One Big, Happy Family Ch. 03

The night that I was raped started like most others. My name is Christy, I'm a twenty one year-old nurse and I live with my mother Maria, my brother Will, and my Aunt Lori. My father passed away a few years ago, but his insurance allowed us to live well. Mom didn't work and my brother was twenty-five, a college graduate with an engineering degree who free-lanced but hadn't found his true calling yet, ( or so I supposed.) My Aunt was a waitress at a local diner, mostly because I believe that she liked to flirt and had a sassy personality that garnered her plenty of tips and compliments on her alluring figure. She really wasn't the "homebody type" and was much more out-going than any of us.

Mom is basically a "shopper." Hey, she has a little money now and alot of free time, so why not. Isn't that what most women strive for? And I think its done wonders for her. Lately, she has come out of her conservative shell, maybe getting out and being free to express her personality has been enriching for her. She still has a great figure after forty years and two children and she has begun to show it off. I haven't noticed any special new man in her life, but now that I think about it, she is awfully secretive about her social life and I've seen her whispering to both my aunt and brother on many previous occasions.

Her clothes and manner of speaking have both changed, especially at home. She was always rather prim and guarded in public and was a proper example of motherhood with us. But in the past few months, I've seen more cleavage revealed in her choice of outfits and she uses more provocative language with all of us and even engages in tickling matches and "dirty" banter that she used to find inappropriate. I don't know if possibly my aunt has opened her up to coquettish ways, or if my brother's semi-juvenile behavior has corrupted her. Either way, I think it's great that they all get along so well and I wish sometimes that I was more involved in their circle, but I'm fairly conservative too, and my dealings with the public often are on a more serious level.

My aunt is only 32 years old and she and Will have always been close due to their slight age difference. Lori is a bawdy lady and Will is a free-spirit, their connection runs deep and I think that they are rubbing-off on my mom. Those two have been on the same wave-length for a while now, sharing little secrets and always seeming to be involved in private conspiracies. They whisper jokes to each other and are always sneaking away for something where they emerge later-on, laughing or acting as if nothing out of the ordinary has happened. And now, mom has joined in their small clique, trading subtle glances and disappearing in twos or threes, while almost pretending that I must be just imagining things.

I know that I sound paranoid at times, and I really do just want them to be happy, but sometimes, I swear that I have just missed catching them with a hand in the cookie jar and I see twitching eyebrows and sideways looks that have a suggestive, guilty air to them. I only wish that every so often I am invited-in on whatever secretive doings that they have going on. I desperately want to be included in their happiness or want to be a partner in their crimes. But I don't wish to say anything negative or obvious, for fear of allowing my own battered ego to harm our family dynamic. I love them all and I know that truly, they are not shutting me out of anything, and only my loneliness is the thing that's affecting me. What else could it be?

I'm about 5'6" and weigh 120 pounds, (most of tits, as Lori would say.) I have shoulder-length, wavy brownish-blonde hair and ice-blue eyes. My round figure includes big cheeks and pouty pink lips. At work, they say that I have curves in all the right places and as I've said, I inherited the family's tendency toward bodaciousness. I'd guess that mom is probably a 36 Double-D, Aunt Lori a 34D and I am the runt, merely a 34C. But the doctors are always hitting on me and they mention (just loud enough for me to hear,) that I am built for pleasure.

But pleasure is something that I have not found much of. Maybe that is why I feel so isolated at home and cloistered at work. I'm not a virgin, but I am fairly straitlaced. Most of my exotic sexual escapades are rooted in my latenight fantasies. But I am very interested in breaking-out of my sexually-stunted shell and experiencing more erotic adventures.

I take my profession seriously and never fool around at work and will not even join my male co-workers for anything more than coffee or "happy hours" with a group of people. I don't care to ruin my reputation, and infact I believe that some of my disaffected male suiters have been spreading the rumor that I'm a lesbian. Even if I were, (and I've had sexual fantasies concerning both sexes,) I would not do anything in public view. If I could find a partner (or partners of either sex,) to have fun with and feel free to experiment with all manner of imagined kinks, who would keep our behavior hidden and never think to humiliate or blackmail me, I would certainly enjoy the opportunity to express my overwhelming desires to give and receive pleasure with no holds barred.

