From: an174931@anon.penet.fi
Reply-To: an174931@anon.penet.fi
Date: Sun, 14 Jan 1996 12:39:07 UTC
Subject: NEW STORY: The Johnson Twins 1/6 (m/m cons; teens; inc; first times; bi basis)

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Usual disclaimers.  Don't read this is male/male sex offends.  I certainly
wouldn't subject myself to something offensive and don't see why you should
either.  It you continue, perhaps the gentlemen doth protest too much.  If
you're under 18, I'd really like for you to leave.  Come back later if your
own decisions are in the direction of this story.

This is the first or second story I ever wrote.  I think maybe they got a
little better with as time went on, but it was one of my first motss
fantasies and still is one of my personal favorites.

Some readers were kind of enough to write complimentary letters about my
previous posts [THE ROOMMATES in 7 parts, and THE HITCH HIKER in two parts]
and asked that I identify my writing with author's name.  Of course, I'm not
going to identify myself!  That's the reason I use anon.penet.fi remailing
services.  But I will use a nom de plume. How about "Pen Nomen"...a take-off
obviously on "Pen Name" and "nom de plume" but with a little nordic twist?
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                           THE JOHNSON TWINS
                                            by
                                     Pen Nomen

                                        - ONE -

RESEARCH PSYCHOLOGY NOTES
ON INTERVIEW WITH PETER JOHNSON

	My interview with Peter Johnson began in the early afternoon of
Friday, January 17th and continued intermittently in four separate
sessions over a three week span ending late on Friday, February 7th.

	Peter Johnson is a thirty-two year old attorney.  He is very
intelligent and perceptive and earned his undergraduate degree in
English literature from Stanford and his law degree from the University
of Virginia.  He is successfully engaged in the practice of law with one of
the larger and more prestigious firms in Atlanta, Georgia, having been
admitted to the firm as one of its younger partners within the last year.
He is married and has a three year old daughter, and he and his wife are
expecting another child in four months.

	I had been surprised and complimented that he had responded
to the questionnaire that our institute had mailed to over seven hundred
persons who had same sex twins and had agreed to identity disclosure
and interview.

	He is a rather handsome young man in an athletic, all American,
neighborhood boy way - very blond, blue-eyed and clear, darkly tanned
skinned.  He is neat and well-dressed and is rather quiet without
bashfulness and rather confident in a charmingly diffident way.  After a
few minutes conversation, it became clear that he would be an easy
interview in that he is very self-examining and nonexternalizing and has
confidence in our institute and in me to keep frank disclosures
confidential and unidentified.

	"Would you prefer that I ask directed questions or would you
rather talk without interference and interruption?" I asked.

	"It probably doesn't matter," he said, "but I've thought about all
this a lot and think I can just talk, if that's alright with you."

	"Fine," I said.  "I will, however, feel free to interrupt to explore
details of what you narrate, if that's okay."

	"Okay.  I'd really like that, so that I'll know I'm on the right track."

	"Good.  Okay, tell me about your life with your twin from, say,
age twelve and thirteen and how your experiences in the subject matter
of our questionnaire."


THE TWIN'S FIRST EXPERIENCES:

	I think it really begins at about thirteen.  I was born in the Tampa
Bay area, be we moved to Panama City when we were about eleven and
my dad's family's construction business opened an office there and
began to develop residential and commercial beachfront properties.
Dad's parents owned a very nice house - almost an "estate" - on the
beach that my grandfather had gotten as boot in a real estate swap
transaction.  They gave it to Dad, and my parents still live there.

	It was during spring vacation during our first year in junior high.
We were both pretty adventurous, but Johnny - that's John, my twin -
was more a lot more adventurous than I was, and he'd made friends with
some the wilder kids we played basket ball and baseball with on the
school team.  Some of these kids were really pretty wild.  Our school
was one of the wealthy, private schools, and most the kids' families had
a pretty good bit of money.  Over half of them lived with their divorced
mothers who, typically, had walked away from one or more marriages
with plenty wampum.  Very few of them had any supervision at home
since their mothers were more concerned about their own personal
indulgences than they were about the kids.  I mean some of these kids
smoked, drank booze regularly and had even been into coke at age
thirteen.  They sort of scared me - our parents were atypically involved
with their children's lives and stressed moral and ethical values at home
- but not Johnny.  He sometimes went off with some of them after basket
ball or baseball practice, but I never did.  Both of us were pretty good
athletes.  So, even though we were both considered to be sort of "Goody
Two-Shoes," it didn't keep us from being "acceptable."

	Anyhow, it was during our spring break of our first year in junior
high school.  It was beautiful at that time that year - sometimes spring
break weather can still be pretty raw - and we had been spending a lot of
time on the beach and in or on the water.  We were tanned and fit and
tired enough at the end of every day to sleep well every night.  We still
slept in the same room, although our house had six large bedrooms.
Mom and Dad had converted two of the bedrooms into a kind of suite for
Johnny and me, because we wouldn't be separated, even for the
demands of teenage privacy.  We never were except until we had
chosen different post-graduate courses of study.

	Where was I? Oh, okay.  Anyhow, one night, after we had gone
to bed - each of us had a double bed - and I was asleep, I heard a sort
heavy breathing and rustling bedclothes from Johnny's bed.  I got up and
tiptoed over.  "What's wrong?" I whispered.  "Is anything the matter?"

	Silence.  The movement of the bed and the rustle of bedclothes
stopped, but I could still hear him breathing.  "Johnny?" I whispered.  A
sigh.  He tossed off his covering sheet, and I could see by the outside
security lights shining through the window that he was naked.  His penis
was erect the way it did in the mornings when you wake up and have to
pee.  It looked huge to me, but then I didn't know very much then.

	"What's wrong? Did you wet the bed?"

	Another sigh, this time with some disgust.  "You don't know
anything, do you?  Okay get in I'll show you."

	I hesitated and then started to get in his bed.

	"Take off your shorts," he ordered.

	I hesitated again, then pushed the boxer shorts I slept in down to
my ankles, tossed them over to my bed, crawled in and lay down.  I
turned and looked at him questioningly.

	"I'm beating my meat, stupid.  Stony and Bobby showed me."
Stony and Bobby were a couple of the scary guys.

	"Beating your MEAT?" I questioned incredulously.  What meat?
I didn't see any meat?

	"Gosh, your dumb," he scoffed.  "This."  He put his hand on his
penis which was not quite as erect as it been.

	"Look.  They showed me.  If you take your cock and rub it up
and down, it gets big and hard.  Bobby and Stony did to each other.  If
you keep on rubbing it up and down, it feels real good, and after a while,
you get some kind feeling like. . .like. . .  Well, I can't say how it feels,
but you feel so good all over and 'specially in your cock, that it just
makes shudder and gasp and tense up all over and some kind of drops
of liquid come out."

	I was kind of shocked.  "Cock" was word that the older guys
used in the dressing room at school, but we had never referred to our
penises that way.  I had always been "pee-pee" or "goober."  But I was
also fascinated.  "How do you do it?  What do you do?" I asked.

	"Watch."  He grasped his "cock" between his thumb and three
fingers and began to slide the sheathing skin up and down.  As he
continued, it got larger and harder, and he began to breathe heavily
again.  I watched with fascination, and slid lower down on the bed so that
I could see better what was going on.  As I looked, I noticed that he had
begun to fuzz up above his "cock", but the hair was so blond, that you
could hardly see it.  Just like me, I thought.  As he continued, there
would come moments when he would speed up and others when he
would stiffen and slow down.  I thought that the head of his penis - cock -
was fascinating.  Every time he slid the skin down, it popped out, swollen
and throbbing.  There was a little drop liquid standing on the opening on
the tip.  I began to feel a strange kind warmth growing in my cock and
put my hand on it.  Almost immediately, it got hard and large.
Awkwardly, I began to rub it in imitation of Johnny.  My eyes, at this
point, were no more than a foot from his cock.  I could smell a pleasant,
musky odor from his cock and balls.  Suddenly, Johnny gasped several
times and sped up his manipulations to an almost frenzied pace.  He
trust his hips up, and the head of his cock was no more than six inches
from my face.  Suddenly, a spurt of liquid shot out of the tip and then
another and another.  The first spurt had a pretty good bit of force and
hit me on the cheek.  The rest pooled up and on his belly in a little
cloudy, white puddle.  It had an almost antiseptic odor, like clorox.  My
own cock began to throb more demandingly and I sped up the
manipulation.  As Johnny lay gasping, I reached up and wiped the liquid
off my cheek with my finger.  It was thick and sticky.  I put my finger
under my nose and smelled it.  I put out the tip of my tongue
experimentally and tasted it, a strange almost tasteless, slightly salty-
sweet taste but pleasant and somehow thrilling.  I put my finger in my
mouth and sucked all of it off.  I had continued to manipulate my cock,
with feelings of pleasure pulsating through me.  Just as I stuck my finger
in my mouth to lick off the rest of Johnny's "cock juice", a feeling of
pleasure in my loins washed through my loins, almost painful in its
intensity, and a few drops of liquid came out of the head of my cock.  As
I lay gasping, I opened my eyes and noticed Johnny watching curiously.
I looked at him with some embarrassment, and he said, "Don't worry.
This is the third time I've done it.  I didn't do very much either the first
time, just a few drops."

	"Well," he said after a few moments, "what did you think?"

	"I liked it.  I never felt anything like that."

	"You know, don't you, that when men 'fuck' women, that's what
they do?"

	I knew the word, but had never been very sure what it meant.  I
gathered that it had something to do with men's cocks, but I also knew
that women didn't have cocks, having seen my mother naked a few
times.  They had some sort opening that they peed from, but no cocks.
"Go fish," I said sarcastically.  "Women don't have cocks, they have
holes."  I had suddenly grown infinitely more sophisticated in both my
language and my knowledge.

	"Naw, dummy.  The man's cock gets hard and he sticks in the
woman's hole.  Then he pushes it in and out and skin slides up and
down.  After a while, he shoots off in her."  He spoke with infinite worldly
knowledge.  Then almost off-handedly, "That where babies come from."

	I was shocked.  I couldn't imagine our parents doing that.
Babies?  I knew babies came from women's stomachs, but didn't have
any idea exactly how they got there.  Johnny hadn't clarified things very
much.

	"Do women stand still for that?" I asked incredulously.

	"Sure.  They like it.  That's what Stony and Bobby said.  They
shoot off, too.  Sometimes at the same time the man does."

	"Well," I said, at loss for anything more to say.  I got of Johnny's,
went back to mine, slipped on my boxers and got back in bed.  I put my
hand on my crotch and felt where the drops of liquid had soaked in the
soft oxford.

	"Petey?" Johnny questioned.

	"Yeah," I answered.

	"You going to do it again?"

	"Probly," I mumbled.  I lay squeezing by crotch gently and
pondering this new world that had opened up for about half an hour.
Then I fell asleep.

                          *     *     *

	I know that Johnny continued to masturbate - "pull the puddin'",
"beat his meat", "jerk-off", "squeeze the weeny" - I had all sorts of
terminology down pat within a few weeks.  But I don't think he did it all
that frequently.  We were almost always together, and the only evidence
I had were the few times every other week or so that I would hear
sounds from his bed or would notice he stayed in the bathroom with the
door locked for longer than for ordinary business.  I continued, too, but
not all that frequently either.  Bobby and Stony and some of the other
guys did it daily, almost, and sometimes several times a day.

	Johnny and I continued to be active athletically.  Both of us were
fairly well into various programs on the universal weight machine, and
Mom and Dad gave us one for our suite's multipurpose room for our
birthday.  Both of us ran a lot and were pretty much into flexibility and
range of movement training programs.

	We both made the varsity teams in basket ball and baseball as
high school freshmen.  We had instincts for cooperation and
coordination with each other in team sports that was almost uncanny.

	On our sixteenth birthday Mom and Dad gave us each new
identical Hondas with tags reading "Johnny" and "Petey".

	We never had any trouble with people duplicating everything in
our lives.  I just wasn't a problem.  Sometimes we dressed alike and
sometimes we didn't.  It was always our choice.  Most of the time we
dressed alike, it was because we thought so much alike and had such
like tastes.  We performed almost identically in school.  We liked and
disliked the same food, the same movies, the same recreational
activities, the same football teams, the same basket ball teams, the
same baseball teams.  But it was just never a problem.  To either of us.

                          *     *     *

	During the summer after our sophomore year and our sixteenth
birthday, we worked for Dad's construction company as construction
helpers.  It was hard work, and we did it in as few clothes as possible.
Both us were muscled and brown from the work.  In fact we had found a
deserted island about two miles off shore where hardly anyone ever
came and we were brown all over from swimming and fishing in the
nude.

	One Friday night we were too tired to go out and planned to
sleep late on Saturday morning before going to our island to swim and
fish.  We watched television until Mom and Dad went to bed - I no longer
doubted what they did besides sleep in bed - then Johnny went upstairs
to bed while I finished watching something else on television.  When I
went upstairs, he was still up, reading in bed under a white sheet pulled
up to his waist.  I got undressed and showered, brushed my teeth and
prepared for bed.  When I walked back in the bedroom, I noticed that
Johnny had his hand under the sheet as he read.  I knew he was naked,
because both of us had dispensed with sleeping garb of all sorts a year
or so earlier.

	"Petey," he said.  "Com'ere."

