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I'm Canadian, and so are my sisters, and my parents, but that didn't stop my parents from naming us all in the Celtic tradition.
I called her Vonnie, and as I said earlier, she spent a lot of time at our house. Little more than crushes, really, but she helped me understand the female point of view, especially when the point of view excluded me. "Just one girl tonight, the girlfriend of one of my buddies, and she's not that hot," I explained. She had developed the same big, voluptuous chest as her sisters... Actually all my sisters were pretty similar, as well. I could learn to lock the damn bathroom door properly, however. *** I'm not really sure how Vonnie found out about my private bathroom activities. She called it 'playing with my boy stuff', kind of a gentle reminder that we were different, even if she was my best female friend. " She wrapped me in a big hug, letting me know my apparent perversion wasn't going to chase her away. Just wanted to try my phone, and wanted you to be my first call." "That's so sweet, honey.
It always ended with a hug, just to let me know it was not meant maliciously. Vonnie was nearly eighteen, was dating other boys, and was still my best friend. She held me longer than usual, my head against her chest. A certain part of me was headed toward the other end of the scale, so I turned my hips, hoping she wouldn't notice. The playful banter took on a new dimension one day, when she was inducing a blush by razzing me, as usual. she was very careful not to give fuel to my sisters. That image was front and centre in my mind during my next opportunity to play with my stuff. She was also still my teacher, and would drop the odd tidbit here and there. She released me, and left with a different look on her face, like she was thinking.