If The Price Is RightbyWm_Sexspear©
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Who am I? Most of you know me, or my doppelganger. I'm 29, close to 5'11"; jogging keeps me lean, and many women would say I'm a little better than average looking. I have brown hair, brown eyes, and weigh about 170. There are a million of me, you see me every time you commute to work, or go shopping; a decent looking fella, who looks like a lot of other decent looking fellas.
My life is good in the girlfriend department. About half of every month a sweet airline stewardess named Roberta calls my house home. The other half she's normally somewhere in Europe. My place in the woods helps her decompress I'm told.
I have a great job, even if it's no job to me. I rent out a dozen fishing cabins that I built myself over the past few years.
When I started out, I had little money, but I was able to buy a long unused camp grounds for a song. Only two of the buildings were worth salvaging, even they needed major work. Today, I'd never be able to afford the place, but ten years ago, Interstate 287 looked like it would never be built due to environmental litigation. Thank God I bought this place before a 287 re-route was finally approved. The revised right-of-way made my country and the lake far more accessible to tourists than it would have been.
Ten years ago, a depression in our area meant none of the few locals with any money left wanted to invest it close to home. So I was able to get the defunct camp, 20-acres with plenty of lakefront, for a song.
Ever since I was a kid, I'd made money helping the plethora of retirees populating our county because of its low property taxes. Between my savings, and a loan from Dad, I was able to swing the land.
I always loved fishing. As a kid I'd spend every minute possible fishing from every place I could get to around Ten Islands Lake. As soon as I was old enough to safely operate a motor boat, I was fishing from one end of the lake to the other. Over time, with a little help from the old timers I'd pester for information, I grew to be as good a guide to Ten Islands Lake as there ever was. So as soon as I got my first two cabins going, my reputation a fishing guide kept my fledgling resort full. Soon I was making as much money as a guide as I did from the cabins. The money coming in was enough to build another cabin or two each year.
Folks say I was a quiet kid, I suspect I was about as average as a kid could be. If I had any talent, it was that once people got to know me, they generally liked me. That was especially important when I was building my little business. Friends in the local timber business would set aside good second's that were fine for building my cabins. Other folks would steer fishing friends to me. Even as a kid, once I'd mow someone's lawn, they'd always find a way for me to earn a little money thereafter. Extra Bass, Blue Gills and Walleyed Pike were bartered for having my long, rutted, dirt access road gradually evolve into respectable tar and gravel roadway.
The story I'm here to spin is about my older sister and me.
Being only one year apart, as small kids we did a few things together. There was a time when we could both enjoy Chutes and Ladders, and other simple kid's games Even Monopoly or Scrabble during heavy snowstorms when we were older. We always got along as well as most brothers and sisters, although we did have several years where a real Love-Hate relationship would best describe our interactions.
Certainly I don't recall my pre-pubescent days very well. You know, way back when we were so young that our only understanding of the difference between boys and girls was that boys liked to fish and girls liked dolls. Recollections of peeking a few times are still with me, but don't ask which of us first figured out that our bodies were different, or who got curious enough to initiate the innocent explorations.
When Liz hit eleven, her and my daily lives noticeably diverged. Guess it was about then our Love-Hate years began. The love parts were typical. For example, I'd defend her if a boy tried to pick on her. We were both fairly thoughtful about Christmas or birthday gifts. Like I said, typical.
Naturally I could be a real pain-in-the-ass, but that wasn't my exclusive province as Liz sought to establish her own identity, so the hate parts should be easily understood by anyone who grew up with a sibling.
As I grew into my mid-teens, I was customarily awkward around girls. Apparently a few liked me enough to be a spend a little time with me at a community picnic or school event, but I didn't have a true date until I was past 16.
When I was 13, maybe 12, I began to periodically pester Liz to show me her boobies. Starting as young as I did, she never reacted with uncommon anger. Sometimes she was annoyed, sometimes amused. Asking as frequently as I did over time, she surely felt every possible emotion at one time of another.
Continuing to ask her often as we grew up, my naughty requests became something of a tradition. It may be annoying when it rains sometimes, but a rainy day is hardly surprising.
