Perving on My Virgin Cousins

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - In the Australian city of Canberra in 2008, 18-year-old Trent can't stay out of trouble. After being arrested for his antics one night, his long-suffering parents have finally had enough, kick him out of home and send him to Adelaide live with his aunt, uncle and his 18-year-old twin cousins Belinda and Cassie, this branch of the family fundamentalist and evangelical Christians.

Trent does his best to turn over a new leaf and mend his wayward ways in South Australia, but will the temptation to perve on his pretty virgin cousins in their most private moments prove too much? Read this story, an entry in the

Crime & Punishment 2023 Story Event

, to find out and be sure to rate and comment. Please note that it is a voyeuristic story that involves spying on young women using the toilet, showering and having their periods, so if these themes aren't for you it might be best to give it a miss. All characters and events are fictional, with similarity to real persons living or dead coincidental and unintentional.

*

"Trent, this time you have finally gone too far!" my furious father roared at me when he and Mum collected me from a Canberra police station after my latest antics got me and my friends arrested in the middle of the night.

It was appropriate that Grandma and Grandpa had named my Dad Rory, as Dad did a lot of roaring, well he certainly did after I was born. In fact my grumpy Dad did so much roaring at me that it was a wonder he didn't suffer from chronic laryngitis.

"Do you want your father to end up committed to a mental institution, Trent?" my completely stressed-out mother Carol demanded of me. "Because that is what is going to happen if you keep causing him so many problems."

My mother sighed deeply and I saw her wring her hands as we got into Dad's car to drive home. Mum did a lot of sighing and hand-wringing when I was around. Did she do a lot of sighing and wringing of her hands before the year 1990 when I came onto the scene? Perhaps she did, but probably not.

Dad drove home through the night, incandescent with rage, Mum silent in the passenger seat and me in the back seat, still drying off from the shenanigans that led to me and my friends getting arrested. I looked at the official caution I had received from the police, and then out the window at the clear summer night skies through the many eucalyptus trees of Australia's capital city, the Southern Cross constellation prominent and the full moon starting to wane.

I reflected on the night's events, which started with one of my friends 'commandeering' his uncle's boats and all of us climbing aboard for a trip out on Lake Burley Griffin, a number of girls from our school and their friends also present, many of us relaxing by smoking marijuana. Oh, and drinking alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

As night fell over the Australian Capital Territory following a stinking hot summer day, the alcohol consumption picked up exponentially and we were all jumping on and off the boat into the lake, playing silly buggers having water fights and making a huge racket blasting loud music. It was a pretty impressive boat by size, and even had a jet-ski on board, which we put to use as well, racing it around at break-neck speed.

On such a hot night the cooling waters of the lake were most welcome. One thing was for sure. In mid-winter, as the inland Canberra temperatures slumped to freezing and below then me, my mates and the girls would have been nowhere near the boat, much less jumping in and out of the water or causing havoc with the jet-ski.

Then along came two other boats, not to join in the party but rather boats with blue and red flashing lights and massive search-beams that put a stop to the fun and games, which is how I ended up arrested and on my way to the police station in the back of a van, thoroughly intoxicated, soaked to the skin and still feeling the effects of smoking grass.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the first time I had found trouble. I was always in trouble, at home, at school and in the community. I always got in trouble at work too, which is why I currently had no employment after losing my part-time job as a waiter late last year. This was for getting involved in a scam among other wait-staff in which our friends would enter the restaurant, order the most expensive things on the menu and depart without paying the bill, all of us innocently claiming these customers were 'runners' for a cash kick-back later. This was until the suspicious restaurant owners hired private investigators, found out about our scam and fired all of us who were involved, again to the despair and anger of my mother and father.

Born in January 1990, perhaps I was a defective early model of a 1990s baby? Maybe, but then again perhaps I was the proverbial black sheep of the family? It was entirely possible genetics wise. Recessive genes of red hair, fair skin and green eyes floated around in Mum's side of the family, all of which I had picked up. This gave a steep contrast to Mum, Dad and my sister Lucy, older than me by two years, all of whom had brown hair, brown eyes and tanned complexions.

