2

Things got a little tense between Jenny and me for a few days after that Columbus Day fuck. It wasn't at all like it had been back in September when we'd hated each other. This time, we still talked to each other, still squabbled about the TV and the dishes, still did homework together. But, once again, I was having trouble believing that Jenny could ever forgive me for blackmailing her and then coming inside her, and I was sure that she had trouble believing that I'd forgiven her for persuading me that she was a slut and then for playing the whore with me.

The additional baggage of the circumstances aside, the simple fact that we, brother and sister, twins, had fucked each other—not once or even twice, but three times, now—still lay between us, too. She'd taken advantage of me the first time, offering herself for money when she'd accidentally found me jacking off and in a terminally horny state. But then I'd taken advantage of her the second time by threatening to tell Mom and Dad about the Spanish test she'd flunked—if she wouldn't satisfy me again. Those two incidents, we'd agreed, had cancelled out the ways we'd used each other.

But there was no question in my mind that I'd instigated that Columbus Day fuck—our third fuck, that I'd pushed her into it, and that she'd agreed to it reluctantly. She'd made it clear that the Columbus Day fuck would be our last one.

It was near the end of that Columbus Day week that what Jenny had said, just before we'd Done the Dirty Deed for the third time, finally registered. She'd said that I could touch her boobs because she wanted to fuck me. In the heat of the moment, I'd been focusing on touching her boobs—not to mention fucking her—and not on the reason she'd given for allowing me to touch her there.

Understanding that she had wanted to fuck me that day changed everything in my mind. I no longer believed that I alone was responsible for what we'd done. Guilt over having engaged in such a sordid act remained with me, but now, I understood that it was shared guilt. We had both wanted to fuck, and we were both responsible for what we'd done. I no longer thought that I had to bear the blame all by myself, and so that act no longer needed to stand between us.

I'd long since forgiven Jenny for the way she'd treated me earlier. Now, knowing that she was as guilty as I for that third fuck, I could forgive myself for those other things. And I learned, almost immediately, that my inability to do so earlier had really been the source of the tension that remained between us. She was more mature than I; now that the scales had fallen from my eyes, I could see that she had forgiven both me and herself for what we'd done to, and with, each other.

That left me with only the guilt I felt from my habit of listening to, and jacking off to, the moans that came through our shared bedroom wall when she masturbated after we'd gone to bed. And, since Columbus Day, she'd made those noises every night. But, after a few minutes' reflection, I decided that this was guilt I could live with. After all, it was a very private kind of guilt. She had no idea of what I was up to (or even that I was up) on my side of our wall when she masturbated on her side, and so it didn't directly affect Jenny at all. And I wasn't doing anything more (or anything less), I rationalized, than she was doing. I even carried my self-serving vindication one step further: I was doing her a favor by not letting her know that her secret activities in her room weren't as secret as she thought they were.

I heard her moaning nearly every night through the month of October and well into November. Naturally, that meant that I continued with my parallel activities nearly every night through the month of October and well into November.

Once it had dawned on me that we were both responsible for what we'd done with each other, it wasn't very long before Jenny and I were treating each other pretty normally. The Veterans Day holiday rolled around. As with Columbus Day, it was a public school holiday but not a university holiday. So, once again, Jenny and I found ourselves at home together, Mom and Dad gone for the day.

No, that's not what happened. I took her seriously about that "one last time" thing, and—much as I might have liked to, I didn't try anything.

We spent an hour or two that afternoon talking things over with each other. Fucking each other, we thought, seemed to have been a big mistake. I'd found the first two times enjoyable, I confessed, and the third time had been wonderful.

Jenny had found the first time pleasant, though she had wanted to come but hadn't. The second time, she had mixed feelings about, because she'd been really pissed at the way I was treating her then. Nevertheless, she admitted that it had felt good—even though she hadn't come and she'd pretended not to like it.

And, smiling at the memory, she told me that the third time had been wonderful for her, too. Nevertheless, she pointed out: What we'd done had been very wrong, and she was glad that we'd made our pact not to do it again. I didn't feel that way about our pact, but I didn't want to upset any apple carts, so I let her understand that I was glad, too.

She apologized again for the way she'd wanted me to think she was a slut who'd fucked every boy she could, and for suggesting that I might have gotten her pregnant when she knew I hadn't. She said she didn't have a current boyfriend, and, in fact, she'd turned down several guys who'd wanted to take her out, or, more likely, she was able to say with a rueful smile, wanted into her pants. She understood herself better, she said, after what we'd been through, and she was going to grow up and to make some changes.

I apologized again for the way I'd blackmailed her and for coming inside her without thinking about the potential consequences. I, too, needed to grow up and make some changes, I admitted.

After we'd talked it out, things really got back to normal. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but we'd stopped putting each other down, stopped taking advantage of each other, and we'd stopped touching each other. Now it was much as before, except, maybe, that we were each a little more inclined to invade the other's space—and to enjoy it when the other invaded our own space.

For example, before we'd fucked each other, if one of us had walked into the living room and found the other on the couch watching TV, we'd sit at the other end of the couch, or even take a chair. Now we were more likely to sit down next to the other, close, but not quite touching. When we got to school together, I found myself throwing an arm around her waist, squeezing her, and kissing her on the cheek as we parted. She was likely to do the same with me. I found that she now often stroked my hand or my arm when she spoke to me.

I didn't have the feeling that I was trying to make amends to her, nor the feeling that she was trying to placate me. We just seemed to be closer than we'd been for a number of years. In the long run, fucking each other had, maybe, had some good consequences.

Now, I didn't really believe that her conviction that we shouldn't ever fuck each other again was the way she would think about things in the best of all possible worlds. Nerdy as I was, though, I was still terrified of girls—girls other than Jenny, that is. So never getting laid was a condition I pretty much knew how to live (unhappily) with. After all, it had been my natural state for years.

Moreover, I couldn't find any flaw in her observation that fucking your sibling is generally thought to be unacceptable behavior. Even if I didn't think so, I had to admit that a lot of people did. And, fucking each other certainly had led us into an unacceptable and untenable relationship, at least in the short run. That was something I had absolutely no desire to live through again.

Her moans still came through our shared wall frequently, right after we'd gone to bed. As November wore on into December I heard them less often—every two or three nights. And, I figured, a fellow can still listen while his sister jills herself, can still dream about her body, can still remember what her pussy feels like when he puts his cock into it, and, most of all, can still jack off.

********************

We went along on an even keel, then, for a while. We liked each other again, and we'd grown up enough over the last few months that we could admit that we liked each other—and we could admit it not only to ourselves, but to each other, as well. Thanksgiving came and went. The winter deepened as we moved into December, and the holiday vacation loomed in the near future.

