10 comments/ 320813 views/ 34 favorites Humilated by My Twin Sister By: ted_marx38 Just after our eighteenth birthdays, in our senior years at high school, my twin sister Jen and I entered a period of sexual awkwardness, awkward at least for me. Unlike most twins we'd always gotten along quite well for brothers and sisters and even at this troubling age of rampant physical and emotional turmoil, things seemed to be working out quite well. She was blue-eyed with long, straight blonde hair that reached to the middle of her back, just a bit of gentle curl at the sides, very attractive, and as I'd come to notice lately, filling out quite nicely. I'd been getting enough attention from girls at school to suggest that I wasn't so bad myself. Not that it made much difference – we had a very repressive upbringing, were both very much still virgins and had yet to have a romance of any sort, despite our ages. Fundamentalist parenting had really taken a toll. Jenny and I had never bathed together, played doctor, show 'n tell or anything like that. We were taught early on that our bodies were our castle and that no one else, even or perhaps especially each other, was permitted access of any sort. As Jenny developed and my hormones raged, however, this became problematic for me. It all erupted and peaked in one brief episode that I'll describe in this story. As you'll see, Jen put the problem to a concrete end. With our bedrooms right across the hall from one another, with us living in the same house and sharing a Jack 'n Jill bathroom, I had recently had a few peeks at her cleavage, her underwear, her in a bath towel, and this became progressively more stimulating. Surely she felt my stare at times, but Jen had a shy streak and never seemed comfortable verbally expressing her anger at me, so she seemingly ignored my peering. In any event, I found myself thinking of her when I masturbated, desperately wanting her to be a part of it, wondering what she looked like without clothes. Nasty stuff in light of my upbringing, though the guilt abated with each solo session. A few seemingly trivial episodes in our lives together made these feelings all the more powerful for me. One was a lengthy embrace that she initiated the night I'd won the district wrestling title in my weight class. Just before I closed my bedroom door to call it an evening, she yelled, "Ben, come in here for a second." I walked into her room and she stood up from her bed, still wearing her red cheerleader sweater and accompanying short pleated skirt. She stood right before me, and as she was only an inch or so shorter of me, we were eye-to-eye. Without saying a word she draped her arms around me and gave me a firm hug, pressing her breasts into my chest. Quietly she whispered in my ear "So proud of you", and we held each other for a few moments. I could hear and feel her rapid breathing in my ear, and I liked that. I liked the way she felt there, me holding her body, her soft hair against my chin, smelling the fragrance of her shampoo, my fingers against her bra strap; I started to become erect. When we let go, her face was about as red as her sweater, and so was mine. I turned quickly so she wouldn't see the bulge and then within a few minutes, I took care of myself under the sheets. Immediately I felt a sense of shame, an icky feeling about touching her in any manner. Conditioning, I guess, the Christian stuff. Another time we were at some friends and one of them popped a pornographic movie in the DVD. It showed a guy getting a hand job, a good one, and he blew all over the naked giver's clothes. When Jenny and I walked home, she offered up, "Did you believe that?" "No", I said. "I wasn't expecting that." "Me either", she said. "But hey, it was kinda neat, don't you think? I mean, the way she told the guy she wouldn't jack him off unless he stared into her eyes the whole time so she could see his reaction when he shot his load?" "Yeah," I said. I'd seen these many times before but wasn't sure if she knew that. I was a bit surprised at her reaction and the words she used, didn't know if this was new stuff to her. So I merely said, "You're right, it was kinda neat." Between the hug and the movie discussion, I felt myself overpowered with a growing intensity of physical pressure regarding Jen. The touching part still felt wrong, not to mention impractical, and so the intensity manifested itself in an urge to see. This is where the aforementioned Jack 'n Jill bathroom came in handy. It was designed such that we could both enter from our rooms as it had two doors. We lived in an older house and in the process of the structure settling over the years, Jen's bathroom door frame had developed a small crack next to the wall. The crack was only large enough to fit perhaps two credit cards in, as well as some light. And as luck would have it, with my eye pressed to the crack, there was indeed light – a visual gateway directly to Jen's dresser. I couldn't see much else of the room but this literal staging area where, as I discovered, she chose to dress and undress, was all there before me if I chose to accept it. I'd discovered this many years ago and hadn't even thought of acting on it. But the night of the movie discussion, under my covers where I masturbated, I realized the opportunity before me and also realized I could no longer resist. I fought the urge for several days but soon it overpowered me. So I looked. The first time was in the evening when I knew she'd be changing for bed. She liked to shower and wash her hair at night before bed, and as soon as she finished with the hairdryer and closed her bathroom door to her room, I rushed quietly into the bathroom through my door, leaving the light off. I figured she would have been able to see the bathroom light through the crack and would have seen my head blocking part of the crack. I stood by her door, stared at the crack, and held my face up to it. My heart was pounding and I felt faint, but I looked, and I saw. I saw her standing draped only in a towel, brushing her hair. She let the towel slip off of her and I saw her beautiful ass, absolutely perfect. My knees started to buckle. She then turned and I saw her front, all of it. Her firm breasts, nipples erect, just five feet or so away. Her pubic hair was blond and thin and I could see the lips to her vagina. I'd seen all this on porno movies and such but never live, and here it was, beautiful, in person, my sister. Worried that she'd hear me or worse, I quietly slipped back to my room. I did this each night for five days and became more brazen with each experience, staying longer, taking more chances by doing so. I knew it was always possible that she could unexpectedly re-enter the bathroom and bust me but as it hadn't happened and there wasn't even a close call, I became careless. I figured my backup excuse IF it happened would hold anyway – that I had to pee, figured she might be in bed, and therefore had left the light out because if I'd turned it on, the light under her door might be disturbing. Seemed plausible but on the sixth night it all fell apart. Jen did the towel thing in front of the dresser as usual this night, but this time she would not, absolutely WOULD NOT drop the towel. This went on for about fifteen minutes and with the energy I was expending on my pulsating heart and rapid breathing, I grew tired of standing, and sank to one knee while keeping my eye firmly to the crack. I'd gotten to where I looked at this endeavor as an investment and damn it if I'd cash in before getting the dividend. And like that, quicker than I ever expected, she turned her back to the dresser, walked straight to the bathroom door and opened it, hitting me in shoulder. "Ouch!" I yelled in surprise, falling backward and ending up seated on my butt. