"What are you doing?" I frowned at my brother, although it was fairly obvious.

"Oh ... Uh ... Shit..." He jerked and hastened to cover his swollen member, although I'd seen it a thousand times before. Everyone had.

"Stories now?" I shook my head and I couldn't see the appeal of reading someone else's fantasies.

"I was just uh, voting..." he cleared his throat and blinked at me with his rheumy eyes.

"Voting?" I rolled my eyes. "I didn't even know you can read."

"Well, I can read a little," he said. "Mostly I just, um ... I like to give these people ones."

"You don't actually read the stories?" I looked at him, trying to understand. "You just give them the lowest possible score because..."

"Because uh, well ... I..."

"You're a fucking moron, I know." I laughed and he reddened a little more. "You better get ready, my friends are coming over pretty soon."

"Awww ... Tequila, do I have to?" he whined, the way he does.

"I promised, remember?" I put my hands on my hips and stared at him until he lowered his gaze. "Besides, maybe you'll find a girlfriend today."

"Really?" He glanced up quickly with a little hope flickering across his bland features.

"No!" I giggled. "Look at you. You're thirty-four years old, hopelessly out of shape with that rootbeer belly of yours; bowlegged, pigeon-toed, and cross-eyed. You're little wee-wee is smaller than my thumb and you're stupid and ugly too."

We didn't actually know how old he was, but that number was handy so I used it. He wasn't going to argue anyway, he wasn't the sort of creature who could contradict a real person to her face, no matter what outrageous thing she might say. He had a genuine fear of women; sort of a love-hate thing that stemmed from nursing on the neighbor's bitch as an infant. So far as babysitters went, I guess a dog wasn't bad, but then again, I wouldn't really know either.

"Yeah, but..." He made a face, trying to come up with something clever to balance the equation.

"But what?" I waited.

"Nothing," he sighed.

"That's what I thought," I nodded. "So hurry up and get in your clown suit, I told all my friends Bobo was going to be here today."

"Awww ... Bobo? Again?" My brother stuck out his bottom lip, as if it made him look like he was pouting somehow.

"Yeah, Bobo." I nodded seriously. "It's the only thing you're almost good at."

"I'm good at giving ones too!" he retorted, looking at his computer screen.

"That's the same thing, bonehead." I walked away.

My brother wasn't always big, dumb, and ugly. He was actually small, dumb, and ugly as a child and the rest of us kids, his younger brothers and sisters, grew up thinking he was just a weird reptile. Seriously, I think it was about the time I turned twelve or so that I realized he was actually some sort of human. That was pretty weird and my little sister Sammie still didn't believe it, even though she was fourteen already. She looked about twelve though because she'd stopped growing one day, for no reason at all.

I was sixteen. My brother Paul was seventeen and our oldest sister Rebecca was his twin. Bobo the Clown was thirty-four, give or take a few years, and nobody was quite sure where he'd come from, or how to send him back. Paul had tried mailing him to Botswana once, but the mailman just shook his head and walked by. He wasn't going to get near a lumpy package like that. One theory we had was that Bobo was really our grandfather, but for the life of me I couldn't imagine any woman letting the man stick anything of his inside her, and neither of our parents resembled him very much. In fact, nobody resembled him, except Spongebob Squarepants, sorta. They were both yellow anyway, although our brother had jaundice probably, or maybe malaria, it was hard to tell and I'm no veterinarian.

"Oh God, Paul!" I heard Rebecca moaning as I made my way towards the kitchen and I just shook my head.

"Are you guys fucking ... Again?" I turned the corner and sure enough, Paul had his twin sister bent over the breakfast counter and he was sliding his massive cock in and out of her hungry pussy.

"She bet me I couldn't do a hundred sit-ups in less than two minutes," Paul chuckled.

He paused with his cock pulled back; so that just the smooth head was lodged between our sister's stretched labia. It made my mouth water just looking at that big slab of man meat sandwiched between Rebecca's pale thighs. I'd lost that same bet the night before and I was still a little tender from the fucking Paul had given me, but not so bad as Sammie. She was tiny and I'd gotten the idea from her when she'd lost on Thursday after school. We did that a lot, us three sisters, stealing ideas from each other so that Paul would have an excuse to fuck our brains out.

"Now she's ... Ugh..." He slammed his cock deep, making Becky squeal with painful pleasure. " ... A sore loser!"

"Well, you better pull out," I told him. "She's probably ovulating."

