How I Met My Wife 43

This story contains incest.

"Can my sister visit over Thanksgiving?"

It was our first semester in grad school. Bob and I hadn't known each other very well as undergraduates, mostly from taking the same courses in our major, agreeing to share a flat, when we both were accepted for the grad program in another university. I knew he had a twin sister, but she hadn't been mentioned since we had moved into the flat with two bedrooms just large enough for a bed and desk.

Sure, his sister could visit him in a couple of weeks – from wherever. I didn't even know her name. Why was he asking me? I shrugged and replied:

"Sure, of course; why did you ask?"

"I was wondering if you would mind her staying here."

I was sitting on the two-seat sofa in the small living room; Bob was sitting on the armchair, both of us were reading a magazine, and had hardly glanced up at each other. More lost in the article I was reading, I asked automatically: "Where?"

When Bob didn't immediately reply, I suddenly awoke to why he had asked and forgot the article. Where was she going to sleep, for how many nights? I didn't think it would bother me to have girl in the apartment; by then I had slept with a few – whole nights – so it was only a question of where she would sleep. He still hadn't replied. I looked over at him. His face was hidden behind his magazine.

"Where's she going to sleep?" I asked, recognizing that I was accepting that she would sleep in our little apartment. Was he blushing, when he raised his head from behind the magazine? It was still another moment before he replied:

"With me, I guess." He was blushing, and corrected himself:

"I meant in my room, I was assuming," then adding: "We're twins, you know."

Of course, everyone knew that twins were closer than other siblings, so I didn't have a problem with their sharing a room, but where would she sleep – an air mattress? But there wasn't space on the floor for one, just maybe, if part of it was under the bed. I asked:

"She has an air mattress?"

Bob shook his head. I hadn't known that an adult could blush like he was. He looked back at his magazine and murmured: "We have before, you know: twins."

He could only have meant that they had shared a bed before – a single bed like the ones in our rooms?! I knew what it was like to be in bed with a girl in beds like that. There had only been one reason to be there, and I couldn't imagine that it wouldn't occur to siblings, a male and female lying so close that they had to be aware of each other's body, touching each other, even if they were wearing pajamas or whatever his sister wore in bed. I knew that he just wore boxer shorts. I caught my breath and tried to reply evenly:

"If you want to; I guess so – twins."

Bob nodded, looking slightly less embarrassed, and murmured again: "We have before."

I shrugged, then smiled wryly and said: "I don't think I could with my sister, but I don't have one."

He also smiled wryly, also shrugging but now looking relieved, and we left the subject at that for the evening and until the weekend before Thanksgiving. I was, however, thinking too often about their sharing his bed. Had it been a big double bed with space enough to keep out of contact, maybe one like in Europe with two sets of covers? That would be fairly easy, but his single bed was not like that, the two of them under one sheet and blanket, like when I had slept with girls. It was very difficult – impossible – for me to imagine that Bob could not be having similar thoughts, and what was his sister thinking? She must be assuming that I must be wondering about their sharing his bed. It was going to be a very curious situation.

Friday evening before Thanksgiving, we were sharing a six pack. After our second beers, with a wry expression Bob said:

"I guess you must have been wondering about Deb's coming here. Deb, Deborah."

"I have been," I agreed, popping the tab of my third beer.

"She said I should thank you from her for letting her stay here, said that she was looking forward to meeting you."

"I am too, to meeting her."

"Said you must be very nice, being so understanding."

"I'm trying to be: nice, and understanding," I replied, liking that he had mentioned her visit, thinking that it might be only because Deb had said that.

I took a sip of my fresh beer. Bob took a better one of his. He looked at me, then looked away for a moment, then at me again and took another better one. Then without looking at me he said:

"She called yesterday and said that I should tell you."

Tell me what, I wondered, also taking a better sip, waiting for him to continue. He looked at me with a slightly embarrassed expression, raising his eyebrows and taking another sip, then murmured:

"Said I should tell you the whole story."

I just nodded. Bob almost emptied his beer, then gave me a very wry smile and said:

"She's right, you must be wondering about us, that you could only think one thing."

