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**Sherry McLberry**
- Mnhmmm!!!
Once again my sister's boyfriend and I spent time in bed over hot kisses and more. Considering how his technique has grown lately, I think Terry should be honourable to me.... Although maybe Bart is just finally coming to terms with his situation?
- Mmm!
At least his hands already know the right spots on my body. Although it always starts out the same way. He pretends he doesn't want me, tells me it's wrong, that Terry's his girlfriend....
- Ah.
I love it when I get bit on the ear. What am I saying? The funny thing is, for all his talk and all his righteousness, Bart, in addition to slacking off, has never once said he likes my sister or that he loves her.
- Ahh!
Looking at it that way, it's starting to feel like I'm doing Terry a favour by fucking her boyfriend behind her back. As we all know, God has a sense of humour, right?
- Bart. Ah. Slow down.
One good thing, at least her boyfriend's good-looking. Bart Simpson was always good-looking, which is probably why my sister and I used to tease him. I hate to think what I would have had to do if Terry had hooked up with some nerd.....
- Ahhhhhh.
What would my options be though? Bless, the common stamp about twins having the same taste, which, like many stamps, has a definite connection to reality.
- Aah!
Bart's pretty good in bed, too. Well, as far as a girl who's only had one boyfriend can tell, and that was Bart Simpson. In some ways, he reminds me a lot of Terry.
- Haa. Haaah.
Bart breathed heavily over me, though my breath was coming in gasps after my orgasm. Since it was the second time, Bart got off me and fell down beside me. As soon as our hands touched, from a lying position, Bart crouched on the edge of the bed.
- ...What am I even doing?
God, mate, my insides have already taken the form of your mate, and you're still moping around? Maybe he thinks he just has to keep cracking on with this good guy comedy?
- I don't know what you're doing in the shower, but I'd rather you hand me some tissues.
As I cleaned myself up, I found myself staring at Bart getting dressed. I suppose under different circumstances, I might have a crush on him and even want to make him my boyfriend..... Only in my circumstances, I can't have a crush on anyone until I'm done with the past.
- Well. I'm off? - rather from the fact that our eyes met while he was climbing out the window, Bart felt he should say something.
- Yeah. Good luck. - to which I pulled up my T-shirt, revealing my babies.
Despite the instinctive desire in his eyes, Bart said nothing and just walked away. He's a lot of fun to tease. It even makes me feel sorry for Bart that he got caught up in this mess.
.....
Lighting the scented candles I usually use to relax after a particularly serious rehearsal, I tried to get rid of the smell of sex in my room before returning to Terry's house.
* Stomping *
There in the corridor, walking past my room, footsteps were heard. Her footsteps.
- Yo, how's school going? - I love talking to Terry every time I have sex with Bart, her boyfriend.
- Sherry, you home yet? - Terry's body was covered in hickey marks.
Bart Simpson, you really know how to make a girl feel bad about herself...
- Yeah, I wanted to get some exercise at home. - I remember a time when my parents cared about my truancy. Troubled times.
- How's that going? - Terry was having what she thought was a mundane conversation with her sister as she continued to change.
- Hot and sweet. - which brings a smile to my face.
- My goodness, Sherry, you talk about dance practice like it's sex! Ha ha ha! - for a second, I was out of breath.
It's a little early for Terry to know about my relationship with Bart. I'm not a total bitch, and I don't want to get in the way of Bart's trip to the Olympics....
And the more time that passes, the more painful it will be for Terry!
.....
After dinner, Terry and I went to the electric kettle, as usual, along with the idea of pouring ourselves something relaxing. I guess there's a certain degree of comfort in the similarities between twins, it starts to feel like there's definitely someone in this world who can always understand you. Let it be your interests, or your feelings.
- How are you even capable of drinking coffee for an evening? - Pouring water on the tea bag with a misunderstanding and a smile looked at me Terry.
