Christmas With My Brother Ch 01

Chapter One - Christmas 2013 with my twin brother

In virtually every aspect, my twin brother and I were normal, typical siblings. We were close; we fought; we shared some things and we also kept other things quite private.

My name is Kelsey, I am 19 years old. At the end of my first semester at college, I was still very much a virgin. In fact, I was woefully inexperienced with the opposite sex. I was, and still am, 5 ft 9 inches tall, and I barely tipped the scales at 120 lbs. I had small but perky 32 B cup breasts, and was just starting to form the 'round bumper butt' boys lust after.

I knew that I was pretty. I had large green eyes, full lips and long dark brown hair. Yes, I had a very attractive face. But rather than the body that turned heads at the high school, I had a thin, sleek body of a model. I was a runner, with virtually no body fat.

Over the next few years, I knew that I would 'fill out', but at 19, I was rather thin.

I was, and still am, quite intelligent. I was salutatorian of my high school graduating class. But rather than viewing my intelligence as an asset, my intellect seemed to intimidate the boys. The boys at my school seemed to treat me more like a friend or a buddy than like a potential romantic partner.

Yes, I was inexperienced. I had gone a few dates, but nothing serious had developed. Not only was I a virgin, I really had no experience with the opposite sex to speak of. I had never seen a penis, and no one had touched me intimately below the waist.

A few boys had felt my breasts while we necked, but I did not allow things to go further than that.

So my sex life really consisted of masturbation, a skill at which I had become somewhat adept. I was not in a hurry to change that. I knew that when the time was right, these things would happen naturally.

As for Michael. He was handsome young man. He stood 6 foot 2 inches tall with muscular, broad shoulders and a wonderful physique. He had grey-blue eyes, a strong jaw, and an engaging smile.

But despite his good looks and charm, he was shy and unsure of himself with the opposite sex, which gave him a cute, vulnerable, yet appealing aura about him. If I am honest, he was a more attractive 19 year old male than I was as a 19 year old female. But I would have died before acknowledging to him that he was developing into a truly a gorgeous specimen of a man.

***

Our normal family Christmas was going to be disrupted this year. My grandmother had experienced a stroke and our parents were forced to abandon my brother and me two days before Christmas to travel to Ontario to be with her. My grandmother was 86 years old, and resided in a retirement home outside of the town she where she was born, lived, and would soon die in.

I was dealing with a series of conflicting emotions. I felt pity, regret, and yes, guilt that my grandmother was lying at death's door. But I was also feeling a deep resentment at the fact that my Christmas was being disrupted by an old woman's stroke.

I am ashamed to admit to being such a self-centered bitch. But I was (and still am) a teenager, and what teenager is not self-centered and self-absorbed? And that is what was going through my mind as Michael and I prepared to celebrate Christmas Eve without our parents. I wish I was a better person, but this is what I felt at the time.

And although I understood the reality of the situation, my grandmother's impending death made me sad, somber and vulnerable. As I faced the reality of my grandmother's mortality, I wanted my parents close. I wanted to be reassured that our family would survive.

Mom and dad hoped to be able to return home late Christmas day, but even that was uncertain. All that was certain was my brother and I were left alone to 'celebrate' the days leading up to Christmas, including Christmas Eve, by ourselves.

On this particular Christmas Eve, we decided to break with family tradition and skip midnight mass. It was something our parents had always compelled us to do, but with the parents away, it seemed like going to church was a silly waste of time.

I found myself wondering, 'now that Michael and I are alone, what can we do that mom and dad would never permit if they were here?' And the answer was obvious, we could drink in the safety of our home without fear of getting caught!

So instead of going to Christmas service at church, we had a spaghetti dinner with a glass of Merlot from the open bottle my mother had left on the counter. She would never miss the two glasses from the bottle.

Afterwards, we decided that we could safely raid our father's liquor cabinet without fear of detection. He did not monitor the levels in the bottles closely.

So that was the plan; Michael and I would enjoy Christmas Eve while 'stealing a bit of Christmas cheer' from Dad's well stocked bar.

