“Right!” I replied, grinning at Jake’s self satisfied expression.”Let’s see how good you are with this…”
It was a perfect Saturday morning and we were playing ‘Name that Tune’ as my stepbrother Jake drove the two of us northwards through the Yorkshire countryside in our mother’s car on our way to the seaside cottage Mum and Dad had rented for a week’s break.
Dad had a late business commitment so he and Mum were going to join us a day later on the Sunday but with my A level exams over and my stepbrother home from university, Jake and I saw no reason why we should miss out on a day’s holiday which, after all, had already been paid for.
Now eighteen, I had just left school, would be going to University myself in the autumn and was a very excited girl. I had just passed my driving test too, but to be honest had found the long trip north a bit daunting so was content to let my stepbrother drive; after all, he was eighteen months older than me and had that much more driving experience. Of course, I made a big deal about wanting to drive and took my time giving in and letting him do it instead, but it always paid to have him think he ‘owed me one’.
And we had made the right decision! It was a perfect day; a bright yellow sun sat in a clear blue sky and green fields flashed past the windows as we sped through the lush Yorkshire countryside.
“…Heartbreak Hotel, Elvis Presley…”
“Right again, Clever Dick!” I conceded, pulling a face and sticking my tongue out.
“Cheeky…” He grunted and made a grab for my right thigh, hoping to squeeze it painfully as he had done for many years when we had been play-fighting. I was expecting this and moved my bare knees across to the passenger door, making him miss.
“Keep your eyes on the road, Durrbrain!” I chided and laughed out loud when he scowled at me.
We had all been looking forward to this break for a long time. Jake had just finished his second year at University and was about to enter the high-pressure final year, having just scraped through his exams. I had accused him of having wasted his time on ‘too much rugby, too much beer and too many girlfriends’.
While the first two accusations might have been justified, they hadn’t done him any damage if his physique was anything to go by. Tall, slim and athletic, he had clearly spent at least as much time in the gym as he had in the pub, resulting in strong, muscular arms and shoulders. He was only a few cans short of a six-pack too, a fact I couldn’t help notice because he habitually walked around the house bare-chested.
I had jokingly accused him of being a rampant show-off but was secretly proud of my gorgeous stepbrother. Certainly many of my friends had admired him for years and at least two had made strenuous efforts to win his intimate affections – without success according to Jake but I wasn’t quite sure I believed him given the dreamy expressions I had seen on one or two of their faces.
The third accusation was definitely not true but to be honest, after growing up so close, I instinctively felt that any girlfriend was an unwelcome intrusion into our family and therefore every one of them was ‘one too many’. When I was younger I’m ashamed to say I had gone to some lengths to make his girlfriends feel very uncomfortable in our house. I’m not proud of this and had reformed in recent years but was still very possessive of my gorgeous stepbrother.
No, Jake was not a womaniser as far as I knew. He had gone to Uni a single man and since then had only had two real girlfriends, one in each year. It seemed Jake’s relationships never survived his return home for the summer holidays. I had to admit, they had both been very pretty girls, very nice and very blonde both in hair colour and in the full femininity of their bodies. On the few occasions I had met them I had felt very envious of their full breasts and of the softness of their bodies compared with my own bony frame.
I myself was slim to the point of skinny with long dark hair and embarrassingly small boobs with pointy nipples that showed through my shirt unless I wore a bra – which I really only ever needed to do for sport.
There was a lot of sport in my life though. Tall and fit myself, I played school and county standard hockey and netball, and also ran middle distance, aided by my one saving bodily attraction – my legs! These I really was pleased with – very long and toned though I say it myself – and to display them to best effect I usually dressed in ‘pussy pelmet’ skirts which were so short that the very thought of them embarrasses me now.
As usual, I was braless and wearing just such a microscopic denim skirt in the car now. This presented Jake with a large area of skinny thigh to attack which he did a second time, on this occasion successfully gripping my leg high up, close to the hem line.
“Owww!” I wailed, giggling and wriggling as his fingertips dug into my bare skin.
“Now who’s a Durrbrain?” he demanded, squeezing harder until it hurt.
“Ow! Ow! I am! I am! Let me gooooooo!”
A car horn blared behind us and Jake let go of my leg as if it had been red hot, grabbing the steering wheel with both hands.
We both burst out laughing again then sat back in our seats in companionable silence for a while. I turned the radio on and tuned in to Radio One, filling the car with cheap pop music. We drove on for a while in companionable silence.
