I was forced now and then, to stomp my feet or theatrically cough, to get their attention. Then while they made the effort to disentangle themselves and rearrange wayward clothing, I would spend an uncomfortable, few minutes trying not to stare and making small talk with them, while it was rather obvious that they wished to be alone or that I had stumbled upon some vague family conspiracy. When our eyes met, and their foolish smiles eventually returned to normal, there were desperate, nervous glances exchanged, and I felt as if I was the one doing something wrong. But I couldn’t figure out the cause. Remember now, this was my family!
I discerned that they told more erotic stories and did so more openly than ever before. And they used cruder language with each other and also with me. The dress code, though fairly “family suitable” had drifted into “stripper-lite.” Raunchy jokes or stories became a common thread and they never hesitated to point-out sexual tidbits. Though never in a nasty way, but the descriptions of body parts and sexual situations was increasingly blatant and ribald. And though they were always loving and attentive with me, I still sensed that I was being singled-out or excluded from their intimate activity. There were just too many knowing giggles or odd tickling sessions in a very strange manner that two sisters, or a mother and son, don’t normally engage in.
Looking back on things now, I can see that all of the signals were there and that I was just painfully naive. It could hardly have been more obvious if they had completely stripped and had a threesome on the carpet directly before my bugged-out eyes. You can say that I was willfully blind… or just plain stupid. But who would have immediately jumped to that conclusion? My mother, my brother and my Aunt, really!?! The thing that was most troubling though was how it infiltrated my consciousness. Sitting with them singly or all of us together; whether watching TV, sitting at the dining room table, while I was treating a patient, or alone in the privacy of my bed, I started to visualize what each one of them looked like naked. I would imagine two or three of them, sometimes with me, rubbing each other, licking, petting and fucking. And those lewd ideas were not the revolting, taboo contemplations that I was raised on, but a storm of kinky, sensually erotic stimulation that produced a heated, tingling sensation that shook my fragile frame.
The thought of sex did cross my mind. But I was thinking that possibly one of them was having an affair. Women often need a sounding board to discuss frank subjects and who better than your sister. I felt awful that the two women would include my brother in this situation and not me. Then I imagined that maybe it was him, involved in some obscene scenario and while providing answers to a sexual dilemma they still wished to respect his privacy and close the loop. Regretfully, I could imagine a case where my brother didn’t want his little sister to know too much. I also dreamed of the “little girl” idea that it was some sort of surprise intended for me, and I continually walked-in on their planning. Turns-out, it was a little bit of everything!
I was included in the laughter and never asked to leave, but it was like they were speaking a foreign language right infront of me or had codewords that I wasn’t privy to. Frustrated and paranoid, I often just sulked back to my room or downstairs to the den.
One night I came into the room to study as the three of them were huddled together watching TV. They suddenly, drastically lowered the volume and switched-off the set. I noticed that they had been drinking alcohol and laughing about something that raised the temperature in the room, as they were absorbed in their entertainment. After a couple minutes and some gentle prodding, mom asked if it would disturb me if they continued with their program. It was fairly light research on patient procedures, so I said that the sound would not bother me and besides I was facing away from the screen. This caused them to snicker and exchange odd looks. They hesitated to renew their movie, I believed in deference to my reading, so I again said that nothing would interfere with my studies. It was then that I hardened my glance for a second, spying them all under the covers and awfully close together. There was a lot of exposed flesh. Bare shoulders on top, long legs dangling loosely, and frantic movement from beneath the blanket.
I turned to my book as the movie resumed, I caught a few words of dialogue but didn’t look up. The background music sounded sappy and my concentration was on my book, but I couldn’t help hearing my family’s reactions. The strange movements under the blanket caused each of them to jump or to suddenly exhale in anticipated ecstasy. Certain words coming from the movie startled me and I saw when I looked up, that with furrowed brows doused in nervous sweat, they were watching me as much as the television.
