THE TWINS NEXT DOOR
This is a semi-fictional story that has been written for ENTERTAINMENT purposes only for knowledgable, consenting adult readers. DO NOT READ if you are underage or not interesting in reading detailed depictions of lewd sexual acts between males.
I encourage questions or comments, as it really encourages me to keep writing. Please contact me at:striker88888@gmail.com
Also, please continue reading my work at Nifty.org: LACROSSE GOD ACROSS THE HALL, CAMPING WITH RED SOX GUY, KURT THE HOCKEY BRO, & FIREHOUSE STUD. And donate to Nifty because it's an awesome place.
**** CHAPTER TWO
Of course for the next few days I couldn't stop thinking about the twins, with their enormous, heavy, identical dicks soaking me from above -- and I was embarrassed and afraid of seeing them in school on Monday. But when I finally did run into Travis he gave me a friendly dead-arm as usual, as if the entire thing hadn't even happened.
"What's up, chief" He laughed.
I decided to put the event behind me. Just boys being boys. Soon I was back over the twins' place, shooting basketball on their makeshift hoop or generally getting into mischief around the neighborhood. We were also doing some serious work to the treehouse, which was really coming along as a fantastic hideout for us.
When the thing was finally fully built, when we were thirteen, Trent managed to steal one of his dad's cigars for a little celebratory puff.
After dinner one night I snuck out and met the twins up in their tree.
When I arrived Travis lit it up--our first cigar--and we coughed our way through smoking it. The smoke was heavy and raw and I didn't like it at all, but for some reason I loved watching Travis puff on it -- his thick lips moistening the blunt cut-off end. After he puffed a few times he passed it over to me, and I remember letting the thick end enter my mouth a little more deeply then I should have. The slimy brown paper felt good sliding towards the back of my mouth--until my throat filled with smoke and I started hacking up a lung.
"Easy there, tiger" Trent laughed, slapping me on the back.
So began our Sunday night "secret meetings" up at the treehouse. Usually it was just me and the twins, but sometimes another friends or neighborhood kid would come. We'd smoke cigars or cigarettes or sometimes take a sip of whiskey from the flask the twins stole from their father. We'd talk about girls at school -- about their tits and asses and who we wanted to sleep with--though I'm not sure we really knew what we were talking about.
Sometimes the twins would invite their younger cousin Chris, who was eleven, and we'd make him do errands and chores for us--laughing about what a weakling he was. Chris was just happy to hang with the older kids so I don't think he minded much.
One Sunday I brought a surprise to our Sunday night secret meeting.
Earlier that weekend I was cleaning out the hall closet after my mom yelled at me about forty times to do so. I had some old cleats and sneakers boxed up and the whole thing was beginning to smell, so I systematically went through the closet tossing out too-small shoes and other random crap. Then, in the back of the closet, I found a box that didn't belong to me. Inside I found about 30 pornography magazines-- Playboys and Penthouses and something called Juggs. It was a jackpot fro a thirteen year old. There was also another publication called LETTERS, which had no pictures but long letters and short stories about sexual encounters.
I realized I'd found my dad's stash, and the thought creeped me out. But since the box was so deeply buried, and the magazines all many years old, I was pretty sure my dad had forgotten they were even in there. Or maybe I was just thinking with my slightly-stiffening dick at the time, because I decided to take the box into my room and hide it under my bed.
**
Of course when Sunday night came around I lugged the box over to the Twins' yard and called up from down below:
"Yo Trent, come give me a hand"
"Shut up!" Trent snapped back, "You want my dad to hear?"
"Sorry, man."
Together we brought the box up to the treehouse. When I lifted the cover, Trent and Travis descended on the skin mags like vultures. "Holy shit" Travis said, eye gleaming. "There's fifty pornos here"
"I know." I said, proud to have something to offer the twins. "Hands off the Penthouses though--I get those first"
I looked though the mags the night before when my parents had fallen asleep and I decided the penthouses were the best. The Playboys were sort of boring--though the women were sexy --they didn't do much. The Penthouses had photo shoots with actual sex though--and I loved looking at the girls spread eagle beckoning some clueless, big-dicked guy to shove it in them.
The mags were from the eighties so the guys were al so hairy it was somewhat funny. To be honest they reminded me of the twin's father, who had this thick black hair all over his entire muscled torso. Sometimes I pictured him in the photos, nailing the big-busted girls bent over seductively.
I took the Penthouses and the three of use spent the next hour just reading and reading and reading. Once in a while we'd share a particularly hot photo or make a joke, but basically we just read silently, flipping through pages. I knew my dick was rock hard but didn't look up from the mags to see if the twins were as well. I probably learned more about sex in that one hour than I had so far my whole life. And my take away was this: I wanted it, hard, bad, and as soon as possible.
Needless to say, the pornos became a major part of our Sunday Night meetings. And the twins stopped inviting other people; it was just the three of us meticulously going over page after pages of naked women (and occasionally, the men who fucked them).
