The First Noel

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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 escort numaraları 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…”

“Please don’t try to wiggle your way out of this one. You’ve bee afraid of my body since that day you nearly saw me naked.”

“Not afraid but…”

“But close enough to make no difference.” A sigh. “Cillian we share everything, every secrets and shameful thoughts. Why should we have to hide our skin from each other? I don’t mean turning nudist or anything like that. But I want us to be at ease with each other, like we were as girl and boy only a handful of years ago.”

“But I’m not only a little boy Deirdre.” And then gaziantep escort bayan numaraları I paused, unsure of how to tell her this… “I can’t just look at you… You know, my body just doesn’t. I mean—”

“Is that a compliment my dear brother?” A quick Deirdre smile, coming from nowhere, like the sun from behind a cloud. “I know now that I’m beautiful Cillian. Sexy too, apparently. I’m starting to believe it you know!”

We both laughed at that: Deirdre had always complained of being ugly since she was old enough to know what it meant. Her hair too curly, skin that wouldn’t tan, too tall… My mother and I used to tell her how beautiful she was and everything, but she was too obstinate. Now it appeared that her boyfriends had managed to do what family couldn’t.

“And I know, ” she continued, “that you haven’t slept with a single girl since you left, or that you couldn’t masturbate often as you liked.”

“Deirdre!” we laughed again as I turned a healthy shade of red.

“What? You told it to me yourself… Anyway. It’s been two years now. Hasn’t it been long enough?”

“I don’t think it’s a question of that particular day anymore…”

“Then what is it, brother? Are you shy of showing me your body?”

“No.”

“Are you troubled by the thought of seeing mine?”

“Well, I don’t want to see you as a sexual woman.”

“Oh but I am a sexy beast, and you know it perfectly well!”

Once again we laughed at her newfound confidence. But she was not satisfied.

“I’m serious Cillian. I’m tired of watching myself around you… What does it matter if I happen to bend down right in front of you, or if you happen to see down my top? I don’t care, don’t care at all.”

“I’m not sure that—”

“Well *I* am. I mean it. I’m not going to transform myself into a prude just because you’re not mature enough to deal with it…”

A wicked smile this time: she was teasing me, hitting me where I was most sensitive. As we were born in September, we had always been younger than our school friends. She had accepted it easily. Not me. Accusing me of immaturity was one of the worst insults you can throw at me. And Deirdre knew it. Of course she knew it.

“Anyway, ” I said, ” I have to take a shower.

“Ok. But think about it mister, I’m not kidding. Oh and don’t forget to lock the door, just in case I need to pee very badly…”

When I looked back over my shoulder she winked and laughed. Shaking my head, I realized that living with a self-confident Deirdre would be a lot harder than I thought! I washed my hairs with Deirdre’s herbal shampoo and tried my best not to get my cock too hard with her soap… The 16th birthday episode had only confirmed what I already knew since I was 12 or 13 years old: Deirdre was the most beautiful and sexy girl I had ever seen. As simple as that. And seeing her after four months of absence was wonderful.

When I walked back to the living room, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, she was gone. But as I plumped down on the couch I saw that she was lying on the other one, reading a book. Reading a book while her tee-shirt had ridden up all the way to her black pearl. She had had this piercing, her first, when we were fifteen. A lovely black pearl, very small, mounted on a shining silver pin. It was wonderfully beautiful on her. And it was even more beautiful so close to those lace panties. They looked very soft, a thick band of cotton around her waist and hips, sexier as anything I had seen before. a thick red bush, obviously trimmed below her lips, shone in the afternoon sunlight. She pretended not to see me looking at her, kept on reading.

I sat down in front of the fire and laid back comfortably. I still had her panties in my line of sight though. Smooth hips and thighs, creamy skin and black panties. Long legs, longer than I remembered, thin and smooth as well, that she flexed carelessly while reading. This was it then, my chance at getting familiar with these kinds of moments. My chance, yes, of getting hard again. But I had a pair of jeans that could handle that pretty well in my current position.

“When are mom and dad coming back?”

“As usual, not before late at night. They said they’d try not to come back too late to see you. But you know they couldn’t miss going to mom’s family on the 23rd…”

“I know. That’s alright we talked about it on the phone. I’m just eager to see them! Well, ready to decorate this monster?”

“Sure!”

