The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 10

by Maxim Jakubowski

  “He went slowly, at first, pushing all the way inside me, then pulling back even slower. He was grinning like I’d never seen him do before, a huge grin, and his eyes were half-closed. He looked the handsomest I’ve ever seen him, and you know what that means …”

  “Gene and Pat will be totally to die for.”

  “Right. Because they are, like, so gorgeous already. But Jason was terrific. We got a rhythm going and he sucked his thumb to make it wet and then diddled my clit until I was crazy, totally crazy! I was trying not to make much noise but he said, ‘Go ahead, scream all you want. No one can hear you.’”

  Jeannie shivered. “That sounds sort of threatening.”

  “I know! But he said it in a really soothing way. So it was reassuring and threatening at the same time. I loved it!” Patty’s eyes shone. “He kissed my mouth, and my nipples, and he put his thumb in my mouth and I sucked it wet and he put it back on my clit and I started coming. It was fantastic, having something inside me to come against, or, I guess, around. With each contraction it was like I was clamping on to a big hot hard—”

  “Prick?” Jeannie offered.

  “Cock! And as soon as I began coming, Twinnie, I started yelling, all kinds of stuff, like his name and then ‘God’ and then ‘Fucking Jesus Christ!’ I didn’t know what I was saying, not really, but it didn’t matter, it just felt good, like some of the pressure was coming out of my mouth while the rest of it was being released through my cunt. I dug my nails into his shoulders. He came then, too, but he just groaned, no words or anything. We cuddled. It was good there was a towel on the bed because I’d scratched him so hard with my nails he was bleeding.”

  “Wow.”

  “He didn’t complain. I think he liked it. We said some sweet things to each other and then we did it again. It was way better than masturbation or dry-humping or anything. You’ve gotta do it.”

  “Yeah,” muttered Jeannie. “I do. But with who?”

  Patty shrugged. “Why not with Jason? He’s really good.”

  Jeannie shrieked. “Aren’t you in love with him?”

  It was Patty’s turn to shriek. “Of course not. I’m in love with Pat. Or maybe Gene.”

  “Me too,” said Jeannie. The girls doubled over with laughter, and then, at the sound of grumpy footsteps approaching, they dove under their covers, one in her nightie and the other naked, and feigned sleep when their dad stuck his head in their door and, unfooled by their angelic faces, grumbled, “Go to sleep.”

  This was the first time Jeannie and Patty shared a man, but it wasn’t to be the last. Patty usually went first, weeding out the duds, and Jeannie always went last, dumping the boys with no tears and an ear deaf to their protests, but since they pretended only one of them was ever with any one boy, neither acquired the bad reputation they both deserved.

  The next summer, arriving at the Twin Convention was a big event for the girls. They came without their parents for the first time, and they fully intended to fuck Pat and Gene, as soon as they decided who would be fucking whom. It was Jeannie who insisted they not share the twin blonds of their affection. They discussed it for most of the drive.

  “These are our husbands-to-be,” Jeannie admonished her sister and, when Patty protested that as such they ought to sample both boys each before making up their minds, Jeannie put her foot down. “Absolutely not,” she said. “I will always be faithful to my husband.”

  They both loved Gene and Pat and were sure the twin boys loved them, too, and equally. But choices needed to be made, and soon, as the car was fast approaching Twin City.

  Jeannie made the final decision. “It’s best you go with Gene and I go with Pat,” she said.

  Patty was surprised. She’d been sure her sister would go for the quiet one, but Jeannie’s reasoning was sound.

  “Gene will steady you and Pat will challenge me,” she said. “I think that’s better for long-term relationships. Also, we’re more likely to do stuff together, as we get older, if we share each other’s interests.”

  Patty could see her point, but the biggest reason she agreed to the match was what Jeannie said next.

  “This way,” said Jeannie, “there will always be a Gene and a Pat and a Pat and a Jean.” The symmetry was neat.

  Twins greeted twins with customary enthusiasm. In fact, the boys glowed with a new intensity that the girls took for lust. They were disabused of this notion during the opening night barbecue.

