Jane & Julie Go Home for Christmas

This is an entry to the 2016 Winter Holidays Contest. It contains music, twins having sex with twins, and a little brother-sister incest. Please vote and comment!

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Our family tradition is to go home for Christmas. My twin sister Julie and I (my name is Jane) are now 25, but we still go home to visit our parents, and see our friends from high school who either still live in our bleak small town in upstate New York, or who still come back at Christmas to visit their own parents.

Julie and I are identical twins. We began life identical, and our Mom used different colors of nail polish on our fingers and toes to tell us apart, we were that identical. Julie, who is a few minutes older, got red. I got blue. To help everyone tell us apart, we continued the nail polish colors when we got old enough to wear nail polish to school.

Our friends also used our glasses as a way to tell us apart, but then we switched to contacts. We trade clothes and wear our hair the same way, so now it's back to nail polish!

Julie lives in Washington, DC, and I live in New York City, so we have both become urban girls. It is nice to return to the countryside at Christmas, but the small town atmosphere is a bit stifling for both of us.

Neither of us have partners yet, but at 25 we each still have time to find the right guy. Our mother, who is a sweetheart and a great Mom whom neither Julie nor I can stand to be around, thinks by now we should be married and have two kids (at least) each.

Our father has eyes only for our brother, who is scary smart and probably has the brainpower of Julie and me together, and then some. He went to Harvard, and now he has a PhD in Astrophysics from the University of California. Julie and I were not even in the honors bubble in high school and we went to the local junior college, eventually transferring to a branch of SUNY. We both graduated, but there were some tense moments.

In high school we were flat-chested and without womanly curves, until our senior year when suddenly a woman's body was thrust upon us around the time of graduation. Late bloomers, it's called. Now we are 'stacked,' in the rather crude description of our older brother Zach. We also have serious child bearing hips and tiny waists. We went from being wallflowers to head turners.

Even with our long blonde hair, blue eyes, pretty faces and sparkling personalities, our boobs centric high school boy classmates were singularly uninterested in us. It scarred both of us, but we got over it quickly in college. The reason being that it changed a lot, and I do mean a lot, in college, where we suddenly had boobs and all the curves of a woman. We were constantly fighting off boys and loving it.

Julie and I are identical in so many ways. We even think alike, and come close to being able to read our twin's mind. We have all the same tastes: food, music, movies, books, and art, so we are basically interchangeable. This makes people almost completely dependent on our nail polish color to tell us apart.

Being so identical has led to some funny occurrences. For example, one time I was visiting Julie down in DC when her boyfriend came over. She was cooking, so I got the door, and before I could even say hello her boyfriend grabbed me and planted a wonderful kiss on my lips, while grabbing my ass with his hands.

He lifted my skirt was going for the gold when I managed to pull away and breathlessly say, "Julie's in the kitchen. I'm her sister Jane."

He stood back, chuckled, and said, "Nice try, Julie," and kissed me again.

I managed to call out "Julie" before he was kissing me a third time, and when Julie entered wearing her apron, he was surprised, to say the least. He stopped kissing me. His face turned bright red. We all had a good laugh after that, and I castigated Julie for not having told him that she had a twin; that is, me.

She had told him, of course. She had even told him I was coming. Personally, I think he suspected I was Jane, not Julie, and he just wanted to see how different her twin was. If so, I guess he learned all right!

Back in our hometown, when we were schoolgirls we used to hang out at the mall, or at our favorite coffee house, where on the weekends there was often "entertainment" and drinks. Usually it would be some pretty college girl playing the guitar and singing. The place had a back room that was large, so it could handle crowds the few times the place would pack people in.

Living in cities as we now do, the local mall of our hometown with its anchor store being Target, had little interest for us. So to escape the home ambiance of our Mom's questions about our reproductive intentions, we headed out to our old favorite coffee house.

To our surprise, one of our few male friends from high school was now the manager. His name is Greg. I remember Greg as being the entrepreneur of the high school. He has a natural flair for business.

"Hey, Greg, how are you doing?" Julie said.

"Oh my God, is that you two, JJ?" Greg replied, using the nickname we had in high school and still both hate. "My, my. You have become gorgeous women in the last, what is it, seven years?"

