Sexy Stuck Up Sister Sophie

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - When their parents divorced years earlier, fraternal twin brother and sister Ben and Sophie were separated as infants, Sophie remaining with their English father in London while their Australian mother took Ben home to Melbourne. Growing up Ben has long wanted to meet his twin sister in person, but this doesn't happen until the year 2001, when Ben and Sophie are 19-year-old university students and Sophie along with their father and stepmother travel to Melbourne for a six week holiday.

Unfortunately for Ben this seems to be a case of being careful of what you wish for, as unlike his father and stepmother his twin sister proves to be an insufferable snob with a superiority complex, who makes no effort to enjoy herself or even be polite. Worse still for Ben, the arrival of Sophie stirs up all these bizarre fetishes he never knew he had, and which he is unable to stop himself indulging with his pretty, posh sister by voyeurism.

But what of stuck-up Sophie herself? Is she really the cold, catty and bitchy ice princess she presents to her twin brother, or is she secretly as perverted as Ben? Read 'Stuck Up Sexy Sister Sophie' to find out.

Please note all characters and events are fictional, and also be aware of the strong content of this story, which includes incestuous voyeurism and fetish material involving the sister using the toilet and having her periods. Otherwise, enjoy your trip back to Melbourne Australia in the early 2000s and be sure to rate and comment.

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Once upon a time a pretty young woman named Margaret from Melbourne like many other 20-something Australians decided to do the overseas thing and live and work in the UK for a few years. While in London, Margaret after several months met a handsome and charming young British man named Edward, who was from a wealthy and influential family. A whirlwind romance between the two led to an engagement and marriage, and just a week after returning to the UK from their honeymoon Margaret discovered the reason she was late was that she was expecting a baby.

As things turned out, Margaret wasn't carrying one baby but two -- a twin boy and girl -- who were named Ben and Sophie. With an immediate perfect nuclear family of mother, father, son and daughter they all lived happily ever after.

Except they didn't. As the son Ben, I can confirm things didn't go to the perfect fairytale script.

Mum and Dad weren't the first couple in the world who with the benefit of hindsight took things too fast and got married at a young age probably before they were ready. They weren't the first young parents to find things difficult with a new baby in the house, this multiplied by two given Sophie and I were twins. Double the screaming infants at night needing to be fed or changed, two babies throwing up or getting sick at once and teething simultaneously.

Twins could be a challenge even for older and more experienced parents, plus the later stages of Mum's pregnancy weren't easy on her. Throw in a bad case of post-natal depression, the feeling that her marriage was a mistake that was becoming overwhelming and home-sickness for Australia only one conclusion became inevitable. This was separation followed by divorce.

So what about the children? What to do with them? The eventual solution was unusual and could be considered highly controversial. It was however very similar to one employed by divorcing parents in a 1961 movie that propelled young British actress Hayley Mills to international stardom. And a remake of this movie in 1997 would launch another young actress to superstardom, this time Lindsay Lohan.

With Sophie and I still infants not a year old when our parents split it was figured we would have no memories of each other if separated, and so it proved. Baby Sophie remained with her father Edward in London, while Baby Ben went with his mother Margaret to a new life in Melbourne, many thousands of miles away. We would grow up apart, living different lives on different continents.

The reason why I went with Mum to Australia and my sister remained in England with Dad was not clear to me until I was about 11, and by chance overheard a conversation between Mum and Grandma one day. Mum's difficult pregnancy and subsequent PND was compounded by the fact that she struggled to bond with Sophie. More prone to early childhood conditions like colic and difficult to settle, Sophie would scream and cry until late at night, whereas I was apparently an easier baby to manage and we were able to bond properly. But from day one Mum struggled to bond with Sophie, things only got worse and it seemed this was feeling was mutual.

While difficult to ascertain just how much babies can think for themselves, Sophie seemed resistant and defiant to Mum's attempts to care for her and bond with her. She would refuse to feed, whether breastfeeding or Mum giving her a bottle, even though Sophie was clearly hungry and wanted milk. Yet my infant sister would happily accept a bottle from Dad, our paternal grandparents or an aunt or uncle, peacefully drinking it until she fell asleep, the sleeping and contented baby girl far removed from the screaming, sobbing, struggling infant who even tried to kick and bite when Mum attempted even the most basic childcare procedures with Sophie.

