Brief message for those who sent me feedback for the String of Luck series: I *will* write the seventh and final part, but I don't know when...
Hello people... If you've read some of Mr.Illusion's other stories, you've probably heard about Will. Well, I'm not Will, I'm Cillian. A friend of Will. This is a story about my very own First Noel. I've always thought that this expression was bizarre: except perhaps Jesus, nobody ever remembers his own First Noel. At least that's what I thought until I had my *real* First Noel. Here goes...
I'd been away from home for my first semester of College at Berkeley, all the way across the country from my home state of Vermont. During those months I couldn't afford a plane ticket nor had I the time for a car trip to visit my family. So for the first time of my life I spent four months away from my parents and my sister. My twin sister Deirdre. I know it's strange to have twins that are not the same sex, but that's what happened. Our family was pretty close together and it had been a real challenge to learn to live without them. Especially my sister.
Contrary to most boy-girl twins and other normal siblings, my sister and I had managed to keep a great relationship throughout our lives. Even through adolescence when suddenly breasts and pubes prevented us from sharing baths and beds. Can you imagine this? We were still sharing the same bed at 10 years old! And baths! Now, nearly ten years later, those memories were still hard to believe. I had slept for most of my life in the same bed as my twin, my every bath shared, completely naked, with her!
No wonder I spent the rest of my life hopping from girl to girl, trying to find one that would fill that role. Sex helped. Sex helped a lot in fact. As this was not something I had really shared with Deirdre, it gave my later relationships some deeper meaning, some new angle. We did have our share of exploration at the end of our sleeping-together era, but nothing serious. After hearing some of my friends' stories, with their own sisters, I could have gone a lot farther with Deirdre when we were children. Too late for that: can't put that chick back into its egg!
Being so close, we both knew exactly what was happening in the other one's sex life. Or romantic life, whatever. We kept comparing notes, asking for advice and opinions... But nothing *too* intimate. Like, for example, I never asked her to give me a guided tour of the female pussy. Maybe I should have though: it would have saved me quite a few awkward moments afterwards! But except for details like this, we knew everything that as going on. Even the piercings she had tried to keep hidden from our parents.
Neither of us ever had a long lasting relationship. I was beginning to realize, through the one psych class I had, that in my case it was probably because I was looking for my sister in those other girls. 5' 9" tall, a fiery redhead, deep blue eyes like the sea that sparkled under the sun, fair skinned with hair that fell in overflowing and compact curls down to her shoulder blades, lightning quick smile, loved to laugh at my jokes... About the rest of her body, well, it's been a problem since our sixteenth birthday, more than two years ago.
Our parents had prepared a huge feast for this birthday; our Irish heritage focused a lot more on sixteen than eighteen. The extended family would be there and everyone would be well-dressed, tux and evening gowns. I was in my room, wearing my pants and undershirt, and went to the bathroom to shave. I had just begun shaving four months earlier and was quite proud of it! When I opened the door I saw that Deirdre was there.
Oh my God. She was wearing nothing but a matching pair of black velvet panties and bra, as well as the high heels she would wear tonight. I had never seen her in such a state of undress since the time of our shared baths. Her long legs, the pale white skin that we were cursed with but suddenly seemed so incredibly attractive, were incredible. Smooth, flowing, like living rivers of flesh.
And then the ass, what I could see of it anyway, was just as wonderful. Smooth, small, soft and just slightly rounded into slim hips. In another word: kissable. Above the panties was the little Brighid tattoo she had told me about but not showed. I had never imagined that Brighid could be so sexy, in black, nestled between the cleavage of my twin sister's ass. Oh yes, she had an ass cleavage, where the two slight bulges of her cheeks met above her crack.
All this flashed in a second. Then she turned around and blasted me with her two breasts. They matched her ass perfectly: smooth and soft, well rounded. With one distinction: they were not small. A good, thick C cup, already swelled and heavy at 16 years old. They were large, going nearly from her armpits and meeting in the middle of her chest, and filled the round bra cups without difficulty.
