Chapter Three
“Sure, I know all about that ‘all-American, Corn Flakes girl’ look. I’ve been hearing it all my life, I think. But you know what the funniest part of it all is? I wasn’t even in the country for nearly all the time I was growing up! What I mean is Mom and I moved out to Libya to be with Dad when I was four. From then until I was thirteen, we just moved with him from one job to another. All that time, except for some vacations, we were never in the United States! But still I’ve got this blonde hair, these blue eyes. Why, when I came back to the States to start in that boarding school, I even had pigtails and freckles! I can’t help coming on that way, but you’ll have to admit that it’s only skin deep underneath I’m quite a different person.
“Those camps where we spent most of our time weren’t really so bad. I mean, they weren’t nearly as bad as Mom let on. I think she did it mostly to be complaining and to give Dad a hard time. They didn’t fight or argue all that much but, every once in a while, they’d really let their hair down and let everything get out in the open. Sure, some of the camps were pretty primitive-most of them didn’t have running water and you were lucky if you had an enclosed place where you could take a crap. We stayed in a lot of places where you just had to hang your ass over a trench and let it go. But, I still don’t know why Mom complained so much about it all. She was always pretty big on camping and the outdoor life. Maybe she just wanted something to piss and moan about.
“Maybe she was just taking it out on him because he knocked her up again. See, they hadn’t originally intended to have any children at all and then they’d had me. That nearly ripped it for them. That’s when Mom went back to the States and she wouldn’t go back to Dad till I was almost four. Right after they got back together again, barn! Another baby up the old cock hole! “Mom was about to go out of her mind when she found out she had me up her cunt.
The way I know about all this is that when my grandmother died three years ago-this was Mom’s mother-I was the one who had to go over and get the stuff all sorted out. There were a lot of letters Morn had written, going back to when she’d first met Dad; and I read them all. I found out a lot of things I hadn’t known the afternoon I opened up that old trunk, believe me! “Maybe another reason Morn always bitched about the camps was that, if there was a house at all, it was usually just a little one or two room hut with cardboard for walls and all that sort of thing. I figured out, from things I remembered hearing her say and from what I saw in the letters, that it really bugged her, having to screw Dad with Billy and me sleeping in the same room.
She was a real hot ass, no doubt about it, and I guess she loved her prick. But I can see how it might inhibit you a little, trying to ball your old man with a couple of kids sleeping six or eight feet away.
“One way they used to cope with that kind of situation was to fuck in the bathroom, whenever they had one. Mom would turn the shower on- most of those showers were lined with flattened out gasoline drums-and that would make enough noise till you’d think the house was coming down. I never understood why they would both get in the bathroom at the same time until one day I happened to find out.
“We were taking a vacation, a short one, and we’d rented a little beach house on Crete. This one was a real palace-at least, it had two bathrooms-and Billy and I had a bedroom to ourselves. For some reason, though, Mom and Dad didn’t give up the old ways. Maybe they’d gotten hooked on bathroom screwing, I don’t know. They were going at it in the john. The way I found out is that I was looking in this little cupboard under my own lavatory and I peeked through a crack where the plumbing went through. It was a really crummily built house and you could see right in to where they were.
“Mom was sitting over Dad, with her back to him. He was on the stool and she was just fitting his tool up into her cunt. Man! I never knew he had a thing like that hooked onto him! It looked about the size of my forearm and it had this big red knob at the end. But Mom wasn’t scared of it, not one bit! Man, she gathered that big hunk of cock up and just rammed it up her cunt! And then, when she got a good cunt-grip on it, she really went to town! Of all the grunting and heaving and ass-grinding you ever saw, she really put on the best show ever; and, when she’d fucked him into a big come, she just hopped right off and started going down on him! “Once I’d peeked through that hole and saw what was going on I was hooked. I couldn’t have looked away for anything in the world. I didn’t have the slightest idea what they were doing. Shit, I wasn’t but seven or eight at the time. What could you expect from me? It really got hold of me. I didn’t come or anything like that while I was watching but, as I remember, I got a nice little glow down in my pussy. Of course I didn’t know what to do about it then.
“Anyway, I really remember the bathrooms, or the lack of them, at the places we stayed when I was growing up. Every time I’d go out to pee or take a shit, if it was one of the places where we had to go outdoors and there wasn’t any place to hide, Mom would always tell me to be sure and look around so nobody would see me doing it. I don’t know what could be so damned exciting about watching a little girl piss or shit, but she sure went on about it.
“And Billy, I guess I remember him too, the little turd. Man, it really knocked me out when he was born. I guess it was natural for Da4 to take on about me right after Mom and I hail moved out to join him. After all, I was his only child and it had been a long time since he’d seen me. That first year, man, he really took on about me and acted like I was just the greatest thing in the world. And then Billy came along. It was just the difference between night and day, the difference when he made the scene. I guess I was a nasty little shit for a while. I’ve read a little psychology since then and I know that there’s such a thing as sibling rivalry. But I also know that it wasn’t right, Dad taking on about him so much.
“What the hell, he couldn’t do anything but lay there in the crib and yell for the nipple. Either that or mess up his diapers. God, the times I had to wipe the crap off his ass! Mom hated diapers and she’d always try ‘to get me to change him if she could. I guess that’s one reason I started going outside so much, just to get away from all that crap. I’m just positive that there were times when I could cheerfully have let the little asshole wander off into the desert by himself. I detested him that much.
“But that wasn’t all of it. At the same time that I hated him, I’d hate myself too. You know, everyone had always given me that big line about famil3f solidarity and all that. If I say it myself, we were a pretty tight family and I guess that’s why I sometimes felt so bad about the way I felt and acted when Billy was around. There were times-not very many, but there were some-when I’d really go overboard trying to make it up to him for all the bad things I’d done or thought.