Date: Sun, 5 Jun 2011 17:13:30 +0200
From: Mark Gouwen <lthawk34@xs4all.nl>
Subject: Symmetry part 2

It was that day just over two years ago that everything changed.

Up until then, it had all been perfect symmetry.

But that day, it all changed.

We're still always together. But we're no longer exactly the same
as each other. There's an asymmetry here. Since that day.

I suppose a wiser, more objective head would say that we were never
*exactly* the same. And that we're still damn similar now: our own
mother can't tell us apart. Not that we'd sometimes pretend to be
each other just to make sure she stays confused, wink wink. Not
that that's to our advantage, know what I mean, haha. Sorry,
distracted. So yes, probably, in reality, we were never totally
utterly exactly the same, and we're still damn similar now, so in
reality it probably wasn't quite so stark, but in my head, in the
way I tell the story to myself, and I'm sticking with my version
thankyou very much, up until that day, it was all perfect symmetry,
we were like one being twice over ... damn this language, it
doesn't have the words, except this one: identical. And it was that
day, three years ago, that everything changed, and we stopped being
the same. One person, one entity, damn this language, one
*something*, became two. Two always together. Two so close that
there are no other two so close on the planet (except other
identicals - only we know). But two. Not one any more. Damn that
day.

My earliest memory, of all my memories, is toes. I suppose,
grammatically, I should put "his" in front of toes: "his toes". But
his are mine and mine are his. One. Identical. "Our"? Nothing
works, so I'll just leave a blank. I suppose I could imagine a
special pronoun for things that belong to "us". Somehow "we" and
"us" work fine, and "our" for things that belong to us (our
computer, our room, our bed), but "our toes"? Haha. Daft. "His
toes"? No. Mine too, you see. One. Identical. So ~~ toes, or
something. Or just toes. Bleh.

My earliest memory, of all my memories, is toes. We were little
more than babies, and had managed to get ourselves opposite ways
around in the safety cot on a hot day with not much covering. I had
hold of Ste's toes, and he had hold of mine. I've seen lil baby
cousins catch hold of their own toes with complete fascination, but
they're too far away to see properly. Me and Ste, we can do stuff
other boys can't do. Like, my earliest memory, grabbing his toes,
and him grabbing mine. And I had them real close to my face,
examining them, fascinated by them, and he was doing exactly the
same: Ste was holding Jamie's toes. I remember the delicate pattern
like a huge fingerprint that covered the entire sole. I remember
doing it to Ste's foot, and feeling it in my own foot, because Ste
was doing exactly the same to me. My earliest memory: still babies
in a cot. Haha and big brother Bill, four years older, peering in
and grinning and telling mom.

We did a lot of our examining twisted around head-to-toe like that
over the years. Ankles, shins, knees. Thighs. Crotches.
Symmetrical, you see. Always symmetrical. Symmetrical and
simultaneous. One, not two. Identical. I remember being about five
and we examined cocks and ballsacks properly for the first time. I
mean, we'd looked at them in passing before, but this time we had a
proper explore, with fingers and delicate hands - plus Ste's was
hard, which was totally fascinating, and as soon as we started the
examination, mine started getting hard too, and was properly hard
long before we finished. So we (each to the other [except it's not
two it's one], identically, symmetrically, simultaneously) rubbed
our two (four?) thumbs over the tightly-crinkled soft flesh of the
ballsack with its delicate, sensitive little oblong beans inside,
and traced the wavy, crinkly line that runs up the middle of the
ballsack and right along the underside of the cock, and felt the
strange mixture of softness and hardness that is an erect penis,
especially an erect boy-penis: springy-hard inside, with a covering
of the ultimate in softness. We explored how the soft skin would
run up and down if you held the whole thing between finger and
thumb, and how the extra soft skin at the end would cover and
uncover the hard ridge and smooth tip repeatedly ... where the slit
was for the business, though goodness only knew (back then) why the
thing went hard. It (they?) usually went hard from then on, when we
examined them: Ste's first usually, before we'd even really
started, and mine as soon as we did.