My vivid imagination about steamy, raunchy, sexual liaisons have lately not only infiltrated my nightly dreams but have begun to color my waking moments too. When I sit at home with my family, I am always thinking that their familial closeness seems just a bit too intimate. I hear scraps of conversation and detect sexual overtures. And I know that I have not developed "x-ray vision," but I can see that both my mother and my aunt are apparently prancing around the house more and more, without wearing bras and my brother not only is in a near-constant state of erection but he seems to sit with his legs spread when facing me and he appears to stroke his rigid appendage blatantly infront of the women.

This sexual openness is new to me and also new in our home. I have to continually question myself as to whether I'm fantasizing in broad daylight or if there is some mysterious sensual tension in the room. Aunt Lori, Will and amazingly, my mom will make open and sometimes lewd jokes or remarks about one another's anatomy if they happen to spot the ponderous bulge in Will's tight-fitting shorts or the sharply protruding and clearly well-defined nipples of the ladies. And then they seem to take great joy in humiliating me by drawing me into their perverted discourse.

I am often asked by one or all of them if my nervous agitation while they are teasing each other, is a sign that I am being "turned-on" by their deviant behavior and if I am feeling a certain warmth in my pelvic region or trying to conceal my own sprouting nipples. I am forced to stumble through uncomfortable laughter or actually leave the room. Then I hear them commenting on my figure just like at work, loud enough that I know they're talking about me but not quite understanding the meaning of it all. They generally beg me not to leave or mention that they are "just being silly," or that some combination of alcohol and innocent conversation between adults is just a pleasant way to unwind together.

When I make my retreat to my bedroom or to the downstairs den, I am usually left with a torrent of visual imagery and lingering thoughts of sexual corruption and incest. Then I'm forced to re-examine the previous encounter and dissect every phrase and gesture, wondering what exactly I'm missing or getting wrong! But the images in my head won't subside. And every time that I go over it, my mind's eye tells me that Will was sneakily cupping each woman's breasts and only pulling his hand away when I looked up. Or that as he sat between them on the couch as he often did, they would both stealthily rub his generous mound, and all three of them looked sweaty and aroused. Then I swear that they watch for my reaction, not to worry about my sensitive nature but to gauge my interest in their semi-private seduction. And as these perversions danced through my feverish brain, I would become aware that my own body was astir with a heated and emotional response that I knew was at once wicked and alluring. And my fingers compulsively slipped beneath my damp panties and combed through the wiry, sticky thatch of pubic hair that was emitting a moistened scent of my arousal and itched to be satisfied.

I would try to clear my mind of these highly erotic images or to assure myself that I was reading way too much into fairly innocent family fun. Maybe I just needed to get laid. But the tangled situation always hovered close to the surface. Each time that I entered the room when two or more of them would be sitting on the couch; sometimes sharing a blanket and other times seeming to lay vulgarly close, if they failed to notice me right-away, it was like young adults at a drive-in, then they would suddenly freeze or quickly remove their roaming hands and swiftly smooth the covers. It was like a deer caught in the headlights. They would separate themselves and sit "bolt upright" while their clothing looked disheveled and their faces flush. I often felt like I was a parent, walking in on a party of teenagers who were caught doing something illicit.

There was always a routine to be followed once their groping was exposed. Moments of throat-clearing and eyes shifting among themselves. Sweaty strands of hair would be plastered to reddened faces and alot of heavy breathing would be noticeable on each frame. A quick, not-so-subtle perusal of their own clothing and any revealing body parts and a hasty attempt at a clumsy cover-up. Then an awkward few minutes of silence or nervous laughter as they moved to reach for magazines or turn-up the volume on the television. They often seemed hesitant to stand up, because nipples were pointing through thin blouses and a certain hard cock sprouted ominously in someone's lap. Sometimes zippers needed to be hastily raised or buttons fumblingly refastened. And while they didn't actually seem to be embarrassed as much as annoyed or disappointed, I generally felt as though I were intruding or had accidently interrupted their private, little party. Could there be a rational, innocent explanation to any of this?

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.