Chapter 3

I told the others that Uncle Bob was upset, and making noises. We thought it a good idea to take our lunch and go outside, to leave him alone. We stood or sat as we ate sandwiches and fruit. Johnny said he had to pee and, being a boy, headed off into the underbrush away from the house. He was back, his eyes wide and a look of consternation on his face.

“Come here!” he whispered loudly. “You have to see this!”

He shushed us as we trooped along behind him, making motions with his hands to slow down, or move this way and that, obviously trying to keep us all silent. It was mystery where he was taking us. Then we heard the moans. There was a hammock in front of us, and a screen of shrubs behind it. We all knew there was another hammock on the other side of those shrubs. That’s where the moaning was coming from.

“Ahhhh Rod, you’re a fine, stout fellow, you are,” came the voice of Aunt Prudence.

“Ohhh Prudence, my sweet, we shouldn’t be doing this,” came my father’s voice.

“She’s been gone for months now Bonny Rodney. She’d want you to be happy, I know it.”

“You feel so goood,” moaned my father.

“You’re right about that Laddie, you’re making me feel just wonderful,” she moaned back.

By ones and twos we crept up to the screen of bushes and pulled this way, or pushed that way to peer through the greenery. What we saw was Aunt Prudence, stark naked, her buttocks perched in the hammock as if she had just sat down and was about to swing her legs up and lie down. Her hands were placed on my father’s shoulders. He was equally naked, and was standing between her thighs, pushing and shoving against her in much the same way Johnny had pushed and shoved against me. Except, of course, there was nothing between them. There was a wet squishy sound that went with his rhythmic thrusting. Her legs were splayed to the sides, her heels resting lightly on the ground. The hammock moved in time with his thrusts, almost like a rocking chair. It was obvious to us all they were making love.

“I’m so glad you hurt your hands,” she moaned. “I’d never have gotten you alone otherwise.”

“You wanted this before yesterday?” grunted my father, shoving into her hard.

“From the very moment you came into my sight,” she said, wiggling her hips against his thrusts. “It was a case of love at first sight for me,” she sighed. “I was always jealous of my sister.”

“I never thought this would happen when I came here,” he moaned. “I never thought this would ever happen again.”

“You’re a fine, strong man, Rodney, with many a strong baby left in you to give to some lucky woman. Your life need not be over simply because of tragedy and loss.”

“I never thought I’d meet another woman who wanted to have my children,” he grunted. He was thrusting more actively into her now.

“You have, my darling, you already have,” she cooed. “Her hopes are being met this very instant, perhaps.”

“You?” he gasped. “I thought yesterday, when you said nothing, that you were protected.”

“I need no protection from you, my bonny lad,” she crooned. “Let your seed flow, and let it take in my womb, and let us have the first of many children together Rodney MacDowell.”

There was a frenzy of thrusting and grunting and groaning and I suddenly realized that that thick white stuff that Seamus had put on my stomach and hip, was now shooting up inside Aunt Prudence’s pussy ... into her womb ... where a little brother or sister for Brad and me might be made ... perhaps was being made at that very second. I know now that it was the emotion of seeing something for the first time, and because of the lingering lust in my own loins from our earlier play, but what I felt just then was ... empty. Not empty in an emotional sense ... but empty between my ribs and my pelvis, a place that, in Aunt Prudence’s situation, was full of warm gooey semen.

But my womb was empty, and knowing that my daddy’s sperm was inside Aunt Prudence’s womb made me wish mine wasn’t empty.

That was a turning point in my life, as I look back on it. I had played, and explored, and had a lot of fun experiencing new and exciting things. But it had suddenly been impressed on me how solemn and serious this game of sex was ... or could be. There I was, all a-flutter in a foreign land, in a new temporary home, being paid all kinds of sexy attention by handsome young men and an older man too, when you think of the vicarious nature of Uncle Bob’s interest in me sexually. I was all of sixteen years old, which is plenty old enough for my body and emotions to want to do adult things, while my experience level wasn’t at all prepared for those urges. It was a little like coming out of a dream. I had seen lots of pregnant women in my life, and women with new-born babies, and toddlers and all that. But I hadn’t paid a whit of attention to them as anything that had any connection to me. Now, my body yearned to do the things that made babies, and my mind, not ready to contemplate the full responsibilities involved in that process, glommed onto the idea with an innocence that today, just leaves me speechless.

