Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 The summer of my seventeenth year, my family - my mother, father and two
sisters - rented a cottage in England.  That summer, all of our lives, mine
in particular, were changed forever.

   Chapter 1 mf inc

   As I looked out the plane window, watching the sage brown Southern
Californian hills of my home disappear into the low clouds, I felt a
strange mixture of anxiety, excitement and more than a little resentment.

   You see, until about my 16th birthday the previous autumn, I had always
been the "husky" kid with glasses that got picked last for every pick-up
soccer/baseball/football game played in the neighborhood.  But beginning
just before my junior year in high school, I made a concerted effort to get
in shape.  I was the oldest of three - two sisters just behind me in age -
Ariel at 15 and Melinda at 13 - and Ariel and my mother had begun using a
yoga dvd every day.  Partly because I knew I needed the flexibility and
strength, and partly because of the lithe yet full-breasted yoga instructor
on the screen, I started joining the two of them for 45 minutes of yoga
every day.

   While the painful positions kept my nether regions from responding to
the skin-tight leotard of the instructor on the screen, my body responded
to this exercise in a way I hadn't expected.  I began to crave exercise the
way I'd previously craved Doritos.  I started running just after sunrise
every day, followed by Yoga with Mom and Ariel.  In the afternoons, I
pulled an old weight set my Dad used to use and added pumping iron to my
agenda.

   The flabby love handles and belly began to disappear, my shoulders began
to broaden and I just felt more `alive' than I'd ever been.  This combined
with about two more inches in height changed my appearance drastically.  By
the time school started, friends that hadn't seen me over the summer
couldn't believe the change in my physique.

   While the improvement in my body was tangible, inside, I was pretty much
the same guy.  I was a band geek, not a jock and I hung out with
non-popular crowd.  I noticed that a couple of the more popular girls
smiled at me, where before I had been all but invisible.

   Up to this point, sex meant masturbation.  I'd never even had a date. 
In October, however, all that changed when I got my license.  With my
improved physical appearance, I felt bold enough to ask Cherie Brown if she
would like to see a movie with me.  Cherie was a pretty, though rather
straight-laced girl who sat second chair in the Clarinet section in Band.

   We had a good time - we got each other's jokes, we liked the same music
and shared a mutual opinion about the good and bad teachers at school.  On
our third date, she let me kiss her, chastely, on the lips.  On our fifth
date, her tongue darted between my lips as we sat in the car outside her
house, and we kissed for about five minutes before the porch light came on
and she dashed out the door and up the steps.  Each time I touched her, my
very-ordinarily-sized johnson leaped to attention.  Each date with her
ended with me spurting into Kleenex in my bed.

   As the year progressed, I continued to work on my body and attempted to
see more of Cherie's.  Each date, I was disappointed.  Finally, after the
prom in April, she let me briefly feel her A-cup breast under her shirt
(but not under her bra).  Prom night, I couldn't even make it home.  I had
to pull over to the side of the road and spray my seed into a napkin.

   In other words, you can look like a jock, but if you don't have the
confidence (or the pushiness), you'll still be the same sexually-frustrated
teenage band geek you were before.  ...and frustrated I certainly was...

   But Cherie wasn't my only source of sexual frustration.  I wasn't
entirely honest earlier, when I said the instructor in the Yoga DVD was the
reason for me to start practicing with my mother and sister.  I felt shame
over it, and told myself the reason for the thickening of my cock every
time I went into downward dog was because of the instructor, but the real
reason for my tumescence was that my mom and my sister were hot.

   Literally and figuratively.

   I guess I was fortunate that my schlong was not as large as the ones I
saw on the internet.  It made it easier to tuck it inside my
tightie-whities so that it wasn't apparent.  They each wore as little as
possible - in fact, they had a spare room where we could practice, and they
put a space heater in there to raise the temperature to about 85 degrees.
Sweat pored off all of us.

   My sister Arial, though only 15, already had a lovely body.  Her hips,
clad usually in skin-tight volleyball shorts, had widened delightfully in
the last year and the yoga kept her legs and ass smooth and delicious.  She
typically wore only a sports bra to encase her ripe, round breasts - they
were about the size of a half of a grapefruit - and her nipples had a
tendency to poke out when she really got warm.  ...and she got very warm
each time we practiced.  Her lovely face exuded innocence, especially when
she wore her long blonde hair up in a ponytail.  She was a walking wet
dream to many of the boys in my school, and she was to me too, I'm ashamed
to say.

   But the shame I felt over my sister was nothing compared to that of my
mom.

   Brenda Paddington was only 36 years old - she had married my father,
Sean Paddington when he was 22 and she was in her first year of college and
only 19.  I came along exactly 7 months after the marriage.  She'd been a
cheerleader in high school and somehow, despite having three children in
six years not only finished her bachelor's degree in history, but managed
to keep her figure in a state of fitness that made most twenty-year-olds
envious.

   She dressed more conservatively than my sister, usually exercise shorts
under a pair of running shorts, and she wore an exercise bra under a
t-shirt.  My mother regularly got hit on by men of all ages - with or
without her children present.  One time, a drunk guy even approached her as
we all - my dad right next to her- sat at a dinner table in a restaurant.

   She was about 5'7", long auburn hair (which she put in a ponytail when
we worked out), with legs that were only outdone by her magnificent butt.
Her breasts were large - I suppose they had to be in the DD range - but
seemed to be as firm as the rest of her, at least as far as I could tell.
She wasn't skinny, however, nor was she voluptuous - think playboy bunny in
the 1960's, but with more athletic legs and you'll get the idea.

   To make it even worse, my bratty little sister Melinda went through a
transformation of her own.  Where just last year, she'd been nothing but
knees and elbows, now her coltish legs were as shapely as her sister or her
moms, her ass had a delightful wiggle when she walked, and her breasts
(which she complained about) were peach-sized wonders of adolescent lust.

   In other words, I masturbated a lot.

   The relationship with Cherie had been good as far as it went, but after
the prom, rather than continuing our mutual body exploration, Cherie
basically called a halt.  She was off to Wisconsin for the summer, where
her family had a lake cabin that they went to every year.  She told me in
early May that she felt we should `take a break' since she would be gone
all summer anyway.  I was pissed for about a week, when my attitude started
to change.  Suddenly I began to notice that other girls looked my way and
smiled far more than they ever had before - my confidence took a big leap
upwards.

   So that summer, I planned on taking things to a new level.  I was
determined to spend much more time at the beach, widen my circle of friends
to include girls other than fellow band geeks.  If at all possible, I was
going to see some naked titties and hopefully, if the gods allowed it, lose
my virginity.

   Then in May - the last week of school - Mom & Dad made an announcement.
Mom had applied for and been awarded a scholarship to make a study of
pre-Roman English religious rituals and we would be spending the next three
months in England - not returning (for my Senior year) until mid-November.

   My sisters were ecstatic, I wanted to cry.

   "No way.  No way in hell am I going to spend my entire summer in some
rainy, damp cramped little cottage and miss the beginning of my senior year
in high school for some stupid scholarship."

   Silence.

   My mom looked like she might cry, Arial had her mouth open, Melinda hid
her giggle behind her hand and my Dad, all 6'2" of him, was furious!

   Barely controlling himself, he looked at me like I was the lowest form
of pond scum.  "Ian," he said, "you can go to your room and think about
what you said.  We'll talk more about this tomorrow morning." As it was
only 5:30 and we hadn't had dinner yet, I started to open my mouth to whine
about it, when I saw that my Dad, who rarely lost his cool, would probably
blow his top if I said anything other than "Yes Dad." ...which I did.
   ...to be continued...