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, switching on the light. "What were you doing?" I was speechless. The having-to-pee story suddenly seemed utterly ridiculous and my heart was beating so fast that I didn't even bother speaking as I would have been stammering at best. "Why did you have the light off?" she asked, still innocently, an inquisitive grin on her face. I looked up at her as she seemed to now tower over me, clutching her bath towel tightly. Looking away, I felt myself inexplicably glancing at that crack and the light from her room streaming through it, now looking like a supernova. She saw my glance and leaned over me and put her face to the crack, and saw exactly the stage I'd been viewing. She stepped back and now it was her turn at breathlessness, and when I glanced at her she had a look of hurt and rage. "That crack's been there for years," she said, glaring at me and then looking at her feet. "Yeah, I know," I said, looking at the floor. I was hoping this opening volley and less-than-aggressive pose from her was a sign that her longstanding shyness about expressing anger might rule the moment. "So is this what I think it is, Ben?" she asked softly. I said nothing and sat silent for a long moment, which only seemed to inflame her, making her eyes glow and her stance become more and more rigid. "This is some private fucking showroom for you, isn't it?" she said finally. "No Jen, it's not that at all." I knew she was furious because she almost never swore. "Well then what the hell is it? I suppose you've shared your peeping experiences with everyone?" She was so angry that her voice quivered and cracked. "No, absolutely not. I'd never do anything like that." She stood silently for a minute, as if not really sure what to do. "Good night then," she said. "We'll have to talk more about this tomorrow after school, before Mom and Dad come home." The next morning and throughout the day at school, Jen wouldn't look at me. I generally avoided eye contact myself and on the few occasions where our eyes met, she looked away and blushed –- not of embarrassment but disgust. Late in the day at school, though, our eyes met and she had a bit of a gleam about her, almost a smirk. As usual, she sat with her friends, and me with mine on the bus, and we got off the bus at our stop in front of the house together. I didn't say a word as we went inside and neither did she, and when she went upstairs to her room and closed the door, I was hoping she'd decided to let the whole thing from the night before go. I was wrong. Quietly I went up to my room and as I took my sweater off, she opened her door and said quietly, "Ben, come over here please." She'd never said "please" like that. I knew this wasn't good. Obediently, I stepped into her room, and she closed the door behind me. "Sit on the bed," she said, and I obeyed, and then she sat down next to me. She was wearing that same cheerleading sweater and pleated skirt from the night when she'd given me the hug. She ran her hand through her long blonde hair as if contemplating what to say and then launched into it. "You really humiliated me last night," she said. Her voice was steady, not angry or quivering like the night before. "I didn't see anything," I said. "But let's face it, last night was one of many. You've seen me naked, haven't you, many times?" "No, I haven't." "Don't lie to me Ben. I'm not stupid and you'll just make this worse." I knew she had me. So I simply nodded "Yes". "Well, at least you're honest. So, maybe you ought to see what it feels like to be humiliated." My heart started racing as the possibilities of what she had in mind exploded in my head. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well, would you like me to tell your friends, my friends, Mom and Dad, everyone, that you're a pervert who spies on his sister when she's nude? How about if I do that and then you'll be the one feeling humiliated and then we can compare notes." "Jesus Jen, please don't do that." "Are you sure?" she asked. "Yes Jen, I'm sure, and I'll never, ever do anything like this again." My voice was shaking and I was dead serious – I never wanted any part of something like this again. "Okay then, I won't." "Thanks Jen. Really, I mean that." "There's still one problem though," she said, staring deeply into my eyes. "I'm still humiliated and you aren't, and that's not fair, is it?" I was speechless. "What are we going to do about that, Ben?" I had no idea what to do or say so I sat silently, trembling a bit, and she simply stared at me without saying a word. Then she got up, grabbed some extra pillows out of her closet and propped them up against the headrest of the bed. "Here," she directed, grasping me by the shoulders, "Sit back against these, in the middle of the bed." I did as she ordered, afraid and literally unable to speak. "Scoot down now so you're sort of lying down and sitting up all at once. There, now put your hands under your back," she said, grabbing me by the wrists and guiding my hands beneath the small of my back. I didn't like that feeling at all and immediately pulled them up in protest. "Why, what's this, I don't get this." I said. "Do you want me to tell everyone what you've been doing?" she asked. "Is that the way you'd like to be humiliated?" "No." "Okay then, put your hands back where I said and don't pull them out from behind you again. Whatever you do, don't do that because you'll just make this worse." "Make WHAT worse?" I asked. I was so scared and freaked out that I couldn't keep quiet any longer. "Just do it." I looked at her in disbelief and then sighed, reluctantly doing as she said. I felt very vulnerable and powerless in this pose. She scooted over next to me, sitting to my right side, stretching her feet out on the bed so that her legs were beside me, her thighs brushing my side. Reminding me to keep my hands where they were, she then reached for my belt. Immediately I grabbed her hands, and she pinched them until her nails dug into my skin and said very firmly, "DON'T. Put them back." I put them back. She then unbuckled my belt and I can't describe the feeling of weakness I felt as I watched my beautiful blonde twin sister, just inches away from me, undoing my belt as I held my hands