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Archive name: intoplam.txt (ff-teens, inc)
Authors name: Holly Rennick (jlrennick@yahoo.com)
Story title : Into the Palms 

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Into the Palms (ff-teens, inc)
by Holly Rennick (jlrennick@yahoo.com)

***

Hey girl! Sunbathing on a nude beach, you drift to 
sleep. You're awaked by something long and hard 
slipping into your wet pussy! Oh my, it's little 
brother! You'll pretend that you're still asleep. Oh 
no, you can't hold still! Does this story make you 
horny? Like Wow? Then get a life with people in it, 
honey. "Into the Palms" has siblings on a nude beach, 
but it isn't that one, for goodness sakes! Give me a 
break! Holly 

***

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Hey girl! Sunbathing on a nude beach, 
you drift to sleep. You're awaked by something long and 
hard slipping into your wet pussy! Oh my, it's little 
brother! You'll pretend that you're still asleep. Oh 
no, you can't hold still!

Does this story make you horny? Like Wow? Then get a 
life with people in it, honey.

"Into the Palms" has siblings on a nude beach, but it 
isn't that one, for goodness sakes! Give me a break!

HAWAII

For the good part of a year, the family planned its 
Maui vacation. Their folks had been to Hawaii for their 
honeymoon, but the fiftieth state would be new for Toby 
and Anne. Dad locked in on an airfare, condo and car 
rental package. Mom became "Ms. Space Monster" for 
commandeering the kids' luggage, replacing duplicate 
clothing and CD's with snorkels and sensible shoes.

"They have washing machines over there, you know? And 
we're going there to listen to the waves, not this 
noise," she'd decreed.

"Radiohead's not 'noise'," they righteously protested. 
Shoot!

They all knew that they'd have a great time.

The four loved Maui from touchdown. Everything as 
promised! Their Malibu was a small for four plus 
luggage, perhaps, but no hardship. Their condo was 
beach view (opposed to beach front at twice the price), 
two level, with kitchenette, living/dining room and 
master bedroom downstairs, second bedroom and family 
room (translation: sofa bed and TV) in the loft. Anne 
got the bedroom because girls always do.

Sunday and Monday were for the guidebook beaches, 
Halaekala Crater (thanks to having brought sensible 
shoes, they agreed) and the rain-forest state park. 
Teenage years had led the siblings into different 
interests, but Hawaii mitigated their Mainland 
divergence. Toby could be OK for a week, Anne conceded. 
So could be a week without Radiohead, more weird than 
good, in her opinion, but what everybody talks about.

Snorkeling (oh, thanks again, Mom) near the five-star 
hotels, the siblings saw a sea turtle. Anne pulled her 
brother's hand to point, flapping her elbow in what she 
hoped meant flipper. The two sprinted on the beach, 
tumbling over each other at the finish line. She pushed 
his butt up a coconut tree and let him stand on her 
shoulders to knock down a specimen. They didn't know 
how to open it, but could hear the slosh. Toby bought 
his sister a lei from Girl Scouts fleecing the 
tourists. Anne wore it even after supper.

TUESDAY

On Tuesday, Mom and Dad wanted the day to relive a 
little honeymoon. Kids take the car, whatever, they 
freely laughed. Anne had caught at the rental desk that 
not being 21, she wasn't authorized, but Dad missed the 
detail and she knew she'd be careful. After of 
breakfast mango pancakes, the siblings embarked for the 
smaller beaches southward.

To her brother's surprise, Anne pulled the Malibu into 
a vacant parking lot (easier to find early in the 
morning) and pulled her bra from under her T-shirt. 
"Just getting comfortable," she justified. She'd never 
do that back home, "but it's what everybody does here, 
best I can tell." She didn't need the thing, just 
wasn't used to not wearing one. Anne gave the 
undergarment to Toby to stuff in the glove compartment. 
Toby didn't mind; brothers see sisters' bras.

Bras did seem be less common. Mom was without at the 
breakfast table, even, her breasts swaying as Anne 
hoped hers would some day. Anne liked how the twice-
nursed nipples punctuated Mom's Save-the-Dolphins T-
shirt. As she and Mom didn't pretend a just-us-girls 
mother-daughter relationship (usually fueled by 
maternal voyeurism and offspring deceit, Anne's 
observation), Anne would never comment on the 
prettiness of Mom's breasts, but she affirmed Mom on 
the shirt's politics.

Kihei Beach, their first stop, was overpopulated, but 
southwards the crowds thinned. Beyond Wailea Beach were 
rocks and surf, their sort of Hawaii, they agreed. The 
two splashed in the surf, disturbed light-speed crabs, 
pocketed discardable shells and raced on the sand. Anne 
could see her nipples when the wind plastered her 
shirt. She presumed so could Toby, but what could she 
do? She avoided the spray of wave on rock.

A mystery of more cars in the lot than visitors on the 
beach was resolved when the siblings noted the path 
over the pahoehoe lava outcrop (Toby remembering the 
geological term from the ranger yesterday). There must 
be beach beyond.

Toby hauled Anne up the steep rock face, as he had on 
shoes and she, flip-flops. When her neckline revealed a 
breast, if only briefly, at least he didn't stare, 
thought Anne. Toby let his sister down the outcrop's 
far side and slid behind. Returning, they decided, 
would be easier because they would see the footholds.

What were different on this side, they couldn't deny, 
were the nude sunbathers.

Confronting the situation at roughly the same moment, 
brother and sister exchanged uncomfortable glances. Do 
we go on? Had Mom and Dad been with them, the answer 
would of course be no. But Mom and Dad weren't. They 
saw others at least partially dressed, so that part 
wasn't obligatory. Nobody would know them. What's the 
big hang-up about nudity, anyway? The siblings, 
however, kept on their shorts and T-shirts.

They proceeded without exchanging words, discretely 
threading themselves between the sunbathers who paid 
them no attention whatsoever. It seemed more discrete 
to Anne to not be chatting in the presence of naked 
people.

Some bathers sat or lay alone, most were paired, and a 
few were grouped. Anne noted that while women might lie 
side by side, a man tends to isolate himself with his 
female. Couples unconcernedly lotioned both their own 
parts and those of their partners. Tanning was a 
cooperative activity, Anne decided. Two males never lie 
in familiar proximity and never share sun protection 
products.

Anne had never realized how insignificant appears a 
penis nestled in its pubic nest. Not that she'd really 
seen one before, but in girl talk, they always sounded 
so large.

Likewise, she realized how flat a reclined woman 
appears. Gender sometimes wasn't obvious without 
confirmation below. She watched Toby furtively view two 
bouncy-chested lovelies rummage through their picnic 
basket. Between them and a third on her back, they were 
black, brunette and blonde.

"Let's not hang around here," reluctantly conceded a 
nervous Toby. "It's kind of a little too much."

"Depends on what you think is enough," wisecracked his 
sister, though she too was uncomfortable among so many 
naked. She wasn't sure if she'd be less or more 
comfortable if she were part of the convention. On the 
rocks' other side, her T-shirt made her feel risqu‚. On 
this side, perhaps a bit stupid, but she wasn't that 
confident about it.

"Let's head up toward the jungle," urged her brother, 
motioning to the fringe of vegetation. The walk wasn't 
far.

"Better," Anne declared, the siblings safely secluded 
between beachward-toppled trunks. They'd spread their 
towels to lie side-by-side. Anne rolled her T-shirt 
upward enough to tan her stomach.

At perhaps twenty minutes, "Time to flip." Toby always 
trusted her judgment. "Do my back, will you?" She liked 
how Toby worked the lotion up under the cotton toward 
her shoulder blades. She let him push her shirt as high 
as he could without popping it over a boob below. If he 
had, she realized, she could just press herself against 
her towel and not show.

INTERLOPERS

They'd almost completed sunning their backs when, "Oh, 
didn't mean to step on you," apologized a woman's voice 
above them. The siblings together looked up into the 
speaker's ample and intrusive breasts. Sporting only 
hats, the speaker and her male companion stood just 
over the tree trunk. Neither visitor was large, but 
with a half bottle of suntan oil slathered over them, 
both appeared muscular. The strangers, probably in 
their late thirties, smiled broadly.

The bill-capped man was laden with a towel bag spilling 
a shirt with patterned flowers and what looked to be 
muumuu. Tourist City, thought Anne, as if she weren't 
one herself. Worse, Naked Tourist City.

