“Skinny dipping? Are you out of your mind? We're in public in case you haven’t noticed. What if someone comes along?”

“It’s nearly dark, so what if they do?” My identical twin Mary Helen sat on a convenient root to slip off her Superga chambray sneakers. “All they’ll see is a couple of girls in the water. They won’t know that we’re de-liciously nekkid.”

“Ha. And what if they decide to go swimming too?”

“We’ll just keep our boobs under the water and outwait them,” Mary Helen said unflappably. “Besides which, we’ll probably spot anyone coming down the trail in the twilight and as soon as it’s dark anyone who does come won’t see us. Come on, Sarah Beth. For once in your life get the broomstick out of your butt and let’s swim! I’m sweating like a virgin in an Ann Summers novel.”

So we compromised. I will explain that whenever I don’t want to do something, and Mary Helen does, and we decide to do the thing that Mary Helen wants – as we always do – she calls that a compromise. So it was that I found myself treading water quite naked in the sandpit that serves our neighborhood as a convenient swimming hole. At least Mary Helen was right about the twilight. It was fast getting dark and anybody walking by probably wouldn’t even notice us.

And the water was so cool and refreshing. What could possibly go wrong?

That’s when I noticed something moving on the bank.

“Mary Helen,” I hissed. “Someone is trying to steal our clothes!”

She peered into the gloom and suddenly shouted “Hey! Get away from there! Then to me, “It must be some of those bratty boys. I can’t believe their parents would let them out so close to dark.” She noisily splashed towards shore shouting all the way, not even caring that she wasn’t wearing any clothes.

It was then that I saw that those moving shadows weren’t human at all.

“They’re hogs, Mary Helen! Feral hogs. Watch out! Those things are mean!” I’d heard that they haunted the woods and brush around here but had never actually seen one.

Mary Helen yelled and splashed, trying to scare the swine away but it was no use. The beasts were too absorbed with rooting through our clothes, grunting and squealing as they fought over the tasty tidbits. I sprinted to the bank and bounded out waving my arms and shouting in my dripping birthday suit. That caught their attention. Glittering malevolent eyes fixed me in their glare and the nearest boar tossed his head and stamped. I suddenly remembered the diseases one could get if impaled by a tusk and hastily flopped backwards into the water - not because I was scared of a bunch of damned pigs. It was because I wanted to. 

Mary Helen hooted derisively.

Twenty minutes later two buck naked girls, boobs and bottoms gleaming in the fading light, forlornly contemplated the remnants of the porcine feast. The only recognizable scraps were half of Mary Helen’s bra, the collar of my University of Houston tee shirt, and two sets of sadly chewed sneakers.

At this point there was a short pause while Mary Helen intensely voiced her opinion of all hogs, feral and otherwise.

“Now that you’ve had your say,” I said after her little tirade was finished, “what are we going to do?”

“Go home, of course, but I think we might want to wait until it’s darker. At least we have our sneakers. Sort of.” Those Superga’s looked more like Supergags now. “We can cross the field easily enough. All we have to do is walk in the grass and no one will hear us, but if anyone’s on the path we’ll be able to hear them first and hide.”

“And after we’ve crossed the field?” I asked. “It’s still six blocks to our house.”

“We’ll sneak down the street. If we see anyone coming we can hide behind a fence or in some bushes. Nothing could be simpler! Stop worrying. Everything will be fine.”

“It had better be,” I threatened darkly, “because if it looks like we’re about to be caught I’m going to throw you out as a sacrifice and run for it.”

I rummaged around until I found a sturdy stick that I could use to fend off deadly creatures lurking in the night and felt ready to go.

The coast was clear. We slipped silently into the meadow from the cover of the thin band of trees surrounding the sandpit. I used my left hand to cover my boobs and my right hand to cup my crotch but the sad poverty of human anatomy left me wanting another hand or so to carry my stick and such. I had to make do. We waddled hunched over, stopping every few steps to “Hst!” and peer around the darkness and listen, afraid that a frat party would suddenly materialize with us in the middle as maids of honor.

Soon we were halfway across and nearing the only stand of saplings in that nearly naked expanse of grass and scrubby bushes. When we were but a few yards away Mary Helen stopped short and I plowed into her from behind. I gently remonstrated by shoving her in the back.

“Shut up!” she hissed, gesturing emphatically. “There’s someone in the trees.”

