groped me, fully awake now as our kisses continued to spiral skyward in intensity.

I swallowed his groans, and I knew that he was about to erupt between us. Lifting myself up on my arms, I quickly found the perfect angle to rub back and forth along the illicit manhood while also pleasuring my own clitoris. My big brother's hands gripped my ass, driving me back and forth with even more power as his face contorted with need.

Underneath the thick layer of covers, we had already generated so much heat that we were both sweating, further enhancing the intimacy of the moment. I was panting unabashedly, trying to hold back my approaching orgasm as I wanted this moment to actually be all about my big brother, not about me.

But I did not need to hold back for very long. With a short primal cry, I felt his fingers burrowing into my lower cheeks roughly as he held me still upon him. Then his voice caught, and he did not breathe for nearly a full second before I heard him wheeze and gasp again. I knew that his white-hot love had been spilled upon his front, even though I could not see it from the position of my body.

Even as he was still shuddering from the aftershocks of his sister-inspired orgasm, I pulled back the covers and slid between his legs. Brushing my hair out of the way, I took the meaty phallus into my mouth, feeling my big brother lurch at the feel of my mouth surrounding the bulbous head. His fingers toyed in my hair as my tongue worked slowly, gently, caressing him as the erection slowly faded. Only then did I finally release him from my hot mouth and start cleaning the spilled contents from his stomach and chest with my own tongue.

In my admittedly-biased opinion, it was a most excellent breakfast.

*****

Our parents called as we made dinner together: a small turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and salad. We ate while watching football, then put away the leftovers and went out for a leisurely stroll through the neighborhood.

Although virtually everyone was clearly gone, I resisted the temptation to link my arm with his. I had read a story online once about a guy who had met a girl in a club and she was taking him back to her apartment, her hands wrapped around his arm in a manner that constantly pressed his arm against her breast. I wanted to do that: I wanted to feel my big brother's touch upon a socially-unacceptable area of my body even as we walked along the empty public streets. But I knew deep down that I could never have that, that as soon as we made such forbidden contact in public, our love would be doomed, our lives changed for the worse as we were "outed."

Each of us with our hands in the pockets of our jackets, we walked along, chatting quietly, sharing jokes, sharing dreams, sharing memories. We did see one other couple as we walked, a pair of senior citizens on the other side of the street, their decades-long love evident in the way they walked, their grip as they held hands, the regularity with which they looked into each other's eyes.

That was denied us, and it always would be denied us – at least, it would be in public. I thought of the repeatedly-shown clip of Tom Cruise jumping up and down on Oprah's couch, proclaiming his love for Katie Holmes. While that had been a most excessive expression of love for someone, I also wanted to be able to show the world that I loved someone. For some reason, it was important to me to be able to publicly proclaim to the world that my big brother was the one who had captured my heart.

For some reason, a thought came to mind. There are a number of "Property of..." t-shirts, typically related to a sports team. For just a second, I tried to imagine myself with a "Property of..." tattoo, perhaps on my arm just below my left shoulder so it would be visible whenever I wore a sleeveless top, indicating the I belong to my big brother. That thought excited me, but I also knew that it, too, was unrealistic, and that notion saddened me.

"You're rather quiet all of a sudden," my forbidden lover said, purposely nudging my arm with his.

Quietly, slowly, I explained my thoughts to him. He never said a word, but it was not necessary. I just sensed that he understood my concerns completely.

Our heartfelt conversation finally reached its natural end as we approached the apartment complex. I looked up at our narrow balcony, thinking of all the memories we had already created within our apartment. While we were not free to share our love publicly, within that apartment, we created the world and its parameters, only allowing outside concerns to penetrate our world whenever we turned on the TV or spoke by phone with family or friends.

When we finally stepped back into our world and closed the door to seal away the outside concerns, my previous distress began to melt away. Yet before I could even unzip my jacket, my big brother stood before me, hugging me tightly, and that perpetuated the melting process.

"Thank you," I whispered simply, clutching him fiercely. "Thank you, big brother."

Thanksgiving is a time to think about and be thankful for all the good things that have happened in our lives. What I was most thankful for was that hug. That one simple act may have been something "strange" or "unusual" for which one should be thankful, but the history behind that hug was what made such a simple act so significant in my life.

That night, with tall pillar candles burning throughout the living room and soft, slow jazz music playing on the radio, my big brother and I spent a long time giving thanks to each other, but without words. We traded lengthy oily massages and alternated with short interludes of lovemaking designed to slowly arouse each other before returning to the massages. And when we finally reached a blissful, simultaneous climax sometime around midnight, I was so touched by the intimacy of my big brother's love and understanding and admiration and respect that I cried openly, simply whispering "Thank you" over and over again as he kissed away my tears of joy and love.