It is Tuesday. I am one month and 13 days into my eighteenth year and I am sitting on a wooden stool that is so low that my knees are higher than my hips. My twin brother, Yuki, is standing beside me talking to a customer. He is close enough that I can feel the body heat radiating off of him and for no better reason than the fact that he is that close to me, I lean my head against him. Touch is my drug of choice and, right or wrong, touching Yuki is as necessary, and as instinctive, to me as breathing.
I do not purr when Yuki's long fingers worm their way into my pigtails, calluses catching on the odd thread of hair, but my breath does hitch in a small, mostly silent, little hum that rumbles low in my throat. Rubbing my cheek against his leg, like a cat scent marking him, I cannot help wishing it were smooth, warm skin touching my face instead slightly rough denim.
Yuki-induced arousal vibrates constantly through my nervous system and in this moment it hums a bit closer to the surface, but doesn't quite tumble from sweet-touch to fuck-me-lust, so we stay that way...Yuki wrecking my braids, playing his nails against my scalp, and me breathing the dried-in-the-sunshine smell of his jeans and beneath that, the spice of his skin.
Yuki laughs at something the customer says and even though I am distracted by the manga I am looking at, his laughter rides through my body like a knowledgeable hand. I smile reflexively, unable not to, all cat-with-cream at the tingling in my tummy, but I make no effort to follow the conversation. The person whom he is speaking with is completely unaware of my presence behind the high counter, so I sit quietly, invisible to the world. At my back, warm where my shoulders rest against it, the wooden structure is like a fortress. I am surrounded by the sawdust smell of books, pine cleaner and the sweet candy scent of the new magazines.
I hear their voices, Yuki's and the customer who exists, not in my world, but only on the other side of the counter, but it is a distant nattering on. To be honest, I am too fascinated by the hentai manga I am looking at to pay attention to what seems to be an oral recap of the Momoyama Period and Oda Nobunaga's role in unifying Central Japan...
Their voices fade from my awareness, casually, without any effort on my part.
The manga is called "4U" and the pages of carefully drawn images are beautiful and nasty. The paper is thick and cool against the pads of my fingers. The black ink is very black against off-white paper and the blood relationship between the characters is sweetly obvious, to me anyway, because of the physical similarities in their appearance. But is the disparity in their sizes that causes me to shift on my hard perch.
Aroused, my skin shrinks...my insides knot. Blood rises, with heat, to the surface of my skin in a flush that I feel everywhere. Unable to stop myself, I squirm a tiny bit, widening my legs just enough so that the seam in my running short's built-in panty stimulates the damp flesh between my legs.
I chew my bottom lip, taste cherry lipgloss, rock my hips minutely and turn the page.
The siblings in the manga are fucking for the first time. She is standing, wearing only panties, with her back pressed against the front of him. The girl looks small and hungry. Her brother is pressed into her, one arm around her chest and the other inside his sister's dainty little panties, fingering her dainty little pussy. The pages slip across my fingertips like a caress, making goosebumps tickle down my shoulders. I breathe through my nose, touching the erotic images in light little circles. Sister is now on her knees, wrapping both hands around her brother's artistically exaggerated cock and she is trying to suck all that hard flesh into her round little mouth.
The stubby-pigtailed girl and her brother remind me so forcibly of me and Yuki that arousal, always simmering, spills through me, scalding hot, making my tummy feel full and tight. I wiggle on the stool, my pussy soft, my swelling labia pushing against and puffing around the seam of nylon fabric that is pushing high into my crevice. The thin fabric is darkening with my juice and clings to my dampening flesh, outlining my sex perfectly. I can smell the heat of my arousal, my sex, and I am both ashamed and further aroused by this. I am shamed, yes, but at the same time I want nothing more than to slide my fingers up the leg of my shorts and explore my own creaming cunt.
I am breathing in shallow puffs, flexing my pussy muscles and continuing to rock my hips in tiny little movements. Bent at the waist, I am fighting simultaneous urges to reach inside my sports bra and wring my itchy little nipples and stick my middle finger as deep into me as deep as I can reach. My doubled over position succeeds in pressing my puss more tightly against the warm stool and I hear myself make a tiny, involuntary noise. A little mew of need, quickly stifled.
"What are you looking at?" I do not know when Yuki's customer left, but he is looking down at me with black eyes, intense, speaking directly to me, so I know no one else is in the store.
I do not answer him with words; instead I hold the manga where he can see it. I am worrying my lower lip with my teeth and fighting all sorts of urges that involve taking my clothes off.