behind my back. "Jen," I said weakly, "please don't do this." She looked at me blankly and said, "I'm evening up the score. You asked for it. Now keep your hands where they are, like I said." With that she went for the trouser snap, undid it and then slowly pulled down my zipper. Whatever feelings I'd had of being powerless and weak before her a second ago now increased tenfold. "Raise up a little" she ordered, slapping me lightly on the hip. Slowly she worked my trousers down, all the way to my ankles, her blonde hair brushing against my thighs at one point. She then reached for the elastic around my underwear and I again grabbed her hands without thinking. She glared at me in silence and I sheepishly put them back where they belonged. She put her fingers under the elastic and rapidly pulled my briefs down, exposing my penis, pulled them down to my ankles and then sat back staring. At this point, with the enormity of being exposed in the most thorough way, the violation of that peeling development of nakedness having just unfolded so quickly, my heart was pounding. I felt kind of sick, and I could no longer look at her. I stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about anything. All the same, the concept of her being there, staring at me, at it, her beautiful body just inches away, that wonderful hair, her thighs against me, started to make me become slightly erect, which I didn't want but couldn't fight. I did not want to have her see me with an erection. I sat silent for what seemed like several minutes as she stared at my nakedness. Finally I asked, breathlessly, "Are we even yet?" "I'll tell you when we're even." She reached over and placed her hand on my inner thigh, to which I immediately responded by grabbing her hand and sitting up. "Look, Jen, enough's enough" I said, sitting up as if to cover myself with my own torso, suddenly feeling strong and righteous. "This can't happen. I didn't touch you and now you've seen me too, I'm humiliated, so let's forget this." She would have none of it and grabbed both my hands firmly, pressing her face right up against mine. "Yeah, you didn't touch me," she said, in a husky whisper. "But I didn't sneak around on YOU. And who knows how many times you saw me? This is but once. Sit back now. And put your hands back where I said. Keep them there this time." I stared at her in defiant silence but she was unyielding and it was clear who was in charge. "Now, Ben!" she said softly. I did as she said but still protested, firing off rambling queries and arguing with abandon. "Jenny, please, the touching part just feels wrong to me and always has. Please don't do this to me. I don't know what you're thinking, what ARE you planning, you have to stop?" It didn't matter to her apparently. Without speaking, let alone answering, she put her hand back on my inner thigh and started slowly massaging it, tediously working her way up it while keeping her other hand flat against my belly, as if to intercept any protest on my part. She massaged my thigh thoroughly, methodically, staring at my thigh and my erection for the most part and then also looking at me with those piercing blue eyes of hers. I was fully sitting up now and she was leaning more over me such that our faces were level with each other, and I could hear her rapid breathing, smell her hair and feel her hot breath on my naked crotch, my shoulder touching hers as she leaned over and into me. It felt like she was raping me even though she was only rubbing my thigh. The powerless feeling of being at her mercy was beyond anything I'd ever experienced and despite my erection – merely a physical function of it all -- I wasn't liking this, didn't like not knowing how far she was going or what she had in mind, and wanted it to stop. But it didn't. The skin on my scrotum had grown tight with my erection and when she reached my sack and cupped it, I jerked in reaction and grabbed her hands, pulling them both away, shivering. "Please Jen" I begged. "This could really mess me up, please, will you please let it go and stop all this now." "No, I won't," she said calmly, but with a slight quiver in HER voice this time. "So, put your hands back like I've been telling you." She grabbed my wrists again and I could feel the slight moisture in her palms, apparently brought on by her own excitement. She proceeded to cup my balls in her warm, somewhat moist right hand and I twisted in a convulsive jerking motion, a chill overpowering me such that I shook all over, emitting an audible moan for the first time. She then let go of my belly with her left hand and placed it around my scrotum, and then slid the fingers of her right hand around the base of my shaft and slowly and firmly with her right palm began working her way up the base of my shaft. I shook even more and said "JESUS!" through my teeth. She stopped there, firmly in control of my penis with both hands, and looked into my eyes, at me, through me, and then back to my penis, and sat still for a moment. Then she continued up with her hand, her moist, warm palm enveloping the most sensitive parts of my shaft, generally going up but also pumping up and down a little, moving ever so close to the head, and finally, encasing the head with her entire right hand and eliciting from me another more thorough round of shakes and chills, and an indescribable full-body eruption of sensation that caused me to shiver and lean helplessly against her shoulder almost in tears crying "Stop Jen! Just stop please!" as she now worked up and down ever so slowly but thoroughly, still holding me at the base with her other hand. I was helplessly resting my face on her shoulder, pushing her away with my chin, trying to make her stop, feeling shameful, dominated, humiliated and horrified. I pulled my hands out from behind my back and wrapped them around her, hugging her as if pitifully asking for mercy. Humilated by My Twin Sister Ch. 02 (This is Part 2. It's best to read Part I first, but not critical.) Many months, almost a year, had passed since Jen whispered "Now we're even" in my ear. This had come immediately after she forced me to submit to her stroking me to orgasm one afternoon, as her revenge for catching me spying on her naked body through a crack in her bedroom doorframe. We were now in our first year in college -- different schools -- and home for Thanksgiving. It was our first face-to-face encounter since the end of the summer, and for the first time we discussed what happened, and as you'll see, even MORE happened between us when we subsequently saw each other a second time over Christmas. But let me first describe how this sexual humiliation incident that afternoon several months before had affected me as well as our sibling relationship. I'd gone to bed that night angry and confused, and the encounter -– if that's the word -- proceeded to bother me throughout the year. Part of me now truly hated her. She'd always been the "preferred" twin, the star, the can-do-no-wrong one. To the contrary, despite my athletic