Chapter 2
My second thoughts about going through with the plan were immediate, but I was afraid to express them in the face of Lori's robust enthusiasm, "What's the sense of being identical twins unless we take advantage of it?" was how she put it, and I didn't have the courage to argue.
At lunch the next day we exchanged lists of things we should know about each others' everyday lives in order to bring off our impersonations. Lori chuckled at the one I gave her, and I was wide-eyed at the one I was reading.
"Do you really, uh, see all these people you've got down here on a regular basis?" I asked cautiously.
"See 'em? she giggled. "Hell, I have sex with them. Why do you think I left Jerry?"
"Well, what ... what am I supposed to do about all these people?" I apprehensively asked.
"Whatever you want, Sis, whatever you want!" she laughed uproariously.
There was a hideous pause. I felt like such a child. Even though she was only minutes older than I, Lori could always make me feel this way.
"What about my list?" I tried to change the subject "Do you understand everything I've put down there?"
"Do you really expect me to clean the bathroom on Monday, wax the kitchen floor on Tuesday, do the laundry on Wednesday, fix Rick his meatloaf on Friday?"
"Yes, you'll have to," I firmly interrupted her. "If you don't, nobody will believe you're me no matter how much we look alike."
There was another pause, but this one was not as uncomfortable as its predecessor. I felt like I had drawn even with Lori and that we were now at truce. For some reason it gave me a great deal of satisfaction to know that I had made my sister as uncomfortable with the facts of my life-style as she had made me with hers.
Conversation went along easily from that point, and by the time we were finished with lunch we were ready to make the switch. When we left the restaurant I gave Lori my car keys and she left for the suburbs in the family station wagon. As for myself, I scouted around for her little Vespa, and then rode it to her pad in the inner city's artists' quarter.
Lori had moved back into the city about a year ago, but she hadn't gotten in touch with me until our meeting of just the other day. She said she'd wanted to get her head together before we had our reunion because she was messed up for awhile on drugs. When I found the correct address in the artists' quarter, it was the first time I'd seen where my sister had lived for the past twelve months.
It didn't look like much from the outside compared to the relative suburban splendor in which I lived. Rick, the kids and I shared a heavily mortgaged split-level ranch house that looked like the Taj Mahal compared to the crumbling brownstone where Lori rented her apartment. As I made my way up the dingy stairs, I prayed that she didn't have cockroaches.
Sandy, Lori's fifteen year old daughter was waiting for me. "Why'd you knock for, Mom?" she greeted me at the door, confronting me with first blunder. "Did you lose your key?"
"No, no," I muttered, "I just had something on my mind Na-" Suddenly I held my breath. I'd almost called Sandy, Nancy, my real teenage daughter's name.
"Is there something wrong, Mom?" Sandy said with real concern.
"Maybe I should lie down," I sighed. "I must have been out in the sun too long."
"I'll get you something cool to drink, Mom," Sandy offered once we were inside. "What would you like?"
"A martini would be nice," I said, as I draped myself over the rattan couch. To my surprise, Sandy's eyebrows rose dramatically when she heard my request.
"Mom, she wagged her finger at me, "you promised. No more drugs."
"Since when is a martini a drug?" I responded in complete perplexment.
"Alcohol is the worst drug, Mother, you know that," Sandy snapped. "You promised you'd stay clean. I'm surprised at you, I really am."
I was surprised at myself for being so dumb. Lori had warned me that her daughter was trying to keep her clean.
"Well, I guess the only vice I'll be able to keep is sex," I said something like the real Lori would say, hoping to cover up the awkwardness of my impersonation so far.
"Thatta girl," Sandy fell for it. "I'll go get you some Tiger's Milk."
While I was forcing myself to sip the noxious-tasting substance, Sandy told me about the date she had that night. His name was Mickey and he was a drummer in a rock band.
At first the conversation was very much like one I might have with my own adolescent daughter about dating. Then there was a departure, gradual at first, shockingly abrupt at its conclusion.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"He's coming over here, of course," Sandy impatiently answered, as though I should have known this in advance.
"Well, uh, do ... do you want me to go out someplace then?" I improvised.
"What for?" Sandy blurted incredulously.
"I just assumed you and Mickey would want to be alone."
"Mother, you're kidding!" she wailed. "How can you do this to me? Your own flesh and blood!"
"I beg your pardon," was all I could think of to say. I felt completely in the dark, and was certain my switch with Lori was breaking down right here and now.
Fortunately, however, Sandy was too upset to pay attention to anything but her own disappointment at the moment. She may have spent the last five years of her young life being raised in a counter-culture environment, but right now she was behaving just like any pampered kid in the suburbs who hadn't gotten her way. Somehow this revelation restored my faith that I could handle the situation.