Yuki looks at the manga for a long ten count and then sets it on the shelf beneath the counter. He squats down in front of me and I can see a faint flush across his cheeks. I look at him, breath still shallow, and I can feel my own heated flush warming the air around me.
For a moment he doesn't say anything...then he smiles a wicked smile that makes things low in my tummy go all hot and liquid. "They look like us," he says. Then he is kissing me without touching me and squatting behind that counter, he is invisible now, like me.
I lean forward on the stool, into the kiss, trying to convey without words how much I want him right at that moment. We lick and bite and suck each other, only our mouths touching.
When I can retain enough oxygen to speak, I say, voice low and rough even to my own ears, "I want you inside me like he is inside her on page twenty-three."
Yuki laughs against my skin, his lips trailing down my neck. Licking the dried sweat from my earlier run off of my skin, he hums noises, male and animal, against my throat. His arms remain wrapped around his legs, as he squats flat-footed in front of me, eating salt off my body.
Yuki's tongue laves my collarbone, dipping inside the neckline of my top. "Take it off." He tells me, voice gruff, as lost in the moment as I am.
I do not hesitate. No one will see me. I am invisible. My tank top and bra are not even over my head before Yuki's hot mouth is sucking on my stiff little nipples. His teeth worry them, his tongue bathes them.
I am making tiny little kitten noises, little catches, mewls.
In a rush of movement that is both fluid and frantic Yuki is on his knees, eyes gone to wild, his hands tugging the waistband of my shorts. I raise my bottom so he can slip the red nylon down my legs. The shorts land on the old black and white tile floor, looking naughty and vividly red.
It is Tuesday. I am one month and 13 days into my eighteenth year. Behind the counter of the Magic Peach Bookstore, I am naked and sitting on a low stool that puts my knees higher than my hips. My legs are spread and the violent pink slit between them is shiny and swollen and flowering open in an erotically lewd invitation. My nipples are worried bright pink and wet with spit from my brother's mouth. My narrow body is full to bursting, my limbs heavy, my belly tight, wanton with lust, with need, with want.
Yuki is watching me, eyes bright, pressing the ridge of his erection through his clothes. He makes no move to touch me and I am suddenly discomfited by how exposed I am. Even invisible I suddenly feel very naked. Like a light coming on in the dark, exposing me, I realize I am in a public place and that at any moment the silver bell over the door could jingle and there would be three of us in the room and I would be the only one naked.
The distant high voltage hum of life, separated from my bare parts by a wooden counter and a glass door, suddenly doesn't seem very distant at all. Spooked, adrenaline making me weak and a bit clumsy, I reach for my shirt.
Yuki grabs my wrist. I look at him, eyes wide, head static-y with a naked-in-public sort of near-panic.
He shakes his head, smiling playfully, trying to charm me. "Stay like that. Please."
Easy for him to say, he is dressed.
"Yeah, well you're not naked," I say, charmed but not wanting to be. I lean forward on the low stool, bowing my head a bit, feeling vulnerable in a way I do not normally feel vulnerable. Unsure more with the situation than with Yuki, my shoulders are hunched, my wrist crossed somewhat bashfully in front of my slippery little puss. Looking down, I realize I am unintentionally framing my breasts, bunching up the little fleshy pads and forcing them into something close to cleavage. Momentarily impressed, I try to mound them up more.
"What if someone comes in?" I breathe the question, still looking at the high gentle curves of my breasts that my position, not nature, has created.
"Why are you whispering?" Yuki counters and his fingers start drawing soft little lines of fire on my mounded up breasts.
"Because, I am naked in a bookstore." Slave to his touch, I widen my stance, uncrossing my wrists to give him better access to my body. "It seems like I should whisper when I am naked in a public place."
Yuki dips a finger in my bellybutton and my tummy quivers. "There's no one in here and you have been naked in public before." He is grinning.
I laugh. "Almost naked, you perv, I have been almost naked... Huge difference," I say and in the next breath try not to swallow my tongue because Yuki, still grinning, is wiggling his finger into my dewy slit.
"Almost naked, then," he says, his finger working slowly, fucking me sweetly.
I sigh in pleasure and something high inside my womb softens still further, liquefying for his touch. Yuki kneels between my open legs, gliding his index finger in and out. In the position I am in, legs spread, knees raised, I am completely open to him. Breathing in quick shallow little pants, we both watch as he slides one finger, then two up inside me and we watch those same fingers slide back out, slick and wet.
Withdrawing fingers coated with my sticky cream, Yuki rubs them with his thumb, smearing the gooey spend as if testing its consistency. I watch him, panting, my fingers griping the edge of the stool as if I will fall off the world if I let go.
