Twice As Nice Vice.pdf

BEE-6789B Twice As Nice Vice by Don Tsuris

Chapter 1

Fawn was happy to be alone. Her roommate Kelley took a night-school class every Wednesday night,

and for Fawn the chance to be by herself was a pleasure she looked forward to each week. Sometimes

Jeff would come over while Kelley was gone, and Fawn would tease him, dance half-naked in front of

him, finally coax him into fucking her in the bathtub, or under the kitchen table, anywhere to break the

monotony of the bed. But this week Jeff was out of town on a business conference, and all in all it was

just as well with Fawn. She liked being alone once in awhile and had little opportunity for it.

She and Jeff had been going together for nearly a year now, and though she seemed to like him as much

as ever, and though the sex was still pretty good as long as she spiced it up by inventing new places to

do it in, she couldn't help feeling a little stale and weary about the whole thing. Maybe his absence for a

week would inject some kind of new intensity into their relationship. Though frankly, she said to herself, I

really don't miss him all that much. Tonight I'm just going to enjoy the peace and quiet. I'm going to take

a long bath, and wash my hair, and maybe sip a glass of wine and watch TV a little. As soon as Kelley

had gone, Fawn had slipped out of her clothes and into her bathrobe, then fixed herself a leisurely

dinner. After eating, she went into the bathroom and started the tub water, and while she waited for the

tub to fill she piled her thick auburn hair on top of her head and placed a shower hat over it. She did this

because she liked each thing to be separate-first the bath, then the hair washing, then the relaxing glass of

wine. She enjoyed luxuriating in the tub without her hair becoming all wet and stringy and cold, clinging

to her bare shoulders, making her head heavy.

When the shower hat was in place, she took off her robe and looked down at her body. One of the

reasons she enjoyed being alone so much was that it gave her enough time and privacy to examine her

naked body closely. At other times, Kelley's presence, even if the bathroom door was locked, somehow

made her nervous, self-conscious, as if it were somehow wrong or even filthy to touch your own nipples

or run a tender, tickling finger along the moist folds of your own cunt. She was afraid she might shudder

or moan softly, and Kelley would overhear her. Not that she ever masturbated anymore, since she had

no need for that. What with Jeff balling her silly three or four times a week, she never felt the need to

make herself come.

All she really wanted was the chance to look at and touch her own naked body in total privacy, to be

proud of it without having to explain her pride, to investigate the sweet succulent mysteries that made

men, all men, crave her so much, that made Jeff, for instance, groan and sob and twitch with passion

from the moment he touched her bare flesh to the moment he popped and flooded her hungry pussy with

seed. So now that she had the chance, she wasn't going to waste it.

While the hot water crashed into the bathtub, she took a hand mirror and stood with it before the

full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She knew she was lucky to have such a beautiful

body. At twenty-two years old, her flesh was taut and ripe and smooth. Her skin tanned easily, richly,

and since she knew that the contrast between tanned and untanned skin was somehow bewitchingly

sexy, she always kept her body golden and coppery except where her bikini panties and bra protected it

from the sun. There her skin was pate and creamy, marvelously white and tempting, her firm high

buttocks two lovely glowing moons below the incurved sweep of her long bronze back, her young

uptilted breasts two creamy globes of firm fleshy fruit thrusting out above a velvety expanse of flat golden

midriff. She also knew she had extraordinary nipples, large and inviting ones, the aureoles wide circles

that were tinged a deep rose and that swelled up puffily off her breasts like soft, faintly stippled cones,

the centers thick springy nubs that pushed out even further.

She stood before the mirror frontways, sideways, backways, admiring the full perky curve of her taut

ass, the supple tapering of her narrow waist, her firm round breasts, just the right size, the long nipples

swollen and pointing. She ran a hand lightly down the silken skin of her stomach and dipped a finger

playfully into the deep puckered cup of her navel. Every time she touched her navel she couldn't help

remembering her first lover, a boy back in high school, who once in a hot sweat of desire had been

kissing her stomach, going down it slowly and lovingly on his way to her cunt, which he was in the habit

of tonguing and sucking into spasms of delirious joy. But this time, when he reached her navel with his

tongue he began to stab and tongue-fuck it too, going at it so passionately that before either of them

knew it he was coming, squirting warm slimy semen all over her leg and the sheet. Not every girl can

make a man come with only her bellybutton, she giggled to herself.

