That brings me to Mom. Mom is beautiful. If Victoria’s Secret ever started a line for women in their late thirties, Mom could grace the cover. I do not know if Dad has ever noticed, but I have seen looks of despair touch her features. Dad does not see it, but Mom wants more. She wants to experience pleasures that cannot be achieved thru common missionary sex. A month ago Dad had some porno magazines in the back of his car. Now, don’t jump to the wrong conclusion, these were magazines the newly saved gave him to destroy. He has a fifty-five gallon barrel set aside to do the deed. On this particular day, there was a major storm so Dad brought what he referred to as ‘The Devils Work’ into his study. Normally he would not have done this, but he had a meeting with the Elders of the church later and they would take his car after the meeting to get coffee. He did not want such filth around them.
When he was gone, I happened to walk by his office. Mom did not see me and would have been mortified if she had, but I saw her glancing thru some of the evil pictures. I was only four feet behind her but she was so engrossed with what she viewed I might as well have been on Mars. She paid particular attention to a picture of some guy licking this ladies pussy. I stood motionless and watched Mom’s hand as it slid under her undies and began fingering herself. To be honest, such images were as new to me as they were to Mom. She glanced thru several magazines, paying particular attention to the females getting licked and fingered. It did not matter whether it was male or female chowing down, Mom seemed to enjoy the idea of getting her pussy eaten. There was one showing a dude sticking his prick up some ladies ass. She appeared to be as interested in that as all the others. I turned and left the area. My timing was perfect. Fifteen seconds later, Mom walked out.
Sure enough the next day the storm passed and every magazine was burned. Dad made certain he turned the ashes so there was no chance a dirty photo might escape.
That brings me to my sister. My older sister. Two minutes and eight seconds older to be exact. We are identical twins. Growing up we wore the same clothes, went to the same school, had the same piano teacher, and ate the same meals. I could go on and on about how family and society went to great extremes to see everything about us was as balanced and equal as humanly possible. Just know this: the world went out of its way to be certain anything that happened was exactly the same for me as it was for her.
Many times as identical twins mature, certain differences show up. Not us. Since our genetics was exactly the same, our environment was exactly the same, and our experiences were exactly the same, there was no room for any difference to squeeze its way in.
I am going to describe my sister to you, and in doing so, give you a perfect description of me. Her name is Angelica. (Mine is Angelina.) Angelica is eighteen years old, has the deepest, bluest eyes imaginable and a perfect completion.