The first major shock I got came when I was just 18. Following my usual request for a bare boobie show, Liz stood silently. An instant rejection had, heretofore, been the only reaction I'd ever gotten. Sure, the verbal response would vary from caustic to scathing, but it was always a ready response. Not that day. No, that time a minute passed while she silently looked back at me.
"Since you think you want to see my chest so much, let's see just how much you really do. I want five dollars. You give me five dollars, and I'll let you see me for two minutes."
Stunned doesn't come close to how I felt.
This took place at a time when America, especially rural America, was far more naive. Seeing a women wearing a bra in Sears catalog was a big deal! I'd never seen a live bare breast, and damned few photos. A flash of flesh as a girl at school bent to pick up a dropped pencil was about the best I'd ever managed. So the possibility that I could actually see not one, but two totally bare breasts was enough to have me masturbating around the clock for days on end.
Hot Damn, I had a chance to not only see boobies, but Liz's boobies! While I found many girls to be attractive, Liz's body had always held a special fascination for me.
How much is five dollars? Back then a bottle of soda or an ice cream bar cost a dime. So five dollars was a small fortune. Talk about put up or shut up, Liz nailed me pretty good. I had to mow a lot of lawns or clean a mile of gutters to earn that kind of money. But I was trapped, I was fully ensnared by my own web of desire.
Three weeks and a few days was how long it took me to save up five bucks. All my dimes, nickels, and quarters I converted into a brand new $5 bill. Now that I was actually ready for the biggest purchase of my young life, I struggled with how to ask.
Last month, the only TV station we could pick up had shown Casablanca, our family had watched it together. It wasn't my all time favorite film; it did have Nazi's, but there was too much romance. However, the line "Here's looking at you, kid." had with stuck me.
When I was out busting my butt so I could see Liz's young breasts, "Here's looking at you, kid." Would frequently run through my head. BINGO, it hit me; taking my crisp fiver, I drew a pair of glasses on Abe Lincoln. Proud as a peacock, I strutted to Liz's bedroom door, then knocked. Coming to the door, Liz peeked out as she gradually opened it.
I thrust the bill towards her, said "Here's looking at you, kid... When, by the way?"
Now it was Liz's turn to be stunned as her initial confusion turned into comprehension that I'd called her bluff. The door opened no further, Liz froze for several moments. When she regained her wits, she at last replied "I'll let you know, soon." Then her door closed.
My hand was very busy before I was able to fall asleep that night.
* * * * *
The next day, when I walked into my room, Liz was sitting on my bed. Standing as I walked in, Liz told me to sit on the edge of my mattress.
Once I was seated where she'd just been, Liz said, "We're alone, Mom must be food shopping. Here are my terms. I'll keep my promise, but this is educational only, no touching allowed. You can look at me for two minutes, then I leave."
Nodding, dumbly, my posture couldn't have been any better, I sat up as straight as a board.
Facing me from roughly two feet away, Liz began to unbutton her blouse. My mind raced, it was the very same blouse I'd seen her wearing all day at school. Now I was seeing what happened every other night of my life behind her closed bedroom door. To her credit, she didn't rush it, at an everyday pace her buttons one by one opened, each one undone revealing a little more bra, or a little more flat tummy to my eager eyes.
With the final button undone, Liz pulled her shirttails out of her skirt. Unhurriedly, she removed her blouse, then tossed it onto my bed. Allowing me a few seconds to study her wearing nothing above her skirt except her fancy looking white bra.
Her arms whet behind her. Unclasping it, her hands each reached for, then lowered a shoulder strap until gravity slid the bra down her arms. Catching it in her right hand, she tossed it atop her blouse.
As you'd expect, nothing else registered with my conscious brain except the sight of two very female breasts before my aching eyes. What an amazing sight! A pair of large apple-sized orbs, floating before her chest as if defying gravity. Back then I didn't know the term was areolas for the silver dollar-sized dark red areas surrounding her tender looking nipples.
Neither of us spoke, I couldn't even move. I simply absorbed every detail I could gather for my information-starved brain. Each tiny bump on each areola was duly noted. The amount of white skin versus dark red was observed and filed. The fact that both nipples grew larger and more inviting as I stared at her was detected, the details, second by second flooded into a Sahara of male ignorance.
