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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don’t type things myself."  I think it’s  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.   Kristen         o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Double Trouble - 8 (MM)
by Randu (c) 1991
 

                               CHAPTER 8

    Before I knew it, Cory and Chris had entered 4th grade at their new
school.  They seemed to like it, even though they claimed -as all kids
do- that they didn't.  Almost every day they would proudly show me the
A's and B's they got on their schoolwork.  Actually, Chris got most of
the A's, and Cory most of the B's.  (I had learned from Susan that their
grades used to be as identical as the twins were.  They had cheated.
Cory would silently ask his brother what an answer was, and Chris gave
it to him, wrong or right.  Their undoing had been the fact that each
had had the same WRONG answers.  Their teacher thought they must have
been using elaborate hand-signals.  Needless to say, Susan quickly
corrected their ways.) Most parents probably feel relieved when their
kids go off to school.  I wasn't the twins' father, but I couldn't
possibly be glad of their absence.  I missed watching the nine-year-olds
run around in their Speedos (or less) every day.  They were very
affectionate young boys, always willing to hug and be hugged, kiss and
be kissed.  Especially Chris.  He loved to cuddle with me, sitting in my
lap and talking to me with his thoughts.  Cory, on the other hand, was
able to feel my desires.  The little imp liked to tease me by kissing me
wetly and passionately for a few minutes and then running off, leaving
me all hot and bothered.  He always made up for it though, eventually.
 
    Both boys seemed grateful to have a man in their lives again.  They
had different ways of showing it though, which matched their individual
selves.  Cory liked to roughhouse, wrestling with me or begging me to
play catch or some other sport outside.  He had joined the soccer team
at school, and you could see the absolute joy in his face when I came
with Susan and Chris to watch his games.  He was also well aware of the
effect his soccer shorts had on me.  The loose-fitting shorts, combined
with calf-covering knee-socks, highlighted his long, deliciously smooth
thighs very nicely.  He almost seemed to flaunt his boyishly-sexy body,
just to arouse me.  Ironically, even though Cory was the more `jockish'
of the two, he didn't think our love-making was sissy or queer.  Maybe
it was because he could tell how deeply I cared for him, and he knew
-even at the age of nine- that sex was one way of showing that love.
 
    Chris didn't seem to care much about sports.  He played outside with
us, but he just didn't have that competitive desire.  He was a lot like
myself, to be honest.  The more artistic and creative of the two, he
seemed rather quiet and contemplative, next to his outgoing brother.  He
was quite content to sit on my lap while I worked on the book, and his
suggestions for it were really insightful.  He could follow my thoughts
on whatever problem I was having and usually come up with something that
would work.  Chris seemed to need nothing more than my love and
affection, which I gladly gave.  We didn't really need to be doing
anything together, as with Cory.  He was taking art lessons at school,
and he definitely showed some talent.  He would beam proudly when I
praised his creations, several of which were now hanging on my
refrigerator.
    
    Two boys, identical on the outside, yet so different on the inside,
like two sides of the same coin.  I missed them both.  Having them in
school left a void in my days, which I tried to fill by writing.  It was
a poor substitute, but at least making a book based on them helped.
They were all I ever thought about anyway.  It wasn't until later that
I fully understood the depth of their love for each-other, and for me.
 
    It was only a few days after their education re-started that I
learned just how boundless Chris's telepathy was.  I was moping about
the house late one morning, unable to really concentrate on the book,
and considering a job in the teaching profession so I could be near them
again.  Perhaps the school needed another janitor.  Out of nowhere came
a soft voice.  `Don't be sad,' I heard in my head.  "Jesus!" I shouted,
nearly jumping out of my skin.  It had sounded like he was right next to
me.  "Chris?  Aren't you in school?" Foolishly I looked around,
expecting to find him hiding somewhere.
 
    A boyish giggle came before he answered.  `Sorry.  I didn't mean to
scare you.  Of course I'm in school.'
 
