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Subject: {ASSM} Lady Guinevere Ch.1 (MF FF mf ff fant rom 1st teen cons inc bro sis oral)
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DISCLAIMER:

This is a copyrighted work and the intellectual property of the
author. Any reposting or reproduction is strictly prohibited without
the express written permission of the author. (C)2004 By: Dark Vision.

The contents of this story are fictitious. Any similarity to persons
alive or dead is purely coincidental.

This story contains descriptions of sex. It is intended for adults
only. If you are offended by material of this nature, are under the
legal age in your location to read this material, or it is illegal
for you to possess this material, go no further.

The author may be contacted at Darkvision29@gmail.com

Lady Guinevere

Preface

I don't really remember just when it all started, but I do know that
I just can't resist the urges I feel.  You see I am an exhibitionist
and a bit of a voyeur, well okay, I am a voyeur.  I can't help it.
Whenever I have an opportunity to see someone in various states of
undress, I jump at it, not to mention allowing myself to be seen.

My earliest memories go back to when I was only eight or nine years
old.  I was forever trying to peek under the other's girls' skirts
and see if I could see their panties.  It all seemed normal at the
time; I mean they were peeking too, weren't they?  Don't all kids
have a curiosity about such things?  Don't all girls wonder if their
friends are wearing nicer panties than they have on, or if they have
bigger boobs?  Well, I did, and in fact, I still do.

Sex is something that I also truly enjoy, although my ventures into
it, other than with myself, lagged behind my voyeurism and
exhibitionism by a few years.

I just turned nineteen and life is great for me.  If there were
anything I'd do over, it would be...  Never mind, maybe I'll tell you
later.

In an effort to tell you about my escapades, I'm writing the
following.  I realize the dialog isn't exact, but it's close...close
enough to get my point across.  I really wish I had started keeping a
diary in my younger years, but I didn't.  It would be fun to read
what actually happened as I grew up, rather than my recollections.
Nonetheless, here it goes!

Oh, there's one other thing I should mention.  I was blessed with
the most understanding parents any kid could ever have.  It was
always easy for me to talk with my mom and she never told me that I
was a slut, a bad girl, or anything else like that, when I asked
about sex or other things.  If I asked her a direct question, I got a
direct answer.  Sometimes, she offered more information than I really
wanted, but looking back, I'm glad she did.

I was allowed to grow up without feeling that my sexual development
was abnormal or wrong.  I learned that touching myself was okay and,
in fact, Mom encouraged it.  I also learned that just because I had
certain feelings or thoughts, there was nothing wrong with me.  Oh
well, enough of that for now...here we go.

Disclaimer

This is a copyrighted work and the intellectual property of the
author.  Any reposting or reproduction is strictly prohibited without
the express written permission of the author.  (C)2001 - 2004 By: Dark
Vision.

The contents of this story are fictitious.  Any similarity to
persons alive or dead is purely coincidental.

This story contains descriptions of sex, including sex between
family members.  It is intended for adults only.  If you are offended
by material of this nature, are under the legal age in your location
to read this material, or it is illegal for you to possess this
material, go no further.

The author may be contacted at Darkvision29@hotmail.com

Author's Notes:

I would like to thank Terry S and Heatherlee for their help in
editing and providing guidance in writing this story.




Chapter - One

I still have vivid memories of my first trip to camp with the
Scouts.  A cabin full of girls, all within a couple of years in age,
I was about nine at the time, dressing and undressing in front of
each other.  The first nights of camp, most of the girls including
me, were a little shy.  We would try to change our clothes without
being seen by the others, and some even went into the bathroom.  By
the third night, my modesty gave way to speed and convenience.
Instead of huddling in the corner next to my bunk, I just changed.

I noticed that some of the other girls had also loosened up a little
and soon I was treated to the sight of naked bodies.  I remember
checking out each and every girl that would give me the chance.
Almost all of the girls looked just about like I did when naked.
Some were bigger than me, some smaller, but we all lacked boobs and
sported hairless mons.

