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Volume IAlthough I may sound prejudiced, before meeting the twins, I imagined that all Transandinas were blonde, with clear eyes, and an attractive bust. Partly due to what came on national television. But also, it justified it by the cultural heritage they received from the old continent: colonization by Italian merchants, which is evident in the large number of squares in the capital and later, after the war, the flight of Germans. However, Marisol reminded me that beans are cooked everywhere and Nery and Susana are a clear example of this. They have black hair and very smooth skin, with an elegant figure: not much backside, but enough to desire giving it a small pinch or squeezing it to check if it's as firm as it appears; a thin waist, since Nery trots and Susana takes care of her food intake; a normal, parabolic, spongy, and very firm bust, and long, muscular legs. Their faces are also pleasant: black eyes very beautiful; small and tender noses, perfectly proportioned; fleshy lips, although their skin is as white as Marisol's, when we received them at the airport they were slightly bronzed. Their exit from the plane was just as impressive as the arrival of royalty, and both men and women stopped to contemplate them. And it wasn't for nothing, since they are identical twins and wore the same outfit: white high-heeled shoes; a thick, navy blue skirt that reached below the knees and highlighted their rear end well; a white shirt with no sleeves or collar and a moderate neckline; carmine lipstick; dark glasses; and a white hat with a black ribbon around it. However, when they saw us, they looked at each other and smiled mischievously, almost trotting to where Marisol, the little ones, and I were waiting for them. It was a peculiar moment, since the twins remained silent, smiling expectantly until I said something, as Marisol still can't recognize them unless they're naked.
But I was truly amazed by them, thinking they must have planned it with great anticipation and honestly, I couldn't tell them apart.
The skirt and shoes are more suitable for Susana's elegant attire; while the more revealing shirt and hat form part of Nery's style for dressing up.
Therefore, the methodology I used last summer when we met became quickly obsolete: high heels and long skirts prevented me from appreciating the subtle differences in muscle structure between their legs; both were equally anxious to see us, so their postures didn't help me define their personalities, and finally, their glasses once again obstructed my scrutiny of their gazes.
However, bad habits don't die easily...
What a shame you're still biting your nails, Nery! was the only thing I said.
Nery! Susana protested, indignant.
Excuse me, Susi... but I was nervous...
I took advantage of positioning myself between them to prevent them from fighting. Come on, girls! It was just luck! I told them, hugging their waists. I said it because it cost me too to break that bad habit... but it's good to know you also go for a run, Susana.
She responded with a timid and confused Thanks!, while I took the opportunity to lightly pat those monumental behinds, in front of my wife's mischievous smile.
What big ones your girls have, Mari! Hi, little one! Nery said after greeting my wife and taking hold of the more sociable of my daughters.
Susana, on the other hand, was still contemplating me silently.
We accompanied them to retrieve their luggage and left the airport terminal. It was late. Their flight arrived at 18:45, so it had already gotten dark and Adelaide's nightlife was starting to bloom.
Since we were with the little ones and Nery was so entertained by my friendly
Gordita, Susana sat down as copilot and Marisol, my daughters, and Nery sat down behind. 'And what's the reason for your visit, girls? Because I imagine that the surf in Waingapu must be very good.' I asked, trying to contain my smile.
During Sunday, while we cleaned the room they would occupy, Marisol asked me to act as if I didn't know she had already borrowed it. Susana gave a brief confused glance at her sister and argued timidly. 'Well... you know that this is... the best wave season, down here...' whispered nervously.
I maintained my poker face because apart from knowing that wasn't true and if they really wanted to find the best waves, I would have gone to Perth, nor had I brought their professional surfboard. 'And you, Nery?'
She laughed. 'If I'm honest... it was because I missed you...' 'Nery!' her sister scolded again.
We kept talking. The two girls, after graduating, entered the workforce thanks to their father's influences: Nery as a journalist in a magazine and Susana as an assistant radiologist at a hospital in Naples (and fortunately, they weren't very affected by the recent earthquake) and live together in an apartment.
'And how have you been doing in love?' I asked, looking mockingly at Susana. 'I haven't done well...' she sighed. 'You know: many reports and exams, calibrating the machine and a reverend pain... but at least Nery has a boyfriend.'
Nery jumped up instantly, scaring my chubby one a bit.
