I was recently inspired by Coco (ICE-T's wife), she's a mother and a was wearing a tiny thong with her huge ass hanging out, entire family at the beach and I realize that is normal for that family.
That's how they roll, nothing wrong with it. She is proud of her body - and this story will feature women with positive self-images who dont' get embarrassed or humiliated by being naked (in and of itself) it will take a lot more to knock them down a peg. I think one of the misunderstandings people who read my stories for the first time have is they are extremely binary.
You are either a jaded super whore who cannot be humiliated, or a scared mouse that won't pop out a single titty on their wedding night and nothing in between - the never nude that showers like Doctor Funke with their jeans on.
I don't live in that world, and I also like girls who over time can accept more and more - I am often reminded of girls who started working at strip clubs when I worked in them. They'd start as straight laced waitresses who would freak out if a guy pinched their butt and wear full clothes with nothing showing.
Then after watching trashy sluts roll in drunk and late, walk out with a thousand bucks for dry humping for two hours - they'd say "Hey, put me on stage, but turn the lights out"
and slowly, they would turn into the next batch of drunk sluts that sloppily french kissed guy's cocks in the champagne room and let them lick their fart-boxes while dry humping. However, it was a slow and often fascinating evolution/corruption over time. What shocked the girl in chapter one, wont' in chapter ten after they do it for a while.
Imagine you were going to Jamaica to spend the summer with your vacation, and this was your grandma?
ICE-T is 67 years old, btw. Coco is quite a bit younger than him, but she's gonna age like fine cocaine on the mantle, imho.
This story is a lot like many of my others and yes I am working on conclusions but I had to post this work in progress because i am having fun with it.
“I don’t want to spend my summer vacation with my Grandma,” my sister complained to no one in particular. I didn’t want to spend my summer with HER, but I kept my mouth shut and let Monica vent.
I have always been more passive than my younger sister. It’s not that I'm a doormat, but I prefer not to rock the boat and create waves. My sister Monica isn’t a hellion or a rebel – she does what our parents tell her, but she is more vocal about complaining than me or our brother Donald.
“Monica, I don’t want to hear it. Are you complaining about taking a vacation to Jamaica? Sun, Fun, and Boys! Most people would love to have your problems,” my Mom shut Monica down firmly.
That was another reason that I didn’t bother to open my mouth about it. My Mom wasn’t going to entertain turning the car around and canceling our trip. Our plane had already been booked.
“That’s NOT the problem,” my little sister clarified. “I’d rather go to Hawaii or Florida, but Jamaica is fine, I guess. I just don’t want to go with my Gramma!”
“Why not? You have never even met your grandma. She specifically asked for you three and paid for your trip. She wants to get to know all of you better!”
Donald and I were sitting in the back; my sister had taken a point in the front. Donald mischievously whispered that she wanted to get to know us better to eat us like the big bad wolf. He has a unique sense of humor and was somewhat of an introvert until he met someone.
My mother either ignored him or hadn’t heard him – it could have been a bit of both.
“Who wants to hang out with their grandmother? She probably smells like old people and is going to talk about the good old days when people used potatoes as money during the Great Depression. We’ll end up sitting around in a dusty old hotel room with lace doilies everywhere, while everyone else has fun and does cool stuff,” my sister lamented.
I think you'll be quite surprised by your grandma, Coco. I haven’t seen your Dad’s mother since our wedding, but she’s kind of feisty,” Mom snickered. “Your father and I need some time to ourselves to work things out, and the timing of this trip couldn’t be better, Monica. Just go and have fun.”
My parents were nearing divorce, and the three of us knew it. I wasn’t sure what the problem was, but my parents needed some space over the summer. I was sure that was one of the main reasons we suddenly received this invitation after years of never hearing from Grandma Coco.
“Feisty? That sounds like a euphemism for Bitchy,” my sister winced. She and I love books and big words and share a sarcastic sense of humor. It’s one thing we definitely have in common.
We aren’t built the same. Monica’s boobs have sprouted before mine have, and she’s already getting a lot of attention from boys. I am a tall wallflower, all knees and elbows – no curves.
“Just have an open mind, do what your Grandma tells you, and above all else, have fun!” my mother turned and kissed us goodbye after pulling into the airport unloading zone.
“Having fun and doing what our grandma tells us sounds like mutually exclusive instructions, Mom,” Monica wiped the kiss off of her cheek.
“Aren’t you going to walk us to our gate?” I finally chimed in.
“No, Phoebe. You are old enough to do that yourselves. I have to hurry back because your father and I have a vacation planned of our own. I am not paying to park just to walk you to your gate. You can text me if you run into any problems. Keep an eye on your little sister and brother and watch out for them!”
“Yes, Mom,” I frowned as I got out and grabbed my bags. I packed a carry-on and a backpack with my laptop and Kindle so I could do some reading on the plane.
“Monica, do what your sister tells you, and don’t give her a hard time,” My Mom warned my little sister. There was a fat chance that my little sister was going to obey ME. We were close enough in age that most people thought she was the older one.
We also looked so different that most people didn’t think we were related. Monica is a brunette with freckles and big piercing blue eyes, short, big boobs, bubble butt, mischievous smirk.
I am tall, pale, with long blonde hair, flat-chested, no curves, and plain features—bookish and nerdy.
“As if,” Monica slammed the door and grabbed her bag, a purse, and a large suitcase full of clothes.
“What are you doing with that big suitcase?” My Mom asked angrily.
We will be away for the entire summer. I will need clothes, and I already left behind too much stuff!”
“It’s Jamaica! You’ll mostly be in bathing suits,” my Mom assured us and told her to leave the big bag behind.
“There is no way I am going to Jamaica with just a toothbrush and carry-on. I left behind so much makeup, and I am just taking the essentials,” my sister assured my mother stubbornly.
“Monica Austin, you put that suitcase back in the trunk right this instant. I am not paying extra for another bag.”
Monica might come across as strong-willed and stubborn, but she melted immediately and did as she was told with a grumble.
“I didn’t get to bring my books and action figures,” Donald complained and implied that he shared his sister’s pain in solidarity.
“You are a boy, and you don’t need as much stuff as a girl, Donald. You WANT to bring a bunch of toys on a plane, and that’s stupid. I NEED my makeup. I don’t wake up looking THIS good – it takes work,” my sister teased playfully.
“I don’t understand the double standard,” my brother countered. “It shouldn’t matter whether I am a boy or a girl. I should be able to take what I want, but I can’t, and neither can you.”
“Yeah, but your shit is stupid, and my shit is important,” my sister argued back. My Mom said she didn’t have time to play referee.
“Please don’t bicker on this trip,” she begged. “Donald, you are the youngest – so just listen to your sisters and behave. You may not always agree with what they say, but they are older than you, so someone has to be in charge.”
Mom told me to hold my brother’s hand while we were in the airport. My brother was barely a little over two years younger than me. I didn’t want to be seen holding his hand any more than he wanted to hold mine, but I agreed with my Mom and assured her that I would.
We waved goodbye to my mother and headed for our gate. I was a little intimidated by all the chaos at the airport – people coming and going in a hurry. I was also secretly exhilarated to go on an adventure like this. It was the first time my parents had trusted me to travel alone (well, without an adult with me), and I liked having their trust that I could deliver us to my Grandma safely.
I took my little brother’s hand, and we started to navigate the airport toward our plane. Donald didn’t put up a fight or act embarrassed. I was glad, even though it was a little humiliating. I realized some people might think we were boyfriend/girlfriend.
Donald was just a little squirt, freckle-faced with red hair. However, it was entirely possible people might get the wrong impression and think we were together.
“Don’t start bossing me around just because Mom is gone,” Monica warned me as she hefted her remaining bag on her shoulder before realizing that Donald could carry it for her and making him do it.
“If you don’t want to be bossed around, why are you bossing ME around,” our little brother countered with a smirk as he accepted my sister’s bag.
“Just because I don’t want something done to me, doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it to someone else,” my sister openly acknowledged her double standard with a wicked grin as she tousled his messy hair “You are a boy, and it’s polite to carry your sisters' bags. That’s what little brothers are for,” she took my bag and tried to make him carry it as well.
I let Donald carry my bag as well because it was light, and he could manage it. I knew Donald might complain, but he wasn’t going to refuse.
“I have to navigate AND hold your hand; the least you can do is carry my bag,” I shrugged.
“Yeah, you should be thanking us for letting you carry our bags. It might make you look less like a weakling,” Monica tweaked his bony bicep to emphasize how scrawny my little brother was. “If you give me twenty bucks, I’ll let you hold my hand instead, and people might think you have a hot girlfriend.”
I blushed, and so did my little brother. He tried to pull his hand away from mine, but I squeezed and wouldn’t release it. “I don’t want anyone thinking that I am dating EITHER of you – you are my sisters!”
“It’s humiliating for me as well, but Mom said we had to do it, and you're going to hold my hand – sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do, Donald.”
