Chapter 1

During the summer my parents would drop me off at my grandparent’s farm, where I would spend most of my summer break. My grandparents were fairly young in their late 50’s and were very much still living the hippie lifestyle of the 60’s and early 70’s. I remember my mom bringing me out here when I was younger for “family bonding” as she called it but to me it was very much like your common day family reunion or weekend cookouts.

I always enjoyed spending time out at my grandparents farm. The rules always seemed to fade away. While respect and curtesy for one another was always enforced, curse words, nudity, as well as Pagan rituals and traditions ran rampant. The thing I enjoyed most was I could sleep in and stay up as late as I wanted, I didn’t have to get dressed and could wear whatever I wanted, and nothing was ever mandatory. As a young teen, having free choice was amazing. I didn’t have to eat food I didn’t like, participate in activities I had no interest in, and was free to roam anywhere on the property I liked, as long as I took Mr. Bojangles, the family dog with me.

Mr BoJangles was always a loyal dog. While he was our family dog, he was unofficially MY dog. At the house he would always sleep with me at the door of my bed, and he would stay with me when I was out at the farm. My mom said it was good for him to roam and run free on the land and just be a dog. He was a mix of Australian Shepherd and German Shepherd, making him a highly intelligent and loyal dog, with natural instincts for out on the farm. Always barking and alerting me, and my parents/grandparents of any potential dangers.

The drive out to the farm was always so beautiful and peaceful. My mom would tell me stories about her days growing up on the farm, and what Grammie and Poppa where like as parents. She said they would sit out on the porch and watch her swing on the porch swing, while they would sing songs and pass the peace pipe back and forth. She said they would be partially or fully nude with a thin robe on and she would usually just be in her panties or just a Little T-shirt and nothing on underneath.

This was nothing that surprised me because enjoying the freedom and being one with nature was really a big deal to them, and even still with my mom, still til this day. I noticed a little smile as her voice trailed off and she lightly traced her upper lip with the tip of her tongue. “What is it mom?”, I asked inquisitively. Snapping back into reality and turning bright red with embarrassment, she said “Oh nothing hunny, was just thinking of your Poppa watching me on the porch swing...” as he voice trailed off. “Poppa watches me on the porch swing too sometimes.”, I added. “Oh that doesn’t surprise me one bit...” she laughed a bit. “He’s always been quite the voyeur.”

I noticed that dreamlike daze return and she began squeezing her thighs together as she set the cruise control. After a few minutes I broke the silence. “Momma, what is a voy ... voy-er...”, “Voyeur hunny”, she corrected me. “Well is normally associated with being a sexual fetish, but in reality, it’s some one who likes to watch things. Kinda like people watching” she further explained. “Some people get highly aroused or turned on sexually, watching people.”

“Is Poppa a Voyuer?” was my next logical question that made her smile and laugh. “Well I guess you could say Grammie and Poppa are both a voyeurs and your mother here has always been a bit of an exhibitionist, which is a very dangerous combo.”, she said with a mischievous smile. “Yes, I do enjoy being watched...”, she added, as she could foresee my next question.