A month and a half ago, I submitted my first story "Kayla's Serenade" to Literotica. The response was wonderful and encouraging. This story is a bit more earthy, and told through the eyes of Beth, a wonderful, foul-mouthed, and endearing, little girl. I hope you will come to love her as I have.
Hi. I guess before beginning my story, I should introduce myself. I'm Beth. That's short for Elspeth. I'm not sure why any self-respecting parent would name a child Elspeth. It's a fucking nightmare to grow up with. When you're not being called Elizabeth, you're most probably not being called anything, because Americans are so fucking stupid they can't pronounce themselves out of a paper bag. So from a very young age I just settled for plain Beth.
My parents had many strange ideas. They believed in a family bed, that is, a big fucking futon that took up most of the floor of the bedroom. Yup! No bed. Just a big fucking mattress/futon on the floor, and from the minute I was born, that's where I slept...between mom and dad. They were green before the word was coined. I was born on the couch at home. That is, another futon that was sort of rolled up a certain way to look like a couch in the living room. The midwife caught me as I popped out and everybody screamed and laughed and were elated that they had bucked the hospital system and had a healthy baby at home. Not that I remember a fucking thing, but growing up I had to endlessly look at pictures of the bloody event.
They also believed that everything we ever used could someday be reused or recycled, so nothing was ever thrown away and the whole house was piled high with junk in every corner. It was embarrassing as hell to have any of my friends over. Add to all the above that my parents were fucking nudists and would walk around the house butt naked most of the time. Jesus!
By some miracle I survived my childhood unharmed and probably a lot more liberal than most kids my age, not to mention more savvy about certain things. Don't get me wrong...I was never abused or anything. As a matter of fact, by the time I was sixteen, I probably knew less about the mechanics of sex than most kids my age, largely due to the fact that my world had vastly changed in the intervening years.
As a young child, my parents, as liberal as they seemed, were very reserved in their sexual practices. In other words, as far as I was aware, they never had sex at all. It just wasn't part of the liberal agenda they encouraged. Even they could draw the line somewhere. Of course, I knew the parts of the body and the differences between guys and girls. Hell, I'd seen enough of my dad's hairy pecker and my mom's bushy muff to last a lifetime. I just didn't quite know their significance, except that guys could pee standing up...which always pissed me off! Pardon the pun.
One of my favorite holidays was always Halloween. I know I'm rambling, but bear with me; we got a lot to cover. Of course, in my town you could only trick-or-treat if you were twelve and under. Needless to say, my twelfth Halloween had to be super special. I might explain that when I was a kid I was tiny. Tiny! I was easily a head shorter than all my buddies. Even now I'm trying to reach five feet, but I fall about an inch and a half short of the mark. When I was twelve, all my friends were busting the five foot mark wide open, and I was barely touching four and a half. It was cute, but cute isn't a nice word when you're twelve and everybody thinks you're eight.
I was also a Disney freak. Princesses, fairies, you name it. We were at the mall and I had fallen in love with a Tinker Bell costume that fit me to a T, even though it was meant to fit someone much younger. And shit! Did I look cute in it or what?! So my last Halloween I was going to be Tinker Bell, come hell or high water.
Watching Tinker Bell is an enlightening experience. What were the animators thinking? Every time she bends over with that fucking wand of hers, she flashes the whole fucking world. Yup, that's right. She has the shortest fucking skirt in the entire world of animation, even shorter than Betty Boop's! And she shamelessly exposes herself to everyone. The subliminal message is oozing. No wonder dads take their little girls to see Tinker Bell; subliminally they are either jerking off or fucking her, while their little girls are giggling like...well, like little girls.
Something else I noticed about Tinker Bell; she never seemed to be wearing underwear! I'd watch like an eagle to see something, but nope; no panties, no panty lines, only bare hips when the wind blew her skirt up.