My sister made that about her – even though she didn’t have to be humiliated holding anyone’s hand, AND she didn’t have to carry a bag. “That’s like me. I have to waste my summer with my grandma and you two weirdos and think about all the cool clothes I had to leave behind. I also had all of my hairbrushes and blow dryer in that bag. What will I do without it?”
“I guess we will have to rough it, Sis. You’ll have to borrow mine or ask Grandma to use hers,” I snickered playfully. Now that it was just the three of us and my mother was gone, I felt more comfortable speaking up and talking. I wasn’t worried about not having a blow dryer – my hair was long and straight like corn silk, and I just needed to brush it 100 times a night.
It couldn’t be 99 or 101 times – it had to be 100 complete brush strokes.
You can call it OCD, but I liked to brush my hair exactly one hundred times every night, and I’d be following that routine for as long as I could remember. I liked the familiarity of routines and knowing what I was going to do. However, this trip presented an opportunity for me to break with my routines and I had mentally prepared myself to accept that things might not be exactly the way they always had been at home.
I couldn’t have been more right about that – things were definitely not the same in Jamaica. It was a long flight – the longest of my life. I tried to read books for most of the trip. I had recently started reading Erotica, but I didn’t know shit about it.
The stuff that I was into were stories about wolf clans and vampires, set in magical lands set upon by monsters of nightmares. These were often fantasies about predicaments, betrayal, blackmail and nine-tailed fox women (Kitsune) being tied up and bound by wicked captors who want to do naughty things to them.
Unfortunately, my sister yammered on the entire time. My little brother’s elbows were jammed into my sides because he had the middle seat.
“Stop elbowing me,” Monica elbowed him back because he was obviously doing it to her.
“I can’t help it. These seats are super cramped. Grandma Coco could have upgraded us from cattle class to first class,” he snickered.
“What kind of name is Coco, anyway?” she asked about our grandma.
“I don’t know. It’s probably short for something. In the old days, they used to call each other Sissy or Fanny. Grandma’s real name is probably Edith, Mabel, Edna, or Mildred.”
“Fanny, that’s funny! Doesn’t that mean ass or something? You pack your fanny,” my sister quipped.
“I once read that English people use the word Fanny to mean a vagina,” I snickered playfully.
“Cunt, Twat, Pussy, call it a slit – but don’t say vagina. It sounds so corny. Don’t embarrass me when we are in Jamaica by being a constant trivia dork. If we do get to talk to some boys – let ME do the talking. You just sit there and look pretty,” my sister advised.
“You think I am pretty?” I was flattered.
“Pretty awkward and pretty stupid,” my sister laughed.
“Sitting between you two is like sitting between two crying babies -if you want to argue, can I have a window seat? I want to look down on the world like it’s a tiny Minecraft land that I created and imagine myself as God,” my brother asked.
“Fuck that, I have the window seat, Donald,” my sister pouted, and elbowed him for good measure.
“I’ve always wanted a window seat, sis!” my brother sounded sincere. He didn’t launch a counterattack with his elbow, choosing instead to bring his arm down defensively over his ribcage.
“How does it feel to want? We can’t always have what we want, fart knocker,” my sister elbowed him again.
“I am not even elbowing you; what did I do to deserve being called a fart knocker and getting elbowed?” Donald asked.
“You called me a crying baby, and you were born with a penis, but you act like a little pussy,” she elbowed him again to make her point. “You won’t ever stand up for yourself – so I can elbow you or call you a name whenever I like.”
“Okay, but why would you WANT to do that to me though? I didn’t elbow you on purpose, and I was just joking about you guys sounding like crying babies.
Monica rolled her eyes and smirked.
“Because boys like you think the world owes you a medal for not hitting back. You expect praise for basic decency like you’re some kind of hero just because you didn’t cry or throw a punch. That’s the male ego in a nutshell — fragile, overinflated, and always begging for a cookie just for staying quiet while the women do all the talking AND the elbowing,” she elbowed him again to prove she could do it.
“That’s the second time you said that girls are better than boys – you don’t believe we are all equal?” my brother frowned.
“We aren’t - girls have had to put up with shit from guys for centuries. We have to be better than you at everything to get recognized and treated equally. There is a difference between girls and guys – that’s why we don’t have the same bathrooms.”
“Yeah, well… on a plane, we do all share the same bathroom,” my little brother made a fair point. I grinned because I wasn’t part of the debate. I could see both sides of the argument, but my brother had thoroughly countered my sister’s point.
“Wow, good job, Einstein — yes, we share a bathroom on a plane because we have to, but .” my sister’s silence was enough of a concession that my brother had countered her logic. “You still have to understand that even though men own everything, build everything, and start all the wars – women still rule, and men drool.”
“How is that, sis?” my brother offered an impish grin. I was curious as well and leaned in to listen.
“I’ve got one of these,” she pointed to her lap. “I can get a hundred of those if I want to just by walking up and asking for it,” she pointed to our little brother’s lap.
“You can get a hundred cocks in your pussy and that makes you powerful? It sounds like it makes you a slut,” my brother countered.
“Stop being disgusting and saying cock and pussy,” my sister harumphed loudly. However, she had just recently told me to say vulgar words instead of being corny. The two of them (thankfully) sat in silence without trading jabs for a while.
We didn’t talk too much about the trip or what we’d do once we got to Jamaica after that. My sister was bored and couldn’t find any music worth listening to on her phone. She couldn’t get any signal when we were in flight, and when we landed in Jamaica, it was very spotty. We had to connect from Kingston to a smaller airport in Negril on a much smaller plane.
None of us could get a signal on our phone outside of the Kingston airport.
It was hot, and the sun was in the sky. I swore I could hear the faint sound of the ocean and smell the salt water from the ocean. My sister said it was just hot garbage from a nearby dumpster.
One thing that I noticed about everyone on the flight from Kingston to Negril was that they were couples, and almost no one was our age. They were all white people, affluent, and in the men looked in their mid-50s. Most of them wore Hawaiian print Tommy Bahama shirts, and they looked eager and happy.
I wouldn’t have taken too much notice of them, but I am observant, and a people watcher and I noticed that almost all of the women on the flight had blonde hair and fake tits. I would say that at least 80% were at least ten years younger than their husband and very attractive. There were a few “normal” looking people on the flight who seemed like your typical Middle-American couple, but there was definitely a pattern of blonde women.
They reminded me of high school cheerleader coaches. The women looked like the types that drank expensive wine for dinner, attended country clubs, and drove fancy cars – trophy wives. That made sense to me because the only people who could probably afford this kind of vacation were wealthy enough to afford a trophy wife.
My little brother embarrassed me because he kept ogling the attractive women. Most of them humored him when they caught him staring and smiled right back. I elbowed him and whispered to stop, but he didn’t.
The landing was scary because we were in such a small plane with 20-30 passengers. We didn’t exit through a metal tube. They let us get off the plane right on the tarmac. It was not what I expected at all. We were at some rinky-dink airport; we still had no phone signal. I wanted to text my grandma to let her know we had arrived.
“What kind of name is Negril? It sounds like NEGRO,” my sister asked after we landed.
When my sister said “Negro” I saw one of the women smile at us knowingly and brighten. I wondered if she was a racist and thought we were racists.
“Don’t say Negro so loud,” I whispered a warning to my sister. “I think there is a racist Morgan Fairchild look-a-like convention happening this week,” I joked.
“Who the fuck is Morgan Fairchild?” my sister whispered back angrily as we exited the plane and followed the others to a nearby building. I assumed that was where we’d meet our grandmother.
“THAT is Morgan Fairchild or at least a Giga-version of her,” I pointed to an older woman who was sitting on the hood of a red convertible, clearly waiting for someone. I couldn’t see her face well, but I could tell she had on a lot of makeup from a distance. The attractive woman might have been a beauty queen and/or a famous stripper at one time. She had blue eyes, an upturned nose, and big, puffy blonde hair. She looked like a parody of a woman – oversized breasts, hips, butt – even her lips and hair. All the things men liked, and probably a tiny brain as well.
“She is hot as fuck,” my little brother exclaimed as he stared at the woman with the huge knockers in the distance.
“That’s disgusting; you are a little kid,” my little sister frowned at our brother.
“I am only a year younger than you,” he reminded her.
“That’s like dog years in maturity,” she assured him. “The only way you’d ever bang a woman like that is if you had a thousand dollars tied around your neck and a YouTube tutorial on how to fuck.”
“What if that’s the real Morgan Fairchild, do you remember her from Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure?” my little brother asked me and changed the subject. He was carrying our bags, and stood straight, while giving me his best James Bond swagger to deliver the iconic line “The Soviets have the X-1, Dottie. The fate of the free world is riding on this one.”
I replied as Morgan Fairchild playing Dottie that I had to come along with him. It was an inside joke that my little brother and I shared. We had seen that movie a thousand times.
“No, it’s too dangerous,” Donald said firmly, a grave expression settling over his face. Monica only frowned and humored us while we roleplayed the scene.
