Hungry for Praise

"She didn't even notice?!" Dave laughed, half in disbelief. Shaking his head at Skeg's third or fourth retelling of the story.

"Nope, even when little bouncy-tits here was tellin' her all about how much the pair of 'em help out around 'ere"

The balding, old shopkeep gave Jenny an encouraging smack across the ass in appreciation and punctuation of this. That was rapidly becoming his way of saying hello to either one of his teenage lodgers… and goodbye. And please or thank you, for that matter. The man seemed to be under the impression that there was no moment that couldn't be made better by a glowing patch of redness upon a perky, young asscheek.

"I still can't believe that this one had never sucked a cock before…" Offered the large-muscled guest, ruffling your hair like an impressing young athlete. "Must be some kind've natural."

Your head was buried in his lap, after all… As you lay lengthways across from the arm of the sofa. Across the way, in a much-mirrored position, your twin was keeping eye-contact as she lapped upon your landlord in turn. It had been several days since you had first tasted the flesh of another man, and somehow it had now just become part of the day-to-day routine of the apartment. If Skeg or his companions wandered in to lounge around and watch television: then you and Jenny would inevitably end up with gullets full of penis, for the duration. It didn't even seem to be about getting the release of an orgasm out of the way. If you made them cum before the show or movie ended, then you were just sort of expected to stay there… with a cheek full of deflating cock; Until the thing decided to rise back up again or they decided to jam it in one of your step-sister's other holes instead. It was as if the warmth and wetness of each of you had just become somewhere to store themselves.

The compliment on your abilities made you blush, and sent prickling sensations across the back of your scalp. You didn't want to think of yourself as becoming an accomplished fellatio artist… but, as with all things: If you were going to have to do it anyway, you might as well do it right. Your life had pretty much always been about desperately trying to live up to what other people wanted you to do. From your step-father, to your teachers and tutors, to even Nanny and your dear, dear step-sister. You needed their praise to make you feel like you had some place in the world, because otherwise you were just so lost and scared about everything. In some ways it was just so much more simple to have this one, fairly straightforward and physical task to focus on. It was quite easy to discern what was working and what wasn't, when it came down to movements of your tongue across the twitching head of a penis. You were being given plenty of time to practice and experiment, after all. It helped you to deal with all the surrounding worries and connotations if you simply looked at it like a maths problem, where you had to give the man in question as much pleasure as possible without thinking about anything else.

"Yeah, they're both born dicksuckers, 'at's fer sure..." Skeg picked up his train of thought, giving one of Jenny's barely-covered breasts a squeeze.

"She wuz right, though… We sure got lucky to find 'em. Seems like someone up there's finally givin' us a break, eh? Sendin' us a sunny afternoon, cuppla beers and a pair've soft-tongued angels to do what they does best. Makes me think things might finally be turning around…"

You could feel Dave beginning to reach his climax, awash with the joy of that sentiment. The swollen, throbbing staff you were working on giving off a thousand little signals that your efforts would soon be paid off in full. It was an oddly different thing, to be on the outside of those sparking nerve-endings. So close and involved with the building pressures within, but not experiencing them yourself. You had learned to slow down, at this point. To let the last few moments be savoured in edging delight. Before slurping and sucking with all your might, to earn that salty mouthful of proven success.

Across the way, you could see your step-sister had reached a similar point in proceedings. Every time you both had been surreptitiously, and without discussion, been trying to line up those ejaculations together. All part of the equally unspoken changing colours of the relationship between each of you. As those streams upon streams of warm, goopy fluid sent their overbearing flavour straight to the back of your throat… you knew your true reward wouldn't be far behind.

For there was clearly nothing your step-sister loved more, than sharing a cum-filled kiss with you. The very idea seemed to send her leaping at you in a flurry of unkempt desire. You didn't understand why the notion of sharing another man's semen with her own step-sibling sent her into such fits of horniness. Didn't want to think about how this might be training you to associate that awful taste with the things you wanted most. But didn't care at all when it meant you got to roll around on the floor with a step-sibling at utter wits-end of desire over you. Her tongue carrying its own cargo of slightly-differing spunk as she churned it into foam against your own. The sight of you dressed in short-skirts and training bras... Sucking off these strangers who had no idea what you hid beneath them… Clearly did things for her that even the men themselves couldn't possibly manage.

That was what kept you dutifully bobbing your head into their laps, whenever they might want it: The secret knowledge that, in doing so, you were beating them in her affections. You were giving her something that they couldn't… and so wouldn't be left behind while she skipped over to let them slide in between her thighs once again.