In an instant we were flat on our tummies behind a scraggly clump of muhly grass that would not have hidden a bunny but was perfect for a Gila monster. Texas does not have Gila monsters but if we did they would lurk in muhly grass. I am certain of it.

Voices came to us. Voices that I knew.

“Isn’t that Emmy Hartman?"  Mary Helen breathed.

“Yes, and Brian Thompson, too.” I hissed through gritted teeth.

Why was I annoyed? How about because Brian had been pressing hard to date me and get me into bed, and I was almost ready to accept both propositions. And here he was alone in the meadow at night with Prissy Emmy the Sunday School Princess and her more-virtuous-than-you attitude. Why was she wandering the fields after dark with some random guy, especially one who was supposedly fixated on me? If it wasn’t for a little matter of clothes and damned pigs my stick and I would be having a vigorous discussion with Brian and Emmy right about now. I lay behind that ridiculous tuft of grass and seethed.

They were just a few yards away, clearly visible in the waning light, and seemed to be arguing.

“Come on, Emmy,” Brian wheedled. “You know I’m good for it. You can’t just leave me like this.” Right in front of us Brian unzipped, pulled out his package and waggled his hard manhood enthusiastically. I half expected Emmy to squeal and bolt, but no. She took hold of his willy with one hand and started stroking with the other, not that he had all that much to stroke. I hadn’t missed much by not sleeping with him, I decided.

What shocked me apart from Emmy, of all people, acting in such a brazen manner is what she did next. She yanked hard on Brian’s swollen dick bringing him face-to-face, pecked him on the lips and held out her other hand.

“Money first!” she cooed. “I know you’ve got it, because you got paid today. No more credit! My tuition is due on Tuesday and it’s time for you to pay up.”

I was beside myself. The skank! The hypocrite! But Brian was digging out his wallet.

“You know I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t desperate,” murmured Emmy as she deftly pocketed a wad of bills.

Brian laughed. “Really? Desperate? And here I was thinking that you might do it for free just to mess with Sarah Beth.”

“Well, that, too,“ sniggered Emmy. “I am going to laugh like hell the next time I see her donkey face.” 

Brian chortled as he pushed Emmy down on the ground.

Damn you, Brian! If you’re going to boff her right in front of me couldn’t you at least strip bare and move closer to the bushes where you are more hidden to view? That way Mary Helen and I might be able to pinch your clothes, dress, rush home, change, then come back with flashlights as if we were out for our evening stroll. I wonder what we’d find? Oh, yes, I wonder.

But the lazy buttholes didn’t take off their clothes. Brian just pushed Emmy to her hands and knees, jerked her shorts and underpants down and knelt behind her to line up his bobbing prick. Then he was banging it in and humping away with a rhythmic “Uh.. uh.. uh..” Mr. Finesse in action.

Under my breath I was stretching my vocabulary to describe the pair of them and I suspect Mary Helen was, too. As it was we were stuck until they finished because Emmy was facing the way that we had to go and somehow I don’t think that she was so wrapped up in what Brian was doing that she would overlook two bare-assed women sneaking past.

But it turned out to be a short wait. Brian pumped back and forth while Emmy just crouched there like she was bored. Geez, she wasn’t even bothering to hump her hiney to help him out. I’d have to tell her that a career as a call girl was not for her. Not if she wanted a successful career, that is.

After a few moments of frantic activity from Brian he groaned, pushed even deeper into Emmy and then just sort of sagged over her back. She turned and looked at him, decided he was done, got out from under and hitched up her panties without even bothering to sop up the mess.

“All right Brian, get going now. I don’t fancy being caught out here with you. My daddy is used to me taking these little evening “strolls” but he’ll start to ask questions if he sees us together.”

Brian scrambled to his feet and the pair of them took off down the path back to our neighborhood, Emmy sauntering casually as if nothing had happened and Brian strutting along like he was cock-of-the-walk. A very successful rooster, that Brian.

We scuttled along in their wake until we came to the row of houses lining the open field, each surrounded by a six-foot-tall cedar fence. Directly in front of us was Mrs. Vogt’s house. The Widow Vogt had been our piano teacher when we were girls but I’m afraid we took advantage of her timidity and mousiness until with uncharacteristic charity toward the abused Mom terminated the arrangement. Anyway, It was our habit to take a short cut over her fence and through her yard instead of following the path a quarter mile to the only gate because there was a pile of pallets by the fence and it was an easy matter to scale them, hop into her yard, sneak out the front gate and walk away undetected. Easy, except for tonight, of course. There’s nothing like being naked in public to complicate things.

