Moans Veneris Ch. 01

"Can I… Can I touch it"? she asked. She was whispering. She was lost in what she was looking at.

Suddenly, it came to me that there might be a deal here. Just maybe, in return, I could get a look at more of her than I'd seen since we were little. As twins, we'd grown up bargaining with each other, so we'd both gotten fairly good at it. But she'd just broken the first rule of tough bargaining by revealing what she wanted. Of course, I wanted the same thing, but she didn't know that—so, at least for the moment, the bargaining advantage was mine.

"You've already had a free look," I pointed out. "What's in it for me if I let you touch it?"

That drew her back to reality, at least a bit. But I could see in her eyes that she still wanted to touch me. After a moment's hesitation, she said, "I'll take off my shirt and bra, and you can look at my boobs. If I can touch your dick."

This was a good sign. She always began with a low-ball offer when one of our trades might be in the offing. "Just your boobs?" I asked. "You've seen everything I've got, and you've seen me hard. You're gonna have to do better than that."

"Okay," she said quickly, apparently afraid that she'd offered so little that I'd just refuse to deal. "I'll strip, too. And you can see everything. But you have to show me how to jack you off, too. I want to know how, so I'll know what to do when I want to make out with a guy."

How could a girl who'd fucked so many guys not know how to make out? Maybe I'd been wrong about that. But she was offering more than I'd expected, and that distracted me from the issue of what she knew. I'd just been hoping to see her boobs and her pussy. But she said that she wanted to learn how to jack me off, too, and she seemed to think that I'd be giving something up by showing her how. I was pretty sure I was going to win this exchange, so I drove that point home. "Touching's one thing," I began. "But you're my sister! I don't know if I should let you…"

An agonized look flitted across her face; her bargaining skills were really slipping. I delayed a bit, obviously "thinking it over." Her hand, which was still reaching outward, halfway between us, withdrew and went to her shirt buttons. She unbuttoned the top one. Eyes looking directly into mine, she started on the next button.

Even if I hadn't already made up my mind, that probably would've done it for me. "All right!" I said, making a show of reluctance. "I get to see you naked, and you get to jack me off."

"Deal!" she said as her other hand flew to her buttons. It didn't seem like she'd even noticed that I'd changed the terms of the deal she'd offered. Now she was going to jack me off, not just learn how to jack me off.

In less than a minute, she was naked. She stood by my bed, facing me, staring at my cock. I stared at her boobs and her pussy—trying to decide which I wanted to spend more time looking at. I never did make up my mind, and my eyes flicked back and forth.

After we'd stared at each other for a bit, she took that decision out of my hands. She dropped to her knees beside the bed, putting her pussy out of sight. But she put out her hand and wrapped it gently around my cock—very much as I'd had my own hand wrapped around it for the first few seconds after she'd entered the room. At her touch, I tore my eyes from her boobs and looked down to where her hand held my cock.

The feeling of her female hand wrapped around me was exquisite. It was something I'd never felt before, never suspected could feel so good.

"What should I do now?" she whispered.

Somehow I managed to answer, "I'll show you," as I took her wrist into my own hand. "Tighten up a little," I went on. And then, "Not quite that tight!" as she clamped down too hard. She loosened a little; the feeling now was even better than at first.

"Like this," I said, moving her hand up and down, up and down. I moved her slowly at first, and then quickened the pace as she began to move on her own. I couldn't believe how wonderful it felt. "God, that feels good!" I moaned. My eyes moved back to her tits—which were now jiggling from her hand's rhythmic motion. The sight was almost as entrancing as the pressure that was now building in my groin.

It looked like she was enjoying this, too. But as she went on, she seemed to realize that I'd conned her, and that I was getting more from this than she was. Later, I figured that I should have seen that the cogs were turning inside her head, but what her hand was doing to my cock had short-circuited my brain.

I was nearly there, and I think she knew it, when she unwrapped her hand and stood up. "Okay," she said. "I think I know how to do that now." The implication seemed to be that she was done.

"Wait!" I said, helplessly. "I'm almost there! You have to finish me!"

"Oh," she responded, with a sly smile, "you can finish yourself. I'll just go wait for the girls to come and get me." She was standing now, and everything was again in view.

"Please!" I whined. "You can't just leave me like this!"

She smiled. "Well," she offered, "I do need some money for the movie. Maybe I could finish you if you gave me… oh… twenty dollars."

"That's robbery!" I snorted. "I'm not going to pay you to—"

"Okay!" she interrupted me, smiling. "I'll just go."

