Chapter 1

As I looked out the plane window, watching the sage brown Southern Californian hills of my home disappear into the low clouds, I felt a strange mixture of anxiety, excitement and more than a little resentment.

You see, until about my 16th birthday the previous autumn, I had always been the "husky" kid with glasses that got picked last for every pick-up soccer/baseball/football game played in the neighborhood. But beginning just before my junior year in high school, I made a concerted effort to get in shape. I was the oldest of three – two sisters just behind me in age – Ariel at 15 and Melinda at 13 – and Ariel and my mother had begun using a yoga dvd every day. Partly because I knew I needed the flexibility and strength, and partly because of the lithe yet full-breasted yoga instructor on the screen, I started joining the two of them for 45 minutes of yoga every day.

While the painful positions kept my nether regions from responding to the skin-tight leotard of the instructor on the screen, my body responded to this exercise in a way I hadn't expected. I began to crave exercise the way I'd previously craved Doritos. I started running just after sunrise every day, followed by Yoga with Mom and Ariel. In the afternoons, I pulled an old weight set my Dad used to use and added pumping iron to my agenda.

The flabby love handles and belly began to disappear, my shoulders began to broaden and I just felt more 'alive' than I'd ever been. This combined with about two more inches in height changed my appearance drastically. By the time school started, friends that hadn't seen me over the summer couldn't believe the change in my physique.

While the improvement in my body was tangible, inside, I was pretty much the same guy. I was a band geek, not a jock and I hung out with non-popular crowd. I noticed that a couple of the more popular girls smiled at me, where before I had been all but invisible.

Up to this point, sex meant masturbation. I'd never even had a date. In October, however, all that changed when I got my license. With my improved physical appearance, I felt bold enough to ask Cherie Brown if she would like to see a movie with me. Cherie was a pretty, though rather straight-laced girl who sat second chair in the Clarinet section in Band.

We had a good time – we got each other's jokes, we liked the same music and shared a mutual opinion about the good and bad teachers at school. On our third date, she let me kiss her, chastely, on the lips. On our fifth date, her tongue darted between my lips as we sat in the car outside her house, and we kissed for about five minutes before the porch light came on and she dashed out the door and up the steps. Each time I touched her, my very-ordinarily-sized johnson leaped to attention. Each date with her ended with me spurting into Kleenex in my bed.

As the year progressed, I continued to work on my body and attempted to see more of Cherie's. Each date, I was disappointed. Finally, after the prom in April, she let me briefly feel her A-cup breast under her shirt (but not under her bra). Prom night, I couldn't even make it home. I had to pull over to the side of the road and spray my seed into a napkin.

In other words, you can look like a jock, but if you don't have the confidence (or the pushiness), you'll still be the same sexually-frustrated teenage band geek you were before ... and frustrated I certainly was...

But Cherie wasn't my only source of sexual frustration. I wasn't entirely honest earlier, when I said the instructor in the Yoga DVD was the reason for me to start practicing with my mother and sister. I felt shame over it, and told myself the reason for the thickening of my cock every time I went into downward dog was because of the instructor, but the real reason for my tumescence was that my mom and my sister were hot. Literally and figuratively.

I guess I was fortunate that my schlong was not as large as the ones I saw on the internet. It made it easier to tuck it inside my tightie-whities so that it wasn't apparent. They each wore as little as possible – in fact, they had a spare room where we could practice, and they put a space heater in there to raise the temperature to about 85 degrees. Sweat pored off all of us.

My sister Arial, though only 15, already had a lovely body. Her hips, clad usually in skin-tight volleyball shorts, had widened delightfully in the last year and the yoga kept her legs and ass smooth and delicious. She typically wore only a sports bra to encase her ripe, round breasts – they were about the size of a half of a grapefruit – and her nipples had a tendency to poke out when she really got warm ... and she got very warm each time we practiced. Her lovely face exuded innocence, especially when she wore her long blonde hair up in a ponytail. She was a walking wet dream to many of the boys in my school, and she was to me too, I'm ashamed to say.