    "You mean you can talk to me all the way from there?" It was easier
for me to speak out-loud.  I knew he'd hear.
 
    `Sure.' I could almost picture him shrug.  `Sometimes I get bored
and talk to my mom, but she usually tells me to pay attention to class.
You were feeling sorry for yourself so I thought I'd say hello.  We
won't be gone forever, you know.'
 
    "I know," I chuckled, amazed that this boy's mind was unhindered by
distance, and that he cared enough to want to cheer me up.  "It just
seems that way, I guess.  I miss you.  Both of you."
 
    `We'll be back this afternoon, for gosh sakes.  Ooops, the teacher's
telling me to wake up.  I've got my eyes closed.  Gotta go.  Bye Tom!' A
few seconds pause, then `Oh.  Love you!' He explained later (when he got
home) that he could close his eyes and picture me or his mom and make
a `connection', no matter where he was.  Unlike his brother, who had to
be near someone in order to `feel' them, Chris wasn't limited by
distance.  This became a daily occurrence, and my days passed easier.
 
    Susan's hours were more regular now that the twins were in school,
getting home every night around six, and we settled into a routine.
First, the boys would come to my place after school and do their
homework.  Then they would read what I had written that day for the book
and make comments and suggest a change here or there.  I had to admit
they made good editors, telling me their characters, Corin and Crispen,
should do this or that.  I took care of Tomas, the character based on
me.  I had to be in it too, of course.  In the book, the twins were
sorcerer's apprentices, with me being the sorcerer.  Basically, I get
captured by an evil king and saved by the two psychic boys.  It was
coming along rather well, but I could tell it was going to be longer
than any of my previous stories.  I worried that my young readers might
be intimidated by such a long novel, but the twins assured me that it
was just fine, and I trusted their judgement.  Another concern was that
it was becoming tinged with a subtle kind of eroticism.  Nothing so
graphic as sex, of course, but with little things like the boys and the
sorcerer (me) swimming naked in a lake, or kissing and hugging quite a
bit.  There was even a scene where the man gave the boys a bath, which
seemed a bit much, in hindsight.  I had made my character deliberately
old, to make him seem more venerable (who ever heard of a young
wizard?), but the boys and he obviously loved and cared about
each-other, and he thought them beautiful.  I mentioned this to Chris
one day and he just shrugged, unconcerned.  "But it's just like WE are,"
he pointed out, meaning the three of us.  "You're writing the story for
boys, and I think a lot of boys would like to have an old man like you
love them.  Um, I mean like the sorcerer," he added, his eyes twinkling
with amusement.  I had to swat his bottom for that, and he squealed
happily at having `got' me, but he seemed to know what he was talking
about.  I let it be.
 
    After the editing session we sometimes went outside to play catch or
throw a frisbee, and usually ended up wrestling in the grass.  Jeremy,
the 12-year-old from the pool, occasionaly joined us in our outdoor
romps.  He and the twins went to the same school and rode the bus
together, and had become good friends.  When the three of them ganged-up
on me they could usually get me pinned to the ground with ease.
Actually, I didn't put up much of a fight.  I didn't mind being on the
bottom of a giggling pile of boys at all.  With the twins, my hands
would poke and grope them everywhere while we struggled, but with Jeremy
I restrained myself to an occasional belly-tickle.  He was certainly
tempting, but I wasn't sure how he would react to the liberties I took
with Cory and Chris.  Boy-love and paranoia go hand-in-hand.  I'm sure
the twins knew I found Jeremy attractive, but they never said anything
about it.  It was kind of a "You can look but don't touch" relationship.
They would have been jealous if I shared my affections with anyone else,
the same as I would be if they `messed around' with another man.
 
    On cold or rainy days the three of us would cuddle on the couch
watching TV, or play games on the computer.  My hands had a good time
stroking the smooth, warm skin under their shirts until Susan came home.
Once in a while things went beyond cuddling and shirts, but we usually
saved our energies for Saturday night.  That was when their mother would
go out with friends and Cory and Chris would spend the night with me.
 
