Chapter 14

Backwardly Therapeutic Part 2

"Hey, can you hear me?"

Jessica grumbled in her sleep.

"Grumble twice for yes, once for no."

In her dream there was Frankenstein, Peter dressed as him, anyway, and then there was her, dressed as the girl Frankenstein. The B word one, his bride with the shock white and black hair. There was a specific reason she was groaning and she ended up groaning twice. Once to wake herself up, and again because she was awake. "Mmn… ungh."

"Oh, thank god. I don't think I could stand talking to someone who wasn't listening or a brick wall. You're both actually kind of both. But good girl - not completely drugged up on tantric energy, huh?"

Tantric energy? What? "No… Yougoawaynow?" Jessica managed feebly, bonelessly waving her hand without opening her eyes. She felt warm, and then felt breasts that were certainly not her own brush against her hand, arm and elbow, but that wasn't about to wake her up if she had her way.

"Guess you don't. Sorry, little Ms. Tuffet. I'm here to stay. Well, at least until I get bored of you or fall asleep. Keep it up with the free shows like yesterday though and that'll never happen."

Jessica tried to make an inelegant noise. Not really a growl, but more than just a snarl. It came out as a whine. "Please?"

"I'm going to count to three before I start blaring Good Morning America over this thing. Regis and Kathie Lee in 3… 2…"

"Alright! I'm up, I'm… up…" Jessica bolted up out of bed, positive she couldn't handle the styled talents of those two so early in the morning. Her eyes were wide, but looking around the room all she could see wasn't the same mess she remembered. She was in bed, and looked down to find her chest being used as a pillow by a literal TMNT. And a drool sponge. Wasn't that… cute.

There was a note on the night stand that she was too tired to reach out and read, and the bag full of money Peter had appropriated from bad people was open on the floor. The weblines that glued it to the ceiling dangling from there and what clothes he had in his own bag had been rifled through. The clock said it was 7 in the morning and Jessica's brain said she actually did feel a little drugged up. Like she had her soul pounded out of her, pounded back in, had cum from the novelty of it, and now was where she was supposed to be languishing in the afterglow and holding her sore pussy. With every fiber of her being she sarcastically wondered why and a satisfied, tired smile screwed onto her face.

Aracely didn't notice her jumping out of bed. She was a scrunched up ball of sleep-until-the-world-endedness against her, using Peter's cum-sheet as a blankey. In between drooling like a river and nuzzling against her, Jessica thought she looked… cute wasn't the right word, but definitely not bad for a telepath.

"They're so cute when they're young, aren't they?" someone sighed wistfully. "Then they grow up into Jean Greys or voyeurs. Or both. Yeesh. You keep an eye on her, girl."

She tensed, rubbed her eyes. That wasn't Peter's voice she was hearing. "What the-"

"Peter isn't here. I am. Hi." Jessica got the distinct impression someone was holding their hand out for her to shake.

Jessica narrowed her eyes and out of bed carefully, deciding that being extra careful while simultaneously experiencing a potential lapse into insanity was the smart move, since there was talking but no one around. Her lapse in sanity had been the day before, so it only stood to reason the lack of it came afterward.

She looked at Aracely just to make sure she wasn't being punk'd, maybe that was something telepaths did, you never know, but the Mexican Grey was not-cutely drooling like a telepathic oxymoronic river. And then there was the voice. "Well, far be it from me to not let someone else take the fall for my actions, but…" it trailed off.

"Okay, voice in my head- possibly insanity, possibly a telepath-"

"Where would the fun be in telling you?" the voice said. It sounded like a girl's, if voices in your head sounded like anything. They apparently did. "Hey, I sound like a cute girl, not just any girl. I am cute. I wear size six shoes and a size three cup and I can count to eleventy-twelve."

Jessica stood up. Her legs felt like jelly and she felt loose, but good loose. Footloose and tingly like her digits were still soaked in Peter's sticky stuff. "Color me jealous," she said, looking around from her feet to her hands to the walls just to make sure the world wasn't falling apart around her and black slime wasn't bleeding from the ceiling. It wasn't, not yet. So that was good. "Uh… Size three?"

"C-Cup. A, B, C and a half."

'Oh, great. The disembodied voice in my head has bigger breasts than I do,' she thought, and started to laugh.

"Yeah she does," the voice said, smug sounding. Jessica stopped laughing.

