Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 1

My name is Rebecca, but everyone calls me Becca. I’m currently 20 years old as write this. I don’t remember which birthday it was, but my mom bought me a diary for my birthday. I didn’t write in it every day. I only wrote when there was something significant happening in my life. The following chapters are explanations of what I wrote in my diary back then. The conversations may not be exact, but they’re as close as I remember them to be.

The most significant thing started happening several years ago when my brother and I were in high school and we started to experiment sexually. My brother’s name is Eric and he is a year younger than me. He was already 2 inches taller than me and started calling me his little sister, so I started calling him my big brother.

Our parents both worked so we had the house to ourselves after school for about three hours each weekday. Quite often, one of us or both would bring a friend home with us after school. My mom didn’t want us to be anywhere else other than our house, but we were free to bring friends in to be with us.

We had a two-story house with the bedrooms on the second floor. Our parents’ bedroom suite was at the end of the hall and across from our bedrooms. In between our bedrooms was a shared bathroom. It was one of those connected bathrooms called a Jack and Jill which had a door at each end leading into the two bedrooms.

We learned early on that sharing the bathroom was a pain, especially as we got older and wanted more privacy. The problem was that while in the bathroom, we would lock both doors and, invariably, when we left the bathroom, we’d forget to unlock the door at the other end. Both of us did it from time to time and it was a real pain, especially in the morning when we both had to get ready for school. We had to make a change and set up some rules. We decided we would no longer lock either door. If the door to our side was ajar, we could go right in. This meant that when we went in, we needed to make sure both doors were closed, but not locked. And, preferably, we’d remember to release the other door before leaving the bathroom. If the door was closed and we wanted to use the bathroom, we had to listen carefully at the door to see if we could hear the other one in there. If not, we’d knock at least three times and if there was no answer, we could go in. We also made a rule that unless we were in the shower, on the toilet, or naked, the other one could come into the bathroom at the same time. That was easily handled by just leaving the door ajar while in the bathroom. This allowed us to do things like wash our face, brush our teeth, and brush or comb our hair without having to wait for the other to finish. This was especially helpful on school days.

It usually worked pretty well. There were the odd times that one of us started to walk in not having heard the other person say it was busy or we didn’t hear the knocks. We’d just let out a scream and that took care of that, it wasn’t Ideal, but it was way better than dealing with the locked door. The other rule we made was that we wouldn’t go into each other’s room from the bathroom. We had to use the hallway bedroom door.

Now, I was pretty sure that there were times that Eric had sneaked into the bathroom to peek at me when I was in the shower. We had a pretty big shower and it had smoked glass doors. Because of the smoked glass, the shower had its own celling light we would usually turn on while showering. The problem with that is that when the light was on, it was difficult to see out of the shower. The glass became more of a mirror. On the other hand, from outside the shower, it was easy to see into the shower. So, if Eric came into the bathroom while was in the shower and was quiet enough, I wouldn’t see him and he could see all of me. There were times while in the shower that I felt the air change like either hot air left the area or colder air came in. It was those times I suspected Eric might have been spying on me. It wasn’t really a big deal, though. I didn’t call him on it because he’d just deny it anyway.

And that was the start of the time that we were both turning into normal, horny teenagers wondering about sex like any other kids.

One day I was in the bathroom after school and I was putting my hair up in a braid. Eric had his friend Steve over and they were in his room. Because I was dressed, the door to his bedroom was ajar so I could hear them somewhat. I’m not sure what drew my attention, but I went over to the door to hear them better. I couldn’t see them through the door jamb because of the direction the door swings and the way Eric’s room is laid out. I could only listen to their conversation and it went something like this:

Eric: “Damn look at those tits, I’d love to suck on those. I wish we could see her pussy.”

Steve: “Yeah I bet those tits are really soft. The closest I’ve gotten to feeling real tits is when was seeing Diane. She let me feel her tits over her clothes. It was better than nothing and just doing that gave me the biggest hardon.”

