Chapter 3

I don’t know what Uncle Bob told our mother about Brinn masturbating, but whatever it was, she never said another word to him about it. Of course he knew it had upset her, so he never did it in front of her again. Actually, that’s not exactly true. But that comes much later in the story, so for now I’ll just say he kept it to our bedroom. Of course Shannon and I didn’t mind. It was kind of fun to watch him get all red in the face, and whale away at that penis. He never seemed to hurt it, though I sure thought he would.

And really, for a long time after that, things were kind of normal. There weren’t any big problems. We took the bus to school, but we still had that long driveway to get down every morning. We begged them to drive us at first, but Uncle Bob was so mean he wouldn’t do it. We groused about it, but it turns out you can walk two miles in less than half an hour if you set a good pace. And what we didn’t know (which Uncle Bob did) was that that walk would be really good for us too. I suppose it kind of became our exercise program. And over that year of school, we got taller, and with more muscle, and very little fat. Shannon and I started growing boobs, which was amazing, and Brinn finally got some pubic hair.

Speaking of pubic hair, Shannon and I both had quite a bit by now. It wasn’t thick or very long, and it came in kind of spotty. And when hair also started growing under our arms it was gross. I also had one single hair grow right out of my right nipple. Actually it was growing from the areola, but my nipples were so puffy that you couldn’t tell where the nipple started and the areola ended. It freaked me out when I found it. Brinn laughed. I didn’t speak to him for almost a week.

Anyway, I complained to Mom about it. Uncle Bob was sitting there too, at the kitchen table, eating breakfast.

“Just yank it,” he suggested, smiling.

My mother looked at him like he had just kicked a puppy, and slapped his shoulder.

“That’s awful!” she scolded.

“I was kidding,” he said. He got up and got his keys from the basket he kept them in. The key ring had some fingernail clippers on it. “C’mere, sweet thing,” he said, motioning towards me.

“No way,” I said, backing away.

“I’m just going to clip the hair,” he said.

“You’ll miss and amputate my boob,” I said.

“No I won’t,” he insisted.

“It took me almost thirteen years to grow it this much,” I said, covering up both my breasts.

“And a great start you have made,” he said. “Now come here and let me excise the offending hair.”

I looked at Mom.

“He would never hurt you in a million years,” she said.

“Not on purpose,” I hedged.

But I ended up between his legs while he sat there and touched my breast with his fingers. He got the clippers down close to the skin and I held my breath and he clipped it and then he brushed his fingers across my nipple, like he was brushing the hair away.

Now I have to tell you, I’ve touched my nipples plenty of times. I’ve washed them and pinched them and examined them. I’ve pushed them into my breast flesh and moved them around. I even put an ice cube on one of them once, because I read in a magazine that doing that would make the nipple erect and stick out, and like I said, I had puffy nipples and I wished they looked more like Mom’s, which were big and beautiful. But when Uncle Bob just brushed his fingers across that nipple, I almost gasped out loud. I had never felt anything like that. It was so strange.

But I didn’t gasp. He said, “There! All done. Nasty old hair gone.” And then he slapped me on my hip and leaned back.

I turned to my mother, who didn’t look at all like anything important had happened. I could still feel the after effect of his fingers on my nipple, and where he slapped me felt kind of interesting too, but obviously neither of them knew about that. So I just said, “I need you to teach me how to shave anyway. This hair under my arms is gross.” I raised my arm and exposed the few dozen dark hairs that had sprouted there.

“Okay,” she said.

“And can I shave this off too?” I asked, putting my fingertips just above my split.

Her eyes got kind of wide and her cheeks got pink.

“Actually,” she said, kind of hesitantly, “I don’t shave myself there. I don’t recommend you do either.”

“Of course you shave there,” I said, leaning over to peer into her crotch.

“I do that for her,” said Uncle Bob, grinning. “If she tries it she cuts herself to ribbons. She can shave her underarms, but not down there.”

“Oh,” I said. I looked at him. “Well can you shave me too?”

My mom made this funny sound in her throat, and when I looked at her, she had one hand over both of her eyes.

“I will if your mom says it’s okay to do that,” said Uncle Bob.

“Great,” said Mom, her eyes still covered. “Make me the bad guy.”

“Why would you be the bad guy?” I asked.

“Because I should say no,” she said, finally looking at me. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Sure I do,” I said. “I’m asking Uncle Bob to shave my hair off.”

“You make it sound so innocent,” sighed my mother. “Why do you insist on growing up too fast?”

“I just think the hair is gross,” I complained. “That’s all. Why are you making a big deal about this. He does it to you all the time ... right?”

