Author's note
New year, new story. This is one I've been working on for awhile in my head and I decided to finally put it down. For all my Harem Sisters fans, thank you. You guys are amazing and keep me coming back to write more and more.
Also, for those familiar with Harem Sisters, this story is a lot slower running. Do not expect a plethora of sexy time in each addition I submit. It just isn't that kind of story. At least early on.
Give this one some time and enjoy the build-up. I promise it will get too that point when its ready.
Also, a warning. There will be heavy signs of BDSM in this story at a later point. If that isn't your cup of tea, then I am sorry, but it will be in this story.
And yes, Harem fiction is definitely my main for any story I will ever write. So, if you like Harems (I mean, who doesn't?!) then keep an eye out for future works of mine.
Stay safe everyone, and try to enjoy your isolations while I write my smutty stories at work (Shit's so quite these day's I can write at work again =D )
Enjoy, and Peace out.
Chapter 1
I'd spent my entire life thinking my father had up and left after I was born, not wanting to raise a child at such a young age. I was wrong, or at least my mother was. Ever since I was a little boy my mother had answered any and all questions about my father with a usual string of curses and insults, drilling into me that he was a bastard that left his family. I'd believed her without question, right up until the day she died.
My mother had been battling and suffering through lung cancer for the last decade, beating it multiple times only to have it come back with a vengeance until finally she gave up, deciding to just let it take her instead of wasting more energy on something she saw as futile. I still remember her telling me that if death wanted her so bad, she'd let him have her. But that wasn't the only thing she'd told me as she lay there in her final moments. She also told me the truth about my father, who he was, and about my family.
My father hadn't abandoned my mother and I when I was born, for he didn't even know she was pregnant when she left. She had left him, not the other way around. From what my mother had told me the relationship between my father and her was fleeting, since he was already seeing someone. They'd met at a local alternate rock concert in Sydney Australia and hit it off immediately. The fling lasted a few weeks before my mother found out she was pregnant with me and knowing what they had was only a short-term thing she decided to leave the country and go live with her grandparents in London, where I was born.
She cried as she told me the story. Apologizing for the lies she'd fed me my whole life, saying she only wanted to keep me to herself because she loved me so much. She was afraid if I knew the truth, I would go looking for my father and leave her all alone. Whilst it hurt to know I had been lied to my whole life; I understood her fears. I would have wanted to meet my father if I had known he was out there and didn't leave me. But the news about my father wasn't the only thing that shocked me, it was that he had died close to a decade earlier.
He'd been killed in a hit and run by a drunk driver on his way home from work one evening. My mother had printed out the newspaper report and kept it in her diary, alongside a photo of him. I'd found the clipping and photo when I cleaned out her belongings before selling the small London apartment that had been my grandparents. The photo was of my mother and father together, looking incredibly happy. I could see where my features and looks had come from just by looking at the man in the photo, he would have been about my age when the photo was taken and it was like looking into a mirror, although he had blonde hair whilst I got my darker hair colour from my mother.
I still had the photo of them in my jacket pocket, the only thing I had of them as a couple. My deceased parents.
But the news didn't stop there, my mother always said things come in three's. I had sister's, four of them. Amanda was the eldest, only a few months younger than myself and was my father's first child to the woman he'd been seeing when he met my mother. Then there was Erica, at twenty-one she was a couple of years younger than her older sister. Lastly was the youngest, Emily and Mel, twins at eighteen years old. I didn't know anything about my half siblings except that their ages and that they were all the daughters of the man I thought had abandoned me.
Not for the first time I began to wonder what it would have been like if my mother hadn't left the country when she fell pregnant with me. Could I have had a simple, loving life that my sister's had with a functional family? Or would I have turned out the same? Would my sister's even be alive today if my mother hadn't left? Surely my father would have stayed with her if she had stayed, and then I could have had that family life. But then they wouldn't have been born. Even though I didn't know a thing about them I could never wish, nor hope for a different past if it meant that my siblings would never have been born.
Especially now I was on my way to visit them.
I was standing in the crowded London international airport with my guitar case in one hand and my luggage bag beside me. My backpack held a few personal belongings like my passport, phone charger, headphones, laptop and some books for the long flight. I'd never been on a plane before let alone left the country and I was feeling the mixed emotions of anxiety and excitement as my plane was beginning to board. The long string of people was a mix of businessmen in suits, families with whining children and clusters of young couples and single travellers such as me. Everyone wanted to visit the exotic country of Australia today. But I doubted any of them were making the trip for such a reason as I had.
