I’m Jack, and Charlotte is my seventeen-year-old twin. Obviously, we’re not identical twins, yet we are remarkably alike in appearance, so much so that, from behind, it is sometimes difficult for strangers to tell us apart, my long hair undoubtedly aiding this confusion. It might be thought that being so similar in how we look, we might be closely matched in temperament, but nothing could be further from the truth.
Charlotte was the older, by around two hours, and never let me forget this, insisting that she always knew what was best for her and me, and brooking no dissent. I, needless to say, detested her bossy attitude, but also resented that she was a girl, and I was “only” a boy.
At a young age, I didn’t understand what the biological differences were between boys and girls—any difference was simply how we dressed, and I was envious that Charlotte’s clothes were different from mine, and far prettier, with a greater range of styles, colours and fabrics. There were times—innocent times—when Charlotte allowed me to wear some of her clothes, but it wasn’t until I was in my final years at senior school that I came to truly understand the differences between boys and girls. The discovery coincided with the development of sexual urges.
Now, sexual urges are not unusual in a seventeen-year-old, but mine were different—I had this desire to dress in my sister’s underwear while I jerked off to pornographic videos. I knew this wasn’t normal, and so I obviously kept it secret, yet the compulsion to self-pleasure in this way frequently overcame my rational thoughts.
Charlotte was unaware of my frustrations and had assumed I’d grown out of any desire to try on her clothes. Her only concern was for her privacy, and she hadn’t any idea that I was lusting about dressing in her belongings. Around the same time, she had started keeping her bedroom door locked, our mother having reluctantly allowed her to have a lock fitted, assuming it was a stage she was going through. Yet, often, when Charlotte was out, I would try her bedroom door, hoping that she may have inadvertently left it unlocked.
This, though, was never the case, but then, one day, while lurking at the top of the stairs, I happened to notice that Charlotte lodged the key to her room on the top of the door frame. She, of course, was ignorant of me watching, but I could barely contain my excitement at discovering her hiding place. Why hadn’t I thought to look there?
I could now let myself into her room at any time she was out, and, on occasions, I took advantage of her absence to explore her possessions and sometimes to borrow items for my selfish, deviant purposes.
oooOOooo
The afternoon of this account was one such time. I knew I would have several hours to enjoy the pleasure of Charlotte’s undies. She was going out with friends and was not expected back until late afternoon, and our mother was at work and wouldn’t be home until the evening. As our older brother was at university, and our mother was single, I would have the house to myself.
I’d known for a couple of days that I would be on my own that afternoon. Therefore, despite growing tension and frustration, I had resisted all temptations to relieve myself, saving my jism for what I called the “big event”. Consequently, as the hours passed that day, waiting for Charlotte to leave the house to meet her friends, my impatience grew. I couldn’t afford to give any clues as to my planned activities, so I did nothing that might have suggested to Charlotte that I wanted her gone. Instead, I quietly waited while the pressure within me steadily built up.
At last, she curtly bid me goodbye and left the house. I looked out the window to check that she wasn’t returning, having forgotten something. Satisfied the coast was clear, I raced upstairs to find the underwear I needed for my sordid activity.
My fingers trembling, I retrieved her key and unlocked her bedroom door. The first place I looked was Charlotte’s laundry basket. I examined the contents, being careful not to create so much of a disturbance that Charlotte would know someone—and who could it be, other than me—had rifled through the container. Discretion was my watchword, and my exploits had to remain clandestine.
I was fortunate that I was such a similar size to Charlotte, and her clothes fitted me quite well, albeit a little tightly. Inside the basket, there were several pairs of dirty panties. However, I was not sexually attracted to my sister, so sniffing her undies was not for me. I wanted something to wear, and what I found were too scanty to be worn that day. To put it bluntly, they would not hold my tackle—everything would simply fall out. And for what I had in mind that afternoon, I wanted underwear that would completely cradle my erection and would contain my jism. I wanted to feel the softness of the fabric against my shaft as I fondled it, and I didn’t want my hardened organ protruding from the top.
There was nothing in the basket that met my needs, so I knew I had to choose something clean from Charlotte’s panty drawer. This was a far riskier business and would present me with the problem of what to do with the used item when I’d finished. Laundering the soiled item and returning it was fraught with danger.
Charlotte’s choice of knickers had changed a lot over the past couple of years, and most of the items she wore now were skimpy. Yet I was delighted to discover there were still pairs of her white school panties beneath the more recent purchases. My pulse raced at the sight of them! They looked forgotten, and I felt sure that she would not miss a pair. I could ejaculate into those and then dispose of them, certain Charlotte would remain in ignorance.
Had I been more mature, I would have sensed danger, but my brain was still completing its development, and it had a blasé attitude towards risk-taking. With glee, I took a pair of her full brief cotton knickers, feeling my penis swelling in anticipation.
Returning to her dirty laundry basket, I found a pristine white T-shirt bra that would go with the briefs. My penis now throbbing in anticipation, I took my newly acquired possessions back to my bedroom. Very soon, I was naked, and I proceeded to dress myself in Charlotte’s clothes, stuffing the bra with white socks to add an element of realism.
