Chapter 1

They say that if too many important or huge things happen in your life at one time it can affect your judgment. Just about everything changed for me in a space of a couple of months, and it seemed like all of the changes were big ones. And I think one change can lead to another. At least I think that’s what happened to me.

It was the summer of my sixteenth year, a year that had brought the depths of sadness to our lives. My mother had died. Daddy and my older brother Brad, and I were lost without her, but life insisted on marching on, whether we wanted it to or not. I was worried about Daddy because he was drinking too much, and then he said we were going to move, to be near Uncle Bob. Uncle Bob was my mother’s brother. They’d been raised in Scotland, but Mom met my dad at college in America.

Uncled Bob had lost his wife too, after she gave him twin boys and a girl. Now he and his children and my mom’s younger sister, who had never married, lived in a little cottage on an island in Scotland, where we would be welcomed. I was almost relieved. It meant leaving the house I’d been raised in, but that house was so empty now...

Anyway, I knew it was the right thing to do when Brad simply said, “Okay.” He was the popular one, tall, slim, athletic with that tanned windblown look of sailors who do it for fun, rather than making a living at it. He was a good brother too, offering to teach me to sail and play tennis and all the other things he was into.

But I had other interests. Well, one other interest anyway.

Before she died, my mother had boxes and boxes and boxes of romance novels, and she was always sighing as she read them, and changing positions on the lounger, like she was uncomfortable, but staying there to read more. One day I picked one up to see what she had been reading. I opened it to a random spot to see what the fuss was all about.

“Marshall swept into the room, her bedroom, where he shouldn’t be, especially since she was in dishabille, a diaphanous gown that revealed too much. She was aghast as he approached her and took her in his arms, pressing her trembling body against his hard, muscled frame. He kissed her and his passion was contagious. She tried to control her baser urges, but the intensity of his lips overcame her breeding and upbringing. His hand cupped her breast and her nipple jumped to meet his strong fingers.”

It went on for a bit, never getting actually pornographic or anything, but it was obvious what they were doing. It made me wet between my legs, and I was hooked.

And then she was gone.

I had all her books now, but I’d have given them all up and my eyes, too, to have her back.

So leaving the place where everything reminded me of her wasn’t so bad in some ways. And it meant new friends, and even a different culture. Uncle Bob lived in Scotland, amongst what they called the Achill Islands.

Anyway, we got off the plane and my cousins, Seamus and Johnny were there to collect us. That’s how they talk in Scotland and Great Britain and places close to there. They don’t pick you up. They “collect you”. So they collected us and took us to a forty-eight foot sailboat that was lots bigger than anything Brad had ever sailed. Of course he was on cloud nine, and started talking sailing with his cousins.

That left Daddy and me to explore the cabin in the middle of the deck. It slept four and had the cutest little kitchen in it. I know I’m supposed to call it a galley, but it looked like a kitchen to me. And there was a bathroom too. I went back up on deck and suddenly got a lot more interested in sailing.

All three of the boys had taken their shirts off. I don’t know what it is about wide shoulders, but they make my pussy get damp. And there were three sets of wide shoulders up there. Seamus and Johnny were wearing Speedos, and it was plain that they were in fabulous shape. They were twins, but you could identify Seamus because he was, for some reason, an inch taller than his brother.

Anyhow, they turned on the motor and we went under power for an hour, maybe more, passing all these little islands, specks of green in the wide blue ocean. Some of them had little huts and cabins on them, but others looked like no one had ever set foot on them.

Then there was a bigger island, across the water from what looked like the mainland, and we docked. We went up a long, winding gravel path to a house that looked like something out of a fairy tale. It had a steep sloped roof, all mossy looking and there were parts that stuck out from the sides of that roof that had little round windows in them. You could see slate tiles under the moss and there was a chimney. The sides were whitewashed and there were plants and bushes and growing things positively everywhere. A lot of it turned out to be Aunt Prudence’s vegetable garden. And waiting for us there, of course were my Aunt and Uncle, and Uncle Bob’s daughter, my cousin, Sally.

I won’t bore you with all the little details, though everything was old and beautiful and homey looking, which does have something to do with the rest of the story, because I immediately felt at home in this place.

I knew my uncle Bob was a photographer, of course. I’d seen his pictures in several famous magazines. But his subject matter was mostly nature, and plants and stuff like that, and I suppose there isn’t all that much call for that sort of thing if you don’t work for National Geographic or somebody like that. So money was tight. My dad planned to get a job, which would help, but it was likely that when he started he would be at the bottom of the totem pole, and didn’t wouldn’t get paid much at first.