"Okay, so you can hear my thoughts. A little baseline for the voice in my head- I was hoping for some originality, maybe the ability to grant wishes, but you know, no one's perfect," Jessica rambled, but she definitely wasn't panicking. Definitely not, no matter how valid a thing it was to do. "But, and I don't know what you've heard from movies I've watched, I am not going to kill for you, capiche?"

"Not even if I ask really nicely?"

"No."

"Really, really nicely?"

"Are you kidding me?" Her voice felt hoarse. "Voice in my head that woke me up with a threat says what?"

"It was Good Morning America!" the voice laughed. Jessica saw a girl in her mind's eye and then wondered if she should see a therapist. "Not the best threat I can come up with."

"Tell me about it. Regis and Kathie Lee aren't even on Good Morning America, so you're obviously not my voice in my head…" She paused, then rubbed her temples. "Oh, that's not a good implication..." She was having a conversation with a telepath, and she didn't have to think long about who it was. "Really, you couldn't threaten me with Burns and Allen?"

"Who?"

Jessica groaned. "I don't even know you, but I hate you already."

"Aw, we both know that's not true. And hey, you haven't tried for those wishes yet!"

Jessica gave a strained smile. "I'm wishing for you to get the heck out of my head right now, aren't you listening?"

"Ooh, no can do, Hermana-Arana. But, I do listen, and I have heard a couple of things. A few things. Okay, everything," the voice gushed. "Yesterday was so sweet, really. I was getting diabetes over here. Cried and everything. Bleh."

"Someone sounds jealous…" Jessica said, scanning the room. "Where is 'over here', exactly? Walmart? Disneyland? Ninth Circle of Hell? Chicago?"

"Ouch, some salt for all my Cubs out there."

"You've obviously never been to Chicago," Jessica muttered. She shambled out of the room, anchoring herself onto the wall when her legs gave way. She tried to listen to her spider-sense but there was a sort of… hum. Focusing on the sensation of any danger-sense in her skull was difficult when her ears were vibrating like someone was making ASMR right into them. The hair on her arms stood up and Jessica considered the possibility she was actually going insane again.

"No, but I have been to New York City," the girl's voice in her head chirped, helpfully. "And don't worry, you're not going insane. At least not even more insane. Sex on the ceiling I can get- well, I want to get it… But sucking fat dick in front of a crowd? While wrapped in a full-butt condom? Spectacular spinnerets Spider-Girl, you have an even bigger webhole than I do! And… after yesterday, I'm not really surprised."

Jessica went red in the face. Any other time she would have considered the continued existence of her propriety to be a good thing, but when it was a result of a voice in her head knowing what she'd done the day before, she wasn't so glad for it. She decided to distract herself; outside the bedroom Peter was nowhere to be found. She went to the kitchen and snagged a cold piece of pizza for herself. The top most suite in a 4-star hotel and they didn't even include a microwave. Ridiculous. Even Motel 6's had microwaves.

"Bet you've been to Massachusetts, right?" Jessica said aloud, mouth full of food.

"Mmmaybe," the voice chirped.

"Alright, Clara Barton, I'm going to need you to take about a few dozen miles worth of steps back. Like, go to Canada for a bit and get out of my head, 'kay?"

The voice laughed, causing a weird sensation in Jessica's head, but no capital W. Just odd and uncomfortable. Maybe this was what the beginning stages of demonic possession felt like. "I was hoping you could add me on Facebook, Spider-Girl."

"It's Spider-Woman…" Jessica muttered. She finished her pizza and walked back to peek in the bedroom. Aracely was twitching in her sleep, mumbling something about Mictlan. Mickland? Mickeyland? Maybe she wanted to go to Disneyland. Jessica wasn't about to judge. "If you're in my head you would know how I feel about voices that don't belong to me rolling around in there. And Facebook," she said, softly closing the door behind her.

"Oh, I'm getting Déjà vu," the voice replied. "Me, a webhead, and a conversation about the woes of being able to read a webhead's mind, and the fact that it's current year and they still don't have a social media account."

Jessica groaned. Maybe demonic possession was preferable to talking to her twin's ex. She wondered where was Peter so he could tag in. "Cindy, right?"

"Oh, S. Jessica Parker, star of 'Sex in the City with My Brother', has heard of me? I'm flattered. Jessica, Cindy Moon, star of… masturbating to your brother. Cindy Moon, Aracely, ardent cum-rag-sniffer. Aracely, Cindy Moon. Cindy Moon, Jessica. Cindy."