My first view of adult breasts, other than my mom's and they really
don't count, was one of the counselors.  She was a senior scout,
about sixteen or seventeen I think, and was much more developed than
the rest of us.  I will never forget seeing her pull her tee shirt
over her head and seeing her black bra.  Mom wears bras, but at the
time I could only recall seeing her in white ones.  This one was
black and much different than any that my mom had, or at least that I
had seen on her.

Anyway, I couldn't keep my eyes from staring at her.  I would try to
look away, but as if they had a mind of their own, my eyes would dart
back at the girl.  When she reached behind her back, unfastened the
bra, and let it slide down her arms, I gasped!  I was sure she could
hear me so I quickly turned away, but my eyes were instantly drawn
back.  She bent over at the waist to pick up her nightgown from her
bag, and I could clearly see her boobs hanging from her chest, okay,
maybe they weren't hanging, but they looked big to me.

In retrospect, they weren't all that big, but at my age, the sight
of a girl's boobs was exciting and I thought they were huge.  I
remember thinking that I hoped that mine would be that big someday.
With her nightgown sitting on her bed next to her, she undid her
jeans and pulled them down.  You have no idea how surprised I was to
see that her panties were black like her bra.

I wish I could remember her name, but I can't.  She stood a couple
of bunks over from mine dressed only in a pair of black panties, and
her socks.  From my vantage point I couldn't see her front, but I
could tell that the panties were nothing like mine, nor any I had
ever seen except in magazines or the Sears catalog.  They had thin
bands of elastic that connected the front to the back; later I
learned they were bikinis.

My first experience quickly came to an end when she put her
nightgown over her head and let it fall, the hem stopping at her
knees.  She adjusted the cotton gown and then climbed into bed.

I turned my back to her, removed my shirt and jeans, put my pajamas
on over my white cotton panties and tee shirt, and then I too climbed
into bed.  I had trouble falling asleep that night as I replayed the
sight over and over in my mind.  I remember I couldn't help but
wonder if she had any hair down there, you know.

That night, while I lay in my bunk, I touched myself for the first
time.  I guess I didn't really know what I was doing, or what to
expect, but the feeling was, well, it was wonderful.  My fingers
rubbed lightly on my mons, through my cotton panties and my
nightshirt, as if someone else was controlling them.  I don't think I
had an orgasm, or anything like it, but it did feel good.

The rest of camp was uneventful compared to that night.  Oh I saw
the girls my own age a lot of times, but never the older girl.  I
tried to catch her again, but I was never successful.

Camp ended and I went home.  Back to the everyday, normal, life of a
girl my age.  Dad went to work each morning and Mom worked around the
house.  My brother and I fought, like any other siblings, and drove
Mom nuts.

For the next two years things went along pretty smoothly.  Don't get
me wrong; my interest in peeking at other people was still strong,
maybe even a little stronger.  Up until I was twelve I was mainly
interested in other girls.  Boys were a scourge and of no interest to
me.  I spent a lot of time trying to catch Mom in various states of
undress, walking into her bedroom without knocking, or complaining
that I just had to use her bathroom, because my brother was in ours,
when she was in the shower.

On one such occasion, I went into the bathroom and while I was
sitting on the pot, noticed a small white string dangling between my
mother's legs.  When I asked her about it, she wrapped a towel around
her, tucked the corner between her ample breasts and proceeded to
explain some of the facts of life.  I was in a state of shock and
disbelief when she was finished, after all, all I wanted was to know
about the string.

That summer, I was blessed with my first period.  It came on a warm
sunny Florida day, while I was swimming at my girlfriend's house.
She and I were splashing around in the warm pool when she drew
attention to the pink water that was around my bottom.  I had been
feeling poorly that day, stomach-cramps and all, but I had no idea
why...now I knew!

I climbed out of the pool, wrapped a towel around my waist, and ran
home crying.  When I got into the house and found Mom, she hugged me
and said something about being a woman now.  After she calmed me down
and convinced me everything was normal.  She led me into the
bathroom, told me to shower, and said she would be right back.

When I got out of the shower, Mom was waiting for me.  In one hand
she held a pair of clean white cotton panties, in the other,
something I had never seen before.  Mom helped me dry off and showed
me how to stick the thick pad in the gusset of my panties and adjust
it.  She told me about checking the pad, changing the pad, and the
odor that I may experience.