"Dear Lord in heaven, what a beautiful sight." was the first and last true thought I had before Liz learned over to grab her things, then covered herself with her loose garments.
My heart had nearly stopped when she bent to retrieve her clothing, her breasts had swayed and jiggled beneath her as she'd made her fluid movements.
Gathering herself, Liz assured me I had nearly two and a half minutes to see her after the bra was removed. It felt like ten-seconds, but I knew she was telling the truth.
"Liz." I shouted to her retreating form. When she paused, I said to her back. "You are very beautiful. With no facial expressions to guide me, I only knew she was thinking something, but after pausing a few seconds, she continued to her room, closing the door behind her.
It was only after I closed my door, when I lay on my bed, that I actually got an erection. Moments later, with my pants around my knees, the twin images so recently burned into my cranium triggered a powerful, prolonged orgasm.
That five-dollar investment brought me considerable return on my investment. I lived on my daydreams for weeks. My appreciation of Liz's figure never waned. Yet gradually my almost obsessive desire to see more of her returned. Again, I resumed hounding her, but now it was to see butt.
Jeans or skirt, it didn't matter, neither one could keep her secret. A delightful, delectable, derriere dwelt within. Having seen breasts, I was desperate to view a female backside. My persistence eventually, at long last, earned me the same financial offer. "Five Dollars for two minutes."
By that time I had regular customers for my services. I had to work plenty hard, but it took under three weeks to earn another crisp five-dollar bill. The same day I brought it home, I drew glasses on Abe again, then left it on her pillow.
That night I was reading on top of my bed before going to sleep. A knock sounded behind me, it was so soft that I initially wondered if I'd actually heard something. Knowing the folks had gone to bed before I'd begun to read, I crept to my door rather than speak. It was Liz.
Holding the door open for her, I eyed her pajama-clad figure as she softly padded into my room. Her left hand made a sweeping gesture, silently inviting me to sit on the edge of my bed. Following her unspoken bidding, I settled my PJ clad butt onto my mattress, praying silently that she was here to earn her money.
Facing my seated self, Liz appeared calm as she stated, "Two minutes, no touching. OK."
"OK." I whispered, barely able to breathe from the anticipatory tension. My fingers griped the edge of the bed, in somewhat the fashion of a cowboy biting a branch as a bullet was extracted.
Turning, facing away from me, Liz grabbed her waistband. To me it seemed an interminable delay, but a few seconds later Liz pushed her PJ bottoms below her buns.
It would be unfair to call it a show, but as she gave me my two minutes of viewing, her cheeks tightened, then relaxed, several times. I never got the sense she was trying to do anything more than give me my money's worth. By turning a little left, then a bit right, I was treated to a nearly left profile to right profile perspective. Liz stayed upright, so even seated, I barely saw more than a bit of dark brown fuzz between her legs. Yet as much as I wished to see her pussy, her young bottom held my rapt attention. I may not have breathed for the entire time.
If you want to know what I saw, imagine a roman statue with its scooped butt cheeks. Long story short, she represented the female form magnificently.
Having been monitoring her delicate, 17-jewel Lady Bulova, Liz soft called "Time." As she bent forward to grasp her PJ bottoms, I did spy the briefest hint of her vaginal slit beneath it's furry covering. Regrettably the sole light atop my headboard didn't illuminate very well below her jutting tush.
My eyes were still striving to magically see Liz's glorious gluteus maximus though her thin PJ's, my fingers remained locked in a death grip on my comforter. Promptly turning to face me, I saw surprise cover Liz's face, her eyes dropped to my lap.
Tonight, I knew what to expect when Liz walked into my room, knew I was going to see a mighty nice looking girl's butt. Let's face it, the first you've seen has to be the best you've ever seen. Anyway, my body was also a bit a ahead of the curve this time.
The result of that bit of anticipation was Liz seeing a major league erection poking out through my PJ's fly. I'd been ready for bed; my underwear was in the bathroom hamper. The one tiny snap in the middle of my fly was never designed to confine an angry penis. The nearly purple crown, drooling a thin trail of clear liquid, was as much a surprise to me as to Liz.