Jessica waited until she was finished and stood, unimpressed. Cindy let out a pleased sounding chuckle and in the room Jessica heard Aracely mutter, "Hola."

"Ooh, I missed this. You have any idea how annoying it is trying to hold a conversation with someone who won't talk back?"

"About as annoying it is talking with the voice inside your head I'd guess?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far. I am a pretty good conversationalist."

"Apparently not," Jessica remarked, and her voice turned cold. "What do you want?"

Cindy purred. "Oh Jess, I want a lot of things. Right now though, I'd really like to stop getting my calls to your brother screened and rejected. So if you could, I dunno, put a good word in for your other neighborhood Spider-Gal, that'd be great."

Jessica crossed her arms. "Good luck with that. Let me know how that works out for you. Or don't."

"Now, wait just a second before we get all uber-bitchy with each other and get into a catfight over our favorite webheaded onii-chan," Cindy said, taking a calming breath. "Also, bite into him for shaving his head for- alright, maybe bite wasn't the right word…"

"Given your history, I doubt it," Jessica snipped.

"I deserved that… I just want to say I'm a fan of yours. Big fan."

"That's so nice. Always great to hear that you have a telepathic stalker looking into your every action without you knowing. At any given hour of the day."

"Blame your brother. Him and telepaths are like honey and bees. Your little TMNT over there is number three and counting. Between you and me, I think he does have something written on his brain," Cindy whispered conspiratorially, and Jessica felt a full body tremor rock through her, setting every hair from peach fuzz to the hair on her arms on edge. "And, don't know if you've heard, but not all telepaths are voyeuristic perverts."

"Just most, apparently," Jessica muttered.

"Pot to kettle, your bottom is huge, but I guess the spider went to Lil' Miss Tuffet for a reason."

"It's Muffet."

"It's Tuffet, like tough, and tushy- shut up. I know what I said. I was trying to compliment you," Cindy said. "But fine, be that way. And really, I haven't been looking at you… much. To be honest, you give me a headache."

"Commonality is always a good thing, isn't it."

Cindy ignored the barb. "But I have been looking at Peter, and what you did- what you do for him. The nightmares, they… he wouldn't let me help, so… I also wanted to say- thanks?"

"Is that a question?" Jessica shook her head, sighed. "I don't want your thanks. I don't need it. And after what you did, you want my help- what makes you think I'd help you?"

"Because I'm asking really nicely?"

Jessica didn't say anything. There was a pause before Cindy took a deep breath. "What I did- I said I was sorry," she said quickly. "And I said it so many times- he just… we're on a break. A Ross and Rachel type deal, is all. We're already making up! He talked to me last night, you know. After… fucking you." Her voice bounced back. "Thanks for keeping his dick wet n' kept for me, galpal."

"A break. Right," Jessica nodded, rolling her eyes. "You know, sorry doesn't change anything."

"Me and him both know that, Jessie. We'd be different people if it did. You would know too, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means. Jess, you had the chance to stay with him. Head all this off at the pass... But you come out of the woodwork when his entire world had come crashing down and his life was falling apart, and then you skip town? Little Ms. Tuffet if you start judging me, I might just laugh. Or puke."

Jessica looked at the ground and Cindy let out a quiet, smug laugh. "Far as I'm concerned, the only difference between us is you got the chance to make it up to him. And your ass is a little bigger than mine."

Jessica was quiet for a few seconds. "You done?"

"I think so… Whew, thanks for letting me get that out."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, you're right. I did. But you forget a couple of things, Your Highness."

Cindy hummed. "And what are those?"

"That I'm not a telepath, for one. And whatever happened between you two, that was you, not me. That I'm not the one who drove him out, who got him drinking. And I'm not the one begging to be let back in. Keep that in mind."

When Cindy next spoke her voice was low, almost dangerous. Jessica felt her skin tingle. "Ooh, that stings. Fine, let's be that way. What happened, happened. I'm not angry anymore, I'm not, but he killed Ezekiel and I was angry and- let's call a spade a spade, 'kay?"

"The way I hear it, Ezekiel got what he deserved." Cindy didn't answer. "Nice to meet you, Cindy," Jessica said with a sigh.

