Tangled Twigs On Twisted Branches

Staying back at my family home, after seven years away felt like being an outsider in my own home. My previous visits after finishing Uni four years ago had been short and sporadic, often not even one night and rarely two. So for seven years my family was not used to my being around. That can lead to misadventures. For an involuntary 25-year-old virgin, that led to some exciting and titillating sordid moments, that made me crave so much more.

I was still the nerdy, geeky swot Dad and the twins had always teased and mocked. I didn’t tell them about selling my IT start-up. This was back in the wild-west of the first internet craze. I pretended penury drove me home, not the need to reflect ‘what is next’ and other fulfilment in my life. I didn’t expect to find that in my family.

Growing up had seemed great until I was seven. Then my twin sisters arrived. Things changed for reasons I couldn’t grasp. Dad doted on his babes, the girls, but he scorned Mum. I grew into a nerdy geek and not the sport-jock Dad craved. Hurt by Dad’s disapproval, I was a Mummy’s boy. She was my first sexual fixation, forming my ideal of Rubenesque beauty.

My sisters were only eleven when I left home, and I barely noticed them. Until a family getaway late last summer for the twins' eighteenth birthdays, which had been a few days earlier. I seen them for two years, in which the squeaky little girls had blossomed into pert, peachy and pretty fuck-lovelies. They knew it, flouncing and bouncing around in string bikinis. Dad’s gushing admiration of his precocious babies had become unctuous fawning. But they revelled in it. Emboldened by his indulgence, the twins enjoyed being the spiteful bitches such babydoll looks and nubile bodies allowed.

Empowered by their Dad’s indulgence, they mocked and teased their plump, dumpy Mum and awkward geek of brother. At their urging, Dad had bought Mum and the girls matching bikinis. The thin straps, flimsy cup and tiny gusset could barely contain or conceal Mum’s abundant flesh. I could see it embarrassed Mum wearing it. But rather than say ‘no’, she went along as Dad and the girls humiliated her about her postpartum body.

I tried not to be caught leering at my Mum and sisters at the beach. I kept my new fangled digital camera secret, to enjoy lusting at them in private. Hiding it in a bag, I could see the small screen to sneak revealing photos. A few were of my bold and brazen sisters, confident in their teen perfection, revealed by the tiny bikini.

But I took most of Mum. I made prints of those sneaky snaps, using my commercial-grade printer. I kept them in folders, one each for the twins and Mum to go along with others of my own autoerotic selfie nudes. The one of Mum in particular, fuelled my masturbation every day, and often several times a day.

My home-brew ‘dirty mags’ were my relief for self-soothing. Adult content hadn’t taken off on-line, and I lacked the courage to buy proper girly mags, or stronger stuff. I would walk into a sordid little shop, gaze longingly at the top shelf. But anxiety that one of the other customers or the teller might recognise me consumed me, so I left.

Of course, I had seen the smutty mags the other guys got. All full of thin, pretty young things displaying their maiden, perfect bodies. Hot and horny for sure, but not my first preference. I craved the fuller, more mature body that was still too niche for the mass-market. It took a long time to admit to myself I also liked to look at guys and hard dicks. Or most especially flash of their man-pussy. So I relied on my home brew photos.i

I had a powerful lustful yearning. That last stay before we moved from gave me a sneaky peek that made those stronger. That I could slyly exploit being a stranger in my home for some saucy benefits.

Mum was used to being left home alone. Most days, Dad, and the girls at work or off to weekend events. So she liked having me around again, even if I made her jump with surprise at times. We chatted loads my first few days back. We often sat outside, me in shorts, but Mum, sadly, well covered. She soon interrogated me about my sex life. I can’t lie well to Mum, so she soon had me confess I was still a virgin, even after seven years away. Which she rather liked.

I intermixed my embarrassment with arousal at talking intimately with a woman. Mum was sympathetic. Once she offered her frustrated, incel Son a reassuring touch. When her hand rested on my bare thigh, it gave me a burst of arousal that stirred my cock. Mum couldn’t help but notice the bulging crotch of my shorts, just an inch from the fluttering of her consoling fingers.

“My word, Timmy.” She glanced up at me with a cheeky smirk. “We won’t be having a repeat of the hidden jocks problem, will we.” Back in the day, I had been so embarrassed by my early wet dreams. I stuffed my wet jocks away, but Mum soon wondered why I was running out of underpants. Then the smell became impossible to ignore, even as I protested innocence. It mortified me when Mum, following her nose, found all the damp and very stinky boxers.