For several seconds it seemed as if the world stopped turning; crickets fell silent, owls couldn't hoot. Abruptly Liz shook her head, straighten up tall, because she'd ever so slightly leaned forwards, then headed for the door.
Again, before she could exit my room my voice brought her up short. "Liz, it was worth it. You're very, very exciting to look at."
["Guess she has to believe that." I instantly thought to myself!]
Before she could move, I added, "Liz, I want to see... in front. I've never wanted anything more in my life."
At least twenty seconds later, I heard a fairly business-like voice drift back to me. "Twenty dollars." The amount, and the possibility of actually seeing her, both stunned me.
That night I masturbated four times. The following day I played hooky because I got so little sleep. Even though I slept much of the day, I enjoyed a date with Mother Thumb and her daughters between each nap.
As a senior, I was dating now and then. I had day-to-day expenses. During the winter, it was a little harder to earn money. On the other hand, I was older, bigger, and I did have clients. Cutting firewood, shoveling snow, fixing a fence were all potential cold weather income. Lawns were a steadier business, but there was always something I could find year round if I hustled.
Funny thing when I dated; I'd look at my girlfriend, then think about Liz's body half the time. Of course in an era and locale when a boy was lucky to get a kiss on the third or forth date, you weren't expecting to learn much about life's sweetest mystery on a high school date. Hell, if you went steady for months and months, you might get a chance to touch a breast through a sweater. If you hoped to see between a local girl's legs, you'd have to marry the girl more likely than not.
Twenty bucks that I could part with took a while to pull together. But I did it. Many dreams about what a real girl would look like teased me between the first dime and the final dollar earned to fulfill my fantasy.
Not wanting to jinx myself, when at long last I reached my goal, I traded my box full of coins and dollars in for a nice crisp picture of President Jackson. Thinking "Here's looking at you kid." for the hundredth time that week, I drew spectacles on poor Andy's face.
Barely able to contain myself, I was eventually able to a deliver the $20 into Liz's soft hands after dinner that night. I couldn't read her expression when I handed it over. Was she smiling? Was it a wry smile, was there irony, amusement, subtle triumph. Her thoughts at that moment were as much mystery to me as the treasure between her legs. When she finally looked into my eyes, her voice was soft, but her expression remained inscrutable. "Friday night?" was all she asked.
I nodded a yes.
It was only Tuesday night, but I'd learned my lesson. When I managed to see my first pussy, I didn't want to worry about not being able to sleep all night.
Ask a kid on December 22nd how far it is until Christmas. Triple that is what I felt as I waited impatiently for the clock to finally put me out of my misery.
Whether for good or ill, time finally passes. Friday night arrived with all the speed of an arthritic tortoise, but the turtle at last crossed the finish line. Our folks left for a PTA benefit supper about 7PM. As soon as they departed, my feet made tracks for Liz's room. Her door was open; she was reading on her bed.
"Is now good for you?" I asked trying not to sound as hyped up as I actually felt.
When she nodded a yes, I softly asked, "Would like for me to wear my pajamas, just like that other time a ways back?"
We both knew what I was asking. Still, I couldn't read her almost neutral expression when her eyes met mine. For a time, I thought she wasn't going to answer.
"If you feel like it, I don't mind."
Leave it to a female to speak, yet say absolutely nothing!
Retreating to my room, I changed into my PJ's, then sat on the edge of my bed as before. Suspecting that Liz was at least a bit curious about how I looked, I'd only done the snap at the waistband. Already I felt tingling in my groin just from thinking about the impending two magical minutes.
When I heard Liz approach my doorway, my penis began to swell. By the time she stood 3' away, facing me, my half-awake shaft was creeping into the light. I had the impression she was staring at my penis, but my eyes were glued at her leg's juncture, afraid I might miss even a second of seeing what I tried so long to envision.
Taking a deep breath, Liz unsnapped her pajama trousers, then let them fall. Sweet Jesus, there she was, there IT was. A lush covering of nearly black fur adorned her groin. She stood with her feet a bit more than 2' apart, so I could see between her legs. Her pelt was thick, the hairs were fairly straight, but it pressed tightly against her. Details of her pussy were hard to see, but I could discern a shape like a 3 turned ninety degrees to the right at the lowest part of her pussy.