Nylon Man with Goddesses Ch. 01

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.

Last Sunday was typical in most ways. I just got out of bed and forgot to put on a long shirt. My three roommates, as we jokingly referred to each other, left around 10:00 AM. They left me with my jogging shorts puffed out while I sipped some coffee hiding behind the kitchen island. After they left, I got on online to play some backgammon and perv out.

Mom, and Sue, and Jazmine arrived home in hose and heels. Each walked through the door with a bag of groceries in one hand and a bible in the other. Sunday was such a routine you could predict much of the conversation and much of the action. The bible in one hand and groceries in the other was predictable. Food rarely came in the house at any other time. Mom meticulously planned meals by the week. .

My role is to wait until asked to carry in provision, and then help put them away. That routine goes like this: Mom or Sue select one of the typical cajoling phrases; my favorite one is, "could you be so kind and help out a lady that isn't virtual." The virtual part refers to my online chatting, surfing pantyhose pics, and playing backgammon. Sometimes I do all simultaneously.

This week the cajoling phrase was, "Aaron, my handsome brother, could you be so kind and help the ladies carry in the groceries and put them away?" Then Sue adds the rub, "I am sure you have not lost your gallant manners to virtual space, have you?" She uses her regal tone on the last part. We both laugh and I assume my role.

I turned to look at Suzan after she said her line and I had a moment of panic. I choked on my laughter. My sister slowly raises her white satin skirt and exposes the top of her Hose and garter belt. Nice, shiny brown and gold hose and gold satin garter belt. I thought Mom might see her seduction, but the panic passed quickly. Sue is very smart and never gets caught doing blatantly risqué acts.

Suzan is quite adventurous, and a risk taker, but you would never know it because she is so calculating. She inherited Mom's cool controlled nature, so she seldom made mistakes in her behavior. By comparison, Jazmine has no compunction doing risqué things and she has a knack for causing Mom to worry.

While I am trying to look my sister in the eye and not stare at her crotch, she winks at me. Then she lifts the dress more and exposes her gold satin panties that match the garter belt. We both heard mom coming out of the bathroom down the hall. The dress dropped and my ass was out to the garage in a flash to unload the car.

In retrospect, from this point on, no more Sundays were typical. No other day was typical, either. Everyday of the week was a good day, but every day felt like reality had somehow shifted.

So excuse me if my thoughts wander. My head spins when I think about the new and different happenings. I am trying to piece together changing roles and new facets of people I thought I knew well.

Therefore, when my sister flashed me in the kitchen that was a new twist. I once had a roommate that flashed me her tits, or ass, or panties; a dramatic signal that her sweet pussy needed some attention. With my sister, I wondered if it meant the same thing. I hadn't seen my sister very much the past year nor called her much. Therefore, I was unfamiliar with her thinking.

I will explain later about Suzan's character and our relationship. For now, suffice it to say she enjoyed teasing in a generous way.

I was carrying in the groceries completely distracted because Suzan flashed me her satin covered kitty. My mind, was lost in ecstatic pleasures and burning in hell. I fantasized tracing my fingers up and down my sister's thighs... making ripples in her shiny brown and gold nylons... slowly hooking a finger under her gold garter belt and gently pulling her closer to my face... I'm on my knees in the middle of the kitchen, ...she stood there in front of me holding her skirt up high....My tongue is licking her thigh...

Lost deep in thought, I almost failed to notice my mom on the step stool, my head almost bumped into her butt cheeks. She was putting food away in the highest of cupboards.

We have an older house typical of Omaha and the Great Plains, nice woodwork, great charm, high ceilings and several spacious rooms on 2 two floors plus attic and basement. Renovators remodeled the kitchen was three years ago keeping the wickedly high cupboards. I don't know how many times I thanked the builders for making them so high. For some reason, Mom always puts dry goods as high as possible. Maybe she did that because of her unique background, a combination of Italian, Ukrainian, Orthodox and Methodist. That was the only explanation I could come up with.

Anyway, there is a tall step stool or a short ladder in the kitchen to access the upper cupboards. It has been my job for years and years to hold the ladder steady while Mom puts stuff away. It is a little task but one of my favorite things in the world.

I sometimes wonder if this is where my fetish for skirts and hose began. While standing beneath Mom I would hear the faint swish swish noise of nylon-clad thighs rubbing together. I would often smell the musky scent of sweet pussy mingled with the scent of sweet perfume. I could study the fabric and patterns up close for several minutes at a time, being just inches away from Mom's nicest Sunday hose. The silk or nylon was so pretty stretched across her skin. It often looked like one layer of art onyop of another layer of art. Pretty nylon mesh tightly wrapped over fine artful curves, silk and sheen threads masking velvet skin. Her luscious body made it all definitely art worthy.