prowess, I was – and it's difficult to admit this – considered somewhat of an insecure person of relatively nonsubstantial magnitude, I guess. Honestly that's why she was able to blackmail me so efficiently that day, just an extension of her perceived overall superiority over me, carried out to perfection despite her own obvious insecurities that had reared their head at times. Like the way she'd blushed the night she'd hugged me after my championship wrestling victory some time prior. As an outcropping of bitterness over how she'd parlayed this supremacy into such a gross violation of me, I couldn't much look at her any longer and at times truly disliked every aspect of her existence. But at night I'd often stay awake until two AM fantasizing over the incident and dreaming of having it occur all over again while masturbating, the smell of her, the touch of her, her hair, her everything. I never did look through that crack in the door frame again, though; in fact, I couldn't even look AT it. My conversations with Jen over the past months had been minimal, only touching on truly functional stuff. "When will you be home? I guess I can pick you up." Stuff like that. This was an abrupt departure from the dialog we'd previously enjoyed. About six weeks after the incident she'd confronted me about this. We were in the kitchen alone before school eating our cereal, our parents had both already left for work, and my responses to Jen's attempts at conversation had been one syllable at most. I guess she'd finally had enough. "Okay," she said, letting her spoon drop to her bowl with a loud clank. "Out with it." "Out with what?" "I'm sick of you cold-shouldering me and never looking at me when you speak. What's the deal?" I sat stunned for a moment and then felt the rage build from within me. "What's the deal?" I asked, almost trembling, a true pent-up release building. "Um, gee, Jen, do you remember anything odd happening lately between us?" She looked at me blankly, apparently seeing my rage, and she blushed, a bit shocked, then looked down saying nothing, just shaking her head. Finally she said softly, looking down at her cereal bowl, "You asked for it." This did it for me. "FUCK YOU!" I screamed as I jumped up from my chair. "You're a incredibly manipulative self-centered fucking whore and you know it!" After that, we lived in a barely functional cohabitation mode at best for the rest of the schoolyear and summer, barely speaking at all. Despite my conviction that she was a mostly cold-hearted and evil person, however, she on occasion showed evidence of truly feeling bad for how much she had damaged me. Subtle stuff – like doing my laundry for me and leaving a note on the folded pile saying "Love Jen". Or a pat on my shoulder accompanied by a shy, caring smile for no apparent reason. That shy smile I'll characterize as part of her "caring look". She'd long had this way of looking at me that meant that she cared about me. I can't really describe it better than that, but the look was one of her big blue eyes framed by an adoring, compassionate type of smile that warmed me greatly. Then there was the birthday card, that she placed on my pillow, in which she wrote "Despite our awkward moments, I'll always care about you. Truly sorry, it was my mistake. Love Jen." All this touched me but not quite enough, and I never even acknowledged any of it, never saying a word about even the card. Being twins we had the same birthday of course, and I never had even bothered getting her a card, let alone writing anything equally personal in it. In the interim, I'd done some digging with mutual friends and found out a few things about Jen. Turns out she had been no virgin back on the pivotal night, despite my assumption, which explained why she knew how to stroke me so expertly. She'd done this and everything else with a guy named "Nathan" who I'd best describe as a short-term fuck buddy of hers, a guy who'd apparently offered a ready escape from the strict Christian upbringing that had been forced upon both of us from birth. She and Nathan never got emotionally intimate from what I heard and for whatever reason, their arrangement had only lasted a few months. Unlike with Jen, that same Christian upbringing to this day left me quite the virgin and truly awkward around girls. I could do the prom-type dating thing but despite –- or maybe partly because of -- my lone real erotic episode at Jen's hand, the act of progressing toward anything sexual on these dates just wasn't going to happen for me. So yes, I went to college as a virgin and, sad to say, came home for Thanksgiving in November STILL a virgin. College life had introduced me to bars and booze and I was loosening up around girls but still, nothing had ever happened in terms of a girlfriend or having sex. Jen came home from college for the first time that weekend as well. Aside from the daytime required family things, both of us stayed out separately 'til all hours with our respective friends, catching up on new stories and reliving the old. On the Saturday, as the visit home neared an end for both of us, we'd both ended up in the house at a decent hour – one AM or so – our parents in bed. I crept up the stairs quietly and noticed the light on in Jen's room, and ducked into mine without saying anything. I sat on my bed with my back to me door and jumped when I heard Jen say softly "So, are you drunk again tonight?" "Not really" I said, keeping my back to her. "Just a couple tonight, need to sober up a bit." I felt her softly step over and sit on my bed next to me. "Me too", she said. A moment or so of silence ensued and finally she said "Ben, I really miss you." "Just stop it." "I put it in your birthday card. It was a mistake and what happened was my fault. I'm sorry." I didn't answer but let out a huge sigh. I really didn't want to have this conversation but knew I couldn't avoid it forever. Finally I turned toward her, looked directly in her eyes and asked, "Why'd you do it then?" "I don't know, it was just fucked up, just a mess back then." "Yeah, you're right, it WAS fucked up. A mess. Yep, a mess, that's a good way to put it." She looked down and said nothing. Her blond hair looked delightful as it flowed down along her white sweater, and as she sat across from me on my bed, I couldn't fight the urge to look her up and down and all over, despite my long-standing anger. "You don't really even talk to me, Ben." "No," I said, "you're right. I don't." Then I looked to her face and saw that it was now covered in tears, and she returned my gaze for a mere second -- the caring look -- but she then looked down again, sobbing out loud. Finally she got up without saying a word, closed my door behind her and then shut hers. With that, I took off my clothes and crawled into my bed, grabbed Sports Illustrated and prepared to read myself to sleep. I took this little display as indicative of final apologetic desparation on her part, maybe a place from where we could move forward, but for now, finally, I claimed a