The Bride’s Hairdresser

Shawna and I were born about ten minutes apart. While
we were twins, most people thought we wouldn’t be as
close as identical twins often are, what with being
different genders and all.

They were wrong, though, because we were inseparable as
we grew up. Even when most twins of opposite sex were
separated – say around seven or eight – we insisted
that we had to share the same room, if not the same bed
any more. So my dad installed a thick privacy curtain
between our halves of the room instead.

That curtain had no door, and you had to lift it up to
go from one side to the other. That was OK, though,
because we could still talk and see each other if we
wanted to. We slept together almost every night until
we were sixteen. Then the only reason we went to
separate beds was because we both had learned to
masturbate, and for that we wanted a little privacy.

We did everything together, which meant that when
Shawna started learning to wear makeup and do her hair,
I learned it too. I didn’t ever apply that knowledge to
myself. I was a guy and guys don’t do all that crap,
right? But Shawna did, and I helped her. I did her
nails, and critiqued her make up, helping her with eye
liner and things like that that were harder to do for
yourself.

But I excelled at doing her hair. By the time we were
getting ready for our senior prom I could have worked
in any salon anywhere. I could cut, color, style,
shampoo, just about anything. I had practiced on Shawna
for years and she always looked great.

I think one reason I liked doing her hair was because
we invariably did it after she took a shower. We
weren’t shy around each other, so she’d come into the
room naked and sit down in front of her vanity. I’d
come over and start doing her hair.

Picture in your mind standing behind a good looking
teenage girl, with well developed breasts and midnight
black hair. You can see almost all of her in the
mirror.

That’s what I did for years. Quite often I sported a
hard-on. I still remember the first time she saw it. I
was in my PJs, which was a pair of loose gym shorts. We
were fifteen or something and I was staring at her
breasts while I braided her hair. My dick got hard and
poked the front of my shorts out. I didn’t even notice
it right away, but it poked into her neck and she
turned around to see what it was.

She gawked. “What’s that?” she said.

“What do you mean – what’s that?” I said. “What does it
look like?”

“Oh,” she said “You know what I mean. How come it’s
doing that?”

“Hmmmm,” I said. “Well, now, let me think… beautiful
girl… naked… great boobs… I’m playing with her
hair… Gee Shawna, I can’t imagine why it’s doing
that.”

“No! Really, how come… you think I’m beautiful?”

“Come on Shawn,” I said huffily “You know you’re good
looking. Guys slobber all over you. Don’t play coy. You
aren’t any good at it.”

She stared up at me. “Look, you jerk, I know what those
boys want and THAT’s why they tell me how hot I am. But
you’re the first real person who’s ever said that to me
like they meant it.”

She was serious! “OK, OK, don’t get your panties in a
bind. Oh yeah, you don’t have ON any panties.” She
started to get that look on her face that meant I’d
have to pay.

I tried to mollify her. “Yes. I think you’re beautiful.
If you weren’t my sister I’d be trying to get in the
panties you aren’t wearing too. But I really DO think
you’re sexy too.”

Now who would think that saying something like that to
your sister would turn her on?

But it did.

She stared up at me, her hair half braided and said,
“If I wanted to give you a blow job… would you let
me?”

About ten million things flashed through my mind.
Right, wrong, good, bad, what if someone finds out, all
kinds of things. What came out of my mouth was, “Yes.”

That began the portion of our lives where we
masturbated, but DIDN’T need any privacy to do so.

And we slept together again after that night.

But we never fucked. That was a line we didn’t want to
cross. Well, she didn’t. And seeing as how it was her
belly that would swell if the wrong thing happened, I
suppose I didn’t either. But we did everything else
that didn’t involve sticking something in her pussy
other than my tongue.

Then high school was over and it was off to college. It
was the first time we had ever been separated for more
than a week. I thought I’d actually die for the first
month. But eventually I made some friends and I got on
with my life. She came to visit me a couple of times
and all my male friends fell all over themselves trying
to get her attention. I could see why. She had matured
even more and was now centerfold material. She had a
steady, though, and it was serious, so none of my
friends ever had a chance.

I talked to her about her intended. She was studying
computer science and the guy was a physics major. He’d
already published three papers and wasn’t even out of
undergraduate school. She said he was “steady” and
“dependable” and would be a good provider for their
c******n.

It sounded bogus to me. “Do you love him?” I said.