“I am going with you; I invented the X-1, P.W,” I insisted.
“Alright, let’s go,” my brother abruptly started to walk toward the airport building without a second thought.
I grabbed his shirt, and pulled him close to me “You are such a push over, P.W!”
My brother leaned in close to me, stared me right in the eyes and with a dead pan expression told me “I know you are, but what am I?”
It was so funny – we both forgot to laugh!! At least, that’s what we said while we were doubling over with laughter.
My little sister frowned and said that it was way too hot to be that stupid and that she wished our grandmother would hurry up and come get us. “We don’t have our phones, she may not even know we are here!”
My little brother playfully suggested that we ask the woman sitting on the hood of the car for a ride. “We may have to ask Super Morgan Fairchild to float us to our grandmother’s house on those inflatable titties of hers!”
“Morgan Fairchild was the epitome of 1980s blonde bombshell actresses – fake tits, plastic features, big hair, lot of makeup,” I explained in a whisper to my sister.
“Yeah, all these bitches look like that, but that porn star on the back of the car is definitely their leader,” my sister agreed. She theorized that the attractive woman bought the car with all the OnlyFans money she probably made selling hot MILF pictures of herself.
A young black guy was sitting in the driver’s seat. His skin was as dark as midnight. I assumed he might be her driver, her lover, or both. There was a cute black girl with light brown skin who was a dead ringer for a young Haile Bailey seated next to her. I assumed she was the woman’s personal assistant and sometimes lover.
“Look, the Alpha Morgan Fairchild is intimidating all the lesser wannabe Morgan Fairchildren,” I snickered. The woman seated on the back of the convertible was wearing a micro bikini that barely covered her massive tits and curvy figure and might not even be street-legal back on an American beach. She looked out over the line of blonde women walking with their husbands like a lioness surveying the Serengeti plain for the next elk to pounce on and have dinner.
The hot blondes walking in a straight line like ants toward the airport building didn’t make eye contact with her. It was as if they recognized that among their kind – this one was supreme.
As we got closer to the woman, I noticed her huge, puffy lips and even more enormous tits. “Jesus, can you imagine wearing something like that?” I asked. “She looks like a sex-freak -almost ridiculous! There is no way she can go anywhere without people thinking she is a porn star.”
I felt almost sorry for the sexy woman – who was sunning herself and seemingly content with the Jamaican vibe.
“Why even bother? She’d get fewer people staring at her if she was naked,” my sister agreed.
“I think she WANTS people to stare at her,” I theorized.
“Donny, Monica? Phoebe?” I heard the woman shout toward us as she waved us over.
“How does she know our names?” my sister asked. Monica was clearly confused and not inclined to walk over to the strange woman.
“That’s our grandma?” I guessed – as strange as it seemed, that had to be the only answer.
“No, that’s a prostitute and a porn star; maybe our Grandma sent her over to pick us up?” my sister looked skeptical as we headed toward the gleeful bimbo. She was bouncing up and down with excitement, causing her massive tits to shake as she clapped her hands together.
“Oh shit, I said she was hot,” my little brother blushed and begged us not to say anything about it. I had no intention of humiliating him, but now that he reminded Monica – I wouldn’t have put it past her.
“Don’t say anything about what we said to Grandma Coco,” I whispered to my little sister.
“Why? You said it. You don’t like the truth?” Monica teased us but nodded that she’d keep that to herself.
“Hello?” I asked when we got near her car and had a better look at the woman. She barely looked over 45 – but she had a timeless sort of look, and the makeup probably helped make her look a little younger.
“Donny, Donny, look at that red hair; oh, aren’t you just a little charmer? " Our grandmother hopped off the hood and trotted over to us, bending down to hug our little brother first. She was wearing very high heels, which made it difficult for her to walk on the pavement. It seemed like an odd choice, considering the tiny bathing suit she was wearing with them.
My little brother let Coco’s tits envelop him, but he was obviously a little weirded out by the experience. “Oh my! Look how handsome,” she clearly doted on him. “We are going to have so much fun, young man!”
There was something naughty but simultaneously wholesome and authentic about Coco. It was like she exuded a natural kind of sexuality that was intrinsic to Coco’s entire being, and yet she also existed in the real world and did mundane things like pick up her grandkids from the airport.
She hugged him for a while before releasing him. He corrected her when she called him Donny and said his name was Donald.
“This is Jamaica, and I am your grandma! Don’t be uptight and fancy, Let me call you Donny, please?” she begged.
My little brother could only smile and nod, while blushing. I could tell he didn’t know where to put his eyes when he looked at our grandmother. The first thing you see are her tits coming straight for you – big bulging nipples poking through the overworked material with tiny straps holding them back.
The next thing you see is her face – blush, mascara, eyeshadow, lipstick. Coco has bedroom eyes, and a pointy little noise like mine. She has a huge mouth and big lips that look like they were custom-made for kissing or sucking dicks and nothing else.
You look down at her exposed navel, wide hips, and the tiny scrap of fabric barely covering her pussy — everything about her looks dirty, sexual, and like it was something from a dirty magazine that you shouldn’t be looking at. Even Coco’s thighs and those fuckable legs are almost too hot to stare at without feeling like you’re doing something illegal.
I felt like if someone was looking over my shoulder while I stared at a picture of my grandmother on my phone, they would think I was looking at porn.
“You are Phoebe! You look just like me,” Coco turned to me next, and hugged me tightly with her massive tits like we were long lost friends. I didn’t see the resemblance at all. The woman gave me a kiss on the MOUTH. She didn’t slip me the tongue, but I thought she might have if I had opened my mouth. It made me incredibly uncomfortable. “At least, before all my surgeries,” she giggled.
“Grandma Coco?” I asked, arching an eyebrow, still in her embrace.
“Just Coco, Grandma is such an uncool name,” she let me go and bounded over to my sister to hug and kiss her as well. “Monica!! My sweet baby girl! Look at you, so grown!!”
My sister squirmed and didn’t like getting kissed on the lip any more than I did – at least she didn’t insult our grandmother by wiping off the kiss the way she had our mother’s goodbye kiss on the cheek.
“This is your Uncle Tommy,” she pointed to the teenager in the driver’s seat. He had a thin mustache and looked mature but close to my age. He seemed like he was laid back and cool and above any mundane bullshit.
“What up, Fam?” he said cooly, offering a two-finger salute and a nod.
“This is your Aunt Diamond,” my Grandmother introduced the pretty black girl to us. She struck me as someone bright and eloquent – and despite being our age, like she was mentally 25 years old.
We’d never heard of our Aunt and Uncle -and I was shocked that we were related to black people. I assumed, perhaps by marriage.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I offered to shake my Aunt and Uncle’s hands awkwardly. The pair didn’t know how to respond to me.
“Don’t mind my sister, she’s a dork,” Monica greeted them coolly.
My Aunt climbed into the backseat. I caught a brief glimpse of her huge ass and the tiny string that ran between her crack – there was no way it covered her entire hole. “I like how you girls roll; you didn’t bring anything except little handbags! Just get what you need as you go! Live on the edge.”
“That’s our stuff,” Monica pointed out, as our brother held all three of our carry-on bags.
“You made your little brother lug it all the way here?” Coco pouted. “That’s not very nice! come and sit with your Grandma Coco! Diamond, put their stuff in the trunk!”
Diamond dutifully took our stuff without asking for it and stowed it away. In fairness, my grandma hadn’t given her a choice. I didn’t think much of it, but she was a little brisk and rude about it.
“Hop into the Thunderbird, and let’s get to the beach!” she told us, patting her thigh to indicate that our little brother could sit on her knee if he wanted.
“We have to get the rest of our luggage,” my sister pointed to the airport terminal and complained that she had already left a lot of things behind.
“It’s probably on another flight, and you won’t need clothes where we are going! Don’t worry about it,” Coco insisted as we got into the backseat car.
“That’s bullshit,” my little sister said as she joined me in the backseat. She glared at Diamond. My little sister likes to have shotgun (the front passenger seat), but she didn’t challenge her Aunt.
“Jamaica is very laid-back,” Tommy assured us, “the luggage will be there later. They are on colored people time around here,” he added.
I didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded super racist, and I didn’t expect a black guy to use that term. Tommy was confident and didn’t strike me as the self-deprecating or self-loathing type.
“I usually ride up front,” my sister observed to no one in particular.
“You can sit on Tommy’s lap while he drives if you want,” my aunt said, turning her head with a look that made it clear she knew exactly what my sister was getting at — she wanted the front seat, but that wasn’t happening as long as Diamond was in the car.
“Plenty of room in the back with me; don’t let the claws come out, girls,” Coco giggled. She insisted that my little brother sit as close to her as possible. The side of her right tit was firmly over his face. She put her hand tightly over his thigh and held him firmly in place. She noticed that my little brother was shocked and amazed by being so close to her tits.
