Love Sees Me Walking Naked Pt. 03

'So, how shall we do my pubic hair? Mind that I am not a youth goddess like you both are.'

We sisters are still close together in mind, looking at our mother, who is naked, has her legs somewhat apart, looks down and ruffles her pubic hair like Irene did yesterday.

Irene, as the older sister, takes charge. 'Right, mum, I will do you. You have a full bush, like I do, so there are options. How about if we free up the actual vagina and around it and leave nice sharp rectangle above it? A fat landing strip, as it were, though you sound like a kid if I use that word. If you like that, we will have a triangle, a rectangle and an empty space in the family.

'OK, Irene, let's have it like that. Let's do it after breakfast?'

Breakfast is a special affair with dad presiding over his three naked women. He holds his own, impressive, considering Irene and I did our best to ruffle him, by being extra-coquettish, getting up as much as we could, moving around, strutting our stuff and getting in his eye.

With the breakfast table cleared, we get the kit to do the job and it is mum's turn to hop on the kitchen table. Irene and I settle between her legs. I have wrestled back some of the control from Irene. I can't have her take over the initiative. She will do the cutting and I'll do the shaving.

Mum showed herself to be nervous during breakfast - overly chatty and could not sit still. She can't be worse than us - chatty Irene is certainly chattier too. Perhaps I am the coolest, but serious me is in awe of the place and circumstances - setting between mum's legs and staring into her vagina. Yes, both Irene and I exited from there so many years ago. We both register mum is excited from the faint smell she is issuing. Intoxicating. I can get addicted to that - my, a sex slave I am getting to be. Have to be bi-sexual for that. Men don't match women in this regard.

Irene is carefully snipping away and I assist by pushing, spreading, pulling skin so that she cuts hairs, not skin. We are concentrated. Dad sits behind us and he stands and bends whenever he needs to for a proper view.

My turn when it comes to the shaving, assisted by Irene doing the pushing, spreading, pulling. Her loins, the labia majora, the few stray hairs between those and the labia minora, left and right, the hood - we work those area systematically until there is not a hair, no stubble left. We have to do well on our mother. Father is watching too! Finally, I shape the rectangle on her mound. She has pretty dense hair and it is therefore possible to produce sharp sides, left and right, top and bottom. When we are done, Irene, dad and I take a step back to admire our handiwork. Perfect! High-fives.

Mum's revealed vagina - no, cunt - is a work of art. It resembles mine, if I am honest. Irene's stands apart, with these long inner labia.

'Let me see, let me see!'

We hand mum a hand mirror and she studies herself with interest. Then jumps off the table, smiles and embraces me and Irene. And dad, who is as happy as any of us.

'So, Ray, which of us do you like best?'

Mum lines us up, according to our ages, mum, Irene and me from left to right, the rectangle, triangle and the empty space. She pushes her hips forward and we follow suit. Then look at dad, who studies us carefully.

'Girls, I will not pick a favourite amongst you three graces. I love you all. Love you, Karen, as my wife and partner, and you, Irene and Sarah, as my two beautiful daughters. Be satisfied with this...'

'Ray, that is fair. Just teasing. Don't want to intimate I am in competition with my daughters. But you can look at them as much as you like. No harm in that.

'Today we have bad weather, so I propose we stay in. We have a few more days before Ray and I go back to work, so we should take this opportunity for family bonding. Let's keep the curtains drawn. And I will stay naked with you girls.

'And... I have a mischievous idea. Bit childish, maybe, but this is all new to me and I have just added it to my bucket list. Let's order pizza later on. I want to open the door and receive the pizza. Not hiding behind myself, but forthright and blatant. If I can, I will suggest he bring the order to the kitchen, so that you two are there to see too. What do you think?'

Irene speaks up immediately. 'Yes, mum. If you wanna do it, we'll play along. Sarah?' I have no choice and nod. 'It is as old-school as strip poker, truth-or-dare or naked twister, done it all long ago, but what the heck!'

Dad, joking? - 'Done it all? What monsters have we placed on the planet, Karen?'

Mum, equally joking. 'Ray, let them. As long as they don't get raped or pregnant... Please watch out, my daughters.

'By the way, you can do naked twister while we wait for the pizza guy to come along. I am sure he'll be delighted to see you with your ass up!'

Me - 'Mum, it could be a girl. Gender, gender! But she may like it too!'

