Mom called me a miracle baby. Dad said I was 'baby oops.' He had a vasectomy after my sister was born, but eight years later - there I was. Dad always joked that mom must have been too friendly with the milkman, but I looked too much like pops to raise any questions.
Both of my brothers moved out of the house by the time I was ten, so I never really got to spend any time with them. We did the normal family stuff for Christmas and holidays, but they had their own lives and soon were bringing over their own families. We lived in a small town, and there weren't many kids my age to hang around with. Growing up, it was my sister, Carol, that I spent most of my time with, and despite the fact that she was eight years older than me, we got along quite well.
Carol and I have always been outdoorsy and we spent many days and nights hiking the Sierra Nevadas. Hiking was a great way for us to chat about anything and everything; she gave me a perspective that I could never get from my folks, and I was an avid listener. She was petite, but I soon got used to people going out of their way to admire her curves. Carol never seemed to notice, but guys - and some girls - nearly fell off the trails as they strained to check her out. We were guaranteed to have someone stop us at least once during a hike to ask for directions, even though there were only two options on the trail - up or down.
Our hikes came to an end when she moved away with her new husband. They spent the next few years together, but then he got downsized at work, started hitting the bottle, and one night hit her, too. The very next day she packed her bags, filed for divorce, and moved back home. While it sucked to see her unhappy, we were all glad to have her back.
To celebrate the start of summer, Carol and I planned an easy overnighter to get away and explore one of the trails we used to love, burn a few tokes, and roast a few marshmallows. It'd been a few years since either of us had been hiking, so we were both a bit out of practice. We eventually managed to find our stride as we climbed the trail, updating each other about what was going on in our lives. We'd always been open with each other, and the conversation soon turned to our sex lives. At 18, I wasn't a ladies man by any means, but I wasn't a virgin, either. I was more than happy to share the details - she was a good listener and it was one of my favorite topics. When I asked how things were going for her in that department, she just smiled and told me to buy stock in Duracell.
We started out later than expected, partly because of disorganization, (mostly because we had to search for her left hiking shoe) so we decided to eat while we climbed so we could get the camp set up before dark. We were munching away as we noticed the storm clouds rolling in. We finally got to our site, and with the ominous weather quickly approaching, we worked together to get the camp set up as soon as possible.
We weren't fast enough.
It started to pour as we pitched the tent, and by the time we climbed in to get out of the driving rain, we were drenched. While we'd remembered sleeping bags, food, and weed, we forgot to bring towels. When we realized that, we both started laughing. Shivering from the cold, but laughing. Our soaked clothes clung to our bodies, and that might have been the first time I noticed for myself that she had an amazing figure. Her top wasn't see-through, but I could clearly see the outline of her hard nipples pressing against the fabric.
"Well, I can't change into dry clothes yet because I'll get them soaked too," she said, "and I don't want to wear wet clothes in my sleeping bag, cuz that's a quick trip to pneumonia-land."
I laughed and said 'yup' - being a semi-articulate 18-year old sitting with a hot woman in a small tent, it was the best conversation I could offer.
"So, I'm going to slip out of this wet mess and into my sleeping bag. I guess we can make it through the night, then get back to the house and warm up tomorrow."
And since I couldn't add anything to the conversation, she motioned me to turn away, turned off the little lamp, and then I heard the sounds of her wriggling out of her wet clothes. They landed with a sloppy squish at the edge of the tent, followed by the unzipping of her sleeping bag and climbing in. I slipped out of my wet shirt and jeans, but left my underwear on, even though they were pretty damp, too. My teeth were chattering almost as loud as the rain on the roof of the tent as I slipped into my bag, so I was looking forward to a long hot shower once I got home.
After 15 minutes of silence, Carol asked, "are you freezing too?"
I answered with another 'yup'- talk about your cunning linguist - and she said, "Well, maybe some body heat will help. I don't want to die of hypothermia." Since I was freezing as well, I unzipped my sleeping bag so we could double them up, then slid in beside Carol, being careful not to touch her inappropriately. I always try to be a gentleman, even if I'm not very good at it.
She snuggled up against my back, and I can't lie - her body heat felt amazing, but her hard nipples pressing against my back were even hotter. She wriggled closer, obviously enjoying the extra heat, and then I felt both hands on my back, shoving me away from her glorious warmth.
"Your underwear are wet - take them off, now!" she shrieked.
And that's how I ended up sleeping naked, next to my sister, while the rain beat against the thin nylon of our tent.