We Become A Nudist Family

All characters are at least 18.

My parents liked to say that "they were there when the Wall fell".

I wasn't sure which Wall they were referring to, Berlin or New York, or if it had been Berlin but was now New York, but regardless, their sentiment should indicate their heterodox thinking.

So, I responded only with mild surprise when they suggested that we become a nudist family.

I did tell them that this would make me uncomfortable. When they responded that that was why they needed to do this, I tried to appeal to their Kantian sensibilities. This would have worked a couple of months ago, but unfortunately, my parents had recently re-read John Stuart Mill and could thus not be persuaded on deontological grounds.

I then refused to participate. They took this to mean that it was okay for them to be naked and that I would observe.

Shit.

And so the first week after they suggested the idea, they both walked around entirely nude.

I tried to avoid them, but I was raised to be curious. I found it surprising that my parents liked to keep their pubic hair trimmed, that my father's penis was slightly smaller than mine but had more girth, and that my mother had large areolas and a mole on her right butt cheek.

I soon found myself trying to determine which parts of my own body most resembled the comparable parts of my parents. My hips were my father's but I had gotten my mother's long legs, for better or for worse.

"Like what you see?" My mom asked one day when she saw me re-examining her mole.

"The mole on your butt winks when you move," I answered.

She hopped a little in response.

On another occasion, my dad asked me if I could take a look at his penis.

"I'm worried about a bump," he said.

"I don't see anything."

"You won't see anything by standing."

I crouched in front of him and grabbed his limp penis. I lifted the shaft up, to the side, and was convinced that he was overreacting until I touched underneath his scrotum.

"You're right--there's a pimple," I said.

"You're sure it's a pimple?"

"Yeah, I get these from time to time, also. You just need to wash better."

"Big Soap will be pleased to hear that."

We both ignored his penis growing larger in my hands. It smelled a bit... raw, if that makes sense. But not unpleasant.

I came down one morning wearing nothing.

My father grinned and patted me on the shoulder. My mom hugged me, thrilled, her boobs crushing into my chest. When she stepped back, I was noticeably hard.

"Nice cock," my father said to break the tension.

"I got it from you," I said without missing a beat.

They both found that funny.

I was bringing the laundry downstairs one day when I saw my parents making out on the living room couch. This wasn't unusual and I would typically avoid them.

"Mom looks like such a good kisser," I said, standing in front of them, the basket of laundry hiding my growing erection.

"Oh, I am," my mom said, and as if to prove it, she wrapped her arms around my dad's neck, pulling him into a deeper kiss. She sucked my dad's tongue, explored his mouth, and bit his lower lip. The noise their lips made was indecent.

What started as a demonstration quickly became something more. My mother was lying back on the couch, and my father was on top of her. He held the shaft of his penis and guided it to the entrance of mom's pussy.

"Steven is looking," my mom said between gasps.

My dad ignored her and rammed his cock into her pussy. She tried to resist, and looked to me for help, but groaned in pleasure when my dad bottomed out in her wet cunt. I watched her eyes roll back, ecstatic, her hands clawing at his back as she tried to pull more of him into her.

The couch creaked underneath their mating. They grunted, like animals. I was transfixed, the laundry bin forgotten on the ground as I approached them to get a better look.

My mom locked eyes with me as I neared. Her head bobbed up and down with each thrust of my father's hips. She moaned into my face as mere inches of space separated us.

And then I kissed her, tentatively, unsure. I could tell she was caught off guard but she didn't pull away.

It was hard to kiss her because my father's fucking was moving her head so much. Perhaps he realized this because his movements slowed.

I took this opportunity to see if I could put my tongue into my mother's mouth. At first, she wouldn't let me in, but she then relented, and now we were making out.

"Fuck, you're both so hot," my father muttered as his cock kneaded the walls of my mother's vagina.

My mother panted between kisses as she accepted every inch of her husband. I grabbed her by the neck, pulling her deeper into our kiss. Her lips felt incredible.

Soft, wet, warm.

We kept our eyes half-open as if gauging the other's reaction. Was this okay? Could I do this? Do you like it when I do that?

Saying nothing, the answer always seemed to be Yes, I love this.

My mother was moaning louder now as my father focused on her G spot.

"Your dad is about to finish," she said.

"Where do you want it?" He asked.

I looked at my dad as he bucked his hips. He was like a king taking what belonged to him. He smiled when he saw me watching him and an unspoken understanding was exchanged between us.

He bottomed out inside of his wife, dumping ropes and ropes of his DNA into her womb. I watched my mom squirm underneath him as he finished inside her, panting like a dog in heat.

As I watched them, I couldn't help but wonder how I had been conceived.

He stayed inside her for almost a minute after he had finished as if to give his seed the best chance at fertilization. When he pulled out, some of his sperm leaked from my mom's entrance.

We all stayed still for a moment, as if in tableau, until my dad asked if I wanted to have sex with his wife.

Embarrassed, I looked to my mom, who seemed unbothered by the idea.

"I don't think I'm ready for that," I answered honestly, surprising both my parents and myself.

They exchanged a look and then smiled broadly at me. My dad hugged me first, his flaccid penis pressed against my stomach. Then my mom hugged me from the side, her boobs crushed against my shoulder. My father kissed the top of my head and whispered, "My son, my wonderful son" while my mother was quiet, but brimming with maternal instinct.

We had all crossed a line, but it was unclear what line had been crossed. When I looked at both my parents, I still saw them as my parents. And they returned my gaze with nothing but parental affection.

It still wasn't obvious to me how our relationship would progress--but for now, I was happy.