Dad turned into the driveway, pulled the car to a halt in the garage, and slammed out of the vehicle, Mum getting out of the passenger side, me exiting my tall, skinny form out of the back of the car still thinking about my family genetics.

My maternal grandmother's late younger brother Larry had the same tall and skinny figure as me as well as the red hair, fair skin and green eyes. Uncle Larry had also been the black sheep of the very respectable family. Like me, he had driven my great-grandparents insane with his antics growing up and this extended to school where like me he had been the class clown and often in the headmaster's office, not to collect elephant stamps but to get six of the best.

It was lucky that corporal punishment was a means of school discipline long in the past when I arrived in the world, as my school record featured many visits to the principal's office along with my mates for one stupid indiscretion after another. High school had only resumed on Monday, and already I had been to the principal's office, this time for pranking a group of emo students who sat under some trees on the school oval reading their depressing poetry, turning on the sprinklers and watching them run for it.

Uncle Larry had also shamed the family by receiving a dishonorable discharge from the army when doing his national service. Of course there was no national service for me, but in order to curb my hyperactive ways 6 years ago Mum and Dad tried to get me into the army cadets. My sister Lucy was heavily involved in the cadets and our parents thought it would be good for me.

Unfortunately, the 12-year-old me strongly disagreed and so did the people running the cadets, saying to Mum and Dad that some kids -- like me -- were simply just not right for the military in any form, so the short-lived experiment was hastily abandoned. While she never said so and acted disappointed, I think my sister Lucy was also glad to see my departure from the cadets, a place where she was in her element.

There was no doubt that Lucy was destined for military life, and she was currently studying at officer training school. Entering the house, I looked at a picture of Lucy in her dress uniform which my folks displayed proudly. They were very proud of straight-A, sports star, well-behaved Lucy but definitely not me. Mum and Dad, not surprisingly for Canberra, were high-ranking, hard-working public servants, very uptight, very respectable. Their hyperactive slacker son was definitely a thorn in their side.

I looked at another family photograph, this of the four of us together, a professional photograph taken in a fancy department store in Sydney when I was 11 and Lucy 13. All of us smiled for the camera, but in the lead-up to the photo I had been causing no end of trouble messing around and making shadow puppets behind Lucy's head, getting Dad really mad and Mum really stressed in the process.

Lucy of course no longer lived at home, she was at the barracks where she worked and studied. I think she was glad to be away from me. I was such an annoying younger brother growing up -- in fact I was a downright obnoxious little shit - always playing pranks on her. I once lifted up the dishwasher while it was in operation while Lucy and I were doing the dishes, soaking my sister. Several times I poured lemonade over the toilet seat in the bathroom we shared so Lucy would sit on it during the night and get stuck. Another time I got hold of Lucy's Blackberry and sent an offensive joke about retarded children to her boyfriend as a practical joke.

My sister enjoyed a largely Trent-free existence now, and it seemed that my parents aspired to this too. "You are going to face serious consequences for this Trent," Dad bellowed at me as he and Mum went to bed. "Just see if you don't. If you think you are still living in this house and attending school with your loser mates by this time next week, you've got another thing coming."

"See how much you've upset and embarrassed both your father and I, Trent," Mum added as she followed Dad into their bedroom and the door slammed shut.

*

Mum and Dad had inflicted numerous punishments on me for my bad behavior over the years, but still I couldn't keep out of trouble at home, at school or in the community. I had been taken to a doctor at one stage and put on a medication to help control ADHD kids, but it had no effect on me and I continued right on with my atrocious and attention-seeking behavior antics, anywhere and anytime.

I didn't even give my family a break away from home. At a wedding in Sydney I was the kid who got hold of a bottle of vodka and mixed it in with the non-alcoholic punch for the kids, with predictable results. When in Melbourne for a holiday with my parents and sister I had secretly gotten hold of and eaten a giant cookie -- well I had shoplifted it to be precise -- and all the sugar made my hyperactive, so much so that I jumped off the Princes Bridge and into the muddy waters of the Yarra River flowing beneath.

