Chapter 6

One of the things I didn’t know about Tabby was that she wanted to know what it felt like for a boy to see her naked. She hadn’t told anybody about this ... it was just there. Like most girls, she thought she was very plain, at best, and probably ugly, at worst. She knew that if some boy saw her naked, she’d find out, but that was about as far as her little fantasy went. When my project came along, though, and she realized her brother would be that boy...

That was another thing I didn’t know about Tabby. She thought I was the best brother a girl could have. She sure didn’t tell anybody about that, especially me! But she saw how her friends’ brothers treated them, which was probably normal for any boy who didn’t live in a house full of women, and she wasn’t impressed. She just naturally compared them to me, who did live in a house full of women. And, when you live in a house full of women ... the women just naturally come first.

It wasn’t that I tried to give her what she wanted, or anything like that. But peaceful coexistence sort of required that I be respectful, most of the time, anyway, toward all those women, and Tabby was just one of them. Don’t get me wrong. We argued and had spats and all that, just like all brothers and sisters do, but, at least to her, they seemed very minor, and she felt lucky that I acted like I did. She talked to all those girls, including the ones I was interested in, or took to a dance or whatever. All she ever got from them was good reports on my behavior, which was also not what they said about other boys.

She also knew I was smarter than most guys my age. She was forever coming to me with her homework, which was sometimes difficult for her, and always easy for me. I didn’t do it for her. I just explained it in terms she could understand. I found out later that, while Tabby was at Mandy Simpson’s house, Mandy asked her older brother for help with math, and he laughed and said he hoped they held her back when she flunked out. Tabby brought the homework to me, and I didn’t tumble to the fact that it wasn’t hers, and helped her. She knew the answer, but she had to be sure, because it was Mandy’s homework. Stuff like that had caused her to have very strong feelings for me.

And, she was afraid that I’d think she was ugly. When all the other women started acting goofy, after being in mom’s room with me, the terror of it all got to her and she just flat refused to do it.

My mom didn’t want to traumatize Tabitha, so she came up to my room, where I was putting on new shorts. Thank goodness my old ones were piled in such a way that she couldn’t see the gooey white mess that was in them.

I forgot about her nose.

Anyway, there she was, with this funny look on her face, sounding like she was coming down with a cold.

“Tabby doesn’t want you to take her picture,” she said.

I was in no shape to put up any fuss. As far as I was concerned, one of the best things in the world ... or one of the worst ... had just happened to me.

“Okay,” I said, buttoning my third pair of shorts for the day.

“I don’t want you to tease her about this,” said my mother.

“Okay,” I said.

“I mean it, Pat!”

“Okay!” I almost shouted.

She sniffled a little more and turned around and left.

It was still an hour from bedtime, but I just stayed there, in my room, reading. I was so relaxed. I’d cum before, lots of times, but there is some kind of difference between beating off, and shooting in your pants while your first pair of naked breasts are pressed to your naked chest. I was drowsing off to sleep, about to turn off my reading lamp, when the door opened.

It was Tabby. She was dressed for bed, which meant a T shirt and panties.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“Nope,” I said. I had promised not to tease her, and I wasn’t going to.

“How come?” she asked.

Just like a sister. Not being mad at her isn’t good enough. You have to explain why you’re not mad at her.

“I respect your wishes,” I said.

I told you I was a genius. Sometimes, when you’re a genius, the right thing just oozes out of your brain, even when you’re not trying.

Of course, at that moment, I thought I had screwed up big time. Tears started rolling down her cheeks, which disgusted me, because I now knew I wasn’t going to get to fall gently asleep, thinking of Aunt Christy’s luscious breasts pressing against me. Instead, Tabby was going to bawl, which would bring mom, and punishment.

Then she did something that just blew me away. She ran across the room and practically climbed on top of me, moaning about how much she loved me, and what a wonderful brother I was, and how lucky she was and all that.

I was still nervous. Anybody who happened to walk by the room would think we were fighting. They might think she was winning, but, under the circumstances, that still wouldn’t do me any good at all.

Then what she was saying got through to my brain. I gave her a half-hearted hug back.

“Hey,” I said softly. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.” I tried to make a joke. “Are you sure you have the right brother?”

She sat up, looking affronted.

“You’re the only brother I have!” she said.

