I met Amy when I was 17. We were in 11th grade back then and as different as could be. I was a pretty good baseball player, outgoing, maybe a little bit pig headed. Amy was shy, quiet and very smart.
That's how we met. I needed a tutor to help me get through chemistry class and she needed volunteer credits for her college applications.
It wasn't long after we started studying chemistry that we found we actually had it, chemistry that is. She made me feel smarter, more thoughtful, and when she laughed it felt like I'd just won the World Series.
We started dating after a few weeks. Our friends were surprised to say the least, but once they saw us together they knew it was a great fit.
That summer, when I tore my shoulder apart in a water skiing accident she sat with me in the hospital. She was the one who filled out college applications for me because I couldn't write with my busted arm, and she was the one who kept me motivated in senior year when, with my baseball days behind me, I had to get my grades up to get into school.
As the years have gone by we've stayed together. I love her. There's no other way to say it. As time has gone by the sparks have faded into slow-burning embers, but still hot. We have a routine, we're happy and I was ready to spend my life with, shortly after my 24th birthday.
Giving Amy an excuse about a weekend away with the boys, I left her in our shared apartment at college and jumped on the bus to our quiet hometown in Northwestern Pennsylvania.
It was early summer. Exams had just ended but Amy and I had planned to stay in town to move out of the house and work before trying to figure out the next step. To me the next step was clear, I wanted to marry her and I was on my way back home to ask her father's permission.
I climbed off the bus and walked through our small town to her house, carrying just a backpack over my shoulder. At the front steps the door swung open, it was never locked after all.
"Hello?" I said, loud enough that anyone in the house would hear.
"Mr. Malley?" I said.
He wasn't home. Probably still at work I thought.
I settled onto the couch. I was a regular at the Malley's house. Mr. Malley and I were almost friends. We talked baseball and business. We got along great. Mrs. Malley treated me like one of her own kids, always asking me to help her bake of move a couch, though my bad shoulder made that hard sometimes.
I wasn't in the house long when I heard a car pull into the driveway. A door opened, then closed and after a few seconds I heard footsteps coming through the house.
I stood up, wanting to look my best for Mr. Malley, but when the door opened it wasn't him at all, instead I was looking directly into the face of Amy's little sister, Daphne.
Standing in the doorway she had the same dark eyes as her sister, mysterious and deep. But that was where the similarities ended.
While Amy was tall, thin and wore her brown hair long and straight, Daphne was shorter, maybe 5'6", with the fit, strong legs of an athlete. She had surprisingly tight stomach in relation to the size of her beautiful ass and large tits. She was a walking fantasy. Her blond hair was like her mother's, short, just above her shoulders and flaring out at the ends with long bangs hanging in her eyes.
She was wearing short, boxy khaki shorts and a grey t-shirt which cling tightly to her chest and neck with moisture. She must have been coming home from softball practice.
"Hey Kiddo," I said. "How's it going?"
"Hey!" She shouted, he face turning into a smile.
"What are you doing here? Where's Amy?"
As she spoke she walked across the room and gave me a hug. She smelled sweet, fresh from a shower at the gym. I could feel her breasts, larger than her sister's, pressing against my chest.
"She's not here. She's back at school." I said.
"Oh?" Daphne said, looking confused. "I don't get it."
"I snuck away, I wanted to get home on my own so I told her I was spending the weekend with the guys."
"Are you guys having trouble?" Daphne asked
"No. The opposite actually. Things are great and I wanted to talk to your dad, but I guess maybe I should talk to you too."
"Talk to me? About what?"
I turned and reached for my backpack which was sitting on the floor at the foot of the sofa. I opened it and started to dig through the front pouch, into the pocket of a pair of jeans where I had stashed the object I was looking for. Finally, I pulled it out.
As I turned around I snapped open the small velvet box and showed Daphne the diamond ring inside. It wasn't huge or extravagant, but it was the best I could do and it had cost me a fortune.
"What's that for?" Daphne asked, densely. For a bright girl she was missing the obvious here.
"It's for your sister. It's an engagement ring. I want to ask her to marry me, but first I wanted to talk to your dad. I want to get his permission."
A strange look crossed Daphne's face. One of surprise, confusion and, I thought, maybe disappointment.
"Well..." she said slowly, her eyes darting away and not meeting mine or even looking at the ring I was still holding in front of her. "He'll say yes....you know he'll say yes."
"I hope so,"I replied, snapping the box shut.
I turned around and secured the ring back in my backpack, fastening the straps on the pack and pushing it back under the end table, out of the way. When I turned back around Daphne was sitting quietly on the large chair in the corner of the room, her face buried in her hands.
I was confused. I thought she'd be happy. We had always gotten along great. In fact I was the one who first taught her to hit a ball, I introduced her to softball, a game she now excelled at. She was like family to me, but I'd be lying if I said I'd never noticed how beautiful she had grown up to be. In fact I'd fantasized about her many times. Usually about times like this, when she came home from practice, full of energy, wearing her tight shorts and shirts.
Once, when Daphne was 15, barely old enough to know what kind of effect a developing body like hers could have a man, she came out of the bathroom at the Malley's while I was watching television. She had just showered and her hair was wet. She was wearing only a towel but it wasn't quite long enough, so she had it wrapped around her left side, under her arm. Her right side was showing, I could see her legs and thighs as they slowly turned into a gorgeous ass and the curve of her breasts, barely covered at the end by the towel.
She was a knockout, but I loved her sister, so fantasy was all it ever came to.