	I walked over to his bed where he lay propped up with a book in
his lap.  "Look at this," he said.  He opened up the magazine he was
reading and inside there were a sequence of pictures showing two naked
men with large erections and one naked woman.  The men were fucking
the woman in every imaginable opening.  In one picture one of the men
was fucking the woman and she was sucking the other man's cock.  In
another, one was eating her pussy while she sucked the other man's
cock.  In another, they were all laying around in a circle.  One man was
eating the woman, she was sucking the other guy's cock, and the other
guy was sucking the first guy's cock!

	By the time I had looked at all the pictures, my cock was at the
peak of an unsatisfied erection.  Johnny, looked at it and snickered.  He
threw the sheet to the foot of the bed, and as I suspected, he had his
right hand wrapped around his big, hard cock.  A droplet of come stood
on the tip of the head.

	"Let's do it," he said.

	"Do what?" I asked, bewildered.

	"Beat off, dummy."

	"Oh.  Okay, I guess," I said, still somewhat at a loss.

	He moved over and said, "Get in."  I climbed into bed with him,
and we continued to look at the pictures.

	"Where did you get these?" I asked.

	"One of the guys at work," he breathed, as continued to
masturbate.

	I joined in and started to slide my hand up and down the smooth
skin of my cock.  I kept looking at Johnny, however, knowing that I may
as well be looking at myself.  By this time we were both nearly six feet
tall, as tall as we would ever get.  Both of us were brown, and muscular
without being bulky.  Broad shoulders and deep chest, with 32 inch
waist, slim hips, firm buttocks, well-proportioned legs - almost pretty in
their proportions and shape.  The sun had bleached our hair all over to
almost a white blond.  Johnny's pubic hair was barely darker than that on
his head.  Neither of us were very hairy anywhere except our heads, our
crotches, and lightly on our legs and arms.

	I was fascinated by Johnny's cock.  No longer "half-grown" as it
had been three years earlier at our first experience.  It was big - not
huge, mind - but big.  I knew from the locker room that it was bigger than
average but not by much.  What was really unusual was that it had a
nice shape, straight and well-proportioned without crooks, curves or
hooks.  The skin was not darker than the rest of his skin or discolored as
were most of the locker room cocks.  It was beautiful!

	Once when I glanced over, I saw Johnny examining me in the
same manner and knew that he was seeing his own image and reacting
in the same way.

	He stopped masturbating and said, "Do you want to, you know,
do each other?"

	"What?" I asked.

	"You know, I'll jerk you off and you jerk me off.  At the same
time, you know?"

	I hesitated only slightly.  "Sure."

	He reached over and grasped my cock in his right hand, and
without hesitation I grasped his cock with my left.  It was the most
natural seeming and satisfying sex act I had yet engaged in.  His cock,
so hard, so well proportioned, so warm and natural fitting in my hand
was, somehow, not as much tactile contact as I wanted.  As he began to
move his hand up and down on my cock, I began to move mine on him.
The feel of other hands fondling and manipulating my cock was doubly
exciting and erotic, and the feel of his cock in my hand doubled that.
We both forgot the pictures and began to look only at the other's cock
and our own.  Several times we solemnly locked glances with each
other.  Simultaneously, we each began to breath faster.  I could feel his
cock throbbing with each stroke and knew that he was recording the
mirror image sensations.  Both of us stiffened.  Johnny's cock erupted
with a copious ejaculation and at precisely the same instant that mine
did the same.

	As we lay gasping, Johnny said, "I've never felt anything like
that before!"  "Me either," I replied.  In a few moments, Johnny got up to
go to the bathroom to wash off.  I watched him as he walked into the
bathroom.  He hesitated in front of the lavatory, and lifted his hand that
had grasped my cock to his mouth and touched it with the tip of his
tongue.  Then after absorbing its taste, he licked all of my semen off his
hand.  He didn't realize that I saw him, of course.  After he had done that
he placed both hands on the lavatory and leaned on it with bowed head.
Then he slowly looked up and gazed solemnly at himself in the mirror for
a few moments.  Then he shut the door.

	I lay thinking a few seconds and then licked my left hand clean.
Its taste was the same as it had been that first but a little "fuller
bodied,"
a little sweeter, a little saltier, a little more protien flavored with a
musky
background.  I realized then what his solemn look into the mirror had
signified.

                          *     *     *

	The next day, I couldn't get the incident off my mind.  We were
on our island and had been swimming, crabbing and fishing for several
hours.  We ate at about five o'clock and then lay relaxing on the blanket
we had brought with us as the sun began its entry into the ocean
horizon.  We lay silent for several minutes.

	"Let's do it again," I said.

	"What?" he asked.

	"You know, beat each other off.  Like last night."

	There was a short pause.  I knew where it came from because I
had already experienced it silently and alone a few moments earlier
before I put the question.  "Okay," he sighed.

	We each reached simultaneously for the other's cock, and our
hands met.  We laughed as we grasped one another's hand, and then
moved them to their movement to their intended target.  Immediately,
both our cocks became freshly and urgently erect.  As we began to
stroke and manipulate one another's cock, our breathing quickened in
unison.  After a few minutes, I raised up on one elbow and leaned
toward him.  He adjusted his stroking to my change of position and
looked questioningly at me.  I leaned over and gently touched his lips
with mine.  Startled, he gasped and stiffened and then yielded with a
return of the pressure on my lips.  I ceased to stroke his cock and began
to stroke him gently but firmly all over - the pouch and its contents below
his cock, his pubic hair, his muscular thighs, hips, buttocks, stomach,
chest, and his face.  He made similar explorations, and soon we were in
a shifting, squirming intertwining of hands, limbs and lips.  I felt his
tongue press against my lips and opened them to him.  I lowered my
mouth to his nipples, quickly sprung erect, and then returned to his lips,
orally caressing the space between.  His cock was pressed against my
stomach as we lay on our sides and kissed passionately.  I stopped and
turned him on his back, holding his wrists to the ground.  I kissed him
deeply and moved to his nipples.  Kissed his mouth again and moved to
his navel which I kissed deeply with lips and tongue.  He was gasping in
passion, and his cock was at a state of throbbing erection.  I grasped it
again and buried my lips in his light blond, soft pubic hair.  I shifted my
body breaking his grasp on my own throbbing cock as I did so and
positioned myself between his legs on my knees and elbows.  Grasping
and stroking his cock and his scrotum, I pulled the skin down tightly from
the cockhead.  I looked up at him and he was returning my look with
anticipation and a trace of fear.  There was a droplet of semen on the slit
of his cockhead.  I touched it with my tongue and licked it off.  Then I
licked his cockhead in circular, counterclockwise motions and the
bulging tube under the skin of the nether side of his cock.  I kissed the
slit of his cockhead, and opened my mouth.  Smoothly and without effort
or strain, my encircling mouth moved down to about halfway the length
of his shaft.  I could feel his cockhead throbbing against the back of the
roof of mouth.  I flicked my tongue up, over and around the
circumference and length of his cock.  I began to slide my lips up to the
collar of his cockhead and then back down to a length as far as my
mouth and throat would allow.  I stroked his thighs, his hips, his
stomach, his butt, his scrotum, and sucked with a full but not painful
suction.  Johnny was gasping and had my hair clenched in his hands.
As his cock began to throb more insistently and swell and harden to
even greater proportions, I anticipated and was prepared for the hot
gush of semen into my mouth and raised my head so that only his
spouting cockhead remained.  I swallowed rapidly and with increasing
greediness.  When his ejaculation had stopped, I lowered my mouth
further and began to suck and lave the length and circumference of his
cock with my tongue.

	After awhile, his cock began to lose its firmness, and, caressing
it a few more times with mouth and tongue, I reluctantly loosed it and
slid up beside him.  I noticed then that I had also ejaculated onto the
rough, wool army blanket.

	After a few moments, Johnny's breathing returned to normal as
did mine, and he turned, looked at me and breathed "Wow!"

	On the way back in our boat, we talked little and only
necessarily.  Neither of us was sure what to say.  That attitude continued
through the weekend.

                          *     *     *

	Monday night, tired from a hard day's work on the construction
site, we both went to bed early.  I think I must have been asleep
simultaneously with my head touching the pillow.

	I began to dream that I was floating naked in the warm ocean,
and fish were nibbling at my butt and thighs.  Suddenly a beautiful
woman was astraddle me, her warm, moist vagina engulfing my cock
which, strangely, was not hard.  Suddenly I opened my eyes and awoke
to the realization that I was laying naked and uncovered on my back in
my bed, and Johnny was between my legs and my soft cock fully
engulfed in his mouth as he caressed me on my stomach, nipples, hips,
butt, thighs and scrotum.  His mouth was very wet and warm and his
tongue and lips were gently, yet urgently caressing the entire length and
circumference of my reposing cock.  But not reposing for long.
Immediately, I felt it begin to swell, lengthen and harden.  Johnny, cut
his eyes up and saw me awake, looking at him, and caressed my cheek
with a free hand and moved it to grasp my hand.  Then he returned to
his intentions.  By this time, I was fully erect and his mouth was moving
up and down on my cock, performing all the arts that I had practiced
upon him on the island.  After a few minutes, the sexual ecstasy I was
experiencing became unbearable, and almost painfully my cock
expanded and hardened and my loins ached sharply with unrelieved
pressure.  I stiffened and, grasping his head between my hands and
running my fingers through his hair, began to ejaculate in large amounts.
Johnny, did not flinch but began to drink and swallow avidly and
continued to do so until I was drained and began to lose my erection.
He kept on performing oral libations over every part and in every corner
of my genitals, and then slid up beside me.

	"I couldn't let you get ahead of me," he said, and we fell asleep
in one another's embrace.


                           THE JOHNSON TWINS
                                     (Pt. 2 of 6)
                                            by
                                     Pen Nomen


                                        -TWO-

THE PSYCHOLOGIST CONTINUES THE INTERVIEW:

	"How many times - or, rather, how long - did you and Johnny
continue a homosexual relationship after that?"

	He looked startled and then turned an unfocused gaze upon me
for several seconds.  After a few moments, he shook his head, more to
himself than to me.  "I'm sorry," he said, "its just that I sometimes have
trouble with that word - homosexual.  Oh, I know that the act is a
homosexual act, but, you know, I don't - and neither did Johnny - think of
myself as a homosexual."

	"I'm sorry.  Poor choice of words.  Bisexual."  More to assuage
his difficulty with the term than for scientific accuracy.  The act itself is
homosexual.

	"No.  I'm sorry.  I know the act is homosexual.  But the funny
thing is that we don't think of ourselves as bisexual either.  We always
think of ourselves as heterosexual."  This last with a self-conscious grin.
"Oh, we talked about it.  More than once.  Even right after, we talked
about.  A couple of days afterward.  I asked Johnny if he thought we
were queer.  He said he had been thinking about it and didn't think so.
He said he had looked at some pictures in Playboy and still got an
erection as quickly as ever.  Funny thing.  I'd tested myself with a
Playboy, too, and had had the same reaction.  Both of us had begun to
date when we got our cars and continued to do so.  We first got laid
within three days of each other and talked about it.  We both agreed we
enjoyed it at least as much, if not more, with women.  Neither of us had
any thing for other guys.  We continued to act in the locker room as we
always had.  Nobody drew our attention anymore than they had before,
and then just in a 'guy thing' sort of way.  Whenever we thought 'I'd like
to' it was with women, never with males.  Except each other, of course.

	"But you asked how long after that.  Up until now, I guess.  He
lives 600 miles away, but we see each other pretty regularly.  The last
time we did the fellatio with each other was - let's see, about five weeks
ago.  Oh, we see each other a lots without getting into that.  He's
married, too, and has a baby on the way.  We really do things pretty
normally 75% of the time, but occasionally the opportunity and the
inclination is there, and we just find ourselves doing it."

	I found myself surprised.  "How does that affect your
relationships, especially your sexual relationship, with your wife."

	"It really doesn't.  Oh, neither of us has told our wives.  We may
be odd, even 'queer', but we're not crazy.  Look, I don't think what we did
- do - is right, okay?  I don't think we were 'born this way' and neither
does Johnny.  We both believe we made the choice.  We don't even
think its the right choice.  Both of us feel guilty about it.  Occasionally,
we talk about how maybe we should stop it.  It's just that we never do,
not permanently, anyhow. 

	"But you asked me, too, how many times?  I don't know.  150?
200?  I really don't remember.  This has been going on for sixteen years,
now.  Sometimes three or four times a week.  Sometimes three or four
times a year.  Probably more frequently during the first three or four
years and somewhat less frequently after we began to talk about it and
try to assimilate our understanding of what was happening.

	"We both went to Stanford, you know.  Unusual for twins, even
then.  Most schools don't like to admit both siblings of twin pairs.  We
roomed together.  We kept on - not just being 'lovers', but being brothers
and twins.  Nothing changed about that.  I guess it is sort of unusual and
I guess sort of lucky for us that it worked out that way.  Oh, when we
fought, and we had some real set-to's, we fought like brothers, not sex
partners.  We never threatened each other with disclosure or made any
kind of accidental disclosure.  Not that we were particularly careful not
to.  It just wasn't the principal thing between us.  At least not when we
weren't actually doing.  I guess it was pretty much the priority then."

	This was a first-time experience for me.  I'd never encountered
anything like the relationship he was describing and was not sure that I
believed him - that the fraternal relationship transcended the sexual one
to the extent he had described.  I decided not pursue it at this time but to
think about it further.

	"Did you and Johnny experiment sexually with each other?"
Better of a change of direction.

	"Some, I guess.  We tried butt fucking a few times, but it was not
our most usual sex act.  It pretty much made both of us feel funny to
think of that as any kind principal sexual activity, and we thought it may
ultimately do some damage.  Mainly, just different fondling and fellatio
techniques.  But mostly it was pretty much the same kind of sex act."