Shades of Aunt Christy. Tabitha could be very literal too.

“You want to tell me what this is all about?” I asked her.

“No,” she moaned. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“I promise not to laugh at you,” I said, crossing my chest with an index finger. I should have realized how worked up she was about this. She took my word for it, just like that!

“They all talk about you, you know,” she said.

“Who does?”

“Mom, and Aunt Vanessa and Randi ... even Grandma!” She looked half confused, and half like she was telling some deep, dark secret.

“What do they say?” I asked. This was interesting, now.

“They keep saying things about how grown up you are, all of a sudden.” She frowned. “It scares me.”

“Why would me being grown up scare you?” I asked.

We had finally hit a point she wasn’t so anxious to talk about.

“I’m just a girl. They’re all grown up women!”

“Okay,” I said carefully. I couldn’t very well tell her she was all grown up too. She was only fifteen. She looked like a woman, but I knew she wasn’t quite there yet.

“Nobody would want to see me,” she said, her voice pouty.

Aha! I understood at last. She was having self confidence issues. I figured that would be the easiest thing in the world to deal with.

“You, dear sister, are quite wrong about that,” I said confidently.

“Why?” she asked.

Again, I said the right thing, without even knowing it. I lied, but it was the right thing to say. “Because, dear sister, I have had to threaten dire things to at least ten guys, all of whom were plotting to rob you of your innocence.”

She believed me.

“Ten?!” she whispered in awe.

“At least ten,” I said, uneasily.

“Who were they?” she asked, excitedly. She leaned forward. I swear her eyes sparkled.

I was in trouble now. “I can’t tell you that. I warned them off, and they agreed to give you a couple of years before they’d even think about you again. We have a pact, of sorts, and I can’t break that by telling you who they are. It’s the guy code.”

I really am a genius. I have the test scores to prove it. That doesn’t mean everything that comes out of my mouth is intelligent.

She slumped. “You’re lying. Nobody wants to see me naked.” Her voice said she believed that firmly.

“Aw, come on, Tabby,” I said. “You’re cute. In fact, you’re a babe. If you weren’t my sister I’d be all over you.”

Sometimes the things that come out of my mouth are positively stupid.

She looked at me very seriously. “You’re my brother. You’re not allowed to think about me like that.”

“I don’t think about you like that, as my sister,” I tried. “I think about you like that as me being just a guy, and you being just a girl.”

Could I possibly dig myself any deeper?

Of course, I didn’t know how she thought about me, which wasn’t all that much different than the silly thing I had just said.

“Oh, okay, then,” she said.

I didn’t goggle at her, but it was only by accident.

“I just get afraid that, if you see me, you’ll laugh, or something. I couldn’t take it if you laughed at me.” She was being very serious, and I knew it.

“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I said. “You’re a Turner woman, after all.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“It means that all the other Turner women have been hotties,” I said, honestly.

“You mean, when they’re showing you their boobs,” she said.

“I mean then, and after that, when they get dressed again,” I said, again, honestly.

“They all acted weird, after you took their pictures,” said my little sister.

“What do you mean?”

She described what they’d said, and how Aunt Vanessa fanned her face.

“And Aunt Christy! I swear she took Uncle Danny home to have sex with him!”

“You’re right,” I said, unthinkingly.

“How do you know?” she asked, that same look on her face, leaning forward.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” I said, uncomfortably. “But I can tell you that she said she was going to do that.”

“I knew it!” she hissed. “And all the others ... they acted like they were horny! Even Grandma!”

“I guess it’s pretty hard to show your breasts to a man and not feel a little horny about it,” I said. I liked talking about myself as a man.

“That’s what worries me,” said Tabby. “I’m afraid you’ll think I’m too small, or that they’re ugly or something.

“You want to know something about guys?” I asked her.

She nodded.

“Guys like boobs.” I looked at her. “It’s just that simple. There might be some idiot out there who might not fall in love with your boobs, but I doubt seriously that you could find him, even if you tried.”

“Do you really think so?” she asked.

“I want to see them,” I said, testing the waters.

“For your project,” she said.

“No, just to see them. I’ve wanted to see them for years.”

“Get out!” she whispered.