victory for myself and nothing more. My passive-aggressiveness had worn her down and made her very sad and I felt damn good about that. So the next day, the final one of our visit home, I figured the message was clear, the retribution notable, and I therefore returned to being the nice guy after we finished with the morning church services. We talked, really talked, choppy and awkward at first but more conversational as the day went on. The circumstances helped as Sunday afternoon was always God Day in our family, as weird family and even stranger family friends gathered for a day of worship at someone's house, and since this time it was our family's turn to host, Jen and I escaped to her room and found comfort in one another's conversation and company, just like old times. By the end of the afternoon it was almost as if nothing had happened. We talked about so many things and she even mentioned her brief sexual relationship with Nathan. "You probably know about Nathan and me." "Oh, let's just say I heard a few things." "That was a mess, like a lot of things in my life I guess", she said. And that was it. We of course didn't discuss our little episode at all that afternoon, this was a friendly chat and the nasty stuff didn't belong. We got on well that afternoon. So then off we went after that, back to our respective colleges, and over the next few weeks before Christmas break we exchanged a few emails and even talked on the phone once, rekindling that brother-sister type relationship we'd long enjoyed. And we ended up back home for Christmas break and did the same thing all over again, out with friends, boozing it up, this time our social circles intertwining a bit more readily. Again toward the end of the break we ended up at home one night, our parents in bed, just the two of us alone, sitting on my bed, me a little buzzed but not too much as the festivities were really winding down now and the return to school and studies loomed ahead. Jen was a bit more buzzed, drunk I'd say; she'd been doing some sort of shot contest with her friends while I'd merely had a few beers. She wasn't terribly drunken, just kind of loose, and we thus were able to talk and laugh and discuss so much, but not the episode that had caused the lengthy emotional detachment from one another. "I'm glad we're back together like this, really talking again," she said at one point. "Me too, Jenny," I said, smiling broadly. She liked that, I could tell. She blushed a bit, looking away, and I took the opportunity to look her over and I liked what I saw. She was sitting right there before me, and her blond hair again flowed nicely over a very tight pink sweater that highlighted her medium-sized breasts, the sweater covering the top of her red miniskirt, her legs crossed, feet bare. I gazed back up at her and she was staring at me with those piercing blue eyes and all I could think was, "I'm so BUSTED!" "So Ben," she said, "have you ever been laid?" "What?" I said, stunned. "Don't worry," she laughed, "I'm just curious." "Well, no, now that you ask," I said. "You'd be surprised at how many people are virgins in their freshman year," she said, "I read some study about it in class the other day." "Hmm," I said. "So there are other poor lonely bastards like me out there afterall." She laughed but didn't say anything for a moment. Finally she said, "We've never really, really talked about what happened between us." I couldn't believe this. "No," I said, "we haven't. Maybe we shouldn't. You were the one who said we would never discuss it, you know." "Do you ever think about it?" "You told me NOT to think about it." She laughed. "Do you?" "Yeah, I do. How could I not? You made me squirt all over your hand for Christ sake." She smiled at first but then looked away, frowning. "Let me guess," I said, "you probably NEVER think about it, do you?" "Yeah. I do too." We sat silently for a moment and then our eyes met and she had a bit of twinkle. Finally she said, "This is really weird I guess, but did you ever wonder why I knew how to do it so well?" "Jesus, Jen, do we really have to talk about this?" "Do you ever wonder though? C'mon, I'm just curious," she said playfully. "Yeah, I used to," I said, "but then I heard about you and Nathan and sorta figured it out." "It's actually more than you might expect," she said. "Nathan used to be um, a little quick to come you see –" "Jen, I really don't need to hear about this kinda stuff." "No really, just listen to me. So I'd heard that if you get a guy right up to where he's going to bust and then back off, and make him sit still until he's almost limp, he'll last forever when you then get down to really doing it." She was laughing as she talked, spitting the words out between chuckles. "And then it's better for both of you!" "Jen," I said, laughing politely but feeling icky, "why in the hell are you telling me this crap?" "So you'll know why I knew how to do that," she said. "See, I used to do that with my hand with him and then he'd get right about to come so I'd stop and we'd sit there until he calmed down, and MAN did he ever hate that part of it, but then when we –" "Okay, okay I get it. Good Jesus." It appeared the shots had really gotten to her. "Well Christ don't get mad! I just thought you might be curious." We sat in awkward silence, and I thought about the couple of times I'd been interrupted while in the middle of whacking off, and how hard it was to finish the job upon resumption, and therefore realized how right this theory of hers actually was. And then she started rambling again. "That reminds me, there's this game called 'Thirty', ever heard of it?" "No, Jen", I said, "never heard of some game called 'Thirty'. What the hell is it?" "Well the guy and the girl make this bet you might say. If she can make him come in thirty strokes, she wins. If she can't, she loses and he gets to screw her!" "Charming", I said. "Yeah, it's cool, I've never played it but I saw it in some movie. The girl does everything to make him come, like counting slowly in his ear like this – " she leaned toward me and whispered softly in my ear, "seven, eight, nine" and then backed away and continued on without stopping, "Real sexy like, like that." "Jen," I said laughing, "you're so bad!" "Well, what are you talking about? You like hearing about this stuff too, I know you do!" I smiled at her and we held a long gaze at each other, and then she laughed, looking a bit embarrassed. "What?" I asked. "Nothing" she said, laughing and blushing. "Nothing my ass, what's so flipping funny?" She didn't answer at first and then said, "Do you really want me to ask you?" "Ask me what?" "Okay," she said, "you asked for it." She hesitated for a moment and then said, "So that night, when I made you come, I don't even think you made it to fifteen!" I didn't even know how to respond and just sat there, a bit shocked. "You told me to ask," she said. "Yeah, I suppose I did tell you to ask." "So did you? Did you make it to fifteen?" "Christ, I don't know, I wasn't counting," I