But the fact was, as I backed away from that hedge, where my father was doing his best to make a baby in Aunt Prudence’s womb, I wanted somebody to make a baby in my womb too. The worst part of it was, that at that point, I didn’t have a clear picture in my mind of just who it was I wanted to make a baby in me.

I know I make it sound like I just up and decided to get knocked up. It wasn’t like that at all, though. It was more of a whisper in my mind, way back in the back, echoing from where it originated in my uterus. It bounced around in my body until it seeped quietly into my brain, where it set up a little campaign, urging me to let myself go, and become acquainted with the full experience of sexual intercourse. Earlier that very day the idea of having a penis inside me had been shocking and scary. But as the day passed, it got less and less scary, and more and more attractive to me.

To be sure, Uncle Bob had been shaken by our willingness to go beyond his wildest dreams of taking naughty pictures. That was evident in that for almost a week after that day he took no pictures at all. He threw himself into fixing things around the cottage, and working in the garden. He did work up a package of pictures to send to the Nature Conservancy, and they emailed him back their excitement and gratitude for them. He put some money in bank accounts for all us kids from that sale.

Sally and I became addicted to masturbation in bed at night. I imagine the boys did too, though I never asked them about it. The strange thing was that they never approached us to play during that week. It was as if the picture taking episodes had given us permission to breach the barriers that had been in place when I first arrived in Scotland, and that, unless Uncle Bob and his camera were there, we didn’t have permission to explore and play like we had. I think it was that - the lack of fulfillment with a man - and the fact that Daddy and Aunt Prudence couldn’t keep their hands off each other whenever they were together, and often stole off to be alone together, that caused that little whisper to seep into my mind to the point that I would no longer have stopped any of the boys from mounting me. And yet, none tried.

It was a very confusing and anxious and emotionally tumultuous week, I can say that.

Sally and I talked about it, but only a little. We talked about what we had especially liked, and which boy kissed better, or stroked us in the ways we liked best, but we didn’t talk about where things might go from there. And it’s not like that’s all we talked about. It was only a month and a half before school started. The education system in Scotland is kind of mixed up. What is called “high school” in the States may be called one of seven or eight things in Scotland, depending on where it is and who runs it. In our case, it was just called “School”. It would be the twins last year there, before moving on to university. Sally and Brad were required to do one more year, but could then opt for vocational school if that’s what they wanted to do. I, being the youngest, would have to complete two more years before I had the same choice.

Instead of a bus there was a motor launch that came around to the islands and collected kids to take them to one of the larger islands, where the school was located. There were some thirty of us, now that Brad and I were there, and Dad’s inability to find either a job that was appropriate to his experience, or a house on the mainland we could afford to rent meant that I might be starting school riding in that motor launch. Not that I cared. The island had also seeped into my brain as a magical place, where wonderful things happened, and I was happy.

The boys took us with them and I learned to fish. There was some flirting - boys can’t help but flirt - but no hanky panky other than a short sweet kiss or two. It was hard work to work the nets and they often came up empty. They were still heavy to drag back to the shore, or into the boat, if that’s where we were fishing from. I suppose that’s what eventually tipped things out of the balance they had gotten into. That and the Nature Conservancy’s request for more photographs. One of the photographs he had sent them had the neatly piled net in it, and they sent a request for a set of pictures of “those delightful young people” fishing.

So ... we went fishing. And Uncle Bob was there ... and he had his camera ... so...

I think it would have been all right, except that one of the places Uncle Bob thought would make a beautiful picture was the place where the waterfall from the grotto emptied into the sea. When it came out of the crack between the rocks, it fell into a swampy area that was deep with mud, and grew vibrant thickly packed reeds. As the water trickled through those reeds to the gravel on the shore, it spread out and more or less seeped into the sea in many little rivulets across the gravel. There was a tiny bay there, and with the boat out in the water, the scene was of all the reeds, with towering rock behind that. If we stood in the water at the edge of the shore to cast the nets, it was, in fact, a beautiful picture.

