Literotic asexstories – Her Twin Brother's Lover by Alexis_Moore,Alexis_Moore The wedding ceremony was a complete blur for twenty-two-year-old Charlotte Reynolds. She said her vows purely from memory and practice, including the part about honouring and obeying that her groom’s very traditional parents had insisted upon.
All she could think was, he’s here!
Her twin brother Charles whom she hadn’t seen in the flesh for four whole years.
He had flown in from the USA earlier in the day to attend her wedding, but had stayed at a friend’s house rather than their parents’ home where she’d dressed in her bridal outfit.
Charlotte had seen the back of his blond head when their father had proudly walked her up the aisle, but he’d averted his face so that she hadn’t been able to sneak a quick peep and drink in his beloved features.
A woman’s wedding day should be the happiest day of her life.
Charlotte was happy enough marrying Peter Gainsborough, the filthy rich architect she’d met while doing her English degree at Cambridge, but theirs was no grand romance, at least not for her.
He was sixteen years older than she. They’d met one evening when she’d been out for drinks with a group of female friends from the university. He’d bought them all champagne, but had made it clear that she was the one he was interested in.
He had wooed her with expensive perfumes and jewellery, taken her on short romantic breaks to Paris, Rome and Vienna and several other such cities. When he’d asked her to marry him just after she’d graduated, she’d thought, ‘why not?’
She wasn’t expecting them to have more than a good friendship. She’d known that it was her model looks rather than love that attracted him to her; he wanted a wife who would look good on his arms. He was coolly aristocratic. They would have a pleasant life without the fireworks that came from passionate love.
His elderly parents had frowned upon his choice of bride, saying that they thought she was perhaps too young for him. She suspected it was the fact that she was no heiress who was bringing both wealth and consequence to the marriage.
But Peter, their only child, had ignored their objections to his choice of future wife, and they had grudgingly accepted her rather than lose him.
Her twin hadn’t been thrilled either when she’d broken the news to him via FaceTime two months ago.
They had always been incredibly close as children.
She’d been almost inconsolable when he’d chosen to go to Harvard University to pursue his degree in Comparative Literature instead of going to Cambridge University with her and doing an English degree as they had always agreed.
They had talked often when he was in the USA, but she’d missed him like she would miss having an arm.
He’d made every excuse under the sun not to come home during his four years there, but finally he’d agreed to come home for her wedding to Peter.
And finally, as she turned to walk back down the aisle on her new husband’s arm, she saw her brother.
Her heart almost stopped.
He’d allowed his ash-blond hair to grow longer than she’d seen it before. It was bleached even whiter by the sun.
His body had filled out and he looked like a Norse God.
She rushed to him like an eager schoolgirl, forgetting dignity.
He held her so tightly she couldn’t breathe for a moment.
Then he let her go.
Their eyes met and held for a few moments, then her mother and father, aunts, uncles and cousins were hugging her and Charles was lost in the melee.
Peter whisked her off to Dubai for a two-week honeymoon. No expense was spared and had it been anything but her honeymoon, she would have thoroughly enjoyed her stay at the exclusive hotel.
All she could think about was the look in her twin’s eyes and wonder if it meant what she thought it did.
It couldn’t, could it?
The question ran through her mind a thousand times.
She called her parents as soon as she returned to the UK and discovered that they had gone on one of their weekend golfing trips but Charles was at their house alone.
She decided to go over to their house and have a heart-to-heart with her twin.
She didn’t call in advance, knowing that he would probably find some excuse to leave the house before she got there.
She used her key to enter the house and padded to his room in her stockinged feet.
Charles was lying on the king-sized bed their parents had bought him when he’d finally stopped growing at 6’6″. He was listening to music via his AirPods and didn’t hear her enter.
He was startled when she leaned over him and for a moment the look she’d seen in his bright blue eyes on her wedding day was back.
Then they went studiously blank.
“Why did you go to Harvard when we’d planned all along to go to Cambridge?” she demanded.
They had planned to rent a two-bedroom place, cook sumptuous meals and drink copious bottles of wine while they discussed the classics.
University had been heartbreakingly lonely without him.
He sat up on the bed but didn’t immediately reply.
“Why, Charles?” she insisted.
“Because of you,” he admitted.
“Me?”
“Do you know what it’s like to kiss your sister on your eighteenth birthday and suddenly realize that you’re in love with her?”
