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Rachel's Twin free porn video
Rachel's Twin
By
Susan Day
This is a story of a chat over tea in the parlour, between Penelope
Primrose, usually known as 'Auntie', and Rebecca. Rebecca is the new
daughter of Mrs Drake, Penelope's old friend from school days. How
she became Rebecca Drake is a long story.
Brian often stays at his girlfriend's flat. Occasionally, she lends
him some of her things to wear while his are in the wash. Eventually
she decides to make him up. It becomes more natural for him to wear
her clothes around the flat. Then she is offered a job which takes
her abroad a lot. He stays in her flat and dresses in her things. His
life changes when he becomes her twin sister.
(number three in a series of chats)
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I opened the door to see Jean Drake with her daughter, Rachel. I
thought Rachel looked a little different from her usual confident
self. In fact, she also seemed a little more girly. Then I realised
that this was the girl Jean had come to tell me about: Rachel's twin,
Rebecca.
"Come in, ladies," I said. "So glad you could come. Did you have a
nice trip?"
"Thank you, Pen," said Jean, nudging her daughter before her. "It's
been too long. And we've had a lovely drive down, thank you. Haven't
we, Rebecca?"
"Yes, Mummy," the sweet little sissy replied. "Thank you very much
for inviting us, Auntie."
"Aw how lovely, sweetheart," I said, kissing her sweet little rosy
cheek. "Let me take your coats. Auntie has a nice tea ready for you."
I took Jean's rather smart velvet trimmed coat and Rebecca's sweet
little pink PVC mac.
"I thought you'd have one of your maids on duty, Pen," said Jean.
"You always seemed to have at least one in service. Have you given
up?"
"Oh no, dear," I answered, hanging their coats in the cloakroom. "Go
on into the parlour. My current girls have today off. I didn't want
any silly empty-headed maids spoiling things today for my long-lost
friend Jean. Anyway, I thought you were bringing Rachel today."
"No she's busy on a new contract abroad," she said. "Anyway, I came
to tell my old friend about Rebecca so I thought I'd bring her."
"Well your letters have been very interesting," I said. "I certainly
hope you can stay long enough to tell me all of your stories, dear.
Perhaps I could fetch one of the maids' uniforms. Maybe Rebecca would
like to slip into it and be our maid later on. I am sure she would
not like to spoil that pink gingham dress with all those flouncy
petticoats and those darling pink Mary Jane shoes."
I led them to my parlour and sat them down. I slipped out to the
kitchen, made a tray of tea and brought it through. Jean told me what
she'd been doing since we last met and then asked Rebecca to tell me
the story she'd been brought to tell.
"Where shall I begin?" the little sissy said nervously.
"Take a deep breath and begin at the beginning," I said. "I want to
hear everything."
"Yes, Auntie." This sweet little vision fluttered her eyelashes and
began.
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I'm not sure exactly how it started. Rachel can't remember either.
It seemed to happen over a long time and was so gradual we hardly
noticed the change.
I met Rachel at University. We had hit it off almost immediately and
were very close friends for our whole time there, spending holidays
together and hitch-hiking around Europe together when we graduated.
When Rachel started teaching, I moved to a nearby town and found a
job in an office. We were very much in love and planned to marry when
our careers had taken off a bit. She had a fairly nice flat and I
lived in a small, grotty bedsit.
So I used to cycle to her flat after work and spend as much time
with her as possible. We tried not to spend to much and were saving
like mad. We spent a lot of our time curled up under a blanket on the
sofa watching old movies and promising ourselves we would go out more
when we were better off.
Sometimes I stayed overnight in her flat. Often, that left me
without a change of clothes so I supposed that's when she started
lending me her knickers. There was nothing sinister in it and we
didn't think much of it. We were both the same size. One thing which
particularly struck me about her when I met her was how tall and slim
she is. With long black hair down her back and beautiful long legs,
she was always a vision of loveliness to me. Sex was such a tender
and lovely affair. She had such a soft skin I loved to kiss her all
over. The very touch of her hands made me melt with pleasure. I
wanted to be with her all the time.
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Jean coughed. I smiled.
"More tea, Jean?" I asked, topping her up.
"Do continue, sissykins," I said to Rebecca.
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Once, I turned up soaking wet from the rain. She washed my clothes
and put them on a radiator to dry. Meanwhile she found a pair of her
knickers and some jeans with a baggy pullover. Her jeans were a
little difficult to wear as they were so thin at the waist. She was
worried I would stretch them so I left the button undone. We played
Scrabble that night and I stayed till the morning again.