'You've already said it's not your boyfriend, Susi!' she replied, embarrassed, as if excusing herself to me. 'Antonio is just a fuck... to lower the fever and nothing more.'
Finally, we arrived at our home, which they contemplated impressively and congratulated me on it, regardless of my explanations that the company had lent it to me.
We put the little ones to bed around 8, who were yawning and rubbing their eyes, while the girls settled into the bedroom that Marisol and I had prepared dinner for them. We were savoring my famous vegetable omelette (which fortunately, the twins also enjoyed), talking about what our lives had been like since this year, until Marisol suddenly made the following comment. What a good thing you came, girls! I was very worried because I want to watch the song festival on TV and now that you're here, you can take my husband out and keep him entertained tonight. Although the two of them smiled, Susana also thought it was slightly strange. Marisol sometimes gets nostalgic attacks about our homeland (in fact, she got quite angry when she found out that our selection not only won the Copa Améyummy but also made a magnificent goal before the big final), but I knew this festival wasn't her interest. Although it had paralyzed the country in the past with great artists on stage, today the festival has lost importance and I thought it was a cheap excuse from my wife, which worried me. After dinner, we suggested they go to bed and try to sleep, so they could get used to our time zone, while Marisol and I took care of the dishes. That's when I confronted her. Marisol, are you pregnant? I asked, washing the plates. No, why? Do I look fat? Although she stopped drying and palpated her face in a very funny and worried way, I remained serious and continued questioning her. Did you do something wrong?... Do you have a lover? I asked with great fear the second one. Marisol looked at me more and more confused. No, my love! I've been faithful to you! What's going on? It's because the last time you didn't let me sleep with you and made me sleep with another woman, you knew you were pregnant and tried to escape. She blushed slightly and smiled sweetly at me. No, my love! I'm not pregnant, nor do I have a lover!... Look at me well in the eyes! she demanded. I approached and contemplated her precious emeralds with attention. I won't think about escaping either! she exclaimed energetically, not blinking at all, knowing that she blinks longer when she lies to me. Then, what's wrong? Why are we doing this? She dried her hands and lowered her gaze. It's just... I get very excited... my love. She whispered softly. What is it? That they desire you. She responded, looking at me honestly in the eyes. It makes me very hot to know they want to do things with you. I caressed her beautiful face, quite moved. But Marisol, you know that the things I do with them, I like doing them more with you. She made a confused puchero... I know, my love, and I'd like to explain it better!... but I can only say it makes me very hot. She replied, breaking into tears. But why, Marisol? Try to give me an explanation! I consulted, very worried about her. I have read many stories of men who enjoy when their women cheat on them. But the opposite doesn't seem so common, probably due to prejudice and stigma that can be endured. However, I am happily married and in love with my wife, and while I don't deny it's pleasant to get involved with girl after girl, at times like these, I feel more distant from my spouse, and that's why I needed an explanation from her. I don't know, my love! she replied, crying despondently. I think about what they would like to do to you... and I have to touch myself... But Marisol! I tried to calm her down, quite distressed. If you asked me, I'd touch you... But it's not the same! She raised her voice slightly, with desperation. Then, I focused on her shirt: her nipples were visible hard and well-placed. It can't be! I exclaimed, lightly palpating them. The contact was so fleeting that for a moment, I thought I had given Marisol a shock. No, my love! Don't touch me, please! She replied, turning around ashamed. “Don't look at me like that!”
“Lark, calm down!” I asked, touching her shoulder. “I just want to understand you a little... and you're my wife... and I need to know what's going on with you... Please, let me look at you!”
She continued crying, covering her face, but agreed to turn around.
“Please! Please, my love! Don't think badly of me! Don't think that I'm...”
“I don't think anything, Marisol!” I interrupted. “For me, this is unusual. It's just that and that's why I want to look at you... so I can understand what's going on with you.”
She smiled when she saw me looking at her with the same respect we have as friends and agreed to undress a few buttons.
Her breasts looked impressive: her nipples were extremely swollen and even her bust was slightly more lifted.
I caressed them lovingly and they felt quite warm.
“God, Marisol! I've never seen you so excited!”
She closed her eyes and rubbed her waist against the sink counter, while I continued to caress and play with her nipples, which left me very impressed.
But I didn't miss the movement she was making with her pubic area. It seemed like she was trying to masturbate herself on the sink without much success.
