A Very English Family

As is often the case with a new story, the introduction is by necessity quiet and probably boring, but do bear with me because once the scene is set, then things will quickly start to go over the top!

This is the first and opening story of a five part story – or at least that's what I've planned but who knows how a story unfolds until it's ended.

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It was 1976 and Britain was about to enjoy one of it's finest summers in living memory. Day after day of hot unbroken sunshine would be sending temperatures soaring well up into the 80s and even the 90s, but thus far in the year it was still only Easter time – mid April as yet and the heat of the summer ahead was an unknown quantity.

But even before that summer heat, the decades of pop music and 'flower power' had liberated much of the younger population and sex was no longer a hidden pleasure. Social permissiveness had been eagerly taken up by so many, bringing sexual awareness into the open while 'the pill' was now bringing sexual freedom to so many more. The summer heat would just add encouragement to their activities.

All the excesses of that summer were still to come but yet in the springtime of that year it was a glorious time to be young and free.

We were young, that was for certain. Andy and Sarah the twins, were 19, I was almost 22 while Mum was still young at 44, coming on 45.

We were free because our Mum, Patricia or Pat (do not call her Pattie though), had jolted us from our ways with some wild and exciting news – we were going to move. Not just down the road but some 120 miles from the English Midlands to the South coast, a move that made more sense to her than to us when she'd first outlined her plans.

Initially she'd just asked us if we'd like to move and after we'd more or less agreed she took us on a road trip to view the new location and some potential houses, so we knew what we were letting ourselves into. She also pointed out that we'd have to leave our jobs, again asking us if we still wanted to move but again we agreed so Mum thanked us for our support and told us that she'd get the wheels in motion...and that was all she told us.

So we now had to onerous tasks of telling our bosses that we were leaving and as we'd each held fairly decent posts, it was going to be something of a wrench. My job was, as my boss growled, "A position of growing responsibility" and he couldn't see for the life of him why we should choose to move.

"It'll spoil your future prospects, you mark my words," he'd grumbled, "All this flitting around. Now in my days..."

He rumbled on but I interrupted him, shook his hand and departed – now unemployed but free to join Mum and my siblings on our journey.

Andy and Sarah both had similar tales to tell of their bosses reactions but they'd both stuck by Mum and her plans, so now, as I said earlier, we were free.

Later that same day Mum explained the details to us as we gathered around her, describing how she wanted us to start a whole new life. She reminded us that she'd given us the option to stay or to leave with her and that we'd all agreed that we'd rather stick with Mum, so now that we'd given up our jobs she was happy to expand on her plans.

"We're going to sell this house and buy another one," she said, "You've already seen it so you probably remember which one it is and I've been able to get it for a really good price."

The way she stood there swaying her hips seductively told me that she would have caused any estate agent to lower his price (along with his morals) while remaining pure, clean and unsullied herself. Her voice and her lovely smile turned her into an angel for me and yet also made me want to have her as mine, to love her completely. I had no doubt that Andy felt the same way but inside me I knew that her comforting, warm and well chosen words were for me alone...that's how her words affected my mind.

Mum had indeed offered us the options of staying or leaving, pointing out that we'd all passed the age of majority (18 in our country) so we could now make our own decisions, but we'd unanimously agreed to go with her – to the ends of the earth if necessary, so our journey of discovery was about to begin!

Her planned move was designed at least in part to escape the vicinity of the death of our father, killed by an error that was firmly blamed on his employer.

Thinking aside, it's odd how, when the word 'industrial' is added to an accident, then that accident suddenly becomes far more gory and nasty in the imagination – but it wasn't like that; it was simply a mechanical flaw, a heavy chain sling that came loose at just the wrong moment, a violent blow to the back of my father's head that broke his neck instantly and a bit of very bad luck that the end of the steel chain had hit him. One more step and he might have been safe; instead he was dead.