Oh, haha, they moved us from the shared cot to separate little
child-size beds about that time. That was a waste! We'd been
together every moment since we were born (we'd scream the whole
time we were separated by even a few feet so they soon gave up on
trying to make that happen) and for nine months before that and for
all eternity before that - *monozygotic* you see, didn't get paired
up, just always been one, one and the same ... so why they ever
thought two beds would work, haha. As soon as the door was closed,
we'd pair up in one or the other. They kept trying to move us
apart, especially as one child-size bed was very soon too small for
the both of us and using two beds would have delayed having to
source another ... but they bowed to the inevitable, and we moved
from sharing one child-sized bed to a queen size, which we loved.
Every night before we slept, we'd lie, twisted around, head-to-toe,
examining ... always starting with toes, like that earliest memory.
I love Ste's toes, and the pattern like a big fingerprint on the
sole of his foot. It says: home. It says: us. It says: together.
That's where we always start: stroking and counting toes, holding
feet, and talking about the day, talking about nothing in
particular. Ankles, shins, knees. Usually by then we'd flip around
and hug, front to back, spoons, one way round or the other, and
sleep, rolling over and spooning the other way, this way then that
way then this again, swapping a few times through the night. Often
it was only toes and feet - and chat - then spoons, and sleep. And
just as often - until that day just over two years ago when
everything changed...

...sigh...

Forget it.

Hm.

Well, OK.

Just as often as only doing toes and feet, just as often as that,
from the first time we did it when we were about five, right up
until that day just over two years ago, just before our thirteenth
birthday, right up until that day, we'd shuffle in the bed and do
all the way to thighs, ballsacks, cocks. Asses too. Backs,
shoulders. Although that involved different positions, obviously.
Pubes (once we had them), stomachs, chests, even necks (haha) we'd
do flipped around, head to toe, taking up the full diagonal length
of the bed, two feet in each of two opposite corners.

I remember the first time we did asses. I think we were about six.
We were doing ballsacks, and we traced the middle line the other
way, towards the ass. We raised the upper thighs to give access,
and curled our heads around to see. Totally fascinating. The soft
pink opening between warm fleshy cheeks. We kissed each other. I
mean, from toes onwards we kissed each other. Kids do that: put
things in their mouths. So it was always part of it, from the
earliest memory: Ste's toes in my mouth. So we kissed: feet,
ankles, shins. Knees. Thighs. Ballsacks. Cockshafts and cockheads.
Crotches. "Perineum" (it came up in human biology). Asshole. Pink,
soft, moist asshole. Tasted of - us. Soft flexible mounds of
assflesh. All with heads stuck between legs. Symmetrical.
Simultaneous.

I suppose I'm heading right into a contradiction here, complaining
so much about the asymmetry of that day when it all went wrong. I
suppose one of us must have been the first to do the asymmetrical,
even though I don't remember which. Turn-taking: we take turns to
do a gentle back-massage, often; one prone on the bed, the other
sitting on top doing the massage. Used to, I mean. If I strain
really hard I think I remember Ste doing the first massage and me
lying on the bed, but I'm not sure: it *feels* symmetrical and
simultaneous, even though it's taking turns. He kisses and massages
my shoulders, my back, the backs of my ankles and legs and knees,
my asscheeks (all over) and my asshole. I do the same for him. It's
good. Been doing that since about seven, I think, maybe even six, I
don't know. About the same time we first kissed lips. Exploring
heads, faces ... lips. And then teeth, gums, roof of mouth, outside
of teeth, inside of teeth, tongues probing, tongue on tongue, and
kissing, just kissing, chest on chest, stomach on stomach, legs all
tangled, cocks often hard, hands on backs and asses holding us
together. Just twin stuff. Identical twin stuff. Singletons and two-
egg twins can't possibly understand. Not really.

