Zsolt Abraham
The Twin Who'll Do Anal
Isiah and his wife lay there with that post-fuck silence hanging between them. Awkward as hell. She could already see where his head was going and cut it off before he could even start. Because fuck no, she's not doing anal. Never was into it, never going to be. He tries sliding it in anyway—wants to spice things up, he says, all smooth like that changes anything. She shuts it down hard. Tells him she's insulted he even asked again. Needs space. She's gone, bag packed, hotel for a couple days. Next morning there's a knock. Isiah opens the door expecting... not what he gets. For a split second he thinks his wife came back early. Then it registers. Charlotte. His wife's twin. Same body, same face. She was swinging by to surprise her sister, but sister's not home. She pokes at him until he cracks—spills everything. The fight, the same old argument, the no-anal rule. Charlotte's eyebrows go up. Then she offers. Straight up. Let him fuck her ass instead. Problem solved. Nobody needs to know. She turns, shows off what she's got—takes her time with it—until Isiah stops pretending he can say no. He drops, spreads her, tongue on her hole first, then buries himself deep. Charlotte taking every inch, him losing himself in her ass.
Isiah and his wife lay there with that post-fuck silence hanging between them. Awkward as hell. She could already see where his head was going and cut it off before he could even start. Because fuck no, she's not doing anal. Never was into it, never going to be. He tries sliding it in anyway—wants to spice things up, he says, all smooth like that changes anything. She shuts it down hard. Tells him she's insulted he even asked again. Needs space. She's gone, bag packed, hotel for a couple days. Next morning there's a knock. Isiah opens the door expecting... not what he gets. For a split second he thinks his wife came back early. Then it registers. Charlotte. His wife's twin. Same body, same face. She was swinging by to surprise her sister, but sister's not home. She pokes at him until he cracks—spills everything. The fight, the same old argument, the no-anal rule. Charlotte's eyebrows go up. Then she offers. Straight up. Let him fuck her ass instead. Problem solved. Nobody needs to know. She turns, shows off what she's got—takes her time with it—until Isiah stops pretending he can say no. He drops, spreads her, tongue on her hole first, then buries himself deep. Charlotte taking every inch, him losing himself in her ass.