Gabby 1

Gabby 1

My name is Gabrielle, everyone calls me Gabby. My parents both work, my mom is a stewardess, and my dad is an investment banker so my home life is pretty much short durations of their company and long periods of their respective absences. They’re both divorcee’s, I guess that makes them understand better that the other needs their own space. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure which I enjoy more. They’re pretty nice and lenient as far as parents go, they kind of have to be being gone so much. It’s pretty much, “we’re not going to tell you what to do, but you have to live with the consequences of your actions so don’t do anything stupid.” They’re nice, and I love them, but at the same time, its nice to be on your own. Plus I like spending time with my step-brother, Tim.

As far as brothers go, he’s been remarkably understanding of little tag-a-long me. Our parents married seven years ago when he was 10, and I was 7. I didn’t like him at first, but once we got to know each other, anyone would be hard-pressed to keep us apart. I’m sure I’ve been a pain more than a few times, incessantly wanting to hang out with him or his friends, but he’s always let me be his shadow. There are times I can tell my presence is wearing on him, and I try my best to let him be, but after eight years of being an only child with an absentee father, its nice to actually have company most of the time.

One afternoon we were finishing up lunch. “It’s your turn to clean up sis,” he said putting his plate in the sink. “I’m gonna be in my room for a little while.” It was in that tone that said he wanted some alone time so I let him go.

I put the plates in the dishwasher along with the utensils and put away the macaroni salad we’d been eating, in doing so spilling my glass of water all over myself and the floor. “Oh shit,” I said to myself. The front of my shirt was soaked, and the glass had chipped. I threw it out and cleaned up the floor, heading into my room to change.

I peeled off my shirt and couldn’t help but catch a glance of myself in the mirror. I would best describe my 14 year old body as “getting there.” I had firm 36-A breasts that I hoped were still growing (getting there) and nickel sized areolas. I was skinny, but my stomach still retained a smidgen of baby fat. Getting there. I’d tried tanning, but remained pretty white. Getting there, but considering the gross skin of some of the girls at school that tanned frequently, maybe time to stop trying. I didn’t really have a maternal figure to steer me away from the influences of magazines and television, and tell me I was beautiful just the way I was, so I tried to do it myself. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.

From the neck up, I was a bit more fond of myself. I was told I looked a little like Avril Lavigne, and the days I smiled at that statement slightly outnumbered the days I thought “no f-in way.” I looked at a picture of Avril I’d cut out of the newspaper and put by the mirror. I had a bit squarer jaw, and my cheeks weren’t as round. Also, my hair was not nearly as bright as hers often looking as brown as it did blonde. The similarity lay in the eyes. Her and I had the exact same big blue eyes.

I heard my brother’s door open across the hall and jumped. I was out of view, but the sudden unexpected noise jarred me out of my thoughts. I quickly pulled on my shirt, but probably needn’t have as I heard him head down the stairs, then quickly back up and into his room. I walked out into the hall to head back downstairs myself, but noticed he hadn’t shut his door. When our doors were closed, we left each other alone, but that happened so rarely. I figured since he left his open, it was fair game to peer in and see what he was up to.

I walked over quietly, still unsure that this was ok and looked through the crack. I couldn’t tell what was going on so I slowly opened it another inch. I was greeted to a sight that both shocked me and aroused my curiosity. He was sitting at his computer with his headphones on, watching two people have sex while he rubbed himself.

Never having had “the talk” with anyone, I knew what sex was and that was about it. I’d never seen a naked body before other than my own, and the snippets of nudity I caught in movies. His penis intrigued me, I knew what one was supposed to look like, but it was still somehow different than I expected. I knew that boys could be hard and soft, and they were bigger when hard, but Tim still looked huge to me. It was about the length of a hotdog, maybe a little longer and one and a half to two times as thick. He seemed to enjoy rubbing himself, and I’d been told what guys did, but it was still a bit fuzzy to me. I decided to wait and watch.

He was on some website. He’d rub himself while a video played then move his hand to the mouse and click on another, or find pictures of naked women. He shifted in his chair, partially blocking my view, so I slid the door open a bit more. Unfortunately his room was a bit messy, and the door made a wooden “thud” as it hit something on the floor. I hoped with his headphones on he might not hear, but he whirled around immediately. His eyes went wide with shock as he saw me, and he couldn’t decide whether to cover himself or hide what was on the computer screen. He did neither for a few seconds while I just stared at his cock. I could feel my panties getting wet, something I’d been told happened when you were turned on, even though I still didn’t really know what that meant. All I knew was when I looked at Tim’s penis, I wasn’t grossed out or put off, just curious.

Finally, after several long seconds, he grabbed a pillow to cover himself and I backed out of his room into my own at sat down, stunned. I heard his door shut across the hall and thought about what I’d seen. I wanted to touch it, though he’d probably never let me. I had so many questions and like always, no one to answer them for me.

I heard his door open again. He walked into my room, head down, not making eye contact.