We sit around for a few hours, reading mostly, exchanging a few words now and then. The women naked and legs apart, making sure we can all see each other, including dad.

Around midday, mum gets up and calls out, 'Right, pizza time, what do all of you want?' She takes our orders, calls the service and gets an expected time of delivery of within 20 mins. 'Oh, I am so excited,' she cries out. 'Ray, hold me for a minute.' Dad faithfully does. I imagine he is wondering what he did to deserve a new youngest daughter. Mum then sits down at the edge of her seat, fiddles with her hands and hair.

Then, when about twenty minutes have passed, there is a knock on the door and mum jumps up like a rocket and looks around with big eyes. It takes a few seconds before she composes herself and proceeds to open the door, stark-naked.

Mr. Philips, Gary

'Oh, no!', 'Oh, no!', we hear two voices say. Mum's and we recognise Mr. Phillips', our neighbour and a friend of the family. He is straight-laced, really because his wife is, but a couple of years younger than dad.

It is dad rushes out to her rescue, followed on his heels by us, not thinking of our naked state. He calmly says, 'Mr. Phillips, pardon us. Karen has just come out of the shower...' Aware of us right behind him, he adds, '... and girls, you know...' I can't help a tiny smile, as I am sure both Mr. Phillips and dad don't 'know'. But Mr. Phillips, flustered, stammers, 'Oh, yes, I know, never mind me', but does not rush off, like a deer caught in the headlights.

Just then, the pizza van pulls up our drive and the pizza boy gets out and picks up our order - the boy is a girl, as I suggested. She does not see mum or us until she is near and Mr. Phillips has stepped aside. 'What the heck! Sorry, folks, I have seen a lot of naked woman, pranks or real, but three is a new record. Well, y'all look super, so what the heck!'

Dad has pulled his wallet and pays the girl, who smiles and leaves with a 'y'all have a nice day then! Looking good!' and a thumbs up.

This leaves us with the pizza and Mr. Phillips on the doorstep. Mum has regained control and says, 'Mr. Phillips, we are just having pizza, as you see. Can we invite you for a slice, and a soda?'

He looks around our enchanted circle, uncertainly first, but then, when he sees our forthright and open gazes, with confidence. 'Yes... I just came because the car doesn't start... I don't know how to put this. I am overwhelmed by... well... your appearances. Mrs. Phillips... well... she is an attractive woman too, but... I am flattered to be asked... Yes, let's do the neighbourly thing and eat pizza together...'

We women dish out slices for everyone, keenly followed by the men, and sodas, then seat Mr. Phillips, or Gary as he wants to be known, in an easy chair opposite the couch, on which we three graces sit down, with dad taking the other easy chair.

We sit eating and talking, as if everything is normal. Perhaps we all, including Gary, are a bit louder than normal because of the situation. And there is not even beer around.

Then we are startled by a knock on the door. We freeze.

I go to the door and see who is there through the spy hole. I hiss back to the others, 'It is Mrs. Phillips!'

I withdraw and Mr. Phillips, Gary, takes over and slowly opens the door to his wife.

Mrs. Philips, Mona

She does not see what is going on until Mr. Phillips has closed the door again. Then her eyes open up like dinner plates.

'My, what orgy is this? Gary!

'Oh, I am sorry, Karen! It is you. And the girls! What is going on? Gary, it is not proper! Karen, why?'

Dad steps in again. 'Mrs. Phillips, pardon us. Karen was just out of the shower, when Gary rang to get help with the car, followed within seconds by the pizza girl we had been expecting. Karen didn't think, unfortunately, and opened the door in this state. It is not her habit, I can assure you. So, Gary saw her this way and things could not be saved when the pizza girl followed at his heels - a girl, thankfully. Now, the girls, well, they have no excuse, but they are girls, young and foolish... We are sorry if we embarrass you. Or your husband. We invited him to share the pizza with us. He was polite.'

'Well, Gary, Karen, I àm embarrassed. Maybe I should apologise, as it is your home. I really don't know. I have been taught it is not right to see other people's nudity. Adam and Eve ruined that for us. Pardon me. Gary, will you come home with me?'

Dad says, 'Gary, Mona, I am dressed, at least, and will help you with your car, in case you forgot. And pardon us. We value good neighbourship.'

