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Twin Set

123

They hadn't seen each other in more than five years, and hadn't really planned to. Nor did they plan not to, but something always happened. They never wound up at home together, even when Dad got cancer and they were both traveling back there more often. Something about work; something about her spouse or his girlfriend; something more important, always.

It wasn't that they were angry with each other; they'd just gotten passive, taken each other for granted. They'd spent their entire childhood and high school years together, and before that they'd shared a womb. Their mother died in labor, leaving their then 50-year-old father to raise them. He did his best to do so, juggling that responsibility with his class load and his research responsibilities at a private college. They'd had a succession of nannies, but never a step-mom, even though they'd tried to turn some of the nicer and more attractive nannies into something more, once they got old enough to connive on it. That never worked out either.

Their mother had been 45, and they were her first, and last pregnancy. In private and with their closest friends, they'd sometimes joked that they were lucky not to be Siamese twins, or otherwise deformed. It sounded heartless, but she was nothing to them but a picture in Dad's bedroom. He never even talked much about her.

And she'd played a joke or two on them - she'd insisted to their father once they knew they had twins, a boy and a girl, that their names would be Daniel and Danielle. Two names so similar they practically sound alike. And as it turned out, a physical similarity that was odd, even for siblings.

As fraternal twins, they were just siblings, genetically. They started with two different eggs and two different sperm. The only oddity is that their mother got two eggs in the oven during one cycle and their father got lucky twice over that month. Nevertheless, they were about as physically similar as two people of different genders can be. He was 5'11" to her 5'8", which she had sometimes evened up with heels, and they both had well-toned physiques because they both loved to run. Also dark brown hair, skin that tanned easily, and blue eyes. She curved in at the waist and out at the hips and had small, perky breasts. Otherwise, they looked about alike.

When they were younger, it had seemed kind of cute. They couldn't tell you how many outfits their nannies and sometimes their father bought them that were the same color, or made from the same material. The same polo shirt and jeans, or a suit for him, a dress for her. During college (they made the mistake of going to the same one, across state because their father didn't want them going to school where he taught) they'd grown tired of the kidding, and the occasional uncomfortable attention from bisexual classmates. In the process, they'd gotten tired of each other. He'd gone to her wedding, they sent each other Christmas cards, and exchanged e-mails, but that was about it.

Then their father got cancer, but still nothing ever seemed to work out. They kept promising to meet up on one of these death-vigil weekends and one of them would stay in town long enough to go have dinner, at least. Dad had asked about it, even, but it hadn't happened. A few calls on the phone; a few notes left on the kitchen table. sorry, got a big meeting tomorrow and i've got to go. love, Dan. They'd both had to keep cycling back to their jobs, trying to keep the days off to a minimum. Banking days off for the eventual need.

Then their father died.

They both got calls from the hospice worker. They'd found the body the day after he passed away peacefully in bed.

They arrived in the little college town their father had lived his life in, their schedule conflicts finally cleared up for a few days.

They first laid eyes on each other after five years, then, at the local funeral home, just in time to plan the service. She pulled a small rolling suitcase and briefcase into the lobby; she'd arrived in a taxi. She wore black slacks with a grey blouse and cardigan; he was wearing the suit he'd shown up for work in that morning, right before he'd gotten the call and caught a flight. They held each other in their arms and sobbed. They smelled of airplane, and wool, with an undercurrent of flowers and death in the funeral home lobby.

Planning the service took about 30 minutes and left the funeral director more bereft than they were. Their father had planned a bare-minimum memorial and pre-paid it, with strict instructions to them not to let the funeral directors talk them into any extras "or I'll haunt you.". After they got away Danielle put her luggage into his rented car and sat crying quietly in the passenger seat for a moment. When she composed herself she said "Where to?"

"I figured we'd stay at the house?"

"Doesn't it..." she didn't know how to say it.

"Smell bad?" he said, almost laughing. "He didn't lay around that long. The hospice people were very helpful about getting in and airing the place out. Mainly, it was getting rid of the mattress," he said, praying she didn't ask for details.