"She shoulda ... Aghhh ... Fuck ... Thought of that ... Ughhh ... Before!" Paul grinned at me and slapped Becky's ass hard.

"Hey!" Becky gasped, but she was smiling and her feet were off the floor, kicking happily as her pussy wolfed down that big dick.

"I'm serious, if she's pregnant when Mom and Dad get back from their vacation..." I sometimes thought I was the only one with a shred of common sense in my family.

"D-Don't stop ... Fuck me ... Oh God ... Fuck a baby in me!" Becky wasn't helping.

"Did you hear me?" I frowned.

"I'm almost there, sis!" Paul was fucking her hard, and why wouldn't he?

Becky was seriously hot, all my dyke friends thought so, along with everyone else in town. She was like five foot ten or something equally ridiculous, really tight with narrow round hips and a hard pert butt. She was toned and if she'd been a boy she'd have had some real muscles, like Paul did. That guy was ripped and he could do a thousand sit-ups if he wanted to, and it just goes to show what good genes will do for you.

As opposed to our oldest brother, the one voting illiterate clown, who had only like fourteen and half chromosomes or something. He was mostly frog, I think, and I remembered the time I'd brought him to show and tell, asking my kindergarten classmates to guess what my brother was. The teacher got mad when my brother ate all the chalk and jerked off in her waste basket. We couldn't bring him to school anymore after that.

"We'll ... Ugh!! Just blame ... Bobo!" Paul grinned and grunted.

"No! Ohhh! Fuck me up!!" Becky was screaming.

Anyway, the twins were fucking and they were beautiful with their auburn hair, Rebecca's long and Paul's short, their forest green eyes, and wonderfully attractive faces. Paul looked slightly effeminate, the same way Rebecca almost looked a little boyish; but seriously, they were the two best looking people anyone knew and the fact that they were engaged to be married as soon as they graduated high school only broke a lot of hearts in our small town.

Oh! Not to each other of course, that would be incest ... No, Paul was getting married to his girlfriend, a French exchange student named Lisa Pavageau who was over here for eleventh grade. Twelfth grade too, most likely. She was only sixteen, like me, but I guess in France it's perfectly okay for girls her age to get engaged. At least when they're pregnant or something. When she called her parents on the phone to give them the big news, her father was so happy that he told her she could just stay in America forever.

Rebecca got engaged at seventeen, actually just a month ago now, and it was really quite the sensation. It wasn't so much her age that people fussed over, as it was her fiancé's, and of course the odd fact that besides being fifty-nine years old, Father Duncan had been the priest who'd baptized Rebecca as a baby. As soon as my sister graduated high school the old man was going to give up his sacred vows and stand on the other side of the alter, which was pretty neat in my opinion. At least Becky could be sure she was getting a virgin on her wedding night, I think. You never know with a priest, I suppose, but we were all glad that he was at least a confirmed heterosexual.

The whole town was happy about that, so no one was raising too much of a ruckus and attendance was up at mass these days. Everyone wanted to see the lucky SOB who was going to be fucking my sister every night, because she didn't put out for just anyone, no way. She fucked my brother, of course, since they'd basically been sleeping together since they were conceived. She fucked me too, but only cause Rebecca is a serious subbie slut if you know which buttons to push, but other than a few of my dyke tyke friends, that was about it.

Our baby sister Sammie, on the other hand, she'd fuck anything with less than five legs, except our oldest brother. Nobody wanted to fuck that clown. Everyone else was fair game though and little Sammie bagged her limit every night, believe me. She really was a diagnosed and confirmed nymphomaniac and she even took pills for it, but they didn't work. I suspected they were just a placebo anyway, since her therapist really liked banging the fuck out of my little sister between two and three every Wednesday afternoon. The problem wasn't in Sammie's head, that was for sure, it was between her legs.

I knew because I had to drive her to her appointments usually, since I was low girl on the totem pole. I'd sit in the waiting room, reading an old copy of Cosmo, listening to Sammie yelling "Fuck me, Daddy!" at the top of her lungs. The receptionists, a younger woman named Ruthie would blush and rub herself off while I pretended not to notice. She was the doctor's daughter and had her own Freudian issues, I was sure.

At three o'clock on the button, the door would open and Sammie would come staggering out, all bow-legged with her shaggy blonde hair mussed up beyond belief. Her eyes glazed and her small pouting lips curled into a languid smile. She'd giggle and rub her tummy maybe, smoothing her little catholic schoolgirl uniform, and wiping up some of the sticky remains of her therapy. She'd get a Tootsie-Pop from Ruthie, the one the woman had been using on herself, which was our little secret, Ruthie and me, and that would be that.

