Chapter 1

A Classic Porn Fantasy?

My Uncle Frank gave me most of the ‘fathering’ I got as an adolescent in the late 1950s and early 60s. Dad was twelve years older than Frank, and had been very badly affected by his war injuries. His PTSD made him withdrawn, depressed, and angry much of the time for the rest of his life. My Mum loved him deeply, but recognised that he was psychologically damaged, and (as she told me many years later) decided I would be an only child. She also ensured that I would spend as much time as possible with my grandparents and Uncle Frank who still lived at home with them a few miles away.

Frank had enlisted in the last months of WWII, but never seen action. He sometimes joked that he had had the best of the war, with minimal danger and full service benefits, which allowed him to train as a teacher after it. He taught for a few years in the late 1940s, but then found more lucrative work as a jobbing carpenter and handyman. This work enabled Uncle Frank to continue to live at home paying minimal board, and to save a deposit for the first of a number of houses that he eventually owned.

It also provided him with a van, and that allowed him to have a sex life while living at home with strictly Presbyterian parents. Grandma and Grandpa Kerr doted on Dad and Frank, and on me as their only grandchild, but their views on premarital sex were as strictly Victorian as most other middle-aged middle-class people in 1940s and 50s NZ.

Uncle Frank provided me with information about sexual matters and relationships that went far beyond the circumlocutions and moral strictures that passed for ‘sex education’ in those days. From my first wet dream about half way through seventh grade, he encouraged me to masturbate without guilt, and without leaving evidence to upset Mum and Dad. Frank was willing to share the things he had learned as an older teenager and young man who had been engaged for a couple of years before becoming single again. I often worked with and for Frank in the weekends on his various jobs, and he would encourage me to ask about things I didn’t feel comfortable talking about with Mum and Dad.

His most valuable teachings were not on the ‘insert tab A in slot B’ aspect of sexual relationships. Sure, he gave me that – and I needed it badly, since my first wet dream had caught me totally unprepared, and I knew very very little about what couples actually did to ‘make babies’.

But the real gold I got from Uncle Frank concerned how to treat girls, how to find out what they want and give it to them, how to get them to trust me, and how to talk to them about feelings and sex. He gave me the very good advice NEVER to brag or gossip, and never to even think about doing anything that the girl I was with didn’t want me to do. He gave me some very heavy messages about asking before engaging in any sexual activity, and impressed upon me that ‘No’ always means ‘NO!’ About halfway through eighth grade, he advised me how to respond when Andrea McDonald started to tease me about sex and being a ‘goody goody’. That advice eventually led to my first date, my first hand-job, and my first taste of pussy, and Uncle Frank kept me out of trouble and reassured my Mum that he would ‘talk to me’ after I came home ‘smelling of pussy and with spunk all over my underpants’.

‘Talking to me’ would probably not have kept me out of trouble if Andrea’s mother hadn’t had a ‘mental breakdown’ and attempted suicide at just that time. Mental illness was a source of shame in NZ in the ‘50s, so it was some months before any of us knew that was why Andrea had been suddenly packed off to boarding school. Since I never saw her again after our date, I spent those months believing our sexual activities had been discovered by her parents, and that she had been ‘banished’ as a result. That put me off dating and exploring sex with any other girls for quite a while, but memories of the smell and taste and feel of Andrea kept me busy in the shower and/or my bed most days.

So I didn’t have any more experiences with girls until about halfway through ninth grade, when my new friend Brian Reed told me about seeing his sister Bronwyn ‘touching herself’. That aroused both my interest and my cock. There was something a bit odd about Brian’s manner when he told me what he had seen, but I didn’t follow that up at the time.

Bronwyn was his twin, although the two Reed kids looked nothing like each other, and since the ‘best’ education in NZ at that time was offered in single sex schools, she went to the local girls school, while we went to the boys equivalent. We had been to different Primary Schools up to the eighth grade, so I hadn’t met Brian until we started High School, and only knew Bronwyn from visiting at their house. She was almost as tall as me, and starting to become quite curvy, with dark hair and olive skin. I found her attractive, but got no sense that she noticed me except as ‘one of Brian’s friends’. We had never talked privately one to one.

I mentioned what Brian had said the next weekend I worked with Uncle Frank. He reminded me that all boys and most girls masturbate, and ‘Hmmed’ when I said that Brian had seemed a bit odd when he told me about seeing Bronwyn naked on her bed with her legs spread and her fingers in her pussy.

“That’s a classic porn fantasy. I imagine that he was very interested in what he saw, and also that he might have been a bit embarrassed by his own response.”

“Could be. I’ll try and ask him.”

“Tactfully mate. Most guys would be at least slightly turned on by seeing that, and most guys would be embarrassed to admit to turning on to their sister.”

“Okay, I’ll go carefully.”

I did. I went round to Brian’s after cricket practice on Thursday. His parents both worked, so it was just him and me and Bronwyn. She largely ignored me as she prepared vegetables for the Reed’s dinner, but that wasn’t unusual, and Brian and I soon shut ourselves in his bedroom with his transistor radio. We listened to the ‘Hit Parade’ for a while without talking much, but eventually, I gathered my courage.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about you catching Bronwyn.” That got Brian’s full attention and he coloured slightly. “I get really turned on whenever I imagine it.” Brian surprised me.

“Do you toss yourself off?” He had a stiffy, I could see it pushing out the front of his shorts, and I could feel myself getting hard.

“Yup. You too?” He reddened further and nodded.

“I get randy whenever I think about her like that.”

“I’ve thought about her every day since you told me what you saw.”

“I’ve kept wishing I had let her know that I’d seen her.” His hand crept towards his crotch. “I keep wondering whether I should try to talk to her.”

“What would you say?”

“I could have asked her if she’d ‘like some help?’” Now Brian’s hand was on his cock, and he was idly stroking it through the grey serge of his school shorts. “She looked amazing.” He kept stroking, and then stopped as an idea struck him. “I could have threatened to tell Mum and Dad if she didn’t do stuff with me.” I was really upset. I had clearly internalised Uncle Frank’s teaching and values.

“That’s AWFUL! Forget that idea! You want to fuck her, and so do I, but blackmailing someone or tricking someone to have sex unless they want to is shit. You care about her don’t you?” Brian had the grace to look ashamed.

“Yes, of course I do, but she looked so sexy.” His hand went back to his cock, and I found myself gripping my own stiffy. “I could see her whole cunt. It was all shiny and wet, and so were her fingers. She has lots of hair there and it was wet too. Her tits were sticking up and her nipples stuck out. Her face was all screwed up and her eyes were shut tight.”

“That’s how come she didn’t see you?”

“Her door was only open a crack, and she didn’t know that I’d come home early. I wasn’t being specially quiet, but she was panting and groaning and couldn’t have heard me anyway.”