She ran her hands proudly over the smooth swell of her hips, down to the firm flesh of her tawny thighs,

and dug her fingers gently into their ripe resilience, watching her tanned skin shimmer under each

fingertip, feeling a tiny wince of pleasure as all the nerves of her legs responded. She planted her feet

wide apart, bending her knees slightly, and slipped the hand-mirror between her spread thighs. On one

side the mirror gave back a normal reflection, but on the other side, the side she used, it magnified

everything enormously. With delight and fascination, she gazed down at the huge furry-fringed

pink-lipped slash of her own cunt. The folds of her vulva were dewy and moist, but only half-blossomed,

revealing only tantalizing hints of the slick fiery-red inner cuntmeat they protected. The small

nerve-bundle of her clitoris was still half-hidden beneath its pinkish hood.

Fawn inserted one forefinger-which instantly became gigantic as its reflection appeared in the

hand-mirror-slowly between the lips of her cunt, parting them further, sliding the finger all the way into

the warm greasy depths of her sensitive channel until it was stopped by the last knuckle. Her knees

trembling involuntarily, she rotated the finger, and with her thumb rapidly rubbed her clit until it swelled

and pulsed. "Ohhhnnn!" she gasped.

It felt so good! It felt so good to be doing it herself, and watching it at the same time, especially since the

magnifying mirror made it look like the cunt of a giantess being probed by a monstrous hand, and yet she

felt all the tingling sensations herself. She shut her eyes, whimpering softly, then opened them again and

gazed down once more at the sight. Her cunt was juicing and blossoming readily now, and she could get

two fingers fully into it, but her other hand shook so badly, her breath came so fast, that she could hardly

hold her position or keep the hand mirror in place. Hastily, she placed it flat on the floor and squatted

over it, digging softly in her flowing pussy with two hands now, shivering uncontrollably, noticing her

glazed eyes in the door mirror, surprised to see her long nipples tight and erect. Oh god, I think I'll do it!

I think I'll do it, I'm going to do it! "Ahhnnn ... anngghh ..." she heard the sounds coming from her

throat. Her whole body flushed and melting with hot tremors, her mind reeling happily, urgently with the

decision she had made to bring herself off, to make herself come right here, like this, where she could

watch it all, if she could only keep her feverishly fluttering eyelids open, she at first didn't notice the water

on the floor. But suddenly her bare knees felt wet, shocking her out of the giddy sexual delights that

poured through her. Then the water poured over the mirror itself, and she gasped, and turned her head,

and saw it spilling rapidly over the edge of the tub.

Oh shit ... oh goddamn it! "SHIT!" she shouted, hearing her voice echo against the tile walls even over

the loud whoosh of the spilling water. Quickly she jumped to her feet and shut off the faucets, yanked

up the plug. But it was already too late. The floor of the bathroom was submerged in water.

Gritting her teeth, her eyes filling briefly with angry tears at her own foolishness, Fawn snatched towels

from every available rack and began mopping up the mess. She wrung out the wet towels over the

emptying tub, then sopped up more water, so angry and busy at the task that at first she failed to hear

the doorbell. Then, when it rang again, and she finally heard it, she only grew angrier. "GODDAMN IT!"

she shrieked.

She flung the wet towels to the floor and headed for the front door, finding herself halfway down the hall

before she noticed that she was still totally naked. She leapt back to the bathroom for her robe, slipped

into it, then tried to control her fast breath and her rage as she walked down the hall again to the door.

"Oh, it's only you," she sighed irritably, finding her brother Eric there when she opened it.

Ordinarily Eric would have made a quick joke to relieve her irritation. But the look on his face said that

he felt even more down than she did at the moment. "Only me," he said. "Can I come in?" "You can if

you're good with a mop," she said, closing the door behind him.

But Eric was so distracted he didn't seem to hear her. He stalked into the living room, nervous, jumpy.

"Have you got anything to drink around here?"

"I think there's some Scotch in the kitchen. And maybe some wine." Fawn pulled off the shower hat and

shook her thick mane of hair back over her shoulders, knowing now it would be a while until she got to

her bath.

"I'll take the Scotch."

"What's the matter, Eric?" With him following her, she went into the kitchen and poured him his drink,

which he grabbed and gulped thirstily.

