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 Title : Hippie Kids

   Author : MeatBot

   Keywords : Pedo, Family Incest, Mg, Fb, bg

   Date : 20151215

   Mail : meatbot777 at gmail dot com

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   Synopsis : Twin brother and sister raised in the hippie lifestyle
discover sex.

   Disclaimer : Copyright by the author.  Permission is granted to archive,
repost, or publish in no-cost or low-cost archives, periodicals,
anthologies of this type of material if unaltered and attributed to the
author.  This is a work of fiction.  You must be 18 or over to read this
story.  In real life, incestuous relationships, particularly when an
under-aged person is involved with a parent or adult, often causes deep
psychological damage.  This story is provided for entertainment purposes
only.  The author does not condone any sexual activity with persons under
18 in real life.

   These are just words, people.  Just words.  If you don't like words, see
a competent shrink or an English teacher.  As you may be able to tell from
this shit, I'm not crazy about hippies.  But live and let live.



   --==+==-

   Sometimes kids have it rough, from day one.  These two did, and of
course, it was no fault of their own.  Fate chose poorly, and they were
born to a couple of hippies.  Just flat out hippies, no glossing over it,
so sugar coating.  A couple of goddam hippies.  Ambrosia and Andrew's
parents had met at some kind of big love-in thing in a field a few miles
out of San Francisco in the late 70's, and the rest, as they say, is
history.  They moved into a commune near a lake next to Woodland and lived
in peace and harmony with nature.  Actually, it wasn't all wine and
roses... money, looked upon as a necessary evil, was tight.  The kids grew
up without many of the luxuries that kids their age took for granted.  It
had it's benefits, they spent most of their childhood outdoors, and had
many happy childhood memories.  Often they were without supervision for
hours and sometimes almost literally days on end.  They were almost feral,
in some ways.  That lack of supervision also led to many interesting
situations, as we shall see.

   They lived in a yurt, a dome made of scraps of sheet metal and other
materials pilfered from building sites and a nearby air force base.  There
was a small primitive outhouse behind it, although Ambrosia and Andrew were
usually far afield when they answered Nature's calls.  Ambrosia had a
sensitive nose, and felt the outhouse was olfactorily challenged.  She much
preferred to poop in the garden and let her Dad work it into the soil; he
was an amateur gardener but didn't yet know the dangers of fertilizing with
human waste.

   Ambrosia and Andrew were twins, of course not identical, since they were
different sexes.  Their twin-ness was the cause of many amusing incidents
as they grew up, not the least of which was endlessly giggled over,
eventually causing Ambrosia some embarrassment.  Ambrosia went through a
period of dissatisfaction with her body, due to the constant comparison of
it to her brother's.  The children were naked most of the year, due to the
mild California climate, and one evening Ambrosia approached her mother and
announced that she, too, would like to have a penis.  Her mom was amused,
leading to an eventual hissy-fit on Ambrosia's part and yet more laughter
when her dad heard about it.  But why?  she asked.  Why does he get one and
I don't?  Like I said, she got tired of hearing about it, years later.

   One hot day, near the end of summer the children were way out in the
woods with a large group of kids, children of other families of the
commune. The kids often hung out at the swimming hole, a widened area of a
small creek with overhanging trees that could be jumped from.  A rope had
been fixed to a tree, allowing them to swing out over the water also.

   "Bro..." said Andrew, as all the kids lay in a small sunny area and
rested.

   "Whut?" said his sister.  To them, "Bro" was short for Ambrosia, not
"brother."

   "Tell everbody what mom 'n dad did all night..." he said, laughing.

   His sister laughed in return.  "They fucked all night," she said.  Some
kids laughed, some kids acted shocked, and some kids acted curious.  The
commune had all kinds, from liberal new-age free thinkers like Ambrosia and
Andrew's parents, to strict religious types, and even a few goofy-ass
cultists.  Some kids saw it all, some kids saw nothing.

   "What you mean?" said Dennis, who's parents were of the cultish variety.

   "They fucked," said Ambrosia.  "You know, they made babies."

   "Babies?" a girl said.  "You momma gonna have more babies?"

   "Naw," said Ambrosia.  "She got medicine that keeps that from happenin'.
She just like to fuck."

   Some kids laughed again.

   "How they do it?" said Dennis, understandably curious.  He'd never even
seen his parents naked, much less fucking.  Naked was the usual state of
dress at Ambrosia's yurt.  Of course, Dennis was no stranger to nudity, he,
like all the other kids, went nude at the swimming hole and often other
places, when out from under watchful adult eyes.