Reflexes pulled me out and made me close the door. I closed my eyes, knowing that my face was turning red (another curse of the pale skin, that!). My fore-head against the door, afraid that my sister would be angry, I was surprised to hear her laugh. "Oh come on Cillian. I don't mind! Come in if you want to shave..." But I didn't reply, merely turned around and went back to my room.
Big mistake. Huge mistake. I was very shy and self-conscious at that point in my life, and knowing how easy it is for me to get an erection, I didn't want to risk embarrassing myself further. So I waited until she left with my mom to get their hair fixed. When she returned we were all ready to leave and didn't have the time to talk about it. I knew she wanted to, but it never happened.
I spent the next two years thinking about what could have happened, what intimacy could have grown from that missed chance. Still do today. But once more, I couldn't put the chick back into its egg. Done was done. So since that day nudity and physical intimacy has been a problem. We tried to talk about it last year, when we were both stoned, and it helped. But even through the pot we were both embarrassed and although we concluded by saying that we would be more at ease with nudity between us... nothing really changed.
So am I looking for my sister in my various girlfriends? Probably. Looking for her body? ...that's a hard question. I tried my best not to look at her body too often, even though I have ample opportunities to. You see my sister loves velvet, as you may already know, and loves leather just as much. And black. She loves the color black. Try to picture a tall fair-skinned girl with fire-bright red hair, deep blue eyes, wearing skin tight black leather pants with a black velvet halter-top. You know the type that explicitly let's you know that she's not wearing a bra? Just *try* not looking at her pert, young ass, or at the swell of those free breasts...
But now, as I was getting out of the car after a long trip, I had forgotten all of this. I was home and I would spend two weeks with my family. And with Deirdre. We had talked on the phone at least once a week, with numerous e-mails in between. College life for me and conservatory for her (she plays the flute) had made our romantic life disappear. Nevertheless, we had always managed to keep our conversations interesting.
When the door closed behind me and my bags dropped noisily to the ground, I saw and heard Deirdre running towards me. I barely had time to remove my coat before she banged into me, grinning and laughing, wrapping her arms around me. I had one arm around her back and the other lost in her hair, behind her head, holding her close to me. I don't know how long we stayed that way, holding each other so close we could barely breath. As I slowly noticed that our parents were not around, probably gone to mammy's house, my qualms about holding her longer faded.
Sometime later we let go of each other, and despite not having seen each other in four months we were both silent, unable to find something to say. Then we laughed and she invited me to come in and get warm by the fire. The Christmas tree was there, sparsely decorated: that would be our job tonight. For a few years now, while my parents left to see mammy, Deirdre and I decorated the tree.
By the time we sat on the couches, I noticed that she was wearing nothing but a large tee-shirt. A panty line appeared when she sat down, but it was clear that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her warm breasts on my chest, seconds earlier, separated by nothing but— Stop it! That's your sister damn it!
Then again, since I was sharing a room at the dorm, I was in serious masturbation deficiency! And since I'd had no girlfriend since last summer... And then it happened: I felt an erection stirring. What? an erection while talking to my sister? This had to stop... As if on queue, Deirdre got up to feed the fire and I just couldn't tear my eyes away from her ass as she bent down to put the log in. Her ass looked identical to what I remembered from our 16th birthday episode: small, soft and nicely rounded. Then, as she was unable to place the log correctly, she squatted and grabbed it with two hands.
She squatted. With nothing on but a tee-shirt. As a matter of course the tee-shirt rode up to her waist, giving me an incredible view of that young, pert ass. And of her black lace panties, a frilly thing that didn't hide very much. She quickly got up and turned, innocent as an angel. But she sensed, when nobody else in the world but my twin would have sensed, that I was uncomfortable. She looked at me thoughtfully, pausing in that stare. She took a deep breath, then told me:
"Cillian, this has to stop..."
"What..."
