Chapter 1: Uncle Bert

My name is David Bertram Wilson. Barely twenty-one, I had just graduated summa cum laude in chemistry and physics from Rice University in Houston. All my family are scientists: orderly, logical, boring types. My father is a nuclear physicist, my mother a biochemist. All my aunts and uncles are scientists, too. My grandfather had seven boys. He named them Andrew, Bertram, Charles, Donald, Edward, Frank and George. I told you we are very orderly people.

We are a very close family but the person I always felt closest to was my Uncle Bert. Uncle Bert was different, the odd one, so to speak. While all the others had significant positions in research with major corporations or key professorships at major universities, Uncle Bert was a maverick. He had sold some patents early in his life and invested the money. He had homes in Vail and Aspen but he usually lived in an old ranch house in the Rockies above Glenwood Springs. He was always experimenting on something or another. Every Christmas I could remember, Uncle Bert spent with us, or, us with him in the mountains skiing.

Since I was a small boy, my parents sent me to spend the summer with him each year. I loved Uncle Bert. Out of all those stiff science types, we were kindred spirits, cutting up, laughing, joking. Uncle Bert would want to just lie in the sun and sleep sometimes, or chase butterflies, or, when I was older, chase women. I could never imagine any of the others doing that. In fact, I felt more like him, closer to him, than I did my own parents.

I had just finished unloading my car in LA where my parents both teach at UCLA when we got the news. Uncle Bert had died. His lawyer called to tell us the news. I was in shock. I knew he had suffered a major heart attack eight months ago, but we all thought he had fully recovered. The lawyer asked to speak to me. Telling me I had been appointed executor and primary beneficiary of Uncle Bert’s estate, he asked me to come to Denver immediately. I took the next plane and met with the lawyer the next morning. He reviewed Uncle Bert’s legal situation, filed the will for me and gave me the keys to Uncle Bert’s homes.

The lawyer said, as he gave me an envelope, “Your Uncle left this for you, David. I do not know what is inside.”

It was terse note which read, “Go to my ranch house. Call 555-4567 and ask for Andy. It is very important.”

I met with the bank trust department who managed all his money. I found Uncle Bert had left enough for me to have about $20 million after taxes and gifts to others, not including the three houses. My parents and all his siblings had been left nice sums and trusts of $1 million each had been established for Mary Mathews and Andrea Mathews. I had never heard of them but I knew Uncle Bert knew a lot of people. I finished with the bank and called the lawyer to tell him I was going into the mountains to Uncle Bert’s ... now, my ... house. I was going to rent a car but the lawyer said Uncle Bert’s new Bronco was waiting for me. I pointed the Bronco up Interstate 70 and headed into the mountains.

Memories of Uncle Bert flooded through me as the miles ticked away. He was always there, giving me presents, advise: giving me love and guidance. He had never married and it seemed I was his total focus when I was with him. In the summer, we would go fishing, hiking, dreaming. We did not always stay in the Rockies. Uncle Bert took all over America, and to Europe and the Far East as I was growing up. Each summer was a wonderful, exciting and, educational adventure.

When I got to puberty, I understood why Uncle Bert was single. He would never be satisfied with one woman. My mind flashed back to the summer I was fourteen.

“Davy,” Uncle Bert said, “some friends of mine are coming for a visit. They will be here about two weeks.”

“Oh, Uncle Bert, I was hoping we could do things together,” I said petulantly.

“We will, Davy. We will.” I saw the twinkle in his eye.

“Do you know about the birds and the bees, Davy?”

“Of course. Biology is...”

“No, Davy,” he interrupted. “Do you know about women? Pussy? Sex? Fucking?”

I turned a bright red. My parents were so conservative, “Touched By An Angel” was too risque for them.

“No,” I croaked.

“Are you a virgin?”

No man at any age likes to admit he is a virgin. But, I was. “Yes, sir,” I said shame faced.

“Davy, you are only fourteen. Don’t be embarrassed. Do you masturbate?”

I wanted to sink into the floor but I nodded affirmatively. He laughed. I loved Uncle Bert’s laugh. It was strong, happy, masculine.

“Well, Davy. You may not want these two weeks to end.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled and got up to get more coffee, refusing to discuss it further. About five that afternoon, a Dodge Caravan drove up the long gravel road to the ranch house. The doors opened and three females got out.

“Davy, this is Susan Stevens and her daughters, Sandy and Sara.” As we unloaded their car, Uncle Bert said, “Davy, put the girls’ things in your bedroom.” I froze, my mind whirring. I had a hard-on most of the day wondering what Uncle Bert’s cryptic comments this morning meant. Now, it was a steel rod and I was afraid the girls would see it. They did.

Sandy firmly grabbed my cock through my jeans.

“You a virgin?” she asked. That was the second time that day I was embarrassed to answer that question, but I did.

“So is Sara,” Sandy replied. “Don’t worry. Neither of you will be virgins in the morning.” I thought I would shoot right there.

As the evening progressed, I learned Sandy was sixteen and Sara was fourteen, like me. Both of them looked like their mother, tall, slim, tiny waists, small, high breasts. They had long brown hair and huge, soft chocolate eyes over a cute nose and full lips. We visited, ate and played Monopoly. It was only eight fifteen when Uncle Bert said, “Well, it is my bedtime.” He stood, took Susan’s hand and headed for his bedroom. We three teenagers just stared at each other.

Sandy laughed. “Come on, virgins. We need to go to bed, too,” she said, heading for our bedroom. I looked at Sara, expecting to see her blush. Her face was raw, wanton lust. My cock quivered as it quickly hardened. I had never undressed in front of a girl before, and, the only girl I had seen naked was my cousin Debbie, one of Uncle Donald’s daughters. I started to unbutton my shirt.

“Davy,” Sara whispered, desire dripping from her voice. “May I undress you?”

Chapter 2 »