Date: Sat, 11 Aug 2012 10:07:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jack Santoro <jackinnm1@yahoo.com>
Subject: Twin Brothers, Part 19, Incest

Twin Brothers, Part 19
By Jack Santoro
Jackinnm1@yahoo.com

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Prequel- If you're wondering about our early years, this is for you.

     Jim and I were identical twins, Jim having been born a few minutes
after I had. Our earliest memories are of when we were about three years
old, when in the bath we noticed our pricks were different. Jim asked our
mother why my pee-pee was pointy and the end of his was round. She replied
that the skin had been cut off the end of his, and that his would always be
round-ended. Jim cried when he heard this, as I would have had it been done
to me.

     We quickly learned that playing with our pricks was very pleasurable,
and that our mother strongly disapproved of our childish masturbation, as
she slapped us hard one time she caught us. We learned to explore each
other only when she was not around, and we examined each other's pricks
thoroughly. Noting the big bulge near the end of my tapered prick, we
quickly concluded that mine had a head like Jim's inside that tube of skin,
which extended forward beyond the glans in a nipple or nozzle. We
understood that the cores of our pricks were identical; only the foreskin
was missing from his.

     At our age our small pricks sprang to erection very quickly at the
slightest touch, and we enjoyed the pleasurable sensations we were able to
obtain. I would squeeze his prominent glans gently and he would slide my
foreskin back and forth as far as it would go. My foreskin was still too
tight to retract, but this manipulation helped loosen it. Jim or I would
often pinch the end of my nipple shut when I peed, making my hood balloon
out, which separated the adhesions between foreskin and glans. For my part,
I would slide Jim's shaft skin up to cover half his glans, and when I let
go it would spring back behind his rim. We realized that Jim's prick had
not been cut as tightly as those of other circumcised boys we'd seen and
played with.

     Our pricks grew only slightly during our pre-teen years, and the slack
shaft skin that formed a collar behind his ridge disappeared as his prick
grew. My foreskin stretched enough so that one day I was able to pull it
back completely to reveal the head. We saw that our tips were identical,
except that mine was reddish-purple and glossy, while Jim's was gray-purple
and the surface was dry and leathery. We quickly found out that his tip was
less sensitive than mine.  My foreskin, although long and tight, slid
easily because it was lubricated by the moisture inside it. From that point
on, I'd let Jim skin me back when I peed, as he greatly enjoyed handling my
penis.

     When we were 10, one night I had a powerful erection that would not go
down, and I began stroking my foreskin up and down over my glans. We were
both awake, and Jim came to sit on the edge of my bed, watching me avidly
as I stroked my straining prick faster and faster.

     "I feel like I've got to pee," I said.

     "You just peed before coming to bed," he replied. I fell silent,
enraptured by the powerful sensations in my prick, while he pulled his
shaft skin up to cover and compress his rim.

     Suddenly, I saw stars before my eyes and my tip became
super-sensitive. I had to stop stroking, and just lay on the bed as
convulsions wracked the root of my prick.  The sensations were so powerful
as to be frightening, and tears came to my eyes. I was afraid I'd broken
something, and we just watched as my prick twitched uncontrollably on my
abdomen.

     "What was that?" Jim finally asked. "What happened?"

     "I think I just came," I said. We'd heard from older boys about
"coming," but we had only a vague idea of what it was, and until that
moment no idea what it felt like. "Do you want to try coming?" Jim kept
pumping his prick, but he was unable to reach the peak, although he rubbed
until the skin was red. I repeated the deed the following night, and my
orgasm was as intense, but less frightening. Jim tried, but wasn't able to
come. We continued masturbating together several nights a week, but his
dry, circumcised tip was not as sensitive as my glossy wet one. As my
foreskin had loosened and stretched enough to be easily retracted, I tried
slipping it over his circumcised glans. Jim moaned with pleasure at the
feeling of warm foreskin enveloping his helmet, but this wasn't enough to
bring on his orgasm.

     That year our mother, a chronic drunk, killed herself in a car crash,
and for Jim and me it was good riddance. Our father was often away on
business, leaving us alone. As we were mature enough to handle it, he now
left us money to buy food and other necessities, and we went to school
faithfully every day, earning consistently high marks.