   "Well," Ambrosia warmed up.  She and Andrew often watched from beneath a
blanket an arm's-length away while their parents got it on.  It made her
feel warm and happy, knowing that her parents still loved each other that
much.  Considering some of the things they saw, like her dad putting his
face in her mom's bottom, they must really love each other a lot.  "Okay,
the woman lays like this..." She demonstrated, stretching out on the
ground, spreading her legs apart widely.

   "Now..." she looked at Dennis.  "Dennis.  Climb on top'a me."

   "What?" he said.  He felt embarrassed, and singled out.  Some of the
other kids giggled, not helping any.  "No way," he said.

   "Andrew," Ambrosia said, "Climb on top'a me."

   Andrew laughed.  He wasn't shy, and he knew what she intended.  He slid
over on top of his sister, covering her hot little sun-warmed limbs with
his.  She felt nice beneath him.

   "'Kay," said Ambrosia.  "The guy puts his weenie..." she reached down
and felt around until she found Andrew's soft little eleven-year old cock.
"Well..." she said.  "The guy's weenie gets stiff, somehow.  We ain't
figgered that part out yet."

   "Get stiff?" a girl said, a girl who was from a fundie fruitcake family.
"Wha'choo mean, get stiff?"

   "You know," said Ambrosia, "it gets stiff and stands up.  Ain't you
never seen yore dad's weenie get stiff before?"

   "I ain't never seen my dad's weenie anyhow," the girl said, feeling left
out.

   "Well, it gets stiff and long and bigger 'round," said Ambrosia.  "And
he lays down on me like Andy is, an' he puts it...  he puts it in her... 
whatchoo guys call it?  On a girl, down there?"

   There were several replies, ranging from "vagina" to "kitty-kat" to
"cunt." Ambrosia giggled at that one, she knew the word "cunt," and she
liked the naughty feeling it gave her.  Kids, when raised like these two
were, rarely got to feel that "naughty" feeling, and it was something that
sent a thrill through her, on those rare occasions when it happened.  Times
like this.

   "Yeah," she said, "I like that one too.  Cunt." She giggled, as did most
of the other kids.  All kids like dirty words, even holy roller kids.

   "Anyway," she went on, fumbling beneath her for Andrew's penis again. 
She took it in her hand and gently pulled on it.  "The guy sticks it in,
and they just go like that for a while, up and down, up and down.  The
woman says oh god oh god 'n shit like that, and the guy moans and makes
funny faces, if you can see his face.  After like a few hours of gettin'
faster an' faster he says holy goddam fucking shit!  and falls over an'
just lays there, and my mom says thank you Roscoe an' just lays there too,
'cept she smiles and hums sometimes."

   The other kids laughed, most of them fairly confused.  It's just
something you have to see, it's hard to describe, but the girl tried. 
Ambrosia pushed against Andrew, and he lifted himself off her body.

   "Shit, Andrew..." she said, and he looked at her.  She almost never used
his full name, but she did this time.  She was staring at down at his
little penis.  Only...  now it wasn't that little.  It had gotten longer,
and bigger around.  It was almost red on the end, and stuck straight out
from his flat stomach.

   "Like that!" said Ambrosia excitedly, pointing.  "That's what it looks
like!" She looked at her brother with pride.  He was a little embarrassed,
at all the attention, but he stood there, on his knees, and let the other
kids stare at his cock.

   "Just like Dad's," said Ambrosia.  "'Cept Dad's ain't got that skin on
it, on the end.  And 'course Dad's is bigger, he's growed up." She noticed
that the skin on the end didn't hardly show, now...  now that the whole
organ had gotten bigger.  The skin had pulled back.

   "That's his forest-skin, dummy," said another girl, older and wiser. 
Ambrosia nodded, she'd heard her Mom say that, before.  She hesitantly
reached out a finger, and pushed down on the head of Andrew's cock.  When
she released it, it popped back up like a little diving board, and all the
kids laughed.  She did it again and again, finally just putting her index
and middle finger out, and capturing his cock between them.  She shook her
whole hand up and down, causing his cock to bounce wildly.

   "Shit, Bro..." said Andrew.  He was feeling a funny feeling that he'd
never felt before.  Funny, and good.  "Keep...  keep doin' that..." He felt
his breath catch, as his lung sucked air convulsively.  He wanted more of
that feeling.  Lots more.

   Ambrosia laughed, and jacked her brother's cock.  The other kids grew
silent, watching.  Somehow they all knew something unusual was taking
place. Andrew groaned, and then clamped it off, embarrassed.  Somebody
giggled, but he couldn't help it, he groaned again.

