Whatever the reason, I grew up in a house full of women, the only testosterone in a sea of estrogen. Being the youngest, and only boy, I was doted on by my all my sisters, my aunt, and my Mom. "I guess that makes you my only boyfriend," she laughed. " "All the women I know are older women," I smiled, in a moment of sudden adolescent maturity. Fiona got married and moved out before I turned fourteen.
She wouldn't be competing in any swimsuit competitions anymore, but as the first adult woman I ever saw naked, her plump, rounded curves and big tits made a lasting impression. For the next three years, I was a clothing manufacturers dream, growing out of pants every three or four months.
I don't remember much about my father, as he died shortly after my second birthday. I'm actually glad I found out now that he's a jerk, before I got emotionally involved. I really liked the idea of being her boyfriend, even if I didn't know what it meant yet.
Maybe the strain of trying to produce a male heir was too much, after so many girls. Thank you." I had no idea what to say next, so I said nothing, hoping she would save me. *** Things started changing around our house during the next year or so. There, between the layers of tissue paper, was a clear zip lock bag.
Soon, Fiona, my eldest sister, started to take on some of the same attributes, and that's when doors started getting closed around the house. It was nice while it lasted, even if I didn't really know what I was seeing. I went from just under five feet, and about 100 pounds, to just over six feet, and nearly 180. She had her life, of course, and several boyfriends, but I remained her one, constant, special friend. " I gasped, then wondered, "Why wouldn't I open this in front of anyone?
I think that's about the time Vonnie and I grew closer. Our conversations, almost every night, were those of best friends, not nephew and aunt. You've got a birthday kiss, and a big hug coming." Mmmmm, a Vonnie hug...