Still looking at his fingers, he reaches out and paints the bow of my mouth with my own juices. I lick my lips and taste myself and I taste good. Tangy. Sweet. Yuki cleans his fingers in his mouth, giving me lots of eye contact, and then he is kissing me, lapping at my mouth. I catch his tongue and he tastes like ginger and pussy. My hips are rocking of their own accord and the need to have him hilted inside me is so fierce that I think I might just go insane if he doesn't fuck me now.
I am fumbling with the huge All-Around Cowboy belt buckle Yuki bought off of eBay and tugging the button fly of his jeans, trying with great urgency to push or pull buttons in the right sequence to open his pants. He is kissing me like he is trying to crawl inside me, making my brainwaves scatter and I keep forgetting what I am doing. Finally, desperate to get to cock, I break the kiss, ducking my head trying to see what my hands are doing. Yuki follows me, trying to recapture my mouth. I dodge him twice but he finally crowds me up against the counter and takes my mouth again.
My hands flutter helplessly. I've defeated the belt buckle, but the tight damp fabric and metal buttons over his erection are defeating me. When Yuki comes up for air, I pant, desire-weak, leaning my bare sweaty back against the cabinet door. My greedy hands are pressing against the denim over his erect flesh and he is pressing back with almost violent little jerks of his hips.
"God, Yui, you look so fuckable like that." Yuki's voice is hoarse. He puts right hand on my breasts and alternating, kneads them with a touch that would be painful under different circumstances, but now, hot and wanting, the rough handling only heightens my pleasure. With his left hand, he effortlessly unbuttons the fly of his Levis and after pushing both jeans and boxers down to his knees, he sits back on his heels taking himself in hand...squeezing and stroking.
"Oh, yes," I breathe, leaning forward, reaching out to the cock he offers me. He is hard, angry-hot, and oozing clear drops of fluid. He looks beautiful and frightening and very much like salvation from this demon of lust that is eating me alive.
"Yes," I repeat, stroking the soft skin, rubbing my fingertips through the stringy pre-cum and bringing those same fingertips, trailing gossamer strands of his lubrication, to my mouth, sucking my fingers clean with loving enthusiasm.
With a guttural sound, Yuki pulls my head toward his cock, his hands impatient. Eagerly I start to slide off the stool, onto my knees, but Yuki stops me.
"No...stay on the stool...I want you to just bend over and suck it." His flexing hips make his cock sway gently. He is so erect that were it not for the thick weightiness of his penis he would almost be touching his belly button.
I hesitate only for a heartbeat, eyeing Yuki and his quivering erection. The comically hopeful, needy expression on his face is easy to read. I laugh, flicking a tiny brown nipple with my middle finger and bend to press a quick kiss on the slippery head of his cock. The engorged flesh pulses and all but writhes at the touch of my lips.
My ears are below my knees in this position, but, lucky for Yuki, I am nothing if not flexible. I widen my stance and bend at the waist, bending until my knees are over my head. The frog-like position forces my weeping pussy against the wooden seat and helpless to resist, I rock my hips, masturbating myself against the hard surface.
My lips brush sticky kisses on Yuki's cock. He smells like musk and spice. I sigh in pleasure at the feel, the taste, the smell of him.
Taking the swollen head into my mouth, I lap his precum-greedy-and burrow my tongue into his hole looking for more. Stretching my mouth wide, I take as much of his satiny hardness into my mouth as I can. I flex my jaws and tongue the ridge of flesh along the underside of the shaft. Moaning in adoration, in appreciation, I try to take him into my throat.
"God, little sister, you do that so right."
I bob up and down on his cock, my lips catching on the flare of the head, sucking and suckling, trying to milk his cum into my mouth. I lick his fat balls, gently mouthing them within their tight sack and pulling them into my mouth. I burrow further between his legs trying to reach that smooth, sensitive strip of flesh between balls and anus. Yuki is moaning, cupping my head, holding me to him with one hand while the other squeezes the lean muscles of my back and maps the tiny bumps of my spine with increasingly frantic motions.
"Little sister...little sister..." He chants, pushing his cock into my willing mouth over and over.
The hand Yuki has buried in the hair on the back of my head tightens, immobilizing me. He is thrusting his hips in earnest, fucking my mouth with intensifying force. His pubic hair tickles my nose and the scent of him is so strong here, so sweet that I never want to let go. I hold onto his hips, my fingers fretting against tight muscle, thumbs worrying his hipbones. He is grunting with each stroke and his moist balls are nudging my chin. I feel the flesh of his scrotum tighten, drawing, preparing...
