Gay Erotic Stories

You must be 18 or older to read this story. You must be 18 or older to read this story. I'll stop now, I promise. I'll stop now, I promise. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Identical Twins - by MIKE HUNT -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The plane was already an hour and a half late, of course. I'd barely made it to the gate at O'Hare. I'd had to run through the underground tunnel to United terminal "C" to get there. The motorized walkway and the light show are fun unless you're about to miss your flight; then it's torture, especially if you get behind some fat lady with a duffel bag. Anyway, I got to it in the nick of time, fairly threw my ticket at the guy at the gate, and jumped aboard just as the stew was slamming the curved metallic door shut. Whew! Found my seat, 23-D, an aisle thank god, and settled in. About five minutes went by when the captain came on the intercom and announced that because of bad traffic on the West Coast we were on a "ground hold" and wouldn't be taking off for a while. The entire cabin gave a simultaneous groan as everyone realized that we were now at the mercy of the airline for all of our wants: food, toilet, travel, sex. Well, not necessarily sex. I usually handle that myself in the lavatory sometime during the flight. Or if I'm feeling a little frisky, I might just move to a window seat. You may have tried that too. It works better if you get a blanket first, I found out. Long story short, we landed at 4PM at LAX, and I shuffled off the plane as disgruntled as the next guy, found my way to the baggage carousel and waited for the always efficient luggage handlers to crush and tear my suitcase before putting it on the little merry-go-round that would speed it to me. At last it appeared, all black with just one ribbon of jet-red piping. I grabbed it and tried to beat the crowd to the taxi-stand. "The Four Seasons," I barked to the driver. "Que?" he said. I took out my Compton's "English to Cab Driver" translation dictionary and gave the proper instructions. We arrived about 20 minutes later; I tipped him and he sped away. Thankfully I checked in without incident and went to my room. I reclined on the bed and took a brief nap. I was about to leave to grab some dinner when the phone rang. It was my wife June. "Hi, honey," she said. "Have you unpacked yet?" "Uh, no. Why?" "I just got a call from some woman at a hotel in L.A. She says she has your luggage. She thinks you must have hers. She said her suitcase is black with red trim. That's what yours is." "Yeah, hang on a minute," I said. I went to the suitcase which I had flopped on the little rack by the door and abandoned when I came in. I pushed the brass tab and opened the top. The suitcase burst with a veritable explosion of bras, panties, skirts, bikini bathing suits, a leather thong, and I can't even describe what else. "Yeah, it's hers all right," I muttered into the phone. "Well you can call the airline and they'll come and pick it up and make the exchange," she said. "Or you can just do it yourself." "I think I'd better take care of it soon," I said. "I need my suitcase as much as she needs hers, and I don't want to be at the mercy of some bureaucrat or cab driver or whoever. Where is she?" I asked. "She says she's at the Drake. 2211 Escondido. Room 234, Sally Beth Jonsen," June said. "OK, I'll give her a call," I replied. "Mike?" June whispered. "You'll be good, right? I mean, you know I trust you, but she sounded very attractive on the phone and I, well..." her voice trailed off. "Oh for heaven sakes," I said. "If you could see these clothes you'd know you have nothing to worry about. This is Laura Ashley stuff, except it's the original. She's probably 84 years old." "She didn't sound 84," June protested. "Don't worry about it," I said. "I'll be good." I hate it when June accuses me of trying to hump every woman that I meet. If only that were true! Actually the ratio is more like 2 out of 3. Some are too young, of course, and some are too old. And then there is the group of females who are just butt ugly and you wouldn't fuck unless you could find an absolutely pitch black room with no windows. Speaking of which I've developed quite a list of absolutely pitch black rooms all over the country; e-mail me for it if you want it. June and I made hubby and wifey small talk for a few minutes and hung up. I went to the bathroom and tried to clean up, then went to the phone and called the Drake Hotel. I'd stayed at the Drake before, I knew it was only about a 10 minute cab ride. "Drake Hotel. How may I direct your call?" "Room 234 please." "Please hold." "Hello?" The voice on the phone did not sound 84. Or 64. Or even 44. "Hi. My name in M1KE HUNT, and I think I got your luggage." "Oh it's you. Thank goodness you had your home address on the tag so I could call. Your wife got hold of you all right, I