Me and My Brothers — Chapter II

II. Christmas Vacation

School vacations were always a problem because both mommy and daddy had to work. Usually one or more of our grandmothers would come by during the day and watch us kids but this year was going to be different. Our maternal grandmother had had a stroke and although she was doing well no one expected her to take care of us again. Bobby’s fraternal grandmother was an alcoholic and could not be trusted to stay sober. Her husband had left her for another woman. My fraternal grandmother was widowed a couple of years ago and she had recently married again. Her new husband took her off to Florida. Daddy’s poppa was having some kind of health problem but nanna said she could take care of Donny at her house and Bobby at 15 and I at 13 were old enough to take care of ourselves.
So when Christmas Vacation came, Bobby and I were told by mommy and daddy that they trusted us and we should not do anything to destroy that trust. For the first few days everything went well with Bobby spending most of his time playing his video game and me reading. The first day after Christmas Bobby had a friend over and they spent most of the day playing the video game. The next day Bobby went to his friend’s house while I had a couple of girl friends over.
I don’t remember just how it came up but we three began talking about playing with ourselves. This was the first time we had ever talked about anything sexual but we each admitted to enjoying it and we were each pleased to find out others did too. Then the conversation turned to what we knew about boys masturbating. One of the girls said she had caught her brother beating off. I started to tell them about my catching Bobby but I stopped myself in time to say I had heard him. Before our conversation was over I was feeling as horny as hell.
When the girls went home I checked the clock, I had about forty-five minutes before mommy and daddy got home so I went to my room and got started right away. I was really getting off when my door opened and there was Bobby. God, I thought, I don’t want to stop so I finished myself off while he silently watched. I closed my eyes and as I finished I nearly blacked out. When I came down, I opened my eyes and looked at the door. It was closed and Bobby was nowhere in sight. I wondered if I had imagined him being there.
Just before mommy and daddy got home I went downstairs and found Bobby playing his video game. I said hi and he said hi and that was it. At that time I could not bring myself to ask him if he had looked in my room but the question nagged at me so that the next morning I asked, “Did you look in my room yesterday?”
“Yeah and I’m really sorry,” he said.
Although I felt my face flush with anger, he had already partially defused the situation by apologizing and he truly appeared sorry. “Well, don’t do it again,” I said trying to sound angry. Even as I spoke I realized I did not sound angry. I felt I had to add something so I said, “You do understand why we should not…um…” I did not know how to finish the sentence.
“I know Carly. I’ve grown up a little since…” He did not finish his sentence. I glanced at him and he looked away. His face was as red as mine felt.
I thought about us growing up. We both seemed to have shot up during the past few months so I asked, “How tall are you getting to be? Have you measured yourself lately?”
“Yeah, I’m five inches,” he responded.
“Huh?” I asked.
“Uh,” he stammered, “I’m…uh…five feet five inches.”
I chuckled as I thought about him measuring his peter. I was sure that that had been the cause of his slip up.
“You’re almost as tall as me, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yeah. You want to measure me to find out?”
“Okay,” he said as he dashed to the garage to get the tape measure. Daddy always insisted that his tool be returned to their place after use so it did not take Bobby long to return with the tape measure.
I backed up to the board where we always measured our height. Bobby marked my height with a pencil. I stepped away and he wrote my name and the date. He then carefully measured and announced, “Five feet, three and three quarters.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yeah, check it out yourself,” he said as he moved aside a little so I could look over his shoulder.
He was right so I said, “Then I bet you’re not five feet five.”
“Measure me then,” he insisted as he backed up to the board.
I made the mark and when he stepped away I wrote his name and the date.