Her hat was a straw affair adequate to shade her 
shoulders. A nondescript ponytail sashayed below, 
probably a rubber band attempt to keep hair out of her 
eyes. Her face showed the hint of smile. Looking lower, 
veins showed where her breasts were beginning to 
stretch. Her nipples reminded Anne of jawbreakers, 
almost spherical. She obviously tanned topless. Yet 
lower, her mound was as shaved as a ripe plum. Generous 
labial folds were flesh unto themselves, not simply a 
crack into torso. Though nothing about the woman was 
particularly erotic, this woman exuded the sensual.

The fellow's German forest of body hair framed a soft 
penis looped outward as if in counterbalance. His organ 
seemed redder than his thighs. Anne thought only to 
look away after a moment. Where they'd walked, she'd 
seen men only in passing. Now one was parked above her.

"No problem," mumbled Anne to be polite, flattening 
herself.

"Great place," beamed the male, obviously in the mood 
to chat.

"It's OK," terminated Toby.

"You two like a little weed?" offered the woman.

"No thanks."

"Busy, right?" suggested the man.

"Yeah, I guess."

The fellow winked at Toby. "We're out of here, so 
there's the sandy spot back by those three coconuts," 
pointing with his head further into the vegetation. 
"Nobody to step in on you," with a just-our-secret 
chuckle.

The woman added, "It's better in the shade." She 
paused, then reflected, "We could show them where, 
right Stan?"

Better for what? thought Anne. Just go away.

Stan, obviously his name, was guilelessly forthcoming. 
"We could make it a foursome." He again looked at Toby. 
"The girls have their little ways that we never seen to 
get right." He seemed to see little offensive about his 
insight, details provided upon request.

Anne was looking into the sand, waiting for Toby to 
intervene. These people, she realized, were talking 
about things she didn't care to hear about.

"Thanks, guys, but not today." It sounded to Anne as if 
Toby hadn't picked up on the significance.

"No?" from the interlopers, their intentions 
disappointed.

"'Fraid not," closed Toby.

"We could take you back into the palms, you know," said 
Stan. It first sounded like a specific of the 
invitation, maybe a place where they'd see parrots. But 
suddenly Anne was scared. She pictured being led into 
the palms, her wrists bound to a rough tree, her 
clothes torn away. Would they rape her brother too? She 
paled.

Perhaps Stan recognized the misconstruction. "Well, 
enjoy each other however," he offered with surprisingly 
good spirit.

The friendly adieu made Anne feel bad about misjudging. 
Maybe there were parrots or something they wanted to 
show them. But this Stan is sure making inappropriate 
presumptions.

Anne tried to make her glances inconspicuous, but this 
might be the best look she'd get at a male. Unlike his 
buttocks, his penis already seemed tan, perhaps due to 
the blood circulation, she wondered. The male organs 
surreptitiously-inspected earlier were dark too, but 
she'd thought from being in the sun. She sensed its 
heft, a characteristic to which she'd never given much 
thought.

Nudity obviously not being a circumspect subject for a 
naked couple, Stan offered some advice, "There's some 
law about lewd behavior over here, but behind this log 
wouldn't be a big deal. Just not out where naturist 
families swim." He enunciated "naturist" with 
precision, as if they were somehow not authentic.

His partner apologized, "It's cool to be naturists. 
Just don't call it some pure lifestyle." She looked 
toward their bag. "You guys need any protection? We got 
extra." She realized and clarified her topics. "Don't 
want little ones, right? Plus, these days with AIDS and 
shit. We got extra suntan oil too, maybe a gallon"

The interlopers seemed to feel little rejection in not 
being invited to stay, but to totally miss the 
possibility that sex wasn't an appropriate topic.

"Bye," encouraged Toby, embarrassed for his sister, a 
sand crab trying to become invisible.

"Have a good one," quipped the lady, smiling with her 
eyes more than her mouth.

When they were gone, Anne was shaking. "What if they'd 
taken us back there into the palms?"

"They're just old farts, I guess," minimized her 
brother. "They probably planned their vacation as much 
as we planned ours. Their day in the sun, so to speak. 
What's it to us?"

"Thanks for getting rid of them. Did you see that guy's 
thing?" she asked, surprising herself.

"Hard to miss."

"They're so ugly!" Anne didn't elaborate and reveal how 
much she'd noticed.

Toby reflected. "She did have a couple of handfuls, 
though. We better get moving," to sever comparisons.

"So I get to lead the way," Anne ruled, "since coming, 
you steered us by the chicks mainly."

They encountered a girl lotioning her partner to 
arousal just a dozen tree trunks away, the treeline 
obviously favored by those seeking more than sun. The 
ministrations ceased as Anne and Toby passed. Toby had 
smirked, but Anne had never seen an erection, other 
than in the magazines her girlfriends shared. When Anne 
peeked the second time, the girl smiled and flipped it 
as if to ask, you get yours? Anne wondered about Stan's 
lewd-behavior warning. This couple was out of sight 
from those not walking, anyway.

Neither sibling looked at the audible reinitiation 
behind them, but Anne suspected that they'd see 
intercourse if they turned around. Surely this couple 
would get under a towel, but who knows? Having no 
experience in the matter, what she'd seen was exciting, 
she admitted. In movies, she liked the woman on top, 
but usually she wasn't, she figured, because they keep 
breasts covered in PG-13. She's easier to drape on the 
bottom. She thought of telling Toby she'd left her hair 
band behind, but she didn't.

The carelessly-engaged couple wouldn't be a subject of 
sibling discussion. Anne suspected that Toby already 
had sex. Claire Craig and Toby spent a long time with 
his door locked one afternoon. Anne had never asked why 
and even misled the folks about who'd visited. Toby 
never said thanks.

Her thoughts returned to Stan's penis. Stan's wasn't 
hard like this last guy's. She speculated on the 
differences, how it must feel when it grows. Did it get 
bigger after it's inside?

Driving home, Anne admitted, "Those creeps didn't wreck 
if for me. How 'bout you?"

"I guess vacation makes people more talkative, you 
think?" Toby thought.

"It's not my business," he ventured, "but why shave?"

"Beat's me." They'd sure never say this at home, she 
admitted to herself.

EVENING

Neither kid saw fit to mention their beach's clientele 
to the folks, glad that the two had seen more of the 
island; that's why they'd come. The folks had come to 
remember when it was new, Anne suspected, evidenced by 
their sheets being already in the washer. Mom still was 
braless when they'd returned, but she'd quickly 
disappeared and re-emerged dressed like Mom. Asked if 
they'd found many shells, Mom admitted that they'd just 
been for a walk after lunch. Hearing the waves is 
enough for us old folks, she laughed.

Queried about their beach as a family possibility for 
tomorrow, Toby warned that Mom might find the rock 
descent pretty tough. There were better beaches up the 
coast. Sister shot brother a nod for quick thinking. 
Without the kids, though, she could imagine Mom and Dad 
there. There were old people, maybe also second 
honeymooners. When asked why the smile, Anne said that 
she was thinking about what a turtle must think of 
snorkelers.

When the folks retired, Anne noted the click of their 
bedroom latch. She wondered what they slept in here. 
Back home, you needed something flannel, but here, 
probably about nothing might do.

The kids watched a video jettisoned by a past guest. 
The plot involved a fat cop and a skinny cop (white and 
Afro-American, per formula) versed in one-liners. 
During the pyrotechnic showdown in a hijacked nuclear 
submarine, Anne gave up and went to shower.

While the fat cop was severing the detonator wires at 
t-minus-3, Anne emerged in matching bra and panties. 
Passing between Toby and the screen, she giggled and 
alternated her shoulders.

"Jesus!" he blurted.

She turned with her best "what me?" look, taught 
panties plastering her curls. After as if sorting 
through factors which might induce such a profanity, 
she casually noticed, "Oh, yeah, I guess I'm not in my 
PJ's yet." She ambled, minimally hipped, but still a 
saunter, into her room.

Her ten-second parade left her breathless. She'd pulled 
it off perfectly, or at least as she'd rehearsed in the 
bathroom. At their beach she couldn't feel the breeze. 
This little bit affirmed her fantasy.

It wasn't that she wanted Toby to see her underwear, 
though she didn't mind his attention. She wanted him to 
know she didn't mind. It might be different with 
strangers, she realized, but wasn't sure which way.