Next time I arrived soaking wet, she wouldn't let me wear her jeans
so I agreed to wear a skirt of hers which was woollen with an
elasticated waist. I wore a blouse and cardigan. I complained that my
legs were cold so she slipped some holdup stockings on my legs and
lent me a pair of her slippers. She joked that I needed to shave my
legs if I wanted to look nice in stockings. That evening, she
snuggled up to me on the sofa and seemed to be a lot closer than
usual. She couldn't seem to stop cuddling me all evening. I felt a
lot more cosy too and a little sad to put my own clothes on in the
morning.
And so over a period of time, our life evolved into my going to her
flat and relaxing in some of her clothes before changing into my own
and cycling home. She even started buying clothes for me to wear when
I came over. Sometimes she wore them. Sometimes I did. It all seemed
perfectly natural. After a while, I always wore a pair of her
knickers under my clothes. It felt so nice and always reminded me of
how much I loved her.
All the time, we were working hard and saving for a life together.
In the spring, on a warm night, Rachel gave me a flowery frock to
wear. When I put it on, she seemed to become more playful and a
slightly wicked smile came to her face. She said I should really wear
the proper underwear to make the frock hang properly. I needed some
padding in the right places to look just right. So I stripped again
and she brought a suspender belt, bra and stockings. I put them on
carefully, although she had to do them up around the back. She put
some tights in the bra cups and slipped a cotton slip over my head.
Then she put the frock on me and unbuttoned it up. It hung
beautifully. She asked me to walk up and down and give her a twirl.
She squealed with delight when she saw the effect. I was thrilled
too. She ran into the bedroom and came out with some high-heeled
strappy sandals. She slipped them on and strapped them up. She told
me to be very careful not to twist my ankles. I walked very slowly up
the room and teetered a little. She walked up behind me and slapped
my bottom.
"You are a very sexy little girl," she said. "How do you feel?"
"I feel wonderful," I answered. "I love wearing your clothes. It
makes me feel like you and I love you so much."
I suppose it was then she came up with the idea of dressing me to
look exactly like her. She bought a wig in her colour and, because
she couldn't find one long enough, had her hair cut to match it
exactly. It was a shame as I loved her long hair so much but the idea
of looking like her excited me. She wouldn't let me try the wig on
until we were 'ready'.
It was easy to find clothes to match. She always seemed to buy her
clothes in several colours of the same style. When the High Street
shops came out with a skirt or jumper she liked, she bought it in
several colours. She did that with everything. So she decided to
dress us in matching clothes. She prepared everything in secret,
adding to my excitement. She wouldn't let me see her for a few days.
I had to wait until one Saturday when I was to arrive at her flat
just after lunchtime.
I arrived fit to burst at half past twelve. She laughed when she
opened the door.
"I knew you wouldn't be able to wait!" she said. "Don't worry,
though, everything's ready."
She led me in. The flat looked different. There were flowers on the
table. A proper tablecloth with candlesticks and candles. Everything
had been spring-cleaned. There were lace curtains, doyleys under the
ornaments. In fact, the whole place looked so feminine. Rachel
disappointed me slightly, though. She wore jeans and a tee-shirt. I
hoped that wasn't how we were going to dress. I thought she'd just
worn those things while she worked on the flat.
She took my coat and told me to strip right there. I did so in
record time. The wet patch on my knickers showed her how excited I
was. She put my things in a bag and put it in the broom cupboard.
"We won't be needing these for a while," she said. "Now, before we
dress, there is a lot to prepare."
I was shaking slightly and drew her to me to give her a hug.
"Settle down," she scolded. "There will be plenty of time for that
later. And stop shaking. There's no need to worry. We're all girls
together. Or soon will be!"
"I can't wait," I said with a quivering voice.
"I can see that," she said, looking at my erection. "We can't have
that spoiling your feminine figure, can we?"
She led me in to the bathroom. She shut the door. Hanging on a hook
was a flowery overall which she put on and buttoned up. She tied her
hair back into a pony tail and took some rubber gloves from the side
of the sink. Then she started to run the bath. She poured loads of
bubble bath into it and added some scented oils. While it was
running, she told me to stand in front of the mirror. Then she stood
behind me, reached around and held my erection in her gloved hand.
