by Ray Gordon
‘Yes, yes I will.’
I went through the hall, left the house, and breathed in the warm evening air as I walked home. I could feel Don’s sperm oozing from my inflamed vagina and filling the crotch of my panties, a stark reminder of the crude act that I’d committed. The game was ridiculous, I decided as I reached my house. I didn’t want to know who the other Ali was – I had no interest in her. And I certainly wasn’t going to play the role of my sluttish twin sister again.
Two
SWAMPED WITH GUILT and shame as I sat at the breakfast table the following morning, I still couldn’t believe what I’d done. I’d stripped naked and let a man take photographs of my young body and close-up shots of my open pussy. And then I’d allowed him to fuck me. I’d played the role of my twin sister admirably, but I didn’t want to be like her. I began to wonder whether I really did have a twin and, as my mother placed a plate of toast on the table, I asked her about it.
‘Not as far as I know,’ she replied as she sat opposite me. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I told you about that man in the paper shop, the one who knew my name. Well, since then two other men have chatted to me as if I’m an old friend. They both knew my name and . . .’
‘They must have seen you working in the DIY store,’ she proffered.
‘That’s what Jackie said, but one of the men reckoned that he’d never been to the store. Besides, they knew things about me.’
‘There was no mention of a twin when we adopted you, Ali. I suppose it’s possible, but . . . A twin with the same name living in the same town? I don’t think so.’
‘Neither do I,’ I said. ‘So who are these people?’
‘Did you ask them about it? A few simple questions should clear it up, surely?’
‘Yes, I did ask one of them. He even showed me photographs of this other girl. She looks identical to me.’
‘They do say that we all have a double.’
‘A double with the same name, living in the same town?’
‘There’s a very easy way to get to the bottom of this, Ali.’
‘How?’
‘Meet this other girl. If these people know her, get them to arrange a meeting.’
‘She seems to be elusive. The man with the photographs doesn’t know where she lives, he doesn’t have her phone number or –’
‘Give him your phone number and, the next time he sees her, he can ask her to ring you.’
‘That’s a good idea, and it would have worked if I hadn’t . . .’
‘Hadn’t what?’
‘I pretended to be the other girl. I know it was silly, but . . . Oh, I don’t know.’
‘What’s she like? Did he tell you anything about her?’
‘She’s a . . . she’s just a normal girl.’
‘I’d be honest with this man and ask him to give her your phone number.’
‘Yes, maybe I will.’
After a long day at the store, I decided to go to the pub and try to discover more about the other Ali. I might even bump into her, I mused, as I dressed in a miniskirt and a revealing top. Although I’d vowed not to play the game again, I couldn’t help myself. The excitement, the danger, the intrigue . . . The sex? Just one more time, I thought as I went into the pub and walked up to the bar. I’d pretend to be the other Ali just one more time.
‘Hi,’ Rick said, joining me at the bar as I ordered a drink. ‘Are you going to pretend that you don’t know me, or –’
‘Of course I know you,’ I cut in. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You denied all knowledge of me the last time we met, Ali.’
‘Ah, so you’ve met my sister?’ I said, with a giggle.
‘Your sister?’
‘My twin sister. I heard that she’d been in here.’
‘You said that you . . . I mean, she said that she didn’t have a sister.’
‘We were split up at birth and both of us were adopted. We didn’t know about each other until recently.’
‘Ah, that explains everything.’ Rick looked down at my cleavage and grinned. ‘I asked her whether she still shaves her pussy,’ he said, chuckling.
‘I’ll bet that went down well. She’s a right prude.’
‘So I gathered. How come you both have the same name?’
‘I have no idea. You’d have to ask my biological mother, whoever she is.’
‘You’re identical,’ he murmured. ‘It’s incredible.’
‘Identical twins are identical, Rick. Or didn’t you realise that?’
‘Yes, no, I mean . . . I’ve never met identical twins before.’
‘Well, you have now. Has anyone else been in this evening? Anyone I know?’
‘No, but John said that he might be in later. Is he still pestering you for sex?’