If Toby had followed into her room, it wouldn't have 
been a sexual predicament, but rather a problem of 
inarticulate admission. But brothers don't demand 
reasons. He wouldn't want to chat about her underwear 
any more than he'd want her to critique his.

In her bed, Anne couldn't escape recurrent thoughts of 
Stan. She'd seen enough that day to decide that while 
Stan's seemed big, it wasn't remarkable. Standing 
nearly above her, as he'd been, she'd sensed something 
more internal: the guy was comfortable, neither 
flaunting nor dismissing his manhood. His disciplined 
matter-of-factness impressed Anne. If anyone had 
predilections, it was the woman. Anne's middle finger 
found encroaching moistness.

She knew that Stan had measured her glances. He'd 
winked, she thought, while Toby was terminating the 
brief conversation. It seemed to Anne that 
introductions were something for the other two to work 
through. Stan already knew her. Her touch perambulated 
her secret spot, bringing on that special shiver.

What if they took them into the palms, she wondered? 
Stan wouldn't tie her to a tree, but might want her to 
be naked with him. She'd never! She wondered how non-
erect length relates to full extension. She'd not want 
to see the slob again, but if, say, she were by him on 
their beach and he went to sleep, she might check how 
spongy it felt. Anne pretended that the finger now 
controlling her was another's.

Whoever the couple was, they seemed not malicious, but 
just vacationing. She'd never want their likes for 
friends, but after reflection, wasn't totally 
displeased that they'd crossed paths. He had stood 
where she could see, at least. Anne drew her finger up 
and down, inducing her hips into comforting counter 
rhythm.

She wanted to visit their beach again, she decided, 
falling asleep before orgasm.

WEDNESDAY

The next day involved too many destinations and too 
little time. The restored plantation had raw sugarcane, 
complements of the management. Anne and Mom perused the 
attire of an island era when fabric tropically 
unsensible made sense for a Victorian lady. Toby and 
Dad inspected the coral foundations of an earlier 
royalty.

When Mom opened of the glove compartment for the map, 
Anne realized that yesterday's bra was still stuffed on 
top. Mom didn't appear to notice, thank heavens, 
shutting the latch quickly, and Anne retrieved her item 
at the viewpoint.

Before lunch, Anne casually asked if Toby wanted to 
head back to their beach tomorrow. The possessive came 
naturally and was understood. He deliberated a moment 
and nodded. Mom thought it OK; she and Dad might just 
sleep in, she mentioned in a far-too-offhand manner. 
Mom's realizing that she washed those sheets too soon, 
suspected Anne.

The four returned at dinnertime, unanimously electing 
an hour at the condo community pool before Pizza Hut, 
the global vacation fallback. The pool was relatively 
unoccupied, enough so they had the Jacuzzi to 
themselves. Mom and Dad hopped out from under the 
bubbles, though, when the kids slid in. Mom's blush 
might be from the hot-water jets, but maybe not. Anne 
realized from yesterday's observations that inspecting 
Dad might tell, but she refrained. She wouldn't feel 
right spying.

They'd go swim some laps, said Dad, but they just 
dogpaddled around the shallow end. Anne fluttered her 
fingers and Mom fluttered hers back.

The siblings compared sunburns, none serious, but 
evidence that they'd been out more than they'd thought. 
Anne slipped down her shoulder straps to show where she 
was a little pink. Anne was thinking, though, that 
she'd not go back to their beach just to strip to her 
bra like she practiced. Her tank tops showed that much 
at home.

The Jacuzzi sides were elevated enough, Anne 
determined. She surveyed either side to confirm the 
absence of viewers and beneath the water popped one 
breast and then the other free from her swimsuit. From 
above the surface, she appeared rippled.

"Hey, Toby," she whispered as though neighbors might be 
eavesdropping. "Look!" as she lifted herself just high 
enough for her nipples to gulp air and resubmerged. She 
looked around again, just in case.

"Anne, don't," Toby protested, more alarmed than 
titillated. 

"I'm practicing for tomorrow and you're somebody I 
don't know," she assured with another ascent and 
descent.

"Just don't," Toby repeated, now also watching for 
others between ascensions.

"I'm topless at our beach tomorrow," she announced, 
this time drawing her breasts, small and pale, still 
conical, to the surface. The pinker tissue surrounding 
her nipples was the diameter of a quarter. The nipples 
were pencil erasers ready to erase.

"I'll need lots of lotion," not predicting if this was 
a provisioning fact or related to the application. "You 
don't have to look."

Toby had little choice but to nod in conspiracy. He of 
course kept looking.

During movie time that evening, Anne emerged with only 
a towel wrapped about her waist.

"My towel's my pa'u. Mom and I learned at the 
plantation. You just wrap a cloth around your butt. 
Suppose they loose it doing the hula?" she speculated.

She let Toby watch her mosey. Where was her good comb? 
She wished she had a little jiggle, but thought it 
would look weird if she jumped around. She must have 
left her comb somewhere! She felt a bit guilty when 
Toby crossed his legs, but she was pleased. Probably 
Stan wouldn't cross his legs, also a pleasing thought. 
She came over to kiss her brother goodnight, something 
they did back home, so her breast would be proximate. 
She promised that if the sofa bed ate him, she'd open 
it in the morning and let him out.

Behind her door ten minutes later, Anne was slippery. 
What if Stan took her into the palms and she had to 
strip and Stan got hard? She'd run away! If he went to 
sleep, though, maybe she'd lift it to see how stiff it 
was. Then she could see his balls. She knew that 
testicles are very delicate, so she'd be careful not to 
wake him. Stan was her man doll, ready on the toy 
shelf, for games of pretend.

Teasing herself into the first throws of a virgin's 
comprehension, she imagined another's hand rubbing her. 
Was it Stan? She thought it might be, but she pretended 
her eyes were closed so she'd not know. Her bed 
squeaked as her fingers more rapidly attacked and 
retreated, lubricating each advance. Was it Stan? She 
peeked. Oh, Stan, we shouldn't be doing this!

Afraid of what her brother might hear, she slipped off 
the bed and onto the condo-shag. As she arranged her 
second pillow, she heard the rhythmic creak of the sofa 
bed. Resting her head by the door helped her hear more, 
Toby's breathing even. Her scenarios merged: with Stan 
on the sand, here listening to Toby, Toby at her door 
listening to her. All seemed real.

She hoped that something as wonderful was transpiring 
downstairs too. Mom seemed so happy this week.

She assumed the cadence of the creaking crescendo, at 
the end not even needing to stroke.

THURSDAY

Mom, tidying up the kitchenette, an automatic part of 
vacation or otherwise, waved them out the door next 
morning. "Here, kids, for your lunch," handing them a 
packed Zip Lock. Barefoot and a little pendulous, Mom 
looked to her daughter the way she'd want to look when 
she had teenagers. Anne wished she could reach into 
Mom's floral muumuu to touch her. Dad had chosen the 
anthurium pattern, unfortunately, but Mom loved it 
anyway.

Anne went outside to pick her an orchid.

Anne's nipples emerged like seashells pushed up from 
the sand when they darted into the store for junk food. 
It was their lunch ahead, though the kids did like 
sliced carrots. She'd already ditched her bra at a red 
light.

The Walgreens clerk nametagged "Suzie" wasn't much 
older than the siblings, but had the eyes of a surfer 
chick trying to pay her one-fifth of a two-bedroom 
apartment. She flashed her sole customers a, "Heading 
south?"

"To get a little quiet," replied Anne while Toby chose 
their menu.

The clerk gave her customer a been-there smile. "Over 
the rocks, the steep ones, old lava?"

"You know your customers," Anne nodded. "Shameless 
tourists. Suzie, is it?"

"It's really Susan. My friends use my real name." She 
then turned toward the boy. "You might want to look at 
a shell chart. Don't buy it, though, before you try 
inventing your own system. 7-B by the magazines. I've 
never found a golden cowry, but they say they're 
there," she encouraged.

With Toby temporarily occupied, Susan lowered her 
voice. "Everybody first thinks they're there for the 
sun. Then it's to find some shade. Then it's 'cause 
it's such a special day. You prepared?" looking 
directly at Anne's still-erect nipples.

"We got SPF-20."

