My brother Chris and I are twins. And, like most twins, we've been pretty close all of our lives. Our mom even said we had our own language when we were toddlers, though neither of us remembers it. We figure she's probably just making it up. But she made sure even our names were close. Christopher and Kristin. Or Chris and Kris. Yeah. It's embarrassing.
I go by Krissy to avoid confusion. I have since I was 6 when our dad decided he was done specifying which kid he meant when he called. Our mom is really the only one who still calls me Kris. Unless Chris is trying to annoy me, then he does it too. But I call him Chrissy when I'm trying to annoy him, so it's even.
Like I was saying, my brother and I are close. Really close. There's never been a time when we haven't been. Sure, we're not always together. We've had a few separate classes, and I did gymnastics and tennis while he did baseball and tennis. Ok, yeah, we both played on the tennis team, but boys play in the fall and girls play in the spring, so there.
Our parents run a small diner in town, so naturally we even work together there. It's hard to explain to someone who's not a twin. We just have a special bond that we've always shared. He's my brother, and he's my best friend. Always has been. I think he'd say the same about me.
Things changed at the end of our senior year of high school, when he started dating Samantha Dean. He'd spend time with her most nights, at her place, or at the roller rink, or a spot they had in the woods. Our rooms had a mutual bathroom, so I always knew when he came in, sometimes later than his curfew. Then I'd get to hear all about Samantha and the way she'd blush when he sucked on her nipples, and how her eyes would roll back when he ate her out. I wasn't jealous, per se. More just annoyed. Not that he was having sex, but that I wasn't.
I had briefly dated a jock named Marcus, and at the time I really still had feelings for him. He had taken my virginity and treated me like a queen for two months. Chris always said he was a dick and a player. I honestly thought he was just jealous. But it turned out he had been right. Marcus had been cheating on me the whole time. Then he dumped me, and I hadn't been with anyone since.
Not that I didn't have opportunities. I'm fit and lithe, with a good figure and moderate C-cups. I have long, black hair that reaches just past my shoulder blades, and, judging by the amount of attention I've gotten from guys in my life, I'm good looking. I just hadn't felt like dating anyone else. And it was annoying. Annoying to hear my brother talk about how he fucked Samantha, in great detail, while I'd try to hide the fact that I was getting wet just hearing about it. More than once I'd finger fuck myself to sleep after he left my room.
Anyway, things really changed the night of our 19th birthday party. We had an official party at the diner, then afterwards we went out to the woods with a few friends and a few more bottles of liquor. It was a nice night. We made a fire and my brother and his friend brought their guitars, and after a while we were all singing bad songs around the fire.
Towards the end of the night, my friend Kelsey said something about needing to get laid, and I said "same, girl." And, like that, it started the chain of events that led up to...well, what it led up to.
Out of nowhere Kelsey blurts out, "What, Chris hasn't fucked you lately?"
Everything stopped when she said it.
She looked around at everyone and laughed. She said, "What, you two aren't doing it?"
"What are you talking about?" Chris said.
"Everyone just assumed you two...y'know...bang," she answered with a chuckle. "You guys are like, always hanging off each other."
"What do you mean, 'everyone'?" he asked, looking around at the dozen or so friends we had with us.
They all got quiet, looking down at the ground or up into empty tree branches. I couldn't believe it.
One of our mutual friends, Tom, spoke up. "I mean, some kids at school think you're boyfriend and girlfriend, not brother and sister." With that he cracked up into uproarious laughter. He doubled over when he saw the looks Chris and I gave him. "Well, it's true."
"Oh my god," I said, standing up. "Who all believes this?"
"C'mon, Krissy, I was just joking," Kelsey said, trying to lighten the mood.
I wasn't having it. "Wait, everyone here thinks we've fucked?" I motioned towards my brother.
"Well, not everyone," Tom said in between breaths as he tried to keep from laughing harder.
"I mean, you two are the closest cou--pair--at the school. You've been draped all over each other since as long as I've known you," Kelsey said, giving up on changing the topic.
"We're twins!" I nearly shouted. "We've always been close! That doesn't mean we've..."