Their American-born father had grown up kissing close relatives on the lips in greeting. He’d continued the tradition when he’d married his English wife, moved to London and had the twins.
Charlotte and Charles had kissed on the lips all their lives—it had been as natural as hugging each other—but something had shifted the day of their birthday.
Their parents had bought a Marks and Spencer cookies-and-cream chocolate cake to celebrate their actual birthday ahead of the blow-out party they’d planned on the weekend.
As they had done on every birthday before, the twins had cut the decadent cake and exchanged a kiss.
It had been as brief as any they’d ever exchanged, but their eyes had collided just before their lips brushed each other and Charles’s expression had startled his sister.
Startled her because it had reflected what she had been feeling, too.
She’d dismissed the feeling, thinking that it had to have been only sisterly love.
But had he really…?
“In love?” she asked, unable to believe that she’d heard him correctly.
“I tried to ignore my feelings, telling myself that it was only brotherly feelings, but they seemed to get stronger and stronger every day. I needed to get away from…”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why?” he asked, with a dismissive shrug of one broad shoulder. “You couldn’t have done anything about it.”
“I’m in love with you, too,” she admitted.
“Yet, you married Peter!” he accused.
“And I guess you had plenty of girlfriends in America,” she shot back, unable to hide the bitterness in her voice.
“Lots,” he admitted. “But they all fucking looked like you!”
“Oh, Charles!”
“I wanted you…none of them was you”
“Charles…”
“I’d come home for good, but I’m going back to America as soon as Mum and Dad return. I can’t stay here, knowing that prat Peter is fucking you and not me! I would probably wait for him on a dark street one night and bash his head in.”
“Charles!” She reached her arms out for him, wanting to comfort him but somehow their mouth became fused.
The spark they had both denied blazed into an inferno.
They ripped at each other’s clothing, tearing at them until they were both naked.
His cock was massive and stood out in front of him like a torpedo. They tumbled to the bed and it zeroed in on its target.
She was slippery wet but she struggled to accommodate him.
“Oh, fuck,” he’d groaned. “Peter must have a cock the size of a peanut.”
“He does,” she laughed and moaned as his cock stretched her wider. “Damn, Charles, you’re sure that you didn’t steal this from a horse or a donkey?”
“Be thankful that I’m not your first!” He laughed, but instantly sobered. “I wanted to be your first so badly.”
“I would have liked that,” she admitted. “It would have felt so much more special.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said and kissed her. “I wasn’t your first lover, but I was your first love.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
She’d really thought that what she felt for him was the normal feelings sisters had for their brothers. When her friends from the private girls’ school she’d attended had annoyed her by coming to their house on some pretext or the next just to see Charles, she’d assumed that her anger stemmed from wanting to be alone with her brother. When he had chased off any boy who so much as sniffed around her, she’d thought that he was just being a protective brother.
Neither of them had wanted to date anyone else, but it had never occurred to her that there was more to their relationship than sibling jealousy.
Or maybe she’d ignored her gut because it had been something so fantastic, so impossible that she hadn’t dared dream it.
“Please don’t go back to America,” she begged him as they lay entwined on his bed, resting after their third bout of sex. “I missed you so much when you were over there.”
“You know that I can’t be here and not have you, my heartbeat.”
“You’ll have me,” she promised. “As often as I can get away without Peter suspecting anything.”
“Why don’t you leave him?” he suggested. “You don’t love him.”
“No,” she said firmly. “If I stay with him no one will question the amount of time you and I spend together. If I’m single, people would find it weirder that neither of us is dating anyone else.”
“You think no one would question us spending a lot of time together?”
“You’re my twin,” she told him. “What would be more natural than us spending time together?”
“I would be suspicious if I was Peter,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want my woman spending too much time with her brother unless he was gay.”
They looked at each other and without saying a word knew exactly what the other was thinking.
“No!” she said as she saw the smile break out on his face.
“It would be perfect,” he told her. “I’ll even flirt with your husband a little to convince him.”
“No!” she said again, but couldn’t help the laughter that shook her slim frame.
She looked at her watch.
“I have to go.” Then she looked at the clothes lying in tatters on the floor. “But first I have to raid Mum’s wardrobe for something to wear.”
Their mother wasn’t as tall, but luckily she was Charlotte’s size and a stylish dresser.