guess, huh?" she said. "Yeah, just a minute ago. Hey I'm really sorry about this. I must have grabbed the wrong bag at the carousel and away I went. I never even thought to look at the name tag. Black bag, red piping, right?" I asked. "Right," she answered. "Identical bags, I guess. That's a perfect description, black bag, red piping." "Identical twin luggage," I said thoughtlessly. "Quite a coincidence," she said. "Can I get it back from you right away?" She was in a big hurry; I could tell from the relief in her voice when she first answered the phone. "Sure, sure. I'll bring it over. I know where the Drake is. I can be there in 10, maybe 15 minutes," I said. "Would it be terribly inconvenient to make it in 30?" she asked. "I just ran the water for a bath and it's hot right now. I'm standing here waiting to jump in." An image formed in my mind. "I'll be waiting for you at 6:30 sharp. Is that OK?" "That's more than OK, it's perfect. See you then." I hung up. I took the bag and crammed her stuff down as best I could, then using full body pressure managed to get it closed. She had over packed by at least 20%, but I managed to get it all jammed back in. I walked into the bathroom and freshened up. I took the bag and went downstairs. The cab took me directly to the Drake, and I stepped out at the curb to the attention of a bellhop. "Help you with that, sir?" he asked. "No, it's not mine, actually. I'm just returning it to someone," I said. "I can do that for you," he inveigled, looking for some angle to get a tip. "I'll handle it," I said brusquely. It was 6:10, and while I wanted to be early I thought 20 minutes was too much. I spotted a McDonald's Express tucked in the corner of an adjacent building and went in and ordered a Coke. I'd finished not quite half when it was time to go up to Room 234 and make the switch, meet the bitch, scratch the itch. Or so I wished. She answered the door just as I was about to knock for the second time. I'd hoped I'd catch her just coming out of the tub, but no such luck. She was dressed in a pair of spandex exercise shorts and a slinky green Jazzercize top, low cut with lots of chest but not much cleavage. She was a blonde, Swedish maybe. She was quite pretty, and would have been more so without the heavy eyeliner she sported. "Hi," I said. It's a pretty standard open for me. "Mike Hunt." "Hi," she said, looking at the suitcase in my hand. "Sally Beth. I'll bet that's mine." "Good guess," I said. "Of course you'll have to prove it somehow. You know, try on some of the clothes or something." I laughed when she didn't. I tried to indicate I was making a joke. "Oh, yeah, ha ha," she said. I was off to a great start. "You have one for me?" I asked. "Sure sure. Come in. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, keeping you standing in the hallway. Please. Come in." "Thanks," I responded. I walked through the door, the suitcase in one hand and the half-finished Coke in the other, when my heel must have caught on a ripple in the carpet. Before I knew it I had dropped the suitcase and was quickly tumbling after it. The black box with red piping landed on a corner and popped open. Clothes went flying everywhere through the air as the kinetic energy locked behind the brass tabs was suddenly released. I don't know why I held the Coke so tightly, it was just one of those things you do during a panic, but when I hit the floor the bottom of the Coke cup also hit squarely, and the gooey brown liquid exploded upwards as though it had been launched by NASA. The fountains of Florence should be so symmetrical! The Coke flew into the air and hit virtually every piece of clothing drifting back to the floor after the first explosion. A moment passed. Then two. I looked up and saw her looking at me, looking at her clothes, looking back at me. "Uh, sorry," I said. "I guess I've made quite an impression." "Oh this is awful," she said. "I'm really sorry," I offered. "I'll pay to have everything cleaned. It'll be OK; they must deal with Coke all the time." "I'm sure," she said. "But I need my stuff tonight. We have a show tonight and it looks like everything is ruined." "You have a show?" I asked, wiping some Coke off my face. "What kind of show?" "A private party. I'm a, uh, dancer. My sister and I are, uh, dancers. We do special shows for conventioneers and wedding parties and things like that." I suddenly realized why her makeup was so heavy. It was part of the uniform. I didn't think she was giving foxtrot lessons at a wedding. She was a stripper, albeit a pretty one. "You have a sister? And you dance together?" I said. "I'd like to see that." I realized how lame I sounded, so I added, "I'm interested. Maybe I could hire you for a function I'm planning." "Really?" she said, her anger dissipating momentarily. She saw dollar signs. "It's $1000 for two hours, an extra $500 if you want us to have sex with each other or if