Haunted Twins

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Chapter Two

The next morning I woke up and went downstairs to get some breakfast. Mom was in the kitchen, humming as she did something at the counter. Emily was already in her usual seat, eating cereal while she looked at her phone. She looked up at me, smiled and then looked back at her phone.

Dad shuffled in. He hadn't shaved yet, and his dark stubble made him look faintly like the picture of a hobo I'd seen one time.

"How was the dance?" he asked no one in particular.

"Great," we answered in twin style.

"Did it help make up for me dragging you here?"

"Yes," we twinned again.

"I will never get used to that," he sighed.

The rest of the day was like that, just ... normal. Emily and I talked, but not about the kisses, and not about getting naked together. Everything was just ... normal.

The rest of the year was normal, too. Emily and I didn't sneak off to dark corners to kiss again. By February, when Valentine's Day was coming up, it was like it had all been just some strange dream.

Everything stayed normal, too, until October of the next year got there. Mom talked to us at supper one night.

"What are you two thinking about for Halloween costumes this year?" she asked. "My sewing room is up and running, now. I assume you don't want to go as a flapper and a gadabout again."

"A gad-a-what?" said Emily.

"A gadabout, a man who habitually seeks pleasure and chases women."

"That's what Bobby was last year?"

"He was dressed like a typical gadabout might have dressed in the twenties," she said.

"I have a hard time visualizing Bobby chasing women," laughed my sister.

"Just because you're too young to date doesn't mean he's not interested in girls," said our mother.

"I'm right here," I complained.

"Don't be rude," said Emily. "Be quiet while we talk about you." She grinned and cackled.

"I have an idea," said Mom. "It might be a little juvenile for two high school sophomores, though."

"What?" asked Emily.

"I have some gingham in my stash. I was thinking Raggedy Ann and Andy?"

"Perfect!" exclaimed my sister, without consulting me.

She and Mom made the costumes together. Mom was always trying to teach Emily how to sew and, before this, Emily had shrugged it all off. Now, though, she got into it.

The costumes had matching tops made out of blue and white gingham. The high-water pants they made for me were dark blue. A cream-colored apron went over a skirt made of the same dark blue material for her. Mom bought two cheap mop heads and dyed them bright red. They kept falling off our heads until Mom sewed them onto the tops of two of Dad's old baseball caps, with the brims cut off.

"Don't tell your father we used these," she said conspiratorially when we tried them on.

You could tell there was a hat under the "wigs" but it didn't matter. It was just for Halloween, anyway.

Mom ordered some red and white striped stockings on the internet. They were one size fits all, but we were able to tug them on above our calves, which was all that mattered. She looked at us, critically, when we did a "dress rehearsal" for her. She'd gotten us red clown noses and we had circles in some kind of red paint on our cheeks.

"That material is thin," she said. "Emily, be sure to wear a bra or your nipples will show through."

Now this was a singularly odd thing for Mom to say, at least in front of me. Nobody had ever talked about nipples before. Not in "public". She turned to me.

"And you might need to wear two layers of underwear. Or your jock strap. The one we bought you for gym when you were in the 8th grade? You still have it, don't you?"

"Yes," I said.

"Well, wear it so you don't have any embarrassing accidents," she counseled.

That was a singularly odd thing for my mother to say, too. She had never discussed the possibility that I might "embarrass myself" in public. I knew what she was talking about, of course. And so did Emily.

I know this because when we left the room to go get back into regular clothes, she took my hand. She led me up to the attic. Then she turned to me.

"Do you think you'll embarrass yourself this year, like you did last year?"

She was obviously talking about the erection I had showed her the previous All Hallows Eve.

"Are you likely to take all your clothes off in front of me again this year?" I shot back.

"Probably," she said, carelessly.

"What?"

"But not until after the dance," she said. "I don't want you being all gross and icky in front of other girls."

Remember, we were just fifteen. We still weren't allowed to date. I didn't have a 'girlfriend' at school, and Emily didn't talk about any particular guy as being special. Our parents were big proponents of waiting until you were in college to date seriously and we had sort of absorbed that part of their value system.

So this was way out of character for Emily to say. And my response to that?

"Got it," I said.

"We should keep these costumes in the trunk," she said, standing on the bare floor of the attic.

"Yeah," I said.

And, just like that, we stripped down and carefully folded up our new costumes, setting them on top of the previous year's ensembles.

We didn't get naked this time. She still had on her bra and panties and I still had on my briefs. But she bent at the waist, with her legs straight, and turned her head until she was staring at the front of my underwear. Then she turned her head even more, until it looked backwards on her neck, like an owl does. She stared up at my face.

"Just checking," she said.

And then she stood back up and we went downstairs to our rooms, dressed only in our underwear, like that was the most normal thing in the world.

We didn't touch those costumes again until Halloween night, when we went to get them to get dressed. We didn't take them down to our rooms to put them on, though.

We did it in the attic, standing beside the trunk.

This time she got all the way naked. And she didn't put either her bra or panties back on when she got dressed as Raggedy Ann.

I had brought my old jock strap with me. I hadn't planned to actually put it on, but now I had another erection, thanks to Emily's hot, naked body having been on display. She had matured even more over the last year and her breasts now had a shape to them that went beyond firm cones. Now they were round and there were shadows under them. Her pubes were puffier, too.

So by the time I started to put on my high water pants, I needed that jock strap.

I was behind, and Emily had been watching me. When I got the jock strap up to my knees she spoke.