Both items felt tight, me being a smidgen larger than my sister. The bra dug into my chest, so much so that there was no way I was able to ignore its presence. This, obviously, only acted to increase my arousal. Likewise, the elastic around the legs and waist of her panties was leaving a lasting impression on my flesh, marks I would be able to remember long after discarding the garment.
As I played with myself, I had to be careful because I knew I was playing with fire. Having abstained for two days, it would not take too much for me to ejaculate. Whilst this would give me short-lived pleasure, I wished to play a long game, repeatedly edging before erupting in a terrific crescendo. I had all afternoon, and I didn’t wish for the fun to be finished in the first couple of minutes.
oooOOooo
I turned on my computer and quickly brought up a porn channel that I loved. There, I was presented with a plethora of videos, but my favourites were those featuring lesbian couples. And today, what I wanted—and what I soon found—was a long video featuring two young women dressed in white lingerie and making love. It was so easy for me to imagine that I, dressed also in white, was one of those two girls.
Transfixed by what was on the screen, I watched the two girls engage in foreplay, each teasing the other, their fingers exploring regions beneath the other’s underwear. As the video progressed, so the women’s excitement grew. Soon they were naked and in a sixty-nine position, their lips and tongues discovering the most erotic zones of their partner. Their mutual frenzy increased until they reached a point of no return, and both girls screamed out as they shared the ecstasy of a joint climax.
I put the video onto a loop and watched it repeatedly, imagining myself first in the place of one girl, and then the other. All the time, with one hand I fondled my erection through the panties, while the other stroked the soft, smooth fabric of my bra, mimicking what I was seeing on film. Continually, I was edging towards a pinnacle that would synchronise with that of the two girls. But each time I held back, determined to prolong my enjoyment.
As the minutes passed, I became more desperate to cum, so I watched the film for a last time. I intended to join the two women so that we all simultaneously climaxed. I became mesmerised by what I was seeing. The film was approaching its conclusion. By now, I knew it so well, frame-by-frame, that my timing would be spot-on.
And it was! My body was grabbed by a powerful seizure as I erupted and emptied myself into Charlotte’s panties. It was an orgasm that beat any other I’d ever experienced, and it seemed to go on forever. Gasping for breath, I continued to stimulate my sensitised penis, draining myself of every last drop of spunk.
But then, as I descended from the zenith, a sixth sense detected that the front door was opening. I froze mid-stroke, telling myself that I was still alone, yet worrying that I wasn’t. I looked at the clock on my computer screen. Oh, God, it was later than I thought. Charlotte was home!
As my brain came to terms with what was happening, I heard my sister in the hallway. Despite knowing she wouldn’t enter my room without knocking, I panicked and tore off her bra, ignoring the ripping sound that it made—I would sort that out later. My erection, that only minutes earlier had been in peak engorgement, had shrivelled away faster than had a bag of frozen peas been dropped on it.
“Jack! Where are you?” Charlotte yelled. “I want to show you what I’ve bought Mum for her birthday. You can pay half, as I know you’re too bloody lazy to buy her anything yourself. Where are you, Jack?”
Moving quickly, I slipped my jeans back on and turned off the screen. “I’ll… I’ll catch up with you in a few minutes,” I spluttered. “I’m… I’m busy!”
Too late, I realised I’d confirmed my location. Charlotte ran upstairs and was soon just feet from my door. I sat down heavily on my computer chair, remembering to push the bra and socks behind me. Desperately, I tried to do up the zip of my jeans, but to no avail.
There was a sharp knock at my door. “Wait!” I yelled.
Charlotte had no intention of waiting. A split second later, she flung open the door and barrelled in. “Look at this, Jack. Mum’ll love…”
Her voice petered out mid-sentence, her mind trying to work out what was going on. I was sitting, uncomfortably it seemed, in front of a dead screen, and I was shirtless.
“What… what are you doing?! What’s that smell?” she asked, incredulously, while sniffing the air. Cog wheels moved in her head before she added, with a smile. “I know what you were doing. You were wanking! Turn the screen back on and show me what you were watching. I want to see.”
“No!”
“I said turn it back on, or do I tell Mum?”
“No! I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Charlotte moved to press the on-off button, and I quickly leant forward to stop her doing so.
“What? What’s that, behind your back?”
She pulled out what she had seen. It was her bra, and she immediately recognised it as such.
“What the fucking hell are you doing with this?”
“I, er… nothing!”
“Don’t talk crap. You’ve stolen my bra, so don’t pretend you weren’t doing anything with it. Tell me, before I beat the shit out of you.”
I knew she wasn’t joking. Physically, I was stronger than my sister, yet she had always been the more determined fighter, and I had always been reluctant to give as good as I got. Besides, our mother, while encouraging Charlotte to stand up for herself, had drummed into me that I must never hit a girl.
“You were wearing it, weren’t you? Stuffed with those socks!” she bawled, her lips flaring.