Jake’s father had married my mother so many years ago that we had both grown up calling them Mum and Dad. Most people thought we were brother and sister; indeed we usually referred to each other as such but the truth was that we both had ‘other’ parents. Although I still had a ‘real’ father, he lived in Dubai with his new family and apart from presents at Christmas and birthdays, we were hardly in touch.
Jake’s mother had run off with a luxury car salesman when he was only two, leaving his dad a single parent with a difficult life so it had been good for all four of us when a mutual friend brought the two of them together and our new life as a family began.
Things had been difficult at times but Jake and I had been so young that we had few memories of those early years and had grown up as brother and sister; relaxed in each other’s company.
“Are you upset about Cindy?” I asked a few minutes later as a long sad love song on the radio ended.
Cindy had been Jake’s last girlfriend. Blonde and shapely, she had been a year older than Jake and they had split up a week before the end of term. I didn’t know which of them had ended their relationship but although I had liked Cindy, I cared most about my stepbrother.
“A bit,” he replied. “But it wasn’t really serious and she had to move away for her job.”
He sounded a little wistful.
“Were you… very close?” I pressed rather unsubtly.
Jake spotted my meaning.
“Yes we were… ‘Very close’… as you put it, nosey,” he smiled. “But anyway, it was a mutual decision and it leaves me free to enjoy the summer properly, doesn’t it?”
I could tell he was a bit uncomfortable with this line of questioning so didn’t press him further. I wouldn’t have consciously wished the break-up on him but I have to confess I had been pleased to learn that Cindy wouldn’t be on the scene during my last summer holiday before University.
To be honest, my own sexual history was no more exciting. Despite the best efforts of the depressingly small number of boys who had asked me out, I remained a virgin at eighteen. Perhaps I had an unrealistic view of relationships; given all that has happened since, perhaps I still have.
Although I hadn’t expected to ‘save myself’ for my husband as my mother had apparently done, I was determined that my first time in bed with a boy must mean a lot more than a clumsy fumble, a messy penetration and a lot of untrue stories circulating in school afterwards as had happened to so many of my friends.
I wasn’t afraid of sex; I certainly wasn’t a frigid lesbian as one on my more unkind would-be lovers had suggested, I just wanted my first time to be at the right time with the right boy. It was just that the right time and the right boy hadn’t shown up yet.
Half an hour later, we stopped for a Coke and a ‘comfort break’ at a roadside cafe and sat side by side on a fence in the sunshine, sipping our cold drinks. The day was very hot and the car had no air conditioning so we were both a little sweaty. To my relief my short vest top – short enough to leave what I hoped was a tantalising inch or two of tummy visible – didn’t show the sweat as much as Jake’s T shirt. It also showed his strong chest and biceps off to very good effect, something that hadn’t gone unnoticed by two blonde girls who sat on the grass close by looking at him admiringly and at me enviously.
“We’d better get going,” Jake said, crushing his Coke can with one hand in a silly boyish macho gesture which delighted the blondes but which made me giggle.
“Anything you say, Macho Man!” I teased him, slipping my hand through his arm as if I was his girlfriend and watching with delight the disappointment on the blondes’ faces as we passed.
An hour later we rolled down the long, steep hill into our favourite seaside town, the hot lunchtime sun blazing down on semi-dressed girls and boys enjoying the unusually good weather. We parked, collected the key to the cottage from the agent and set off through the crowded streets with our suitcases to find it.
It was a perfect cottage, old but well restored, its three floors nestling between a converted pub and an old town house on one of the ancient narrow streets above the harbour. The inside was modern with three large bedrooms, a comfortable lounge and smart kitchen.
“Wow!” Jake gasped. “Mum knows how to choose them, doesn’t she?”
I grunted my agreement. “Shall we have tea and unpack now or just go out and explore?”
“It’s far too nice to be indoors,” Jake replied. “Let’s hit the streets!”
Five minutes later we had dumped our bags in the cottage and were jostling with the crowds through the narrow streets. Judging by their accents, the perfect weather had brought what seemed like the whole of Yorkshire to the town. It had also encouraged them to leave most of their clothes at home – whether their bodies deserved to be seen or not, I thought maliciously, observing large bellies and tattoos.
I felt almost overdressed in my micro skirt, vest and flip flops!
