PROLOGUE.
I am writing a series of six short stories in this category. No.6 has been published; this is No.4. I live a disordered life.
The themes are:
Corruption
Suppression
Blackmail
Exploitation
Losing Inhibition
Opportunism
The characters in this story are aged 24 and 18. Locations are generic not specific.
____________________________________________________________
It was all because of Doris.
Doris is a cello. An expensive cello. Doris belongs to my sister Sally and, together with her polycarbonate travelling case, Doris takes up most of the space in the Volvo wagon, despite the seats being folded flat. When you add in in Sally’s cases and bags, stuffed with everything from frocks to socks there was hardly any space for my small overnight bag and some basic eats and drinks for the journey.
We all live in or near Southampton, Sally is off to study music at a prestigious academy in Edinburgh. And she needs Doris to go with her. Taking the train would involve crossing London to change stations, flying would mean Doris needing her own seat, together with all the other paraphernalia. So, using our own transport is the only option. Dad owns the Volvo, it’s new and ideal for the 450-mile journey, but he works as a senior air traffic controller and can’t get four days off, and Mum won’t drive that distance, especially having to return alone. So, they need a mug who can take the time off, and that mug is me.
My name is Alan, I am 24 and live a few miles from the family home. I studied electronics at Cambridge, and then set up as a freelance consultant, working in the aerospace industry. I fell on my feet and am kept busy resolving glitches in instrumentation systems. Sally turned 18 last Easter, she was a star at school, and her musical talent resulted in a scholarship to the Edinburgh academy. It’s just a shame it’s so far away. Mum and Dad are both 45, we have a nice house and enjoy a decent lifestyle. Mum is a partner in a specialist travel agency, and we have enjoyed some good holidays.
As Sally wanted to get into her accommodation before the weekend, we agreed to set off early on the Thursday, as it’s a 450-mile trip, and Mum was arranging overnight accommodation into Scotland to break the journey. Dad was having the Volvo serviced and typing a detailed schedule, as was his habit. Mum said she wanted to have a chat to me before we set off, so I arranged to go over for dinner on Tuesday. What could possibly go wrong.
Plenty. On Tuesday afternoon Mum ran into a door at work and banged her head causing concussion. She was whisked into hospital where a scan revealed no damage, but she was kept in for observation for a couple of nights. So, our dinner was cancelled, and when I arrived on Thursday to drop off my car and pick up the Volvo there was only Sally at home, Dad having left early as usual. Sally was waiting with the small pyramid of luggage in the driveway, together with Doris. We spent a happy half hour wedging everything into the wagon, and she handed me a stout envelope from Dad containing quite a lot of cash for the fuel, although he had filled the tank the night before, and the detailed route instructions. I asked where Mum had booked our stop, and Sally waved a printout saying it was all sorted. So, I locked up my battered Golf, put the keys through the letterbox, smiled at Sally and we set off. Dad’s plan was for us to take the A34 northwards, then the A43 until we joined the M1 near Northampton, and when we got up to Leeds, we switched to the A1 which would take us all the way to Edinburgh. Seemed like a good plan.
Sally and I have always got on, there were patches when I went off to Uni and she was just getting into her teens when she could be a pain, but I guess I was no better. She is about five six, and well proportioned, her skinny years had passed, and she looked good in tight jeans and a fleece top with soft leather boots. Her dark brown hair had recently been cut into a smart bob, with cute highlights. I am no oil painting and am a shade under six feet and about one-eighty pounds, I keep in trim at the local velodrome, where I own a couple of fixed wheel track bikes and it’s a good social scene as well.
We hit the A34 and Sally texted Dad and Mum to say that we were on our way. Dad replied, but Mum couldn’t use her phone yet. We fell into easy conversation, part of her last terms had involved a couple of trips with the small orchestra in which she played, I knew that they had been to Holland and Ireland and wanted to know all about it. In return she was asking about my love life, but I had to tell her that Lily and I had split, she had a career in London with a big advertising agency and wanted to be part of the ‘scene’, as she put it. Sally said she didn’t have a boyfriend, it had all gone wrong, but she didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t pry.