we just do the guest of honor." She'd made the pitch before and was apparently quite comfortable with it. "Plus expenses," she added. "You and your sister have sex with each other?" I wondered aloud. "Sure. Have been since we were 13." She paused a moment, then called out in a strong voice "LuAnn! Come in here!" From the adjoining room a woman entered, and before I could warn her stepped in a splat of Coke. "Sorry," I said. "My calling card." "Yuk," she answered. LuAnn was a carbon copy of Sally Beth. A mirror image. Definitely Swedish. They were identical twins, as alike as two pieces of luggage from the same production line of the same manufacturer on the same day. "Nice to meet you," I said, extending my hand. She watched where she walked as she stepped forward to take my hand. "Yeah, sure," she said. "What the hell happened here?" During the next few minutes I took a towel from the bathroom and did my best to clean the floor as I explained what had happened. Sally Beth let me tell the story, even though she was anxious to get on with it and try to figure out what to do about the mess with her clothes. When LuAnn realized that Sally Beth's wardrobe had been ruined she was distraught. They had a show in just over three hours, and now only had one set of costumes. "So your act is, uh, identical sisters dressed alike, always two by two?" I asked. "Of course," Sally Beth said. "What else? We're identical twins. That's the act." She looked at me like I was a moron. I'm not, of course, I'm just clumsy sometimes. Only occasionally do I think I'm really stupid. Like. for instance, if some light comes into one of those perfectly dark rooms. "And tonight we only have LuAnn's set of clothes. So we can't even look like identical twins." "There isn't one single thing that didn't get splashed?" I asked. "Come on, let's look." I was reaching for a miracle. The Coke had gone everywhere. "I suggest we make two piles. One we'll call 'Hopeless', and the other 'Really hopeless.' I got a laugh from LuAnn. My sense of humor has gotten me through some tight spots. And into some tight spots, actually. The tighter the better, if you get my meaning. We all rummaged for 10, maybe 15 minutes. At the end of the scrimmage there were exactly three outfits in the 'Hopeless' pile. We stood back and surveyed the damage. "Whew," I said. "I couldn't have done worse with a squirt gun. I'm really sorry." "Yeah, well accidents do happen. But I'm afraid this one is going to cost us some money, and you too," Sally Beth said. "I guess the cleaning bill is going to be enormous," I offered. "Of course I'll pay it. But I think you might be able to save the show. I've been thinking about it." "Really," Sally Beth said sarcastically. She was still pissed. "Really?" LuAnn asked. "How?" I liked her better. As if I could tell them apart except by their clothes. "Well, instead of coming out dressed like the DoubleMint twins and then disappearing and whatever, suppose we deal with the issue at hand with the props at hand, which is to say two girls and one set of clothes." I was on a roll, and was warmly buttering them up before slicing through to the flaky solution to our jam. I could almost taste victory melting in my mouth. If they didn't like this honey of an idea, I was toast. "Well, we have three outfits that will maybe work for the twins thing, so we save that for the end. At the beginning we don't tell them that you're twins. In fact, we don't tell them that you're sisters, or anything. In fact, we present you as just one girl to start." I was interrupted by Sally Beth. "Too late, champ. We're billed as the Jonsens. Get it? Plural. Just having one girl on stage won't work." "Right, OK. Let me think about that," I vamped. "Anyway, the trick is that you come out in one of your outfits, do a little tease and then disappear, but reappear in a whole new outfit almost immediately, like before you could have possibly had time to change. Sort of a magic-and-striptease show." Yes, I was making it up as I went along, but I was doing all right, except for the plural part of their names. LuAnn looked at Sally Beth and said "You know it might just work. You can wear some of my outfits and we can just jump back and forth and the guys will never know. We'll finish big in the identical outfits and then do the sex thing." Sally Beth was not in a mood to be generous, but had little choice. "I'll think about it," she said noncommitally. "So have you figured out how to get around the billing?" she asked me pointedly. "You're just called the 'Jonsens', right? Not the Jonsen Twins or the Jonsen Sisters?" I asked. "Right," she said. "But it's still plural, and tonight's show is the $1500 show, so they're expecting somebody to have sex with somebody. Not just one girl playing with herself. Get it?" "Yeah, well..." It was time to make my big pitch. Not that I wanted to, but I had fucked up their act and