Just when I am certain he is going to feed his sweet cum into my mouth, he uses his grip in my hair to pull me off his cock. I stare up at him, disoriented, my mouth in a spit-shiny "O". Yuki makes a noise, part moan, part grunt, roughly rubbing my slick little lips, he slides his thumb into my mouth. I suck it reflexively.
Yuki smiles tightly, nostrils frilling, voice like gravel, "I've taught you well, baby. If I put something in your mouth you suck it."
I nod because I can't speak. I am too excited, too needy, too wanting. I bend toward the dark red flesh of his cock, fascinated by the flutter and pulse of it.
"No, I want to come inside here..." the heel of his palm presses firmly into my tummy, over my womb, and an ache so sweetly painful that for an instant I stop breathing suffuses me, "not your mouth...god, don't look at me like that."
A little frantically Yuki is arranging my body to his satisfaction. "Put your hands on my shoulders," he orders and I do it. He hooks his arms under my legs, forcing my slippery sex to the very edge of the stool. Hands on his shoulders, I watch him guide his seemingly huge erection between my legs. My pussy looks so tiny in comparison, like I can't take him, but I know the fragile pink membranes will stretch and his swollen cock will disappear inside me and he will stuff himself, his cum, far up into my womb.
Teasing me with his stiffness and heat, Yuki rubs the glossy folds of my sex before he pushes himself into me. And then he is leaning over me, stretching me as he pushes deeper and deeper and deeper.
I press my face into the sweat-glossed skin at the base of his neck, tongue tasting the smooth skin there and if anything on earth is more erotic than the taste of him, I do not know what it is. I inhale the tang of Yuki and me and the sexy smell of our hot bodies rubbing, mixing, together.
Yuki withdraws and we both look down to watch the fat head of his cock cleaving the plump lips of my sex. He is coated with my juices and even as we watch, I am creaming for him, oozing with excitement.
"You are all hard little nipples and tight, wet little pussy," he whispers, watching his flesh merge into mine, his arms jacking my legs higher still, positioning me for his thrusts.
Yuki fucks me on that low stool behind the counter in the Magic Peach Bookstore. He fucks me rough and hard and sweet. With my arms around his shoulders and my legs riding the crook of his elbows, he plows into me with the sound of wet, slapping sex and wood scraping across tile. The screeching of the stool's legs startles me, making me tense, tightening me around him...making him moan. He buries himself in me repeatedly, trying to go deeper, as if he is trying to burrow out the other side. He hammers into me, making my little breast jiggle and my back hit the cabinet with a hollow boom. Though painless, the noise distracts me. Then Yuki presses into me again and all thoughts, all fears, simply cease to have importance. All that matters is the taste of his skin, the feel of his cock high and hard inside me and the fact that soon he will spill his cum into my womb.
My fingers are fisted in his rough-silk hair and they are damp. I do not know if the sweat is his or mine, or a sweet combination of us both. I smell our sweat and our sex and still, I smell books. The light is dim and there is a look of fierce intenseness on Yuki's face, in his eyes. I am not sure if he is in pleasure or pain, I only know that he is riding me and using me and his cock is filling my cunt so full. I am so full of him. All I can see are his eyes, his black, black eyes. He whispers something against my shoulder, something I do not understand because I am deafened by my own heartbeat.
I tug wet fistfuls of Yuki's hair, my body pulling, trying to bow, pressing my thin legs into the hard muscles of his arms. He presses back, fighting me gently, controlling me easily and my climax spills through me, unraveling me in a single moment of pleasure that stretches on endlessly. My sheath tightens around his cock as he rides me with short discordant thrusts, slowing him, milking him until his arms tighten as if he will re-shape me and he comes. I feel the thick pulse and twitch of him inside me and I know that his spunk is spilling high, sweet and thick.And in this anointing, in my insanity, I find still more pleasure, sweet and nasty, perfect and profane, my brother's seed warming my womb.
I clinch involuntarily around his cock. My sheath milks, clutches, until finally the earth moving beneath me subsides to tremors and becomes aftershocks so that I am poised there, in his arms, spent and boneless in my satiation.
My sigh catches on his shoulder. We are utterly still and I am marking the passage of time in the gradually diminishing pulses of Yuki's body inside mine. I can hear the beating of his heart and the faraway, indistinct, pulse of people and cars and the world. I hug my lover, my brother, tighter, inhaling the scent that is him, that is us, and wishing that I had something profound to say...some bit of poetry to quote, some promise that would carry us beyond what we know is coming and into what we wish could be...but I do not. So I say nothing.
It is Tuesday. I am one month and 13 days into my eighteen year.