Brianna and I grew up together. Our mothers are best friends, and they live right next door to each other. My mom, Gloria, and her mom, Ann, got pregnant at the same time, and Bri and I were born a week apart. We're both only children; neither of us have any brothers or sisters. We both had our eighteenth birthdays last month, and we're finishing our senior year in high school. My name is Eric.
When we were kids, we did everything together. We played in the sandbox, played hide-and-go-seek, and later played every board game that was invented. She was ruthless in Monopoly, and I could usually beat her at Scrabble, but it was always close. In the summer we'd ride our bikes to the lake to go swimming. We'd race each other, splash and dunk, and stay in the water until we turned blue.
We walked to school together and sat next to each other in class. We were both intellectually gifted, and got straight A's. I'm not bragging, it's just a fact. We'd usually do our homework together, at either her house or mine. If she wasn't having dinner at our house, I was eating at hers.
My mom and hers were in book club together, went shopping, and had almost daily coffee klatches. Our dads were in the Kiwanis Club, had regular poker nights, and were on the same bowling team.
Our families did all kinds of things together; barbeques, vacations, and camping trips. Brianna and I shared a tent, starting when we were about five. We'd scare each other with ghost stories, use our flashlights to cast shadow puppets on the walls of the tent, and read comic books late into the night. I liked the super heroes; she liked Archie, with Betty and Veronica.
Our parents each had their own separate tents, and it wasn't until we were much older that we understood why. We still share a tent when we go camping, and even at our age, nobody thinks anything about. We're just friends; always have been. Nothing else.
For most of our childhood, I never even thought of her as a girl. She was a total tomboy, wearing jeans, a tee shirt, and a baseball cap, just like I did. She could hit a mean line drive, and played shortstop on our little league team. She wore her long red hair in a ponytail that stuck out the back of her cap. We were both skinny as a rail.
I began to think of Brianna as a girl, when puberty hit and she began to grow breasts. I was a typical pubescent, lost in the fog of emerging womanhood all around me. The boys would elbow each other in the ribs and leer at those girls we deemed "sexy," meaning anyone who had tits.
Although I acknowledged her as a girl, she was my best friend, and I never harbored any sexual ideas about each other. We talked about everything, even the changes our bodies were going thru.
In high school, she shot up to 5'7", but she was still very thin, and had really small tits. I reached my present height of 6'1", but didn't pack on any weight either. My penis was a bit larger than some of the other guys I had seen in the locker room.
Bri was on the swimming team, and I was on the track team, running a pretty fair mile for a high schooler, but I never set any records. I went to all her games, and she attended all my track meets, always cheering me on.
Other than the friendship we had with each other, our social lives were almost non-existent.
"Boys don't want to go out with a brainiac, especially one with no boobs," she lamented one day.
I was considered a geek, because I was good with computers, and always on the honor roll. I was terribly shy around girls and never knew what to say. Anytime a girl would talk to me, I'd stutter and stammer, and my face would turn bright red. Any girl except Brianna.
Bri and I did all kinds of things together. We'd go out to the movies, go for a pizza, go bowling, but it was never a "date;" it was just two friends sharing an afternoon or an evening. When I took her home, I always walked her to her door, but we never hugged or kissed; we never touched each other at all.
We'd talk about the "crushes" we'd have, and what it might be like to go out with them, but we never did. I would fantasize about all the cheerleaders. I loved to watch their boobs bounce when they jumped around, particularly Sherry Smith, who must have been a double D at least. I'd get a hard-on when they did cartwheels and flashed their uniform panties. I could have sworn I saw a flash of pubic hair sticking out on one of the girls.
They were all in the popular crowd and they were all dating football players. My fantasies were limited to what I could do to their bodies, but when I heard them talk and giggle in the cafeteria, it was obvious they had the IQ of a hard-boiled egg.
I loved the conversations Brianna I had. We'd talk about books we read, politics, world affairs, our studies and plans for our careers, philosophy, and life in general. We were never bored with each other. We were both environmentalists, active in the local chapter of Greenpeace.
We were both late bloomers in the physical development department. In our senior year, Bri finally filled out. I mean, she REALLY filled out. Her hips widened and got really curvy, her ass rounded out, and her breasts grew into a C cup. I knew that because I looked in the laundry hamper one day when I was taking a whizz in their bathroom.
She never flaunted her shapely new body. She had always wore modest--actually baggy-- clothing, in contrast to some of the girls at school, who wore jeans that looked like they were painted on, and tight, low cut tops that showed off their tits. Not that I was above looking at them.
Lots of girls wore enough makeup to put Tammy Fay Baker to shame; Bri never wore any, not even lip-gloss. I thought she was beautiful without it, and it surprised the shit out of me the first time I realized that. She wore thick glasses and always had her long red hair tied up on her head with some kind of scrunchie.
I packed some pounds on myself. I was still lean and lanky, but my dad shamed me into doing a workout regimen with him, and I added some muscle.
I guess I really noticed the changes in her on our last camping trip. She had always worn the one-piece suit that that she wore on the swimming team, and she still did. I'd loved to have seen her in a bikini, but that never happened. However, she did indeed fill out the tank suit more adequately than before.
