She would disagree with that statement but we, Roxy and I, know it’s true. When we were about four years old, mother began putting barrettes of different colors in our hair as a method of telling us apart. It worked for her since she didn’t know how many times we switched the barrettes as a joke.
The difficulty telling us apart was a problem from the beginning. In the hospital, after we were out of the delivery room, nurses became confused as to which of us was Roxanne and which was Roseanne. They reverted to using the inked footprints that were taken as we were delivered without success. For all practical purposes, the prints were identical. Somehow, they determined who was born first, me, and used colored wrist labels to tell us apart and give the right name to the right twin.
Subsequent analysis proved that we even had identical fingerprints, something never reported before. To ease confusion, mom took great pains to teach us our names so we could self identify. That worked as long as we responded truthfully when asked. Nobody except Roxy and I knew who was which twin. With all the confusion, even we were unsure which of us was Roxy and which was Rosy. We settled it by assigning our own names and we’ve maintained those names since.
So, I’m Rosy. I was born first and I’m relating this tale. Roxy agrees but, in reality, neither of us can be sure who is who. With all the similarities, there is one important difference. The nature of our birth introduced a complication. We’re twins, born six minutes apart but we have different birthdays. As Rosy, I was born at 11:58 PM on November 30th. Roxy arrived six minutes later, at 12:04 AM on December 1st. Or it could have been the other way around. We no longer care. We assigned our own names, no one knows we did, and we’re fine with it.
Growing up for us was a continuous party. The first time we exchanged barrettes and fooled our mother, we realized we could exchange identities whenever it suited us. If we managed to get into trouble, we could point at each other as the culprit and neither of us paid the penalty. We dressed identically. If mom gave us sweaters of different colors, we both wore both of them at random, defeating any attempt to use the sweaters to tell us apart.
We were in the same grades in school. Teacher’s had the same problem identifying us as did our parents. They put us in separate classrooms with different schedules to maintain some semblance of identification. They never figured out that we switched classrooms often and managed to get the same experiences. The different environments failed to create differences between us.
Having separate class assignments, we met and befriended different groups of the other students. We changed places often enough to be part of both groups. We got the same grades in the same subjects since we shared the class experiences and we choose which of us would take which exams.
At graduation, we had identical grade point averages, a problem for the administration since we both qualified to be valedictorian. We shared the graduation honors and speech and headed off to the same university.
We carefully managed our time to give the impression that we were living separate lives although we were closer than ever. If Roxy met a cute boy that she fancied, I stepped in often enough to share her experience. She was equally adept at replacing me whenever necessary.
We didn’t date throughout high school. No one really dated. We enjoyed group adventures. We did have groups with different memberships, but we both spent time with each group. We ended up with a larger number of friends and acquaintances than was common.
Except for the time we spent together, neither of us had sexual encounters in high school. University was different. We lived in different coed dorms and tried to avoid being seen together on campus. We exchanged rooms often without detection. Roxy was the first to meet a male student that interested her. She shared the details and that she was on the verge of having sex with him.
Roxy met him first and I agreed she would be first to bed him with the agreement that I would be next. Terry was a sophomore and very cute. I met him on an exchange night when we went to the weekend movie in the student union on campus. He put his arm around me in the darkened theater and kissed me during the movie. He looked at me curious. He was the first man I had kissed and I quickly concluded the Roxy had already kissed him and the kiss we had just shared was too tentative for a non-first kiss. I put some effort into the second kiss and he smiled. Relieved, I had passed the test.
Later, I asked Roxy why she hadn’t warned me about having kissed Terry before and explained that I had almost blown it. We had a short laugh over the temporary confusion. Roxy was together with Terry a few nights later. She called me after she returned to her dorm. She was confused about Terry.
Roxy had kissed Terry again, only she had initiated the kiss, and Terry acted as if he had never kissed either of us before. Neither of us could explain the situation. We began to alternately date Terry. The kissing and petting was uniform between us. Roxy came back from one date, panting and nervous. They had been alone in Terry’s dorm room and had come close to fucking each other. Roxy had invoked the girl rule, got dressed and left Terry with a hard problem.
We agreed she should have sex with Terry first since she had met him first. I would have the next date with him and she promised to describe the details of the encounter so I wouldn’t react in unexpected ways.
Roxy came back from an evening with Terry happier than I’d ever seen her. She shared her sexual encounter with Terry and she was over the moon about the experience. For the first time, I was jealous of my little sister. She had sex before me but I was next in Terry’s bed.
Fully briefed by Roxy and prepared for my own experience, I met with Terry two days later. Unsurprisingly, we ended up in his dorm room. I was less shy about removing my clothing as I might have been without Roxy’s information. Terry and I kissed, he palmed my breasts and, hesitantly held my naked pussy in his hand. Once on the bed, I pulled him on top of me, kissed him again and spread my legs. Terry seemed unsure of what to do next. Roxy had told me that they had fucked twice earlier in the week, so Terry’s reticence seemed out of character. I guided him to my leaking pussy and pulled him inside me. Terry responded and it was every bit as glorious as Roxy said it was.
Until the Thanksgiving holiday, Roxy and I took turns having sex with Terry. Back on campus after the long weekend, I noticed Terry in the student union. I walked over to him. “Hey Terry,” I said.
His reaction was strange. He had a brief deer in the headlights expression before he responded. “Oh, hi Roxy,” he said. The conversation seemed stiff, not what I expected from someone who was having regular sex with Roxy, (us?).