After a quickie fuck and a shower, Charlotte slipped on an olive green shift dress from their mother’s wardrobe and raced home to be on time for dinner.
All Peter said when she arrived was, “Is that a new dress, darling? It suits you.”
As they sat at opposite ends of the formal dining table, all Charlotte kept wishing was that she’d kept her virginity for Charles.
She would have done, if she’d known that the feeling she’d felt when their lips had met when they cut their cake on their eighteenth birthday wasn’t the usual feeling that a sister felt for a brother.
Instead she’d given it to a spotty freshman a few weeks after starting Cambridge University. They had fumbled around on the back seat of his Mercedes-Benz C Class for several minutes and she’d anticipated great sex. Instead he had come almost as soon as he’d entered her, so quickly she’d barely had time to register that his cock was actually inside her. Then, instead of focussing on either achieving another erection or using his tongue or fingers to make her come also, he’d frantically zipped up his fly and ran around to the trunk of his car for cleaning material to ensure that her blood didn’t stain the cream leather. He’d been furious that she hadn’t warned him that she was a virgin.
Yes, furious!
Charles would have treasured being her first, just as much as she would have treasured it.
Later in the bed, with Peter blissfully sleeping beside her, Charlotte had remembered the wistful disappointment in her twin’s voice when he’d said that he’d wished that he’d been her first.
He might not have been her first, but he had felt as though he was, his cock stretching her pussy almost beyond its limits.
She was still sore, but thankfully Peter had behaved just as she’d expected. When he’d gotten into their bed, he’d given her a brief kiss on the lips, then turned over onto his side and fallen asleep.
One morning two months later, as she sipped her first cup of coffee before work, the perfect solution came to Charlotte.
She would offer her twin her other virgin hole, to show him just how much she loved him, how much he meant to her.
He protested at first looking horrified at the suggestion.
“I can’t take you in the ass, my love, I’m too big.”
But she was stroking his cock and felt it pulsate at her words.
“I want to give you something that is yours alone.”
“No,” he said firmly, but with no conviction in his voice.
“Please, please, my love.” She took his face between her hands and kissed his lips. “I trust you as I would trust no other man. We’ll stop if it hurts too much.”
“Promise you will let me know?”
“I promise.”
He knew that once she’d given her word to him, she wouldn’t break it.
He then spent several minutes preparing her with his fingers and lots of lubricant.
“I want you to be in control,” he said finally. “I suggest that I sit on the bed and you lower yourself onto me.”
He grabbed a tube of lubricant from one of the drawers of his bedside table, sat on the edge of the bed and dribbled the gel over the tip of his cock, letting it flow down to the base like caramel down the sides of a cake.
He coated his cock thoroughly and then widened his spread legs so that she could place hers between and back onto the rigidly upstanding shaft.
“Argh!” she gasped as she bore down too recklessly, not factoring in the slipperiness of the lubricant and impaling herself on a good two inches of his flesh.
“Are you okay?” he asked concerned, pressing a kiss on the top of her spine.
“Yes,” she assured him quickly lest he changed his mind. “It feels so good.”
“Maybe I should support your weight,” he suggested, lowering his hands, which had been tugging her nipples into pointy little peaks, down to her hips.
His strong arms supported her as she worked her way slowly down on his length, only pausing twice when he instructed her to add more lubricant to the part of his cock that was still outside of her.
It took forever, but maybe it was about ten minutes in reality, but finally she felt the cheeks of her ass touch his warm skin.
“You’ve done it, my love,” he said, triumph in his voice as he released her hips and once again cupped her breasts.
She strained her neck around and met his lips hungrily.
They kissed for long moments as he tweaked her nipples in the firm way that he knew drove her wild.
They both felt the moment her asshole softened around him.
Holding her in place he turned so that she was kneeling on the carpet and he was behind her.
“Why do I feel like I’m Bonnie and you’re Clyde?” she asked with a laugh, remembering their visit the previous month to their great-grandfather’s farm for his eighty-six birthday.
He’d given up sheep farming years ago, but still bred sheepdogs from his pedigree stock. Clyde and Bonnie were his top breeding pair and their puppies commanded absurd prices. He’d proudly taken the twins down to the kennels to show off their latest litter of puppies, one of which he’d told them might fetch a world-record price. They’d entered the meticulously clean kennels only to find that Clyde had somehow managed to jump over the partition and had been in the middle of attacking Bonnie’s hindquarters. He’d completely ignored their arrival, continuing his insane thrusts, then knotting the poor bitch and throwing his leg insolently over her back to stand backside to backside with her, his tongue lolling out from all his exertions.