And pretty quickly things became more and more 'comfortable' in terms of how we looks at the pornos. At first we were shy about our raging hard-ons, but soon we couldn't conceal them. We'd even be proud of how thick and engorged our young dicks became and would openly point out how much our tight jeans tented out with our engorged dicks. Soon enough even we started unbuttoning our flys and letting our dicks come out for air, not necessarily to jerk them off--not yet anyway--but just to feel the warm night air against the dick skin and lets out boners get even harder as we thumbed the pornos.
I guess this is a good time to talk about the twins "openness" in all things like this-- definitely something that set their family apart from mine.
My family was loving but pretty closed off -- my sister and I had separate bedrooms and bathrooms and there was rarely a time we had to share "personal space" -- so we all sort of went about our lives doing our own thing.
The Carry household was a different story. Trent and Travis shared bunk beds in a small bedroom--though they had an ample sized yard the actually house was pretty small, so every time you were in there everyone was sort of on top of each other. The twins ate with their father almost every
night--he wasn't a particularly good cook but tried hard to get food on the table-- but it was always a messy, rushed, loud affair. They also shared only 1.5 bathrooms (one full bath in the main house and a lonely, always dirty toilet in a closet-sized space in the garage), so space was always a bit of a compromise.
I have one memory from when we were ten that sticks with me. Mr. Carry was hollering from the garage to Travis, wanted him to bring out his car keys, and I was in their living room playing Nintendo. I wasn't sure where Travis was and his dad seemed to be getting mad, so I went to go find him.
"Trav" I called, "where are you man? Your dad's yelling--"
"Dude I'm in the john. What's he shouting about"
"He wants his keys or something."
"Ahh shoot. Come in here and grab them, willya?"
I wasn't sure what I was expecting, since it all happened so fast. But when I went in the bathroom to grab the keys, there was Travis in all his glory--sitting on the toilet and pinching out what seemed to be a particularly troublesome shit.
He was grunting as I opened the door. When I saw him I sort of flinched to leave, but then stopped. He was completely at ease, as if watching another guy take a dump was a completely normal, natural thing.
He reached down into the pocket of the jeans around his ankles and took out a key chain. I went over to him to grab then, still a bit embarrassed.
"Don't be a baby" Travis scolded, dryly. He handed me the keys. From so close I caught a pungent whiff of the turd he was dropping in the toilet.
They I rushed out of there to give Mr. Carry the keys.
When I handed them to him he sort of half-grinned and snorted, "what took you boys so long?" He used a bottle opener on the key chain to pop open a Budweiser, and I remember the dark sweat on his oil-stained green t-shirt as he gulped it down. I must have stayed there watching a bit because then he pointed the bottle towards me.
"Wanna sip?"
I had never tasted beer before so I said "sure." It was totally bitter and I struggled to gulp it down.
"Easy there, chief. You have to taste it slow." He said, grabbing the bottle back. "Now, scram."
**
Over the years I learned that that kind of bathroom scene was pretty typical in the Carry household. The twins and their dad would take dumps with the door open, in case anyone needed to use the sink in the bathroom or take a shower. No one was ashamed of their bodies--at dinner Mr. Carry or one of the boys would Riop a huge fart, and everyone would laugh or ignore it -- for sure, no one would tell them they need to say "excuse me" like my own mother did. The twins' mom had died many years before when the kids were just two or three, so they didn't really have a female influence around to keep their manners in check. It made for one messy household, though Mr.Carry mostly kept things together. I think the messiness and chaos of their house was part of the reason my well-to-do parents didn't like me spending much time over there, as if it would rub off on me.
Mostly my parents just ignored the Carrys, but around that time when I was 13 or 14 we were at the dinner table and my dad asked me if I wanted to have my first taste of beer. I accidentally let it slip that I had tried beer before--probably not the right time to brag in hindsight -- and he got pretty annoyed, demanding I tel him WHERE. Never really being the best liar, I sort of stumbled for an excuse--but admitted that I had tried Mr. Carry's beer once. Dad was pissed off-- going off on the "redneck next door" who had fed his son alcohol underage (never mind the fact he was about to do the same!) I found myself defending Mr. Carry and saying I stole the sip while he wasn't looking, even though that wasn't strictly true. Still my dad was angry and insisted he was going to go over the Carry house the next day to "have a little talk" -- I begged him not to but he insisted. "Listen to your father" my mom said, ending the discussion.
I was doing my homework at the dining room table the next day when my dad came back from the Carry place. My mom asked him how it went and he said "shouldn't be a problem again." And that's basically it. Then he went down to his workshop.
**
So these were the two for worlds I was stuck between--my family's propriety and the Carry's wildness. And the two worlds collided every Sunday, when I met the boys up in the treehouse to look through my dad's old porno mags.
By the time we were fifteen or sixteen of course we didn't just look anymore. Every sunday the three of us would jack off our dicks to the pictures and stories in those books. We'd each take a corner of the treehouse and whack away. Sometimes we'd have competitions to see who could cum first... Travis would usually win. Sometimes I'd read one of the stories from LETTERS aloud while we all lied looking up at the sky and played with our junk, each lost in our own thoughts.
