Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. Authors note: This story is a work of fiction, don't involve your kids in your sex life, it is illegal. Enjoy the story for what it is, a sexual fantasy. Story Codes - MF, FF, Fb, voyeur, exhib, F solo, b solo, mast, toys, incest Watching 4 - Winters Third Watch Christmas Entanglements In some ways Christmas and the new year represent the year's apogee when all the: work, fortune and miss-fortune of the past year is bundled up into a media riven, cultural package. We find our selves pulled taunt by family, aspirations and a belief in some shimmering ideal. For me the apogee is and always has been the summer solstice that particular rhythm always feels the most natural route to tread. Christmas then becomes a less pressured turning point and January the start of the road to summer. I wish my aunt could have seen it the same way. This year it was her turn to host the family do, Mum, her sister and an uncle on my father's side took it in turns, creating a sort of 3 yearly cycle, in the summer mum had hosted a large family bar-b-q. That sticky summers day she had she seemed to be cooking for a battalion of carnivores, if marinating the piles of pork, beef and chicken were anything to go by. As normal, the men of the family had manned the brick built, charcoal laden grill, but much of the work was still hers. Even then her sister had fussed around her kids with an obsessive rigor, pouncing on any stain, and seemingly intent on watching every more, with out smudging bright red lipstick, cracking foundation laid over worry lines, and heaven forbid, creasing her floral print summer dress. So it was to aunty Caterina's polished citadel that we headed across London's, snow-less, rain sodden streets, among the motoring jostle of so many other families funneled into single file traffic on the North Circular road. Our morning had not seen any lustful awakening or relaxed exposure. Rather, Dad had come home late the night before, in a taxi and some what the worse for wear, so any amusement that mum may have had was later at her own hand, while he slumbered on the sofa. I had with youthful exuberance, opened a couple of more promising gifts in the morning, it required little restraint to leave the soft rounded packages containing jumpers and the such like for later. What ever the other delights of home life, festive imagination had never been a forte, rather, mum tended to approach Christmas shopping with a degree of pragmatism, so the jumpers and other clothes were in the realm of the expected. A few decent plastic kits, beyond those normally purchased with pocket money and a pile of science fiction books, softened things a bit. Despite this certain other tantalizing items, some labeled for mum and dad had been left untouched beneath the tree. Dutifully we arrived pristine, pressed and stressed by traffic. Caterina answered the door, despite being in her mid 30s, middle aged softening of her figure had arrived early, the beige knee length dress looked as if it belonged to some one size or two smaller, a red polo neck sweater hid any hint of cleavage but the made the most in profile of a pleasingly ample bosom. Her blond hair was piled up in lacquered curls. A kitchen apron with a wind swept moor motif, souvenir of a holiday to the Cornwall, completed the ensemble. My loathing of idealism and top of the range furnishing, must have had its seeds planted in the visits to my aunts, the place was as always spotless, cousin Peter a thirteen year old stocky lad of bound restlessness, squirmed uncomfortably in tight grey shirt, tie and a festive v neck sweater. His ten year old sister Shelly, skinny and darkly curly in almost equal measure, seemed more relaxed, despite being bedecked in a vile (well that's what I thought) purple satin dress with a wide cream bow about her waist. Looking past them, while gifts were exchanged, we perceived in the background, her presence hovering, despite her seated location, Grandmother Margaret, uncle Graham's mother. The bane of my aunt's life, the topic of almost weekly fraught telephone conversations with my mum and focus of more family disquiet than seemed decent for such a small blue rinsed frame. I use the term grand mother rather than granny and Margaret rather then Maggy quite deliberately, because heaven forbid any one who foreshortened her title or name. Margaret came from the old school, so old it was positively Victorian, while Caterina was courting Graham during their halcyon university days, her presence had been just about manageable. But once a golden band was upon my aunt's finger, a band more stifling had closed in around her life. Without the old woman Caterina would have been relaxed, easy going and according to my mum, bordering on bohemian. As it was, every thing in her family life was under a pall of unreasonable scrutiny, to which Graham simply acquiesced, as Caterina strove to give the old woman as little reason to apply her barbed tongue, as possible. So the gifts, Peter sat on a sitting room floor, hovered and carpet shampooed to within an inch of sterilization and unwrapped the blue paper parcel with, the anticipation of oft thwarted expectation. As his eyes alighted upon a small stack on Enid Blighton books, his face dropped immediately. It was with a wry smile that I suggested he take a look inside the first tome, Peter glanced at a chapter heading, the realization was brief, our beloved Enid was not so well known for steamy sex scenes. I had spent a few evenings, carefully, with craft knives and PVA glue hiding a set of blatant sex novels within more wholesome covers. Though our arrival had been timed to minimize exposure to the old harridan, while mum and Caterina busied them with the final preparations of the Christmas lunch, dad sat on the couch, a pint shandy in hand of trying to maintain some sort of light conversation with Graham. Margaret sipped, thin