Michael built a fire, and I donned my night clothes. I returned to a roaring fire in the fireplace wearing a pair of gray sweat pants and a white sleeveless cotton top. My attire was not sexy or revealing, but without a bra, my nipples were clearly visible and prominent. Michael was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt.

I decided that screwdrivers would be the most palatable concoction for our youthful tastes, and I mixed two large tumblers of vodka and orange juice for Michael and me. Michael put on 'It's a Wonderful Life' as we enjoyed the warmth emanating from the fireplace.

Within an hour, I was sipping my second 16-ounce vodka and OJ.

I was not used to drinking. In fact, I had never been drunk prior to that night. The drinks were large and strong, and I was feeling quite light-headed. I suspect Michael's head was spinning as well.

My growing inebriation, along with the sense of loneliness from not spending Christmas with our parents had me suddenly feeling very close to my younger brother. The scenes of the 'Bailey family' at Christmas from the nostalgic movie only heightened my sense of loneliness. I was overcome with a rush of love, warmth, and affection towards my brother.

I was lying on the couch. Michael was sitting on the floor in front of me, leaning back against the couch. His head was resting near my abdomen on the couch cushion.

I reached down and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, and said, "Michael, I am glad you are here. I love you. This would be a very lonely evening without you."

Michael reached up and squeezed my hand. It was an innocent show of affection. It was not sexual at all, at least not initially. After a few moments of innocently affectionate touching, I sat up.

With my brother on the floor and me sitting directly behind my brother, I placed my legs so I was straddling his shoulders between my thighs and started rubbing his shoulders as we watched the movie.

Michael simply moaned appreciably. His head lay back against my pelvis as I massaged his strong muscular shoulders. I promise you, this was a simple innocent show of affection. I was not even engaging in any particular intimate contact.

Michael then took my right leg, pulled it over his right shoulder, removed my sock and began massaging my foot as I rubbed the muscles of his shoulders.

"Oh, that feels wonderful, Michael," I cooed as he proceeded with the foot massage. He would take my big toe between his fingers and work his way back across of instep and heel. I loved the physical sensations as he rubbed my right foot. I discovered that the little piece of flesh between my toes was incredibly sensitive. I moaned every time he massaged this tiny little area between my toes, letting him know how very pleasurable I found his touch.

Yes, it was still innocent, but this was also different. Michael and I had never touched each other in anything even approaching this level of affection. And I was enjoying his touch more than I should have.

Michael then took my left leg and brought it up over his left shoulder and began massaging both feet as I rubbed his shoulders.

Involuntarily, I squeezed his neck and head between my thighs and said, "God, Michael, this feels good. I love your touch."

I arched my hips forward, pressing my pelvis against the back of his head. It was a simple, involuntary reaction. I was simply responding to the alcohol and the pleasure my brother was giving to me with the foot massage. But I did press my pelvis into the back of his head.

With the warm fire and the alcohol coupled with the nostalgic loneliness, I was feeling vulnerable and responding to this contact in a manner that truly surprised, no shocked, me.

I felt Michael respond, and press his head backwards between my thighs, the back of his head momentarily pressed against my vulva. His hands continued to rub my feet, and then his fingers traced up my calves. The momentary pressure of Michael's head on my clitoris sent a shock of pleasure through my core.

For the first time, I was conscious of he sexual nature of our contact. It dawned on me that this contact was not normal between a brother and sister. I remember distinctly the instant that I first thought. This is weird. I should not be doing this with my twin brother. I knew my reaction was not appropriate. This seemingly innocent contact felt so right, but so wrong at the same time.

But I decided we were safe pretending that this was still just innocent affection between siblings. Oh, I knew I had involuntarily pushed my crotch against the back of his head, and there was no mistaking the fact that Michael pushed his head backwards applying momentary pressure to my swollen vulva, but we could clearly ignore that brief contact and pretend it did not happen, right?

Michael's hands started working their way further up the inside the legs of my sweat pants. He started rubbing the back of each calf muscle. It felt wonderful. Without thinking, I squeezed his neck and head between my thighs again as I cooed, "Oh god, that feels good. You have great hands."