From the conversation, I assumed they were either looking at porn on Eric’s computer or had a girlie magazine to look at.

Eric: “Oh, like this one better, For some reason, I seem to prefer small tits to big ones. They kind of look like Becca’s.”

Steve: “You’ve seen Becca’s tits? You never told me that. Bro, you’re holding out on me. When did you see them?”

Eric: “I’ve spied on her in the shower a couple of times. They’re not big, but I really like them. They fit her body. I mean, they’re like the right size for her body.”

Steve: “If you saw her in the shower, does that mean you’ve seen her pussy, too?”

Eric: “Yeah, I did once. I couldn’t see much because of the door being wet and a bit fogged up, but I could see a patch of hair between her legs.”

Steve: “Damn, you’re lucky to not only have a sister, but one who’s really cute, too, I’d do her!”

Eric: “Hey, Steve, that’s my sister you’re talking about. I don’t want to hear you talking about touching her or something. It’s one thing to just look at her, it’s another thing to be touching her sexually,”

Steve: “Sorry, Eric. I didn’t mean anything by it. You know I’d never touch her without her permission. I just mean she’s really cute and I wish I could see her naked.”

They continued to look at pictures of naked girls and just talked about tits and asses. I crept back onto my room. At least that confirmed my suspicions that Eric had been spying on me. At least he liked what he saw. I did have small tits, but they were growing. Hey, I was only fourteen. I should have been mad, but I wasn’t. Maybe it’s because he spoke nicely about my body. If he would have mocked my little tits, I probably would have been mad at him.

My tits are only an A-cup, but at least they were a full A. I saw some girls in gym that had little tits and they were more like nipples that had popped out of their chests. You know, the cone shaped ones called Dixie cups? Mine had come in nice and full and round. I really liked my tits. I just wanted them to keep growing a bit. But right then, on my slim body, I think they looked pretty good. I didn’t usually wear a bra. My mom made me wear one to school, but as soon as I get there, I’d go to the bathroom, take it off, and stuff it in my backpack. I’ve always hated wearing a bra. I don’t like all the straps across my back and over my shoulders. It’s uncomfortable and since my tits didn’t need to be held up, what’s the point? never did get young girls wearing training bras before they even started growing any tits. They want to feel older, but it just looks dumb and doesn’t feel good. I never did that

The only reasons that girls wear bras when their tits are small like mine were is either because their mom makes them wear one (like mine did) or because they don’t like how their Dixie cups look in a shirt and so wear a padded bra to get a more rounded shape. The problem is that the shape looks fake. It’s too rounded and too perfectly shaped. Any guy should be able to tell you’re wearing falsies. I didn’t mind at all that guys could see the shape of my tits under my shirts and could usually see my hard nipples poking out. They stayed pretty hard all day from rubbing on the inside of my shirt as I walked the halls. And with a slight jiggle to them as I walked, I think the boys enjoyed looking at my chest. That’s certainly a lot better than being flat and ignored.

I also enjoyed letting guys see glimpses of my tits. A lot of my T- shirts had a scoop neck or a V-shape. If needed to bend over for some reason, or when I did it for no reason, if someone was in the right position, they could see down my shirt and see my tits. I liked getting guys excited by seeing my tits. It was especially fun to wear tank tops. They look really dumb when you wear a bra under them because all the straps usually show. When wore a tank, guys could see some side boob through the arm holes or easily look down my shirt when I bent over. I loved teasing guys with my tits.

When I went back into my room, also noticed that I was wet between my legs. I didn’t really know why that happened. I think that was the first time that realized that I could get turned on just by thinking about something sexual. I mean, I had touched myself before. Not a lot, but I did figure out at some point that rubbing my pussy felt good although I hadn’t actually had an orgasm yet that I knew of. I wasn’t sure what one really felt like so I didn’t know if what I felt from rubbing myself was as good as it got or not. It’s funny when you look back on your life and realize how naïve you were when you were growing up.

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