Our conversation flowed as we headed north, Dad suggested that we broke the journey into chunks, güvenilir bahis with a coffee break, a lunch break, and a tea break before reaching the overnight stop, with each ‘leg’ being about 100 miles. So, as I had not had a proper breakfast we stopped near Silverstone and headed for the café. I carried the tray with coffees and bacon sandwiches and sat opposite my sister. She took a breath and looked at me without smiling.
“I guess you didn’t have the chat with Mum that she asked for.”
“No, it was arranged for Tuesday, but she had just been taken in.”
“Oh.”
“Why, what did she want to talk about?”
“She never said but she has been weird with me these last few weeks.”
“In what way?”
Sally said that we would talk in the car, so we used the washrooms and returned to the Volvo. I was quite intrigued. We set off northwards again, and she turned to me and said:
“It’s all about sex. My sex life.” I was taken aback.
“Are you hiding some racy secrets, sister?” Whilst Sally was very attractive, I was not up to date with boyfriends, indeed I had never met one.
“No, it’s not like that at all. I haven’t got a boyfriend and have never got past the kiss and cuddle stage. Mum gave me the birds and bees talk years ago, but about five weeks ago she came on strong and started asking very personal questions, can I share them with you, promise to keep it to yourself, brother.”
“Of course, we trust each other, sister.”
This was going to be interesting.
“Dad was supervising some new equipment on a night shift, and Mum sat me down in the kitchen and asked if I was a virgin. I was very embarrassed and said yes. But several of my friends were having sex, I thought I might never get laid. I asked Mum why she wanted to know, but she ploughed on with the questions, and asked what experiences I had had. She was giving me the look, so I said that I had been snogging with boys at a party and had been on a kissing date with Max Robinson from school, although he had now left. Max played clarinet in the orchestra. She wanted to know if I had gone any further. She was drinking wine and gave me a couple of glasses, I guess to loosen my tongue, so I told her about the orchestra trip to Amsterdam. The trip was just after Easter, there were 14 of us, six boys and eight girls, together with the principal and two other teachers. It was a five-day trip, and we were to play three concerts. At the start the principal – Mrs. Vulter, who we called The Vulture, gave us a lecture about personal behavior and said that any hanky panky would see the offender sent home. The first two concerts were a success, and, in the evening, we were allowed to walk around Amsterdam after dinner. She warned us not to go drinking, and certainly not go into any cafes and smoke weed. But of course, we found a nice bar and had a few beers, as you do. On the way back there was quite a lot of cuddling and kissing. I was sharing a room with Sandra, and across the corridor Max was sharing with Paul. Paul and Sandra were an item, and after we had gone to the room and changed for bed, she scuttled across, and Max came into my room. We were both a bit excited, and a little buzzed from the beers. He got into my bed, and we started kissing and stroking. He sat up and took off his tee shirt, leaving him just in his boxers and then he was pulling at my nightshirt, feeling my breasts. Then my nightshirt was round my neck and he pulled it off. He then started to run his fingers up and down my panties, and I started to stroke his boxers, as I could feel his willy creating a big bulge. Then suddenly he let out a big groan and stuff started to flood inside his boxers, making a big sticky mess. “
“Then all hell broke loose, as there was shouting and screaming from just down the corridor, and my door burst open and Sandra rushed in, stark naked and clutching her nightie. She said that The Vulture was on the warpath opening bedroom doors and that Max had better move quick. So, he shot across the corridor and closed our door, but not before copping an eyeful of Sandra in her birthday suit. We both put our nighties back on and scrambled into bed. A couple of minutes later The Vulture flung our door open and switched on the light. We sat up pretending to be dazzled and she switched off the light when she saw that we were dressed. Then she did the same with the boys’ room and stormed off back down the corridor to continue shouting.”
“The next morning, we had to assemble in the lounge before breakfast, ready for the Riot Act. Sandra and I asked our friend Abigail what had gone on. It seemed The Vulture suspected some impropriety, and decided to have a room inspection, she started with the one shared by Crispin and Stefan, but the room was empty. The boys were next door with Abigail and Harriet and when she opened the door all four were stark naked on the two beds Abi and Crispin were an item, and she said that he had just rolled on a condom, and they were about to do it. The Vulture güvenilir bahis siteleri went mad and said that we were all going home. However, she had second thoughts and said that we would do the last concert but there would be no end of tour party, she would be writing to the parents of the four shaggers and there would be no more tours for them.”