I nodded slightly with a shrug. Bob suddenly began to chuckle and emptied the little in his can and asked if we didn't have anything else to drink. I said that I thought there was still something in the liter bottle of cognac he had bought duty free when he returned from Europe in the fall. There was. I emptied my can and we got glasses and a made ourselves brandy and sodas, returning to the living room with our glasses and both bottles. We drank, and Bob smirked and told:

"She's right, you were probably right. For graduation last spring, the parents gave us a trip to Europe, telling us to watch out for each other. For the first week in London, we had reservations for two single rooms. After there, we just played it by ear, had a loose itinerary, finding hotels where we went, asking for two single rooms. In England, I guess the people read our passports better and understood that we were siblings. On the Continent, in hotels they asked if we wanted single rooms, and we explained that we were siblings. How many time did that happen before?"

Bob took a drink, and I did, now anticipating how they could have shared a bed, but it wouldn't have been one like they were going to share over the long Thanksgiving weekend. He continued:

"Only a couple, three times I guess. Deb must also have glanced in double rooms that were being cleaned and seen the adjacent twin beds with separate covers. When we were looking for a hotel one evening, she looked at me with funny expression and suggested we could save money by sharing a room.

"Hmm! I was very apprehensive about asking for a double room, but why not, if she thought we could share one. It was no problem in that hotel. Hm-hmm! Maybe except for the receptionist's smiling as though she thought we were a young couple."

Bob and I took another drink, both smirking slightly; it was too evident where his story was leading. He hummed with a smile and went on:

"That was fine, two adjacent beds, separate covers, we being just as discreet as back home about sharing our bathroom. I think the first evening and morning we both felt a little that we were doing something we shouldn't be, but that wore off in the next couple of days in that hotel. In the next town, I was much more nonchalant about asking for a double room, which had the same type of beds. Deb just smiled and said that we were saving money. We were, since hotel bills were a big part of our budget.

"Of course, we got a little looser about seeing each other in just underwear. Hadn't I seen her in a bikini and she seen me in trunks? She has a nice figure, but I knew that already, and I had seen her at home in a shorty nightgown and bottom. We always changed individually in the bathroom, but got careless about closing the door completely. A few times at breakfast, people smiled at the young American couple, and we smiled back sweetly, then winking at each other. After the first or second time, I did wonder if they saw that and maybe thought our winks were because we had had a good night together, but that thought didn't suggest anything to me."

Bob took another drink, and I did, and one of us refilled our glasses, as he continued:

"So that was fine, also in the next couple of hotels. But then in a picturesque small town, after we checked in, we discovered that the bed in the double room was an old-fashioned, one mattress double bed with one set of covers."

I tried not to grin as I nodded. Bob took a sip of his brandy and soda, so I did. He looked at me with slight smirk and said:

"Guess you anticipated that that was going to happen."

I nodded again, not suppressing my grin, and replied:

"Deb said you should tell me the whole story."

"I guess so, and you can imagine it, anyway. She and I looked at each other quizzically. This had all been Deb's idea, but it didn't seem like she had envisioned this. I certainly had not – after all the hotels with two mattresses. She wrinkled her nose and murmured something like "I guess so," and I must have nodded. We were planning to stay there for two nights, so we unpacked and went out for supper. I remember that we were a little reserved during our meal and agreed to take a walk before returning to the hotel, to our double bed. It was only about half-again as wide as ours here. Seemed like we both were stalling off getting into bed with each other under one set of covers."

We took a sip of our drinks. I smiled encouragingly for Bob to continue:

"I seem to remember that we were much more discreet about getting undressed and changing. I told her to go first. Yeah, we were; she kept her blouse on until she was in the bathroom and had closed the door. I had suggested she go first, because I was hoping the lights would be off when I returned in just my boxer shorts. You can imagine why. She was my sister, but the thought of being under the covers with any girl .... Well, you can imagine why, why I also kept my pants on until I was in the bathroom. I turned off everything but the bedside lamp and busied myself with the guide book to avoid looking at her when she returned from the bathroom.

