Game Stop

Game Stop 2 All the characters in this story are played by electrons. This story is Copyright 2016 by Soaringtoad. No other reproduction or distribution than Nifty Archives is permitted, without the author's permission. Please donate to Nifty: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Game Stop 2

Must have been the next night. We got ready for bed. We share a room, by choice, but we have our own separate areas. Since the room isn't symmetrical, our two areas are laid out differently. And we each have a folding screen that makes our sleeping area semi-private, if we want. Even identical twins need a little alone time -- we are separate people, you know! -- and sometimes one of us wants to stay up and read or play a game, so the screens are nice. I don't mention my folks much, but Mom is a twin, so she understands a lot of the stuff that comes with being one. The good and the bad.

So anyway, I just had this feeling about Tim, all of a sudden. Deep dread. What life would be like if he were taken from me. The emptiness... I needed to touch him before going to sleep. He was just turning off his light as I stepped around his screen. We both sleep nude.

I went over to his bed and looked down at him. He looked up, past my boy parts, at my face.

"What?" He said it gently.

"I love you." We rarely said that. We both knew. We both lived it every day. We didn't need to say it. But, right then, I did. And I needed him to hear me say it.

Here's the thing. See, when you're an identical twin, you're torn in different directions. On the one hand, everybody else is freaked out and gives you a lot of positive attention for being identical. You even sit there and ponder that from time to time, yourself. Even from a young age, even though you've never known anything else, there is a touch of mystery and wonderment about yourself and this other person.

But there is this other thing. You really are a separate person. And a big part of you needs to assert that, wants people to recognize you as your own different person. I'm sure every twin comes to understand their own-selfness very early. But there is still the rest of the world to deal with. That's why the twinny thing, identical everything, is sorta yukky.

There's this other thing: from as early as you can remember, you always have your twin's hand to hold, in a sense; you are never truly alone. Your twin and you don't really need to talk to bridge the gulf between selves. But there is a gulf between the twins and outsiders. And the twins can really see there's a gulf between all those non-twin people and each other. We have always called them "alones." The thought of being an "alone" always terrified me, somewhere deep inside.

Mom says that when a baby is born it's basically a little lump that doesn't do much but eat and pee and poop. People say they're unique and all that. They look for signs. But innh, not really. But, as the baby grows, it's like some magic pitcher is pouring self, pouring personality into them. They become more themselves, brimming with more selfness, week by week and month by month. That's what Mom says.

So, that happens with identicals too, but they tend to be pretty similar anyway and to cherish and hate it.

Anyway, I guess it sort of slammed into me: the realization that Tim was truly separate, that we were inescapably "alones" too, despite appearances and despite our closeness. And, as were were maturing, the magic pitcher was pouring something slightly different into each of us. That was an affirmation of our personhood, but it also opened a big scary place in my heart. Like Tim might become a stranger. And that got me thinking what it would be like to lose him. And that's what took me to his bed that night to touch him. I needed a certain reassurance, I think for the first time.

So anyway, I just had this feeling about Tim, all of a sudden, and I went over to his bed and looked down at him. He looked up at my face.

"What?"

"I love you."

"You're crying! Come here." He patted his bed. I sat by him. Feeling him. His warmth and solidity.

I leaned down all sad and he put his arms around my neck. I gave him a kiss by his mouth, a definite rarity, with us. He was real and he was solid and he was warm and please, please don't let anything take him from me.

"I love you, Baby," I said. And I broke down hard and fuckin' wailed, "Don't ever go away."

"Awww." He pulled me down to lie next to him. "I promise. You can be so sweet. I love you."

"You were always the bold one. The strong one."

"You have always been the sweet one. My sweet one."

I sniffled and smiled. He always knows what to say to me.

"Am I a good friend to you?" I asked, querulously.

Now I had him sniffling.

"You called me Baby." He paused for a long moment, getting his voice back level. "Huh. I guess I never actually thought about you just as a friend. You're... you're... We're closer than... than what that word means. Friend doesn't describe it. But, yeah, everything I'd want in a friend? You do that better than anybody. Better than I probably deserve."

