Not Twins, Actually

So, where were we? Oh yes: twins. Well no, actually: I may have misled you there. That is one experience too far and having discussed these things with quite a number of men of my persuasion, I have not found any who can truthfully claim experience of that particular delicacy.

(What persuasion is that, you ask? Well as some other club has noted, there are gentlemen and there are players. The gentlemen certainly do not play. We who are players can make no claim to being gentlemen.)

But if not twins, I have known sisters. If two is company then three is unquestionably a treat and having always been enthusiastic about the variety that threesomes can provide, I jumped at this chance when it was presented. It was interesting, as familial pairings always are. My recollection of one particular Hampshire matron might well have faded had she not on one winter evening encouraged her daughter to join us in the bed. (Actually that is untrue. She would never have faded from my memory since she was also the woman who introduced me to the joys of BDSM, being totally uninterested in any form of intimacy until she had been given a sound thrashing.) And I spent the best part of a weekend trying – regrettably without success – to persuade a brother and sister to sample the delights that come only from a complete abandonment of society’s norms. They were certainly tempted but faltered at the crucial hurdle.

I digress: the sisters.

This originated at a single garment party. Parties of this sort seem to have faded from favour recently, or maybe I have reached an age when I am no longer so often involved, but at the time which I am describing they were highly popular. The idea is simple: you can wear whatever you like, but it can be only one single garment. The essence is to be imaginative but entertaining. The host wore just one sock, but it was worn to contain his most valuable assets and, being a football sock was very nearly decent. I wore a long flasher’s mac (and yes, I did) although for reasons which are no longer entirely clear, I swapped later in the evening with the hostess who had been wearing a rather attractive basque. I am not sure that I had quite the figure for the basque, but she looked splendidly Bacal-like in the flasher’s mac (and yes, she did as well). Actually she would have looked marvellous in anything, and better still in nothing.

However the sisters, Irish girls, arrived jointly wearing one sheet as a sort of double Egyptian mummy. It was all perfectly decent and firmly held together by clothes pegs. Except that the pegs, bright beacons of colour against the stark sheet, proved too tempting a target for too many of the other guests. As one after another of these pegs was surreptitiously removed, the girls were in danger of revealing much more than their Catholic ancestry. Had they not been saved by the intervention of a gallant knight in shining flasher’s mac, their innocence – or lack – would have been displayed to the entire company. My heroism was well received and amply rewarded. I alone was selected to help re-wrapping (which first necessitated complete unwrapping) and this gave an opportunity for interested comparisons. Warm, pink and pale, they were similar but enchantingly different. Clare was appreciably plumper with breasts a full two cup sizes larger and a magnificent bottom that cried out for a riding crop (a novelty which I tried and failed several times to persuade her to sample). Alice was slightly darker with attractive hip-bones emphasising the slimmer contours of her body.

I was also entrusted to guard the bathroom door (the lock having fallen victim to an assault at a party some weeks previously) when one – and immediately the other as well – had to be unwrapped again to use the loo. More comparisons could be made and with one of them cheerily sitting on the loo, the other squatting in the bath, and both shamelessly (if a little drunkenly) splashing Denmark’s fizziest lager into their respective bowls, it provided an opportunity to enquire how close their relationship was.

Very close, as it turned out. They shared a flat, which was natural enough. Sharing a room was understandable enough. Sharing a bed was much more interesting. But not always, I was told. The flat did have a second bedroom and when one or other of the girls had male company, that room would be used. Only for male company? I asked. Never for female? Oh no. They didn’t do that. But when there was no male company and they were sharing the bed did they ever…? Blushes and prevarication came a long way short of denial. And if male company was quite unable to choose between the two, (here reciting the features which the earlier comparisons had noted), and really wanted to give full attention to both, might they…? That was also something they had never done, but, amid giggles, admitted to discussing.

Three nights later found me at their flat. Thirty minutes later found us all naked in their bed where, presented side by side, they waited with an ill-deserved expression of innocence. Clare’s generous breasts lolled comfortably to either side of her chest, topped by wide dark rings and quite tiny little nipples. Alice’s more modest breasts rose pertly into the air but the nipples were almost identical. Clare’s pubic hair was lush, golden and curly. Alice’s was sparse, straight and enabled a clear view of a magnificently succulent set of lips. And it was here, between their legs, that lay the areas of greatest difference. Clare had a neatly enfolded pussy, a classic thin smile, tiny lips and a clitoris almost entirely covered whatever temptations it might be offered. Alice had full meaty lips which pushed forward on proud display and a clitoris that loitered casually beneath a generous floppy hood and needed very little encouragement to come right forward and greet its admirers.

Of which I was one.

But kneeling between them at about thigh level as they lay in front of me, chastely but immodestly available, a mischievous smile leading me on, I had full and unhampered access to both: a bird in each hand, as it were. And having broken the ice, one hand was free to roam across each gorgeous offering, over the different but equally endearing breasts, down through the different but equally enticing bushes, deep into the different but similarly seductive spaces between those welcoming thighs.