And off go dad and Mr. and Mrs. Phillips. Quite a carry-on. Big step up from what we had been expecting - exposure to the pizza boy/ girl. Mum says she is sufficiently shocked to cut short her spell of nudity. I try to console her.

'But, mum, it was no disaster. Mr. Phillips was very accepting and Mrs. Phillips, well, confused, upset but not angry. Nothing lost, I would say. Perhaps even a chance for improving relations. I guess you did not have much chance to enjoy being so. Though we sat for fifteen, twenty minutes with Gary Phillips before Mrs. Phillips took him away. I know he looked all of us over more than once, but did not leer exactly. I enjoyed that. Irene, didn't you?' She nods. 'So, mum, did you?'

'I don't know. I guess I did. But it took me most of the time Gary sat with us to regain my composure. It was such a shock to see him instead a pizza boy. Or girl, yes. Just when I started to enjoy being in full view of him - you are right, I noted he saw us - Mrs. Phillips came to fetch him. But, hey, he never said "call me Gary" before, so he certainly was not offended. Right... Interesting! Time to get dressed in any case. Dad and I will have to hit the shops.'

Irene and I

Irene and I spent good time chatting one-on-one about anything, including how lost my virginity, my recent exploits, the naked walks, the party at Rose's where I masturbated in public, the love session with Rose (see Parts 1 & 2). She has several years' more experience, therefore I spend a lot of time listening.

She lost her virginity at school, like so many, quick, quick, in a hurry, and did not enjoy it. She is therefore envious of my experience and how I kept control. By now, she says, she has slept with a dozen or fifteen men and three women. No, four - she has to include me now! We giggle. The best of the four handfuls of times was with a woman - no, not with me, but there we are counting, so who knows? - but still, she says, she is a heterosexual. A relationship is not just sex, you know... She has been steady a few times with a boy, man, whatever, until someone else came along that seemed more interesting.

One of the steady relationships she had was an odd one -

'I slept around, but for a period I declined to strike up anything in the way of a steady relationship. Until I met a certain fellow art student, who struck a chord in me. From the moment we recognised each other we were inseparable.

'Head over heels? I would not say that. Always together, we never slept together. Or even made love. When we did spend the night under one roof, it would be me in the bed and him on the sofa. During our waking hours, I remained attached to my nakedness. He, however, remained dressed in his - yes - three-piece suit.

'Was there no sexual attraction? Was this relationship platonic, either of us afraid to touch the ideal and find that it would disappear upon touching it? There would be an element of truth in this explanation. Consciously, there was no fear of disturbing any purity we might have had. The word 'purity' does not ring true. Not for me anyway.

'The ideal we were cultivating, nourishing, was sexual tension and we brought this to enormous heights. Our game was war. A cold one. He had the character of a savage army general. He would pace around me and inspect his opponent, shamelessly surveying my body and attempting to submit me with his steely grey gaze.

'He would suddenly slap me on my ass. He would stand behind me, cup my breasts and squeeze them tight. He would take hold of my crotch and penetrate me with his thumb, all the time staring into my eyes. He never proceeded to take me. But God, it was hot! I, upon his request, even masturbated for him. Yes, I submitted myself to him.

'I called our relationship a war. What was my retribution, how was I fighting? I never formally submitted myself. He would never have been sure of my faith to him.

'The fight, the real fight was never with him. It was myself I was fighting. I wanted to see what I could endure; how strong my mind was over my body. So, in a sense, he was my instrument as opposed to I his.

'Therefore, in a way, it was he that submitted himself to me. All throughout our relationship part of me was observing him in his feeble attempts to test my body and my mind. He depended upon me as much as I did upon him. I perceived his motivation to test me to be the result of his obsession with the perfect female body, this temple of motherly and sexual love, perhaps he actually used those terms, he was certainly pretentious - the female body then, this fruit-bearing multitude of curves, this epitome of strength and life, which he could only gaze at breathlessly - or attempt to show himself the stronger.

'It was great, but of course it could not last. It finally started to bore me. He had this one trick, a very good one, but even a good one starts to wear out. So, I broke up with him. I offered him a farewell fuck and he accepted. Trousers down, I saw his dick for the first and only time, but limp and he could not get it up. I had seen his boners when inside his pants, but now he could not get it up. A sad end, but I gave him a kiss and many thanks - that was that. I heard he went normal after me and chucked his antics and three-piece suit overboard. Happy ever afterwards, I presume.'

