Chapter 1: All About Us

She dropped her mini nightie on the floor in my bedroom, slipped off the bikini bottom that matched the top and slid her firm, naked young body under the covers in my bed. I had just about decided it was time to leave home so I could get away from from her.

As she usually did, once or twice a month, Gwyneth, my “almost sister,” crawled into my bed and plastered her naked butt against mine. She rooted around under the covers, pushed her bare ass tighter against mine, then ceased all movement and lay still. Her breathing became deeper for a couple of minutes, and then she dropped off into a deeper sleep. All was quiet once more.

Because she had crawled in bed with me, I was reminded there must have been a new moon tonight. Like I just said, my “almost” sister Gwyneth was naked in bed with me, her bare ass glued to mine. I had my usual morning piss hard and was sorely tempted for the hundredth...

No, I was tempted for at for at least the thousandth time to roll over in bed and ram that morning wood all the way up her, as yet unused ass, by me, anyway, and start to chop my kinda big wood into little kindling. You’d think after six years I would have become accustomed to it. Yet, as usual, I forgot all about it until just when I woke up with her naked cheeks jammed hard against mine.

That whole naked thing with Gwyneth began soon after my twelfth birthday. I had pulled my pecker a few times and finally had begun to squirt a little man goop. Wow! I was so proud of that first ejaculation. This was proof that I was on the fast track to adulthood, or adultery, one or the other. My introduction to Gwyneth’s monthly sleep habits sort of mess up some of my pleasure.

I mean I’d start out with a fantasy of one of my gorgeous sixth grade classmates, female of course. Then, just as I had built up a great head of steam and was ready to pop, Gwyneth’s naked body would intrude and my erection would un-erect and leave me in a puddle of frustration.

A person might think that after six years where my almost sister’s naked butt was jammed up against mine one or two nights of each month, I’d get used to it. But no, who’d want to fuck their own sister? I sure didn’t, even if she was only my “honorary sister.” Especially not in our god awful, God fearing family. Mom marched in lock step with Jesus and Dad went along in his own non confrontational way.

Every now and then, Dad still had his momentary deviations from the path of True Righteousness, especially if Mom wasn’t there to keep him in line. My father was a teen age horn dog in a chubby thirty-some business owner’s body.

If he and I were out on an errand together and nobody else was along, his eyes strained as he tried to catch all the almost naked fine flesh out walking on a sunny day. He almost wrecked us a couple of times. He just couldn’t watch where we were going and stare at all that fine flesh. I figured he had a deprived childhood or something.

Like I mentioned already, it all began about a month after Gwyneth moved into our happy little madhouse. She got out of her bed, sleep walked into my room and removed her pajamas. Then she crawled under the covers with me, shoved her naked butt up against mine and remained asleep until morning.

Right then was when all hell broke loose. I was jarred awake when bare feet began to kick me, small fists began to pound on my back. I opened my eyes and yelled, “What the fuck!”

“You get out of my bed, Andy, you get out now, I mean it! You get out of my room right now.” Gwyneth screamed in my ear. Then she began to pound on me some more and kept yelling, “Get out of my room!”

“What? This is my bed and what do you think you’re doing in my bed?” I finally yelled back at her. I was still trying to wake all the way up.

Then she stopped her attack on me, looked around and saw my posters and stuff on the walls. “Oh,” she squeaked in embarrassment. “Well, you just get out of this bed right now.”

She jerked back the covers, stared at my massive (in my mind) four inch cock and pulled the sheet back up. Her eyes grew round and large, “You’re naked!” she whispered.

“Well, of course I am. This is my room and I sleep naked.” That must have been too logical for a mere girl to understand. “So you just get out of my bed and my room.”

Oh man, I thought to myself, even for a girl, she was dumb. I was just at that age in puberty where Girls had only two uses. Either they were there to prove that guys are way smarter than Girls, or to pork and make guys feel good, gooder and goodest.

She saw her Pj’s on the floor, “Well you just turn your nasty eyes away from me and don’t you dare peek.”

I rolled over on my side facing away from her and felt my bed move a little when she eased out onto the floor. Of course I peeked. Oh shit! That was when I decided that maybe I liked girls more than I thought I did.

Then the next worse thing happened. I heard the door to my room open and slam against the wall. “What is all this yelling about?” Mom sounded like Jesus’ own drill sergeant.

Then she saw my own bare butt peeking out from under the sheets. “Andrewww, what are you doing naked? What have you done to your sis ... uh ... ter?” She had trouble finishing the sentence.

“Have you two been... ?” There are some words my mom pretends do not exist and “fucking” is one of them. Later on I figured Mom was why Dad was such a horny mess. She not only hated to say the word, but she probably hated to do the dirty deed even more.

