Tommy's my name and I believe I'm a typical, sexually frustrated eighteen-year-old. I live at home with my parents and sister, Jennifer. I get along fine with my parents but, until very recently, not so well with Jennifer. She's studying at a college close to our home. She has plans to go away very soon to an out of state university which, at the moment, suits me just fine.
Jennifer walks with a very superior 'older sister' attitude and rarely speaks to me. When she does it's in a tone that is harsh or demeaning.
She has many friends, both male and female, which infers that she is a pleasant, friendly, outward going person. Her stunning breasts, beautifully tanned Baywatch babe figure, long, silken blonde hair, all demand and receive attention.
I don't know when we adopted a 'bad vibes' attitude to one another.
She recently found my hidden hoard of Playboy magazines, showing them to my parents who, surprisingly, stunned us both by telling Jennifer that her 'tales out of school' would land her in trouble. But it was more the embarrassment that got to me.
Once again the power she had, to 'tell on me', was used to effect and again it made me feel embarrassed. I don't know which she enjoyed most, knowing that she had the power or using it at every opportunity.
My parents finally went out by the swimming pool. She walked past the kitchen on her way to her room, sniggering, "What's wrong, Tommy? Can't jerk off anymore? Are you the only male virgin? Got any hot dates this weekend?"
Her bitter sarcasm cut deep and she knew it. She also knew that I'd been unsuccessful all year trying to get a date with a girl; any girl. For some reason I always told my sister what was going on in my life. I couldn't understand why I did this. I knew I would never receive a sympathetic ear, yet I continued to tell her my innermost secrets; so strange.
Giggling, she walked upstairs as I sat at the kitchen table, more and more depressed at my situation.
I thought I had average good looks. I stood about five feet seven inches and weighed one hundred and forty-five pounds. My build isn't impressive, it's pretty average. I'd begun to work out in our garage, with a range of dad's weights, in a vain attempt to attract the girls. The one thing I knew I had in my favour was my personality. I was great. Except when I was around girls, then I just couldn't speak more than a few words to them. I grew more depressed.
"Mister Average, meet Mister Shy," I said, out loud to myself.
My day dreaming was interrupted by two of Jennifer's girlfriends ringing the front doorbell. I let them in, telling them where she was and they hurried upstairs to see her. My cock stiffening, watching them ascend. Their scent and lithe figures clothed in short mini skirts making me so horny. My cock ached for something other than my right hand.
Jennifer came down with her friends and went out the back door, all three of them giggling incessantly. I guessed Jennifer had told them about the 'Playboy episode.' They got into Jennifer's car and sped away to one of her campus parties.
Yes, Jennifer had it all, a nice car, a great social life, a steady boyfriend and a good job.
She worked at a men's clothing store at the mall, earning wages plus commission. With her great looks and high self esteem, she easily sold clothes to most of the middle aged men who walked into the store. She also enjoyed the company of her rich boyfriend, Dan, who was twenty two and who also treated me like a little boy.
'It's not fair,' I thought to myself.
I drifted outside trying to shake off my blues and think of something else. Passing by dad's car I saw his camcorder lying on the back seat. I opened the car door and took it out. It was one of those new, small, lightweight types that can be held in just one hand. I had used it a couple of times before to film Jennifer and her friends, getting a tan lying beside the pool.
I got on my mountain bike and rode around filming my neighbourhood.
I came to Jennifer's college, passing close to her sorority house. Curious as to what she may be up to, I got off my bike and hid behind the tall hedge that surrounded the house on three sides. Loud rock music came from the back entrance and I made my way silently towards it. A group of a dozen or so girls in their late teens or early twenties were outside the back door drinking beer, laughing and joking. I recognised my sister as one of the girls.
Jennifer held a beer in her hand.
'Roll film,' I thought to myself. Now I could exact some revenge for what she had done to me. When I showed this tape to my parents they'd yell at her for hours about the evils of teenage alcohol. They might even take away her car keys.
I zoomed in for an even closer angle as she tilted her head back, turning up the beer bottle and drinking thirstily. I continued to film for about ten minutes when she turned, left the group and walked over towards her car with another full bottle of beer in her hand.
The car engine leapt into life. She cranked up the music volume from the CD player and took off by herself, shaking her golden tresses in time to the beat.
'Drinking AND driving,' I thought to myself, filming until she disappeared from sight.
I jumped on my bike taking a short cut home. I couldn't wait to show this to my parents and get Jennifer, 'The Queen' into some serious trouble.
As I rounded the dry lake, near home, I heard the music then I heard the car and saw Jennifer, speeding towards me. I quickly hid behind some shrubbery and filmed. She was flying. This was a residential suburb and she was definitely over the speed limit.
I raised the camera and filmed.
'Man, is she gonna be in big trouble.'
Then I heard another noise, a small child ran out into the street chasing a puppy dog. I watched in horror as my half drunk sister slammed on her brakes just a little too late, screeching to a stop. She missed the puppy but hit the child a glancing blow that threw him away from the car.
She, immediately realised what she'd done, panicked and sped away, turning a corner she was gone, all this occurring within seconds. Meanwhile, the small boy on the ground was screaming and crying while holding his leg. Then a man yelled out and ran over to where the child lay kneeling by his side. I recognized him as Mr Henderson, a lawyer who lived across from us by the dry lake. That's when I realised the boy was David Henderson, his son. A wailing siren in the distance indicated the arrival of an ambulance that soon took David to hospital. I rode home, unseen by anyone and with the whole graphic episode on film.