    On some afternoons the twins took the initiative, seemingly anxious
for a bit of sex-play.  Whether they were responding to my desire or
their own I don't know.  Nor do I care.  I think it was the 2nd or 3rd
time that I started recognizing the signals of what they had in mind.
They rushed through their homework and tackled me on the couch, which
was how these sessions had always begun.  Cory and Chris, like boys in
general, liked to follow a set pattern or routine, and these little
sexual forays seemed to be following the same script.  I suppose it gave
them a sense of being in control of the situation, and they could know
what to expect.  After we had wrestled a while the boys would declare
that they were hot, and then strip off their clothes until they wore
just their underpants.  Staying true to form, that's what they did.
They were both wearing the little bikini-briefs I had bought for them
several weeks ago.  Chris wore the leopard-skin print, and Cory had on
his favorite camoflauge.  The low-rise briefs covered about as much skin
as their Speedos had, and their diminutive boy-parts were nicely
outlined beneath the thin material, promising more to come.  The smooth,
lean, identical bodies of the two young boys seemed even more enticing
and sensual when they were barely covered.  They knew that I thought
this, which was why they left the tiny garments on.  The twins wanted to
please me as much as I wanted to please them, as any good, loving
relationship should be.  Free of their clothes, we wrestled some more on
the carpet, my hands poking and squeezing wherever I wanted, until I
allowed myself (as usual) to be pinned.  This time it happened to be
Cory, straddling me on my chest with his near-naked body, his thin arms
holding mine to the floor.  Leaning over me like that, I got a nice view
of his bare chest, with his tiny nipples pointing at my face.  "I win!"
he crowed in his high voice.  Following the rules they had established
long before in their own twinly struggles, he grinned impishly, sat up
and pulled down the front of his `Rambo' briefs.  His stiff little boner
stuck out eagerly, waiting for it's reward.
 
    "Kiss it!" he demanded, victorious.  Always one to follow the rules,
I lifted my head and he leaned forward again until his pecker poked at
my lips.  I placed several kisses on the tender little thing before
taking it in my mouth.  Over the past few weeks the rules had been
amended to include a blow-job.  My tongue was always happy to fellate
and stimulate their young, hairless hard-ons, something we all enjoyed
to no end since they were dry and could climax several times in a row.
As soon as I sucked him in, Cory began humping my mouth in earnest.  I
wasn't in as much of a hurry as he was, however.  I pulled down his
underpants until his butt was bared and grabbed him with my thumbs on
his hips and my fingers squeezing his baby-soft buns.  This way, I could
hold him up a bit and also slow him down.  I didn't want his rigid
little sausage poking my eye out in his frenzy.  Chris snickered when he
heard that thought, then he put a pillow under my head to make me more
comfortable.  After only a few minutes of stroking himself in and out of
my mouth, Cory climaxed.  I could feel his buttocks clenching beneath my
fingers as his body shuddered in delight.  I think my excitement,
combined with his own, made him reach the peak quicker than his twin
could.
 
