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.