“I promise that I won’t knot you or throw my leg over your back,” Charles replied with a laugh.
He drew back cautiously and then moved forward again, and again.
Charlotte rested her head on the sheet, closed her eyes and relaxed totally as he held her hips and fucked her ass with slow, controlled strokes.
Adagio: slowly in Italian. In music, it signifies that a piece should be played at a slower tempo or speed.
She and Charles had loved words when they were younger and tried to learn a new one every day. Occasionally a word had been a favourite of theirs for a week or two.
Adagio had been their favourite one Christmas when they were eight or nine.
Now he was the embodiment of the word.
She could feel the tremor in his hands as he kept his pace even and she loved him all the more for thinking only of her comfort.
Grasping his hands, she pulled him forwards until he was lying flat on top of her.
“Fuck me harder, my love,” she urged. “I can take it.”
He increased his pace, but remained cautious right up to the moment that she put her hand on her clitoris and stroked herself to an orgasm as she felt his approaching.
It didn’t take him long to discover that her asshole could take a pummelling and bounce back like it hadn’t occurred.
Anal sex was something that was theirs alone and each time it was as good as the first time.
He was the first and only man who would ever breach her back passage, she promised him.
She’d done it as something special for him, but it turned out that it was something that she thoroughly enjoyed.
***
Their former hippy parents didn’t even bat an eyelid when Charles told them he thought that he might be gay.
As long as he was happy, they were happy, too, they told him.
And they meant it, too.
When Charlotte was aged five and furious that she was a girl and not a boy like her twin, they had let her cut her hair just like his and wear boys’ clothing. The two of them had looked so alike with their short blond curls and bright blue eyes that some people had thought that they were identical twin boys.
Their parents had fully expected her to become a lesbian or go even further and have a change of sexual identity, but somewhere between the ages of ten and eleven, Charlotte had developed a taste for dresses and had let her hair grow out.
Their parents had sat her down and told her that she didn’t have to conform to societal norms, if she didn’t want to, that they would support whatever she did.
Both she and Charles suspected that their parents’ relaxed attitude might have something to do with the fact that they swung more than golf clubs on their supposed ‘golfing weekends’.
As soon as the twins had started university, their parents had decided to do what most ’empty-nesters’ do, pick up a hobby. They’d chosen golf and travelled weekly to various parts of the UK to meet up with fellow enthusiasts of the sport.
Last year Peter had decided to impress his in-laws by treating them all to a weekend at Queenwood in Surrey, the most exclusive golf club in Europe.
Charlotte and Charles had been shocked to discover that despite supposedly playing the game for over four years, their parents were little more than novices.
Charlotte had long suspected that the regular breaks might be more ‘swinger weekends’ than anything to do with the sport.
When she and Charles had laughed over their parents’ lack of golfing expertise days later, they’d acknowledged that not only was there every likelihood their parents were swingers, chances were they swung both ways.
Their parents were the best and most liberal parents that their children could ask for, but even they would be horrified if they found out that their twins were sleeping together. Since the twins loved them too much to cause them heartache, they were ultra careful and only made love in the privacy of Charles’s home.
They had even stopped kissing on the lips in greeting as they’d done in the past, afraid that they could get carried way and accidentally exchange tongues in public.
***
When Charlotte got pregnant seven months after her wedding, her parents and Peter’s parents were particularly thrilled. Her parents because they had no guarantee that Charles would ever father a child; Peter’s parents because their son always complained how overpopulated the planet already was.
No one ever questioned the amount of time Charlotte spent with her twin.
Likewise, when her daughter Catherine was born, no one questioned the fact that she looked nothing like Peter.
She was an exact miniature of her mother…or Charles when he was a baby, other than being female.
But it could also be the dominant Finnish genes that the twins had inherited from their father—they had nothing of their mother’s.
So, despite appearances Catherine could be Peter’s child.
Nevertheless, Charlotte and Charles had held their breaths as they’d counted the baby’s fingers and toes and had breathed a sigh of relief when they’d found them as perfect as the rest of her.