potentially ruined their reputation and possibly cost them a bunch of money. I had to make the sacrifice. "Suppose it was you and me on stage, or her and me, depending, of course. Not Miss Jonsen and Miss Jonsen, but Mr. and Mrs. Jonsen, or something?" "Great idea!" LuAnn exclaimed. "Decent idea," Sally Beth said. "Might even work. And if it's going to, we have exactly 2 hours to figure it out. You're doing OK. What's next?" "I guess you have to decide the order of the costume changes, or I can help if you want. I think three heads would be better than one, personally," I added. LuAnn exclaimed "I'll go first!" And she disappeared through the connecting door into her own room. Sally Beth surveyed me up and down. She had a frown. I tried to make peace. "I'm really sorry," I said. "It was an accident." "I know," she replied. "It's just very frustrating, this close to showtime. Plus I'm very frustrated. We never have sex on the day of a show so we're good and horny when we get on stage. We try to save our orgasms for the show; we think you can tell the real thing from a fake one." "Of course," I said knowingly. "Good thinking." This was a weird conversation. I'd had weirder, but at the moment I couldn't remember just when. LuAnn reappeared in a hot form fitting dress. It was red and ended about mid-thigh. The top was low cut enough that a hint of cleavage was offered. It was the style of the dress that sizzled. In a topless bar it would have been fairly standard uniform. On the street it would turn men's heads for miles. "Very nice," I offered. "Thanks," LuAnn said. "But here's what I do with it." She sank down on all fours with her butt facing me. Now I could see the crack of her ass and her pussy lips through the sheer panties she wore. "Depending on which way I'm facing, I give a nice show," she added. She turned around and began to crawl toward me, and I saw that the neckline hung low and I could see down into it, viewing her swaying tits as they winked back and forth behind the dress' neckline. "I see," I said. "I hope you do," she giggled. Finally Sally Beth got into it and disappeared into the room. She reappeared a few minutes later in a sexy teddy that was "thong cut" in the back and almost transparent in the front. I stared at her. "We should probably save that one for close to the end," I offered. "I think we should start out slow and build." "This one usually is near the end," she said. "LuAnn and I usually do reverses with this one. I stand forward while she stands backwards, then we flip. It usually gets 'em going pretty well." For the next half hour the girls put on a show for me, trying on every piece of clothing in LuAnn's suitcase and the three relatively clean ones in Sally Beth's. During the 30 minutes after that we brainstormed an idea for the show, and the girl's put the costumes in order while I worked on the script for the emcee. It was a close finish, but we made it with several minutes to spare. We went downstairs to the function room the girls had rented. We'd called the hotel staff and asked that a bed or a cot or something similar be provided, in addition to the chair the girls had already ordered. Both props were there when we arrived. Quick work by the staff, to be sure. There was a small stage at one end of the function room with the bed toward the back and the chair sort of off to one side. About 40 chairs were arranged for the audience, and a dressing screen had been set up to one side so the girls could change clothes out of sight of the audience. It was almost perfect. The girls went behind the screen and arranged the wardrobe for the show. About 10 minutes later a guy came in. He was the one who had booked the show, and he wanted to check it out. I caught him as he came through the door. "Hey buddy," I called out. "You with the Order of Fraternal Elks?" "Yeah," he said. "I'm the host for this little shindig. Want to make sure everything's set. Especially at these prices!" "No problem," I said. "Well, a little problem. One of the girl's suitcases got lost on the trip here." OK, so I lied a little. "We've had to change the show a little. Don't worry, you'll like it. You didn't tell the rest of the group that the girls are identical twins, did you?" "No," he answered. "I thought the surprise would be great for them." "It will," I said, now quite satisfied with our plan. "I'm part of the show for tonight. I'm going to be Mr. Jonsen..." I went on and filled him in, including the new script, and he seemed satisfied. I got the names of a few of the Elks who would be in the audience and wrote them on a piece of paper. I handed the list to the girls, and they put it in the dressing area with their clothes. Twenty minutes later the guys started coming into the room. The host let them get settled, and the buzz in the room quieted when he stepped to the front and began to speak. He welcomed them to the evening's