We vaulted the fence as usual, landing behind a low-growing magnolia, and slipped furtively through the philodendrons to the gate at the side of the house where we squatted and peered through the slats to the street beyond hoping the coast was clear. It was. Mary Helen was just about to lift the latch and dash into the open when the sultry sing-song voice of Mrs. Vogt right above us almost caused me to wet my pants! That is, if I had been wearing any pants. Those damned pigs had left me without any panties to wet through. Anyway, I yelped in surprise as Mary Helen fiercely gesticulated for me to be quiet.

The voice was coming from the open window we were crouched beneath. It must have been Mrs. Vogt’s bedroom and she was sort of crooning to someone that we could hear moaning in the dark.

“What would you do for me?”

That’s what we’d heard that made us jump. Now her voice carried clearly, seductively, in the still evening.

"When you told me you would do anything for me, did you mean it? Do you truly know what I want?"

A moan.

"How creative and gentle a lover can you be?

Would you trace every curve, every corner, every crevice of my body, with your fingers, your mouth, your lips, your tongue? Would any part of me be off limits, too dark or forbidden to savor and taste?"

Mary Helen and I looked at each other and even in the dark I knew what was in her eye. “No, Mary Helen!” I whispered. “It’s wrong to eavesdrop!” But it must have been time for another compromise because two seconds later we were huddled under the window listening raptly as Mrs. Vogt crooned on.

"Would you treat me to an elegant dinner, buy me flowers and candy and sexy lingerie, sweep me off my feet and carry me into the sunset? Would you beg for my attention, worship my body, plead with me to give you release? Would you offer up your cock as a sacrifice for me to do with as I pleased and then growl in frustration as I teased you and licked you and stroked you before finally plunging down on you, taking you deep inside my body? Would you lie still while I sated my need with your throbbing hardness before finally allowing you relief?

Then would you unleash your testosterone, pinning me down and forcing my thighs apart with your knee? Would you snake your fingers through my hair and pull my head back, your teeth nipping my neck, owning me, dominating me; your thick prick pistoning violently in and out of my streaming sheath until with a shudder and scream fill me to overflowing with your spurting spend?"

Oh, God! My heart was racing and my skin was hot. I shifted my crouch and discovered a slippery wetness between my legs. My nubbin was tingling and beginning to ache. Who knew that mousy Mrs. Vogt could be so slutty?

"Would you allow me to dress up like a schoolgirl and innocently prance around giving you glimpses of too-small white cotton knickers scarcely covering my bare pubescent pussy? Could I play the naughty tart who won’t stop teasing until you pull me over your knee and give me the spanking that I crave, smacking my exposed bottom until it is red and throbbing, then bend me over the chair and thrust deep inside me again and again while I tremble and gasp and beg you to let me come?

How much would you trust me?

If I met a gorgeous man that I wanted badly, would you let me have him however I wanted? If I asked you to, would you hide in the closet watching from a crack in the door as I ran my lips over his throbbing cock and took him deeply in my mouth? Would you play with yourself while I fondled his balls, caressing his bottom until he cried out and showered my face with his sticky spunk? 

Would you join us as we rutted like animals, whispering encouragement in our ears, stroking my breasts, his balls, my clit until our shouts of ecstasy rend the air and we collapse utterly spent in each other’s arms?

And what if I didn’t want you there? What if I wanted him all to myself? Would you let me go long enough to spend the night with him, letting him do anything he could think of to my body, then meeting me at the front door in the morning with my favorite coffee and beg to hear all about it?"

There were groans and grunts from the man in the room. It was like I was under a spell, hypnotized by her voice.

"And what if the person I wanted was a woman? Would you teach me how to pleasure her, to use my tongue on her most private places? Would you rub yourself like you’re doing now, playing the voyeur until I ask you to join in, allowing me to experience the best of both worlds without having to worry about things like jealousy or sharing?

Then would you take me from behind as she licked me and I nibbled her? Would you refrain from touching her in order to please only me, thrusting in rhythm with our tongues until she and I erupt in a frenzy of delight, then silently fade unfulfilled into the shadows until I’m ready for you again? 

I started at Mary Helen’s grunt. She was brashly rubbing herself right there in Mrs. Vogt’s backyard!

“Mary Helen!” I blurted without thinking, and immediately froze. We locked eyes in horror. The voice from the window had stopped.

A man’s voice said, “Melinda, I do believe we have an audience.”