She'd hooked me. "Wait!" I pleaded. "Twenty dollars?" The view I had of her body might have had something to do with the fact that I was rapidly becoming putty in her hands.

"Twenty ought to be enough for the evening," she answered, still smiling slyly. Now she was drawing me in. "But I could use a little more. And I really want to be sure I know how to blow a guy. I could practice with you if you'd make it forty dollars."

No one had ever blown me before, Though, of course, I knew what that involved. So it sounded pretty good to me.

"Do you know what to do?" I asked. I started to tell her: "You have to—"

"Oh," she said, interrupting me again, "I think I know what to do." She stood beside the bed, as naked as the day we'd been born. The view—and what she'd been doing to my cock—had me befuddled now. "I've talked about how this works with my girlfriends. I just need to practice a little. Do you want a sample?" I was too far gone to realize that, if her girlfriends had told her how blow-jobs work, they must have told her how hand-jobs work, too. In spite of the cleverness I'd been congratulating myself on, she was firmly in the driver's seat. And it wasn't until later that it dawned on me that she'd been hornswoggling me.

She held my cock in her fingers, and, leaning over the bed, guided it to her mouth. Softly, moistly, she kissed my crown. My whole body went rigid at the touch. She raised her head a bit and turned to look at my face. "Mmmm! You like that, don't you?" she said. Her smile grew broader—and slyer.

Once again, I'd never felt anything like what she'd just done to me. Somehow, I managed to return the gaze she was giving me. I managed to nod—probably with a pleading look on my face. "Forty dollars?" she asked, still holding my cock, and breathing the words across the moist patch she'd left on it.

"Yes! Yes! Forty dollars!" I agreed. "Please! Do it now!"

She smiled at me again, and, lowering her head, she took half of my cock into her mouth.

I'd thought that the feeling of her hand on my rod had been exquisite. This was beyond anything I'd ever imagined! And that included the daydreams I'd been having lately about what it would feel like to put my cock in her pussy.

She held me in her mouth for a few seconds. And then, slowly, she began to bob her head up and down. She still had her hand on my cock, but I could see that she was fingering her pussy with her other hand.

I'd never felt anything like the hot, wet friction her mouth generated on my cock. It commanded my attention like nothing had, ever before. I felt my hips bucking in answer to her movements. She speeded up some, and I was again approaching…

She removed her mouth. My orgasm again receded, though my need for it didn't. I looked at her, nearly in despair. "Finish me!" I pleaded. "Finish me!"

"Let's raise the stakes," she offered, smiling slyly again. "For eighty bucks, I'll fuck you."

Her offer shocked me. I'm still not sure whether it shocked me less than it should have, or more than it should have.

After all, it probably should have shocked me more than it did, because here was my twin sister offering to be a whore for me! To fuck me for money!

On the other hand, it shouldn't have shocked me as much as it did, because I knew she'd fucked a lot of other guys before this, and she'd just had my cock in her mouth for money. Moreover, there wasn't any doubt in my mind as to whether I was going to take her up on that offer. So maybe the level of shock I experienced was about right.

At any rate, without thinking, I blurted out, "That's a lot of money! It's four week's allowance!" Almost immediately, I regretted saying it and hoped she wouldn't take it as a refusal.

She was still wearing that sly smile—and nothing else. She picked up her clothes. "Okay," she said, still facing me, and holding her clothes against her side, so as not to obstruct my view. "I'll go."

"Wait!" I implored urgently, looking over the goods she was taking care to show me. "I didn't say 'no'! Let me think a minute."

She stood there, making sure that I saw what she was offering. "What's to think about?" she asked. "Fucking my brother is kinda gross. But you want me to, don't you?"

"But…" I began, and then paused. "What if someone…" I paused again.

"…if someone found out?" she finished for me. "I'm sure not going to tell anyone! Are you?"

"Well… No…" I answered. "That's not something I'd ever tell anyone."

"We're the only ones around. How would anyone find out," she asked, "if neither of us said anything?"

I didn't want to part with that much money, but she'd gotten to me: I did want what she was offering—really wanted it. And she was right! If we did It, there was no way that either of us would tell anyone about it. "Okay," I said. "Eighty dollars. And you won't ever tell anyone."

"Eighty," she confirmed. "You can't tell anyone, either. I'll fuck you, but you can't put your… stuff in me. That would be too gross! You have to pull out in time. You have to promise."

"Okay!" I agreed—much too easily. But I'd never done this before, and I didn't know, yet, just how much I would want to finish inside her.