Anyway, things would have been completely different, I’m sure, if my uncle Bob hadn’t been a photographer. I, of course, didn’t know that then, or that a camera would change my life forever, and not all that long after my mother’s death had changed also my life forever.

Uncle Bob had been shooting some pictures of Aunt Prudence’s garden flowers or something like that as we came up the path. I suppose, if a photographer was standing there with his camera and saw us coming, it would be normal for him to want to document the arrival of new family members. So he did, taking lots and lots of pictures. Some of them were of me.

I was still in my travel clothes, which I had picked out very carefully so that I would be comfortable on the long flight. My breasts had just gone through one of those growth spurts where they expanded two inches in what seemed like a week. As a result, all my old bras were too tight and uncomfortable to wear. I hadn’t had time to go shopping for new ones, what with all the preparations that had to be made to move. So I was braless. I liked going braless, because it was so comfortable and ... I don’t know ... free feeling or something. I had on a pair of those shorts that lots of men wear, with pockets just everywhere. There were two pockets you could stick your hands in up to your wrists. Then there were back pockets with flaps to close them, and matching pockets on the front and sides. I think there were eight or ten in all, almost enough to take everything in my purse, though, of course I didn’t do that. But I could have if I had wanted to.

I had on new white tennis shoes with what my mother used to call “footy socks”. They were the kind that didn’t show because they only came to the tops of the shoes. Sometimes they had a little colored ball on the backs, but I usually took those off because I thought they looked goofy. A dark blue T shirt completed my outfit, and my hair was swept back and gathered with a scrunchy into an easy-to-take-care-of pony tail.

I didn’t know it then, but the excitement of the flight and being in a new place, and the boys chests and just everything that was going on had made my nipples stiffen up. I wasn’t horny, you understand ... just very excited. But when I get that excited my body acts like I’m horny.

Anyway, Uncle Bob must have taken twenty pictures of us as we walked up the path. I know he took three just of me alone, because he had me pose for them. He did the same for Brad, but Dad wouldn’t play along. He just laughed and put up his hand like famous people do ... you know to try to block the camera’s view ... and said, “No comment!”

Anyway, it was those pictures that turned out to be so important, as you’ll see later.

The cottage was cramped with all of us in there. Daddy and Brad and I would try to find our own place, naturally, but that would take some time, and Aunt Prudence wouldn’t hear of us staying anywhere else. There are, after all, few inns or hotels on the islands. I moved in with Sally, who was a year older than me. We hit it off pretty well. Other than Aunt Prudence she was the only female on that side of the island, so having another girl to talk to who was pretty close to my own age was great. There was only one bed in her room, but by the time it was bedtime we were fast friends and didn’t mind sharing. I was so tired from everything that I dropped off almost immediately.

The next morning Sally and I got up early. She had agreed to show me the island, and we were both excited. We went into the living room and saw it had been taken over by my brother and the twins, who were sprawled just about everywhere. What we weren’t prepared for - well, what I wasn’t prepared for - was their state of dress. The twins slept nude, as it turned out. My brother, not quite being able to do that on his first night, had on his briefs, but that was all.

Sally didn’t seem to be fazed at all. She later told me her brothers had no modesty, for all intents and purposes. The whole family was pretty lax about that, for that matter. I would find out later that Sally often changed into her nightgown right after supper, especially if we were going to play board games or cards or listen to the radio. Aunt Prudence did too, though her nightgown was more modest. But Sally’s nightgown was so thin that you could see through it in the right light. She didn’t wear anything under it either, and where her nipples were and her pubic hair were all dark spots under the thin cloth. She had very dark nipples, while mine, along with my areolas, were so pink that they seemed to fade into the rest of the flesh they sat on.

Anyway, we threaded our way through the living room to get to the front door. I stumbled several times. While Sally might have seen all those male organs before, I sure hadn’t, and I didn’t know where to look first. All the boys were still asleep, so I wasn’t embarrassed or anything. Either Seamus or Johnny (I still couldn’t tell them apart yet unless they were standing side by side) had an erection. He was lying on his side, with one arm under his pillow and the other lying across his stomach. His penis looked like it was a foot long to me, though of course it wasn’t. I just wasn’t used to seeing something like that. I know that nowadays, most girls at that age have seen lots of pictures on the internet and such, but I hadn’t. I know I looked at that amazing thing and thought it was simply impossible that that could ever fit inside a girl between her legs.

Then Sally was pulling me through the front door and we were on our way down a path, with dense brush and trees hemming it in so that you had to stay on it. You couldn’t stray off if you tried.