It was the middle of the first week of December, when—for no apparent reason—I had another of my sleepless nights. After I'd lain in bed, wide awake, tossing and turning, for an hour or so, I started wondering if I should swipe one of Dad's sleeping pills.

As I wondered, I looked at my clock. It was about two in the morning. And I heard a thump on the wall that Jenny and I shared. Jenny, I guessed, must have turned over in her sleep, and, in doing so, flung a hand against the wall.

A few minutes later, I'd made up my mind, and I was about to head for the bathroom medicine cabinet, when there was another thump, followed by a drawn-out sigh. My sister, it seemed, must be having the same kind of night I was having.

Rather than steal a sleeping pill, I decided, I'd see if Jenny wanted to yak for a bit. If she did, that might break the tossing-and-turning cycle and let us both get to sleep.

I pried myself out of bed, found my robe and put it on over the white cotton briefs I'd been (not) sleeping in. After belting it closed, I padded barefoot out of my room to Jenny's door. Almost sure that she was awake but not wanting to wake her if she wasn't, I rapped gently on it.

"Come on in, Jer," she said, tiredly and softly. As I opened the door and stepped in, she continued, "I thought I heard you come out of your room. You might as well turn on the light."

I did so; and, through my own wince, I saw her wincing, too, as our dark-adapted eyes complained about the sudden brilliance. I closed the door so neither the light nor our conversation would disturb Mom and Dad—though I was pretty sure that their pills would keep them asleep in their room at the other end of the hall.

"I heard you moving around, and I figured you must be having a bad night, too," I said.

"Yeah," she answered, with another sigh. "I guess insomnia runs in the family. I sure do wish that Mom and Dad didn't mind if we used their pills."

"Those pills make me kind of groggy in the morning. I was about to go swipe one anyway, when I heard you bonk the wall a couple of times," I replied. "I thought you were awake, too, and maybe it would be better if we just talked for a little while. Maybe that'll reset our sleeping circuits."

"Maybe it will," she agreed, pulling herself toward the head of the bed. She sat up and, throwing a pillow behind her back, leaned against her headboard. She was wearing a short, pastel green nightie; it had lots of girly ruffles. It was pretty skimpy, but it was opaque, and the ruffles went pretty far toward concealing her curves. As she'd sat up, she'd pulled her legs up out from under her covers; they were bare, but the matching panties that went with the nightie covered the part of her I wasn't supposed to think about—let alone see.

She handed me a pillow and, scooting herself up over toward our wall, she said, "You might as well sit here beside me." As I moved toward the bed, she added, as an afterthought, "You sneak their pills, too?"

I sat down beside her, leaning against her headboard, the pillow behind me, and answered her. "Yeah, I have. But I've only done it a couple of times. I kinda get it why they don't want us to use their pills. We're 18, and their doctor prescribed the pills for people in their forties. 'Who knows what might happen?' they're probably figuring. But I've never had a problem."

"I've only done it a couple of times, myself," she admitted. "And I've never had trouble, either. But you're right—they do make me kind of groggy in the morning. Maybe we should see our own docs and have them write scripts for us."

"Might be a good idea," I agreed. We sat there silently for a minute or two, enjoying each other's company. "How've you been doing since we talked in November?"

"I'm doing pretty good," she allowed. "At first I kind of missed having a boyfriend, but after a while I decided that I didn't enjoy having a guy I didn't even like very much pawing me and trying to get his dick into me."

I turned my head and looked at her. "I don't think all guys are like that," I pointed out. "Maybe you just haven't been setting your sights high enough."

She looked back at me, and, after a moment or two, said, "I think you're probably right. On both counts. I'm definitely raising my sights in the future." As she spoke, she graced me with one of her best smiles.

We talked randomly, desultorily for ten or fifteen minutes, with breaks in the conversation that lasted for up to a minute or two—pretty much what you'd expect from a couple of tired, but sleepless, people. I don't even remember most of what we talked about. Then a longer than usual period of silence ensued. We seemed to be out of things to talk about, so I decided I'd try to get some sleep. "I think I'll go back to bed, and see if I can sleep," I said. "I hope you can."

"Okay," she replied. "Thanks for the chat." I was beginning to get off of her bed when she continued, "You know…" She left it hanging.

I turned back to her and waited a bit, to see if she would finish. She didn't, so I prompted her, "I know what?"

"Nothing," she answered. "It was just a random thought. Don't worry about it."

"Oh, go ahead!" I said, looking at her. "Neither of us is sleeping, so we might as well talk about whatever comes to mind. I was only leaving because I thought neither of us had anything more to say."

She looked at me and said, "Well…" She paused for a few seconds, and then she continued, somewhat tentatively, "…the last time I had a really, really good night's sleep was the night of Columbus Day."

"Columbus Day?" I asked, a bit mystified. And then it dawned on me. Looking at her in surprise, I started to ask, "You mean…" It was my turn to leave a sentence hanging.

"Yeah," she said, sheepishly, hanging her head a bit. "The night after we fucked." Then she straightened and looked, frankly and directly, into my eyes. The lop-sided smile was on her face again. And there was that look in her eyes again—the same one I hadn't been able to read when she'd caught me spying on her and playing with myself.

My jaw hung open for a moment. I hadn't been thinking about this time together as an opportunity to fuck again. Now, I'm no exception to the principle that no straight, eighteen-year-old guy can sit for ten or fifteen minutes on a bed beside an attractive, barely clad girl without being well aware of her femininity. So I'd been very much aware that she was a girl.

But she'd convinced me that she wasn't available for what every straight young man thinks every young woman should be available for, and that conviction had put me firmly in brother mode.

I could see that it was time for me to say something. So I said "Umm…" I seemed to be repeating one of my favorite syllables, I realized. So I went on, "You want…" This seemed to be the night for leaving sentences hanging. I tried again. "You mean you want to…" I still couldn't get it out.

She rolled her hips toward me, and brought her hand across to my chin. Gently, she pulled me toward herself, raised her lips to meet mine, and kissed me. Her lips were soft, sweet, luscious, against mine, and when my tongue reached to touch them, they opened in invitation. Her tongue met mine, and the two played the hide-and-seek game for a long minute. My arm encircled her waist, and my other hand went to cup her chin. Then she broke from the kiss and backed up a bit; her hand dropped to my thigh, not very far from my quickly growing cock, and she looked into my eyes again. Free to breathe again, I inhaled, and the scent of her soft, female body—unwashed since her morning shower some twenty hours earlier, lightly covered by her nightie, still warm from her bedclothes—filled my nostrils.