Well, we didn’t wait around to see what might happen next. We dashed to tear open the gate and clawed our way through, bursting head long into Mrs. Vogt’s front yard. The living room lights came on and someone was unlocking the front door! As calmly as I could I fled in panic down the street with Mary Helen in tow. A portly male figure appeared on the porch knotting a bathrobe around his waist, followed by Mrs. Vogt in a corset and cone bra Madonna costume.

He bellowed, “Hey, you boys! Stop!” Then aside to Mrs. Vogt, “Melinda, it’s two boys, and the little perverts are naked.”

“Boys?” Mary Helen seethed. ”Boys?”

I knew how she felt. No one was going to mistake me for Kate Perry but I certainly had more up top than Keira Knightly. Enough to bounce as I ran and as close as we were and as naked as we were no way could I be mistaken for a boy. I had half a mind to go back and set him straight.

We were a block away before we slowed to a walk. Mary Helen was convulsed with giggles.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded. “We almost got caught back there.”

“Didn’t you recognize who that was?” Mary Helen laughed. “It was Mr. Thompson – Brian’s father!”

And so it was. I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

This had become a very strange night and it was about to become even stranger. It’s funny how a bunch of damned pigs can play havoc with your life.

We were four short blocks from home. That was nothing. At least, it was nothing if you had on, say, a pair of undies. We didn’t. And of course the street lights were on our side of the road and I felt horribly visible. Anybody coming down the street would see us in an instant.

“Let’s cross and walk along the far side,” I suggested. “It’s darker and if a car comes we can zip through the nearest gate and hide behind a fence. I don’t fancy being spotlighted in someone’s headlights.”

We crossed the road and darted into the shadows. We were half way down the first block and things were looking good.

And then some idiot decided to go for a walk. The clown stepped into the street at the end of the block and turned in our direction. We could see him silhouetted against the light at the corner. Fortunately we were right next to a house that had a nice high fence so we just eased open the gate and stepped in, closed it shut with a click behind us then crouched and stared through the cracks waiting for the guy to amble past. I was amazed at how scared Mary Helen seemed to be. She was just about panting with fright.

“Calm down,” I whispered to her, “You’re breathing so hard the man will hear us.

For a moment there was silence except for the panting. Then Mary Helen spoke.

“That’s not me,” she said nervously. “I thought it was you.”

We slowly turned and looked behind us. A huge shape loomed as a darker shadow in the gloom and I turned seven shades of pale.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” Mary Helen bellowed. I’d never heard her use that one before. We’re not even Catholic. “A bear! A freaking bear!”

Along about then that damn bear roared and we pretty near lost it. We squealed and plastered ourselves against the gate, scrabbling to get it open and away from there and hang whoever was in the street.

It took a moment to realize that what we heard was less like a roar and more like a bark. Just one, but it was deep and menacing and then the bear-dog or dog-bear or whatever it was went back to panting at us. We looked at him and he looked at us. 

“Is he friendly?” Mary Helen whispered uncertainly. “He’s not growling.” 

“He doesn’t have to be mad at us to eat us,” I pointed out. 

I had just eased my hand over to try and open the gate again when floodlights suddenly snapped on, and there we were, pinned against the fence in the altogether, a monster dog facing us and the intense glare revealing everything that we wanted hidden. 

“Who’s there?” called a deep gravelly voice from the house. “Earl- fetch!” 

So the apparition had a name and now it was emitting a cavernous rumble pregnant with menace. Earl shifted slightly to the side and towards where we were cowering. Faced with teeth as big as daggers and growling that would credit a Hound of Hell Mary Helen and I backed away and found ourselves being herded towards the house, and once we realized that the house was safer than the dog we moved along quite smartly. 

Standing at a side door was a gnarled, wrinkled, darkly bearded gnome of a man standing with his hands on his hips and an accusing glare. We stopped in front of him, emblazoned with light, as Earl snarled at our backsides. 

“All right, Earl. I reckon I’ve got this,” the man said. Earl immediately laid down, yawned, and began to lick his paws. The man peered frowning at us for a long moment while we vainly tried to cover ourselves. 

“You’re girls.” He said. 

Such an intelligent man! One who can be reasoned with! 

“And you’re nekkid.” 

And an observant man as well! I took heart. 

“Stand up straight so’s I can get a look at you.” 

When we didn’t move right away, he called “Earl!” and the huge dog leapt to his feet and bared his canines. We straightened like we’d been zapped with a cattle prod and stood to attention with our hands at our sides. 