We spent a happy hour in the town, visiting our favourite shops; jewellery, trinkets, second hand books and of course the traditional sweet shop, reminiscing about family holidays of the past when we were younger and had shared a bedroom. The crowds were so heavy that we had to hold hands to avoid being separated and when we had finally had enough of the town and were climbing the hill to the cliff top I found to my surprise that we were still holding hands.
“Ooops! Sorry!” Jake said, pulling a face and letting go of me. I beamed at him.
“Don’t let me get lost, Big Bro!”
My flip flops were hopelessly unstable on the cliff and Jake had to hold my hand again several times as we picked our way over the uneven ground.
“Girls!” Jake growled as I stumbled against him for a fourth time and he had to catch me in his strong arms. “Why don’t you wear proper shoes?”
I stood in front of him and pouted. “Don’t you like the way I dress?” I stuck my tongue out. “Your friends seem to like it!”
Jake pulled a grimace which was intended to be a joke but I could tell I had hit a nerve.
“Sorry Jake, I didn’t mean…” I started but he pounced on me and began to tickle me right there on the footpath, his hands on my tummy and ribs in the way he knew rendered me helpless. True to form, my knees gave way immediately and I fell to the grassy bank alongside, Jake’s hands following me down, tickling me all the way.
“I’ll teach you!” he growled laughingly as I wriggled and writhed in a futile attempt to escape. “Little Amy thinks my friends fancy her, does she?”
“No! Please…” I gasped, giggling hysterically.
“Thinks she’s hot stuff does she?”
His hands were under my armpits now, my arms flailing.
“No! I’m sorryyyyy! Stopppp!” I pleaded, gasping for breath as his strong hands gripped my upper thigh in a vice like grip. My long legs flailed around his arms as the playful pain hit me.
“Excuse me!” came a loud, pompous voice from above.
Jake released me like a shot and span round. I looked up to see an elderly couple in shorts and walking boots gazing down on us in severe disapproval.
“You’re blocking the pathway,” the grey-haired woman said in a hard voice that could only have come from a retired Head Teacher. “That sort of thing should be done in private. This is a public footpath. We don’t want to have to watch your sexual shenanigans!”
They walked straight past us as we lay there stunned, the man looking over his shoulder in a way that suggested that he would have much preferred watching us to walking with the dragon-lady. Jake offered me his hand, his eyes still staring after the odd couple.
“Sexual shenanigans,” he said as he pulled me to my feet without looking at me. “Jesus! All I was doing was…” He turned to face me. “Ah, ok! Now I see!”
Behind his back I was desperately trying to make myself look decent. Under Jake’s relentless tickling and my frantic attempts to escape, my tiny skirt had ridden up around my waist, clearly exposing my white knickers to the gaze of any passers-by. My top had slipped off my left shoulder too, exposing my braless left boob. To our elderly spectators it must have looked like an X rated movie scene.
I hurriedly pulled my skirt down over my bottom and my top up over my boobs. To my horror, my nipples were erect, a fact that showed clearly through the tight material of my vest.
“Jake! Don’t stare!” I snapped as I wriggled the wedgie out from between my buttocks and tried to get comfortable.
“Sorry,” he said, looking shame faced as I finished my awkward realignment of garments. “I think I need an ice cream to recover. What do you think?”
I grinned, relieved. “If that’s what’s on offer, count me in!”
I took his hand properly this time.
“Sexual…” he said.
“…Shenanigans,” I added.
We burst out laughing as he led me back down the cliff path and into the town. Half an hour later we were walking along the pier, ice cream cones in hand, still chuckling about our embarrassment.
“He didn’t look as if he’d had shenanigans of any kind for a long time,” Jake joked.
“He was certainly staring at us,” I agreed.
“Staring at you, you mean,” he corrected me.
I blushed. “Do you think he saw anything?”
“Well it was definitely all on display,” he teased. “And very nice it was too!”
“Jake!” I stopped dead, horrified.
“Don’t worry Amy,” he said in a reassuring voice, swallowing the end of his ice cream. “He’s probably not seen hers for so long he’s forgotten what it’s for! Fancy a paddle?”
Grinning, I slipped my arm through his and we walked down the slipway to the long beach. I fed him the end of my cone on the way.
It was very crowded on the sand but the sea was cold and few people were actually swimming so there was plenty of room by the waterline. We took off our shoes and paddled by the water’s edge; I felt the cool water on my…
