26 Nights

by 26 Nights (Memoirs of a Contemporary Gentleman) [MF] (retail) (epub)

  Though her opinion of my character was, let us say, less than admiring in many areas, she did have an inexplicable trust in my integrity and honesty, at least as far as our wager was concerned. And this was a trust that, wisely or foolishly, I chose not to violate, even if it meant losing that wager.

  But I didn’t intend to lose.

  Nonetheless, I had a problem. Here were Vinnie and Winnie, who, as they made abundantly clear, did everything together. And, presumably, simultaneously. Obviously I could have both of them, and God knows I wanted both of them. But to be true to the wager, I would have to do Vinnie first. Vinnie first, Winnie second. But that wasn’t all. Once I’d done Winnie, I could not then go back and do Vinnie again. Vinnie first, Winnie second, and stop. Now how was I supposed to manage that with two hot, sexy, gorgeous girls in my bed at the same time? And furthermore, two hot sexy gorgeous girls who I couldn’t even begin to tell apart?

  “Just one thing, ladies,” I said. “Uh … could we do it one at a time, perhaps?”

  “One at a time?” Vinnie said.

  “Separately?” Winnie said.

  “Yes,” I said. “Separately. Just for a change. Call it an experiment.”

  “Oh, we couldn’t do that,” Winnie said.

  “We do everything together,” Vinnie said.

  “We’re sisters, you know,” Winnie said.

  “Twins,” Vinnie said.

  “Identical,” Winnie said.

  “Yes,” I said. “I get the picture.”

  Okay, fine. I did get the picture and it was wavering with the movement of double vision. I would just have to be careful.

  Very, very careful.

  By the time I had gotten through Quintana, Rachel, Sabrina, Tina and Ursula—all of whom I hope my faithful readers will remember as pleasantly as I do—my friend had sold his company to someone else, so I wasn’t sure the twins would still be available. But I needn’t have worried.

  Two hours after I called them they were at my door, and ten minutes after that they were in my bedroom.

  “We thought you’d never call,” one of them said, unbuttoning her blouse. I had no idea now who was who.

  “We thought you’d forgotten about us,” the other said, kicking off her shoes.

  “We didn’t really think that, though,” the first one said, pulling her blouse off.

  “That’s not very likely,” the other one said, dropping her skirt.

  “Because we’re so sexy and all,” the first one said, opening her bra.

  “And gorgeous,” the other one said, pushing her panties down.

  “And we love to fuck,” the first one said, starting on my clothes now that she was naked.

  “And suck,” the other one said.

  And so on …

  When we were all naked, the first thing I did was to walk slow circles around them, examining them very closely.

  Very closely.

  For one thing it was fun. But the main reason was to see if I could find something somewhere by which to tell them apart. A mole. A scar. A freckle. Anything.

  Nothing.

  High and firm of breast, taut and pink of nipple, smooth and flat of belly, round and tight of buttock, shapely and sweeping of thigh, curvy and flexible of calf … and not a mark, not a spot, not a blemish anywhere. On either of them.

  On the one hand it was discouraging; but on the other hand, this examination made me so randy that I began wishing they were triplets.

  “All right,” I said finally. “Vinnie first.”

  “Why?” one of them said.

  “Uh … I like to do things in order,” I said. “Vinnie first, then Winnie. Okay?”

  “Why don’t we toss a coin?” one of them said.

  “It’s easier this way. Now who’s Vinnie?”

  “I am,” one said.

  “No, I am,” the other one said.

  And they both grinned at me.

  “You can’t both be Vinnie,” I said, trying to hold on to my patience as well as my passion.

  “Why not?” one said.

  “We’re twins, it’s like we’re one and the same person,” the other said.

  “We’re both Vinnie.”

  “And we’re both Winnie.”

  “No, you’re not,” I said, feeling silly. “Come on, girls. Who’s who here?”

  “But we both want to be first,” one said.

  “And neither of us wants to be second,” the other said.