It should have been so dreadfully apparent now, but I swear that the half-dressed figures on the couch, nervous sweat dripping and fidgety hands moving stealthily under covers, puzzled me but never alarmed me for an instant. I never considered anything perverted.
Then I heard the unmistakable rhythms and droll patter of a pornographic film. And atleast one of the cylinders clicked into place. My family was huddled together half-dressed, panting heavily and flaunting their indiscretions right in front of me. Their wild-eyed expressions danced from the characters onscreen to the single young woman sitting by herself just a few feet away, while a hard-core sex video titillated their imaginations and the thought of an unwilling voyeur, stimulated their sexual organs. Were they engaged in mutual masturbation while reclining nude not more than five feet from me? Was my attempted seduction or arousal, an integral component of their crude, taboo demonstration? I was an unsuspecting participant in their absurd sideshow. I shrieked in absolute confusion. I was bewildered, but more hurt that I wasn’t invited rather than insulted by their actions. What was wrong with me? When I expressed my shock- though noticeably not my indignation, they simply replied in chorus that since everyone was over 21, and that it was “relatively” harmless, they had decided to watch a dirty movie “on a lark,” and hoped that I was not offended.
My initial impulse was to say something “catty” or brutally honest about their immature discretions, and then storm out of the room. My actions would let them know that I was totally disgusted by their crude behavior and that they could somehow have believed that I would not be repulsed. I gathered my books and notes, papers flitting from my lap and my slippers refusing to conform to my jittery feet. As I fumbled around, the response I received from my family surprised me. They began as a group to softly chide me and imply with a mocking tone that I was a prude or a vestal. Que sera, sera. I was forced to concede to part of their criticism that my reaction was too harsh and embarrassment settled-in on me. So, with a reluctant smirk on my face and a tsk on my tongue, I slowly reopened my book and calmed down. But pointedly would not give them the satisfaction of joining them in watching their smutty movie… or anything else.
But I became alarmingly aware that a warm current was flowing in my body and a liquid heat was ominously percolating in my loins. I shifted unsteadily in my seat and tried to shield my eyes from their intrusive stares. I squeezed my eyes shut and hummed to myself in a feeble attempt to block-out the obscene patter on the screen and to ignore the fevered groping that only seemed to intensify under the covers as they tried to gauge my response. The harder I tried to shut-out the lewd situation, the more intense the visions that began to circulate in my brain.
I heard the crude language of the video and imagined in my head that it was my Aunt saying, “Please stick that big dick in my hungry pussy and ram me full until I’m swimming in your cum.” Or that it was my brother who was ripping the sheer blouse from the trembling shoulders of my mother and as he squeezed her tits and bit at her pointy nipples shouted, ” Geez, you have enormous juggs and I just want to take you and force you to your knees as I shove my cock down your throat.” My jittery frame was wriggling in my chair and both my blood pressure and heart rate were soaring, I was picturing my mother’s cum-slickened cunt and my Aunt being bent over the edge of the sofa with my brother’s firm, thick cock pounding her into submission. They were watching me intently- I could tell without looking- and seemed to be getting as much of a thrill from this as from the aggressive clutching and grabbing that they engaged in. They should have been embarrassed and apologetic at their taboo, immoral behavior.
Funny thing though, the only sign of shame or discomfort was the reddened blush washing over me and the heat wave generated by my over-stimulated genitals. I was mixed-up in my head. It felt weird to keep my head buried in the pages of a book that my vision was too clouded to decipher, while my ears were on a swivel like a cat’s, to catch every filthy word that I heard uttered on the video. I don’t imagine that I was fooling anybody since my chest was visibly rising and falling with each onscreen seduction. My nipples were erect and poking through the light material of my thin shirt. And it must have been terribly obvious that I was pressing my knees together to quell the hot flow of sticky moisture that was wicking into the gusset of my dampened panties. I felt like such a horrible hypocrite for remaining in the room while my thoughts and actions were only a fraction away from what I perceived around me.
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