Turning into the drive leading to Granby Hall, I could not fail to be impressed by the magnificent, wrought-iron gates that separated the opulence of the Hall in its landscaped gardens, from the outside world. The sign on the drive proclaimed Granby Hall to be the premier venue for wedding receptions. I drove slowly along the winding drive, obeying the 10mph speed restriction. This allowed me time to take in the herd of deer in the parkland and my first sight of Granby Hall on the rising ground beyond.

Granby Hall had, at one time had been the home of Lord and Lady Granby. In the First World War it became a convalescent home for wounded soldiers and after the war the building became a maternity home. In recent times it was purchased by developers and transformed into a luxury hotel and wedding venue.

My sister, Tamsin, was getting married and she had chosen the venue for the wedding to her fiancé, Maxwell. As Tamsin’s brother I had been booked into one of the premier rooms in the hotel. I was quite glad that Maxwell was footing the bill because Granby Hall was way out of my budget. I should explain that money is no object to Maxwell. He has made millions dealing in bonds on the stock exchange. Call me a cynic if you like, but I can’t help thinking that it is Maxwell’s millions that led Tamsin to fall for him. They are like chalk and cheese. Tamsin has always had a wicked sense of humour. We have shared many laughs together over the years. Maxwell is a dour soul who hardly ever smiles and jokes are wasted on him. Tamsin has a very open personality, sharing her thoughts and feelings with her friends, while Maxwell is secretive and gives nothing away.

Tamsin and I have always been very close. At 23 years old she is my senior by almost eighteen months. Our ages were close enough to allow us to be good friends and confidantes as we grew up. In the absence of other siblings, Tamsin and I shared all our thoughts and adventures with each other. When we were old enough to embark on sexual activity, my experiences were clumsy and relatively infrequent. On the other hand, Tamsin was more confident and sure-footed, engaging in numerous trysts. I am not sure when Tamsin lost her virginity but I knew that she enjoyed heavy petting sessions with eager young men.

When I began my first carnal fumblings, Tamsin was always ready to offer advice, drawing on her own experiences.

“Jack,” she would enquire, “did you manage to get past first base with that girl, what’s her name?”

“Penny. Her name is Penny, short for Penelope, Tamsin. I managed to feel her tits under her bra. I tried to have a feel up her skirt, but she stopped me before my hand reached her knickers.”

Tamsin would shake her head sadly. “So, you still haven’t managed to finger her cunt. You must be doing something wrong. I know for a fact that most of the lads in the village have had their hands down her pants.”

“What about you, Tamsin? How’s your new boyfriend shaping up?”

“Oh, Peter’s lovely. He hasn’t shagged me yet. I know he’s desperate to get his cock inside me and, to be honest I am ready for a good seeing to. But I want to spin it out a bit yet. It is fun getting him so worked up. I have him eating out of my hand. Trouble is, Jack, he has no staying power. He gets so excited he spunks up nearly as soon as I touch his prick. I need to slow him down a bit, otherwise when he does fuck me, he will cum too quickly. What they call premature ejaculation.

“So, Jack my lad, when you finally get your cock inside Penny, make sure that she gets off before you do. Nothing pisses a girl off more than premature ejaculation.”

As you will gather from the forgoing conversation, which was fairly typical, my sister and I pulled no punches and were always totally frank and unashamed in our exchanges. I found our sex talk informative and exciting. I think Tamsin enjoyed the secret intimacy of our chats too. But, and I must emphasise this point, there was never, ever any sexual activity between us. We both talked about our sexual escapades with others but never thought to experiment with each other. The taboo of incest was a powerful deterrent to even thinking of such a thing.

On the other hand, if I’m totally truthful, I did spy on my sister on several occasions when the opportunity arose. I recall breathlessly peeping through a crack in a carelessly closed bathroom or bedroom door. My sister would often curl up on the sofa, headphones on, oblivious to the world and unaware that her skirt had rode up, revealing an expanse of thigh, or even panties. But none of these harmless activities led to anything serious.

As I booked in at Reception, I spotted Tamsin chatting animatedly with a group of her girlfriends. I gave her a wave and she waved back as the receptionist handed me my key.

“Catch you later,” I mouthed as I made my way to the lift.

What on earth was Tamsin thinking of getting hitched to a prat like Maxwell? OK, he is a millionaire, but I still think Tamsin is too good for him. Tamsin was awarded a good degree in economics at The University of Warwick and got an internship at JP Morgan, where Maxwell traded bonds. Tamsin was excited by the white-hot atmosphere of the trading floor and a romance soon began to blossom.

I hung my suit up to prevent it getting creased before the big day and unpacked my other things before getting a shower. I had only just got dried and made myself decent before there was a knock on my door. I opened it to my sister, Tamsin.

“Welcome Bro,” she greeted and flung her arms around me. We embraced and Tamsin sat herself down in the chair while I sat on the edge of the bed. After we had exchanged greetings, I remarked “Your big day tomorrow, Sis.”

Tamsin smiled. “Right on Bro!”

“It’s not too late to change your mind, Tamsin.”

The smile left my sister’s face. I heeded the warning signal that I was treading on dangerous ground and quickly changed tack.

“How did the Hen Party go?” Tamsin had sensibly had her hen party the day prior to the eve of the wedding to allow time for everyone to recover before the wedding day.

The smile returned. “It was terrific. A real laugh from start to finish. There was some totally outrageous and rude behaviour from normally sensible and respectable young ladies. It is amazing the sort of stuff women get up to at those parties.”

I had a feeling that Tamsin was about to recount an interesting story.

“Such as?”

Tamsin thought for a moment. “Do you remember Melanie Henderson? She lived with her mum and dad in Beechnut Avenue.”

I searched through my memory. “Wasn’t she that very quiet, shy girl who wouldn’t say boo to a goose?”

“That’s the one, Jack. Well she came right of her shell at the party and surprised us all.”

My interest was piqued. “So, what happened?”

“Well there was a male stripper. Of courses there was. He was cavorting round in a tiny thong that barely concealed the family jewels. At some point the thong came off. To tell the truth, I’m not sure whether he took it off himself or whether one of the girls ripped it off. Whatever, suddenly he was prancing around with his cock swinging free. The girls tittered and laughed. A few even grabbed at his exposed penis and the stripper pretended to be shocked at the girls’ actions, but it was all part of his act. Then he picked up an aerosol can of cream and sprayed a glob of whipped cream on his knob. He presented his tasty treat to each of the girls as he pranced around the room, but there were no takers until...”