"I know we agreed that we'd done it for the last time, Jer," she murmured. Somehow, I heard her through the internal commotion that rumbled through me. Her lop-sided smile was back. "But this is kind of an emergency."

Always the practical nerd, I had an objection. "What about Mom and Dad?" I asked. "What if they hear us?"

"Not a chance," she said. That lop-sided smile turned into a grin. "They always take their sleeping pills, remember?"

I thought about it, deeply—or, at least as deeply as I could in about three nanoseconds. I concluded that I was about to get lucky again. "Well," I said, "It is kind of an emergency. If it's to help you get to sleep…"

I got a pretend slap on the cheek for that. "Wipe that smirk off your face, Jer!" she whispered. But she was still looking into my eyes, still grinning.

Her lips reached for mine again, as her hand reached to undo the belt of my robe. As we kissed again, she opened my robe, shifted her weight, and threw her leg over me to straddle my hips. She sat on me, and my hands went to the narrow part of her waist. There they helped her grind her pussy against the swollen cock my briefs confined. What little clothing we were wearing was thin, and it made almost no difference in what we felt.

She broke that second kiss and put her head down on my shoulder. Her arms encircled my own body as she leaned the upper part of her body into me. And, suddenly, I was acutely aware of the way her tits now pressed warmly and softly against me, only the flimsy fabric of her nightie between my chest and hers. My own arms went around her and held her; she continued the rocking motion of her hips, rubbing her mound against my boner—now fully grown, but still restrained by my briefs.

I kissed her neck, where my lips could reach her as we held each other. Remembering my Columbus Day lessons in how to please girls (or, at any rate, this girl) I began stroking my hands up and down her sides. She raised her upper body a bit, breaking the contact between our upper bodies. Looking again into my eyes and smiling, she said, "You did remember to use your hands." Her smile deepened as she asked, "Do you remember what else I told you?"

"Is there something else I should be doing?" I asked, as innocently as I could manage. But I remembered what she'd said about the privileges a guy enjoys with a girl who thinks she might want to fuck him. I was pretty sure that she wanted to fuck me, so, as I asked, my hands found the bottom of her nightie, slipped under it, and skimmed gently up along the soft skin of her tummy until they cupped the firm weight of her boobs. I found her nipples and rolled them between thumbs and fingers.

She moaned gently in response and closed her eyes. "Never mind," she said. "I think you've figured it out." I was about to reach for another kiss when she opened her eyes, looked into mine again, and smiled. "I really like," she whispered, "to feel your hard dick against me this way."

I looked back into her eyes and whispered back to her, "You make it get hard. Your pussy feels really good against it, and I love to hold your tits like this."We continued to rub against each other and look into each other's eyes for a moment or two, and then, by mutual consent, we reached for each other's lips and kissed again. The kiss extended, seemed to last forever, but ended all too soon.

Again she looked into my eyes. As I looked back, half hypnotized, she murmured, "Maybe we should get naked."

"Maybe we should," I agreed as she rolled off of me and back toward our wall. I was almost disappointed at the way she'd ended that mesmerizing contact between our bodies. But I knew that something even better, far better, was on the way.

As she reached for the hem of her nightie to pull it off over her head, I stood up and shucked my robe. She lay back on the bed and reached for her little ruffled pants. As she did, I reached for my briefs. She raised her hips and drew her pants down as I bent to pull off my own. I stood up again, naked, my boner projecting toward her. She lay, naked, in the middle of her bed, thighs partially spread, and stretched out her arms toward me.

I climbed back onto her bed, between her thighs; her pussy, open to my sight and my cock, stared back at me. Leaning forward and taking my weight on the hands I placed to either side of her, I took a nipple between my lips, mouthed it gently, and caressed it with my tongue. She moaned in response, and placed her hands on my waist—where they pulled insistently at me. I felt the bed jostle as her hips rocked—seeking, seeking, seeking.

I raised my head from her boob and looked into her eyes. She looked back up into mine; time stood still while we peered into each other's souls. Then her thighs moved farther apart as she bent her knees and raised them toward her body. Still looking into my eyes, she pleaded with me, "Fuck me, Jerry! Fuck me now! Fuck my brains out!" Her hand found my boner and gently directed it toward herself.

She ran my tip up and down her furrow; her heat and her moisture made my cock throb against her. She shuddered under me, and I moaned in response. She held me at her opening—at the sweet entrance to her body—and I lowered my hips slowly. Our moans mingled as our bodies joined and her hot, wet, tight clasp welcomed my cock.

I was amazed, again, at how good her pussy felt. Silently, I lay there, the length of my cock embedded in her, almost overwhelmed by the sensations she brought me. At length, I managed to whisper, "Your pussy feels so good and so tight around my cock. Do you like it in there?" I was still staring into the depths of her eyes.

She looked back into my own eyes, and fire flashed at me from hers. "You feel so big inside me. I do like having your dick in me." she whispered back.

We lay there, unmoving, for a while, our bodies adjusting to each other. But before long, my own body suggested that I should be doing something more. "Are you ready for me to move?" I asked. We were still looking into each other's eyes.

She smiled up at me. "I was wondering if you were going to do that," she answered, softly. I didn't think she had wondered—not really—but she went on, "I think you'd better."

I withdrew slowly, until only my crown remained inside her, and then, as slowly, pushed back into her. It felt far better than I remembered. "You feel so good," I murmured.

"You feel so good, too, when you do that," she breathed back. "Do it some more!"

I didn't need to be told; I was already withdrawing again. Again, I pushed my length into her. Together, we drew deep breaths at the resulting sensations. Her eyes closed with the force of her body's response. My own eyes closed, too, and soon I was driving myself furiously in and out of her, in and out, up and down, pull and push, pull and push.

I heard her moans again, moans like those I'd heard so many times through our wall, as we fucked. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!" she sobbed at me, "Fuck me harder!. Her hips responded to my thrusts, and our bodies slapped rhythmically against each other. Primal necessity, familiar now from when we had done this before, but still compelling, built deep in the roots of my cock.

Release approached, and, nearly too late, I remembered that I needed to pull out of her when it arrived. But, only seconds before that ultimate longing came upon me, I heard her, whispering, almost sobbing, "Come inside me, Jer! It's okay! I won't get pregnant! Come in me! I want you to come inside me!"

