Sick of England, I left in August with my mother and aunt on vacation, spending much time in the French mountains. It was a beautiful country, but I found the culture much different to England, much more relaxed. It was there that I began questioning my religious views, the holiday itself being a stain on my uptight religious moral values, which had been forced into me since birth. I had no intention on ever questioning them, our religion was the true one and everyone else is damned. However, my questions began to grow as the days went on.
One night during our stay at a quiet Victorian-style hotel, I was reading in my bed when I needed to piss. The porcelain chamber pot was under my bed, so I carefully stood up, trying not to make noise to grab it as Mother and Aunt were staying in the adjacent room. As I grabbed the pot from under my bed, I heard them both in their room. Their voices echoed through the connecting wooden door, and I could see candle light emanating from the keyhole.
"You've got far too many clothes on, Edith," said my Aunt.
"You enjoy seeing woman naked, don't you, Drucilla?" said Mother, with a beautiful chemise on; her hair was nicely tied up, silk stockings and slippers on her feet.
"Of course, I do! Every night you read the bible and talk about religion, but you never practice it! If I were going to hell, wouldn't you at least want to entertain me?" My aunt craftily asked whilst nude. Aunt was a tall, stout woman, with thick limbs and luxurious soft and full breasts. The hair of her cunt was abundant, it laid thick and curly down the lips, filling the flesh between her cunt and thighs.
"I'm not a lesbian," said Mother, turning her head away in modesty; she was a slim woman of sublime beauty, her blonde curly hair laying in ringlets, framing her sharp aristocratic features.
"Are you not in the mood because you're not attracted to me?" Aunt asked as I continued to spy through the keyhole to their room; they had no idea that I was watching them,