     When we were 12, we were masturbating one night and a minute after I
came, Jim succeeded. He tensed up, his hand fell away from his prick as his
breath came in short gasps, and I knew he'd made it. We hugged each other
in delight, happy that he'd finally been successful. At that age, we did
not ejaculate, but my slit was seeping clear liquid after my orgasm.

     We'd started puberty, and the changes in our bodies, especially our
lower regions, fascinated us. Our pricks became larger, with the biggest
change in the size and shape of the glans. Our prick heads had always been
larger than our shafts, but now our rims flared out in a gratifying way,
giving our bulbous tips the shape of helmets. Their color darkened, Jim's
not as much as mine, but the most striking change to us was that, with
erection, our slits pouted to form teardrop shaped orifices that we thought
very attractive. Engorged, our pouting slits seemed always ready to spew
sperm.

     Our pubic hair grew, brown like the hair on our heads, and our voices
deepened. We continued our almost nightly masturbation, and began stroking
each other purposefully to orgasm, relishing the intimacy. We'd discovered
that it was hotter when we did each other, and we took advantage of
this. Jim would pump my foreskin and I'd pull his circumcised shaft skin up
to compress his rim. Jim's shaft skin was red after every session, and we
realized that dry friction was as irritating as it was pleasurable. We
tried various lubricants, which provided better and more intense sensations
for Jim. Soap was handy in the shower, but it was irritating, leaving his
prick red after orgasm. We finally settled on Jergen's Lotion, which was
also moisturizing, and I gave Jim many intense orgasms as I massaged it
into his circumcised prick. His glans would darken, his balls would draw up
against his body, and then I'd feel his helmet throb.  He'd grunt and groan
joyfully as the agonized ecstasy of orgasm consumed him.

     He'd do the same for me, stroking my naturally lubricated foreskin in
long strokes that fully exposed my glans, and then pulling it up to close
over the blunt nose, until I grunted and blew my load in shuddering
release. We were very loud when we came, evidence of the intensity of the
experience.

     "I love stroking your cock-skin," Jim told me. "Since we're twins,
yours is exactly like mine would be if I hadn't been cut." I understood how
he felt, as I would have felt the same way if I'd been circumcised and he'd
been intact. I hugged him to me and kissed him deeply, twirling my tongue
around his.

     We experimented with "69," having heard about it from other boys, but
oral stimulation was not as satisfying for Jim as it was for me. He loved
the aroma and taste of my wet foreskin and helmet, as I skinned back in the
daily shower to rinse off rancid secretions and stale urine. Our helmets
had grown too large for successful docking. Despite my having a long
foreskin that still formed a nipple when I was limp, I was unable to
stretch it to engulf his glans more than part-way.

     At age 14, during a regular physical exam, we asked our family doctor
why he'd removed Jim's foreskin.

     "Your mother insisted on it," he said. "I don't believe in
circumcision.  I'm intact and I left my two sons as nature made them, but
she wanted a way of telling you apart." I was shocked, and I'm sure Jim was
too, at this latest revelation of our hated mother's weirdness. The doctor
went on: "I was careful to do as little damage as possible. I used the
smallest needle to inject Lidocaine into your penis so it would be numb."
Jim and I exchanged glances, knowing that he'd been too young to remember
if he'd felt any pain. The doctor continued:

     "I used the Plastibell on you, as this technique removes less skin
than the Gomco Clamp, and doesn't leave that ugly brown scar ring you've
probably seen on some circumcised boys." Jim and I had noted that he had
only a thin, barely visible scar, unlike some boys we'd seen.

     "Seeing the Plastibell on your penis and the cut edge satisfied your
mother and when it came off your glans was still covered almost to the end
instead of having a foreskin nipple like Jack's. I explained to your mother
that you needed that slack skin, as your penis would grow into it. I was
also careful not to remove your frenulum, the gee-string under your glans,
because that contains a lot of nerve endings that increase sexual
pleasure. You can see that yours is just like Jack's." We'd seen our
gee-strings before, but as we were sitting naked on the examination table,
we lifted our pricks to compare, and saw that we both had the identical
thick strips of tissue in the cleft under the helmet.

