Now it's back to me and my changing life back in 1973. Turning twenty made me think and reflect on what I knew about living life, enjoying sex and all about my parents. I was still a virgin at twenty. I mean, honestly, there I was living at home with them and attending college. No dorm life for me. I was a good student and not very socially outgoing. Commuter life suited me and my needs, those needs will be further explained as we move along.
As I became a young woman in the 1970's, I was very aware and began to see things in a new way. My dad was a high-level figure in a large company and mum was doing part-time photo editing for a Boston based magazine. We were ensconced in a fine, suburban home about 15 miles outside the city. Aunt Rosie still kept the small place on Beacon Street with dad's financial help and she came to Boston for about 2 to 3 months in total each year back then. I knew a large home, with vast rooms, late 1960's modern furniture and a console style colour TV set that let all those retro TV legends into my life.
Dad was to me a debonair suited, handsome TV star type! I know, very corny! He was as dashing as any TV heroes. That thick wavy reddish blonde hair, that slight moustache and his long six-foot lean body were all things I wanted in a man. Mmmm! And Mum was perky, sexy, scathing in local gossip and a careful artist with a camera.
Dad always in those days seemed to be a fixture after work in our living room, moist socked feet upon a large footstool and sipping a mixed drink. Mum cooked, cleaned, worked in her dark room in the cellar but we did have a part-time helper. A lovely lady I adored.
Who knows exactly when, but I grew to find my parents utterly charismatic and intoxicatingly fascinating. I found watching them far more pleasurable than TV. They were real and all mine. Cocktail parties hosted in our home brought in mum's various work connections and others were all about dad showing off for his company big wigs. Dad worked a room like a true suave Brit, mum was cool and collected. Dad worked at being wanted, mum was just wanted. They made it all look so easy.
Dad would break a manly sweat on that handsome face as he worked his charms. He had to be the best and he had to be ahead. Mum was just like cool ice. If you like her, that's great, if not, fuck off. She took no shit. She gave plenty.
I always wanted breasts like my mum's. Mine were a sad replica. She filled out those society cocktail dresses and chic tops like a model. Her form hugged the fabric and she moved like a dancer. Those sexy, long nylon covered legs of hers were a prize! They were silky and always a proud show piece in the home. "Love those legs!" How often did dad proclaim that? I lost count.
Mum mesmerized my dad. He was under a spell from that early 1951 taste of her and it never subsided.
Aunt Rosie noticed and loved watching daddy squirm under my mum's control. My sweet Aunt Rosie, too, confessed that she could manipulate my dad easily.
I recall a just around my twentieth birthday when Aunt Rosie was visiting us in suburbia. She had just arrived back in the US and landed on our doorstep. I was around as I enjoyed being there and busying myself catching up on some college reading in a far corner of the living room. Dad had gotten home and found his loving big sister Rosie in our living room and was thrilled she had come back over to the US for a visit.
My Aunt Rosie smoked lots and she puffed a long cigarette and flounced about the room. She was dressed in a fancy blue dress that showed off her huge bust and meaty ass. Her shapely yet chunky legs all covered in nylon and she sported her quintessential black heeled shoes. Her big face round and fully made-up and that jet dark hair all swooped up into a new hairdo.
Dad and mum sauntered about fixing drinks and making her feel welcome. She seemed to find many reasons to reach out and lovingly caress my mum's ass. She'd run her fingers down her sexy back, and then fondle ever so tenderly her breast thru her cocktail dress. Aunt Rosie never held back. Dad watched, hungrily. I think they forgot me, I was quiet. I was beginning to like just being the fly on the wall. Nothing too OTT, they just seemed very casual, ultra playful, and totally loving. At least in my eyes they seemed so.
Mum left to supervise our meal and she walked right by me. Aunt Rosie patted the settee and dad obediently came. Like a trained lap dog. I grew so lustful towards my dear auntie; she seemed so strong and sexy. Very much like my mum; no wonder dad loved them both so much!
She lay, pulled off her high heel shoes and stretched out. She sat, at one end, smoking and smiling. Dad followed her lead and took up the other side of the settee and pulled off his Italian leather loafers. The two lovingly entwined legs and each propped the feet of the other on their lap. The chat remained innocent and almost forgettable to my mind. The actions spoke to me like no words could. His sweet big sister Rosie plied her long finger nailed hands all over daddy's tired dark socked feet. All over his toes to heels she worked steadily massaging and enjoying doing it. She was, I know now, really making love to his sexy big feet and he was busy loving hers. They rubbed and nuzzled playfully.
Mum re-entered and sat in a chair, not fussed, not joining in. They all were just chatting, and casually smoking, too. Each was having a cocktail and sipping it down in completely relaxed way. No wonder I have a foot fetish today!
Slyly watching my dad and his sister Rosie with their feet like that seemed very exciting to me and I had no idea why. It seemed wonderfully free. I wanted that freedom! Hell, I was almost 20! My pussy seemed to be so alive. Had it been asleep all these years?
That night I also watched something spectacular, I saw my mum being measured by Aunt Rosie for a new bra! And again I was just around and no one cared. I just drank it in! I just came up the stairs and there I saw mum topless and sitting erect on a stool in my parent's bedroom. Sexy Aunt Rosie stood by her and was insisting that my mum's bras could be better fit if made custom, like hers and by her favourite shop in Boston.
Pushy Rosie grabbed a tape measure and went about the work of a good fitting. She wrapped the tape here, there and everywhere around my mother's perky boobs. Mum loved the attention and Rosie had no qualms about touching her, hefting her breasts in tandem and just loving the chance to enjoy the nakedness that evening after dinner. It all seemed very natural and mum soon had her top back on. It all took about ten minutes and that was that.
I moved away and sat in my room on my bed. The situation between mum, dad and Aunt Rosie became extremely clear. It took me twenty years, but I finally knew what was going on. They were all sexually involved! It was like an explosion went off in my head. Twenty years of watching and it finally dawned on me, was I slow or just naive. Well, now I knew and my eyes were open. I wanted to know all and, if possible, do all! Family ties be damned, I wanted them all! I wanted dad, mum and my sexy big busted auntie, too! A hunger was now growing in me. A passion for all things family!
I don't think anyone has eclipsed my mum and dad's bodily perfection in my eyes. The whole time I lived at home and in both our main homes, first in the suburbs of Boston and then just north of London in a quiet village. Dad was always watched, photographed and shown off by mum. She just got off, I think, getting him naked in private or in public. It was a power trip for her. Rosie, his sister, was the same too. Her own memoirs reveal that and I shall delve heavily into her thoughts in her own set of memoirs.
I recall watching from afar many times after dad had finished his meal and the dishes were cleared. I would wander upstairs and "just be around" as I said, fly on the wall. Mum would run dad a bath in the main bathroom off the large upstairs hall and later in the UK house, just near my room. Dad would walk excitedly up the stairs on those silky socked feet and they'd almost push the bathroom door shut. I could still see in. I had a good view from either the hall or my room just opposite. He'd be stripped purposefully and with care by mum.
