NEFARIOUS KISMET

Payne lay prostrate on the floor, feeling its chill against her belly and the draft from a nearby fan licking her vulva. Across the room, Bliss dozed in a chair, her bare feet lounging upon the windowsill. Moonlight had crept silently into the room and found its repose nestled within the rhythmic rise and fall of her exposed breasts.

Payne turned her head and glanced at the placid face of their lover. Allowing memories of the evening's delights to filter into her thoughts, she rose and padded to where her sister tranquilly slept. Her gaze caressed Bliss dormant visage: the delicate pink mouth, impeccable skin, and elegant cheekbones. For a moment longer, Payne stood admiring Bliss's flat stomach, long legs, and flaxen tresses cascading down the back of the chair.

No other pair of twins could have contrasted as markedly in appearance. Payne reached up and fingered her own bob of ebony hair; she kept it shaved underneath and typically wore the longer layer pulled back. She was tall and thin, appearing agile rather than weak and gangly. And her skin, though bone white, was obsessively ornamented with tattoos, piercings, brands, and scars.

Even in temperament the sisters had their differences. Bliss inclined to play the part of "neo-hippie", whereas Payne only cared for the potentials of the flesh. Of course, when Bliss applied herself she could do amazingly Payne-ful things. Tonight had been a decent example.

The two of them were lounging in a local bar, reflexively hunting for the night's sexual victim, when Bliss pointed out the cinnamon-haired youth. She seduced him home through whispered promises of delectable sex with two ardent and experienced practitioners.

He was beautiful, not handsome. This was in part due to his wiry frame, the effeminate way in which his curls framed his face, and the untainted comportment of his mouth. Smallish and pink, the delicate lips incessantly seemed to be on the verge of a weak smile. Any words that issued forth from that cherubic orifice, drifted to them upon breath that was amiable and melodious. This delighted Payne, making her all the more eager to defile their innocent new toy.

The "Jaunt" (as the pair came to dub these regular occurrences) began in the usual fashion: lover-boy leashed on the floor to the bed-frame, Bliss spread-legged above him, and Payne eagerly devouring her sister's cunt. From there the girls migrated to fervently fondling each other, building maddening tension, and then - at long last - taking turns fucking each other with a variety of dildos and other (unlikely) objects.

With foreplay concluded, Payne and Bliss commenced with the sexual torture of their darling Cinnamon-head. After his fifth orgasm, Bliss suggested they divvy up their duties: Payne should get the candles and hatpins and, as she played, Bliss would continue fucking and sucking Cinnamon-head in the attempt to make the pain slightly more bearable.

All in all, it had culminated nicely, and they settled into quiescence like spiders bloated from the feed. Now, awake only a few hours later, Payne felt her voracious lust rekindling. She contemplated waking her sister with arousing explorations, but decided such things could wait. The night had been more than satisfactorily filled with sensual raptures.

She returned to her previous spot on the floor, and perused the serene face of their once-cherubic, cinnamon-haired conquest. With a lingering kiss, Payne left their lover's head where it lay, and moved to curl up in bed beside his body.