	"Did you engage in soixante-neuf?" I asked.

	"Oh, hell yes.  That was the next time."

                          *     *     *

PETER JOHNSON CONTINUES TO RECOUNT EXPERIENCES:


	Mom and Dad had gone down to Tampa on Dad's business for a
few days, and Johnny and I were alone at home.  Mostly that summer,
work dominated our time and effort.  But that week it began to rain hard
and kept on for about three or four days, and the site boss turned us all
loose until it stopped.

	The first day or two we mainly just slept and bummed around,
but after that we really got bored.  You remember?  I told you about the
universal weight machine?  We worked out on it a pretty good bit.  I
guess it was Thursday, we got up and decided to try a new progressive
set.  We always worked out in our jocks only.  Nobody to watch since the
all purpose room adjoined our bedroom.

	Anyhow we were on the weights, watching and critiquing each
other's form.  Neither of wanted big muscles because we were afraid it
would interfere with our quickness which with good body control and
eye-hand coordination was our best athletic talent.  So we worked on
increasing repetitions and speed of repetitions and seldom increased
weight until a particular weight got really boring.  We also ran a lot.
Distance, sprints.  We did a lot of flexibility stuff, bending, stretching.
Really pushing it.  Our goal was to pat ourselves on the shoulder,
bending through and behind our legs.  We never made it but got a hell of
further than anyone else I ever saw.

	Neither of us had much body fat, and I've got to say that Johnny
- me, too, of course - had the best looking athletic body I ever saw.
Long, reasonably defined muscles in the arms and legs.  Square
muscular shoulders, real good pectorals, back and stomach.  We kept at
it a couple of hours.  Sometimes our mutual coaching involved body
contact, but that really didn't get in the way of what we were doing.

	After a couple of hours, we were pretty beat and decided to take
a shower and get cleaned up before lunch.  Mom and Dad had gotten
tired of both of us complaining about access to the shower years before
and had built a double shower, like in locker rooms.  Tile walls, tile
floors, two shower heads and one entry.  No partitions.  We'd showered
together for years.  This was the first since that, uh, FIRST weekend,
however.

	We went into the bathroom and stepped out of our jockey straps,
threw them in the clothes hamper and went into the shower.  We turned
both heads on and began to soap down.  I looked over at Johnny as he
was washing his cock and surrounding areas.  Boy, I was thinking, really
a good-looking cock.  He looked over as he was sliding soapy hand over
soapy cock, in a scrubbing fashion rather than an erotic one, and saw
me looking.  I swear he blushed, but his cock began to get hard.  I
laughed and began to rinse off as he stepped under his shower spray.
His erect cock had the effect of causing me to get hard, and we both
laughed harder.  I reached out to touch him and wrap my hand around
his cock, and he sucked in his breath at the contact.  That made me step
closer, wrap my other arm around his waist, and press my lips to his.  He
returned the kiss passionately with open mouth and then looked down
between us where my hand was wrapped around his cock.  He reached
down, stroking my hand on his extended cock and then pulled my hand
away.  He took his cock in one hand and mine in the other and drew
them together, side by side, until the tip of his was touching my pelvis
and tip of mine was touching his pelvis.  We both looked down.  It was a
fiercely erotic sight, as well as touch, and I began to feel pressure
building up in my loins.  "Mirror images," he said.

	We pressed closer, knee to knee, thigh to thigh, cock to cock,
belly to belly and chest to chest, wrapped our arms around each other
and began to press our lips together, intertwine our tongues, and explore
with our hands.  He was against the wall out of the shower spray that
was striking the backs of my legs.  I slid to my knees before him and
slipped my mouth over the head of his cock and begin to flick my tongue
up and down and around and around.

	He stroked my head, pulled it away and said, "No."

	He dropped to his knees, grasped me and laid me prone against
the floor of shower.  Then, holding my cock, he slid his mouth down its
throbbing shaft, almost to its throbbing base.  He turned his body and
straddled my head.  His cock was within inches of my mouth, and I
raised my head and took it in until my chin could feel the dripping
wetness of his pubic hair.

	The feeling of being one with him in that moment was the most
intense I'd ever felt.  Locked together, my cock buried in his warm,
working mouth, and his cock sliding up and down from base to tip in my
greedy mouth.  I wrapped my arms around his pelvis and caressed his
buttocks roughly, slipping the ends of my fingers up and down the length
of the dividing crevice, and he gently squeezed and caressed my
testicles and inner thighs.

	After about three or four minutes, I felt my cock throb in
anticipation of climax as it lengthened and hardened, and almost
simultaneously I could feel his cock growing in my mouth.  Both of us
doubled our attentions to the other, our mouths and tongues working
more furiously, with greater suction and more rapid movement.  With the
painful twinge of my loins that I'd come to expect as a signal for
ejaculation, I thrust my cock into his throat until I could feel his chin
digging into my pelvis and simultaneously pulled him down against my
face until my chin was scraping against his pubes.  With a grunt, I began
to come, one powerful surge after another.  As if taking my grunt as a
cue, the muscles of his cock began to contract as they squeezed
pulsating stream of warm semen into the back of my throat which
somehow I managed to swallow most of, only a little escaping around
my stretched lips.

	We continued our oral libations on one another until our penile
muscles became lax.  Then we got up and showered again, talking
about where we would eat lunch.

                          *     *     *

	We graduated from high school two years later.  Tied for
valedictorian with identical averages - 98.2.  We were both presidential
scholars with identical SATs - 1454.  I don't know whether or not we
missed the same questions.  Both of us wanted to go to Stanford and
applied and were accepted on early admission.  We lived in a dorm for
the first two years and rented an apartment the last two.  Never had any
other room mates.  We both decided to go to law school and made the
same score on the LSATs.  We applied to the same law schools, and
then the unimaginable happened - we didn't get admitted to the same
schools.  I had Harvard and UVA, and he had Yale and Stanford.  He
took Yale, and since I wanted to practice in the South, I took UVA.

	I think that from that time until the fall term of our freshman year
in law school we were three or four time a weekers.

	The last night before he left home for Yale, we did it three times
each with one another.  After the second time round, we thought we
were finished and showered before going to sleep.  Back in the
bedroom, Johnny, fooled around with some things he'd been packing,
clearly wanting to talk about something.

	"Petey?"

	"Yeah?"

	"I don't really want to imply anything with what I'm going to say,
but I want to get it said."  Hesitating, searching for words.  "I really
don't
expect to be doing this with anyone else, and I suspect you don't either.
But we both know things don't always work out the way expect.  What I
want to say is this.  If you do, do it for the right reasons and tell me.
 I'll
do the same. . . And be safe, and I promise to do the same.  I expect
you would anyhow, but I want us to promise that we will.  I expect we will
be together this way all our lives, in some form or fashion, no matter
where we live and how our lives go.  I want to know I'm safe with you,
and I want you to know that you'll be safe with me, but more importantly,
you're my brother and I love you the same way I love myself, and I
couldn't stand it if anything happened to you."

	The last came in a rush of words, and a couple of tears spilled
over his eyelids and rand down his cheeks.  I was moved by his words
more than I would have ever imagined, and reached out to cup the back
of his neck with my hand.  His head bent forward and I leaned my
forehead against his.  A couple of tears raced down my cheeks and
dropped from chin.  "Ditto.  I promise."

	We stood there for a couple of minutes, thinking.  He put an arm
across my shoulder and reached up to tousle my hair.  I leaned forward
and kissed him chastely.  After a moment, however, he began to press
his mouth more firmly against mine, opened his lips and brushed mine
with his tongue.  I responded by parting my lips and gently caressing his
invading tongue with mine.  Standing as we were, when my cock began
to lengthen, harden and rise, it encountered his hard length rising in
readiness.

	I took his hand and led him to my bed.  Throwing all the top
covers to the foot of the bed, I pressed him into a supine position on his
back on the cool sheets, commanding, "Do what I say."

	I leaned above his face and slowly, deeply pressed my lips to
his, opening his mouth my tongue and thrusting it slowly and gently as
far as possible in the sweet recesses.  I gently rubbed my left hand over
his cheek, his neck, his chest and erect nipples, his ribs, his arm, his
stomach, hips, loins, thighs, genitals, stroking softly back and forth as
my hand explored.  After a few minutes of continued kissing and
caressing, I kissed each cheek and each eyelid.  I lowered my head and
kissed his throat and neck.  Each nipple, flicking the erect tips with my
tongue.  His stomach, kissing and gently licking, and long soul kiss to his
navel as if it were his mouth.  I brushed his pubis with my hand back and
forth and massaged his pubic area, then lowered my nose and mouth
into it and began kiss and gently caress with my lips and tongue as a
gently and slowly cupped his testicles in my hand and lovingly squeezed
and manipulated them.  Passing over his hot, hard, throbbing cock, with
a few kisses and soft licks, I held its underside to my cheek and gently
took one testicle at a time fully into my mouth and manipulate softly with
my tongue, caressing his cock to my right cheek as I did so.  I slid back
up in bed and we kissed again for several minutes with slow and loving
passion.

	"Turn on your stomach," I ordered.  After he had complied, I
began to kiss and lick the back of his shoulder and all over all his back
to his waist, caressing and gently kneading his buttocks as I did so.  As I
proceed lower, I stroked and kneaded the back of his thighs, as I kissed
and licked each of his buttocks.  His testicles lay exposed between groin
and thighs, and I returned to them with gentle hands, lips and tongue.  I
gently parted his buttocks and began to nip and lick gently the inner part
from one end of the division to the other.  Finally, as his breathing had
quickened and his hips began roll back forth, I pulled his buttocks further
apart, and touched my tongue to his anus.  He inhaled sharply and
involuntarily thrust backwards against my face.  My tongue slid gently in
and began to manipulate back and forth and in and out.

	Finally, Johnny, pressing upward against me, said, "Please
Petey, stick it in."  I was kind of startled, and didn't know how to proceed,
but I could see he needed to be more exposed and said, "Pull your
knees up."  He complied and his buttocks spread and his opening
slightly dilated.  I reached for bedside table and picked up the body
lotion we sometimes rubbed down with.  Spreading it over my cock and
heavily on the head, I pressed its tip against the slightly dilated opening.
It entered with difficulty and with a grunt from Johnny.  As I started to
pull back in fear that I'd hurt him, he said, "No.  Please go ahead."  I
pushed forward again, and the head was lost from view.  Slowly and
fearful that I would hurt him, I pressed forward until my cock was most of
the way in.  It was hot and tight.  The lotion had lubricated the explored
part of the tunnel, and I pulled out to the tip and slowly reentered.  Then
again more rapidly.  Johnny, was grunting but clearly wanted to continue
the act as he thrust back against me with each downward stroke.  The
tightness and friction were excruciatingly thrilling in the pleasure that I
felt, and on the last downward stroke, without warning or time to
withdraw, I felt the familiar sharp ache in my loins as I began to
ejaculate into his body.  After a few seconds, I withdrew, turned him
over, and engulfed his throbbing cock in my mouth.  He ejaculated
forcefully and long upon completion of my first downward stroke.

	After we had rested a while and cleaned up, I asked, "Are you up
to another round?"  "Thought you'd never ask," he answered, and we
proceeded to repeat the act in reversed roles.


                           THE JOHNSON TWINS
                                     (Pt.3 of 6)
                                            by
                                     Pen Nomen


                                      -THREE-

THE PSYCHOLOGIST CONTINUES HIS INTERVIEW OF PETER
JOHNSON:


	"How long was it after that before you and Johnny had another
encounter?"

	"That was at the end of August and I guess it was the following
July.  Holidays didn't coincide except Christmas, and we'd both brought
house guests for holidays to Panama City.  And then, too, there was
family there.  But it didn't matter really.  Everything was the same, and
we didn't need the sex to affirm that."

	"Were you celibate during the interim?  And what about
Johnny?"

	Laughter.  "No and no.  I spent every spare minute that I wasn't
studying trying to nail every woman in Charlottesville and succeeded
more often than not.  Johnny was doing the same.  We talked a lot by
phone.  And during the spring of that year I met Lizzie."  Smiling at the
name.  Lizzie was his wife.

	"Did you have sex with other men that year?"

	"No.  No opportunity and no interest in trying to manufacture
one.  But that was cool.  I hardly ever even thought about it."

	"Hardly ever?"

	"Well, yeah.  I thought about a couple of times but nothing came
of it."

	"And then you and Johnny resumed the following summer?"

	"Yeah.  Same thing.  It was the same."

	"And Johnny didn't have any same sex encounters either?" 

	"No, he told me the one that he did have.  We'd promised.  It
only lasted for about four weeks, and I don't think involved more that
five or six 'encounters.'  I met the guy, and we got to be friends.  We
stay in touch sporadically."

	"Is he homosexual?"

	"Bisexual.  He's married and teaches at Duke Law School."

	"How did you feel about that?  Were jealous?  Did you feel
betrayed?"

	"No.  We'd talked about and given each other permission, and
he talked to me about it before, during and after.  I think the both of
them were friends and just wanted closer contact.  Betrayal is always
secret."

	"What about the second year?  Any same sex encounters?"

	He was reflective for a couple of minutes.  "Johnny, no.  Me,
yes."

	"Would you mind talking about it?"

	"I guess not.  That's what I agreed to do.  And its okay.  Its just
that there were some sort sad overtones afterwards."

