I live in San Francisco with my parents and my younger brother, Bill. I have an older brother, Jim, who at 23 is seven years older than I am which makes me 16. Jim has been married for over three years to Romie, his high school sweetheart, and they live across the Golden Gate Bridge in Marin. I don't remember their wedding very well, but the thing I do recall, with great gusto (especially when I am alone in my room and masturbating) was Romie's wedding dress. It was pure white, like an angles clothing and cut low enough that I had the opportunity to feast my eyes on the first set of tits I had ever seen. Well... that's not exactly true, I saw my mom one night when she was walking from her bathroom to her bedroom, but that doesn't count.

OK, here is the deal. I am 16, horny and a virgin. The normal teenager. So I have been trying for the last two years to get laid, without success. The closest I got to first base was when I was making out with Julie, one of my recent, "I'm in love with you honest," acquisitions from high school. One afternoon we were in my garage kissing and I got to feel her tits through her sweater, but when I tried to get my hands under that sweater and onto her mounds of gold all I got was a slap in the face and an "I'm not that kind of girl" answer.

Then came "the" change. In January Jim joined the Navy and after boot camp was off on a ship to the Middle East and the gulf war. Because they were young and the Navy didn't pay all that well, Romie moved "home," into our house. Mom and dad gave my room to Romie and I moved into the basement. That was OK because my room had been Jim's before he got married and besides, having my bed in the basement gave me a great deal of privacy although it wasn't pretty place to live.

One of the best things about having Romie "home" again was breakfast. Each morning Romie would come downstairs and join us for breakfast. She would usually wear a pajama top which always seemed to have a gap where I could get a glimpse of her tits. I don't think that she ever wore a bra, if fact I'm sure she didn't. Oh God how I looked forward to breakfast.

I would dream about Romie at night. I wanted to see her nude. No I just had to see her nude. I needed a plan.

One night I was logged onto my computer, which I had moved into the basement, and was surfing the web, mostly porno sites with movies of "real women" acting out their fantasies for the enjoyment of the paying public. I was really engrossed in watching this particular site. It featured a 20-something girl masturbating herself with a giant cock-cum-dildo and telling her paying audience how much she wished the rubber cock was "you" pleasuring me. I was sitting in my chair, my pajamas around my ankles and stroking my "manly" cock. Well, at least I thought it was manly. When it was hard it was almost 7" long (I know because I measured it. Doesn't every guy?) and pretty thick. I didn't have a lot to compare too, but when I showered after gym class I was at least as big as any of the other guys.

Anyway, back to the story. I was engrossed and stroking my cock and I didn't hear Romie come down the basement stairs. I don't know how long she stood there and watched me, but I first noticed her reflection in my monitor screen and after it caught my eye I seemed to get harder and I knew my orgasm wasn't far away. I jerked my cock harder and harder until I came with a rush, followed by my dick shooting cum all over my chest and arm. When I looked up at the monitor again, she was gone.

The next morning at breakfast Romie acted like nothing had ever happened. No expressions on her face whatsoever. I did note though that she had left the middle button on her PJ top open (an accident or on purpose?) and when she saw me looking at her she reached across the table to get the milk which opened a gap in her top which afforded me an unobstructed view of her left breast, nipple and all. I was thrilled. That view would be burned into my memory for life, a masturbators wet dream picture.

That afternoon when I got home from school I went into the basement and began experimenting with moving my computer to a position that if Romie came downstairs again to watch me, I would have a better view of her. It took at least five adjustments before I though I had it in the best position.

Every night when I went down to the basement to go to bed I would turn on my computer and wait for her to come sneaking down the basement stairs, but it never happened. Two months passed and she never came down those stairs again. To say I was disappointed was an understatement, I was devastated. Oh, I still beat my meat, but it wasn't the same. I wanted HER to watch me.

Six months passed without anything happening. Oh, she would still show up at breakfast and sometimes I got a view of those luscious tits and on occasion she would wear a blouse that I could see down the top, but she seemed to always be wearing a bra, so it was kind of a "no show" if you know what I mean. Then one afternoon Romie got a letter in the mail, read it, and with tears running down her cheek, ran to her bedroom and closed the door.

I was the only one home at the time, so I walked upstairs to see what was wrong. I stood at her door and could hear her sobbing. When I knocked the door must have been ajar for it just swung open and I saw her lying on her stomach on the bed crying. The tears were cascading down her cheeks and she was rubbing her eyes with her fists. I walked over to the bed and said, "Hey Romie, what's wrong?" She looked up at me and said, "Oh Richard, I got this letter from your brother and he say's that the war isn't going well and they have extended his tour of duty for another six month." She started sobbing again and I sat down next to her and put my arm around her shoulder. "Hey Romie, it isn't all that bad," I said. "He'll be home soon and you two can get your own place."