When I was younger and shorter, I would often surreptitiously look up Mom's dress while I held the ladder steady. After I discovered girls, I especially enjoyed looking. After discovering the tactile pleasures of silk and nylon, peeking up her dress wasn't enough. I wanted more. Around this time, I became too tall to look up her skirt. The hem lines of her skirt were now at chin level, but I managed to find ways to peek anyway. You've probably seen the tricks or used them yourself: a shoe lace needs tied; a pen slips out of the hand; or in this case a box of cereal.

However, when peeking up my mother's dress wasn't enough, I would cop a feel. The first time, was an accident. I crouched down a little, looking out the window watching a dog run across the lawn. As I followed the action, my nose, lips, and cheek brushed across her leg. The second and third time, was an imaginary woman jogging past the house. I can still feel every nanosecond of the silk gliding across the corner of my mouth and gliding across my cheek. Ahhhhh, how niceee.

I used this next trick more than a few times: "Sorry I saw an ant climbing up your leg." I would bend and brush her leg then look up at her as she responded to my touch.

Every time she caught me looking up her skirt or touching her legs, her response was the same. It was a shrill, "Aaron, what ARE you doing?" but there was a hint of laughter in her voice. I think she could find humor in anything.

Of course I played dumb and would respond with a simple minded, "What?" and then answer her question with, "Oh. Sorry Mom."

A couple times, she would accuse me of becoming a surfer dude because of my response. At first I didn't know what she meant and wasn't sure how to take it. Was being a surfer dude good or bad or what? She fully understood my quandary and relished my difficulty as due process. It seems like she has private jokes only known to her.

Each time Mom admonished me for not paying attention to the job she would remind me "It is important to make sure I don't fall." and told me, "Keep your mind on your task honey."

Then in a more serious voice, she explained, "That is not what gentlemen do and that is not something a son should do with his mother." When I got older she added, "You can look up your girl friends skirt and play with her stockings and what not, but you're not supposed to do things like that with your mother." She used a serious tone but I doubt she was ever mad. She only caught me looking up her dress occasionally.

When she did catch me looking, she always seemed to brush it off and never seriously scolded or punished me. Maybe if she caught me more than a few times, she would have come down harder, but I was the only boy in an all female household. I think she took pity on me.

Later that evening I had about twenty minutes alone with Suzan to ask her what's up. She was in her room putting some things together. She was heading back to her dorm at Creighton in a few minutes. With no one around, she threw her arms around me when I walked in.

"Hurray, my Little Brother made it back home!" she yelled in my ear.

She gave me a kiss, nibbled my lips, and squeezed my ass. It always felt so good to hold her. My dick started to stiffen immediately. She still had on her Sunday clothes, She rubbed her brown and gold stockings against my bare legs. This stirred my passion. I put my hand behind her head and pressed my mouth to hers sliding my tongue in as deep as I could.

She sucked my tongue, going back and forth on it like it was a cock in her mouth. She reached between us and felt my big hard dick. I just had to feel her wonderful ass so I broke the kiss, reached down, and slid my hand under her skirt. She had such a nice ass. I squeezed.

I leaned back slightly and said, "Hurray, my big sister made it home for Sunday service and dinner!" She knew I was genuinely happy and a little frustrated we didn't have more time together.

"Poor baby." she said with a dramatic frown, "Don't worry Aaron I will make it up to you"

I told her, "Don't worry you already have."

By this time, my fingers were kneading her ass deep. I had finger pressing on her butt hole pushing the gold satin slightly into her.

She giggled, and pulled away, and asked, "Would my little brother like to rub his cock all over my ass?"

She struck at a weakness. "Heck yes!" I said not even containing the desire on my voice. I sounded like a virgin teenage boy. There was always something special about the matter of fact manner she employed. I never really have figured out why. Maybe because we both knew it was incredibly wrong but my sister with automaton directness presented herself for my pleasure.

We both laughed. I made sure the door was latched and locked. She dove on the bed face down, raised her ass in the air, and pulled her skirt away for full affect. Damn! She knew how to get me. I viewed my sister's raised ass, shiny brown-gold hose, satin panties, and garter belt. At moments like this, I know I am the luckiest guy around.

I missed her tremendously. I kissed her ankles and caressed her legs. Feeling the nylon on such pretty legs made my cock throb. She moaned and it was like music to me. I pulled my shorts off, climbed on to my sister's bed, and knelt. I straddled her legs, rubbed my cock along the back of her calves, and worked my way up her legs. It was an ecstatic pleasure feeling her firm flesh and nylon rubbing the flesh of my dick. I put it between her thighs and rubbed up and down, up and down. Then I squeezed her thighs tight together with my knees as I straddled her.

"OH! God yes Aaron, rub your cock all over me." she said in a breathless voice. I know what moves her deeply, too. I loved feeding her hedonistic desires.