“Do you know what they call bees that give milk, Donny?” Coco wanted to break the ice and make it seem less awkward, so she told him a joke. “Boob-Bees,” she cupped her tits and jiggled them while pretending to milk her nipples.
The look on my brother’s face was stunned horniness – that’s the only word for it. I don’t think my Grandmother intended to do that. I think she’d thought he’d laugh at the silly little joke.
Last edited by EddieDavidson on Sat Mar 29, 2025 1:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
My Grandmother tried to make my little brother laugh again and asked, “What works best when it’s pulled, works best when jerked, and inserted into a slot?”
Donny didn’t know, but Tommy and Diamond had obviously heard this one before because they both had knowing and amused expressions on their faces.
“A seatbelt!” Coco fidgeted with his seat belt before teasing him and telling him to get his mind IN the gutter. “My jokes will be much funnier that way!”
She clearly had a bawdy sense of humor, and my Grandma delighted in amusing my little brother. I don’t think he got comfortable or relaxed with her tits touching his skin and her hand on his thigh, but Donny certainly was smiling for most of the drive.
“I am so glad you came,” she said. I knew she meant it innocently, but even the way my Grandmother said “came” sounded dirty. “Donny is my eldest, and I would have loved to have seen him and your mother!”
“They are kind of going through something,” I frowned as the car pulled out of the airport. I had never ridden in a convertible with the top down before. It felt like I was starring in a parade, and I should wave my hand for onlookers. There just wasn’t anyone on the sidewalks to wave at.
“Marriage can be fun, but it’s not for me – I like to spread myself around,” Coco forced her legs a little wider to lean into the double entendre. I didn’t look down at her pussy, but I blushed just thinking about sitting with such a wide stance.
“How many sons do you have?” I asked and changed the subject. I couldn’t help but notice the huge gap between my Grandmother’s thigh and the tiny sliver of cloth covering her slit. I didn’t see any straps around her bottoms, and I wasn’t sure how the microkini continued to stay on her body without falling off.
“That I know about?” my Grandmother giggled at her own joke – although I didn’t quite understand why that was funny to her. It would have made more sense if a philandering man qualified he didn’t know how many bastards he had sired.
“I had Donny and Marie with my first husband, and then Eddie, Herschelle, and the twins when I was married to my second husband. Then, I had these two little squirts, but I wasn’t married at the time,” my Grandma indicated, referring to Diamond and Tommy. I had never met any of the other people that my Grandmother mentioned.
“I guess, let me think,” my Grandma shut one of her beautiful blue eyes and pretended to count in her head before smiling like an airhead and asking me to repeat the question about how many sons she had.
The thing about Coco was that she was so bubbly and effervescent that it was hard to know if she was pretending to be stupid or if she really was. I would come to find out that she was a very clever woman that summer.
I could see the crystal blue water from the main road running through Negril. “This is Norman Manley,” my Grandma explained that was the name of the highway – but I assumed it may be the name of her husband.
There was nothing but resorts, hotels, tennis courts, and palm trees in any direction.
“There isn’t anyone on the sidewalks,” I observed.
“They are all at the beach, honey! Or busy with other matters,” Coco said with a smile. “Do you girls have boyfriends or girlfriends or both back home?”
My sister pretended she had a boyfriend and said they had recently broken up. I told the truth. Even though I had been with guys before – I hadn’t had anything I would describe as a relationship.
“Oh goody, you don’t want to be encumbered by some long-term bullshit while you are in Jamaica! What about you, Donny?” Coco squeezed his thigh with a wicked grin.
Donny blushed and hemmed and hawed.
“Donny couldn’t get laid if he crawled up a chicken’s ass and waited,” Monica blurted out. It wasn’t uncommon for her to tease us, but she never said things that crass around our parents. I assumed my sister felt more comfortable telling them about our Grandmother. I noticed that Monica was quite happy to adopt calling our brother Donny over his preferred name of Donald sarcastically.
Aunt Diamond grinned as she looked over her shoulder and gave my sister a high five for a successful burn on Donny, usually only her eyes.
“I should wash your mouth out with soap,” Coco joked. “You can’t lift yourself up by putting your brother down,” she warned my sister before telling my brother that she knew some naughty older women who would eat a boy like him for lunch. “Do you want me to introduce you to a few?”
I assumed Coco was testing my brother and joking to see his reaction. It was so over the top that I couldn’t believe she was serious. My brother looked down at his lap and chuckled – unable to even form words.
“Oh, that boy needs to find him a few chickens,” Diamond suggested that there were plenty around that would love to let him crawl up their ass and wait. It was such a loaded comment that it turned me on a little just thinking about a woman that was so horny she’d fuck my little brother.
The car was headed north along a lone highway, surrounded on all sides by fancy resorts and mansions. I caught glimpses of the Caribbean waters along the coast as rap music warbled out of the stereo. I was too caught up in the conversation to listen to it.
“Do you three like to party?” my Grandmother changed the topic.
I assumed that may be a trick question, and when my Aunt held up her fingers to her lips and pretended to take a puff, I understood what she was asking before she said “420.”
“No, I don’t smoke,” I said. My sister lied (or maybe she did smoke pot, I didn’t know) and said she did occasionally. Donny was still blushing, and his response was inaudible, but it was obvious that he didn’t smoke pot. He was way too baby-faced and innocent to do something like that.
“It’s completely legal here – you can smoke it anywhere,” Coco assured us.
“It’s still illegal, Mom,” Diamond disagreed and smirked. “It’s just the Jamaican police don’t give a shit.”
“Oh, well, that’s the same thing, isn’t it?” Coco giggled impishly. “Don’t correct your mother,” she winked. “I’ll have your brother pull this car over and give you a proper spanking!”
I could tell it was Drake’s “Turn Up for What” on the stereo during the awkward silence.
“There are a lot of tennis courts here,” my sister observed as she scanned the resorts. “Holy shit, are those people playing in the nude?”
I didn’t notice – but my sister described two women with big floppy tits tapping a green ball back and forth while some old men watched with their tongues out. My little brother craned his neck and stared behind the car – hoping to catch a glimpse of the racy scene, but we had long since driven past it.
“Could have been,” Coco giggled dismissively – not caring one way or the other. The others in the car didn’t seem surprised by the story either. “Nudity is legal here too, or is that also illegal, Diamond?” my Grandmother asked sarcastically.
Coco had a bubbly but sexy voice. It wasn’t gravelly, and she didn’t sound like an ‘old person’ – but she did sound mature. The best way I could describe my Grandmother’s voice is to say she did sound a little like an older porn star. She could sound playful and childlike or mature and worldly, and sometimes, she could manage both at the same time.
“I think it’s okay in Negril. I don’t think anyone gives a shit, but other than at Heddy or the beach, I never see anybody walking around with their shit out,” Diamond answered pragmatically.
She didn’t sound Jamaican, and she didn’t sound like a teenager, either. She sounded like she was from New York – pragmatic and confident like her brother.
“Do you guys live here year-round?” I changed the subject from public nudity because it made me uncomfortable.
“Sweet cheeks, I don’t just live here — I sweat, moan, and sunbathe through every damn season, but I stay where I want and don’t call any place home," Coco pinched my cheeks.
“What about you?” I asked my Aunt.
"Born here, bred here, and I’ve definitely been well-bred here, too,” Aunt Diamond snickered through her double entendre. My Uncle nodded his head in agreement but didn’t reply to my question.
“You have a Northern accent like you're from New York,” I pointed out.
“That’s because we get a lot of tourists,” Diamond said. “You probably hear a little Puerto Rican in my voice.”
“Which little Puerto Rican did you have in your throat last, sis? Juan or Hector?” her brother teased her and implied she was a slut.
“Both,” Diamond replied proudly – clearly not shy about confessing her sexual activities around her mother.
We were suddenly and abruptly outside of the resort area on the single highway – palm trees and jungle rising up from either side of the road. There was nothing – not a trace of civilization once we crossed a small bridge and left the resort area. I absent-mindedly checked my phone.
“You aren’t going to get a signal here,” Diamond informed me with a jaded expression. “The local cell phone towers are shit. You may as well save the battery life.”
I wondered where we were headed, but I simply turned off my phone and nodded.
“You kids these days are so obsessed with your phones and the Internet. I don’t want you looking at things like that while you're here, anyway. Just be in the moment, be present, enjoy life, and experience it. You don’t need to be connected to anyone else right now – connect with me and your Aunt and Uncle,” Coco insisted.
“I love computers. Are there any video games at your house, Grandma? Mom wouldn’t let me bring my X-box,” my little brother asked.
“Oh, of course, you love computers, but I hope you will join us on the beach and do more than sit inside all day long,” Coco assured him before telling him that her hand was dangerously close to his penis. “The next time you call me Grandma; I am going to crush your balls – it’s Coco! Everyone calls me that; nobody calls me Grandma!”
My little brother nodded and smiled.
