Chapter 1: Introduction

As you enter South Carolina along the I-95 corridor, you will see billboards for discount fireworks, cigarettes and adult material in the heart of the Bible Belt. We don't actually use any of that evil stuff, if you believe Pastor Case. It is all for those heathen Yankees passing through on their way to Florida. I have a less hypocritical story to tell.

Growing up in South Carolina wasn't as tough as my story may seem. The idea is to keep a positive outlook on life and to be cheery. I don't mean "spokes model" kind of cheery, just a natural good disposition. If life deals you lemons, add one cup to three cups of water and create a blonde highlight rinse. Perhaps that is how I got the nickname "Sunny." Of course, any nickname is better than my real one: Anita Biggerstaff.

Yes, I was born not only with a gag name, but one that a porn star could use. Pa comes from a long line of Biggerstaffs, and Anita comes from my Ma's side. She was a Reynolds from Edgefield County. She claims we are related to Strom Thurmond. Of course, everyone from Edgefield County makes that claim, even the black people. Her Ma was named Anita, although we just knew her as "Me-maw." So I was named for my grandmother, who was older than dirt and then died "suddenly and unexpectedly" a few years back at the age of 97.

I grew up with my two brothers. Steven was a few years older than me, and William was my Irish twin; I was the younger of the "twins." William was considered a junior because Pa was a "William," even though they didn't share the same middle name. My brother preferred to be called "Billy." Billy's son would also be named "William," and he too would be known as "junior," and of course he would also have a different middle name. Don't ask me to explain it. I just live here.

We originally lived in Edgefield until my brothers figured out an easy way to catch catfish. They would take firecrackers, M-80s and seal them in a can, light them, and toss them in the fishing hole. The explosion would stun the fish and bring them to the surface. One day, they decided to get a whole bunch of fish. I went with them and watched Steven and Billy tie four sticks of dynamite together. They knew how to work blasting caps, or at least they thought they did, by watching Pa blowing up stumps. We were going to have a mess o' catfish for supper. They tossed the sticks in their favorite hole by the dam, and we took off running. Well, nothing happened. Billy told Steven that if his brains were dynamite, he couldn't blow his nose. We went back and stood there on the banks of the lake and then. BANG! A wall of water hit us and blew us back twenty feet. The dam had broken, and we started running back to the farmhouse, like scared rabbits. As we ran back to the farmhouse, Pa ran toward us. It wasn't a gold star moment for any of us kids. Pa looked like a windmill, his arms flying all over the place, as my brother's bottoms got torn up. Being a girl, I was innocent. Shortly after that episode, I remembered moving to Spartanburg. My Pa did spank me once as a child. In Edgefield County, you can't throw a stone without hitting a church. I know because one Sunday morning Billy and I tried. That was one whoopin' I never forgot.

Pa was a construction worker and fancied himself a builder of sorts. He was as country as cornflakes and grew up poor. He told us his family was so poor they would have to borrow money to buy water to cry with. Ma just drank a lot and fancied herself a lot of things, mostly when she was passed out. Pa decided to build our second home from scratch; apparently those available in the Spartanburg area just weren't good enough. He secured a lot. It was the one in Spartanburg that had a slope to it. It was cheaper than the flat lots. For a long time, I believed I was the only kid in South Carolina with a hilly backyard. Pa built our home from "left over" and "broken" pieces from his construction projects. It is one thing to use the cornerstone the builder rejected, but another to build your whole house that way. 

Ma had pulled Billy and me out of school. We were getting a little unruly, and Ma blamed the school, so we home-schooled for a year. During this time, Ma spent most of the time she should have been teaching by drinking, going out to buy liquor, getting drunk, and passing out. At the end of the year, when it was time for me and Billy to take our exams to move up a grade, we failed miserably. Ma, of course, blamed us and that defective Biggerstaff DNA for our failure. We went back to public school the next year and had to repeat a grade. We were now the oldest kids in the class, except for some kids who were dumber than rocks. We turned 16 in our freshman year.

Billy and I were hellions away from home. Steve would drive us around in his Mustang while I sat in Billy's lap (he was a real Biggerstaff) and flashed truckers by lifting my shirt. I had blossomed into a "righteous looking babe," as my brother would tease. Billy would say I was as "purty as speckled pup." My hair was naturally summer blonde, although I believe it was every color of the rainbow at one time or another. My breasts had developed nicely, and at my young age, a bra was an option even with a solid "D," sometimes "DD" cup depending on the manufacturer. I loved to dance, so my legs took on a muscular shape, though not to the point of looking like a bodybuilder. My waist was thin. Well, as thin as it was going to get. You couldn't count ribs by looking at me, but then you couldn't pinch more than an inch either. My brothers loved to take me out flashing. I was proud of those puppies.

