For one thing, neither of us was exactly a raving beauty, face-wise. Nothing gross or ugly, see, but they weren't asking me or Jill to do magazine covers, either. Jill's features are sharply-defined; if she does her makeup just right, it's a striking effect, but I was about the only one who ever noticed. As for me, my face was the last refuge of my baby fat, and only lately had the puffy outlines begun to take shape. Maybe by the time I was twenty-five or so… But nobody except my parents thought I was cute.

That was unfortunate, because Jill and I were very normal for our age, and we thought about boys most of the time. Occasionally we had dates, and we'd both been kissed and felt. But nothing more than kissing and feeling. We were both interested – very interested – but very afraid, too. What if we got pregnant? What if we got caught? I suppose every girl goes through that whole routine of doubt and dread before she finally says "To hell with the consequences!" and ties it on with some hard-tooled young stud. Well, we hadn't gotten to that point yet.

Partly because we didn't get too many chances. Jill's parents and mine weren't averse to our having dates with guys, but there weren't many guys. We're both very tall – almost flve eight barefooted, so you can imagine how we look with shoes on – and guys our age seem afraid of our height. It isn't fair, like Jill said. If the right guy asked me to do it with him, I'd probably weep with joy and pull down my panties, asking him to be very gentle. But so far I finished trimming Jill's fur with the scissors, and her pubic triangle looked a bit more like a triangle. She pulled the bikini panties into place. "There," I said. "Now you won't get arrested for obscene hair showing on the beach."

Jill's long legs flashed as she strutted across the bedroom. I knew what she was thinking. Her body was really getting there, with plump, round tits and a high, jiggly ass. If them were guys at the beach, they'd be noticing her for damn sure.