This story is true, mostly. The people in it are not.
It was the summer after my sister, Samantha, graduated from high school, and I finished my freshman year at college. Sam had been accepted at the same school, so we would be together next year.
We were mostly just kind of hanging around the house that summer. Well, I was seeing a lot of Heather, too. Not to mention some interesting things that were developing with Heather and her mom and dad. Sam wasn't a part of that, at least not yet, but she did join Heather and me sometimes for afternoons and evenings in Heather's pool.
We were lucky: neither of us had to work over the summer. Sam had a full scholarship, not a surprise considering her grades, and I was working part-time during the school year. Mom and Dad were taking care of the rest. In exchange, Mom had what seemed like an endless list of chores for us to work on at home.
That afternoon Sam and I were working through some stuff in the garage. Just talking about this and that while we worked, a kiss here and there, nothing serious. Although I was certainly enjoying watching Sam's breasts move under her t-shirt. I liked that a lot. Had to adjust myself in my shorts a couple of times.
"Holy shit! Buddy, did you see this?"
It was a black-and-white photograph. I looked.
Jesus H. Christ.
The girl was nude, on her back, lying on top of a guy. They were on a couch, it looked like. The girl's face was a little obscured in the photo, probably on purpose, but we could see who it was. Slim torso, nice firm rounded boobs, high on her chest, nipples totally erect.
Cradling her, the guy appeared to be kissing or nuzzling the side of her neck. His eyes were closed. One of his hands was resting lightly on her left hip, the other was between her parted thighs. Couldn't see for sure, but looked like he was stroking her pussy very nicely. To judge by the angle of her head, thrown back, she liked what he was doing very much.
The girl was Mom.
The guy stroking her pussy was not Dad.
We looked at each other. Sam had the same reaction I did. Took us exactly five seconds to strip off our clothes, about two seconds for me to bend Sam over an old overstuffed chair, one second to slide into her sopping wet pussy from behind, and, well, I'm embarrassed to say this, probably not more than 15 or 20 seconds for me to come, spurting what seemed like gallons into her.
I kept thrusting while I came, Sam so close she wasn't more than a few seconds behind me. I held onto her hips and kept myself as deep inside her as I could as I felt her tremble and spasm.
I know what you're thinking, at least I'm pretty sure I do. This all sounds like a cliché, right? It is a cliché. But sometimes clichés are true, at least a little bit. I have no idea whether every kid would react this way to a picture of his or her parent having sex, but we sure did.
Part of it, I think, is that while we knew the girl in the picture was Mom, she wasn't the person we saw every day now. The girl in the picture couldn't have been much older than us. It was Mom, yes, but it wasn't Mom. In other words, it wasn't like we were seeing a picture of the woman who would be fixing dinner tonight.
On the other hand, it was a really hot image, and Sam and I were young, horny and in love with each other. It didn't take much to set us off. But I'll also admit that even though the picture showed something that happened a long time ago, it wasn't just any hot picture. Part of the turn-on was knowing that even if the girl was young, it was indeed Mom we were seeing.
When she quieted, I pulled out of Sam, moved her to the side, sat down in the chair, and pulled her into my lap.
"God, yourself, Sam."
We just cuddled for awhile. Kissing, nuzzling, just being quiet. Thinking about the photograph. At least, I was.
"Turned you on, didn't it, Sam?"
She poked me.
"You, too, buddy. I don't think you've jumped me that fast in awhile."
"You wanted to be jumped, didn't you?"
"You bet I did."
I hugged Sam, turned her head to me and kissed her, firmly.
We were quiet for a little while longer, until it occurred to us that we were nude, kind of messy, and Mom was somewhere inside the house. We got up, reluctantly, and got dressed.
It was only a few minutes until I found the second photo.
"Sam, look at this one."
Delicious-looking young woman. Curly blonde ringlets. Topless, really nice full breasts, sitting somewhere near water, maybe a lake. Looked like late afternoon, the soft light on her smooth skin practically making her and everything else glow. It was a really sensual scene, even if she was alone in the picture and just sitting there.
"Holy cow! That's Mrs. Henderson, isn't it?"
Mary Larsen had been Mom's roommate in college. She was Mrs. Henderson now, but she and Mom were still in pretty close touch.
"You bet it is. Wonder who made the picture?"
I had a couple of ideas, just from some things Mom and Dad had let slip about their college days.
"Let's look at them later on."
We finished up in the garage, then covered our tracks with a water fight using the garden hose. Left Sam quite interesting to me in a wet t-shirt, but she escaped into the house before I could do anything about it.
"Buddy, would it be too weird to just give the photos to Mom?"
Sam and I were in the living room, later that evening. Sliding door to the patio open, a little bit of a breeze as the evening cooled. Sam was holding the pictures.
"I mean, would she really want us to put them back where someone else could find them? I'll bet she's forgotten where they are, and she probably didn't intend for anyone to see them."
I thought about that for a minute. Hand a picture of Mom being fondled directly to Mom? Not to mention one of her bare-breasted college roommate?
"Let's put them in an envelope and give it to her when we finish with the garage. All we have to say is that we found a couple of things that we thought she might want to know about."
Sam moved into my arms and looked at me. I couldn't look away from her. I never could. I could just fall into those grey eyes. I didn't know what to do, so I kissed her.
"Let me go."
Sam shoved away, sat up, and stripped off the clean t-shirt she was wearing. Then she raised her hips a little and slid her shorts and panties off.
Back into my arms, pushing me down.
"Let's do like the picture."
In a second, I was hard as a rock.
"Take your shirt off. Keep your shorts on. The guy in the picture had his jeans on."
She wriggled back against me, head back, breasts up. It was the most natural thing for me to reach up and cup them.
"No. One hand on my pussy."
OK. I remembered the picture. Hand on her pussy. That wasn't hard. Pussy damp, almost wet. Got wetter as I stroked. Moans and little sounds from Sam as I pressed, especially at the top. My other hand on her boob, twisting her nipple, palming and cupping her.