For the next four days, I seldom left my bedroom and never left the
house.  The first two days of my first period, I checked the pad
every hour or so, and changed it every other time.  Mom asked me how
I could have used an entire box of the pads in only two days and when
I told her, she couldn't control her laughter.  I asked her about
tampons, the things with the strings, but she told me that I couldn't
use them until I was older.

Needless to say, I made it through my "time of the month" unharmed
and finally had enough nerve to return to Cindy's house.  When I told
her about what happened, she laughed and told me she had gotten hers
a few months ago.  We went swimming again that afternoon, but now I
was a woman.  I really didn't feel much different than I did before,
but somehow things would never be the same.

My twelfth year was full of surprises.  Not only did I have my first
period, but my body began to transform from the chubby little girl I
was, into something I wasn't sure I was ready for.  My waist began to
become a bit more slender and my hips were no longer parallel with my
sides.  The baby fat, as Mom called it, began to melt away and my
body started to take shape, the shape of a girl.  Because of my
height, I though I looked gangly.

The thing that made me the most self-conscious was my breasts.  It
was like one day I was flat as a board and the next day I woke up
with these growths on my chest.  I can remember standing in my
bedroom, the door tightly locked, and staring at my reflection in the
mirror.  I bounced on the balls of my feet and watched how my boobs
giggled, or at least I thought they did.

The other startling discovery I made that year came when I touched
my boobs.  I was standing in front of the mirror, something that was
becoming a habit, and covered them with my hands.  I gently squeezed
them, feeling their spongy texture, and then it happened.  I rubbed
the tiny nipples that topped my cone-shaped boobs and it felt like
someone gave me a shock.  Only the sparks weren't only in my breasts,
there was a strange tingle was between my legs too!  I immediately
pulled my hands away and got dressed, fearing that there was
something dreadfully wrong with me.  From that point on, at least for
a little while, I avoided any and all contact with the small pink
bumps.  My crotch was another story, I was still rubbing myself down
there, and trying to relive the sensation I felt at camp.

Up until this point, things were okay for me.  Then it happened!
Now I don't know if all pre-teen girls are subjected to the
embarrassment and humiliation I was that night, but what happened to
me was burnt into my brain for a long time to come.  We were at the
dinner table eating just like we did every night.  Mom had prepared
meatloaf, potatoes, and corn.  School was only a few weeks away and
Mom was making a big deal of the fact that my brother and I would be
starting middle school that year.  Because of when our birthdays
fell, my brother and I were is the same grade, despite our difference
in age. My dad and brother listened to my mother talking about the
classes.  Neither of them stopped eating as Mom went on and on, but
then it happened.

My brother Eddie is eleven months older than I am.  He, like all
brothers, was a pain and constantly teased me about one thing or
another.  My parents had Eddie when Mom was seventeen and Dad was
nineteen.  I loved the month of October, because for thirty days I
was the same age as my brother.

"Harry," Mom said to my father.  "I think Jennifer is going to need
a bra this year."

I wanted to crawl under the table!  How could she say such a thing
with my dad and brother sitting at the table?  Why couldn't she just
have gone out, bought me one and given it to me in private?

My eyes filled with tears and I covered my beet-red face with my
hands.  I was so shocked that I couldn't have talked even if I had
wanted to, but there was nothing to say.  My mother had just
embarrassed me beyond compare, or so I thought at the time.

My brother Eddie choked on his food and almost spit what was in his
mouth across the table.

"What does Jen need a bra for?"  Eddie said laughing.  "She ain't
got no tits."

My head snapped up and I was about to scream at my brother when my
mother had the audacity to correct his English.

"She doesn't have any tits," she said.

When my death stare shifted from my brother to Mom, she realized
what she had said and tried to make things better.

"Oh honey," Mom said, her face flush, "I didn't mean you don't have
any breasts, I was only trying to correct your brother's English.
Your breasts are just fine."