   "Does that feel...  does that feel good, Andy?" said Ambrosia.  Her arm
was getting a little tired, but she didn't want to stop.  She loved her
brother, and wanted to make him happy."

   "Holy goddam fucking shit!" said Andrew loudly, and a stream of milky
white liquid shot from the end of his cock, and streaked down his sister's
leg.  She was shocked, but give the girl some credit, she didn't stop.  He
squirted again and again, making up a little puddle in her lap as she sat
on her knees before him.

   "Whut 'da fuque?" said a girl, in the silence, as Ambrosia's hand slowed
to a halt.

   "Damn, Bro," Andrew panted.  "That was...  that was cool.  Can you do
that again?"

   Ambrosia laughed, surveying the sticky stuff on her hand.  She lifted it
to her nose and smelled of it.  Ambrosia was a big one for smells, and she
liked the smell of this.  It smelled...  sexy, although she was too young
to understand sexy yet.  She just knew what she liked, and she liked this
smell.

   "Andy..." she said softly, thoughtfully.  "Andy...  when Mom puts Dad's
weenie in her mouth...  this is what she's gettin' outa it...  this is why
she wipes her chin an' shit."

   That made sense to him, at least.  "Yeah," he said.  "Prolly.  Like I
said, could you do that again?" He was anxious to get that feeling again.
It had burned into his little brain as something very desirable.

   "I guess," she finally said, wiping the sticky stuff on her leg.  She
reached over and positioned her fingers again, with his now-much-softer
cock in between them.  She bounced his cock again, up and down, for the
longest time, but it barely got hard again, much less squirted stuff out.

   "Andy," she finally said.  "I think that's why Mom and Dad just go to
sleep after they fuck.  You can only do it once or somethin'."

   "Yeah.  Shit," said Andrew, sad.  He finally sat back down, and looked
around.  The other kids were stirring around, now that the show was over.

   "Bro," said Andrew, having an idea.  "Bro, do Dennis...  do Dennis or
Roj, or one of the other guys."

   Ambrosia laughed.  She didn't really care, but her arm was tired.  She
glanced at Dennis, to see a frown on his face.

   "You wanna?" she asked, and he shook his head.

   "Naw..." he said.  "I don'...  I don' think we otter be doin' this
stuff...  I think it's wicked..."

   Ambrosia laughed at that.  Wicked?  She didn't understand the concept of
wicked even remotely.  She was Eve, before the snake.

   "I'll do it..." said Roj, stepping forward.  It had looked like fun to
him.  He had watched through a crack in the wall occasionally as his father
bounced around on top of his older sister.  He had some ideas now about
what they were doing.

   He duck-walked forward on his knees.  Ambrosia giggled and reached down,
taking his softness in her hands.  She did this one differently, she
grasped her hand around it like she was holding it.  She gently slid her
hand back and forth, and was satisfied to feel his little penis begin to
get bigger.

   "You like that?" she asked softly, giggling at him.  He smiled back. 
"Oh yeah," he said.  "That feels good..."

   It didn't take long.  A jet of white liquid squirted out again, on her
belly this time, since his cock was pointed up slightly.  She giggled as
the boy sighed deeply.  She could tell it had felt as good for him as for
her brother.  This is fun, she thought.  This is something I can do to make
boys feel good.  I'll remember this.



   --==+==-

   The kids walked home in the late afternoon sun.  They split up back at
the commune and Andrew and Ambrosia smelled dinner cooking as they entered
the yurt.  Any day when food was on the table was a good day.  Their mom
greeted them, kissing them both and making signs to ward off evil on their
foreheads.

   "Ambrosia, honey," she said.  "Go get your daddy and tell him dinner is
prepared.  And wash your legs, honey, you've got something all over you."

   Ambrosia went out the back door, also known as the emergency exit.  Her
dad was hoeing in the garden.

   She stopped at the outhouse, and washed her legs with water from the
ass-washing bucket.  She ran out to where her dad was.

   "Daddy," she said, "Momma says dinner's ready.  And Daddy...  look what
I learned today..."

   Her father, Roscoe, was, like I already said, a hippie.  He'd been been
a normal, blue-collar kid, raised in a normal home, until he went to
college, and was exposed to the hippie lifestyle.  Something about it
appealed to him, and to his parent's despair he dropped off the grid and
into a whole way of life.  He'd managed to shake off most of the
restrictions and moral impediments of "The System," and now approached
things from a whole different angle.  Incest held no fear for him...  quite
the contrary, as he looked down on his young daughter.  He felt, not for
the first time, a stirring from his loins.  And, to his surprise, she
reached beneath his kilt, and wrapped her hot little hands around his
semi-tumescent manhood.