"No one would think any less of you," Kelsey retorted.
"Oh my god." It was all I could say. I sat back down and shook my head.
People started speaking up.
"We're sorry, we just thought you were."
"You guys really aren't? Wow."
"Would've sworn they had."
"I can't believe they're not."
There were even a few who said, "I would" and "Why not?"
Everyone seemed to be having a good time with it.
I could feel myself getting redder.
Some of Chris's buddies teased him. "C'mon dude, you have, haven't you? I know you have. She's so hot."
"Holy shit, shut up," he said weakly. I could hear the strain in his voice.
In what seemed like no time, the conversations changed and the laughter rang through the trees again, like it hadn't even happened.
But I couldn't get it out of my head. It was ridiculous. I mean, sure, Chris and I, being twins, growing up together, sharing the same bathroom...we've probably been a bit more "intimate" than other siblings. And Chris was good looking. A few inches taller than me, he had the same athletic physique. He even started using the weight room at school the year before, and it showed. I couldn't help but notice the six-pack he had developed.
But he was my brother. And ok, when I was younger, going through puberty, I may have watched him more closely. Touched him more. But we'd always touched a lot. We held hands practically all the time until we were like, 12. We hugged every chance we got, and one of us would usually be leaning on the other when we were together. But it was because we were twins. We were close.
Fuck.
That's what I thought sitting there.
Fuck, we did look closer than most couples.
But it's not like we had ever thought about each other in that way. My mind raced through the years we spent together, the intimacy that we shared. Sometimes, we'd even still huddle under the covers in my bed, watching a movie. It didn't seem odd or creepy. It just felt...natural.
Soon, we were breaking up and saying our goodbyes and Chris and I walked home. We were still living at home then, while we were attending the local college on the other side of town.
We kept a little more distance between ourselves than we normally would. Neither of us said a word.
Was he going over all the times we'd spent together too? All the touches, the play fights, the blanket sharing? All the times I'd put my legs over his lap on the couch? Did I...want him to touch them? To touch me?
I felt my stomach sink at the answer, an answer so deep in my subconscious I couldn't even admit it to myself. I was bombarded with images, flashes of memory, times when I had played with myself, and in the deepest ecstasies right before I came, my mind picturing him. They were so brief and so outside the realm of normalcy I had never given them any thought. Hell, I had never even let the thought linger except for those briefest of moments.
We avoided all conversation on that walk, and when we would make eye contact, one of us would look away quickly. Was he...? Could he be thinking about me in that way? Were there times, alone in his room, stroking his cock, right about to cum, when he thought of me?
No, that was silly. He had a girlfriend. Of course he wouldn't think of me.
God, it was so stupid.
We got home around midnight, and our parents and little sister were already asleep. We quietly made our way up to our rooms, and each went our respective ways, without a look or a word. It was so awkward. And to make it worse, I was drunk. He was too.
I stumbled around trying to get my jeans off for a good five minutes before I gave up with them halfway down my thighs. I could hear Chris in the bathroom brushing his teeth. I'd have to wait and brush mine after. So I took another shot at the jeans. With one leg off the ground, I lost my balance and bumped into the bathroom door.
A few seconds of silence passed. Then Chris opened it.
I was half laying/half leaning on my bed with my jeans above my knees. Goddammit, why do women's jeans have to be so tight!?
"Need some help?" Chris asked softly. It wasn't the first time he had helped a drunken me out of some clothes.
I didn't answer at first. Finally, I just said, "Ok."
He walked into my room. He was shirtless, and I noticed the abs, the muscle on his arms and shoulders.
He motioned for me to stand up and I did, while he went down to his knees. He gently tugged the fabric down my legs, slow and steady, until my jeans were puddled around my feet. He seemed to stay on his knees longer than necessary, and, my god, I felt myself start to get wet with his head so close to my...well, you know.
"Leg up," he said, and I obeyed. He pulled my jeans off my right foot. When we repeated it with the left, I stumbled, and reached out to hold onto his shoulders. It was something I'd done a million times before, shirt or no shirt.
