Double Trouble

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Illustration by Michael Kirwan

 Story by Ram Emerson

 

 

 

 

Originally published in Playguy magazine - February, 1992

 

Twin terrors get what's cumming to 'em
_____


I woke with a start, my heart racing. When I glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside my bed, it was 3:30 in the frigging morning! Flipping on the light, I fumbled for a smoke. I pulled the last cigarette out of a crumpled pack, then dug around in the junk on the nightstand, looking for a match. Finally I found one, struck it, took a long, deep drag, and settled back against the pillows, waiting for the nicotine to calm my nerves.

It was all the fault of the Foster twins, of course. They'd been tormenting me in my dreams since the beginning of the term, when they'd walked into my senior history class and plunked themselves down in the front row. Since that day, neither I nor my class had had a moment of peace. I hadn't been able to pin anything specific on them; they were far too clever for that. But every time I turned my back, something seemed to happen that would set the class in an uproar.

At first, it was small stuff, like rude noises that were geared to send a class of giddy seniors into gales of laughter.

Then they had graduated to more elaborate pranks, like putting a rubber on the end of the pointer I used when we were working with maps, and fastening a huge dildo to the seat of my chair--which I didn't notice until I started to sit down. Yesterday had been the clincher, though.

I was a couple of minutes late to class, due to a meeting with the principal, and when I walked into the room, everyone was unusually quiet. Warily, I checked the area, figuring that something was up. But I couldn't find anything out of the ordinary, so I started the discussion on Renaissance Italy. Things were going along relatively well until I reached up and pulled down the map of southern Europe. Instead of the view of Italy and Greece that I'd been expecting, I was treated to a life-size photo of a naked man, beating a king-size cock with both hands. To make matters worse, someone had superimposed a photograph of my face on the guy. So there I was, whacking off for the enjoyment of the entire class. Of course, I ripped down the picture, tearing the map in the process. But it was too late. The class had gone up for grabs and the whole hour turned out to be a total waste.

That explains why I was awake at such an ungodly hour, smoking cigarettes instead of getting my well-deserved rest. At least it's part of the reason. The other part also had to do with Mark and Mike Foster, but it didn't concern their behavior. What it concerned was their looks. Taken singly, either one was easily the handsomest man I'd ever seen--tall, blue-eyed and blond, blessed with the hard, angular build of a swimmer; together they dazzled the eye.

I confess that I'd been guilty of slipping down to the gymnasium when the swim team practiced, just to see the two of them frolicking around in their swimsuits. They're both hairless, each one's skin a rich honey color that makes their curly hair gleam like gold. Their shoulders are wide and thickly muscled from all the swimming they do, and they both have waists so small I could practically encircle them with my hands. Throw in perfect bubble butts and long sleek legs, and you'd be pretty hard pressed to come up with a wetter dream. Thinking about one of them was paradise; thinking about both was enough to make a man drool.

I was drooling, alright. My prick was awake now too, pointing up in the air and leaking lube onto my hairy gut. If there's anything worse than insomnia, it's insomnia coupled with a gnarly, aching hard-on, backed up by a pair of balls that are bloated with cum. I couldn't do much about the sleeplessness, but I could sure as hell work the edge off my stiffer. Settling back against the pillows, I stubbed out my cigarette butt in the overflowing ashtray and took the problem in hand.

It's worth mentioning that I've got one hell of a mean-looking prick. Nine and a half inches long and as big around as a beer can, it was now curving up from between my legs like a big horn, staring at me, a single gaping eye carved deep in its blunt snout. When I gripped it in my right hand and gave it a good hard squeeze, the puddle in my navel quickly became a lake that overflowed its banks, drizzling down my sides and onto the sheets. I dipped a finger into the honey and started smearing it generously all around the mushroom-shaped cap and along my bulging jizz-tube. But the more I rubbed, the more I leaked. So I quickly collected enough slime to slick down my cock and balls--not to mention the thick fleshy points of my tits.

A single touch with a sticky fingertip and my nipple started to tighten and swell, damn near vibrating as I flicked it back and forth with my fingernail. Once I had it puffed up and ready to go, I went after the other one, tweaking it awake.

As I started a slow, steady jack-off rhythm and settled into the pillows, the eighteen-year-old twins appeared before my mind's eye. They were both stripped naked, pointing their gorgeous asses at me. Every time I would take a step forward, they'd seductively wiggle out of reach, looking over their shoulders and coyly smiling. I was trying to run after them, but my cock was so big and heavy I needed both hands to hold it and my balls were dragging on the ground. The twins would turn and watch me beat off. Then, just when I'd almost grab one of them, both twins would slip out of reach.

