Norma Egan - The sister keeper

There was so much to talk about that Jonathan didn't know where to begin. He glanced at his twin sister Jennifer as she rambled on about the plane ride, what the weather had been like in England, and as she talked, Jonathan couldn't help but notice her figure. Dressed in a short-skirted blue suit, he made out the firm figure of her bulging breasts, trim waist and shapely hips. As she crossed her legs to get more comfortable in the car, Jonathan heard the sensuous sound of her nyloned legs rubbing against each other.

He was glad that the drive from the airport was almost over. Had it gone on for one more mile he knew that Jennifer would start to notice the bulge of his cock as it crawled along his pant's leg.

Then they were at the hotel, walking hand in hand through the lobby. As they stood near the elevator, Jennifer turned toward him and looked directly at him. Jonathan smiled somewhat embarrassedly.

The situation seemed awkward and funny at the same time, and for a moment they only laughed. Jennifer thought quickly of all the strange events that had led up to this meeting how their mother had died giving birth to them and how their father, busy with all his money-making schemes, had given the twins to relatives, Jonathan to maternal grandparents in New York, Jennifer to an aunt in England. Brother and sister had had to wait twenty-three years before actually laying eyes on each other. But now they would be together. Their father had died, leaving them his one successful business venture, a plush resort-hotel in California, and the twins had agreed by mail to come out and manage the place.

Jonathan still held her hands tightly, and Jennifer felt unaccountably happy. "I was just thinking," she laughed, "how much we'll have to tell each other before we're really acquainted."

Jonathan laughed, too. "I know! Crazy situation, isn't it? We're twins, and we don't even know each other! But we'll make up for that tonight. I've arranged for us to have dinner in your room, and we'll tell each other all about ourselves."

Holding her hand, he led her up the steps and into the gaudy, cavernous hotel. People smiled at them, and Jennifer knew it was because they made such an attractive couple. She thought again how handsome Jonathan was, so much more attractive somehow than Ben, the big, bumbling university student to whom she had been engaged for three years Ben, who had angrily broken off their engagement when she announced her plans to come to America and manage the hotel. Ben, whose awkward but frantic passion had claimed her virginity, had possessed and devoured her body many times, but had somehow never brought her to an equal sexual level. But she had promised herself not to think of Ben. That was over and done with.

Jonathan kept his word. After Jennifer had showered and changed her clothes, they had dinner in her room, an indecently luxurious feast of filet mignon, salad and champagne. Then they talked. There seemed to be an endless number of things to know about each other, and it was after midnight before they began to run out of ideas.

Then Jonathan, now stretched out on the bed, grinned at her and said, "We haven't talked yet about the most important thing of all. Tell me about your love life."

Jennifer blushed and giggled. "You're kidding, of course!" She lounged in an overstuffed chair, her small feet propped up on the bed, feeling a little drunk from the champagne.

"Oh, no, I'm serious!" Jonathan, still grinning, reached out and squeezed her foot playfully. "After all, what's more important than who you love, who you sleep with, how you feel about sex?"

Jennifer felt herself blushing even more. Her Aunt Hilda had raised her very strictly, according to a Victorian code in which sex was something that ladies had to endure but which they never discussed. Why, Aunt Hilda would die of shock if she knew that Jennifer had been fucking Ben for nearly three years! Jennifer knew that Americans were more open about sex, and that Jonathan's frankness and lack of embarrassment were probably not unusual in this country, but she suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"I suppose you're right," she smiled. "But I find it very hard to talk about things like that."

Jonathan squeezed her foot again and smiled encouragingly. "My God, you don't have to be shy with me, Jennifer! I'm your brother! And isn't a brother supposed to be someone you can confide in, someone you can trust? Come on, tell me all about it! How many lovers have you had?"

Jennifer forced herself to reply. After all, she was going to live in America now, and she might as well start behaving like an American. Blushing hotly, she said, "Just one."

Jonathan's bright, blue eyes widened in sincere amazement, his voice was wondering. "Is that all? Honestly? But you're twenty-three years old, my dear! Where have you been living, in a cave?"

"In London, as you know perfectly well," Jennifer answered, somewhat irritated. "Why? Have you had so many more lovers than that?"

Jonathan laughed loudly. "I should hope so!"

"How many, then?" If he was going to be frank, so would she.

Jonathan grinned at her teasingly. "Why, to tell you the truth, I've lost count. Look at you blush! But it's true, I really can't remember. I started fucking when I was fourteen, and I've been busy at it ever since. It is one of the better things in life, don't you think?"

"No, quite frankly, I don't," replied Jennifer, even more irritated now. "I never found it all that great."

Again Jonathan stared at her in amazement. "Jesus!" he exclaimed. "What kind of bumbling ass have you been fucking? He'd have to be pretty inept not to turn you on."

Jennifer reddened at the word "bumbling", for that was exactly how she thought of Ben in bed. For a long time she'd suspected that there must be more to fucking than a man climbing on a woman, giving a couple of shoves, and climbing off again. Otherwise, why was everyone so excited about the subject? But all those wonderful things they talked about, being "horny" and appeasing it by "coming" none of them had ever happened to her. But it wasn't right, she concluded, to talk about it with a man, not even her own brother.

"I'd really rather change the subject, Jonathan," she said nervously. "In fact, I think I'd like to go to bed now. I've had a very long day."

He was looking at her very strangely, a kind of gleam in his eye which she could not interpret. He began to squeeze her foot again, gently but persistently, and then his fingers slid softly up to her ankle and squeezed it, too.

"Tell me about it," he insisted, his voice low and encouraging. "I'd like to help you, Jennifer, I really would. You're missing out on so much. Tell me what this guy does in bed."

"Jonathan!" She felt really shocked now. "Don't you think that's a bit personal?"

He looked at her pityingly. "Poor Jennifer! You act like you were raised in the Victorian era!"

Again he'd struck home, describing Aunt Hilda's attitudes perfectly, and Jennifer reddened with determination. She could be just as frank as he was! "Well," she said hesitantly. "He just does it, that's all. I mean, when he wants me, we undress and go to bed, and he just well, what else is there to do?"

Jonathan sighed deeply. "I see. He doesn't kiss you? He doesn't play with your tits? He doesn't eat your pussy? He just jumps on and fucks you?"

Jennifer jerked her ankle out of his grasp and jumped to her feet, trembling with embarrassment and anger. Her voice shook. "Jonathan, I'm sorry, but I just can't talk like this! It doesn't seem right! I suppose there's a lot of thinking I'll have to get used to about this country, like your frank way of talking, but it's not something I can learn overnight! I really would like you to leave now, so I can get some sleep!"