said. "Neither was I." We sat silently and then she smirked again and said, "You have to admit that you kinda liked it, though." "Well, now, just look at the time," I said, "morning will come before we know it." "I mean, I know it made you mad and was unfair and all." "Yeah, mad, unfair . . . that's a good way to put it." "A little bit, kinda a little bit?" "How many shots did you have tonight?" "Kinda, sorta, maybe just a wee wee little bit?" "Look Jen!" I said, a bit pissed, "enough with the goo-goo-gah-gah baby crap. What happened that night really messed with me and I don't feel like kidding around about it." She stopped smiling. "I know," she said. "Sorry it troubles you so much. I wish I could make it up to you but I guess I can't." "Yeah, whatever," I said. "Let's just forget it." "Okay," she said. "I guess I'll never know then." "Know what?" I asked. She waited a second and then said, "I'll guess I'll never know if you truly hated every minute of it or if at some point you were sort of enjoying it. It seemed like maybe you did toward the end?" "Okay," I said finally, "I did. Toward the end. It's a physiological thing, though, so don't be too proud of yourself. Are you happy now?" With that she put her arms around me and gave me a hug and whispered, "Okay, thanks. I feel better now knowing that you sort of maybe kinda liked it a little wee wee bit. Because I know overall it was hurtful." "It's okay." I answered. I liked the way she felt as she hugged me like that, so I didn't let go. "Good," she said, and we sat silently for a bit, still embracing each other. Her body felt absolutely stunning next to mine and I had no plans to let go so long as she didn't flinch. "Was it hurtful only because I pretty much forced you?" she asked, still embracing me. "What do you mean?" "I mean, what if it was just me stroking you 'til you came, without all the humiliation and getting back at you and stuff." "What about it?" "Would it have been enjoyable or would it have still bothered you?" "Enjoyable I suppose." She gave me a tighter hug, and I felt the beginnings of a huge erection as I rubbed up and down her back, feeling her bra strap through her sweater. "Ben?" she whispered. "Yeah?" "Want me to do it again?" I didn't answer. Couldn't believe it, just sat there embracing her. "I'm serious," she said softly, "no screwing around, none of the nonsense. Just me giving you something to enjoy, a gift, maybe make things even more even." "Jen," I said, finally pushing her away, "I'm not falling for this so quit screwing with me." She looked at me with a deep stare and said flatly, "I'm not screwing with you." She had the caring look and I knew what that meant. She wasn't messing around, because she'd never done me wrong, ever, when she wore had that look, even when we were just little kids. And I therefore shook all over. "You're serious?" She clutched me again and held me even tighter, and whispered in my ear, "Yep, I'm serious. This one's just for you." "Why would you do that?" She whispered very quietly, "Because maybe you might like it, a lot, if it was just for you this time, no messing around or humiliation or anything. You need to tell me if you want me to." I held her in silence, trembling so much she could surely feel it, and whispered softly, "Okay." With that she sat up and helped me remove my shirt, and then reached down and undid the snap on my pants. "Here," she said, "help me." I shook even more forcibly but the warmth of her body next to me helped soothe my chill. Any last-remaining ill feelings dissolved in a vast wave of untamed lust for her and the thought of her touch happening again, and I reached down and yanked my jeans to my knees, and she and I both peeled down my underwear. She then removed both my jeans and my underwear completely and I sat there naked as she snuggled up next to me, putting her face right by my now-erect penis. Then, Jenny reached down and started rubbing my thigh and I shook with incredible chills of anticipation. She looked up at me and smiled and whispered "I'll count so we know if you get all the way to fifteen or beyond this time." Her hand worked its way to my scrotum, and she cupped my balls and held them for a second, smiling up at me and taking in my obvious pleasure with that warm caring smile of hers, and then she quickly surrounded my penis with her palm and fingers. Humilated by My Twin Sister Ch. 02 Just like last time only earlier, she swished a mouthful of spit around and then let it loose on her hand and my penis, looked up at me, still smiling, and gave me a first firm, warm wet stroke. It felt incredibly good, powerful, overwhelmingly wonderful. The power of her hand reaching out with this instense erotic pleasure while she sat there in her full presence and beauty, inches away, blew my mind. "One," she whispered. She continued, counting each stroke, slow, wet, warm, causing me to shake, to thrust up toward her, and by five I was feeling an orgasm already building. She stopped and placed her face by my penis and I felt the incredibly unimaginable sensation of my head going into her mouth, and watched in pure esctasy as she went up and down on it four times, making it very wet, a type of pleasure like never before, and then she brought her face back to my ear and started stroking with her hand again, counting "Six," then "seven, eight, nine" and I was clutching her with both hands, imagining myself driving up into her, about to come all over her hand so soon at any second and she said "ten" softly as she pumped her hand once more and I could feel myself about to let go and she— Stopped. She let go as I writhed in the agony of almost-fulfilled pleasure, poking upward as much as possible with my erection and thrusting toward her, and she held my shoulders strongly and asserted, "Ben, just lay there for a moment, just work with me on this," and she moved her body sideways and draped herself over the upper part of me, holding me down with her weight as I trembled, trying desperately to rub my penis on her, on any part of her, but it was impossible because of how she'd positioned herself across me, and I let out a huge frustrated sigh and somehow muttered in despair, "Why? Why would you stop like that?" "Just trust me" she said, whispering in my ear. "Lay there now, and quit trying to rub and hump at me, just lay here and listen to me." "You're screwing me over again," I said as I felt the disappointing recovery from the verge of nearly coming take over, though my penis still felt enormous and hard. I was almost in tears as frustration and disappointment started to overcome me. "I'm not messing with you, just trust me," she said softly, her face pressed against my cheek, her blond hair in my eyes and all over my face. I lay in silence, enjoying her warmth despite being stunned and incredulous about this, perhaps a bit fearful. "What do you want to do tomorrow?" she asked, still whispering in my ear. "Maybe we should go somewhere together. Your choice." "What?" "You weren't going to