‘Er . . . yes, yes, he is.’
‘So, your twin sister. How did you meet up with her?’
‘She tracked me down. We’ve met up a few times and we’re getting to know each other.’
‘I hope you haven’t said too much about yourself.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, I don’t think it a good idea to tell her that you have sex with other girls. She wouldn’t want to discover that her sister is a lesbian.’
‘A lesbian?’ I gasped, staring at him.
‘Unless she’s a lesbian herself,’ he said, chortling wickedly. ‘You two could get together. Incestuous dykes – now there’s a thought.’
‘Don’t be disgusting,’ I said, grinning at him.
‘You know how much you love licking Amy’s pussy. Why not lick your sister’s?’
‘Rick, you get worse,’ I said softly, sipping my drink.
The revelation had shocked me, but I dared not show even a glimmer of surprise. It had also made me even more determined to meet the infamous Ali. But I was going to have to be careful. If Amy, her lesbian lover, came into the pub . . . Thinking again that the game wasn’t a good idea, I imagined another girl kissing me and wanting to have sex with me. Never in a million years would I have had sex with another girl. I was sure that I’d be caught out at some stage. If the other Ali walked into the pub . . . She was bound to hear about me before long, I thought anxiously. If Rick met her, then he’d talk about her twin sister. But if she really was my twin, then I wanted to meet her.
‘I would take you back to my place for a good spanking and a fuck,’ Rick said. ‘But I have to go soon.’
‘You men are all the same,’ I said.
‘And you love it.’
‘Have you seen Rod recently?’ I asked him, recalling the man in the paper shop.
‘Rod?’
‘Rod Davis.’
‘Never heard of him.’
‘Oh, I thought you’d met him. He’s a friend of mine.’
‘A fuck of yours, you mean. Talking of which, why don’t you give John what he wants? You know the situation with his wife. He could do with a bit of fun on the side.’
‘Maybe I will,’ I replied, wondering who the hell John was.
‘As I said, he should be in later. I know that he’s an old man, but he fancies you rotten.’
‘Yes, well . . .’
‘Right, I’d better get going. I’ll see you around. Or your sister, of course.’
‘OK, Rick, I’ll see you soon.’
Rick finished his beer and left the pub, and left me wondering what the hell I was playing at. The problem was that the other Ali would realise that I’d been making out that I was her. She was bound to speak to Don, and he’d talk about the photo shoot and I’d be exposed as a fraud. There again, I had tried to tell Don that I wasn’t the girl he’d thought me to be. I could feel a mess brewing but, after thinking about it, I decided it wasn’t my fault that people had mistaken me for someone else.
I ordered another gin and tonic and returned to my musings. I knew that I couldn’t give up playing the game. It was fun and it had been very enlightening – not to mention the money I’d made. I decided to sort out a set of clothes fo
r Ali the slut. I’d buy her some new outfits: very short skirts and revealing tops that only she would wear. Ali the innocent would wear longer skirts and conceal her cleavage with decent tops. The more I thought about playing the role of the other Ali, the more excited I became.
‘Hi, Ali,’ a man in his sixties said, joining me at the bar.
Hoping that it was John, I smiled. ‘Hi, John,’ I said. ‘How are things?’
‘Same as usual,’ he sighed. ‘You look stunning, as always.’
‘I know what you’re thinking, John,’ I said, wondering how a girl of my age could go with a man in his sixties.
‘I’m thinking how nice it would be to get my hands inside your knickers,’ he replied, chuckling.
‘How’s your wife?’ I asked him, hoping I wasn’t putting my foot in it.
‘No change, I’m afraid. They reckon that she won’t come out of the home.’
‘Oh, that is bad news.’
‘So, I’m a single man with a nice bungalow – and a cock longing for a tight little teenage pussy.’
‘You’re not going to give up, are you?’
‘I’ll never give up, Ali. I know how free you are with your body and how much you like sex. But what I don’t understand is, why not have a little fun with me? I might be old, but I can still fuck.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ I murmured, wondering what else to say.