Susan motioned to Anne. "Stand here while I show you a 
travel alarm so the camera's blocked," turning to a 
display of short-life electronics. The non-clock 
customer was confused.

She herded Anne into position to demonstrate a dual 
time-zone model. "If you're calling Ethiopia and don't 
want to wake them up, I guess. You can lift a pack on 
the third shelf," Susan clarified while pulling out 
some tabletop models. "Aloha, the Maui way, we call 
it." Shelf three contained adult products.

As Clerk Suzie checked the battery in a timepiece 
suitable for the sight impaired, "Go ahead before I try 
to demonstrate the alarm. Too many little buttons."

"It's not like I'd need them," reflected the 
embarrassed Anne, perusing the prophylactic spectrum. 
She wouldn't use them, but she'd have them ready for a 
girlfriend. She selected Tuxedos for their packaging.

"So put one in your pocket, just in case. Don't worry 
about getting wet, 'cause it's in foil. You can always 
put it back in the box later."

The clerk's failure to find a clock suitable for the 
customer completed the transaction as Toby returned 
with a Taiwanese magnifying glass "to look at coral," 
he explained.

"Piece of crap," ruled Susan. "You guys coming back 
this way before 5:00? OK, borrow this," reaching into 
her daypack below the counter. "It's Swiss," with 
discrimination.

Toby inspected the cased lens, handle cracking but 
optically still mint. "Thanks. You guys sell electrical 
tape?"

"3-C, bottom shelf."

Toby fetched a roll. "Add this to the bill," as he 
rejoined the handle. He looked to Anne, "Maybe Dad will 
buy us one, you think?"

Susan showed another big-toothed grin, blushing. "I 
mean I didn't know your were related," she apologized 
to Anne.

Anne waived it off, "Toby, go get me a Chap Stick, will 
you?" Brother again dispatched, "Tuxedoes good ones?" 
as if she were Consumer's Report.

Susan brightened. "Wow! Ride the Kahoona, as the How-
to-Surf book suggests we talk. Wanna another look at 
our Indonesian digital? That's why it's cheap, because 
nobody cares what time it is in Jakarta."

Anne laughed at the line. "Hey, don't get caught profit 
sharing. It's not like we..." She squirmed as if 
caught.

"Promise to haul out your trash, you know?" interjected 
the environmentally concerned clerk. "Seagulls swallow 
anything that looks like a little fish."

The brother was returning with mint and regular Chap 
Stick for his sister's selection.

"I'm Anne and this is Toby," a late introduction. "We 
promise."

"So Toby, don't look for scientific stuff here except 
for our Saturday Sand Pail Set. Made in some former 
Soviet place, probably. Five times our price if they'd 
label it a two-liter specimen container with excavator. 
Chuck the little rake, though, because you'll damage 
mollusks."

BEACH

Anne popped off her blouse as soon as they'd negotiated 
the lava. "Like I can't take off my shirt?" Toby looked 
for something not his sister and found a starfish for 
their specimen container.

"Take off yours too or you'll look like a dweeb. We'll 
stay just a bit, since we're zero tan," she ordered.

The second-timers realized how much of their first-day 
recall was defined by nudity. Anne could recollect 
nothing about the redhead again beside the turtle-
shaped rock more than the fullness of her bush, 
undeniably the same. From the depressions in the sand, 
she recognized where they'd seen a couple sprawled, 
hand in hand. She speculated they stayed past sunset, 
as one depression was worn deeper.

Shielded between driftwood was a half-bikinied girl not 
much older than Anne. She'd been there before, areolae 
of Coke-bottle circumference and Root Beer shade being 
her characteristics. She looked up from a paperback 
with a castle on its cover, but avoided Toby's eyes. 
"Morning."

"Great sand," volunteered Anne, as if the grains had 
much to do with anything.

"You were here Tuesday, right?" asked the girl. "I've a 
good memory for attire," she deadpanned, then laughed. 
"So few of us."

"Today," announced Anne, "tits meet nature, first time 
since I was six," touching a breast and wondering how 
the girl felt about Toby being there. Perhaps not 
playing peek-a-boo relieved her of the worry.

"Know what you mean," agreed the sunbather. "Monday I 
unbuttoned and showed bra. You saw me second day." She 
laughed at her bottoms, "Same outfit fourth day, so 
maybe my limit."

"You alone?" asked Anne, as only a female would address 
another.

"Yeah."

"Mind if we sit? At least you don't seem like a 
stranger, though I suppose strangers are why this place 
works."

"Do. It's a little spooky by myself. I don't care about 
people looking, but maybe they think I'm odd, just me 
here. I'm Hannah, anyway," she introduced herself, 
"from Seattle," to nail down which Hannah.

"I'm Anne and this is Toby. Say 'hi', bro."

"Hi," mumbled Toby, unaccustomed to addressing a 
nearly-naked girl, a pretty one at that. He quickly 
flipped out his towel and began to tan his back.

"No way! You two are related? I guess I could have 
guessed, but here's not where you'd expect it," Hannah 
grinned at herself. "Well, maybe down here you might, 
but not where you were heading last time," nodding 
toward the trees.

Anne took it in stride. "Honest, we don't know what's 
where. Just want to avoid the hawkeyes."

Hannah absently lotioned a white strip where her bikini 
had crept downward. "Better to be gawked than to be 
stalked," she said factually.

"Gotcha," agreed Anne.

"That's why I just talk to couples. Safer. So, you two 
heading that way again?"

"Maybe," admitted Anne.

Hannah nodded, as if more had been said. Then she 
changed the topic, admitting to her book, "I catch the 
bus and try to act like I'm meeting somebody," prudent 
but wistful.

Anne was about to invite their friend to walk with 
them, but wasn't quite sure where they'd end up. "Tell 
you what. If you're around later, it might be fun to 
swim." Swimming might be the excuse she'd need to 
strip. Why, she'd wondered, do people take swimming 
suits to a nude beach?

Sensing Hannah's disappointment at the conditionals, 
Anne amended, "So we'll leave our lunch stuff and be 
back, how 'bout that? We'll decide about swimming then. 
Plus we can give you a ride north." Anne knew she'd 
done the right thing. Hanna from Seattle was just 
looking for friends.

Hannah's eyes broadcast her answered prayer. "God, 
thanks." Whether this was just an inarticulate 
explicative or a verification of divine intervention 
wasn't clear. If Hannah sported a little cross 
necklace, she'd shed it with her top.

"Extra Chap Stick in the bag, Hannah," offered Anne. 
"And promise you'll eat the Hostess products that Toby 
bought."

Hanna turned toward the brother, still butt-upward. 
"You get the swirley-do on the frosting if I get the 
surprise in the middle. Deal?"

The girls laughed. Toby grinned at the Hostess 
reference; all they had at Walgreens were Little 
Debbie.

"See you, girl," said Anne. "You in condition to get 
up, kiddo?" to Toby.

"Look at me," giggled Hannah. "You think I'd do this on 
Lake Washington?"

TREELINE

Bearing drink, towels and Anne's blouse, the siblings 
headed toward Tuesday's treeline. The blouse made sense 
only in light of Anne's trepidation that some 
catastrophe might otherwise force her to drive home 
topless.

The place where the couple was mating was vacant. Anne 
hadn't objected when Toby chose the route, but neither 
suggested that they stop there. When they arrived at 
their Tuesday space, Anne announced in her factual 
voice, "We'll I'm going to."

"Do what?"

"Get a little more tan," Anne clarified with forced 
casualness.

"Naked?"

"Nobody cares," she confidently answered, but then 
qualified, "Well, maybe panties."

Stripped to yellow briefs, she felt the flat package in 
her pocket. Her breasts already showed a hint of pink, 
but the tops of her thighs were seeing their first 
sunlight. Toby would see more than she'd shown by the 
TV, she admitted, guessing that her tan tangles were 
probably the same as his own. Being only in panties 
almost freed Anne of awkwardness.

"Come on, nature boy, just underpants too," she 
grinned, not dismissing his attention. Toby yet wasn't 
sure. "Jeeze," she protested. In what she hoped to be 
an offhand manner, she seized her opportunity. They 
could head into the palms and Toby could decide there. 
That it was that Stan guy's suggestion made her nipples 
harden, but they'd been erect enough anyway.

