With me still wearing my twin sister’s jism-filled panties, we went downstairs and joined our mother, helping to unpack her shopping, and then peeled the vegetables for dinner. If my mother thought I was standing strangely, keeping my distance from her, and was unusually quiet, she was too busy to comment. But it was a relief when the smell of curry spices permeated the air.
With George away at college, it was just the three of us for dinner. The two females engaged in animated conversation about all sorts of things, flitting from one subject to another. Meanwhile, I sat brooding in silence, always aware of the sticky mess inside my knickers and worried that a wet patch might appear on my jeans at any moment. What’s more, despite the all-pervading spices, my nasal passageways caught the occasional whiff of semen, and I wondered if my mother might notice something as well.
Charlotte was in a teasing mood, and she made a point of sniffing the air and looking quizzically around. Kicking her under the table didn’t help. Because of the stress I was under, I was unable to finish all my food, my appetite much diminished.
As the plates were being stacked, Charlotte turned to me and said, “You wanted to borrow something from Mum, Jack. You’ve not forgotten, have you?”
She was referring to me asking Mum for a needle and cotton to repair the bra I’d damaged. I felt my face redden as I put up a barrier. “I don’t need anything. What are you talking about, Charlotte?”
“He’s got the memory of a goldfish, Mum! Luckily for him, I never forget anything. Jack, you wanted a needle and thread—white thread. Remember?”
“Oh, what’s that for?” asked our mother, her ears pricking up at the unexpected direction of the conversation. “I didn’t know you could sew, Jack.”
Charlotte had cunningly backed me into a corner. “Erm… it’s… it’s a loose button. I thought I should sew it back on before it falls off.”
“I can do that for you, Jack,” replied my mother, thinking she was being helpful.
“Yes, let Mum do it, Jack,” added Charlotte, suppressing a grin. “She knows what she’s doing, which is more than you do. Bring it down for Mum.”
By now, my face was crimson. “No…” I stuttered, “I… I need to learn to do these things myself.”
“Yeah, but let Mum check you’ve done it right. You don’t want it falling off again, do you?” Charlotte was revelling in winding me up.
“It’s only a button, Charlotte. I’m sure I can do it myself.”
“Why not compromise and let Charlotte check your handiwork, Jack?” suggested my mother.
“Good idea, Mum. In fact, I’ll watch him do it, and then I can make certain he does a good job.” Charlotte was pleased with herself, while I sat there, trying not to scowl.
oooOOooo
Once upstairs, Charlotte insisted on watching me repair the bra I’d stolen from her laundry basket. I was still wearing her soiled panties, and my spunk was drying out. This, though, gave me no relief. Instead, my crusty semen was serving as an effective paste, gluing my pubic hairs to the thin cotton. The smallest movement led to hairs being painfully tugged and possibly ripped out. My penis was also trapped in an unnatural position, and, whilst it still had a desire to tumesce, this was blocked by the sticking of my organ to the fabric.
A couple of times, I surreptitiously tried to push a hand into my jeans to break the adhesive bonds, but Charlotte was alert to what I was doing and was quick to chastise me. “You’re meant to be sewing, not playing with yourself, Jack,” she mocked.
It took me a couple of attempts, but, finally, I reattached the hook to the backstrap of the bra in a way that satisfied my sister. I tried to hand it back to her, but I wasn’t surprised when she rejected my offer. “No,” she explained. “You’ve bought it off me, so now it’s yours.”
She looked intently at me before adding, “And I will be disappointed—very disappointed—if I discover that you’ve disposed of it, or your panties.” If there was any doubt in my mind as to what she was alluding to, she tapped her phone to emphasise her point—the very phone that had taken compromising photos of me.
“But where the hell am I meant to keep them?” I asked.
“That’s your problem, not mine,” she huffed. “I’ll be checking up that you’ve not got rid of them.”
Realising that arguing was pointless, I changed tact. “Can I take them off now?”
“Sorry?”
I knew what she was getting at. “May I take my panties off now, Charlotte? Please?”
She smiled at me. “Yes, you may, Jack. You will wash them tonight. Tomorrow is Monday, and I expect to find them clean and dry, ready for you to wear to school.”
“No! I won’t be wearing them to school! I can’t do that!”
“Why, because they’ll give you a permanent stiffy?”
“No, not that. Someone could see them. I have a session in the gym tomorrow.”
“You’ll have to be careful then. And you did agree with me that you needed to be punished for invading my privacy, so that’s another part of your punishment. Understood?”
“But this is bloody ridiculous!” I exclaimed. “I can’t do it. I won’t!”
“Well, you know what will happen if you don’t.” She looked at the phone in her hands—no words were needed.
I paused to think. How could I get out of this? And then I realised that the solution was simple—all I had to do was sneak a pair of my boxers to school in my bag and change as soon as I got there.
“Yeah… I guess I deserve it. I’ll do it,” I quietly remarked.