                          *     *     *

PETER JOHNSON RECOUNTS HIS FIRST "NONFRATERNAL"
EXPERIENCE

	Robert was in my class at UVA.  He was from Asheville.  We'd
met in a couple of classes.  His name was "Johnston", so where seating
was alphabetical, we sat next to each other, and it turned out that he
lived just down the hall form me.  We talked some going into or out of
class but didn't become more than casual friends until after a couple of
months.

	Johnny and I had always been athletic, and so was Robert.  He'd
played basketball and football in high school and played football in
undergraduate school.  Running back.  Those days, we were both in
tennis.  I'd joined a tennis club in Charlottesville so that I could play in
bad weather.  They had a system where you could rate your play and
sign up for matches and get tennis dates.  I played a couple of times a
week.  After I'd been in school about two, two and half months, and after
a match one afternoon, I was walking back to the locker room, when I
saw him on court in a match.  They were both very good.  A little better
than me, maybe.  Robert played with a lot of intensity, had a good serve,
better than good backhand and great ground strokes.  He was very
quick.  I think the other guy won, and Robert was pretty chapped.  He'd
played hard, had wanted to win, and had put in a lot of effort.  He was
really graceful.  I guess he was a little smaller than me.  Maybe 5'10" or
5'11" and ten pounds lighter, say 165.  He was darker than me.  Dark
brown hair and what my mother used to call "olive-skinned."

	Walking over to pack up his gear, he grinned abashedly.  "Crap.
I can beat that guy.  Want a coke?"

	"Sure."

	In the lounge, we traded small talk for awhile.  "How often do
you play," he asked.

	"A couple of time a week."

	"What say we give try Friday afternoon."

	"How do you know I can give you match."

	"I watched you last Saturday morning.  I should beat you 60% of
the time, but you can give me a match.  Maybe it'll be good for your
game."

	"Okay.  Its a date."

	We walked into the locker room to shower and change.  On the
way to the shower, Robert glanced over.  I'd notice his taking stock - a
mixture of curiosity and self comparison.  "You look in great shape.
Athletics?"

	"Basketball and baseball in high school.  Intramural basketball
and varsity baseball in college.  Lots of running, weights and a of love
manual labor.  You, too?"

	"Yeah, basketball and football.  College football at Davidson."
He had a good body - compact and well put together.  I knew he had
good speed, but could tell he probably ran with a pretty good bit of power
for his size.  Large muscular thighs, hard, flat stomach, slightly
prominent, high butt.  I noted casually and without particular interest that
his cock was average size, about six inches, dark curly pubic hair and
lightly curling but kind of sparse leg hair, but relatively hairless
otherwise.

	We showered and had supper together.  He was interested in
forming a study group.  We'd both been asked by others, but didn't find a
good a fit.  We agreed to give it a try and talked about three other
students as possible participants.

	During the following week, my roommate dropped out of school,
and since Robert had not been assigned a roommate and the school
was looking for more student housing, I asked him to move in lest we
both get incompatible types.  He agreed.  The housing was an older
dorm with large rooms.  With some embarrassment, I'd brought my own
double bed and wardrobe to school, but found that some of the other
students had done the same.  Robert thought it was a good idea and
bought his own that weekend.

	As we got to know each other, we discovered a lot of compatible
tastes and common interests.  Both of us were students and had always
stood at or near the top of classes in high school and undergraduate
school.  Both of us were Phi Beta Kappa.  Both of us had great interest
in ACC basketball and were secret Duke fans.

	Two or three weeks later, we found that the tennis club would
give members with regular matches a key to the facility so that they
could play during early or late hours.  We decided to play a five set
match Saturday morning at five o'clock in order to have the rest of day
for relaxation and study.

	We got there about a quarter of five and changed.  The vast
facility was deserted except for us and a little chilly.  We warmed up and
played our match.  I remember that it was one of his 60% and that he
won three matches to two.

	We'd turned the sauna on before the match so that it would be
good and hot by the time we finished we finished our match.  Sitting
alone in the sauna, we chatted for a while, and I noticed that Robert kept
stretching, grimacing and rubbing his back.

	"You having some back problems?"

	"Yeah.  Its pretty regular.  Doesn't really bother me except when
I go at it as hard we did this morning."

	"Here," I said.  "Lay on your stomach on the second bench."  As
he complied, I spread a towel over his buttocks and straddled him as I
began a hard slow massage on his neck, shoulders and back.

	"Where did you learn this.  This is professional."

	"Took an elective in sports medicine.  It turned out to be mostly
physical therapy techniques, and I discovered a natural talent."

	As I continued the rub down, I noted the hard, elasticity of his
neck, shoulder and back muscles.  At his lower back, I placed one hand
on the top of the other at about V3 and, rubbing in a firm circular motion,
I suddenly exerted sharply increased pressure and heard a slight crack.

	"Unh!" Robert grunted.  "Damn that's good.  I think that may
have gotten it."

	"Gotta work it down and out," I said.  I slid down to straddle his
thighs, removed the towel and began to knead his buttocks with heavy
pressure.  I had no sexual intention in the rub down, but to my surprise,
my cock lengthened and hardened slightly.  I was glad that his thighs
were slightly parted, leaving space between.  Otherwise, the evidence of
my condition may have become apparent - even felt by Robert.  I
continued for a couple of minutes, then, light slapping his butt, said,
"Come on.  Let's shower."  I stood up and holding a towel slightly in front
of me, started for the door.  I didn't hear any movement from Robert,
and turning said, "Coming?"

	"Yeah."  He raised up and shifted to a sitting position, laying a
towel over his lap as he did so, but not before I saw, to my surprise and
not casual interest, that mine was not the only state of arousal.  He
rubbed his face and tousled his hair.  "I'll be along in a minute."

	"Okay."  But after walking away a few paces, stopped for a
minute, then slipped back to look through the glass pane in the door.
Robert had removed the towel and was slowly stroking his erect cock.
After a half minute, he stood up and walked to the cold water faucet in
the sauna.  There he took the hanging bucket, filled it, and doused his
cock with the ice cold water.  It quickly relaxed, and he wrapped a towel
around his waste and headed for the door.

	By the time he arrived at the shower, I had turned it on and was
beginning to soap up.  As we showered, we were both silent and
strangely diffident in our attitude.  I know that I couldn't help stealing
glances at Robert's body and, particularly, his cock and was conscious
that he was doing the same.

	We finished up, put on clean sweats and stopped by the IHOP
for breakfast before returning to our room.  Back in the room, we both
propped up on our beds to read the paper.  After finishing,  I stood up
and walked over to the wardrobe, opened the door and removed my
sweats.  As I contemplated what to wear, I glanced in the mirror on the
wardrobe door and notice Robert staring at my back and the reflection in
the mirror.  I also noticed that he gave his cock a quick squeeze, then
crossing his legs, lay his newspaper in his lap.

	Well, I decided, why not see what develops.  I turned and
walked around the room, performing small tasks at various angles and
several positions, noticing that his eyes furtively watched.  Finally, I
walked over to his bed and stood beside him.  With great concentration
and thinking about brussels sprouts, I remained in a state of laxity.

	"What d'ya say?  Want to hit the books the rest of the day and
get a good supper and catch a movie tonight?"

	"Sure."

	"Or we could rent a movie and stay here."  Feigning indecision, I
sat down on the edge of his bed.  I half reclined on my right side, facing
him and laid my right arm casually across his thighs.  "What'd you rather
do?"

	"Either," he choked.

	I glanced down at the newspaper, and beginning to read one the
stories, started to pick it up.  "Mind?" I asked.  He had to remove his
clasped hands from the paper in order to let me have it.  I picked it up,
and his cock, hard and erect under his sweat pants, sprang to attention.

	"What's this, Robert?" I asked rather formally.

	His face was burning red.  "I don't know.  I mean - uh, I guess it's
an erection."  He couldn't look me in the face.

	"What are you reading, Robert?  What brought this on?"

	"Uh.  I don't know.  I'm not sure.  I guess I just got to thinking."

	"Thinking what?"  He turned his face slightly to the wall.  I got
up, went over to the door to make sure its lock was turned and returned
to sit on the edge of his bed closer to his propped up torso.

	"Were you thinking about this, Robert?"  Taking his right hand, I
placed it flat on my genitals.

	He inhaled sharply.  I placed my hand around his clearly
outlined erection and squeezed.  "Or were you thinking about this?"

	He reacted immediately to my touching his cock, and it began to
spasm and throb and his wet ejaculation showed through the sweats.

	"Oh, God," he said in abject humiliation.

	"No, Robert, that's okay.  Here, let's get these messy things off,
what d'ya say?"  I tugged his sweats to his knees and pulled them over
his ankles.  Taking them in hand, I wiped up the semen and cleaned
him.  Going over to the lavatory, I ran hot water to soak a washcloth and
returned to clean him thoroughly.

	His face was still turned away and his ears were an almost bright
red.

	"Let me tell you about my brother, Johnny."  And during the next
half hour, I told him about my twin and our lifelong closeness and our
special closeness over the last several years.  As I talked, he turned his
head and listened wonderingly, not condemningly, just wonderingly.

	"I've never done any of those things with anyone else," I said.
"Have you ever done anything that like that Robert?"

	"No," he whispered. 

	"Robert, I want you to be totally honest with me, now.  Have you
ever had casual contact with anyone, woman or man, who you didn't
know well?"

	"No."  He was certainly lost in all this.

	"Neither have I," I said.  "Have you had a physical lately?"

	Sudden comprehension.  "Yes.  No HIV, no venereal disease,
nothing contagious.  In fact no problems at all."

	"Thanks, Robert.  Now.  Would you like to give this a try."

	Only a questioning look in response.

	"This."  I placed his hand on my cock, and placed mine on his
cock.  "Its okay if you don't, and we'll just forget all about this."

	"No.  Uh.  I mean yes.  I mean yeah, I think I'd like to give it a
try."

	"Okay.  Sit up."  He complied, and pulled his jersey over his
head and through it in the corner with is sweat pants.  I leaned forward
and, stroking his stomach, chest, and cock, pressed my lips against his.
Startled at first, he pulled back.  Then, beginning to breath harder, he
relaxed and his lips softened and opened.  His cock was, by this time,
fully erect again.  I placed his hand around my cock, and then wrapped
my fingers around the circumference of maleness and stroked a few
times.  He reciprocated in imitation.  As we kissed, he began to get the
idea that he knew what to do and thrust his tongue into my mouth.  I
pulled away and kissed and licked a path to his pubic hair.  I inhaled the
musky odor of his cock, balls and pubes, and my cock began to throb.
Raising up and looking down at his cock in my hand, I glanced up at
him.  He was watching curiously.  I lowered my lips, gently licked the
pearl drop of semen from the tip of his cockhead.  Then, flicking and
stroking his cockhead with lip and tongue, I lowered my head and buried
his cock in my mouth, licking and circling the circumference with my
tongue and firmly licking and stroking the available length of the
underside of his cock.  I pressed my lips into base of his cock and buried
my nose in his pubic hair, then began to rise and fall from the tip of the
cockhead to the base of the shaft, licking, stroking and applying firm
suction as I did so.

	I could read Robert's reactions from his breathing, muttered
words and movement of his body.  He was panting more shallowly and
rapidly, as I continued.  He began to thrust in rhythm with movement of
my mouth and say, "Yeah.  Oh, gahhhh.  Yeah.  Where'd you learn to do
this.  Unh.  Yeah.  GEEeee."  His cock was throbbing with urgency.
Suddenly, he thrust forward, and his cock began spasm and jerk fiercely
as he came into my throat and mouth.  After the first urgency was past, I
continued to suck and lick his semen from his cock.  I did this so that he
could see me do it with enjoyment and without revulsion.  When he
calmed and I had drunk all his ejaculation, I pulled away.

	By this time, my cock was throbbing insistently as he continued
to grasp and stroke it.  He sat up and, looking me firmly in eye, turned
me on my back.  Then positioning himself between my legs, he
examined my genitals as he stroked them.  "Beautiful," he whispered.  In
imitation of me, he gently lapped the droplet semen from the tip of my
cock and, without hesitation, began to slide it into his mouth.  First the
exposed cockhead, then pulling the skin tightly back with his hand, the
first fourth, third, half, three fourths, then incredibly without experience
or practice, it was all inside him and he rubbed his nose into my pubes,
licking and stroking in exact imitation.  As he moved up and down on my
shaft, he began to mew and moan softly and the pace of his efforts
increased.  I could feel the moment arriving as my cock expanded,
lengthened and hardened, then, with familiar pain in my loins, I thrust
forward as spasm after spasm forced hot semen into his throat.  He
withdrew slightly so that he could swallow more efficiently, but as he
sucked and licked, not a droplet of my juice escaped him as he
continued to make little pleasurable noises.

	As we lay entwined naked upon his bed, our hands idly exploring
one another's body, I asked, "Was this the first time?"

	"What?  With another guy?  Couldn't you tell?  Oh, I've made it
with lots of women, but never with a guy.  Petey?  I've been thinking
laying here.  I wonder if I've known this a long time but have never
admitted to myself.  When I was a teenager, two or three other guys and
I used to do mutual masturbation on each other.  I think the other guys
maybe just liked to be jerked off, but I liked it both ways, being both
jerkee and jerker.  For years, as I'd see the other guys in the locker
room, I'd examine their penises.  I guess I was real good at that without
being detected.  I'd wonder what it would feel like to hold and stroke this
guy's cock or that one's, but I'd never make any move in their direction.

