Date: Sun, 5 Jun 2011 17:13:30 +0200 From: Mark Gouwen Subject: Symmetry part 2 It was that day just over two years ago that everything changed. Up until then, it had all been perfect symmetry. But that day, it all changed. We're still always together. But we're no longer exactly the same as each other. There's an asymmetry here. Since that day. I suppose a wiser, more objective head would say that we were never *exactly* the same. And that we're still damn similar now: our own mother can't tell us apart. Not that we'd sometimes pretend to be each other just to make sure she stays confused, wink wink. Not that that's to our advantage, know what I mean, haha. Sorry, distracted. So yes, probably, in reality, we were never totally utterly exactly the same, and we're still damn similar now, so in reality it probably wasn't quite so stark, but in my head, in the way I tell the story to myself, and I'm sticking with my version thankyou very much, up until that day, it was all perfect symmetry, we were like one being twice over ... damn this language, it doesn't have the words, except this one: identical. And it was that day, three years ago, that everything changed, and we stopped being the same. One person, one entity, damn this language, one *something*, became two. Two always together. Two so close that there are no other two so close on the planet (except other identicals - only we know). But two. Not one any more. Damn that day. My earliest memory, of all my memories, is toes. I suppose, grammatically, I should put "his" in front of toes: "his toes". But his are mine and mine are his. One. Identical. "Our"? Nothing works, so I'll just leave a blank. I suppose I could imagine a special pronoun for things that belong to "us". Somehow "we" and "us" work fine, and "our" for things that belong to us (our computer, our room, our bed), but "our toes"? Haha. Daft. "His toes"? No. Mine too, you see. One. Identical. So ~~ toes, or something. Or just toes. Bleh. My earliest memory, of all my memories, is toes. We were little more than babies, and had managed to get ourselves opposite ways around in the safety cot on a hot day with not much covering. I had hold of Ste's toes, and he had hold of mine. I've seen lil baby cousins catch hold of their own toes with complete fascination, but they're too far away to see properly. Me and Ste, we can do stuff other boys can't do. Like, my earliest memory, grabbing his toes, and him grabbing mine. And I had them real close to my face, examining them, fascinated by them, and he was doing exactly the same: Ste was holding Jamie's toes. I remember the delicate pattern like a huge fingerprint that covered the entire sole. I remember doing it to Ste's foot, and feeling it in my own foot, because Ste was doing exactly the same to me. My earliest memory: still babies in a cot. Haha and big brother Bill, four years older, peering in and grinning and telling mom. We did a lot of our examining twisted around head-to-toe like that over the years. Ankles, shins, knees. Thighs. Crotches. Symmetrical, you see. Always symmetrical. Symmetrical and simultaneous. One, not two. Identical. I remember being about five and we examined cocks and ballsacks properly for the first time. I mean, we'd looked at them in passing before, but this time we had a proper explore, with fingers and delicate hands - plus Ste's was hard, which was totally fascinating, and as soon as we started the examination, mine started getting hard too, and was properly hard long before we finished. So we (each to the other [except it's not two it's one], identically, symmetrically, simultaneously) rubbed our two (four?) thumbs over the tightly-crinkled soft flesh of the ballsack with its delicate, sensitive little oblong beans inside, and traced the wavy, crinkly line that runs up the middle of the ballsack and right along the underside of the cock, and felt the strange mixture of softness and hardness that is an erect penis, especially an erect boy-penis: springy-hard inside, with a covering of the ultimate in softness. We explored how the soft skin would run up and down if you held the whole thing between finger and thumb, and how the extra soft skin at the end would cover and uncover the hard ridge and smooth tip repeatedly ... where the slit was for the business, though goodness only knew (back then) why the thing went hard. It (they?) usually went hard from then on, when we examined them: Ste's first usually, before we'd even really started, and mine as soon as we did. Oh, haha, they moved us from the shared cot to separate little child-size beds about that time. That was a waste! We'd been together every moment since we were born (we'd scream the whole time we were separated by even a few feet so they soon gave up on trying to make that happen) and for nine months before that and for all eternity before that - *monozygotic* you see, didn't get paired up, just always been one, one and the same ... so why they ever thought two beds would work, haha. As soon as the door was closed, we'd pair up in one or the other. They kept trying to move us apart, especially as one child-size bed was very soon too small for the both of us and using two beds would have delayed having to source another ... but they bowed to the inevitable, and we moved from sharing one child-sized bed to a queen size, which we loved. Every night before we slept, we'd lie, twisted around, head-to-toe, examining ... always starting with