New story I'm here to spin is an American story about a boy's older sister and him growing up closed to each other....
Being only one year apart, as small kids we did a few things together. There was a time when we could both enjoy Chutes and Ladders, and other simple kid's games Even Monopoly or Scrabble during heavy snowstorms when we were older. We always got along as well as most brothers and sisters, although we did have several years where a real Love-Hate relationship would best describe our interactions.
Certainly I don't recall my pre-pubescent days very well. You know, way back when we were so young that our only understanding of the difference between boys and girls was that boys liked to fish and girls liked dolls. Recollections of peeking a few times are still with me, but don't ask which of us first figured out that our bodies were different, or who got curious enough to initiate the innocent explorations.
When Liz hit eleven, her and my daily lives noticeably diverged. Guess it was about then our Love-Hate years began. The love parts were typical. For example, I'd defend her if a boy tried to pick on her. We were both fairly thoughtful about Christmas or birthday gifts. Like I said, typical.
Naturally I could be a real pain-in-the-ass, but that wasn't my exclusive province as Liz sought to establish her own identity, so the hate parts should be easily understood by anyone who grew up with a sibling.
As I grew into my mid-teens, I was customarily awkward around girls. Apparently a few liked me enough to be a spend a little time with me at a community picnic or school event, but I didn't have a true date until I was past 16.
When I was 13, maybe 12, I began to periodically pester Liz to show me her boobies. Starting as young as I did, she never reacted with uncommon anger. Sometimes she was annoyed, sometimes amused. Asking as frequently as I did over time, she surely felt every possible emotion at one time of another.
Continuing to ask her often as we grew up, my naughty requests became something of a tradition. It may be annoying when it rains sometimes, but a rainy day is hardly surprising.
The first major shock I got came when I was just 18. Following my usual request for a bare boobie show, Liz stood silently. An instant rejection had, heretofore, been the only reaction I'd ever gotten. Sure, the verbal response would vary from caustic to scathing, but it was always a ready response. Not that day. No, that time a minute passed while she silently looked back at me.
"Since you think you want to see my chest so much, let's see just how much you really do. I want five dollars. You give me five dollars, and I'll let you see me for two minutes."
Stunned doesn't come close to how I felt.
This took place at a time when America, especially rural America, was far more naive. Seeing a women wearing a bra in Sears catalog was a big deal! I'd never seen a live bare breast, and damned few photos. A flash of flesh as a girl at school bent to pick up a dropped pencil was about the best I'd ever managed. So the possibility that I could actually see not one, but two totally bare breasts was enough to have me masturbating around the clock for days on end.
Hot Damn, I had a chance to not only see boobies, but Liz's boobies! While I found many girls to be attractive, Liz's body had always held a special fascination for me.
How much is five dollars? Back then a bottle of soda or an ice cream bar cost a dime. So five dollars was a small fortune. Talk about put up or shut up, Liz nailed me pretty good. I had to mow a lot of lawns or clean a mile of gutters to earn that kind of money. But I was trapped, I was fully ensnared by my own web of desire.
Three weeks and a few days was how long it took me to save up five bucks. All my dimes, nickels, and quarters I converted into a brand new $5 bill. Now that I was actually ready for the biggest purchase of my young life, I struggled with how to ask.
Last month, the only TV station we could pick up had shown Casablanca, our family had watched it together. It wasn't my all time favorite film; it did have Nazi's, but there was too much romance. However, the line "Here's looking at you, kid." had with stuck me.
When I was out busting my butt so I could see Liz's young breasts, "Here's looking at you, kid." Would frequently run through my head. BINGO, it hit me; taking my crisp fiver, I drew a pair of glasses on Abe Lincoln. Proud as a peacock, I strutted to Liz's bedroom door, then knocked. Coming to the door, Liz peeked out as she gradually opened it.
I thrust the bill towards her, said "Here's looking at you, kid... When, by the way?"
Now it was Liz's turn to be stunned as her initial confusion turned into comprehension that I'd called her bluff. The door opened no further, Liz froze for several moments. When she regained her wits, she at last replied "I'll let you know, soon." Then her door closed.
My hand was very busy before I was able to fall asleep that night.
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