And in return, one hand from each of them enfolded my inquisitive erection as I pressed for more details of the precise form that their sisterly affection took on those nights when they were left to themselves. More sniggering, vague hints and insincere denials followed but gradually a picture started to form. They had frequently masturbated together. And kissed? No. Touched each others’ breasts? Well, perhaps. Or rather, yes; they had done that. Suckled them? No! No, not exactly. What exactly? Well, (reluctantly) had kissed them once. Bit of 69? Heavens no! Not even once? No! But stroked each other down here? No (although a fractional hesitation and a glance suggested this was unusual but not actually unknown). So overall there seemed to have been curiosity but little activity and this presented me with quite a mountain to climb: all my previous experiences of three in a bed had been free-rolling and open handed affairs where everyone had joined in for everyone else’s delight. Now I was being entrusted with the sole responsibility for all pleasure to all of us.

For sure, not too onerous a task: a choice of mouths to kiss, different tastes, different styles, different reactions. A choice of breasts to nuzzle. A choice of stomachs to stroke. A choice of pussies to lick and stroke with – again – differing tastes, differing reactions. All very good, but actually quite hard work and rather lacking the full three-in-a-bed experience. This was really just two normal couplings being undertaken simultaneously.

So once things warmed up a bit further, I moved on to an arrangement I had enjoyed once before: by arranging both the girls across the bed but lying opposite ways, all the options were available. Circling round, I start with a short interlude first with my mouth and then with my penis, in the first one’s mouth then move down the bed to a session in the other’s pussy, then round to the other side of the bed for the second one’s mouth and up the bed to the first one’s pussy and so on round to where we started. As will be appreciated, there is a piquant consideration here: maintaining the order as described, each girl is treated to the flavour of her own pussy in her mouth. If you reverse the circle, each girl gets the flavour of the other one’s pussy. Is this something they will relish or resist? As before, I did the less adventurous circle to start with and said nothing when I reversed it. It took a couple of circuits before they noticed the change and by then, objection would have been a little silly.

So we continued, round and round the bed but this is exhausting for a man, specially when the two girls are doing little but lying there, seemingly content with the stimulus they are receiving and happy enough to be doing so in each others’ company.

But that is where I struggled, because although I was in many respects deeply engaged with each of them through this succession of intimate exchanges, yet the bond between the two of them, the hand-holding, the little whispers and giggles, the smirks and sighs, always excluded me. This mountain that I was being asked to climb was one which their past had already let them conquer and as I struggled on, I couldn’t help feeling that they weren’t entirely pulling their weight.

There was also another consideration. Although I was enjoying myself and beginning to realise that I was getting steadily closer to a point of no return, the girls were not doing so well. They were each receiving only half the attention I was, and only half of that half in a part of the anatomy which might be expected to bring them a similar reward. Consequently, they were rather going off the boil and the longer I spent restoring the interest and enthusiasm of one of them, the longer it allowed for the other’s interest to wane. In terms of the task I had taken on, I was circling round the mountain at a very pleasant altitude but was making no progress towards its summit.

Eventually I had to concede defeat. I rearranged them in a more normal alignment side by side on the bed and set to work concentrating all attention on Alice while encouraging Clare to manage by herself while she watched the two of us. This seemed to work most satisfactorily and eventually, snuggled down between Alice’s sinuous thighs and lapping at a sweetly succulent and rewarding treat, a shrill succession of sweetly startled cries indicated that half my task was done. I then moved over to focus on Clare’s needs, this time in the more traditional manner so that I could actually exchange kisses with both of them as well as enjoying the feel of all four breasts until Clare’s more rugged grunts signalled that I had completed the job could now finish as well. After so much build-up, it was explosive, abundant and shattering.

I rolled over to lie between them, an arm round each in comfortable contentment and yet I could not entirely relax in the satisfaction of a job well done. It had been adequate and neither of the girls was left unsatisfied, but it certainly had not come up to the level of our anticipation and I don’t believe either of them would have recorded it as one of the world’s great fucks. We lay there a while but I didn’t stay the night and they didn’t press me, but leaving them both naked in that bed, I did wonder how their evening was going to progress.

Over the following months I saw each of them individually, always with the full knowledge of the other: none of us was under any delusion, but it did let me show them both that I could do better when able to concentrate fully. I only slept once with Clare, but for a while Alice and I became really quite close but we never repeated – or even discussed repeating – that initial experience and whenever I called, Clare always retreated to the other bedroom.

And even then, even after hearing as surely she must, her sister’s highly vocal response to my tongue, even then Clare would not be persuaded to sample the riding crop.

So to return to our original question, I suppose if it happened that twins were ever to be offered, I would certainly want to try just for the experience. But based on my one adventure with sisters, and despite being an enthusiast for all the possible combinations of three, a night with twins is not something I would particularly recommend seeking out.

Illustration by Michael Faraday.