toes, like that earliest memory. I love Ste's toes, and the pattern like a big fingerprint on the sole of his foot. It says: home. It says: us. It says: together. That's where we always start: stroking and counting toes, holding feet, and talking about the day, talking about nothing in particular. Ankles, shins, knees. Usually by then we'd flip around and hug, front to back, spoons, one way round or the other, and sleep, rolling over and spooning the other way, this way then that way then this again, swapping a few times through the night. Often it was only toes and feet - and chat - then spoons, and sleep. And just as often - until that day just over two years ago when everything changed... ...sigh... Forget it. Hm. Well, OK. Just as often as only doing toes and feet, just as often as that, from the first time we did it when we were about five, right up until that day just over two years ago, just before our thirteenth birthday, right up until that day, we'd shuffle in the bed and do all the way to thighs, ballsacks, cocks. Asses too. Backs, shoulders. Although that involved different positions, obviously. Pubes (once we had them), stomachs, chests, even necks (haha) we'd do flipped around, head to toe, taking up the full diagonal length of the bed, two feet in each of two opposite corners. I remember the first time we did asses. I think we were about six. We were doing ballsacks, and we traced the middle line the other way, towards the ass. We raised the upper thighs to give access, and curled our heads around to see. Totally fascinating. The soft pink opening between warm fleshy cheeks. We kissed each other. I mean, from toes onwards we kissed each other. Kids do that: put things in their mouths. So it was always part of it, from the earliest memory: Ste's toes in my mouth. So we kissed: feet, ankles, shins. Knees. Thighs. Ballsacks. Cockshafts and cockheads. Crotches. "Perineum" (it came up in human biology). Asshole. Pink, soft, moist asshole. Tasted of - us. Soft flexible mounds of assflesh. All with heads stuck between legs. Symmetrical. Simultaneous. I suppose I'm heading right into a contradiction here, complaining so much about the asymmetry of that day when it all went wrong. I suppose one of us must have been the first to do the asymmetrical, even though I don't remember which. Turn-taking: we take turns to do a gentle back-massage, often; one prone on the bed, the other sitting on top doing the massage. Used to, I mean. If I strain really hard I think I remember Ste doing the first massage and me lying on the bed, but I'm not sure: it *feels* symmetrical and simultaneous, even though it's taking turns. He kisses and massages my shoulders, my back, the backs of my ankles and legs and knees, my asscheeks (all over) and my asshole. I do the same for him. It's good. Been doing that since about seven, I think, maybe even six, I don't know. About the same time we first kissed lips. Exploring heads, faces ... lips. And then teeth, gums, roof of mouth, outside of teeth, inside of teeth, tongues probing, tongue on tongue, and kissing, just kissing, chest on chest, stomach on stomach, legs all tangled, cocks often hard, hands on backs and asses holding us together. Just twin stuff. Identical twin stuff. Singletons and two- egg twins can't possibly understand. Not really. We got our own computer for our twelfth birthday. We searched for stuff, and obviously searched for twins - twin brothers. Haha, virtually all you get is gay porn. That gave us new ideas, haha - the twins in porn. The ones we liked were the symmetrical ones, where they lie twisted around, like we do for the start of every night, and explore cocks by actually putting them in the mouth and sucking with this kind of bobbing movement. We'd been especially fascinated with ballsacks and balls and cocks for a while, as they were growing at some disproportionate rate, and there was hair sprouting: it was all starting to go man-size. Examining with lips and mouths and actually sucking as well was amazing. We liked it a lot. And within a few times we discovered that we could actually already make the white stuff come out, like the guys in the videos, and it was the most amazing sensation, and it made us feel so close: a really, really, really special twin thing. We did it virtually every night after that. Ste often shot first by a few seconds - I'd shoot straight after - but mostly it was pretty simultaneous. With the sucking thing, instinct took over, and we swallowed like little babies. It upset my stomach a bit - I assume the same for Ste - but we always swallowed. There was also rimming and fucking in the videos but that was so ... asymmetrical. I mean, the videos never made the point of showing that it was both ways. So we never did it. Well, we never fucked anyway. That would just be soooooooo asymmetrical. It was just wrong! I did notice that Ste took the cue to be rather more excited with his hands and his lips and now his tongue on and in my ass. It was ... well ... the fact that it was Ste is what matters the most. It was Ste and me. And ... yes, it was an interesting enough feeling. Pleasant. He'd moan with pleasure as he did it ... and he'd moan with pleasure as I had a go at doing the symmetrical to him. Doing it to him ... well ... the fact that it was Ste is what matters the most. It was Ste and me. And ... yes, it was an interesting enough feeling. Pleasant. I tried to mm and mm a bit: make it symmetrical. And then just before our thirteenth birthday, he was on top and he wanted to fuck. 