"Did he...?"

"Apparently everyone does when they die."

At this they did laugh, and for a moment they were almost ten, laughing at a fart joke. Then the crying started again, but only for a moment.

"Okay, makes sense to me, but where do we sleep? There was just the one other bed in your old bedroom." Danielle said.

"You can sleep there. Assuming he still had that air mattress in the camping supplies in the garage, I can sleep on that in the living room."

"That's going to be hard on your back, isn't it?"

"I'll make it. We'll just be here two or three days. The memorial service tomorrow, then I guess we need - we need to pack his stuff up."

"We'll take turns sleeping in your old bed."

"Whatever; it doesn't matter to me."

***

Their father hadn't been able to take care of things for the past few months, and especially in the last week, and they'd been too preoccupied to do much about it. There were other problems.

"This place is going to need some touch-up painting and carpet cleaning at least if we're going to sell it or rent it out. The market's bad enough; we'll never sell it if it's not clean." Daniel observed.

"Makes sense - we'll do what we can while we're here and then see. I don't have to get back to work for a week. My husband's going to miss me, but we might as well get used to not being on a schedule."

"Oh, how's that?"

She grinned. "I'm pregnant. Probably two months along. I just found out last week."

He gathered her into his arms again. "That's great! Is he excited?"

"I think so. Don't know if he will be when I'm big and fat."

"You'll be marvelous. He won't be able to keep his hands off you."

She laughed. "We'll see. The hormones are already doing strange things; I can tell you that."

"Like what?"

What they were doing was causing her to have strange dreams. Dreams where she was raped by Phil and Daniel and her father, one after the other. Dreams where she straddled Phil for a nice, normal good-night fuck and was suddenly taken in the ass by Daniel while Phil held her down and sucked milk out of her nipples.

She slapped at him, and laughed. "I'm not going to tell you that. Look it up."

There was nothing to do between then and the memorial, which was going to be held at the university the next day, so she got into yoga pants and a tee and he got into some clothes he'd planned to go running in, and they started to straighten out the place - throwing out expired food and leftovers, old newspapers, and the like, doing laundry and putting dishes in the dishwasher. This part took them most of the evening, and they sat down to a late Chinese takeout dinner, some beer that had been in the fridge, and the TV. Daniel found the air mattress and pumped it up with a bicycle pump. They found some extra sheets and a pillow to put on it. The travel, the exertion, and the emotions of being back in the house he had grown up in, minus his father, conspired to keep him awake long after Danielle had wished him a good night and the house had grown dark.

Alone in bed, she slipped her panties off and fingered herself. She wished she'd brought a vibrator. She slipped her finger in and out of her pussy for lubrication and worked it around her clit, which was growing larger and wetter as she began to relax and focus on the pleasure. She tried to breathe silently. She pushed a hand up under her t-shirt and played with each nipple in turn, longing for a tongue to bathe them and suck on them. As her orgasm mounted, she fantasized about a big cock penetrating her and stretching her. It finally happened, a weak furtive orgasm that brought a little relief.

He heard the shower in the master bath start and run for a few minutes. He heard the sounds of Danielle moving around in it, and the splashing sounds which probably meant she was washing her hair. Later, the house was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater. He could hear Danielle crying, but didn't know whether he should go try to talk with her. He stared at the ceiling a good while longer. He looked at his watch. At one a.m. the bedroom door opened, and he could hear her padding down the hall and down the stairs, then he could see her outline. She was looking at him, trying to decide whether to speak.

"I'm awake, Dan," he said.

"I know this sounds weird, but I can't sleep with you out there on that air mattress. I worry that you're cold, Danny."

"I'm fine, really."

"Well, I'm cold. And kind of sad. Can you just get in bed with me?"

He looked her over in the dim light. She was still wearing the yoga pants and a t-shirt. He pushed the idea that it should matter out of his mind, but he didn't want to have to worry that he would end up accidentally feeling her up while he was half asleep, or getting a hard-on. "Okay, go back to bed. I'll be there in a second." He was going to have to put some sweats on, and besides, he was kind of cold.