"Danika," he growled. "She's been ... making it with another guy. For nearly two months. But I only

found out about it tonight." "Oh no." With instinctive sympathy for her brother, Fawn reached out a hand

and stroked his forehead tenderly. "Oh, Eric, I'm sorry." Eric gave a bleak shrug. He drained his glass

and handed it back to her, and she refilled it with the pale golden liquor. "Aren't you going to have one

with me?" he asked. "You don't want me to get drunk all alone, do you?" He gave her a forlorn wink,

pretending toughness to mask his misery.

"I don't want you to get drunk at all." But as she looked into his eyes and saw the pain there, and then

thought of her own foolishness moments ago in the bathroom, she was very tempted to join him. Not to

get drunk, but just to have a few drinks and forget about everything for a little while. Help him forget.

She know he probably wanted to talk about what a bitch his wife Danika was to do this to him, and she

wouldn't have any trouble agreeing with him there. Long ago she had suspected something like this

would happen, for her woman's instincts told her that Danika was a prick-happy little flirt who could

never be happy with only one man at a time. Danika was a small dark-haired girl with flashing eyes, long

natural eyelashes, lovely high cheekbones, a full sensual mouth, and a sexual aura that filled any room she

came into with mysterious, murky invitations. For her small size she had a beautifully curvaceous body,

and stunning long legs, and from the beginning Fawn had thought Eric was in for trouble in marrying her.

Now that Danika had finally gone and betrayed him, maybe it was time for Fawn to play straight with

her brother. She would try not to say 'I told you so,' but it wouldn't hurt to listen, to give him some

support, and it would get her mind off that silly fiasco she'd been performing in the bathroom.

"Come on," Eric joked again, winking through his sadness. "What kind of party is it with only one

drunk?"

Fawn smirked at him. "Why not." She took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with ice and Scotch,

then clinked it against his and drank. They took the bottle with them into the living room and sat down,

Fawn on the sofa, Eric in one of the easy chairs, and he began predictably to tell her about Danika's

bitchiness, how she had not only been fucking around behind his back, but doing it with one of his best

friends. He launched into a long, morose, bitter, increasingly tipsy tirade, and Fawn listened dutifully,

drinking along with him and nodding at the right moments. The Scotch made her warm and tingly, but as

time wore on she began to wish that her bathrobe was made out of some other fabric than satin, because

it was so slippery. It was hard enough to keep the skirts over her thighs and knees, but even worse was

the constantly loosening sash. Whenever she moved it loosened more, and her firm outthrusting breasts

pushed against the front part of the robe until the neck-lapels were gaping wider and wider, revealing

more and more of her smooth tanned upper chest.

Her feelings were complicated even more by the delicious sensation of the cool slippery satin against her

warm, tingling skin, rasping softly across her sensitive nipples, rustling smoothly against the skin of her

inner thighs when she modestly tucked it there. She contemplated making an excuse and getting up to

change, but it felt so good and she was so warm and tingly, she really couldn't decide. In front of her

brother she felt very modest, but at the same time remarkably relaxed, especially since he was so

obsessed by his wife's betrayal of him that he hardly paid Fawn the slightest attention.

After a while, as Eric droned on and on about Danika's infidelities, Fawn didn't really hear him anymore.

Instead she simply stared at him, feeling pleasantly giddy and warm, and soon fell into a sort of trance in

which she found herself dreamily remembering herself and her brother as kids, as teenagers, swimming,

laughing, dancing, playing tennis together, dating each other's friends. The warm, happy feelings and

images bubbled through her, and she yielded to them totally. It all seemed so long ago.

She recalled one time when she was sixteen and had lost her skimpy bikini bra while diving into the

family swimming pool. Embarrassed and panicky, she had surfaced squealing, splashing, searching for it,

but Eric, laughing outrageously, had jumped into the pool and scooped it up before she could reach it.

Still laughing, he had climbed out and sat on the edge of the pool, dangling it from one hand, refusing to

return it until she emerged half-naked from the pool, her arms crossed nervously over her bare young

breasts. She could still recall the look in his eyes as he boldly tried to peak through the angles of her

elbows and forearms for a glimpse of her nipples. And it gave her a sharp butterfly tickle in the pit of her

stomach to remember how, just before snatching the bra back from his extended hand, she had flung her

arms to the sides, giving him a full shot of what he wanted to see. Poor Eric's eyes had flashed as big as

saucers.