    His brother was the next youngster on my list of things to do.  As
Cory rolled over to catch his breath, I sat up and grabbed hold of
Chris.  I was straying from the `script' just a little, but no-one
complained.  He laughed delightedly as he tried to escape, and squealed
in protest as I deftly pulled off his little underpants.  The boy tried
heroically to protect his already stiffened cocklet, but to no avail.
My tickling fingers showed no mercy as I playfully squeezed the tiny
organ.  Taking the pillow, I stretched Chris out on top of it, putting
it beneath his back.  Eager to help `torture' his brother, Cory crawled
over and held Chris's arms to the floor, over the boy's head, while I
sat lightly on his knees.  Chris realized his immobile predicament at
once, and his face showed a kind of dread mixed with anticipation as he
wriggled, trying to escape.  It was useless, of course, but he had to
make the effort.  I ran my fingers over his underarms, and Cory had to
hold on tighter as his brother jerked in reflex.  Continuing down his
naked body, I stroked over the boy's nipples, feeling the hard little
tips for a few seconds before moving on.  His back was arched over the
pillow, and his every breath served to make his ribs and hips stand out
in sharp detail.  Chris was grinning as I came to his stiffened young
penis, and it twitched with anticipation when I softly touched it.  He
knew exactly what was on my mind, and when I raised myself off of his
knees he willingly lifted his legs and spread himself wide apart.  His
thighs were almost at right-angles to his body, with his knees nearly
touching the carpet; young children and gymnasts seem to share the same
limberness.  I stretched out on my stomach on top of him, being careful
to keep my weight on my elbows.  If boy-love is a religion, I was about
to perform my devotions.  Feeling the heat of his body beneath me, I
kissed the shallow depression in the center of his chest.  Tasting him
with my tongue, I licked his small nipple, sensing his life-blood
pumping beneath it's small point.  It felt amazingly like kissing his
lips; the two seemed to be made of the same soft substance, and both
could `pucker'.  The boy's breathing increased in tempo, and I felt his
narrow hips rise slightly as he pushed himself against me.  Moving
downward, my lips and tongue worshipped the boy godling of my faith.
His tender, soft flesh was the most precious substance in existence, and
the telepathic moans of pleasure inside my head made him seem all the
more divine.  Then I came to the totem, the idol, of my religion: the
phallus.  The small, rigid penis stood at the center of my universe, as
well as at the center of his body, my altar.  Beautiful in it's absolute
perfection, unblemished by coarse hair or smelly sweat, I kissed it.
Cory broke the spell.  "Hey, he didn't pin you!" he protested, aware
that his twin was about to get a blow-job.  Blow-job.  Such a crude word
for an act that bordered on divine revelation.
 
    "I don't have to pin him," Chris replied smugly.  He turned his head
to stick his tongue out at his brother.  Cory scowled and released his
arms, but Chris stayed as he was.  "Don't stop," he breathed softly.
Eager to obey his commands, and to regain the sensations of a moment
before, I caressed him again with my lips.  If someone had told me a few
months ago that I would someday be sucking a naked, spread-eagled,
nine-year-old boy on my carpet I would have laughed derisively.  Yet
here I was, and it wasn't a dream.  It wasn't the first time either, but
it still held me in awe.  His tiny testes rested happily on my tongue as
I sucked in his satiny sack.  A small purse of thin, sensitive boy-skin,
I could feel the heat within his body as I rolled the small nuggets
around in my mouth.  The boy's legs twitched as I tickled his groin with
my oral caresses, and his whimpers of pleasure now also escaped his
lungs as well as his mind.  I went down on his erection, closing my lips
around it so quickly that he groaned in surprise, his body trembling
with joyful lust.  The sensitive organ seemed to pulse with a life of
it's own as my tongue slowly stroked it's hard, short length.  We were
both in heaven, and Cory's empathy drew him in with us, the feelings we
were enjoying filling his own young body with an equal pleasure.  He was
breathing as hard as Chris was as he stretched out alongside him.  I had
witnessed their lovemaking before, but it was still a wonder to behold
as they kissed deeply, Cory's hand roaming freely over his brother's
naked chest.  He pulled out his own boner and rubbed himself against
Chris's side, his strokes perfectly matching the up and down movements
my mouth was making on his twin.  I was beyond thought as I heard and
felt them both struggle towards the peak, the small penis in my mouth
demanding relief as it pushed upwards beneath me.  With a final grunt of
effort, both boys climaxed.  Chris's orgasm seemed to flow out of his
writhing body directly into my mind, and I couldn't hold myself back
either.  I came with them.  Like wood thrown on a fire, our orgasms fed
on each-other; Cory not only felt his own climax, but those of mine and
Chris as well.  Chris could feel my mind and his brother's, which
increased his own pleasure and fed it back to us.  It was truly a
religious experience, and it left all three of us panting and exhausted
when we came back to earth.  It hadn't been the first time we all came
at once, but it still left us speechless, full of wonder that we could
share our love so completely.  It also wouldn't be the last.
 
