Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author's note This is the only story in all my writings that has any basis
in truth.  As such there is nothing to warn about.

   Story Codes - MF, voyeur

   Watching 1 - Summers Watch

   One aspect of my childhood that I hold dear are fond memories I have of
watching my parents have sex.  This was back in the early 80s in suburban
London.  My mum has always been averse to the darkness or feeling closed
in, consequently she was insistent on keeping doors open and lights on,
even the sitting room doors were glass paneled.  Mum was and still is a
compact 5ft lady with ample breasts and bleached blond hair held up with
copious quantities of hair spray.  Dad at the time was about 5ft10, with
growing middle aged spread and thick but graying hair.

   My watching began from the when I was 12 in the summer of 81.  I was
sleeping fitfully due to the all too rare heat, when I was woken up by a
noise from my parent's room, across the landing.  As always the door was
open.  I had already removed my pajamas in a bid for coolness, and with the
grogginess of sleep dissipating with fascinated realization I crept to
stand in the shadows of landing where I could clearly see my parents.  This
first sight of them having sex has seared itself upon my mind as indelibly
as any accident or other dramatic event.

   I could see them naked, side on, in the early morning light.  Mum was on
her back, her feet by the pillows her legs entwined with dad's who had his
back to the headboard, hands gripping mums legs, pulling her to him.  Their
loins were tightly together each thrust, shaking mums breasts.  She moaned
with growing volume and rapidity as dad called out "Come on Mother!" I had
never before realized what was going on when I heard those noises, now with
rapt attention, I knew their reason.  As if on instinct I found myself
toying with my genitals.

   Their rhythmic grinding continued till a crescendo of grunts and moans,
brought the union to a panting end.  Both, though horizontal seemed to
collapse to the bed, as they disentangled, dads softening member drew a
sticky rivulet from mum's thick bush that dropped to the crumpled sheets.
As mum now turned to cuddle up to dad's ample middle aged form, I snapped
out of my entrancement and fearing discovery bid a soft footed retreat to
my room.

   Though I lay there listening for any continuation of the fun, eventually
bringing my self to a dry surge, sleep nonetheless overtook me.  When later
I woke, I knew that my perception of my parents would never be the same
again.  In the years that followed watching my parents was to become a
largely undisguised, but when realized by my parents, un-discouraged
passion.

   So that summer of first awareness rolled on my awareness of sexuality
and the desire to see more grew with barely understood rapidity.  Whenever
I could, I would spy on my parents, the first cues being my mums moans or
the soft laughter of them warming up when the chance of a vantage point
presented it self I would eagerly sneak up, still nervous of a floor boards
till I was able to move to the their door stepping over the audible joints
beneath the carpet to do so naked added to the thrill.