The feel of the rubber made me even stiffer. Then she started to rub
and squeeze until she was rubbing me rhythmically and hard. I came
into the sink and she swilled it away and washed the sink. Then she
led me to the bath and helped me in.
"Now we have that little problem out of the way, we have to get on
with the job," she said. "You are going to smell and feel like a
woman."
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"More tea, Jean?" I asked, saving her the bother of coughing.
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She scrubbed me and soaped me, lathered me and washed me all over.
Then she sat me on the side of the bath, wrapped in a towel, removed
her gloves and shaved me. It was a close and comfortable shave. Then
she shaved my arms and legs. It felt itchy at first but she rubbed
some gel on and shaved them again. Finally, she sprayed perfume all
over me and rubbed oil into my skin. I felt smooth and smelled very
feminine.
Then she took off her overall and led me to the bedroom. There were
some clothes laid out on the bed and a whole load of bottles and jars
on the dressing table.
"Now," she said. "let's set to work! I've bought some things to help
us."
She rubbed her hands together and picked up a strange-looking pair
of pants. She slipped them on me and tucked my manhood into a pouch
inside, drawing tapes around the back and tying them to hold me in
place.
"That keeps it out of the way. Now let's see if we can make
ourselves look like each other," she said, and stripped off her own
clothes. She took a tape from the dressing table and said, "Now
measure me."
I measured her around her breasts, waist and hips: 38, 28, 36. I
stroked her breasts and she told me to wait.
"First things first," she said. "We're going to give ourselves the
same figure."
She slipped on a black underslip. Then took a silky black corset and
put it around herself, fastening the clasps and adjusting the bra
cups until she was comfortable. Then she told me to draw the laces
together and tie them. I squeezed her in, giving her an hourglass
figure, and tied off the laces. She handed me the tape and I measured
her waist: 26.
"That will do for now," she said. Then she put an underslip and a
corset on me. Again she adjusted the bra cups. She put some foam
false breasts into the cups and measured me: 38 - exactly the same as
her. Then she measured my waist: 32. She started to pull the laces in
and the corset pinched my waist.in. She tied them off and measured my
waist again: 28. Then she told me to breathe in and pulled the laced
very hard, putting her knee in my back and squeezing very tight. Then
she measured again: 26. I tired to heave a sigh of relief but was
held so tightly, I couldn't. I had 36-inch hips so it seemed we were
the same shape.
She rolled on some black stockings and fastened them to the
suspenders. Then she rolled identical stockings onto her legs. Then
she handed me some silky French knickers, took her own from the bed
and we both put them on. She took a very lacy black slip and told me
to put it on her. I slipped it over her head and straightened it out,
stroking her body as I did so. She then put a slip over my head. We
stood there looking in the full-length mirror. Our bodies looked very
similar.
"Face next," she said and sat me down on the stool in front of the
mirror. She applied foundation, rouge, eye shadow, mascara, lipstick
and lip gloss. then she budged me up, sat next to me and applied her
own in exactly the same way. She applied false nails so mine were as
long as hers, painted my nails, then did hers.
Then stood me up and put a cream silk blouse on me, carefully doing
up the pearl buttons. Then she put on a green pleated skirt and cream
wide belt. Almost as a negative to me, she then put on a green silk
blouse and cream skirt with green belt, all in exactly the same style
as mine. Then she gave me a green woollen waistcoat and she wore a
cream one.
She gave me green 4-inch heeled shoes and wore cream herself. Then
she put matching bracelets, brooches and pearl necklaces on. Finally,
she sat me in front of the mirror and put my wig on. When she sat
next to me and combed her own hair out, the effect was staggering. We
looked like twin sisters.
"Well, Rebecca," she said. "We've been long enough, I think our
dinner should be ready now."
She had given me a lovely name.
She led me to the lounge and asked me to light the candles on the
table.
"Be careful you don't light that long hair!" she warned.
She went to the kitchen to fetch dinner. I went back to the bedroom
and brought out the full length mirror, putting it in the corner of
the room. Then I lit the candles and turned the lights down. She came
in and out, bringing dishes and plates, while I swished my skirt and
hair and watched myself in the mirror. She came over and stood with
me and we held hands, looking at ourselves together.
"You look lovely in my clothes," she said.
"That's because I look like you," I said. "You are so beautiful and
I love wearing your things."
We kissed gently and she said, "They are our things, not just mine.