This little fantasy went on 'til I'd broken a sweat and my hand had flown into a frantic, ball-snapping frenzy. My other hand was busy working my nips, tugging the big swollen knots out tight. Finally I howled out loud as the jizz started working its way up out of my balls and along my juice-tube. Then I grunted and groaned and my cum erupted like lava shooting out of a volcano, splattering up over my chest and belly, festooning my torso with ropy, wet strings.

- - -

The next morning I was in my classroom bright and early. Retrieving the picture I'd found on the map from the bottom drawer of my desk, I carefully unfolded it. I had to admit that the picture matched my own body pretty well. The dude had a thick chest and big, hairy forearms. Even the cock was pretty close, except mine was thicker. The only real difference was that the guy in the picture had skinny legs and I don't. Stupidly enough, I found that to be very annoying.

Rolling the picture up like a scroll, I noticed a scrap of paper taped to the back. It was the invoice number from the photo shop that had done the blowup. Since there were only two enlargement places in town, I walked into the teachers' lounge and looked them up in the yellow pages. I got lucky on the first try.

"Redi Photo. May I help you?"

"Yeah," I answered, raising my voice an octave to try and match the clear tenor of the Foster twins. "I wondered if my blow-up was ready yet. Invoice number 325478."

"Let me check." There was a pause, during which I heard papers being shuffled. "Mark? Your brother Mike picked that up yesterday morning. Did it get a rise out Anderson?"

"It sure as hell did," I roared, back to my regular baritone.

"Oh, shit!" came the dismayed response from the other end of the line. "I didn't mean ..."

I hung up, figuring I'd let the poor bastard sweat for a while, wondering if I was going to come down to the store and get him fired. Then I returned to my classroom, feeling pretty damned smug.

- - -

I sailed through the day, looking forward to my last period history class for a change. I got through the lecture with no interruptions and passed out the homework assignment for the weekend. Then the final bell sounded and the class collectively jumped to its feet.

"Mark and Mike Foster, I'd like to see both of you for a moment please."

They both came up to my desk, smiling smugly and looking as innocent as two blond angels with their hands firmly wedged in a cookie jar. "What is it, Mr. Anderson, sir?" one of the lookalikes asked.

"I want to talk to you guys about that picture that appeared in here yesterday."

"We don't know anything about that, sir," the other one said, his blue eyes wide with surprise.

"We'll see about that," I snapped. "Let's go up to my office."

"We have swim practice now," both of them said, starting to edge toward the door.

"Upstairs. Now!" I growled. They marched up the steps to the third floor, treating me to a close-up view of their perfect butts in motion. By the time we got to my office, I was feeling less angry. But I ushered them into my small cubicle and closed the door.

"You fellows made a little mistake, you know," I announced, noticing how they both looked up at me blankly. "You left the invoice number behind when you ripped off the order form." Then I showed them the scrap of paper and they both blushed scarlet.

"Wow, Mr. Anderson, Mike and I were just teasing," Mark insisted. "We didn't mean to upset you."

"Yeah," Mike piped up. "We meant it as a compliment."

"A compliment?" I yelped. "Are you both crazy?"

"Well, Mr. Anderson," Mike began, taking a step closer to me, "my brother and I just think you're a really hot guy, but you're too up-tight. I guess we were hoping it would loosen you up."

"Yeah," Mark added, "we've been fantasizing that that's about what you'd look like under those baggy clothes you wear."

This confrontation was starting to make me feel very uncomfortable. It occurred to me that I was rapidly losing the upper hand. "I'm going to have to punish both of you," I sternly announced. "I can't just let you continue to disrupt the class any longer."

"Well, Mr. Anderson," Mark timidly replied, a wicked gleam in his cornflower eyes, "in that case, my brother and I haven't got anything to lose." He paused and looked across to his brother.

Then he made a move that sent my heart leaping into my throat.

Before I could do anything to stop them, the twins had slipped their hands into the front of my shirt and ripped it wide open, sending the buttons flying across the room. The next thing I knew each one of them had latched onto me, their arms tightly wrapped around my waist. Then they went for my nipples, their full pink lips going straight to the target. The twins' hands were as busy as their mouths--rubbing my furry belly, then proceeding to explore my thighs and ass. When Mike's hand cupped my crotch, he groaned and looked at me, wide-eyed.

"Check this out," he gasped, coming up off my tit just long enough to speak. After Mark groped me as well, they both got busy unbuckling my belt and unzipping my trousers. Then Mark dropped to his knees and licked the first drops of ooze off the end of my whanger.