entertainment and said a couple of other words about some charity work a couple of the guys had done, I guess to make up for what was about to happen. I'd never been a member of a group like this, so I didn't know what to expect. In short order the lights in the room went down, a couple of overheads above the stage area came on, and it was time. I walked over to the easy chair and sat down. I was nervous and it probably showed. I heard a cough from the audience, but in the darkness I couldn't see anything out there. I waited a couple seconds and then called out, "Tasha?". A pause. "Tasha!" Another pause. "Come here." "Tasha" was the name she used on stage, as opposed to the name you read earlier in the story, which is the name I made up for the story, even though when I met her she was using a professional name which wasn't her real name, which she asked me to change to protect her identity. Clear? She entered from behind the screen at the darkened side of the stage. She was quite pretty, with long flowing blonde hair at her shoulders and a smile from stage left to stage right. Sally Beth was wearing a short, flouncy skirt and a wispy thin white shirt. The bobble of her bouncing breasts beneath the blouse was obvious even to those in the back. "Yes, dear?" she asked. "Get me a beer, and make it quick," I said. My character called for me to play the part of the asshole husband ordering the wife around. I was nervous because of my lack of familiarity with the concept. Sure. "And Tasha, change into something that at least makes you look like a woman," I said. Sally Beth walked to the front of the stage, a vision of loveliness with her bouncing titties, and drew a murmur from the crowd. "OK honey," she replied. "Whatever you say." She walked off-stage into the darkness. Less than ten seconds later LuAnn appeared with a beer and a napkin in her hand. She was dressed in a wispy thin yellow blouse and a pair of red hot short shorts. The tips of her nipples made a pointed statement through the fine material. She drew an appreciative sigh from the third row. "Is this better?" she asked. As she went to hand me the beer, she stumbled and about a third of it went into my lap. We'd gotten the idea, of course, from my episode in the hotel room. "You stupid bitch!" I shouted. "Look what you've done to me!" "Oh, I'm so sorry," she blushed. "Here, let me help." She began rubbing the napkin across my crotch, much to the delight of the guys in the chairs. And I was a guy in a chair and I was delighted also. Of course I'd helped write the script. But I had to stay in character, so I scowled. I doubt if anyone bought it. After she had massaged my groin for a while, I stood up and took on my meanest scowl. "You dumb cunt. You've made a mess of me!" And with that, I threw the remaining beer at her chest. The liquid landed exactly on target, and the material clung to her tits like a new coat of paint on an old wall. She walked to the front of the stage. "I'm so sorry, honey," she said. She jiggled a few times for the benefit of the Elks, then turned and began walking toward me. "Get out of here," I instructed. "And go clean yourself up. You look like a dirty old rag." She walked off stage and into the darkness. Maybe six seconds went by, and Sally Beth reappeared in the low cut top and miniskirt I'd already seen in the hotel room. A murmur of surprise went through the crowd, then one guy whistled. "Honey?" she asked. "I'll take those pants to the cleaners for you tomorrow. I really am sorry." "You bet your ass you'll take these to the cleaners, stupid Tasha," I said. I took a couple bucks out of my pocket and threw them on the floor. Sally Beth got down on her hands and knees and started crawling after them, the deeply low cut blouse offering a terrific view of her tits swaying back and forth as she chased down the fluttering pieces of paper. She crawled around for far longer than necessary, making sure to give every section of the audience a long look down her blouse. Nobody cared that the action was obviously overly drawn out. When she felt she'd given everyone a nice enough cleavage show she stood up and walked to me. One guy hollered "Get back down!" We all laughed. She came over to me and began pulling at my belt. "I'll just take these right now and put them in the laundry," she said. Her fingers flew to my zipper and she pulled. She began to struggle to get them off, but couldn't. I had to stand up to help. This wasn't in the script, but we forgot that the pants wouldn't slide off as easily when they were wet, and we hadn't actually rehearsed so we had to improvise. I'm pretty good at making things up as I go along actually. You probably know that if you read any of my stories. Of course, most people call it "lying." She yanked and the pants finally came partway down. They bunched at the knees, and I clumsily stepped out of them. At one point I almost lost my