Now come and have dinner."
We had a romantic candlelit dinner together.
"You're a beautiful cook as well," I said as I topped up her wine.
"I think I should teach you. Then you'd be even more like me," she
said.
Then we put on matching pinnies and did the washing up with matching
rubber gloves. We spent the rest of the evening cuddled up on the
sofa watching an old black and white movie, It was a sad weepy and we
both cried.
Then she took me back to the bedroom and showed me our nightclothes.
We undressed each other and sighed as we released each other's
corsets. Then we both put on black basques and fishnet stockings with
long black evening gloves. She put the pearl necklaces back on and we
both wore thigh boots without heels and with soft soles. She called
them bed boots.
So there we stood in black, looking just like tarts. My erection was
the only thing which made us look different. We slipped into bed and
made love as never before. It was soft and tender, loving and lovely.
We pleased each other with out lips, hands and tongues before she
mounted me and slipped my manhood inside her.
"I love you, Rebecca," she groaned.
"I love you, Rachel," I groaned as we both climaxed together.
The next week, I moved in to the flat. I put my things in the spare
room and we spent all of our time together dressing as identical
twins. When we went out, I wore her underwear under my things. We
shopped for clothes for her, knowing we would both be wearing them
later on.
One evening, she invited her mother to tea to meet me. I wore my
things, of course but still had her underwear. Her mother was very
nice and seemed genuinely pleased to see me. When Rachel was in the
kitchen, her mother told me to look after her daughter. She was her
only child. She had always wanted two daughters but had made do with
the one. We both agreed she was a lovely girl.
Over the months, we became more comfortable in our life. I became
quite expert at makeup and often was made up and ready when Rachel
came home from work. Rachel and I developed several sex fantasies.
She started to like to dress me in frilly, flouncy clothes, almost
like a Victorian doll. Then she would lean me over her knee and, very
gently, spank me.
I loved to spray cream on her breasts and lick them off. One day,
she sprayed cream down my knickers and really feasted on it until she
had my manhood in her mouth licking every last drop of cream off.
Our favourite game became one of nurses. She bought two uniforms and
we dressed up in starchy aprons, examining each other.
She seemed to love most of all making love to me and calling me
Rebecca. It would have seemed strange to anyone else but it was so
cosy and loving to us.
Then one day she announced she would be leaving to work in a school
in Switzerland teaching English. She would only be doing it for a
couple of years as she needed the language experience. She would be
home in all the holidays but would be away for long periods. She
wanted me to stay in the flat and look after it. She wanted me the
wear her things, especially in bed so that she could phone me and ask
what I was wearing. I felt sad but knew she had to develop her
career. Mine was going nowhere.
After a while, when we were still making ready for Rachel's
departure, I decided to hand in my notice and leave work. It wasn't
that mad. I'd seen an opportunity and decided to take it. In our
office and several others nearby there was nowhere to eat lunch. So I
decided to start a sandwich round. Within a few short weeks, I was
doing a bomb. I made the sandwiches in Rachel's kitchen and drove
them to the offices in a small van we bought.
Rachel bought me a pretty overall in which to make my sandwiches and
called me her little sandwich girl.
Then one evening, I was cleaning all the trays and making the
fillings for the following day's sandwiches. I was wearing a woollen
dress with my overall and a tabard. Rachel slipped out to fetch a
Chinese takeaway and left the door on the latch. I was singing to
myself and didn't hear the door. When I turned round, I was surprised
to say the least. Mrs Drake, Rachel's mother had let herself in and
was standing at the kitchen door.
"Hello dear," she said. "Where's that young man of yours?"
I was terrified and didn't speak. Then Rachel appeared in the
doorway behind her. She saw me look over to Rachel and turned. It was
her turn to be surprised.
"What on earth ...?" she stammered. "Who is this?"
Rachel sat Mrs Drake down and explained. I was bright red with
embarrassment but her mother, recovering from the shock, seemed to
accept it. I made a pot of tea and sat with them. She wanted to know
if things were ok between us and Rachel explained that we had an
active sex life. Rachel got the plates out and we all had the
takeaway. Rachel's mother, I mean, Mummy, was very quiet.
Then, when we had finished, she announced that she was very pleased
as she had always wanted two daughters and now had them. She wanted
me to call her 'Mummy'. She was pleased that Rachel had remembered
she had wanted a second daughter and had already chosen the name of
"Rebecca". She had given up hope years ago. She said she would look
after me while Rachel went abroad. She would take me out and get to
know her new daughter. We were all very relieved.