lipped, from a glass of dry sherry and scowled. Led by Shelly I followed Pete upstairs, my own Skyfix dog fight double set tucked beneath my arm. In all fairness to Caterina, she had bought me something decent. Entering Pete's pastel shaded, neat and for the most part characterless room, Shelly bounced onto her brother's bed, I was treated to a tantalizing glimpse of stockinged feet and crotch creased white undies containing her yet to blossom nether regions. I felt a monetary stirring, while Pete began flipping though the books in a bit more earnest. Shelly cooed as she unwrapped a Barbie, in this package mum had exercised her own mischief. Knowing that Margaret would actually disapprove of what she deemed to be inappropriate toys, and would not hesitate to disappear items accordingly. Behind an assortment of more conventional garments the doll had been equipped, crotchless knickers and peep hole bra and a some what revealing swim suit, I think Shelly was more bemused than amused. I glanced at Pete he sat on the floor cross legged engrossed in the first of the titles, his left hand subconsciously rubbed the front of his grey polyester trousers, but I don't think any discomfort was from the material it self. As for Shelly, she lay on the bed heels kicking against her buttocks and affording me further appreciated views. The call to lunch came before, boredom over took me upstairs. Boredom, however, was not far behind at the dinner table. Spare me the turkey, spare the me the pudding and trifle, and whatever the company no matter how wonderful and stimulating the banter, spare me the Brussels sprouts. This dinner, the company was any thing but stimulating. At the head of the table, the original glass of sherry by her plate, Margaret sat like an unloved monarch. If a conversation failed to meet with her approval, i.e. any thing interesting, or even slightly intriguing, was killed with remarks about bad taste, uninteresting or unsuitable for the table. How five adults and 3 children can say so little over 3 turgid hours is quite remarkable, to be honest it was closer to 3 adults, as mum and aunt managed to retreat to the kitchen, to attend to something or the other with the least of reasons, through it Graham sat opposite his mother, lost in deflated contemplation. In a moment of relief during one of mum's interludes at the table I contrived to drop my fork, amid the clatter and apologies I ducked beneath the table, maybe sensing my desperation, though more probably from the feel of my hand on her thigh, I was gifted with a flash of black lace atop stockinged legs. But a swift kick hastened my retreat. Dad knew full well what I was up to and struggled to contain a smirk, I sure he didn't contain it when his knife slipped from the table, seeing mum jump, briefly revealed that he he'd more than just glimpsed. From turgid victual celebration, to bloated digestion with the Railway Children on BBC1, James Bond on ITV having been deemed as most unsuitable, I need not say by whom. By the telly Pete's main present, a decent Racelectric set sat un-touched, when I asked when he was going to get it out, his dad pre-empted his response "I'll set it up when things are less cluttered" I'm not sure if I ever saw it set up, when asked Pete, muttered about using it when grandma wasn't about and dad had the time. The clock on the mantle piece chimed 5 and to say I was less than enthralled was an understatement, Shelly was up stairs, Pete was having a rather long read on the toilet, Graham was dozing in gentle inebriation, with Margaret nodded in the nap of the aged. As mum and Caterina were still in the kitchen, washing up, dad extracted him self from the arm chair and wandered in to see them, for want of any thing else I followed. I had expected him to step up behind mum, instead I saw him reach down and clasp with a swift motion mum's and auntie's buttocks, both laughed as they staggered from the sink, there was no howl of protest or disgust. Rather, they both turned to him and pressed close. The kiss my aunt pressed to him was much more than any normal sister in law, nether was the brief brush of her hand against his crotch a traditional greeting. My shock turned to elation, then utter confusion, when mum glanced at her watch, "I think its time we made a move" oh sweet release, "Well see you later sis." You'll do what? Our departure was one of hasty apologetic farewells; I noticed that mum had left the present from her sister on the kitchen work surface, out of natural helpfulness I made to retrieve it, only to be swiftly pulled stumbling out into the chilling winter's air by dad. I not sure if either of my parents was in a fit state to drive, but thankfully the London's traffic police must have been otherwise occupied. As we came off the North Circular, dad looked back at me, narrowly missing a traffic island with reveler hanging onto a street lamp. "OK lad, your aunt coming round a bit later, she knows about you so just act as if it's, well, normal and enjoy the fun. "Yea right dad", I looked at mum, unable the find the words to ask her if she was OK with what I thought was going to happen. "Well it is Christmas and it not like she'll get much from her Graham, so I share your dad now and again", she looked across and laughed as her fingers caused dad to swerve again, looking behind as he straightened up the car, I saw a Ford Fiesta had screeched to a halt in the centre of the road. As back seat, seat belts, had yet to be made compulsory, I reached forward and round placed my right hand just below mum's breast, as there was no rebuke, I slid my hand upwards, the response was a ratcheting rearward of the seat on its slide, pinning my knees but affording a much better grope. Dad simply chuckled. The front door had barely clicked shut, as mums coat dropped to the floor, while my parents began to kiss passionately in the hall way. Dad's jacket followed suit, their lips locked her