“He does lots of other things to me all the time too,” she muttered, just barely loud enough that I heard her. “Okay. But mark my words. Be careful what you ask for. You may get something you’re not ready for.”

Uncle Bob laughed. “I think I can manage to clean her off without reducing her to the kind of ... um ... condition you end up in.”

“You’d better hope so,” said Mom.

By now I was pretty curious about why she was acting that way. I looked at Uncle Bob, who was still looking at Mom, smiling.

“So when can you do it?” I asked, all chipper.

“How about tonight?” he asked. “Just before bed. That way if there’s any razor burn, you won’t be walking around irritating it.”

“Razor burn?” I asked, suddenly worried.

“I’ll use a new razor,” he said. “You’ll be fine. Trust me. I’m an expert at this.”

By that night, of course, I had told Shannon what was going to happen, and she wanted to lose the hair too, so when it was time, we both showed up. Brinn had no interest in seeing us lose the hair, so he went into the living room and turned on the TV. Mom was there, though, which didn’t seem odd to us. Of course now I realize she was keeping an eye on Uncle Bob. I fully understand why she was there, but I don’t think it worked out quite how she thought it would. I think that because she was there, Uncle Bob did a couple of things that he might not have done had she been absent. I honestly believe that if she hadn’t been there, he’d have simply shaved us both as quickly as possible, with as little mess and tumult as possible. But because Mom was there, I think he teased her.

Which, as it turned out, meant he teased us too.

Shannon went first, demanding her rights as the oldest. She pulled that crap all the time. Sometimes I fought her, but I kept thinking about that razor burn thing, so this time I stood back and watched.

She was already naked, so all he had her do was sit on the edge of the kitchen table and put her heels beside her butt. That opened her up as wide as I’d ever seen her. He sat in a chair right in front of her pussy. We called it a vagina then, of course.

“Okay,” he said. “If you were older, and your hair was thicker, I’d put a warm washcloth on there to soften things up. But this is pretty fine, so that won’t be necessary. So I’m going to put some shaving cream on you. Not a lot.”

He did that. I’m pretty sure Mom expected him to tell her to rub it around. He didn’t. He just put three fingers up there and rubbed all over the top of her split and above that.

“Oh!” she gasped, sitting up. She’d been leaning back on her arms.

“Bob!” said Mom, with something like warning in her voice. He ignored her.

“Okay,” he said. “Now I’m going to hold the skin tight and pull the razor against the grain of the hair. Don’t move while I do this.”

“Okay,” squeaked Shannon. She sounded nervous.

Uncle Bob pinched her pussy lips together, somehow making them get longer. Shannon’s eyes got real big and her mouth opened, but before she could say anything he touched the razor to her skin, just barely above her split, and dragged it smoothly up toward her belly button. She held her breath, which meant she couldn’t say anything. When he brought the razor back down she let her breath out and took another, and held that one while he did it again. It only took him three sweeps. He let go of her lips and reached for the wash cloth he had said he didn’t need to use. Then he pressed it against her and, using his whole palm, rubbed all over her pussy.

“Oh wow,” she moaned, and her butt moved up off the table. One of her heels slid off the table and her butt slammed back down. Uncle Bob sat back just as Mom said, “Bob!” again, clearly scolding him this time.

“All done,” he announced, grinning.

Shannon dropped her heels off the table and jumped down. She raised her arm, standing right in front of Uncle Bob.

“Oh yes,” he said, reaching for the shaving cream.

This time he put the cream on his fingertips and rubbed them into her arm pit. She danced.

“That tickles,” she whined.

“Stand still!” he ordered.

A couple of swipes and that arm was done. Shannon was giggling now, and kept saying it tickled, but she turned around and had him do the other arm anyway. Then, when he was finished, she danced away from him, going to the full length mirror on the wall between the kitchen and living room, where she raised each arm and peered into the mirror. She was smiling.

I figured that if he’d burned her, it must not have hurt much, so I jumped up onto the table and assumed the position.

Man, oh man, did I ever find out what my mother was talking about. Having a man touch your sex for the first time in your life is a life-changing situation. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.

He did it different with me. I don’t know why. Maybe he couldn’t get a grip on my lips down there. Instead, he pushed three fingers against the top of my split to hold the skin steady there while he pulled that razor upwards and got me clean. The middle of those three fingers, of course, pressed directly onto my bump. And somehow, as he moved the razor, he also moved those three fingers. They went sideways ... not much, mind you ... but just enough to make that middle finger glide across my bump four or five times.

I thought I was going to pee. I almost warned them that I was going to pee. I didn’t warn him, but I must have made some kind of sound, because all of a sudden Mom spoke up again.

“Bob! Would you quit torturing my daughters?!”