A few months before, just before St. Patrick's Day, my mom had bought a tiny little green thong that tied on the sides. It was her costume for a nudist party...and it was hot! I didn't go to the party because there was a lot of drinking and stuff, but I knew something was fucked up when my parents got home half drunk and my dad was pissed. Not just a little I'm-a-little-pissed-but-I'll-sleep-it-off pissed; but knock-down-the-walls-only-the-law-keeps-me-from-killing-you pissed. I was afraid. For weeks Dad slept on the couch, while Mom and I slept in the bedroom. Mom cried a lot. Dad just ignored us. But time eventually healed the wounds and they began to talk and Dad finally came back to bed.
Mom stuck the thong deep in a drawer and forgot about it.
Anyway, it was Halloween. My parents, who didn't care much for make-up ("I prefer what nature gave you," Dad would tell Mom), had to give in and buy me a compact so I could do the Tinker Bell thing to the max. By the way, I didn't tell you I have bushy blond hair, which is another reason I liked Tink. So there I was, made up, dressed up, and fit to be tied! This was going to be the Halloween to remember, that was for sure. I was dressed in a little green dress with a zigzag hem framing my young hips; with just enough boobs to hold the strapless top up...actually, it had straps but I cut them off to look more correct, not to mention some two-way tape to make sure it stayed up.
For my candy I used a little basket made out of vines. Everything had to be just right. I modeled the outfit before Mom and Dad, who were very impressed. Dad particularly admired what he saw, but something was bothering him.
"Uhm," he said, looking at me carefully, "Honey, are you wearing any panties? I know we're nudists in the home, but it doesn't float well out on the streets."
Very proudly, I lifted the short hip-tight skirt to reveal the tiny green thong.
I guess naiveté is something that is a part of my make up, but what happened next left me speechless.
"You kept it?!" Dad roared at Mom.
Mom sat there awestruck, looking at the green thong she thought was buried, hidden, and forgotten.
"Yes, but..." was Mom's only response.
Honestly, Dad was stuck between ruining my Halloween completely or brow-beating Mom with an angry torrent of pent up emotions. He stood up, red-faced and trembling, and stormed from the room.
"I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to..." I stuttered, beginning to tremble myself.
"It's ok, Beth, it wasn't your fault," she replied. Mom gave me a big hug and attempted a smile as she told me to have a good Halloween and enjoy myself trick-or-treating with the other kids in the neighborhood. I cautiously walked out the door onto the street, wondering if I had done something terribly wrong. As soon as my friends saw me, all they could do was like "Wow!" and "Cool!" me to death over the costume that I thought would be my crowning glory, but somehow had backfired, causing friction, the nature of which made me shudder, wondering what was going on back home.
All that aside, for an hour or so, I was the coup-de-grace of the Halloween scene. Everyone extended endless compliments wherever I went. The other kids wanted to be seen with me. It was the Halloween to remember. I often noticed, walking away from the houses, how the older men were eyeing me. I made sure to wiggle my butt in a playful manner, just like Tink! Everything was perfect. Except...
When I got home, things were very quiet in the house. The lights were out and the candy basket was still full. I don't think Mom and Dad had handed any out. I went upstairs and took my costume off and went to bed. But Mom wasn't there. I looked all over the house. She wasn't anywhere. She was just gone. I've never seen her since.
So there I was, standing in the living room in a tiny green thong. I knew something awful had happened. I took it off and threw it in the trash. "What a fucking idiot I am!" I told myself out loud. Dad came up behind me and assured me it wasn't my fault. We popped some popcorn and ate some candy and watched, of all things, a Tinker Bell movie.
Fast forward to now. Six years later. You wouldn't recognize the place. Dad sort of went yuppie crazy after Mom left. First to go was all the STUFF that had been piling up for years. We started with a yard sale, and you wouldn't believe how many people buy other people's trash. We made a pretty penny, but we sold only a fraction of what we had, so Dad rented a flatbed truck and piled it all in and we took it all to the dump. The house fucking echoed with all the space we had.
Next to go was Mom's stuff. That was a little hard on both of us, but neither of us knew where she had gone, and we couldn't just dance around it like she was gonna walk through the door any minute. She had worked at home as a medical records keeper in the second bedroom. After six months we hired a smaller flatbed and hauled the entire room's contents to the dump. We high-fived each other and said good riddance, but we were still trying to get used to it...living alone without her.