We go to new sisterly heights like this and greatly enjoy it.

When our parents return, my mother does not get undressed again. For no reason, she says. Perhaps later. But the evening passes uneventfully as a nice almost ordinary family gathering.

The return of Mrs Phillips

The next morning, when us girls report to breakfast, Mrs. Phillips has already called mum, so she tells us. And, by the way, she is called Mona now, a surprisingly antiquated, but frivolous name. She had a sleepless night and it took her a lot to gather up the courage to call. Didn't come to the door, for fear of greeting my mum and us, well, you know, 'in the birthday suit.' It is wrong for her, that is: it was always wrong for her... She has been in the thrall of meeting us, though, and can't get it out of her head. She could not stop talking on the phone, confused between 'nudity is natural, God made us this way', 'nudity shared within a family is natural' versus '... equals incest, certainly if the father is there', even if he is dressed?, 'Sex is dirty, sexual organs are dirty'... As it was, she had studied herself in the mirror for the first time in her life. From a distance.

And closed by asking, timidly, whether she could come by for coffee and talk about it sometime. My mum said that of course she could and they agreed a date in a few days' time. She also told us to clear off on that morning.

This is what mum told me about it

________________________________________

She arrives and I open the door naked. And a little nervous. Even though I know she expects to see me like this, in fact has seen me already. Does it show? I manage a broad smile and step aside. She has not missed my bareness, and is expecting it on her part, but still blushes and hesitates, but then comes in, of course. She does not touch or kiss me. Not sure now whether she normally kisses or shakes hands when she visits, the few times she has done. Think it's a handshake.

She mutters, 'Karen, I am sorry but I feel very awkward.'

I have to steady myself too and manage to do so. I put my hand on her arm, look her in the eye and say, 'Not at all, pardon me for our immodesty the other day, and now! You know, this is new to me too. My daughter Sarah started this. But I will not hide behind blaming her. Her shamelessness rang a bell in me. A resonance.'

I say that a pertinent question for me is, 'Will I be able to become natural as time passes or will I remain self-conscious? And, will the association with sex fade? Whether it does or not, it is OK. Sex is OK, you know. '

Mona appears to have a hard time looking at me. She looks at my toes. She wants to answer, hesitates, steadies herself and then speaks, 'Eh... I guess that is a valid aim. But...' She finally looks at me in the face. But her gaze is glued to mine. She is far from surveying me from head to toe. I add, 'I have been alright so far, but am just a bit uptight now, like you. Come and let's try to relax.' I take her to the living room and sit her down, while I go and get us some refreshments.

When I have sat down, she looks down at the floor, takes a breath and repeats that she has not stopped thinking about the scene she met when she came to collect her husband.

'Yes, Mona, you told me when you phoned. I am glad you don't outright reject what is going on here.'

We sit immediately opposite each other in easy chairs. I am inclined to cover my crotch for modesty by putting my hands in my lap or crossing my legs. I am used to doing the one or the other even when dressed, for warmth and comfort. But I have resolved not to during this experiment. I do manage not to violate my resolve, but continuously have to suppress the automatic urges. I do not press my immodesty, but behave as naturally as I can. And she ever so slowly becomes more comfortable, though she does not settle completely and keeps fidgeting. But I pick up her inevitable, lightning-fast glances at my crotch.

'Mona, tell me what is on your mind.'

She is silent for what may be a full minute. Then she looks at me and says, 'You know, Karen, I have not seen a vagina in the flesh up close before. That includes my own. Let alone one without hair! And I have touched myself only to wash. I have thought it forbidden territory. I have never, eh... masturbated. I am aware of your vagina, but dare not look at it. Yet I find myself drawn to looking. And I do, but involuntary. There we have it. I know I am behind the times, but I cannot help it.'

She looks as if she is about to cry. The dear. I try to think of a sensitive reply or reaction.

I find myself getting up and approach her. I stand right in front of her. My cunt is more or less at her eyelevel. I move my legs gently apart.

'Mona, look at it...'

She keeps looking at the ground.

'Mona! Look at my cunt, for Pete's sake!'

And she does, but I see tears in her eyes. Now that she looks, she does not stop. Eventually, she reaches for it, but does not touch.

I whisper, 'Mona, touch me, if you like. It is alright.'