Stopping at the door, she turned and with a thoughtful look, just said, “Maybe.” Then she was gone. And that was the last I saw of my twin sister, Jenny, for eight long weeks, until the first week in July, just fifteen days before our seventeenth birthday.
Each day since she had left had seemed like a lifetime of utter misery. Even now, nine years later, it feels as if it was only yesterday that I sat there in my room waiting in nervous anticipation for her return. It’s said that a watched clock travels more slowly; it was certainly so that Sunday morning.
I’d awoken early from a restless sleep, caused by the excitement of Jenny’s pending return and by a slight pain I was suffering in my arms, following the removal of plaster casts three weeks earlier. I’d got dressed in readiness, but as I watched the slow progress of the clock, I felt myself drifting in and out of sleep, until floating through my dreams came the sound of Jenny’s ethereal giggles, somewhere below. She was home.
Of course, I didn’t want to seem too eager; I didn’t want her to know that I’d spent every waking minute of the last few weeks thinking about her, but I could hardly contain my excitement as I rushed to my bedroom door. And yet, as I clutched at the door handle, I froze. What am I doing? Will Jenny want to see me? What does she think of me? Does she hate me? Question after question filled my mind, with no obvious answers to be found. This is crazy, I thought. This girl is my sixteen year old, twin sister.
Taking deep breaths and calming myself the best I could, I sauntered downstairs to see her sat on the sofa chatting with our parents. “Hi Jen,” I said, with fake nonchalance.
No words came back, just a beaming smile, as she leapt to her feet and ran towards me with outstretched arms, which she flung around my neck, before kissing me on both cheeks. “Hello shorty,” she screamed.
Just in that short space of time since I’d last seen her, she’d grown by a couple of inches, and as I clasped her tight to my body, I felt her budding, warm breasts and slender body push against me. She’d lost weight, too. Pulling back a little, she blew her straw-blonde hair away from her face, and flashed me those beautiful, blue eyes. And her scent, it was wonderful, just like fresh strawberries on a summer’s day.
“Have you missed me, then?” she said with a sly giggle, and a wink.
“No, of course not,” I snapped, coyly. Although, I think the fact that my arms were still wrapped around her, and holding her tight around the waist, gave it away that I had.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my mother raise an eyebrow. “Come on you two. What’s all this soppy stuff,” she said.
“Yeah, get off me,” I shouted, pushing Jenny back, fearful that we might be suspected.
If time had travelled slowly waiting for Jenny’s return, it was as nothing compared with the interminable wait for the sun to go down. Not once, throughout the day, had I had chance to be alone with her, so as I climbed into bed I listened intently for soft footfalls outside my door. I waited, all night I waited, but nothing came; no sound, no turning of the door handle, no Jenny.
It was not until the next day that I first had the opportunity to talk with her alone. She was already up and having breakfast, when I approached.
“Morning shorty,” she said, eyes sparkling.
“What’s going on, Jen?” I snapped back. “Why didn’t you come to my room last night.”
“What? Why would I have?” she replied, quizzically.
“Well, errr, I thought we’d do, you know, what we did last time you were here.”
She looked almost mystified, as if she had absolutely no idea of what I was talking about, but then I noticed a flushed look about her, a look of embarrassment, as her eyes fell downward into the bowl of cereal she’d been eating.
“Oh, that,” she whispered in a lost voice. “Listen, we should never have done that. It went too far. I was only helping you masturbate because you couldn’t do it for your self, not with your hands all smashed up like that. It was just me helping you, okay. That’s all it was.”
“No Jenny, it was more than that. I loved it, and you did too.” I replied in a shocked, unbelieving voice. “Anyway, I thought you had problems with having an orgasm, so couldn’t I help you with that?”
“Yes, that’s a problem, but it’s not the same thing,” she snapped back.
With that, she got to her feet, pushed by me, and ran upstairs. Of course, I ran after her, but was stopped in my tracks by her bedroom door slamming in my face. From behind it, I could hear her sobs. “Go away, leave me alone,” she cried.
“What the hell is going on with you two,” came a voice over my shoulder. It was my father. “You don’t usually fight like this. I’m disappointed in the both of you.”
Much to my annoyance, he had decided to take the next three weeks as a vacation from work. He wanted to spend ‘quality’ time with us. Unfortunately, this meant that my opportunities to be alone with Jenny were few and far between.
Each passing day brought more and more frustration. Whenever I tried to speak with her or catch her alone, she ignored me and walked away. Not being able to sleep properly, I’d started to look gaunt and dishevelled, and I was even beginning to fear for my sanity. But then, just as I was thinking I could take no more, a chance presented itself.