Little wonder then that I was the baby chosen to go with Mum back to Australia and that my sister stayed with Dad for a completely different life in the UK. Unlike the separated twins in the movies however, Sophie and I growing up were very much aware of each other and our other parent on the other side of the world. This was by means of sending letters along with photos, postcards along with occasional telephone calls. However phone calls were not that easy given the time differences between Melbourne and London, Australia's East Coast relatively close to the International Date Line many hours ahead of London's Greenwich Mean Time, especially during summer when Victoria's clocks went forward for daylight savings time.

It was odd how the 'twin thing' came into play with Sophie and I despite living completely separate lives, normally the amazing coincidences could be found with identical twins, but sometimes it did occur with fraternal twins too.

While Mum and Dad obviously thought they had met 'the one' when they first got married, soon after divorce and in separate countries they really did meet the right person. Mum met Gordon, an architect who had a young son Tim from a failed first marriage when he was younger. In London Dad met a lawyer named Elizabeth -- always called Liz - who had also recently divorced after a failed first marriage at a young age and also had a young child, a daughter named Charlotte.

The coincidences only continued when Mum married Gordon and Dad married Liz and both Mum and Liz became pregnant again -- both with a set of twins. Only this time not fraternal twins like Sophie and I, but identical twins. In Melbourne Mum gave birth to mine and Tim's identical younger half-brothers Chris and Andrew. Across the seas in London, my stepmother Liz gave birth to mine and Sophie's identical twin sisters Emily and Jane.

As in Australia Mum probably wondered how with her first husband she had released two eggs when she conceived Sophie and I, and now with her second husband one of her eggs had split resulting in identical twin boys. Likewise in England, Dad no doubt wondered about how he had fathered fraternal twins with his first wife, and now with his second wife identical twin girls. Whatever the case, there wasn't the same problems with raising twins as before. Mum handled my younger brothers with aplomb during their infancy, while in England my younger half-sisters seemed to be largely problem-free babies.

The result of this was that Sophie and I grew up thousands of miles apart in families that were the inverse of each other. I grew up with an older stepbrother and younger identical twin half-brothers, while in London Sophie grew in a house with an older stepsister and identical twin half-sisters, a house that definitely sounded like it was from Regency times or a novel by Jane Austen or the Bronte sisters given it was home to parents Edward and Elizabeth and daughters Charlotte, Sophie, Emily and Jane.

Certainly, the X-Chromosome seemed dominant in England and the Y-Chromosome in Australia. In the British side of my family there were mostly girls among the cousins whereas in Australia my cousins were mainly boys, girls were quite rare. And this was also true of my stepmother Liz and stepfather Gordon's families -- mostly girls among Liz's relatives, and boys among Gordon's.

It was certainly an unusual way to grow up, and at times other kids or even teachers wouldn't believe me when I told them I had a twin sister, a stepsister and two half-sisters living in London, thinking that I had only brothers. I certainly wanted to meet my father, stepmother and sisters especially my twin Sophie given she was obviously my only full sibling and indeed such a meeting was mooted on more than one occasion, but this proved easier said than done.

Firstly there was the sheer distance between Australia and England and the different school holidays for Sophie and I growing up. When Sophie was on summer holidays from school this was in the middle of the Australian winter where for the most part I was at school, this inversed for our own summer holidays which took place when England was in the depths of winter and Sophie at school.

It would have been so much easier of course if my family lived in Australia in another state or territory. If Dad, his second wife and daughters had lived in Sydney, Canberra or Adelaide it would just be a matter of a short plane trip or a scenic train ride to New South Wales, the ACT or South Australia to spend time with each other, and they could just as easily visit Melbourne. Across the Bass Strait in Tasmania we could catch the ferry across to the island state, or fly to Hobart. We could all travel to Queensland and have a holiday together in Brisbane and the Gold Coast; or to the tropical Northern Territory to see Darwin. Even Perth was only a plane ride of 4 hours or so from Melbourne, so if this part of my family lived in Western Australia we would be able to see each other at least annually.