She stiffened under me, then, sobbing and groaning as her orgasm overcame her. Her arms and her legs wrapped about me and pulled me tightly against her. My own explosion came, too. My body, not needing now to fight Nature's command, drove my cock into her, drove it deep, deep into her as my own sobbing groan filled the room. I erupted, spouting thick white fluid into her body again and again and again, while her legs and her arms pulled me tightly against her, even more deeply into her.

How long it lasted, when it ended, I'm not sure. I was aware only that I found myself lying on her, breathing deeply. My cock was still buried in her body, and we lay in a tangle of arms and legs. She wiggled under me, and, I got the hint. I pulled my elbows in and raised my weight so that she could breathe more easily.

Her deep breathing now answered mine. I raised my head and looked at her face. Her eyes were closed, but they fluttered a bit and opened so that she looked up at me. She smiled, and I smiled back. I lowered my head and kissed her gently, my lips closed. She returned the kiss, gently, lips closed, herself.

Slowly, wordlessly, almost reluctantly, I pulled myself out of her body and rolled off of her onto my back. She rolled with me, and came to rest on her side, so that the front of her body pressed against my side. My head came to rest on one of the pillows we'd been leaning against earlier; she laid her own head on the same pillow and wormed her arm under it. She wrapped her other arm around my chest and pulled herself tight against me. I slid my arm under her and around her back to hold her.

We'd fucked three times before this, but we had never lain naked together, relaxed against each other, sharing the afterglow. Her body moved gently as she breathed against me; faintly, I felt her heartbeat. Her lips brushed against my neck, as she delivered a tired, gentle kiss.

********************

Sometime later, I woke up. My first thought was that Jen's idea had worked! A good fuck had been just what I had needed to get some sleep. The soft warmth of her feminine body still lay against me; we were still in her bed; her light was even still on. I felt the slow, regular motion of her breathing. It had worked for her, too; she was asleep against me. Her arms were wrapped around me, mine around her.

I'd been awake for a while, but it couldn't have been very long, when panic rose in me. We had been lying here, naked, asleep in each other's arms, on Jenny's bed, with her light on. There was cum, now largely dried and crusty, in places where it shouldn't be—very incriminating places. If Mom or Dad was up…

But, turning my head allowed me to see the clock on her desk, and it was only a little past four. My heart rate slowed to about a tenth of what it had just been. We were safe! Their pills would keep them unconscious until about seven.

However, I needed to get out of Jenny's room quickly, before I could fall asleep again. I thought about it for a minute, wondering if I could slip away from those wonderful encompassing arms, that warm, marvelously curved, feminine body, without waking her. I tried to untangle myself without disturbing her, but I failed. I'd barely removed the arm she had around my chest when she opened her eyes and looked questioningly into mine.

So I kissed her. She responded sleepily. I pulled back from her lips and looked into her eyes again. And they opened wide in terror as the shock hit her. "Jesus!" she whispered. "We fell asleep! What time is it? Are Mom and Dad up yet?"

"Relax," I murmured. "It's just after four. We're still safe. But I'd better get back to my own room before we fall asleep again."

I felt the tension leave her body. Except that her arms tightened around me. "I wish," she mumbled, still half asleep, "you could stay. But you're right."

I squeezed back, and I kissed her again. This time, it was a real kiss; our tongues danced with each other and we held our naked bodies tightly against each other. When it ended, I held her for a few more seconds and looked again into her eyes. "I really liked fucking with you," I told her.

She looked back at me, and she continued to hold me tight. She smiled at me, and whispered back, "I liked it, too. It was really good. But you'd better go." And she released me.

"I'd better," I agreed. I squeezed her once more, gave her a quick, gentle, closed-lip kiss, and pulled myself out of her bed and onto my feet. I scooped up my shorts and my robe and tiptoed to the door. Opening it a little and peeking first to make sure that the coast was absolutely clear, I slipped quietly through. Before I closed it, I looked back at her. She was stepping back into her ruffled pants. I enjoyed looking at her naked body for a few seconds. She looked up and smiled at me. As I started to close her door, she blew me a kiss. Then I slipped my hand back into her room to turn off the light before closing the door fully.

It had been a good experiment, thoroughly enjoyable and very successful. I was fast asleep almost as soon as my head hit my own pillow.Jenny and I seemed closer than ever after our early December, late-night "chat". I found that I really enjoyed her company, that I often thought about her when we weren't together, and that I actively tried to spend time with her. She seemed to enjoy our time with each other, and she gave me the impression that she also wanted to share her time with me. Three days a week, we had the same lunch hour at school, and we usually spent that time together, alone with each other, in the school cafeteria. We shared each other's chores and ran errands together. We even did most of our Christmas shopping together.

And, several nights a week, she unwittingly shared her moans with me—the moans that came through the common wall of our bedroom as she fingered herself to orgasm. Naturally, I jacked off, wrapped in thoughts of her naked body, of her tits, and of her pussy, when I heard those noises.

In the days that followed our nocturnal "chat", I found myself thinking deeply about Jenny and about the relationship between us. And I came to a conclusion that I thought she probably wouldn't like. But I needed to discuss it with her.

That discussion had to wait until we could be sure that our parents would both be gone long enough to give us the privacy the discussion required. That finally happened on the Monday before Christmas, when Mom and Dad spent most of the day together, out of the house, doing their Christmas shopping. Since Jenny and I had been little, they'd liked to have what they called "a medium fancy lunch" together and then spend the afternoon doing their shopping. But they always managed to put it off until pretty late in the season, because, during the first weeks of December, they were busy giving final exams, grading them, and figuring out what grades they were going to give their students.

School was out for the winter holidays, so neither Jenny nor I needed to be anywhere that day. I'd heard Mom and Dad moving around when they'd gotten up around eight that morning, but I'd managed to force myself back to sleep. And I hadn't awakened again until about ten. Maybe I didn't always sleep well at night, but I was at least as good as most teenagers at sleeping in when opportunity presented itself.

When I got up, Jenny's door was closed, and I assumed that meant that she was still asleep—even though she usually couldn't compete with me at sleeping in. So I went downstairs and got something to eat. As I was eating, I heard the toilet flush upstairs, and I knew that she was finally awake. But she didn't join me in the kitchen. When I finished eating, I went back upstairs to see what she was up to.

Her door was open, now, and she was sitting on her bed. Except for her bare feet, she was fully clothed, wearing a pair of jeans and a flannel pullover shirt. She had her back propped against the headboard, and she was reading a book. Hearing my tap on the doorpost, and she looked up at me. Smiling, she greeted me, "Hi, sleepyhead! Come on in and have a seat." And she moved over to make room for me.

I kicked off my shoes and joined her on the bed, remarking, "Your door was closed when I got up, and I thought you'd out-slept me."