At least until we got to the car. Being nine tenths lesbian the way I am, Sammie was always willing to take advantage of me. And so she'd spread her legs and crook her finger, giving me her sexy come-hither look while she licked her cunt flavored lollipop, and I was helpless around her, I admit it. Sammie used me like an old dishtowel, but if Paul and Rebecca were in love with each other, Sammie was the love of my life, and she knew it.

She'd have me eating that old shrink's fresh spunk out of her pussy right there in the parking lot, on my knees on the asphalt, smothering myself on her fourteen year old preteen cunt while protestors watched and cheered me on. There was an abortion clinic in the same building and so they loved seeing a little lesbian action, especially since I was sucking virile sperm out of my sister's fertile twat. I was the poster girl for the Moral Minority and they'd wanted me to work their fund-raiser kissing both at the county fair last year, but all I wanted to do was live in Sammie's vagina.

I loved the way she tasted. I mean, the girl tasted like honey from the comb, with just a dash of lemon juice. Mostly hot and sweet, but with a little tang to keep it honest, and even a big boat load of salty semen couldn't hide the rich flavor of Sammie's orgasms. She came a lot and she was a little squirter too, so I always started with her thighs cause they were invariably soaked. I loved Sammie and she really made me wish I was a boy sometimes, just so I could feel her all hot and tight and wrapped around my sex.

She's so small too, I just wanted to break her sometimes, and that was the thing with Sammie — She's tough. She can take it. Like our brother's cock. I mean, it's a good nine inches long probably, maybe more, and he'd been feeding it to Sammie's little pussy since she turned twelve and it became obvious she wasn't gonna grow anymore. Not all of it at first, you know, but after awhile she could take every last inch and now he really had to punch fuck her if Paul wanted to make a point. He loved her though, naturally, and he never tried to hurt her or anything ... He just wanted to make her squeal the way Becky did when she was twelve.

I'm kind of the dark sheep of the family, but only because I want to be. I mean, every family has to have one and Paul and Rebecca are beautiful, Sammy is a nympho, Bobo is whatever he is, and so that left me with being the bad girl. I don't mind it so much. I get to stay out late and swear a lot, and when someone is doing something stupid I get to tell them. It's a pretty good job really and once I got a reputation, well it just feeds itself pretty much. I hardly have to do anything anymore.

I'm a little bigger than Sammie, who is small and delicate, sort of elfin really, with her blonde hair and non-existent tits. She stopped growing when she was twelve, we all think, and there's a medical term for that, but I forget what it is. We just call it Sammie Syndrome when people ask. Anyway, she wasn't too thrilled at first, but now she's pretty happy about it. She never gets a period, for one thing, and there's like a zillion guys who just want to fuck twelve year old girls for some reason. It's so weird and she's sort of like Karl's erstwhile brother said: Sammie doesn't want to fuck anyone who'd want to fuck her, since she's just a little kid ... But then her nymphomania kicks in and it's all okay again.

All my friends want to fuck her, mostly cause she looks like a little Barbie Doll, if they made "Child Porn-Star Barbie" you know? She's not into girls at all though, except getting her pussy sucked after a good fuck, and Sammie always wants me to do it, since I love her and all. It's like she punishes me with the reward or something. She talks dirty too! Good grief that little girl has a nasty mouth when she fucks! She's a total Domme Bitch and when she's a little older, like twenty maybe, but still looking twelve of course, she's going to be insanely fun! I can hardly wait! I already told her I'd be her pussy slave forever if she'd let me, but Sammie just laughs and slaps my face and tells me to get my tongue in her baby uterus.

What a tease.

That's my problem, and my talent I guess, being a switch. I can Top or bottom, it doesn't really matter to me, so long as it's fun. It makes me real popular at parties, as you can imagine. That and the fact that I'm pretty smart. A lot of people are smart, that isn't really a big thing, but a lot of people don't express it well either. I'm pretty quick mentally, with a good memory and an agile wit, plus I'm a real people person. I like people, seriously, and I like talking to them. It's almost as much fun as fucking, so whenever possible I like to combine them, you know? Conversational sex is great. That's why they invented the telephone, probably. I have one of those hands-free wireless headsets in my bedroom and that was the best thirty bucks I ever spent!