     "What a bitch our mother was," Jim exploded after we'd left the
doctor's office.  "Dad's better off without her." Our father had never
remarried, but had a number of girlfriends.

     "You still enjoy sex," I reassured him. "You've got a really
attractive prick and you blast off as hard as I do when you come. Anyway,
you're better off than most cut guys we've played with. The doctor left you
a lot of slack so that your prick would grow into it. Remember Phil a month
ago? His skin is really tight when he gets hard, so that he can't pull any
of it over the head, and he's got that thick brown ring around the shaft."
Jim grasped my hand and squeezed it tenderly.

     "Thanks, Jack, but that's not much of a consolation. I know your
cock's more sensitive than mine and it takes less to get you off. Mine
doesn't smell and taste like yours either. Maybe I can get plastic surgery
to put back my skin."

     "Dad would never pay for it, even if you found a plastic surgeon who
could do it.  I've never heard of it being done, anyway," I told him.

     "You're right, Jack. When he gave us `the talk' he said I'd been cut,
but not why. He's uncut but he acted like it was no big deal, anyway."

     "Well, when we get out of law school we'll be able to afford a plastic
surgeon for you," I said. Discussing our pricks had gotten us aroused, and
when we got home we quickly undressed and I squirted some Jergen's Lotion
on Jim's circumcised prick as he spread a towel on the bed. We lay face to
face, looking into each other's eyes. I worked his prick in long slow
strokes that he enjoyed, while he languidly worked my foreskin up and down,
exposing the head and then pulling it all the way up to form a pucker
beyond the front dome of my helmet. Our helmets were almost touching as we
caressed each other's pricks passionately.

     "I'm glad I've still got my gee-string," he murmured as I stroked it
with my index finger and then pulled back on it to make his glans dip
towards his feet, stretching its nerve endings. "It's a sweet spot for me."
He moaned loudly as I twisted my fist around his flaring corona, engorged
with blood. We were always captivated by the intimacy of mutual stroking.

     "This is a hot spot too," I whispered. "I know I can make you come
fast just by twisting my fingers around your rim." His response was to pump
my foreskin faster, twisting it on each up-stroke, and I felt a tickle in
my corona. "You're making my rim tickle," I said.

     "That's the idea, Bro," he murmured. "I want to feel your cock throb
hard in my hand. I want to feel your hot juice on my fingers." The tickle
changed to a hot tingle that spread all over my helmet. Suddenly, an
intense bolt of sensation shot down my shaft to the root.

     "OOOOOOOOHHHHHHH" I moaned loudly as I felt the pounding throbs deep
inside me, and the stream of hot lava surging up my urethra.

     "Go for it, Bro," he urged as his fingers continued to work their
magic on my throbbing, straining prick. "You're shooting hard." I felt some
hot drops landing on my fingers and I massaged them into Jim's prick,
twisting over his corona. I heard him yelp and felt a hard throb in his
glans and shaft as his climax launched, shooting sperm all over my
prick. Our bodies shuddered hard, straining in orgasm, until we'd drained
ourselves. My tip had become super-sensitive, and Jim released my prick,
while I continued applying gentle friction to his prick after he'd finished
his orgasm.

     Most times, though, we strove for separate orgasms, so that we could
watch and feel the other's ejaculations without being distracted by our
own. Jim usually made me come first, as handing my foreskin and watching my
intact prick shoot heightened his excitement. Sometimes he'd keep stroking
as I ejaculated, and if my hood was forward when I shot the stream would
bubble over my prick and his encircling fingers. At times, he'd hold my
foreskin al the way down as I shot, putting tension on my gee-string an
stretching the nerve endings, and my streams would shoot freely, high into
the air.

     When it was Jim's turn to come, my eyes would rivet on his engorged
helmet, watching the pouting teardrop orifice waiting to disgorge, while
twisting my fingers around his flaring rim. I'd feel his glans throb and an
instant later a long spurt of cream would slam through the lips of his
orifice and shoot high in the air. At that age, we both shot forcefully in
streams that traveled several feet.

