About a week after my arrival my older sister and I were staying up as usual and somehow wound up wrestling on the bed. I would jump on her and tickle...her, which would make her squirm and kick around laughing. I couldn’t help noticing how my sister who was three years younger than me had begun to feel like a woman under her clothes. She had small breasts but they were firm and from what I could feel of them nicely shaped. Her waist line had slimmed and while she still kept some of her baby fat. We'd been straight with each other for all of our relationship, even back in D.C.; for both of us, keeping secrets wasn't part of marriage.I did, however, give her a pretty expurgated version, making Richard seem like an alarmist and Estrada a comparatively small-time opportunist. As a younger woman she'd been fairly adventurous—adventurous enough to join me in our self-imposed exile for all those years, for one thing—but motherhood had turned her, unsurprisingly, a good deal more conservative.. More

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