My dad was doing everything he could to keep from laughing.  He
covered his mouth with his napkin, I'm sure to hide his smile, and
looked away.

Crying, I pushed my chair away from the table, jumped up, and
yelled, "Stop talking about my tits!  Just leave me alone!"

I ran from the kitchen, went to my room, and locked my door.  I
threw myself onto my bed and cried out loud.  When I heard a knock at
my door, I yelled at who ever it was to go away.  Mom tried to get me
to open my door, but I didn't.  For the rest of the night I remained
in my bedroom, feeling sorry for myself.

Bright and early the next morning Mom was back at my door, knocking
and calling my name.

"Please open the door, Jenny," she said, in that voice only a mother
can have.

Knowing I couldn't avoid her forever, I got up from my bed, unlocked
the door, and let her in.  I was still dressed in the shorts and the
sleeveless shirt I was wearing the night before, having cried myself
to sleep.  When I sat on the edge of my bed, Mom sat next to me, put
her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

"Are you okay now, Jenny?"  She asked.

Tears began to fill my eyes again and I nodded.  "How could you do
that to me?  Why did you have to talk about my underwear in front of
Dad and Eddie?  Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for
me?"

"I know, sweetie, I'm so sorry.  I guess I wasn't thinking about
what I was saying."

Mom stroked my long, dark-blonde hair, dragging her fingers through
it.  The ponytail I normally kept my hair in was gone, the scrunchy
lost somewhere in my bed.

"You know," she said, "getting boobs is just part of growing up.
All girls get them at some point; you're just developing a little
faster than other girls your age.  It seemed to have happened so fast
for you I didn't really realize it.  If I had, I would have done
something sooner."

We sat on my bed talking for over an hour.  She told me about when
she got her first bra and how embarrassed she was when my grandmother
took her to the store.  I was getting over my melancholy mood when
she told me a story that turned my tears to those of laughter rather
than sadness.

She told me about having to buy a jock strap and cup for my older
brother last year so he could play soccer.  Not only did she tell me
about the trip to the sporting goods store, she told me what the
thing was for.  Then she gave me another one of those talks, you
know, kind of the birds and bees type of talk.  She tried to explain
the male anatomy and even talked about its function.  To tell the
truth, it was much more information than I really wanted, at the time
anyway.

After our talk, Mom told me to get cleaned up, put on some nice
clothes and we would go shopping.  I showered, dressed in a skirt and
blouse and went out to the kitchen.  After eating a bowl of cereal
and drinking a glass of juice, we were off to the mall.

Mom took me to one of the nicer stores at the mall, not the discount
stores we usually shopped at.  My parents weren't cheap by any
stretch; Dad had a great job as a yacht designer and made a real good
living.  My parents were just thrifty.  They couldn't see spending a
lot of money on clothing that my brother and I were just going to
outgrow.

After the day of shopping at the stores we went in, I knew that I
would never be satisfied with Kmart again.  Mom led me to the
lingerie department and we searched the racks for my new underwear.
When I found a training bra and showed it to her, she shook her head
no.

"What's wrong with this?"  I asked holding the garment.  "Cindy
wears one just like it."

Mom took it from me, looked it over and returned it to the rack.
The training bra was nothing more than a two and a half inch strip of
bright white material with shoulder straps.  She pulled me by the arm
over to a rack of real bras and began to sort through them.

I also began to look at the bras, noting that they had formed cups,
adjustable shoulder straps and hooks.  Some of the hooks were in the
back, others between the cups.  I continued to look over the
selection until Mom, her hand holding several bras, told me to follow
her.

We went into a dressing area and Mom pointed to a booth.  Handing me
one of the bras, she told me to go put it on and come back out so she
could see it.  I glanced around the dressing room, noticing that it
was nothing like the ones at the discount stores.  It had a row of
booths, each with a curtain and chairs in the common area.  At one
end, a series of mirrors was provided so you could see yourself from
every angle.

I went into the booth, removed my blouse and put on the bra my
mother had given me.  It took several minutes to fasten the thing
behind my back, but I finally was able to find the small eye with the
hook.  I put my shirt back on and went out to see Mom.