So when Rachel left at the airport, her mother and twin sister
Rebecca waved goodbye. Then her Mummy packed me off home and started
to work on me. My hair had been growing so she stopped me wearing a
wig and dyed my hair black. She styled it and had it permed. it was
nice but I looked forward to the day when it was as long as Rachel's.
She taught me how to walk in high heels and how to move like a girl.
She made me go round to her house and do the housework for her in a
frilly apron, She taught me to cook as she had taught Rachel. She
took me shopping, loving every minute of it.
Another chap at the office decided he wanted to leave work as well
so he made me an offer for my sandwich round and I accepted it. I was
free of all ties. Rachel's money was enough for us to live on. She
phoned me every night and we talked to each other about what we were
wearing, then I would come in her knickers and she would blow me a
kiss goodnight.
Mummy, however, became a hard taskmistress, teaching me to talk like
Rachel, telling me all about her daughter and expecting me to act the
same. I tried very hard but each time I failed, she put me across her
knee and spanked me.
One day, I had cooked a perfect sponge cake, polished her silver and
sang a song for her in my most feminine voice and she was very
pleased with me. She sat me on her knee and asked if I was happy.
"I love you, Mummy," I said.
She kissed me, gently at first, then more passionately. She stroked
my hair and ran her hand across my breasts. She was disappointed and
said that we would have to do something about those falsies. She took
me back to the flat in time for Rachel's call. While Rachel spoke to
me, her mother reached inside my knickers and relieved my throbbing
manhood.
"Good girl," she said as I put down the phone. "Who is Mummy's good
little girl?"
"I am, Mummy," I said.
Very soon, she took me to a clinic where they put me on a course of
drugs which were designed to give me the look of a woman. I had an
all-over body wax and went on a strict diet. Each evening, Mummy used
a breast pump on me to help my breasts to grow. My skin felt softer
and my hips and breasts changed shape. I needed to shave a lot less
and just felt a general glow of femininity.
Rachel said she would not be home for a few months more as she had
to study in the holiday but was looking forward to coming home. She
started to write very passionate letters and I started to write them
to her. Mummy continued to help my breasts to grow and take me to the
clinic. She taught me sewing, knitting, how to iron and keep house.
When she felt I was too excited or frustrated, she would relieve me.
Then she took me into the clinic for a couple of days for a breast
enlargement operation.
A while later, when Rachel finally came home, she was met by her
mother and her twin sister, now looking very feminine. We all hugged
and kissed as sisters and family. Then we drove back to Mummy's
house. Once through the door, Rachel threw her bags down and kissed
me passionately. Then she felt my breasts and realised they were
real. She undid my blouse and stared in amazement.
"My present to you, Rachel," said Mummy. "I hope you like them."
"They're lovely," said Rachel. "But how far have you gone?"
I reached for her hand, guided it under my skirt and under my
knickers where my manhood was starting to bulge. She sighed with
relief, picked me up and carried me upstairs.
"I've been waiting for this for ages," she said.
She took me into her old room. She handed me a tissue-wrapped
parcel. It was a lacy teddy. I put it on while Rachel stripped. We
made love again and again until we were both drained and exhausted.
Then Mummy came in with a tray of tea.
"It's nice to see sisters getting on so well," she said. "Welcome
home, Rachel, and welcome to your new home, Rebecca."
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Jean smiled at her sweet little angel of a daughter.
"That was a lovely story beautifully told," she said proudly.
"Thank you, Mummy," she said sweetly, shrugging her shoulders coyly.
"May I ask Auntie for something please, Mummy."
"Of course, dear," Jean replied. "Be polite, though."
"Please, Auntie," she stuttered a little. "You said something about
slipping into a maid's uniform. I would love to try one on."
Jean smiled as I stood up and took Rebecca by the hand.
"My dear, of course. I have just the thing for you. A tight pink
corset and a candy striped lace edged uniform with lots of pink
petticoats. We can slip you into that and you can serve tea for your
mother and me. Would you like that?"
"Oh yes, Auntie. Thank you Auntie," she said, a tell-tale bulge
starting to show beneath her skirts.
"Will you excuse us please," I said to Jean. "Your daughter and I
have something to take care of."
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Elle
- 03.10.2020
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