   "Darlin'..." he said, his eyes going to the back of the yurt before he
remembered they didn't have windows.  "Darlin'...  do you think you should
really be doin' that...?"

   "Daddy, it's fun...  an' it feels good," she said, laughing.  Why
wouldn't he want something that felt good?  To her, this was no more
unusual that what he and her mother did almost every night.

   Roscoe had fears, occasionally, that his wife still possessed some
remnants of societal indoctrination.  He had that fear right now, in fact.
His daughters soft little hand felt fantastic on his hardening cock, but he
wasn't too sure about the idea of Marge seeing it.

   He guided her towards the outhouse, stopping when it blocked the view
from the back door.  Her hand had never left his cock.  And his cock was
hard, now, hard from just thinking about what she might have planned.  The
possibilities were...  limitless.  He raised his kilt a little higher,
holding it with both hands.

   "Darlin'...  show me," he said softly.  She showed him.



   --==+==-

   We won't say Roscoe wasn't pleased by what happened...  he got a damn
good hand job from an eleven year old soon-to-be-expert...  he had,
secretly, hoped for a little more.  Her little mouth looked so inviting...
and those sexy fat red lips...  well, he thought, this is more than I got
out of bed with this morning.  And, maybe it's a first step.  Maybe there
will be more to come.  He decided to just go with the flow.  Time will
tell, he thought.

   That night at dinner, Andrew had some questions.

   "Mom," he said, as he helped himself to a second bowl of raccoon stew.
"Somethin' funny happen' today.  My...  my weenie got all stiff, an' some
white stuff came outa it.  Is there somethin' wrong with me?"

   No idea why he'd brought it up.  Maybe he was proud of it, maybe he
wanted his parents to know he was now a man.  Couldn't be that, he didn't
think of himself as a man, yet.  Surely he didn't think something was
actually wrong with him.  Kids say funny stuff sometimes, and they also
approach reality from whole different angles than adults.  Anyway, it had a
positive effect of dinnertime conversation.

   "Oh, darling!" his mother gushed.  "My little boy is a man now!  Roscoe,
did you hear?  Your son is a man!"

   Roscoe smiled and nodded his congratulations to the boy.  Good, his dick
works.  Marge hugged Andrew.  Ambrosia laughed silently to herself, and was
secretly relieved that Andrew hadn't told the whole story.  She was
innocent but not stupid.

   "Honey!" said his mom, gratifying Roscoe at last with her true-blue
hippieness.  "Honey, show us!  Do whatever you did to make it stiff!"

   She had no idea, of course, that his little sister had been jacking him,
she thought he'd discovered masturbation by himself.  She sat back, and
waited expectantly.  Andrew experienced stage fright for the first time in
his life.  He squirmed uncomfortably and looked to his sister for help. 
She was no help, she just grinned at him.  She was thinking, don't look at
me, you got yourself into this.

   "Roscoe..." Marge stared at her husband.  She knew he was frighteningly
liberal, he was what she hoped to be someday.  This will be a good start,
she thought.  "Roscoe...  would it bother you...  if I helped him a
little?"

   Oh fuck, thought Roscoe.  He knew well what her help would consist of,
she often asked him if she could help, when he wasn't getting hard quick
enough.  And she had those same fat, full red lips...  must be a family
thing.

   "Of course not, darling!" he said, already brimming with ideas of how
this would assist him in his new-found closeness to his darling daughter.
This couldn't be working out any better, he thought.  He had, of course,
immediately put two and two together with his daughter's new-found skill at
hand jobs and his son's new-found ability to ejaculate.  Hippie that he
was, it didn't bother him a bit.

   Marge leaned forward, urging Andrew to stand, and slid his shorts down
his slender tanned legs.  Inside her mind, she was amazed at herself, that
she had the nerve to go through with this.  It never occurred to her to
wonder what effect this might have on impressionable young minds.  Marge
was more of a hippie than she thought she was.

   Andrew's poor little cock was shriveled up, the cap buried deep inside
his foreskin.  His little wrinkled balls looked so cute...  she gently took
them with her hand.  She loved balls, almost as much as cocks.  I'll suck
those balls, she thought, before this is over with.

   She gently sucked the boy into her mouth.  Ambrosia met Andrew's gaze,
and rolled her eyes.  He smiled.  This was way better than he'd hoped when
he'd brought it up.  He just thought he'd get a pat on the back or
something.  This?  He'd seen his mom do this to his dad enough times... 
he'd seen the look on his dad's face, when the fast part came up.  He knew
it was going to be fun.