‘Let me get you another drink. What is it?’
‘Gin and tonic, please.’
I did feel sorry for him, and he looked good for his age, but I couldn’t have sex with a man older than my father. It seemed that even the other Ali wasn’t keen, so I decided just to chat with him and, hopefully, discover more about my twin sister. I sipped my drink as he ordered a beer. How dull my life had been before I’d been mistaken for Ali the slut, I mused. Working at the DIY store, going to university, staying at home and rarely going out . . . Things were changing. But were they changing for the better?
‘I haven’t seen you for a while,’ John said. ‘What have you been up to?’
‘I’ve got a twin sister,’ I announced proudly. ‘We were separated at birth when we were adopted and we’ve just met up after all these years.’
‘Really? I’ll have to meet her.’
‘She’s been in here once or twice. We’re identical twins so you won’t be able to tell us apart.’
‘With identical pussies?’ he asked, laughing and winking at me.
‘Presumably,’ I said. ‘I’ve never seen her pussy so I wouldn’t know for sure. By the way, if you meet up with her, I should warn you that she’s a prude. I thought I’d better mention that in case you try to get your hand inside her knickers.’
‘What’s her name?’
‘Ali, same as me.’
‘That’s odd, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but it wasn’t my doing. So, who have you seen recently? Anyone I know?’
‘I saw Barry the other day.’
‘Oh, how is he?’
‘He wants to get back with you, as you know. It was a shame you two split up.’
‘Yes, yes – it was a shame.’
‘Ali, would you like to come back to my place for a drink?’
‘Well, I . . . I don’t know, John.’
‘It’s only a five-minute walk. It’s just that . . . I’m lonely, Ali.’
‘All right,’ I said, smiling at him. ‘But only for a drink, OK?’
‘OK.’
Finishing my drink, I thought it might be a good idea to leave in case the other Ali arrived. I also wanted to learn more from John. He seemed like a nice enough man, and I was sure that I’d be safe with him. We left the pub and walked the short distance to his bungalow. What I really wanted to know was where the other Ali lived. Someone must know her address or phone number, I thought. John opened the front door of his home and led me through the hall to the lounge.
Looking around the room at the expensive furniture, I realised that John had money. He poured me a large gin and tonic and went into the kitchen for some ice as I made myself comfortable on the huge Chesterfield sofa. It must be nice to have money, I reflected. I’d made two hundred pounds, but that was a one-off. My prospects were pretty grim. After university, I’d be working as a nurse. I didn’t want to go into nursing, but I had no idea what else to do.
‘Thanks for coming back with me,’ John said, passing me my drink. ‘I get so lonely here sometimes.’
‘That’s OK,’ I said, smiling at him. ‘I wish I had a nice home like this.’
‘Your place was nice enough. Have you moved into another flat yet?’
‘Er . . . no, not yet. I’m still staying with a friend. So, you liked my old place?’
‘I know it wasn’t the best of areas, above that shop in the high street, but it was very nice.’
I was learning something, I realised. But I had to be careful not to say the wrong thing. ‘The flat was OK, but the shop was . . . Did you ever go into the shop?’
‘No, I didn’t. Why do you ask?’
I had to find out which shop it was. ‘I just wondered whether you’d met the people there,’ I persisted.
‘I’m not into women’s clothing,’ he said, with a chuckle.
Now I knew where Ali’s old flat was, I hoped to be able to find out where she’d moved to. The people in the shop might have a forwarding address, I thought, as John eyed my naked thighs. If I could track her down and . . . and what? She probably had no idea that she was a twin. Besides, she might not want to know. She might be happy with her life and not want the past dragged up. She might not even know that she was adopted.
‘Ali,’ John said softly. ‘Is there any chance that we might . . . What I mean is . . . Do you need money?’
‘I always need money, John.’
‘As you know, I’m pretty well off financially. How about . . . If I gave you fifty pounds, would you . . .’
‘Would I what? Give you a wank?’
‘Yes.’
