Chapter 02 - Movie Night
The next time I went to Mom's house was Wednesday evening. I knew that she'd be out, having dinner with the Rutherfords, but it was a free evening for me, and it was no problem for me to let myself in.
The attic was starting to get cleared out enough for me to organize boxes of stuff by similar 'types' -- Christmas decorations, old books, old clothes (flower-print bell-bottoms? Please, Mom -- tell me you never actually wore those), and so forth -- I could move them each to separate sections of the attic.
As I was moving some boxes of books around, I came across the box of movies that I'd discovered the last time I'd been there. I smiled to myself, knowing that at least some of them almost certainly contained some highly erotic footage of Mom and Dad and the Rutherfords, based on the photo album that I'd discovered. I pushed the 'Movie' box aside, so I could tend to the other boxes.
Not far away was a smallish box, but as I lifted it, I discovered that it was quite heavy. On the side of the box, it read, '8mm Home Movie Projector'; it was obviously the original box that the projector had come in. Opening the box, I found that it did, indeed, contain an old movie projector. It was an odd, compact model, with the reels laying flat across the top of the projector, rather like the old reel-to-reel audio tape players. It must have had some internal mirrors to make the image project to the proper orientation.
As I looked the old machine over, the awareness slowly advanced from the back of my brain to the front -- with this projector, I could actually watch the movies in the box. I rummaged around in the box of movies, looking for a suitable 'test reel'. I found one, labeled 'Jack First Steps, 1969'. I popped the reel onto the spindle and threaded the film through the slot, then into the hub of the take-up reel. Looking around, I located an electrical outlet, and plugged the projector in. Now all I needed was a screen. I recalled seeing a sheaf of poster-board somewhere in my dealings with the attic; I found it without too much difficulty, and set up a makeshift screen. I flipped the 'ON' switch on the projector; the bulb, perhaps miraculously, lit up. Another switch started the reels turning, and -- lo and behold! -- slightly blurry, faded-color images, with no sound, of my year-old self, standing unsteadily in my dad's firm-but-gentle hands, appeared on the poster-board 'screen'.
I was transfixed by the images on the screen -- it was virtually like a living time-capsule. There was my dad, young and dark-haired, holding me up, encouraging me to step out into the brave new world of bipedal transport. And there was me, taking one, then two, then three wobbly steps, before losing my balance and falling awkwardly sideways. There was a break, and then Mom was holding me up, and once again, I stepped forth, making five or six steps, while Mom clapped her hands gleefully. Simply wonderful.
The 'First Steps' film was quite short; after just a few minutes, the action ended, so I flipped the switch to 'rewind', while I rummaged through the box for another reel. I suppose I could have reached for one of the 'Vacation' reels, but after my earlier discovery of the 'Sailing Trip' photo album, I was irresistibly curious about the reels labeled 'Rutherfords', so I reached for one dated 1972, when I was four years old.
Holding the reel in my hand, I paused for just a second, realizing, based on the Photo Album, that it was quite likely that this reel of 8mm film would be a live-action look-in on my parents' sex life, possibly including some 'non-standard' activity with the Rutherfords. I wondered inside myself whether I should really take that peek into my parents' past, or whether that was more properly their own private remembrance. But then, Mom knew that I'd seen the photos from the sailing trip, and she hadn't been terribly discreet, in recent days, about her ongoing relationship with Dr. and Mrs. Rutherford. Besides, I reasoned, if she really didn't want anyone to see them, she would certainly have hidden them better than simply stashing them in the attic. I don't know if my moral reasoning was quite as thorough as it could have been, but in the end, my erotic curiosity tipped the scales.
*****
I threaded the film through the projector and started the film rolling. On the screen, Dr. and Mrs. Rutherford entered through the front door of our house, while Mom welcomed them with a happy smile.
I thought to myself, this was 1972; all four of them were in their early 30s, which fit with the images on the screen. Mom had the richly beautiful auburn hair that I remembered from my childhood; Mrs. Rutherford was a sandy ash-blond. Dr. R was tall, dark and handsome; Dad was, at least at the beginning, behind the camera. It was like taking a time machine back to my early childhood.
Mom, still smiling, looked up at Dr. Rutherford. He pulled her close, and lowered his head to kiss her. And what a kiss! I watched as Mom virtually melted her body into Dr. R's, and their jaws worked feverishly as they tangled their tongues together in passionate greeting. As they continued to kiss, I saw Mom drop her hand to the front of Dr. R's pants, gripping his package, and stroking her hand over his length and thickness. For his part, Dr. Rutherford cupped his hand over Mom's clothed breast and kneaded it sensually.
As Mom and Dr. R continued kissing and groping each other, I saw a hand -- Dad's left hand -- enter the frame from behind the camera, beckoning Mrs. R closer. She walked toward the camera, smiling seductively, until Dad's hand could reach the buttons of her blouse. Deliberately, one-by-one, the dad-hand unfastened all of her buttons, until Mrs. R's blouse was completely open, exposing a lacy white bra. Mrs. R shrugged her shoulders, dropping the blouse onto the floor behind herself, then, reaching behind herself, she unhooked the clasp of her bra, so that it hung loosely in front of her breasts, and with a hunch of her shoulders, it fell off her, onto the floor.
I had to admit, the 30-something Mrs. Gwen Rutherford had some really lovely breasts -- honest C-cups, I guessed, full and firm and round. With a laughing grin, she shook her shoulders, causing her breasts to jiggle and shake for the camera. Now, that was a visual effect that hadn't come through in the still photos. Dr. R even looked up from kissing Mom to watch them bounce. Then she moved closer to the camera, so Dad's seemingly-disembodied left hand could fondle and squeeze her tits.
As if taking their cue from Mrs. R, Mom and Dr. R set about the business of getting each other naked, still not even ten feet from the front door. Dr. R fumbled with the buttons on Mom's blouse until it too fell open. Then, with swift and skillful movement, he stripped her blouse off her, then unclasped her bra and pulled it off her, leaving her naked from the waist up. Simultaneously, Mom unbuttoned Dr. R's shirt and stripped it off him, baring his hairy chest, which she then proceeded to cover with kisses, licking across his furry expanse, while he urgently kneaded and fondled her fulsome tits.