"Nah," she replied. "I got up a little after Mom and Dad did, and I didn't want to deal with them this morning. After breakfast, I just felt like I wanted some private time. I heard you get up, but I was still happy by myself. I'm ready for some company now; I'm glad you're awake. What's up?"

"Not much," I answered. I paused, and then went on, "I've just been doing a little thinking."

She grinned at me. "Don't hurt yourself!" she offered.

"Awww…" I responded. I didn't have a good response; I was still thinking about the two of us. And I'd confirmed the conclusion I had reached earlier. I was even more certain, now, that she would find what I had to say unwelcome.

"That's it? 'Awww…'? Are you feeling well?" At least she was in a good mood; I wasn't sure that mood would survive what I had to say.

"No," I answered. "I've just been thinking about some of the… stuff we've been doing." Then, hastily, I added, "I know it's wrong—"

"Yeah. And not just wrong." As she interrupted me, her smile evaporated, to be replaced by a much more serious expression. "A lot of people would say that what we've been doing is… well… sick!"

I nodded in agreement. "I guess that's right. By most people's standards, I guess it's pretty sick for us to be fucking each other."

She smiled at me, gently this time, and said, "I know I told you we needed to quit doing that with each other—I knew we needed to stop. But then I decided I wanted to do it with you another time. So that one was my fault. But, when we did do it again, I sure did enjoy it."

I smiled back at her. "You made me glad we have insomnia," I answered.

She delivered a mock punch to my shoulder, and said, "You did that for me, too!"

"But I've gotta tell you…" I went on. I paused for a second and looked into her eyes. She returned the look. "Your body is so wonderful; it turns me on so. And…" I stopped.

Her smile deepened at the compliment, and she prompted me, "What? 'And…' what?"

"…and your pussy feels so good, I guess."

Now she was smiling broadly. "Your dick feels pretty good, too, you know."

I couldn't help myself; I grinned back. "I modestly admit that I knew you would say that," I cracked.

She grinned back. And the remark got me another mock punch—but not quite as mock as the previous one had been. "Dope!" she replied.

We paused for a moment; again we looked into each other's eyes, and I felt like our souls were communicating.

I sobered a bit, and I said, "There's more to it than that, Jen. I need to be serious with you."

Her expression changed; she could see, now, that I really did have something on my mind. "Okay, Jer," she said quietly. "What is it?"

"Jen," I began, "I can't figure out a good way to say this. So I'll just say it directly, and then I'll live with the consequences."

"It's okay, Jer," she encouraged me. "I can't think of anything you might say that would put me off. Just go ahead and say it."

"Jen…" I started. I paused for a couple of seconds, and then, hanging my head, unable to continue looking into her eyes, afraid that I might not get it out otherwise, I blurted out my confession: "…I'm in love with you."

Now that I'd gotten it out in the open, I found that I could look at her again. And I saw that her eyes had opened wide in astonishment. Her jaw worked up and down, several times, as though she was about to say something—but no words came out. For what was probably the first time in her life, my twin sister sat in stunned silence, unable to find words.

I thought I had nothing more to say, so I continued to look at her. Silently, shock still written on her face, she stared back at me. As her speechlessness extended, I saw that tears were forming in her eyes. Oh, shit! I thought. Not the waterworks! Please, Jenny! Not the waterworks!

Tears were beginning to escape from the corners of her eyes to run down her cheeks when I decided that it was up to me to break the silence. "I'm sorry, Jen," I murmured. And then I pleaded, phrasing it almost as a question, "Please don't be mad at me?"

"I never dreamed…" she began weakly, and halted, unable to continue.

"I know, Jen. It's not what you expected from me, and I guess it's not what you want to hear from your twin brother. But I can't help myself!"

She closed her hands over her face, the palms facing each other, her fingers steepled along the sides of her nose, her middle fingers reaching up to the corner of her eyes. And with that motion, her verbal paralysis broke. "Oh, Jer!" she began. Her hands muffled her words, but she was intelligible. She went on, seemingly in a daze, "I don't know what to say!" She paused and I steeled myself for the tongue-lashing I knew she was about to give me.

And then she dropped her hands into her lap, revealing a dazzling smile that showed through her tears. "Jer," she began, "I'm in love with you, too!"

She turned and threw herself at me, putting her head against my shoulder and throwing her arms around me. My own arms automatically encircled her. Then, not knowing what else to do, in my own stunned silence, I held her tightly as she sobbed tears of joy.

When she regained some control over herself, she raised her head from my shoulder and looked again into my eyes. She smiled at me, her wonder and her happiness palpable as she spoke: "I've been in love with you since we were thirteen. All that time, I've adored you. I've worshipped you! I've wanted to make love with you since we were fourteen! But you're my twin brother, so I thought that was hopeless. I knew you would never… could never…" She paused to blink back her tears, and continued, now more in control of herself, "Well… Brothers can't fall in love with their sisters, can they? They aren't allowed to."

"Sisters aren't allowed to fall in love with their brothers, either, but you did," I observed.

"I did!" she admitted, nodding. "Before you were even interested in girls. And I think it's why I've had so much trouble with boys."

Her lips were red, ripe, luscious. I bent and kissed her; she kissed me back. The kiss extended as our tongues explored. I thought I had a pretty good idea where this line of discussion was going. But I was curious, and the things we were learning about each other trumped even sex, at least for the moment. "Loving me caused you boy trouble?" I asked. "How's that?"

"I knew that I had to find another guy to fall in love with. And when we were fourteen, I thought that all I had to do was fuck a guy, and that would make the two of us love each other," she answered, putting her head back down against my shoulder. "Why else would grown-ups call it 'making love'? But it didn't work that way. In fact, it was pretty dumb of me. It did make those guys think they liked me, but what they really liked was my pussy. They liked the way I was getting their rocks off, and they didn't care about anything else—not even me. That just made me like them even less. You know, I didn't even like their dicks very much! Even though they felt pretty good."

"I think I can see that," I agreed.

"I think that was why I wanted you to think I was slutty, too," she added. "If you thought I was easy, then maybe you would want me to fuck you. I would, and that would make you be love with me. It didn't work quite the way I thought it should, either."

After a few seconds of thinking about that, I remarked, "It kinda worked, though. You just had to get us to fuck. And that did make me like your pussy. But I fell in love with you, too."

"It makes me really happy that you're in love with me! And I want you to like my pussy!" she inserted, giving me that lop-sided smile I'd seen on other occasions, before going on. "But, really, I had all those boyfriends because I was trying to find a guy like you. But I couldn't. I don't think there are any others." She reached up for another kiss, but she kept it short, because she had more to say. "You're pretty special."

