Twin Escalations Ch. 02 – Sara
** All persons depicted in sexual situations in this story, including thinking or talking about sex, are at least 18 years old. **
Here Sara narrates a less kinky backstory from a time point late in part 1. She will turn 19 in 1 week, and Elsa and Caroline will turn 19 a month later. Her Dad plans to narrate part 3.
My name is Sara Walker, and I hate my mother (no, I will not spell it with a capital M for her) for what she did to my Dad and, indirectly, to the rest of my family. It must be humiliating, raising a son your wife had with somebody else because she decided you weren’t good enough. I didn’t think of it explicitly in terms of her having sex with another man, at least not until a few months ago. It was more about her choosing another father for her child. My grandparents know, my aunts and uncles know, many of our neighbors know. Eric, my half brother, is wonderful, and he and my Dad get along like biological Father and Son — blood ties aren’t as important as how people treat each other. But Eric knows his biological father is an absentee dick, and no matter how supportive everyone in the family is to him you can tell he has some doubts about his place in the family, as though he were my step brother or something. He’s smart, kind, humble, athletic, lovable, and handsome, and I want him to have no doubt in his mind that he fits in.
Sure, when Eric sees me angry all the time and understands why, it just reminds him why he questions whether he belongs. Who started all this? My mother. Who is exacerbating the problem my mother started? Me. I’m working on it, but I’m failing to control my feelings.
In the last 2 months, mainly since a few conversations that I’ll get write about below, my anger has become more focused, at least in my mind, on poetic justice. I regularly fantasize about my mother arriving home one day to hear unexpected sounds in the house. For the sound, I usually alternate between a woman’s voice laughing, giggling, complimenting in a melodic voice, or moaning in a deeply sexual way, but sometimes I go with just a bed creaking or some rhythmic pounding. Maybe she notices an object in the kitchen that seems out of place, like an article of women’s clothing that couldn’t possibly be hers or mine. Quietly, she walks toward the sound (from the master bedroom in most iterations), looks through a door that was carelessly left wide open, and sees my Dad giving a woman the sexual experience of her life. She’s riding him so hard it breaks the leg of the bed or he’s got her pinned to the wall and is thrusting into her so hard it’s putting an ass-sized dent in the drywall. Sometimes he’s fucking one woman while eating out another and fingering two others, and all of them are in ecstasy. In some iterations the woman is my mother’s friend or her boss. In others it’s their wedding day, and she’s still in her white dress watching her new husband fucking a hotter version of herself. Sometimes the woman’s husband is sitting in the corner watching sadly. Sometimes an invisible force holds my mother’s eyes open and her body still as she’s forced to watch the sex while the people fucking don’t even notice she’s there, and she feels invisible yet humiliated.
Does running through these fantasies in my mind help me let go of my anger? Or does it just fuel the fire? Do I actually want my mother to experience this? Lately it’s more that I’d just like my Dad to experience feeling like a stud. Would my mother even feel jealous about my Dad being with another woman or is their relationship so dead that she wouldn’t care? Also, why do I sometimes get horny over fantasies that are supposed to be about justice and revenge?
It’s been feeding my dreams in the last couple of weeks. A few times I’ve dreamed that I’m having sex, cowgirl position, actual cowgirl hat on my head, bright red lipstick matching the hat rim, my red hair blowing around in the wind and almost glowing as though it were fire emanating from my head. The cave-like room is illuminated by torches with an orange to red tinge. I turn to see my mother looking at me like she feels betrayed. I look down to see that it’s my Dad I’m having sex with, and I grin, continuing to move up and down on his cock, looking back up to my mother with a disdainful expression that says, “He’s mine. Go fuck yourself. I’m glad you feel like shit.”
Does this mean I actually want to have sex with my Dad? I conferred with the twins, Elsa and Caroline Parker, E and C I call them, and we decided I should masturbate to the dream and discuss further. I found that I was more disturbed than aroused after 3 sessions of masturbating to orgasm. In the end, we voted 2 to 1 against, and Elsa suggested maybe I just want to cuddle my Dad naked.