     By the time we reached 16, our genitals were fully grown. Limp, we
were between three and four inches, depending on the temperature. My
foreskin nipple made my prick a bit longer than his, but when I was hard I
had only a pucker beyond my helmet. Erect, we both measured six inches
along the top to the end of the glans, so we were equal in that
respect. Skinned back, my foreskin formed a thick roll behind my helmet,
while Jim had a deep groove behind the flare of his corona.

     As my foreskin still wasn't long enough to dock his big helmet, the
twin of my own, we tried an improvisation. We cut the end off a condom and
fitted it over our pricks so that we were head to head inside the thin
latex sleeve. My foreskin was bunched in a thick roll behind my corona,
totally exposing my helmet, pressed against his bare circumcised
glans. Drops of clear viscous liquid seeped from my pouting hole,
lubricating the condom. I began sliding the condom back and forth over our
pricks, feeling the sensations building up as our excitement progressed.

     "Your balls are tight against your body," Jim commented as he cupped
his fingers gently around my scrotum. "So are mine." The blunt front domes
of our helmets were pressed against each other inside the thin latex.

     "Your tip's getting harder and the rim's really flared out now," I
told him.  "We're both close." My helmet felt swollen, totally engorged,
and filled with the sweet ache of anticipation as we reached the plateau of
sensation just before release. Jim gently kneaded my testicles inside their
tight sac, and I felt a tickle in my corona.

     "Any second," I muttered as my eyes closed. Out legs were intertwined
and we began thrusting gently against each other. Now a hot tingle exploded
in my glans and I cried out:

     "HUNH!  HUNH! HUNH!" as the heavy pounding of orgasm began deep inside
me, sending the first rush of hot cream searing its way up my urethra to
disgorge against Jim's turgid glans.

     "OH!  OH! OH!" he responded as my hot gush washing over his helmet
triggered his climax, and I felt his tip throbbing hard against mine as his
sperm hot over my glans. Our bodies strained in the joyful agony of orgasm
as the combined discharges mixed and swirled around our throbbing tips,
heightening our sensations. We cried out helplessly as the hot frenzy
gripped us, and we grunted mindlessly as our gushing helmets hammered
against each other. The condom swelled with thick liquid, masking the
sensations, and I did not yelp as my tip became over-sensitive. Jim's
helmet shot a couple of loads against mine after I'd finished, and now we
were still, the main event over but with our slits still oozing the last
drops.

     I felt our pricks softening inside the latex, surrounded by our thick
hot sperm, as our bodies relaxed. Jim kissed me on the lips, whispering:

     "You're the greatest, Bro." Now that our pricks were limp we were able
to hug full-length, enjoying the warmth of each other's body. We dozed for
awhile, and after waking up, Jim said: "Since our holes are wide open when
we get hard, do you think there's any chance of shooting into my hole, or
me into yours?"

     "I don't know," I answered thoughtfully. "I think it would be really
hot if this happened, but our tips would have to be perfectly aligned, and
that's hard to do while we're pumping. Would we have enough self-control to
make sure our holes were exactly opposite while we were coming?" I felt
Jim's body shudder as I spoke, and he said:

     "I can just imagine you shooting your load down my urethra when I'm
ready to come.  That would be enough to make me blast off right then." My
hand was still wrapped around our latex-covered pricks, and I felt his
start to swell as he spoke. At our age we recovered quickly.

     "That would really turn you on, Jim," I acknowledged. "I think it
would do the same for me." I pulled back from him, holding the end of the
condom closed to retain our juices. We went into the bathroom, where I
flushed the condom down the toilet and we got into the shower. Our bladders
were almost bursting, and the hot water sluicing down our pricks made us
pee, flushing out the residual sperm. We rinsed the thick cream off our
pricks, and after we'd dried ourselves, Jim pulled my foreskin down to
cover my helmet, something I always let him do because he loved handling my
intact penis.

     Jim's sense of loss over his missing foreskin intensified, motivating
us to search for a solution. Our mutual wish to be able to dock our pricks
was another motivation, and these became major goals over the next several
years.

Continued in Part 20.