No more voices in her head after that. She started to make a mental draft of her letter to Penthouse forum, or a therapist if she ever wanted a good laugh. How she'd slept with her twin brother, woke up in bed with the sole survivor of a human-trafficking ring. A girl as young as her, if not slightly younger, that can read she also had memories of having a penis and made her country wide debut performing oral sex on said twin-brother just yesterday, and how they were both orphaned runaways who can say with certainty that there was a girl's voice in their heads trying to talk to them. 'Dear Penthouse, I eagerly await your thoughts.'

Because that'd go over well. A therapist would have a friggin' field day with that.

When Peter came back she was munching on the rest of her pizza on the couch. Wherever he'd been – she hoped it wasn't a bar – she'd felt him coming through the Weird sensation in her skull and couldn't help but wonder if Cindy could too, but wasn't about to ask.

She was fresh out of the shower, her hair dripping onto a towel she had laid down. The TV was on, and fortunately the news outlets hadn't really gone into exact detail about the day before. Instead, they were talking about the old woman who'd gotten saved from a car wreck by a half-naked young man who fell out of the sky, according to witnesses. Wondering just who it could have been, Jessica also wondered if doing a story on public sex and fire-wielding maniacs getting the crap beat out of them in a city known for only one of those things was a hard topic to broach.

The double doors to the suite opened and Peter came in. Jessica stretched languidly over the arm of the couch and waved at him so she was the first thing he saw.

"Hey, Early-Riser," she said, with only a modicum of awkwardness that, when they looked at each other, went up in smoke. She showed him teeth, and he showed her what it looked like when he smiled. "Was worried you skipped out on me and left me with the bill for this place."

Peter snorted. He looked different. Better. He was standing straighter, and his eyes looked bright. Cindy's words floated around in her head as he set some of the bags down, and Jessica was a little proud to say that maybe she'd been right, but then that'd be super-double narcissism on her part.

"Maybe if you weren't broke I would," he smirked. "You're lucky, I guess. When did you get up?"

She shrugged off the question. "I think the more important question is why you left and didn't wake me up. And also why your ex was able to phone me telepathically. The ex who can squirt webbing from her fingers, not the estranged one who can walk through walls."

She watched him frown. She definitely found the lack of boundaries (if there were any when it came to them, which she doubted) more amusing than he did. "Well, shit."

Jessica rubbed the back of her neck. "It's… fine. I guess. We talked. She doesn't like me very much, I think. Or… maybe she does? Eh."

"What did she want?"

She pursed her lips. "Nothing important," she said, a little too forcefully. "You get any sleep?" She asked, looking at him carefully. "Any nightmares?"

Peter groaned, palming his face. "No, Doc. None to speak of," he said, and Jessica was faced with the mental image of him on a therapist's couch and her on top of him, for some reason. "I slept and when I woke up I stopped someone from getting mugged at knifepoint."

"That's a weird order of events," she said, getting up and going over to hug him firmly. He glared at her, and she hugged him tighter and smiled when he awkwardly did the same. "Did you at least princess-carry me? You could have. Or invited me along. It wasn't my bedtime yet, brother."

"Princess carry you? With your ass?" Peter scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. I had to sling you over my shoulder."

"Big dork."

"Big butt." He walked into the kitchen after she pulled away. Jessica followed him. She smelled food and now he was never going to get rid of her.

She was dressed in in an old shirt of his and a pair of his boxers. When he noticed – and she noticed he noticed – he stared blandly for a second before looking away, and then spied Aracely shambling out of the bedroom toward them – wasn't that a Weird thing to say.

She was wrapped in covers and dragging them behind her. Peter made a noise and rolled his eyes. "Huh."

"Unh… Silencioso," Aracely groaned. Between the two of them, they were close, and so she tucked her face between them both and tried to live there. "Tener compassion… El mundo me lastima los oídos…"

"Oh. Sleeping beauty is awake," Jessica smiled softly. "I just washed up so can you move before you start drooling on me again?" she asked, and Aracely shook her head the tiniest bit, trying to burrow deeper into them, coincidentally, using Jessica's meager breasts and Peter's bicep as a pillow. Jessica gave her twin a look. "Little help here?"

"Drooled on you too, huh?" he smirked, and inspected the situation in a way Jessica supposed a detective might. He reached into one of the bags, pulled out a burger, dangled it in front of Aracely's face. "Hey, Ms. Van Winkle. Hungry?"

"Desayuno?" The telepath's eyes snapped open as if she'd never been asleep. She smiled like the sun and nodded emphatically.