She stared thoughtfully at me, probably wondering why I had suddenly lost the will to disagree with her. Then, a faint smile broke out on her face. “I’ll check your bag before we leave, Jack. I’m sure you wouldn’t cheat, but let’s remove the temptation. Hmm?” Her smile had morphed into a grin. All I could do was swallow hard.
oooOOooo
Charlotte left me to it. I knew I had no option but to launder her—now my—panties. Obviously, I had no choice but to wash them by hand. I could hardly put them into the washing machine for Mum to discover. I performed the cleaning in the bathroom, and once I felt that all the gunk and stains had been removed, I smuggled them back into my bedroom and spread them across the radiator to dry.
I had a troubled night, tossing and turning, and was bothered by nightmares, in which my school friends discovered I was wearing my sister’s panties. At four o’clock, I awoke in a cold sweat and lay on my bed, the duvet pushed back, feeling a sense of doom. It was at that time that I resolved to tell Charlotte that I would not wear her underwear to school. I knew she wouldn’t take my decision well, but I couldn’t face the prospect of my nightmares becoming a reality.
Further sleep eluded me and at 6 AM I slipped out of bed and into the adjoining bathroom that I shared with Charlotte. After showering, I crept back into my room and got dressed for school, putting on a pair of black boxers rather than my sister’s white panties. I then sat ruminating, waiting for the inevitable argument with Charlotte.
I heard her get up, and the shower running and then stopping, and then, a short while later, there was a tap on my door. Without waiting for me to reply, she marched in. Not bothering to wish me a good morning, she launched into an attack, using a loud whisper. “Drop your trousers and show me your panties.”
“No!” I defiantly replied. “I won’t! I’m not wearing your underwear to school!”
My boldness surprised me, but amazed her even more.
She was speechless for a second or so, but I guessed she was building up pressure, ready to explode.
“Yes, you will!” she hissed, waving her phone in my face as a reminder of the photos she’d taken.
“No, I won’t!” I responded, almost shouting.
“Keep your voice down, you moron,” retorted Charlotte, in a stage whisper, “unless you want Mum coming to investigate what the noise is all about. I’ve told you that you’re wearing those knickers to school, so that’s what you will do, okay?”
“No, it’s not okay!” I hissed.
She took a menacing step towards me, exclaiming, “I’ve got pics, remember?”
I took a step back and took a moment to weigh up the situation. “Yeah, but I don’t reckon you’ll show Mum. If you do, we’ll both be up shit creek.”
Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped to think. There was a notable change in her demeanour. “Er… erm…”
Spotting her hesitation, I piled in. “And sharing those images with others is illegal, Charlotte. The police will be on to you. You’ll get a criminal record. You’ll go to prison!”
I was exaggerating, but it was giving her something more to think about, and I could tell she was wavering. “Hmm… no way… er… hmm… I suppose you’re right, I guess,” she replied, avoiding eye contact.
Then she looked up and smiled at me—it was a smile embellished with embarrassment, but still warm. “I had you going, you plonker. You thought I was serious, didn’t you? You’re so gullible, you stupid idiot!”
I knew she had been deadly serious with her threats, and now she was trying to save face, but this was not the time to point that out. “I knew you were just teasing,” I lied. “No one would be so brain-dead as to share those photos.”
“No one, least of all me,” she agreed, her face turning a bright shade of pink. “But it was good fun, though, wasn’t it?”
“Umph! For you, maybe. You weren’t the one being humiliated.”
“You enjoyed it as well, Jack. You had a massive hard-on.”
I was curious as to how well-informed she appeared to be about the sizes of erections and the smell of semen. I didn’t know what to say, but Charlotte hadn’t finished. “And if wearing my undies doesn’t turn you on, then why the hell did you steal them?”
“I didn’t steal them! I borrowed them!”
Charlotte snorted, “Same bloody difference, because I don’t want them back now! Do you remember when we were young, and you used to dress in my clothes because you found them pretty? Eh?”
“Yes, but I was too immature to understand that the difference between boys and girls extended beyond what they wore. Your stuff was more varied and visually more appealing than my boring clothing.”
“Yeah, and it still is! And I loved seeing you in panties yesterday. It turned me on. Did you notice?”
“I… I don’t know,” I hesitantly replied, perhaps becoming mindful that while I wasn’t consciously aware of her being turned on, the interplay between the two of us had fuelled my own arousal. Maybe my subconscious mind had detected something in Charlotte’s behaviour and responded accordingly.
“As I’m letting you off wearing panties to school today, will you promise me that we can have some fun in my bedroom sometime?”
“What do you mean by fun?” I asked, wary of where the conversation was going.
“I don’t know, but I’ll let you wear my undies—and tights and skirts and shirts and dresses—anything you want. I just think that if you’re going to dress in my clothes, we should be there together. Then we can both get a laugh. Don’t you love the naughtiness of it all, and the risk that Mum might find out? It’s good to live dangerously, sometimes, don’t you agree?”
“Getting erect in front of you was something that shouldn’t happen between brother and sister, Charlotte. We were breaking taboos. But you’re not suggesting we do something illegal, are you?” I asked.
“No, of course not! But there’s nothing illegal about us looking at one another, is there?”
“I suppose not.”
“Let’s live dangerously! Let’s see what we can do that’ll turn us both on.”
“Okay, just as long as there are no photos, Charlotte.” She smiled sweetly at me, her lips firmly sealed together.