  “Why not both at once?” the first one said.

  Both at once. Why not indeed? Every man’s dream. “No,” I said. “Not both at once. No. It can’t be done. No.”

  “But why not? It’s such fun that way!” one of them said.

  “Damn,” I said. To say that I was strongly tempted to just jump in and take my chances would be an understatement. But then I recalled what had happened with Phyllis—and in that case I hadn’t been breaking any rules. I didn’t want a repeat of that.

  I took a deep breath. I had to take a different kind of risk.

  “Look, ladies,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m serious about this. I can’t explain why, but it’s important to me that we do this properly, okay? Now if we can’t—if I don’t know who is who here—then I’m going to have to call it off. Really. God knows I don’t want to.” Now there was an understatement. “But I will,” I said. “So please—I’m begging you—which one of you is Vinnie?”

  Long pause.

  “Okay,” one of them said finally, sighing and pointing to the other. “She’s Vinnie.”

  “Is that true?” I asked the designated Vinnie.

  She nodded. “Yep. I’m Vinnie. She’s Winnie.”

  I had to believe them. “Okay. Now I have to be able to tell you apart, so …”

  I looked around and seized on my discarded necktie. Picking it up, I approached Winnie, who was closest, and used it like a ribbon to tie back her long flowing hair. “There,” I said. “That’s better. Now I can keep track of who’s who.”

  “How does it look?” Winnie said.

  “It looks dorky,” Vinnie said.

  “It does not,” I said. “It looks fine.”

  “Where’s the mirror?” Winnie said.

  “In the bathroom,” I said.

  “I gotta go look,” Winnie said.

  “I’m going too,” Vinnie said.

  “Hold on,” I said. “Vinnie, why don’t we—”

  “Be right back,” Vinnie said.

  And they left.

  Well, they said they did everything together.

  But in a minute Vinnie was back. At least I assumed it was Vinnie. Her hair flowed free and framed her lovely face. As she crossed the room toward me her hair and all the other parts of her moved and swiveled and bounced and jiggled. By the time she reached me my head was pounding. I grabbed her and we kissed, then fell across my bed with our mouths still fused. Her tongue probed deeply into my mouth, exploring every corner of it, while our bodies ground together. My hands moved swiftly over her, and then her legs opened for me.

  Though I wanted to hold off taking her and spend more time doing all sorts of delicious things to her delicious body, her urgency—and mine—told me foreplay would have to come later. When it would be afterplay. Or whatever.

  Crouching above her, between her raised and outstretched thighs, I reached down to find the soft warmth of her, moving forward, almost touching.

  And then an indignant voice said, “Hey!”

  I looked up. And there was—the other one. With her hair flowing free and framing her lovely face.

  I leapt up off the bed as though shot from a catapult. And not a second too soon.

  “Damn!” I shouted. “What the—You’re not Vinnie!”

  “Of course she’s not,” the other one said. “I’m Vinnie.”

  The girl on the bed smiled mischievously and shrugged. “What the hell,” she said. “It was worth a try.”

  I was speechless. I had come that close
—way too close—to taking the wrong girl! As it was, it was only by a technicality that I hadn’t actually had sex with her. But that technicality was important. It counted.

  I only hoped Miss Greenglass would agree with me.

  “You cheat!” Vinnie said.

  “Well, why should you have all the fun?” Winnie said.

  “You can have your fun later,” Vinnie said.

  “You can just bet I will,” Winnie said.

  “Hold it!” I said. “The way I feel right now, nobody is going to have fun.” And indeed this close call had diminished my passion. Visibly.

  “Oh yes we will,” Vinnie said. And she came over to me. Moving exactly as her sister had moved. Then she reached me and plastered herself against me from shoulders to knees, and moved some more.

  Well, maybe we would.

  We were on the bed. I was lying down, Vinnie was bending over me, completing the restoration of my passion by brushing her long hair over my crotch. I think I was moaning. Winnie was sitting next to us, observing.