“Aw Mom,” I began and was not permitted to finish the sentence.

“Don’t you ‘aw Mom me, young man. I want to know what you have done to this poor, innocent girl. Cover yourself up and tell me...”

While she stumbled for words, I finally got a chance to interrupt, “Nothing, Mom. Not a single thing. I was sleeping in my own bed, when she came in here and started hitting and kicking me. Mom, I swear she was naked when she came in here...”

“That’s the truth, Mother,” Gwyneth interrupted me. “I woke up and...” She couldn’t finish. She wiped the tears from her eyes and started to run from the room and right into Dad.

“Oof!” he grunted and reached out to steady her. She twisted around and Dear Old Dad got a hand full of teen-aged titty. It appeared to me he seemed a little reluctant to let go; but he finally did.

“Oooh!” Gwyneth wailed and steadied herself and ran from the room. I heard her door slam shut.

That was when I learned all about “Deafening Silence.” The air in my room seemed thick enough to cut with an ax. “Oh man,” I groaned.

Mom got all worked up again. “Well, Andrew, you must have done something to make her cry just now. What did you do?”

Before she could continue, I screamed at her, “I didn’t do one fucking thing! Okay?” Whoa, As soon as I said “fucking,” I tried to unsay it and couldn’t.

That word hung heavy as it seemed to echo in the air and I stiffened and waited for God to kick my ass or blast me with lightning.

“Andrew!” she exclaimed and began to fan herself with her right hand.

Sorry, Mom, but it’s all your fault I cussed just now.” She looked shocked. I continued, “Just like all those other times when you blamed me and I didn’t do whatever it was you blamed me for, I did not do anything this time either.”

Dad nodded in agreement and asked in a sensible voice, “What really happened, Andy?” He gave me a reassuring smile and waited.

“Dad,” I ignored my mother in hopes she would go away, “Like I tried to tell her,” I nodded my head toward Mom, “I was sound asleep, in my own bed, when Sissy came in here, got real naked and started to kick me and hit me and yell at me. Then she tried to make me leave my own room.”

“That’s a likely story,” Mom growled at me.

“No Dear, It’s about as unlikely a story as I’ve ever heard. In fact it’s so unbelievable that I think it just might be true. If you remember, Our son can make up some very convincing tales at times.” My Dad would never be a mover and shaker in anything but his own family, but he did try to be fair.

“Thanks, Dad. Now if Mom doesn’t want to see her second naked body of the day, she had better get out, ‘cause I’m going to get up and get dressed.” Mom gasped and left. She carefully closed the door behind her.

“Son,” Dad started in a low voice and looked at the door to let me know a certain mother might have her ear glued to the other side of that door. “A little cussing is okay around me, but never around your mother. She doesn’t understand how men communicate.”

Wow! Dad had started to look at me like I was becoming an adult, or something. While I was wallowing in the feelings his little speech had given me, he quickly strode over to the door and yanked it open. There she stood in all her nosy glory and her ear had been definitely glued to the door that was no longer closed. She stumbled into the room and almost fell.

“Did you need something else, Dear?” Dad’s half frown and half smile seemed to take the wind out of her sails. She seemed to sort of deflate and grow smaller.

“N-no,” she stuttered in a squeaky voice...

Dad got a mean frown on his face and told her, “That’s good, because my son and I were talking.” Her face turned red and she hurried away.

“That fucking damned nutty preacher ought to be shot,” he muttered.

Then he grinned and said, “You did not hear what I was thinking because I did not say it aloud. Therefore, you did not hear what you just heard.”

I could feel my face squinch up in a confused look and I asked, “Huh? What did you just say?”

“Good answer, boy.” He left me standing naked and confused in the middle of my room. “You might want to get dressed before you get attacked again.”

My confusing dad closed the door behind him. I didn’t believe he would listen at the door. Well, at least he listened to me and no longer believed I had banged Gwyneth. I shuddered at the thought.

Still, on the other hand, her girl parts had looked pretty damn’ nice to me, the little I saw of them. I thought to myself, just maybe ... Then I decided, I had best forget all about it. I sighed and got dressed.

This is not to say Gwyneth was, or is ugly, no, not at all. It’s just that our family, Mom, Dad, Gwyneth and me, Andrew Jones, were almost as straight laced as those Mormon missionaries that come around and try to sell us on their brand of celestial forgiveness and non-salvation.

Don’t get me wrong, the goofy Baptists and the Jehovah’s Witness nuts were just as bad. What I’m getting at is that we don’t play games of the flesh with each other. In fact we don’t even go around in swim suits. In my whole life, I don’t remember I ever saw Mom in a swim suit. If she ever did, it would be made out of stainless steel armor.

