This is a fictional work, based partially on actual events from my childhood.
My brother and I were twins. I was born 6 minutes before him, and I never let him forget I was the older. We grew up on a small farm a couple of miles outside of town. Our father had a job other than farming, though. We just had a few cows and horses, chickens, and a garden which produced enough vegetables for our family, and a little left over to share with friends. We lived in a rather old, two story farmhouse, which could not be seen from the road because of the trees at the end of the pasture. When we were small, we didn’t wear much in the way of clothes in the summer. In fact, no one said anything if we went naked. Burt and I bathed together until puberty, so we were well aware of the differences in our genitals.
Burt and I slept in the same bed until we were six. At that time, another bed was purchased, but most of the time, we still slept together. Only if one of us was mad at the other, would we sleep apart. That wasn’t often: we got along about as well as two siblings could. We enjoyed each other’s company, and were always together.
From the time I can remember, I was curious why Burt’s little penis got stiff from time to time. He didn’t know either, but we found that if we rubbed it, it got stiff. Burt didn’t like it stiff, because it got in the way. I thought it was funny. My first recollections were that it was tiny: not any bigger than a pencil and less than two inches long. Over our early years, I remember feeling that little stiff thing poking me in the back at night occasionally. It kinda felt good, and I didn’t mind. Sometimes, when it was already stiff, I would feel it. It made me feel good to feel it, although I didn’t know why.
As we approached age 9, I began to notice that Bert’s penis seemed to be growing rather faster than the rest of his body. At 9, it was easily four times it’s 6 year old size, while he wasn’t even twice as tall as he had been. It was now nearly the size of a raw hot dog, although not nearly so long – maybe 3 ½ to 4 inches. We still bathed together, and I realized I could get it stiff quickly just by touching it. Bert didn’t mind it so much anymore, either.
At night, we still slept together, and more and more, I enjoyed being poked by his penis as he turned in the night. Sometimes, I reached out and put my hand on the underwear covering it, and occasionally, when I was sure he was asleep, I would put my hand under his pants and hold it. It gave me a warm, comfortable feeling. I was kinda jealous of him. Not that I wanted one, but he could hold it anytime he wanted.
On night when we were nearly eleven, I awoke to feel Bert’s stiff prick poking me between my legs on my panties. Something was different this time. As I began to regain consciousness, I realized that it wasn’t covered by his underwear: his bare prick was sliding along my panties and legs. “What’s going on?” I asked groggily. “I’m sorry, Stacy,” Bert blurted out as he lurched back. “It’s fine.” I said. “I was just surprised. It felt good.” He moved his hips back against mine, but my question had taken the lead out of his pencil, and I could barely feel it. I pushed my butt against his hips, and he quickly regained his hardness. He pushed it back where it had been, and moved it back and forth a while, giving me a warm glow, and I fell back to sleep.
Now, when we went to bed, the first thing I did was turn onto my side, and Bert took out his prick and rubbed it against my panties for a while until we got tired, and went to sleep. Usually, I was the first to fall off with him still dry humping me (although we didn’t call it that or even think of it that way – it just felt good).
I don’t remember how long this went on before one night, just as he was starting, I told him to hold on a minute, and I removed my panties. Now, his little prick was rubbing my pussy directly, and it felt even better. Bert’s “MMMM” told me that he liked it better this way too. We weren’t as naive as it sounds here. We had livestock, and had watched them mate. We knew what “fucking” was, but we didn’t understand why people did it (except to make babies). However, we were beginning to understand. I don’t know whether at this age, we equated what we were doing to fucking, but before long, we knew where this activity was leading. After all, there was only one more small step. I think both of us were afraid to suggest it, but one night, as we were a few minutes into our nightly activity, Bert said, “Stacy?”
He didn’t say anything. “Yes,” I repeated. After another silence, he said, “I want to put it in.” I had been wanting the same thing, and without responding, I reached down between my legs and held the little poker while I shifted my butt to give him an easy entry. It turned out not to be that easy, but entry finally came, and felt good as for the first time my pussy was filled.
We just lay there for some time, and then Burt pulled out part of the way, and pushed back in. He humped me for a while, and we got tired and went to sleep. The feeling was exciting, probably because we knew we weren’t supposed to be doing it, but it was not really a sexual feeling as it developed later. It just felt good.