From that one of the most unpleasant moments in this atypical relationship, comes when you realise, seemingly obvious thing that even your twin is a completely different, separate person. Who, like everyone else, is incapable of understanding your feelings.
- Hello, Bart, you'll come by tomorrow. - and already this unpleasant thing is becoming the germ of new, unpleasant feelings....
.....
There's a saying that every criminal wants to be caught. Maybe that explains why I like to take condoms out of Terry's wardrobe, subconsciously hoping that one day she'll notice?
- What are you reading? - Bart turned to me with the face of a battered kitten as he put on his trousers.
- So... What people subconsciously want others to read.....
- Crazy...
Turning a blind eye to Simpson's off-the-cuff remark. Terry and I both used to keep diaries, even swapping diaries with each other to read from time to time.
- Hoo hoo hoo...
Sometimes it led to some very funny arguments about how we remembered certain days and/or events differently. Or rather perceived. In general, it led to arguments, where each of us proved that it was so and not otherwise. Painful then, funny now.
I can't remember when, but probably in our early teens, Terry and I stopped exchanging diaries. She sort of kept it up, whereas I lost interest in it altogether. As with childhood memories, sometimes I miss that little snippet of life....
- Hey, Bart, do you keep a diary? - I don't know why, but I asked the guy who was always sighing heavily in my presence.
- ...Is that a serious question now?
- ... - his answer made me look up at him. - Yeah, you're a wrestler....
- What's that supposed to mean? Wrestling, by the way, requires a lot of intelligence in the mind-
- Yes, yes.
- ...What a conceit for a dancer.
...What did he just call me?!
- I'm not a dancer! I'm a dance performer. - Bart stared at me unblinking for a while with his arms folded across his chest.
- Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo! - only to burst out laughing so hard he had to hug his stomach.
- Ghnnnnn!... - I had to grit my teeth to keep from screaming at him.
- Haaaa... It's even funnier that you're serious. - Bart can smile? Any expression suits the damn handsome man. - Hey.
Because Bart was starting to piss me off, I threw a pillow in his face.
- Shouldn't you be getting out of here?
- Well. I was kind of going to, but what do I need a pillow for?
- Who says you can keep it?
- Isn't it an international rule that anything that hits you in the face is rightfully yours?
- ... Hey, do you need a new alarm clock? - As I picked up the rectangular clock, I gave Bart a threatening look.
- I think. The corners are too angular to match my room. - who lowered the pillow with a smile.
That was the end of our unusual parting, and before I went back to bed to read someone else's diary.....
- Ha ha ha, such a fool.... - picked up a pillow.
.....
- Ah! Bart! There!
It's awkward having sex behind your wall. I can't imagine what it would be like in the dorms. They should have prison-like visiting rooms.
- Ahhhh!
- It's annoying. - With my headphones on, I had a pillow on top of me.
Especially that two-faced woodpecker. One minute he's a martyr who, evil me, is being baited into having sex against his will. But as soon as Terry invites him over, he forgets all his guilt and runs away with his trousers down. Isn't he just an 'M' word weirdo?
- Terry, you're so beautiful.
Oh, my God. The fact that the card fell on him is brilliant. The bastard would do well to learn his lesson. Maybe he'll grow up and start taking responsibility for his actions.
.....
- Haaah! Haaah!
The next day, I invited Bart back to my place.
- Look. Give me a break, will you?
Where I was brutally saddled.
I don't know why, but I had this rage and I wanted to be hard on him. Which is technically difficult, because he's a guy.
- ...Maybe you can tell me what this is all about. - for the umpteenth time while getting dressed, Bart asked that annoying question. - Are you sure you don't like me?
- Haa. - how many times do I have to tell this fool to get it? - No, Bart Simpson, I don't like you.
- Then what's this all about? - Bart was asking on automatic, clearly expecting me to say nothing, as usual.
It's hard to admit something like that, isn't it?
Admitting you're doing something so despicable because you hate your sister.
Because you hate your sister.
To get revenge on the one who broke your heart.