"Why don't you sit down and tell me about it, dear?" I interrupted Sandy's fussing and fuming.
She plopped down on the couch with me, draping my legs over her lap since I was still lying down. As she got ready to tell me her problem, I felt like I had rallied and was in control of things for the first time.
Then Sandy spoke and shattered my illusion that a mother is a mother regardless of the environment.
"You know yourself, Mom, a heavy dude like Mickey would only ask me out if he could get to meet you," Sandy said rapidly. "Your reputation is the only way I can get dates with really groovy guys."
I bolted upright as though one of the sofa's springs had burst through the upholstery. Sandy was implying that she and her mother were rivals for the same young men. And I didn't need to play twenty questions to figure out the probable nature of Lori's "reputation."
"If Mickey gets to ball you first then it'll be easy to get him in my pants," Sandy excitedly confirmed my worst suspicions. "I'll just die if I don't get to fuck him!"
"Uh, just what's so special about this young man beside the fact that he's a rock musician?" I asked, leaving myself open in my dazed condition for a verbal knockout blow.
"Mickey Rice has the biggest cock of any rock drummer around," Sandy informed me with great intensity. "And drummers are all famous for their hard-ons in the first place, so you can imagine what this dude's is like."
"Have ... have you seen it?"
"Yeah," she beamed. "He let me give him a blow-job one night during a set. I've always been good at deep-throating since you taught me how, but I swear I couldn't get this stud's prick all the way down my throat no matter how hard I tried. God, I can't wait to feel that monster in my tight pussy!"
There was no point in even attempting to think of some appropriate way to respond. Now that I was getting an adequate glimpse into it, I was aghast at the life-style of the person whom I was supposed to be for the next seven days. I silently prayed for God to help me survive this ordeal I'd gotten myself into with some small measure of dignity.
"Mom," Sandy chirped, just like my down daughter when she was going to ask her mother a question about being a woman, "what's the biggest cock you've ever had?"
Well, I had to answer. Obviously, Lori would have-and I was Lori for the next week.
"A foot long." I recalled a football tackle I had screwed in the backseat of a Volkswagen in high school. Of course, what I didn't say was that my husband's pitiful six-incher was the only dork I'd had anything to do with in the last sixteen years.
"Oooooooh," she squealed, "what's it like-an entire foot of hard prick up your snatch? You took it all, didn't you, Mom?"
I nodded my head, and it wasn't a lie. All of a sudden I had a vivid memory of the football player's hairy balls scraping against my pussy lips while he fucked me to the hilt.
"It felt like he was splitting me in two," I blurted.
"How hard did you come, Mom?" my temporary daughter asked with wide-eyed interest.
"Enough to cover up the pain," I honestly informed her. "I was still tingling on the way home."
"Was it your best fuck ever?" Sandy wanted to know with bubbling eagerness.
How should I answer? I felt like I was painted into a corner.
"Oh, that's all right, Mom," Sandy soothed, catching on to my reluctance to answer. I was very grateful for her understanding.
She gently rubbed my legs, and I sighed in appreciation. Her touch seemed to soften the tension I felt.
"Up higher," I said without thinking of anything but how good her fingers felt against the bare skin of my legs.
She went higher than I had anticipated. All the way up under the denim skirt I had borrowed from Lori.
But I didn't stop her. Even when she was caressing the inside of my loins. "Feel good, Mom?" she crooned. I had to agree that it did.
"Mmmmmmm," she smirked, "you're wearing panties. When did you take that up, Mom?"
"I had lunch with my sister today at a midtown restaurant," I told the truth, but in reverse. "I wanted to be respectable."
"Well, you're not now," Sandy chuckled. "Your panties are soaking wet. They're clinging so hard I'll have to peel them off."
Suddenly it was taken for granted that Sandy would strip me. It went against every grain of my usual lifestyle, but under these circumstances I didn't protest. To tell the truth, I wanted the sticky panties off of me as much as my niece and temporary daughter did.
Slipping her slim fingers under the elastic waistband, Sandy rolled the dripping nylon down my hips and legs. When the panties reached my ankles, I kicked them off on my own, and they landed with a wet splat in a corner. My skirt was bunched around my waist and my bare pussy was right out in the open.
Falling between my legs, she began sucking my cunt without further ado. This was an acid test. Would she be able to tell my twat from her real mother's.
"Mmmmmm," she passed judgment after some noisy slurping, "your cunt is still the sweetest I've ever tasted. None of my friends can come close to it."
So another hurdle was passed. Even though the raw act in which I was engaged was hopelessly degenerate I was uncontrollably elated.