"What do you think, Mom," I said as I pushed my shoulders back to
enhance the appearance.

Mom chuckled, stepped in front of me and began to unbutton my white
blouse.  When I asked what she was doing, she said, "I want to see
how it fits, Jenny.  I can't see a thing through your top."

I began to protest but stopped when I saw a woman step out of one of
the booths in a lacy pink bra and a pair of shorts.  My eyes followed
her to the mirrors and watched her as she pulled and twisted the
garment over her breasts.  When she walked back to the booth, I
looked down to see Mom had my blouse open and was pushing it off my
shoulders.

She completely removed my top, tossed it into a chair, and began to
examine the bra and its fit.  She pulled at the small buckles on the
shoulder straps, shortening them.  Much to my surprise, she hooked
her fingers into the cups and ran them over the tops of my boobs.

"This seems a little snug," she said.  "Go and try on this one for
me."

She gave me another bra and waited for me to go change.  I took off
the one I was wearing and slipped my arms into the second one.  After
struggling with the back strap for several moments, I held it in
place and went out to get some assistance from my mother.

"I can't hook this one," I complained.

Mom chuckled again, she seemed to be laughing at me a lot lately,
and grabbed the bra from under my arms.  She pulled the garment off
of me, leaving me nude from the waist up.  Mom showed me how to put
the bra on with the cups at my back, hook it in front, and then twist
it around and put my arms through the shoulder straps.  After
explaining the process, she unhooked it, pulled it off me again, and
told me to try.

As I was fiddling with the thing, a girl about my age walked into
the dressing area with a woman I assumed was her mom.  Instinctively,
I folded my arms over my naked chest to hide my breasts from her
view.  The girl smiled at me, took a bra her mom was holding and went
into a booth.

"Jenny, Jenny, Jenny," I heard my mom say with that annoying mom
laugh.  "What are you going to do in physical education?  Hide in
your locker?"

Right at that moment it dawned on me!  Physical education, I'm going
to be in the seventh grade and I had PE.  I knew that, unlike gym
class in elementary school, you had to shower and change in a locker
room in middle school.  My mind became overloaded with the thought of
other girls seeing me.  Camp was one thing; we were all flat and
hairless at camp.  Now I had boobs and, of all things, a patch of
soft, light colored curls.

"Jenny," Mom said, snapping me out of my trance, "are you okay?"

"Yes, Mom, I was just thinking."

Mom grinned.  Not a smile, but a knowing grin.  I felt my face begin
to warm as I watched her grin give way to a subdued chuckle.  How
could she know what I was thinking?

"You aren't the first twelve year old that had to go to middle
school, young lady.  Believe it or not, I was twelve once too."

"Yeah but," I began.

"Yeah but nothing," she said.  "When I was your age my boobs weren't
half as big as yours.  Your grandmother had to buy me a training bra
so I would stop crying, not that I needed one."

I giggled and said, "Really Mom, what happened?"

"I turned fourteen!  All of a sudden I went from flat, to stacked.
When I went into the ninth grade, I was a thirty-four B.  I got
snapped so many times in the ninth grade that I thought that there
would be a permanent mark across my back."

"Snapped?"

Mom hooked her finger into the back strap of my bra, pulled back a
couple of inches and let it go.  The elastic band slapped across my
skin, making a loud crack and making me flinch.

"Snapped," she giggled.

She adjusted the second bra, tested the cups with her fingers and
said, "I think we have the right size, you're a twenty-eight A.  Go
and take this off and we'll go and pick out a few more."

When I came out of the booth dressed in my blouse and holding the
bra, I saw the other girl with her mom.  She was enduring the same
punishment, which I had been subjected to.  I giggled under my breath
as I watched her mom pulling at the bra while she tried in vain the
conceal herself.

On the way out to the racks of bras, I mustered as much courage as I
could and said to Mom, "Do I have to get all white ones?"

Again with the grin and chuckle, Mom shook her head no.  We searched
the racks, first for size, then for style and finally color.  Mom
pulled out a padded version of the style she liked for me, held it up
for my inspection and put it back.

"You're not going to need any padding, not for long anyways.
Besides, I think a natural look is better, don't you?"

