Chapter 3

I think that comment about wishing she wasn't my sister was what really convinced her I wasn't going to laugh at her. And my opinion really mattered, for some reason. The point is that, from that point on, instead of being freaked out that her brother was looking at her like ... well ... not her brother ... she was more or less comfortable with being naked in front of me. But more than that ... her own curiosity about boys was allowed to come to the fore.

The first indication of that was after I got the mesh suit on her. That was, by the way, both ridiculously easy and astonishingly difficult at the same time.

Getting each piece where it belonged was the ridiculously easy part. I went in reverse order, doing the bottoms first. It was just big enough to cover all her curly short ones. The hardest part of that was figuring out how the strings went. She bent over and pointed at things to help me spread it all out. I glanced up and saw those fabulous breasts, just hanging like ripe fruit on a tree, and my cock got even harder. She stepped daintily into the arrangement and I pulled everything up.

Then it was hard to get all those strings tight enough but not too tight. And then there was the part that went between her ass cheeks. It was elastic, but I had to spread her butt cheeks to get it to lie right so it would pull the bottom of the front panel to curve over that tightly closed cleft between her legs. It worked best if the cord around the waist was high in the back and the side strings went high over her hips.

The bra was easier to get on, but then it needed to be tugged and moved all over each breast to present an even appearance. I realized she had tiny, fine hairs on her upper torso that I would never have been able to see unless I was this close to her body.

I finally stood back.

"Wow," I said.

"I look okay?"

"They're going to sell a million of these suits," I said.

"You really mean that!" she sighed.

"You're damn straight," I admitted easily.

"Thank you."

"You're most welcome," I said.

This was when her curiosity bubbled up to the surface.

"You need to change into your suit too," she reminded me.

I thought about my rock hard prick, and how what was shaping up to be a very comfortable relationship might take a completely different turn if she found out I had a boner for her.

"You can go on out," I suggested.

"No way," she said. "You saw me. It's only fair I get to see you too."

"That's crazy," I said.

"Crazy or not, you got to see all my flaws. I get to see yours too. Fair is fair."

"You don't have any flaws," I said, somewhat heatedly.

"Shhhh," she said, quietly. "Hurry up." She stuck her head through the curtain and told Vlad we were about ready. I heard him say, "Take your time," which should have registered as odd, but did not. I had other things to worry about just then.

My sister stood there in that incredibly sexy "swim" suit, oblivious to the fact that she had turned my penis into a bar of tungsten steel, and waited for me to expose that fact.

"I can't," I said.

"Why not?"

"I have a ... problem."

She didn't get it at first. I could see her turning it all over in her mind, trying to figure out what kind of problem I could possibly have. I could also see when she did get it. Her face changed from a frown of concentration to The Joker's face as he laughed at Batman.

"You're kidding!" she whispered, leaning toward me and covering her mouth as she giggled.

"You said I couldn't laugh at you!" I reminded her.

"I'm not laughing," she insisted ... while laughing.

"Come on, Addie. I couldn't help it. It's not something a guy can control when he sees a beautiful girl. And you are beautiful."

"Change!" she hissed.

It was obvious she wasn't going to cut me any slack.

"Look away," I said.

"Don't be ridiculous. You saw everything I have!"

"It's not the same!" I insisted.

She finally turned around, folding her arms over her chest.

"Okay then. Just hurry up."

If I'd have thought about it, I'd have realized she could have just left. Assuming she was no longer going to even the score. Which, of course, she was.

She must have had eyes in the back of her head, because as soon as I was naked and reached for Vlad's Speedo, she turned around and bent over to stare at my manhood.

"Good grief!" she gasped, like there was something horribly wrong with it.

"What?" I asked, looking down, expecting to see bleeding, or boils or something horrible.

"It's huge!" she said, weakly.

"It is?" It was an automatic response. I'm not suggesting I didn't know what size I had.

She looked up at my face, but only for a split second.

"Not that I've seen any," she said. "But I can't help but imagine ... and that looks way bigger than I expected. It looks ... scary. They say it hurts the first time. I can sure believe that!"

Guys look at that prospect differently. We know it's happened zillions of times, and nobody was killed by it. Plus we all assume we'll be good enough lovers that the girls will all say, "Pshaw," at whatever pain there might be and beg for us never to stop.

