I am 19 years old. Female. Very petite build. I am 5 foot and a tiny bit tall if I stretch my back to it's straightest and tilt my head back slightly. I weigh around 50kg wet through. My dress size is a UK6, but I usually wear an 8 for comfort. My bra size is 28A which is being generous, I wouldn't have any major issues wearing training bras still, and truth is I don't tend to bother with one at all. Only a few situations I wear one and most of those are exercise related, gym and running mainly. I would also wear one if my top was figure hugging and any sort of cold or excitement would make my nipples visible through the top. I have long brunette hair that ends around mid way down my back. I usually wear it in a ponytail to keep it out of the way.
I am one half of a twin. My twin brother is also 19, but he was born a few minutes before me and reminds me of that fact fairly regularly. He is my opposite. He is still fairly slim, but he is over 6 foot tall. My mates all fancy him, so yeah, he isn't bad looking, but he is my brother so even admitting to any sort of attraction would be taboo, so I won't, but yeah, remove the shared DNA and yeah... I probably would.
We are very close. I am not sure if it is because we are twins or if it is just because he is so easy going and most of the time even if I want a fight he just shrugs and moves on with his day. He is also big enough just to lift me up and physically move me which kind of puts and end to any sort of protest or disagreement we may be having.
I was having one of those days where something just didn't feel right. I had a fair few of them, and most days were fine. Teenage hormones making me paranoid most likely, but I guess in a film or story it would have been put down to twin connection or some other bullshit that they like to try and push on us. It was half 3 in the afternoon and I was just chilling in my room. I had the house to myself except for the dog, as my brother was out on his pushbike somewhere and Mum and Dad were shopping. Oh, and just to clarify where I say, "In my room chilling," yes my hand is down the front of my panties and a small thong would be all I was wearing.
I wasn't actually properly fingering myself, which is a very odd claim as two fingers were inside me and I was gently stroking my clit was well. I wasn't really even that horny, I just had the house to myself and I almost felt obliged to have a risk free orgasm. Horny or not though, I am 19, so put something inside me for long enough and I am going to go cross eyed. My phone lit up and for some reason I sat up slightly to look at it. It was a local number, but it was unrecognised. Usually it was a swipe down for hang up, but instead I picked it up and answered it.
"Hello," I said.
"Hi, is that Sophie Lloyd," a female voice on the other end of the line said.
"Er, yeah," I said sitting up and removing my hand from down my panties. Something in her tone or inflection triggered my spidey sense. Again, twin bullshit. It wasn't, but I had to put that in didn't I really?
"Hi. It is the hospital, Steve has come off his bike, can you come in?" she said. You know that feeling when your entire digestive system tries to strangle itself. You instantly feel sick even though there is no way you could be sick with how tight your stomach felt at that moment in time. An almost choking sense of 'Oh shit."
"Yeah, cause," I said hearing my own panic, "Is he okay?" Silly question, he was in hospital. The question that I didn't dare answer for fear of a negative response, or somehow even worse, an evasive reply was of course, 'Is he alive?'
"He is fine," she said, "All things considered. Broken bones, but okay."
"Oh thank God for that," I said feeling my body relax as I breathed out.
"Calm down, have a drink of water, and come to A&E safely," she said as I was practically hyperventilating. I am not great in a crisis, I assume I had been third choice on his who to phone list, as Mum and Dad would be first. I wouldn't be surprised if he was half hoping the dog had learned how to answer a phone and that I had actually been the fourth choice.
"Yeah, okay," I said consciously controlling my breathing, "I'll be 30 mins or so."
"See you in a bit," she said and hung up.
I ran out of my room, slid to a halt on the wooden floor in the hallway and span on my heals back into my room again. I was still half naked. "Yeah, sorry I didn't pick you up bro, I was arrested for indecent exposure on my way to get you cos I didn't put any clothes on. Fucking idiot," I scalded myself. I put a pair of jeans and a t-shirt on then went downstairs. I slipped on some trainers and went out to the car. It wasn't mine, it was the shit second family car that I was insured on.
Amazingly it started and I drove to the hospital. I checked the instructions for the parking, (piss take, much?) and went inside. The receptionist directed me in the usual disinterested way and I hurried down the maze of corridors and equally worried looking sea of faces. It is odd isn't it, your world is your world, and yet here was a collection of people who were in similar situations, and heaven forbid, much worse situations. Much respect to the doctors and nurses, I don't think I could do this job.
I finally found him and he grinned sheepishly at me from his bed. He had a nice scratch on his face, his right arm in a plaster and sling plus he had crutch by his bed as well. "Fucking idiot," I said when I saw him. It was half relief that he was okay, or at least not immediately dead.
"Er. Hospital, language," he replied.
"Sorry," I said looking around, but either no one heard me or no one cared, "Fucking idiot, what did you do?" I said quieter.
"Ran out of talent," he said.
"Obviously," I replied, "What have you done?"
"Broken right wrist and arm, badly sprained left ankle," he replied.
"Moron," I said rolling my eyes at him, "Scared me to death."
"Yeah, sorry, I don't know Mum or Dad's number by heart," he said, "Bust my mobile in the crash."