She set her clothes down on the floor and got onto the bed. I moved over to make room and got up onto my knees. She rolled onto her back, looked me in the eye, and folded her legs up toward her body—opening her thighs as she did so. I think my jaw dropped at my first sight of a real, living, open pussy. I stared at it, and my cock throbbed. The pictures in those magazines had been right! Pussies did look like that!

After a moment or two, she prodded me verbally: "Well? Are you too chickenshit to do this? Put it in me!"

Clumsily, I climbed over her into the position every straight young man dreams of daily, nightly, hourly. Slowly, bearing my weight on my left hand, I lowered my body while my right hand directed my cock toward her pussy. I didn't know, then, very much about how girls are put together, and I tried to penetrate her clit. It didn't work.

"Not there, you dumb shit!" she muttered as I raised myself for another try. "Let me…" she went on, as she reached down, grasped my boner, and guided it toward her entrance. My weight now shared by the hands I'd placed to either side of her, I lowered myself slowly, and my cock slid easily into her.

I'd never experienced anything so wonderfully warm, wet, and tight around my cock before. My lungs expelled their contents in a long, gasping breath. My jaw slackened, and my eyes closed involuntarily. And I lay there unmoving, on top of her, in her, stupefied.

I have no idea how long we lay there that way, but it couldn't have been very long. "Congratulations, Bozo!" she groused at me. "You aren't a virgin anymore." I opened my eyes and saw her long blonde hair spread out over my pillow. I looked into her eyes. She looked back at me, and said, "Get it done—fast!" She moved, slightly, under me. Her sheath communicated her motion to my cock, doubling and redoubling the pleasure signals that now commanded my brain. My cock throbbed inside her, and I moaned. My hips—now thinking for themselves—began to move.

She closed her eyes, and her own hips began to move in answer to mine. I pounded myself into her, again and again and again. Pressure built up inside me, and I pounded harder. Dimly, I realized that she was responding to my motion, moving with me, driving me to my pinnacle. In my own room, on my own bed, I heard the same moans I'd heard so many times through our wall.

It wasn't long before it was upon me: The feeling I'd had so frequently while I'd listened to those moans—but a thousand times more intensely than under the stroking my own hand delivered. I knew that I had reached the point of no return! My body insisted, demanded that I drive myself into her; my hips began a final thrust to that end. It was a feeling of ultimate necessity—as though life would never again offer me the opportunity to leave my cum deep inside a female body.

But I remembered in time that I'd agreed—promised, in fact—not to come inside her. Our parents had taught us that almost nothing was worse than dishonoring a promise, and in spite of that deep craving, that overriding compulsion, I forced my unwilling hips to back my cock out of her and got to my knees above her. Sobbing from the force my orgasm was about to release—and from frustrated desire—I wrapped my hand around my rod, and I stroked. Once! Twice! A third time! My consciousness dissolved in rapture as lights exploded in my head and gouts of cum spewed out of me and onto her belly.

All too soon, it was over. I threw myself blindly onto the bed beside her, rolling onto my back. For a minute or two, I breathed deeply. As I recovered, I felt the bed jostle. I opened the eyes that I suddenly realized I'd closed, and I found her standing beside the bed looking down at herself and at the warm, gelatinous, white splatters that now ran slowly down her torso.

"God!" she growled at me. "Look at this mess! You pig! How could you come so much? And why on me? Now I have to shower." Picking up the T-shirt I'd thrown on the floor when I'd stripped, she wiped most of it off. "Where's my money?"

I pointed at my dresser. "There's five twenties in the top drawer. Take four of them and get out." In spite of (Because of?) what we'd just done, we both were angry with each other. "And there'd better be a twenty left when you leave."

She picked up her clothes and went to the dresser. Still in a surly mood, she opened the drawer, and as she dug into it after the money, I heard her mutter, "Fuck you, asshole!"

I should have let it pass—pretended that I hadn't heard—but she'd pissed me off when she'd interrupted me as I was jacking off. Even though she'd fucked me after that, she'd frustrated me by making me promise to pull out at the critical moment. And then she'd been angry about what had happened when I'd done so. She'd made a mess of my T-shirt by wiping my cum up with it; and that pissed me off, too, even though I would used it the same way if she hadn't interrupted me. And now she was taking my money. So I struck out at her verbally. As she closed the drawer, I growled back at her, childishly, "You just did that, didn't you! Get out of here, whore!"

She slammed the door as she left. As hard as she could.

(To be continued)