He crossed his boney arms on his chest and examined us up and down, walking around to view us from all different angles like we were some strange, never-before-seen species of dung beetle. My face reddened like a sunburned tomato. 

“Say- how come you girls look just alike?” 

 We said nothing until he glanced meaningfully at Earl and then chirped in unison, “We’re twins!” 

“Twins, huh? He looked us up and down some more. “So how come I got twins trespassin’ in my back yard, whoopin’ and hollerin’ and carryin’ on like you was out to raise the dead? Where’d you come from? And why is you nekkid?”

Mary Helen and I glanced at each other, at a loss as to where to begin. “We were swimming down at the sandpit,” I started.

“Skinny dipping,” Mary Helen added helpfully.

“And some pigs ate our clothes,” I continued.

“The only thing left was our sneakers,” Mary Helen confirmed. 

“We were just trying to get home without anyone seeing us,” I said. 

“But a man was coming down the street right towards us,” said Mary Helen. 

“And we slipped in your gate just in time,” I finished, “And your dog scared us.” 

“We didn’t mean to trespass!” Mary Helen flinched as Earl again began to growl. 

“Looks like Earl don’t believe your little story any more’n I do,” said the man. “I know what you’re after, although I can’t figure why you’re running around without yer clothes. Some kinda weird perverts, no doubt. You’re after my honey, ain’t ya? 

I had not paid attention to the large white boxes dotting his back yard, but suddenly I realized what they were – beehives. 

“What’re your names, anyway?” he asked. 

“Mary Helen..” 

“And Sarah Beth,” we promptly answered together. “Please, Mister.. um, what is your name?”

“Kermit Tanzey, as anyone who lives around here ought to know." 

“Please, Mister Tanzey, we aren’t after your honey. All we want are some clothes so that we can get home without anyone seeing.” 

“All you want is some clothes,” he mocked. “Well, if that don’t beat all. First you’re tryin’ to help yourself to my honey, then when you’re caught red-handed you want me to just give you some clothes and walk off scot free. Just give them to you. I swear, you’re cheeky enough I guess. I wonder what the sheriff would think of this here situation.” 

“Don’t call the sheriff, Mr. Tanzey!” Mary Helen begged. “Honest, we didn’t mean to trespass. All we want is to go home.” 

He considered that for a moment. “I reckon you girls better come on inside and get out of these mosquitos so’s we can discuss this further.” He’d noticed us swatting at the pesky insects. 

To head off any resistance to the invitation, he spoke a word to Earl and in an instant the monstrous dog was nipping at our backsides. We jumped promptly towards the door and into the house. Earl squeezed in behind us. 

Kermit’s abode was shabby but neat. He seemed to live alone. We were not invited to sit. He looked us up and down for several very uncomfortable minutes then finally spoke. 

“I ‘spect I might have some old shirts or sutthin that I could let you wear. But I ain’t a’goin’ to let you just have them. You’ll have to pay for ‘em. 

“But, Mr Tanzey!” I protested. “We don’t have any money. Look at us – do you see any pockets or purses?” 

He considered that for a moment. “Well, I reckon maybe we could do some tradin’. What do you girls have to swap?” He chewed on that for another long moment while we stood trembling and Earl’s hot breath washed over our backs. And then an idea formed in his mind and a slow, lugubrious smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve got me an idea,” he rumbled in his slow drawl. “You need some clothes to cover yourselves, and I’ve got a big ol’ mess in the kitchen that wants cleaning and I reckon you girls is just the ones to get it done. His face began to tremble like a jello earthquake and I thought he might be having some sort of seizure until I realized he was winking at us. 

Whatever he had thought of had made him mighty pleased with himself. He told Earl to keep us where we were while he went through a door and into what must have been the kitchen. We could hear him muttering and guffawing to himself amid the banging of cabinet doors and general thumping and shuffling. 

I could tell Mary Helen wanted to run, but we dared not move. Anyway, how big of a mess could it be? We could get it cleaned up in a hurry and be free to walk openly the short distance to our house. I tried to force myself to be optimistic, but somehow knew that this night would never end so easily. 

“Bring ‘em in, Earl,” Kermit finally called out. Earl gave a single snarl and with commendable alacrity we found ourselves standing in Mr. Tanzey’s kitchen, and oh my God. 

