Chapter 1

I never knew my grandparents. I never knew about grandparents at all until I met kids who had them. By then I had a baby sister who, obviously, didn’t have grandparents either. But that isn’t the story. There’s a spot in it for my grandparents, but a lot more needs to come before that.

We remained a family of four. My dad, who seemed so grown up and manly to me when I was five, was only 24. So my mom must have been 21. Mom was very pretty to me, but, yeah, most boys feel that way. Anyway, the two of them laughed together a lot and kissed. I was happy.

So, okay. My parents were both lean and energetic, as I recall. They had to learn how to raise me first, and then Frannie two years later and keep up with us both. I clearly remember my mom saying, “There! Now you’re potty trained.” She smiled big and added, “Now you’re a big boy!” And she hugged me against her warm breasts and kissed me. Yes, she was nude. And, yes, so was my father, when I ran to tell him in the next room.

I was raised as a nudist. Becoming a ‘big boy’ meant freedom for me. I hated diapers and ‘big boys’ don’t have to wear diapers. Or, in my house, anything else – unless they wanted to. Frannie achieved her own ‘big girl’ status in her turn and there we were: the naked Turner family. Our life was fun and our life was good. Fran and I learned that Mom and Dad weren’t supposed to go outside naked.

“Except when we go on vacation,” was always the end of that sentence. But when I was five and even six, they let me go nude out in our fenced back yard and play with Frannie. She and I grew up close. When we would go out camping – on vacation, even if it was just a weekend away from home – Frannie and I would take nude hikes in the woods and swim naked together – well, splash around in the shallows until we got older.

So we were happy and we all loved each other. No, I mean we just all loved each other in the most wholesome way. We were family. But I was always curious about the rest of our family. Kids in school talked about aunts and uncles. But I was told we didn’t have any. They explained that their parents, our grandparents, had passed away. Sometimes we’d drive a long way to a beach, where my parents had rented a cabin for our actual vacation.

I liked camping and prowling the woods with Frannie, but we always had to listen, in case somebody else might stumble on us. Yeah, I guess we were nomad naturists, so we didn’t have to reserve some crowded spot at an approved campground.

But those times at the beach! They were great because, for once, my parents went to the trouble of getting a cabin, with indoor plumbing and a stove to cook our food. And we could all go anywhere without clothes! The whole beach, or at least as far as Frannie and I were allowed to go, was a clothing optional beach. There, even my parents could enjoy the sun and surf in their nudity. There were other nudist people around, too.

Our last trip there was when I was fifteen and Fran was thirteen. We stopped going there because something happened. Nobody died, but ... well. As I said, Fran and I had always been close. So, yeah, we ended up fucking when I was 15 and she was 13. It was lust then, but colored by our family love for each other. Neither of us had any sense of ‘making love’, or I guess any sense at all, really.

It was that event I was referring to when I said something happened. When my dad caught me balls deep in our sweet little Frannie. I hope I’m never in the position we put him in. But dad was controlled. “Pamela? Will you come here, please?” His voice was stern, and louder than usual, but not a yell. “Don’t you two move,” he ordered us, his finger pointing our way. I’d been so startled I hadn’t pulled out of my baby sister’s cunt yet.

Mom came running, all out of breath. “What’s the troub-? ... Oh, shit! Damn! Damn! Damn! Your dad said we should ... but I didn’t want ... Oh shit,” she said. “Time out!” she said loudly. After a silent ‘time out’ of a few seconds, he stopped staring at us joined together on that bed, Mom said, “Bobby, take your penis out of your sister. Then, both of you, get cleaned up, then come to the living room. Steve, come with me. You need a drink.” My mom took charge, the way she sometimes did, but only when she had to.

We cleaned up together in the bathroom, as always. I helped Fran and she helped me. “What do you think they’ll do?” she whispered. “I don’t know. But Mom seemed ... I don’t know. Mad at first, but then ... kind of sad or something. She wasn’t making any sense.” We looked at each other and hugged tight another long time. I kissed her the way we’d learned from watching our parents (the same way we learned to fuck, by the way). We went out the open door (doors were never closed in our house) and on into the living room.

Mom and Dad both had short glasses of booze. Mom directed us to the couch and we sat. She glanced down and didn’t say anything for a while. Dad wasn’t looking at us. He just scowled into the distance and sipped his drink a couple of times before

Mom looked at us and smiled a sad smile. “I’m so sorry kids, this was our fault, not yours. Your dad said we should have told you a long time ago, but I wasn’t sure you were old enough to understand. Now though...” She gave a more Mom-like smile. “Now, though, I think you’ll understand.” She sipped her drink.