Next thing you know, we were shopping for a real bed. One with legs and mattress and box springs. Just like real people. Dad bought a shiny new four-poster, and I bought a cute little twin with a canopy top. I told Dad I felt like a princess when I went to bed at night...in my own room and everything!
The years passed. Dad rose in the community, becoming an activist for many improvements, speaking before the city council on occasion, and generally helping to make the world a better place. He never went to another nudist event. He didn't seem to care about that aspect of his past life anymore.
I finished high school and went to a local community college. I didn't want the drunken, frat party, college life. I liked home. I liked my dad. We had worked hard over the past few years to keep a clean house and provide meals for each other and fill in the empty hole in our lives which Mom had left.
I was now eighteen, with a couple of months of community college under my belt. Dad and I took turns making dinner, ordering take out Chinese or pizza twice a week and watching movies at night to pass the time. I'd curl up in his arms on the couch, which was actually a real couch...the fucking futons were a thing of the past, and everything always seemed so nice and cozy. Though our nudist past had also been left behind, we didn't try that hard to cover up around each other, but it was simple innocent stuff, like walking to my room from the shower without a towel, or just wearing a sports bra and panties while watching TV. We had spent so much naked time growing up with each other; it never was a sexual thing anyway.
Then the day came. I had gone to the store after class to buy the goodies. When I came home with five bags of candy, my father said, "What all this? You know I'm on a diet." I laughed and told him it was Halloween.
We turned on scary music and had a fun time watching all the kids coming up the sidewalk. Halloween is still my favorite holiday. After a while the endless line of trick-or-treaters died away and Dad and I sat down on the couch with some hot chocolate and began to talk about Halloweens past. We steered clear of one Halloween though. It always bothered me, but I respected his silence. I tested the waters just slightly.
"Dad," I gently prodded, "What happened?"
"What do you mean?" he answered.
"Do you always have to answer a question with another question?" I asked, frustrated.
"Do I do that?
We both stopped, taking in the situation, and started giggling.
"I mean," I continued, "What happened that night you took Mom out to the nudist party on St. Patrick's Day?"
For a moment I thought I had gone too far. A cloud seemed to pass over us and the cold made me shiver. He sat up and looked at me. I guess he was trying to decide if it was any of my business, or maybe if I was old enough to be told what had happened. He let out a long sigh and just shook his head.
"Do you really want to know?" he asked me.
Not sure what I was getting myself into, I whispered, "Yes, Dad, I think I should know."
"It isn't pretty," he continued, "And I don't know how to tell it without using some very vulgar and mature language. But here goes. Sit back, Beth, and listen quietly."
I braced myself for whatever was coming, and sat back.
"After you were born, your mom and I were very proud. We wanted to raise you with an open mind, free of the many social fetters that haunt our lives. But our own lives were changing as we got older and we didn't tune in to the subtle changes at the same time. Our sex life had grown stale and uninteresting. For a while, after you were born, we fucked like rabbits on a regular basis, right there in bed, while you slept like an innocent baby. But as you grew, we decided to move the sex elsewhere...in the shower, in front of the bathroom mirror, but it became less and less thrilling. We eventually stopped having sex altogether.
"This went on for years until we settled into a pattern of sexless caring for each other, and for you. Then we got this invitation to attend a nudist party on St. Patrick's Day. From the invitation we knew it was going to be a little wild, lots of drinking, which usually results in careless bouts of touching and feeling, among other things. Your mom wanted to go. We hadn't been a part of the nudist community for a couple of years and it would be nice to see old friends again. She even went out and bought a..."
Here he stopped, wondering if he should continue.
"A little green thong," I finished for him.
"Yes," he said, "The little green thong. It was quite sexy and alluring. Sometimes when everybody is nude, a tiny piece of clothing can be very provocative. It's funny how it works that way."
He struggled to continue.
"Anyway, we had a bit to drink, and everybody was a little shit-faced, your mom more than most. The music was blaring and she started dancing, not just a little shaking and rattling, but slow and seductive, oozing suggestive body language with each subtle movement. It was pretty shameless really."
He stopped and thought, as if seeing it all again. I looked at his eyes, which gazed into oblivion at the remembrance, and noticed his dick was hard, but I didn't let him know I had noticed. In fact, I'm not sure he was aware of it.