balance and did a one-legged pogo stick hop across the floor. It must have looked funny, cause it got a laugh from the Elks. Finally the pants were off, and I stood center stage in my boxer shorts. I reached down and picked up the bunched material and threw it toward the back of the stage. Then I said, "Get on your knees and go get them!" Sally Beth did as she was instructed, and it was just a second before the audience had a perfect ass shot, and only a nanosecond later that they realized she wasn't wearing panties. She started crawling toward my dirty pants when another voice in the audience yelled out "Crawl slower!" We all cracked up again. At last she reached the pile that moments before had been my slacks and I said, "Now pick them up and come back here, bitch!" She picked up the pants in her teeth and began to crawl backwards toward the front of the stage. The guys went nuts, hooting and hollering as her pretty legs seesawed back and forth, getting closer to the audience with each motion. Her cunt was perfectly on display as each leg moved forward, then stopped, then moved forward again. Finally she stopped when she was no more than five feet from the front row, wiggled her ass, and looked up at me. "I'll take these to the laundry right now, sir," she said. "Goddamn right," I replied. "And change into something a little sexier while you're out, too. You owe me." She stood up and walked off stage. Several men groaned in the audience. But she wasn't gone but five seconds when LuAnn appeared in a new outfit. The crowd buzzed, wondering how she could have made the switch so fast. LuAnn was dressed in a see-thru blouse and cut-off jeans that had been so closely cropped that her pussy lips hung from both sides of the material. Small tufts of pubic hair could be seen attempting their escape down each pant leg. The effect was stunning. Someone in the audience gave a loud wolf whistle. LuAnn turned to the audience and curtsied, as if to say "Thank you." She was into it. She turned to me. "Dear?" she said. "How about if I make it up to you?" "Yeah?" I said angrily. "How?" "How about if I get undressed and we make slow passionate love over there on the bed?" "Fuck Fuck Fuck. That's all you ever do," I hissed. "Like last week when I caught you in bed with Tony Thompson." A huge yelp came from the third row, from Mr. Thompson, no doubt. The rest of the audience applauded and snickered. "Oh honey," she said. "That was an accident. You came home too early, and there was really nothing going on. You just won't listen." "Oh yeah?" I said. "How about two weeks ago when I saw you in the back of Ramsey's Market getting humped by Dale Wachover?" Another yelp, this time from farther back, stage right. Apparently Mr. Wachover was in attendance as well. "Oh honey," she said. "I couldn't help it. I was just walking around when I saw him and I couldn't resist. Please forgive me." "Sure," I said. "My wife, fucking everything that moves." "That's not true," she pouted. "Why just a couple days ago I was mowing the lawn when I saw Tommy Berkmire..." another yelp "...and I let him walk right by. Even though I heard he's a great lay." "It's true, it's true," Mr. Berkmire chimed in from the front row. "Well come over here and blow me, Tasha," I said, cutting to the chase. "Of course," she said. LuAnn walked to me and inserted her hand in my shorts. She withdrew my thickening piece and held it in perfect display for the audience. I'm just average size, and this was one time I wished I had far greater dimension, strictly for the audience's benefit, naturally. Actually there have been several times I wished my dick was bigger, like every time I see it or touch it. It couldn't be helped, of course, and we hadn't had time to contact Spielberg or Lucas to whip up a special effect. So the show went on. I stood facing the audience, she knelt in front of me as she stroked my cock. Soon I was at full erection, or at least as full as I could personally achieve. "Do you like my dick?" I said to her as I slowly turned sideways to give the audience a better look. "Oh of course, honey," she said. "But Mark Freholder's is much bigger." "Goddamn right," an audience member chimed in. "And Charlie Smith's is much thicker," she continued. "Fuckin' A," rolled up on stage from somewhere in the back. "And Cal Lufkin's tastes better," she continued. "I wouldn't know," someone yelled. We all laughed. All the while LuAnn was sticking out her ass and wiggling it for the amusement of the audience. I reached down and grabbed her tits through the thin blouse. "Oh honey be careful," she said. "You'll rip the material." She paused. "Maybe I'd better change." She got up and walked off stage to a great round of applause. It wasn't three seconds before Sally Beth reappeared. She was dressed in a demi-bra which held her tits straight out in front of her. Her nipples winked at the audience like the eager