It was the Friday after Jenny’s homecoming. Our parents had booked tickets for us to see Mission Impossible II, and all four of us were in the car, heading for the cinema. About half way through the forty minute journey, I looked across at Jenny, there in the back seat, to my left. Her silhouette was framed in a dim light that grew as my eyes adjusted. Again, and again, I marvelled at her beauty. One of the most enchanting things about Jenny is that she’s never understood just how beautiful she is.
As I looked at her more intently, I noticed how the hem of her pale green, summer dress had ridden up slightly, exposing about half the length of her athletic thighs. She was dozing, resting her head against the side window of the car. This was my chance, the opportunity I’d waited for.
Reaching across with my left hand, I lightly ran my fingers up and down the smooth skin of her inner right thigh, stopping each time just an inch or so from her panties. Lost in the moment, I didn’t even register that she had awoken from her light sleep and was now looking at me. Then, suddenly, I was all too aware of her glare. With a fearful rage in her eyes, she shook her head from side to side at me, and silently mouthed the words, “No, we can’t. Please. Please don’t.”
By then, her legs had closed around my hand, halting my upward advances, but there was still enough room to make little, circular movements on her inner thigh, just a few inches above her knee. This was clearly a sensitive spot for her, because as I watched, I saw her swallow hard and bite her lower lip, her face contorted with forbidden pleasure. Trying her best to contain her muffled gasps, she began to squirm under my touch, and slowly, very slowly, to part her legs.
Continuing the circular movement of my fingers, I slid my hand further up my sister’s soft, warm thigh, until finally I felt the wet material of her cotton panties under my touch. Her eyes and mouth widened, as I brushed my fingers over the contours of her gushing slit, and then circled her clitoris through her knickers. Already drenched in Jenny’s hot juices, my fingers rubbed harder, and harder, until I slid them down the left side of her bulging pussy lips to locate the edge of the panty material. But no matter how I tried, I could not hook my finger underneath to pull them to one side.
“You two are quiet back there. Is everything alright?” came my mother’s voice from the front seat, as she started to turn around to look at us.
“Yeah, fine,” Jenny and I shouted in unison, while I quickly pulled my hand out from under her dress.
Even now, watching Mission Impossible II gives me a raging erection.
Stupidly, perhaps, I thought the incident in the car would make Jenny realise that there was no stopping our destiny, but instead it just seemed to make her colder towards me. On the Monday following the incident, she asked our parents if she could sleep over at her best friend, Molly’s house for a few nights, and they agreed. Again, my plans were thwarted.
Not until the next Friday did Jenny return, but as she walked through the front door that evening she seemed in a far better mood than when I’d last seen her; I’d go as far as to say that she was pleased to see me.
“What you been doing then, shorty pants?” she said with a grin.
“Not much,” I replied. “And stop calling me that.”
“I’m only teasing,” she continued. “Don’t get all upset. Hey, guess what, Molly told me that she thinks you’re cute and she wants me to set you up on a date with her. How about that?”
“No way, I’m not dating her,” I snapped back. “Let’s change the subject. I want to talk about what happened in the car last week.”
Jenny’s eyes immediately dropped to the ground. “I want to forget it. Please don’t go on. You shouldn’t have touched me like that.”
“But why? I just want to make you happy, Jen. Did you cum when I touched you?” I urged in a low voice, desperate to know.
“Okay, if I tell you, then you must stop talking about it. No, I didn’t cum, but I was very close, and if you hadn’t have stopped when you did, then I don’t know what would have happened.”
“Then let me help you, Jen,” I pleaded, looking at her intensely.
“No, don’t look at me.”
Tears were welling up in her eyes, along with a sadness that broke my heart, as she silently bowed her head, turned from me, and left the room.
It was another long, sleepless night, hoping and waiting for Jenny to appear at my bedroom door, but still she did not come. Looking back now, I see that night as a turning point in my life; it was the point at which I decided that I would be in control of my own destiny. From that moment onwards, life would no longer just be something that happened to me; it would, instead, be in my grasp.
Saturday dragged by, but I busied myself, and made sure I kept out of Jenny’s way. I think my cool attitude came as a surprise to her, because more than once she tried to engage me in conversation, without success; if she was going to play hot and cold with me, then I was going to do the same with her.
It was late in the evening when she confronted me coming out of the bathroom. “Why are you being funny with me?” she asked, softly. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you. I never, ever wanted to do that. I love you.”
“Yeah, whatever Jennifer,” I sneered, pushing her to one side and heading to my room.
I’d hoped she would follow me, but it was not to be; there was no quiet tapping on the door. I’m not ashamed to say that, at that very point, I sat on my bed, placed my head in my hands and began to cry. It seemed as if I’d never feel the warmth of her touch again.