For some months, the nights went on like this. Almost every night, we would “fuck,” if it’s proper to describe it that way when neither partner is really sexually excited. Usually, we would do it just like I described, but we also tried missionary style, and with me on top. On our sides, entry from the rear, though was the norm, since it was easy to do it for a while, and then fall asleep.
We knew we were fucking, and didn’t know what the big deal with it was. It was nice, like a massage or a good meal was nice, but it didn’t measure up to the hype. One night we went to bed particularly tired after a hard soccer practice. We didn’t bathe before hitting the sheets, and we both had the aroma of exercise. Bert slipped up behind me and I presented my pussy to him as usual. He put it in and began to hump with rather more enthusiasm than usual, and that plus his smell caused my enthusiasm to rise. I was really enjoying it tonight, and I guess his excitement also fed off of mine. He was pumping harder and faster than ever before, so much so, that I was beginning to feel a little pain. However, that was inconsequential compared to the excitement building in me. This felt really good. Bert was breathing really hard, now, and I didn’t know where he got the energy after the game. He continued fast and hard, panting and gasping for probably three times longer than ever before. Finally, he let out a muffled squeal, and drove his dick hard into me as he pulled my hips against his. He held it there for a couple of seconds as I could feel it spasm and jump inside of me. He pulled it back, and jammed it in again, and it continued to pulsate as again he left it pressed as far into me as he could get it. I wasn’t experiencing what Bert was, but my head was swimming, and I was disoriented by the feeling. A few more thrusts, as Bert expressed a low moan, and held himself hard against me for a full minute. As he held there, I could feel his prick lose its stiffness, so that by the time he withdrew, he was fully soft.
“God, Burt,” I finally said. “What was that?”
“I guess that was an orgasm,” he panted.
“Wow, I want one of those,” I mused.
“If you didn’t get one there, I don’t know when you will. I don’t have any more energy.” He said.
“I wasn’t complaining, I explained. “It was great. Way better than anything before, but I could tell yours was in a different ballpark. I’m so happy you were able to get there. I’m so happy I was able to help.”
“Thank you, Stacy. I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking about you too much during most of that. Are you alright?”
“I’m great. There was actually a little bit of pain, but nothing compared to the pleasure. Besides, I would put up with a lot more pain to see you like that again.”
“Well, we need to find out how to get you there,” he said. I told him not to worry about it. I enjoyed it immensely, and it was enough to see him enjoying it..
At that point neither of us had developed any pubic hair.. My breasts had just developed the slightest bulge, but that was the only sign of approaching puberty in either of us. I don’t know of other boys who have experienced pre-puberty orgasms. I haven’t heard or read of any. I suppose Bert did because he engaged in sex a such an early age.
We both knew that during an orgasm, males spurted out a thick, gooey white liquid. We hadn’t seen any drip out of me. There was nothing to clean up. I was curious to see it, and asked Bert to see if he could masturbate, and show me. Although we had obviously continued as before, Bert didn’t have orgasms often at first. It took a lot of effort. He didn’t know if he could have one without being in my pussy, and if he was in it, he didn’t think he would pull out to show me. I begged him to try, so he wrapped his hand around his little prick and began to beat. After a couple of minutes, his arm tired, and his beats became jerky and ineffective, so he stopped, telling me he just couldn’t do it. I was obsessed, and grasped his member immediately, almost without missing a beat. I beat and beat, but couldn’t get him there, so I put my mouth on him as my arm began to tire. I sucked on the head as I my tongue licked the soft underside as I jacked his little shaft as best I could with my left hand. I began to feel his body stiffen as he grunted, “here is comes.” I took my mouth off immediately, and jacked him as fast as I could with my now rested right hand. Bert stiffened, and thrust his hips forward as I felt his prick spasm, again and again. I watched the hole at the end of it, and .... nothing. Nothing? I inspected it closer, and saw one drop of clear liquid oozed out of the hole. I wondered if something was wrong with him, but we didn’t know how to ask. Kids aren’t supposed to know what their ejaculate looks like. In the future, of course, we found that he was just fine.