"Here," she said, kneeling in front of me. "Let me help."

"Helping" involved her grasping my erect penis and holding it while I pulled the thing up. Then she stuffed it into a jock strap that, to my knowledge, she'd never seen the like of before. And this whole procedure seemed as normal as pie!

She leaned back and observed the now bulging jock strap.

"Pull your pants up," she said.

I pulled the thin material up. It had elastic in the waistband, so I didn't have to fasten anything. She reached to smooth the fabric over the bulge of my jock strap.

"It will do," she said. "If you get like that tonight, just dance slow with me a lot." She grinned. "Or you can sit on the wall with the guys who won't ask anybody to dance."

We went to the dance, which was one of those "second verse, same as the first" kinds of things. The same teachers were there chaperoning, and the music sounded the same, with a few additions of popular songs that had come out during the year. Two guys asked Emily to dance. They were fast dances and when she came back to me I noticed her nipples were, in fact, visible through the cream upper part of her apron.

"I can see your nipples," I whispered to her.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

"I wouldn't call it bad," I said.

"Okay," she said.

You have to remember that like Mom had never made nipples a part of public conversation before, neither had my sister and I discussed her nipples. It was like earlier, though, when she'd touched my boner and bent it to hide it in my jock strap. That had never happened before, either, but for some reason it felt ordinary.

She didn't dance any slow dances with other boys. If a slow dance came on, she always took my hand and pulled me to the dance floor.

And every time she "checked" to see if I was embarrassing myself. I know this because she told me. She rubbed her loins against mine and whispered in my ear, "Just checking."

We didn't say anything as we walked back home in the dark. Our house was only two blocks from the school, so all we'd taken was light jackets.

When we got in there was a note on the table that said our parents were at their own Halloween party.

"We should put these costumes in the trunk," said Emily. "Like a tradition."

We went upstairs. To the attic. Like it was habitual.

"I had fun tonight," she commented, as she started taking her Raggedy Ann costume off.

"Me, too," I said.

"I was proud of you," she said.

"Why?"

"You didn't embarrass yourself even once."

She was already down to her skin.

"Well, I'm going to embarrass myself in a minute," I sighed. She was so beautiful.

"Of course," she said, calmly. Everything that was happening seemed routine ... ordinary.

I got out of my costume and stood there in my stretched out jock strap.

"Let me help," she said.

She came, kneeled, and pulled at the firm elastic of the strap. My dick strained downwards and then popped up, bouncing in the air as she freed it. She kept going, pushing the strap to my ankles. I put my hand on her head to help me balance as I lifted one foot and then the other.

She stood, examining the off-white thing in her hand.

"It's like a bra for your penis," she said.

"I guess," I replied.

"Remember last year?" she asked.

"Of course. I thought about it a lot."

"Let's do that again," she said.

It was so surreal, because we didn't talk about it. We didn't suggest anything, except the kissing, on her part. It all felt so ... customary. It was almost like we were boyfriend and girlfriend, fooling around at the end of a date. Except neither of us had ever gone on a date, and neither of us had ever fooled around.

And, when we kissed, a long, sloppy French kiss, and her hand found my boner, that also felt natural. She didn't do anything with it. She just held it.

I felt her breasts, first, covering them with my hands as if I were going to push her away. She arched her chest into my hands and I knew she liked this. I let my fingers close as I pulled my hands back and they slid up the sides, top, and bottom of her round breasts until the tips found her nipples. They were hard, yet spongy, too. I squeezed them and she moaned into my mouth.

Now her hand did something. It did what my hand had done countless times. It slid back and forth, pulling the foreskin back to expose the tip and then covering it up again. I didn't wonder or even think about how she knew to do this. And it never once occurred to me that she might object when I moved my hands again. I moved one to her back and down to her firm butt. The other I moved to the juncture of her legs.

I had never done this in my life, but somehow I knew to slide my middle finger into her cleft, and put pressure at the top of her split. It was just in my head. She groaned this time and lifted one foot off the floor. The tip of my finger found her hot, slippery entrance and I pushed it into her virgin channel.

All this happened while the kiss went on and on and on. We didn't speak. We just masturbated each other as if we'd done it a hundred times. My head was filled with information that hadn't been there five hours before. I knew exactly how to bring her off. And she knew how to bring me off. She faltered as her orgasm overwhelmed her ability to do two things at once. I extended her orgasm by stiffening three fingers and running them up and down her slippery lips. When I sensed it was time to stop, I moved that hand to her side and moved my hips back so she could keep stroking me.

I didn't tell her when I was going to cum, but she knew, somehow. At the last second, as the first jet of creamy cum started through my cock, she pulled it until the tip was nestled in her fluffy pubes. She rubbed the tip all over her pussy as I came hard. I didn't go in her, but my cum was all over her pussy lips.

The kiss broke and she stared at me.

"I could do this all night," she said.

"Me, too, except that might be real dangerous."

"I know," she said. "One more kiss and then we'll go downstairs."

It wasn't one more kiss. It was half a dozen. We didn't touch each other again, sexually, except that she rubbed her matted pussy fur against my flaccid penis.

Again, we seemed to know when to stop. She packed our outfits into the trunk and picked up her panties. When she stepped into them and pulled them snug, the front got dark immediately as the cloth soaked up my semen. She leaned down, picked up my jock, handed it to me, and said, "I love you, Bobby."

"I've always loved you," I replied.

"I can't wait until next year," she said.

And with that, she went to the stairs and went down to her room.

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