I put a finger on her lips to stop the flow of words for a second. "You're pretty special, too," I pointed out. She looked at me and grinned.

Putting her head back down, she continued, "I was pretty confused. Even back then, I think I knew I'd never find anyone like you. But I didn't really know that I'd been trying to find another you until the other night, when we had that early morning chat and you told me that I wasn't setting my sights high enough. That's when I realized that my sights belonged on you. But once I had them that high and thought about where they were, I knew that there wouldn't be any other guys I could even see to center them on. I'd already stopped going out with guys I didn't like, but it wasn't until after you told me to aim higher that I decided that it was you—or nobody! It made me sad to think I might never have anybody. But then I realized that I'd never have anybody but the best! And that made me feel better."

Her hands roamed over my body as we talked, and I felt my cock growing. "What are we gonna do about Mom and Dad?" I asked. "We can't tell them."

"Mom's known how I feel about you since we were fourteen," she answered, snuggling in close to me.

"What? Mom knows that you're…" I almost yelled it; it was her turn to put her finger over my lips to stop me.

"We were only fourteen," she murmured, "and I didn't know what to do about how I felt. I was so confused! I was in love with my brother, and I was having other boy trouble, too. I'd already fucked two boyfriends. That hadn't worked out the way I thought it was supposed to. But I was still hoping, and I was about to fuck number three. She figured out that I'd been fucking losers, and that I'd probably fuck more of them. She had a long talk with me about love and sex, and how they're connected. And she helped me start to understand that 'making love' doesn't mean 'manufacturing love,' but 'sharing love.' She was worried—because they were losers and, even more, because one of those losers might get me pregnant. So she got me to talk to her about boys. And then, suddenly, I was talking to her about you."

"You talked to Mom about being in love with me? …with your twin brother?" I was incredulous; this was a tale whose like you don't hear every day. But my own hands were beginning to roam over her body—and I hadn't even been thinking about what she'd said about using my hands.

"It wasn't as bad as you think, Jer. For God's sake, she's a psychology professor, at the University of Colorado, here in 'The People's Republic of Boulder'. This is probably the most liberal town in the country, and she's somewhere to the left of most of the people here! She was okay with it. She said she needed to tell Dad about it, too, because he needed to know what was going on."

"Jesus! They both know you're…"

"Yeah. But you know Dad. He's a philosophy professor, and—"

"And he's just 'philosophical' about it!" I interrupted. "Yeah! That's Dad!"

She nodded in agreement before she continued. "Mom was sympathetic, and she tried to help me deal with it all. She said that telling you that I was in love with you wasn't a very good idea—that it wouldn't be fair to you. And she said fucking—except she called it 'having sexual intercourse with'—boyfriends before I really got to know them wasn't a good idea, either. In general, she thought, but especially because I was only fourteen. She wasn't mad about it, and she didn't scold me. She said she knew that it was my body and that she couldn't stop me. But she did make me go on the pill so I wouldn't get pregnant."

"Were you on the pill when we fucked?"

"Not the first three times. I stopped taking it a couple of years ago, but I never told Mom. For a long time I wasn't fucking anybody, and I wasn't planning on fucking anybody, so I didn't need it. I kept getting my prescription filled every month, for when I found 'Mr. Just-Like-My-Twin-Brother,' and…" She paused and gave me a quick smile.

She continued, then, "…so that Mom wouldn't know I'd stopped. Then I started it again a couple of weeks before we did it the other night." She gave me an evil smile. "I wanted you so much that time I caught you spying on me and playing with yourself—especially after you ate my pussy! It made me guess that we might not be done fucking each other, even though I told you we were. I thought we needed to stop, because you weren't in love with me, and I didn't think I should keep doing a guy who didn't love me. But I knew that I wouldn't be able to say 'No' if you wanted to do it again. And I was still afraid you'd be disgusted if you knew why I wanted to fuck my brother so much."

She reached up for another kiss. When it was over, she had more to say: "Mom made me promise that I wouldn't tell you how I felt about you unless you told me that you were in love with me. I bet she thought that would never happen. I know I thought that." Her arms, still around me, delivered a squeeze, pressing her tits into my side. "But it just did!"

"It did happen. I am in love with you," I replied, full of wonder and happiness myself. I was pretty sure that she wanted to fuck me again, and my roving hand moved to cup one of her tits. She wasn't wearing a bra, and the soft, curved flesh filled my hand marvelously; I felt her nipple harden against my palm. She didn't complain, so I guessed that I must have been right.

"That makes me so happy! Both that you're in love with me, and the way you're touching me," she whispered before going on. "That day last fall when I caught you jacking off in your room, and I saw your dick all big and hard, I thought that maybe, then, at least I could get to fuck you, even if you didn't know how much I wanted to, and why."

"Wait," I said. I'd just remembered something that had bothered me that day, but that had gotten lost in my desire. "I don't get it. You said then that you'd never seen a hard cock before. If you'd already fucked some guys, how…"

Her hand now dropped to my cock, where it stroked my hard length through my pants. "I'd seen hard dicks before, but not very well. And not yours! What I said was that I'd never had a good look at one. I had sucked and fucked those five guys, but I'd never jacked a guy off. They wanted me to get right down to business, I guess. And when you do a guy that way, after dark, in the back seat of his car, you don't get a very good look at his dick."

"I think I'll take your word for that," I mused, my cock getting even harder from her touch.

She went on: "I was so afraid you'd be pissed off, or shocked, or even disgusted, if you knew I was in love with you and how much I wanted to fuck you. Seeing your dick hard made me horny! I was pretty sure that if you let me touch it I could make you really want to fuck. And then touching it, jacking it off, and even sucking on it, made me even hornier! But I thought that if I made you pay me, you wouldn't guess how I felt. It was another dumb thing I did, and I'm really sorry I treated you that way."

"I do wish I'd known," I answered. "But, now that I think about it, I might have been upset, then, like I expected you to be today; I hadn't fallen in love with you yet. And I'm really sorry about the way I treated you after that—especially about holding your Spanish test over your head to get you to fuck me again. I was being petty and childish… And dumb!"

"Yeah, you were." she agreed. But she smiled at me as she said it, and I accepted her judgment as gracefully as I could. She went on, then, "It really pissed me off when you did that—especially since I probably would have fucked you if you'd just told me you wanted me to. But you didn't know that, so maybe I deserved having you treat me like that."

She paused, clearly lost in thought for a moment, before continuing, "Later, I hated it that we were so angry with each other, but I couldn't stop being mad, and you couldn't either. So I was being pretty childish and petty, then, too. And dumb!"