After Bert began having orgasms, we found that front to front fucking was more satisfying to both of us. It wasn’t long after his first orgasm that I found that the little nub at the top of my pussy provided as much or more pleasure than the inside of my pussy. I began to try and push it against Bert’s pubic bone as hard as possible, and found fucking more pleasurable. It was now a different kind of pleasure than just the warm, comfortable, feeling of being filled. I was really having sexual feelings, and I loved them.
After a few months, Bert was able to cum every time we fucked, and I loved the feeling of his cock pulsing inside me. By the time we were twelve, he would cum two or three times before he even started to soften, and I sometimes would see a little clear fluid leak out of me afterwards. I now had small mounds where my breasts were developing, and had sprouted some fine hair around my pussy. Other than the fact that his cock had grown to about 4" long and maybe three quarters of an inch in diameter, and the little fluid he produced, Bert showed no signs yet of puberty.
One Saturday, both of our parents were gone, and we had been running around in the yard. Bert suggested we go inside, with a look that told me he wanted to fuck. Fresh sweat always seemed to have that effect on both of us. He was extra excited, and that always made me hot. He fucked me missionary style, then rolled over and pulled me on top and continued to thrust into me. I ground my clit into him, and he reached down placing his thumb right on my clit. It was great, and I ground into it, moving faster and faster, feeling his cock thrashing inside me as I pushed against his thumb. I felt his cock begin to spasm again, and I kept rocking against his thumb. I began to feel a warm, ticklish, feeling rise in the muscles in my pussy and my stomach, right up to my breasts, and my head began to swim. Now I felt my muscles contract. My pussy muscles closed around his cock, and I lost track of everything except that wonderful explosion of feeling in my body. My eyes rolled back; I could feel every inch of my skin; I could feel my pussy grasping Bert’s cock, again and again. I fell forward and wiped my sweaty little breasts all over my twin’s chest. I held his thumb against my clit for fear he would take it away. Wave after wave of satisfying pleasure engulfed my body, as I sobbed with release as I felt his cock begin its telling jerks for the third time that session. I don’t know how long that first orgasm lasted. It was timeless. When it was over, I collapsed on Bert and fell immediately asleep.
I didn’t have an orgasm the next few times we fucked, and I was getting frustrated. Before the first, I was enjoying sex without knowing there was more. Now, I really wanted more. Bert pointed out that he had trouble reaching orgasm for a while, but I was not assuaged. He was getting his, and I wanted mine. Although we both knew what masturbating was, we had only used it to try and see Bert’s cum, since we figured it was only useful when you couldn’t get real sex. We were now at an age where other kids were beginning to talk about sex, and we were obviously anxious for no one to suspect that we had been engaging in it for years, so we feigned complete ignorance. As a result, everyone wanted to tell us what they knew about it. There was some authority for the idea that most women required “foreplay” to get them excited to the point that they could cum. We couldn’t rely on what others told us, since we were told outrageous things that we knew from our own experience were ridiculous. However, I wanted regular orgasms, and so we tried new approaches.
The first time we used the new approach was also a Saturday when our parents were gone, I lay on my back, while Bert got down near my pussy, placed his finger inside me, and began to move it back and forth. When there was no encouraging response, he put a second finger inside, stretching me about as much as his cock. I instinctively placed his thumb on my clit, which he began to rub, and now I began to respond. He moved his fingers and thumb together then back apart, rubbing both my vaginal walls and my clit, and I began to hunch with approval. He continued to do this for probably ten minutes, as I felt more and more tingly. I began to feel that ticklish sensation in my pussy, and as it intensified, I felt myself losing control. “Stick your cock in me now!!!” I commanded with my last ounce of cognition, and Bert needed no further encouragement, since he was nearly beside himself with lust at this point. He immediately rammed his tool into my slick, wet receptacle as I reached myself for my chit, and began to furiously jack it back and forth. Feeling his cock enter me, knocked me completely over the edge, and the exquisite orgasm rocked my whole body. I felt it from the tips of my toes to the top of my head, and I lurched against his heaving hips, as for the first time, I actually felt his cock spurt into my swollen, convulsing, and welcoming tunnel.