I said nothing, but I was aware my face had turned crimson.
“I knew it!” she concluded, accurately interpreting my flushed expression. “You bastard! And… and… wait a minute…”
She had seen that one of the hooks at the back was hanging by a thread.
“Shit! You’ve broken it. This was brand new! You’re going to fucking pay for this, Jack.”
“I will, I will,” I desperately responded. “I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Yes, you will, but you’re still going to pay for what you’ve done.” It slowly dawned on me that she was using the word “pay” in two different senses. “Give me forty pounds, now!”
“Forty quid?! You must be joking. How could it have cost forty pounds?”
“Welcome to the real world of being a girl, Jack. It’s expensive. I know you’ve been saving up for new headphones, so you’ve got the money. Give it to me, now.”
Her tone of voice was one not to be argued with. Reluctantly, I opened a desk drawer and took out a small tin containing my precious savings. I handed £40 to Charlotte, who immediately slipped it into a front pocket.
“You’re not going to tell Mum, are you?” I begged.
“You bet I am! You’ll be going over her knees for a bare-bottom spanking.” Despite her fury, I could tell that the thought of her brother being spanked, while she looked on, appealed to her. She was relishing the thought.
“I’m too old,” I replied, unsure of my ground but happy to clutch at straws.
“No, you’re not. Mum spanks us until we’re eighteen. Don’t you remember George being spanked two weeks before his eighteenth birthday?”
I did remember, as did Charlotte. My argument with her was paused for a few seconds as we both recalled our brother’s intense embarrassment at becoming erect before going over our mother’s knees. And how a severe spanking had quickly caused his erection to rapidly deflate.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte,” I said, realising that these words were unlikely to satisfy my angry sister.
“You will be!” she hissed. “How did you get it?”
“Er… I found your key,” I answered fearfully.
“Shit!”
“Sorry!”
I glanced down, unable to look her in the eyes. Seizing the moment and catching me off guard, she reached over and turned on the computer screen.
She had guessed I’d been looking at porn, but even she was taken aback to see a video running of two women having sex. “Oh, my God,” she screamed. “This is so perverted!”
“Sorry, Charlotte. You won’t tell Mum, will you?”
“This is disgusting,” she replied, not answering my question. “And you wanked, didn’t you? I knew that’s what I could smell!”
“No… no, I didn’t,” I responded, somewhat indecisively.
“Don’t lie! I know that smell! It’s revolting!” Charlotte exclaimed. “Admit you’ve been jerking off!”
I decided a denial was pointless. “Okay, yes… yes, I have. All boys do!”
“Not wearing my bra, they don’t! You were wearing my bra?”
This might have been either a question or a statement, either way, the response was the same. “Er… yes, sorry,” I replied, lamely.
“What else?”
“Eh?”
“What else are you wearing? Stand up and drop your jeans.”
“No! Mum would be furious if she knew I’d done that in front of you. You’re my sister!”
“She’s going to be furious anyway. I said drop your jeans. Now!!”
Reluctantly, but realising I had no option, I stood up. My flies were already undone, and instantly Charlotte caught sight of a flash of white. Her eyebrows shot up, and her mouth dropped open.
“Pull them down!” she screamed, impatiently. I did so, revealing that I was wearing a pair of her panties. What’s more, they were now soaking wet and partially translucent. There was no hiding the fact that I had ejaculated into her underwear.
“Oh, my God!! I don’t believe this. You’ve wanked into my knickers!” she screeched, her eyes blazing. “You snivelling piece of snot! I hate you!”
“Sorry,” I feebly replied.
“Fuck me! Now you’re getting a hard-on!” It was true. Despite the intense humiliation I felt—or perhaps because of it—my penis was again swelling. Charlotte watched on, open-mouthed, as my organ slowly expanded to fill her knickers, the high waist ensuring that it was completely contained within the garment, even when fully erect.
“Sorry!” I said.
“For fuck’s sake, stop saying ‘sorry’. It’s meaningless! You’re only sorry you’ve been caught.”
“Sorry… I mean, sorry,” I bumbled, incoherently.
I could see she was becoming distracted, her eyes riveted onto my solid shaft, plainly visible through the wet cotton of her panties. At least this had caused her to pause her tirade, for which I was grateful.
And, had I not been so flustered, my conscious mind may have noticed that her pupils were becoming dilated, indicating she was becoming aroused by my predicament. My subconscious mind, though, must have absorbed this information and had also taken in that her nipples were erect and pushing against her shirt. Despite my intense shame, key circuits in my brain had been activated, and I had no problems maintaining a strong erection.
Without warning, she whipped her phone from her back pocket. Involuntarily, I moved my hands to cover my embarrassment.
“Get your hands out of the way,” she screamed at the top of her voice. “Do what you’re fucking told!”
Stunned by her vehement language, I did just that, and she wasted no time taking photos.
“No!” I yelled, coming to my senses. “Please!”
I reached out with a hand, hoping to grab the phone, but she shoved it behind her back. She now had evidence, and…