They couldn’t tell who had fathered Catherine—not that it mattered, Charles would love her anyway because she was his beloved twin’s child—and they didn’t want to risk having tests done in case they fell into the wrong hands. If Catherine was theirs, they had been incredibly lucky that she’d been born with no health problems, but there was no guarantee that their other children would escape the nightmare that came with having parents that shared the same DNA.
Peter was a loving, but rather distant father. After Catherine’s birth, he’d warned Charlotte that they had to be super careful in the future because he didn’t want to add to Mother Earth’s burden by bringing another child into the world.
She suspected that it was more due to the fact that he’d given his parents what they had wanted but wasn’t prepared to indulge them further. He also hadn’t found her attractive when she was pregnant, although she’d been luckier than most women and hadn’t gained an excessive amount of weight.
Charles, on the other hand, had practically worshipped her body when it was swollen with child. He’d loved her fuller breasts, her bigger ass and most of all her swollen belly. He’d even read several books of his favourite poetry to her daughter while she was in her mother’s belly.
They both loved Catherine, but they had known that they had to play it safe in future. Peter not wanting to have any more children played right into their hands; Charlotte could continue to take the contraceptive pill freely, and with her husband’s consent.
***
Charlotte looked at the clock on the living room wall and then down at the sleeping baby in her arms.
Where are you, Charles?
Her twin should have been home from work almost fifteen minutes ago.
He was never late.
Not for his precious breast milk.
Something must have come up.
Her daughter Catherine released her nipple with a contented sound, her little mouth working for a moment as though she was still suckling and then the movement ceased.
Charlotte didn’t refasten the buttons of her dress as she rose to put her seven-month-old daughter in her Dior Stroller and adjusted it into a comfortable sleeping position.
Her baby had fed well on her abundant breast milk and would be out for the count for at least three hours.
Charlotte looked at the clock again as she came back into the living room and made a soft sound of impatience.
Five twenty-nine, they would have less than one and a half hours, if her brother didn’t get here soon.
At that moment, she heard the key in the front door and hurried to it with a welcoming smile on her face.
Her brother barely gave her time to ensure that the door was closed and that Mrs Singh, his nosy neighbour couldn’t see them, before he took her into his arms and gave her a long, deep kiss.
“There were massive delays on the Jubilee Line,” he said in explanation as his hands quickly worked on freeing her breasts from the maternity bra. “I hope that Catherine left some milk for me.”
“Just a little.” She laughed and batted his hands away. “Get changed before you ruin your clothes.”
They hurried to his bedroom, leaving the door open although the room was equipped with a baby monitor that would alert them if Catherine unexpectedly woke up. She never did, but they both liked the security of knowing that they could be at her side in a moment, if anything happened.
They undressed, their eyes devouring each other’s bodies.
She was wearing one of the button front dresses that he loved on her. They gave wonderful access to her breasts, if they were pressed for time or didn’t want to undress fully.
He had worn a crisp light blue shirt that exactly matched his eyes to work, along with a patterned tie of various shades of blue and dark blue trousers.
He could have been a male model quickly shedding one outfit to re-dress in another and take the runway again.
She would never get tired of seeing him naked.
He was gorgeous. His impossibly broad shoulders tapered to a slim waist. His strong, muscled legs were covered with a light dusting of fair hairs that heightened her senses when they rubbed against the smoothness of hers.
His cock was fully erect when he pushed his dark blue silk boxers down and her womb throbbed at the thought that it was she, his twin sister, who aroused him.
“Come here, my love,” she said, climbing onto the bed and resting her back against the headboard.
As she grabbed a pillow from the other side of the bed, he walked over to her, magnificent in his nakedness.
She was tall for a woman at 5’11”, but he was 7″ taller.
He sat on the bed and leaned back against the pillow she’d placed in her lap to support his head. She adjusted it slightly as he cupped her breast and started to suckle.
“It’s okay, my love,” she moaned and let out a soft hiss of arousal, squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to master the sensations that threatened to drive her insane. “It’s okay, my sweet love.”
His ferocious pulling on her nipples was part desperation, part anger that he wanted her so much and they couldn’t be together because the world would frown upon it.
She stroked his ash-blond hair softly and kissed the side of his face, murmuring endearments until his fierce suckling gradually eased.