"It's never killed anybody yet," I said, with typical teenage bravado. It was an instinctive thing to say ... the kind of thing I would have said if I were talking to a guy. Maybe I was trying, unconsciously, to stop lusting after my sister and put her on the level of a guy friend. I don't know.

"You've done it?" she said, loud enough for our father to hear, clear across town.

Vlad called out. "Is there a problem?"

"No!" I called back, shushing my sister immediately after.

She looked mad for some reason. Or maybe she was just shocked and disgusted. In any case, I saw things going south in a hurry, so I fessed up.

"I've never done it!" I hissed. "Guys just talk like that, okay?"

"You're a virgin?" she said, more softly. "Really?"

"Of course I'm a virgin," I said. "Just like you are."

There was a split second delay before she answered, and when she did her eyes sparkled. I saw it, but was unable to react to the cues when she said, "Who says I'm a virgin?"

Instead, I shot back, "You better be a virgin, or I'm going to have to beat the living shit out of some guy."

She giggled again.

"Of course I'm a virgin," she said. "I'm glad you are too."

That confused me.

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't know. Get your suit on, before Vlad charges in here to find out what's wrong and he sees your monster ... thing."

"It's not a monster," I growled.

"Sure looks like one to me," she giggled.

I grabbed the Speedo and stepped into it. I looked ridiculous as I pulled it to cover my boner. And there was nothing I could do about it. In the end, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my waist. I hoped I looked professional or something.

When we stepped out, I think we both expected to find a frustrated Vlad waiting, wanting to get the fuck on with things. We'd been there more than half an hour by then, and he had yet to take a single picture. Of course we didn't know then what we know now ... that he was grooming us for bigger and better things, and that, from his point of view, however much time it took for us to get used to seeing each other naked was worth it.

"Very nice," he said, casually. " I knew that suit would look good on you."

He ignored me, which didn't surprise me at all. If I were in a room with some guy and Addison, and she was dressed like that, I wouldn't look at anybody else either. He took her to stand in front of a backdrop that was all sand and sun and palm trees, like the scenes on her nails, and stood her there while he fiddled with light meters and exposure settings and all that kind of thing.

"We're going to have to oil you up," he finally said. "Your skin is so fair it bleaches out. The oil will refract the light and give your skin a more golden tone."

It took no imagination at all to envision what "oiling her up" meant, and it sounded like he intended to do it himself. That was unacceptable.

"I'll do it," I said, firmly.

"Of course," he said, flashing his perfect teeth. He went to the table and picked up a bottle, which he handed to me. I realized I was about to rub my oily hands all over Addie's skin. My cock twitched under the towel.

"Should we go back in there?" I asked, looking at Vlad for some reason.

"No," he scoffed. "Is just oil. No big deal, right? She is your sister, after all, yes?"

"Of course," I said, knowing that was what I was supposed to say ... what any normal brother would say.

That was when I found out how firm her breasts were, as I had to slide my oily hands along the sides and tops of them, where the suit didn't cover. It was insanely tempting to slide my fingers under the cloth too, but I managed to resist doing that.

It did not help that she kept saying, "That feels nice, Bobby."

I do not remember dragging out the oiling up of my sister. She later told me I did that. I denied it, but then she said, "I didn't mind." I didn't know what that meant, so I just dropped it.

Anyway, I finally stopped, and Vlad pronounced her well oiled. Then he said, "Okay, Bobby. Your turn."

"My turn?" I said, not understanding.

"You need oil too."

"I'll do him," said Addie.

"You can't," said Vlad. "Your nails will fall off if your fingers get oily."

I suddenly imagined Vlad's big, hairy hands going all over me and had a mixed reaction to that. That was because while the thought of his hands on me made my skin crawl, I also felt my erection begin to soften.

"He can do himself," said Vlad, carelessly. "He has no nails."

The long and short of it is that, by the time Vlad told me to lose the towel, my cock was only half hard, which I hoped would actually made a nice bulge in the suit. Guys do want to be perceived as being "huge" after all. Even if not usually in their sister's opinion.

Vlad glanced at my Speedo.

"Move your junk into the middle," he said, casually. It was so weird hearing his Russian accent using what I thought of as an American term.

I looked down and saw that it looked like I had a big slug in my suit, that was crawling towards my left hip, trying to escape the Speedo. I couldn't do anything except pull the waistband away from my skin and stick my other hand in there to rearrange things. I looked up to see Addie watching me with interest.