pups that they were. She wore a pair of crotchless panties. The audience was stunned. The applause they were giving LuAnn's exit ceased, then immediately restarted even louder to welcome Sally Beth. They still hadn't figured it out. Sally Beth walked over to me and knelt down. "Now, where was I?" she said. "You were sucking his dick!" someone from the audience shouted helpfully. "Thank you," she said. "I lose my place sometimes." "Do you need a drama coach?" the voice asked. The audience laughed. "Maybe later," she said, improvising pretty well. She put my dick in her mouth and gave a few loud slurps. She easily glided down the shaft, making liquid noises as she encircled each inch of my member. "Ah," I said. "Now this is theater!" The audience rolled. Even Sally Beth started laughing, which caused an unusual sensation for me. I let her suck on my cock for several minutes, and the audience quieted, engrossed with the sexual action on stage. My eyes had adjusted to the light, and I could now see several members of the audience surreptitiously trying to adjust themselves in their pants, or even copping a quick squeeze of their dick. "Dear," Sally Beth said. "Let's go over to the bed so I can fuck you properly." "Oh I suppose," I replied. She released my swollen dick and we walked to the bed. I lay on my back with my erection pointing straight up, and she climbed aboard. I slid in with ease. She bounced up and down on me for several seconds, when with some difficulty I continued with the script. "Say, honey. You said your sister is coming to visit. When does she get here?" That was LuAnn's cue to darken the stage lights to half brightness, to give a "Thump Thump Thump" as though someone was knocking at the door and to burst on stage. She did. Finally the audience got it. I could feel, more than see heads turning from the action on the bed to LuAnn at the side of the stage and back again. A big burst of applause. Lots of mumbling. Lots of thinking as the audience now realized that they were drenched in darkness. It was so dark, in fact, that no one could see their neighbor, even though he was just a few feet away. I thought I heard the sound of zippers being lowered. Sally Beth had stopped in mid-hump and turned to see LuAnn. She was dressed in a microskirt and scoop neck blouse. She stood there for several seconds, then exploded! "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded. "What are you talking about?" I said. "That's my husband you're humping you tramp!" she said. I looked confused. I said, "You mean, YOU'RE my wife? You mean I'm fucking your sister? What the hell is going on?" "You bet. She got here earlier and I had to go out. Owed a blowjob to a few Elks." We had anticipated applause with this line but there was silence. Tough to clap with just one hand, I guess. "So you slut, you're fucking my husband, eh?" she continued. "Sorry," the girl on my dick said. "I couldn't help it. With that big dick of his, and all." At least that line got a laugh. It's easy to laugh at another guy's dick, I suppose. Plus it doesn't take two hands. "Oh, of course. I can understand that," the standing sister said. "Maybe I could even get into it myself..." And as she said so, she reached up under her tight micro and began lowering her panties. Now the audience had two focal points, as LuAnn bent over and drew the little white undergarment slowly down her legs, and as Sally Beth continued bouncing up and down on my dick. I only had one focal point, and I had to make sure not to lose it too quickly. LuAnn walked to the bed, faced the audience, and climbed onto my face. She hitched up the skirt so it wouldn't impede the view. Then she reached into her blouse and lifted one of her tits over the top. It jutted out of the material, the hardened tip aimed at the Elks like a howitzer. She repeated the action with her other breast. Now I had one girl sitting on my face, another on my dick. I could hear the slap slap slap of Sally Beth as she bounced on my manhood, and the slurp slurp slurp of LuAnn's pussy as her wetness covered my lips. I could also hear the softer bonk bonk bonk of hands on dicks in the audience, and I knew we were giving the Elks their money's worth. There were no more funny lines from me. No more funny lines from the girls. No funny shouts from the audience. The room was quiet, except for the sounds of sex emanating from the bed and from the 30 chairs in front of the stage. The room stayed quiet for several minutes until LuAnn mumbled, "Oh, I'm going to cum." I heard a moan from the audience as someone beat her to it. "Oh, I'm going to cum," she repeated. Then, with a realism that no actor could fake she exploded, vibrating her entire torso as she climaxed. She grimaced as the orgasm traveled through her, and then she let out a series of grunts, saying "Oh, oh, oh," in perfect synchronization with her convulsions. I heard a couple