She grimaced. “The only male I’ve ever loved was you,
and I couldn’t ever love anyone else that way. I’m
happy with him. I like being around him. I respect him.
I think he’s sexy. What else can I say?”

I thought about all that. “What’s he like in bed?”

She bristled. “That is none of your business. What we
do or don’t do behind closed doors is private.”

Now THAT was interesting. What they do or DON’T do. Why
would she put it THAT way? I had a hunch.

“So you don’t actually KNOW what he’s like in bed. OK,
does he know how to fiddle your strings? You know, like
I used to do?”

Now she was beet red. “You are insufferable. I don’t
think I like you any more. And besides, being a virgin
isn’t a bad thing. He respects me. That’s all.”

This was obviously a tender subject. I decided maybe I
was being too nosy. I changed the subject, took her to
dinner, fended off another ardent suitor and she left.

The next time I heard from her it was so she could tell
me they’d set a date for the wedding. It was soon. And
she wanted me to do her hair for the wedding.

I met Roger, her intended, who was curious about why
his fianc�e wanted me to do her hair. I told him it was
an old family tradition. He said that what with all his
fraternity brothers wanting to be in his wedding he
didn’t really need me to be a groomsman. That was fine
with me. I didn’t like him much. He seemed distant,
somehow, and at the same time I didn’t like the way he
looked at me. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it
was like he was evaluating me… seeing if I was good
enough to be his brother-in-law or something.

But Shawna insisted that I was the only person who
could touch her hair for the big day.

So, on the appointed day I showed up with my kit of
combs, brushes and other accouterments of hairstyling.
I brought a suit, but wore shorts and a T shirt to work
on Shawna in. I arrived at her dressing room to find it
full of giggling girls. Well, women really. They were
all doing their nails and cackling like a gaggle of
hens does. Shawna shooed them all out. “I’m going to
relax while my brother does my hair,” she said. “I need
some peace and quiet please.”

One of them, I later found out her name was Kim, looked
me up and down and said, “When he’s done with you I
DEFINATELY want him to play with me… er my hair, I
mean.” That set them all off again and they left
giggling and chattering like magpies.

They had no sooner left than there was a knock at the
door. Shawna looked up and said “Don’t say anything.
I’ll explain later.” Then she said “Come in”.

It was a man, probably in his 40s. He had a little
black bag with him, like doctors used to carry. “I’m
doctor Stevens,” he said, like that meant something.

I looked at Shawna and she shook her head once. “I’m
ready,” she said.

The Doctor looked at me. “Who’s this?” he said.

“This is my brother, doctor. He’ll be chaperoning this
examination.”

The doctor shrugged and pointed to a day bed in the
corner. “If you would recline there, please?”

Again, Shawna looked at me and nodded her head “No” for
me to keep quiet. She was wearing a big fluffy white
robe and her hair was damp, like she’d just washed it.
She stood up and took off the robe.

She was naked underneath it.

Well, maybe not naked by definition. She did have on
lacy white stockings, held on by a garter belt. But no
bra. And no panties.

Like it was the most normal thing in the world for a
Bride to do on her wedding day, she leaned back on the
bed and spread her legs. The doctor opened his bag and
took out a small flashlight and a silver tool of some
sort that had pliers type handles. I recognized it as a
speculum.

He bent over and did a pelvic exam on my sister. It
only took a few seconds. He stood up and said “I’m
convinced you are, in fact, a virgin. Thank you.”

And then he turned around and left. Shawna got up,
locked the door, and sat down at the dressing table.

Shawna slumped in her chair. “Finally, some quiet time.
I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been looking forward to this
day for years.” That seemed like an odd way to put it,
but I didn’t give it a lot of thought.

“What in the nine hells was THAT?” I said.

“Roger is very wealthy. Or he will be when we’re
married. It has something to do with a trust or
something. He showed me the papers. He’s required to
marry a virgin to inherit the money. His mother
insisted that there be a medical evaluation on the day
of the ceremony.”

I was not happy. “What a great family to marry into.
I’m sure you’ll be very happy.

She looked at me with an almost pleading look in her
dark eyes. “Don’t you worry about my happiness. I’ll
take care of that.” she said. She leaned back. “Make me
beautiful” she said softly.

I went to work. What I did to her hair is not what this
story is about. But it was a masterpiece. I worked in
sprigs of baby’s breath and glittering zircons and
sapphires and it ended up piled up. She sat there with
her eyes closed most of the time, so I got to look at
her grown up breasts a lot. They were heavier, and her
nipples had darkened to a chocolate brown. I noticed
those nipples were erect, and wished I could suck on
them again, like in the old days. Of course I got a
major woody.