“Stop, heart! Please! I can't take it anymore!” She implored, whimpering in a tender and excited way.
“Marisol, do you let me see under your skirt?” I asked with considerable curiosity.
She responded frightened...
“No, my love! Don't look there!... You'll think badly of me!” she sobbed very distressed.
I caressed her cheek again, wiping away some tears.
“Of course not, Marisol!” I replied, smiling sadly for her. “I wanted to marry you because you're different and you should understand that for me, seeing you like this is a great surprise.”
Not very convinced and avoiding my gaze, she agreed to lift up her skirt and what I finally found exceeded my expectations.
Warm my wife with my fingers. I've seen her hot for me. I've also seen her get excited and masturbate while watching English football players. But I had never seen her like that before.
That day, she was wearing cotton briefs in white, with a pink belt at the height of her stomach. However, they were so soaked that I could distinguish some of her public hairs and pale skin, along with her slit, as if they had been wet by water.
She was so hot that she was flowing slightly down her porcelain leg, while the base held so much liquid it seemed to be bursting from being inflated.
Excuse me, my love! Don't look! I don't want you to think I'm...!
Peculiar! I interrupted again, so she wouldn't say the word with the R that bothers her most. Don't you feel uncomfortable like this, all wet?
My wife moved her head energetically up and down, happy that our connection was strong enough not to need words.
Would you let me see you, Marisol? I asked, too tempted by curiosity and kneeling at her feet. As you said, I've never seen you like this before and it must be very uncomfortable. Don't you mind, right, Nightingale?
No, my love! Please don't do that! It's already giving me so much shame to see you! she said.
I know Marisol for years and I think I recognize her Nos very well. There are some that she says out of anger and are intransigent. Others that are more flirtatious and hide their shame in the end. And there are other Nos, like this one, that are spoken but leave it up to my discretion.
I slowly lowered her pantyhose and she complained without opposing or looking at me. She knows I won't force her to do something she dislikes, because first of all, she's still my best friend, and now her body is just as much mine as mine is hers.
The wonderful aroma of her juices easily tripled.
And have you been like that all afternoon? I asked, appreciating how even her little button seemed to pulse and contract on its own.
Yes! she whispered, in a low voice. Since I saw them leave the airport. What if I dedicate myself to you, Marisol? Does that relieve you a bit? No, my love! It's enough already! Please, don't look at me like that! Once again, I didn't want to listen to her. I knew it was embarrassing for her to admit it, but her vagina seemed to implore for a couple of fingers inside her. I slid my index and middle finger over the rosaceous and humid surface and watched as my wife stretched slightly upon feeling my contact. Please, Marisol! Let me see if I can help relieve you! I begged, forcing my fingers into her crevice. She bent her left knee slightly, leaning on the furniture with her hands and lifting her face, overwhelmed by relief. Your fingers are so long and rich, love, she commented, carried away by pleasure. The suction between her legs was supernatural, and the volume of her juices was considerable, flowing even to my elbow. Even her viscosity caught my attention, noting that the strings left between my fingers were much stickier than those I'm normally used to seeing on her. I inserted my fingers and pulled them out slowly, while Marisol emitted soft Mhmm!s loaded with pleasure. I was still impressed by the amount of fluids my wife secreted, and her little button looked more rosaceous, ostentatious, and swollen than usual. I could feel the shivers that occurred to my thrush while I was fingering her, and she, unconsciously, started rubbing her breasts more and more, with long sighs and trying to squeeze above her shirt where her nipples were located. The sensation between my fingers was quite special: it was so wet that at times her soft skin seemed like silk, and her vaginal lips really seemed to swallow my fingers with their contractions. After a good hour or so of masturbating her, probably about an hour and a half, and seeing that they weren't helping in the situation of my wife, I decided to let her rest for a moment. Her breathing was Quite agitated and her face completely flushed, while her breasts were still visibly excited, despite the moment when she finally let go and leaned against the kitchen counter with her hands, allowing my fingers to glide along her waist in sync with mine. “I think this isn't working out, Marisol. I'll try with my tongue.” I warned. “No, my love!... Please!... Ah!... Aah!... Detach yourself!... Aah!” But Marisol remained very excited. I grasped her plump thighs and delicately and devotedly sucked her savory juices, causing my wife to lean her femininity closer to my face. I licked her making circles on her rosy pussy, causing my wife to bite her lips and narrow her eyes. More and more juices flowed onto the reception of my tongue and it didn't tire at all, occasionally suffering powerful spasms that made her contort in search of true mouthfuls of air. But regardless of how far I slid my tongue into her interior, Marisol's situation seemed far from climaxing. Her palpitating and eager little button also appealed to my attention and I gave it a few occasional sucks that were very well received by my wife, along with some soft bites on her lips and thighs, which increased her excitement even more. After licking her incessantly for about 3/4 of an hour and seeing that the only thing I had achieved was making Marisol cry a little and cover her lips in saliva, with exhaustion that seemed to encompass completely her lungs, I decided to use the last trick up my sleeve. “Do you mind if I try this, please?” I asked, caressing my erect member. “You're still very wet and I'd like to give it a shot.” She contemplated my complete erection, but didn't comment. I imagine she also knew we would end up doing this. “It's just to see if this calms you down a bit more, nightingale!” I commented, presenting my swollen head between her lips. She looked at me Tired, but eager to try my mouth and a hug, as we melted into a kiss, I started putting it in and taking it out.