'I suppose', I thought. Take turns, 'I suppose'. A bit gross that one of us has to go first for something so ... significant. So significant and *asymmetrical*. But it looked easy enough in the videos. We were both getting well towards mansize by then. He was rock hard. It went straight from shoulder massage (and chat, always chat) to "can I fuck you?" And I just thought, 'I suppose', and imagined how easy it looked on the videos. And he tried, and he tried, and it hurt like hell. Dry, sore, brutal. I guess he got in less than an inch, and it just hurt like hell. I tried not to say anything for as long as I could manage, then just pretty much howled and kinda threw him off. It hurt for days. Everything was broken. Asymmetry had come in. Everything, everything was broken. Our bond was broken. We were split apart. Split apart, and suddenly different. No longer one. No longer identical. Two. Two different people. From that, fucking, moment. It was all broken. We were twelve years old, and it was all broken. For just over two years (until we'd just turned fifteen), we lived with that unspoken resentment. We never did the twist-around again, the toes, that we'd done for literally as long as we could remember. No more examining, groping, cuddling, kissing, spooning. It kind of dawned on me, that very next day, that it wasn't "twin stuff" at all: it was sex. Duh! I just put myself to my side of the bed, and shook him off if he came near. We were still never apart. Never. We still shared the bed. I put my head right at the edge of my side, he put his head right at the edge of his ... our legs knotted together in the middle, we couldn't actually *not touch* all night, that would just be weird. And we did talk. Not just about the day. We'd talk about sex too. Just not about us. We never talked about that night. We were getting *very* spunky. We'd jerk side by side. We'd tease each other into thinking sexy thoughts then doing it in as few strokes as possible. We'd play that game especially in the woods - spunking on the messy forest floor - and in the second tree house. Haha, in the tree house, we got so we could both cum without even touching ourselves at all, just damn hard concentration on sexy thoughts. We'd both get our cocks out, facing each other, kinda kneeling down and sitting on our ankles facing each other, exposed cocks rock hard. I'd close my eyes and concentrate real hard on some sexy scene, and keep resisting the temptation to touch my raging boner until it spurted all of its own accord. Fucking amazing orgasms! Haha. Sometimes I'd open my eyes while we were doing it. Ste never had his eyes closed. He was always just looking at me. We'd cum within a few seconds of each other. Usually me first, for a change, haha, a triumph of pure concentration, then him a few seconds after, like mine had triggered his. But no touching. Strictly no touching. Not after that ... gah! ... that day. *Shit* it hurt. Crossed ankles in bed. Nothing else. But ... never apart. Oh no. Never apart. Always together. And people still couldn't tell us apart. We're a unit. One. Identical. Nobody knows. Nobody knows how different we are. Nobody can see. It's our secret. Nobody can even tell us apart. -------------------------------- And then that day in the woods it was *me* that raised it. Why did I do that? Clear the air I suppose. Apologise, almost. For just over two years of brooding. Since we were twelve-almost-thirteen. And now we were just-turned-fifteen. Damn we'd done a lot of growing up in that time - as well as having boy fun. Biking - for miles. Wrestling. Growing strong. Comics and adventure novels: fantasy adventures. The cunning second tree house. Tricks and dares with adults who knew there were two of us (but didn't know which was which) - and with adults who didn't know, hahaha. Stolen beer. Stolen cigarettes ... um ... we'd sort of pretended to smoke before, but it was Melissa who showed me how to do it properly, and I showed Ste. Bill going off to Afghanistan. Ste idolises Bill. And me, I suppose. I suppose I'm the dominant one out of the two of us now, all unhappily asymmetrical. He's sort of cowed. Probably sees me as his military lieutenant or something now, some daft fantasy. About the dominant thing. I suppose it started when I took to my own side of the bed that night just over two years ago, and threw him off if he came near. I was setting the new rules. And it affected everything. He's probably just as good a wrestler as me, but it's the mental thing. So I won. We met for the first time ever in the finals - they'd always arranged the qualifiers and the knock-outs so that we didn't meet. It was weird, going head to head with him. And I won. It's like we'd both decided it before we even started. Then I got loads of girls. Fucked two of them. He moped around behind me. I could feel him right outside the door each time I got myself a fuck. I mean, for fuck's sake! And I could feel him mope away once it was over. And I knew exactly which bench or wall to find him sitting on afterwards, waiting for me like I'd cheated on him or something and he hadn't the self-dignity to say or do anything about it. Fuck it. Haha, fuck it. Pussy. It's wet and warm and designed for cock. Fantastic. I mean, the sensations are great. Melissa even has proper tits to play with, not just floppy chest fat. And when she gets going: woot! Banging