“But you don’t have to,” I said. “That’s the important thing for you to remember. You don’t have to show them to me, or anybody else. And if some guy ever does try to get rough with you, you just let me know, cause I’ll tear him up.”

“I’ll show them to you,” she said, suddenly firm again.

“You don’t have to,” I said.

“I want to,” she said firmly. “As long as you don’t laugh at them,” she added, worry back in her voice.

“You want to know a secret?” I asked.

“Yes,” Eager was back.

“You can’t tell anybody,” I warned. “You especially can’t tell Mom that I told you, and Randi, you can’t tell her either.”

“Why not?” she asked.

“You’ll know when I tell you,” I said. “Promise?”

She looked guarded, for a few seconds and then shrugged. “Okay.”

“When I took pictures of them ... I got a hardon.” I let that hang there.

She stared at me, her eyes going round, and showing more and more white.

“You did?” she whispered.

“Every one,” I said. “Even Grandma.”

“If you’re lying I’ll never speak to you again, I swear!” she warned me.

“Tabby, what I’m trying to tell you is that the Turner women are babes. You are a Turner woman. If you show me your boobs, I’m probably going to get a hardon for you too.”

I let that hang there.

She looked down at the front of my shorts. I hadn’t taken them off yet.

“If I showed them to you right now, would you ... you know?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, honestly. “This is kind of sudden. I had all day to think about seeing the others, and then ... there they were.”

“But you might?” Her voice was almost pleading.

I nodded.

She stood up and whipped off her T shirt. Just like that. Her panties were high rise bikini’s too, but were plain blue cotton. They puffed out in front, looking a little odd. Tabby’s breasts were most like Aunt Christy’s, being round, like they had pushed the skin straight out. They were smaller, about the size of a softball, cut in half. She didn’t so much have nipples, as she had big, pink mounds on the tips. I could see that there was something in the middle, but it wasn’t formed. Those nipple mounds were about the size of a ping pong ball, cut in half.

As my eyes bounced around, noticing that she had definite hips, with a smaller waist, I also saw her face. She was biting her lower lip, between her teeth. She leaned forward, and her strawberry blond hair fell down, and hung to the tops of her breasts.

“Wow,” I said.

“Wow?” her tone was plaintive.

“You’re definitely a Turner woman,” I said softly.

It was her smile that made me hard. Well, her smile finished off what her body had started.

She looked at my groin. “Is it... ?” Her voice held anguish.

“You sure you want to see?” I asked.

She nodded furiously, and her breasts, which looked so hard, like Aunt Christy’s bobbed on her chest. I wondered if they felt as soft as Aunt Christy’s. I unbuttoned my shorts and slid them down, lifting my butt. I moved my right leg up and used my right foot to kick them off. Then I lay flat. The dowel rod was there, in my underwear, but it was lying sideways.

She pointed. “Is that it? Right there?”

I nodded.

“And it wasn’t hard? Before?”

“Not until you took your shirt off,” I said.

“Can I...” She didn’t finish, but she was Grandma Mona’s granddaughter, so I knew what she meant.

I stuck my thumbs in the waistband of my jockeys, and pushed. Hair showed first, and she gasped.

“You’re sure.” I said.

She nodded again, and her breasts wobbled some more.

I lifted my hips again, and slid my jockeys to my thighs. Then I let my butt back down.

She stared. She was holding her breath, because her chest wasn’t moving. Finally she had to take a breath. Her mouth opened and closed again, about three times in a row. She stepped back, and stood back up, while she backed up toward the door.

“You’re the best brother in the world,” she said softly. “I love you so much.”

“Don’t tell anybody,” I said, meaning what she had just said.

“Oh, I won’t!” she whispered. “They wouldn’t understand. I love you so much, Pat!”

“See you tomorrow,” I said, not sure what had just happened.

“You can take the pictures,” she blurted. “Tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Oooo I love you so much,” she whined.

Then she turned and reached for the door.

“Tabby!“ I whispered as loudly as I dared.

She spun around to see me holding out her T shirt. She grinned, and darted to grab it. She wriggled into it, flashed me another of those killer smiles, and went out the door.

Tabitha had her pragmatic side, as I mentioned before. She thought nothing of coming downstairs the next morning, sitting down at the table, where the rest of us were eating, and announcing: “I changed my mind. Pat can take pictures of me today.”

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