  The four of them sat at the end of one long table, under the same massive white tent that sheltered the throng of hungry duplicate diners every year. The food was great, as always. But something had definitely shifted.

  “We’ve taken the Celibacy Vow,” said Gene.

  “Christ!” Patty dropped her fork on her plate.

  Jeannie covered Patty’s hand with hers. “Go on.” Jeannie spoke with admirable calm.

  The girls had always known that Pat and Gene were religious. It hadn’t mattered, until now, that the boys were and the girls were not.

  “It’s simple. No sex until marriage.” Pat shrugged.

  “But …” stammered Patty, “we had plans!”

  “So do we,” said Gene. “We want you to be our first. And our only.”

  “We hope you want the same,” said Pat.

  “Oh we do,” said Jeannie, quickly, before her sister could betray them with her frankness. Her hand on Patty’s tightened. “Now that we’re almost eighteen, well, we were hoping it would happen soon.”

  “It will,” said Pat. He knelt by Jeannie’s wooden chair. He produced a blue velvet ring box from the pocket of his khaki shorts and opened it, displaying a solitaire diamond, small but not tiny, set in gold. “Jeannie? Will you marry me?”

  Gene knelt at Patty’s side. He too produced a blue velvet box within which nestled a ring, identical to the one Pat held in his hand. “Patty,” said Gene. “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!” the giddy girls replied in unison.

  That night, in their room, Patty and Jeannie couldn’t sleep, and who could blame them? They’d spent the evening making out like maniacs with their respective fiancés and hadn’t said good-night until the wee hours. They fell, exhausted, into their beds, but whenever one managed to doze off, she’d be awakened by the other, shouting, “I can’t believe it!”

  It hadn’t actually occurred to them that the boys might decide between themselves who would marry whom. What luck! And look at the way the diamonds sparkled in the light! The bedside table lamp would be switched on and the sleepy twin would suddenly be wide awake, more than eager to thrust her left hand into the glow from the lamp and admire her sparkling ring, and her sister’s sparkling ring, and join in her sister’s joy with exclamations of her own.

  The two sets of twins announced their engagements at the conclusion of their rendition of “My Heart Will Go On” at the annual Talent Contest. The crowd went wild. The applause was thundering. An encore was demanded, and since they hadn’t prepared one, they sang the same song again, to more deafening applause. They won first prize.

  It was a double wedding, of course, in the girls’ hometown. They were young for marriage, but neither set of parents could argue the rightness of the union. The girls wore identical dresses, though Patty’s was sashed with blue satin and Jeannie’s with pink. After all, they didn’t want to marry the wrong guys by mistake! The grooms wore matching black tuxedoes but Gene’s boutonnière was blue and Pat’s was pink. It was a winter wedding, 14 February, in fact. Immediately following the reception, the happy couples boarded a plane for Barbados. Immediately upon disembarking, the happy couples disappeared into their bridal suites, and neither made an appearance the next day, or even the next.

  On the third day they emerged, all fucked out and ready for some fun in the sun. The boys wasted no time hitting the surf. The girls stretched out in their deck chairs to chat.

  “Do me,” said Pat. She held out a bottle of suntan lotion and dropped the straps of her blue bikini.


  “Didn’t your husband?” Jeannie giggled as she slathered lotion on her sister’s shoulders.

  “Oh God. Gene’s good. Really, really good.” Patty sighed contentedly.

  “So is Pat,” said Jeannie. “What he lacks in experience,” she whispered, “he makes up for in enthusiasm. Well worth waiting for.”

  “Well, mine claims I’m his first but if it’s really true, he sure did a lot of research. When we couldn’t fuck any more he ate me out until I begged him to stop.”

  “But you love oral! It’s me who gets bored with it,” said Jeannie.

  “I couldn’t stand another orgasm.”

  Jeannie rolled her eyes. “Did you do anal?”

  “Yes, did you?”

  “Yes.”

  The girls had decided since they weren’t actually virginal brides, they would remain celibate for the duration of their engagements and save their bums for their husbands. In this way they successfully assuaged any guilt they had about their sexual histories.