  Then Vinnie’s mouth was devouring me, slipping and sliding and slurping. I was squirming and clutching at the sheets.

  “She’s good, isn’t she?” Winnie said.

  “She’s … she’s great!” I gasped.

  “Mmmm-hmmm,” Vinnie said.

  “I’m better,” Winnie said.

  “Nnhh-nnhh,” Vinnie said.

  “You’ll see,” Winnie said.

  “Jesus Christ,” I said.

  “She loves that,” Winnie said. “Can’t you tell?”

  “Yesss, mmm, I can, and so do I,” I said. My voice was muffled because my head was buried between Vinnie’s thighs. I was reciprocating. I felt it was my duty. It tasted above and beyond the call of duty.

  “You love that, don’t you, Vinnie?” Winnie said.

  “You know I do,” Vinnie moaned.

  “I love it too,” Winnie said.

  “Wait your turn,” Vinnie said.

  “Why wait?” Winnie said. She tapped me on the shoulder. “Can I do what Vinnie did while you’re doing it to her?” Winnie said.

  I raised my head briefly. I gathered my strength.

  “Not now,” I said. “Please. Not now. Okay?”

  “Oh, damn,” Winnie said.

  “I agree,” I said.

  “Is it in?” Winnie said.

  “Oh yeah, it’s in,” Vinnie said.

  “Is it good?” Winnie said.

  “Hell, yes!” Vinnie—Oh, no. Sorry. That was me.

  “How does it feel?” Winnie said.

  “Ohhhmigod …” Vinnie said.

  “That good?” Winnie said.

  “Ohh migod …” Vinnie said.

  “I told you he’d be big,” Winnie said.

  “Sooo big …” Vinnie said.

  “Good stamina too,” Winnie said.

  “Oh sweet mother Mary,” Vinnie said.

  “Are you gonna come?” Winnie said.

  “Damn lordy fucking Jesus shit daddy,” Vinnie said.

  “Oh, she’s gonna come all right,” Winnie said.

  “Yeeesssssss,” Vinnie said. “Yesss. Nooowwwwwwwwww …”

  Vinnie was experiencing what inspired the Star Spangled Banner. In technicolor. There were bombs bursting in air, rockets’ red glare, the whole red, white and blue bit, and it was all happening between her legs. It was like firecrackers and the Fourth of July for her. For me too.

  “That’s the girl,” Winnie said.

  “Me too,” I said.

  “You’re not a girl,” Winnie said.

  “You know what I mean,” I said.

  “It’s about time,” Winnie said. “It’s my turn now.”

  I barely had the strength to roll Vinnie off me. I was panting like a bellows.

  “My turn,” Winnie said again.

  “I think … we’ll have to … wait a while …” I gasped, lying helplessly on my back.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Winnie said. “I’ll get you ready again.”

  “In no time,” Vinnie said.

  “Lickety-split,” Winnie said.

  “First I have to go to the bathroom,” Winnie said.

  “Me too,” Vinnie said.

  “Don’t you run away,” Winnie said.

  “We’ll be right back,” Vinnie said.

  “No!” I said, trying to get up. “No! Not again! Not together! I’ll never—”

  But it was too late.

  Chapter 24

  WHEN THE TWINS CAME BACK FROM THE bathroom this time I knew I was in trouble. Four bouncing, bobbling breasts, four luscious shapely legs, two freely swinging blond manes, and two wicked, lubricious, determined smiles. And, of course, once again I had no idea who was who.

  In spite of my recent activity with Vinnie, the renewed sight of those two splendid bodies revived my lust, as well as my apprehension. During their brief absence I had consoled myself with the consideration that I could, after all, go ahead and enjoy myself with whomever of the two presented herself as Winnie, without dire consequences. If it was the real Winnie, fine—I would be that far ahead (although I would have to avoid doing it with Vinnie again afterwards). If it turned out to be Vinnie, that could be considered simply a continuation of our initial encounter, after which I would be free either to do Winnie or some other W lady …

  Besides, I figured that Winnie, having given way to her sister earlier, would now be so eager for her turn that she wouldn’t wish to play identity games at this point.