   Ambrosia watched for a while, as Andrew's little pecker got bigger and
bigger.  Her mom sucked, and stopped and looked at it, then sucked again.
Each time it was a little bigger and a little redder.  She was surprised at
how much fun her mom seemed to be getting, from just sucking.  Did it taste
that good?  Was stuff coming out of it already that tasted good?  She
wished she'd tasted that white stuff, earlier.  Maybe it tasted better than
candy or something.

   Her mom slid Andrew's cock from her mouth, and bent down further,
sucking his sweet little balls into her warm wet mouth.  His weenie looked
funny to Ambrosia, laying on the bridge of her mom's nose, and she giggled.
This was interesting, but...  she finally had enough of just watching.

   "Mom..." she said.  Her mother said "Mmmph," not opening her eyes. 
Ambrosia tugged again on her mom's arm.

   "Mom!"

   "What, honey!" said her Mom, dropping Andrew's cock for a second. 
"Can't you see I'm busy?"

   "Mom.  Can I do that to dad?" Ambrosia said.  The last remnants of "The
System" fled from Marge Santiago's mind.  "Sure, honey!" she said. 
Actually, it sounded more like "Mmmm Hmmm-mmm" because her mouth was back
to sucking lustily on her son's pint-sized cock.  Ambrosia got the message,
though.

   Roscoe was more than pleased by this turn of events.  His daughter
turned to him, raising her eyebrows in question.  He smiled gently at her
and nodded.  What a sweet young thing she was.  And now she was all his. 
That mouth, he thought...  fuck heaven, that mouth.

   This time he dropped his kilt as he stood, instead of merely raising it.
His cock was already half-hard, before Ambrosia ever got her hands on it.
She stood before him in her sexy little swimsuit and grasped his cock
firmly with both hands.  She stared at it for a moment, noting the
difference between adult and child...  she actually hadn't looked at
Andrew's that closely, this morning.  This one was pretty interesting
looking, what with blood veins and wiry little hairs all around it.  And
those ball things.  She delicately curled one hand around those fat, round
balls.  How cute they were!  She leaned in.

   Roscoe was already holding it back.  How would he manage, how could he
keep from filling her mouth up?  Would she be ready for that?  Did she even
know that was part of the deal?  He knew, though...  he knew by now there
was no way he could keep from it.  He just hoped she wouldn't choke or gag.
He felt a little bit of heaven on earth as her soft lips gently touched the
shaft of his cock.  She got it about half-way in before she stopped, and he
realized she didn't really know what to do from there.

   "Suck it, honey," he said softly, glancing at his wife.  She seemed
oblivious to the world, her cheeks caving in as she slid her young son's
cock in and out of her mouth.  He shared a quick guy moment with his son,
and winked at the boy.  Andrew giggled.  Roscoe looked down at the top of
his daughter's head, and loved her even harder.  She was sucking, now,
sucking pretty hard, for a kid.  She slid it out to the cap, weirdly, and
ran her lips around it like a pro.  Where did that come from?  he thought
for a moment.  Like I said earlier, sometimes kids do weird things. 
Sometimes those things feel good...  this was one of those times.

   "Holy goddam fucking shit!" said Andrew loudly, causing his mother to
choke for an instant, then recover as his strong young prostate blasted wad
after wad of cum down her throat.  She gulped in time with his
contractions, and milked him dry.  He tasted wonderful to her, fresh and
sweet, as sweet as warm milk straight from a cow's udder.  She sucked every
last drop, wishing for more.  Oh, she thought...  give him a few hours...
and we'll do this again.  She wondered how soon she could do it again,
without looking obvious to her husband.  Maybe, she thought...  maybe he'll
still be wrapped up in Ambrosia, maybe it won't matter to him what I do
with the boy.

   Roscoe laughed softly, his pleasure mounting as his daughter sucked him
yet a little deeper into her hot soft throat.  The girl was fabulous... 
and her mouth, her mouth was almost tight, like he imagined her sweet young
cunt might be.  Her cunt...  his mouth watered as he thought about her
sweet young cunt.  Dare I hope?  he thought.  Dare I fucking hope?

   Marge sat back, and smiled up at her son.  She wanted to kiss him but
she wasn't sure how he'd react to her semen-flavored breath.  She hugged
him and lay her head against his belly for a few moments.  He touched her
head and ran his fingers through her hair.  Nothing is wrong that we do for
love, she told herself, nothing.  She sighed and held him.