We got our own computer for our twelfth birthday. We searched for
stuff, and obviously searched for twins - twin brothers. Haha,
virtually all you get is gay porn. That gave us new ideas, haha -
the twins in porn. The ones we liked were the symmetrical ones,
where they lie twisted around, like we do for the start of every
night, and explore cocks by actually putting them in the mouth and
sucking with this kind of bobbing movement. We'd been especially
fascinated with ballsacks and balls and cocks for a while, as they
were growing at some disproportionate rate, and there was hair
sprouting: it was all starting to go man-size. Examining with lips
and mouths and actually sucking as well was amazing. We liked it a
lot. And within a few times we discovered that we could actually
already make the white stuff come out, like the guys in the videos,
and it was the most amazing sensation, and it made us feel so
close: a really, really, really special twin thing. We did it
virtually every night after that. Ste often shot first by a few
seconds - I'd shoot straight after - but mostly it was pretty
simultaneous. With the sucking thing, instinct took over, and we
swallowed like little babies. It upset my stomach a bit - I assume
the same for Ste - but we always swallowed.

There was also rimming and fucking in the videos but that was so
... asymmetrical. I mean, the videos never made the point of
showing that it was both ways. So we never did it. Well, we never
fucked anyway. That would just be soooooooo asymmetrical. It was
just wrong! I did notice that Ste took the cue to be rather more
excited with his hands and his lips and now his tongue on and in my
ass. It was ... well ... the fact that it was Ste is what matters
the most. It was Ste and me. And ... yes, it was an interesting
enough feeling. Pleasant. He'd moan with pleasure as he did it ...
and he'd moan with pleasure as I had a go at doing the symmetrical
to him. Doing it to him ... well ... the fact that it was Ste is
what matters the most. It was Ste and me. And ... yes, it was an
interesting enough feeling. Pleasant. I tried to mm and mm a bit:
make it symmetrical.

And then just before our thirteenth birthday, he was on top and he
wanted to fuck.

'I suppose', I thought. Take turns, 'I suppose'. A bit gross that
one of us has to go first for something so ... significant. So
significant and *asymmetrical*. But it looked easy enough in the
videos.

We were both getting well towards mansize by then.

He was rock hard.

It went straight from shoulder massage (and chat, always chat) to
"can I fuck you?"

And I just thought, 'I suppose', and imagined how easy it looked on
the videos.

And he tried, and he tried, and it hurt like hell. Dry, sore,
brutal. I guess he got in less than an inch, and it just hurt like
hell. I tried not to say anything for as long as I could manage,
then just pretty much howled and kinda threw him off. It hurt for
days. Everything was broken. Asymmetry had come in. Everything,
everything was broken. Our bond was broken. We were split apart.
Split apart, and suddenly different. No longer one. No longer
identical. Two. Two different people. From that, fucking, moment.
It was all broken. We were twelve years old, and it was all broken.

For just over two years (until we'd just turned fifteen), we lived
with that unspoken resentment. We never did the twist-around again,
the toes, that we'd done for literally as long as we could
remember. No more examining, groping, cuddling, kissing, spooning.
It kind of dawned on me, that very next day, that it wasn't "twin
stuff" at all: it was sex. Duh! I just put myself to my side of the
bed, and shook him off if he came near.

We were still never apart. Never. We still shared the bed. I put my
head right at the edge of my side, he put his head right at the
edge of his ... our legs knotted together in the middle, we
couldn't actually *not touch* all night, that would just be weird.
And we did talk. Not just about the day. We'd talk about sex too.
Just not about us. We never talked about that night.

We were getting *very* spunky. We'd jerk side by side. We'd tease
each other into thinking sexy thoughts then doing it in as few
strokes as possible. We'd play that game especially in the woods -
spunking on the messy forest floor - and in the second tree house.
Haha, in the tree house, we got so we could both cum without even
touching ourselves at all, just damn hard concentration on sexy
thoughts. We'd both get our cocks out, facing each other, kinda
kneeling down and sitting on our ankles facing each other, exposed
cocks rock hard. I'd close my eyes and concentrate real hard on
some sexy scene, and keep resisting the temptation to touch my
raging boner until it spurted all of its own accord. Fucking
amazing orgasms! Haha.