In bed together, she snuggled back against him, her back to his chest. It felt kind of nice to him. He had a steady girlfriend, but she was big on independence, and while she got in bed with him a lot back home, it was never to sleep. She went down on him, rode his cock, and made him eat her inside out as she screamed his name, but she never swallowed and she never slept with him. She went back to her apartment every night they got together, no matter how late the hour. Danielle smelled like cheap shampoo - probably the stuff Dad had in the shower, he thought as he began to relax and drift off to sleep.

He woke up with his arm around her waist. Light was streaming in the windows pretty strongly, and he felt pretty good; they must have slept late. His sister looked peaceful, as she had not since he'd seen her yesterday afternoon. He thought about the fact that she'd wake up in a moment and then remember that their father had died, because that was his first thought when he woke up. He tightened his grasp on her waist a little, affectionately, and she nuzzled back against him as she awoke. "Phil?" she called her husband's name, half-asleep, then smiled as she woke up the rest of the way. "Oops," she said, then her smile tightened. She remembered why she was here, with her brother in bed with her.

"How did you sleep?"

"Fine, thank you. Sorry you had to deal with your baby sister's being a baby." She was born five minutes after him, and he'd always called her his baby sister.

"Quite all right." The complete absence of tension between them was why they'd drifted away from each other, he thought. Their conversations had a pro-forma quality about them; they seemed to know what each other was thinking all the time.

"What do you want to do first?" she asked.

He looked at his watch. "There's not much to do, really. It's eight o'clock, the service is at one, and the house is pretty much ready for any visitors that might stop by, if any do."

"We need to get that air mattress out of the living room," she said, closing her eyes again. She wasn't really ready to wake up.

"That's about one minute of work. Getting showers and dressing is another 45 minutes or so. Hungry yet?"

"I'm never hungry until I'm awake," she said, as he knew she would.

"Me neither. Why don't we stop by the diner on College Street on the way to the service? There's not much food here."

"Okay," she said, her eyes still closed. She put her hand over his. "Why don't we just stay here a while and talk? Where have you been for the past year, anyway?"

"Aren't we a regular Franny and Zooey?" he laughed. "I've been here. On the even weeks. You?"

"On the odd, brother, always odd," she said, and snuggled deeper into the covers, and in the process against him. In doing so, she discovered his penis, somewhat turgid.

"Sorry," he said, backing away, embarrassed.

It had reminded her of one of the dreams, but not a bad one. It excited her a little, really. "Shhhh. I'm a married woman, remember? Phil wakes up like that. It doesn't mean he's excited. Sometimes it just means he needs to go to the bathroom. Do you need to go to the bathroom?" She matured a little faster than he did, as girls do; when they were tweens she delighted in asking him embarrassing questions, like a mother would.

"Now that you mention it-" he said, and dashed off to the bathroom.

When he returned, he found that she had gone down the hall to the other bathroom. He got back in under the covers. He had realized he wasn't in a hurry to get moving either. Yesterday had really wiped him out.

He woke up from a light doze to find Danielle back in bed next to him, laying on her stomach, looking at him. She was on top of the covers: the room had gotten warmer with sunlight. He noticed absently that she wasn't wearing a bra. Not that she'd be expected to wear a bra to bed, but the thought, along with the way her yoga pants fit low around her hips, stirred a vague sense of excitement that he pushed out of his mind. He reminded himself why they were here. "So what time is it now? she asked.

"All of 8:30."

"Time passes so slowly when you're not doing anything. Not that I get much of a chance for that. It's delicious," she said, and kissed him on the nose, just like she used to do when he'd done her a favor when they were kids.

"So what have the odd weeks been like?" he said. She did a cat stretch and turned onto one side to face him while she talked. The curve of her breasts, which had grown a bit with maturity and pregnancy, lay under her thin tee, and he could almost see down her neckline. He didn't remember anything she said, except that it sounded a lot like the even weeks, and when the crying started the lust went back down into its dark hole and he held her close.