   "Honey," said Roscoe softly, taking Ambrosia's chin his his hand and
lifting slightly.  She looked up at him as well as she could without
dropping his cock from her mouth.  Good girl, he thought.  "Honey, some
liquid is going to squirt into your mouth.  Don't be afraid, just swallow
it...  it is...  darling, it is the precious fluid of life.  It's millions
of your little...  uhm..." He started to say "your little unborn brothers
and sisters" but he didn't want her to freak out about swallowing them. 
"It's yummy little drops of life!" he finished lamely.  He'd have to come
up with a little better line for next time.  Of course, he had already
decided there would be a next time.

   Ambrosia nodded.  She was figuring this stuff out, in her own time. 
She'd seen the stuff squirt out of Andrew this afternoon.  She knew what
was next.  And she kind of looked forward to it, truth be known.  She had
high hopes that it was tasty...  and hell, why not?  Her dad had just said
it was yummy.

   Roscoe's adult prostate gave a mighty squeeze, and squirt he did.  He
filled her mouth in two squirts, she hadn't figured out the squirt-swallow
thing yet.  He filled her and it spilled down her chin onto her flat little
chest.  He squirted quite a bit for an old fart, he was pretty damn turned
on, and it showed.  He squirted so much his balls almost caved in, but
damn...  it felt good to him.  And the sexy factor was off the scale.  How
can I top this?  he thought.  Then he remembered that sweet young cunt...
Yeah...  I know how...

   She couldn't really taste it, until he'd stopped, and she slowed and
finally dropped his softening cock from her young mouth.  She puzzled for a
moment...  this?  This is what it's all about?  It certainly wasn't yummy,
by any stretch...  kinda bitter, and kinda musty tasting...  come again? 
she thought, unaware of how funny that would be to an adult.  This is it?
She was disappointed, but still...  it was still sexy, to her.  She didn't
understand sexy, hell, who does...  she didn't understand it, but...  she
knew what she liked.  Yummy or not, she liked the taste of cum.  Not like
she liked candy, but she liked it.

   Marge held her naked son, her son who was now a man, and watched her
daughter blow her husband.  Somewhere deep in her mind the old Marge
screamed a silent scream behind a sheet of glass.  Suddenly the new Marge
blasted the old Marge into sub-atomic oblivion.  The family group was
complete.  Unity had been achieved.



   --==+==-

   Nothing else happened that evening.  Everything was pretty
anti-climactic after that.  Marge hummed and knitted, happy.  Roscoe hummed
and carved, happy.  Ambrosia and Andrew crept out and played with other
kids, happy.  At last, around midnight, their dad went to the door and
called them in.  The whole bunch of them piled into the mound of blankets
and cushions they called a bed, and soon were pretty much all happily
asleep.  The adults, at least.

   "Andrew..." said Ambrosia, whispering in her brother's ear.

   "What, Bro..." he replied.

   "You want...  you want me to do it?"

   He didn't have to ask what "it" was.  He sighed, happy.  "Yeah," he
said. "Yeah."



   --==+==-

   The next few days went by in a dream.  Marge still got up and fixed
breakfast, and woke the rest of the family.  They ate, the kids studied for
a while...  they had to pretend, at least, since they were
home-schooling... Marge fed them lunch, and turned them loose.  They ran
wild, with other kids sometimes, and by themselves sometimes.  The kids
were home by dark, and the family settled into their new routine.  Marge
gently drew Andrew to her and engulfed his hardening softness in her mouth.
Sometimes Ambrosia dropped to her knees and poked her head up beneath her
father's kilt...  sometimes he pulled it off for her.  One night he decided
to show her something new as the quiet evening was broken by slurping
noises from her mother.

   "Honey..." Roscoe said.  "You've given me great pleasure, darling, and I
want to give something back to you.  Lay down, child, lay down." He
indicated the pile of blankets in the middle of the yurt.  She lay down,
curious about what he meant.  She knew by now that what adults said hardly
ever matched what they actually did.  She was a little suspicious, but
still...  he was her dad.  She mostly trusted him.

   Today had been unseasonably warm and both the kids had spent the entire
day nude.  Ambrosia had spent a few fun hours with Mr.  Dyer from the
nudist family the next yurt over.  He'd given her rides in his wheelbarrow,
thoughtfully holding a foot in each hand to steady her.  Later he'd
carefully examined her body in minute detail for twenty minutes to make
sure she didn't have any ticks or fleas on her.  His weenie had even gotten
all big and stiff, causing him to take her behind the yurt where his wife
couldn't see.  She'd wondered if he might want her to put it in her mouth
but she didn't want to be rude so she kept her mouth shut.  Or maybe it was
because he was an old fart, I'm not a mind reader, it's all guesses at this
point.