that wet pussy on to my cock. Fucking hot. Plunging into her hot wet flesh. Mm-MMM. But she's just some slag really. They all are. All human beings are slags. Except Ste, who's half of me. Just ... the undominant half. Anyway, that day in the woods. It was hot. We'd screwed over mom with the "you don't even know which of us is which" routine and thrown off our shirts as soon as we were out of the house. The farm was a hothouse, you never had a moment to yourself. It was great to get out into the big outdoors. Ste was daydreaming about Bill in Afghanistan. "Yeah, I think he's killing them all dead," I mocked him; "D-D-D-DRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" And I offered him a fag, and he took one, and we just sat there, shirtless in the heat, enjoying the smoke and the silence and each other's company, until he burnt his fingers because he's still not really doing it properly. I laughed at him, which wasn't great, so I changed the subject. "Got me a sweet date on saturday. Melissa." I was already kind of apologising. It would be the first time I actually planned in advance to be with someone else instead of him: the other times had just been at parties and stuff. Ste scowled, then - the submissive one - pretended to be pleased. That kind of upset me, to see him so ... submissive. I wish he'd been angry, shouted, thrown stuff, hit me. He pretended to be pleased. I went along with it. "Cool! She gonna put out?" said Ste. "Will she ever. She shags something fierce. Never had pussy like that before. Fucks for hours." I felt my cock swelling at the though of fucking Melissa. "God, I'm horny already." "Wanna wank?" I paused, gave him a look. Oh well, for you, I guess. It's not as if we don't do it regularly in front of each other anyway, in bed, in the second tree house, even in the open in the woods, like this. Probably did it more often before the wrestling and the girls ... in fact, not since the wrestling and the girls ... but whatever. I opened my shorts and hooked my thumb under the elastic waistband of my briefs. Ste followed in exact symmetry. Soon our cocks were free, standing bolt upright against our stomachs. I ... examined him with my eyes, across the distance between us. OK, I missed our close examinations. I wished that we were in bed, sixty-nine, like we had been since my very first memory, holding his foot as he held mine. I wished I was ... we were ... examining. There in the woods, both shirtless, cocks out, fully erect, Ste was watching me, exact symmetry. Five strokes each, and we shot exactly together, exactly in sync, exactly the same spurts. We panted exactly the same. Slowly looked up from the ground and into each other's eyes exactly the same. Ste spoke first. "Gosh you're hot." Silence. "Thanks." Silence. Asymmetry. And I felt bad about asymmetry. And I felt bad about just over two years of sulking and dominance and cowed and not examining. And I felt bad about the wrestling. And I felt bad about not doing *this* as often as we used to. And I felt bad about the date, Melissa, Saturday. I felt bad. Our cocks were still hanging out, going limp, as I started. We tucked them away as I spoke. "Look ... I know you still like to do the nasty with me ... and I like it too, I swear! It's just ... I'm doing chicks now, and well, that's good too." I hadn't convinced myself, let alone him. So I shot in the cliche - the cliche in my head for the last just-over- two-years, though never spoken. A cliche I regretted before I'd even said it, but out it came anyway. "I'm doing chicks now, and well, that's good too." Here it comes: "And less painful." Stupid, stupid, stupid. Ste was furious, and had every right to be. Finally it all came out. Finally. He jumped down and kicked the tree hard, and cursed. "ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT I'M SORRY! THAT WAS THREE YEARS AGO! I'M SORRY FOR HURTING YOU! I'VE FUCKING TOLD YOU A HUNDRED FUCKING TI-" Well, only just over two years actually, even though we were twelve then and fifteen now, but ... sod it ... stupid, stupid, stupid. It was time to put it right. I jumped down next to him and grabbed his shoulders and interrupted him. "It's okay ... we're still best buddies. It's just ... when you tried to fuck me..." Wrong move. Again. "I KNOW!" he yelled. Silence. He was in tears. Just the sound of Ste sobbing. I wrapped him in my arms, and for the first time since that night, felt his arms strong around me too. Very strong actually. Damn, we've both grown. A hell of a lot. Ste, swallowing sobs: "I thought it'd be easy, like in the porn vids. I'm so sorry, bro. I just ... I want go back to holding you at night, being together, Jamie." I was home. Finally, after just over two years of beligerance, I was home, home in Ste's arms. I said what I knew. It sounded like nothing much, but it meant the world to me. I held him in my arms, I felt his strong arms around me. "We'll do feet and toes tonight. We'll start with feet and toes, and see where it goes." My tired cock swelled a little at the thought. Maybe we'd get round to it before tonight, in the tree house or something, who knows. Just toes and feet mind, for a start; that's what I was trying to tell myself, though I was already imagining more. We were together again at last, after just- over two wasted years; older, stronger ... there was so much to explore, so much to catch up. I had no idea where it would lead, but we were together again at last.