Mr. Tanzey was standing in the middle of the kitchen floor stark naked, his bony chest sporting a dense mat of iron-gray hair resembling nothing as much as the bristles on a wire brush. And out of the wad of tangled fur at his groin dangled the biggest knobbiest wrinkled old pecker that I’d ever seen. He had daubed black, viscous syrup all over his prick and balls and as we watched goggle-eyed drips of the stuff oozed down the tip of his tallywhacker and hung there like icicles until finally they dropped with a splat on the tile floor.

He said, “As you can see, old Roger here has got hisself into quite a mess. Yep, quite a mess. Now, all you girls gotta do in order to get those clothes is to clean him up.” He dissolved into cackles and guffaws at his own wittiness. 

“You can’t use a wash cloth ‘cause they’re all in the wash, and Roger hates ‘em anyways. Besides, why let good molasses go to waste? I expect the best way to clean old Roger is for you to just lick that molasses right off’n him. Yes, and my bollocks and buttcrack, too. You do a good job, and I’ll give you them clothes and not even charge you for the molasses. But if you just give it a lick and a promise, so to speak, well, I guess Earl might have something to say on that.” 

Right on cue Earl growled and snarled and gave a single sharp bark. Involuntarily, we hopped forward away from the dog. 

“That’s right. You just step right on up here, one on one side and one on t’other. Get down on your knees, now, and commence to cleanin’.” 

Mary Helen was indignant. “Now see here, Mr. Kermit Tanzey, or whatever it is you call yourself. If you think for one second that my sister and I are going to..” 

“Earl!” 

The next instant found Mary Helen and myself on our knees with Mr. Tanzey’s monstrous member dangling between us. Apparently we had reached another compromise. 

I looked at Mary Helen and she shrugged. “Let’s just get this over with, Sarah Beth, and go home. If we never tell no one will be the wiser. Besides, it’s not likely we’ll ever see a dick this big ever again in our whole lives and we might as well enjoy it. It’s not like we’ve never sucked a guy off before.”

I stared at her wide-eyed. I, as a matter of fact, had never once ‘sucked a guy off.’ Never. What had Mary Helen been up to? And what did she mean by “enjoying” Mr. Tanzey’s nasty old cock? The thought of putting that thing in my mouth was nauseating. But apparently Mary Helen had a different opinion because her nipples were erect points and her skin was flushed. This night was one surprise after another. 

She was weighing the ponderous organ in her hand in wonder. She brought her mouth closer and closer and finally stretched out her tongue and gave the tip a reverential lick, scooping a drip of molasses into her mouth. Immediately she made a face.

“Gaaah! It’s bitter.” 

Kermit looked thunderous. “That molasses is prime stuff. It’s why my bees give so much honey and I’ll thank you not to criticize it. Now- get to lickin’.” 

Mary Helen ventured another lick, this time from the root of his expanding shaft to the tip, watching his face the whole time. As I watched her with my mouth agape it struck me that maybe she wasn’t minding this so much. 

“Come on, Sarah Beth. Start licking. Lick his balls or butt or something. I want to get out of here.” 

“That’s right little Sarah. You can lick my butt crack. Here- scoot around behind while your sister is busy in front and I’ll spread my cheeks a little to give you plenty of room.” 

I screwed up my face in disgust, but undeterred he pulled his scrawny cheeks apart until I had a clear view of the molasses running down his nasty crack and over the dark indentation of his anus. I thought I was going to be sick. No way was I going to lick that nasty thing-no way! No way, that is, until without warning Earl gave my butt an encouraging nip. I gagged and almost retched, but managed to fit my tongue in there, trying my best to just get the molasses without touching, well, anything else. 

Mr. Tanzey was in heaven. “Ah.. that’s dead on, girls. Dead on. Clean ol’ Roger right up. Do a good job now. Don’t leave any of that ‘lasses and don’t stop until I say you’re done, you hear?” 

Mary Helen grabbed his hips and pulled him closer so she could grasp his weighty shaft in her slim hand, stretched her mouth over the dark plum of its head and began to bob her head back and forth. This was going way beyond just cleaning. When I finished my disagreeable duty I just sat back on my haunches watching in disapproval as Mary Helen went after it. 

“Mary Helen,” I hissed. It’s clean. What are you doing? Let’s get those clothes and get away from here.” 

“Roger ain’t clean ‘til I say he’s clean,” Mr. Tanzey wheezed hoarsely. “Matter of fact my bollocks is feeling’ mighty sticky. Just you get down between my legs and polish them up a might.” 

