T'was Christmas break for us, the Smith's, so that meant, family ski trip. Being that my older sister was now away in her first year of college, this would be my first ski trip with just the folks. I had turned eighteen in June and was set to graduate high school this next spring to follow in her footsteps.
Mom and dad would rent a condo at the base of the slopes that was maybe a couple hundred feet from the chairlifts, really close. For years, we would always rent a three bedroom condo. This year, for obvious reasons, they opted for a two bedroom floor plan. It had basically the same footprint with the same square footage, but the rooms were reversed and larger. The rooms were pretty bad ass as the master bedroom had a spa/bathtub, that with the slide of a couple of doors, put it on a private outside deck. The other room had its own private deck, but without the tub or a bathroom in it.
We actually live only two and a half hours away, so we often come to the slopes over the course of the winter seasons. Christmas break is the "family thing" winter vacation. What does that mean? Well, ever since my sister was old enough to look after me, mom and dad would take advantage of the several different bars or wine shops sprinkled every third or so building in the tightly packed resort center.
In all the years leading up to this one, my sister and I had a curfew, and yes, they would pop in and out throughout the evening. If we were still awake when they'd come in, they would tell us that they were changing from their formal attire to whatever attire, before heading back out for the rest of the bar evening.
This year should have been different as I was now eighteen and sis was gone. Unfortunately, a twisted ankle on the last run of the day decided otherwise for me. For the first night on the mountain, I was going to take it easy in front of the fireplace and rest my ankle.
Not that they ever "popped in" at the same times, but like a bad clock, they came strolling in the door at around 10PM. We chatted for a few minutes before mom excused herself. While mom was in the room changing, my dad was telling me about this club that they walked by. He was describing this place with a line of kids my age. He suggested that I check it out tomorrow. I told him that it sounded cool and I would.
"David, could you come and help me real quick?" My mothers voice called out from beyond their door.
As my dad stood up and turned for the bedroom door, he said, "let me go see what your mother needs, and you keep up with those cold packs. We both want you back on the mountain tomorrow."
About fifteen minutes later, they both emerged from their room and wished me a good rest of evening before disappearing out the front door.
Neither of my parents were heavy drinkers, or frequent. But when they let their proverbial hair down, I can say with certainty that they really enjoy their spirits. By my mothers current demeanor, I could tell it was a wine night. Wine makes her a little more bubbly whereas beer and liquor tend to slow her down.
At 1:55 am, I was awakened by my mother and father almost falling through my bedroom door while embraced in a serious liplock. It was apparent by their silhouettes that they had been removing articles of clothing since they came in the front door. I could clearly see the outline of my mothers large globes with their evidently aroused nipples finishing off the profile. My dad was down to his briefs but had a very definitive bulge breaking up his otherwise flowing silhouette.
Having just been startled awake and not wanting to witness this play from my parents, I shouted out "mom, dad, you're in the wrong room!"
Apparently they were both so drunk that they we're on autopilot and just went into the room that they would have normally been staying, if we were still in the three bedroom condo. Of course there are several layers of drunk and they have reached the level of "Huh?" Not only did they not respond to my statement, but they upped their aggression towards each other, with my mother clawing at his face while smothering his lips. Dad was kneading away at two half moons as if preparing a loaf of bread.
Again I yell out "hey mom, dad, It's Michael your son, you're in my room! I'm in my room"
As they completely failed to respond or acknowledge me, my dad, with his hands already caressing my mom's ass, pulls her up and throws her legs around his waist. This action combined with his alcohol induced lack of balance, caused him to spin and fall backwards onto the bed that was currently being occupied by, me.
It wasn't that having my half naked parents making out in front of me was bad enough, when they hit my bed, my mom kind of bounced off of my father, landing partially on me. She maintained her embrace with my dad with her back to me.
Even though I usually sleep in what God gave me, I should have just gotten up and silently removed myself from the room. I mean, they had ignored my existence the whole time they had been in here. But I didn't, with my shock of what was happening and my naked modesty, I just laid there.
I had told myself that after the couple of occasions of hearing nextdoor motel neighbors having sex and the years of having a tossing and kicking sister in the bed that we had to share as children, that I could try to mentally block it out and everything would be fine. I can't say that hearing the neighbors didn't sometimes give me a reason to visit the bathroom after some time had passed. That being so, these aren't neighbors, they are my parents.
As with most of the neighbor situations being able to easily tune out, the knowledge that it is them will make it that less challenging. I couldn't, wouldn't think that my parents having sex would get a rise out of me anyway. After all, with a bed sheet now being the only thing separating my mom's ass from my penis for the last couple minutes, I had not felt a single twitch or any signs of interest, more less arousal.
Forgetting for a second that my dad was lying right next to me, forgetting for a second the position that they were in before falling onto the bed, I quickly realized that it was my fathers hand that's been pressed against my flaccid package as he resumed his ass kneading.
As weird and paralyzing as having my mother in an 'about to get fucked' state of mind while her almost naked ass rests atop the sheet covering my sleepy junk, it is even more so when I realized that it's not my mom's ass. No, it was a hand, a man's hand, my fathers hand.