"Thanks, Greg," I said. "It's nice of you to say so. I'm Jane, by the way."

"I know that, Jane. I'm not color blind. Love the blue nail polish," Greg replied, smiling his million-dollar smile. "Tell me about your life. Do you have six kids each? That would sure please your Mom, if I remember right."

I remembered why I love Greg. We got to talking, and for the next 3 hours Greg learned all about how are lives had evolved and how we had stumbled (and I do mean stumbled!) into relatively lucrative careers in the big cities.

As for Greg, clearly not much had happened to him. He was still not married, and he had recently broken up with his long time girl friend Susie Peters, whom I remember as being one of the hottest girls in our senior class. She had never liked us much.

Greg bemoaned the difficulties of managing the coffee house, now called "The Daily Grind and Drink." The drinking was for the evening, and Greg strictly enforced the age requirement. He pointed out that he had a great act planned for the evening, a totally hot woman singer who actually had a good voice, too.

She had cancelled on him with the flu, and he had learned this only an hour before he saw us.

If Greg had been in a cartoon, a lightbulb would have gone off in his head, as he moped abut losing his star act. He suddenly had an idea. "Hey, JJ, do you two both still sing?" he asked us.

Both Julie and I have pretty singing voices and even in high school we both played the guitar (both acoustic and electric) and we loved to sing. There was once a group campfire one warm fall evening, and we entertained some of our good friends playing our acoustic guitars and singing duets. Apparently it was memorable.

One of the very few differences between Julie and me is that Julie is a soprano, even a coloratura, with perfect pitch. I am an alto, maybe even a contralto, and without perfect pitch. But I do have a nice voice, and I can sing harmony in tune, making us a good combination. To compensate for my voice when compared to Julie's, I am dynamite on the electric guitar, while Julie is "only" very good.

We do still sing, and we enjoy singing together whenever we're together, and before I could stop her Julie told Greg that. When Julie comes to NY, I rent some rehearsal space, and we rehearse songs together, just for fun. She reciprocates when I come to DC. In my opinion we sound really good, too. We see each other a lot, since it's easy with Amtrak.

Sometimes an old high school friend, Evan, joins us. He does not sing, but he plays a great bass electric guitar. He lives in New York too, so he joins when we rehearse in New York. When he's with us, the sound is balanced perfectly. All we need to complete the picture is a drummer.

Julie told Greg we still sing and realized her mistake only moments after she had said it. Before we knew it, Greg had turned on his considerable charm and we were now his evening act. When he showed us the outfits he wanted us to wear, however, we said no.

He wanted us to wear crotch length skirts and a tube top across our boobs, with no bras. You could see the complete outline of our boobs. The material was stretched so thin due to our large boobs, that you could almost see right through it. Greg enjoyed checking us out when we modeled the outfits.

Finally we compromised, although we did not gain much. We were still to wear the skirts, but now we were to wear vests that buttoned in the middle with only one button, and again no bras. Clearly almost all of our boobs except the nipples and maybe the areolas would be on display. Greg enjoyed checking us out in the compromise outfits, too. I expected him to start drooling at any minute. Susie Peters, eat your heart out, I thought.

We decided what the fuck, and we agreed. For pay we would each get $100 and all the booze we wanted. Plus there would be a tip jar for the musicians that we could split. I should point out that Greg makes the best cocktails north of Westchester County.

We went home and rehearsed all afternoon, which was a ton of fun. Evan was home visiting his own parents for the holidays, and he joined us for a jamming session. While we were rehearsing Zach arrived home from his job at NASA amid much parental excitement.

Zach loves listening to us sing, and despite our attempts to dissuade him, he said he was definitely coming to hear us at The Daily Grind and Drink. "I would not miss it for the world. I could listen to you two sing all day every day. You have amazing talent. And you sound even better with Evan on the bass," he said nodding at Evan with the last phrase. Evan smiled and returned the nod. Evan was taciturn and rarely used his voice to speak, preferring using his facial expressions and body language to communicate.