The twins' dicks were almost twice as big as mine--and I had an average to large size dick. But at almost 6 feet tall and growing, they both had true weapons on them. Big, meaty logs that commanded respect by how sturdy and hard they seemed to be jutting out of their jeans. I'd get looks here and there of their cocks, but tried to keep my eyes to myself and the porn in front of me. Once Trent did catch me looking I guess, because he threw his PLAYBOY at my head with a laugh, "stop watching me, faggot" he joked.
It was the first time he'd said it: FAGGOT. We heard the older kids at school saying words like that but never heard Trent or Travis say it. He was just joking but something about it cut to the heart of me. Was I..a...faggot?
I knew I had strange feelings for the twins--always have. From the first time I saw their dicks--pissing on me from in the tree. Even when I walked in on Travis on the john, taking a shit--that's not something that should excite me, yet I replayed the scene one million times in my mind. As the twins grew into their studly adolescent bodies I found myself more and more imagining what their big meaty dicks looked like up close, or felt like...or even tasted like. Still, I knew I liked girls, even had a crush on one in our class who would french kiss me behind the school dumpster at lunch time. So, needless to say, I was confused.
**
One afternoon when we were sixteen my fourteen year old sister knocked on my bedroom door.
"You have a call"
"Coming" I said, shifting pulling my pants up. I had been jerking off, as I spent most afternoon at sixteen.
"It's one of THEM" she said, opening the door. She never liked the twins much, and never missed an opportunity to tell me.
Trent was on the phone, told me to get over there ASAP.
Of course I did rush over. I checked up in the treehouse but it was empty, so I went inside their house through the backdoor.
They were down in the basement, where I heard noises coming from their TV.
"What took you so long bro!" Trent said, almost in a panic.
Apparently their dad was away for the night, and they managed to shoplift a video cassette copy of a porno from the "restricted" section of the video store. I've tried to sneak a peek in that black-curtained room so many times, but never thought of stealing something to watch.
They had taken a red plastic tape called THROATFUCK: CUMPLOSION!.
It was like a brand new world for us. Porn mags with nude beaver is one thing--seeing actual fucking on VIDEO was the greatest thing we've ever experienced.
**
In the video, a businessman named STEVE went around picking up hookers who specialized in one thing--giving deep throat oral sex. Never really even knew what that was--I guess I knew of blow jobs, but couldn't really picture what it was like, or how to give one. The video was 2 and a half hours of nonstop deep, spit-covered, aggressive blowjobs--I think about 30 girls sucked "Steve's" dick through the course of the video. We were mesmerized.
Blowjobs seemed better than sex. We began immediately discussing which girl in our class we could convince to blow us AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. "Maybe Becky" I suggested.
All three of us were rock hard. "Need to find me a hooker" Travis joked, using the term from the video. We had finished it by now, rewound, and started it from the beginning.
"Andy will be your hooker" Trent laughed, pushed me a little towards Travis who was on the couch next to me, hard dick in hand.
"Yeah I wish" Travis smiled. "Then I could finally get off."
I was possessed, I guess. I don't know how or why or what came over me, but I sort of gave into Trent's push, and lowered my head towards Travis' dick.
I remember the intense smell of sweat and flesh stabbing at my nostrils as I took the head into my mouth. It all happened to fast. It tasted bitter but also soft and sweet.
After a beat, Travis pushed my head off of him and locked eyes with his brother.
"Fuck" he said, breaking the silence.
"Fuck" Trent said, echoing him.
I was silent.
"You can't ever tell anyone" Travis said, after a minute. He then grabbed me by the back of my head and pulled me back on his dick. I did my best to go up and down on it like the girls were doing on the video. I couldn't believe it was happening.
"Watch your teeth" Travis said at one point, but pretty much seemed to be enjoying it immensely.
As I blew him--the first dick I'd ever suck --I had a flashback to the cigar we had smoked three years earlier up in the treehouse, the very first one. Something about it was the same, taking the hard and soft length of it inside my wet mouth.
It took about 2 minutes for him to unload in my mouth. A thick, gooey, smelly bucket of cum right in my mouth.
It tasted pretty putrid. I looked for somewhere to spit it out. Travis got a very serious look in his eye and spoke with authority: "Swallow it."
I saw he wasn't kidding so I did as I was told, gulping down his semen as gingerly as I had gulped down his dad's beer years earlier.
I looked over to Trent, who was himself covered in his own jizz. He had cum while jerking off, watching me blow his brother.
His palm was covered in shiny white liquid. He flung some at me with a flick of his wrist, and a large blob of it stuck to my chin.
"Fuck" Travis repeated, and collapsed onto the couch.
That's how it begun.
TO BE CONTINUED
I encourage questions or comments, as it really encourages me to keep writing. Please contact me at: striker88888@gmail.com