She could laugh and joke with him. She had all these little things she did, looks and glances and playful punches, that he understood. It was like the... had their own private language.And what did I have?No tits. Just a pair of small buds pretending to be boobs. Every other woman, even bratty Lee, had tits in the family. But not me. Mom and Zoey, my older sister, had huge tits. Aunt Vicky had big boobs, and Melody’s were nice and round. Lee’s were handfuls, but they at least filled a bra. I. We’ve known one another nearly our whole lives and never sat like this, but somehow it feels as old and comfortable as time itself. His arm wasn’t so strong then though, I remembered–not so well-muscled and manly as it was now. I used to look upon that arm as one to love and protect–not one to look to for love and protection. Yet now…I looked up into his face, into those ever-changing hazel eyes, and I saw that the boy I loved had become a man. The soft edges had hardened, the jawline had. More

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