By now I knew what was coming next if I didn’t jump to obey so I scampered into position before Earl could deliver another nip. I weighed the heavy things in my palm. Well, this wouldn’t be as bad as his disgusting crack. I set to work. 

Mary Helen in the meantime was really going to town just inches from my face. Her hand pistoned up and down Mr. Tanzey’s bloated cock in time with her bobbing mouth. Every so often she would pull off of him completely and lathe Roger’s swollen head with the flat of her tongue, pausing long enough to tease his opening with the tip of her tongue before engulfing the whole thing again and repeating the process. Where had she picked that up? I was learning many things this night. 

Mr. Tanzey was groaning and trembling and talking to his penis like it was a beloved pet. “Hi, there, now Roger. Ain’t that the sweetest sucking you’ve ever had? Don’t you ‘preciate how that girl is taking care of you? Why, I reckon you’ve never had it so good. No sir. Not by a long sight,” and on and on with such things as that. 

His body spasmed as he was stimulated almost beyond endurance. 

“Oh, darlin’!” Mr. Tanzey gasped. “Ain’t that grand, Roger? Ain’t that nice?” He grasped Mary Helen’s head and began to thrust his bony hips, gagging her a little. But just as it seemed his climax was imminent he abruptly stopped and pulled back out of her grasp.

“Well, now, I reckon you’ve done a right fine job of cleanin’ the outside, if you catch my drift. But the inside, well, that’s another story. Lickin’ and suckin’ can’t get at that stuff. No sir, the onlyiest way to get at that mess is by washing ol’ Roger in a special wash pot – a wash pot that only girls have. That’s the way to get that goo out.” He guffawed and slapped his thigh. 

Old Mr. Tanzey was a witty one. Not. 

He grabbed Mary Helen roughly, bent her over the kitchen table, and kicked her legs apart. I looked on wide eyed, too shocked to even cry out in protest. In any event, Earl’s hot breath was on my back and I was afraid to move. 

“Lookit there, Roger. Ain’t that the purdiest little pussy you’ve ever seen? Why, it beats Emmy Hartman’s twat all to shucks.” 

“Emmy Hartman!” I exclaimed in surprise. “You know Emmy?” 

Mr. Tanzey seemed to suddenly remember that I was there. He turned to peer over his shoulder at me and said, “Why, shore! Emmy and Roger here are great pals. We see her around here near every week. She has a hankering for my molasses, you see. A powerful hankering!” He cackled in amusement and I could tell by the way his face was quaking that he was working up another of those awful winks. 

He turned back to my twin, who wasn’t even struggling but lying bent over the table, her breast heaving and face flushed. Mr. Tanzey nestled between her legs and with his hands opened her warm rosy flower of petals and folds and dipped down to taste. Mary Helen shuddered. “That is a mighty fine pot of honey you got there, girl,” and bent again to explore her. 

I had a ringside seat as his tongue found her folds, reached into her deep well and then stretched down lower for the small, hard nubbin that was a mirror of my own. As he worked his tongue over it, suckling and nibbling, she cried out again and again. Her breath came faster, her eyes screwed shut as all feeling turned inwards. There was no sense of outrage, no fear of being bitten by the giant dog, only the rising intensity of her senses. 

I was aghast. Mary Helen was not just humoring this old coot so that we could get some clothes and get out of here. She actually seemed to be getting off on this. 

I could tell when it was coming for Mary Helen’s body was so much like my own. Mr. Tanzey must have sensed it too because he slowed down and backed off, hoping to draw it out, but it came closer anyway, building, growing, until her body tightened and her fists clenched in anticipation. She moaned in pleasure. 

Suddenly it was there. Powerful shuddering waves seized Mary Helen and with a convulsive cry it crashed over her. She burst with the spasm of release, and my groin clenched in sympathy. 

While her body was still trembling she reached for him, trying to bring him to her. His enormous cock was fully engorged and curved upwards like a banana. 

“Now, girl,” he said through gritted teeth. “You just reach around here and guide ol’ Roger home, you hear?” 

It took a moment before I realized he was talking to me. Did he actually expect me to assist in the plundering of my own twin? 

A low rumble from Earl right by my ear was a great motivator in overcoming my hesitation. 

I was loathe to touch the misshapen thing, but what choice did I have? I grasped his shaft in my fist and placed the bulbous head at the opening to her deep and welcoming well. Despite his size he slid in easily, she was that wet. Mary Helen felt him enter and pushed her bottom to meet him as he plunged in. I watched fascinated as the embrace of her warm folds encircled him and he penetrated more deeply than I would have guessed she could hold. 