"Well, it's kind of a new thing for me, I guess," 
dodged Toby. "I don't want everybody looking"

INTO THE PALMS

There was no defined path through the shrubbery, but 
the three trees kept them on track. The sandy space, 
when they at last found it, was pleasant with its 
transient crisscrossed shadows. The combination of 
surf, wind and unseen birds balanced the silence. The 
spot was protected on three sides by interwoven 
foliage, as if previous adventurers had hacked out a 
meadow in the deepest jungle.

It was soda time, so they shared.

The siblings didn't need to renew discussion of dress, 
or lack thereof. Now deprived of excuses, Toby 
unsnapped his cutoffs. "Are you sure nobody can see?" 
he fretted.

"Just some female seagulls."

Pushing down his shorts exposed the ridge in his 
checkered boxers. Anne didn't pretend to look for 
starfish. Toby's was bigger than she'd guessed, still 
associating him with peeing while she brushed her 
teeth, Mom already outside honking for them to hurry.

She thought about Stan's. His was crudely larger, but 
not scary when he was just talking. What if Stan 
brought her into the palms where it's so quiet and 
leaned her back into the soft sand? Ugh! She pictured 
the wiggled depression she'd seen earlier that day. If 
Stan was working a girl's hips into the sand and she 
was walking by, would she watch? It's just pretend, she 
justified.

If it weren't her brother's, she'd have found his 
burgeoning bulge disconcerting. With her brother 
however, "Don't worry about it, buster. Half the guys 
we passed were total," she exaggerated to put him a bit 
at ease, "I'd be that way too, seeing all those boobs, 
Hanna's especially," giving their acquaintance the 
benefit of subjectivity.

Toby seemed to accept the reality of her knowing. Being 
siblings helped more than it hindered.

It took ten minutes of sideways appraisal to make 
familiar each other's major nooks and crannies. When 
their eyes met in passing, each would peer intently at 
a distant point of tropical interest. Toby's underpants 
did little to mask his undisguisable hardness, but 
revealed little detail. Reaching for her sunglasses, 
Anne revealed her sheep's footprint, but only for a 
brief moment.

Anne realized how Hannah must feel: small and wanting 
protection, alone and wanting proximity. Anne too 
wanted someone close. She'd ask her brother to lotion 
her back, she decided, before they rejoined their 
waiting friend.

Plopping down in front of him, she made it an easy 
task. His fingers were the tentacles of a tiny octopus 
creeping down her fishbone spine. She'd wondered if it 
being her brother might cheapen the application, but 
Stan for imagination and Toby for real was a good 
combination.

Her back oiled, she was relaxed enough to lean back and 
invite his wrists around her shoulders. His hands came 
together over her collarbone.

"Go ahead," she said, her expectation perhaps suntan 
related; she had no real agenda more than continuing. 
She acknowledged that having Toby close was perhaps 
neither about sunburn nor about vulnerability. She'd 
started to ensnare him when she'd removed her blouse, 
no, much before that. Bra and panties by the TV? 
Surreptitiously synchronizing their masturbation? It 
wasn't that important exactly when, even. They were 
here.

Toby massaged the upper edges of his sister's breasts. 
After a moment so close, his hands slid down her sides 
to enclose her lower ribs, thumbs tracing the boundary. 
With his sister's head fully on his shoulder, he drew 
his palms up her compliant torso. She inhaled in lithe 
acquiescence, at her door in last night's darkness. In 
the leafy shade, the door was opening.

Her nipples jumped from finger to finger. Her head was 
back far enough that he might have pulled a breast to 
his mouth. The thought crossed her mind, anyway. She 
floated, sensual. When he impressed her breasts' so 
many softnesses and hardnesses, she backed against him 
until finding his erection, Stan's, she told herself.

She knew that Toby knew of her arousal, the endless 
regression making fondness a circular seduction. She 
interpreted their press not as a step toward an act, 
though she'd not have resisted the argument, but rather 
as freedom. Her brother knew her femininity, and she, 
his manhood. How they'd extricate themselves from such 
progressing proximity, Anne wasn't sure, but gave 
thanks to Susan for having her bring along the 
prophylactic. Let Toby decide.

Anne saw nothing misaligned in transposing her two 
males. Stan was the herald, a memory to open her 
womanhood. She thought of Stan taking her into the 
palms and kneeling between her parted thighs? Would she 
let him push? If she didn't escape, it would happen. 
Escape might be impossible. Picturing Stan helped the 
physical part of Toby's attention make sense.

Anne again visualized Mom waving goodbye, her own day 
just unfolding also, the orchid in her hair.

ACCOSTED

Anne was beginning to involuntarily alternate her hips 
when the voice she'd put out of mind accosted, "So you 
did find our little place, after all?" The other 
couple, today clothed in just baggy shorts, loomed in 
the entrance.

"Oh, Jesus," groaned Toby, drawing his sister to cover 
her breasts. Before, it was a closeness of affection, 
albeit nonverbalized. Now it was a closeness of 
concern. Why the hell do these two keep barging in, 
Anne asked herself?

"We waited for you yesterday, but must have missed 
you," said the woman pleasantly, as if they'd confused 
a date.

"We weren't here," replied Toby evenly.

"No problemo," agreed Stan. "We found stuff to do," 
wiggling his knees, some primitive sign of people 
moving together. "So today we watched for you at the 
rocks," appraising Anne who in turn was nervously 
appraising sea grass tufted in the sand.

"Time for us to be moving out," offered Toby.

"You needn't hurry. You were just getting active," the 
woman spoke with bright eyes. "Plus we hiked all this 
way to chat. We like meeting other couples."

"Come on Anne," said Toby.

The woman seized the advantage. "Oh hi, Anne. I'm Ruth 
and this is Stan. Having a good time with...? I guess I 
didn't get your name?"

"Toby. So my sister and I are just leaving, OK? We 
gotta give our friend a lift."

The couple exchanged a look. "I said they were related, 
Stan, from their faces. Plus being dressed then, not 
counting her bra." Then back to Anne and Toby, "We're 
related too, but by marriage," as if that made the 
couples equivalent.

Stan added, "We checked out your girlfriend. Got a 
book, won't think a thing of her ride being a little 
late."

Anne crossed her arms over her chest as Toby slid her 
to his side and reached for his trousers. Ruth seeing 
his underpants bothered him, Anne realized. Stan could 
see hers too. But what choice did they have?

Ruth intervened. "Let's just stay seated. Maybe you can 
beat us in a dash, Toby, but we're in her way." Ruth 
made being trapped a fate beyond her control. "Stan 
would probably be glad to get rid of you, though." Toby 
couldn't abandon Anne.

Then in a softer voice, "Anne, right? We've got some 
girl talk to do. Guys don't know shit. Right, guys?"

No answer.

"So Anne, we waited for you. You wouldn't have come 
back here if you weren't looking for us a little bit 
too."

Anne, silent as igneous stone, knew that she'd brought 
Toby, but why to where Stan had wanted to take them 
before? She didn't know.

Ruth continued, "So what it is, Anne, is that we do 
some sex. Why beat around the bush? Everybody has a 
good time. Trust me, sweetie, we're not into games 
where somebody doesn't. Promise."

Toby spoke forcefully, "Well, we're not into that kind 
of stuff."

"Probably what kids think who don't know how it works," 
advised the older woman. "Take your sister, there, 
hiding her tits like that."

Trembling at the reality, not fantasy, of Stan in the 
palms, Anne didn't drop her arms.
CHOICES

Ruth addressed the two. "Three choices, as I see it. 
Obvious one is for you two to just keep going, like we 
hadn't showed up. We'll just watch. How 'bout it?"

"Go to hell," replied Toby flatly.

"Figured so. So second choice: we'll have Stan do her."

Ruth addressed Anne. "Woman to woman. Stan should 
probably diet, but he really fucks! You OK with getting 
fucked in general right, just not in front of family? 
You'll be surprised what it adds!" Ruth encouraged. No 
verbal answer.

"Stan likes a take-charge broad." Again nothing.

"Shit, Anne, Stan'll wear a rubber. Kids today are so 
fucking dumb. Not you guys, but the ones that screw in 
theaters and stuff," she offered. "Don't need to have 
seen a rubber before to figure out how," in case that 
was part of the hesitancy.

What if, Anne thought, she knew I had one with me!