The flashing episodes became hog wild. Billy got a little bolder and would "help me" flash by either lifting my shirt or reaching around and holding my breasts up for the truckers to see. After a few times with Billy helping me, I became comfortable with the idea. Then Steven decided he could help too. I felt uncomfortable at first with Steven's touch. However, I didn't get the nickname "Sunny" for nothing. I grew to like my brothers' newfound attention.

Billy started to play that immature game of pretending to bump into me to cop a feel. I was his sister. I told him to "Stop knocking me around. If you want to feel my tits, just ask when no one is around." We were both near adults. Billy became a little shyer after that. He asked me to flash him a couple of times at home, normally before bedtime, but the feeling up had almost stopped except for our occasional weekend trip down I-85.

About this time a hole appeared in our connecting closets. It was so huge! I was so afraid Ma would find it while cleaning or...no wait. Never mind. I was talking about my Ma. She never came in our rooms. Billy could spy on his sister anytime he liked. It was during this era I learned to do little sexy dances, strip teases, and "tent poses," knowing Billy was watching me. After I gave him a good show, I would turn out my light and play opossum. Then I would watch Billy through the same hole. My brother had a huge cock. He would use lotion and rub himself to orgasm. Watching him cum made me horny. I would break out my long silver vibrator, "Silver Surfer" I named it, and would bring myself off thinking about my brother's immense cock.

Growing up around Biggerstaffs gave me a warped sense of the world of men, as I believed all cocks were at least 9 inches long. My disappointment would come later. I had thought all my boyfriends were deformed, or hadn't developed. I learned differently one day at school when my brother called me over to the boys' locker room door. A group of boys stood outside. Naïve, I didn't think anything of it until one of them pushed me through the locker room door. I tried to get out right away, but they held the door shut. I turned around to see a bunch of wet, naked boys. Inadvertently, I stared at their dicks, or whatever that was between their legs. In that moment, I realized my family was something special. Most of the guys, when they saw me, covered themselves up, but a few boys approached me with their dicks swinging. I beat on the door and yelled, "Let me out!" I pushed hard on the door and nearly fell on the floor as the door flew open, and I spilled out. No one was standing by it. Everyone stood down the hall, watching and laughing as I ran scared like a scalded dog. That night Billy didn't get a show, but I soon got over it and now laugh when I think about the incident.

A few days later the "show" went on-big time. At school, a group of boys pushed me around. I was in the middle, and as they pushed me back and forth, Billy came to my rescue and stopped them. That night I did something special. I turned up the lights nice and bright in my room and made sure I didn't have any hanging closet clothing obstructing his spy hole.

I put some music on, hillbilly rock-which is Billy's favorite. I danced around the room, strutting my stuff like a proud peacock, never straying far from the closet fissure. I removed my black tube top first and paraded around in my bra. I sat on the bed facing my brother's eyes, legs open so he could see up my skirt. I leaned back on the bed, unhooked my bra and sat back up- topless, exposing my boobs to Billy.

I pretended I wanted something from the closet floor, directly under the peephole. I walked forward topless with my tits moving at the hole. I knew Billy was watching, because I heard him fall backward at that moment. I tried not to laugh- really, I did. I heard him scramble back to his position. I couldn't believe the noise this guy was making. He could never be a serious peeping Tom.

I dropped the skirt off in front of the closet and danced around in my panties, with my thumbs inside the elastic band teasing him as if I was going to take them off. The panties came off, and I kicked them at the closet hole, exposing more red meat than a butcher's window. They fell short of the hole, but by now Billy had to suspect I knew he was watching me. At least I had hoped he wasn't that thick.

I lay spread-legged on the bed, giving my brother a clear view of my pussy, womb and tonsils, for that matter. I broke out Silver Surfer, something I have never done for Billy before. With a slight twist, my little helper was humming away. I surfed all over my pussy, before working it in and out. I was thinking of my brother's big cock in his hand, stroking himself, as he watched "little sister" get off.

I worked my silver bullet until I gushed all over the sheets. I bit my Gamecock pillow to avoid screaming. It already had a few teeth marks. In fact, I noticed I needed to sew up some loose stitching. One of the great things about living in South Carolina was I could proclaim I was a Cock fan in mixed company. I shouted into my pillow as my pussy juiced. I thought Billy would be getting off right about now, but I went on to masturbate myself to a few more orgasms, just in case.

