The Legend of the Ditto Twins (17 page)

"Oh,
I don't care," my brother lied.

"Well,
there is a cover charge on Saturdays, but I don't have any grass tonight. And I
can get some tomorrow. I like grass better than coke or X. Don't you? I hear
you can't get it up with X. Is that true? Of course, that's not a problem for
me. Well, except indirectly, you know?"

Clay
interrupted her. "Clark, did your brother tell you my daughter
is
totally
certifiable?"

"So
are we. That's why we love her," he replied smoothly. Now she had two
brothers.

Dinner
was like a movie. We didn't eat one thing that my brother and I could
pronounce—
Bisque de
Homard
, Petit Pain,
Carré
d'Agneau
,
Asperges
au sauce
Hollandaise,
and
Crème
Brûlé
.
Plus, a bottle of wine. Very adult. It was during our second
glass that I felt Clark's toe in my crotch, and I slipped out of one shoe to
return the favor. By the time Clay handed the waiter his credit card, Lily had
called her aerobics instructor, and Clark and I'd begged
off, ostensibly in
order
to take Clay home. Both exhilarated
and exhausted, he asked for his third cigarette of the day.

When I
offered Clay one of mine, Clark seemed caught by surprise. When I offered him
one, he
spazzed
slightly but took it and turned to
our uncle with a skeptical smile.

"Are
you sure Mom and you are related?"

Clay's
magical laugh filled the night air.

We didn't rip off our clothes the moment the bedroom door was
closed, as I'd thought we might. Instead we just stared at each other for a
long, loaded moment before melting into the longest kiss we'd ever shared.

"You don't know how much I missed you," I
whispered.

"Oh, yes, I do."

We began to undress and touch each other all over. Certainly,
sexual electricity was in the air, but there were other things, too.

"Well, you know, don't you, that the Mazda Miata was
named Car of the Year in 1989," Clark was saying when he suddenly tensed.
"Stop! I'm close."

"Me, too. Should I get the Vaseline?"

"Clay might notice you've opened it."

I grinned. "I think that's why he put it there."

"Do you suppose he's figured out that we..."

"...play games with each other? C'mon, Clark, he had a
twin brother, too."

"Do you think he and Jay jerked
off together?"

"What do you think?"

My brother grinned. "I hope
so." He kissed me lightly. "I'm calmed down now. You can start
touching me again... if you don't mind... please."

Now it was my turn to kiss him
lightly. "I don't mind."

As I obliged him, he closed his
eyes contentedly. "Do you suppose they did other things?"

"Like what?" I felt the
touch of his hand finding me.

"You know... things...
blowjobs..."

"Oh, yeah, blowjobs." I
shrugged. "Who knows?"

"I was just
wondering..."

"Probably not. I think he
likes women with big tits."

"Okay. But that's not the
only thing in his DVD collection. What about Rest Stop Blowjobs?"

"Weird, huh? I just don't
know what to think."

"Tell me about the
movie."

"Well, the star looked so
much like you, I started to think about...you know, doing things like that to
you."

"And?"

"It scared me. If we did
that, would it mean we're queer?"

"Maybe." He paused.
"Maybe just queer for each other."

"Do you think we could be?
'Just queer for each other'? Not really... gay." I almost choked on the
word.

"Well, I've never wanted to
kiss anyone but you."

"Me either."

"Never wanted to go down on
anyone but you." "Me either. But it still scares me."

"That's okay. We don't have
to." He squeezed my dick. "Besides, it's probably messier than
jerking off, anyway."

"True. But I keep thinking
about the movie."

"Well, let's watch it,
then."

I nodded. "Just what I was
thinking."

I found the remote and pushed the
appropriate buttons. We snuggled in, our heads against the pillows propped up against
the headboard. The
blond star got out
of his car and went into the men’s room. The marine came in. They looked at
each other; they groped each other. The marine knelt and gave the blond head.
We just nuzzled and kept stroking each other. When the blond began to
reciprocate, however, Clark flipped over on his stomach and twisted around so
his head was now at the foot of the bed to get a better view.

"Mark...
He looks just like you."

"No,
just like you."

"Same
thing."