“Wow”. I spoke. “That was some party, what did Mother say?”
“She didn’t say much, she was getting pissed with all the wine, but she said that I would have learned something about people’s desires. The next day she would drag me off to Doctor Benson and put me on the pill. She said she didn’t want to be a granny yet, and next time there might not be an interruption and I would have a cock inside me. She was getting very crude as she drank. She then asked if I was still seeing Max, but he had dropped out of school after the trip and was now in London playing saxophone in a reggae band.”
I found the whole conversation quite a turn on. Never mind the naked foursome in the bedroom, or Max shooting into his boxers, it was the thought of Sally with her nightshirt around her neck that was creating a tingle under my safety belt. I wondered what her naked breasts looked like. Then she said
“Look, it gets weirder but I’m starving, is it lunchtime? We can talk later”
What can top that.
I asked myself, and looked at the odometer, and saw that we had travelled over two hundred miles, more than halfway to our stop. We were in West Yorkshire, but rather than stop at the Services, we turned off onto a side road and looked for a pub serving lunches. A nice stone-built inn hove into view, serving hot food all day, so we were soon sat down enjoying homemade pie and mash. I reckoned that we had about one seventy to go, so we decided to skip afternoon tea and make it in one hike. Across the road was a filling station so I topped up the tank to be sure, and Sally bought some water and snacks.
Back on the A1(M) I asked Sally what was even weirder than the mini orgy in Amsterdam.
“I am going to tell you what Mother told me, word for word, and some of the words are filthy. And again, between you and I.”
“It was last weekend, Dad was in Brussels at a meeting, and mother said she wanted another talk. I was apprehensive, and again she opened a bottle of wine for us, but I saw an empty one in the trash, so she was well oiled as we sat across the kitchen table. She said that last time she had said the word ‘cock’ but this time she would use some worse language. She asked again if I had had sex and I said no. She then startled me by saying that the first time she had experienced sex was with her brother Don. That’s Uncle Don who lives in Canada. She was eighteen and about to go off to Uni, Don was twenty-three and in the Royal Air Force. He was home on leave before his maritime patrol squadron flew off to Canada on exercises. She and Don had always been close but had not seen one another often owing to his postings. They had always enjoyed a cuddle and used to exchange secrets when they were younger. Don was due to catch his train on the Monday, and she was being ferried to Uni on the Tuesday. On the Saturday the parents went to a silver wedding anniversary and wouldn’t be back until late. It was a hot September day, and the two sat on the couch just chatting idly. Then she told Don she would really miss him and kissed his cheek, he responded by holding her tight and kissing her on the lips saying he would miss her too. The kissing intensified and he pulled to her feet and carried her upstairs to her room. He laid her on her bed and started to take his clothes off, being in the military had developed his body and he showed his rippled torso. Then he slowly undressed her until she was naked, then he removed his underpants revealing a large erection. Mother said she knew exactly what was going to happen and was a willing participant. He started to kiss her lips again, then her breasts and finally her vagina. She had an orgasm immediately, and then he knelt between her legs and slowly began to insert his cock into her. She felt some resistance but soon he was fully inside, and he began to fuck her very slowly, whilst still kissing her lips and her breasts. They both became very excited, and then he suddenly pulled his cock out and sprayed her belly and breasts with jets of white sticky cum. They both lay there for a while and then he put two fingers into her and brought her to another orgasm. Then they cleaned up, had a shower, and were dressed when the parents returned. They tried not to touch each other the next day, but her mother ran them to the rail station on the Monday, and it was a tearful parting. Her mother never said anything, but she probably guessed. She only saw Don another couple of times as he later transferred to the Canadian Air Force. When he married Aunt Jennifer, his mum and dad flew across for the wedding, but Mother was in Uni exams and couldn’t get away.”
“Phew, Mother told you iddaa siteleri all this as a sort of blow-by-blow account. How did you feel?”
“Weird. I wasn’t angry or disgusted, and appreciated Mum being very candid with me. She was telling me because I was a girl, probably as a follow on from the episode in Holland.”