make it to fifteen I don't think. I had to stop after ten." "I can't believe you've messed with me again, Jen" I said, still lying underneath her, whispering back in her ear. "I thought you said this was all for me. What the hell, what happened?" I was in that strange mode of being enormously angry at her yet wanting her in such a significant way. "It is for sure all for you, please really trust me, Ben," she whispered. "I'm going to let you do me, you know, really do me, fuck me, in a bit unless you do or say something that's somehow really hurtful. So please, Ben, you just have to relax and get a bit calmed down first, and please don't say something hurtful." Hearing this, reacting with a shudder of immediate but unprecedented anticipation, still not absolutely knowing whether to believe her, I decided to just lay there quietly and listen. "I was wrong when I said we were even last time," she continued, still whispering, not letting me see her face. "We weren't even. I hurt you more than I ever intended and I almost lost you, and I regret that." She stopped, pulled away from me, and took a quick look at my penis, which was still hard. "So," she continued as she snuggled up to me again as before, "if you want, I'm going to let you make love to me in a second. Only if you want. Yes, I'm saying if you want that, I'll let you fuck me. But you have to promise me something." "Okay," I said, the trembling resuming, not quite believing what I was hearing, intrigued to be sure, not daring to mess around with her. Not now. "Promise me," she said, "please promise me that there won't be any awkwardness tomorrow or after. That you'll look at this as a favor from me, my way of making up to you." "Okay, I promise." "It's my way of giving you pleasure for right at this moment and nothing more. Do you want that?" "Yes." "Are you really sure that doing me, fucking me, is something you want right now?" "Yes." "Okay then," she said. She sat up from me on her knees and I saw her face, and yes, she had the caring look, those deep blue eyes, the shy smile, true compassion on her face mixed with a look of anticipation of her own, and I knew right then that I was about to get laid by her, and the subsequent enormity of what was happening made me stiffen all over in one clossal moment of full-body rigidity. She sat up and removed her sweater, and then quickly unsnapped her bra and removed it, revealing her beautiful breasts. Then she reached under her miniskirt and removed her panties, and then removed the skirt as well. "I'll be on top at first to get things started right." I couldn't speak, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it, an almost gasping noise accompanying my heavy breaths. She positioned herself over me and then leaned forward so her face and hair covered my face and she pressed her breasts against my chest and whispered in my ear, "I want you to enjoy this Ben, but first just sit tight for a minute, please Ben." She moved her herself over my erection, then slid her crotch up and down along it for many, many countless slow strokes along just my shaft, her citoris gliding along my length, and she never touched my sensitive head, erotic for me but not too much, much more for her as I could tell by her closed eyes and deep breathing, and at one time she muttered between heaving breaths, "Please Ben, just be patient for a minute or so with me, this is so important to me" and given her labored breathing it was clear that she was enjoying this greatly. She went on doing this for a bit longer, her breathing becoming labored, audible, me longing to bury myself within her all the while. Finally, she leaned forward and slid up a bit so that her breasts were right in my face, and I felt her guide my penis with her hand and toward her vagina, and then she scrunched my throbbing head up against her crotch, and I felt the beginnings of her wetness envelope me as she pushed me in just a bit, then pulled back, then a bit further in, then she pulled back, the sensation of her vagina surrounding me and becoming even much more intensely pleasurable than I ever imagined, and with one more push from us both, I slipped entirely inside her, and a shudder of the most intense joy overcame me, eliciting a throaty groan from me and indeed from her as well, and instinctively I pumped in and out, feeling her face next to my cheek, my arms holding her body, her thighs spreading across me in such an open and receiving way. I pumped away deeply, deep inside, all the way, and she whispered "Let's roll over" and we did so without coming apart, and now on top I pushed even further into her, me now totally in control, her body mine, all of it, and she thrust back at me as we did this in such a partnering way, her letting out little soft grunts, panting, moaning almost constantly and grasping me tightly, pushing back at me, forcing me deep inside her, and I put my mouth on hers and we kissed so deeply, deep into each other and I shook wonderfully and buried myself again and again into her wonderful body, into her mouth with my tongue and her vagina with my penis. And on we went, longer than I'd ever expected, thus we could enjoy it all the more, many, many minutes, so many that at one point we both had to pause, holding each other, catching our breath, both having become just a little bit sweaty. When we resumed, our breathing become mutually more intense, pushing away at each other, into each other, and her thrusts became much more intense, more rhythmic, more purposeful, she trembled once, then again, and her grunts and groans became a bit more high-pitched, like an almost constant squeal. Now she was lifting her bottom up off the bed with every thrust, and I felt her hook her feet around my legs and start pulling me toward her, now thrusting much more quickly and powerfully, and she whispered in my ear through a breathy moan, panting, "Oh BEN this is, this might, BEN! this is, THIS really could -- " and she didn't finish, as I felt her suddenly tense up dramatically and she shivered and pressed her chin up into my shoulder, sharply to where it almost hurt me, as she lifted her head up off the bed and twisted her face toward me, and I buried my nose even deeper into her hair and she put the back of her hand up to her mouth to muffle her noises and she pushed incredibly hard up into me one final time, moaning a muffled scream as she absolutely exploded in orgasm, squeezing my penis very hard with her pulsating vagina, and I continued on through it, thrusting into her one more time, then another, then another, then yet another, then a final time as I now shook all over, as it was my turn, and I came violently, completely, harder than ever before, blasting semen deep into her while holding her tight, my eyes filling with tears as I collapsed onto her, my body rippling again and again as I pumped and thrusted away, completely at the mercy of the convulsive intensity. Jen held me there, and hugged me from below, clutching me, and we thrust away at each other several more