Chapter 1

I enter your room, slump on the bed and groan. You’re sitting on the floor, playing a game on your phone. You look up and smile. ‘Hi, Robert. What’s up?’

‘Dad and Mom have gone to the cinema and I’ve got to baby sit you because Judy’s unavailable. She’s out with a guy on a date.’

You frown. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’d planned to go to my mate’s house. This is stupid. You’re thirteen. It’s not as though you’re going to hurt yourself or burn down the house.’

‘I think it’s the law, isn’t it? I’m too young to be left alone.’

‘Well, so am I, ‘ I spit out. ‘I’m only eighteen months older. Shit!’

You blush and your eyes look down at the floor. ‘Sorry, ‘ you whisper.

Immediately I feel guilty at my outburst. ‘No, Fay, I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I’m sure you’d rather have Judy here. I know you two get on well.’

You’re smiling when you look back up at me. ‘Not at all, prefer being with you. I love when I’m with you, even if you don’t want to spend time with me. I know you think I’m nothing but a child.’

Now you’re making me feel guiltier, because it’s the truth; I do consider you a kid. I don’t know what to say, so I simply shrug. You return to your game, but I still regret upsetting you. ‘You want to watch a DVD?’

‘Oh, yes!’ you shout as you jump up. ‘Can I choose?’

‘Suppose so, but I’m not watching any kiddy stuff.’

But you’re already out the door, rushing down the stairs. When I arrive in the lounge, you’re on your knees searching through the DVD cabinet. I sit down and switch the TV on, but almost immediately you snatch the remote from me and open the DVD feeder. You put the disc in without even telling me what it is, but you look so happy, I don’t want to spoil your fun.

You jump on the sofa and start the DVD. You nestle up to me, pull my arm around you and lie your head on my chest. I’m not sure I want to cuddle my kid sister, but I decide there’s no harm, as long as my mates never find out.

I try to get into the movie, but after half an hour or so, I find my mind wandering. ‘Fay, before I forget, Mom said they won’t be home ‘til late, so don’t forget to have a bath before bed.’

‘OK, ‘ you murmur absent mindedly. Less than a minute later, you pull my arm away, sit up and smile at me. ‘Robert, will you shampoo my hair please?’

‘No, you’re old enough to wash your own hair.’

‘Please, please. Pretty please.’

Your face is pleading and I’m a softie. I sigh and shake my head. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Great!’ you cry as you switch off the DVD.

‘The film hasn’t finished. There’s plenty of time.’ But, as before, you ignore my protest and you’re already out of the door.

I follow at my usual teenager snail pace, so by the time I enter the bathroom, you’re leaning over the bath, swishing the bubbles and your clothes are strewn everywhere. I look at your naked backside and instantly, my peewee begins to harden. It’s not unusual, happens quite often, but I still haven’t learnt exactly why and what I can do about it.

I can’t pull my stare away from your backside as it wiggles with your splashing. ‘You’re kinda cute, Fay.’

You giggle and look back at me. ‘Thank you.’ A minute later, you turn the water off and turn around with your arms outspread. ‘Lift me, Robert.’

I know you’re perfectly able to get in yourself, but for an unknown reason, I want too. I place my hands under your arm pits and lift you up. My eyes are fixed on your chest. I don’t recall noticing you have breasts. I remember Mom buying you a bra and thinking what a waste of money, but now I see the point. I swing you over the side and lower you into the bath. You stand in front of me and, without thinking, I kiss you lightly on the lips.

You lick your lips and give me a weak smile. You blush again, but deeper this time.

My eyes lower to your breasts and I feel my peewee pushing against my jeans, harder than earlier.

You sit and begin to lather the flannel. ‘Wash my back please, Robert.’

I take the flannel from you and wash over your shoulders, but I’m looking over them, gazing at your breasts. Your nipples excite me, even though I don’t know why. You’re my kid sister!

‘I ... I need a bath, as well, ‘ I stutter.

‘Cool!’

‘There’s not a lot of time, so we need to share.’

Your head spins around. You have a broad smile. ‘But earlier, you said there was plenty of time.’

‘Well ... I was wrong. You won’t tell Dad or Mom?’

‘No, of course not, but why not?’

I don’t reply, because I don’t know the answer. I’m sure there’s a good reason to keep it a secret, even though, when we were younger, we always shared a bath. I give you the flannel, pull my t shirt over my head and sit on the rim of the bath to remove my socks. I undo my belt, unzip and tug my jeans and underpants down. My peewee is almost standing upright and you’re staring at it, mouth open. You look up at my face, then quickly look away and stare at the flannel. A blush starts to form, even covering your neck and the top of your breasts.

‘Move forward, Fay.’ You slide forward and I sit behind you, you between my legs. ‘Pass the shampoo.’ I wet your long hair and pour shampoo on the top of your head.

‘When Mom used to bath me, she washed me all over, ‘ you giggle.

I hope that’s a hint, I think as I spread the shampoo through your hair. I find even this action exciting, plus your naked proximity and my peewee is growing, moving up your back.

‘I’ll finish my hair, ‘ you whisper. ‘Will you wash my front?’

‘What about your back?’

You giggle. ‘No, that’s ok. Just my front. Here’s the flannel.’

I ignore it and soap my hands. My mouth is dry and I struggle to utter my response. ‘S’ok. Don’t need it.’ My hands smooth over your tummy and midriff, loving the way the touch of your skin sends a thrill to my peewee. When my fingers move upwards and bathe your breasts, you gasp.

‘You ok?’

You sound breathless as I continue to lather you. I’m in no rush to wash anywhere else. ‘Yes, ‘ you reply. ‘Feel funny, but it’s a nice funny.’

‘You like me washing you, Fay?’

‘Oh wow, yes, it’s so yummy.

‘Your nipples are larger.’

‘Yes, I can see, but how do you know?’

‘I can feel them. Why’s that? What makes them do that?’

‘Don’t know, Robert. Why’s your cock larger?’

‘Why did you call it a cock?’

‘I heard Mummy talking about Grandad’s. So, why’s it grown?’

‘No idea. It does it quite often.’

‘I’d love to see it.’

I’m unsure about showing it, so ignore your comment. I’m shy, yet part of me wants you to see it ... maybe even touch it. Instead I pull on your nipples. Love the feel of them and the strange buzz in my tummy when I do it. ‘Does that hurt, when I tug them?’

‘Oh, no, ‘ you gasp. ‘It feels really nice, makes me tingly.’

There’s silence as I play with them, experimenting with stroking them, pulling and rubbing my fingers over each. I make a mental note on which things make you groan and sigh, and concentrate on doing them again. By now, you’re constantly groaning. You’re lying back on my chest which gives me a perfect view of your nakedness. ‘Wonder if yours will grow as big as Mummy’s’

‘Oh, I hope so. I would love boobies like hers.’

‘I’ve seen Mummy’s uncovered and prefer yours, Fay. Yours stick out, but hers hang down. They’re floppy.’