“It gets worse.”
“How much worse?”
“Do you remember that Mum, Dad, and I went on a villa holiday to Portugal three years ago with Aunt Jean and Cousin Louise?”
Aunt Jean was dad’s younger sister by a couple of years, her marriage to Alfie, Louise’s father had expired several years ago, and he now lived in Thailand, running a sleazy bar. Jean was a looker with long legs and a firm body, I was surprised she had not remarried or had a man in tow. She worked as a legal secretary.
“Yes, I was at Uni and into a project I couldn’t leave. Mum bagged the villa off a client at the travel agency.”
“Louise and I were about fifteen, we just sunbathed and eyed up the local boys without doing anything. The parents and our aunt just lounged about, cooked a barbecue most evenings, and polished off the local wine. Mum said that one evening they had a bit too much to drink and sat in the whirlpool tub talking rubbish, which got progressively more suggestive as they kept drinking. Then the ladies took off their tops and dad got a boner. Then he started kissing Mum’s tits and they all got out of the ‘pool, dried off and went inside. Dad threw Mum on the bed and started tonguing her pussy, and then mounted her and started fucking her intensely. All the time Jean was lying alongside playing with herself. Mum found it all very erotic and had an orgasm. Dad was still pounding away and then he pulled out of Mum, moved across and put his cock straight into his sister and carried on pumping. The two both came, and he emptied himself into Jean. Nobody said anything for a few minutes and then Jean said to mum that they were out of order. Dad then explained that they had fucked before, just the once, when Jean was eighteen. They were on a camping trip and sharing a tent and their parents had been drinking with the other campers and were snoring in the next tent. Jean wanted to look at her brother’s cock to see if it matched her new boyfriend, and things progressed from there. Her mother had put Jean on the pill, but they were rather ashamed of their actions, and agreed it would be a one-off moment. But the lust was always just under the surface. Mum said she was easy with it; she had no regrets and was rather turned on. Then Dad got a second boner and Mum and his sister played with his cock for a bit and then he fucked them both again. The next day Mum confided in them that she had fucked her brother when he was home on leave. They have never done it since.”
“Alan, I said it just as mum said it to me, dirty words and all.”
I was struggling to keep the Volvo in a straight line. What sort of parents did Sally and I have? Why did Mum tell her daughter but not her son? And why now, after all these time gaps?
But these thoughts were pushed aside as I imagined the scene in which my father fucked his wife and his sister in turn, and my heart began to trip, and my cock began to stir.
“This is all a bit much, I am struggling to come to terms with it all, did Mum say anything else.”
“No, she was well pissed by this time, and was slurring her words. I had to help her to bed, and she zonked out.”
We discussed the revelations as the big Volvo sped north toward Tyneside and the Scottish border, and I chewed on a granola bar. Then Sally, who had been unusually quiet for a few minutes, suddenly blurted out:
“Alan, I am convinced our mother is setting you up, she is using you to take my virginity before I start college, she is a cunning bitch.” And she started to cry.
We were in a stream of traffic, I was following a car and trailer and wanted to reach across and give my sister a hug, but we had to settle for holding hands.
“What makes you think that?”
“All the questions about my sexual experiences, and the sordid details of her own debauchery convince me that she wants you to be my first.”
“So why the tears, I would never hurt you.”
“I am crying for you, it’s you who have been set up.”
“I guess she was going to broach this when we were due to have dinner last Tuesday.”
“She would probably have asked for all your sexual history.”
“You make it sound like a job interview.” And we both laughed, then she said, still in a playful manner,
“Well, let’s hear it then.” I took a breath and started.
“I was going out with Wendy Nelson at school, and we decided to lose our virginities. So, when her parents were out for a day, we gave it a go. I think I did everything right, and she said I was her first, but then I found she had said the same thing to my friends, Ian and Roger, so I decided not to see her again. Then I went off to Cambridge, and there were a lot of pretty girls who were okay with casual sex. I remember one was nicknamed Brenda the Boa constrictor, but one session was all I managed with her. Then I met Lily when I graduated, and we have been an on and off item ever since.” We talked some more, and I spoke.