I nodded my head, but I had no idea what she was talking about.
Boobs were boobs and the difference in how they looked was only size
as far as I was concerned.

After selecting a couple of white, a light blue flowered and a pink
bra, Mom shocked me and took a black one from the rack.  She added it
to the items in her hand and headed to the panties.

My mind shot back to camp and the senior scout with her black bra
and panties.  I would have never guessed that Mom would pick one out
for me.  I followed her to the panties and watched as she matched the
bras.  She was selecting panties that were made of nylon and had lace
on them, not the cotton underwear I was so used to.  In a bold move,
I hunted until I found a pair of black lace panties, cut high on the
sides, and handed them to Mom.

Mom held up the garment, turned it back and forth several times and
added it to the others, this time without a grin or chuckle.  When
she was finished in the lingerie department, she took me to pick out
a few skirts, shorts, and tops.  After paying for the items, we
headed for home.

We pulled into the driveway of our split ranch house and went
through the garage into the kitchen.  We moved into the house several
years ago, after Dad got a new job at one of the bigger yacht
builders.  The master bedroom, my parents' room, was off the kitchen
and dining area.  I had to cross the large living room to get to the
alcove that had doors to my room, my brother's room, and a bathroom.

When standing in the small alcove facing the bathroom, my bedroom
was to the right and my brother's to the left.  If I wasn't careful
and left my door open, Eddie could see into my room from his.

I carried my new clothing into my room, dropped the bags on the bed,
and called my girlfriend Cindy.

"You just have to come over and see what Mom bought me for school,
Cindy.  I got new clothes and they are so cool."

While I waited for Cindy, I cut the tags off my new things and
matched the bras with the panties.  I placed them carefully on my bed
and arranging them as if they were on display.  Mom came into my room
and watched me for several moments before leaving to start lunch.

I sat at the small desk in the corner of my bedroom thinking about
the shopping trip, the girl and her mom and my new black undies.  I
considered changing into one of my new bra and panty sets before
Cindy arrived, but decided against it.

I heard the front door slam and knew that my brother was home for
lunch.  I listened for the television and soon music, from one of the
video channels, was blaring out of the living room.

I went out to watch television and wait for Cindy to arrive, sitting
on the floor with my back against the couch.  Eddie was sitting
sideways in Dad's recliner, his legs dangling over the arm.

I picked up a teen magazine and thumbed through the pages, listening
to the music.  When Mom called to tell us lunch was ready, I closed
my magazine and put it back on the floor.  Eddie must not have
noticed that I had put down the book, because I caught him staring up
my skirt.

This wasn't the first time I caught him stealing glances at me, he
seemed to be doing it all the time, but this is the first time I
didn't yell at him.  I felt all funny in my stomach and kind of
tingled at the thought of my brother looking at my cotton panties
under my short skirt.

Without saying a word, I got up, very un-lady like I might add, and
went into the kitchen.  I wondered how my brother would react when he
looked under my skirt and saw me in my new panties.

After I finished my lunch and put my dishes in the sink, I went back
out to the living room.  I picked my magazine back up and started to
read an article on make-up.  I pushed my skirt down between my legs
and clamped them closed so there was no way my brother could see up
it.  While I read, I kept glancing up to see if Eddie was trying to
look up my skirt.  Each time I peered over the magazine, I could see
his eyes darting from the television to me and back.

When I heard the doorbell, I jumped up and went to answer it.  I
invited Cindy in and led her to my bedroom.  Once we were both
inside, I closed the door.

Cindy went over to my bed and stared down at my new clothing, paying
careful attention to the bras and panties.  She picked up the black
one, I knew she would, and held it up by the shoulder straps.

"Twenty-eight A," she read from the tag in back.  "I didn't know
your boobies were that big, Jen."

I shrugged my shoulders and giggled as she rubbed the silky nylon
material between her thumb and forefinger.  She folded the black bra,
placed it on the bed and picked up the matching panties.

"Your mom is going to let you wear these?"  She asked.

"She let me buy them," I replied.