more grunts from the direction of the audience, and knew what that meant. It was Sally Beth's turn. She began to moan and to buck wildly up and down on my penis. Another grunt from the audience. Another grunt from Sally Beth. Then, without warning, she climaxed with a series of exclamations as she slammed herself against me. "Ooo, ooo, ooo," she said, and repeated her identical twin's body shimmy as she came. Now the audience was matching our rhythm, and I heard a series of groans. One guy muttered "Oh my god." Another said "Ooooooo," at the top of his lungs. Others were somewhat quieter but still vocal enough to communicate their explosion to the crowd. At last it was my turn. Sally Beth climbed off me, and both girls brought their faces to my crotch. With one of them frantically pumping me and the other cupping my testicles, I got to the peak in no time flat. I knew it was coming. I knew I was cumming. I groaned, and the girls eagerly began to kiss the sides of my cock as I exploded in the air. My first spurt shot several inches skyward. Then gravity took over and brought it down on LuAnn's face. The second shot even higher, and Sally Beth was rewarded with a gob of spunk. I continued squirting and spurting, covering the girls' faces with my spoogee, and moaning and groaning all the while. Finally I was done, and the girls giggled as they sat up. Several drips of cum slid from their cheeks onto their tits. Someone in the audience yelled "Don't stop. I'm not done." "Tough shit," I said respectfully. "You snooze, you lose." Then, the same voice said "Ahhhhhh," and I knew he was done. So were we all. The audience broke into applause, though we didn't get a standing ovation. I guess that might have been embarrassing for the gentlemen or something. "OK guys," Sally Beth said to the audience. "The lights will be coming on in about a minute. Thanks for coming to our little show. We hope you've enjoyed yourselves." A few hoots and hollers greeted her warning and thank you. Then I heard the sound of 30 zippers in motion as the guys prepared to assume their otherwise decorous identities. Sally Beth, LuAnn, and I left the stage and began dressing in the back. The host appeared and handed Sally Beth a check. "Fabulous," he said. "Better than I could have imagined." "Thanks," she replied. "Can we book you guys for next year?" he asked. "Sure," she said, giving me the eye. Hey. I wasn't doing anything next August. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- These stories just won't stop. I can't help it. I just get to remembering what I've done in my past, and I have to write it all down. I've had *some* wild life, I'll tell you. Sally Beth and LuAnn and June and I all live together now in a little cottage in Ipswich. We actually all get along great, except when it's time to take out the garbage, cause nobody wants to do that. And once in a while the girls fight over who gets to fuck me, of course. I mean, there's only so much of me to go around. Clearly not enough, to quote LuAnn. If you'd like to hear some of my other exploits, may I respectfully suggest you send an e-mail to Bannerboy1@aol.com. When the next one is ready for publication you'll get it first, fast, and factual. If you'd like to send me an e-mail and tell me you don't believe this story, send that to M1ke@hilarious.com . Please remember that the 2nd character in M1KE is a "one" (1) not an "eye" (I). Thanks. This story is Copyright 1997 by M1KE HUNT. I'm planning to compile all my stories into a CD-ROM, well actually a seedy ROM, and try to sell it on the Internet. Of course to do that I'll have to start throwing all kinds of spam into the newsgroups, but I'm sure nobody will mind. It's free enterprise, and that's what made America great! That and the Benevolent Order of Elks, of course. Speaking of which, I hope I didn't offend anyone with the thought of blowing an Elk. I've never seen that done, of course, but there was the time Tommy Wilson and I got involved with the mascot for the high school football team. It was a goat, and, uh, I guess maybe I'll tell that story another time. Hey! If you think I'm doing something funny with that "jam" and "butter" and "flaky" and "roll" and "taste" and "mouth" and "slicing" and "melting" and "honey" and "toast" section, you're wrong. Did you know I have a website set up for the express purpose of making my stories available and wasting server space on AOL? What other possible reason could there be? If you'd like to visit the site, type http://baird.pair.com/mrm1ke.htm into your browser and just watch what happens! You'll be transported to a land of mystery, intrigue, and adventure. It's "Must Read TV!" It's a free site, but you have to supply your own manual labor. By the way, if you're going to a convention anytime soon, look in the "Activities" section to see if the Jonsen's are featured. We'll be, uh, coming to a theater near you.