"I wish I hadn't treated you that way," I added.

"I know you do," she said. "That's why I forgave you. But for a couple of days, I wondered if maybe you were no better than any of all those boyfriends I didn't like. If maybe all guys are losers." She squeezed me again and went on, "But now I know better! And I'm sure glad we got through that!"One thing remained between us, and I needed to clear it up. "I do have one thing I need to tell you, Jen," I said. "Well, confess to you."

She looked up at me and smiled. "I'll bet it isn't as bad as the things I already know about," she offered.

"Well…" I replied. "It's bad enough. You see, the wall between our rooms transmits noise pretty well, and…" I paused, afraid to go on.

She continued to look up at me, and I could see that she was thinking about what I had just said. After about fifteen seconds, her eyes took on the shape of saucers. "You mean you've been listening to me—"

"Playing with yourself," I interrupted, finishing her sentence for her. "And it made me get hard and jack off every time I heard you."

I needn't have worried. She grinned. "I guess I have to confess, too, then. When I played with myself, I was always thinking of you! And your dick, and fucking it." It was my turn to be shocked, but she went on before I could say anything. "If you hadn't just told me that you're in love with me, I might be upset that you listened to me," she said. "Like I was when I caught you playing with your dick outside my door. But maybe, now," she went on, winking at me as she did so, "neither of us will need to do that anymore! If you hear me playing with myself again, just come over to my room and give me what I really want!" The gentle stroking on my cock got stronger, and she looked into my eyes. "Some of this!"

After a few seconds, she reached up for another kiss. My roving hand dropped from her tit to her pussy, which it cupped gently through her own clothes. She moaned into my mouth, and her hand tightened about my rod—stroking it for real, now. I moaned back.

She broke the kiss, and, still through my pants, I felt her hand tighten around my cock as she smiled at me and asked, "Is this for me?"

"All for you! Every bit of it!" I answered. I pushed down a little harder on hefrmound and gently rotated my hand back and forth. She shuddered from my touch as I asked, "What about this? Is it for me?"

She was looking into my eyes again, and her hand moved to my zipper. Still smiling, she said, simply, "No!" But before I could respond in disappointment, she elaborated. "It isn't for you. It's yours! All of me is yours, now."

My own hand moved to the zipper of her pants; she closed her eyes, puckered her lips, and reached up. I accepted the invitation, and our tongues danced again with each other. As I tasted her mouth, my fingers gripped her zipper-pull and slid it down. Her fingers did the same my zipper. Moving in sync, our hands found the waist-buttons on the pants and undid them.

She moved back, breaking the kiss. "Wait," she said. "Let's get up and take our clothes off."

It seemed a good idea to me. I stood up, and she stood right beside me. I started to reach for my jeans, to lower them, when she stepped up against me, reached up, and put her arms around my neck. We turned to face each other. The feel of her soft curved body, so close to me, distracted me from the task I'd almost begun, and my arms went around her waist, pulled her close. She raised her lips, and we began another deep kiss. It seemed to last forever—but it was far from long enough.

We ended the kiss and stood there, arms around each other, front to front. Her boobs pressed happily against my upper stomach while my cock, now fully hard but still constrained by my underwear, pressed firmly against her stomach. She ground herself against me, and I ground back.

After a few moments of that, she broke my grip on her and stepped back. Her hands went to my shirt buttons and undid them. As she did that, my own hands roamed her upper body, concentrating on her boobs. When my shirt was unbuttoned, she stepped up against me to slide it back off of me. Once it was off, she raised the hem of my tee-shirt and pulled it over my head.

When my upper half was naked, I took reached for her pullover. Anticipating me, she raised her arms and dropped to her knees. The shirt inverted over her head, and I stripped it upward and off of her.

As I tossed the shirt to the floor behind me, her hands went to the waist of my open jeans. She grabbed my jeans and my undershorts and pulled them down together—all the way down to my ankles. My cock sprang free and, remaining on her knees, she straightened, so that it pointed directly at her face. She grinned up at me, took it into her hand and pumped it a couple of times.

My knees almost gave out as, still grinning, she directed my cock into her mouth. Raw sensation engulfed me as she enveloped my crest in heat and moisture, and her tongue twirled and fluttered over it. I felt my hips begin to oscillate, forward and back, forward and back, in response.

She kept me there for a minute or two, ensorcelled to the point of helplessness. But before I could explode, she drew me out of her mouth and looked up at me, smiling again. "Do you want to come in my mouth, Jer?" she asked, "Or do you want to fuck me?"

The interruption weakened the enchantment, and I regained my will. I reached down and brought her to her feet. "You'd let me come in your mouth?" I asked. As I spoke, my arms pulled her close and my cock, now slippery with her saliva, slid up against her belly. "You don't need to do that, you know." Her tits pressed nakedly, warmly, against me, their nipples burning holes where they touched my skin; her belly pressed my cock up against me.

"I know," she agreed, still smiling. She wiggled against me, having figured out that doing so stoked my need for her. "But if you want it, then I do, too. There's nothing dirty about a guy's cum. I've had yours on me, and I've already had it inside one part of me—twice, now! And I plan to have it there a lot more, because it makes you happy when you come inside me. It makes me happy when I make you happy, and it feels so good when your dick is in my mouth or my pussy!"

"Oh, no you don't," I said, smiling back at her, still holding her against me, still enjoying the feel of her boobs against me and her belly against my cock. "You get a vote, too. What would you choose if it were up to you?"

"I guess I'd fuck you," she answered. Her smile vanished, and she looked up into my eyes, a serious expression on her face. "It won't exactly be our first time with each other, or even the first time for either of us, but it'll be the first time we both know we're in love with each other. So we'll kinda be taking an unofficial cherry from each other, right?"

"That's a good thought," I pointed out. "I really like that way of thinking about it. Fucking it is!" That settled, I squeezed her and reached to kiss her; she kissed me back. It was another long, deep kiss, and I felt my cock throb where she had it trapped between our bodies.

When that kiss ended, we looked again into each other's eyes. And she offered, "You are going to come in my mouth someday soon, you know. So you'd better get used to the idea!" She paused. But before I could say anything, she continued, "And I do have a real cherry that's you're gonna pop one of these days. No guy's ever had his dick up my ass. You're gonna be the first one there! And you better get used to that idea, too!"

"Hmmm," I said. "I think I'm used to both ideas already!" I kissed her, briefly, before going on. "But first things first! You still have pants on, and that's not okay."