Mum was never cruel or judgemental. She reassured me then and again now that it was normal, wet dreams happened. All she asked was that I left the soiled underwear out, just on the floor, say. That way she knew to wash them, and not be left festering in the other laundry.

“I still have, um, happy dreams, Mum.” I confessed. I would rather not admit I was a compulsive masturbator. Besides, a sordid idea sparked in my dirty mind. “A lot. I won’t hide the, um, mess.” I added, bashful. “Promise.”

“Good, it’s best you don’t, not from Mummy.” She stroked my thigh. “I can see you need relief. But please don’t worry about it with me. Best I know, so I can wash them right away.” She smiled.

“Yes, Mummy.” I agreed, as that suited my sordid scheme. I would wank into my jocks, say two or three times a night, knowing Mum would get to pick them up. It would make her feel the extra weight of my cum. She might even make her touch my ejaculate if I smeared it over the shorts. That would be some short of kinky kick for me.

Mum joked she hadn’t bothered to lock the doors when she showered since I left. My family still followed the morning routine, set by Dad. Mum got up to make them breakfast, the girls joining him to work in his business. Or they headed off first thing Saturday to weekend dance events for the girls. Mum giggled admitting that bringing coffee and pastries in bed was needed to remind her to lock the bathroom door.

I gave me an idea. One morning, I hid my watch and wallet on a shelf over the washbasin. I made a show of heading out myself at the same time as the others. But with an excuse to soon turn back. I hoped to catch Mum showering. Believing she was alone, I hoped she might not lock the door.

After a few aborted attempts, one day I made a show of leaving as Mum brought me breakfast. I soon turned back and slinked into the house. The shower was still running. I stood outside the door. It was just pushed-to and not closed. My heart racing, I was frozen in doubt, despite an expectant erection. I still hadn’t seen a woman naked in the flesh, and it consumed my thoughts, but this was a very sly and sneaky thing to do.

But the door was only pushed to.

The shower stopped. I stepped back. It could wait, and I could try this ploy again. But then I felt some precum ooze from my cock. Fuck it, a lifetime of unfulfilled craving to see a woman nude had to end. the roar of the tap I could just enter the bathroom as if by genuine accident. So in I went.

It worked. Mum was fresh out of the shower, wiping it dry. Her fat ass glistened. With a start, she spun round, cloth and squeegee in hand she but could not hide her charms. I stared for a moment, first at her shaven crotch, florid flaps hung loose and lush.

“Timothy, oh my.” She gasped, putting the squeegee down to reach for a towel. Her pendulous udders jiggled enticingly. This was the sexy body my sordid soul had been lusting after for years. Mum couldn’t fail to notice my lascivious gaze. Her eyes clocked my bulging crotch and the tiny damp stain from precum. She stood there for a few seconds, letting me ogle her, before she shook out the towel, with reluctance it seemed.

“Oh, sorry Mum. The shower was not on, nor the door shut.” I spluttered, reaching for my watch and wallet. “Left these, when, um, I changed.” I held them up in emphasis. “Gosh. You looked so beautiful, Mum.” I gushed. Slowly, she let the towel slip to her waist to reveal her lush tits.

“What, these sad saggy bags.” She cupped an udder in each hand, the soft flesh spilling out either side of her palm. I should have looked away, but stood there gawping, lost in lust. Like the frustrated virgin my mother knew I still was. I wanted to rush over, to hug and kiss her. Heck, to at last fuck that fabulous, fleshy female.

“God, yes, Mummy.” I stepped forward, hands reaching out, yearning to clamp on to my Mum’s titanic titties.

“Timothy!” She stepped back, pulling the towel back up. Mum using my full name was always a sign I was in trouble, so I also stepped back. I mumbled as I shuffled out, then rushed away flushed with shame. A few seconds later, I was back in my car, heading off again. That memory Mum of stood there, glistening wet and naked, I could add to the photos. But I cursed myself for being so gauche and clumsy, even as I pulled over as soon as I could and beat myself off.

When I got back, Mum apologised she hadn’t locked or even closed the door. I mumbled. I was sorry for barging in. And that was it, we neither of us said anything more. The watch and wallet were, I was sure, a convincing enough to mask my sly scheme. Mum had, after all, left the door ajar and had taken the blame on herself.