I pronounced her done.

“Am I beautiful?” she said as she opened her eyes.

“More beautiful than I have ever seen you,” I said. I
meant it too.

She turned around in her chair and put her hand on my
cock. “Hmmm, you might be telling me the truth.” Then
she unbuckled my shorts and dropped them. I never wore
underwear. My boner bobbed in her face. She gave it a
nice hard suck on the head and then stood up. She
grabbed said boner and led me to the day bed. Then she
lay back on it – I noticed it was set up with a neck
pillow so her hair wouldn’t be spoiled – and said “Show
me how beautiful I am”.

She spread her legs and pulled on my cock until it was
clear she wanted me between her thighs.

Then it was clear she wanted me somewhere I’d never
been before.

I tested the waters, so to speak, with my finger and
found there was AMPLE lubrication. She was as wet as a
the bottom of a cup of water. “What about…” I tried
to say but she put a finger against my lips and mouthed
the words:

“Fuck me.”

I only thought I was hard. In reality I was copper
before, but I was diamond now. She wanted to be
skewered. I skewered her. Having just seen a doctor
confirm that her hymen was intact, I took it easy. It
probably took me ten minutes to get fully sheathed in
my sister’s sweet untried pussy. I got to suck on those
nipples again, too. That’s how I got all the way in
her. Her pussy muscles were tightened up and the way I
got them to relax was to suck her nipples until she had
an orgasm. That relaxed her enough for me to slide on
in.

Man, oh man. I rode her like a cowboy rides a cow pony.
This way and then that. Go and then stop. Hell bent for
leather and then nice and slow. I counted three times
she made her distinctive “I’m cumming” sounds before I
had to let go. I don’t know if she wanted me to pull
out or not, but just thinking of Roger made me want to
put my sperm in there before he did.

So, when I felt it rising, I just buried my bone in her
belly and spewed.

And spewed and spewed some more.

That was when I felt her red lacquered fingernails dig
into my buttocks and pull me even deeper into her.

Exactly thirty-five minutes later, my twin sister
walked down the aisle to meet her new husband, with my
sperm soaking into her womb.

It was the best wedding I’ve ever been to.

Turned out Roger was as queer as a three dollar bill.
All those guys in his wedding? His lovers. His
evaluation of me? To see if I was worth of his
attention in that way. He detested the idea of even
seeing a woman naked, and wouldn’t even think of
fucking one. Not even in the ass! Mamma either didn’t
know, or at least thought that him marrying a virgin
would “cure” him or something. He just needed a virgin,
and she was the only one he’d ever met!

Which made everyone’s surprise so much greater when her
belly began to swell. Of course hubby wasn’t the
father, everyone knew that.

But they couldn’t very well admit that, now could they?

And what drove them crazy was that ever since they’d
been married she’d been sequestered on his estate, so
she couldn’t tell anyone he was gay! They basically
held her prisoner! The staff was female, and none of
the boyfriends claimed fatherhood, so they couldn’t for
the life of them figure out how this happened.

His mother, bless her heart, was what undid everything.
She was livid. It turned out she knew what her little
boy was, and knew that his slut of a wife had slept
with another man. She didn’t care who that was, she
just wanted the whore gone. She started talking about
having the marriage annulled on the basis that it was
never consummated.

Shawna pointed to her pregnant belly and said,
“Whatever do you mean, mother?”

Mother cursed and said it was some other man.

Shawna said “You won’t find any other man’s DNA in this
baby” and said that if there was no DNA test she’d go
public about everything.

Mother, not understanding the intricacies of DNA
testing, opted to buy Shawna off. Seeing as her virgin
pussy had netted him the hundred and so million bucks
his grandfather had left him (and NOT to his mother-
imagine that!), they could well afford for Shawna to
take five or six of those millions, along with her no
longer virgin pussy, and go live somewhere else. They
didn’t care where. In three years there could be a
quiet divorce (also stipulated in grandfather’s will)
and the family would be rid of her.

Which was fine with Shawna.

She resettled in Phoenix, where the weather was nice.
She had room, she said, for her dear brother to come
and live with her, if he so desired.

He did.

By the time she got her divorce, Shawna had born three
beautiful babies, none of them twins, but all of which
bore a remarkable family resemblance.

Both she and I were happy at last.