Peter looked at the covers on her and grimaced. "Then take that shit off. Please." She did, more eagerly than he expected. Jessica's eyebrows went up - Aracely wasn't wearing a shirt. Peter looked blandly at her and she held off the rest of that question. "Never mind. Put it back on. Now."

Aracely swiped the burger from his hand and bit into it, and then tried to hug them both at the same time, half naked, holding the food with her mouth, and so Jessica got the impression she was talking to the both of them as she took a seat. It was... technically accurate, and one way to avoid confusion. "Mmnf… Es tan Bueno! Gracias, Peters!"

Jessica made a bid for a burger herself and pouted when Peter smacked her hand away. He pulled a toothbrush out of another bag, and some toothpaste. He set them in her open hand. "I got you a toothbrush."

Jessica noted he'd gotten three. Dark red and black, light blue and white, and light green and white. Her smile widened. Very domestic, much tingling in her tummy and elsewhere. "Yes, I can see that," she said, appraisingly, though looking pleased with herself. "Why?"

Peter ignored the suggestion in her voice, or whatever it was that was suggesting she wanted to hear him say what she already knew. And she didn't even know what it was, but it felt good. "Because you – both of you-" he said, staring pointedly at Aracely –who opened her mouth to happily say something emphatic in Spanish and he closed it almost immediately – "Have bad bed breath."

"Oh," Jessica blinked, and not-quite-stealthily tried smelling her breath. It wasn't good. She shoved him in the chest and he barely moved an inch. Not knowing whether to look in mock offense at his muscled chest or her comparatively much-less-muscled arm, she snatched the stuff away. "Fair point, but way to ruin the mood, dork."

"Uh-huh. But if you try to kiss me and put your tongue down my throat again, I'd rather it not taste like old pizza and my jizz. Just a thought," he added with an almost straight face, though the slight tug at the corner of his mouth was contagious.

"Besar tu garganta?" Aracely said in wonderment, and then chirped, opening her arms to hug him again. "Peter! Déjame intentarlo!" she cheered, and he palmed her face back into her seat.

"Good point. It's the thought that counts!" Jessica said, walking off toward the bathroom. She could feel his eyes on her as she did and knew exactly why. His boxers hadn't been made in mind for her body.

"And those off, they're dirty," Peter called after her.

"Don't wanna," she said poutingly, peeking from behind the bathroom doorway. She popped her hip out too, plucking the elastic string of the boxers like a chord against her thigh like. It smacked and clung tight to her, dig into her meaty thigh and setting it to jiggling. "I guess I'm dirty now too though. Wanna help me get clean?"

What was left of her propriety said that a child was present, but she was as old as they were and more inclined to go digging through the bag of food like a curious puppy. She watched Peter's expression change , and knew he was feeling exactly what she was. That made a mad tingle run down her spine as they locked eyes. He'd been right, this was great therapy, if... a little backwards. And incestuous.

As if his cock hadn't started to get hard just from seeing her cheeks swish and swallow the fabric of his boxers like mouthwash, or his semen in her mouth - his mind was starting to wander - he let out a breath. He took one look at Aracely who was looking at her new toothbrush in awe, wondering what secrets it held, and pat her on the head.

"Knock yourself out," he said. He walked to the bathroom, toothbrush in hand, and Jessica shook hers with a smile before he shutting the door behind him.

In the bathroom he put her new toothbrush against his chest – he'd brought his own. His dark red and black, hers light blue and white. Very red oni, blue oni. Jessica hummed in approval at that – it seemed to fit pretty well.

"Here," she said, already beginning to uncap the toothpaste. "I want to try something I saw in a show once."

When she motioned for him to hold out her toothbrush so she could load it up with paste, Jessica knew he had no idea where she'd gotten it from, but… she could feel he was having ideas about where they could take it, when she opened her mouth and said, "Aaah." Specifically, against her ass.

Jessica had him stand behind her and bared her teeth in front of the bathroom mirror. She pointed at her dentures and grinned, but he just sighed, a bit longsufferingly. "What the fuck- Jess is this another footjob thing? Because-"

"I can't give you a footjob with my teeth," She laughed, doubting anything as Weird had ever been said between siblings. "Just do it. C'mon. It'll be fun."

It kind of wasn't.

The act was fine. It was actually relaxing, even. Peter massaging her gums with a toothbrush as easily as if it was his own mouth – and she supposed it was, in more ways than just the technical one. Her relaxing against his large form, his arms around her. All very lax. With one hand he massaged her scalp he was lulling her into an easy haze that crackled between them like the atmosphere of a relaxing bath as he brushed her teeth, shallow, gently going around in circles on her front teeth.