The next day was Saturday. Pa was working overtime building the Wal-Mart. Ma was over at the Saints' residence. Billy was dating their daughter Felicia, who was also as purty as a speckled pup. They were Yankees, but real good people regardless. Ma would go over there from time to time during her sober moments to gab. I assumed Billy was over there too, taking a dip in their pool.

I walked out of my morning shower into the living room, wearing a bathrobe and drying my hair with a towel. Steven sat there, switching channels on the TV. At that point, I didn't know what Steven did for money. He didn't have a job, except fetching building material for Pa when he needed it. He would go out at night and sometimes during the day, but never to work. I know Pa wasn't paying for his car. Anyway, Steven looked at me and said, "That was quite a show you put on last night."

I was flabbergasted. Did Billy tell? I pretended to be stupid, well, at least dumber than usual. "I have no idea what you mean." I kept drying my hair, head down, pretending not to care.

"Do you think Billy is the only one who resides in his closet?" Steven continued.

I caught my breath and said nothing. The joke was on me. I should have known, or at least suspected Steven was involved too. Oh well, what is done is done. "So," I said. Okay, Steven saw me naked-no big deal.

About that time Billy showed up. He was still in his room. He hadn't left. "Hey! It's Gypsy Rose Lee." He said as he came into the room.

"Please don't call me that in front of other people," I asked.

"Oh, we won't," Steven said nonchalantly. "Just do your dance for us again."

Other girls might have been offended by this as a crude blackmail attempt by their brothers, but I really wanted to tease, arouse, and dance for my wonderful brothers. But I had some reservations. "What if our parents caught us?"

"No chance, Sunny," Billy said. "Pa will be at work until supper, and Mom is helping Sarah at the church. They will be staying there at least through lunch, since Mom took a plate for "potluck."

My eyes widened with anticipation. The taboo aspect of dancing naked for my two brothers was too much temptation for me to overcome. Especially after last night, I was becoming an exhibitionist addict. "Okay, take your seats; I'll be right back."

I went to my room and tossed off my robe, then looked for the right clothes to put on so I could take them off. I opted to make this simple. A blouse tied at the waist, no bra and a pair of Daisy Duke Shorts with my butt cheeks jutting out. I had made these to wear out in public, but I'd cut them too short even for that, so I saved them for some unknown reason. Now I was glad I did.

The guys whistled at me, their own sister, as I entered the room. I smiled, blushed, and bowed. Billy found some dance music on the radio. We weren't normally a disco family, but sometimes the music was not only tolerable, but preferred over hillbilly rock.

I danced and swayed my hips for the guys. I shook my butt in their faces, and they enjoyed it. I ran my hands to the knot holding my blouse together. I slowly undid it as the boys watched, mesmerized by my moves. I fumbled with the knot. "Let's see. How does this go? The bunny goes around the tree and into the hole..."

While I was attempting to undo the knot, Billy asked me a question: "Hey, Sunny, which weighs more: an ounce of gold or an ounce of feathers?" Billy smiled and nudged Steven.

I answered, "Why, an ounce of gold weighs more."

Billy and Steven laughed at me. Apparently I had gotten the answer wrong, but I didn't know why. I continued with that dratted knot.

The guys showed patience as the knot became freed, at last, and my blouse hung open, exposing my bare tummy and some cleavage. A few more dance steps and the blouse slipped off my shoulders, exposing my breasts to my brothers. I glanced out the window at the driveway. I must have appeared as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I still wasn't comfortable with the setting. My brothers placed both their hands in the air and wiggled their fingers as if they wanted to grab a pair of something. It was so cute to watch them practically begging for me.

I satisfied my brothers' air-grasping hands by filling them with a nice set of firm titties. I let my brothers feel my boobs until the pantomime hands returned to their sides or laps, as the case may be. I unsnapped the shorts and pulled the zipper down. There was some bush poking out from above the zipper. My brothers' eyes fell from my chest to my bush as I played with the zipper and danced with my hands on my hips, shaking my top and bottom. With my fingers inside the opened waist, I lowered my Dukes to the floor, standing totally naked in front of my brothers. I danced nude as they again extended their pantomime hands, rubbing their thumb against their fingers as if they wanted to feel something about crotch level. I wondered what that could be. I jokingly thought. I decided to find out by prancing naked in front of each of my brothers. As it turned out, they just wanted to touch...