                                  ***
 
    The reader might get the impression that life with my twin loves was
idyllic, that they were never naughty or got into trouble.  While they
were better behaved than most boys, they still weren't angels.  I don't
really think I wanted them to be, either.  As if to prove it, Cory got
into a fight at school.  Over Chris, of all things.  I was working at
the computer one afternoon when suddenly Chris's panicked voice filled
my head. `Cory's fighting!' he nearly screamed. 
 
    "What!? What's going on?" I shouted to the air. 
    
    `It's Cory!  He's fighting a BIG kid!' I could tell he expected me
to do something, but what, I don't know.  I wasn't there.  Before I
could ask him again what was going on, he said a teacher had come over
and had broken it up.  Then there was silence.  Feeling worried and
helpless, I sat there wondering what to do.  I couldn't call the school
and ask if Cory was alright; they would wonder how I knew what had
happened.  It wasn't until an hour-and-a-half later that my phone rang.
It was their principal, and she told me what I already knew, that Cory
had been in a fight.  I asked if he was alright, and sighed in relief
when she said yes.  I also had to come pick him up, so we could have a
"chat", she said.  The fact that she was calling me didn't surprise me.
Susan had given the school my number for emergencies as well as her own.
The principal said she had called Susan at work, and Susan -apparently
deciding I was ready to deal with insubordination- told her to call me.
How wonderful.  I was not a happy person when I got to the woman's
office a short while later.  Chris had stayed after school as well, to
wait for his brother.  Outside the office, he sensed my mood as well as
Cory could have, and said nothing.  The principal ushered me inside,
where Cory sat with his head down, looking embarrassed.  He glanced at
me, feeling my annoyance at having to come here, and his expression was
somewhat guilty, yet there was also a trace of good'ole nine-year-old
stubbornness.  He had a small bruise under his left eye, and his clothes
were a mess, but it didn't look like he had been really hurt.  The
principal asked what my connection was to the family, and I said I was a
close friend.  She probably thought this meant Susan and I were dating,
but that didn't matter.  She said she wasn't really sure who started it,
but such behavior would not be tolerated in her school.  I felt like a
kid myself.  There's something about being in a principal's office, no
matter what your age.  Then she asked if I was the children's author,
and we got along swell.  Cory sat silently fidgeting while we talked
about my books and finally, after she was satisfied that I could deal
competently with him, she released us.  Riding back home in the car, I
said nothing, and neither did the boys.  I knew Cory could feel my
irritation and disappointment, and I wanted him to `sweat it out' a bit.
I could feel him glance nervously at me once in a while.
 
    `Aren't you gonna say anything?' Chris asked me silently.
    
    `Not just yet,' I thought back at him. `I'll wait till we're home.'
    
    Back at my place, I sat on the couch and looked at Cory expectantly.
"It wasn't my fault!" he said hotly, defensively.  He went on to explain
that it had all been on account of Chris.  It seems a sixth-grader had
decided Chris would be a good subject for his bullying.  Chris had been
quietly reading a book underneath a tree during recess when the older
boy came along with some friends, tore the book from Chris's hands and
called him a wimp for liking to read.  Cory -who had been playing
basketball- was there in a flash, sensing his brother's distress.  Cory
declared that if the older boy wanted to bother Chris, he'd have to go
through him.  Push came to shove, and shove came to hit.  Soon both boys
were rolling in the dirt, until a teacher broke it up.
 
    "I didn't ask you to get in a fight over it," Chris said softly,
slightly embarrassed.  Cory was looking at me defiantly, daring me to
find fault with him for wanting to protect his "baby brother". 
 