She understood his desperation and anger. It was torture for both of them when they were apart. They saw each other every day and still it didn’t feel like enough. Each worried that they wouldn’t see the other again.
Thankfully, Peter was due to go on one of his numerous business trips in three days’ time. This time it was South Africa. He would spend a minimum of two weeks there, but had warned her that negotiations with his client there could take twice as long.
Thinking as he did that Charles was gay, Peter had had no hesitation in agreeing to let her and her daughter stay with her brother until he returned from the trip. Knowing her husband, he’d probably smirked secretly and thought that she and Charles would do nothing but talk about clothes and makeup all day.
How foolishly wrong he would be!
Charles had already booked two weeks off and would work from home afterwards, if Peter’s trip was extended.
She and her twin would have at the very least, fourteen glorious days to themselves.
“Just three more days, my love,” she reminded her brother as she eased him off her left breast and offered him her right. “And we’ll be together every minute of the day for two whole weeks and hopefully more.”
His eyes were dreamy and dazed as they gazed up into hers and she felt the violent tug on her heart that she always felt went she thought of how much she loved him.
She reached down and gently encircled his hard cock with her fingers and then started working them up and down.
He sighed in contentment around her nipple and started to lift his hips off the bed to meet the downwards stroke of her hand.
She kept the pace easy, knowing just how to stroke him to keep him on the boil but not boiling over.
His hand tightened on her breast for a minute, holding it still as he tugged on her nipple.
“Sssssh,” she hissed as he extended it to its fullest extent and held it for a few moments and then released it. “Just like that, my love. Yes, just like that.”
He did it several more times and each time she gave a soft moan as she watched him tug it between his lips until it was over an inch long and then release it and let it spring back to its original length.
Her nipples had lengthened so much since he’d been giving them his attentions and he knew just how to torture them to drive her insane.
She slipped her hand under the heavy weight of her breast and supported it as he continued to tug at her nipple.
He knew without asking that she’d freed his hand so he could use it to ease the unbearable ache between her legs.
“Hm!” he groaned as his fingers encountered her moist heat.
Tacitly, he urged her to spread her legs further apart.
“Ah!” she moaned as he pressed three long fingers deep inside her without preamble.
The full, deep penetration was exactly what she’d craved.
She was ready for his cock, but he wasn’t quite ready to leave her breast.
His fingers were the compromise and she needed at least three to fill the aching void, not one or two.
It was crazy how he gave her exactly what she wanted when she wanted it.
He ran his thumb over her clitoris as he forced a fourth finger inside her.
After only a momentary pause he press them up to the knuckles and then out again.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Yes!”
For several minutes he finger-fucked her with a firm, steady rhythm while he continued suckling strongly on her nipple.
All too soon she felt her orgasm gather pace.
“Oo-ooh!”
He didn’t stop when her muscles clenched around his fingers, pressing past their squeezing tightness with masterful ease and drawing her orgasm out until she had to put her hand over his to stop the movement, or go insane..
Then she sagged weakly against the bed for a moment, unable to do anything but breathe.
He knelt on the bed and positioned her so that she was lying on her front, the pillow now under her hips.
She reached behind and spread the cheeks of her ass as he moistened the head of his cock in the wetness that was now liberally flowing out of her pussy.
Then the head of his cock was at her asshole seeking entry.
She pushed her hips back as he pressed forwards and they both groaned as it slipped several inches inside her.
“More,” she begged and he pressed his weight into her back and slowly let his cock slide the rest of the way until it was buried to the hilt.
His hands reached under her body and teased her nipples as he started to plunder her asshole with hard, fast strokes.
“Yes! Yes, my love! Yes!” Charlotte grasped handfuls of the sheet, thrust her hips back and met him stroke for stroke.
“Oh fuck, baby!” He groaned as he quickened his pace until his hips were moving with almost the speed of a jackhammer. Then with one last hard thrust, he came with a loud, “Oh, fuck!”
He kissed the side of her face and she reached her hand up and laid it tenderly against his cheek.
They stayed this way for a long while, both satisfied, both replete.
He’d showed her asshole little mercy…and she loved it!
Eventually, he eased his weight off her, moved to lie on his side before pulling her close so that he spooned her protectively.
They dozed lightly for a few minutes, before she said reluctantly, “It’s time for me to grab a shower and leave.”
“No!” Charles said pouting like a petulant small boy before he kissed her long and deep.