It was so lubricated that I didn't take too long to put it all the way in and its interior felt incredible.
I noticed she wasn't moaning at all. Her gaze, precious otherwise, shone with peace and gentleness, occasionally narrowing her eyes as she entered her interior.
We kissed with true affection, and it's no surprise that my hands were squeezing, pinching, massaging, and ultimately, violating her appetizing breasts, while she silently complained in my mouth.
I felt anxious for her and started taking more and more of her buttocks, making her sigh and kiss me spectacularly.
We desired each other wildly, with her imprisoning her bouncing breasts on my chest and rubbing our bodies in a magnificent way, we ended together in a marvelous orgasm, savoring once again our mouths.
Seeing herself satisfied but also ashamed, she let me give her caresses.
That was great! I said to her. Do you get like that every time I do it with someone else?
She smiled timidly.
Some times... but don't you think I'm...?
Exceptional? Incredible? Unique? I interrupted her, stealing another wonderful smile from her.
We tidied up a bit and returned to our bedroom. I wanted to ask her to do it again, but she looked tired and didn't have the heart to force her anymore.
However, this way I could understand her view of this matter a little better.
I imagine you're with someone else... and I start touching... she said, hiding her hand under the sheet.
But why? You know you drive me crazy! I asked, shocked to see how she was stimulating herself with her own fingers.
And you too!... but when I touch myself... it's like taking a little away from my thirst...
What thirst are you talking about?
THAT ONE! she replied, pointing to her chin. direction to my member. 'From feeling you as you move inside me... and my fingers... and my fingers...' I thought it was amazing that I was reaching an orgasm in this way, if I was so close and eager to calm her down. Entering her eyes more and licking her lips, she was softly moaning. Her breasts, dazzling, were still shaking freely under the camisón and the only reason they weren't jumping at me was because I wanted her to explain. She had another orgasm that cut off her breath. After recovering from the breathlessness and looking at me again, she continued. 'My fingers are not... like yours... and when I put them in... I want to put more and more...' 'Wow!' 'Please don't think you don't like me!' she exclaimed, very worried about my reaction, but didn't stop stimulating herself.' It's just that... as if I'm satisfied with a spoonful of sugar... knowing I have a cake saved in the refrigerator, do you understand?' Although it was quite exciting to see my wife touching herself in this way, I was more touched by Marisol's words, which always use food metaphors to express her feelings. 'So... would you like me to buy a smaller comforter?' I asked confused. 'No! No!' she replied again. 'It's just that when I see you... I already want to devour you with kisses... and when I know you've been with someone else... it's to eat you whole.' But although it was exciting to see her touching herself, I wanted to hug my friend, so I took her by the shoulder and held her hand. 'What do you think?' 'I feel a little jealous...' she said. She turned to look at my face, slightly flushed. 'Why... I only think of you when I touch myself...' 'And that confuses me a bit... because when you're with me, you don't seem so excited.' I replied. 'But I suppose we'll have to fix it together. As long as you feel happy and doesn't affect our married life, I will put the balls down...' And after kissing each other a little and hugging each other a bit more, we... We accommodated for sleeping, with me teasing the sensual tiny ass of my wife, while my hands rested peacefully on her breasts.Next post
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