“I got you,” Tommy finally spoke. He was quiet but added that he had an Xbox and a PlayStation in his room. “You like NBA2K and Madden?” he asked.
“I don’t play sports games. I like mostly turn-based games and RPGS,” my brother admitted. I could tell that it was a wet blanket for Tommy when his face fell.
“You ever play World of Warcraft?” Tommy asked hopefully.
My little brother said he had.
“I got the trial version for it, and I made a Hunter. I named my Dwarf ‘Holmes’. I darkened his skin, you know – made him look dark. I had a wolf named Grip. I pointed my rifle at something, took a shot, put down a trap, backed up, and then sent Grip to bite that little Murlock bitch on the ass. Then I take another shot, and put down a trap, and back up.”
“Mrglglglglgl!” my little brother imitated a Murlock battle cry, which Tommy recognized right away.
“Holler at your boy,” Tommy held up a finger to indicate he got the reference.
My little brother was ecstatic to find that he had something in common with Tommy. Monica sighed “Oh goody gumdrops, two nerds geeking out over Dorks of Fartcraft!”
I chuckled over my sister’s crass joke, even though I played World of Warcraft myself. I wasn’t included in my brother and Tommy’s conversation about it, so I politely remained quiet.
Tommy made a “pshaw” sound with his mouth and clarified that he just had the trial version and that he didn’t have a good enough internet connection actually to play it. “I had that back when we lived in Ocho Rios near the beach,” he said without ever taking his eyes off the road.
“Oh, that was ages ago, back when I worked at Shades?” Coco smiled nostalgically.
“We used to go up to Beezys and chat up all the cute British boys on holiday,” Diamond adopted a posh-sounding English accent and smiled.
“Yeah, most of my stuff is a little old. There aren’t any game stores around,” Tommy managed my little brother’s expectations. I think that Donald was so awe-struck that a cool guy like Tommy would hang out with him that he didn’t care about that.
“You boys will share a room,” Coco explained before informing me that my sister and I would be sharing a room with my Aunt.
I could tell from Diamond’s expression that it was news to her. “It’s going to be very cozy up in there.”
“Where did you think the girls would sleep? With me?” Coco asked pragmatically.
“I got the impression from the shiny car we were in and the fancy resorts that my Grandmother was relatively rich.
We abruptly exited the jungle and returned to civilization. However, these were not the fancy resorts and elegant homes we first saw. The single-family houses were modest and set back slightly from the road. They looked small, but they had well-kept yards.
“Welcome to Orange Bay,” Diamond snickered. I assumed this was where we’d be staying – where the people who worked at the resorts must live.
There was a gas station and a couple of bars near a marina, but this was hardly a city – more like a suburb. Diamond pointed down a road and said that their high school was just down the street.
It was hard to imagine Diamond and Tommy going to high school. They acted like mature adults.
“Rhodes Hall Hawks, baby,” Tommy held up his fist with pride as we passed the street where their school was.
“I will go there next year!” Diamond’s smile deepened pridefully. I assumed that my Aunt was my age or older, but that meant she might be younger than my little brother. That didn’t make sense to me because Diamond was tall and looked almost like an adult.
“I got held back,” Diamond frowned with shame when she noticed my reaction.
“Held back, held down, choked out, spanked, and felt up,” Tommy teased playfully.
Diamond regarded her brother as if he had just cut a disgusting fart but didn’t correct him or fire back.
“Diamond so dumb, she got a box of condoms and chewed them up because she thought they were chewing gum, y’all,” Tommy laughed. His sister continued to frown and did not engage with him.
I noticed that Tommy lost his steam. I decided that just stoically not firing back when my little sister or brother teases me might be a better tactic instead of engaging with my brother and sister when we tease each other. The only problem was that you had to let them tease you and just take it.
“I am dumb, but I am street smart,” Diamond admitted.
“Walking the streets smart,” Tommy didn’t miss a beat as he teased her again, but let it drop after that.
We also passed a very large hardware store, and the pharmacy was on the side of the road. It looked so out of place in the tiny little village. The parking lot was full, and it looked like it was the social hub of the area as black people stopped and talked to one another – smiling and laughing near the store.
“I am guessing that’s where you guys hang out on Saturday nights?” I asked – meaning it as a joke.
“We don’t live here,” Diamond shook her head.
“We are going to Green Island, where the real niggers live,” Tommy agreed.
There was awkward silence in the car for a moment. Coco didn’t address his foul slur, but it was obvious she didn’t like it. I wasn’t going to say anything if she wasn’t.
We re-entered the jungle and it was so thick that we couldn’t see the water at all from the road. The highway wove and curved.
“It feels like whoever designed this road was drunk and made it this way on a dare,” I observed – trying to break the silence.
“Yeah, it’s fucked up. If you ever break down out here, just haul ass toward Orange Bay. Bandits live out here and would love to kidnap a skinny white girl like you – they’d put you to work,” Diamond assured me. I wasn’t sure if she was kidding, but my Grandmother didn’t deny it.
“You never stop out here, if anyone jumps out on the road, I would just keep driving through that motherfucker,” Tommy told me.
“Stop scaring your nieces,” Coco said before observing in a very deadpan way. “There used to be a lot of kidnappers back in the day, but I think most of that has died down.”
The jungle occasionally opened up into flat lands that looked green and verdant but were actually swamps. “If people don’t kill you then snakes and crocodiles and wild dogs would gnaw on your bones,” Tommy assured us.
After a few more minutes of driving past endless trees and greenery, my Aunt fanned her shirt and complained, “My titties are melting like chocolate!”
“You are the one that insisted on wearing that shirt. I told you to dress light,” Coco reminded her daughter. Coco was normally happy go lucky, but she sounded really critical just then. I could hear my father’s tone in my Grandmother’s voice and realized that when he talked down to us – he often spoke the same way when he said, “I told you so!”
It was muggy and humid in the woods, and everyone was a little miserable, so it was understandable to me that Coco had lost patience with her daughter.
“I know,” Diamond lifted the shirt up and let it drop repeatedly to build up a little airflow.
“Do you have on a bra as well?” Coco asked like that was the dumbest thing her daughter could ever do. Diamond didn’t have huge knockers, but she had more than a handful, which is a lot more than I did.
“Fuck no,” Diamond answered her mother dourly – clearly unhappy that she had a pool of sweat forming under her boobs.
“I should never have let you dress yourself, take off your shirt, it’s summer. We’ll go back to me or your brother deciding what you’ll wear!”
“Mom, it’s fine. We are almost home,” I thought that was pretty harsh, and so did Diamond.
“I don’t recall asking you what your opinion of whether it was fine or not was, and if we are almost home, then you don’t have far to go – nobody is going to care if they see a couple of dark little titties bouncing down the road at high speed.”
I stopped smiling, and so did my sister. I realized this was not a joke, and when Diamond pulled her grey shirt over her head and revealed her puffy dark nipples, it was obvious that they weren’t kidding around.
I assumed that since Diamond told me that people often went nude or topless on the beach – that she had a different attitude about nudity than I did. I glanced at her boobs. They were perky and reminded me of two chocolate-dipped sundaes with maraschino cherries on top.
Diamond looked a little humiliated and embarrassed – but she kept her head straight and didn’t turn around. I wondered what my little brother thought about that. I assumed he’d seen porn on the Internet, but that was different than seeing a topless girl in person.
I would have instinctively put my hands over my nipples to cover them, but my Aunt rode with her hands down and seemed to accept the humiliation quietly. She certainly wasn’t thrilled about it, even as the wind from the road made her nipples jiggle and bounce while cooling them off.
There was a long, awkward pause that seemed to go on for an eternity.
“It looks like Red Dead Redemption out here,” my little brother asked if Tommy had ever played that video game.
“I’ve never played it, but I like Grand Theft Auto; Franklin is my dog, yo?” Tommy replied cryptically. I had no idea what he was talking about, but it was obvious that he was speaking my little brother’s language.
“I like Trevor the best,” my little brother admitted.
“I would figure you for a Michael-guy. He’s white, rich, and gets everything handed to him; Franklin had to work for that cheese,” my Uncle observed. The guys went back and forth with their analysis of the motivations and relative story of a video game that I had no interest in.
It helped pass the time as we drove for what felt like forever. I could imagine that if we stopped for even a second, a kidnapper would hop out of the trees with an Uzi and make us strip naked – doing really naughty things to us. It kind of turned me on to imagine being tied up and hung from a tree – helpless and unable to stop him from doing anything he wanted to me.
I was certain the reality would be that I’d piss myself out of fear and be covered in mosquitos sucking my blood dry before he slit my throat, but the fantasy helped me tune out the video game chatter.
“When boys are talking, the least you can do is listen and smile,” Coco told me when she noticed that I had tuned it all out and was smiling to myself. I grinned at her, assuming she was joking. “You were zoned out in your own little world for a second. I asked if you ever had Oxtail? It’s rich, sticky, and full of flavor -like a cock. That’s for dinner. I stew it down with butter beans and brown it until the meat's so soft it slides off the bone. It’s heavenly!”
