Things have been weird between me and my best friend's sister ever since we kissed at her eighteenth birthday party. Maybe I should back up, and start the story from the beginning.
My name is Derrick, and I am a heavy diesel mechanic. I am twenty five, and I have my own apartment in suburban Detroit. My best friend Brian and our friend Candy play in a local band named Long Hot Summer. I play the bass, and sing lead vocals, Brian plays lead guitar, and Candy plays the drums, and sings backup vocals. Candy is a really good drummer, and Brian is a pretty good lead guitarist; he is not a guitar god, but I feel lucky to have him. We have practiced in Brian's garage for the past four years. We soundproofed it as much as possible, plus they live a little out in the sticks, so the neighbors aren't close by.
Brian has a little sister named Jasmine, but everybody calls her Jazz. She is a very quiet, shy girl. She is not only shy, but she is a bit of a nerd. She is the kind of chick who is into comic books, and dresses up like characters from Star Wars to go to Comic Con. Jazz has been watching us play ever since we formed the band in their parent's garage. Candy always says that Jazz is our first and only groupie. So I've watched Jazz grow up, all the way through high school. I saw her at her awkward pimply stage, her "I hate the world stage," and I've watched her blossom into the beautiful young woman that she is today. She and I have always been friendly, and I have always been someone that she can talk to about her problems. I say we have been friendly; but I will go a bit farther, and say that we have been friends for a while.
Our band played at her eighteenth birthday party, which was at their house. They have a couple acres of land, and there was plenty of room for guests, the band, and a bonfire. She had probably had plenty to drink, and I was feeling no pain at the time either. I was walking out of the bathroom, and was surprised to see someone in the house, since all the excitement was taking place outside. Jazz was standing at the kitchen sink, and looking at me with a weird expression on her face. She was a tall girl with medium length brown hair. It was brown at the current time, anyway. She dyes it a lot. She isn't a curvy girl, she is long, and lean; but she looks like she would be soft in all the right places.
"Hey, Derrick, come her for a sec." I walked over, and still couldn't figure out why she was looking at me with so much intensity. "I wanted to thank you for the concert tickets that you gave me. That show is going to be totally bad ass."
"You are definitely welcome, Jazz. I hope that you have a great time." She weaved a little drunkenly, and caught me in an embrace. Actually, it was more like I caught her, to keep her from falling over. Her face was close to mine, and what she said next, she said quietly.
"So you know that I am legal now. I'm eighteen, as of today." She was making no move to break my hold around her; quite the opposite, her body was molded against mine.
"Yeah, Jazz. This is your party." She rolled her eyes.
"I mean that if you ever wanted to be more than friends, I would be willing to give it a shot." This surprised me so much that I never even saw the kiss until I felt her lips against mine. My body reacted naturally, as it had to being kissed a thousand times before. I pulled her closer, and this kiss deepened. I felt her grinding her hips against me, and her tongue slid between my lips. I sucked it for a second, and then I broke the kiss. She leaned close and put her lips right next to my ear.
"I'm not wearing any panties tonight, Derrick." She kissed my neck quickly, and turned, and walked outside. I must admit that after that encounter, I watched her ass swishing across the kitchen with much more interest than I should have.
Nothing else happened that evening. I had just assumed that she was drunk, and that she might not even remember our conversation the next day. I knew that this was not the case when I got a surprising text from her the next afternoon.
Jazz: I have on pink panties with little white bows on the front, do u wanna see?
Me: Sure. Why not?
Five minutes later I got a multimedia text from her. It was a phone pic of her. She had just held the phone out from her body, and took the picture. It had probably taken quite a few shots to get the right angle. She was wearing a very small pair of pink cotton panties with a little white bow in the center of the waistband. They were supposed to be reminiscent of the panties that little girls wore, but they had only a tiny bit of fabric to them, so they were very naughty. They were fairly tight, and I could clearly make out the shape of her camel toe impressed into them. She was smuggling a big fat monkey in those tiny underwear.
Jazz: U like?
I hesitated, but said what the hell.
Me: Very much. Those don't cover very much, not that I am complaining.
Jazz: If you look really close you can see a wet spot. It was really hot sending this to you.
Me: Thanks, I'm honored to have seen it.
That was all that I heard from her that day. I must admit that I probably looked at that picture a dozen times that day. Her panty-clad image lingered in my mind like that song that you just can't get out of your head. I suppose that was just the effect that she was hoping for. The next day I decided to push my luck, and see what happened, so I texted her.
Me: Hey Jazz :) What color panties are u wearing today?
Jazz: A black thong. Would u like to see?
Me: Very much.
Jazz: I'm in math class for another half hr. I will go to the bathroom and take a pic for u when I get out of class.