And that scene made her recall another. She remembered what a beautiful man's body Eric had, all

bronzed and hard and muscular, his hair bleached red-gold from the sun, his arms and legs sinewy and

strong, his shoulders broad and powerful. She remembered how, when swimming with him, her eyes

were constantly, shamefully drawn to the bulge made by his penis and balls in his tight swim trunks, how

she always tried to look at his crotch when he was looking somewhere else. She had told herself it was

only natural curiosity, and mostly tried to conceal her desire to look from herself as much as she did from

him, but apparently he had once or twice caught her gazing with hypnotic adolescent fascination at his

crotch. For one afternoon when she walked past his bedroom, there he was, sitting on the edge of his

bed, facing the open door, his naked thighs spread and his long thick tube of penis hanging there in all its

glory for her to see. And she had stopped, raising her fist to her mouth in delighted surprise, and stared

at his prick until of its own accord it began to swell and rise and thump with blood. Then, with a nervous

giggle and a very hot face, she had turned and fled down the hall.

Nothing more than these two incidents had ever happened between them, but now as Fawn

remembered it all she felt the same guilty flutterings and sharp tremors of heat in her body that she'd felt

then. She squirmed and felt dazed and too warm, and she drifted back toward conscious awareness and

noticed that Eric's droning voice had stopped. Then she saw his eyes, saw that he was sunk in some

kind of trance, too, saw him staring at her, but not at her face, no, lower, lower, at her body, and she

glanced down and saw that the sash of her bathrobe had come completely undone, probably because of

her unconscious squirming. The robe had fallen open, and her body was exposed from her throat to the

top glistening fringe of her pubic hair.

Flushing with embarrassment, trying to regain quick control of her wits, she pulled the robe shut. "Oh, I

... I don't know what happened to me!" she said breathlessly.

"Don't," Eric croaked quietly, his eyes briefly pained as the satin closed across the naked delights of her

body.

"Eric!" she said, as if to shame him. But her voice was not convincing.

"Please don't."

"Eric, I'm your sister." Across her mind flashed the image of his thick ropey adolescent penis thumping

and filling with blood. What must it be like now that he was a man? The thought horrified her. What am I

thinking like that for! I've got to stop it! He's got to stop it! Eric shook his head, as if to clear it, as if to

wake himself up, and grinned at her. "That's right, you are. I guess I almost forgot. For a minute there I

think ... well, I was remembering that time I stole your bikini top."

Fawn blushed hotly. "You were?" she said, her voice quivering beyond control.

"I'll never forget it. You were beautiful even then, but now ... now-" "Eric. I think we'd better change the

subject." Fawn's blood was thundering against her ears, her skin was hot and prickly, her mind in a

confused whirl. She felt so close to something dangerous that she didn't know quite what to do. The best

thing, she figured, was simply to take charge right now, not to let it happen again. They were both a little

drunk, but he more than she, so it was up to her. Acting firmly, she tightened the sash of her robe and

stood up. "I think I'd better change, get into something else. Don't you?"

"No." He grinned, his eyes murky, friendly but dead serious. "I mean," Fawn's voice faltered, "we'll both

feel better if there isn't any chance of ..." But she couldn't go on.

"Of what?"

"You know very well what." She looked down at him and wondered how he could be so calm about it.

She was breathing so hard that her chest was heaving, which only made him more interested in the sight

of her plump nipples floating under the shiny satin.

Eric's eyes flickered with bold, half-drunk ironies. "Tell you what. Look at it this way. If you're my

sister, and I'm your brother, then we're both really the same flesh, right? We came from the same

mother, we've got the same genes and tissues and ..."

He fell silent, and they both laughed nervously. Meanwhile, Fawn had not budged a step since she had

stood up. "Well, I guess I've heard everything now," Fawn said, trying to match his calm irony. "No you

haven't," Eric said. His voice too was now getting thick, clotted with excitement. "Why don't you show

me yourself just once more, before you change? Just for family's sake."

"Why should I?" My god! Fawn thought. What am I doing? I'm teasing him.

I'm just making it worse!

"Because I want to see you. You're lovely."

"Lovelier than Danika?" she whispered softly, growing more ashamed of herself by the second. For the

first time she let her eyes wander to the crotch of his pants and saw the huge swelling there. "Lovelier

than anybody. I swear."

"All you want to do is see me?"

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