  Wrong again.

  “We both want to play now,” one said.

  “With you,” the other said.

  “Together,” the first one said.

  “No, no,” I said, foolishly holding up a pillow as if for protection, as they advanced to the bed. “Not together. No!”

  “We do everything together,” one said.

  “We’re twins, you know,” the other said.

  “I know, I know,” I said. “Which one is Winnie?”

  “I am,” one said.

  “No, I am,” the other said.

  “We both are,” the first one said.

  “That sounds familiar,” I said.

  By this time they had reached the bed, and as they leapt for me I sprang up as though the sheets were on fire, while the thought flashed through my mind that somehow I had been brought to an incredibly low point. Here I was actually trying to avoid sex with two magnificent, naked and eager young females! What kind of spell did Miss Greenglass have over me anyway? Was winning that wager really worth this?

  But what the hell, I had come this far …

  “Look, ladies,” I said, “much as I’d enjoy it, I can’t do it with both of you. Not together.” I realized I was now holding the pillow over my crotch, the condition of which betrayed the fact that I was ready to do it with somebody. I felt silly. Doggedly I pressed on. “I can do it with one of you,” I said. “If it’s Vinnie again, fine. But Winnie would be better for me, and it is her turn … So who’s Winnie?”

  “I am,” one said.

  “You are not,” the other said.

  “I am too,” the first one said.

  “Don’t believe her,” the other one said.

  “Okay,” I said. “Eenie meenie minie moe.” I nodded at the one my finger had stopped at. “You,” I said. I was taking a chance, but at least I wasn’t breaking any rules. I could find out who she was later, I hoped.

  The one I was pointing at grinned and jumped at me. The other one cried out in protest. “Hey! That’s not fair! She’s already had her turn!”

  Aha.

  Vinnie was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching.

  “I can do that better,” Vinnie said.

  “No way,” Winnie said.

  “Ask him,” Vinnie said.

  “Didn’t I do it better?” Vinnie said.

  “Jesus,” I said. “I don’t know … I … I think it’s a tie …”

  “Watch this,” Winnie said. I was on top of her, recruiting
my strength with an interlude of slow, almost dreamy intercourse. It was my way of recovering from some of the wild contortions she’d been putting me through. Exciting and ecstatic as those activities had been, it was almost equally pleasurable to take her in this easy, rhythmic manner, while her fabulous body rose and fell gently in time with my strokes—writhing and twisting and undulating sweetly beneath me.

  “Watch this,” she said, but what she did then was not something to be seen but to be felt. And I felt it—all along my overworked, happy penis. She was doing something with her vaginal muscles, controlling and contracting them in such a way as to impart a squeezing sensation that traveled with a rippling effect along the length of my cock.

  “Oh Christ,” I said.

  “Vinnie can’t do that,” Winnie said.

  “I can so,” Vinnie said.

  “No you can’t,” Winnie said. Still doing it. “You know you can’t.”

  “I can. I’ve been practicing,” Vinnie said.

  “You still can’t do it like I can,” Winnie said.

  “How do you know?” Vinnie said.

  “Guys tell me,” Winnie said.

  “Guys lie,” Vinnie said.

  “Not about this,” Winnie said.

  “How about it?” Vinnie said to me. “Didn’t I do it for you?”

  “Um … I don’t remember,” I said. A lie. If she had done it, I’d have remembered.

  “Ha!” Winnie said.

  “I’ll do it for you when you’re done with her, then,” Vinnie said.

  I had to avoid that at all costs. “I won’t have the strength,” I said. I speeded up my strokes to curtail this line of conversation. With what Winnie was doing, I wasn’t going to hold out. I began to pump her harder and faster, and Winnie was soon moaning and clutching me with arms and legs, her body bucking satisfactorily.

  “Oh good, she’s close,” Vinnie said. “Hurry up.”