Ruth didn't pursue the fuller list of secondary 
objections. She'd read the terror that men can't 
realize. "Sweetie, it's time. We'd never hurt somebody 
too young to know what hurts, but you're just waiting 
to do it." Another pause. "After you thought about what 
you saw before, it wasn't that ugly, right? We're just 
women."

"So Anne, it's your choice. I've seen Stan take 'em 
down a lot less ready than you. I'm not all that proud 
about how we get our girlfriends interested sometimes, 
though," she admitted, looking at the jungle. "And this 
is the honest-to-shit truth: every damn one of 'em 
cries at the start and every damn one kisses his ugly 
snout at the end."

She looked toward Toby disapprovingly. "Most first 
fucks are sandpaper."

Anne didn't answer.

"Stan hurts you and your brother conks him with a 
coconut. He won't, I already promised, but if he does, 
crack it open on his sorry head," Ruth guaranteed.

Ruth summarized with what she thought counted. "Main 
thing, you'll like it." There was frankness behind the 
crudeness, Anne realized. Going with Stan her 
girlfriends would understand. But Toby wouldn't.

Anne shook her head in demur, but not total refusal.

Stan looked deflated, defloration so near. He shook his 
head as if to say, "These women!"

"You'd have liked his magic wand between those legs, 
sweetie," Ruth sealed it in the past tense, smiling at 
the metaphor.

"So we're the last choice, Toby" reasoned Ruth, as if 
x-ing squares on a grid. "And here's the honest truth: 
She'll always treasure how you fucked an old bag to 
save her cherry."

Anne spoke for the first time, "You said..."

Ruth interrupted, "You made your call, sweetie. It's me 
and Toby." Ruth wasn't backing down.

"It's rape, even with a guy," threatened Anne.

Ruth clarified, "Me arranging things makes it 
conspiracy too. Stan, you up for the black dudes in 
Fort Madison?" He shot her a disgusted look. "It's just 
rape when we talk. Toby can keep secrets."

The siblings looked hopelessly at each other.

Ruth brightened with a compromise. "OK, we'll even do 
this. Toby gives me his boy best, but holds on. I can 
come in three -- world record, wrong way. Then Stan and 
me leave. That's it, kids."

She turned toward her husband. "We'll find us a tree 
trunk they can see from down the beach. Like our 
Hawaiian Holiday Package: getting ready for the 
hookilau, or whatever that pig is called." Ruth was 
already rubbing her nipples.

"Hey, you guys," argued Ruth, already anticipating her 
challenge of coitus interruptus in reverse. "We started 
with a double date and now we're down to a half. Don't 
know what's a quarter."

The four sat in silence.

Toby broke the deliberations, "And you'll leave Anne 
alone?"

"We will," agreed Ruth, emphasizing the subject.

TOBY IN THREE

Ruth rose and walked the few steps to the boy. "Hey, 
Toby," as if encouragement were the lacking ingredient, 
"your pants or mine?" If this was supposed to lighten 
the mood, it didn't work for the siblings.

The seductress indicated where to spread the beach 
towel. He did so nervously, needing several tries to 
eliminate the wrinkles. Anne felt the onset of 
faintness, but only turned pale.

"I'll bet you know how to kiss?" Ruth asked, breasts 
now at attention.

"A little" suggested no enthusiasm, however.

"Show me," leaning until her lips found the boy's. She 
didn't state it as an order, but rather as a favor. 
Anne couldn't tell if her brother actually complied, 
but Ruth's hand encircled his head while she rocked her 
mouth side as if to unify their breathing. Her other 
arm pulled him into her waiting bosoms.

Toby's arms hung limply at his side until Ruth began 
rocking her shoulders in concert with her mouth. 
Without instruction, the boy put a hand on her hip and 
then balanced it with the other. Ruth released the 
pressure on his back enough for their breasts to break 
apart and re-encounter. Another time she did the same. 
The third time, their return brought her hips against 
his underpants, causing him to pull back in evasion. 
With an additional press or two, her thrusts were 
accommodated. The kiss was not yet broken.

"Let's get down," Ruth said simply. The pair descended 
to their knees to resume their caress, Toby's hands now 
cupping her butt. So entwined, she toppled him 
sideways, forcing a knee between Toby's. Again he 
recoiled, again she returned.

Ruth's teasing him with her thigh, Anne realized, was 
Ruth teasing her as well. Ruth knew she'd remember 
being in her brother's lap. Ruth thrust her hip against 
Toby's underpants, first hotly pursuing, then barely 
fleeing Toby's rigid excitement.

Ruth's amazed, "It's a man's!" was condescending to 
Anne's ears. God damn that woman! Anne thought, her 
hand cupping her own womanhood.

Ruth drew around Toby, exacerbating his wantonness. 
Anne touched the front of her panties and found them 
already damp.

With the boy at her beckon, the mistress pulled his 
hand to disconnect the snap of her shorts. Her zipper 
was next. She pulled her hips away enough to reveal 
ordinary white panties. This, for some reason, 
surprised Anne. Ruth's breathy moans were not totally 
convincing.

Toby was by now mastering the foundations, holding back 
just enough to keep Ruth rising toward him. Assuming 
what Anne took to be the manly role, he seemed 
empowered by how his partner begged penetration. Ruth 
was enjoying his newfound skill as well, raising her 
shoulders as if to push him off while demanding to be 
overruled.

Anne, alone against the wall of gargantuan fern, looked 
across at Stan. He, not to her total surprise, was 
watching her, not the carnal seduction.

Forgetting her near nakedness, Anne rose, overstepped 
the central two and sat by Stan, who, as if expecting 
her, made room at his side.

Sitting on her brother's lap, she'd imagined Stan 
taking her into the palms. Now sitting beside Stan 
under those same branches, she thought of her brother's 
lap. She climbed onto Stan's, where he wrapped his arms 
around her taut breasts. Through pants and panties, 
Anne could feel his assuring firmness speaking that 
today wasn't Tuesday. The active pair sometimes 
roughly, sometimes delicately, teased the passive pair.

As the other two giggled at something unseen, Anne 
rolled her shoulders until Stan coroneted one tingling 
nipple, then the other. He lifted each bosom to do so.

Ann flexed her hips to tell him yes, but he made no 
move to free his trousers. When she could resist no 
longer, she reached behind to grasp his fabric. Only 
when she squeezed fiercely did he drop a hand into her 
panties to comb through her mound until resting at her 
cleft. He didn't enter her inner smoothness, where she 
needed him, but rather protected her clitoris until it 
unsheathed and emerged. She hadn't imagined that a man 
would know. This wasn't the intrusion she anticipated. 
When her tiny organ found him, he touched it with a 
single finger. How could he know, she wondered? He 
fluttered her until she shivered

Anne's thoughts alternated between her brother and 
Stan. What if they had taken them into the palms and 
she was under Stan and Toby escaped and Anne had to 
delay Stan's pursuit? The only way to accomplish that 
would be on top, like in the movies. If she did that, 
how long could she keep Stan occupied?

"Anne, honey," Stan murmured. "You're plenty ready and 
plenty old enough, but you came here with Toby."

Ann saw the unspoken conclusion: through a whore's 
merciless foreplay, Toby was being set up to finish the 
act on her. They knew that Anne would acquiesce.

Anne was crying again. Stan at first wasn't sure of her 
kiss, but recognizing it as acknowledgement, kissed her 
back. She didn't care if he tasted a little stale.

They'd missed a few moments of Ruth and Toby. Maybe 
even now the woman would be satisfied and Toby would be 
released between Anne's legs. She parted her knees.

The watchers had missed some steps; boy and woman were 
now naked together, Ruth spread, trying without avail 
to raise her torso. Toby's erection, at last exposed, 
was red and rampant, emerging from Ruth and already re-
entering with the fortitude of unabashed youth.

"Great, Toby!" the woman puffed. "Three was perfect. 
What a come!" Anne spotted the lie: if she had already 
climaxed, she'd not be able to discuss it yet.

"You're still up, like we said?" queried the supine 
recipient.

Toby slammed into her again. Then again. Anne knew her 
pigheaded brother better than did Ruth. On the soccer 
field he'd attack the whole backfield searching for 
their weakness. As he wasn't the best dribbler, 
sometimes he'd lose the ball with an errant turn, but 
sometimes he'd score.