   Anyway, all that was basically just to say she was naked.  He lay her
naked body down, and spread her legs apart, crouching inbetween them.  He
hadn't asked his wife if this was okay with her, he didn't feel the need.
He was just going to do to the girl what Marge was doing to the boy.  If...
and if she didn't figure this one out on her own he'd mention it...  if she
wanted to teach the kid to eat her pussy, that was fine with him too.  She
was on her own.  He had other things on his mind.

   He bent down, and took his first deep sniff of the child's sweet cunt.
God...  she smelled better than anything in his life had, so far.  He could
see a dampness already, in the red slit between her legs...  the nectar of
the gods...  he breathed again through his nose, and again.  There is
nothing like odor of a young cunt, a sweet virginal untouched young cunt...
well, maybe I'm being melodramatic...  still, it's a beautiful smell.  Try
it, you'll like it.  He sucked in air until he felt dizzy.

   His tongue was almost as hard as his cock, at this stage.  He dropped an
inch further, and another.  His tongue was extended.  He raised his eyes as
far up as they would go, to see her staring down at him, perplexed.  He
carefully closed and opened one eye in a slow motion wink and she giggled.
He dropped.

   The smell.  The smell, you say?  Fuck that, the taste.  The taste was
incredible.  There is no way to describe it.  How can you describe pussy,
other than to say "pussy?" What is the taste of pussy?  Mysterious body
secretions, sweat, possibly a little dirt from running around all day
naked...  more body secretions from deep inside...  a few microscopic blobs
of fertilizer (read: shit) from Mr.  Dyer's wheelbarrow...  it's hard to
put a list of ingredients on it.  Elusive, indefinable...  but we know it
when we taste it.  You never forget pussy.  Even old farts who haven't had
their carnal desires satisfied in thirty years or more remember what pussy
tastes like.  Even I do, for god's sake.

   Roscoe's tongue was easy to satisfy.  He loved his wife's cooking, that
should tell you he wasn't a connoisseur.  He loved his wife's pussy, and I
gotta hand it to her, she had a nice one.  Kinda hairy, but nice.  This
little thing, though, so soft and smooth, so completely bare of even peach
fuzz...  and that taste, on top of it all?  That bare-all-day,
wind-and-weather sexy taste...  sweaty and even a hint of poop from her
little asshole, barely an inch away...  something inside him was born, a
hunger, that could only be satisfied by one thing.  A thoughtful part of
his brain, usually carefully hidden away, realized how rare this was, how
short-lived.  Even if he got it again tomorrow and the next day...  all to
soon she'd grow up and away from him...  after this how could he go back,
how could he bend his face to Marge's tangled bush and be happy?  Something
cried, at the same time that something else gibbered in joy.  Life and the
human experience is all about contradictions...  contradictions, urges and
unsatisfied longings...  okay, forget the philosophy crap.  Life is pussy,
and Roscoe drank deeply from the cup of life that day.  He was happy, as
happy as he'd ever been.

   He tongued her little clit, and she sighed and melted.  He'd been right,
this time...  he'd said he was going to give her pleasure, and he certainly
did.  She felt twinges in the backs of her legs, and her stomach tightened
up...  her breathing sped up, and her arms twitched in a funny way.  She
just let go, and enjoyed it.  As long as he wanted to do this, she'd let
him.  She felt his tongue enter her body...  it didn't hurt, but it felt
funny...  good funny...  she giggled and he lifted her small body,
spreading her legs even further, and she felt his tongue on her bottom.  On
my poopy hole!  she thought, laughing to herself.  She'd seen him do that
very thing to her mom, her mom's rump sticking up in the air.  It didn't
bother her, she was just a kid and she didn't give a flying fuck about
germs any more than he did.  He was first and foremost a hippie, and
secondly so in love with the child's body he would have probably kissed a
turd if she pooped one out.  He made love to her aromatic little asshole
with his lips and tongue, drinking in her taste, reveling in it.

   This could go on a lot longer, but I hope I've gotten the idea across.
He loved her, and loved her sweet cunt and fabulous little asshole.  Marge
and Andrew had finished up by now, and were watching the couple with some
perplexity.  They felt what the kids had felt the other day, that something
momentous was happening, but they didn't really understand it.  An idea,
though...  an idea sparked into being, in Marge's head.