He plucked her mouth open when he was ready to go deeper, not asking her if she was ready. That made her gag, but not complain. He was careless about her tongue being in the way or if he was going too deep, and when he did, which was often, she ground her ass against him to get him to stop, just as often.

It didn't work. But if there had been any question whether or not Pavlov's experiments had any bearing on spider-powered teens, they'd proven it. The more Jessica ground her thick cushioning against him, the deeper Peter went, and more and more erratically. He was giving her a good, thorough dental exam; but by the time he was scraping her tonsils and uvula and forcing off-tasting toothpaste down her gullet, making her retch and gag and spasm against him, barely giving her a chance to appreciate the sensation of not retching and gagging like his cock was in her throat, he was also ready to be her own personal proctologist.

The fat tube of fuckflesh between his legs had matched her motions semi-perfectly to slip and slide up and down the valley of her butt and she felt steady, sticky wetness – whether it was her own, tears coming from her eyes or her pussy, or precum streaming from his cock, she hadn't known, though now, technically, his precum was all hers.

What she did know was that she was working him up to a fat nut, right between her cheeks, and his boxers would never be the same. No doubt he'd flung man-goo into them before, just not from the outside and back… and Jessica fought the urge to bend over for him and give him a target to paint.

Instead, in between panting as his hands groped searchingly at her beestings and roved down her stomach to ground her twat into dust while she tried to do the same to his shaft, Jessica asked for some water to rinse her mouth out with.

"Water?" came out as, "Waahhurr-urk!," since the toothbrush was still in her throat. Peter, apparently, had made her leak even the requisite amount braincells it took to know that trying to speak with an obstructed windpipe wasn't a good idea, out of her pussy. Those same braincells were now girl-goo cooling in his boxers while she felt his man-goo drooling through the same boxers and into the crack of her ass.

He pulled the brush out gingerly - gingerly for him. After she was through gagging and suppressing the urge to spill last night's dinner of cheese pizza and nutcream all into the face bowl because of that, Jessica angrily bashed his pelvis with her ass. Judging by the groan he let out it wasn't much of a punishment, but judging by the panting and red-in-the-face smile covered in goopy white stuff she had in the mirror, it wasn't supposed to be.

"That's…" she rasped, her throat sounding raw and feeling it too, "Oh man, that's… that stuff tastes awful. Is-Is that spearmint?" She spit into the bowl.

Peter growled out a breath, pushing her against the sink from his grinding alone. He didn't mean to, Jessica could tell as much because he was also trying to grip her as close to him as possible, definitely making her make good on her promise of intercrural sex. But the fact was, while his cock wanted to use her junk-in-the-trunk as an impromptu pussy, the boxers were in the way, and his hand wanted a warm place to stay between her legs. She had a feeling that he was trying to pound her pussy through her cheeks with his hand as a compass, and that was just fine by her, so long as he kept… moving.

If he wanted to hump away at her butt in the morning… She groaned herself, biting into her lip and bending at the waist to rest her head and arms on the sink, and Peter grabbed her by the hips, grinding away at her fat ass with the ease someone might have reading the morning paper. If he wanted to grind his cock against her ass in the morning to get off, to get them both off, then that was just fine by her. They had a new family tradition.

"Yeah," he finally answered, a couple of minutes later. Jessica had forgotten the question, and wasn't sure whether to be flattered or impressed he'd lost himself in playing slip the sausage with her buns, and so decided on focusing on how wet she'd gotten, how much her cunt was drooling in his boxers, what the hell that meant, and all of the filthy, perverted insinuations therein.

"Spearmint," he said in a conversational tone, as if he could feel her thoughts. The thought, that closeness… it made her groan too. If Cindy was watching, Jessica hoped she was paying attention.

"Didn't have anything else," was all he said, even while his cock was saying, to her and her asshole, that should be much, much closer than they already were and Jessica squirmed, drooling out the suds from the paste and the rubbed-down froth from her pussy.

"I hate spearmint…"

"I know," Peter laughed into her ear, nipping it, and then raking his teeth down her neck, and her body shook.

"Hey," she muttered, and tapped him twice with a twist of her hips. His thick prick didn't so much bounce between her cheeks as it did get spread by them, but it got his attention. "Ugh… gimme some water. I'm dying over here."