Of course this wasn't the case, and then there was the twin coincidence thing, with several odd incidents to affect Sophie and I occurring thousands of miles apart putting a stop to already arranged plans of Sophie and Dad traveling to Australia, or Mum taking me to England to see my father and sisters in person.

Aged 10, Sophie and I each broke a leg within days of each other, my sister falling off a horse and me falling off my bike, cancelling a planned trip to England. Four years later when Sophie and I were 14, both of us suffered burst appendix within days of each other and with post-surgery complications for both of us. The timing of this put paid to Dad and Sophie's planned 1996 visit to Australia. Dad getting sick with a stomach ulcer and my stepfather having a heart attack around the same time in 1998 -- fortunately both were okay -- would cause renewed travel plans between Australia and England or vice versa in 1999 to die on the vine while both recovered from their ordeals.

As the year 2000 arrived bringing the new millennium I was beginning to think that we were jinxed with ever getting to meet my British relatives in person. Then in 2001 I got some great news, when it was announced that my father, stepmother and twin sister would be visiting in Melbourne for six weeks in July and August. I couldn't believe it, and I couldn't wait until the day it would finally happen.

By now having left high school and a 19-year-old first year university student studying accounting and working part time in a cafe, I counted down the days until my family would arrive in Melbourne and I could spend six weeks getting to know my twin sister, my father and his second wife. I was a bit disappointed that my stepsister Charlotte wasn't going to make the trip, but she and her boyfriend had already planned to travel to Canada with his parents at the same time. Also not making the trip were younger girls Emily and Jane. The twins along with friends from their girls' school and boys from the equivalent boys' school were going to Europe for much of the summer, doing charity and volunteer work for the needy.

I counted down the days with growing excitement, hoping that misfortune would not strike again and illness or injury would put a stop to my family's travel plans. My overly active imagination went into overdrive, dreaming up all sorts of far-fetched events that would prevent us meeting, such as a major disaster resulting in a complete shutdown of aviation services in some countries that affected flights worldwide. How ridiculous, as though such an event could happen in the current year of 2001?

My nerves and excitement grew as the time grew closer and I kept expecting something bad to happen and it didn't, and finally the day was here. My father, stepmother and stepsister set off from Heathrow Airport in London for the long flight to Dubai, then an even longer flight across the Indian Ocean and all across Australia to Melbourne.

At Tullamarine Airport I waited nervously as the flight was delayed some 20 minutes and having to make another circle around before coming back in to land. Oh well, at least it would have given them some great views of the Melbourne city skyline, the suburbs and Port Phillip Bay on a sunny winter's afternoon across Victoria. Finally though the plane touched down and reached the end of its journey.

Eagerly making my way to arrivals, each minute seemed to take an hour as I waited nervously for the passengers to disembark. They started coming through, but no sign of Dad, Liz and Sophie. My imagination went into overdrive again. What if they missed their flight at Heathrow? What if my sister got sick in Dubai, was in hospital there and they weren't even on this flight?

Finally though, I saw a trio of people coming through the arrivals gates. A tall, slim, brown-haired man aged in his late 40s who looked as though a middle-aged me had come back in time from circa 2029 to 2001. A slim, short-statured and attractive woman also middle aged. And a tall, slim and very pretty girl aged in her late teens, her long blonde hair loose rubbing her tired blue eyes, dressed in a pink hooded jacket, blue jeans and white sneakers.

My heart racing, I went forward to greet my English family, the first time I had seen my father and sister aside from when I was a baby, and of course had no memory of. I was so looking forward to the next six weeks. It was going to be the greatest experience of my life.

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So was meeting my family from England the greatest experience of my life to date? I couldn't have gotten on better with my father Edward and my stepmother Liz, they were so nice and I really bonded with Dad who was eager to spend time with a son he hadn't known growing up.