  “And?” Patty cocked her head at her sister.

  Jeannie thrust the lotion in her sister’s hands. “Do me,” she said. She dropped the straps of her pink bikini.

  “Tell me! Did you like it?”

  “I found it humiliating and degrading,” mumbled Jeannie.

  “So you loved it.”

  “Yup.” Jeannie giggled.

  “I thought it was OK.”

  “Well, I think it’s my favourite,” announced Jeannie.

  They hooted in unison.

  “This is heaven. I wish we could stay here forever.” Patty stretched and sighed contentedly.

  “I know exactly what you mean,” said Jeannie.

  All four kids had spent the time from August to February working. In the fall, they’d attend SFU, each couple living on campus in a Student Housing townhouse. It was all arranged. But, once the honeymoon was over, Jeannie would move into Pat’s apartment, which was in Oregon, where he worked as a lifeguard. And Patty would move into Gene’s apartment, which was in Texas, where he worked as a junior programmer. For the first time in their lives, the girls would be separated.

  “Pass me your hat,” said Patty, “I forgot mine.”

  As Jeannie passed her sister her straw hat, their fingertips touched.

  Jeannie whispered, “Twinnie, I’m scared.”

  “Sssh,” said Patty. “We have ten days left in paradise.”

  “We’ve never been apart.”

  “It’s only for a few months.”

  “A few?” Jeannie’s voice squeaked. “Six! Half a year!”

  “Christ this sun is hot.” Patty dragged a beach towel over her body, up to her chin. “I’m going to sleep.”

  “Fine. Be in denial. You’ll miss me as much as I’ll miss you when the time comes.”

  Jeannie flipped through a magazine for a few minutes, but the sight of her sister peacefully snoozing in the sun was so appealing she soon closed her eyes to join her. Just before she drifted off she pulled a towel over her body, too. The last thing either of them needed was the kind of tropical sunburn that would put an end to honeymoon sex.

  Patty was awakened by soft lips pressed to hers. She responded enthusiastically. When a hand slipped under the towel to cup her breast she arched her back, pushing her hot nipple into his hand, cool and wet from the ocean. The kiss deepened. The towel fell.

  “Hey!”

  Patty opened her eyes to a surprised, red-faced boy in hot pink and black trunks backing away from her.

  “Your hat,” he sputtered. “The band is pink.”

  Patty glanced at her sister. Patty’s husband Gene, in blue and black trunks, was backing away from Jeannie, who sat up, shocked, and met her sister’s eyes.

  “Get away from my wife!”

  “You get away from my wife!”

  The brothers pushed each other, hard, then started wrestling in the sand.

  “It’s my fault! I borrowed Jeannie’s hat!” Patty’s heart was pounding in her ears. The situation had to be diffused before tension could threaten the twins’ idyllic vacation. That must be why her pulse pounded in her ears, and elsewhere, too. It couldn’t be from Pat’s kiss. Could it?

  “Stop it, you guys!” Jeannie jumped to her feet. “It was an honest mistake. Anyway, we’ve all kissed before, remember?”

  The men ceased wrestling to consider this. They cut a fine sight, their blond hair shining in the sun, their wet bodies, sculpted if not yet tanned, patched in places with glistening white sand.

  “True,” allowed Pat.

  “But we weren’t married then,” said Gene.

  “Yeah,” said Pat.

  The men resumed wrestling, this time laughing instead of hurling insults.

  Patty threw Jeannie’s pink-sashed straw hat to her. “I’ll try not to forget mine again,” she mumbled.

  Jeannie couldn’t take her eyes off the young men wrestling in the sun. “That would be best,” she said. “I think.”

  The couples settled into a routine of sorts. After an early breakfast the girls would recline on deck chairs close to the surf, where they could tan, chat and watch their men cavort in the sea. In the afternoon they split off, sometimes to their respective suites for siesta and sex, or to take in the sights. They usually congregated with the rest of the hotel guests to watch the sunset, then returned to their rooms to rest and dress for the evening. Cocktails were followed by a buffet dinner, and then they’d dance under the stars or in a disco. After that came long, adventurous nights of passionate lovemaking.

