Note to readers: This story is my entry into the winter holidays story contest so please vote and comment. It includes incest so if this offends the please read no further. It is set on Christmas day and the events that unfold during it between a brother and sister and their family. It follows the path of a typical Christmas day so includes lots of dialogue as people have a tendency to converse in real life! There may be some people that doubt the premise of what happens at bedtime but I assure you it is possible, I know because it is based on a real event! The story is written in English as spoken in the UK, I impart this information as I have often seen complaints about spelling when reading comments on this site and often this has been the reason behind it.
Finally all the usual disclaimers apply; I own the rights, the story contained within is a work of pure fiction and any similarities to real life or real people - either dead or alive - is entirely coincidental and highly improbable, all characters are of legal age, no animals were hurt in the making of this story β oh you get the idea, I made it all up, well except the real bits! If you have come this far then please read on and hopefully enjoy!
"Here you go Pete, Merry Christmas." I ducked as my little sister Wendy threw a present at my head. "Mum told me you needed some new ones," she added laughing. I scowled at my sister, we used to be close but as our teenage years rolled on we started to fight, not badly you understand, it was just the usual sibling rivalry but we loved each other; well our mum told us we had to anyway! Wendy is my little sister but we are only ten months apart and due to our dates of birth we are in the same year at school. It was a family joke that dad must have been queuing up to get back in as soon as Wendy had popped out. I opened the package and two boxes of boxer shorts fell out.
"Oh thanks, underpants, lovely!" I scowled at her again. "Just what I wanted!" I shook my head. She pouted at me then grinned mischievously.
"I bought them specially, I thought that your little worm could do with a bit of help," and she burst out laughing hysterically. I cringed, reddening in both rage and embarrassment.
"That was years ago, I wasn't even eleven and the sea was very cold." I protested; she collapsed on the floor holding her stomach. "I had shrinkage!" I cried out in anger. She never let me forget the time my towel had fallen off after we had been swimming in the sea years before and I had stood there naked in front of her as she sat on the beach. She had looked at my penis that day, all shrivelled and wrinkled from the cold and said it looked like a little worm; from then on she had always called it that, especially when she wanted to wind me up.
"They are the ones that help give you a big bulge." She managed to gasp it out, now turning blue in the face from being short of breath with tears rolling down her face.
"Stop it Wendy." Dad was trying to hide his laughter as he spoke. "It's not right to tease your big brother about the size of his manhood; it's not good for his self-confidence."
"Big brother, BIG?" her laughter was too much. I got up and stormed out to my room, slamming the doors behind me, fuming; sometimes I really did hate her. After a while our mum knocked at my door and asked if she could come in.
"Pete sweetheart, she really didn't mean it." Her voice was soothing as she sat next to me on the bed and put her arm around me. "I don't think you realise that she loves you very much and she did buy them especially for you. She was so excited when she got them; she said something about you looking really hunky in them." With that mum kissed me on the forehead just she had done since I was little boy when she was comforting me and stood up. "Come on, you've still got to give your sister her present yet and I know she'll love it."
She started walking to the door, turning as she reached it, "Oh, and I'm sure that it's not a worm anymore, looks more like a snake from here." With that she laughed as she looked straight at my crutch and went back to the front room. I looked down and my face flushed, bugger I had a raging hardon and my mum had noticed it, great! How come that always happened to me when I got angry or wound up? And how come I didn't always notice it straight away when it did? Sitting on the edge of my bed I forced myself think of boring, mundane things and soon my embarrassment had started wilting enough that I could adjust myself sufficiently to re-join the festivities in the front room.