    "Your excuse may be good," I told him slowly, gathering my thoughts,
"but that's still no way to behave.  If Chris wasn't being hurt, and he
didn't ask for you to help him, you should have stayed out of it." 
 
    Cory looked at me in disbelief.  I knew what he was thinking, even
if I wasn't psychic.  How could I say such a thing?  How come I wasn't
proud of him for sticking up for his twin?  Actually I was, because it
made me realize how deeply he loved his brother, but fighting had to be
stopped.  "Chris would've just sat there and took it!" he declared, his
anger rising.  Chris looked slightly insulted at this.
 
    "You're not always going to be around when Chris needs your help," I
explained patiently.  "Sooner or later he'll have to deal with a
situation like that on his own, and you won't be there.  If he sits
there and takes it, so be it.  If he fights back, so be it.  The point
is that he has to make the decision himself.  Fighting is no way to
solve anything, but I hope he would defend himself if worse comes to
worse.  Next time, stay out of it."
 
    Cory took this as an affront to his role of "big brother".  His face
darkened and he said with a quiet, yet deadly voice, "You don't have
any right to tell me what to do.  You're not my father." Chris's jaw
dropped in shock as he looked at his twin in disbelief.  In a way, it
was good to know that even an empathic boy could lash out with a bit of
healthy rebellion, but his words still stung a little.
 
    I looked him in the eye and I knew he felt my hurt, but he still had
a stubborn expression.  "You're absolutely right Cory," I said calmly.
"I'm not your father.  Just because I care a great deal about what
happens to you and Chris doesn't give me any right to tell you what to
do. I guess you can go."
 
    Now it was Cory's turn to look surprised.  It obviously hadn't been
what he expected.  Chris gave me an admiring smile; he knew exactly what
I was doing.  Cory half-turned as if to leave, indecisive, then faced
me, biting his lip worriedly.  "I...I didn't mean that," he said, his
face apologetic.  He struggled for words.  "You're b-better than a
father."
 
    I pulled him to me and gave him a hug, letting him know the spiteful
words were forgotten.  Things said in anger should never be taken
seriously.  His body was stiff at first, but then he relaxed as the last
trace of resistance washed away and he hugged me back.  Cory stood back
up and promised he wouldn't get in any more fights, unless of course his
brother actually needed help.  I could live with that.  "Are you gonna
punish me?" he asked worriedly, but he also looked somewhat hopeful.  I
realized he wanted some kind of reprimand; to his thinking, it was
another one of those father-son type things that he thrived on.
 
    "Spank him!" Chris suggested gleefully. Cory gave him a dark look.
    
    "No, I think he'd LIKE that too much," I teased.
    
    "You mean YOU would," Cory retorted with a smirk.  I tried to grab
him but he skipped away, laughing. 
 
    I came up with something that would fit the crime.  "I know what.
Your punishment is to do the dishes, dry 'em and put 'em away."
 
    "But you've got a dishwasher!" Cory objected.  So did their mother.
Dishes were not something these boys had to do very often.  My
dishwasher was full, too, and he knew it.
 
    "I know I do," I said smugly.  "I'm looking at him." Chris chuckled
and Cory grumbled at him as he stomped into the kitchen without another
word. Soon we heard dishes clanking a bit roughly in the sink.
 
    Chris looked at me thoughtfully.  "He's not really mad," he said
softly. "He wanted you to punish him."
 
    "I know he did," I said, feeling rather pleased with myself at the
way I had handled everything. I was sure Susan would approve.
 
    Chris cocked his head, studying me.  "You're pretty smart."
 
    "Of course," I boasted.  "I'm a boy-ologist!" 
    
    After a while, we silently went to the kitchen and helped Cory
finish his punishment.  "So," I said, putting away a glass, "you
actually took on a 6th-grader?" Cory's face could have lit up a darkened
room.
 