Peter made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh, even while he busied himself with licking her, as if her ass wasn't enough. "Wow, lazy and entitled. Kind of embarrassed for you," he remarked.

With more agility than a normal person would have had (a normal girl like, say, Kitty Pryde or Cindy Moon, even, because normal girls didn't fuck their brothers wherever they got the chance) feeling his fuckstick eclipse her ass and drool at the small of their back, Jessica hooked her feet behind his legs and humped away at him, definitively and without a doubt showing him what-for... instead of just being more proactive in lending him her fat asscheeks for him to fuck.

"Shut up. Give water," she replied. "Trying to pay my way here, dork."

"Oh, I'll give you something," he growled into her ear.

Jessica bit her lip and chewed it to keep from outright asking for it. Instead, she tapped him a couple of times. "Just water, please," she said hoarsely, giving a smug and hazy look. In response, he sheathed himself between her cushions and pumped his hips hard; she stood on her toes to avoid the non-penetrative fuck. It didn't work and her cheeks ended up clapping against the hard muscle of his pelvis, but he got the message. She sure showed him.

Chuckling like he knew what she was thinking, Peter ran some water into his cupped hand and fed it to her. Along with what juices that sopped from her pussy through his boxers and into his hand, it wasn't just water, but Jessica accepted it all, swishing it in her mouth, and spit out before they did it all over again. She felt small in his arms, smaller still with his cock coming to a hot, throbbing rest against up between her asscheeks, but nothing felt smaller than her backdoor as it felt his shaft pulsating against it through the stretched-and-humped-thin boxers. The sensation made her try to push him away with her hips – or get him closer – and for some reason, her pussy was a fan of that idea.

She tried to pull away as another idea, but with her front mashed up against the porcelain of the sink and her twin mashed up against her back, and her arms not trying as hard as they should have to get some space between the two of them, Jessica just ended up turning and opening her mouth wide for him.

"Aaah," she said again, showing off her pink tongue and white teeth. "How's it look? Clean?" Peter nodded, so she stuck her tongue out again felt herself cum a little when he licked it with his without a second thought. One of their tongues went into the other's mouth, licking the inside of it from the cheeks to the teeth and gums and she wasn't sure who. Technically, the blame lay on both sides.

They pulled away, a stream of spit between them that she eagerly lapped up before realizing she had, and she tasted more of his saliva than her own, and licked her lips. "Good," she chirped, feeling chipper with her eyes half-lidded. "Now make it dirty again."

Peter was on the same page as her, she could feel it, but was still a little confused when he stopped her as she began to separate from him and drop to her knees so he could let her fuck her face with his dick, or fuck his dick with her face.

"Would rather you finish what you started," he grunted, and he twisted her so that her right leg mounted the sink while her left was on its toes, and her fat ass was in the air for him.

Jessica would hazily remember blinking stupidly as he gave her a choice of whether or not she wanted to keep the boxers on while he stuffed her or not, but it wasn't really much of a choice. She also remembered pulling them down and spreading her cheeks to him, her head all but in the bathroom sink, hoping it could support her weight.

Instead, he'd pulled them up tight, choking her pussy with the fabric and giving her a wedgie hard enough to make her go cock-eyed. He pressed his finger to the crotch of the boxers and ripped down like he was pulling off a bandaid, making just enough space for her drooling, puffy pussy to poke through and Jessica gasped, feeling the shock of the cool air of the bathroom coast against the hot, swollen, trapped lips of her cunt.

"…Oh," she muttered, getting his point as he lined up the shot to her corner pocket before letting out a much louder, and a lot less collected noise of, "Oh f-f-funngh… uck!" as he pushed inside, stretching her wide enough for her to hear it between her ears and her eyes to flutter into her skull. Despite her twat drooling it felt like he'd rubbed her raw and dry, but that wasn't enough to stop either of them.

"W-We're… gonna need to… nnghm, shower again!" She said, almost trying to dissuade him. Peter worked it into her slow, so she could feel every inch, and feel just how uncomfortably comfortable it was to have her toes ache and her feet arch while she was trying to spear herself on his cock faster. Her lips stretched wide as his crown scooped her out good just at her entrance, and she could feel the breath in her lungs get punched out of her as he let her drop just a bit more... only to lose the rest of her breath as he held her off with a single, strong hand.

