Aunt Sally’s Place
Copyright© 2026 by OmegaPet-58
Chapter 1
Drama Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Financial reverses have forced Patty and daughters Terri and Debra to move in with her quasi-sister Sally, her husband John, and their two sons. Daughters and sons are adults, finished with high school. House rules require constant nudity, and all but Terri are joyously "sleeping" together, but not cross-generations. In her new situation, Terri is trying to adjust, cope, and adapt.
Caution: This Drama Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Mult Consensual Reluctant BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Sharing Group Sex Polygamy/Polyamory Anal Sex Double Penetration Exhibitionism Massage Masturbation Oral Sex Big Breasts Nudism
Six hours after climbing into our overloaded, elderly Suburban, we finally pulled up in front of my Aunt Sally’s house. I remember seeing a movie where, after a long car trip, an old car committed suicide: the doors fell off, the bumpers fell off, the hood popped open, and steam and smoke poured out. You get the idea.
I half expected the same to happen to our huge old SUV the moment we stopped. All day, the three of us sweltered in the front (bench) seat; the A/C hadn’t worked in years. A spot on my lower back stuck to the old vinyl where my T-shirt had ridden up. We needed to sit together because the rest of the space contained all of our family’s remaining possessions.
As we drove, sweat trickled down my neck and soaked into my gray (formerly white), too-small Walmart bra. After eating lunch, we went into the McDonald’s bathroom together to wash the fryer oil off our hands. Debra, my equally uncomfortable sister, said, “Fuck it.” She pulled off her T-shirt and stuffed her stained bra in her bag.
Over at the next sink, Mom looked up at Deb’s reflection and said, “Smart! Terri, you should, too.”
Mom removed her shirt and bra, then advanced to genius level by wadding up her own T-shirt and soaking it under the tap. Deb and I quickly soaked ours, too. I put my damp shirt back on over my bra. Unlike my sister, I wasn’t as willing to show my nipples in public.
Of course, with the A/C in the restaurant, their nipples stiffened. Mom and Deb walked out of the ladies’ room visibly erect. A geezer saw their nipples and graciously held the door for us, smiling broadly.
Mom told him, “Thank ya, hon!” She always appreciated being looked at by both guys and gals. It happened all the time, because the label on the bra in her bag said 40D. Deb? The same. I mean, about enjoying attention. She had a 36D (my size) that fit her much better than my own bra did, damn it.
Back on the interstate, the heat pressed in again. With it came all the thoughts I’d been avoiding. I didn’t believe Deb was the more attractive sister; I just wasn’t as social as she was. I did well while talking with girls, but guys made me nervous and impatient. Young guys’ gazes seemed magnetically locked on my big chest, and they would lose the thread in our conversations.
I held on to a memory. In previous visits with Sally and John (her husband), he would actually look in my eyes and talk to me like an adult instead of titties with a mouth attached somewhere. I guess that came with maturity. Or maybe Sally had trained him, because she was certainly as busty as Mom.
About John, I felt confident. But all of our breasts out there in front of Sally’s sons will be strange indeed. I wasn’t sure how it was going to feel. Sometimes, I was proud; other times I was frustrated. Sally’s boys must have been watching her bounce around for years, now. Would they be indifferent to our chests? I didn’t believe that.
Mom looked to her right to make sure we were both awake. “Girls, I know we’ve talked about this, but you have to be fully prepared. Until now, they have been coming to visit us. This time, we are moving in with them, joining their household. We follow their rules, beginning with being nude all the time.”
Everytime we heard this, it sunk in a little deeper. The rule wasn’t just about skin. It felt like an invitation to be seen in ways I wasn’t ready for.
“Sally calls her family philosophy ‘Bodily Expressionism.’ She’s very serious about it, and has been for years.”
She took a minute to deal with a clot of heavy traffic, then picked up again.
“You know what happened, and how that man ran off with all our money, leaving us destitute. They are taking us in to live with them, because we have no place else to go. That’s very generous, and we should meet them where they are. It’s only right.”
Mom reminded us that she agreed on the phone to every detail before we left. She continued, “Along with the nudity, Sally’s house operates under a list of written rules. She’s going to go over them with us after we arrive and get settled.”
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