	"Once when everyone had left the locker room, I forgot
something had to go back.  The quarterback and one of the wide
receivers were still there.  They didn't hear me, and I stopped in the
shadows beside one of the lockers to watch them feeling each other up.
The receiver got to his knees on the floor between the quarterback's
knees where he was sitting on one of the wide, slatted benches and took
his cock in his mouth and pumped him hard.  The receiver was a pretty
little guy, only about 5'10" and 155 pounds, but he had a really large
cock.  He stood up, pulled the quarterback to his feet, turned him around
and guided him a leaning position over the bench.  He spit in his hand,
rubbed it on the head of his cock, and pushed his cock into the
quarterback's ass.  He screwed him just like a woman, standing there,
and while he was fucking him, he reached around and masturbated the
quarterback.  After a while, they both came, the quarterback in the
receiver's hands and the receiver in the quarterback's ass."

	"Well, receivers ought to have good hands, and maybe the
quarterback's natural position was full back." I couldn't resist it.

	Robert chuckled.  "No, but the point is that, standing in the
shadow of the locker, I was tempted to strip and walk over and say 'Can
I play, too?'  But I didn't, and at the same time I've thought about it a
lot.
I've even fantasized it and masturbated to the memory."

	"Robert, I don't think anyone is born that way.  I think we're born
to like sex and to have it with women.  I mean, that's the way things fit
and nature designed it.  But somehow, someway, I think some of us get
on to another track, sometimes or all the time.  Maybe there're lots of
reasons.  Sometimes the reasons may be so compelling that we're
tempted to say that's the way I was made, but I don't really believe it.
No matter, how subtle, how compelling, how complex reason, it's still our
choice, our decision.  Some guys who do it both ways or just with guys
have to find reasons that permit them to be 'okay' with what their doing.
Either it's not wrong or it's not unnatural or they were born that way, but I
don't personally buy into all of that.  Oh, I think some are born with a
predisposition to it, but not everyone who carries that genetic
predisposition is gay or even bisexual.  And I don't think that its morally
neutral either.  I think it probably is contrary to the created order of
things.  So, I guess that I it is wrong but not really unnatural and that
some of us born with that predisposition but some who are attracted to
members of the same sex may not carry the gene and they just learn it
and like it!  We just have to find a tougher way to deal with truth than to
buy into of the pat old stories."

	"How do you deal with it?"

	"Oh, I'm still dealing with it.  I feel guilty. I am guilty according to
what I believe, but who of us isn't guilty of doing something as a
"besetting sin" as the priests call it.  Robert, this is a hell of way to
talk to
a guy whose cherry I just got, but I don't you to fool yourself about what's
going on here."

	Robert was quiet a long time.  "I think I get what your saying.
But I don't think I'm willing to stop it, not yet anyhow."  He turned to me,
kissing me deeply began to stroke my cock which he found ready and
able.

                          *     *     *

	The relationship continued through that year and the next until
we graduated.  When we went home that summer, Johnny and I
resumed a fraternally platonic relationship.  He knew what was
happening and didn't believe in promiscuity or orgiastic attitudes toward
sex.  When Robert came down for a month that summer, Johnny even
helped to find ways for us to be alone together.

	It was a funny thing about Robert.  He loved fellatio, but I think
he liked being fucked just as much if not more.  We didn't do it that way
often, because I liked the other much more and he also liked that way,
but when we did and I came in his ass, he always had a simultaneous
orgasm.

                          *     *     *

	During all this time, both of Robert and I had continued to date.
I had met Lizzie and was in love with her.  We didn't make love until we
were married though.  Both our choices.

	In the spring of our senior year in law school, Lizzie and I got
engaged and planned to be married in the summer following graduation.
Robert reacted strangely.  He turned pale at my telling him and
congratulated me in a strained voice.

	That weekend he went to Washington to visit relatives.  When
he returned, he was politely distant with me for several days, and,
puzzled and hurt, I reacted to his attitude with a distance of my own.
About two weeks later, I awoke in the middle of the night to find my cock
buried in Robert's mouth.  After a few minutes, I came, and, as Robert
remained in the same position with relaxing cock still in his mouth, I felt
hot liquid splashing on my lower stomach.  Reaching down, I felt tears
on his face.  "What's the matter?"

	He sat back and looked at me, miserably.  "I know you go both
ways, and I know that, while maybe you're bisexual, you're heterosexual
in your heart.  But I think I've gone to the other side.  I love you - Wait!
Let me finish!  I love you, but, more than that, I've lost interest in
women."

	He was silent a few moments, and held up his hand to silence
me when I would have spoken.  Then spoke in a rush, a penitent at
confession.

	"Two weekends ago when I was in Washington, I made it with
another guy - my second cousin.  It was good, not like with you, but
good.  I don't know if I'll come out of the closet.  I might.  But I do know
that, at least for now, I'm for other men."

	He finished, and we were both silent for awhile.

	"Robert, I love you, too.  I really do.  But as my next to best
friend, not in the way you're talking about.  Sex with you is great, but I
always think of it as something we do as loving friends."

	More silence for several minutes.

	"And, Robert, we're going to stop with sex acts.  You had sex
with your cousin, and that's okay.  Your choice.  But next week, you
might have sex with someone else.  I'm kind of monogamous about this.
You know how even Johnny and I didn't make this summer because of
what you and were doing together?  That's how I am.  It's relationally
dangerous to complicate things that much; it's sexually dangerous.  And
there's too much HIV, AIDS and venereal disease going around to have
sex with anyone who may not be a safe partner.

	"That doesn't change how I feel about you.  You're still my
second best friend, and I hope I'm yours, but from now on, it has got to
be a platonic friendship."  By this time, tears were also scalding my
cheeks and my voice was cracking.

	Robert looked at me wonderingly, thinking, for several moments.
Then his face cleared and relaxed his tense posture.  "I understand,
Petey.  I'll always love you."  He leaned over, kissed me on the
forehead, and got up and returned to his bed.

	We continued to room together for the year and remained as
close as ever - but as friends only.  He was a groomsman in my
wedding.  We stay in touch pretty regularly.  He's never come out of the
closet, and I suspect he won't.  I don't know how sexually active he is
with other guys, but I know he's discrete.  I know some of his partners,
and from talking with them, I know they don't suspect anything amiss
about his sexual habits.  Good for him!


                           THE JOHNSON TWINS
                                     (Pt.4 of 6)
                                            by
                                     Pen Nomen


                             -FOUR-

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL INVESTIGATION AND EVALUATION
CONTINUES:

	"Let me ask you.  Did you enter into your relationship with
Robert because of Johnny's having done so with someone else the year
before?"

	"No.  I've thought about that and tried to be honest.  I really
wasn't jealous of Johnny that way.  We'd talked, remember?  I didn't
expect that Johnny would be jealous either, so there wasn't much
chance of 'getting even'.  No.  I really think that the thing with Robert
may or may not have had happened, and it wouldn't have made any
difference.  I wasn't 'on the prowl'.  Never have been.  It was
opportunistic.  Serendipitous.  There was something about Robert that
made me want to get closer.  I'm not sure.  Maybe his personality, our
common interests, his intellect, his body.  Maybe all those.  I don't think
it would have happened without his body, but I don't think it would have
happened with just his body, either."

	"You said before you told the story that it was kind of sad?"

	"Yeah.  It was sad that it didn't end in the same spirit that it had
begun.  I always knew it would end, and I think that, at first, Robert did,
too.  It was sad that Robert concluded that he was going to only go for
guys.  I felt - feel - guilty about that.  I don't believe that I would ever
have made the first move if I'd realized that was the direction it go."

	"You don't believe that it would have happened anyway,
somehow, sometime?"

	"Maybe.  But, no.  Not necessarily.  He'd never done it before.
Remember I believe that we make our own choices, maybe for complex
and compelling reasons, but, nevertheless, choices.  Without me
legitimize in a way that I don't believe that many others could have
done, I'm not sure - I don't believe that he would have made the choice."

	"Interesting.  Petey - can I say 'Petey'? - "

	"Okay.  Can I call you 'Henry' instead of Dr. Nelson?"

	"'Hank.'  Sure.  I prefer it.  Petey, have you had any other same
sex experiences besides Johnny and Robert?"

	Quiet for a moment, then with a small sigh.  "Yeah.  Been going
on now for about six years.  A very good relationship."

	"Do you mind saying who?  And how does Johnny feel about it?"

	"No.  His name is Kevin Donald.  We're law partners, both joined
the firm at the same time and made partner at the same time.  Johnny
knew about it before Kevin did.  I told him that there was this friend that I
was attracted to and thought he felt the same.  I asked his permission.  I
told him that if anything developed, it might be fairly long-term, but that I
didn't want it to affect us.  At all, in any way.  That's the part that
caused
him a little problem.  Not the relationship.  He views that as my choice.
But he and I are both strongly attached to monogamous relationships.  -
I've never been unfaithful to Lizzie with another woman, and I'd never be
unfaithful to Johnny in our sexual relationship without being up front with
him and then it wouldn't be infidelity. -   In our relationship, monogamy is
not a matter of jealousy or ownership.  It's just that any other relationship
starts to smack of promiscuity, and we both think that's tawdry.  He
agreed on the condition that Kevin also agreed and on the condition that
Kevin and I have the same arrangement he - Johnny - and I had had
since we parted ways for different law schools.  Seemed fair to me.
Kevin is also married and very heterosexual.  I wasn't sure that he'd be
receptive and when and how I would make the contact, but I did know
that if he couldn't approach it the same way, it would probably be better
that nothing happen."


                          *     *     *

PETER CONTINUES TO RECOUNT HIS EXPERIENCES:


	Kevin and I were hired as associates at Mason, Murray &
Chandler the same year.  He'd graduated from Dartmouth and Duke Law
School with a very good record.  He was more interested in corporate
and tax or securities.  I had some interest in those areas but was more
interested in litigation.  He ended up in corporate and securities, and I
ended up in corporate and securities litigation.  But we both went
through the same training program.  That involves dividing each class of
associates into squads of two to four associates, and sending them each
through four of firm's departments for stints of six months each before
permanent assignment to one department.  So he and were on the same
squad.

	Kevin is from a little town in central Mississippi.  Family has a
pretty good bit of money - I don't know, maybe $20 to $30 million.  He
grew up on his family's plantation - farm.  I think he's mainly Scots and
Irish.  He spent some time during summers with distant relatives in both
places when he was growing up.  He has great sense of humor, very
witty and an extremely interesting conversationalist.  He's also very
open and up front with people in relationships.  We're about the same
size, he's maybe a little more on the leaner, more stringy side.  Another
tennis and racquet ball player.  He has red-blond or blond-red hair and a
few freckles.  Very celtic.

	We were assigned adjacent offices and shared a secretary.  I
got to like him immediately, and we'd go to lunch, play tennis and
handball, and, with our wives, spend a lot of evenings and week-ends
doing things together when we weren't working.  He's crazy about Lizzie
and I like - maybe I'm semi in love with his wife, Lucy, but in a very
platonic sort of way.  We make jokes about it, and I know that Lizzie
knows that our relationship is not threatened.  Our children were born
within three weeks of each other, and we're both godparents to each
other's child.

	He and Johnny hit it off immediately.  We all - me, Johnny,
Kevin and wives - vacation and travel some together when we can make
schedules work.

	After we'd both been at Mason, Murray about five years is when
I talked to Johnny about my attraction Kevin.  We'd have stayed close
friends if nothing had ever developed.  That was incidental to and not
the focus of my relationship with him.

	We were defending a big class action and securities fraud case
for one our larger clients.  Kevin was seconding one of the senior
technical corporate/securities partners and I was seconding the
corporate/securities litigating partner.  It had been going on for about
eight months, but intensely during the past three or four months.  We
were deposing parties to litigation and other witnesses all over the
country.  That's when I talked to Johnny.

	We had depositions scheduled in Pittsburgh, Chicago, Denver
and San Francisco for about three weeks.  We planned to come home
on weekends, and did for the first two weekends.  In San Francisco, our
depositions ran over on Friday, and we missed our plane and couldn't
get out until the next morning with a deposition scheduled in Denver
early Monday.  So.  We called Lizzie and Lucy and told them that we'd
decided to stay in San Francisco until Sunday and fly to Denver on
Sunday afternoon.

	We went to dinner with one of the lawyers our age from the San
Francisco we'd associated for that part of the litigation.  Mark Manasco.
When we met him at the restaurant he'd suggested, he had another guy
with him.  An investment banker.  About half way through the dinner, it
became apparent from their conversation that they lived together and
soon became apparent that it was for reasons other than convenience
and expense.

	Mark saw my discomfiture and smiled reassuringly.  "Guy and I
have been very good friends since college.  We're gay."  No
embarrassment.  Just "we're gay."

	Later, back in our suite, Kevin asked, "What do you think about
our colleague and his live-in?"

	"I don't know.  I don't think I like the idea of it.  But I must say
that neither of them flaunt it or act 'swishy', and that's probably the part
that I find most offensive in stereotypical homosexuals.  I don't know,
probably the thing that I like least in the idea is that they have made a
choice about their sexual identities that cut's them off from what they
were created to be."

	"Hmmm.  Don't know that I've ever thought about that way.  I
guess I always centered on the homosexual acts themselves.  There
was a time when I was so repulsed by what I imagined went on that my
'instinct' wouldn't even let me examine it with any sense of acceptance.
And, of course, the swishy thing.  But I think you've got a good point.  I
guess now when I instinctively react negatively, it's more the idea of the
unnaturalness of the exclusive same sex relationship that I don't like and
have a hard time accepting."

	Remaining carefully and objectively analytical, I asked, "What
made the act and the 'swishiness' less repulsive to you?"

