My Unconventional Life

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Chapter Three

I don't know what Uncle Bob told our mother about Brinn masturbating, but whatever it was, she never said another word to him about it. Of course he knew it had upset her, so he never did it in front of her again. Actually, that's not exactly true. But that comes much later in the story, so for now I'll just say he kept it to our bedroom. Of course Shannon and I didn't mind. It was kind of fun to watch him get all red in the face, and whale away at that penis. He never seemed to hurt it, though I sure thought he would.

And really, for a long time after that, things were kind of normal. There weren't any big problems. We took the bus to school, but we still had that long driveway to get down every morning. We begged them to drive us at first, but Uncle Bob was so mean he wouldn't do it. We groused about it, but it turns out you can walk two miles in less than half an hour if you set a good pace. And what we didn't know (which Uncle Bob did) was that that walk would be really good for us too. I suppose it kind of became our exercise program. And over that year of school, we got taller, and with more muscle, and very little fat. Shannon and I started growing boobs, which was amazing, and Brinn finally got some pubic hair.

Speaking of pubic hair, Shannon and I both had quite a bit by now. It wasn't thick or very long, and it came in kind of spotty. And when hair also started growing under our arms it was gross. I also had one single hair grow right out of my right nipple. Actually it was growing from the areola, but my nipples were so puffy that you couldn't tell where the nipple started and the areola ended. It freaked me out when I found it. Brinn laughed. I didn't speak to him for almost a week.

Anyway, I complained to Mom about it. Uncle Bob was sitting there too, at the kitchen table, eating breakfast.

"Just yank it," he suggested, smiling.

My mother looked at him like he had just kicked a puppy and slapped his shoulder.

"That's awful!" she scolded.

"I was kidding," he said. He got up and got his keys from the basket he kept them in. The key ring had some fingernail clippers on it. "C'mere, sweet thing," he said, motioning towards me.

"No way," I said, backing away.

"I'm just going to clip the hair," he said.

"You'll miss and amputate my boob," I said.

"No I won't," he insisted.

"It took me almost thirteen years to grow it this much," I said, covering up both my breasts.

"And a great start you have made," he said. "Now come here and let me excise the offending hair."

I looked at Mom.

"He would never hurt you in a million years," she said.

"Not on purpose," I hedged.

But I ended up between his legs while he sat there and touched my breast with his fingers. He got the clippers down close to the skin and I held my breath and he clipped it and then he brushed his fingers across my nipple, like he was brushing the hair away.

Now I have to tell you, I've touched my nipples plenty of times. I've washed them and pinched them and examined them. I've pushed them into my breast flesh and moved them around. I even put an ice cube on one of them once, because I read in a magazine that doing that would make the nipple erect and stick out, and like I said, I had puffy nipples and I wished they looked more like Mom's, which were big and beautiful. But when Uncle Bob just brushed his fingers across that nipple, I almost gasped out loud. I had never felt anything like that. It was so strange.

But I didn't gasp. He said, "There! All done. Nasty old hair gone." And then he slapped me on my hip and leaned back.

I turned to my mother, who didn't look at all like anything important had happened. I could still feel the after effect of his fingers on my nipple, and where he slapped me felt kind of interesting too, but obviously neither of them knew about that. So I just said, "I need you to teach me how to shave anyway. This hair under my arms is gross." I raised my arm and exposed the few dozen dark hairs that had sprouted there.

"Okay," she said.

"And can I shave this off too?" I asked, putting my fingertips just above my split.

Her eyes got kind of wide and her cheeks got pink.

"Actually," she said, kind of hesitantly, "I don't shave myself there. I don't recommend you do either."

"Of course you shave there," I said, leaning over to peer into her crotch.

"I do that for her," said Uncle Bob, grinning. "If she tries it she cuts herself to ribbons. She can shave her underarms, but not down there."

"Oh," I said. I looked at him. "Well can you shave me too?"

My mom made this funny sound in her throat, and when I looked at her, she had one hand over both of her eyes.

"I will if your mom says it's okay to do that," said Uncle Bob.

"Great," said Mom, her eyes still covered. "Make me the bad guy."

"Why would you be the bad guy?" I asked.

"Because I should say no," she said, finally looking at me. "You have no idea what you're asking for."

"Sure I do," I said. "I'm asking Uncle Bob to shave my hair off."

"You make it sound so innocent," sighed my mother. "Why do you insist on growing up too fast?"

"I just think the hair is gross," I complained. "That's all. Why are you making a big deal about this. He does it to you all the time ... right?"