"I would love to be able to wear these, but my mom still makes me
wear dumb old cotton panties.  I do have a bra though."  Cindy said
as she dropped the panties and lifted her shirt.  "It's only a
training bra, not like your new ones."

Blushing slightly and seeing an opportunity to compare my friend's
boobs to mine, I said, "You can try mine on if you want to."

"Really?"  Cindy said, and quickly pulled her tee shirt over her
head, followed by her white training bra.

I can remember giggling as I watched her try to hook the bra behind
her back and telling her what my mom had taught me at the store.  I
stared at her tiny breasts, as she fastened the bra hooks and twisted
it into place; they were much smaller than mine.  Her boobs were not
much more than exaggerated nipples, the same as mine were only a few
months before.

Standing in front of my mirror, Cindy looked at how the bra covered
her chest and poked at the soft cups.

"Too big for me," she said.  "My boobies have to grow some more
before I can wear something like this."

"You don't have to worry," I told Cindy, mimicking my mother.  "They
will."

Cindy took off my new black bra and folded it.  She placed it back
on the bed and continued looking at my new wardrobe, still topless.
I had a little trouble with her lack of shyness, but I did enjoy the
view.

"Why don't you put one of your bras on so I can see how it looks on
you?"  Cindy suggested,

I considered her request and then began to unbutton my blouse.  I
picked up my blue flowered bra, slipped it on and fastened it between
the lace-trimmed cups.  Turning slowly, I modeled the bra for her,
allowing her to have a good look and my larger breasts.

"That looks hot on you, Jenny, I can't wait to get boobs."

Leaving the new bra on, I put my top back on and Cindy also
redressed.  We left my room, leaving my new things on the bed and
went out to the kitchen.  After telling my mom we were leaving, Cindy
and I headed out into the neighborhood.  We walked up to the park
that was a little over a block form my house and sat on the swings.
We talked about the upcoming school year and, for the first time,
boys.

After all, we were going to be in middle school now.  In our minds,
that meant parties and school dances, and maybe even a boyfriend.  We
sat on the swings, talked for over two hours, and then decided to go
home.

Over the next few weeks, life was pretty mundane.  Get up, swim or
hang out with Cindy, eat dinner, watch television, go to bed.  In
fact, the only thing that was really any different is that Eddie
found out I was wearing a bra.

Just as Mom had told me, I got snapped.  Almost every time the brat
walked behind me, he pulled back on my bra strap and snapped it
against my back.  I, in turn, would spin around and take a swing at
him, connecting with his arm half the time.  Mom and Dad yelled at
us, but it didn't stop either one of us from playing what had turned
into a game.  Once in a while, I would go without my bra and laugh at
my brother when he grabbed and found nothing to snap.

School was going to start in two days.  Cindy and I had gone to the
park to sit on the swings and talk about our favorite subject, boys.
We discussed what so and so would look like this year and if you know
who was still going with what's her name.  That afternoon, Cindy
asked me a question that almost made me fall off my perch.

"Jen," she said, and then hesitated.  "Have you ever seen Eddie
naked?"

I thought about her question for a few minutes.  When was the last
time I saw my brother naked?

"No, not since we were real young.  Why?"

"Oh, I was just wondering how big his thing was."

"What thing, Cindy?  What are you talking about?"

"You know," she said pointing to her crotch, "his thing!  I wonder
how big it is."

"I don't know, and I don't care, Cindy."

"Okay, I was just wondering."

We ended the day and walked home together.  I left Cindy at her
house and continued down the block to mine.  Inside, Mom was fixing
dinner and Eddie was watching television, slumped in the chair as
usual.  As I walked past him, I glanced at his shorts.  Cindy's
question had raised my curiosity to a new level and now I did wonder
about my brother and his thing.

That night I lay in bed with visions of the male anatomy running
through my head.  I remember seeing my brother naked when we used to
bathe together, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember exactly
what his genitals looked like.  My mind conjured up all kinds of
images, but I couldn't be sure just what the thing, as Cindy called
it, looked like.  I thought to myself that it was important to find
out, after all, I was in middle school now and I didn't want to look
stupid amongst my classmates.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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