EVERYONE EXCEPT MARY contributed to the task of unloading. I went onto the roof of the station wagon and passed down whatever pack or case dad ordered me to. He handed each one over to Bea or Cindy who were standing dutifully by to ferry it into the motel room. Mom was stationed on the other end to organize everything they brought her.

Not wanting to get on his bad side, the girls were quick to call out “yes sir!” and jump to do whatever Frank ordered. It was a far cry from the lackadaisical way they had been acting toward him not one day earlier. It’s like they dared not show even the slightest hint of disrespect anymore for fear or receiving the Mary treatment. I admit, I was also giving my best effort to do whatever he asked of me – just in case.

Once the car was unpacked, dad left to find a service station. He needed to fill the tank, but also wanted the check out a concerning knock that had developed during the last hour of the drive.

As soon as my sisters and I were dismissed, we headed inside to ask mom if we could go for a swim. Receiving permission, we took turns changing in the bathroom before heading out. The whole time, I never saw more than the top of Mary’s head peeking out from the covers on one of the room’s two beds. Since she didn’t have a swimsuit, I doubted she would be interested in joining us at the pool.

Laboring in the hot sun, I had worked up a sweat, and wasted no time jumping into the deep end. Cindy followed close behind, but Bea took her sweet time. She made a fuss out of picking the perfect lounge chair before spreading out her towel and easing her way into the water by way of the stairs.

True to her name (Beatrice Rose, named after her deceased grandmother) Bea couldn’t have been a bigger thorn in my side. Growing up, the only time she ever gave me attention was to boss me around. She had a pretty smile, everyone said so, but with me, she only used her most derisive scowls. Even though we were practically the same age, she loved to remind me that technically she was my big sister. In her mind, that gave her permission to treat me like her servant.

If I tried to fight back or argue, she would rally her sisters for support. Mary and Cindy always sided with her, of course. Not that I was afraid of little Cindy. As the baby of the family, she was more of a follower anyway and just went along with whatever her big sisters were doing. But Mary, as the oldest, could be intimidating. And Bea knew, when they ganged up on me, I always had to back down.

So, even though she was the middle girl, Bea was the ringleader when it came to belittling me and getting under my skin. She was also definitely the one who would be the most insufferable with a big head. That’s why I flinched every time a boy looked her way.

I don’t think Cindy noticed how much attention she was receiving. She was cute and just starting to get a figure that filled out her modest, one-piece swimsuit nicely. But at thirteen, she was more interested in retrieving pennies from the bottom of the pool and perfecting her diving techniques than what the boys thought about her body.

At fifteen, Bea not only noticed, but savored every lingering gaze that came her way. For once, she didn’t have to compete with her older, more mature sister for the boys’ attention. She did not waste the opportunity but found excuses to parade back and forth between the pool and her lounger over and over, just to make the boys drool over her.

Unlike her sisters, Bea had blonde hair – shorter ringlets that bounced playfully about her head when she walked. That wasn’t the only part of her that bounced. Her breasts, which had been swelling rapidly of late, completely filled the top of her swimsuit and jiggled beneath the tight fabric of her suit.

She knew exactly what she was doing when she laid out on the lounger facing the pool on her stomach but propped up on her elbows. That pose caused her cleavage to bulge out the small scoop in the neck. The suit was designed to be as modest as possible. But that did not stop a creative young lady who was determined to show off her newly grown assets for an appreciative audience.

I gravitated toward several boys from other families who were staying at the hotel. It was fun horsing around with them and racing to see who could get across the pool the fastest. We also took frequent trips to the diving board.

I had grown accustomed, whenever I met someone my age, to them gawking at my beautiful stepsisters. So, I wasn’t surprised by how many of our games had to be paused when Cindy climbed out of the pool to take a turn on the diving board or when Bea decided to change lounging positions.

Seeing how much attention Bea and Cindy were receiving only made me chuckle to myself. These boys had no idea about the other sister, the one with even more curves and no clothes, hiding out in our motel room. When mom finished up and came out to join us, I saw my opportunity to blow someone’s mind.

Wading over to a boy named “Johnny”, with whom I had struck up a nice friendship, I whispered in a conspiratorial tone, “hey, wanna see my sister naked?”

His face perked up and, naturally, he glanced over to where Bea was lounging. She was currently lying flat on her back with her face toward the sun and her eyes closed. This pose emphasized her long legs, and lean torso. But you could still appreciate the twin swells on her chest if you wanted to.

“Not her,” I smiled, “even better! Just follow along. Trust me, you’ll want to see this.”

Johnny was understandably skeptical of my ability to deliver on my promise. But even the slimmest chance at seeing a naked girl was enough to convince him to come with me out of the pool.