The fatal accident, now over a year ago did have it's fortune attached in the form of the payout of our father's insurances and a fair amount of financial support from the company too; both gains that helped the family get over our loss and although the sums involved were a shadow of the kind of figures paid out today in such circumstances they were generous enough for the time.

Despite the financial windfall however, we all felt that his demise must have been a hammer blow to Mum but she withstood the trauma well and although she probably felt grief far more deeply than we did, being alone did have it's benefits it seemed because, aware that she was now the breadwinner, she expanded her literary skills.

We knew of her writing ability as she'd already had a book published (not long after dad died actually) – a full length book apparently, the name of which she had refused to divulge to us.

"It's for grown-ups," she said simply, along with a wicked grin, "You wouldn't understand it."

She also refused to let us know how much royalty they paid her each month but however much it was, it made her smile contentedly when her monthly bank statement arrived.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out," she would only say if we quizzed her.

Once she was on her own she began writing more often, working on a new novel apparently as well as producing articles for a magazine and now, supported by her kind-hearted (or sensible) publisher she blossomed.

Her short stories and articles soon seemed to be everywhere and despite her attempts to hide them from us we soon discovered that they were remarkably liberated stories of lust and love – which is probably another reason why she smiled so often. And when I finally managed to locate a copy of her book itself – written under a pseudonym, I was staggered to find how erotic and explicit her words were. The dog-eared copy of her book became my wanking bible for ages, beating even some tatty naturist magazines...not that I stopped looking at them too.

To us three children our father's departure did actually feel like a release – he'd been a very firm and demanding task-master and now that we were under the much more benign wing of our mother we had considerably more freedom but followed her lead willingly. Dad's steely control had given us a good grounding in etiquette and manners and while we may have been young, free and silly, at least we were polite about it!

Fortunately too for us offspring, both our parents also had good genes and we were now the beneficiaries of them. We were all growing relatively tall and slim and both of us boys were developing some good muscles. Andy and Sarah were of somewhat slimmer build than me although the two of them put my larger size down to my appetite!

"Anyway, you've got three years head start on us too," said Andy, "I'll catch up I reckon."

My chest also now had a scattering of curly hairs, much to Andy's envy, something I used to rag him about as I flexed my straining muscles before the mirror. I think I was also flexing my place in the family hierarchy as I was now the oldest male.

"Bloomin' show-off, aren't you?" he muttered one day as he passed by me, my arms straining to lift some barbells.

"Why not?" I retorted sociably as his comment was obviously not intended as a full-blown insult, "At least I've got muscles. Hah, you might even grow some one day!"

I guess that it served me right that he then proceeded to attack me and the rough-and-tumble that followed only ended when Mum appeared, her blue eyes flashing daggers at us, even though our battle was relatively harmless. He and I often wrestled and fought but it was usually good natured and happy stuff.

Like Mum, the entire family had blue eyes but while she and Sarah had auburn hair, Andy and I had light brown hair, as did dad but those attributes were lost on us – we didn't care for such small matters, just so long as we were content and had our Mum near us.

We were a close knit little family, Mum being young enough to be able to mix with us and to understand us for that matter. She also looked after herself and not long after dad had died she'd actually begun to become younger looking we thought, as if a weight had been lifted from her life.

Actually her 45th birthday fell on the day we moved, leading her to proclaim that she was 'getting on' now so we could do all the hard work for her! As if! She was as fit and healthy as any of us – and mother or not, she could turn anyone's head and even us two growing boys were both captivated by her deliciously feminine charms.

Mum was everything a young man could wish for to be honest. She was always well dressed – that is, in ways that appealed to young and old men alike – in other words there were always 'interesting' bits on show. Bits like flashes of thighs as her short skirt swirled or the plunge of her cleavage and the swell of her breast as she bent over. To add to her allure, her face was so perfectly heart-shaped that she seemed made for love. Her cheeks were full and glowing, her skin was soft and smooth, her chin was narrow yet not sharp and her mouth was wide and sweet. And she almost always wore alluring lipstick that further enhanced her pretty lips.