The flirtation was growing more and more overt. His touch was slowly slipping away from completely innocent towards intimate caressing. I knew it, and he knew it.

"Kelsey, your legs are so firm and strong. I guess it is all that running, huh? You are going to have a great body some day."

I playfully slapped the back of his head. "Some day? So my body is not too hot now, huh?"

"You know what I mean. You are starting to get a nice figure right now. And you have the type of body that will look even better when you are 25, and better still when you are 40."

I knew he was trying to be nice, and he was trying to give me a genuine compliment.

With my legs still draped over my brother's shoulders, Michael started to move his hands up higher, past my calves, towards my thighs. I could not help responding to his touch. I released my grip on his shoulders and reclined back with a soft moan.

"Michael, you really have a wonderful touch. I feel like I am melting."

Michael pulled my legs forward slightly, pulling my bottom off the cushion and pulling my crotch into the back of his neck.

Instinctively, Michael seemed to understand the art of seduction: go slowly and inch your way towards the goal.

He was slowly increasing my arousal, inch by inch; and I was responding to his touch. I was aware of my vagina opening slightly and beginning to lubricate.

Before I knew it, Michael's hands were kneading my thighs moving slightly higher as he continued the massage.

Michael then withdrew his arms from my sweat pants, and then turned slightly so he was partially resting on his left side, as he remained sitting on the floor between my legs. He then placed his right arm across his chest and over his left shoulder and slowly ran his right hand up my left pant leg. He now could access my inner thigh more easily.

I froze momentarily.

I was becoming aroused. I knew I was headed down a very dangerous path. I knew I should stop this contact while we could still pretend it was completely innocent. But his touch was like a narcotic to me at that moment.

I simply needed this contact. I needed to be touched. I did not want him to stop. I did not think where this was heading. I did not consciously decide to allow this to go further. I simply did not stop it when I should; while I still could.

I allowed it to continue. I wanted it to continue.

Suddenly I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I was nervous, no scared. I was also excited.

I leaned my head forward, straining my neck and looked over Michael's shoulders and saw his penis throbbing under the material of his gym shorts. My brother was getting an erection as he massaged his my thighs.

Michael saw me look at his crotch, and smiled, He did not try to hide his erection. He knew perfectly well now that I was aware of his arousal.

Was he aware of mine?

I knew I should be shocked that Michael was getting a huge boner from rubbing his sister's legs, but honestly, it pleased me. It pleased me that my brother was responding to touching me as much as I was responding to his touch.

I realized that Michael and I were rapidly approaching a situation that was very dangerous. We should retreat. We had not done anything really 'wrong' yet, but we were rapidly approaching the line where we might.

But I did not want to stop. And I purged all thoughts of the ramification of this from my mind. I remember thinking, 'we are just cuddling and touching a bit, there is not anything really wrong with this.'

But I knew better. I knew my brother was erect. I knew my clitoris was now engorged and sensitive and my vagina was leaking. I knew this was not simple cuddling any longer.

But Michael's touch was so very intoxicating. I did not want to stop, or retreat. I needed to be touched at that instant. In fact, if I am really honest, I wanted him to touch me even more intimately. I felt myself open my legs wider as Michael's hand explored their way up my inner thighs. I wanted him to have access to touch me anywhere he chose.

I was moaning with pleasure as I spread my legs wide to give him unobstructed access to touch me. I was not going to actually initiate it, but I knew I was not going to stop him either if he was bold enough.

I watched as his erection strained against the material of his gym shorts. Pulse after pulse, I witnessed my baby brother getting harder and bigger as he formed a noticeable tent in his shorts.

I laid back. "Michael, you are making me dizzy...you are really getting to me," I said brazenly. I wanted to encourage him. I wanted him to know I was receptive.

I could feel the gusset of my panties growing wetter from my lubrication. I wondered if Michael could pick up any scent emanating from my secretions? Could he smell my growing arousal?

I could not help rocking me hips slightly as my arousal grew and grew. I tried to lie still, but I could not completely control the movement of my hips.

Michael was sitting on his side, his right hand up the legs of my sweat pants, massaging my upper thighs. It was a strange position for such an intimate massage. But that is how we were positioned at the time.