I walked over to where my stepmom was lounging. At thirty-six, even as a mother of three, Patricia attracted more than her fair share of looks from the men around the pool. She had borne her three children at a young enough age for her body to bounce back. But I wasn’t here to gawk at my own stepmother. I was on a mission.

“Mother, this is Johnny,” I said, introducing my new friend.

Johnny bashfully shook her hand, averting his eyes before they could get him into trouble. Because she rarely wore less than a full-length dress, seeing her in even her modest swimsuit was a novelty to me. One look at her, and you could tell where her daughters got their looks from.

When I explained, with a straight face, that Johnny and I wanted to play catch and asked for the key to our motel room so I could retrieve my ball and glove, she looked at me suspiciously. She was clearly trying to protect her daughter from prying eyes. But it was an innocent request.

As she handed it over, I promised to be right back and motioned for Johnny to follow me. Approaching our room, I saw the curtains flutter and smiled. Mary must have been peeking out but retreated when she saw us coming.

Unlocking the door, I flipped the light switch and invited Johnny in. He was confused and a little uncertain. But still motivated by the chance to see a naked girl, he followed me inside. The room was empty, but the bathroom door was closed. I knew what that meant. Opening my backpack, I located my baseball and glove – essential items for any teenage boy in those days – before walking over to knock on the bathroom door.

“…occupied,” came a small voice from the other side.

I smiled back at Johnny whose eyes had gotten wider. He crept closer. I think he had started to doubt my ability to deliver. But the voice lent credence to my claim that he really might get to see a naked girl as promised.

“Mary, my friend needs to use the restroom,” I called back, “I know you’re not using it. I saw you at the window a second ago.”

A few seconds later, the door opened slightly, and Mary’s frightened face peeked out, eyeing us both warily. She thought she was being careful, but through the small crack, I could see in the mirror’s reflection that she had wrapped one of the bath towels around herself. I wasn’t about to let her off that easily. I had promised Johnny a show and intended to deliver more than just a girl wrapped in a towel.

“Are you allowed to be wearing that?” I asked, nodding toward the mirror. Realizing her mistake, she slammed the door in my face.

When she didn’t emerge, I called out, “Come on, Mary. He really has to go. Don’t be rude, let us in…or I’m telling Frank.”

A few seconds later, the door opened wider, and Mary stepped forth. This time, she did not have her towel on. Johnny’s mouth fell open at the unbelievable sight of a gorgeous, naked teenager doing her absolute best to cover her privates with only her hands and arms. Eager to end the standoff, Mary hurried through the door, showing us both her naked backside in the process, and dove under the bed covers.

“Holy Shit!” Johnny exclaimed, as I, grinning from ear to ear, herded him from the room and back outside. He let forth several more expletives, and by the time we got back to the pool, we were both grinning.

We threw the ball around for a while, just to keep up appearances, but the hot sun soon drove us back to the pool. Once in the water, Johnny was eager to spread the story about his encounter with my naked sister. I let him do all the talking. It was more believable coming from him. More than one boy came up to me after that and asked to use our restroom. But I declined. Mom would grow suspicious by the parade of horny boys entering our motel room. And with Mary back in bed, the show was over anyway.

That evening, after dad got back from the service station, we walked across the street to a local diner. Mary stayed behind. I saw some of the families from the pool, and happily nodded back to any boy who recognized me. Johnny had spread our story far and wide, and I was a legend among the other teenage boys.

The room only had two double beds. Mom and dad would sleep in one, with Mary and Bea sharing the other. Cindy and I were relegated to sleeping bags on the floor. It was not the most comfortable way to sleep, but having camped in worse situations, including freezing temperatures and rainstorms, I couldn’t complain. I had a soft place to lay my head and something to keep me warm. And don’t worry about me. My sleeping arrangements got better and better as the trip went on.

Mary cried herself to sleep that night. After everyone else was snoozing contentedly, I could still hear her sniffling. Having just endured the most traumatizing day of her young life, I understood why she would be so distraught. Even if she did manage to settle herself down and fall asleep, it would only mean facing another humiliating and stressful day of nudity. Why would she want to do anything to hasten that?

I couldn’t sleep for a different reason. My body was having trouble settling down if you know what I mean. And it presented a real issue for me. Like any healthy, teenage boy, once I discovered the joys of masturbation, I usually ended every night with a secret pleasuring session. And after the visually stimulating day I had just experienced, I needed it more than usual. But I had not anticipated how little privacy I would have on this trip. Sleeping in the same room as my three stepsisters, not to mention my parents, and with little Cindy literally laying right next to me, there’s no way I could perform the deed safely.

Rolling over, I tried to ignore my throbbing boner and just relax. Eventually, fatigue caught up to me, and I assume it did to Mary as well. It’s a good thing, too. Because the beautiful young lady had a very eventful day of exhibition waiting for her.