Three Goddesses and A Nylon Man
Sunday became my favorite day of the week while growing up. I liked it for decadent reasons, not for religious reasons. While I am not religious, you could say that our family has developed rituals over time. Sometimes, I think that I might burn in hell for my ritual activities. When I moved out on my own a year ago, Sunday was just a day off work and nothing special. But there were continual lay offs where I worked, . I was cut and had to move back home. So now, once again it's a day to look forward to. In fact, as an adult, it has become more interesting than ever.
Living with my mom and my sisters is a blessing and a curse. Three of the sexiest women I have ever seen are my roommates, what a blessing; but they are also related to me, what a curse. I had to give up my independence for this mixed blessing, but I don't mind. There is a certain allure to living with three hotties no matter who they are.
I enjoy the eye candy very much. Yes, maybe it is a little deviant to ogle your mother and sisters, but I like aesthetics. Feminine form and movement perpetually fascinated me. I see fine art in every curve and crevice of a woman's body. I see saw cinematic virtue in how they walk, or stand, or pose. It is often artful how they speak, and moan, or whine. It is always lyrical when they put an effort into persuading some one to do something. Their sweet perfume and personal scent literally intoxicated me.
All art aside, while growing up, I constantly heard how hot my sister is, how hot my mom is, and what a hottie my little sister has become; milf this milf that and on and on it goes. I heard this stuff so many times I just tuned it out when I heard the words coming. Eventually, I limited my friendships and limited their visits to my home.
However, my friends and acquaintances are right. If they saw the trio on a Sunday dressed in their finest, my friends would literally drool before they could utter the words, not much exaggeration there. It really is special when my mother and older sister put on their Sunday best. You could say eye candy becomes the confectioner's creme de le crème. I am not leaving out my younger sister but she is a different kind special. Each one of them makes my imagination run places it shouldn't. They often make my pants bulge more than they should.
Every Sunday for as long as I can remember, Mom would dress up in fine clothes, with very nice stockings and heels and go to church. She would encourage each of us to go. She often used her patented phrase that goes something like, "Wash up, dress up, and spend time with godly people."
It is always in a lighthearted fashion. She never foisted her beliefs on anyone, but Sunday service is an activity she enjoys. I think she probably enjoys it for social reasons since she is a very social creature.
So religiously, every Sunday, with or with out us, she was off to service. Three hours later, she was back home with groceries Suzan, usually went with her; Jazmine, occasionally went. I almost never went. Suzan or Sue, or Suz, is my older sister by one year and eight months; Jazmine or Jaz is my younger sister by two years and four months. I accompanied Mom, when it was special, knowing it meant a lot to her.
Mom enjoys going to church every Sunday, it is a great opportunity to wow people with her fashion sense and a reason to shop for fine clothes. She likes shopping and forces me to go sometimes. At least shopping excursions are more fun than having someone preach at you while sitting in a pew. Her church has many wealthy parishioners so most of the women are dressed in heels and hose, making it very tempting to go. I just don't feel right saying schwing to myself every five seconds in a church.
Maybe I am weird, but I find fancy clothes and business attire very sexy, and some women wear it amazingly well. I am always a bit surprised when I find a woman that doesn't wear it or own it. Mom always dresses nice, even her lounge around the house attire is attractive.
The Sunday outfits usually consist of a nice silk or satin blouse; a nice pleated or wool skirt; a nice silky hose, and heels. I don't recall her ever wearing the business slacks or business suits on Sunday. Her Sunday heels are rarely high. Her Sunday skirts are rarely short or rarely more than 2 inches above her knees. She always looks like a cover model walking out the door, albeit a slightly conservative looking cover model.
As I became older, at some point it, occurred to me that she looked hot. Of course, I heard this from my friends endlessly while growing up. I remembered the first time I got a boner watching her walk through the living room as she headed for church. She could have been on a catwalk, though her movements are more graceful and less dramatic. She was stepping with long strides that accentuated her gorgeous legs. My little young dick grew 2 more inches just that day.
She was wearing black silk stockings, with little dots, and two and a half inch heels, a creamy white satin blouse, and a perfectly pleated burgundy linen skirt with gold threads. Her breasts seemed made for the blouse or vice versa. She must have had on a sheer bra because you could faintly see her nipples beneath the satin pockets or fake pockets of the blouse. A small gold cross on a thin gold chain lay half-hidden above the second button from the top. The top button at the collar was unfastened. She always fastened the top button before walking into the building.
Not only do I enjoy feminine beauty adorned in nice clothes but I also have a slight fetish for hose. I think any woman looks good in nylons. In addition, every time I see a woman in hose and heels I get a raging hard-on. It doesn't matter who they are, I get an erection just looking at anyone adorned in nylon. I even get an erection when I hear the swish swish of nylon-clad thighs rubbing together. So growing up with three women that often wore hose and other sleek finery, I constantly had a hard dick. I also constantly had conflicting feelings like guilt, excitement, lust, and self-loathing.
It was awkward hiding my constant erection. I learned to hide it several ways. I usually wore baggy pants or baggy shorts at home. Often, I left a room rather quickly when they came in. I seemed to read lots of books and magazines in order to hold them in front of my crotch when not reading. Most of my shirts were long enough to reach my balls. I don't think they noticed my perpetual boner, at least not that much. I rarely saw them checking out my equipment, but then women are more sly at that than men are.
I knew it was a fetish because the erection is automatic and uncontrollable. If I saw a woman in hose or heard the nylon swishing I automatically had an erection. Moreover, it takes tremendous effort to keep my dick limp. Sometimes, my best efforts failed, so I just gave up trying to prevent the inevitable. My mother and my sisters are so sexy in hose or tights they often make an ordinary erection extraordinary with more swelling and throbbing. Mother and Sue are dreamy when dressed up. Jaz is a wet dream waiting to happen when she dresses up. Exactly why they are so dreamy is hard to say. A woman's mystique is elusive, thus it always remains a mystery.
Mom's robust body fills out her clothes, almost as if everything was custom tailored to be slightly tight. I think of it as subtlety tailored too tight. The fabric wraps firm around her body creating intriguing curves. It's as if every curve is just as it should be. Maybe she looked dreamy because of her lovely legs. They were lean, strong, and shapely making the silky hose look fantastic. On the other hand, maybe it is the way she carries herself, always in control, always smooth, and always classy. Often when she walks, she struts, drawing the focus to her legs. Of course, her dark hair and sultry looks just increase the schwing factor. Her average height looks so elegant on heels, especially when wearing fancy patterned hose or body stockings. Effortlessly, she smolders.
Since she is my mother, the internal conflict and guilt accompanied the erections are always present. She did raise me to be upstanding and moral, but above all, humble and kind. I know upstanding and moral means don't get a big throbbing dick when looking at your mother and sisters. Therefore, when turned on, the guilt and conflict comes immediately. Oddly, I have less guilt but all the same taboo feelings looking at my sisters.