times off and on for a few minutes, and then we just lay panting together for an enjoyable eternity. And finally she said in a choked whisper, "Did you like that? I mean, really, was it good for you?" "Yes." "That's what I wanted to happen out of this, you know, for you to like it." "Yes," I said, "that was incredible." "I'm glad. I liked it too. I mean, I REALLY like it, all the way liked it. Could you tell that, Ben?" "I thought maybe you did. I'm glad you came, that was nice." "I did. Incredible, like you said." And we lay silently again, but I could hear her soft sobs becoming more regular. "Are you okay?" I asked. "Yes," she said. And then she whispered, in a voice even more choked with tears of emotion, spitting out the words between very soft sobs, "Now remember, no awkwardness tomorrow. Right? Ben?" she said. "That's important to me. Please now, no awkwardness." "Right. None, Jenny" I said. "No awkwardness." And then she put her lips right up to my ear, and I could hear a bit more of her crying noises, and she whispered softly as she sniffled, stammering with emotion, a little beside herself still I suppose, "This time Ben really, I think, I don't know, but I think, maybe all's okay between us now?" "Yeah Jen," I said. And I put my lips right to her ear and whispered quietly, "Yes, now we're even." Humilated by My Twin Sister She stopped for a moment but continued to hold me with both hands as before, and I sat helplessly with my face buried against her shoulder, smelling her, feeling her heaving breaths, looking through her hair past her shoulder and down to her thighs. "I'm going to make you come, like in the movie. Let go of me and put your hands back." "Good God Jen, I've never done that before in front of anyone, this just can't happen. We're even now, Jen, really." "Like I said, I'll tell you when we're even. We're not even. Plus, honestly it looks to me like you want me to do it." "I don't, it's too much." "No, I think you do. Look at you, you're shaking all over like a baby over this. When I stroke you you're thrusting up into me, into my hand. I want to see what it's like, want to see the look on your face when it happens." She leaned back, let go of me and grabbed a stack of tissues from her nightstand and placed them between us. The feeling of emptiness of suddenly not having her hands on me made me startle. The whole situation had come about too quickly, was too much, too overwhelming and scary. All the same I felt my pelvis lunging uncontrollably up at her as if begging her to touch me again. "Look at me in the eyes, like in the movie," she said. "And put your hands back where they belong." Knowing I had no choice, I did as she ordered. We held a deep stare as she again grasped my erection with both hands as before, and the overwhelming sensation caused me to jerk in convulsion all over again, but only for a moment. I buried my head against her as she started stroking me, this time with more purpose and intention. "You're not looking at me" she said, stopping. "I can't." "Yes you can." So I did, and she stroked and exercised her full power over me, as I sat helplessly with my hands behind me, her stare piercing through me, an "I've got you" smirk peeking from her, me looking back wanting to cover my eyes in shame but knowing I couldn't, her warm moist hand working me slowly and powerfully, squeezing me with perfect firmness. I glanced about as if removed from the scene and saw her beautiful legs, breasts, body, hair, eyes and her creamy white hands working me – as I came back to myself, I wanted so much for her to allow me inside her, for me to lunge up within her, and I looked her all over her body and – "You're not looking at me. Look at me in the eyes." She made her commands as she continued stroking. I did so and as the rush of a building orgasm started becoming apparent for the first time, I was shaking less violently but more constantly now, no longer convulsive but continuous, feeling hot and cold all at once. No longer able to hold my head up, I rested my chin on her shoulder and she nuzzled up against my cheek, blew in my ear, and then started sucking on my earlobe while still stroking. The feel of her warm moistness and the sound of her breathing, mouth and sucking sounds rolled through me and she then stuck her tongue deep into my ear, licking around in there for a moment, an enormously erotic sensation intensifying all the feelings within me. "Ben, you're not looking at me," she said. "Besides, this is too dry, don't you think?" With that she leaned forward over me and started swishing saliva around in her mouth, and lowered her head to my penis. My heart almost burst as she appeared about to put me inside her mouth, but instead she let a mouthful of saliva drain onto the head of my penis and down the shaft, and all over her right hand. "There," she said, raising her head, "that will make this better. Now Ben, really, you have to look at me while I do this." The wetness and warmth of her saliva on my penis enveloped me completely and I sat anxiously waiting for her to resume. But she sat staring at me in silence, refusing to start again until our eyes met. She then pulled her face back just enough so that we could maintain eye contact, smirking even more noticeably at me, taking it all in. She finally started stroking and now it all felt very lubricated, very thorough and wet, enormously sensuous. I felt the power of climax approaching the point of no return, and so did she, as her strokes became even more purposeful, more firm, somewhat more rapid yet still rythmic, and without a word she pressed her forehead against mine so our eyes were transfixed together as she reached for the tissues with her left hand while pumping even faster with her right, and I shook all over and with powerful pelvic thrusts, I began lunging up off the bed toward her and into her hand five times in rhythmic fashion, moaning with each heave, and she covered me with the tissues just as I exploded in orgasm, drenching her hands and the tissues with semen, burying my head in her hair and shoulders, sobbing, hugging her as she held my penis firmly. We sat like that for perhaps three minutes as I continued to pump out more semen, powerful jerks of pleasure rushing through me and covering her hands even more completely. Then, as the orgasm waned, she kissed me deep in the mouth and sat back from me, a look of triumphant self-satisfaction on her face. She reached for more tissues and cleaned herself up, then scooted back, now out of reach from me. "Okay," she said. "We're done with this. You won't spy on me, and this, what just happened, was once and no more. No one ever hears about it, and you and I never discuss it. That's understood, right? "Yes," I said softly, still shaking. "It won't happen again. None of it, ever. So don't ask, and don't even think about it." "Yes," I said, now finally getting my senses about me. "Good," she said, smiling broadly. She then leaned over to me and whispered softly in my ear, "Now we're even."