I'm a pretty normal girl, I think. I come from a normal, maybe even average, family -- Mom, Dad, me and a younger brother. We live in a fairly average house that my parents say is owned by them and the bank. We have a swimming pool in our back yard and that sounds classy except that in Southern California it's actually just normal. In fact, we're at least middle class and perhaps below the middle of middle class. Both my parents work but we couldn't afford for me to go to any of the private colleges with high tuition, which is why I've just finished two years at a local community college and will be going to Cal State in the Fall.
I get along fine with my parents, actually like them, except when they seem to think I'm still ten years old. I get along well with my brother, too, most of the time. We grew up together and know each other so well we can hit each other's hot buttons easily. A dare or a challenge always works on either one of us, we both think we can get the best of the other. I sure wouldn't try to physically get the best of Mark, my brother, anymore, though. He's nineteen, just graduated from high school, and wrestled varsity for three years. He's way too big and strong to do anything physical with but I can still get him psychologically sometimes. He's two years and two months younger than me.
I've always been skinny and still think of myself that way sometimes even though I've now got all the desired feminine curves. It all started changing when I was around fifteen. Now I have a great body, actually do modeling to earn spending money. I read about famous models earning millions and realize that either there aren't many of them or I'm not in the same business. I don't earn anything like a real living from my work. I still live at home and will until I get my degree and a good job.
I'm five foot seven inches tall. My waist is twenty two inches. A basketball player once spread his hands and put them around my waist and got them to meet. My bust is only thirty four but I'm a "C" cup. I really like my breasts, they're all up front, very noticeable, very attractive to boys. The package, that is, my body, is exactly what model agencies and photographers want. You may have seen a TV commercial for Marshall's store that shows four really built young girls jumping around in bathing suits and sport clothes. Well, the dark haired one is me. I'm also in print ads and catalogs. I got that commercial because of my looks mostly but also because I've always been involved in dance so I know ow to move. It also gave me good strong legs with some shape, even though they're slim, and a great butt.
I first had sex in high school. It was his first as well as mine. I had this new body and wanted to find out what sex was all about. Even though we didn't know what we were doing we'd both watched others doing everything on the 'net so we knew something. Anyway, it all worked out great. I loved it. Still do. I need sex. If I don't have an orgasm every few days I get cranky. I'm not promiscuous. I don't want to get a bad reputation. I've only had four guys actually fuck me. I prefer to stay with a guy awhile, get to know one another, be comfortable with what we're doing, know what works for each of us. I'd just as soon not have anyone except my lovers know whether I'm doing it or not. I don't talk about it with my friends, which sure isn't true of some of them. They talk about it all the time.
I'm pretty sure my brother's doing it with his current girl friend. It's just the way she looks at him and smiles, the way they rest their hands on each other. But he doesn't talk about it either, I bet. I mean, I was always the outgoing one in school. A cheerleader, very social. Mouthy. He's quiet, a brain. And he's good looking. With his body he's probably a good lover.
I think I am, too. A good lover, I mean. I really like it. I'm willing to push things if the guy's too slow. I've always done oral sex and I'm willing to sit on his face if he doesn't go down on me when I want him to. And I love sucking cock. Somehow, it's just so sexy. All of it, though, is to finally get around to fucking. There's nothing better in the world. When things go right and the guy lasts I can have a half dozen orgasms before he does. I never seem to get enough. I've even thought that having a second guy around might be good so I could just keep fucking on and on. But I've never done that and probably never will. I might be a slut at heart but don't want to admit it, even to myself. Right now, I'm frustrated and horny. Richie, my current boy friend, went off with his Dad for two weeks and it's been a full week since I had an orgasm from someone other than myself.
It's a great day today. Warm and sunny. My parents are both at work. My brother's here, out at the pool in back right now. I'm trying on a bathing suit I bought and looking in the mirror as I strut around. The bottom is essentially a thong. The top is a joke, two small pieces of material that barely cover anything. I've always kept my pubic hair trimmed close so I can wear bathing suits. But if I'm going to wear this thing out in public, I'm going to have to shave. My hair shows. But what the heck, I can wear it in our back yard. It's private. Our whole tract is one story houses and we have fences all around. I guess someone could come up and manage to peer over a fence but we've never had that trouble. Besides, everyone's off at work.
So I go out to the pool. Mark is laying on a lounge. It's interesting, girl's wear ever smaller and briefer suits, like I have on, guys wear bigger ones. Mark has on a big, loose bathing suit that goes down almost to his knees. He looks at me.
"Dianne, you can't wear that!" he almost yells at me, like he's some sort of boss.
"What do you mean," I reply. It's none of his business anyway.
"You could get arrested for exposing yourself. You can't wear that." he says, sitting up.
Well, fuck him., He can't tell me what to do. The truth is, I wasn't comfortable in this anyway. I need to shave down there. Plus, it doesn't really feel good the way it runs against me and pulls into my butt. "Well, if I can't wear it, then I won't." I tell him. I pull the bottom down, bending over so I can step out of it. Then I untie the top and let it fall off into my hand. I lay them on a lounge next to his, He's sitting there maybe four feet away looking at me.
"What are you doing?"
"Well, if I can't wear it, you say, then I won't. I'll go naked. I mean, it's National Nude Day, so you should be naked, too."
"This isn't National Nude day," he says. "There's no such thing."