When she got up and headed for the bathroom, he followed on her heels and stepped into the shower cubicle with her.
They washed each other and as it happened every time they touched each other’s naked body, they were soon aroused to fever pitch.
“Let’s step out for a quickie,” he told her.
Drying them both quickly, he lifted her high up into his arms. She clasped her arms around his neck as he lowered her slowly onto his erect cock.
Then, placing her ass on the edge of the bathroom sink, he hooked her legs over his arms and started to pound into her pussy.
She watched their reflected image in the bathroom mirror and marvelled again how perfect they looked together, their hair almost identical shades, their limbs long.
From the side his large cock reminded her of the outsized cocks she’d seen in 3D porn movies while at university. It was almost impossible to imagine that it could actually fit inside her. She held on tightly as though he was a bucking bronco, feeling it cleave its way deep inside her with every thrust.
She hadn’t known that she liked pain until the day he’d first fucked her and it had felt as though someone had stuck the end of a baseball bat inside her and pushed it in at least a foot deep.
She felt his rhythm suddenly change and knew that he was on the verge. She pulled his head down to hers and parted her lips. His tongue plunged deep into her throat and stifled her moan as they came in unison.
It was a little later than usual by the time she’d dressed and took out her mobile phone to call for a taxi to take her home.
There was nothing available for the next hour.
That would make her possibly late for dinner with Peter.
He was a stickler when it came to punctuality.
He had also decreed that they had dinner together every Monday, Wednesday and Sunday. He expected her to be at the table when it was served with all the pomp and ceremony his household staff could muster.
“I’ll drive you home,” Charles decided. “Let me grab my keys.”
Five minutes later they were in his silver BMW 7 Series with Catherine cooing softly in the back.
They entwined fingers each time they were held up by the flow of traffic, but didn’t say much.
Sometimes they talked for hours and sometimes like now, they just enjoyed each other’s company and felt no need for words.
Peter was in the house when they walked in.
“There you are!” her husband said, giving her a smile before turning to her brother and giving him a much cooler, “Hello, Charles.”
“Hi Peter!” Charles said, immediately adopting the effete voice he used when he was around the man. “You look so yummy today in your Savile Row suit, I could eat you with a spoon.”
Charlotte watched her husband purse his lips into a thin line and almost laughed. She could literally hear the cheeks of his small ass slam shut and his asshole quiver in fear every time her brother was within a hundred feet of him. He was only 2″ shorter than her brother but built along much slimmer lines. He seemed to live in fear that her brother would bend him over and attack him from the rear.
Charles was just too naughty.
Her husband only tolerated his ‘gay’ brother-in-law for her sake. He wasn’t homophobic in the sense that he would talk derogatively about gay men, but he wasn’t comfortable around them. He currently had no gay friends and probably had never had any in his privileged life.
She waved Charles goodbye a few minutes later and closed the door behind him.
Her nipples still ached from his lips…and she couldn’t wait until they were again tugging on them tomorrow hungrily demanding her milk.
She’d thought that having sex with her twin was the most intimate thing they could do together. She’d thought that nothing could beat the thrill of having his large cock so deep inside her that it threatened her womb…until the day he’d wrapped his lips around the nipple of one of her milk-filled breasts and started to drink her milk.
Seeing him at her breast had overwhelmed her with such tenderness, her eyes had filled.
It had been an indescribable feeling and it had been also abundantly clear that he had been feeling the same profound connection.
And it had happened purely by accident.
She’d been feeding Catherine on arrival at his house to ensure that the baby would fall asleep and give them some time alone together.
His hands had roamed her body as she’d breastfed her daughter, whispering naughty things into her ear, stroking her clit while he finger-fucked her lazily.
Her free breast had ached in the confines of her bra and she’d freed it to get some relief. It had leaked milk in response to Catherine’s suckling mouth on the other side, and without thought Charles had gathered a milky droplet on his fingertip and carried it to his lips.
His eyes had darkened with sudden passion when he’d sampled it and Charlotte had risen hurriedly to put her daughter down to sleep.
He’d told her later that the light, sweet taste had immediately driven him wild.
She’d always felt a pleasant contentment while breastfeeding her daughter.
That contentment morphed into torrid sexual arousal the moment she’d returned and her twin had pulled her down unto his lap, and started to drink her milk.
Her womb had contracted with every pull of his lips.