A few minutes into it I knew I was in for a show. Or a torture, depending on how you looked at it. The first time Deirdre climbed up on the stepladder, placed her ass just in front of my face and lifted her arms to reach a high spot, I got my first shock. I was inches away from those cheeks I’ve been secretly dreaming about since I first saw them 2 years ago. The flawless way her thighs meld and transformed into her asscheeks, the way the insides of those thighs tightened two inches before melding with her lips, how this great meeting of curves looked like nothing else than a majestic bull’s-eye for her pussy…

And gaziantep escort numaraları then she half climbed a stair, raising one leg and pushing her curves at me like weapons… The long smooth curve of her small ass was like an invitation to madness: one touch and I’d go completely crazy. Beneath the tight lace I could see her pussy, see how it molded the panties across its rounded surface. Full lips, large lips that defined a distended pussy, going far below her. This was not a slight little thing but a large pussy able to meet every challenge. If it was obviously visible from this angle, I couldn’t imagine what it would look like from behind when Deirdre was on all fours…

But I had to shake those images from my mind. Deirdre climbed fully to the next step and as I looked up I saw that her tee-shirt was hanging away from her body as she leaned forward. From below I could see her breasts, their large bases swelling from her sides all the way to her sternum. They were wiggling around with her arms, moving from side to side like choreographed dancers. They were not really big, but they were all there, looking softer than clouds. But they were flesh, warm flesh and blood, covered with that smooth white flesh…

Deirdre giggled, looking down at me. “Cillian! For the third time, can you give me that garland?” I mumbled something in reply and gave her what she wanted. She was laughing as she got back up. And for the rest of the evening, decorating this tree, I had ample opportunity to see her ass from every angle, her breasts from above or below, and even a few tightly laced pussy shots. My blood was heating up and my cock kept swinging from being softly full to partially hard.

When it was over I was both glad and disappointed. My twin was gorgeous, had breasts that would make babies hard; a soft, jaw-dropping little ass, and all the features of a nymph of legend. And she knew it now, was confident about it now. Damn! those two weeks here were going to be harder than I thought!

After the tree we settled back down on the couches, in front of the fire. She took back her book, looking at me wickedly while readjusting her tee-shirt so as to unveil her panties. Not a word, but quite a dare. What was I going to do? Ignore it? Ignore her? Ignore the urge I had to take her in my arms and eat her up? A few minutes later, knowing I was still watching her, she turned her head on the pillow and looked at me. And smiled gloriously. Sunlight. By God she was beautiful. The afternoon sun was already low in the sky, shining golden light into the living room. Soft Irish music was playing in the background, the fire was steadily being just perfect, a few candles were already lit… Were this any other girl, I would have said that things were perfect for an incredible evening!

“It’s been six months since Mandy… And how long has it been since Mark, Deirdre?”

She said, with a small smile, “Seven months. Why?”

“Nothing, ” I chuckled. “I was just thinking how perfect our parent’s house was for romantic evenings…”

“Indeed.” She laughed with me. “Wow, I ask you to be relaxed around me and already you’re on the verge of trying to seduce me!”

“No!” My eyes bulged out in surprise. “Oh Deirdre, don’t tease me now!”

She sat up, looked at me wistfully. “I miss him you know…”

“I know.” I replied softly.

And then she did something that would turn out to be the key to everything that followed. She got up and asked me to move over on my couch. When I turned on my side, pushed against the back, she sat and lied down before curling herself against me. She grabbed my hand and forcefully pulled it around her until it was nestled against her neck. Also nestled, just a bit lower, between her breasts.

“How long has it been Cillian, since you could smooth and comfort me like this? Oh how badly I would have liked to run to your room and spend the night in your arms, crying, when Mark left. Somehow I think it would have helped; a lot…”

I didn’t know what to do. I was stunned by her bold move but at the same time I understood it perfectly. We *had* done that more than a few times in the past. And it *did* help. Yet at the same time, my half erection was still there, and now that my arm was between her breasts, it could only grow… I could feel her backing off against me, her back, ass and legs, and I knew she was going to feel it soon.

I tried to wiggle around to try and move it lower, then tried again until Deirdre told me to stop.

“I don’t mind Cillian… don’t mind feeling it against me. Please just hold me, it’s been so long since we’ve been this close. I’m beginning to miss you, miss this closeness, more than I miss Mark. And those last four months showed me just how important you were.”

She bent down and kissed my fingers. Seconds later, relieved, I pulled her against me, nestled my face into her hair and kissed the top of her head. We stayed like this, watching the fire and the sun, for the half hour it took for it to disappear completely. By then Deirdre was asleep, breathing deeply in my arms. Her breasts on my arm were beginning to drive me crazy. My hand was opening and closing slowly, jealous of my forearm. Unable… unable or unwilling? Anyway, unable to resist I began sliding it down. What was the harm anyway? What was the difference between looking and feeling? My mind knew there was one, a big one, but somehow I didn’t care. Perhaps a double dose of Deirdre’s shampoo had gotten me intoxicated? …I smiled into her hair.

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