pulled at her blouse untucking it from her skirt a then hands greedier still, pushed up her jumper over her breasts. Hungry lips and tongues, wandered over neck, lips and ear lobes, grunts and little cries of pleasure the accompaniment. Shoes kicked off, they almost seemed to dash to the lounge, dad was already unzipped and out. As mum pushed him onto the couch, her skirt lying rumpled in the door way, she undid his trousers pulling them off and discarding them behind her. I assumed my position on the arm chair, not as dis-robed as either but not the less exposed and stroking. In between mouthfuls, mum's jumper joined the other garments, leaving her breasts freed from the bra's cups and blouse open, at dad's bidding I helped her divest of her knickers, she then settled into the rhythm of sucking and fingering, this transitioned to a noisy, sloppy 69 on the sofa, I'm unsure how long they were moving in pleasurable union, when the door bell rang. "Well go and get that will you, I'm busy" was mums gasped command. I dashed to the door tucking my self into my undies as I did so. Aunt Caterina all but barged past me stuffing the forgotten present into my arms. I looked out to see her car parked hastily and with uncharacteristic untidiness, only partly in the drive way. Caterina stood in the lounge observing my parent's union, her hands moved slowly over her body, tracing the profile of her figure. Carefully she removed her jumper and folding it handed to me. Obediently I placed it on the second arm chair, as she fumbled for the zip at the back of her dress I offered a helping hand. Item by item she undressed with a quiet intent never taking her eyes off mum and dad, till she stood naked, before she stepped close I saw her pulling at her left hand, with out a word she handed me a plain gold ring, then glanced back briefly at the net pile of clothes. I placed it atop the pile, nestled on her white cotton knickers. Seeing her sister step close mum disentangled her self from dad, she had slowed her pace preserving dad's arousal, while still enjoying the attentions of his tongue. Caterina now knelt along side the sofa and began to administer a gentle massage to dad's recumbent form, soft hands kneaded; the muscles of the desk bound and circled a stomach more used to a six pack of Heineken then any muscular symbolism. None the less the more she stoked and kissed the more relaxed she became, after the clothes there came an emotional undressing as garments woven of propriety, self control and polished middle class respectability, fell away with her growing ardor. I had known for a little while now, from mums comments, that Margaret's presence had so diminished Graham of his spirit, that their sex life had become, at best a: brief, infrequent and muffled liaison. While Caterina became ever more absorbed, I was instructed to retrieve the remaining gifts form under the tree, I knelt on the floor next to mum as she unwrapped a rather impressive blue vibrator, some body lotion and an ensemble of red lingerie, Dad and my self received matching black satin boxer shorts with the Playboy logo, as well as black bathrobes with the same motif the fact that she had been able to find my size did not go unconsidered. I donned the boxers, but dad was far to preoccupied to follow suit, mum exchanged her black stockings for the red held up by matching suspenders, she left the bra and knickers off. Then taking the bean bag made her self comfortable giving dad an excellent view of her buzzing pleasure. I resumed my perch on the arm chair, my cock and balls fully out. I don't think that in her state of mind Caterina wanted much time for 69 pleasure, a meatier promise was in store and she was in need. A need fulfilled as she mounted dad, my seat provided me with a satisfying view of her spread buttocks and puss enveloping the engorged cock. As she bounced, moans turned to near screams; I loosed my first dizzying release, necessitating a grab for a box of tissues on a coffee table. Soon after dad could hold on longer and amid my aunt's shrieks and moans loosed his thicker load into her reddened loins. Caterina was however yet to be sated and I was sent up stairs to dig out a couple of mum's older toys. I came down to find some thing of a re arrangement, dad was now sat in the arm chair vacated by me, clearly enjoying his status of seriously lucky bastard. As I made my self comfortable on the bean back warmed by mum's naked rump, mum and her sister were side by side legs spread, though was mum holding onto her new blue friend, Caterina took the proffered black dildo, and following a swift moistening with her mouth proceeded to pump her self frantically. From festive purgatory to festive heaven, words can do little to describe the incredible sight of these two women, hips bucked, breasts were caressed as their self gratification, gratified dad and my self to renewed firmness. With legs now raised and painted toes curled in ecstasy, their climaxes were almost a race to nirvana, though I think the electric motor helped carry mum there a little quicker. While dad was doing his nut trying to contain him self, I was masturbating to the point of soreness, and really not giving a damn. While mum and her sister panted and trembled, from the climactic after shocks, he left the arm chair to stand over her. With a couple of quick strokes and her helping hand, his seed was cast across her breasts. All three of them now slumped on the sofa, no attempt was made towards modesty, as I turned on the telly and handed dad the remote, Try as I might I can't remember what the Christmas evening film was, as certain other memories seem to occupy the space, I was most impressed by the show she made over the phone that her alcoholic consumption we preventing her safe return. Needless to say, my aunt was in no hurry to head home that night; well not until I had been afforded a front row seat for a couple more performances.