"We're so lucky." I could feel it bearing down on me. "We're so lucky," I wailed, "Never leave me. Not ever."

"I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you." He scooted back and pulled me further into bed with him. Pulled me backward and spooned me, warm, holding me from behind. He kissed my neck, breathing on me. "You know I love you. Every minute of every day."

I'm sorry. This is so corny: he sang me You Are My Sunshine in his soft tenor. Mom used to sing it to us, when she tucked us in. At first it made me cry, then it made me oddly peaceful. I pulled his arms tighter around me, gettin' me some brother. Becoming less alone.

It was deeply comforting. It was also giving me a boner for Tim.

I could feel him settling in, snuggling, winding down. But... A boy has his needs, right? I picked up his hand, from where it lay on my chest, and brought it, soft, up to my face. I put his fingers to my lips, gave them a little kiss, and then took his index finger into my mouth and began to suck it. Slowly and wetly. Slowly, base to tip, base to tip. He made a little noise, and then I felt his penis rising against me, pressing against my thighs from behind, rising, stiffening and coming to rest, nestling under my butt.

"Mmmm." He said softly: "That's surprisingly erotic. Thank God he doesn't know where that finger's been."

I didn't reply, just kept sucking. I should have known he'd take it as a challenge.

"Hate that new T.P. Mom bought... "

"Pfff. Wrong hand, anyway." I gave his hand a quick peck, and let it go. It went back to holding me. I could feel it was still wet. I threw my legs over the edge and sat up, pulling away from him. Tim made a little noise, maybe like he was disappointed. I stood up, turned and got back into his bed from the foot end, under the covers. Slid up, putting my arms under his legs and lifting them, putting him square on his back, as I came to rest facing his yummy balls. They were soft and drooped down between his thighs. I licked the bottom of his dick, and the sides, admiring the drape-y wrinkles of his soft bag, each time I was down at the base, where I could visit them. He hardened quickly.

I didn't last long, before the need in my throat took over, and I had to have him there. I pressed my lips wetly on the underside of his dickhead then, after one slow, final lick, engulfed him. Just the head, at first, but then right down to the base. Right down 'till I had him at the entrance of my throat. Had all of him, warm and lovely. There's a certain drama, sometimes, to taking a penis into your mouth, and this time it was all there.

I gripped him with my throat, loving him tenderly, thrilling at the fullness and the plenty and the boy-wondrous treasure of having him. Of loving him and feeling him thicken and knowing my mouth felt so good and so sweet to him, in the core of his boy-feelings.

"Thank you. I love you... " he said. I think he knew I just needed this right now, needed to suck him gently, didn't want the distraction of 69-ing right now. Just the tender wonder of sucking my twin.

The intimacy of it stopped my thoughts and soothed my troubled heart. Just the sweet fulfillment of his plump tenderness in my mouth, in my throat, the feeling of my lips around him, appreciating and acknowledging his maleness, the budding male authority of him, of us both.

It didn't take long at all, before I felt the final swelling of his head, adoring it with my throat, then his tummy getting flat.

He groaned and his legs pumped like he was waddling. I took his bouncy tender bag in my fingers, stroked the back corners, making him tremble. He groaned and shot, hard and short, and writhed and shot, and jerked and shot again. and then moaned his deep completion, his boy satisfaction, his gratitude, the tender song of our brotherhood.

"Please sleep with me tonight," he said. I crawled up behind him and covered us, and fell asleep, gently comforted by my boner pressing against him. I didn't need to do anything about it right now. I had Tim, and that's what mattered. My dreams were sweet, as was the loving being dreaming with me, in my arms.

The next day was Saturday, and we had a date with some teen peen on the hoof.

Last night meant something. One of the things it meant to me was that we needed to pair these guys up, so we could concentrate on this next phase of our own relationship. Brutal job, I know, but someone had to do it.

We've always kept our room reasonably neat anyway -- a necessity, with two people living in there -- but we did a little sprucing up for our guests. I vacuumed quickly, while Tim took our overflowing hampers to the laundry room, to be washed later. We changed the sheets on both beds and ran the old ones in the washer, so we wouldn't have to sleep on strange-dick sheets tonight, if they were nasty. If we ended up even using the beds, that is.