Anne detected the roll in Ruth's hips. Knowing little 
of the mechanics, Anne yet recognized the descent into 
inferiority. Damn it to hell, Anne thought! Toby's run 
right past her. The sexual aspect seemed almost 
insignificant; this was about conquest. Her brother, 
against whom Ruth hadn't bothered to defend, had 
blindsided his rapist. Take her down, Toby, rooted his 
fan.

"Christ," choked Ruth, but her body, beginning to 
tremble, then shake, was too involuntary to command 
authority. Toby was a cougar clinging to an antelope, 
ruthlessly plunging and pulling. As she bucked with 
less and less concern for anything but penis, Toby 
climaxed, his slickened throbs in turn propelling the 
recipient's orgasm. The two collapsed into each other, 
gasping and fluid.

"My God, kid," was Ruth's assessment, pulling his 
buttocks to her until he slackened and slipped away. 
She turned toward the girl. "Shit, Anne, we had you 
ready and everything. Don't count on guys for smarts."

Anne was dumbfounded. As much as she didn't like the 
woman, her own heartbeat and wetness confessed her 
engagement. Stan had brought her wetness on, but Toby 
had brought it out. She'd wanted everything. She weakly 
smiled at Stan. She didn't want to let go, but she did.

Stan was more matter of fact, the joke of it all. 
Gathering his spouse's clothing, he winked at the one 
virgin among the four. If they had even five minutes 
without Toby, they'd make it zero, Anne thought.

AFTER

After the two departed, again shorts-clad, Anne, still 
in panties, waited for Toby to speak. At last, an 
expressionless "You saw, right?"

"Yeah. You scored, I guess," his sister admitted, 
sitting beside him.

"I'm sorry." He covered her hand with his, making no 
effort to cover his nakedness.

"You couldn't help it," she hoped. The rubber was right 
there in her short's pocket, right there where she 
could get it.

"I came here to do it with you, I think," Toby 
reflected.

"Maybe same for me. Maybe she knew how things work 
better than she let on," suggested Anne. Whether it was 
deception or reversal, really didn't matter now.

She touched his back. "You need some sunblock," 
mothering so that too much wouldn't be said.

"We can't do it now, can we?" from her brother.

Was this a declaration or was it a query? Anne 
wondered. Abandonment said the former; desire argued 
the latter. She strove for an opening. "Guys get worn 
down, I guess," hoping he'd refute. She placed his 
flaccid member, damp and crumpled, on her palm. She was 
still wet, so wet.

"Maybe there's something mental with me. I did sex with 
that woman." Then almost brightly, "She sure came," 
spoken of the past, not the present.

"Looked like it," absently giving him a few more flips 
to enhance her view of his balls. He didn't yelp when 
she touched them, so maybe she'd misunderstood about 
their vulnerability.

"It didn't happen with Claire," he admitted.

Anne didn't want to know about another girl. "So you 
got a better memory for nighty-night. Both our beds 
squeak here, if you'd wash your ears."

Toby's turned red.

"Suntan oil the hinges, or something. Place smells like 
coconuts anyway," she added, stretching his penis to 
see if it hurt. Apparently not. She'd never got to hold 
Stan's except through his pants. She'd never opened the 
little foil package.

"You're burned and we gotta go."

HOMEWARD

When the siblings returned to where they'd left Hannah, 
a note stuck from their bag.

"Hi Ann and Toby,

"Ruth and Stan found me OK. Thanks for asking them to 
give me a lift. Said to tell you they didn't stop at 
the tree trunk since I was waiting. We'll wait for you 
at their place. Your stuff still here proves that 
robbers don't go naked.

"Peace, Hannah"

Long looks. Hannah's fear and hope, thought Anne. As if 
they knew where the couple was staying!

The siblings pulled into the Walgreens. "Hey Susan, 
here's your magnifier. Thanks. Extra tape fits here," 
suggested Toby, opening the case to show where he'd fit 
the roll.

Their morning's first acquaintance was rearranging the 
T-shirt table. "Maui Madness," read one festooned with 
primary-colored sharks. "They should at least get the 
colors right," Susan critiqued. "These fish shirts are 
so flimsy that you might as well be at your beach. 
Hecho en Mexico. I got about six, even paid for them 
'cause they're on sale. Gotta wear this stupid store 
vest, though, to look like we're in Oklahoma."

Anne ventured, "Oh, by the way, did a couple come in, 
maybe in their thirties, maybe a girl our age with 
them? Woman has a ponytail."

"Big hat? Half hour ago, I guess." She looked at Anne. 
"Soluble gel and wine. If they want blank videotapes, 
though, I try to get the girl alone. But these ones 
bought good wine -- good for a drugstore, anyway."

"Oh."

"Friends of yours?" recognizing Anne's left-behind 
look. It was a been-there-too sort of question.

"Were, anyway," admitted Anne, deflated. The three 
would be showering away the day's sand. "Come on in, 
Hannah. Do your back?" They'd drink wine and then make 
love on the hotel's king-size bed. Though she didn't 
like wine and had flopped for only a moment in the 
master bedroom to listen to the waves, she sensed the 
connection.

"Well," commented Susan factually, "they took off 
already, so you'd have about a million rooms to check." 
She looked at the register as if it might ring an 
answer. "You two surf? I'm off tomorrow."

"No ocean where we live," apologized Anne. "Thanks, 
though."

"How about tide pools? I'm going to be a marine 
biologist, maybe. Got all the books, anyway."

Toby's attention abandoned a Timex diving watch with 
original price, X, and special sale price all printed 
at the same time. "You are? We saw this gigantic 
starfish," invitation so accepted.

"We don't pry them up," advised Susan. "I probably know 
which, but you gotta learn how to use the book. Let's 
say 6:45 to catch the tide. Bring extra ones," noting 
Anne's flip-flops, "because they break. Korean. B-1, 
right behind you," as an afterthought.

She told them where to pick her up. "They don't bother 
with our streets on your map because you never wonder 
where we sleep. Not you, I mean regular tourists." Anne 
felt bad, as she was nothing but a regular tourist and 
indeed hadn't thought about how people really live 
here.

"Hey, we're here 'cause we like it," explained the 
local.

Susan studied the two and then asked Toby to check if 
their car had enough room for a shovel. Also, see if 
the jack is a good one in case they get stuck in the 
sand. With his exit she asked, "The thing is, whatever 
happened with that old couple is your business. That 
girl chose to, right?"

"Well, to ride with them, anyway."

"Ride-schmide. Toby's not down," observed Susan. "He 
make any choices?"

Anne nodded.

"That girl?"

"No, the woman."

"Oh." Processing that fact, "You make any choices?"

Anne hesitated, "Lost the chance."

The unfairness of it irritated the resident. "Your 
brother loves you. Know how I know?"

Anne shook her head.

"The way he brought you the Chap Sticks to choose. It's 
the little stuff."

Anne smiled, the first time since they'd entered. "He 
bought me a really pretty lei."

"Told you. Wish I had a brother. Forget that guy and 
love what's real, girl. Folks together?"

Anne nodded.

"Mom having a good time?"

Anne even grinned.

"I love it here, except the income part," advocated 
Susan before returning to the immediate. "You the same 
Tuxedoes back home. We just run it over the laser; 
don't even look. You being young-looking, though, find 
a female clerk. I swear girls with as much tit as this 
countertop spend their allowances on Trojans," tapping 
her disapproval of squandered prepubescence. "They 
burst their braces about some 20-year old boyfriend 
with his own car and I give them shit. They'll come 
back all goo-goo about some boy in their own class 
after they start noticing the little stuff."

"So wear shorts tomorrow," advised the guide. 
"Sometimes a suit is too much and nothing is too 
little. We got mango fruit drink. Florida. Know what 
that tree is where you drove in? You guessed it."

Alone in her room, the foil-wrapped acquisition seemed 
pretty obvious. She returned the item to its box and 
secreted the box in her suitcase pocket.

The parents surrendered the car for tomorrow when 
informed that the kids had hooked up with a naturalist 
doing mollusk research. Mom, visibly pleased, offered 
to pack them a lunch so they'd have all the time they 
needed. Carrot sticks, telepathically predicted kid 1 
to kid 2. The two liked their Mom's home touch, though. 
Anne liked how the honeymoon was working out.

Unleashed by the telltale click of the master bedroom 
latch, Anne repeated her shower-to-room towel trip and 
listened for squeaks, but detected nothing.