"He does lots of other things to me all the time too," she muttered, just barely loud enough that I heard her. "Okay. But mark my words. Be careful what you ask for. You may get something you're not ready for."

Uncle Bob laughed. "I think I can manage to clean her off without reducing her to the kind of ... um ... condition you end up in."

"You'd better hope so," said Mom.

By now I was pretty curious about why she was acting that way. I looked at Uncle Bob, who was still looking at Mom, smiling.

"So when can you do it?" I asked, all chipper.

"How about tonight?" he asked. "Just before bed. That way if there's any razor burn, you won't be walking around irritating it."

"Razor burn?" I asked, suddenly worried.

"I'll use a new razor," he said. "You'll be fine. Trust me. I'm an expert at this."

By that night, of course, I had told Shannon what was going to happen, and she wanted to lose the hair too, so when it was time, we both showed up. Brinn had no interest in seeing us lose the hair, so he went into the living room and turned on the TV. Mom was there, though, which didn't seem odd to us. Of course now I realize she was keeping an eye on Uncle Bob. I fully understand why she was there, but I don't think it worked out quite how she thought it would. I think that because she was there, Uncle Bob did a couple of things that he might not have done had she been absent. I honestly believe that if she hadn't been there, he'd have simply shaved us both as quickly as possible, with as little mess and tumult as possible. But because Mom was there, I think he teased her.

Which, as it turned out, meant he teased us too.

Shannon went first, demanding her rights as the oldest. She pulled that crap all the time. Sometimes I fought her, but I kept thinking about that razor burn thing, so this time I stood back and watched.

She was already naked, so all he had her do was sit on the edge of the kitchen table and put her heels beside her butt. That opened her up as wide as I'd ever seen her. He sat in a chair right in front of her pussy. We called it a vagina then, of course.

"Okay," he said. "If you were older, and your hair was thicker, I'd put a warm washcloth on there to soften things up. But this is pretty fine, so that won't be necessary. So I'm going to put some shaving cream on you. Not a lot."

He did that. I'm pretty sure Mom expected him to tell her to rub it around. He didn't. He just put three fingers up there and rubbed all over the top of her split and above that.

"Oh!" she gasped, sitting up. She'd been leaning back on her arms.

"Bob!" said Mom, with something like warning in her voice. He ignored her.

"Okay," he said. "Now I'm going to hold the skin tight and pull the razor against the grain of the hair. Don't move while I do this."

"Okay," squeaked Shannon. She sounded nervous.

Uncle Bob pinched her pussy lips together, somehow making them get longer. Shannon's eyes got real big and her mouth opened, but before she could say anything he touched the razor to her skin, just barely above her split, and dragged it smoothly up toward her belly button. She held her breath, which meant she couldn't say anything. When he brought the razor back down she let her breath out and took another, and held that one while he did it again. It only took him three sweeps. He let go of her lips and reached for the wash cloth he had said he didn't need to use. Then he pressed it against her and, using his whole palm, rubbed all over her pussy.

"Oh wow," she moaned, and her butt moved up off the table. One of her heels slid off the table and her butt slammed back down. Uncle Bob sat back just as Mom said, "Bob!" again, clearly scolding him this time.

"All done," he announced, grinning.

Shannon dropped her heels off the table and jumped down. She raised her arm, standing right in front of Uncle Bob.

"Oh yes," he said, reaching for the shaving cream.

This time he put the cream on his fingertips and rubbed them into her arm pit. She danced.

"That tickles," she whined.

"Stand still!" he ordered.

A couple of swipes and that arm was done. Shannon was giggling now, and kept saying it tickled, but she turned around and had him do the other arm anyway. Then, when he was finished, she danced away from him, going to the full length mirror on the wall between the kitchen and living room, where she raised each arm and peered into the mirror. She was smiling.

I figured that if he'd burned her, it must not have hurt much, so I jumped up onto the table and assumed the position.

Man, oh man, did I ever find out what my mother was talking about. Having a man touch your sex for the first time in your life is a life-changing situation. I had no idea what I had gotten myself into.

He did it different with me. I don't know why. Maybe he couldn't get a grip on my lips down there. Instead, he pushed three fingers against the top of my split to hold the skin steady there while he pulled that razor upwards and got me clean. The middle of those three fingers, of course, pressed directly onto my bump. And somehow, as he moved the razor, he also moved those three fingers. They went sideways ... not much, mind you ... but just enough to make that middle finger glide across my bump four or five times.

