I’m the Brother sitting in class at our town’s community college, making goo-goo eyes at you. I’m the shy and totally square guy who suddenly dr...sses up thuggishly just to impress you because I overheard you say you like guys with edge. I’m the guy who’s knocking dudes down like beach balls as I charge through the football field. I’m the nerdy guy with thick glasses pining for you in Sunday school. I’m the quiet deacon in church who always has a kind word for you when you enter. I’m the old. "You are?!" Cynthia said, with her average bitchy attitude. "I would be Dave", "Make yourselves at home, "Have some whiskey and a cigarette,While I will be right back". I walk to my room thinking this will work perfectly, I grab my gun, and some rope we have had lying around. I slip them in my pockets and walk back into the living room. "So ladies how about we play a game?!", "What kind of game?" she said perkily as usual. "How about some 'Truth or Dare'?!"THE GAME TIME!The game started off. " The word again made me wince in even more shame. Over the course of the last four-to-five months I found myself going over my sisters lap on regular basis, often several times in a week. As much as she made it look like she hated it, I always sensed she took some level of satisfaction away. Over this recent span, her verbal assaults were becoming more and more frequent. It was now to the point where she'd simply only talk to me in a demeaning way to constantly make me feel inferior. "What. Around the middle of my ninth grade year, she eventually grew to like me, and stopped abusing me, even started walking with me to class and inviting me over her house.One night after practice, my mother couldn’t pick me up and she offered to let me stay the night at her house. My mother had no problem with it, considering her and my mom became nearly best friends after we stopped feuding.I couldn’t keep my eyes off her breasts the whole way home, constantly glancing over to look at her rock.