Chapter 2

There are things about your parents that you should probably never find out. Never in a million zillion years would I have believed that something like that happened to my own mother on her wedding day ... and what happened after that, too. This is also when I learned what all those different hair colors of my uncles meant.

"You're kidding!" I moaned, for perhaps the tenth or twentieth time.

"No," she insisted. "Your uncles are, in reality, my HALF brothers, though nobody ever called them that, or treated them that way. By the time Tony came along she was just so used to the Parker name that she kept it for him too. It was easier, especially since she knew she was going to get divorced again."

She went on.

"And it wasn't just your grandmother who couldn't turn a man down. I was that way too. The women in this family are cursed with a libido the size of King Kong."

"Why didn't you ever tell me this before now?" I asked.

"Because I was hoping you were normal. You looked normal, and acted normal. I still hope you're normal."

"Well of COURSE I'm normal," I said in an agitated voice. "I mean I THINK I'm normal. Why wouldn't I be normal?" I frowned. "How do you even know if you ARE normal?"

She sighed again, and took another tiny stitch. "I could ask you some questions, but they'll be very personal."

"What kind of questions?"

"About your sex life."

"Eeep!" I gasped.

"See? That's one of the things that gave me hope. You don't flaunt it. I've even held out hope that you're still a virgin. Are you, honey?" She sounded so hopeful that it distracted me from the fact that my mother just asked me if I'd ever had sex.

"Well ... sort of," I said, trying to keep her hope alive.

"You can't be sort of a virgin," she said, "just like you can't be sort of pregnant."

"What I mean is that I fooled around with a lot of boys, but I never let any of them actually put it in me. Not there, anyway." I closed my eyes. I'd just blurted out something I had never intended to tell anybody ... not even my husband if he wanted to do it too!

"I tried that a couple of times," said my mother casually. "Didn't much care for it. I prefer a man stick it where nature intended it to be stuck."

"Mom!" I moaned.

"Well you asked!" she snapped. "And that's just the tip of the iceberg, so get over being shocked. There's a lot more to come. Your grandmother is a member of the mile high club and she joined in a biplane during a ride with a crop duster when she was eighteen!"

"You're KIDDING!" I gasped weakly.

"And they didn't have autopilots in those days either," said my mother. She sounded impressed. Then she got back to me.

"How many boys have you fooled around with?"

"I don't remember," I fudged.

"Yes you do. I do and it's a very high two digit number. Yours is probably still in the single digits, so give."

I had never actually counted them up, and did so now, going over them in chronological order in my mind. There was Timmy, who taught me how to French kiss and groped my boobs when I was eleven. I decided he was first because playing doctor didn't count in my book. Then there was Daniel, who was the first to get his hand in my panties. Stevie got my top half naked, and Phillip got me ALL naked. I almost let him put it in me, but sucked him off instead. I always kept something on after that, so while Nathaniel, and Brody got their tongues or fingers in me, that was all. Jamal was the one who talked me into letting him into my bottom. He liked it, but I didn't. I became an expert at giving a blowjob that would satisfy just about any boy, which was why I never had to fight anybody off.

This is not to say I never had anything in my pussy besides fingers and tongues. My best friend Melody got her hands on a dildo and we both decided that toys were as good as boys, and a lot safer too.

"Seven," I finally said.

"And none of them actually got you to go all the way?"

"I had ... um ... other means of fulfilling that particular desire," I said carefully.

"Did it have a vibrator built in?" asked my mom, straight faced.

"No," I said in a very small voice as I blushed bright red.

"Get one that vibrates," she said sagely. "The rabbit is the best design I've ever found, and they're not so expensive any more."

"What does this have to do with anything?" I asked weakly.

"As I said, the women in our family are sluts. We can't keep our legs closed. You've resisted, and that's good. The tradition might actually work in your case. The whole point of it was to have one last fling before giving all that up for your new husband. It was supposed to sort of get it out of your system, I guess, and with men you could trust."

"But it didn't work that way for you?"

"Not hardly," she sighed. "Though it came in awfully handy when I got divorced."

I blanched. "Surely you don't mean..."

My own mother looked me dead in the eye. "It beats going to singles bars. Trust me on that."

I know it looks like I've left some stuff out, or that I've been trying to tease you or something, but I'm really trying to lay it out for you as honestly as possible, and in the order things happened. I mean, considering the outcome, I really need you to understand that I didn't plan on any of this to happen originally. Neither did my mom, for that matter. But because I just couldn't leave it alone, I learned some things that changed the way I thought about all sorts of things ... and people.

But this is getting long, so I'll cut to the chase and just tell you about my own wedding day. I'll try not to interrupt too much with explanations. The one thing you need to know up front is that somehow - and I still don't quite understand how - I ended up saying that I wanted to try out the family tradition.

That sounds easy, like I just said "I'll give that a shot." But it wasn't anywhere near that easy.

Still ... I had my reasons for doing it.

I got married on a Saturday. That's because relatives were coming from way far away, hundreds and hundreds of miles in some cases, and we aren't a rich family so most people needed the time to be able to drive to and from the wedding while missing a minimum of work.

The ceremony was scheduled to start at three PM sharp, and be over at three-thirty. With photographs until four, that put the reception at a time when people would be beginning to get hungry, and food would be appreciated. The reception was early enough that people who had to leave that night could still participate.

It also meant that, between about eight in the morning and two-fifty-five PM, I had nothing to do but get ready to walk down the aisle. This is because Melody, my best friend, was also my Maid of Honor, and she was the organizer from hell. Once she learned what all the plans were, she went into supervisor mode, which meant she didn't want any help from me, because my job was to relax and look beautiful.

I could have slept until noon and then gone to the hall. But that's not what the tradition called for.

Around nine in the morning I was in my dressing room, sitting there in my new lacy bra and frilly high rise panties, trying to figure out how the garter belt worked when there was a knock on the door. I went to the door and opened it a crack. My Uncle Dan was standing there in a suit, looking uncomfortable.

"Your mother told me to come see you," he said.

"Oh. Right."

I stepped back, a little nervously, and pulled the door open. His eyes got all big and round as he saw how I was dressed and he gulped, but then stepped in and hastily closed the door. He locked it too. "I don't believe this," he whispered, staring me up and down.