I was an incredibly cute baby.
At least that's the way my parents tell the story: I was so cute when I was born 19 years ago that they had my sister Penny less than a year later, and two of my aunts also became pregnant around the same time my mother did.
And this week it was all coming home to roost, so to speak, because my two cousins, Jan and Eve, were staying with us for the weekend.
All of our parents were going out of town for a few days -- some older relative we "kids" had never even met was getting remarried -- and while we were all old enough to stay home alone, Eve's parents thought she seemed sort of apprehensive, and they arranged it that we'd all hang out together for the weekend in order to allow her to "save face."
By "all," of course, I mean the three girls. I was basically on my own while they stayed in Penny's room doing the whole acting-silly, eating-junk-food, gossip, and watch sappy movies thing. At one point I did poke my head in and say "Hey, 1962 called, they want their pajama party back."
"Fuck you," Jan called back.
Sandra Dee never said "Fuck you." At least not in the movies.
The girls were all wearing long t-shirts. Eve was on one of the beds, her legs enough apart that I couldn't help seeing her powder-blue panties from the doorway. I closed the door quickly, before she realized.
I went back to my room and messed around with the computer for a while. I updated my Facebook status as "spending weekend in women's prison," to which two of my friends almost immediately responded with "likes," and Jan responded with "Fuck you."
I suppose checking Facebook pages is another thing Sandra Dee never did during her early-60s pajama parties.
I chatted for a bit with a girl I'd recently met online, which got me a bit horny. We hadn't exchanged photos of any kind yet, but tonight, I imagined her wearing powder-blue panties.
After we said our goodbyes, I spent some time on an erotic stories site, then stripped down to my briefs and climbed into bed, looking forward to a nice jerk-off session.
And then a knock on the door.
"Yeah?"
"Can I come in?" It was Jan.
"Sure."
She came in and sat at the foot of my bed, adjusting her t-shirt (one of mine, actually; Penny had appropriated a bunch of them to wear as nightshirts) to keep it from riding up too much. "Your sister fucking snores," she said.
"I wouldn't know," I said. "We haven't shared a room since I was four."