I could hardly believe what I’d said. John grinned at me. I wasn’t a whore, I reminded myself. There again, if I was playing the role of Ali the slut . . . But how far was I prepared to go? Fifty pounds, I mused. If I did wank him, he’d probably want me to call round again. I might even make fifty pounds every week. If he only wanted me to wank him, then it would be easy money.
‘What were you thinking?’ he asked me. ‘You were miles away.’
‘I was thinking that I’m not a prostitute,’ I said.
‘Don’t look at it like that, Ali.’
‘That’s what it is, isn’t it? It’s prostitution.’
‘It’s just helping out an old man. You could do with a boost to your income. Where do you work, by the way?’
‘I . . . I’m not working at the moment.’
‘There you are, then. You could come round on a regular basis and –’
‘How regular?’ I cut in.
‘That’s up to you. Two or three times a week would suit me.’
‘All right,’ I said, wondering what the hell I was getting into.
As John unbuckled his belt and lowered his trousers, I felt my heart race and my hands tremble. Wank an old man for fifty pounds? God, I must have been mad, I reflected as he stood before me with his erect penis hovering only inches from my face. I’d only just met him – and he was older than my father. Wrapping my fingers around the solid shaft of his huge penis, I imagined giving up my part-time job at the store. I was Ali the slut, I mused as I cupped his heavy balls in my free hand. This was how Ali the slut would earn money.
John said nothing as I ran my hand up and down his hard shaft and fondled his full balls. This might have been easy money, but worrying thoughts flooded my mind as I wanked him. What would my mother say if she discovered that I was a prostitute? What would Jackie say? How much further would John want me to go? Would he want full sex in return for his cash? Trying not to think about prostitution, I watched his purple glans appear and disappear as I str
oked and pulled his rock-hard penis. Where would his sperm go? I wondered as he breathed heavily. All over my blouse and skirt?
‘It’s been so long,’ John gasped, jutting his hips forward. ‘I’ve wanted to ask you to do this for weeks but –’
‘You like it?’ I asked, my own arousal heightening as I waited in expectation for his sperm to jet from his swollen knob.
‘God, yes. Make it last, Ali. I don’t want to come yet.’
Slowing my wanking rhythm, I kneaded John’s balls and tickled his scrotum as I imagined calling round to his bungalow three times each week and earning fifty pounds. I realised again what a dull life I’d led as I squeezed his hard shaft in my hand. My life was now exciting and profitable and . . . But this wasn’t my life. This was the life that Ali the slut led. I was really getting into playing the role of my twin sister. I felt as if I could do anything, get away with anything, and it had nothing to do with me.
John gasped as his sperm shot out of his throbbing knob and splattered my blouse. I wanked him faster and watched his male liquid jetting from the tiny slit of his glans, but it wasn’t only my outer clothing that was getting wet. My knickers were soaking up my pussy juice, and I knew that my arousal was running high. This was a business arrangement, I thought as my clitoris swelled. I couldn’t go any further with John, with a man older than my father. No matter how much money he offered me, I couldn’t . . .
‘That was amazing,’ he breathed as his sperm-flow stemmed. ‘God, I needed that.’
‘I need a tissue,’ I said, watching his creamy spunk running down the front of my blouse.
John pulled his trousers up and took a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘Use that,’ he said. ‘That really was amazing, Ali. Thank you so much.’
‘You’re welcome,’ I murmured as I cleaned my blouse.
‘There’s the money.’ He tossed the notes onto the sofa beside me. ‘Are you free tomorrow evening?’
‘I’m not sure. Give me your phone number and I’ll ring you.’
‘OK, I’ll write it down.’
The whole thing was over so quickly. I don’t know what I’d expected but, as John passed me a piece of paper, I decided to go home. Slipping the paper and the cash into my handbag, I finished my drink and stood up. It was only eight o’clock, but I didn’t want to hang around. I’d earned some cash and discovered where Ali’s old flat was, and it was time to leave. John wanted me to stay, but I told him that I’d see him the following evening at seven.