I almost didn't notice that my Grandmother said Ox Tail tasted like dick, but I did, and my shocked expression reflected that. Coco had said it in the most mundane way like it was an obvious comparison, but I was still surprised she described it that way.
Last edited by EddieDavidson on Sat Mar 29, 2025 11:10 pm, edited 2 times in total.
“You really eat the tail of an ox?” I pouted and felt sorry for the cow or ox or whatever it is that gives up its tail to be someone’s dinner (I was far too naïve to know that they butchered the entire Oxen when they took the tail).
“No, Ox Tail is Jamaican Patwas for New York Strip, but we are so dumb we call it Ox Tail,” my Aunt seemed insulted. I apologized and said I didn’t mean to offend her. I noticed that when Diamond became particularly frustrated or angry, she fell into a deep Rastafarian accent, just as she had right then.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be cross with you,” Diamond apologized.
My Grandmother continued to talk about food, but none of it sounded appetizing to me: callaloo, Bammy, Curried goat, and seafood.
“I don’t like Seafood at all,” my sister frowned in disgust.
“You don’t like the taste of fish?” Diamond implied that my sister might like the taste of pussy – but she didn’t come right out and say that.
“You will learn to eat what you are given and be thankful for it,” Coco said that there weren’t many supermarkets and take out places and the people around here lived modestly and mostly ate what was available. “You may like bully beef, Monica. That’s what Jamaican people call corned beef in a can — salty, greasy, and real satisfying when you fry it up with onions, peppers, maybe a little scotch bonnet if you’re brave. We eat it with white rice, bread, or hard dough crackers when we don’t feel like cooking.”
Tommy said he’d rather have that than the Oxtail.
“Okay, Tommy, do you mind if I make the Oxtail for the girls and me?” Coco asked my Uncle very sweetly. She told him it would go bad if she didn’t make it tonight.
“Yeah, you can have what you want, it makes no difference to me,” Tommy said.
“What about you, Donny? Do you want Bully Beef or Braised Oxtail for dinn-dinn?” my Aunt asked sweetly. My little brother said that it didn’t matter and that he would try whatever she let him try.
I didn’t really think about it at the time, but Coco asked my brother and tommy what they wanted, but didn’t ask us.
We abruptly left the jungle – or at least it merged into the next village. The ramshackle shanty houses were more like sheds, raised up on cinder blocks, with the swamp and jungle blended into the surroundings. There was plenty of space in any direction outside of the village, but the houses were all crowded together in random patterns with winding little trails. There was a lot of open space that they could have built upon.
Diamond crouched down a little in the car, obviously trying not to be seen with her boobs out.
“This is Green Island,” Coco said, pointing out the window. “It’s where we live. It used to be full of sugar plantations back in the day. Most folks around here are descendants of the slaves who worked that land.”
“But… why is it called Green Island if it’s not even an island?” my little brother asked, all wide-eyed and precocious.
Coco chuckled and shook her head. “Why do they call it making love when you fuck the snot out of each other? Why do they call it slut shaming? The minute you say ‘slut,’ you already did the shaming. Ain’t nobody handing out awards with that word. It’s like pretending to be righteous while holding a flashlight up someone’s panties. It’s just some performative, feminist bullshit about not being able to call a slut a slut while calling her a slut,” my Grandmother clearly had strong opinions on that.
She waved happily at an old black man who recognized her while we drove past. “Green Island for a village that isn’t an island is so confusing that you would think that a woman named it, but as I understand it – they named it that because it was so green around here, and at the time, there was no concept of Jamaica.”
“Yeah, to those cracker-ass colonialists, this was just a green fucking island. “ It didn’t really need a name,” Tommy added, his lip curling in a snarl.
“I hope you don’t hold it against white people for what we did to your people hundreds of years ago,” my little brother replied.
“I am descended from colonialists who fucked their slaves, I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t made pretty babies that grew up to be fuckable bitches and handsome Mandingoes with huge dongs; desirable traits were bred into us,” Tommy said that he didn’t hold any malice toward colonialists, because they helped him win the genetic lottery, but he would still call them what they were – exploiters.
We reached a fork in the road where the water begins. An ice cream shop and some restaurants, along with a church made up what looked like the town center near an old wharf.
Tommy made a left and then took another quick left into some winding single lane dirt roads and pulled up next to a ramshackle wooden house with a single banana tree in the small yard.
There were black kids wearing almost nothing running around in the street, playing ball, laughing and the smell of cooking meat wafted over my nose. There was a lot of activity, and it seemed like everybody knew everyone in this cramped part of Green island.
My Aunt’s thunderbird was the only thing besides some white people that looked completely out of place here. I did not expect that we’d be staying at a place this dilapidated and run down. I could tell from Monica’s expression that she was pissed off and angry. This was supposed to be our vacation!
Diamond hopped out of her seat, completely topless, without hiding herself. No one freaked out and pointed that a teenage girl was walking around with no shirt on. However, I could tell that my Aunt was uncomfortable.
“Girls, bring the luggage inside,” my Aunt instructed the three of us, while taking my brother inside to give him the grand tour. She held his hand, and he smiled and beamed with pride as she led him past their screened in porch.
“This screen has a lot of holes in it, like me and your sisters,” she joked that it wouldn’t keep the mosquitoes completely at bay.
I grabbed my bag, and I was about to take my brother’s bag, when Diamond reached out and grabbed it. “Let me carry that one, mom will expect me to do my share,” she insisted. I felt bad for her.
However, my Aunt didn’t act like a victim. She stoically accepted that we had to bring in our stuff. We followed while a few old men leered at us, and one of them spoke in something that sounded almost like English mixed with French. "Eh likkle hot gyal, mek mi light yuh candle."
I ignored the old man, but my Aunt placed her hand on my shoulder and signaled for me to stop. “This one?” she pointed out and added, “She nuh chat Patwa, she just come!”
I worked out it was some kind of local speak. I turned and smiled politely at the man. I thought it was odd that my Aunt didn’t try to hide her boobs, or that the man wasn’t shocked. He smiled and waved us on.
“In the future, if a man like that pays you a compliment, smile and stop,” my Aunt quickly broke down for me that in her culture respect for elders is a big deal. If an elder male (like a family friend, neighbor, or community elder) gives a young woman a respectful compliment, it’s considered good manners for her to respond with gratitude. “Just say Mee give t’anks, mee glad yuh seh so,” she advised.
I didn’t want to say that because it sounded like cultural appropriation, and I didn’t want to be perceived as patronizing anyone.
“Don’t be daft, you can flash them your tits or tell them something in English if you want to then, but don’t just walk away like you were doing,” she told me before letting me go inside.
The house smelled like fish – overwhelmingly. it felt lived in. The kind of place where people cooked with love, cursed with passion, and knew how to survive.
I imagined that it had been patched and cobbled together over decades. It may have even been built in a different century. I wasn’t sure how my Grandmother came to live in this strange place, but I was sure there was a story to it.
The wood creaked as I walked in, and a sheet of faded vinyl siding nailed up like a band aid over rot at the front door where water leaked slowly from the tin roof. I could finally distinguish the pungent aroma of old wood, cooking oil, dust that complimented the fishy odor from the kitchen.
They had electricity because a single light bulb swung without any shade from the roof. There was a well-used, rusty antique sink that a hipster would probably pay a pretty penny to put in their home.
Small water bugs darted out of the opening as water slowly dripped out of the faucet. The dishes had all been put up with care and were obviously well polished. Two obviously well used and well cared for crock pots were on the countertop. The floor in the kitchen slanted slightly, causing the old fridge to lean to one side, but it still functioned properly.
The table was made of finished mahogany with decorative brass bands that made it look regal and Napoleonic. It was big – way too big for the kitchen. There were three chairs on either side and two chairs on the ends, and all but one of them matched.
The chair that didn’t looked like an uncomfortable bar stool and it was completely out of place next to the Napoleonic emblazoned furniture. The set was clearly out of place. It was probably from a nearby hotel or resort and had been used for banquets. I noticed that it had a couple scratches and dents, and the word “Dunce” had been scratched into the side with a knife.
That was unfortunate that someone defaced such a lovely chair and tables.
There was no living room at all. The kitchen itself was the living space in an open floor plan. My Grandmother had an old stereo cabinet – the kind that was heavy and it looked like a television could have been placed on it.
I also noticed that there was no dish washing machine, which surprised me. There was a cabinet with some books and some shelves with souvenirs of a life well lived. The pictures on the wall were mostly of my Grandmother when she was younger and what I assumed were members of my family on my father’s side.
I wanted to explore those a little further, but my Grandmother popped out of another room nearby. Ah deh yuh deh, mi lazy dunce. Tek off yuh clothes, mek wi show di gyal dem weh dem a stay,” my Grandmother said to Diamond in the Rastafarian accent – it sounded unnatural coming from Coco.