She had cascades of glowing auburn hair (that she actually cut page-boy short a year or so later), a wide and warm smile and deliciously warm dark eyes. She was relatively slim from her chest downwards, meaning that her bum protruded nicely while her slender waist caused no obstruction to the overhang of her generous breasts. And she had beautiful and sensuous hands attached to strong arms that could pull any of us into breathtaking cuddles.

Being held firmly squashed against that pair of maternal, warm, soft breasts would send delicious and wicked thoughts pulsating through our bodies – all the more so as we grew that much older of course!

And there was something else that changed once Mum was on her own – we all became that much less snappy and more loving too.

We'd always been close to our Mum, perhaps driven that way by our father's firm hand, but now things were even more – yes, more intimate, it seemed.

In the past she'd been loving and warm and friendly and she'd always shown her love for her children with her hugs and kisses but there came a point when Mum changed markedly and her whole attitude altered as if she'd flipped a switch or something.

Suddenly she became that much more approachable; that much more loving and even that much more sexy...and when Mum would engulf us in her warm arms we'd simply glow with aroused pleasure. Perhaps it was the rising tide of hormones that flooded our bodies – who knows.

But Mum now seemed to reach right into me – and probably into my brother too – as she'd pull me down to press her warm cheek against mine, to kiss my mouth with her soft and pliable lips and then to squash me against her warm and generous breasts.

I guess it affected Andy just like me – in moments I'd feel the sensual pressure growing inside me; driving powerful circulatory currents through my body; soon pumping liquid steel into my cock.

And then I'd squirm to get free from my embarrassment, to adjust my posture as pressure grew until, with all control about to be lost, I'd have to tear myself away then dash off to the privacy and relief of the bathroom or bedroom.

What was annoying however was that as embarrassing as it may have been to find my body reacting so strongly I kept wanting to come back for more! Mum was the embodiment of sex to us now that Dad was gone and my mind and body certainly weren't complaining.

It seemed that we sometimes almost queued up for her loving touch; all three of us eager for more, all three of us finding her warmth to be irresistible and as we sought her love there were many more cuddles and kisses than there had ever been and truthfully it was delightful if remarkably arousing at times!

But despite the way she made our bodies react we kept coming back for more and so many times it happened; we'd be squashed into a loving embrace when those things would start to happen down below.

I wasn't alone; I know that Andy too felt the flow of sexual arousal and I always knew when he was becoming too excited; I could tell from his face or his body and usually his actions, both mental and physical, would mirror my own. I guess that even Sarah reacted, even if physical signs of her arousal didn't show to us boys and seemingly responding to the openness displayed by Mum she too now began to allow us and even sought us, to cuddle up to her.

None of us were blatant in exposing our bodies but we'd all seen fleeting glimpses of each another in the nude at some time or other yet while we may have kept our naked bodies to ourselves, my erection and Andy's were harder to hide.

I seemed to have learned to hold a slightly bent over posture as I fled from Mum's heady embrace but even so I'm sure that Andy would have noticed the jutting outline of my aroused penis just as I saw his own tent after he'd been cuddled. And I'm sure that Mum must have both felt and seen the result of her loving touch but she never complained or commented.

It seemed mysterious to me – since she must have known what she did to us, why didn't she stop? And why would she continue to hold us against her as we struggled to break free once we became aroused? I could only guess that she liked what she must have felt for some reason...

Those thoughts drifted through my mind from time to time but they had no impact. All I cared was that I simply loved to be embraced and to be aroused because then I'd have no option but to go and jerk off!

Mum's cuddles were delicious but there was an extra flow of sexual tension whenever we bonded with our sister.

She too was nicely cuddly but not in the way that Mum was. Sarah just oozed sexuality it seemed and both Andy and I enjoyed our embraces with her even more than with Mum because somehow our sister's cuddles made us both even more incredibly horny!

Sarah loved nothing more than to plaster herself against either of us two boys and I could have sworn that she tried to encourage us to respond with our bodies; most certainly her body was wickedly delicious to be held against.