Mr. Tanzey pulled out, groaning with the exquisite pleasure of the movement, his cock bathed in Mary Helen’s juices, and with complete abandon, plunged in deeply again while she pushed back tight against him. He almost reached his peak, but the intensity backed down, and he pulled out again, and then pushed in again, and again, and again, with each stroke building higher. Pulsing with the sensations of his movement, she felt the fullness of him, then his drawing back and filling her again, and was beyond feeling anything else. 

I was torn between embarrassment at witnessing my sister’s passion and arousal at the carnal spectacle unfolding before me. His heavy balls swung right in front of my nose and I couldn’t resist reaching out to cup and caress them. 

“That’s right, girl,” Mr. Tanzey rasped. “Skritch them bollocks for me. That’ll make ol’ Roger purr, won’t it Roger? Now- if you really want to make him howl, take that pretty little finger of yours and wiggle it up my arse.” 

What! I withdrew the hand caressing his testicles in horror. Put my finger into his nasty bottom hole? That was vile! Perverted! No way- no way- would I ever.. 

There was a sharp nip on my posterior and in an instant my finger was so far up his butt that I swear I was touching his molars. 

Mr. Tanzey paused a stroke. “Garn, girl. Don’t be in such a rush. Easy does it. But you’re in there now. Wiggle it around vigorous and watch ol’ Roger squirt!” 

If it would make him squirt and get this over with I was all for wiggling. I set to with a will. The old man’s anus clenched hard, then clenched again. I heard strong breathing mingled with Mary Helen’s cries, then with an agonized roar he thrust one more time up to the hilt, Mary Helen pushed to meet him, and with a great overflowing burst he emptied himself as she convulsed around him.

It was over. I hastily pulled my finger out in disgust and wiped it on the floor. Mr. Tanzey was melted on top of Mary Helen, who looked to be oozing into the table top herself. 

Suddenly, a cold nose bumped my back. “Go away, Earl,” I said, shoving the beast away. Go on, get out of here.” After that little exhibition nothing that dog did would frighten me now. I just wanted to get away. 

Earl moved off a few paces and sat on his haunches watching me with his tongue hanging out, panting. I could swear he was laughing at me. 

We were leaving, clad with a semblance of decency in two of Mr. Tanzey’s old work shirts, big enough on us to serve as short-hemmed dresses. 

Never was I so glad to get out of a place. Mary Helen was leading the way to the side door through Mr. Tanzey’s pantry when she stopped abruptly and I piled into her from behind for the second time that night. Oblivious to the collision, her hands went to her hips and she stood there indignantly. “I can’t believe it! I just can’t believe it!” 

I was beyond exasperation. “What can’t you believe? This whole night has been unbelievable.” 

She waved at the shelves lining the wall filled with jars of an amber liquid. “Molasses! Common old black strap molasses. That Kermit Tanzey made us lick molasses off that knobby pecker of his.” 

“Yeah, so? That was pretty gross. But what choice did we have? At least we got some clothes.” 

Mary Helen raged. “Nasty black strap molasses when he must have 100 pounds of strained sweet honey right here in this pantry!” 

Well, she had me there. 

Brian Thompson is still wondering why I told him off and said I never wanted to see his worthless hide around me again. He got to telling people that he was the one that broke up with me and before long that Emmy Hartman took it upon herself to spread the rumor. I came up on her and some of the other girls without her knowing it and heard the tale of how Brian dropped me because I was such a slut. I was real cool about it, though. I just reached into my handbag, pulled out a little jar that I’d been keeping for just such an occasion, and handed it to her, noting that Kermit Tanzey had remarked how fond she was of molasses. That shut down her gossip mill, I tell you. But she took the molasses. 

Speaking of fondness, Mary Helen along about that time developed a powerful craving for honey and always kept some around the house. Whenever we run low, which is often, she disappears for an hour or so to fetch some more. It is during those times that I figure knobby old Roger once again has gotten himself into a mess that only Mary Helen can properly clean up, but we never speak of it. 

And me? I discovered that I had always regretted not sticking with those piano lessons when I was growing up, and my delighted mother wasted no time in fixing me up again with dear old Mrs. Vogt. Mrs. Vogt has turned out to be the finest teacher I’ve ever had and has taught me many things, even some piano. 

Yes, it’s amazing how a bunch of damned pigs can confound a body’s life.