	"Oh, I'm still put off by the swishiness.  But when I was a
sophomore in college, I learned that not all men who engaged in that
kind relationship were 'swishy' or 'exclusively' same sex oriented.  My
father had a long-term friend, a very good and old family friend.  His
wife and children were close to my mother and me and my brother and
sister.  He was a good looking guy, nothing swishy about him at all, and
he obviously loved his wife and children.  He was killed in an automobile
wreck when he was in his early forties, and my dad was the executor of
his estate.  In gathering all his securities, records, and stuff, he told me
-
privately, of course - that he had run across some cryptic papers that
had led him to investigate more closely.  He found out that our friend
had carried on a couple of long-term, same sex relationships on a fairly
infrequent but regular basis with two other men since he was either a
young man or an older teenager.  Apparently, the first was with his twin
brother and lasted until the twin was killed during the last days of
Saigon.  The other apparently picked-up four or five years later and had
continued on a 'monogamous' basis until his death.  Dad said that
nothing in his estate or financial affairs were affected by the
relationships, so he hadn't pursued it any further.  Later he told me that
he had been quietly contacted by the 'friend' to make sure that our
friend's family were adequately taken care of.  He apparently was quite
wealthy, married with children, and very well-respected.  Dad likes him,
and they became good friends.  He said nothing was ever said about the
relationship, and as far as Dad knows, the guy doesn't know that Dad
knows anything about it."

	Carefully controlling my reaction to this story, I remained
objectively curious.  "Hmmm!  Well, how did that change your feelings?"

	"Well, it apparently hadn't made any difference in who he was.
His wife told my mother - who told Dad and me - that she couldn't
imagine better memories of a marriage.  He'd been a great father and
husband, a wonderful lover and her best friend.  That got me thinking
about stereotypes, and I just realized one day that I know longer thought
of people who engaged in same sex relationships as necessarily being
subhuman or even submale."

	"How did that change your feelings of revulsion?"

	Slightly blushing and stammering, "I'm not sure it did.  I guess if
it did, I just remembered what a great guy he was and couldn't imagine
his doing anything that was inherently filthy or gross."

	I let drop there.  The hotel had an indoor swimming pool.  We
didn't have any trunks but decided to go down and see if anything was
available or if they would let us swim in pair of clean undershorts.  It
turned out that they had these filmy, nylon racer trunks in various sizes.
They also had a Nautilus, and we decided to work out a little before
taking a swim.

	Changing into the trunks, I noticed Kevin surreptitiously cutting
his eyes to my body as I stripped, and thought "what's sauce of goose,
etc." as I returned his surreptitious analysis.  He was well-muscled but
leaner and more long-muscled than me although my physique certainly
wasn't the body building type, just well conditioned and perhaps more
defined than most athletes.  His skin had sort of fair-skinned, healthy
blush, with a scattering of freckles on his shoulders to match those
across his nose.  His cock was roughly the same length as mine but
slightly less size in circumference.  He was relatively hairless on his
body, and his pubic hair and light leg and chest hair were sort of light
golden reddish color.  I must say I thought he physically very attractive.
He turned his back as he finished disrobing and stepped into the thin
racers' trunks, but I remained resolutely in the same perspective to him
without turning away or seeming to be aware of his covert examination.

	You know the kind of trunks, I'm talking about?  They really don't
do much more than give a passing nod to conventional modesty.  They
were all sort of a dark tan, not offering much of a contrast to my own
suntanned complexion.  When we had changed and Kevin had turned
back to face me, I noted quickly that his cock had swelled slightly in size
but had not become erect.  He had it tucked down neatly over his balls
and partially between his legs, but its outline, even down to the vessels
and specific contours were plainly evident.

	We worked out on the Nautilus for about half an hour and then
sat on each other's shins and buttocks as we took turns doing sit-ups and
hanging torso bends and lifts.  These exertions had done nothing to
cause any shrinkage in his genitals.  In fact, his cock had grown slightly
fatter and perhaps was semi-erect.  My unobtrusive examination, had
caused my cock to react in matching similarity of arousal.

	After taking our laps for half a mile, we decided to take steam
before showering and going back to our suite.  I got a towel and stripped
off my trunks, but Kevin wore his trunks into the steam room.  Of course,
I was treating all of this as entirely natural and reacted with a show of
casual indifference.

	In the steam room, Kevin said, "You know, I knew you always
looked good and well proportioned in your suits and sportswear, but I'd
never realized how well-built you were."  Now implicitly admitting his
examination.  My cock suddenly swelled slightly at his comment.

	Turning to lay on the bench face down, I said, "Thanks.  I've
always been into athletics and workouts."

	"Me, too, but not with the same results."

	"Kevin, you're very well built.  A different body type from mine,
but extremely graceful and well-proportioned."

	He blushed slightly and looked away.  I noticed from my half-
closed eyes that his cock lengthened and swelled even more.

	We talked some more about the case and how the depositions
had gone as we completed our steam and started to shower.  In the
shower, now of necessity stripped down, we began to soap.  As I laved
my cock and testicles with perhaps more care and longer than
necessary, Kevin turned his back and continued to talk to me over his
shoulder.  Not wanting to make things too tough on him, I completed my
rinse, turned off the shower and left the communal stall.  He stayed in a
few minutes longer standing with his back to the opening of stall under a
stream of cold water.  A couple of minutes later, he emerged and we
quickly slipped on the clean sweats we'd worn down to pool area and
returned to our rooms.

	"Would you like to order some beer or drinks?" Kevin asked.

	"There're some miniatures in the courtesy cabinet," I said,
walking over and, breaking the seal, unlocking the door to the small
cabinet and refrigerator concealed behind its doors.  "Let's see.
Heineken's and Coors.  Dewar's, Canadian Club, Bombay Gin, Svetyana
Vodka, club soda, tonic, orange juice, coke.  What do you want?"

	"Scotch and soda."

	"Me, too."  I removed a couple of bottles of club soda and half
dozen miniatures of Dewar's and began mixing.

	We turned on the television and watched the end of a UCLA-
Stanford basketball game.  Toward the end of our second drink, Kevin
asked stumblingly, "Uh.  Petey, have you. . . I mean have you ever, you
know, uh, experimented, uh, with, uh, other guys?"

	This time, I let myself blush and look away in not altogether
feigned embarrassment.  Kevin was stricken that he'd asked that
question, but he couldn't seem to get out of it.  "I mean, uh, you know,
when I was in high school another guy and I jerked each other off a few
times.  Did you ever, do anything like that?"

	As I continued a show of embarrassment, he said, "God!  I can't
believe I'm grilling you about this!  Never mind.  I'm sorry."

	Time to be reassuring and show candor.  "No, that's okay.  Well,
yeah, a half dozen times or so."  Well, not altogether candid, but maybe
if not a half-truth, a "tenth-truth".

	"Who with."  Unable to drop the subject.

	Again I hesitated.  "Well, to tell the truth, your story about your
family friend touched a spot.  It was with my twin brother, Johnny.  You
know Johnny."

	"Yeah."  Wonderingly.  "That really is a coincidence.  I wonder if
it's some sort common thing with twins."

	"I've read that it is.  Something over half the same sex twins are
supposed to have engaged at least once in 'same sex' acts with their
twin siblings."

	Something was obviously compelling him to his great
embarrassment.  "Uh, did you ever. . . I mean, uh did you ever, uh, you
know. . .?"  Unable to complete the question.

	I decided to take a leap ahead, "Complete the sex act with each
other?  Suck each other?"

	"Yeah."  His response was strangled and abject.  By this time his
arousal was complete as I could see beneath his sweats despite his
unsuccessful attempt to casually conceal it.

	I leaned toward him.  "Kevin, what's going on here?"  The same
gambit I'd used with Robert.  Well, it had worked once. . .

	"I, I'm not sure," he choked.

	Throwing caution aside and gambling that I'd read his desires
rightly, I answered, "Yes, Kevin.  We did.  And, honestly, more than a
half dozen times.  We did from age 16 on.  It never made a difference in
what we thought of as our heterosexuality and it never made a
difference in our relationship as brothers, but, yes, we did."  Then, slowly
removing his hands from his lap and laying my hand on his hard cock
and testicles and gently squeezing, I asked, "Is this what you want,
Kevin?"

	Chokingly and almost inaudibly, "I. . . I think so."

	"No, Kevin.  I'm not going to seduce you.  Your a grown man,
too.  It needs to be your choice, and whatever it is, it's not going to make
any difference in our friendship and, since you brought it up, I'm trusting
that it won't make any difference in yours."

	He was silent for a time.  My hand remained without movement
on his genitals, and I waited.  "I, I guess I feel ashamed."

	"I did too.  Its not something that altogether passes, Kevin.
Especially, if your married, love your wife and children and have no
intention of changing that relationship, and I don't and wouldn't even ask
you or follow through if you did.  That's the reason it has got to be your
choice, because you will have to make your own peace or, if not 'peace',
come to terms with it yourself.  I won't - can't - bear that for you."

	He'd turned to look at me thoughtfully, wonderingly.

	Then turning toward me, he placed his hand on my genitals
which I'd willed to remain relaxed.  "Yeah," he breathed, "this is what I
want.  Will you show me?"

	In answer, I stood, pulled my sweat shirt over my head and,
pushing them to my ankles, stepped out of my sweats and tossed them
aside.  My cock, now unrestrained by the effort of my will, had sprung
quickly to a state of erection.  Stepping, in front of him, I grasped the
waistband of his sweat shirt and pulled it over his head, then, folding it,
made a show of leaning forward to drape it over the back of the couch.
This brought my hard shaft into contact with his cheek, and he gasped in
sudden inhalation.  Stepping back, I kneeled in front of him and,
grasping the waist band of his sweat pants, peeled them to and over his
feet, my face within inches of his throbbing cock as I completed his
disrobing.  I remained in that position, openly examining his cock in
minute detail.  It was slight longer and slightly more slender than mine
and Johnny's, but it was also a beautiful cock.  He was uncircumcised,
and his cockhead was only half exposed.  There was a small, pearl
droplet standing on the small slit on the head of his cock.  Throwing his
sweat pants casually over the back of the couch, I leaned forward and
grasped his shaft, now hot and throbbing, and stroked it quietly and
gently a couple of times.

	He was beginning to breath heavily.  I looked up at him
questioningly, and he gave a slight nod.  Holding the base of his cock in
my left hand and gently squeezing his testicles with my left, I bent my
neck and gently licked the dewdrop of come from the slit, ticklingly
pressing against it as I did so.  Looking up at him, he was watching
intently, in eager anticipation.

	I lowered my head again and, continuing to gently hold his
genitals, pulled the skin back tightly to expose all his cockhead.  I
moistened my mouth and tongue and began to lick the cockhead slowly
and thoroughly.  His cock jumped and throbbed at the contact, and I
realized that I needed to get on with it quickly.  Opening my mouth, I
engulfed his cockhead with my warm, moistened mouth, and, by this
time well practiced, slid it down do the base of his shaft, licking, stroking
and sucking firmly in the downward progress.  At the nadir, I hesitated
and pressed my tongue along the swelling tube on the underside of his
cock and licked and stroked my tongue up and down several time.  His
breathing was more rapid and more audible.  He'd laid his hands on
either side of my head and held me gently as he thrust slightly back and
forth.  I began to raise my head to the tip of his cockhead and lower it to
engulf his entire length.  As the movement increased in speed and
pressure, his body rose to thrust forward and back in synchronous
rhythm.  I could feel his cock swelling and stiffening and throbbing more
insistently in a prelude that I'd come to know well.  Suddenly, it began
spasm forcefully as gush after gush of warm semen pumped into my
throat.  I drank it greedily and continued to lick, suck and pull after he
had emptied himself until his breathing had become normal and his cock
had relaxed to a half-hard condition.  Then unobtrusively taking a wipe
with the back of my hand across my mouth, I rose to sit beside him,
sprawling in imitation of his position with my head supine against the top
of the cushions on the back of the couch.  I had not climaxed as I
sometime did during the act, although I'd come very close.  I was very
glad.  I wanted to be fully capable of responding to his curiosity, and I
was eagerly curious to see what came next.

	After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and turned to look at
me.  To my relief, he smiled gently and openly.  "I think I understand my
father's friend much better."  He glanced down at my relaxed cock and,
leaning forward, gently kissed me.  Then he slid gracefully in one motion
to the floor and between my legs.  While my cock was only beginning to
think of reaction, he took it, limp and relaxed, entirely into his mouth and
began to lave it, tip to base, with oral and langular caresses.  My cock
began to swell and harden rapidly, and as it reached full erection, it
pressed into the back of his throat, and he began to raise and lower his
head from tip to base in imitation of what I'd done to him.  After about
five minutes of intense pleasure as I rose rhythmically to meet his
movements, I felt the throbbing intensify and the familiar sharpness in
my loins and my cock lengthened and swelled and ejaculated
spasmodically into his mouth.  Unpracticed, he got most of it, swallowing
rapidly, and that which seeped from around his grasping lips he slowly
lapped, tasting it as he swallowed.

	We fell asleep together in his bed.  In the middle of the night, I
awoke to find him slowly sucking my cock.  As it hardened, I shifted in
the soixante-neuf position and began to suck him as well until we came
simultaneously.

                          *     *     *

	We slept late on Saturday morning and worked out at the
Nautilus and pool for about an hour before eating a hearty breakfast.
Kevin was unusually reticent, and I knew we would need to talk through
at length what had happened in order for him to assimilate it.  I hoped I
wouldn't mess things up by trying to pursuade him to my own
understanding, but at the same time I felt I must put it all in the terms I
had come to live with.

