She was being a pushy bitch again ... grrrrr. My sister, 4 years older than me and absolutely gorgeous - a classice brunette bombshell.
I first saw her naked (fully), after she screamed, and bolted out of the downstairs bathroom on her way past the living room doorway to fly up the stairs to her room. Apparently spiders are a mortal enemy of hers and she’s spotted one in the bathroom somewhere. Ya gotta love panic ... it makes for some really great scenery - ‘specially when it’s naked - wow.
I have a picture of when I was 5 or 6 and she would have been 9 or 10 - I forget which. But I remember really clearly the incident where she play wrestled with me and ended up on top of me with my hands pinned above my head. Yup, the rest of us both were in the classic female superior position ... and we both realized it in the same moment. I could see it in her eyes when she realized her younger brother had an erection and her pussy was pressing on it! Mom thought it was so ‘cute’ (she was not aware of what was going in with our groins) and took the flash picture that had both our faces turned towards her as she snapped it. I spent years hating that picture ... until I got old enough and knowledgable enough to realize what was going on.
Our family always used our vacation to travel from where ever we lived to the East Coast to spend the summer on my Uncles’ (two uncles) farm - complete with lots and lots of dairy cows, a huge pig shed and some noisy, nasty chickens. Mom grew up there and always had fond memories of being barefoot and stepping in warm cow plops ... really. I still think it sounds pretty gross 60 years later. Mom passed a few years ago from her body failing due to advanced dementia. Dad, bless his heart, never put her in a institution. He looked after her for years as she deteriorated and then died. I think it’s safe to say that the only person who I really truly loved was that woman who dominated my dad and our family. She made him adopt me at the ripe old age of 4 years. Anybody who has been in the system knows what that means ... orphanages, foster homes and systemic misery - always having that faint unbelieving hope that someone will come along and like you enough to adopt you when you really know in your heart that you’re a lifer.
Well I got my miracle at age 4 - the three of them Mom, Sis and dad showed up at the foster home to check the dozen or so kids and picked me. I found out many years later that Mom and Sis were the instigating driving force behind this. Dad, as all good husbands do, simply aquiesed with ‘yes dear’. You see, Mom could not have anymore kids as sis’s birth had messed her up and she had to have a hystectomy. Plan B was me and that avoided any chance of a second daughter instead of a son.
Dad was military and so we moved pretty much every 2-3 years. This meant that the ex-foster kid (me) had no chance to really make real friends before we were on our way to a new miltary base. Little wonder that I learned to keep to myself and keep a sharp eye out for bullies. Dad was no help as he was gone ‘on-duty’ for months at a time. I can only remember him playing with me once in all those years ... he tried to play catch with me and when I demonstrated that Little League was clearly not in my future, he went inside our house, never to try again.