I thought I was going to pee. I almost warned them that I was going to pee. I didn't warn him, but I must have made some kind of sound, because all of a sudden Mom spoke up again.

"Bob! Would you quit torturing my daughters?!"

"Who? Me?" he asked, smiling.

I was about to tell her there wasn't any torture going on, when he said, "Done. You want me to do your underarms too?"

I did, and it did tickle.

He looked at Mom. "You need a touchup, honey?"

"Like I'd let you touch me after what you did to them," she scoffed.

"What? They asked me to shave them. I shaved them." Even I could hear the enhanced (fake) innocence in his voice.

It was that fake innocence that piqued my interest. I knew, based on that, and those warning sounds in my mother's voice, that something had happened ... something Mom had known would happen ... something she was worried about. But Uncle Bob's behavior had all been like he was just trying to make it fun for us. I couldn't imagine that he had rubbed my bump on purpose, though now, of course, I know that's exactly what he did. But I still think it was as much to tease Mom as it was because he was a pervert or something. I mean she was right there, watching, and he had to know she saw exactly what he did.

Anyway, I joined Shannon and Brinn in the living room, where they were cuddling on the couch, watching Baywatch. Brinn had a thing for one of the lifeguards on that show and he never missed it if he could help it. I kept telling him she'd never give him the time of day, and that she'd probably call him a baby, but he didn't care.

I looked around for Mom and Uncle Bob, but they had gone to the bedroom. I wondered about that, but I knew better than to go open that door. They'd come out when they were ready.

So the first time we girls got our pussies touched was by Uncle Bob. Shannon talked about it a lot. She even tried to get Brinn to touch her like he had.

"You pee down there!" he said, obviously grossed out.

"Well you pee through your penis and I've touched that," she argued.

"That's to make me feel good," he said.

"And I think if you touch me it will make me feel good too," she said.

"You don't have anything to touch," he pointed out.

"I have a bump," she said.

But Brinn wasn't interested in her bump. He would be later, but not then. And I knew that Uncle Bob hadn't actually touched her bump. Not like he'd touched mine. But I didn't talk about that.

I just lay in bed on nights after that, and slid my index finger across my bump for a while, loving how it felt, even though it wasn't the same as when Uncle Bob had done it.

That came to be very important the next summer.

It was, in fact, not until the next summer that something else happened.

Oh ... wait. I forgot one other thing.

Uncle Bob had shaved us in October. We didn't need to shave again until December. Even then the hair wasn't long, but the stubble was uncomfortable. Mom was smug about that, saying that once you start, you have to keep doing it, or suffer through letting it grow back out. Anyway, instead of having Uncle Bob do it again, Mom gave us the shaving cream and the razor and said, "Bob showed you how to do it. You can do each other. Just be careful and take it slow."

That was the first time we touched each other's bump.

It happened because I shaved her first, and I did it exactly the same way Uncle Bob had shaved me. And Shannon's eyes got all big and she started panting. She even asked, at one point, "What are you doing?" And of course I said, "I'm shaving you. Did I hurt you?" And she said, "Hell no!" which was pretty strange, since I'd never heard her use that word.

And then, I had to teach her how to hold me the same way, and of course that made her realize that I had done it on purpose, and that led to me admitting that Uncle Bob had done me like that. She got a little upset that he hadn't done that to her, of course, drama queen that she is. But she got over it, because she had learned that she didn't need Brinn to touch her and make her feel good.

Now it would be me.

When she suggested we try doing that without the shaving gear, I said, "Um ... they have a name for girls who do stuff like that. It's lesbian."

"No it isn't," she argued. "Lesbians have sex with each other. That's not what we'd be doing. We'd only be touching one another."

"I think that still counts," I said.

"So you don't want to?" She sounded hurt.

"I didn't say that," I said. Actually, I kind of did want to, because when she'd finally gotten it right, it had felt pretty good. Not as good as when Uncle Bob did it, but better than when I did it myself. I was just worried. I didn't want to become a lesbian. I wanted to have babies some day, and it really did feel better when Uncle Bob did it, and he was a man and all.

"Well make up your mind," she said, getting all frustrated, like she did so often. She expected everybody to fall in line with whatever she wanted, all because she was ten minutes older than the rest of us.

"I'll let you know," I said. "I just want to make sure it doesn't cause any long term harm."

"You're weird," she snorted, and turned around and stalked off.

As it turned out, we decided that the only time we'd do that was when we shaved each other. We had a heck of a good time, and we could blame it all on the need to shave, rather than a desire to become lesbians.

What!?

We were twelve. What did you expect?