The next few days, my shame at my incestuous voyeuristic plotting eased, but the glorious memory remained. I was so glad I was home for one last stay in our old home. Because I wouldn’t enjoy such naughty moments in the new one. They would soon move, at last, into Mum’s parent's splendid old house. The years of family legal wrangling, over what eluded me, had been settled. There would be rooms to spare, with en-suites for Mum, Dad and each of the twins in the main wing. As a guest, I would have to make do in the other if my stay extended.

A few days later, I was lucky to enjoy almost a reverse of that with Mum, but without needing any contrivance. I had reclaimed my old room from one sister for my stay. To be honest, it seemed they used it more like their dressing room and still shared. It was full of fine, fancy outfits and lingerie Mum could never squeeze into.. The frocks were hung up, makeup crammed onto the dressing table. The sexy, silky and sheer underwear overflowing the drawers stirred my latent transvestic fetish.

Mum and Dad were out and some business trip. The twins would be off soon, to party at some friend's place. Left alone, I planned to do a photo shoot of myself trying on some seductive bra and panties. To add to a new homemade folder for wanking purposes. It would be of myself experimenting with cross dressing in their frilly lingerie. The digital camera, cable remote and home printer had let me enjoy my powerful exhibitionist, autoerotic fantasies. The lingerie let me add autogynephilia to my fetish fantasies.

I had always been strongly attracted to seeing myself nude. I started masturbating lusting at myself in the mirror. Technology meant I could take explicit selfie-nudes, especially of my anus, my secret, forbidden hole. It appealed both to my self-loving exhibitionist and powerful narcissism. It was free and freely available, letting me wank ogling my pretty, pink, puckered pussy, craving to make love to myself. The ultimate masturbation fantasy.

But dressing in the girlie lingerie would make my homemade, man-pussy porn even more arousing to both take and admire. That day, I had showered, douched, and put out some sexy, frilly undies ready. Wanting to a LadyBoy was such a saucy, sordid secret fantasy, expressing it made me horny, God, I always felt horny. Even before I slipped some sultry lingerie on.

I started stroking my cock, impatient to beat off when I should set the camera up. But I needed to enjoy an orgasm, which rushed at me as I ogled the LadyBoy fantasy in the mirror. Then the twins erupted into the room, themselves just in bra and panties. For years, they had free use of this room, never once needing to knock.

“Need to pick a frock, Timmy, for the party…ooh, what are you doing?” The first one said, I never could tell them apart. Seeing me stood there they froze, as did I, in girly undies had my stiff cock in hand, oozing precum. “And wearing.” She demanded, outraged. At that moment, I yearned for the privacy of the new house.

“I think an apology is in order, Izzy. And you know what he is doing, which he can do in his bedroom if it pleases him.” Lizzy responded, looking me up and down.

“It's our silky bra and panties, and so he shouldn’t.” Izzy snapped back. “But yes, sorry, Timmy, it’s your room.” She appraised me as I stood there. “Well, finish or let it go, Timmy.”

“No problem.” I murmured, letting my cock go. It bobbed before settling. I knew I was a closet exhibitionist, so rather enjoyed standing there, rather proud of my erection, and even the cross- dressing. Excitement trumped my embarrassment, emboldened that I wasn’t in the wrong here. Me walking in on them like this, bad. Them walking in on me was not my fault.

So I just there stood, letting them look at me, dressed alike, as I ogled them in return. They had flounced in, ready to pick a fancy gown. I was transfixed, as they giggled, nudging each other and pointing. The skimpy frilly gussets that barely covered their womanhood had no chance with my rigid cock. But there weren’t any wayward pubes poking out of the tiny triangle of their thin silk. Their lacy bras had sheer cups filled, unlike mine, outlining and revealing the dark swelling of their nipples. But they did little to restrain the alluring dance and jiggling of their buxom boobs, which entranced me. It lost me in lascivious lust at the so far, elusive sight of not one, not two, but looking in the mirror, three young women, all nearly naked.

“Like what you see, you little letch.” Izzy snarled, but she struck a coquettish pose.

“Of course.” I murmured, There would be no chance for such delightful views in the new house, so I took my chance now.