When I regained my senses, Burt was still on top of me, with his cock held hard into my throbbing pussy. He was still hard, and he felt so good. I pulled my chest up to meet his, and rubbed my sweaty little tits against him. “I love you so much,” I told him. “I love you so much,” he responded. I could tell that his was not just a compulsory reply: he meant it as much as I. Bert began to move again. He was not finished. My orgasm had rocked me to the core, but quickly, I found that I had more in me. Bert renewed his actions with slow, deliberate thrusts, each of which ended with quick push of the last inch or so into me. I could feel the fire rising in me again, and I reached anew for what I now knew was my pleasure button. Bert felt what I was doing and replaced my hand with his. He raised his body until his fingers completely covered my clit, and then lowered it back a bit, putting exquisite pressure on it. I could already tell that I had another orgasm coming, and the anticipation almost made me giggle. Burt grinded against me as he rubbed my clit for only a couple of more minutes before I felt like my whole body explode into another warm, wonderful, tickling, cascade of pleasure. I fell back, glowing, as Bert continued his thrusting for a couple of more minutes before I felt him stiffen and jerk as he pushed hard against my spent pussy. I’m afraid for those last two minutes I was nothing more than a motionless receptacle, but I just didn’t have any more lust or energy to help. Bert rolled off of me, and I turned to face him. We held each other in a long embrace, with his soft little cock lying against my still swollen pussy. I have never been happier, before or after.
After that discovery, sex became not just a nightly activity: we would fuck as soon as we got home from school, and again when we went to bed. Bert could cum two or three times each session, and as I became familiar with my reactions, I came as often or more. On weekends when our parents were gone, we would fuck several times in the day. Shortly after I began to have orgasms, we tried oral sex. I found that I loved sucking Bert’s cock until he began to moan and whine, and swallow the little stream of still clear liquid that came out. Bert liked that too, but he really preferred having his cock buried in me when he shot. I did too.
I was beginning to sprout some soft, light hair around my pussy, and we were both fascinated by it. Bert was still as bare as when he was born. We knew, of course, that girls generally matured younger than boys, but still, I was secretly proud of my hair, and I think he was a little jealous of me.
We were twelve, when my periods started. We knew they were coming, and we weren’t surprised. I told my mother, and she immediately made me an appointment with a gynecologist. At the end of the examination, she asked the doctor to prescribe me birth control pills. He wrote the prescription without blinking an eye, but I was shocked beyond belief. We went by the pharmacy on the way home and filled it, but she made no mention of it on the way home. When we got home, she took me into the bathroom and explained how to take them, but never explained why she had gotten them. I was thoroughly confused. We had had some brief, uncomfortable conversations about sex, but she had never indicated that she thought it was okay at my age. Some of the girls I knew had started their periods before me, and as far as I knew, none of them were “on the pill.” I was too afraid to ask any further, and we just left it alone. I was grown before I got the courage to ask her about it, and here is what she told me.
“You and Bert slept in the same bed from the time you were born. When we bought you separate beds, you still ended up in the same one. Your father and I discussed the situation when we saw that you were beginning to mature, and knew we would have to separate you or accept what was almost sure to result. You can’t expect pubescent boys to sleep with pubescent girls and for them to remain chaste. At least not if they like each other, and you two were as close as any two siblings could be. It seemed too cruel to separate you, and we didn’t really know whether it would cause psychological problems for one or both of you. We both believe that sex is a wonderful thing. We think that it’s a shame that the children in our society are prevented from partaking in this wonderful thing during the time when it can be the most intense and exciting. Middle age sex is great, but young sex is much more intense and exciting. We both knew that from personal experience.
“We knew that you two were having sex long before your period started. Did you think we never looked in on you late at night to see that everything was okay? You would be naked together from when you were little. Sometimes we could hear you, and it always got us hot. Your father would ram his cock into me so hard when we heard your moans and squeals. We discussed putting up a camera in your room to excite us more, but we realized that we couldn’t do that to you. We also talked about telling you that we knew about your activities, and asking to watch – maybe fuck on the other bed while you guys were doing it. It got me short of breath just to talk about it, but we never felt right bringing it up with you. Probably, it would have been a bad idea anyway. In think it was better for you to think you were getting away with something.” I think she was right.