  “Gene is the best lover I’ve ever had,” sighed Patty one morning.

  “Me too,” sighed Jeannie.

  They both giggled.

  “I mean, Pat is the best lover I’ve ever had,” Jeannie amended.

  Another morning, Patty said, “Gene is really hung. I suppose Pat is the same?”

  “Should we be talking like this? They are our husbands, after all.” Jeannie glanced out to sea. It was a windy day and Pat was teaching his brother to surf.

  “They can’t hear us. Anyway, they probably talk about us.”

  “You think?”

  “No,” said Patty. She laughed. “So, is he? Pat? Is he hung?”

  “Like a horse,” said Jeannie.

  Their talk wasn’t always so explicit. One morning, Jeannie initiated a conversation of another kind, by saying, “Do you think they’re our best lovers because we’re in love?”

  “It’s hard to say. Gene is a very skilled lover, and getting more skilled by the day. He takes lovemaking seriously. Speaking objectively, he’s a great fuck.”

  “But are you? Objective? How can you …?” Jeannie dropped her voice to a whisper, as she always did when she talked about their past. “After all, we’ve each had the same lovers, for the most part, yet we both insist our husbands are the best.”

  “Our lovers never noticed when we swapped around. Maybe identical twins are identical in bed,” said Patty.

  “But we planned it that way. We swapped notes to make sure we didn’t give ourselves away. Surely we aren’t really the same, sexually?”

  “I’m multi-orgasmic.”

  “Me too.”

  “Gene can get it up again, and again, and again, in the same day.”

  “So can Pat.”

  “He roars when he comes.”

  “Pat’s noisy too.”

  They fell into a contemplative silence.

  “We could always swap hats and find out,” suggested Patty with a grin.

  “You wouldn’t! These are our husbands we’re talking about!”

  “Of course I wouldn’t,” said Patty.

  “Of course not,” said Jeannie. She stood. “I’m going for a swim. I’m hot.” As she hot-footed toward the turquoise sea, the sound of her sister’s knowing chortle followed her across the sand.

  On the last full day of their holiday Pat and Patty went parasailing. Gene and Jeannie watched, hearts in their mouths, as their spouses sailed across the sky lik
e big, colourful bats.

  “If he dies, I’ll kill him,” said Jeannie. “And her.”

  “Ditto,” grumbled Gene. “We can attend their funerals together.”

  Jeannie grinned. “Deal.”

  “He always has to show me up,” grumbled Gene. “I go scuba diving, snorkeling and learn to surf so what happens? He has to go parasailing.”

  “So? You can parse code like nobody’s business. It’s just the way he is. The way they are.” Jeannie put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine.”

  “They’re coming down,” said Gene. His brother and his bride landed in the sea.

  Jeannie didn’t realize she was clutching his muscular arm until she saw her twin and her husband bobbing in the water, laughing and sputtering. Then she quickly let go.

  Most of the rest of that day was taken up with last minute activities, but the two couples met at sunset for pina coladas and pictures. Jeannie was quiet, which wasn’t unusual, but her sister was too.

  The boys had often been apart, but they were respectful of the separation anxiety that afflicted their brides. The girls stood, shoulder to shoulder, as the orange fireball slid down the sky and drowned in the sea.

  “More drinks?” Pat’s solution to sadness was spirits. On this occasion, Gene didn’t argue. Both girls nodded.

  When their men had gone to get refreshments, wet blue eyes met wet blue eyes.

  “I’m not sure I can do it, be away from you for so long,” said Jeannie.

  “Me too.”

  “We could make a pact—”

  “We’ve already done that, Twinnie. We’ve done everything we can to keep what we have. You know that, Jeannie.”

  “Not everything,” said Jeannie. Her eyes twinkled, made extra bright by unshed tears.

  “Hmmm. Tonight’s the night, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “No bra, white thong, white peep toes with kitten heels, pink chiffon strapless. I’ll wear the same, no bra, white thong, white shoes and blue chiffon strapless. We swap dresses at dinner. Deal?”