Then Tim grabbed some frozen snacks out of the deep freeze in the garage and put them into the kitchen freezer, while I loaded some drinks into the fridge. Mom gets everything in mega bulk. Like I said, she grew up a twin, too.

Then it was into the shower and pick some clothes. We were helping each other with last minute grooming (the hair, duh, what else is there, on a 13 yo boy?) I was feeling unusually sexy. Tim was, too, judging from the stiff wanger he kept bumping me with. Warm.

"You excited?"

He smiled with a twinkle in his eye. "Yeah, they were sweet. Are we gonna stick with our same ones, pull a sneaky switcheroo, or let them decide?"

"Let them decide. What do you think they'll want?"

"Stay with the same one, I would guess. They seemed pretty into the... intimacy. Both of them. What's your guess?"

"Same."

"Clothes?"

"Same idea, but, uhh... here. These... and these."

"Yeah. Perfect. Great minds... " He had picked some shorter shorts than we would wear to the mall, thinner, light weight, dark blue, identical; and some thin teeshirts, a little tighter than the mall-waif ones. Different colors, again. The effect was to make us look younger, if anything. Waifier.

"You know, it must really suck to be an alone," Tim said.

"Tell me about it. It scares the fuck out of me."

"I meant... they seem so closed off. Not when they're, like, boyfriend and girlfriend. Or like our highshoolers, Bill and Kenny. Then, you can feel there's a sort of bridge between them."

"Yeah, like they're open... something in them is open to each other. But you're right. The alone ones are so closed off. It's like they're scared to be open."

"Maybe they're busy keeping out the lonely. An... and if they open up... "

"It'll jump in and eat them all up!" I made claws and a face like the Big Bad Wolf. Tim knows me: he got it.

"So, I think we know what we need to do."

"Yeah," I smiled, just as the doorbell rang.

It was them, of course. We greeted them warmly and let the social machinery take over and make things smooth. One thing was instantly apparent: they had showered and groomed themselves for us, and put on some nicer clothes. Jeans and collared shirts. We'd have to do something about that. All of that. They smelled nice. I guess they did respect us in the morning.

After getting us all a drink and determining that nobody was actually hungry yet, we retired to the upstairs with our drinks and some crunchy munchies.

"Umm," Tim asked, once the door was closed. "Do you guys want to chat and visit first, or take care of the emergency first, and then relax and chat?"

"E-moigency! E-moigency!" giggled Jim, making the rest of us laugh. It broke the ice and the awkward social rules went out the window. The next few minutes were about boy sex. It cut right through the crap.

"Yeah, we missed you guys, too," Tim answered.

"I have a small question for both of you," I said, acting fake sheepish, "I'm assuming you can't tell us apart physically. Do you want to stick with the same partner? I know I already picked my favorite last week, so that's my vote." I smiled at Jim, reached out and took his hand.

"Same," said Jim, "Jon."

"Same," said Ben. He looked at Tim sort of shyly, stepped up to him and took his hand. "Hi."

Tim grinned and put his arms around Ben's neck, looking up at him. "Hi back." He moved in to plant a kiss right on his lips. "You're trembling."

Ben said something back, but by then, I had my arms full of a big, warm Jim. I put my arm around his waist, and my cheek against his chest. My other hand just rested naturally over his heart. He shivered and laid his head against mine.

"Can I call you Jimmy? Do you like Jim better?"

"Everybody ends up calling me Jimmy anyway."

"Oh, good, 'cause that's the name I jacked off to." He giggled and turned red.

"I'm, uhh, flattered. Me, too, I hope you know."

"You jacked off to Jimmy?"

"No, I jacked Jimmy off to Jon."

"Can I kiss you? Would that be okay?"

"Definitely." His breath was sweet, as was his tongue. My hand just naturally changed its mind and went to rub his bulge. He groaned and pressed into my hand, and I led him behind my screen. I lay back on my bed and pulled him after me.

