The White Bear

Hi, I'm Amanda.

My parents are hippies. They are very open, accepting and loving.

I'm a 21 years old student, and I could be considered a hippie too. I am vegetarian, wear natural clothes, and try to be loving to everyone around me. And no, I don't keep my body hair shaved. How could I, in a family like mine? My father would not approve. 'Female submission' he would call it.

Now you might think, what business is that of his if I keep my pubic hair trimmed?

Well, I would definitely not be able to hide it. You remember how I told you we are an 'open' family? That includes bodily openness. In my family it is more shameful to try to hide your body than to be naked.

I mean--it's not as crazy as it sounds. It's not like we were nudists or walked around naked all the time. It's only that you're not supposed to be ashamed of your body.

After a shower, for example, it's not uncommon that I walk through the house naked. I don't even think twice about it. That's just one example of a hundred when we would see each other naked; I am not the only person in my family that doesn't mind showing my pubes. Neither do I want to be. I am very happy with the close relationship we have.

Besides, I know it's a turn on for my dad. The way that he spoke about it if it was brought up--and believe me, it was--it almost seemed as if he thought it erased the woman's femininity, like it took away something from her personality, if she would shave.

"I could never make love to a woman that looked like a baby down there," he would say.

He made it very clear how he wanted my mom to be--unshaven. And by extension, how he wanted his daughter to be. With his words, he made sure that both my mom and me had our pussies covered in hair. By now, I even got a pubic hair bush.

I know all my friends shave their pubes off. I have not told them that I don't, but I think they realize it. I'm probably the only girl in the entire school that has a real bush. I don't let it get to me, though.

I know some guys like it, or at least don't mind it. I've had boyfriends in the past. Or, maybe not 'boyfriends' per se, but I'm not a virgin. Not by a long shot. To me, sex is not such a huge deal. I'm not one of the girls that think a woman loses something every time she gives her body to a man. I love sex, and believe the body is there to enjoy.

My parents had brought me up like that, I guess.

"Having your father inside me is the most beautiful feeling I have ever had", my mother once said. This was not said in secrecy. Quite the opposite--it was said at the dinner table, in the presence of my father.

He was not late to add, "And that, Amanda, is something I would never deny you."

Sex, I assumed he meant.

Even for me and my openness, this was a bit much. I felt myself blushing. My mom using words like "your father inside me" made me uncomfortable. I did not want to picture my father having sex with my mother. But now it was impossible not to imagine it: My dad on top of my mom, with horny expressions, pumping his hard dick in and out of her pussy.

Of course, I know how I was made. But maybe I don't need all the details, I thought. Still, the thought did not want to leave my mind: my father's penis in my mothers vagina. Filling her up with cum. I was uncomfortable with the thought. Uncomfortable with the effect it had on me.

I had to stop my thoughts from going any further, and I changed the subject to something about the food we were having.

A while later, the three of us were in the living room talking, and I was telling them about a debate we held in class, about gay rights.

"I for one do not understand them," my father said with a grin. "How can you pass up women?" I guess he has somewhat of a conservative side, after all. He looked at me and continued, "But I strongly believe love is the greatest force of all. Anyone should be able to love and make love to whomever they want."

My mother took his hand and looked proud, "Well said, honey. I agree."

He added "As long as they are consenting adults, obviously."

"Sex, race, who you are or what you do should not matter," my mom said, "what matters is that you enjoy the lovemaking."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," I said, "I wonder why it even matters to someone on the outside if you're having sex with someone you love. That's weird."

My father said, "That's a serious problem." He looked at me and laughed: "But imagine if everyone had to love the same gender! How boring life would be."

I looked at him. I just smiled as a response, but in my mind I began to see my father's penis in my mothers vagina again.

The subject had begun to turn a bit off the main topic, but I didn't want to redirect it. My father had a way of talking that just made your interest in whatever conversation he was having skyrocket. He'd be talking about politics or history, and you'd just want to discuss it and listen to his reasoning. He never tried to force his opinions on you, but instead was open to hear all ideas and perspectives.

I looked at my father and laughed. "You've definitely got a soft spot for the ladies, huh?"

My mother looked at my father, then at me. "Yeah, I think he has an aversion to sex with men."

"You're very perceptive," he replied. "My mind tends to wander if there are any beautiful women around."

"Well," my mom said, "I would imagine that if we tried to force people to love the same gender, it wouldn't be such a good world. I wouldn't mind dating a girl, but I wouldn't want to sleep with her just because I was supposed to. I guess that's how many gays must have been feeling."

"That's probably right," I said.

"And what about you?" My father asked me. "Would you have sex with a woman?"

I looked back at him and thought about it. That was an exciting question. "I wouldn't mind it, but I'm not into the whole thing," I answered.

"Neither am I," my mother agreed. "But I've... Had relationships with women in the past. I mean, I made love to a woman once."

My mother's confession had caused a great shock to me. I thought she and my father were both strict and straight in that regard, like, at least in practice. It was odd to me that my mom would be sleeping with a woman. "Really?" I asked.