This time however, following my arrest on the lake, I could sense something was different with my parents, and I had finally gone that one step too far. As the sun rose over the highlands, bringing Canberra a hot and sunny Sunday, Mum and Dad informed me that I would be going to live with my aunt, uncle and cousins and to start packing.

There were two options for this, as my parents both had one sibling each. Dad's brother was Uncle Terry, and he and his wife Aunty Maureen ran a sheep and wheat farm in the New South Wales Southern Tablelands, not far from Goulburn. They had two sons close to Lucy and I in age -- our cousins Tom and Grant -- and both boys like their parents were typical country farming folk, hard-working and early to bed, early to rise.

Option two was my mother's younger sister Aunty Diane. She differed from Mum by having blonde hair, blue eyes and fair skin contrasting with Mum's brown hair and brown eyes. Aunty Diane was married to Uncle Ross, and they lived interstate in Adelaide South Australia with their identical twin daughters Belinda and Cassandra, always called Cassie for short. Belinda and Cassie were actually born just two weeks after me, and had recently turned 18 and were Year 12 students.

Aunty Diane, Uncle Ross and my cousins Belinda and Cassie had had far less to do with us growing up. One was geographical obviously, and the other was due to the fact that this branch of our family were deeply and devoutly religious, and tended to stick to their own evangelical and fundamentalist Christian community within South Australia.

So which family was I being banished to? For some reason, I found myself hoping it would be South Australia. Uncle Terry and Aunty Maureen and my male cousins were so boring, plus I would have to work my ass off on the farm. But going there probably was the less likely option, mostly as my aunt, uncle and male cousins didn't care for me at all. In fact they hated my guts. Uncle Terry claimed that their blue heeler that chased me during one visit to the farm got out by accident, but I was certain he set the dog on me deliberately.

My branch of the family in Adelaide was aware of my reputation which was not a good one, but they had that Christian faith that sheep who strayed from the flock could be rescued plus seeing them less I had fewer opportunities to get on their nerves. I had no doubt from what I knew of them that I would also have to work hard in Adelaide, but it wouldn't be the same back-breaking farm labor in the stifling summer heat, the freezing cold winter or the spring or autumn rains in the Tablelands.

To my relief but not to my great surprise, Mum and Dad told me to get packing for a new life in South Australia, but warned me sternly that if I pissed off my aunt, uncle and cousins and got kicked out of home or school there I was on my own, and not to come back to Canberra because I would be permanently disowned.

So on Wednesday morning I packed my stuff in my parents' car and climbed in the back, while Mum and Dad got into the front and drove to Canberra airport, where I would board the 1pm flight to Adelaide, and life in South Australia. Lucy couldn't make it to say goodbye, she was busy with her regiment and sent her farewells by text message.

Mum and Dad stayed with me at the airport until the boarding call came from the Adelaide flight. I don't think it was because they were upset to see me go, I think it was to make sure I got on the plane without playing silly buggers in the airport or making my escape before the flight was called. I don't know why they bothered, I hadn't put up any resistance to the plans. In fact everything had happened at such breakneck speed and that I knew my parents had made up their minds and nothing I could do would change the situation, I had just meekly gone along with everything. In fact I had been as compliant as a lobotomized sheep.

I climbed on the plane, and had a window seat. I looked out as the plane backed out of its position, the flight attendants doing the safety demonstration and then began to taxi out onto the runway. After a delay of five minutes as a flight from Brisbane came in to land, the plane took to the sunny blue skies for its flight to South Australia, taking me to my new life.

I looked down at Canberra below as the plane gained altitude, seeing the lakes and rivers and Parliament House and the CBD. Cars looked like tiny toys on the roads in and out of the nation's capital and I could see my high school.