"When I returned from it, the bedside lamp was off. From the bathroom light, I saw that she was under the covers, turned on her side away from me and uncomfortably close to the other side of the bed. At least, she wasn't going to see that I was finding the situation uncomfortable, if you know what I mean."

I did and nodded and had a sip, and then Bob did with a wry smile, then asking:

"Sure you want to whole story?"

"If she wanted you to tell it to me."

"Hmm?! Maybe she wasn't thinking I was going to tell it like this."

"Too good to stop now, and it sounds like you're enjoying recalling and telling as much as I am, listening. Besides, it is too obvious what going to happen, I am just curious how. So tell."

We both took another sip, and he did:

"You're right; I am enjoying it, now that I have started, and you know what's going to happen, why it slipped out a couple of weeks ago, when I said 'with me' and began go beet red. So I turned off the light in the bathroom and slipped under the covers behind her, lying on my back, which isn't the way I sleep. This was too ticklish. Something was reminding me that I was lying in bed with a girl. I couldn't dare lie on my side facing her, so I turned to other way. She had to grab the covers to keep me from pulling them back too much. We managed to settle that by both moving a little closer, our asses just touching once and then separating, and we said good night.

"I lay there wishing we had had a stiff nightcap to make it easier to fall asleep, but eventually I did, and she must have too. Oh, yeah, I remembered that she usually slept on her back. Would have been better if we had been identical twins, one right- the other left-handed, both probably naturally sleeping on different sides."

"If you had been lying on the sides of the bed to avoid facing each other," I interjected and took a sip. Bob snickered softly with a nod and also took a sip, agreeing:

"Yes, but we weren't, aren't. Did I wake up, when she rolled back? Not enough to remember that she was my sister. It just was nicely familiar from the couple of nights I had slept with a girlfriend when her parents weren't home. She had had a big bed in her room, and had then moved to roll towards me, and her arm had slid around me. That was what was happening behind me, a girl's arm was sliding around me.

"Then I was suddenly wide awake, recognizing the foreign scent in the room and realizing that it was Deb's arm around me, her warm body against mine, her thighs drawing up behind mine. Was she awake, knowing she was embracing me like that?! Did she have so much experience sleeping with guys that she could do that without really waking up?! Of course, she must have slept with guys in college, but she couldn't possibly have consciously put her arm around me. I heard her sigh with a soft moan, and then her breathing sounded like she was sleeping again.

"I wasn't, not with any girl's arm around me, especially my sister's. What was she going to think or do when she woke up like that?! What if it only sounded like she was sleeping, knew her arm was around me? Did girls feel like that down there, like I was, like I did, when I woke up with my arm around a girl and my hand found her breast?"

I took another drink, feeling that I wasn't sober, but enjoying it and enjoying Bob's so vivid story, envisioning what he was describing. It seem so apparent that sooner or later he was going to have his arm around Deb and his hand holding her breast: his "She has a nice figure." And what about her and his feeling like that down there? Maybe I grinned a little foolishly. Bob also drank, then grinned and said:

"You wanted to hear my version of the full story."

"Yeah! I won't tell her that it's being this good."

"I won't either! So there we were. Did I want to save her from the embarrassment of waking up that way, or wouldn't she be embarrassed and consciously do what that girlfriend's hand had done? She was my sister; I couldn't let her do that, even if I wanted her to. At least, I couldn't let her, while she was thinking I was some other guy. What to do? How to get out of our position? Have to remove her arm. I put my hand on hers, hoping to gently slid it back around me. She moaned softly again and held me closer. Was it just a reflex from feeling my hand on hers, like some boyfriend had done, how many, all of them?

"Her hand didn't like it when I moved it back down on the side of my waist. I murmured: 'Hi Deb, it's me, Bob.' She moaned softly and then murmured: 'Oh, ... yeah, ... still nice.' 'Too,' I whispered. 'Still nice,' she repeated, and her fingers crept down on my shorts to my hip bone. I shouldn't have let them, especially when they found it and then rubbed in front of it. Did she know what that could do for a man? I almost grabbed her hand and moved it back, landing on her hip. Did she have to murmur again: 'That's nice too.' What did she mean, want?"