“Well, that’s a turn up. Our nerdy brother wants to be a sister. But he is bigger. Oh, so much bigger than dear Daddy.” Izzy’s eyes widened as she stared at my throbbing cock. I was not surprised that they were so familiar with Dads cock. But any rational thoughts were driven away as I admired her taut, gymnasts ass, bare as the pants thong nestled in her butt crack.

“Wow.” I gasped in admiration.

“I have one too.” Lizzy spun round, sticking out her pert, peachy buttocks.

“Sorry, I…well, you came in on me.” I blustered, caught out leering at my sisters. “How do you know? About Dad’s.” I blurted out, waggling my prick, then regretted it. That might open a door to secrets I shouldn’t know.

“Well…” Lizzy glanced at Izzy. “Late last summer after we turned eighteen, Mum finally relented and allowed us to fuck Daddy. We had wanted to but Mum has this weird control over…”

“Don’t blab!” Izzy interrupted her sister.

“Well, he knows we think his dick is bigger than Daddy’s, so I am sure he can put two and two together.” Lizzy gestured at my groin as she rebutted her sister.

“I can’t believe the little pansy packs more than dear Daddy.” Izzy conceded, scowling as she assessed my tumescent manhood. “I prefer the way Daddy’s cock stands upright, at attention, not droopy.” Izzy said, defensive about her Dad’s prowess. My cock still ached, erect, bobbing with each pulse, indeed not upright, but sticking out at three-o’clock, curving down.

“It’s because he is so much bigger.” Lizzy stepped right up to me, cupping my cock in her hand. “And he can get it up without needing to…. well, without Mummy around . Not so pretty and perky perhaps, but heavy, hard and ready to express himself.” She dropped my penis, shaking off the precum as it bounced. I wondered what she meant about Mum, but was in no place to ask questions.

“Well, I also don’t like he is all hairy.” Izzy replied, with a sneer of revulsion. “It sticks out all ugly and used to tickle my nose until we shaved Daddy.” She added. I knew about blow jobs, even if I had never enjoyed one.

“We could shave Timmy, too!” Lizzy suggested, ever the tease. “The kits in the bathroom,.

“No!” I snapped, alarmed at the thought of anyone else plying sharp blades down there.

“It would make you look even bigger, it does for Daddy.” Lizzy retorted. Well, more than my priapic prick was suddenly being revealed, I wanted them to tell me more of this sordid, saucy secret.

“So you shave Dad.” I asked. It thrilled me to have these two nubile women gaze at my manhood, comparing my prowess to Dad.

“We do, for better blow jobs!” Izzy replied shamelessly. “And as we had always been waxed since way back, we do t have waifs and strays.” She gestured at her panties gusset. “Being smooth, Dad’s pubes scratched us when we could fuck him.” She giggled, triumphant. “He can’t bear doing it in that that sloppy snatch any more, so in the end Mummy relented and let us.”

“Izzy! Who’s blabbing now!” Lizzy called out to her sister.

“Oh, like you said, geeky Timmy-she could work it out.” Izzy demurred. “That we are such devoted, doting and dutiful daughters.” She giggled. “Expensive ones too. Why do you think he got us a car each, or all these fancy gowns!” Izzy gestured round the room. “He never even got you a push-bike.” She jabbed me in the chest.

“Lucky him.” I shivered enviously, not so much surprised they were having sex with Dad as that Mum had seemed to know, vetoing it until they turned 18. That was a turn up for the books.

“Well, Timmy, you are impressive, for a geeky femboy. Isn’t he Lizzy.” She gave her sister a nudge that made both pairs of boobs jiggle. She noticed me gazing at her tits. “If you don’t go blabbering you might get a look.” She teased, teasing her her bra cups down with a finger. “Or…” an eyebrow arced with what, in my excited arousal, I took to be a coquettish allure.

“Um, I won’t blab if you won’t, I promise.” I muttered.

“We won’t.” Lizzy agreed, just as a car horn beeped outside. “Fuck, Suki’s here. Hurry!” She hollered out of the window to tell their friends to wait before. They were far too rushed, getting ready to notice me stroking my cock as I watched them, my mind full of unbrotherly ideas. Before rushing out, they grabbed a pair of stocking and heels to put on in the car. The last one out, Lizzy I thought, but had lost track of who was who, turned to blow me a kiss.

I sat, staring at my erection, which had at last been seen by not one, but two girls. Trembling with excitement, I beat myself off until into my hand. Looking at my sticky load of brotherly love, it was, I reckoned, enough for both.v