It was hard for us not to like Zach, even though we were hopelessly jealous of him. We both gave up trying not to like him long ago, and now we reveled in him being our brother. Frankly, we were proud of his accomplishments. Plus he too was not married and had no children, and it was fun to hear our Mom get on his case, taking a break from being on our case.

Later after our Mom had cooked a dinner of all Zach's favorite foods, which by the way we ate too even if it was heavily mammal oriented (Julie and I prefer fish, vegetables, and salad), we went to get ready for the performance. When Zach saw us he said, "Holy shit, sisters! You're going out in public dressed like that? Do you have some mace to fight off the men?"

Julie and I both blushed. "Greg insists," I said weakly. "He wanted us to wear outfits even more risqué; this is the compromise formation."

"Sometime you'll have to model me the outfits of the road not taken, then! With the two of you dressed like that, I'm going to have to take incest more seriously!" Zach said. "Don't worry, I'll protect you both."

"Are you going to beat off the men with your slide rule?" Julie teased.

"No his calculator, silly. Slide rules are long gone, except perhaps at NASA. Or his iPad. Or his whatever," I chimed in.

"Exactly," Zach said. "You can't hack a slide rule. And believe me, everyone cringes when I wield my whatever. It's fearsome indeed."

We left for The Daily Grind and Drink in a good mood, the three of us. Greg whistled a wolf whistle when he saw us. "Good that you brought a body guard," Greg said.

"You bet," Zach said. "I've got the latest NASA weaponry here, too, so nobody should try to molest my sisters. And everyone will want to, I'm sure."

"He wields a mean slide rule," Julie said. "Watch out, Greg."

Julie and I giggled, and asked for a drink that we needed for courage. We had never before formally performed for an audience. We began with Greg's specialty margarita, which is delicious.

A little later we got on the small stage and set up for the performance. Greg had done a remarkably good job of advertising the "local talent," and in flyers and on the Internet he had included pictures of us in our highly skimpy performance outfits. It seemed to me as if the pictures were almost pornographic.

As a result, almost every boy who had ignored us in high school was in attendance at the Daily Grind and Drink that night. After all, entry was free, and there was no minimum. There were some girls, too, Susie Peters included. But mostly it was men who were there.

Greg whispered to us that we had generated the biggest crowd he had ever had. We did a great job. Julie is a borderline coloratura, and my voice is low enough to be highly sexy. Julie soared when we sang songs from Queen; she could sound just like Freddie Mercury when she wanted to. And she wanted to.

We would lighten it up with some Mamas and Papas, with my best imitation of Mama Cass, which was damn good, even if I say so myself. A difference was that I sang her songs in tune, and not always a little bit flat.

The applause was deafening. I like to think it was for our music, but I think our outfits played a big role: We were showing a lot of leg, practically all of our legs in fact, and a hell of a lot of boob. There was not much mystery about our bodies when we were on stage in those outfits.

When we took a break, every single man wanted to sit with us. Zach kept them away except -- to our surprise -- two slightly older men from Zach's high school class. They too were identical twins. They were Steve and Sean, and they looked almost as identical as did we. Thank God they wore glasses with different frames, something Julie and I quickly noticed. Also their haircuts were slightly different.

They were good looking and good conversationalists, and they seemed to like us both. Plus they had good jobs in -- you guessed it -- New York and Washington, DC. They were the dream men our mother always wanted for us, and in spite of that we nevertheless still liked them.

There's something about being a twin and meeting another set of twins. For most people Steve and Sean would seem like clones of each other. But for Julie and me we could see profound differences in them, just as they could see that Julie and I were two very different people.

I immediately realized that Steve was my kind of guy, and fortunately Julie took to Sean like a duck takes to water. It would have been horrible had we both liked the same twin, but fate was smiling on the four of us just then.

When we left for our next set, Julie told them that this set was for them. Julie sang her heart out, and while altos do not generate as much attention as do sopranos, my role was key since without my voice Julie's voice alone might have sounded shrill. Together we were remarkably good.

Greg and his two waitresses (who were also fairly skimpily dressed) were running around carrying drinks over their heads in the crowd, as the men in attendance drank heavily while drooling over our bodies, which were largely on display. I suspect there was also a lot of flirting with the waitresses, too.