I worked out that she called Diamond a dunce and that she was to take her clothes off, and I was terrified. Diamond shucked her shorts off, revealing she had never been wearing panties. She had a very thinly shaved patch of pubic hair over her lightly caramel-covered pussy and a very juicy fat booty.
“Girls, strip off; we are home and going to have dinner,” my Aunt frowned at us while she took her clothes off.
“I’ll show you your room after you undress,” Coco popped her top off. She really didn’t have to in order to expose herself. The microkini hadn’t hidden much, but what it did hide were huge, strawberry-colored nipples.
“Undress out here in the kitchen?” Monica crossed her arms stubbornly.
“You have a competitor for house dunce,” Coco teased her daughter and confirmed we were to strip where we stood and that she wasn’t going to negotiate. “You don’t need any modesty here – we’ve seen it all, and it’s too hot for clothes. I should have made you strip at the airport!”
“What?” Monica and I were both baffled that my Grandmother had gone from giggly bimbo to strict disciplinarian as soon as she got home.
“We undress in the hall,” Diamond’s Jamaican accent sounded far more pronounced when she explained that to us. I got the impression that their word for the front room was hall – but I wasn’t certain. “Take em off, you don’t have anything that most men want to see, and I am sure Donny has bathed with you girls and knows what you have between your legs?”
We hadn’t bathed together since we were very little. I felt obliged to take my clothes off, but I didn’t want to do it. “No, we don’t run around naked at home,” I explained.
“That’s one reason I left the cold climates. I am more in my element with less on,” Coco popped the cloth that she wore for a bikini bottom off. It was a curved strip of fabric that went between my Grandmother’s legs. It was stretched over a bendy, plastic frame, no straps, no waistband, nothing. The kind of thing that looked like it belonged in someone’s hair drawer, not their underwear drawer and worked like a bendy hair beret clip.
Coco’s swollen pussy was completely hairless, it looked invitingly wide, and she had decorated it with diamond studs in her clit and labia. There was a tiny brass hoop sticking up straight like a cow’s nose -extending from her clit.
“You can study my pussy later if it fascinates you,” Coco noticed my shocked face and insisted that I strip faster because she was going to start dinner and wanted to show us how to help in the kitchen.
Monica took her time, removing her shirt and leaving her big white bra in place to hold up her big tits. She was down to her panties but hadn’t removed her underclothes.
“Say goodbye to that sweaty bra, Monica,” Coco said as she walked behind my little sister, and unsnapped the clasp, while removing it.
“I need it for support,” Monica covered her tits with her hands in a panic, feeling violated and vulnerable.
“You have some fat little knockers, but you’ll get used to letting them droop and look natural. You can always buy a set of Franken-titties like mine if you want your jugs to stand up on their own and look freakish.”
Coco’s use of the term “Frankentitties” to describe her boobs was very self-deprecating and a little shocking. I thought she loved her body because she liked showing it off. However, she seemed ashamed or regretful that she had such enormous boobs. She even jokingly pretended to stomp around like Frankenstein with her hands straight out while holding my sister’s bra. “FIRE! AH! FIRE!”
Her daughter giggled, and I found myself smirking – even though I was freaking out. I was almost nude, and I just had my white cotton panties on, with socks. “Can I at least keep my panties on?”
“Are you on the rag?” Coco asked with a trace of empathy in her voice.
“No,” I admitted I didn’t have my period.
“Then drop the linen and start the grinning, you don’t have any tits – so I am curious what your pussy looks like,” she said.
I groaned and lowered my panties slowly, rolling the elastic band with my thumb.
“You pull them down like a virgin trying to strip on her wedding night,” Coco judged my performance taking my clothes off and found it lacking. I wasn’t trying to impress her with how I stripped. She didn’t like my wispy blonde pubic hair.
“We’ll whack that off completely, it makes you look like a little girl, but you are older than Diamond,” she informed me.
Diamond was as tall as me, and certainly physically more mature than me. She was athletic, with broad shoulders and a curvy figure. She blushed when her mother told me that I was the oldest of all the girls. I had never seen a black person blush, but I could tell she was embarrassed.
“I am still in charge of the girls, though, right?” Diamond asked.
“You aren’t in charge, but you’ll show them the ropes and keep them out of trouble, you aren’t going to punish them or order them around,” Coco assured her daughter. I wasn’t’ sure if I should be relieved yet or not.
“I know, I would never do that, Momma. I was just making sure that I don’t have to do what they tell me in my own room?” my Aunt appeared worried and nervous that may be the case.
“Don’t be silly, they are girls just like you and from the looks of them, their ears are as wet as their pussies,” Coco assessed us and found us lacking. “Whichever girl is the dumbest, laziest, and selfish will wear the dunce cap at dinner and be your do-girl, and if that’s you then you’ll be their do-girl! That’s just how it is, though,” Coco shrugged.
I wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, but Diamond didn’t challenge it.
“It looks like you may not be Dunce thirty days running for long,” Coco noticed how my sister was not cooperative or enthusiastic. She gave my little sister a hard slap on the butt and told her to undress. “You are the last one – stop shivering and acting like a little baby, you are in Jamaica – clothes aren’t really a thing for little girls around here.”
“I am not a LITTLE girl,” Monica pointed out that she was full figure, and rubbed her butt like it really hurt her. I watched the slap – it was loud, but it hadn’t been given with malice and probably didn’t even sting.
“You may be a little fatty with a couple droopy jugs sprouting off your chest, but you act like a whiny brat, who thinks her shit doesn’t stink. I won’t have that while you are here. If you want me to treat you like you aren’t a little girl, then stop acting like a drama queen and pretending that love tap did anything to you.”
Monica took the rest of her clothes off, revealing a very hairy, tangled, matted bush.
I don’t think that Diamond had ever seen pubic hair that thick before, because she appeared confused and disgusted. Coco clearly had but she also didn’t approve of what my sister had between her legs.
“If a boy jerked off in that hairy bird’s nest, you’d never be able to get it all out,” Coco laughed, and took a playful pinch of a tuft of the hair hiding my sister’s pussy, while imitating scissors chopping them all off. I want you both to shave down as hairless as me, and you can start to grow decent pubes when you're a little older. Neither of you are old enough to have pubes – so stay little girls while you can,” she told us.
Once she was satisfied that we were fully stripped down, she kept my sister’s bra and directed us to take our clothes and bags and follow her and her daughter. The shack didn’t have a hallway – all of the rooms were off the main “Hall” which doubled as kitchen, dining room, pantry, foyer and living room.
“This here is the bathroom,” Coco showed us a clean but spartan bathroom with a tub, and no shower. There was a toilet and sink, and the linoleum was so shiny and clean that you could eat off of it.
“That’s the boy’s room,” she pointed to a door right next to it. “This here is my room, you’ll stay out,” she pointed to another door at the back of the shack. “This is your room,” she pointed to her daughter’s door and led us over to it - which at least she made us feel at home and didn’t say it was HER room, and we were just staying in it.
I smiled, because even though Coco sounded strict, she also sounded loving and patient. It was like she had stopped being overly polite and just started being honest with us about what she expected. I can’t stress enough how I didn’t see it as Cinderella’s mom and wicked stepdaughter situation and that we were the unfortunate victims in that scenario.
Monica may have, and while I was apprehensive and nervous about it all – I wasn’t terrified of my grandmother or Aunt.
The room was incredibly small – probably eight feet long and six feet wide. It was very neat and tidy, but there were a few outfits on the floor. My Aunt flicked on her light switch and the room lit up with a red neon glow – which seemed a little perplexing.
There was a single, small bed that might fit two people. There was a single mattress on the bed, and two small pillows. It looked like an old army cot and certainly didn’t scream comfort. There were no posters or books, and the ceiling was a little lower here than in other parts of the house.
“Where is the rest of it?” Monica asked angrily, with one arm over her boobs and another covering her pussy – her ass crack was completely visible.
“Exactly,” Diamond agreed. “When I was pissy in the car, it was because I was wondering where we would sleep.”
“You will get cozy and make do,” my Grandmother pinched her daughter’s butt playfully. Diamond smiled back – which struck me as odd.
I initially felt like Coco had done a 360 and was being a complete bitch, but I realized that my Grandmother was just being serious and not sugarcoating anything as she had in the car. Diamond didn’t seem angry or shocked that she had to strip and share her room. She accepted the way things were.
I noticed there was a paper cone on the one and only counter in the room near the bed. Glitter had been glued to the cone, and it read “Dunce” on it. My Aunt directed us to put our clothes in the room.
“Why is your room a mess, Dunce?” Coco asked her daughter with a playful smirk.
“I thought I cleaned it up,” Diamond bent over at the waist, taking no precaution or modesty to hide her asshole as she bent down and picked up the clothes.
“You thought wrong, which is no surprise,” Coco said with a hint of sarcastic mirth. It may have come across as crass and cruel in another tone, but my Grandmother’s tone came across like she accepted the failings and expected them. “I hope you don’t teach your bad habits to your nieces, and they go back to their Daddy as better and much more obedient girls.”