Sometimes I'd open my eyes while we were doing it. Ste never had
his eyes closed. He was always just looking at me.

We'd cum within a few seconds of each other. Usually me first, for
a change, haha, a triumph of pure concentration, then him a few
seconds after, like mine had triggered his.

But no touching. Strictly no touching. Not after that ... gah! ...
that day. *Shit* it hurt. Crossed ankles in bed. Nothing else.

But ... never apart. Oh no. Never apart. Always together. And
people still couldn't tell us apart. We're a unit. One. Identical.
Nobody knows. Nobody knows how different we are. Nobody can see.
It's our secret. Nobody can even tell us apart.

--------------------------------

And then that day in the woods it was *me* that raised it. Why did
I do that? Clear the air I suppose. Apologise, almost. For just
over two years of brooding. Since we were twelve-almost-thirteen.
And now we were just-turned-fifteen.

Damn we'd done a lot of growing up in that time - as well as having
boy fun. Biking - for miles. Wrestling. Growing strong. Comics and
adventure novels: fantasy adventures. The cunning second tree
house. Tricks and dares with adults who knew there were two of us
(but didn't know which was which) - and with adults who didn't
know, hahaha. Stolen beer. Stolen cigarettes ... um ... we'd sort
of pretended to smoke before, but it was Melissa who showed me how
to do it properly, and I showed Ste. Bill going off to Afghanistan.
Ste idolises Bill. And me, I suppose. I suppose I'm the dominant
one out of the two of us now, all unhappily asymmetrical. He's sort
of cowed. Probably sees me as his military lieutenant or something
now, some daft fantasy.

About the dominant thing. I suppose it started when I took to my
own side of the bed that night just over two years ago, and threw
him off if he came near. I was setting the new rules. And it
affected everything.

He's probably just as good a wrestler as me, but it's the mental
thing. So I won. We met for the first time ever in the finals -
they'd always arranged the qualifiers and the knock-outs so that we
didn't meet. It was weird, going head to head with him. And I won.
It's like we'd both decided it before we even started. Then I got
loads of girls. Fucked two of them. He moped around behind me. I
could feel him right outside the door each time I got myself a
fuck. I mean, for fuck's sake! And I could feel him mope away once
it was over. And I knew exactly which bench or wall to find him
sitting on afterwards, waiting for me like I'd cheated on him or
something and he hadn't the self-dignity to say or do anything
about it. Fuck it.

Haha, fuck it. Pussy. It's wet and warm and designed for cock.
Fantastic. I mean, the sensations are great. Melissa even has
proper tits to play with, not just floppy chest fat. And when she
gets going: woot! Banging that wet pussy on to my cock. Fucking
hot. Plunging into her hot wet flesh. Mm-MMM. But she's just some
slag really. They all are. All human beings are slags. Except Ste,
who's half of me. Just ... the undominant half.

Anyway, that day in the woods. It was hot. We'd screwed over mom
with the "you don't even know which of us is which" routine and
thrown off our shirts as soon as we were out of the house. The farm
was a hothouse, you never had a moment to yourself. It was great to
get out into the big outdoors. Ste was daydreaming about Bill in
Afghanistan. "Yeah, I think he's killing them all dead," I mocked
him; "D-D-D-DRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" And I offered him a fag, and he took
one, and we just sat there, shirtless in the heat, enjoying the
smoke and the silence and each other's company, until he burnt his
fingers because he's still not really doing it properly. I laughed
at him, which wasn't great, so I changed the subject. "Got me a
sweet date on saturday. Melissa." I was already kind of
apologising. It would be the first time I actually planned in
advance to be with someone else instead of him: the other times had
just been at parties and stuff. Ste scowled, then - the submissive
one - pretended to be pleased. That kind of upset me, to see him so
... submissive. I wish he'd been angry, shouted, thrown stuff, hit
me. He pretended to be pleased. I went along with it.

