Our neighborhood is is full of colorful characters, but it would be even greater if my sister Colleen was still around. She and her husband Tom built a new home on the other side of town several years ago, and moved there when their two boys were in high school.

I missed used having my older sister just a few houses away, to lean on her whenever I needed support, advice or just someone to talk to. Along with our other sister Kelly, we’ve had quite a roller coaster relationship over the years with lots of teasing and spats to go with our unique bonding.

We loved teasing each other. Whether it was Colleen’s bed wetting problem, or catching Kelly masturbating, sharing a bedroom with your siblings could take it’s toll on you. As the youngest of the three, I got picked on the most, but I learned from them on how to give it back.

Along with Colleen’s bed wetting issues, she also had somewhat of a flatulence problem, cutting some pretty rancid farts. Of course it was all fun and games when we were growing up, but she wasn’t very happy when I told her prom date it. I still don’t think she forgave me about that.

Kelly was even worse than me. At a summer pool party, right before going back to school one year, she undid Colleen’s string bikini bottom and tossed it up on the roof, leaving her exposed in front of everybody. Her thick red bush earned her the nickname “Firebox” for the rest of her senior year. I shouldn’t have laughed too much, I got labeled “Nipsie” in a similar incident about two years later when someone ripped off my top in the school cafeteria. My name stuck more than hers did.

Colleen despised the name so much she shaved her pussy and has kept it that way ever since, as far as I know. To be perfectly honest, I hate that term too. I’d much have a playful nickname like Nipsie.

My sister got over it, getting married and raising two wonderful, handsome boys. When they moved across town, the boys weren’t too enthused about switching schools. The older one wasn’t getting to play very much on the football team, and Tom and Colleen were upset with the situation too. Tom was so pissed he refused to go to the games.

After going to one of their games, where Tyler didn’t get much playing time, Colleen and I went to a downtown bar where my sister wanted to drink her frustration away. We were having a pretty decent time, when I spotted one of the coaches enter. Lyle was a friend of my daughter that was in his first year teaching and coaching at Tyler’s school. He recognized me right away, but didn’t know my sister, or that her son was on the team.

After I introduced them, he got some drinks for us and brought them to the table, joining us.