After that they both dozed a bit more. They woke up again with a start at ten, with that feeling that you get when you realize you need to be someplace terribly important and there are things you have to do between here and there. They were both hungry now, almost faint with it, and they almost collided heading to the nearest bathroom, stumbling with groggy hurry.

"After you, please," he said with a laugh. "I just need to get in the shower."

"Be my guest. I've got to pee."

"Down the hall. This is the only bathroom with towels and stuff."

"Right now, sorry. Get in the shower; you're not in my way," she said, already heading into the separate closet that held the toilet.

"Not going to argue with the pregnant lady," he sighed, and started finding the towels, stripping and running the water.

Sitting on the toilet after peeing, Danielle fought the urge to start fingering herself again. She felt it would take a long time, and probably not solve anything, and her thoughts kept returning to her brother in the shower, just a few feet away. They hadn't bathed together since they were five or six years old. They'd had a completely normal childhood. But they were grown now. She wanted to see what he looked like. She wanted to know how he would react. If he acted strangely she could make an excuse about the hot water.

He was rinsing off and realizing that he hadn't brought underwear or clothes with him. "Dan, I hate to ask," he yelled, "but..." he stopped short as she got into the shower with him. "Hi."

"The hot water runs out really quick here, if you didn't remember," she said, already getting under the shower head and rinsing her hair. "Besides, I've got to dry my hair after this." The water glistened down her breasts and buttocks. "Long as you're gawking, wash my back. What were you asking?"

"Never mind, really. Quite superfluous," he said, dutifully getting the washcloth she handed him and soaping it up, running it up and down her tight muscles. He didn't quite know where to stop, so he rounded the corners of her buttocks, noticing the tiny dimples just above each cheek.

"I'll take it from there, thanks. I can't even get Phil to wash me down there. He's gonna have to learn some new tricks when I get to where I can't bend over."

"Okay, then, well I'm done so I'll be going..." he trailed off, somewhat freaked out. The fact that she was his sister, and they were in a hurry, made the situation more odd than overtly sexual, but he wondered if she'd seen his lengthening penis as he made a hasty exit, almost slipping on the bathroom floor.

When they saw each other again, he was dressed and she was putting on her lipstick. "Ready? I'm starving," he said, in an earnest effort to pretend that they had not just showered together, or, failing that, that this was a perfectly normal thing for siblings to do.

"Just about," she said, not looking at him, making the same effort, not telling him how nice he looked in a suit.

The memorial was a fog. It would have been anyway. They had no brothers or sisters, his aunts and uncles were all either gone or too old to travel across the country. His colleagues showed up in force, and his many friends from his clubs and committees. The president of the university made a moving speech, and Danielle and Daniel sat holding hands in the front row, the loving, grief-stricken siblings. No one knew that her body being so close distracted him, or that when she looked down at their fingers she thought about intertwined legs.

When it was over a nice lady from their father's department asked if she could bring some food over that afternoon and hinted that a few of their close friends would like to join them. They'd always assumed he'd had a bit of a "friends with benefits" relationship with her. They gratefully agreed.

They got back to the house, put the urn up over the fireplace, and hastily finished sprucing up, including moving the air mattress into the master bedroom and closing all the bedroom doors. They greeted the first guests together at the door, but were quickly separated by the growing crowd and the need to keep finding places for the food and booze that multiplied on the table and the bar in the kitchen. This time became a fog too, but a more pleasant one fueled by good scotch and a lot of laughs about their father. He'd led a different life at the university, one they were aware of but never quite part of. When the nice lady left she offered to put one of them up at her house, but Danielle put his arm around her brother affectionately and said "No, ma'am; he's not getting out of cleaning the house that easily."

They set about cleaning up the few glasses and plates that the guests hadn't picked up for themselves. It was getting late, and they were a little drunk. "Good night," Daniel said, heading to the master bedroom with its air mattress, hoping to masturbate and get a good night's sleep without worrying that he would start groping his sister, whose naked body had occupied every idle moment's thought since this morning.

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