"Suddenly, she noticed several of the guys were reaching out, trying to untie the hip-strings of the thong she was wearing. One fellow nearly nabbed it, but she slapped his hand and suddenly called out above the music, 'Anyone who can take it off me, gets what's inside!' Then there was a sudden surge, as guys began to stumble and stagger all around her, laughing and making a great game of it.
"She ran out into the yard, followed by about seven or eight guys, myself included. The drink though, was getting to me, and soon I was heaving my guts out against the trunk of a tree. Meanwhile, the other guys were stumbling and staggering around my wife, trying unsuccessfully to untie the tiny thong and claim the prize. Finally, they formed a huddle and made a plan. They slowly circled around your mom and closed in, tackling her, and as a team, stripped her of the thong. Mind you, there was a lot of fondling in the process, and your mom seemed to enjoy it all immensely. But the problem came when they all claimed the prize, seeing that the only way they could strip it off her was as a team. Eight members of the team...eight claimants!
"Then I said, 'Fun's over. We gotta get home.' But your mom wasn't ready to go yet. 'Let 'em claim the prize,' she said, 'It's only fair.'
"So there I sat, totally dumbfounded and open-mouthed. My feeble efforts to stop the process were thwarted when a few of the guys, on your mom's instruction, used the thong to tie my hands to the grill next to the picnic table. It was all fun and games. Everybody was laughing. Everybody was having a good time. Everybody, that is, but me.
"She began to do her little seductive dance again, except there was no thong to cover the pussy she was inviting the men to play with. Of course, being a nudist party, the proud octet who had de-thonged her were sporting naked hard-ons that were unassistedly sticking straight up in the moonlight, waiting to claim the prize being offered. Hands were reaching out to squeeze her tits and ass, while slowly she swayed up against the picnic table and laid back, drawing her knees up and exposing her moist spread, indicating with her index finger that she was ready for the first claimant to take his prize.
"What happened then was total abandon. There I was watching, as those, who I thought were friends, began to caress and fondle and eat my wife. They crowded around the table and she became the smorgasbord for their mouths, tongues and dicks. There was one guy French-kissing the shit out of her mouth, while another was sucking her left tit entirely into his mouth. The other tit was being nipple teased to a hard erection by another, and another was eating out her pussy, his face buried deep within her cunt which was flowing with creamy excitement. One guy was even excitedly licking between her toes like some ravenous mother fucker who'd not had a woman in years.
"She began to have an orgasm, screaming and squirming, not to mention squirting like a firehose all over the guy eating her out. I had never seen her do that. He just laughed and began to fuck her pussy fast and furious while the others urged him on, clapping and approving his performance and endurance. For all I hated what I was seeing, my cock was also throbbing. It was like watching the best group fuck video ever, except this was no professional porn star, it was my wife!
"She began to writhe and scream as she experienced orgasm after orgasm. The guys took turns violating her. After about the third fuck, she slid off the table and turned around to present that delicious ass of hers. The guys went ape-shit, pulling and tugging at each other to get at her. Some were dragged off of her before cumming and after about half an hour of constant and unremitting pounding, one guy with a huge schlong, grabbed a jar of mayonnaise from the cold cuts table, and slathered his prick with it; ramming it right up her fucking asshole. By this time I had untied the carelessly tied thong from my wrists, but I didn't really care anymore. I couldn't stop or reverse what was happening, and my dick was pounding with every pulse of blood pumping through my veins."
He stopped for awhile, wondering whether this should all be dragged back up after having buried it deep within his memory for so long. I think Dad also realized his dick was hard as a fucking rock and was a little embarrassed. He averted his eyes from me.
"I'm sorry. I swore you would never know about what your mom did that night. I guess it still haunts me, sometimes in ways I'm ashamed to admit."
I decided to take a chance with this and softly laid my hand on the bulge of his pants.
"It's ok, Dad. I need to know this. I need to know everything. Life goes on, and I need to know what happened in the past if I'm to understand anything about the present. Besides, I'm learning to know you and Mom better and making sense of all that's happened. It's really ok."