During the six weeks Dad, Liz and Sophie were staying at these new boutique apartments in East Melbourne just on the outskirts of the CBD, more like the apartments tourists stay in on the Gold Coast rather than a traditional city hotel or a guest house. I was staying with them, and so it was like a vacation at home. Certainly it was going to be hard going back to my mother and stepfather's house in the South-Eastern suburb of Beaumaris -- not that it was bad by any means in fact it was a very nice house -- but unlike the apartment where I was staying with my English family it didn't have views of the Yarra River, the adjacent parklands and the city skyline.

Its location with plenty of trains and trams in the area made it handy to go into the city and out on excursions and sightseeing with my family, and the apartment itself being so new was spacious and luxurious. There was a living area and kitchen of course, a master bedroom Dad and Liz were sharing which had an ensuite bathroom, and two bedrooms which Sophie and I would sleep in. There was also a main bathroom my sister and I would share, with a laundry next to this.

Staying in such close proximity to a twin sister who I had never really known I soon got to know some things about my sibling and myself that dismayed me greatly. Sophie wasn't a nice person. And I was even worse.

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So what made my twin sister a bad person and me even worse? Let's start with Sophie first.

With her long blonde hair, pale blue eyes the highlight of her exceptionally pretty face, flawless fair skin befitting an English rose and a feminine figure that could have been used by a doll-maker as a model for making a life-sized doll of a perfect young woman, Sophie looked very nice indeed.

Even when she stepped off the plane with Dad and Liz at Melbourne Airport, my sister's beauty was distracting to several men. One was a guy who looked like he had been born when Halley's Comet paid a visit -- in 1910 rather than 1986 -- and the silly old fool tripped over the luggage of some other passengers and went sprawling when he was too distracted by the shape of my sister's bottom in her tight blue denim jeans. That would hopefully teach him a lesson about being a dirty old man and inappropriately admiring the bottoms of attractive girls young enough to be his great granddaughter.

To say his peevish and equally elderly wife was unimpressed with the situation was a considerable understatement, her displeasure matched by a much younger wife who while heavily pregnant was trying to control their young son and daughter, while her husband did nothing to assist his wife nor control their kids. Instead he stood there openly perving on Sophie as she passed by in a crowded airport. I think he was in for a hard time in the car home, not to mention a few nights banished to the couch as punishment for his perving.

Without any shadow of a doubt Sophie was posh. Posh with a capital P. She spoke with that upper-class Received Pronunciation accent more frequently heard in the South of England than the North, sounding somewhat aristocratic in her speaking patterns, or like a BBC radio or television presenter of yesteryear. Certainly she contrasted greatly with my Australian accent.

It was of course understandable that Sophie was posh and would speak accordingly. Dad and Liz were posh, both from wealthy London backgrounds and spoke the same way, and the same was true of the other sisters Charlotte, Jane and Emily. Dad worked as a merchant banker and Liz as a very pricey barrister -- she bore the initials QC behind her name which gave a clue of this -- so there was no shortage of money. The family lived in a luxurious house in a wealthy suburb of London, the girls had had a nanny when they were younger and all four sisters had attended a private school which had fees so high that if one had to enquire how much they were, then one could not afford to send one's daughter to the said school in a million years. The same was true of the affiliated boys' school across the road which Dad had attended in his younger years, and which would have been my school had I grown up in England rather than in Australia.

None of this was a problem of course at face value. But the more I got to know my sister in the following the two weeks in Melbourne, I could see that Sophie's pretty face masked some very unpleasant personality traits that she didn't make much of an effort to hide, much to my increasing dismay and disappointment.

It was similar in a way to people meeting a famous person they had always admired only to be disappointed by the experience. Like a group of cinema fans delighted to meet a respected veteran actor with many years of experience in film, only to find out the man in person was a grumpy old prick, miserable and misanthropic about every aspect of life. There might be a teenagers who were over the moon to get to meet a young female popstar and actress they absolutely loved, only to learn her pretty face masked a spoiled brat, who acted like a diva and couldn't give a shit about her fans. Or the sports fans who loved a star football player, only when they encountered him away from the field he was a giant tool with no manners and no morals.