So that happened three or four times before summer got there.

So I guess all that happened during the summer we turned thirteen, and the really big thing happened that changed everything.

Like the other things I've mentioned, it started out pretty innocently, all things considered. We were all out in the pool. The sun was shining and it was hot, and the pool felt wonderful. But the pool was fed by a well that was part of an underground spring that came from snow melt up in the mountains. And it was really cold. So we got out to sun ourselves a lot.

And I got out and saw Uncle Bob putting sunscreen on Mom, who was lying face down on a chaise lounge. She was making noises, but she always made noises when he touched her, so I didn't think anything of it. I laid down on the chaise lounge next to Mom's.

"You can do me next," I said to Uncle Bob.

He grinned at me, and kept doing Mom. I turned my head and closed my eyes, loving the warmth of the sun on my back. Then, pretty soon, Uncle Bob was there, dripping oil on my back from my neck to my butt. His big hands pressed into the oil, and suddenly they were rubbing all over my back. It was incredible, because he was pressing hard, kind of giving me a massage, rather than just spreading the oil.

"That feels good," I groaned.

He didn't say anything. When he got to my bottom, he covered that too, his hands squeezing my butt cheeks and then moving down to my thighs. He dripped oil on my legs and smoothed his hands all up and down my legs. I know he went inside my legs, and I know he went close to my pussy, but I didn't think about that. It just felt so good to be touched like this.

"Don't lay there too long," he cautioned, standing up.

"Wait!" I said, flipping over. "I'm going to want to lie on my back too."

He didn't say anything. He just leaned back down and dripped oil from my collar bones to my belly. His hands came down on my boobs, which had grown almost to an A cup by this time. I thought I was going to pee again, because it felt so good as his hands moved all over my breasts and nipples. I know I groaned, but I kept my eyes closed because of the sun, and he didn't say anything. He just kept moving his hands all over my breasts and stomach.

"How's your shave job?" he said softly. And three fingers slid right between my legs. The middle finger found my button, which had also gotten bigger since the last time he'd touched it, and gave it a sideways flip before pulling back up. "Pretty good," he said.

My mouth was open, but I didn't know what to say. When something came out of my mouth, I couldn't believe it.

"Do that again," my voice said.

"I don't think so," he said, and I could tell he was smiling.

Then he did my legs and my arms and my forehead and face. He leaned down to kiss me on the forehead.

"That will do for now," he said. "It won't keep you from burning, though, if you stay out here too long.

"Okay," I said, still thinking about how wonderful it felt to have his hands all over me like that. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"If you're finished molesting my daughter, I could use some sunscreen on my front too," said Mom. She was trying to sound mad, but I could tell she wasn't.

He went over and rubbed all over her too ... until she squealed and told him not in front of the children.

That one little incident convinced me that I wanted it to happen again. So the next time we were out there together, I asked Uncle Bob to put sunscreen on me again. And he did it exactly the same way. Mom wasn't there this time. She was teaching Shannon how to make a pie out of the rhubarb that Uncle Bob had growing in the garden.

Again, we started with me on my stomach. It felt just as wonderful as his oily hands slid all over my body. This time his middle finger dipped deep enough between my butt cheeks to tickle my butt hole. I tightened my cheeks, but it wasn't terrible or anything. And again, when I turned over, he gave me that feeling in my belly that I now knew did not really mean I was going to pee. I didn't know what it did mean, but I knew it didn't mean I was going to pee.

As he rubbed my breasts, his fingers kind of tweaked my nipples. It felt fantastic.

"I really like that," I sighed.

"I know," he said. "So does your mom."

"You suck hers," I said, for no particular reason. I was just talking.

"I don't think it would be a good idea to suck yours," he said.

"That's not what I meant," I said. "I mean I don't know what I meant. I just said it."

"Right," he said. "Do I need to check your shave?"

I knew he was asking permission to touch me. He hadn't asked before, and I knew he didn't need to "check my shave." Somehow I knew that he didn't need to touch me at all. He just wanted to.

"Yes," I said.

Again, his oily middle finger slid between my vulva and pressed left and right over my bump.

"I really like that," I said.

"I really shouldn't do that to you," he said, softly.

"Because of Mom?" I asked.

"Something like that," he said.

"Well I like it," I said.

"I know," he said again. "That's enough for now."

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He had an erection. For some reason that made me feel really good.

"Thank you," I said.

He stood up. "You're welcome. I think I'd better go find your mother."

"She's making a pie," I said.

"She can make a pie later," he said, grinning.

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