"I can't do it," he sighed after repeatedly trying to get my knob in his mouth, without success. "He's too big around. You try, Mike."

His brother got down and did his best, but his teeth kept getting in the way. Finally they settled down to give it a good licking, laving every throbbing, veiny inch with their hot spit.

I took this delicious torture for as long as I could stand it, then grabbed them both by the neck and pulled them to their feet. "I'm still going to have to punish you fellows," I growled, shaking them roughly. "Strip!"

They were out of their clothes in a flash, their matching six-inch pricks sticking straight up in the air. Then I told them to bend over the desk and prepare to get what was coming to them.

"You better both grab on to something hard and solid," I warned. "I'm going to spank your asses till you beg me to stop."

Each one grabbed onto the edge of the desk with one hand and reached up for my prick with the other. Even with ten long fingers wrapped around the shaft, the big head was still a couple of inches in the clear.

I raised my hands and brought them down hard. Mike yelped. But Mark remained silent, flexing his ass cheeks. When I lifted my hands, I could see two clear prints emblazoned on their honey-colored butts.

My balls bounced and the flame in my belly flared into a blaze. I spanked the twins till they were whimpering and their asses were fiery red. The thought crossed my mind that I could have gone on much longer, but I had other plans for them. "Okay, guys," I said, stroking their quivering ass cheeks, "it's time to pay for all the trouble you've caused me this year."

"Yes, sir!" they called out in unison, leering up at me with identical, sex-hungry grins.

"Mike, stay where you are. Mark, climb up on your brother's back. Both of you keep your legs spread wide." Mark scrambled into position and I had a mouth-watering view of two pink rosebuds, ringed with downy white fuzz. I knelt behind them and licked my way up both their cracks, making their cheeks flex. Then I alternately poked at those two juicy holes, digging my tongue into first one, then the other. In the meantime, I jacked my dick and got my pole nice and slippery. When both of those tender young assholes were wet and gaping, I stood up, ready to bust me some hot eighteen-year-old ass.

Lustily, I rubbed my cock along their collective cracks. My cock snout came to rest against Mike's manhole and I figured I might as well start at the bottom. First I gently nudged him a couple of times. Then I thrust deep into his hot, gaping hole.

From the way he hollered, I got the impression I'd just plowed my way into a virgin field. The thought made my dick even harder and I rammed Mike again, just to get back at him for all the misery he'd been causing me over the past few months. But the result was that the twin only let go with a happy sigh, rearing back to take as much of my dick as he could get up his gorgeous ass.

Before things heated to the boiling point, I slid out of Mike and saddled up behind his brother. When I rammed into Mark he moaned softly, my cock driving into him like a nail into styrofoam. Then his hands slipped around and latched onto my hairy ass, coaxing me to dig deeper.

After a while, I hopped off Mark's ass and probed into his brother's backside again. This time around I slipped in easier and his cries of pain soon turned to snorts of pure animal lust. But the twins were greedy, neither one wanting to share my massive prick. So I let them work for it, rewarding whichever one made a particularly good move with a couple of extra pokes. But when I finally got to the point that my balls were drawn up in a knot, the rules off air play went sailing out the window.

"Roll over and beat it, guys," I ordered, pulling out and clutching my meat with both hands.

The twins scrambled around onto their backs and started jacking off, their fists a blur between their sleek thighs. I bellowed as my piss-hole gaped and the first creamy drop squeezed to the surface. It quivered there for a second, then headed for the ceiling, forced out by thick spouts of steaming cum.

The twins gasped in amazement as my man-juice continued to gush, splashing down onto their chests and bellies in big, hot drops. Before long, they both let fly as well, squirting their twin loads out all over me. Only after we were all drained dry did I scoot onto the desk between them, smacking both of them soundly on the belly.

"I hope that'll teach you fellows not to disrupt my class," I said, trying to sound stern.

"It sure did, sir," they chorused in unison. "We promise to be good." They got dressed and filed out of my office, gingerly closing the door behind them. Then, a couple of moments later, the door opened and Mark--or maybe it was Mike--stuck his head back into the room.

"What is it?" I inquired, looking up into his mischievous blue eyes.

"Well, sir, I just wanted to tell you that my brother and I have decided to take your American Issues course next semester. That's all," he said with a wink, then closed the door.

I sighed in resignation, wondering what kind of trouble lay in store.

THE  END

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Any images, writings or other content on this website may be copied for personal viewing only.
They may not be: redistributed; sold; altered; enhanced; modified by artificial, digital or computer imaging;
used on another website or blog; posted to any internet or computer newsgroup, forum or media sharing site;
nor used for any other purpose without the express written permission of the artist or KirwanArts.com.