Twins in College

"What do you think of her?"

My eyes followed the nod of my big brother's head and spotted the out-of-place person in question: a young jogger, perhaps twenty years old at the most, wearing rather short red shorts and a pink t-shirt which had been raggedly sliced off below the breasts so that her taut stomach and lower back were plainly visible. Her long swaying hair was pulled back in a ponytail which sprouted through the hole at the back of her Oakland A's baseball cap. Her breasts were about the same size as mine, providing a nice visual enticement to watch her jog toward and ultimately past us.

"So, what do you think of her?"

This was the latest game between me and my Master: commenting on the various young women we saw. We sat at a table by the main window of a Starbucks in San Francisco's financial district, sipping our coffees and watching the people passing by.

"She's a bit tall," I noted. "It would probably be easier for you to fuck her standing up than it is to fuck me while standing."

We both grinned at my comment. If anyone sitting near us was listening, they did not react to what I had just said... or to the fact that my Master and I clearly appear to be related by blood. But what was most important is that I could make such a comment without fear that my loving Master actually would fuck another girl. I had no qualms with him admiring other girls, so long as he continued to follow the "look but don't touch" concept.

...and I knew he would, which is why, between the support post for the table and the window itself, I brushed my ankle against his. He smiled with his eyes as he took another sip of his espresso.

*****

As we rode BART back to Berkeley, despite all the people we had seen that day, that one particular jogger remained fixed in my mind. I remembered the sculpted leg muscles, the bluish-green eyes darting about to ensure she was not about to run into anyone, the nipples discernable despite her shirt and bra, the reddish-orange coloring at the end of her bouncing jet-black ponytail, the pale lips parted to facilitate her breathing.

I wanted to see her again - not in my mind, but in the flesh. I wanted to see her completely naked, to compare myself to her, essentially to ensure that I was "better" than her, to assure myself that my big brother and Master would never leave me.

...not that he was likely to leave me, in actuality, but somehow, there was something about her which made me a little cautious, a little nervous, a little jealous, but I could not quite place my finger on it.

No one was sitting near us, so when I felt my Master take my hand in his, I did not flinch or withdraw. I welcomed his gentle gesture, especially at that moment, especially given the concerns floating around in my head. Then as he guided my hand over high thigh and to the front of his jeans, I smiled to myself, looking at the growing indentation I was caressing with his guidance.

All too soon, our stop was announced, and I tried to retract my hand, but he held it against the bulge for a few seconds before releasing me. It was subtle, but it was a silent warning nonetheless: "Do not forget your place, slave. I did not tell you to stop." I nodded meekly, my eyes downcast, my expression solemn.

As we stepped off the subterranean train, I thought again of the jogger, but I also thought of what had just taken place. I tried to imagine the jogger acquiescing to my Master's whims, tried to imagine her gladly suffering pain for his enjoyment or accepting humiliation in the hopes of receiving carnal pleasure afterward, but I could not. There was simply something about her, something intangible, which told me that she would not willingly submit like that - not to him, not to anyone.

On the other hand, I had one very important advantage over her: blood. Throughout my dating career, I had been subconsciously looking for someone just like my big brother, and he had simultaneously been subconsciously looking for someone just like me. Once we both realized that the person we each wanted lived under the same roof and breathed the same air, our lives became even more heavily intertwined than for the typical set of twins.

I could not imagine ever "going back" to a more traditional, socially-acceptable relationship. And as my big brother and Master ascended the stairs to street level, I could not envision him ever "going back," either.

My Master might look elsewhere on occasion, but he would only ever touch me.