But the shelter of the rocks, and the way the tide came in, meant that no waves crashed on that beach unless there was a storm. So the mud was awful! We sank into it to our knees, losing shoes and getting filthy. Uncle Bob got the pictures, but we were such a mess that we couldn’t get back on the boat without cleaning up. We walked further up the beach, out of the shelter of the rocks, to where the surf rolled ashore and swept the gravel clean. And there, it just seemed normal to strip off our clothes and wash them out.

The boys, of course, offered to help wash the mud from our bodies. A week of abstinence, so to speak, made them work very hard to get each and every speck of soil off of Sally and me. It wasn’t a hurried or frenzy-filled play that took place. Rather, as Uncle Bob moved the boat to follow us, and then stood on the deck with his camera, we gathered into a knot of young flesh, reaching and rubbing at whatever skin could be seen next to us, sort of a group hug, if you will.

Johnny was in front of me, and he was hard as steel as he stood in water that came right up to, but did not cover his manhood. Sally’s back was to my right shoulder, and both Seamus and Brad were flanking her, with Brad almost behind her and me at the same time.

I stepped toward Johnny for a wet, slippery kiss, and molded my body to his. His prick, bobbing in the water, pressed against my belly. With one hand I reached down and pushed it between my legs, where it stuck between them, feeling warm in the cool water. He looked at me wide-eyed and I kissed him, rubbing my front against his.

I felt someone behind me, and turned my head to see it was Brad. He pressed up against me and kissed the back of my neck. His prick poked me in the butt, and I reached back to grasp it. It didn’t matter that he was my brother at that point in time. I liked him and I wanted him to feel good. He groaned into my neck and I stroked him. Next to me Sally was kissing Seamus, and they were as tightly plastered against each other as Johnny and I were, though I don’t know if his penis was against her sex.

A wave came, and lifted us all. I wrapped my legs around Johnny’s back and held on. His prick nudged my pussy lips and then we were standing on gravel again. I kept kissing him, wiggling my hips. The tip of his prick had slid back and was tickling my rectum which, to my surprise, felt tingly good.

Then there was another wave, and we rose a foot and fell again, and this time Johnny’s penis was right between my fat pussy lips, and when the water dropped us and his feet hit the gravel, I was impaled on his rampant rod.

Just like that ... in an instant ... I went from horny and empty, to horny and full. It stretched me, that’s for sure, and there was some pain and discomfort, that’s something I remember too, but it was done. My virginity was history, and I was full of hard cock for the first time in my life.

It shocked Johnny even more than it shocked me. It shocked him so much that he bent his knees and removed himself from me. There was at once the relief from stretching and pain, but at the same time that emptiness came back with a vengeance.

“Oooooo,” I complained.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said in a pleading voice. I think it was then that he realized I was still holding on to him tightly, and wasn’t screaming.

That didn’t mean I was happy. I wasn’t.

“Johnneeee,” I moaned, rubbing my pussy against him.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

I couldn’t tell him what I really wanted. It was too new and I was, as odd as it might sound, too shy.

So I kissed him for an answer.

It would be romantic to say that we stayed there, and that Johnny fucked me good and proper, but that’s not what happened. I’ll stick to the facts. They are, as things turned out, pretty exciting anyway.

Johnny returned my kiss with no little passion. Johnny was a gentleman and the fact that I wasn’t actively engaged in trying to get him back in me spoke to him. It wasn’t what I wished I could say to him, but it’s all he had to work with. He broke the kiss and pulled back to let me stand on my own, lest another wave cause another accident. We turned to find Brad, his arms around Sally from behind her, and Seamus still kissing her from the front. Both boys were moving in the water. They were humping her front and back. She told me that night that as Seamus moved forward, scraping his prick along her sensitive clitty, Brad moved back, and then they reversed the motions, with Brad’s cock sliding across her rectum, making it tingle like mine had.