"Don't laugh!" I warned her.

"I wouldn't dream of it," she said, and then promptly giggled.

"All right then," said Vlad. "Let's make some money!"

I have mixed feelings about that session. Vlad may not have minded that we took half an hour to get into the first outfits, but he made up for that by shooting over fifteen changes in the next hour and fifteen minutes. Again, this may have been because he knew our family might ask questions if we got home late, or it may have been because he knew that, if I was putting things on Addie and then taking them off, and having to do it rapidly, we would eventually become used to the concept of me seeing her naked and touching her body. If it was the latter ... it worked.

By the time Addie got behind the wheel of the bug and started us home, I had touched just about every part of her body, including those pussy lips. Which, by the way, did not stay tight and white and invisible. As that hour and fifteen minutes progressed, two lines of darker, more wrinkled and flushed skin began to push out from the cleft where her white skin dipped inward. I didn't say anything about it. But I sure noticed.

Then there was the fact that I kept getting boners. More than once she said, "Is that really because of me?" One time I said, "Of course. I said you were beautiful." Another it was, "Who else is here?" Another time I responded, "Get used to it, okay?" I only spoke one more time about it and that was to say, "Stop fishing for compliments!"

But I think another really important thing was the reaction we had to the poses he put us through. They weren't sexual, exactly, unless you were a teenager. Like, I was usually standing behind her. And he'd tell me to put my hands on her hips, or further forward with my fingertips on her abdomen. It was just boyfriend/girlfriend kinds of poses. Once he had me kiss her neck, and I felt her whole body shudder as I touched her skin with my lips.

Come to think of it, the next costume change was when I noticed something pushing out of her pussy slit.

There were lots of poses with my arms around her, or our arms around each other, half turned to face the camera.

All I know I was extremely glad it was me touching her, instead of some other guy.

"Thank you," she said. We had gotten about two blocks and it was the first time either of us had spoken. We each had six crisp twenty dollar bills in our pockets. I was going back and forth between thinking about that, and what my sister looked like naked and oily.

"What for?" I asked.

"For not making me do that with some other boy."

"No way is some other boy ever going to do that to you," I said, automatically.

"Ever?" She shot me a look.

"Not in the foreseeable future," I said.

"I can live with that," she replied.

"Good," I said.

"Don't go all caveman on me," she laughed.

"Sorry," I said. "It's just that ... well ... I know how I felt, and another guy ... I just can't think about it, okay?"

"I actually know what you mean," she said.

"You do?"

"Yeah. It was ... um ... intense for me too."

"Was it?"

"It was."

"Can you explain that?"

She drove on for another couple of blocks before she answered.

"There were times when it was hard for me to remember you were my brother."

There is one thing I am quite sure of, and that is that that first modeling job of adult swim suits caused a behavioral change in Addison. She was a lot less modest around the house. In the past, she used to cover her panties up with running shorts, and she had always worn a bra under her T shirts or whatever she was wearing after we got home from school and she changed into "comfortable" clothes.

But now, she ran around in panties and a T shirt with no bra under it. Our father noticed it too.

"This modeling stuff has made you more comfortable in your skin, hasn't it," he commented one night.

"I guess so," she said.

"Remember there are two males living in the house with you," he said.

"How could I forget that?" she asked, looking confused. "You both live like pigs and leave things lying all over the place."

"I was referring to you exposing your feminine charms to us," said Dad, dryly.

"I'm not exposing anything," she said, looking down at her T shirt, which displayed Donald Duck wearing a conical birthday hat and blowing one of those paper things that unrolls and squeaks as you blow into it. She'd gotten it on her birthday a couple of years past. I hadn't noticed it before, but after our father drew attention to it I saw it was a little small for her now. The cloth was thin enough you could see dark circles through it where the tips of her breasts pressed against the cloth. I also noticed that there were no bumps there. That was the first time I realized her Bing Cherry pits weren't always on display. They had been in all the shots Vlad took of her wearing various bikinis, by the way.

"Addison," said our father, patiently, "I know you like showing off to all the men in the stands. And I suppose that has translated into enjoying showing off as a model. But it isn't fair to your brother and me to show off at home. We are both normal men, and we can't help but notice how ... um ... grown up you are."