I won’t go into all the details of what she showed me. There were fantastic rock formations, and cliffs with crashing surf at the bottom. There were lots of big rocks out in the ocean, and flocks of white seabirds that made all kinds of noise. There were fishing boats and yachts and even a big cruise liner that we waved to, but I doubt they could really see us. We went down a long twisty trail that was rocky and windblown and then into a huge crack in what looked like a wall of solid rock. That crack was six or seven feet wide and opened into something I’d only thought about in my dreams, or read about in fairy tales.

There was a waterfall, about fifteen feet high. It wasn’t the thundering Niagara falls kind of water fall, but more of a little rush that fell into a pool of water that was about thirty feet around. There were more of the big boulders around the edge, and one not quite under the waterfall, but that was all the way in the pool. Around one edge, the trees and brush went right up to the water, but the other half had been cleared and grass planted. At that time of year it was thick and soft under out feet, almost like a carpet.

“This is our secret swimming place,” said Sally.

“Where does the water come from?” I asked, staring at the waterfall.

“The island is bigger than it looks when you see it from the sea,” said Sally. “The interior isn’t good for anything, what with all the rocks and such that make it too hard to build or plow or anything like that. But it collects rain water and that dribbles down to here. See over there?” She pointed to a place where the edge of the pool was right against bare rock. “There’s a little crack over there that the water drains out of and into the sea. The pool is ten or so feet deep in the middle. You can climb up on that boulder and jump in, almost like a diving board.”

“It looks cold,” I said, shivering.

“It makes my nipples stick out, that’s for sure,” laughed Sally. “But it’s not so bad once you get used to it, and the sun feels really good on your skin when you come out. You want to go for a dip?”

“I don’t have a swim suit.” I pointed out the obvious.

“The boys aren’t here, so who cares?” said Sally. She started shucking out of her clothes and was soon bare ass naked. She didn’t wait for me, but went to a small rock, climbed up on it and jumped in, making a huge splash.

I wasn’t too sure about skinny dipping, but I was sweating a little from our hike, and she was obviously having fun, bobbing in the water and yelling for me to come on in, so I got naked too. The ground didn’t hurt my feet too much as I limped to the edge of the pool where the grass was thick and tried to dip one toe into the water. Of course I lost my balance and flailed as I tipped and landed with a splat. It was chilly, but it was a good kind of chilly and soon I was splashing and swimming with my cousin.

It was when we got out that I got shy. Sally was only a year older than me, but her figure was lush. Her breasts were big enough that they settled downward on her chest, the bottoms being round and full. Her nipples and areolas were the same dark brown, almost the exact same color as her hair and she had lots and lots of hair between her legs. Hers was kinky and long and bushy. I felt like a little girl beside her, with my cone-shaped breasts that didn’t sag even a little bit, and the short, flat strawberry blond hair that matched my pony tail, but did nothing at all to cover up the two fat pink lips between my legs. I had learned to my chagrin that if the panties or bathing suit I was wearing were pulled too tight, the cloth would dip between my fat pussy lips, leaving very little to anyone’s imagination if they saw me. Of course nobody ever saw me in my panties. My bathing suit was a different thing, though, and I had to be careful about that. It’s habit for most girls when they get out of the water to pull the back and sides down to where you think it’s supposed to be but the majority of them forget the front, where it covers their pussy. I think about it because if I’m not careful about the front, people stare. Well, men and boys stare.

Sally looked at me frankly. “I wish I had your body,” she said wistfully.

I gawked. “Whatever for?” I asked in disbelief. “Your body is beautiful.”

She looked down. “My boobs are huge” she said critically. She pinched both of her nipples and pulled on them, stretching them away from her breasts, which suddenly made them shaped more like mine. “And these things stick out like a sore thumb,” she said. I almost winced as she pulled a little harder and then let them snap back against her breasts. Her hand went to her pussy hair. “And down here I have this forest of hair. I can’t wear any of the really nice swim suits or it sticks out horribly.” She went on, saying her butt was too big, and her hips too wide, and that she wasn’t skinny enough.

“I can count your ribs you silly thing,” I chided her. “Boys love a body like yours.”

“Not around here,” she said glumly. “Well, actually, I wouldn’t know what boys like. The only ones I see are my brothers most of the time. And whenever I do get to go somewhere and see boys, one of my brothers is always right there with me, like some kind of guard. Sometimes they even put their arm around my waist, like I’m their girlfriend or something.”

I had had similar experiences with my brother, who was very protective of me, so I understood. I nodded to show that.

She went on. “I yelled at them about it at first, but they told me I didn’t understand, and that it was for my own good and all that rubbish.” She looked at me. “Your brother is kind of cute.” Her inference that there was the potential for some romantic goings on was obvious.

“He’s your cousin, silly,” I said.

“I don’t care,” she said, carelessly. “We’re only second cousins, or some such thing. That’s all right from what I hear.”