I spend a lot of time with E and C. Sometimes they call me the third Parker twin, which I’ll never feel is true, but it’s sweet of them. Like a lot of twins, they have a special relationship that they can’t truly share with another human. On the other hand, I feel closer Avrupa Yakası Escort to them and feel a deeper trust with them than I will ever have with anyone (except, in a different way, with my Dad and Eric) and I hope they feel something close to that about me. We got to be really close when we went to summer camp together for 6 weeks. Somewhere between getting good together at swimming, sailing, endurance running, jiu jitsu, and camp songs they chose to slowly let me in. Over time they learned my anger, at the time just expressed as general rudeness to my mother and kindness to almost everyone else without really understanding much, and they told me about their frustrations with their parents.
Georgina and Edmund Parker are wonderful. Their aspirations for their twins, E and C, are as high as they are vague. At every point in their childhood, E and C felt pressure to do big things with their lives, but their parents gave them no age-appropriate guidance on how to choose a specific big thing, much less how to achieve it. Mr. and Mrs. Parker had good intentions, wanting E and C to feel they could do anything they chose, and in many ways it worked out well. E and C excelled at lots of things, from field hockey to calculus. They say they don’t wish their parents had done things differently, but they’re tired of deciding their own path with no map. We used to talk about it a lot. But since a particular late-night conversation 2 months ago, we talk a lot about sex.
This conversation started with us at the Parker’s cottage. We started being allowed to go up alone when we turned 18, a privilege of which we promptly and then frequently availed ourselves. Sitting on the back deck of their cottage that looks out on the lake, our post-dinner chat turned to the other benefits of now being 18. We could think of few.
“We can have sex with an older man without him worrying about going to prison,” observed Elsa. None of us had any interest in doing so.
“Mrs. White had better keep an eye on her husband when you’re around, then,” said Caroline, nodding to the White’s cottage next door.
“Mm, maybe not that specific older man. I meant more like a guy who’s 20 or so. I’ve never understood the stereotype of women going for someone older.” E paused. “Let’s play a game. We each choose an older man who isn’t one of our fathers, a location, and a sexual position.” Elsa Parker: often the source of slightly strange ideas.
“E, what’s gotten into you?” I said.
C was willing to play along. “Mr. Williams — he’s our new next door neighbor, or will be as soon as he moves in. His wife likes to watch, so we do it doggy style in their back yard at night while she watches from the window.” She was 70% joking.
“I bet Mr. Williams has a big dick.” said Elsa.
“I bet he’s not the only Mr. W with a big dick” said Caroline, smiling at me.
“Hey, no fathers.” I said.
I don’t remember whom Elsa and I chose, but a wheelbarrow position and a pitch black room were mentioned.
“We should have chosen your Uncle Greg,” E said to C. E and C had met my Dad’s brother Greg on my 18th birthday (big, awkward party) and have since joked that he’s older-man hot. It was their way of teasing me because he looked a lot like my Dad. In that moment, they were joking, but then they paused to look out on the lake and then gave each other a series of looks that I’ve seen them give each other when they think they’ve just come to the same exciting realization together without speaking. Were they not so jokingly attracted to my Uncle and, therefore, my Dad?
E’s effort to cover it up by changing the subject was clumsy for her. She seemed agitated. “What kinds of things do you think about when you jill off, Sara?” asked E. “I mean, if you’re comfortable.” I didn’t want her to feel bad about making an awkward conversation more awkward.
I paused with an expression that made it clear I would answer. Chad Kelly, aged 19, was the coolest guy on the lake. “Chad is on his back, wearing blue sweatpants, handcuffed to my bed.” Another pause. “I’m wearing a black skirt and a yellow tube top. We make out for a while. Then, looking down on him the whole time, I pull down my top and press my tits into his face, then grind on him until he’s really hard, pull out his cock, take it inside me slowly, and ride him. He looks up at me a little scared but also like he’d die to cum inside me. I use his dick to explore everywhere inside myself, touching my clit with my fingers as I move. I feel him bucking up into me. We orgasm at the same time. I lie on top of him for a little while, feeling his cock soften, and then I uncuff him.” I was 0% joking and feeling a little aroused about sharing.
I looked up to see E and C side-hugging each other and looking at me intensely. “That’s really hot in a way I wasn’t expecting,” said C.
We shared fantasies until no other cottages on the lake had their lights on. Theirs were Bahçelievler Escort more about sexual discovery and feeling vulnerable and cared for with a bit of exhibitionism mixed in.
