My name is Regina, and I take after my dad in looks. He had dark hair and skin that easily tanned. But I haven't seen him since I was five when he just left us all. Just like that. We never missed him, because he was really mean and used to beat us, all of us, even mom, maybe especially mom. I didn't know it at the time, but part of the problem was that he was always drunk. A couple of things mom has let drop since then have led me to believe he was a crook, too. Another problem he had was that he cheated on mom all the time. When he ran off, he took one of his bimbos with him. I remember that my mom didn't cry but once or twice, then moved us all to another town. She has taken care of us ever since.
I am eighteen now, and so is my twin sister, Crystal, and we are both in our senior years in high school. They say we are fraternal twins because we look nothing alike. I hate that term. Fraternal. Like we are brothers or something. Crystal takes after my mom, Christine. She prefers us to call her Christine, but to myself I just call her mom. She seems old to me because she is 33, but that isn't really very old. Apparently my dad knocked her up when she was 15 and he was 19, and then they had to get married. But she has worked at keeping her figure with a vengeance, and quite often, she and Crystal have been taken for sisters.
Both my mom and my sister have pale skin and blond hair, and tans won't stick to them, they just burn. I am tanned all over because I loved to sunbathe naked in the backyard where we have a high fence for privacy. Eye color is also different, my mom and sister have blue eyes, and mine are brown. I have always envied them their beauty, their grace, their lightheartedness, and even the fact that they both had pink nipples, moderate sized breasts and blond pubic hair. Their hair was always straight and lank, where mine was very wavy. They had very little body hair on their arms and legs. And even though I didn't plan for others to see them, I had to shave my legs every two or three days, otherwise, I was afraid I would look like one of those wooly hippy chicks. I am an ugly duckling.
I generally wear tomboyish clothes, because I don't like being ogled, and my sister and mom both dress to look sexy. They both say that I am very beautiful and that I should show it off. They say my full lips beg for lipstick, and my high cheekbones and sexy figure scream for sexy clothes. It is true that my breasts are larger than my sister's, and even a little larger than my mom's. That made me look like a cow or a sex machine, and I found either thought as revolting as the other, well, maybe cows weren't so bad, but who needs udders on their chest.
Sexy legs with big calf muscles, and dimples in our cheeks evidently run in the family, but those are about the only traits we share besides being all female, well there is one more. We are all tall. I am 5'7", my mom is 5'8", and my twin is an incredible 5'10". Please note, even here, I am the runt.
My sister dates all the time, and I never do. My sister has lots of girlfriends, and I only have one. My sister likes dancing and going to fancy places, and I like reading, studying and walks alone in the woods, sunbathing and climbing hills – mountains when I can get them. My sister talks about sex and boys all the time, and I have absolutely no interest in the subject. I have never even masturbated myself to a climax, at least not until pretty recently. In short, I don't fit, and have never felt like I do. This has always made me a little unhappy, but I figure that is the way life is. Until recently, that is, then I started to undergo some changes –pretty dramatic changes actually.
It started one night when my girlfriend, Patty, was over spending the night. Patty was just about my entire social life, and I loved her. She is sweet and understanding, smart and sophisticated, and I have never understood what she sees in me, except that we share a few interests. Like me, Patty enjoys her studies and loves nature and taking walks. Unlike me, she very much enjoys dating, shopping and sex. She often tells me of her escapades while dating, which has given me a fundamental if somewhat secondhand knowledge about sex.
Patty isn't a virgin and it was easy to see why. She was gorgeous, as tall as me, redheaded, and shapely, and like the blondes in my family, she had medium sized breasts that suited her curvy figure. I also thought her freckles made her seem warm and accepting although she said she despised them and claimed she was jealous of the way I tanned. She also said I had great 'knockers' which is what she called my breasts, and she said that she wished hers were like mine. I could only imagine she was trying to make me feel better about my appearance. I wore a 36D bra, which is way huge for an eighteen-year-old girl. At school, I wore boys' shirts and blue jeans and refused to tuck in my shirt, trying to minimize the size of my breasts. Still people would stare at my boobs. I hated it.
The lights were out and we were already lying in my queen-sized bed, just talking, something we have been known to do nearly all night in these stay-overs. Usually I put up with her talking about sex because I loved her, and I figured friends tried to take an interest in friends, and as usual, she was telling me about her latest date and how they had gone all the way. "Now, come on, Regina, doesn't that sound sexy?"
She had been talking about how her current boyfriend had gone down on her – an experience that she had detailed at length, and she assured me that she wouldn't let a boy fuck her unless he had both a rubber, and had already gone down on her. I raised my eyebrows even though I knew she couldn't see them, "I guess, but I really don't know why you would want to go to all the trouble."
She sighed in exasperation, "Trouble? It's trouble to spread your legs?"
I giggled, spreading and closing my legs in the dark, "No, I mean all the other trouble. Making eyes at him in class until he asks you out, dressing up, going to a movie, then driving out in the country to park where you could get killed by an axe murderer, and now you are stuck with him. He'll be like all the others and follow you around groaning how in love he is, and then you'll whine to me about how you don't know how to get rid of him, and then he'll get mad when you dump him and tell everyone at school what a slut you are... All That trouble."
She giggled too, "Ok, but how else are you going to get a guy to make you come. There are games you have to play to get sex, but believe me it is really worth it. It is even worth the risks, even though there are axe murderers stalking all over the place. I sure don't want to get pregnant either, you know! Do you seriously mean to swear that you have never gotten yourself off? Never even been curious about what the fuss is all about?"
I groaned, we were getting into an area I really hated to discuss again, and this conversation happened every month or so, but she was frank with me, so I ignored my pride and told her, "Yes, I have touched myself a couple of times now, but only because you keep making a fuss about it. And it feels nice when I touch myself there, but nothing else happens, and after a while I start to feel pretty stupid, and I quit. Maybe, I am just defective or something. Do you suppose we could leave it at that?" I knew she wouldn't though.
There was a period of silence while she digested this, then, "But what do you think about while you are doing it?" Patty planned to be a psychologist, and way too often, it would show in some of the things she said.
Like now, when she sounded like a TV therapist. But I answered honestly, "I guess I think about what I am doing, that's all."
She sighed again, this time in frustration, I think, "So you have never had a sexual fantasy?"
"No."
She continued and I could imagine her nodding, "Have you ever kissed anyone?"
I had to snort, "Of course, my mom, my sister and you."
"Yeah but we have never kissed each other except on the cheek," she explained patiently, "And that's not like a real kiss at all."