Anyway, being the black sheep like I am, it sorta happens I look like a black sheep too. Not African black, more like Latina black, which is more like a nice hot cup of coffee with a little non-dairy creamy in it. I'm seriously caffeinated and very sweet too. Don't doubt it. We think my exotic looks come from a repressed gene on my father's side of the family, but it's hard telling for sure. Our parents do travel far and often, and so it's entirely possible some bullfighter in Madrid took a little run at Momma's eggs on her honeymoon. That's what I like to blame it on. Dad blames it on tequila and that's not just my first name, it's my middle name too, by the way. Tequila Tequila, that's me, and it's pretty cool. I got that name cause I'm a double shot of pain killer straight up, according to Daddy. But he's teasing when he says that; he knows I'm as queer as Elton John's pet hairdresser.

So my skin is brown and my hair is black. I got a cute nose and generous smile, everybody likes my smile, and my ass too. I have a killer butt, seriously, it's always getting me in trouble. I have kind of a hard body, you know, because I'm a lesbian and all. A little bull dyke, cause of my matador father maybe, and I like to wear leather and I got piercings everywhere. Ears, nose, lip, tongue, the hood of my clit, my belly button. I got my ass pierced when I was eleven, but that was by a cop downtown when I got picked up for shoplifting a 36 inch double dong out of the town's only adult bookstore. It was bigger than I was, but I've never been an underachiever. Until now that is.

Anyway, that crime dog ... He fucked my ass hard when he found out it was the day before my birthday, cause he had a thing for eleven year olds I guess. Twelve year olds turned him off he said, cause they're "too fuckin' old." And then he threw me in a small cell with a big black woman named Doris who taught me the finer points of being a dyke daddy's little muffin, since I was just eleven like I said and doing hard time. Any time is hard when you're in fifth grade.

I was a little reluctant at first, but after Doris kicked my ass for awhile, I saw the light. My parents left me there for three days, you know, so I'd be 'scared straight' but all I really got was blisters on my tongue after Doris traded me to a gang of Vietnamese prostitutes for a pack of Kools and dildo made out of soap.

That was pretty much the best three days of my life and I came out of the closet on the drive home, telling my parents I was seriously gay. Well, I didn't say gay, I told them I was a cunt hungry pussy slut, the way Doris had taught me to say it, you know, with a little growl. But they got the idea and told me it was okay, so long as I was happy and didn't steal anymore stuff.

Since I'd spent my birthday in jail with Doris, and that was actually cool cause I could say I spent a year in jail, even though it was just three days, except I went in when I was eleven and got out when I was twelve so I let people assume, anyway ... Being my birthday and all, Mom and Dad asked me what I wanted and that was how I got my first tattoo, cause you can't go to prison without getting a tat, you know?

It was pretty awesome being the first girl in elementary school with a tattoo.

I got a little cherry with a knife through it, dripping blood. There's a wavy ribbon banner sorta thing that says "Doris" on it, just cause I always want to remember the person who broke my cherry, see? She's special in my heart and stuff, like Byron says in Don Juan. It's right on the inside of my left thigh, really close to my pussy too, and it hurt a lot, but now everyone who ever goes down on me will know who got there first.

It's super cool looking and everytime I get a new girlfriend, first thing she has to do is kiss Doris and give the woman her props, even though I have no idea whatever happened to her. It isn't important though, it's the idea that matters, like Thomas Aquinas said. Or if you haven't read "On Being and Essence", and seriously, you ought to, then, well ... Never mind. Thomas Aquinas suffered from priapism, as we all know, and it was an obvious influence. Did you know that? I'll try to use smaller words in the future; I just made a bet with the chick writing this that I could find a way to say it and then she'd have to write it down. Now she has to give me a seriously hot sex scene with Sammie later.

Back to the twins fucking.

"Oh, let them have their fun." I heard Sammie giggling and I hadn't noticed her sitting on the floor by the refrigerator.

"What are you doing?" I stared at my little sister, watching as she rubbed a stick of butter over her hairless preteen pussy.

"Making popcorn." She smiled at me and that was what we called jilling off in front of other people, or even in front of each other, just cause it sounded funny. Making popcorn.

"Oh yeah?" I licked my lips and I swear, Sammie has the most beautiful pussy in the world. If I die and I get reincarnated, I want to come back as her clitoris.

"Uh-Huh..." she nodded slowly. " ... You wanna taste it?"

"Mmmm..." I was already getting on my hands and knees like the little pussy bitch I was.