Caroline looked out at the lake, then at me. “I’m glad we had tonight.”
“Me too,” I said, smiling at each of them with my eyes.
E and C looked at each other as if asking each other a question and then seemed to agree. “Would you, um, like to join us doing something we thought of this week that’s sexually a little bit weird?”
I nodded. They took me by the hand toward the hot tub at the end of the back deck and turned off the deck lights, leaving us with only the moonlight. We got undressed and got in, standing with our fronts against the wall of the hot tub and looking out onto the lake, a black mirror reflecting the moonlight and the silhouettes of trees. It was calm and quiet and beautiful. Each twin held me at the elbow and also had a hand behind my back. They seemed to be positioning my pelvis very precisely. I realized what was going to happen just before Elsa let go of my elbow and reached for the water jet control. Her voice was calm and soft. “Ready or not…” We had one water jet each, and mine was pointed exactly where it needed to be to stimulate my pussy while gazing out at the lake with my two best friends. Did I think this was weird? Absolutely. They said it themselves. But the fact that they let me in in this way, that they shared this thing with me, gave me a kind of confused high I imagine you can normally only get from a drug. I cried.
Elsa turned me to face her and the twins hugged me from the front and back. “Parker Twin Sandwich,” whispered Elsa. I had never felt a Parker Twin Sandwich nude or even in a bikini. Having so much skin touching, soft stomachs, hard rib cages, soft breasts, slightly muscular thighs, our pelvises, my posterior, was deeply comforting and also a confusing kind of sexual.
“You always say you aren’t really the third Parker twin. Have you changed your mind yet?” asked Elsa. She knew the answer was no.
I was too embarrassed to ask if we could continue the nude Parker Twin Sandwich in a bed. Elsa and Caroline took me by the hand, left our clothes on the back deck, and brought me inside. After we dried off, Caroline said, “We were thinking of finishing by falling asleep in a naked cuddle. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know, we’re weird.”
I hugged her tenderly, our whole bodies touching, and the three of us shared the double bed.
The next morning we took the sail boat out. It was a point of pride for us to impress the older people on the lake with our skills, mostly using the wind without using the outboard motor. We were known for it. We stopped for lunch as usual at a Harper’s General Store and Restaurant (also a gas station), a place on the lake that has a parking lot for cars on one side and a dock for boats on the other.
The day was going well as we sat down at our table, but then Todd walked in the door. Todd, a 20-year-old, muscular former high-school quarterback, was obsessed with hating on me, butt hurt that when, on the first day we came up alone, he came to the Parker’s dock and asked me out and I turned him down. Navigating this kind of thing just the 3 of us could be scary. Todd was handsome, muscular, and accustomed to girls falling all over themselves just to speak with him, but now that high school was over and he didn’t have the quarterback image propping him up he was a bit lost. It wasn’t what he said to me that bothered me but that he seemed to be not in control of himself, like he could just lose it at any moment at the embarrassment of being near the woman who said no to him and her two friends who knew what happened.
Fortunately, we had a plan, mostly worked out by E and C. Actually, this would be the third attempt to execute the plan, and we had planned a maximum of 3 attempts. When Todd walked by with his chest puffed out, creepily looked over my body, and gave me one of his usual unimaginative insults, Elsa invited him to sit down with us.
“Not interested,” mumbled Todd.
“Lunch is on us,” replied Elsa. This is the point at which the plan failed the previous two times.
“Please,” said Caroline. This was new, a deviation from the plan, and I sensed it would be an effective one.
“Yeah, please,” I said, surprising myself.
Todd paused, turned toward us, and sat at our table. I let an awkward pause hang and said, “Todd, I can’t be attracted to every guy and I have to say no to most guys and it’s not really in my control who I am or am not attracted to. I have to say no a lot, and I hate having to do it because I don’t want to make anyone feel disrespected or insulted. But there’s no way around it.”
“It’s true, she’s really sensitive and kind to everyone,” said Caroline. She should have added, “except her mother,” but that wasn’t going to help. That was the end of the Bahçeşehir Escort plan, which we never thought would work, but which seemed smarter than dumping a milkshake over his head or pushing him in the lake.
The server took Todd’s order, after which he sat silently for a while, realizing he was stuck with us now that he was waiting for food. “I guess I can see where you’re coming from.” He told us about how his summer was going, devoured his food like a football player, and left. Some time later we became friends, but that’s another story.