"That is a problem!" she agreed. "What shall we do about it?" That funny look—the one I hadn't been able to interpret—was on her face again. And I finally figured out that it was desire—desire for me!

I stepped backward, planning to kneel in front of her as she had done with me. But I'd forgotten that my own pants were still around my ankles, and they tripped me. My arms flailed as I almost fell flat on my ass. Somehow, I successfully twisted as I started to go down, and I managed to land safely, on my back, on the bed beside us. "I guess I'm not the only one," she offered through her laughter, "who still has pants on—even if yours don't cover anything important!"

I lay across the bed, my legs hanging off the side. And before I could regain my composure, she took advantage of my position to pull my pants and undershorts down over my feet and off. That left me with only my socks on, but, for good measure, she removed those, too.

When she'd finished getting rid of my clothes, she lay down beside me on the bed and rolled toward me. I rolled to meet her, and our arms again folded us to each other. Once again, I felt the swell of her naked boobs against me. My cock throbbed mightily.

But she still had her pants on, so, after a quick kiss, I abandoned her embrace and got back up onto my feet. Once up, I reached for her jeans and her panties and, as she rolled onto her back and raised her legs to help me, I pulled them off together. Now she was naked, too.

I lowered her legs, so that I stood between them, and I admired the view as she smiled up at me. Her nipples were hard, and her tits stood proudly from her chest, defying gravity. Her pussy lay open, right at the edge of the bed, surrounded by its sparse, light brown curls. There were her clit, her inner lips, and the entrance to her body.

Her smile deepened, and she asked, "You really like to see me naked, don't you?"

"I do," I admitted. "Looking at you like this really turns me on. It makes my cock throb." And then, sinking to my knees on the floor between her legs, I licked my lips to moisten them. Then I continued, "And it makes me think about doing this, too!" And I bent forward to kiss her inner lips just below the point where they joined to form the hood over her clit.

I heard her sharp intake of breath as my lips touched her. I maintained moist, gentle contact for a bit, and then I extended my tongue to stroke her inner folds. She moaned at that touch, and her hands moved to my head. I breathed in her musky feminine scent, and my cock throbbed heavily.

At first, she simply fondled my scalp, but as my tongue continued to stroke her, she began pressing me against herself and directing my tongue toward her clit. I still didn't know very much about female anatomy, but I found that I had a devoted teacher who possessed an excellent model—and I was a quick learner! I brought my arms up under and around her thighs to steady myself; and, very soon, she'd taught me exactly how and where she liked to have my tongue touch her. Then her moans grew in length and intensity, and her hips moved up and down, up and down, in response to my touch.

Without warning, her hands stopped directing me against herself and began pulling my head away from her. Once she'd broken the contact she'd seemed to enjoy so much, she pulled her legs up and rolled to place her head on a pillow while centering herself in the bed. Holding her arms out toward me, she murmured, "I'm almost there! But I want to feel your dick in me when I come! Come put it in me and fuck me! Please! Fuck me!"

I thought that was a good idea—an excellent idea, in fact. "God, yes!" I breathed, looking again into her eyes. "I want to come inside you and make you come around me!"

I joined her on the bed, on my knees between the thighs she spread to make room for me. Smiling, breathing heavily, she reached for my hardness and guided it into herself as I lowered my body toward hers. And, as my cock slid into the seething grasp of her sheath, I was vaguely aware that her arms and her legs wrapped around me and drew me deeper.

Her body caused sensations that overwhelmed me. Though I was now barely aware of anything beyond what I felt in my cock, I heard her exclaim, "Shit! You feel good!" as my body began to pump my length in and out of her.

And then there was only need driving me to thrust myself into her, to pull back, to thrust again… Her slick wet heat clasped me exquisitely, generating sublime friction, pumping me toward cataclysm! I didn't hear her then, but later, my memory would tell me of her moans—moans like those I'd heard through our wall so many times before—and of her utterances: "Fuck me! Fuck me harder! Oh, fuck me, Jer! I love you so much! Fuck me!"

And my memory would tell me later, too, of the animal sounds that I, myself, made as need became almost tangible within me.

Need solidified, and my cock ignited. Conflagration swallowed me. The fire of my love for my twin sister flowed, again and again and again, again and yet again, seemingly without end, into her body. Her love answered me with its own fire that melded with mine, surrounded me, clasped me, and drew me deep into herself. And, in that moment of blinding truth, I knew that we were one—and that we had been meant to be so from the time of our conceptions together.

********************

Little by little, orgasm's tide receded and my awareness of things outside myself returned. Naked, I lay on my naked twin, her arms and her legs still wrapped tightly around me, my cock still buried in her pussy. My head lay on the pillow beside hers. Turning my face toward her, I gently kissed her ear and her neck. She responded; her hands tracked up and down the skin of my back.

I raised my head and looked into her eyes. She looked back at me and smiled. "You're wonderful, Jenny," I whispered, putting all of my love for her into what I said.

Her smile deepened, and she whispered back to me, "You're wonderful, yourself, Jerry. And I really, really like fucking with you."

Smiling back at her, I answered: "I'm glad, and I like fucking with you, too."

Gently, our lips met. Our passion was spent, but our love flowed between us in that kiss. When we broke the kiss, I raised my body, pulling my now shrinking cock out of her. My coordination hadn't fully returned yet, and I rolled clumsily to her side to lie next to her. She rolled toward me, slid her arm under me, and put her head on my shoulder. My arm encompassed her and drew her close; her arm circled my waist to hold me.

Happily, we lay there, the front of her naked body resting against my side, as we shared our bodies' warmth, lives, and satiation. I knew, now, that what she had told me was so; she was mine, all of her. I knew, too, that I was hers, all of me.

"You're the only guy," she whispered, holding me tightly, "who's ever made me come! And with you in me, it was better than anything I've ever felt before."

There was nothing to say; I simply squeezed her back in an effort to transmit more of my love to her. I wanted nothing more, and nothing less, than to be with her from now on.

I knew that we would still have disagreements, squabbles, even fights—though probably not fights like those we'd been through so recently. But our love would carry us through them whole—whole as individuals and, more importantly, whole as a couple. Mom and Dad already knew of her love for me, and we would not be able to conceal the new bond between us from them for long—even if we tried. But whatever their reaction, I knew that our love would carry us through that as well. The rest of our lives lay before us, to be shared, and I was ready for that sharing.

And, as those thoughts passed through my mind, she raised her head to look again into my eyes. Her smile brought me joy, and I heard her soft, loving voice. "No more loser boyfriends! Just my twin brother, the only guy I've ever wanted! I love you so much!"

The End