Dad wore shorts and a tee shirt while we did whatever chores needed doing outside. Mom voiced her disapproval only once. Dear Old Dad threatened to go naked the next time we went outside to rake leaves or whatever. He did a bump and grind yo emphasize Mom shut up for a while. With Mom though, there was always a next time.

I became the non-believer in the family and learned early on to keep my mouth shut after I got screamed at a few times when I voiced my doubts. So far as Mom was concerned, the Holy Trinity consisted of The Father, The Son and Reverend Barker. Oh man, was he well named.

Any way, after the first few horror stricken times, the folks accepted that on every first night of the new moon, Gwyneth would usually to sleepwalk and end up in my bed. As time went on, you could set your lunar calendar by her visits to my bed.

Dad tried to lock her in her room just once. He learned that my older by one year almost sister pounded on doors in her sleep and woke everybody but her. Mom was ready to have a nervous breakdown.

Then came the time she tried the sanctimonious approach, “Andy dear, you must never take advantage of your sister’s ... ah, unfortunate condition,” Mom told me after six straight months when the same thing happened.

Even my rigid Mom could lose some of her rigidity. The problem now was that she was worried about my possible rigidity. She had no reason to worry about me. The whole thing had become a monthly irritation that I had to put up with

Dad was more to the point. One morning, while we were at the breakfast table, “Boy, if I ever even think you’re thinking of banging your sister, I’ll beat the living snot out of you. You hear me?” I nodded my head yes and tried to bury my face in my cereal bowl and still not get wet.

One of my problems was, I had been just a little slow to develop and never fully entered puberty until almost two years after most kids. At that point in my life, a weenie usually went in a bun, and not a girl’s buns, for certain.

Except when I was jerking off, I usually thought of girls as everything bad in life. Oh, I was tempted, as my little twizzler began to grow a little at a time.

While all the furor was going on around her that morning, Sis sat there in total embarrassment. “Daddy, please,” she begged. She jumped up from the table and ran out of the room crying. I actually felt sorry for her.

“What got into her?” Dad asked in his usual sensitive way.

“Nothing Dear,” Mom answered him. Then she gave me a sharp look and added under her breath, “I hope.”

“May I be excused?” I asked and pushed away from the table. My sister? I decided both our parents were a little weird to even consider such a thing. I knew from school that no real guy would ever do his own sister, not even an “almost sister.” Well, that was what most of them claimed.

So anyway, life went on in our strange and unique family. Gwyneth got over her embarrassment, and I ignored her, as usual. Mom prayed and gave great advice to God, that as far as I could tell, He ignored. Things just went on like always.

After the one time Dad tried to lock her in her room, the folks left Gwyneth and me, and our sleeping arrangements alone. Needless to say, she and I talked and agreed neither of us wanted to be the other’s first.

Puberty had come and lingered with a bang. Suddenly girls became something to be friends with, try to get naked with and try to become carnal as hell with.

From my first time with Sharon Moyle to my latest with Beth Little Bird, I did my best to wear my little saber down to the bone.

However, “Little Peter” turned into “Wild Dick.” No, I wasn’t suddenly equipped with a ten inch monster. My little four incher became a respectable almost six incher. (Closer to five and a half inches.) I was fourteen and satisfied with the way it had begun to grow, just a bit at a time.

Sharon Moyle wasn’t too dissatisfied with it and the time I had my eighteenth birthday, Beth Little Bird was more than happy to go for seconds and even thirds. So were her cousins who all went to the same school with me.

Needless to say, Gwyneth had remained out of bounds. We finally gota great friendship going that had very little sibling rivalry in it. Neither of us had anything the other hadn’t seen many times and up close. Naked Gwyneth had become “Ho Hum Gwyneth” over time.

Mom even resorted to prayer and God ignored her pleas, as usual. It all came to a head one evening At dinner. “Oh Lord, would you heed my prayer and deliver our lovely daughter of her affliction? Please separate her from our son, Andrew.” (She made it sound like two dogs who fucked and got hung up by the Dog knot.

Dad had finally decided that enough was too much, “How do you figure God is going to do that? Maybe sneak into Andy’s room and spray them with a water hose?” Evidently he had been thinking the same or similar thoughts as me.

I grinned at the mental image Dad’s remarks had conjured up. Then Gwyn giggled, as she looked at the expression on my face and said, “Oh wow”

Mom glowered at us all and left the table. “Oh, I do hope the Lord doesn’t punish you for your impiety,” she told us and left to go upstairs.

After that we had less prayer and life went on in our goofy and dysfunctional little family.

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