"You smell good and I want to eat you up like the Big Bad Wolf," I told him, making him giggle.

He was still closed up. We kissed some more, which helped. I unbuttoned his shirt and ran my hand along his side. "Open to me. Open yourself to me, Jimmy," I murmured. And I could feel him let go. His kissing changed. Sort of from kissing At me to kissing With me. Being with me. I ran my hand down across his hair, across his cheek, ended up near his mouth. Grabbed his chin and positioned his mouth as I rolled sort of half above him and took his lips. I kissed below each eye, kissed his eyelids, kissed between his eyes. I could hear soft sounds coming from Tim's bed. An occasional soft giggle.

"May I undress you," I asked into our silence. "May I see your body?"

"Yes," he breathed, "Sure."

I got his shirt off and he was a very good looking boy. His little titties were hard and perky, and he got goosebumps as I popped his waist button and ran his zipper down. His meat was warm and full beneath my hand, as I took him. He shivered.

"I've been thinking about this all week."

"Me too," I crooned, "Me too. Do you mind if I take my clothes off, too?" I asked.

"I was hoping you would. I've been imagining you."

"While you were jacking off?"

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Did you imagine trying anything?"

"Yeah."

"Like what? You know you can tell me. I've already sucked you and I really enjoyed it. And your cum was yummy."

"I uhh... I uhh..." I looked at him, lazy and tender and patient. Then he said, "I uhh... I dreamed of sucking you."

"Would you like to do a 69?"

"Yeah, I really would."

I smiled into his eyes.

"Okay, let's get the rest of our clothes off. I want to see you and touch you."

"Me too."

With his clothes off, he smelled like a teenage boy and radiated warmth. I laid down with him, head toward his feet, and took his pretty cock into my hand. His bigness throbbed and his balls drew up. I slid down to touch them, to pinch the skin gently and pull them up from between his thighs. I petted them, from back to front, tickling his fuzz, and he hummed his pleasure.

"You know you have pretty balls, don't you?" He just sort of made a little "Huh" sound. I petted them again, and slid down to kiss the back of them, drawing him into the intimacy of it. I felt his hand touching my dick, now, surrounding it. The feeling was sweet, but the meaning was sweeter, the promise. I kissed the hot skin at the back of his furry nuts, pulled at the tender skin with my lips and he hummed his delight.

I felt his lips on the head of my dick! How brave of him. I hastened to catch up, taking the head, and another inch, into my mouth and tenderly withdrawing, wetly. He took all of me and made a tender little whimper of satisfaction, as he connected with the sweetness of the act. Sucking for the first time.

I let myself go and just enjoyed his penis. Its bigness, the head in the back of my throat, the gentle sharing of pleasuring each other. The angle was better like this. I could get the head of him deep into my throat and swallowed around it, fulfilling a need that Tim and I didn't have the length for. His head was big and spongy and tender, and the big, tender thing in my throat filled a hunger.

His commitment, his enthusiasm for 69-ing grew and I started to worry I'd blow my load before he did. He was cyclically hardening and softening, a sure sign of impending orgasm, but I wasn't sure I could hold out. Then I felt his dickhead blossom into a plush tender plum and it was safe to let go and just let him carry me to my delight, as I took his load and swallowed it in joy. The satisfaction was deep and thrilling. We held each other in our mouths until the last pulse had faded and the last morsel was enjoyed.

Long groans of rapture were coming from across the room, and the familiar melody of Tim cumming. Cumming good. Really good. I've heard that a lot, I'm happy to say.

Jimmy and I smirked at the sounds and just fell together into a happy heap.

In a few minutes, I crawled back around with my face near his. "Can I have a cummy kiss?"

"Yummy cummy," he joked, looking relieved. "I was really afraid it would be gross, but it tasted like Cracker Jack. The popcorn part."

I plagiarized myself: "You had the flavor of the sea and the sky," I said, as if quoting literature.

"Who wrote that?"

"I'm gonna."

Send comments to: soaringtoad@yahoo.com. I hope you enjoyed. I will gladly read and respond to your mail.