The position had made the most of the length and thickness of his cock, and it had filled her to bursting as she’d ridden it.
She’d come quickly, throwing her head back and letting out a scream as his lips had persistently pulled on one nipple.
It had been hands down the most explosive orgasm of her life.
From that moment breastfeeding became an integral part of their lovemaking.
***
Charles vowed that he would never get married and while the thought made Charlotte unbearably sad to think of him alone when he was not with her, she understood him not wanting to complicate matters by having a wife.
If they both had to find good excuses to be away from their spouses, it would limit their time together.
Charles spent his time enjoying their favourite hobby: reading.
They’d both always believed that there could never be enough books in the world.
Charlotte knew that even though he missed her when they were apart, he would never be lonely with his books to occupy him.
Peter was busy with his work, his friends and his gentleman’s club.
It gave her a lot of free time to spend with her brother.
Exercising restraint was tough when they were around other people, but they had decided that they wouldn’t risk ever being found out.
But they had always been able to communicate telepathically and even with the breadth of a room between them, she could feel the phantom press of his lips against hers when their eyes met and he blew her a silent kiss.
Sometimes she felt his hands cupping her breasts and her nipples helplessly hardened in response.
One evening over dinner with Peter and several of his architect friends, Charlotte had looked up and caught her twin’s eye from the opposite side of the long table. His eyes had told her exactly what he’d rather be doing to her. In the next instant, the slam of his hips against hers had felt so real she’d gasped as his thick length had invaded her.
Several eyes had turned her way with mingled concern and curiosity.
She’d pretended that she’d choked on a non-existent morsel of food and had hastily taken a sip of red wine from her glass.
Charlotte sometimes felt a little guilty about deceiving Peter, but she doubted that he’d ever loved her.
She had wondered why he’d made such a great effort to impress her in and out of bed before they’d married, and had then been a little more than perfunctory on their honeymoon and ever since.
He’d told her the reason on the flight back to the UK. His parents had given him an ultimatum: get married and have a child by 40 or lose his inheritance.
Peter’s thirty-ninth birthday had been fast approaching, so he’d set his sights on Charlotte and done what was necessary to win her over. And even though he’d married in obedience to his parents dictates, he’d wanted someone who would look good on his arm.
She was his trophy wife for all intents and purposes and she’d dutifully fulfilled the roles he’d needed her to fulfil, being a wife and bearing a child.
Peter had essentially used her for his own purposes. She might have still married him, if he’d told her the truth upfront but he’d chosen to hide it from her. The worst part was their lacklustre sex life and the thought of them spending the rest of their lives having sex when Peter got the urge once every blue moon.
That was why she’d felt no guilt sleeping with Charles on the day of her and Peter’s return from honeymoon.
Truthfully, she didn’t know if her husband would be horrified if he discovered that Catherine wasn’t his. He would probably only be bothered if his parents found out too and left their twenty-five million pounds estate to their favourite dogs’ charity as they’d threatened.
Peter was too self absorbed to see what was going on right under his nose.
If he was less of a pompous ass of a rich boy, she would have probably divorced him, but why should she give up a life of luxury when she didn’t have to?
He’d already told her that he would prefer her not to return to her Sales Manager position at Harrods at the end of her maternity leave and she’d been giving the idea serious thought. The generous monthly allowance he’d given her from the beginning of their marriage dwarfed the salary she’d received, but working had given her a feeling of independence.
On the other hand, the more free time she had, the more time she had to spend with Charles.
They had decided that they would never make love, kiss or even hold hands under Peter’s roof.
It was more for practical reasons than because they respected the sanctity of her marriage.
For security purposes, her husband had installed cameras all over the house. Charlotte suspected that he hadn’t told her where they were all situated and thought that he wasn’t above spying on her in every corner of the house—even in the bathroom.
So she and Charles always behaved with circumspection in Peter’s large home, allowing him to believe that Charlotte was being a good little wife.
Charlotte felt no guilt otherwise.
Who was to say that the rules laid out by society were correct?
Perhaps people should be allowed to love whoever they wished, as long as both parties were mature enough to make informed choices.
She and Charles hadn’t committed murder as some evil twins have done.
All they were guilty of was fiercely loving each other as they must have done from the moment they had started life in their mother’s womb.
The End
© 2023 Meghan Moore
Leave a Reply