I always suspected my twin brother had a dirty side; I just never suspected how dirty it was, and just what effect it would have on me.
I’m Suzy, shorter than average, and carrying a little more around the arse and chest than most of my friends, with shoulder length mousey coloured hair, which I generally wear in plaits. The boys love to have something to hold onto I find. My brother Tom and I are nearly 19. He works as a junior in a bank, and I’m studying journalism at college. His girlfriend’s a cock-teaser, all short skirts and tits hanging out. I told him what I thought just over a year ago, and we’ve hardly spoken since. I found out about a month ago, that my brother has a panty fetish. Tom and I share a bathroom at one end of our family house, and our parents stick to the other. Our dirty washing goes in a hamper in a corner of the bathroom. I like to be clean, and shower morning and night. The door to the bathroom has to be slammed to make sure the handle lock works properly. We’ve both moaned at Dad constantly to fix it, but he never has. Tom and I have taken to leaving a portable stereo outside the door whenever we’re in there, so the other won’t accidentally stumble in. I came home after college as usual one Wednesday evening, after a reasonably easy day, and went to shower before going out to my part time job in the local pub. I started to throw my college clothes into the hamper of dirty washing, and noticed my favourite yellow satin panties on the top. I’ve only got one yellow pair, and knew I’d worn them on Monday, so they should have been well down in the pile. I took the panties out of the hamper and held them up. They seemed a little damp, and on sniffing them, I detected the unmistakable aroma of salty spunk. The realisation hit me like a thunderbolt, and I gushed in the pink pants I was wearing. I was hotter and wetter than I’d been in months, and I was blushing from top to toe as I wondered who was wanking in my pants. The list of suspects was short. The only real possibilities were my Dad (that thought was fairly gross), my twin Tom, which on reflection wasn’t much better, or one of Tom’s friends. I had to know, but first I had business to take care of. I slipped a finger down the front of my pink pants and rubbed my clit furiously. As I did this, I licked at the crotch of the yellow pants, picking up a delicate taste of spunk. I’m a spunk demon, and whilst not as experienced as some of my friends, the three boyfriends I’ve slept with over the last year have all had the pleasure of copious blow-jobs from yours truly. In my experience there’s nothing quite like a guy spunking down your throat. I can’t get enough of it. I came after 30 seconds of rubbing, and soaked the crotch of the pink pants I was wearing. My knees buckled, and I slumped to the floor shivering all over. My nipples were hyper-sensitive and rubbing agonisingly against the lace trim on my bra. I was on the verge of crying. I needed to know who the panty wanker was. I put my dirty underwear in the hamper, and showered and got ready for work. I had a crap night at work, as all I could think of was a meaty cock rubbing in my panties and filling them with spunk. It was a quiet night anyway, and so my boss sent me home half an hour early. By the time I got home, Mum and Dad were both in bed (there were some fairly disturbing creaking noises coming from their room; Yuk, surely they’re too old for that now, they’re both in their late forties!). I went to the bathroom at our end of the house for a pee. Whilst there, I checked the hamper, but everything was as I’d left it. The next two days were fairly uneventful. My life was the usual round of college, seeing friends, and working at the pub. I checked the hamper morning and night, but there was no sign of panty tampering. It must surely have been one of Tom’s pervy mates when they came around to play mindless shoot ‘em ups on his Xbox. Saturday mornings I always sleep late, and then meet friends in town in the afternoon. This Saturday, I strolled downstairs in my pyjama bottoms and vest top at 11.30. I knocked back two cups of coffee and some toast, and then strolled up to the bathroom for a leisurely session of making myself look gorgeous. I opened the hamper to put my dirty clothes in, and low and behold, my pink panties, the ones I’d cum in so explosively three nights before, were sat on the top. The smell of spunk was obvious. This stuff was fresh, but I was the only one in the house. Everyone else had gone out for the day. It must surely have been Tom! The thought was nowhere near as repulsive as I expected it would be. The smell of his cum had gone straight to my head. I needed to taste it. I licked the sticky fluid from the crotch of my panties as I stuck the handle of my hairbrush straight up into my soaking wet pussy. My orgasm was virtually instant. I went back to my bedroom and fucked myself to two more orgasms with my mini vibrator (mail order over the internet is a wonderful thing), and collapsed on my bed. I could still taste the spunk from my pants, and it tasted good. I needed to get my hands on some good, fresh stock. The trouble was, I still couldn’t be 100% sure that it was Tom’s. The panty wanker seemed to like nicely used pants, so I resolved to flush him out. My nice yellow panties were clean again. My favourites. My lucky pants. I decided that the best way to ensure I could catch the panty wanker and to get some nice, hot, fresh, salty