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hot story: A SLIP OF HAND

A story of Incest Romance.

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Twins? That was the big joke around our school. We hardly looked like members of the same family let alone twin brothers. Yeah, our faces were similar Gordon was athletic whereas I was just big; he was coordinated but I was clumsy; and everyone called him Gordie but I wasStanley to everyone, even my parents, which I hated. Nobody called me Stan. Sometimes I called my brother Gordon just to annoy him.
Other kids teased me but if it got out of hand Gordie would mete out sufficient punishment to hold them at bay for a while. That didn't mean he wouldn't razz the hell out of me himself. In fact, whenever he baled me out I knew I was in for some extra crap to make up for it because he thought I owed him, and I guess I did.
The hazing tailed off in later years when the guys discovered girls. I wasthen left pretty much alone, free to hang out with the other dweebs shunned by the cool kids. Except, thatis, by the Johnson brothers and their cohorts. Even Gordie and his friends couldn't do much about them but I had learned to avoid them, for the most part.
I was always a disappointment to myfather. I couldn't get the hang of fishing and hunting disgusted me. I tried to understand the strategy behind baseball and to remember the players in football but Gordie was better, probably because that's all his friends talked about other than whose pants they could get into. My clumsiness invalidated me as a contender in any sport except wrestling where my size made me hard to handle for all but the skilled who made minced-meat of me in competitions. Of course, none of this endeared me with our father, especially when Gordie was a natural at any sport he tried.
At least I had Mom. She loved us bothbut I needed more attention and support and I got it. Mom protected me from Gordie's shenanigans when she was aware of them so I had always tried to be near her as much as possible for protection and peace of mind.
And that's how it all started.

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Gordie and I had both failed one grade. My struggles at school included both academics and sports but Gordie could pass easily if he wanted to. When Mom and Dad leaned on him to do better he used me as a defense claiming he couldn't leave me behind to fend for myself. The truth had more to do with Gordie's status as a sports star at school and the fact that his best girl was a year younger than him. Janet was the only one he'd ever been serious about and didn't want to leave behind. So at eighteen, when we should have both been graduating, Gordie and I were only nearing the end of grade eleven.
The sad part was that Mom and Dad didn't even berate me for my performance. I guess they always figured I was doing the best I could. In fact, I could do better. Maybe not as well as Gordie but if something interested me I did well. My teachers had noted this in elementary school but the fact seemed to have been forgotten. The truth was I was lazy and also a little scared about leaving Gordie's protective circle.
Anyway, one day Gordie had been razzing me all afternoon at school and kept it up at home. He kept poking and shoving me around, venting his frustration for having to face down the Johnsons after specifically telling me to stay from them this week. They were on the prod for something Gordie and his pals had done and I had walked rightin front of them when I didn't need to, prompting a rescue from Gordie and Bud Crow, his best friend.
So Gordie had been tripping me and slugging my shoulder hard enough toleave big bruises. I sought the protection provided by proximity to Mom. She was sewing at the dining room table so I ran downstairs and stood behind her. Gordie followed but balked at my smug but relieved smile knowing I was now under Mom's protection. He didn't dare have at me with Mom right there. I started kneading Mom's shoulders soI would have an excuse to stay, something I often did when fleeing Gordie's torment. My smile widened to a grin as he passed behind me andthat's when he let me have it.
Wham!

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It was a real hard one, square on my bruised upper left arm, and totally unexpected. I could have taken it better if he hadn't caught me so completely by surprise. I reeled to the right but my feet remained planted on the floor so my body twisted at the waist to compensate. Gordie whirled and ran off but not before leaving me with a lasting impression of what my smug smile must have looked like, pasted on his own face.
I waited for Mom to scream at him for pasting me so hard and having the audacity to do it in her presence. But Mom's condemnation didn't materialize and Gordie escaped through the kitchen without retribution. Dumbfounded, and a little hurt, I looked down to see why Mom had abandoned my cause. The sewing machine had stopped and Mom's hands were frozen in position,one on the controls and the other on the material feeding into it.
It took several long seconds for me to fathom the signals my eyes were sending to my brain. Evidently, the force of Gordie's blow had knocked my right hand off Mom's shoulder butthe twisting motion of my torso had also turned it so instead of slipping off Mom's shoulder and down her arm it had slid down into the front of her dress.
My eyes widened as I recognized my wrist lodged between Mom's breasts with the palm turned toward the left one. That wasn't the worst. My fingers had curved around and under the breast and were cupping Mom's bra.
I stared but couldn't move though mymind was screaming for me to get my hand the fuck out of there! I tried again to withdraw my arm but it felt like lead though it wasn't dead because the swollen press of Mom's breast rocketed sensations to my brain. That organ almost exploded when Mom finally breathed.
My eyes flickered toward Mom's face and I gritted my teeth to brace against the barrage that surely to be hurled in my direction within seconds. But Mom was staring straight ahead, as if nothing was happening, as if my hand wasn't inside her dress, and my fingers weren't curled around her left tit.
Twenty or thirty seconds passed and still Mom did not move or speak. She didn't make a single sound. I straightened up and my hand slid outof her dress, slowly, to ensure a sharpmove wouldn't awaken Mom to my accidental transgression.

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