As we sang our hearts out, Julie began to dance and gyrate wildly on the stage. I had switched from acoustic to electric guitar, so my movements were a bit more constrained. Men could easily see up her skirt at her skimpy panties, which were red while mine were blue. The men were enjoying the show, but then she had a 'wardrobe malfunction' and her vest button opened.

Suddenly Julie's boobs were on open view. A roar went up from the audience. Julie's boobs, identical to my own, are indeed spectacular, if I do say so myself. Julie was unaware of her vest opening, and she thought the roar was for her singing. It well could have been; her singing was that good. But in fact, the roar was for her boobs.

Julie kept right on singing, and I don't know why but I went right on playing. An enthusiastic audience always inspires performers to rise to new heights. I knew they were enthusiastic for the wrong reasons, but I had already consumed enough cocktails not to care. I was enjoying it.

Zach was gesturing to me to unbutton too. I don't know what got into me, but in solidarity with Julie, I flamboyantly unbuttoned my vest, too. I got a sexual rush when I did it. This troubled me: first that while with Julie it was accidental, with me it was on purpose; second, why would openly displaying my boobs to the crowd turn me on more than it would mortify me?

I was too busy performing and postponed such thoughts for after our set.

Now all four boobs were on display to the men, many of them being our former classmates, and the place went wild. Julie was still unaware, and she continued to sing her heart out, as I got lost in a rather spectacular electric guitar cadenza, channeling Eric Clapton.

In deference to my cadenza, Julie picked up her own electric guitar to accompany me, looking over at me for the first time and seeing my boobs on display. She looked horrified but I smiled at her and she looked down and saw her own boobs on display, too. She smiled back at me and did not cover up.

Like professional performers, we simply continued the set and did not let the wardrobe malfunctions disturb us. The music we produced was the best we had ever done. We were instant hits. After the set, we returned to our table, our boobs still on display, and joined Steve and Sean. We each quickly closed the button in a pathetic display of modesty.

I actually think that seeing our boobs and our casual reaction to showing them off to the crowd, lightened the mood, and freed the audience up to concentrate on our music. They began to appreciate our sound even more after the wardrobe malfunction.

"That was an amazing performance," Sean said. "One of the best I've ever seen or heard. Do you do this professionally?"

"Even skipping how amazingly sexy the two of you are," added Steve, "Your music really blew me away. You two have real talent."

Julie and I both thanked them. We enjoyed the complements, and neither of them mentioned again our wardrobe malfunction, and neither one said we had great boobs, or anything else crude. Instead we talked for most of the time about music.

"Is there something you'd like to hear? We have one more set," I said.

"I imagine given our wardrobe malfunctions," Julie added, "Nobody is going to leave. They'll all want to see if it happens again, you know?"

"Will it?" Sean said. "Personally, since we have already all seen your boobs, I suggest you continue the display. Everyone loves it, including me. You are two gorgeous and sexy women."

Julie and I were not used to being thought of that way. I kind of liked it, so I knew Julie must too, since as I've said, we are so similar it's almost as if we share the same brain. It's scary, actually, how similar we are.

"You haven't answered about the music," I said. Then they asked for Credence, or Bruce Springsteen. Clearly they were folk rock fans.

"We try to please," Julie said, and as we got up to get on the stage, she loosened the single button keeping her vest closed. We gave another great set, and yes, we showed off our boobs. Towards the end of the set Julie removed her vest and twirled it around her head, brazenly topless in front of the entire audience.

I wondered if Julie had forgot these were mostly our friends from high school, and was only thinking of Steve and Sean. I realized of course she had not forgot, since I had not. Then I suddenly realized she did not care, and she was in fact doing it for Sean and Steve.

So I joined, and we did the last three songs of the evening topless. The crowd was beyond raucous and cheering us the entire time. Julie's voice rose to new heights, and my guitar sang out like it never had before.

The last song we did featured Julie on the guitar, and me singing. Like I said, I have a low voice for a woman, and I did my best Whitney Houston. I sang my heart out, and while Julie is not as much of a virtuoso on the guitar as am I, she did a great job backing me up.