Back on the boat I told E and C, “You’re geniuses.”
“And you did almost all the actual work at that table, Sara.”
After dinner, we talked on the back deck again, sitting in the same positions as the night before.
“So, I guess Todd has accepted that he’s not going to get that blowjob from you,” said E.
Was the back deck after dinner going to be the place we sat to talk about sex every night? Not that I minded.
“I don’t think any of us has had someone go down on her,” commented C.
“True. I wonder what it’s like.” I said, not intending to imply anything.
“I wonder what it’s like to go down on a girl,” said E. I noticed E looking at my thighs.
“Your ass in those shorts probably turned a lot of heads at Harper’s today, Sara,” said E. “You looked hot while you explained to Todd why he’s an asshole without making him feel like you were telling him that he’s an asshole. He’s so big and you were so firm with him. Watching you was…nice.” E looked like she had more to say, uncharacteristically avoiding eye contact, looking down at my thighs. I sensed that she wanted me closer, so I moved over, sat right next to her, and put my arm around her. I was confused, feeling sexual but also not. C sat on the other side of me and put her arm around me.
E’s hand was on my thigh. She had never done anything like this before. “Sara, I shouldn’t but, I can’t help, I, mm, you don’t have do if you don’t want to, but, I shouldn’t.” E had never been anywhere near so inarticulate before. “Um, would you let me…let me try going down on you?”
Now I was wet. I didn’t know if my honest answer was yes. Was this just a sex experiment within friendship thing? I didn’t think so, at least not exactly. How would it affect us? But I couldn’t resist caressing E’s head and letting the word “Yes” float softly out of my mouth.
C took us both by the hand and brought us inside. She helped E undress me and sat me on the edge of the bed. E took off her clothes and, seeing us both nude, C did the same. I took a pillow down for E to kneel on, and I saw that C wanted to kneel next to her so I got her one as well. E put her head on the inside of my knee shyly and touched the tops of my legs. I ran my hands through her blonde hair and we took a long look into each other’s eyes. “Are you ok, E?”
She nodded. “I want you to tell me what feels good for you.”
I opened my legs slightly more and held her head. “Can you brush your cheeks on the inside of my thighs and kiss them?” I wasn’t used to being touched by another person in this way, this violation of norms. I was surprised at the pleasure of feeling E’s hair brushing my leg and at the excitement of feeling C’s eyes on us. E worked her way slowly up my thighs, her hands now on my hips. “E, can you drag your fingernails gently on my hips and thighs?” I don’t know why I thought this would feel good. I just wanted to ask her to do something. “And can make your kisses just a little wetter?…mmhh…” My breathing was getting deeper and faster, and I was letting out little moans. C’s gaze was getting intense. “C, did you want to join?” She didn’t exactly answer, but she was looking at me as though waiting to be told what to do. “I’d love to feel your hands on my breasts.” C got up slowly and sat behind me, her soft breasts pressed into my back, and she reached around to caress me breasts, occasionally dragging her nails gently over them, progressing toward my nipples. I could feel her breathing match mine both through her body pressed to me and her breath against my ear. “Would you tease me with your tongue?” E took this to mean her tongue at the entrance of my pussy, and C took it to mean her tongue around the edges of my ear and then into it. I couldn’t have suppressed my loud, deep moan if I’d tried. I thought I would want a slower progression, but my body was on fire. “Can you put two fingers inside me?… Uh, tongue on clit now please… Yes, lots of up and down.” I reached back to hold the back of C’s head with one hand and held the back of E’s head with the other, pressing to guide her to the exact pressure I needed. E understood my touch. “Oh squeeze tits a little harder….uh, God I’m gonna…uhh…” My body tensed and shook through a hard orgasm and relaxed. “Oh, you were both…mmm…wonderful…that was…”
E was looking up at me, her face covered in my juices, with a look of wonder and intense excitement. I turned around to C — same look minus the juices. Abruptly, they were fingering themselves. “I sh..c…” The two normally articulate Parker twins were mumbling incoherently and staring at me, their bodies convulsing. C took my hand to her nipple and positioned my fingers to squeeze. “Hard please, hard.” I squeezed. “Harder please?” Now E grabbed my other hand. “Also. Hard please, please?”