"Yes, but it was a one-time thing, a long time ago," my mother said "Before we had you."

I tried to put what she just said together in my head. So NOT before she met my dad? I looked at my dad. Did he know about this, and was okay with it?

He must have read my thoughts, because he said: "Well... we had kind of an open relationship when it came to sex." He looked at my mother. "Or rather, we still do. It was just more active in the past."

It may seem odd, but I had never even considered the possibility. That my parents had been fucking around. Both of them.

"Don't worry, honey," my mom said, seeing my surprised expression, "we're not jealous and we won't divorce."

"We just believe that sex should not be restricted. Just because I would enjoy sex with another man does not mean I love your father any less. Rather the opposite, actually. It makes our bond even stronger."

"We simply don't keep secrets from each other," my father filled in. "Neither do we want to keep secrets from you."

My mother continued: "Again, this is something of the past. We rarely have the lust or desire to date anyone else, nowadays."

For some reason, this made me relieved. Maybe I was afraid of having random men coming over, fucking my mother. Maybe I was afraid of my father going away sticking his dick in other women. I felt jealous thinking about my father with other women. That is, jealousy on my mother's behalf.

"Now I am the only man doing your mother," my father said. His way to say it made me imagine him standing behind her, doggy-fucking her. Imagining her bent over, feeling herself being taken, her pussy being fucked by my father.

If the conversation had not made me excited before, the image in my head definitely was. Fuck, am I sick, I thought. I get turned on by the idea of my dad fucking my mom.

Once again, it seemed as if my dad could read my mind, as he asked, "So how does this make you feel?"

My dad fucking my mother? It makes me horny. It makes me wet, I thought. But I quickly realized he was referring to the fact that they had an open relationship, and I answered:

"It's fine I guess, if you're happy, I am happy for both of you."

"Thank you, honey," my mom said.

"And how does it make you feel to hear that I'm doing your mom?"

I was embarrassed, but my answer came straight from my gut, "I just really like the idea of my parents being with each other." I felt my cheeks getting hot, knowing that did not sound right. I hoped they'd understand what I meant.

"You really like it?" my father asked.

"Yeah, I like it," I answered.

"And what about our relationship? Does it make you feel uncomfortable to know that I'm the only man that has been fucking your mom?" he asked.

I couldn't hide the truth, I had to tell him, but tried to avoid a straight answer.

"I get that she's had other lovers. That both of you have. I just... I was not expecting you to have that type of relationship."

"So you're not upset about it?" my mother asked.

"No, mom, of course not." I gave them a smile, and half-jokingly said: "Just don't have an orgie at home."

My father gave me a funny look. "A house orgie--maybe that's not such a bad idea."

I knew he was joking, but smiled and said "No way!" to show my disapproval.

"Maybe you'd want to join," he continued.

"Dad!" I said, and looked over at my mom. She only giggled at his teasing.

"Maybe the three of us should have a house orgie," he continued. "A family orgie."

Now a new image popped into my head. Instead of my mother standing bent over on all-fours, I now saw myself standing there. I saw myself being fucked, being taken, by my own father. I almost felt his erect penis moving in and out of my pussy.

I looked at my father. He smiled at me, and then he gave me a wink. I knew he was teasing me. He loved to see my discomfort. He loved to tease me. I know he was teasing, but I couldn't help feeling turned on by the subject, instead of feeling teased.

I had felt excited for some time, but this was another kind of excitement. I felt lust and desire. Perhaps it was the images in my head, or the fact that I could speak about this so openly with my parents.

No, that was not it. It was something else. Something I had to admit to myself:

I wanted him to fuck me. I wanted to fuck him.

I had thought I was prepared for all these kinds of openly sharing scenarios. But this was just... it was just too much. In an attempt to shift focus from my father, I looked at my mother.

"That's not a good idea," I said, as if I had not gotten the joke. It must have sounded dumb. "You know it isn't a good idea."

"We're just joking with you, Amanda," my mom said.

"Don't be silly," my father added, "we wouldn't ask you to do anything like that."

"I knew you were just teasing, and I don't mind, I know it is a joke..." I said. "I guess I'll just have to remember to tell my therapist that," I said, in a joking tone. I don't even have a therapist.

"Wouldn't that start some nice rumors around town," my father said. "The family that has incest sex!"

I couldn't help but wonder if this was a turn on for him. If he got off on the idea of fucking his daughter. At any rate, none of us seemed to mind the subject.

"We'd have to make it legal first," my mother said and smirked. "As far as I know, it's a criminal act to have sex with a family member."

"Yeah, we'd have to be careful about it," my father added and looked at me. "We probably should avoid getting you pregnant."

It took me a second to realize that my father had just joked about impregnating me. I laughed. In shock, I told myself. In fact, we all laughed. It felt good to laugh. To have some fun.

"My God," my mother said and wiped her eyes, "what kind of family did I raise?"