	We worked on the preparation of Monday's depositions until
mid-afternoon, and then broke to walk around the older parts of San
Fransisco.  We saw numerous gay couples, some with their arms around
each other's waist, some holding hands, on more than one occasion we
saw them embrace and kiss.  Some were feminine in their carriage and
mannerisms.  Some spoke in dulcet, womanly tones and phrases.  I
could tell that Kevin was becoming more and more uncomfortable, and
we returned to our suite.

	Over a couple of Coors, he began to speak what was on his
mind.

	"Petey, is that how you think we are?  Do we come across like
that?"  His voice was flat and miserable.

	"No and I don't think so.  We're not like that because that isn't
where our focus of sexual identity is.  If I ever think it is, then that's
the
end of my relationships with you and with Johnny.  I want you to have
the same resolve.  Also, and, Kevin, please don't take this as an
intrusion, but when we get back Atlanta you need to screw Lucy's
eyeballs out.  You need to remind yourself and know who you are as a
heterosexual male.  If this confuses you, give it up. . .give ME up!
Because we're not like that we don't come across like that.  Now,
obviously, while I think of myself as heterosexual, I know that technically
I would be regarded as bisexual.  That gives me a certain feeling of
identity with gays.  I've never been a gay basher and never will be.  But I
don't want to be - would not be - with a gay sexually.  I don't find a real
identity of interest there.  AND there's also a hugely increased danger of
HIV, AIDS and venereal disease with gays because of their tendency to
have multiple sex partners."

	He thought about it several minutes.  I could tell that he was
testing what I'd said against his own emotions and self-understanding.  "I
think I agree with you and think that your understanding is right.  But that
about Lucy?  I can't wait to reassure myself on that score."  I decided at
that moment that things had gone far enough this trip and that to repeat
the sex act with him would be injurious and harmful to his assimilation of
what had happened and to the potential of a continuation of this new
aspect of our friendship.  So, that night, when he made tentative moves
toward a repetition, I plead a headache and sleepiness.

                          *     *     *

	We got back to Atlanta, late the following Wednesday night.  I
came into the office Thursday afternoon and Friday morning to work our
depositions into my trial notebook, but he didn't appear until Monday
morning, and Lizzie and I didn't hear from him or Lucy over the
weekend.  I must say I had some trepidation about what was occurring,
but on Monday morning, he came into my office with a big grin on his
face.  "You were right!  Lucy and I had the best sex we've ever had this
weekend.  Seven times!  In bed, in the shower, on the floor, once in the
car.  Boy, I can't tell you what a load that is off my mind!"

	I smiled encouragingly but kept silent.

	Hesitating and looking intently at me, he said, "We need to talk,
but not here."

	"I've got to drive up to Chattanooga to talk to one of our experts
in a little while.  Be back late this afternoon.  Want to come?  You need
to hear this guy, anyhow."

	He looked at his watch.  "Okay.  I need to check and clear my
calendar and call, Lucy.  Be ready in about fifteen minutes?"

	In the car, about 30 miles north of Atlanta, he brought the
subject up.  "I agree and believe everything you said last weekend in
San Fransisco.  I just want to get a clear understanding of what our
relationship is going to be."

	We talked until we came into the outskirts of Chattanooga.  We
agreed that it would not enter the office or impinge on our professional
relationship.  We agreed that it would not interfere with or alter the
friendship of our wives and families.  We agreed that we would not
display anything sexual in our relationship except in strict privacy.  We
agreed that this would be a monogamous same-sex relationship - with
the exception of Johnny, which I explained to him detail.  We agreed
that each of us would get frequent, periodic checks for venereal disease
and HIV and would report the results to one another, not because of
distrust so much as to keep that potential danger from affecting our
relationship.  We agreed not to ever let sex between us become more
important or more frequent than with our wives.  We agreed to always
be truthful and candid with another and to speak up if one of us thought
the other was not living up to the bargain.  All very detailed and lawyerly,
but both of us felt better.


                           THE JOHNSON TWINS
                                     (Pt.5 of 6)
                                            by
                                     Pen Nomen


                             -FIVE-

THE PSYCHOLOGICAL INTERVIEW CONTINUES:

	"So you and Kevin have been in a same sex sexual relationship
for. . . how long?"

	"Four, almost five years."

	"And during the same time you've continued active sex relations
with Johnny?"

	"Yes, if active is half dozen times a year."

	"Do Kevin and Johnny know each other?  Or do they know about
your relationship with each other?"

	"Yeah, both.  That's part of the deal with both of them."

	"How does Kevin feel about Johnny?  After all, you're twins, and
he must feel a little strange being intimate with you and then also being
around him."

	He suddenly colored slightly and looked away slightly.  A first.
"What's the matter, Petey?  Did I get into something you'd rather not talk
about?"  That was the deal with all those who'd agreed to be interviewed.

	"No.  But you did get into something that I haven't fully dealt with
yet."

                          *     *     *

	After Kevin and I had come to terms, everything was fine.
Never any stepping on toes.  Good relationships between wives and
families outside our particular relationship.  Nothing, I mean NOTHING,
at work.

	Then about a year and half later during the summer, Lucy and
their kids and Lizzie and our kids took a house in the Asheville area for
the summer and were staying up there.  We had a four day fourth of July
weekend, and Johnny called and proposed that we go to the folks' place
in Panama City to fish, boat and generally relax.  They were on a trip to
Europe, and his family were visiting his wife's folks in New Hampshire.  I
told him I'd like to but Kevin and I had decided we'd go up to the
mountains for the long weekend.

	"Thought you were both going to take off a couple weeks in mid-
July and go up."

	"We are, but there's not much to do in Atlanta, and we'd both
like to get away."

	"Why don't the both of you drive down to P.C., and will just
batch it for three or four days?"

	For some reason, I felt reluctant, but, nevertheless, said, "Okay.
Let me check with Kevin and, if he can go, we'll do it."

	So we took Friday before Sunday the 4th off, and drove down
late Thursday afternoon with plan to return on Monday night.  Mom and
Dad had converted our old suite into a four room guest suite with three
king size bedrooms opening off of a sitting room with a glass wall
opening onto the gulf.  It was quite comfortable.  They had added a
couple of baths but hadn't gotten rid of the two-headed shower stall
Johnny and I had grown up with.

	Kevin was entranced.  Johnny and I still had clothes and
"playtoys" in our closets which had been redesigned, so we immediately
changed in bathing suits.  Thanks to continued tennis and tanning
salons, neither Johnny nor I had lost too much of our dark tans.  Kevin,
of course, with his coloring, mainly freckled and turned a ruddy, reddish
light tan, so he didn't seek out the sun unless it was convenient.

	After changing into white racing briefs which, I must say,
flaterringly displayed our dark skin and musculature carefully maintained
by diligent health club workouts, Johnny, Kevin and I congregated in the
sunroom.  Kevin looked at the two of us, startled.  "I can't tell which is
which!" he exclaimed in dismay.  Johnny and I both laughed, and, at our
long accustomed signal, decided to switch identities.  "I'll stick a band
aid on the top of my foot," Johnny said, "and Johnny'll be the one without
the strip."

	"It's amazing how much you two guys are still alike after all
these years, separated and all."

	We ran down to the beach and played in the waves a couple of
hours, before returning to the house to shower and get ready for supper.
The three of us shared the two headed shower, and I noticed that Kevin
kept comparing Johnny and me in minute physical detail and privately
shaking his head to himself slightly in quiet amazement.  "Your cocks
are even identical."  He was not at all embarrassed, knowing that Johnny
was aware of our relationship and that Johnny was aware of what had
been going on between us.  Johnny and I nodded at one another,
privately agreeing to continue the masquerade for awhile.

	As for me, I was pretty confused myself.  I knew that I'd be
engaging in sex with one or both of them during the holiday, but I
couldn't decide how to go about it, which one had priority, what kind of
privacy to maintain.  While Johnny and I awaited Kevin in the driveway
to drive to our favorite local restaurant, I hastily broached the subject to
him.

	"It really doesn't matter.  I want you, of course, but that's not the
principal reason for this weekend.  However things develop naturally."

	I thought occurred to me.  "What about the three of us?  What
d'ya think?"  I amazed myself.

	Cocking an eyebrow and looking at me quizzically, "What are
you talking about?"

	"I mean all three of us.  Sex.  Y'know."  I could hardly believe
that I was suggesting it.  It had never even occurred to me before that
moment.

	"Petey, we've never gone for that sort of thing.  I don't know."
Kevin came bounding out of the house.  "I'll think about and let you
know."

	We enjoyed dinner enormously.  We talked about politics,
basketball, football.  Walking out to the car afterwards, Kevin whispered
softly, "I can't stop thinking about how good your body looked in that
bikini thing this afternoon."

	I looked at him and raised one eybrow.  Who he had thought
was I was really Johnny.  "Maybe something will develop," I answered.

	As Johnny unlocked the car doors, he said softly to me, "Okay."

	Back at the house, I suggested, "How about a run on the
beach?"  Everyone was a taker, so we changed into running shorts and
took off barefooted to the beach.  Kevin had been with me as we
changed, so he had our identity straight.  As we walked to beach, he
glanced down and saw the bandaid on the top of Johnny's foot.  He
looked at me quickly.  "Johnny?"  "Yeah?", I answered playing it along to
see what would happen.

	"Gosh, I feel disoriented.  Look, what I said back there?  I
thought your were Petey.  Sorry."

	"'S okay.  I felt really included."

	As we took of on our run, I dropped slightly behind and watched
Johnny and Kevin running.  Kevin said something and Johnny laughed.
I saw Kevin slap Johnny playfully on the butt.  Boy, I thought, this could
really get interesting.

	After we got back to the house, we all stripped and stepped into
the sauna.  Sitting on the slatted benches and chatting idly.  I saw Kevin
again examining Johnny and me, still confused about who was who,
except for the deceptive bandaid Johnny was still wearing.  During our
shower, I whispered to Johnny, "Take my bed, and I'll take yours."

	Later, after we had been in bed about half an hour, I heard the
sharp click of a door latch being turned.  Slipping out of bed, I peered
through the cracked door as Kevin slipped into "my" room.  I tiptoed
across the sun room to the closed door to my room.  Everything was
dark, but the full moon permitted clear vision.  I quietly slipped into "my"
room where Johnny was already breathing heavily as he slept.  I saw
Kevin standing by the bed and slipped quietly into the shadows.

	Kevin stood by the bed a moment and pushed his boxers to his
ankles and stepped out of them.  I knew that Johnny had continued our
practice of sleeping nude, as I had.  Kevin removed the single sheet
covering Johnny, and he lay exposed, sprawling on his back, his limbs
askew.  Kevin, immediately slipped kneeling between his legs and,
holding Johnny's soft cock sucked its entire length into his open mouth.
Johnny stirred voluptuously and moaned softly but did not waken.  In his
sleep, his cock began to lengthen and harden as Kevin pumped from
base to tip.  My own cock had lengthened and hardened and was
throbbing insistently.  I willed it into a more relaxed state.  I decided it
was time to make my "entrance."  Pretending, to be walking into the
room for the first time, I opened the door and stepped into the room.
"Johnny," I called.  Kevin stopped immediately, Johnny's cock still in his
mouth.  Johnny, stirred and raised himself on elbows, "Petey?"

	Then, he noticed his unusual position, and, as if only becoming
aware, I said, "Kevin?"

	He immediately withdrew from Johnny and looked around at his
left foot, now without the distinguishing bandaid.  He sat on heels,
dazed.  "I thought. . .  I mean I thought. . .  Petey?" He asked looking at
me as approached the side of the bed and then looking at Johnny.

	"Aw, chee, Petey, Johnny, I'm sorry.  I thought..."

	"Thought what Kevin?" I asked.

	"I thought this was your room.  I thought Johnny was you."

	"Well, Kevin, I don't know what to say, except that maybe
Johnny would appreciate it if you didn't leave him  that condition."

	Kevin whipped his head to look at Johnny who was grinning
kindly at him, then back to peer at me as I smiled.

	The light dawning, he said, "Oh, you guys!"

	He looked at Johnny's cock, still erect and glistening from his
saliva, and smiling at both of us, said, "Just as you say."  With that he
bent over again and sucked Johnny's cock deep into his mouth.  I
crawled on to the kingsized bed, and tugging his body gently, turned him
until his cock was directly above my mouth.  Placing my hands on his
buttocks and pulling him toward me as I raised my head slightly, he slid
his cockhead between by moistened lips and slowly penetrated until he
was buried in me.  Then he began to withdraw rhythmically as I raised
and lowered his head to meet his slow thrusts.

	Johnny said, "Somebody is getting left out here."  I didn't know
whether he meant him or me, as he shifted himself and quietly urged us
to accomodate his move.  We somehow ended up on our sides as we
formed a circle, Kevin's cock in my mouth, my cock in Johnny's, and
Johnny's in Kevin.  We were all moving our heads and thrusting our
pelvises in unison, speeding and slowing without any signal or word.
The only sounds were soft moaning noises of mouths enclosed upon
hard cocks and moist sucking sounds from around the circle.  After a few
minutes, our movements became more rapid in our urgency, I felt the
familiar sharp ache in my loins and pulled Kevin into my mouth as I felt
my cock swell and harden in Johnny and immediately begin to gush hot
come into his throat.  At the same time, Kevin's cock began to throb and
spasm as he ejaculated shot after shot into my waiting mouth, and I
heard him groan softly, signaling I knew, Johnny's simultaneous
ejaculation into his sucking mouth.

	After a few moments, we withdrew ourselves from one another
and lay, side by side, on Johnny's - my - bed, as our breathing slowly
subsided.