A tank suit, but its nature, is tight fitting to minimize drag in the water. It pretty much covered up her whole body, but the way it clung sure let you know there was something under it. It was high cut at the thighs, accenting her now really shapely legs.
The back of the suit molded her ass like a second skin, accenting the perfect round globes. It was tight enough so it pulled into the crack in her butt, and she was constantly tugging at it, pulling it out.
The front of it, dipped into the slit in her pussy, displaying a perfect camel toe; I don't think she was even aware of that. For the first time, I became aware of the size and the shape of her breasts, the perfect size for the rest of her body. There was just a tiny hint of cleavage, but even looking over her shoulder, I couldn't see down the front of.
I felt really guilty and kind of ashamed of myself. This was my best friend, and I had no business even considering her as a sex object. To quash some of the guilt, at my age, and at my perpetual state of horniness, everything female was a sex object. Unless she was really old. Like maybe forty.
We did a lot of hiking when we went camping. There were a whole lot of wilderness trails that climbed up into the hills around the lake. In the past, we had always hiked side-by-side, but this time I let her go ahead of me, because I really liked the way her hips twitched when she walked. She was wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a white cotton blouse, tucked into the waistband.
We hiked a couple miles up a trail, until we reached a rock outcropping that gave us a beautiful view of the lake below. Brianna sat down first and dangled her feet over the edge. I stood behind her for a moment, before joining her. There were a couple buttons undone on her blouse, and looking over her shoulder, I could see the upper swell of her breasts that spilled over the top of her white bra. It had lace on it! I started springing a boner, so I sat down quickly so it wouldn't evident. At least not with my arm in my lap.
"It sure is beautiful up here, Eric. I guess I say that every year, don't I?"
"It's worth repeating."
"Lots of memories over the years. I'm so glad you're my friend."
"Friends forever, Bri." My evil twin was whispering in my ear, something about friends with 'benefits', but I quickly banished the thought. It came right back, though.
It got to be late in the afternoon, so we hiked back down to the campsite. Our fathers had fired up the grill, and the nightly barbecue ritual had begun. They constantly razzed each other about who was the worst chef. It was probably a toss up; they both were terrible. It wasn't done until it was charred black on the outside, usually raw in the middle.
When the last marshmallow fell off the stick, and the campfire was down to embers, it was time to call it a night. Our parents went off to their respective tents, and Brianna and I went to ours. Our nightwear was a tee shirt and a pair of flannel boxers, and we gave each other privacy to change.
In past years, I had never given her anymore than a passing glance, but this time I was aware of these awesome tits, jiggling braless, under her shirt. We each crawled into our sleeping bag; we always slept with out heads toward the tent flap, which on this night was open.
We had graduated from comic books by flashlight, to summer novels beneath the glow of a Coleman electric lantern. I was reading a Robert Ludlum thriller and Brianna was into a Nora Roberts romance novel, which I thought was really unusual for her.
When she crawled out of the tent to use the campground's bathroom, I picked up her book, and flipped to the page she had dog-eared. Holy shit! That was some really steamy stuff. I had never thought of her as having an interest in sexual stuff, but then again, I was seeing her in a whole new light on this trip.
We turned out the light and settled in for the night. I usually conjure up a fantasy at night, and jerk off before I go to sleep. It normally is about one of the hot cheerleaders, or the last porno flick I saw on the internet.
This night, I couldn't lose the image of Brianna's tits that I saw down her blouse that afternoon. I only saw the top part of them, encased in her bra, but they were milky-white, with a smattering of freckles running down from her chest. As is typical of a redhead, she has very fair skin, with freckles across her nose.
I tried to be quiet as I beat my meat, because I would have been mortified if she knew what I was doing. I didn't have anything to shoot my cum in, or anything to wipe it off my stomach, so I had to let it go on the inside of my sleeping bag. Good thing it was washable. When I finished, I turned toward her. I saw her hand moving inside her bag, and heard her moan. My nose picked up an unfamiliar odor; slightly musky, but intriguing. At that time, I didn't know girls masturbated too. Or what a pussy smelled like.
We were in her room, doing our homework. None of our parents thought anything about us being alone in either of our bedrooms; we had been doing it since were we toddlers. I had never thought anything about it either; we were just friends and there was nothing else between us. Until recently, and only in my head.
Bri, dressed in jeans and a loose, shapeless sweatshirt, was working on her computer, researching a paper that was due. She paused for a moment and stretched, throwing her arms behind her. Her back arched, the sweatshirt tightened over her chest, and her breasts pushed out provocatively. She caught me looking at her and blushed, although there was a little smile on her face.
When she took a break to go down to the kitchen and get a snack, I moved over to her computer. I knew I was violating her privacy, and feeling guilty again, I took a look at her history file. Holy shit! She looked at porn. She had bookmarked X-Art.com. At least it was tasteful porn, nicely photographed, not a gross-out like some of them. Did she have private fantasies like I did?
Best friend or not, although she was totally untouchable, I kept looking at her with different eyes. I couldn't help mentally undressing her every time I looked at her. Lost in my reverie, I had a hard-on, and didn't even realize it. When she came back with some Cokes and nachos, she glanced at my lap, and I could see her eyes widen. I quickly rearranged my jeans to camouflage it, but it was too late.
We went back to our homework for awhile, then she turned and looked at me.
