Chapter 2: About Anne

When Mom and Dad brought me home from the hospital, Mom put me into a crib next to the bed where she slept with Dad and Frank, my two-years-older brother. When I woke up and cried, she'd just pull me into the bed and plug me onto her breast.

When I was two, my kid brother Ralph came along, and the same thing happened for him. I would snuggle up with Dad or Frank and go back to sleep. Sometimes Frank or I would take a little from Mom's other breast. Frank, of course, was four, and he wasn't wearing diapers any more, so he slept naked, just like Dad and Mom. When I got out of diapers, so did I.

I remember how I would wake up at night when Dad and Mom came to bed and put the light on. I could watch them make love. They sometimes did it during the night again, and almost always in the morning. Usually, they would pull me and whoever else was in the bed up close and kiss us and hug us while they made love. When they made love during the day, they almost always left the bedroom door open, and sometimes we would go and watch them while they played.

When Frank was about four and a half, he decided he wanted his own bed, so he left and went to sleep in his own room. Sometimes he would come back to bed with the rest of us, especially in the mornings when we were all loving and hugging and kissing.

When I was about the same age, I got my own room, too. But usually, I would sleep with Frank, or he would come and sleep with me. We never had pajamas, and it was great to snuggle up together, our bare skin touching all over.

Upstairs in our house is Bare Country. We don't have to wear anything, and we all shower and use the bathrooms together. We usually leave our doors open, except in the winter when it's cold and we have the windows open only at night. So, we can hear Mom and Dad making love and talking. And we can join them any time.

Downstairs, we usually wear something in case someone comes to the door or wanders through the back yard. Of course, 'something' has never meant much. Mom often goes around in just a tee-shirt that barely covers her bottom. You can see everything when she bends over.

Mom and Dad are writers. They write technical books about all sorts of things. Their office is a small house in the back yard, where they have their computers and where they go every day to work. While we were little, we'd hang out there and play: built-in day care.

They are talkers, too. We all talk all the time, and they want to know what we're thinking about, and what we feel about things and what we are doing, and why. But it's because they are interested, not because they want to tell us what to do. We all talk a lot.

With both my brothers sharing my bed, and vice versa, we had no problems touching each other. I used to play with their little dicks, and they'd play with my pussy. No big deal, except after a while we discovered it felt good, and we started doing it more.

I learned how to take Frank in my mouth, and I made him return the favor: I showed him how to finger fuck me. When we got older we discovered that orgasms were great, and I told Mom about it. She agreed, and we all had a long talk about how much fun it was, and how, one of these days, there'd be stuff coming out of Frank's cock. When it did, I decided I liked the way it tasted.

One day, while munching on my pussy, one of my brothers noticed I had a hair in my crotch. Frank was always wondering when he'd get some, but I was first. So, I told him to pull the hair out with his teeth so no one would feel bad. That happened fairly often after that, and I sort of got used to them pulling out the hair in my crotch. Then I noticed I was getting hair under my arms. I went to Mom.

"Mom," I said, "I'm getting hair under my arms. Should I pull it out, too?"

Well, that started a discussion that ended up with Mom realizing I was missing the hair on my pussy because I'd had it pulled out as fast as it came in. My pits were, of course, normal. We talked it over and I decided that I'd just shave my pits like the other girls. And, if anyone asked why I had no hair in my crotch, I would just say I'm bald.

This also meant that I was getting close to puberty. We had to agree that Frank wasn't allowed to put his cock in my pussy, so he had to get along with blowjobs until I found out about ass fucking.

I got my period without any trouble. Mom put me on the pill not too long after because of Frank and because I had already found some friends who were both boys and horny. Since I was horny, too, we'd all practiced the moves I'd seen Mom and Dad do. I made sure that my friends didn't need to talk about our games.

