The Legend of the Ditto Twins (34 page)

"Kissing
you is never just a game."

I pulled
him into another long, serious kiss.

It's hard
to explain. When Clark and I make love, everything else seems to disappear, and
that was certainly the case as we dropped onto the couch. Within minutes, we
might as well have been in our own bed at home. Focusing completely on each
other, we totally forgot about Helmut III, believe it or not. When we finally
came up for air, he was sitting on an ottoman opposite us, a beatific smile on
his face. Sometime during our first round of kissing, he had returned to watch
his fantasy come to life.

"Schön,"
he murmured. "Don't stop!
B
itte."

Without
missing a beat, my brother and I returned to pleasuring each other, and the
situation was very much like the first time we'd made love for our
videocam
—a little bit
schitzy
.
Okay, we were making honest, ardent love, but it was strangely heightened by
the fact that we were also performing for an audience of one who seemed to be
hypnotized by what was happening between my brother and me. When at last we
broke to catch our breath, Helmut III was on the floor right next to us, so
near that we could smell the mint on his breath.

"Whenever
I find myself in a situation like this," he murmured, "I am never
quite sure which beautiful man to kiss first."

He rose
to his knees, coaxed our faces together, and brought his lips down on both of
us at once. Three tongues rocketed out of three mouths and began to jab, duel,
lap, and slather one another. Sometime during the kissing, he climbed onto the
couch to join us, and we discovered that three determined bodies could
intertwine as easily as two.

This
unprecedented sort of making out was wildly arousing, and our six hands seemed
to be everywhere at once. We rolled over and under one another, occasionally
giggling as someone poked an elbow in an eye or groaning as someone's balls
were accidentally crushed. The interplay became more and more athletic—until at
last in a miscalculated burst of enthusiasm, Helmut III fell off the couch.

Laughing,
he staggered to his feet, crossed his arms, grabbed the hem of his undershirt,
and slowly pulled it up over his head. As he shook his soft blond hair free,
his whole body seemed to vibrate.

"Now."
He inhaled. "Undress each other for me.
B
itte"

We
scrambled off the couch and stood before him.

"And
I will undress for you," he added.

With
theatrical flair, he twirled his shirt as if it were a lariat and tossed it.
Reflexively, Clark and I went for each other's shirt buttons. By then there
weren't many left to unfasten, and before we knew it, we were both
bare-chested. Aping Helmut III as best we could, we both twirled our shirts
above our heads and pitched them, too.

"Ja... ja...
"
muttered Helmut III and kicked off his shoes.

Kissing
all the while, Clark and I plopped down on the couch and struggled with our own
shoes and socks. Soon, we were lost in each other again—and barefoot, too, I
think.

When next
we broke, Helmut III was standing before us, his thumb and forefinger on the
top button of his fly. He popped it and slowly began to shimmy out of the
tight, sweaty denim. Inch by inch, his dick came into view, but he stopped
before its head was revealed and motioned us to catch up. We'd never done a
striptease before, and it was kind of hot, seeing how much we were turning him
on.

Turning
face to face, Clark and I started slowly out of our cut-offs, just as Helmut
III had done, but I suddenly remembered—I don't know why—something I'd seen a
go-go boy do in one of Clay's films: Just as I was about to expose the head of
my dick, I turned my back, dropped
trou
, and showed
my butt instead. Clark loved that and reprised my improvised choreography.
Grinning, we slapped our butt-cheeks, looked at each other, and finally pivoted
around to present our twin erections, both pointing at the ceiling.

Helmut
III growled loudly and promptly dropped his own cut-offs. His equally ready
erection sprang out. One step forward, and he was stroking us, my dick in his
left hand, Clark's in his right. In turn, we interlaced our fingers and wrapped
what must have felt like a giant single fist around his anxious shaft. After
several short intakes of air, and a few moans, we all three started kissing
again.

The next
thing I knew, Helmut III was on his knees in front of us urging our erections
toward his waiting lips and shoving them into his warm mouth, both at once. The
experience was memorable, mostly because I was hyper-aware that the throbbing
shaft thrusting side by side next to mine belonged to my brother. But there
were also other sensations, those provided by the incredibly talented tongue of
our host. Such unbridled abandon, however, could not last long, and in time,
Helmut III pulled back, gasping for air, shaking his mop of hair as if to clear
his head, and wiping his spit-slick face with the back of his hand.

"I
have a bedroom" was all he said.

He
started forward, reaching behind him to grab my brother's erection. Clark
followed, in turn stretching an arm back to clasp my own ready dick as I
brought up the rear. It reminded me of the elephants, trunk to tail, in a
circus parade. Only hotter.

Helmut
III threw himself down on the bed, his erection towering, and we started for
it. But before we got there, we were both totally distracted by the three sides
of the room surrounding the bed—all were covered with wall-to-wall mirrors that
reached from floor to ceiling. We looked up, and there was one there, too. Then
we heard his voice.

"Now,
it is your turn…
B
itte."

Helmut III's
request instantly brought us back to the business at hand. As one, we dove for
his crotch, servicing his erection both individually and collectively but
spending almost as much time kissing each other as devouring him. And all the
while, we were watching what we were doing in the custom-made mirrors. Clearly,
Helmut III loved them as much as we did, maybe even more, for he spent far more
time scrutinizing what was happening to his reflection than in what was
actually happening to him.