I eased
down into a better position to stroke his dick again, and realized that he had
edged back a bit to find mine. That put his dick only inches from my lips. I
gazed down our parallel bodies and noted that my dick was just as close to
his
lips. By the time I
looked back at the screen, the blond and the marine had sprawled on the tiled
floor in exactly the same position as us. A second later, as if they were two
souls with one mind, each leaned in and wrapped his mouth around the others
dick at the exact same moment.

So did
we.

The sensations
were all-consuming. I had never experienced anything quit
e so
overwhelming, not even the first time Clark and I jerked off. My dick in his
mouth felt as if it had finally found its way home; his dick in mine seemed the
most natural thing in the world. Neither of us had been schooled in the
mechanics of oral sex, except in the most brief and elementary ways, so I guess
instinct took over. We licked, slathered, and sucked with the skill of veteran
lovers. And I wasn't at all surprised when our dicks simultaneously slid all
the way down into each other's throat. We never once gagged or choked. On the
contrary, we seemed to know exactly what to do. Inevitably.

I have no idea how much time passed
before my tongue and palate began to realize that the head of Clark's dick was
beginning to harden and expand. And I could feel mine racing toward the finish
line, too. Of course, we both knew what would happen next, but neither of us
was about to break this new bond. Soon our mouths were filled with simultaneous
explosions of something closely akin, I guessed, to the elixir of the gods.

Eventually, I broke the silence with
an amazed laugh. "I may never jerk off again."

"Hey, how come you stopped
working on our memoirs?"

Mark shrugged. "There's nothing
to write about now that were home. There
was
always something to write about when we were at
Clay's."

Clark nodded and ground out his
cigarette in the sneaker.

"Besides,"
Mark
added, "I thought you didn't want me to write about the things
we
did last summer."

"Well, I don't—and I do."
Clark sighed. "I love reading about us. I'm just scared shitless Mom and
Dad'll
find those notebooks, and well be grounded for the
rest
of the school year."

Mark
nodded.
"I guess we could wrap em up in a plastic garbage bag and bury 'em in an
unmarked grave someplace out behind the barn."

"And
have to
dig em up every time we wanted to read em?" His brother squeezed his eyes
shut, like he was going to vomit. "There's got to be a better way."

"C'mon, Clark, don't look so
glum."

"I'm not glum."

"Oh, no? Just look at yourself
in the mirror." He put his arms around his brother and kissed him.
"Besides, making love's a lot more fun than writing about it."

During the year
after our summer at Clays, Dad was stricken with several debilitating bouts of
kidney stones, and my brother and I spent our days struggling to keep the dairy
afloat and our schoolwork done. Trips to visit Clay were few, brief, and far
between. Thanksgiving, Christmas, our sixteenth birthday, and Easter passed
uneventfully. Well, that's not quite true. There was always the lovemaking. The
folks, with financial survival uppermost in their minds, put their concerns
about our closeness on hold and left us alone upstairs to enjoy and perfect our
oral skills. Watching ourselves in the old Rialto mirror sure helped on that
score.

I do
remember one night during that school year. It was sometime during the winter,
right around the time of our sixteenth birthday. After dinner, Clark and I had
headed upstairs, and he'd automatically stuffed a towel under the door and
peeled a piece of Scotch tape over the keyhole. I remember I was watching him
in the mirror.

"Mirrors
are... nice," I murmured. "Come here!"

Clark moved
in, and I watched us kiss. "It's better if you're naked," he
promised, as if I didn't already know.

Like
Pavlov's dogs responding to the bell, we both began to undress. From the first
time we'd made love in front of that mirror, it was always wonderfully weird
having our reflections watching us. All four of us became quickly aroused. No
surprise. You didn't have to be Freud to know that Clark enjoyed mirrors as
much as I did.

During
the course of that evening, we stumbled quite by accident on another variation
in our homeschooling. (I think it was by accident.) I was staring at my own
reflection, as I often did, my face pressed against the glass. That's when I
saw my mirror image open his lips slightly and his tongue meet mine. It was
quite a kiss. I heard Clark gasp, and I turned just in time to see him kissing
his
reflection, too. At
once, I understood why he'd reacted the way he had, for I could barely catch my
breath at the sight. In the heat of the moment, though, neither of us stopped
to ponder who the guys in the mirror were.

As
always, the prospect of watching us give each other head proved irresistible,
and during the course of that evening an endless parade of images was added to
our memory gallery. Have you ever watched yourself getting head? Have you ever
watched yourself giving head?