Please note that there is no implied interaction or otherwise of a sexual nature in this story between people under the age of eighteen. All descriptions of sexual intercourse are between consenting adults aged eighteen and over.
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The invitation to my niece's wedding came out of the blue. To say it was unexpected would be a classic understatement. I'd had no real contact with my family for nigh on twenty, thirty years. Well none that is apart from being informed third hand of my father's death. Despite the urgent request to attend the subsequent funeral I didn't go. I was glad the bastard was dead.
But before I tell you about the wedding it might be better if I fill you in on all the background information. I'm sure it will help you understand why I did the things I did. Or not as the case may be!
My name is Harry Winchell and the first thing you should know is that it's not my real name. But more of that later.
I was the middle child of three. It is often said that the middle child is neglected and often misunderstood; that we are disadvantaged because in a family of three it's only the first and last children that are showered with love and attention from their parents.
And in a way I suppose it's true. My elder brother; the first born; was put on a pedestal by my father. He was the son and heir so desperately needed, the one to be groomed to take over the family business. When I was old enough to understand, it became obvious that my parents and especially my father, were disappointed that I was a boy. He had clearly wanted a girl. Luckily she came along a few years later, so his family was complete. Two children. One of each plus inconvenient me in the middle!
Mother was at best reserved but my father was a tyrannical man, prone to sudden and violent outbursts of temper. He never hit anyone but the implicit threat was always hanging over us; well mainly me. It was little wonder that during my childhood I became withdrawn, resentful and lacking in confidence. The perfect middle child stereotype apparently.
My earliest recollection of my life was as a five year old. We all went on a family holiday. I remember it well because it was the last family holiday I ever went on. My father was only interested in my brother whilst my mother had her hands full with my baby sister. Me, I just got into mischief. I somehow managed to set the fire alarm off in the hotel. After midnight. Father was less than impressed as the whole hotel was evacuated before it was discovered to be a false alarm. My brother pointed the finger of blame at me. A lucky guess.
After that I was quickly shipped off to boarding school and during holiday breaks was either sent to holiday camps at home or abroad or to my mother's sister's farm out in the country.
On the odd occasion I was allowed home my little sister was pretty much kept out of my way. However my brother, older than me by nearly nine years, would taunt and tease me remorselessly, winding me up to such an extent that I would eventually crack and lash out.
And as my anger flared, father would always turn up. It was as if my brother had a sixth sense as to when he was going to appear. My punishments varied although he never beat me. Usually I was sent to my room for the rest of the day with no food. My brother got quite good at winding me up early in the morning and it took me a while to cotton onto that little ruse.
I was finally banished from the family estate for good when I was a teenager. I hadn't been home in months so didn't know that my sister had reached puberty. So I wasn't prepared to see my previously flat chested, gawky little sister sporting a pair of pretty impressive breasts for her age. Summer really is the season for growing!
I felt the stirring down below as soon as I clapped eyes on her. It looked like she'd shoved two large oranges inside her tee shirt as her new breasts sat high and proud at the top of her chest. I was so taken with them that I followed her around the house for most of the day trying to get a better look at them. And I admit I became somewhat obsessed as they appeared to get bigger with each passing day.
I tried to get near to her at every opportunity, trying to get a closer look, stupidly thinking she wouldn't notice or even mind and even going so far as to give her a brotherly hug every now and again just to get the sensation of her now prominent orbs pressing against my body. But she was good at avoiding me, which just made me more determined.
And then it all went tits up so to speak.
Every morning my sister would take a bath and she would always come out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around her. I assumed she was naked underneath.
Now I'd had the urge for some time to know how big her boobs were. I knew she and my mother had been out the day before buying her new underwear so whilst she was in the bathroom, I went to her room to check out her latest bra size.
So engrossed was I in inspecting her array of new bras that I never heard her enter her room until I heard her gasp. She asked me what I was doing going through her drawers. I was speechless. All I could see was the top of her white breasts pushing out above the towel.
I felt the rush of blood to my head, the loud ringing in my ears and with that I made a move towards her. Before I could even reach her she began to scream bloody blue murder. Mother came running followed closely by father. He was apoplectic with rage and I'm sure if mother hadn't have been there he would have killed me.
Suffice to say I was banished immediately to my room and the next day was shipped off to live with my Auntie Viv and Uncle Reg.
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Auntie Viv was a loud-mouthed, feisty, full of fun character with large tits and a nice plump arse. In fact the total opposite to my mother who was tall and rail thin. She was also a mine of information. She told me that she and my mother had come from a fairly well to do family whose sole aim in life was to find each of their daughters a suitable husband. And by suitable they meant rich. So they received the best education that money could buy before they were sent off to finishing school abroad. With their education over they were then to be seen at all the big social calendar events; Ascot for the races, Wimbledon for the tennis, Henley for the regatta and of course the numerous débutantes balls.
Much to her family's delight mother hit the jackpot and married well. Father came from old money. Home for them was a mansion set in an estate of around twenty thousand acres. Making their fortune during the nineteenth century industrial revolution, the family business had grown into a multi faceted conglomerate with interests around the world.
Mother's sister Vivian however rebelled. She met and fell in love with a man from a humble background and despite her family's best efforts to prevent them from seeing each other, she eventually eloped with him. Disowned by her parents, home for them became a dilapidated old farmhouse out in the sticks from which Uncle Reg ran his own haulage business. There was about eight acres of land with the farmhouse, which proved to be ideal to accommodate his trucks and trailers. It was fairly well isolated and with no children of their own I'm sure Auntie Viv must have been lonely when he was away on his long distance trips.