So elated that I began wiggling my ass when Sandy started to penetrate my pussy with her stiff tongue. "Deeper ... deeper . ... " I moaned. "Your hard tongue feels soooo gooood inside me."
Sandy was happy to comply. Her oral prong thrust so completely up my fuck-hole that her teeth were gnashing against my labia and clit. Now I was getting stimulated on the outside as sensationally as within. She sure knew how to eat gash.
After a short while my hands automatically traveled to her body and began hurriedly removing her clothes. I was yearning for her naked, teenage form like I was drowning and desperately craving air.
Her Grateful Dead T-shirt came off easily, with the bra-less condition of her budding, young tits a succulent bonus. The jeans were more difficult, but I did a workmanlike job in getting them off. When I slid my hand along her slim hips I realized there were no panties either.
She was nude and on top of me. A beautiful, beautiful child. I wanted to experience every inch of her.
Apparently she felt the same way about me, for she quickly finished undressing me. Now we were both naked, and Sandy had crawled up my body. We were embracing and soul-kissing, as our hot pussies rubbed against one another.
When Sandy's tongue surged down my throat, it had a familiar flavor. Of course, it was still coated with my own pussy juice. It was an undeniable thrill to taste my own twat in a deep, lingering kiss.
Down below, our cunts were chafing fantastically. Our clits were perfectly centered, and gouged into each other like nails. Orgasm was flowing both ways.
Sandy's hand clasped my tits and mangled the stiff nipples. I naturally reciprocated, loving the budding firmness of her adolescent breasts.
She seemed to sense how intrigued I was by her boobs, and began to slide them down my body. Breaking our kiss, she repositioned herself 180 degrees and inserted a tit in my crotch and her cunt in my face. We were going to sixty-nine with a difference.
Expertly manipulating her tit, Sandy began tweaking my clitoris with the spike-like nipple. I could feel a climax all the way up in my gums.
"Ooooooh, Mom," Sandy squealed, "your pussy is drowning me. I should take a bath before Mickey gets here."
I couldn't answer because I had gotten busy eating her cunt. And, yes, it was as sweet-tasting as it looked. I remembered from my own adolescence that there is nothing so scrumptious as a teenage girl's beaver.
I sucked Sandy's cunt with all the vigor I used to apply to her mother's back when Lori and I were in our teens. The years rolled back and I was young and carefree again. Had I jumped up off the couch and dashed off to cheerleading practice when we were finished making love, it wouldn't have seemed the slightest bit unusual to me.
However, our lovemaking was far from finished. After we had each come several times from our modified sixty-nine, we switched positions again and started anew as though we were completely fresh.
This time Sandy knelt on the floor and turned me around in a sitting position so she could place her face in my lap. When she began eating me out I immediately knew how I was supposed to respond without being told. By now Sandy and I seemed to have a definite kind of ESP going between us-almost as accurate as a real mother and daughter.
Hunching over, I extended my arms down Sandy's back and grasped her ankles. Then slowly but surely, with strength I didn't know I had, I hoisted her legs from behind her.
Eventually I had her dangling upside down in a vertical position. Her face was still sucking my crotch, but now her sleek ass was wobbling in my face.
Bending her legs at the knees, I hooked her calves over my shoulders. When I let go with my hands, she stayed in place.
My fingers free for more intimate purposes, I used them to pry open Sandy's beautiful, young buns and peer in at her asshole.
She took after Lori to a tee. Sandy's anus was a perfect circle of blushing pinkness. It was impossible to believe that any crap had ever been squeezed through it.
My tongue darted out automatically and began licking for all it was worth. Totally living up to my expectation, Sandy's young butt was as sweet as candy.
I began to tongue-fuck her asshole, probing deeper and deeper. From the way she kept moaning downstairs in my cunt, she loved it. No matter how far I orally penetrated Sandy's girlish rectum, the flavor remained divine. This girl had a perfect body. And I couldn't stop making love to her, no matter how perverse it became.
While I continued to tongue her ass, I started poking in her gaping twat with my fingers. When all five on one hand were in, I balled them into a fist and began whamming away, feeling Sandy's face bounce against my crotch from the jarring impact.
Although we toppled to the floor from the accelerating action, I kept my knuckles buried and pumping within Sandy's tight, spasming cunt. Soon she had taken advantage of the accident to reciprocate and I was being gloriously fist-fucked, also.
We finally played ourselves out, but it was only after over two hours of constant sex. By the time we were so exhausted that neither of us could move. We just lay side by side in the middle of the floor, nakedly basking in the dozing afterglow of perfect lovemaking. Sandy's date that night had been temporarily forgotten along with everything else in the universe.