spunk, was to create a situation where demand out-stripped supply. I put on my yellow pants, and fingered myself to my fourth orgasm of the day. God my clit was getting sore. I then got dressed, and went into town to meet my friends. I intended to wear these pants for the next week. The thought of springing my trap kept me preoccupied for most of that week. Each morning I’d finger myself in bed with my yellow panties on. I’d then take them off to shower of course, but then put them back on for the rest of the day. I’d then masturbate with them on in the evening, pushing the gusset up into my twat to get them good and juicy, shower, and then put them back on to go to bed. Each morning I’d put a pristine pair of clean knickers in the hamper, so that when Mum did the washing, she wouldn’t suspect anything. By Tuesday, I noticed that the washing had been moved around in the hamper, but then on Thursday there was the familiar odour of spunk in the otherwise clean pair on the top of the hamper. I licked the crotch clean, and fingered myself once more into the yellow panties. By now, the yellow panties could have stood up on their own. A couple of times walking around college, I’m sure people I passed noticed the smell, but this just served to make me hotter, hornier, wetter, and smellier. I’m ashamed to say that by Friday evening, my pants had been drenched with pussy juice, had droplets of pee in the front, and even some light skid marks in the back. My parents had gone out for a meal, and Tom’s girlfriend was busy until late in the evening, and then he was intending to go and stay over at her place. I’d put the filthy satin panties into the hamper when I got home from college. At 7.30 I heard Tom go into the bathroom. If he was the panty wanker, there was no way he’d be able to resist them. He’d be able to smell the heady aroma of pee and pussy juice as soon as he walked into the bathroom. I followed him upstairs as quietly as I could. If he was the panty wanker, I didn’t know quite what I would do. I supposed I’d try and watch him massage his cock into my pants, and then sneak in and lick them clean straight afterwards. The stereo was outside the door, in the age old manner, so the bathroom was in use. I crept to the door and placed my ear to it. I heard a sort of squeal from Tom. He gasped “oh fuck me”, and I guessed that I’d found my panty wanker. As I listened, I heard him scrambling as he took his clothes off. I took off my t-shirt to make it easier for me to squeeze my tits. I then slipped my jeans over my hips and to the floor, and stood in my bra, panties and socks, with one hand tweaking my nipples, and the other pressed to my pussy. As I listened to the noises from the bathroom, there were muffled grunts and groans. I couldn’t help myself. I pushed firmly at the door, and it clicked open. Thank God my Dad had never fixed it. I looked through the crack in the door, and there stood Tom with my panties pulled over his head, and his meaty cock in his hand, rubbing it like crazy. He seemed to be rubbing the whole of the crotch of my panties across his face, sniffing and licking my pussy juice, pee spots, and even skid marks over his nose and mouth. His prick was quite magnificent. Not huge, but certainly well proportioned, and in my experience the most beautiful manhood I had seen. I took off my bra and crept into the bathroom. I knelt on the floor at his feet, as quiet as a church mouse, with my hand up my dripping wet fanny. I had to time this carefully, and judge the point of no return. My head was spinning. What on earth was I doing kneeling before my brother, who was stroking his magnificent cock, oblivious to my presence? The time seemed right. I said his name. “Tom!” He grabbed my panties off his face. As he started to stammer my name, I took his cock in my left hand, and slipped it between my lips, running my tongue over and around the swollen head. He grabbed a handful of my plaited hair and immediately started thrusting, lifting the panties back to his nose. It took just a minute of me sucking and licking for all I was worth, when I felt him tense, his cock swelled, and then his hot juicy spunk erupted into my mouth. The taste was quite fantastic. It tasted even better than I’d imagined, and the texture was just exquisite. I licked every last drop off his lovely shaft and from around the head, as his cock began to soften. Tom started to speak, but I wasn’t going to let him take control. I pushed him onto the floor, and onto his back. I knelt astride his face, with my face pointing to his feet. I then lowered my panty-clad face onto his mouth. Tom grabbed hold of my hips and pulled my quivering quim onto his tongue, lapping at my lips and clit through the cotton, for all he was worth. What he lacked in technique, he certainly made up for in enthusiasm. I took his cock in hand, and started to massage it back to life. Within a minute, I was gushing once more, as I had my first orgasm at the hands (or should I say tongue) of my brother. Tom gave me another mouthful of his spunk, and we kissed deeply. Strangely, the kiss seemed more elicit and forbidden than all the licking and sucking did. We lay there in each others arms for a while to catch our breath, until Tom pulled away. He went and rang the cock-teaser, and told her he wouldn’t be coming around that evening. It seemed we had some things to talk about.
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