We adored those hugs and cuddles – apart from being very loving, they were, as I said, sustenance for some energetic action once we were alone in the nights – well, they certainly were for me!

Both of us boys had shot up during our teens and were now the best part of six inches taller than Mum and Sarah but their lesser stature was a delight to cuddle into because I was now a real lover of their wonderful breasts – attributes that I'd been noticing more and more over the past couple of years. Breasts to me meant sex and excitement and love and heat and pleasures – I was a confirmed tit-man even at that age!

I also believed that I was a genuine up-and-coming sex maniac but when I thought about it I realised that I obviously wasn't alone – Andy, it would seem, was just as bad as me and perhaps Sarah herself was on yet another level!

There were several women in my life who turned me on. One was a college lecturer who had been an incredibly fit young woman and I also had three part-time girlfriends. I'd never got anywhere near to having sex with my lecturer although we'd flirted constantly but I'd screwed all three girlfriends and loved it – the intense pleasure of sinking your cock into a tight warm wet pussy was immense and extremely addictive!

But there were also two other women whom I now began lusting after. The warm embraces with our mother and our sister had stirred my inner mind and whereas once the moments had been merely loving, they were now becoming entirely erotic. My sister was already a sexually overloaded minx to me but Mum – just wow!

You see, I kind of expected my sister to be wicked, given that her twin brother and I already were budding Satyrs, but Mum seemed to be turning into an entirely different person and now filled my dreams. Sure, to have any kind of sex with her would be incest as it would should my sister and I have connected up, but Mum had become far to hot to ignore! Of course I'd always thought that she was so damn sexy but now her actions seemed to just encourage my desires.

At my age all my hormones and endorphins were working overtime, bringing me to horny arousal at the drop of a pin – well, at the drop of a pair of knickers for certain! Anything remotely sexy caused sudden and massive changes in me – turning me from a studious youth to a rampant stallion in seconds. And on top of that Mum seemed to be very adept at causing sexually arousing moments...

Everything about her now had an erotic look to it; even the remotest hint of sex made my cock leap into action and it would demand release in the form of the usual exercise – a quick jerk off. I quickly lost count of the record of my eruptions, so often did they happen and while I kept vowing to "leave the thing alone" I never could – it took over my life at times. But then again, the pleasure as I played with my cock was such that it seemed silly not to enjoy it...

Judging from the amount of time that Andy spent in the confines of his room it would seem that he was just as bad; such activities were obviously entirely 'normal' for youthful lads such as us two.

But right now my mind was fully occupied by so many other things.

Mum's news had created turmoil if only because us three kids were all 'at home' now with nothing to do apart from prepare for our move. Mum was a whirlwind of activity though; every so often she would issue new instructions to us as she sought to minimise our work-load on removal day and to add to our turmoil we were all full of questions about our new home. Although Mum had inspected the property in detail, we had only seen it as one of several we'd been shown, so our questions were many and varied.

And us three were all having to say our goodbyes to our friends too, exchanging phone numbers and kisses and handshakes. I succeeded in obtaining several 'last screws' from my girlfriends amid promises, that I knew would be broken, to 'keep in touch.'

And now I was unsuccessfully trying to plan which bedroom would be mine in the new house; how I'd arrange my room and especially whereabouts I'd put my bed so I couldn't too easily be seen should the door be opened suddenly. I was thinking of what work would be available down south; I was thinking of all the new girls I'd be able to meet and I was thinking of what it was going to be like to live right beside the sea – because our new home was just at the back of the beach; almost within a stone's throw of the sea.

The packing and sorting of our furniture and effects was therefore done by the auto-pilot in my mind as so many other thoughts swirled around.

Whatever happened, it was going to be quite an adventure.

Mum had decided that we could do the job ourselves. She'd sold our car and had decided that she could drive the self-hire van (even though the rental company manager had been quite reluctant to let a woman rent a van) but eventually it had been agreed that she could hire it and then return the van to a different branch rather than have to drive it all the way back.