Working
as a team was new to us, and it proved to be a revolutionary discovery: We were
good at it. Since both of us knew exactly what the other was going to do before
he did it, we complemented one another perfectly, becoming a full-service sex
machine with four hands, two dicks, and a wide variety of orifices (not
counting the infinity of hands, dicks, and orifices in the mirrors). Between
the two of us, we were all over him, fully enjoying ourselves while driving
this world famous sex symbol out of his mind. It was very flattering.

He was
the one who finally called time-out. "I can't believe it," he gasped.
"This is even better than I have always dreamed it would be. Let me catch
my breath." He shook his head. "It has always been my experience that
reality is never as good as the fantasy. But tonight..."

We didn't
know what to say, so we changed the subject.

"We
usually take a break about now..." I began.

“...and
have a cigarette. Would that be all right?"

It was,
and soon the three of us were sprawled on the bed in a mini-version of a daisy
chain.

"You
really are only one person, aren't you? Only, half of you is in this
body..." Helmut leaned over and kissed me. "And the other half is
you." He slid his tongue between Clark's lips and kissed him while I
watched, first their actual bodies and then their actual reflections.

In time,
our cigarettes were snuffed out, and Helmut III sat up, wrapping his arms
around a pillow.

"We
are
going to fuck
before you leave, aren't we?"

We
nodded.

"Do
you have preferences?"

We shook
our heads.

"That
is excellent. I do not either. I am happy face down or face up." He
sighed. "I have had so many fantasies about a night like this. Could I see
one more before we have to get out the condoms?"

"What?"
In unison.

"I
have always been curious to see what happens when twins sixty-nine. Do you like
to sixty-nine?"

"Our
favorite thing..." I said, sliding into position.

“...next
to fucking." Clark spun around to face my dick. "It is the second
best way..."

“...to
become one."

As
always, when finding ourselves in this position, we quickly left the real world
behind and in short order became a single being sailing into our secret space.
Soon, we had forgotten Helmut III in the wonder of each other. That is, until I
became vaguely aware that our host was kissing my buttocks and working his
tongue into the crevice between them. Clark and I both groaned simultaneously
in response but remained buried in each other's throat as we reveled in this
spectacular bonus sensation.

Helmut
III's tongue was soon replaced by his erection, and he was fucking me—no,
us.
(On our way home,
shortly before dawn, as we were Monday-morning-quarterbacking our own little Super
Bowl, Clark revealed that he too had definitely experienced not only the moment
of my penetration but also each subsequent thrust of our friend's world-class
dick. And later when Helmut III shifted to top Clark, I felt the same, as if he
were ravishing us both at once.)

An hour
later, Helmut III handed each of us a condom.

"I
would much like it if both of you could be inside me at the same time. Do you
think that it is possible?"

Our dicks
twitched at the thought.

"We
think we should try."

Following
Helmut III's instructions, we lay down on the floor, face up, butt to butt, and
edged closer until our balls were touching and our heels were in each other's
armpits. We could see our twin erections between us standing tall. Though
neither of us had ever used a condom before, we
rubbered
up, as if we knew what we were doing, and inched even closer until our two
parallel shafts were pressed close together.

That was
when Helmut III bent over them, produced a third condom, and stretched it over both
at once. We lifted our heads slightly off the floor to watch, marveling at his
erotic ingenuity. We now seemed to be totally fused and sporting a single,
massive erection that belonged to both of us. Siamese twins joined at the dick,
so to speak.

That was
when our host stood to lower himself onto us and begin the ride of his life.

Fucking
in tandem with my brother was as mutual an experience as anything we had ever
done. I could feel his erection locked against mine as our hips rose and fell
in perfect sync. Mostly, we watched Helmut III, both hands pounding away at
himself, but we always returned to the mirrors. There, we caught glimpses of
that gigantic phallus as it jabbed in and out, speeding out of control, fueled
by primal instincts we were just beginning to discover.

Unfortunately,
the game couldn't last forever, and eventually we began to hurtle toward
orgasm. Soon, we were past the point of no return, and The Big O consumed all
three of us—noisily, ecstatically, simultaneously.

The next
thing I remember is lying with my head on Helmut III's left
pec
,
staring across the expanse of his broad chest into Clark's wide-open eyes. His
cheek was resting on Helmut III's right
pec
in
exactly the same position as mine. Our host was dozing, but my brother and I
couldn't sleep, for we were not curled up in each other's arms. Our first
conquest was in the way.

Some time
later,
we looked up as our newfound friend wriggled forward into a sitting position.

"It
is getting light. I have a class in only a few hours. I must not miss it. I am
afraid we will have to bring our adventure to a close." He crawled over
me, found his cutoffs, and squeezed into them. "Perhaps it is just as
well. I do not sleep well with others." He reached into his backpack and
rummaged for his Alcatraz sweatshirt. "I never go to bed with anyone
twice. But this was an evening of exceptions. If you ever come back to Berlin,
we will do it again,
ja
?" He slapped on his baseball cap and handed us his
card. "Come, get dressed. I will walk you to the taxi stand on the
corner."