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.
