I've always know Samantha, she lives next door and is three years younger than me. She always has been that scrawny brat that followed me about, getting in the way or the girl I would sit upon and tickle until she cried. The seasons changed and unknown to me she had grown up and now has gentle curves. You know how it is, you see someone every day, and you fail to notice the changes in them.

This fishing hole was one of my best-kept secrets and I knew that we wouldn't be disturbed on this hot August day. We lay on the riverbank, our lines forgotten as Sam and I dozed in the bright sunlight. I glanced over to her reclining figure; I noticed, to aid her own cooling, her fingers had slowly un-pop one, two then three top buttons on her denim shirt. Slowly my dulled brain took in the sight, between the gap at the front of her shirt was the unmistakably swell of breasts. When did that happen? I asked myself, surely I would have noticed, it's something I usually do, I'm always leaching at any girl who walks by. I laid there thinking about this girl I've known all my life, her very short fiery red hair, freckles over her face and shoulders, scrawny body. I looked over to her again, update that, her body seemed to have filled out somewhat; her Jeans now were filled with shapely legs. And on top of it all, she has tits.

Looking at her prone body made my own Jeans feel tight, I was getting a hardon just looking at Sam; no I couldn't be, but I was. You could never accuses me of being backwards, It would often gets me in trouble, jumping in when the proper course of action would be to wait and see. I rolled over towards her, taking a grip of both her wrists, I pulled them up above her head. Over the years, we have often fought together so my behaviour was not out of the ordinary.

"Get off," she said in a light hearted way, her eyes remaining closed, "it's too hot."

Up close, I could see what I had missed, the gentle swell of her tits under her opened shirt, her small waist, then the flare of her hips. Damm it, if she didn't look good. Holding her wrist secure with my left hand, my right's middle figure moved down from her throat, through the gap in her shirt, between her small tits until it's further progress was halted by the next button. At this point her eyes snapped open.

"Stop that," she barked, her voice held just a touch of panic. My fingers played with this next button, rolling it around.

"Please don't," she said in a pleading voice, her eyes wide open staring at me.

I've never taken any notice of her pleading before and I was not going to start now. The last two buttons became undone under my fingers.

"No please," she said with a hint of a tear in her voice.

I now popped the large button at the front of her Jeans, with this undone, her shirt could easily be pulled out and I flipped it open. My, oh my what a sight. My right hand cupped each small mound in turn, my thumb flicking each nipple.

"Please no," she said, her eyes now tightly shut, but I wasn't going to stop now. My hand left her small tits and moved south, over her flat middle and then under her Jeans and Knickers to her pussy.

"No, no, you mustn't," her tears starting to run down her face.

Although her thighs were clamped tight I managed to force my middle finger into her hot and very wet pussy.

"No, oh no, please," she said very quietly now, almost a whisper, her hips moving against my hand to increase the friction. Then suddenly she stopped moving and a soft cry left her lips, she had come. I let go of her wrists and removed my finger from her knickers. Instantly she rolled into a foetal ball and cried. I looked down at her, I suddenly felt lost in her grief, I had made her cry hundreds of time before and laughed about it, but this time it was different somehow. I put my arms around her and cradled her as she wept.

Minutes passed and her tears dried, she unrolled and moved back onto her back.

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping a tear away.

"What! why are you sorry?" I asked.

"I know you were just being nice," she sniffed, "and there me being horrible to you. I'm know too skinny, and my boobs are too small," her tears starting again. "I should be grateful you even consider touching me." I pulled the two halves of her shirt apart again to reveal her tits.

"You have beautiful tits," I said truthfully, "as for the rest, it looks ok to me, but I let you know when I've seen more."

"You just saying that," she said her tears flowing again, "all my life I've loved you and now when it really matters, you're make fun of me again."

"I'm serious," I said massaging her small tits to empathise my words. Her arms suddenly grabbed me and held me tight.

"I hope you're serious, but if you're lying to me, please, please don't ever stop, ok," her small voice muffled by my shoulder.

We stayed like that until the sun sank low in the sky.

"Time to pack up," I said.

"Yeah," she smiled at me, I watched with interest as she buttoned up her shirt and Jeans.

"Did you mean it, you know, about my boobs?" she looked shyly at me.

"Sure Sam," I said, "now look at me, you are beautiful, ok," I said forcefully, and she was. Her eyes lowered, but a small smile crossed her pretty face.

"Thanks," she said softly.

"From now on you're my girl, ok," I said meaning it; her face came up with a snap.