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Man Tent

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1328 Words | 0


My uncle Seth was really tall, and he liked to play Blanket Monster, but the one night, he wanted to play something else.

Mom, and dad were out, but he came over to watch us kids. Finally, my brothers passed out, so uncle Seth picked them up, and put them to bed. I thought he must’ve read them a story, because he was gone for most of the show, then he came out wearing a bed-sheet.

Normally, he played blanket monster under a moleskin blanket, because that felt like fur, but this was just a plain white sheet. Queen sized, for mom, and dad’s bed, but then he draped it over the couch.

“What are you doing?” My sister, and I saw he was naked, “We can’t see the TV.”

“Look, I’m a tent.” He just leaned over the back of the couch. I looked over at my sister, and we giggled, because usually the Blanket Monster tickled when it caught you.

“Well,” my sister got a dirty grin, and tickled his legs. “Is the tent ticklish?” He didn’t say anything, so she tickled up to his balls, and of course he had a big erection. I don’t know, maybe 8, or 9 Inches?

I said he was really tall, so he would pick us up, and we could see far just riding on his hips, or even further up on his shoulders. He was also really strong, since he could pick us both up, even when we’re 9.

He was 18, when he married our aunt, and started coming over to play sex games. Not just with my aunt, but me, my sister, and even my mom, but not with dad and the boys. Nothing gay, but of course when the blanket monster caught you, he didn’t just tickle you.

“Huh,” I leaned over, and whispered ‘you thinking what i’m thinking?’

She nodded, “Let’s play guess who!” She said real loud, “Cover your eyes.” Uncle Seth put his down in his hands, across the couch. I’m technically the oldest, by about 5 hours, and mom had us late at night. It took a long time, and she even joked it was the most Labor she’d done in her life. It was a Labor of love, though.


We’re twins, but we couldn’t be less alike. Other than both being girls, 11 year olds in 6th grade, and curious about sex in general. Plain old straight sex, gay and lesbian sex, bisexual threesomes, and even kinky bondage sex.

Oh yeah, porn, and erotica. She was more outgoing, while I was the shy one, and I guess passive aggressive? At the time, I was happy to just smile, and let boys come to me, but really all you had to do was go off alone. There was usually a pervert around to molest you, if you went off alone. At least at our elementary school, I can’t say who he is, of course.

I had a pretty smile, so all I had to do was flash that, sitting alone on the bench. At the park (Right next to the school) I even held my legs closed. Not so much for him, he’d seen me naked, touched, and licked me all over of course, but for anybody else that happened to walk bye. So, they wouldn’t know I was a 10 year old slut being molested by the school pedo.

I wasn’t the only one, but my sister was more Active aggressive. Extroverted, outgoing, talkative, funny. Not as pretty, so she more than made up for it in personality, but she didn’t like to steal the show. Especially with me along, she always made sure to let me participate, too.

“Uh, Erica?” He guessed, and we looked at each other, giggling. “No,” she let go, so I felt u his legs, balls, and gripped his dick.

“Oh, I know, Monica.”

“Hihihn, no. Guess again.” We didn’t even know any girls named Erica, and the only Monica was a lady on this TV show, F.R.E.I.N.D.S? I know you’ve at least heard of it, well, that had the only Monica we knew on it, but that’s how he played games like this.

It’s really fun, but if he guesses right, we have to come up with a new game. So, I looked over at my sister, and she nodded. Biting her lip, she felt up with her other hand. Left handed, she started rubbing his balls again, while I kept tugging with my right.

Honestly, it didn’t matter who was giving him a hand job, then eventually a blow job, but we just had to look at each other, and nod. It’s not psychic, we’re not even identical twins from the same placenta. We just think alike, so we just have to check.

Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Yeah, usually when it’s something dirty like this. We’re thinking the exact same thing, especially when it’s obvious. When a man comes out wearing nothing but a sheet, and plays “Man tent” with you. Even if you never played before because he’s just made it up. I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking the exact same thing as he was, and so was my sister.

“Oh, uh! NGHM!” He squeezed his legs together, and she let go his balls. I was pumping him backhand, so my thumb bumped her knuckles, and my fingers rubbed up and down the top of his shaft. She had his dickhead in her mouth, but there was plenty left to pump.

“Swop! Kah!” She lay back, and rubbed her tummy while I latched on, and sucked the rest like a hungry cow. No wait, calf? Never mind, I don’t care he still had plenty of cum left for me. We played Milkmaid with him, and took turns playing the bucket, but I forget what he said about baby cows.

Something from the bible, I don’t know. Why Jews don’t mix meat, and dairy in the same pot, the same dish, or even on the same plate, unless there’s partitions to keep them separated. We went to Seder once, but we’re not Jewish. Seth isn’t even circumcised!

“Smuip?” Oh yeah, and I disassociate when I have sex. I don’t know why, but for some reason, I can think about anything but sex. No, not buttsex, except sex, when I’m doing it. I’m not ADD normally, but when it comes to sex, or even just a naked man makes me think about something else. Anything else but what he’s doing to me.

Probably because we’re raped so young, but for some reason, my sister’s the other way around. She’s the one that got the ADD, but she get’s so hyperfocussed, especially about sex. Anything about sex, she even writes her own femdommy CBT Bondage rape stories.

I don’t really like them, but don’t tell her I said that. I don’t want to hurt her feelings.



Note that disassociation is a common defense mechanism for childhood trauma, especially sexual trauma like rape. At it’s most acute, it can even manifest as Disassociative Identity Disorder, or “Multiple Personalities.”

Or “Twins,” in the same body. In case you’re wondering how he was able to carry 2×9 year old girls on his shoulders at once? No, of course not. Tyler Durden isn’t just the dominant personality. He’s the only one anyone really talks to.

Except Marla Singer. Of course, because nobody noticed a woman sitting in a support group for Testicular Cancer. She wasn’t real either. Meanwhile, the narrator did situps down in the basement of the run down, listening to Tyler masturbate?

“I haven’t been fucked that good since grade-school.” It’s literally all in his head, Tyler’s head. The narrator doesn’t even have a NAME. “I am Jack’s spleen.” That’s the most Identity we get out of him, because he’s just a mental punching bag Tyler concocted to tell His story, because he’s an Anti-social Narcissist.

It’s impossible to really describe what Multiple Personalities feels like, because often the Alters don’t even know about each other. So, even they don’t know what DID feels like.

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