Even if he did take the liberty of palming her ass like he was testing squishy fruit at the market, she took a moment to glare at him. "This was your idea, Jess," he said, smirking at her, and the next thing she knew she was being carried, legs hooked over his arms, into the shower.

She heard herself choke out a moan of, "It's so… fuck…nnngh… Good…" as she watched the interior of it get closer and closer with a sort of fascination that she currently lacked the mental faculties to appreciate, but knew that, at the very least, it was where she'd lost her virginity. And that was sweet, she thought, but the last thing she was able to fully register saying, or thinking, before she felt the wind get blown out of her as he hilted himself balls deep inside of her, and her face get mashed to the shower wall was, 'Houston is pretty great.'

It was strange. On the one hand, you'd think swallowing toothpaste would taste awful – and it did, Jessica thought as she spit some foam out of her mouth – but on the other hand... sometimes it was all about context.

She knew she would never have toothpaste with oranges, or, that is, oranges after toothpaste, because surfactants made everything taste bad and toothpaste just kind of sucked. But so did she, and being on her knees in front of her twin with a foamed up mess of spit and water in her mouth, drooling down the sides of her face, seemed to be just the amount of context she needed to tolerate it.

The shower rained down on her but she could only look up, seeing Peter stand over her as she rolled one of his fat nuts in her mouth. Toothpaste made things taste extremely bitter, but it wasn't like it could make her brother's nut blasting off in her mouth any more bitter than it already was, right? She thought so.

And she thought wrong. She could taste it through his sack, smell it even, and it was even more bitter than she remembered. Strong, and minty and… chunky. She burped and tasted spearmint.

Another thing that was probably strange was that the almost-first thing in the morning she did was to get on her knees and suck Peter's cock in the bathroom in place of her morning ablutions. Granted, they were showering, and she supposed there were probably points to be had for not sucking him off before brushing her teeth, but the fact was her breakfast was going to be his cum. If there were points to gain or lose for sucking him off while brushing her teeth, that was actually Peter's idea, so... technically it was still on her.

And she'd still get them for going along with it anyway, because it wasn't like she'd made a choice that wasn't overwhelmingly positive and didn't involve opening fishhooking her mouth and saying "Aah!" for the tenth time for him. She'd just wanted to do something she'd seen in an anime once, and this is what she got. Not the worst thing to learn from TV.

As she felt her twin's fat dick dive past her tonsils, bulldozing down her throat, her eyes rolled into her head. She retched but let him spear her throat just so he could give her a fat, gooey breakfast, straight from his nuts. Her tongue lolled weakly against his balls and she could taste her own pussy on them as well as her tongue before she'd ever taste his jizz, and wondered if that counted as breakfast too. At least she wouldn't be hungry.

Peter's balls tightened and Jessica fondled them, cooing and gurgling on his throat-sheathed prick even if it meant choking herself on it. One pulse, two, three... touchdown. It spat into her belly with all the force of a punch, causing her to hiccup and sway. Multitudes of viscous nut torpedoing straight into her tummy while she ground her face into his crotch and ground her hand into hers.

Her other hand came up to make sure nothing ran down the drain and It occurred to her that Cindy was probably watching, or what it was that let her see them, and while that wasn't what set Jessica to cum from nothing but the feel of Peter in her throat, maybe that's why she ended up cumming a fourth time. Maybe.

There were worse things than being an exhibitionist. Like being an incestuous, quasi-narcissistic one. But at least being full wasn't one of those things.

The door to the bathroom opened and they walked out together. Jessica steadied herself on his shoulders - he made a good handrail.

Looking to the kitchen, Peter made a discomfited noise. "Well... fuck."

"Whuh…?" Jessica slurred, intelligently. He pointed, though had to help her turn her head since she couldn't do as much as keep the majority of her saliva in her mouth. Jessica looked, and then started to snicker just as intelligently. Her drool spilled everywhere.

Peter's sheets to her face, Aracely had her hand in her panties. She looked at the both of them and, just as stupidly as Jessica, started to giggle. "Estabas ruidoso." Her eyelids fluttered, and Jessica watched her spread her legs, and cum.

A/N: Retroactively I'm at most half sorry for any extended breaks. And bad spanish. Writing wise when you got the urge you got it, when you don't you don't.

Really surprised with how this story's blown up traffic wise. Thanks guys. Here's this clonecest dictionary thing.

Dork: Slang for dick.

Peter: Richard. Also a dick.

Big Butt: A big ass.

Aracely: Hecking cute.