Thinking back to last Friday, how I left school at the day's end I thought I would be back there on Monday. True I did go back to the school on Monday with Mum for me to be formally withdrawn and clean out my locker. I think my teachers were unable to believe their good fortune. All of them were no doubt counting down the days until November 2008 when Trent would finally leave high school forever. None of them expected my departure to come after just one week in February.

I looked at the school buildings, thinking about what my friends were doing right now. I knew a number of them were being punished by their parents over the boat incident on Saturday night, but unlike me none of them had been kicked out of home and sent to live interstate.

Before the school vanished, I looked at the sporting ovals and thought about how I was actually good at sports, but my personality led me to failure in the one subject where I excelled. I had played cricket, but my hyperactive ADHD personality led me to day-dreaming while fielding on hot days, and causing trouble awaiting my turn to bat.

I was good enough at Australian Rules football to play for the school, but was an annoying tagger who engaged in underhand tactics to put off my opponent, so much so that there were official complaints made, and disciplinary action taken against me. Then instead of playing football at interstate sports carnivals I found myself back at school with all the fat and/or uncoordinated kids who weren't good enough to make the team in any sports.

The parklands around the school were still in sight, and I thought about how due to my tall, skinny frame I was pretty good at athletics. Last year I had been looking forward to the school's cross country 10km run and really wanted to win, but there were kids who were far better runners than me so it looked no chance. Or was it? I checked out the route beforehand, and read online about how a competitor in the New York marathon had won by cheating. All I had to do was be more careful than the marathon winner and there were plenty of places for me to hide in the bushes.

I put my plan into place and was duly awarded the blue ribbon for the winner of the boys' cross country run. Unfortunately, my win attracted suspicion and my reign as winner of this race lasted just two days, as my furious father was called away from work and into a meeting with me, the guidance officer, the principal and the head teacher for PE at the school, where my 'triumph' was stripped from me and I received two weeks detention for my deception. And I was also given the sage advice that if I wanted to win in sports I should learn that cheats never prosper, and perhaps should look to American cycling champion Lance Armstrong to find inspiration to succeed with hard work and honesty?

Mount Ainslie was visible as the plane turned for the flight path to South Australia. I thought back to another of my indiscretions last year, where my parents had gone to visit my aunt and uncle on the farm, reluctantly leaving me alone in Canberra for the weekend. Had a behaved myself? No, of course not, instead of studying I invited my friends over, and having recently gotten my driver's license took them in Dad's car for a drive up to Mount Ainslie.

I did not see the speed camera and was surprised at how much detail it picked up when Dad received the infringement and immediately challenged it. It showed my mates in the car messing around and drinking alcohol, and while I wasn't drinking myself it clearly showed me at the wheel of Dad's car committing the driving offense. Thinking back at how angry Dad was, it was a surprise that I wasn't making this journey last year.

The flight to South Australia wasn't overly long, and I heard the captain announce over the PA that we were about to commence descent into Adelaide. Like back in Canberra, it was a fine and sunny summer's day in Adelaide, the temperature in the low 30s. As the plane swooped down lower, I admired the River Torrens and pretty parklands, seeing the Adelaide Oval and the central business district, a tall, brown trapezoid-shaped building the tallest skyscraper on the city skyline.

Adelaide Airport wasn't far from the city, and I could see right into people's backyards in the West Torrens area as the plane's wheels hit the runway and the plane reached the end of its journey, me looking out towards the Southern Ocean, seeing what I presumed to be Glenelg in the distance, with its high rise apartments and big Norfolk Island pine trees.

The plane came to a stop and we disembarked, me carrying a small backpack as I got off the plane and went into the airport, where it was quite a busy day, people everywhere waiting for their flights, in the café or browsing through the newsagents and gift shops. To get out of this part of the airport, one had to go downstairs, so I went down the escalator and to the ground floor of the airport.

Lots of people were waiting for passengers from the Canberra flight and another that had just landed from Perth, but among the crowds near the baggage carousels my eyes picked up a quartet of people I hadn't seen in person for a number of years, and accordingly I made my way towards them, approaching the slim, blonde matriarch first.