"Hey now," I said, "we're not that bad. I mean, we don't actually do it. If we did it, yes, that would be really weird."

As I had finished that sentence, I realized that it was in fact pretty weird to fantasize about my father pounding my pussy.

"So don't make me feel any worse than I already do," I said in a mocking tone. "I've already got images in my head I don't want there."

"What kind of images?" My father asked, almost a bit too quick. Why did I say that? Now I'd have to explain myself.

"Like... Like us naked or whatever. Us doing it with each other."

They waited and watched me, as if they wanted to hear more. I continued, "I can't help it, it just pops up in my mind when we speak about this."

I really had to shift the focus, or I'd say something too specific, revealing how detailed the image in my head had become.

My dad was still silently inspecting me, but my mom noticed my discomfort, and said, "Sure, you can't help your thoughts. If you speak about it, you will see it in your mind. It's not strange at all. It's like when you say 'don't think about a white bear', and the first thing you think about is a white bear."

I appreciated that she took the burden from me, and saw my opportunity to get away from the center of attention.

"Right," I said and thought on my feet. "And what about you two, doesn't your imagination do the same thing?"

"Of course," my mom said and looked at my dad. "Yes," my dad confirmed.

My mom cleared her throat and said "Yeah, I was imagining something like that too."

"What?" my dad asked.

"I was kinda imagining you doing her. I mean, I saw you having sex with her. Having sex with Amanda." My mom blushed. Was this the first time ever I'd seen my mom blush?

My dad smiled. I couldn't believe what I'd just heard my mom say, but could not help but smile too. It was endearing to see her this uncomfortable. I understood why my dad liked it.

I wanted more. "And how about you, what were you doing?" I asked her, enjoying her discomfort.

"I was just... I was watching only," she said.

"Just watching?" My dad continued the tease: "And did you like it?"

"Look, you're both beautiful people, and I love you both a lot. So of course it looked beautiful." Wow, I thought. My mother was really an open woman. I awaited a 'but', but none came. Instead she smiled and said: "I'll say as Amanda said: If both of you are happy, I'm happy too!"

"Ha!" I exclaimed. "Consenting adults, and all that. Right?"

"Right!" My mother responded and looked at me with an optimistic expression. I could not tell if she was ironic or actually agreeing.

My dad chuckled: "Well, I think it'd be weird seeing the two of you get it on."

"Or you'd just feel left out of the action?" I asked him.

"Probably that too," he said and looked into my eyes. "But just like your mother, I love you two, and of course it would be a beautiful view. My two wonderful women, enjoying an act of pleasure together."

My father was really a romantic. At least on paper. In practice, I would not know. But I assumed so. My mom did not seem to complain that dad had any shortcomings in the bed. My mother too, she was also a romantic. I know she'd give everything to my dad. I was also certain that this was the reason they were still together--they had genuine love for one another, and would neither judge, nor begrudge each other for any reason.

I caught myself contemplating whether they were as loving and passionate in the bed as they were outside of it.

If they were as passionate as they were in my imagination.

If my dad had such a tight grip around my mother's waist as he doggy-fucked her. If he grunted like he did in my head. If he would cum so much, so deep, into her as he did in my fantasy.

Thinking about it, I felt no jealousy. But could not avoid wondering how it would feel to have the same done to me. By my own father.

I could imagine being in my mother's lap, naked. I could see her sitting in an armchair, naked too. Her holding me, from behind, hugging my body. I feel her warm body on my back. Feel her breasts against my shoulders. She'd be caressing my hair, just as I liked it. Making me feel safe. I imagined my father in front of me, naked, coming closer. My mother continuing to hold me, stroking my hair, ensuring me that it was okay. Approving what was about to happen. My father lifting my legs, spreading them. His eyes focusing between my spread legs, right onto his daughter's hairy pussy. With a full-on erection. Ready to do it. Ready to do me, to fuck me. Ready to enter into his own daughter's body.

"What about you, Amanda?" my mother said. I snapped out of my thoughts.

"Sorry, what?" I said, feeling lost. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"What were you daydreaming about?" My father asked in his teasing voice.

I only smirked at him and lied "I wasn't daydreaming, I just thought about something in school."

"I just said I'll go to bed now," my mother said. "And you?"

"Oh, okay," I said. "Me too."

I got up, still light-headed from the thoughts that had been occupying my mind. I left the living room, but my damn fantasies did not leave my head. The sick fantasies that had gotten into my mind did not want to go to bed. The scenarios I had created. What was wrong with me? Why was I so turned on by the idea of sex with my parents?

I went to bed, but hardly went to sleep.

I touched myself. Or rather, I masturbated, almost jerked myself off, to orgasm. All the while thinking about my own father being inside me, fucking me. My mother being with us, watching with acceptance and encouragement.

When I had cum, I had a lot of feelings. I was searching for a feeling of shame, but did not find any.

Instead, I found that the lust, love and desire was still there. For my father. I felt it for my mother. The greatest love I'd ever felt, for both of my wonderful parents.