Suddenly, without warning, Michael's fingers slipped further up between my thighs, and caressed the gusset of my panties, gently running his fingers across the very damp material that was protecting my vagina. I gasped as his fingers felt the wet crotch of my panties. I could no longer claim that this was innocent. I could either stop him, or face the fact that this contact was completely inappropriate.

It was a bold move on Michael's part. He had seized the moment and pushed the limits. I could either chastise him for his offensive advance, or I could accept his advance as a genuine show of affection triggered by alcohol and an unusual chain of events. I never considered chastising him.

I chose to ignore the enormity of the sin Michael and I were preparing to commit. I chose to do what felt right at the time. I chose to allow the physical contact between Michael and myself.

I knew it was wrong. I knew as his sister, it was my responsibility to control these events. I am merely telling you what I did without reflecting upon what I should have done.

I arched my back and pushed my pelvis forward, letting my brother know that I approved of this contact. I continued to moan as Michael's fingers explored the damp, cotton patch that separated him from my now erect clitoris.

"Oh my god," I cooed.

That was all the encouragement my baby brother needed. He moved his fingers inside the leg of my panties, and after a brief moment of fumbling, he found the wet slit of my opening.

I remember flinging my head backward in abandon as I allowed my brother to be the first, and only, boy to touch my vagina. I reached forward and placed my hand on the side of his head, caressing his head as he explored the outer folds of my vagina.

In my inebriated state, I was not thinking of the ramifications of this sinful act. I only knew that I was lonely and aroused, and I wanted Michael to touch me there. I knew that it felt good, very good. Yes, it was wicked, but it felt right to let him touch me.

After a minute or two of clumsy exploration, Michael withdrew his fingers, and turned to face me. Kneeling in front of me, he reached up to start to remove my sweatpants and panties together. I wanted our game of doctor to continue. I wanted him to touch me some more. I wanted him to explore me thoroughly.

I wanted him to actually penetrate my virginal pussy with his fingers. I wanted my brother to be the first boy to finger me. Don't ask me why, but the thought of allowing my brother to be the first to penetrate me was very appealing and very satisfying. I knew he loved me, and the first person to touch me like this should be someone who loves me.

So I lifted my bottom off the couch and allowed him to strip me from the waist down.

I realized this was wrong, wicked, sinful, perverse, and perhaps even sick. But I was beyond caring at this particular moment. I abandoned all modesty as he removed my sweat pants and panties together. I spread my legs, allowing my brother to be the first person to look at, no, the correct term is 'study', my wet dilated vagina.

Michael pushed my legs wide apart as he looked up inside me. I could feel my vaginal juices slowly leaking from me. I wondered, if Michael could see the wetness seeping from my opening? Could he see how wet and aroused he had made me? Did he know how vulnerable I was at that instant?

I said nothing.

I simply moaned and allowed him to study his sister's open vagina. I caught the slightest scent of my arousal. Kneeling in front of me, with his face inches from my vagina, I knew Michael had to smell my distinct scent now.

Did my brother know that he was smelling the aroma of a woman in heat, ready to accept her mate? Did he know that scent was my signal to him that my vagina was wet, dilated and was prepared to breed like an animal in season?

I had not even kissed him, yet my youthful pussy was open, lubricated and aroused as he studied me.

His fingers found my opening and he inserted his middle finger inside me. The penetration felt strangely peculiar, but very pleasurable.

"Oh Michael, oh my god," was all I cold say as I clutched the couch cushions.

Michael started to edge a second finger inside my tight, virginal pussy. His second finger hurt slightly, and stretched me open too wide. I was not ready to accept the second digit.

"Oh careful, you are stretching me. Oh god, I feel so full. Just use one finger, two is too much" I hissed.

"Do you like this? Do you like what I am doing to you, sis?" Michael asked as his middle finger slowly entered my expanding vaginal opening.

"I am ashamed to admit it, but I do. I do like it. Oh god, I feel so full and so open. Oh god," I moaned as I pushed my hips forward to force his finger inside of me.