“Obedient? Why do we have to be obedient?” Monica asked.
“Look how far being bratty and snotty can get you,” my Grandmother sagely added that girls who are unpleasant and annoying eventually lose their looks. “Eventually, that cute face and those fat little boobies can’t take you any further when your shit gets sour,” my Grandmother reached out and brazenly pinched my sister’s nipple – hard.
Monica’s face froze with her mouth open and her eyes wide in shock.
“The little virgin whose never played with these knockers act is wearing thin too,” Coco tugged my sister’s big tits, lifting one up while pulling the other down like a piston. “You will learn obedience while you are here because I don’t tolerate naughty, sassy little sluts. You will learn to put up with a quick pinch to the tit or the ass and smile about it – it’s not going to kill you, and I have news for you – every girl gets pinched now and then. What’s worse? Letting it break you or freak you out? Or teaching you to accept it with a smile and move on?”
“So, you are going to pinch our boobs all summer?” Monica pouted; her eyes started to redden as she cried “What if I pinch your boobs?” Monica reached up and twisted one of Coco’s nipples – digging her finger into it.
My Aunt and Grandmother laughed and looked at each other knowingly. Coco didn’t swat my sister’s hand away or act embarrassed or freaked out. “I had your father when I was just a little bit of muff like Pheobe,” she explained. “I was in a hurry to grow up, and my first husband was handsome and charming, but he peaked in high school. I was just a naïve little twat from Cherry Lane, but I had grown up being taught not to have any modesty – I skinny-dipped in the lake and ran around naked any time I could. I wasn’t raised with all the sexual hang-ups a lot of people have, and my momma taught me to do as I was told with a smile. It was a great lesson because I learned to please instead of tease and make people happy instead of being a tight ass that holds her affection.”
“That didn’t feel like affection to me,” Monica frowned, a single tear rolling down her eye.
“I know all about crocodile tears, and I can do them better than you can,” my Aunt started to tear up, wistful and sullen. She reached over and smacked her daughter on the butt softly with a light slap. Diamond began to whine and hold her ass like she had been thoroughly ruined, and she’d never recover.
They giggled when Monica dried her eyes and realized that the ruse wasn’t working. The funny thing was that I completely bought it and still wasn’t entirely convinced that my little sister hadn’t been crying.
“Girls are different than boys, Monica. We make the babies, and men lust after us. We can’t act just like them, because we aren’t wired like that – most of us aren’t anyway. You and your sister certainly aren’t, I can tell you that,” my Grandmother assured me that I was 100% feminine energy.
I think that resonated with me on some level, but I still felt vulnerable and afraid. I was naked and in a strange place with members of my family that I barely knew. I am sure I looked worried and nervous, and probably deeply afraid.
“If you do what you are told and be nice, then you will have fun this summer. If you act like you will freak out because someone saw your butt crack and now, they know your secret place then you will have a hard time – that’s up to you, Monica,” my grandma said. She told us that when she was young, she was taught that men would look at her – and to just get used to it. “Every guy I ever knew wanted to get into my jeans before I could bleed – I was taught not to think of my body as this special little unique snowflake and accept that every girl has a slit, tits, and an asshole, and mine may fascinate a guy for a while, but even the best, wettest, tightest pussy in the world is going to bore him after a while.”
I frowned.
“Is that a shocker to you, Pheobe? I don’t claim to know what’s going on with your daddy, but I’ll bet that he’s grown used to your mom’s body, and something new might keep him but eventually all men want to see what’s in the pasture next door – that’s biological. They were wired way back in the ancient, most primal days to seek out and spread their seed. You can’t breed that out of them.”
My Aunt nodded in agreement and said, “Boys will be boys, girls will be girls – that’s why we share a room, and your brother shares a room with my brother.”
“Speaking of which, let’s check on them, and then we need to start making their dinner,” Coco gave me a quick slap on the butt to motivate me to follow her. I noticed that she slapped the three of us on the butt lightly, almost like it was a friendly greeting and an invitation to follow her.
“No way, we can’t go in there, we are naked,” Monica crossed her arms over her tits, but didn’t try to hide her hairy pussy.
Diamond and Coco both sighed and threw their hands up in the air like they couldn’t believe my sister was still being overly dramatic. “You are going to be naked around them – this house isn’t big enough for you to hide away, and this is Jamaica – no one is going to care if you are naked at the beach, I assure you.”
Monica winced and nodded, but she was clearly mortified and reluctant. She waited for the rest of us to walk to the door. Coco knocked. “Tommy, may we come in? The girls want to see your room.”
“No, we don’t,” Monica whispered to me that she didn’t want to see Tommy’s room. I wasn’t going to make waves. I didn’t want to be naked, and that wouldn’t have been my choice, but Coco and Diamond were naked, and I wasn’t exactly sprouting huge boobs. I felt like I probably would go relatively unnoticed.
“You said yourself today that girls and boys were different and that we had different expectations,” I reminded my sister of her conversation with Donny.
“Yeah, but that was different,” my sister pouted, and she was going to elaborate but Tommy opened the door and invited us in. He smiled as he looked me up and down. I am sure my pale white skin, flat chest, and awkward body language seemed funny to my Uncle.
Tommy’s room wasn’t ostentatious or luxurious but compared to the rest of the house it was quite spacious and comfortable. It was almost as big as the entire front hall (kitchen and living space).
He had an independent wall-mounted A/C unit that chilled the room and cooled it down. The lights were relaxing, and the room seemed clean and well organized, with two closets against the wall.
There was a big four-post bed in the style of the dinner table – wooden poles, brass fittings, and a canopy. The wood was polished mahogany with decorative marble, and that gave it a masculine appearance.
He had a big-screen television, and my brother was playing video games on it when Coco walked in. He didn’t even look up at us. It wasn’t too late for us all to back out and not let our little brother see us in the nude.
However, Coco wasn’t going to let that happen. “Donny, do you mind pausing the game. I wanted to talk to you about something?” she asked politely.
My little brother was only happy to oblige. He smiled as he turned around, and then his jaw hit the floor, and he froze in place when he saw his Grandmother’s nude body. I was behind her, so he hadn’t even seen me or Monica yet.
“Donny, is it going to bother you if I get comfortable at home and walk around naked?”
“NO!” Donny shouted, almost like he was refusing to allow it. “I mean, um, no, um, why, I mean, it doesn’t matter, why, I mean, you know? It’s cool and all,” he played it off like he expected it. I noticed he looked anywhere but AT his Grandmother.
Coco smiled plainly, and casually and in a relaxed way assured my little brother that everything would be alright. “You can look all you like – in fact, if you get a long look at me and the others, then you’ll probably get over it and not care about the fact we are naked any more than Tommy does,” she assured him.
My Aunt walked out to the side – fully exposed and smiled before he could nervously ask what was meant by “the others”.
“Girls don’t need modesty around here, Donny. You’ll see a lot of naked women on the beach, and I am just a girl – so it’s not like I’ve got something you’ve probably never seen, right?” she asked as she stood in front of her. I noticed that despite Diamond’s confident words – she still seemed nervous and maybe a little embarrassed.
Coco moved out of the doorway and revealed me and my sister to our little brother. I had my arms crossed, and my Aunt slapped my hands away. “You just have these puffy little nubbies,” Coco pushed my nipples in like they were buttons. It wasn’t intended to be sexual, and even though being told I had small titties humiliated me – my pussy got so wet that I almost sighed.
“You are like the Pillsbury dough slut,” Coco noticed my authentically excited sigh and did it again – this time the push didn’t instantly make me squirty-wet, but it was just as humiliating.
“After we put on the Oxtail to braise and make your Bully Beef, the girls and I are going to go to the beach. Do you boys want to go to the beach with us?”
It was still early, so it may have been close to 3 pm, and it was light out. I noticed that Coco hadn’t asked us if we wanted to go to the beach, and she seemed to be implying we’d go completely naked – but she extended the offer to my brother and Uncle.
Donny seemed perplexed by the question, and he looked at Tommy for guidance.
“Don’t look at me, little man. If you have jet lag or want to hang out and play video games, then you say it. This is Jamaica, you sleep when you are tired, eat when you are hungry, fuck when you are horny,” Tommy’s shot my brother a winning and reassuring smile – coming across more like an older brother than any sort of Uncle.
I noticed that Tommy’s Jamaican Rasta accent became more pronounced just then, and I wasn’t sure if it was because he rarely spoke much or like his sister – it just came out naturally at certain times.
“Yeah, I’d go; how long will we be gone?”
“As long as you want. If you get bored or tired, I’ll ask Tommy to take you home,” Coco assured him. I liked how my grandma called this our “home” -even though it was strange and obviously things were skewed toward males.
“Yeah, that would be great! Do I have to be naked?” he asked.
“You can if you want to be, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Donny,” Coco assured him.