	"What am I supposed to do with you guys?" Kevin asked
laughing.

	"Exactly what you did," Johnny responded.

                          *     *     *

	We spent the next morning on Dad's boat fishing.  That
afternoon back at the house, Johnny and I swam while Johnny lay in a
chaise longue under a sun sheltering beach umbrella.  The pool had a
twelve foot wall around it because our whole family preferred to swim
nude and it provided a means of eliminating trunk and strap lines in
smooth tans.

	After swimming a half-mile full of laps, Johnny and I just played
in the pool.  We kept a jock hanging on a hook on the diving boards to
guard against painful miscalculations on dive entries.  I watched Johnny
step into it and tuck his cock and testicles inside.  Then he paced to the
end of the three meter board with the arrogant grace of a matador,
breathing deep and focusing on his dive.  "Beautiful," I thought.  He
sprang purposefully twice and completed a one and a half gainer with a
full twist beautifully.  I noticed Kevin watching slack-jawed.

	Johnny pulled himself up and out on the edge of the pool and
stepped out of the athletic supporter.  I stuck my hand out, and he
handed to me.  Walking to the board and stepping into it, tucking
genitals securely, I thought, "What am I doing?  I haven't done this in
years."  Pacing to end of the board, I rehearsed the dive thorougly in my
mind, the jumped twice and duplicated Johnny's dive.  Swimming to the
edge of the pool and pulling myself up, I saw Johnny's grin and Kevin's
undisguised admiration.

	Still naked, we put lunch together and ate it in the breakfast
room.  Our continued nakedness began to feel very natural and helped
to control evidence any stray sexual fantasies.  A couple of times,
though, I noticed both Johnny and Kevin become half erect and knew
that they could see the same thing happen to me when one or more of
the others of us would move in some way or unwittingly enter to some
position that aroused desire.

	We decided to continue our comfortable nonattire while we
desultorily watched a gymnastics championship event.

	"Those guys may be among the second best perfect types I've
ever seen," Kevin noted.

	"Second best?" said Johnny, "Who's best?"

	"You two guys," he said, turning to appraise us openly and
detail.

	I felt myself flushing slightly and noticed that both Johnny and I
developed mild twitches in our genitals as they lengthened slightly and
rose to a half erect state.  By this time, Kevin was openly staring, with a
sleepy, unabashed look of lust.

	I returned his straight-forward look.  "Not half bad yourself.  A
little more slender, more like a dancer.  And your equipment's longer."

	"But not as round," he laughed.

	He dropped to the floor in front of the couch where Johnny and I
were sitting side by side.  Taking one cock in each hand, he pumped a
few times until they were at maximum erection and hardness, then
bobbing his head, he alternatively moved from one to the other with his
eyes closed, swallowing each shaft in one long stroke and withdrawing to
the other.

	After a few minutes, I stood and, walking out of the sun room,
said, "Back in minute."

	When I returned, Johnny was on the floor between Kevin's legs,
sucking in his entire length and then withdrawing to kiss his testicles and
lick his cockhead in moist, circular motions.  I placed the jar I was
carrying on the couch and leaned over to kiss Kevin deeply on the lips
as Johnny performed his ministrations at a lower level.  Stroking his
chest, belly, ribs and hips, I followed with my lips and tongue.  Genlty I
urged him to turn on his stomach, and, as he did so, he pulled Johnny to
him and began to suck and lick his cock, as I stroked, kissed and lick the
back of his torso, ending at the cleft of his buttocks.  Pulling them
slightly apart, my tongue stroked the nether regions of the hidden cleft.
His buttocks were rising falling to meet my movements, and he was
breathing very hard.

	"On your knees," I urged, and as he complied I opened the jar of
petroleum jelly I had fetched, and rubbed a generous amount on the
head and down the length of my cock.  Reaching around his body and I
grasped his cock and moved my cockhead to his rear gate.  We'd never
done this, but he moved instinctively to press back against my pressing
cockhead, and, well-lubricated, it slipped fairly easily into his warm
canal.  When Johnny realized what was happening, he turn his body 180
degrees, and took Kevin's cock into his mouth to the point where he
encountered by grasping hand, and skinning Kevin's cock back tightly
with my hand, I enticed Johnny into redouble efforts.  Kevin continued to
suck Johnny's cock with avid concentration while at the same time
thrusting his buttocks back to take my cock in his ass to the basis.  In my
lusting depravity, I thought how much I would like to SEE the action,
each of us breathing in shallow gasping spurts, as we moved with
increasing speed and urgency.  At one point I pushed Kevin's head aside
and leaning over took a few long pulls on Johnny's cock.

	Our desire would not permit all of this more than a few minutes,
and with a familiar sharp ache in my loins, and feeling Johnny swell in
my mouth, I withdrew from Johnny's cock and began to ejaculate into
Kevin's inner body.  I saw the first spurt of come shooting from Johnny's
cock as Kevin's open mouth descend to engulf it and his throat began to
work as he swallowed rapidly.  At the same time I felt his body stiffen as
he ejaculated into Johnny's greedily sucking mouth.  We were a
cacophony of little mewls, moans and grunts as each of climaxed with
pleasure and received sweet nectar of our mutual efforts.

	After a few minutes we fell apart onto the floor in spent
exhaustion.

	After awhile we showered and lay on my bed, our arms around
one another, stroking and caressing.  I noticed Kevin reacting first, and
leaned down and sucked a few strokes, before I handed him the
petroleum jelly and said pleadingly, "In my ass, Kevin?"  He nodded, and
I covered his cock with the lubricant and got on my hands knees and
positioned himself behind me.  His long, slender cock penetrated with
relative ease and he began to thrust in and out, as Johnny slipped into
the soixante-neuf position beneath me.

	The climax took a few minutes longer and left the three of us in
a satisfied langor.

	Johnny spoke first, "I figure it will take four more bouts for each
us to take every position, but I think I'll have wait until tonight.  Not
much
left right now."

	It was a great holiday, but we didn't catch much fish.


                           THE JOHNSON TWINS
                                     (Pt.6 of 6)
                                            by
                                     Pen Nomen


                              -SIX-

DR. NELSON (THE PSYCHOLOGIST) WRITES HIS, UH,
EVALUATION:

	I guess the rest of the case report is mine.

	After Peter Johnson had finished his last interview, we sat
together in my office.  It was almost six o'clock on Friday afternoon and
everyone else had left the office.

	"Well, Petey, you seem to have assimilated your experiences
better than almost any other twin I've interviewed."  He looked at me
quietly, contemplatively, for a couple of minutes.  Then shrugged.
"Maybe," he said.

	"But," I continued, "You've been fooling yourself about some
aspects of you sexuality.  You're not heterosexual.  You aren't.  Johnny
isn't.  Kevin isn't.  You're bisexual.  And my guess is that you're not even
bisexual with a heterosexual preference.  At best you're just 'straight'
bisexual and you may even be bisexual with a homosexual preference."
He continued to sit quietly, looking at me speculatively.  "Does Lizzie
know about your same sex experiences?"  No answer.  "But Johnny and
Kevin know about your relationship with Lizzie, and I'll bet that you know
a pretty good bit about their experiences with their wives."  His eyes
shifted to his feet.  "Oh, you've done better with handling your
experience than most have.  Except for not being completely honest
with yourself, your the most honest of my interviewees.  And understand.
I'm not even saying that you ought to 'come out of the closet.'  That's not
necessary, and maybe not even desirable.  You don't defend same sex
experiences as being 'natural' or the result of the way the participants
are 'created'.  I happen to believe you're right.  I think its a good
corrective to understand the 'unnaturalness' of same sex experiences,
but its not as easy for you as it is for those who defend themselves as
acting out their inborn nature."

	"You seem to have an awful lot of knowledge about it. . . about
me," he said somewhat sarcastically.

	"I'm a psychologist, Petey.  And your the one hundred and
nineteenth twin I've interviewed.  Your experience is not that different
from a lot of them. . . that is how you got into it with Johnny.  We
estimate that over forty percent male twins have same sex experiences
with their twin siblings.  A lot of those have short-term duration
relationships with their twins, but are often devastated by it.  About
twenty-five percent of them are led into lifelong homosexual identities
and experiences."

	He nodded slowly, comprehendingly.  "But the part that's good is
that you've maintained a distinct heterosexual identity as well.  And
you're careful.  And you're partners maintain their heterosexual selves
as well as their same sex inclinations.  And metaphysically, your and
their guilt, while perhaps not 'comfortable', is probably a health balance
and probably a correct metaphysical understanding.  Hard to be
definitive about metaphysical truth, but I believe it."

	"You've thought a lot of it," he said.

	"Sure.  I'm a psychologist.  Ph.D for two years.  Pretty good for a
thirty year old, hunh?"  Then, "And I'm intensely interested in the field.
Probably the reason I'm in the field.  I'm also a twin and also had the
same experiences."  He looked at me startled.  I returned his look,
chuckling softly.

	"What about. . ."

	"What about my preferences.  Oh, I'm somewhat of a self-
deluder, too.  I'm married and have one child, a son.  But my twin
brother - he's a surgeon - and I have a similar arrangement to yours' and
Johnny's, and I've had other same sex experiences with only three
others.  None of them gays.  Guys like the one you chose.  We're alike
in a lot of ways.  We were athletes, too. . .still are.  I was the state 25
to
35 year old tennis champion last year.  Lift weights.  All the same kind of
stuff."

	He began to look at me from a new light.  I have light brown hair
and eyes, a little darker than him except for his dark tan.  I'm a little
larger, about six feet and 175 pounds, but we're actually built very
similarly.  I felt myself flush slightly under his examination.  Of course,
I'd had already had the opportunity to size him up during the interview.
He stood and walked to me.  Standing close, he put his hands on my
hips, and leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine.  I immediately
became hard, and as he pulled me closer to him, my erection pressed
into him.  His was also evident.  Looking steadily at me, he untied my tie
and pulled it from my neck, laying it neatly over the arm of the chair.  He
began to unbutton my shirt, and completing the last button, pulled it from
my trousers and slipped it off and laid it over the arm of the chair.  I
don't wear an undershirt, and he softly brushed his hands over my
smooth chest and, leaning forward, flicked my erect nipples with his
tongue.  He pushed me into a sitting position in the chair, and leaning
over removed my loafers and socks, setting them neatly aside.  Still
kneeling, he unbuckled my belt, undid the waist button of my trousers
and pulled my zipper down, barely brushing my erect cock as he did so.
"Stand up," he ordered.  I complied, and as my trousers dropped, he
caught them and, as I stepped out of them, folded them neatly and laid
them over the chair.  Stepping forward, he slipped both hands beneath
the waistband of my briefs, palms against my skin, and slid them around
to press and squeeze my buttocks.

	"Wait a minute," I said, stepping back.  As I did so, he ran his
eyes up and down my body admiringly.

	"Boy, you are built," he said.

	"Shhh."  I stepped toward him and pulled his knit shirt over his
head and laid it on the other chair.  Unbuckling his belt and loosening
the waist button of his trousers, they dropped to the floor.  I held them as
he stepped from the, and I folded them and tossed them neatly over his
shirt.  Next came the socks and sneakers.  His boxers gaped open
slightly, and I saw his erection held down by restraining cloth.

	We stepped apart and mutually examined and admired one
another.  Then he stepped forward and, kneeling, slowly peeled my
briefs to my ankles, and I stepped out of them.  He quickly slipped his
mouth over my cock and stroked it back and forth from base to tip a
couple of times.

	"Just I minute," I said, stepping back.  I took his hands and
pulled him to his feet, then kneeling removed his shorts.  His cock, freed
of restraining clothing, sprung upward, and I leaned forward and
swallowed it, pumping my head, stroked his throbbing length a couple
times, and stood up.

	"Soixante-neuf?" he asked.

	"No.  One on one this time.  Who's first?"

	"Paper, scissors, rock."

	My paper covered his rock, and I went first.  "Sit in the chair," I
ordered, and he complied.

	Kneeling between his legs, I stroked his inner thighs and
testicles, softly wrapped my hand around his cock, and stroked it gently.
Then skinning it back tightly, his cockhead glistening, I licked the droplet
of semen from the slit, engulfed the cockhead in my mouth and sucked
firmly as I licked it in circular motions.  After a couple minutes, I lowered
my head slowly, taking its entire length into my mouth and stroked the
bulging ridge on the under side with my tongue.  I could feel it texture in
my mouth.  Smooth skin, blood vessels, the ridge at the bottom of his
cockhead, the smooth, hard penile muscles.  My nose was in his pubic
hair, and I inhaled his clean, musky, male odor.  I began to raise and
lower my mouth over his shaft, licking and stroking and gently stroking
his inner thighs and testicles with my hand.  He laid his hands on my
head and alternately pressed and caressed as he raised and lowered his
hips in unison with the movement of my grasping, sucking mouth on his
cock.  His breathing became more rapid.  Hearing soft sounds which I
first thought came from him, I realized that I was moaning softly as his
cock filled my throat.  I felt his body stiffen and his cock lengthen and
harden as it throbbed hotly.  Then thrusting forward, his cock began to
spasm and his hot come shot in pulsing gushes into the back of my
throat as I swallowed rapidly.  I sucked him dry and licked all traces of
his climax from his still large and firm, but softening cock.  I raised my
head and looked openly at him, and he leaned forward a kissed me,
thrusting his tongue deeply into my mouth where the taste of his semen
still lingered.

	I hoped that Pete, Johnny and Kevin would be willing to add a
fourth...and, who knows, after I talk to my twin brother about this, a
fifth!