   "Honey..." she said, wrapping her arms around Andrew, squeezing him to
her naked body, rubbing her hard nipples across his thin, wiry chest.  "Do
you...  do you maybe wanna try that?  "

   He didn't understand because he thought she meant what they'd just done,
an adult giving a child pleasure.  He didn't understand how the roles would
be reversed, and she wondered if he'd be willing to work hard at something
with so little reward other than the knowledge he was giving her pleasure.

   "Darling," she said, "I mean...  do you want to lick me?  Down there? 
Have you ever wondered what a woman tastes like?"

   Actually, he hadn't.  He'd seen his dad do it, to her...  but it hadn't
clicked since they'd started this new phase in their relationships...  he
hadn't really wondered, no, what a woman tasted like.  Maybe...  he thought
the same thing that Ambrosia had thought...  the way Dad goes after it,
maybe it tastes pretty damn good.  He nodded slowly, at last.  Marge was
pleased.

   She lay beside her daughter, on the pile of blankets, and spread her
legs apart.  Her sweet young son nestled inbetween her strong limbs, and
ever so slowly drew nearer and nearer to the vagina that he'd popped out of
roughly eleven years ago.  He regretted his choice now, the closer to it he
got...  it was kind of scary looking, all matted with curly black hair...
pink parts of it stuck out and a deep mysterious cavern was in the center
of it.  Marge reached down and spread herself apart with her fingers .  It
was really pink then, pink and red...  there were bumps here and there and
holes and things...  he suppressed a grimace.  He was a boy of his word,
though, and with a trembling heart he extended his tongue as a glance to
the side showed him his father was doing to his sister.  The last inch took
fifteen seconds, but at last his tongue touched his mother, his earth
mother, his giver of life.

   It wasn't that bad...  it was unusual, it was something he'd never
tasted before, but it wasn't that bad.  He licked a little harder, and
followed a crease of her skin down a bit.  Spicy...  tangy, maybe...  he
didn't have the vocabulary to accurately describe it...  like Ambrosia,
though, he knew what he liked.  It didn't take him long to decide he liked
this.  With a little more enthusiasm he slurped his way back up the crease.

   "Oh yes," Marge sighed.  "Lick Mommy's clit, honey, stay on Mommy's
clit!" He had no idea what a clit was, in spite of examining his sister on
more than one occasion, but he knew how his mom reacted when he got to that
certain spot.  He stayed on it, and was surprised at what she did.  She
bounced around, her legs twitched and locked around his back, and her hands
scrabbled on top of his head.  He heard a funny noise and turned his eyes
to the side, wondering what was up with his sister.

   Roscoe had succeeded, after a struggle, in getting his little girl to
cum.  It had taken a while, for reasons unknown, but at last she'd relaxed
and had a nice almost-adult orgasm, locking her legs and breathing deeply,
moaning with pleasure.  Roscoe was proud...  he loved making his wife cum,
and to do it for this little girl...  he got about as much pleasure as she
did from it.  He mashed his face into her crotch a little harder, one hand
spreading her pussy lips to expose her clit completely, the other hand
stroking his iron cock.  Roscoe hadn't jacked off in years...  he didn't
need to, since he'd married Marge...  but this time was special.  He wanted
to cum, he wanted to cum with this girl on the end of his tongue.  And he
was almost there.

   Mother and daughter finished their orgasms at about the same time,
totally satisfied.  Father and son kept on going, hoping for more. 
Eventually more happened, Ambrosia was much quicker this time, now that she
had a feel for it.  She pounded the bed with her feet, peed a little in her
father's face, and came like a volcano erupting.  Marge had a gentler
softer one, but still fulfilling.  She caressed her sweet son's head, as he
nestled on her stomach, smiling to himself.  He did feel like a man, now,
now that he'd made his mother so happy.  He felt like a good son.

   Roscoe felt like a good father, knowing his daughter had lovingly given
her orgasmic virginity to him.  He cherished it, as he would her hymenical
virginity when that time came.  His future, cloudy at best, was now rosy
and as wide as the universe.  He knew it wasn't for forever, but what is?
You gotta seize the moment, you gotta strike while the iron is hot, and all
those other goofy one-liners.  He grunted as he pumped load after load of
hot sperm into the pile of bedclothes and onto his daughter's foot.  His
tongue was still on the girl's hard little clit and his whole world was
nothing but her taste.

   What does the future hold, for this unlikely group?  Unlikely hell, they
are about as likely as it gets, considering the hippie mentality that
created them.  Anyway, you figure that shit out.  I've done my part.



   --==+==-

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