Bob smiled wryly and took a sip, and I did, and he asked:

"Are we getting drunk?"

"Not enough for you not to finish your story."

"Hmm! I guess not; just don't tell her."

"Said I wouldn't, if you finish it, else I might ask her to."

We both snickered, and Bob replied:

"Then I had better. She rolled back and told me to roll over. I did. She was always the more dominant of us, born two minutes before me. Well, you must know how it is to lie with a girl like that, and my thigh just instinctively drew up over hers, and hers slid up a little between mine. It was all too familiar, but now literally 'too familiar,' my sister's thigh between mine, and where else should my hand be, if not on her stomach. She purred and murmured again: 'also nice, ... hold one.' Sure, I knew what she meant, but when I hesitated, her hand grasped mine and drew it up on her breast. My fingers couldn't resist holding it through the thin cloth of her shorty; they wanted to. She moaned, and her fingers encouraged mine."

Bob took another sip, looking like he wasn't sure he would continue. Maybe he need another sip of alcohol. I just murmured:

"Go on."

"Hmmm? Well, you know what's going to happen. I don't like this. The way I've been telling it sounds like I'm making her responsible for what happened, but I wanted it to, too. If I had rolled over towards her, I would have put my arm around her and held her nice breast. She just happened to roll over first. Whatever, now I was, and she was liking it and knew whose fingers were squeezing her aroused nipple, also whose thighs were squeezing one of hers. It twitched. Could she have felt my cock twitch? It had, of course, long since free of my boxer shorts. She moaned and muttered: 'I'm horny. Aren't you?'

"Of course I was, had been since I got in bed, trying not to admit it, but now she had and had asked that! Did I intentionally rock my hips to make my cock touch her? It did. She murmured: "You are too,' and squeezed my hand on her breast."

"Nice breast," I suggested, immediately thinking that I wouldn't have, if I had been sober, which didn't, however, keep me from taking another sip. Bob nodded with a smirk and also took a sip and continued:

"'Nice breast.' Then I felt her other hand, which was down between us, move. Was she wanting to hold my cock, like a couple of other girls had done, when I was lying like that with them? No, her fingers were gathering up the bottom of her shorty. I felt it slide up past the head of my cock, and then she was pulling it up, raised her hips to pull it up further. 'What are you doing?' I mumbled, although it was pretty obvious. 'If we're both horny, ...' she replied and pulled it up to her breasts, pulling it from under my hand. My hand on my sister's naked breast – nice naked breast, before you interrupt me again.

"That was when I gave in, gave up asking stupid questions; anything she wanted. Hell, I was so horny, hadn't slept with a girl for weeks and hadn't done anything else since we started sharing rooms, if you know what I mean, and I didn't think she had either. 'You can suck it,' she suggested. If I was already holding one, of course, I could suck her other one. I probably would have without her encouragement, the most obvious thing to do at that point in that position. I did, and she moaned and clutched my hand, as I only vaguely wondered what would happen next."

I managed just to nod; I knew what my hand would be doing next in that situation. I waited for Bob to continue.

"I didn't have to wait long; her hand pulled mine off her breast. A couple of girls had done that in the past – maybe just freshman year – but they had just wanted me to stop arousing them. Deb's hand was pulling mine down over her stomach. A couple of girls had stopped my hand when it started to do that, but Deb's was drawing mine right down to her loose bottom and over it, as her other thigh rolled to the side and the one between mine drew up a little. Then my hand under hers was between them. When my fingers did what they knew to do, she gave a long moan, her fingers encouraged mine. Then her bottom was moist where my fingers were rubbing.

"I didn't know how far this was going to go, but I was past worrying about it. Then her hand left mine and found the elastic of her bottom and pulled it down. She couldn't pull it down as far as she wanted, but I understood and slipped my hand inside, over her trimmed pubic hair, and then my fingers were on her pussy again, making her moan. Then both her hands were pulling her bottom down, the one between us brushing past my cock. She chuckled and raise her hips, and then they were free of her shorty bottom. When my thumb moved on her trimmed hair, she murmured: 'I'll start to shave again, didn't know this was going to happen,' whereupon her hand grasped my stiff cock.