"Cool! She gonna put out?" said Ste.

"Will she ever. She shags something fierce. Never had pussy like
that before. Fucks for hours." I felt my cock swelling at the
though of fucking Melissa. "God, I'm horny already."

"Wanna wank?"

I paused, gave him a look. Oh well, for you, I guess. It's not as
if we don't do it regularly in front of each other anyway, in bed,
in the second tree house, even in the open in the woods, like this.
Probably did it more often before the wrestling and the girls ...
in fact, not since the wrestling and the girls ... but whatever.

I opened my shorts and hooked my thumb under the elastic waistband
of my briefs. Ste followed in exact symmetry. Soon our cocks were
free, standing bolt upright against our stomachs. I ... examined
him with my eyes, across the distance between us. OK, I missed our
close examinations. I wished that we were in bed, sixty-nine, like
we had been since my very first memory, holding his foot as he held
mine. I wished I was ... we were ... examining. There in the woods,
both shirtless, cocks out, fully erect, Ste was watching me, exact
symmetry. Five strokes each, and we shot exactly together, exactly
in sync, exactly the same spurts. We panted exactly the same.
Slowly looked up from the ground and into each other's eyes exactly
the same.

Ste spoke first. "Gosh you're hot."

Silence.

"Thanks."

Silence.

Asymmetry.

And I felt bad about asymmetry. And I felt bad about just over two
years of sulking and dominance and cowed and not examining. And I
felt bad about the wrestling. And I felt bad about not doing *this*
as often as we used to. And I felt bad about the date, Melissa,
Saturday. I felt bad. Our cocks were still hanging out, going limp,
as I started. We tucked them away as I spoke.

"Look ... I know you still like to do the nasty with me ... and I
like it too, I swear! It's just ... I'm doing chicks now, and well,
that's good too." I hadn't convinced myself, let alone him. So I
shot in the cliche - the cliche in my head for the last just-over-
two-years, though never spoken. A cliche I regretted before I'd
even said it, but out it came anyway. "I'm doing chicks now, and
well, that's good too." Here it comes: "And less painful." Stupid,
stupid, stupid.

Ste was furious, and had every right to be. Finally it all came
out. Finally. He jumped down and kicked the tree hard, and cursed.
"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT I'M SORRY! THAT WAS THREE YEARS AGO! I'M SORRY
FOR HURTING YOU! I'VE FUCKING TOLD YOU A HUNDRED FUCKING TI-"

Well, only just over two years actually, even though we were twelve
then and fifteen now, but ... sod it ... stupid, stupid, stupid. It
was time to put it right. I jumped down next to him and grabbed his
shoulders and interrupted him. "It's okay ... we're still best
buddies. It's just ... when you tried to fuck me..."

Wrong move. Again.

"I KNOW!" he yelled.

Silence. He was in tears. Just the sound of Ste sobbing.

I wrapped him in my arms, and for the first time since that night,
felt his arms strong around me too. Very strong actually. Damn,
we've both grown. A hell of a lot.

Ste, swallowing sobs: "I thought it'd be easy, like in the porn
vids. I'm so sorry, bro. I just ... I want go back to holding you
at night, being together, Jamie."

I was home. Finally, after just over two years of beligerance, I
was home, home in Ste's arms.

I said what I knew. It sounded like nothing much, but it meant the
world to me. I held him in my arms, I felt his strong arms around
me. "We'll do feet and toes tonight. We'll start with feet and
toes, and see where it goes." My tired cock swelled a little at the
thought. Maybe we'd get round to it before tonight, in the tree
house or something, who knows. Just toes and feet mind, for a
start; that's what I was trying to tell myself, though I was
already imagining more. We were together again at last, after just-
over two wasted years; older, stronger ... there was so much to
explore, so much to catch up. I had no idea where it would lead,
but we were together again at last.