All through this time, I always felt like I was someone. I mean, Mom and Dad talked to me like I was a person, not a kid. Frank did, too, except once in a while he would get all male, and "Let-Me-Tell-You". Usually it was so silly, I'd just laugh, and he would catch on and change his tune. And I could talk to Mom and Dad the same way. If I didn't agree with something they told me, Dad would say, "You check this out, and tell us what you think." And I would, and we would argue and discuss until we came up with something we could all live with.

Dad once said, "The most important thing is keeping our family together and happy. Next to that is getting you kids ready to live in the world as it is, not the way we wish it were. The most useful way of doing that is to make sure you think and talk and act like grown up, intelligent human beings, not like animals or Bozo dolls."

Keeping us together meant not saying anything about how we went around naked and all. We had long talks about what could happen if we said the wrong things. Staying happy meant loving each other and showing it in all we did, even in our criticism. And we learned in a hurry which of our friends we could trust — especially those guys I played around with.

Living in the world meant talking about what was going on, and why, and what it meant — if anything. We learned to see good and bad where it was, even in the same person or event, and to talk about how we felt about it. Sometimes one of us would get some weird idea and hang on to it, but when that happened, everyone would start pointing out the inconsistencies and contradictions, until you just had to give up.

I was about fourteen when I announced I was in love with some music star 'Because he's so cute'. Well, then I had to say why he was cute, and what was so cute about his superior attitude, and his dirty hair, and his macho behavior. Not that it was easy to identify what was going on in my mind. I clung to that crush for at least a week before I realized how silly it was.

Our way of life helped a lot. I never fell in love with half-naked rock stars because I had my all-naked brothers. And when Frank went ga-ga over his first girl, he got the same razzing back in spades, and it wasn't long before he could confess his love for her and what it meant to him.

By the time Frank was fifteen he was looking seriously at a lot of girls. He told me the first time he screwed one of the girls in his class, and from then on, he slept around a lot. Dad kept him supplied with condoms and made him promise always to use one. We talked about VD and AIDS and we all knew we didn't want that. Besides, most of the girls Frank screwed didn't think they could get pregnant, which meant not just that they were dumb as posts, it meant they weren't on the pill and he didn't want to knock anyone up.

When I got into Junior High, the guys were really bad, always after the girls. The guys I fooled around with at home were okay, but suddenly there were a lot more of them, and they acted differently. I decided I wasn't going to let any of them have me and I made sure they didn't try to feel me up more than once. I'm not tall, but I'm strong, and Dad and Frank taught me how to take care of myself. The funny part of it was, I got a reputation as a virgin — none of my childhood buddies squealed on me. I didn't argue with the label, and we all had a good laugh.

I also got started swimming on the school swim team. It was fun and I liked working out with the guys and the other girls. At first, I got some teasing from the girls because I'm bald down there, but that passed, and I got to be pretty good at the longer distances in free style and sprints in butterfly. My shoulders got pretty muscular. Mom says that's good because I have pretty good-size breasts. "You need to have something to hang them from," she said.

I traveled a lot with the team, and we'd sit in the back of the bus and neck a lot. Spending so much time together wearing just Speedo suits meant we didn't have any illusions about each other's bodies, so we got pretty casual, even though the coaches tried to keep things clean.

On one long bus trip home late in the evening, I was sitting on the back seat of the bus with some of the boys and some of the girls. We started playing sort of musical chairs, switching places. Every time we took a new seat, we'd kiss the boy next to us, and they would feel us up. That got kind of tame, so then they would put their hands under our shirts or our skirts, and we would pull on their cocks or suck them and they would play with us until we all started coming. We played with each other like that a lot on trips. Funny thing, though. None of us ever actually screwed. At least not then.

Eventually boys started asking me out. That was still in junior high, and I was still 'The Virgin'. I would go out with guys, and usually Dad would drive us. So there wasn't much chance for the guys to fool around. The really difficult time was right after school, and I made sure I headed home fast. At least I got my homework done.

Partly because of the family's emphasis on quality performance, but mostly because I always did my homework, I got good marks. There were a few others who did, too, and I sort of got to know them, hung out with them. One girl I liked a lot, Marianne, was black and lived not too far from my house.