FRIDAY

Susan guided them to a beach not on the map and both 
girls shed their tops. Susan's breasts, as tanned as 
her face, bounced when she jumped waves. Her button-
sized nipples celebrated the sea.

They had Toby sunscreen their backs. When his sister 
said to do her front, Toby complied as if he'd done it 
more than once before. When the other girl asked the 
same, it seemed OK with Anne.

The girls stripped to panties to wade to the outer 
rocks, but Toby waded in his shorts. The pools were 
networks of miniature lakes and channels etched by 
lunar persistence. The wave sequence was such that as 
the lowest pool drained, the next wave harbingered its 
replenishment. When the highest pool filled, the 
subsequent slosh failed to match the outflow. The three 
explorers tried to hinder, then promote nature's ebb 
and flow with one-wave success at best.

The three shared the magnifying glass to inspect tiny 
starfish in the barnacled alcoves. Armored scavengers 
careened among pulverized shell at pool bottom. When a 
characteristic challenged her recollection, Susan 
pursued the less-descript beach citizens in her book. 
Anne, less astute to specifics, rediscovered the more-
colorful creatures several times over with no less 
enthusiasm. It was Toby who pointed out that Susan knew 
more than her well-thumbed reference. Maybe not all the 
details, he granted, but the linkages.

When the girls tired of slimy rocks (risking 
retribution, Anne feared whenever near an eel-size 
cavern), Toby felt their glances. The breeze was too 
strong, however, to hear their conversation.

Sea-wet panties clung between their females' hips as 
seaweed wedged into its rocky assurance. Anne's tan 
triangle was camouflaged no more than saltwater 
disguises coral. Susan's fuller swath puffed her briefs 
with feathery darkness.

"Some more stuff on my neck," Anne asked, suggesting 
her collarbone by the way she faced him. "Susan's too." 
Unlike his entrapment of yesterday, Toby today felt no 
coercion.

The pool between explorers and contiguous beach was 
again flooding and Toby at last waded in his skivvies. 
Susan asked if he'd seen palm creeper. No he hadn't. 
"Come on then, let's go look."

As the tide began reconquest of the coral, Susan on his 
left and Anne on his right led Toby into the palms.

EVENING

Dinner reservations for two -- from their table, Mom 
and Dad would watch the sun submerge into the vast 
Pacific. Anne made Dad promise to order wine. Mom 
protested that she hardly drank, then agreed that "just 
a little bottle" would make it even more special.

"And Mom, wear your silk blouse. It shows how pretty 
you are."

Mom weighed the noticeable implications for a two-time 
mother, then ventured, "Sure, I guess you might want to 
look a little classy in a restaurant like that. Plus," 
unintentionally forthright, "nobody will know me but 
your Dad."

Anne remembered her nearly identical reasoning. Good 
for you, Mom! I won't even need to give you a little 
pat on the back to make sure. Click your lock when you 
come back, just so I know.

Anne offered to help with Mom's hair "for such an 
exciting evening."

Mom did Anne's in return. "Big folks' evening out, but 
you be pretty too."

"How 'bout I get you another flower?" Anne was already 
darting outside.

"Get two, then, honey."

As her parents left, Anne's restraint failed. Kissing 
her elegant, beaming Mother goodbye, Anne slipped her 
the little have-a-nice-time pat on the back. She'd 
known just by looking that Mom was "a little classy", 
as she'd called it. She wanted Mom, soft and ripe, to 
guess that Anne was happy for her in a women's way too. 
Anne sensed that Mom's little return pat acknowledged 
the absence of daughter's straps as well.

Mom, so frumpily sexually, so incapable of denying it, 
took Dad's arm to the rental car.

Anne took Toby to the folks' room. Stretched out side-
by-side, the siblings could hear the waves. Toby had 
asked why she'd locked the bedroom door when they're 
gone? That's just how she likes it. "Same reason for 
leaving my flower in my hair."

From above, she drove him deep within.

SATURDAY

Awaiting their homeward flight, the guys watched 
baseball on the airport TV.

"Anne," ventured Mom, putting aside her Better Homes 
and Gardens after feigned perusal. "Someday you'll 
appreciate how good it can be to get back to a place 
like this. Things can come alive again." She was 
embarrassed, but wanted Anne to know.

Anne knew that Mom's bra, like her own, was folded in 
her carry-on, ready for the lavatory just before 
landing. Anne took her mother's hand. "I could sort of 
tell." They'd have to take off the violet fingernail 
paint they'd done each other with, Anne guessed.

Her mother gave her a squeeze in return, "I thought you 
might. You're growing up."

"Someplace like this is good for that too," admitted 
the younger.

The two recognized in each other's breasts, different 
but the same, the current of reflection.

"I guess we're related," admitted the elder, looking 
into the lines of her daughter's palm.

Mom paused to formulate her next words, softly 
measured, "Were those rocks really that hard to get 
over, the ones Toby said were too tough?" She looked at 
her baby.

Anne felt the clamminess that descends when 
disembarking an unanticipated roller coaster. In adding 
Dad's model outrigger to Anne's suitcase that morning, 
she realized, Mom would have looked in the pocket. 
Hawaii drained away, the sand, the sea, the trees, the 
breeze. She'd even stuck last night's spent one, still 
wet, back in the suitcase. Susan had said don't trust a 
wastebasket others might use. If you flush them, they 
end up in the ocean. Anne was just trying to do it 
right. Anne blinked back the tears before they spilled.

The tears, however, also spoke of having a mother. The 
foil packages, Anne knew, would be tucked under the 
outrigger, seemingly unnoticed, when she'd unpack.

Anne didn't answer and Mom quietly held her hand till 
the guys returned to share their popcorn.

LANDING

As the cabin lights renewed at movie credits, Mom and 
Anne simultaneously rose to pull their carry-ons from 
the overhead. They smiled. During landing, Mom slipped 
her arm over Anne's until each nestled against the 
other.

"Looks like we think we're going to crash, I bet. Damn 
things," giggled Mom, pulling Anne across stitching, 
wire and doubled cotton, "but it's how women dress 
here. We were pretty with the flowers in our hair last 
night, weren't we, honey."

"A very special pretty," guiding Mom to her own give-
away edges. Anne really wasn't up to ones that needed 
seams yet, just something a little stretchable. "At 
least I have tank tops," she wryly boasted.

"More smart talk and I visit school in Dad's favorite 
muumuu and ruin your social position." The two laughed 
at the threat.

"I kept my flower in," her mother confessed, "for our 
last time."

Anne hesitated, but admitted, "Me too." Then she added, 
"But I left it on the sand this morning."

Mom again paused. "Toby's OK?"

In the departure lounge, Anne had fabricated a girl on 
the beach who'd asked her to hide the condoms till she 
returned. Why would she do that? Maybe an affair with a 
surfer? She'd hardly ever been alone. Anyway, Mom had 
found what could only be her brother's. Mom knew she'd 
gone braless last night. They hadn't been careful in 
the bed, perhaps. They'd been too eager for their 
excursions. Though they'd not made love upstairs, they 
could have. Why bother to pretend that Mom's concern 
wasn't about intercourse? Why devolve deception into a 
lie?

"He went along is all," Anne answered. "A friend told 
me to watch the little stuff. You see how they saved us 
some popcorn? Toby's fine."

Mom seemed to be judging her assessment, not her 
transgressions. She nodded.

"You know what, Mom, how you might understand?"

"How?" It seemed genuine.

"Next time you go, get Dad to help you over those rocks 
like Toby helped me. It takes a little getting used to, 
you know, but on the far side, everybody's nude. You 
can sunbathe with everybody or go to some tree trunks 
for a little privacy or even go into the palms for just 
the two of you. You'd understand."

Mom seemed to. "You have to be naked? I'm sort of old." 
Anne didn't know if Mom really would, but she was 
willing to ask.

"By the second time, you want to be."

"What about sunburn, you know, where you're pale?" 
wondered Mom, always Mom.

"Keep putting lots of lotion on each other."

SUSAN

By the time she was Susan Bryce-Tellis, Ph.D., 
Assistant Professor of Marine Biology, University of 
Hawaii at Manoa, she'd forgotten the names Anne and 
Toby. Too many years. Too many vacationers had come 
into the store when she was lonely.

Starting college at age 22 was the hardest step. She 
valued her Maui C.C. Associate in Arts more than her 
UCSD doctorate. What set her ahead in the academic 
world was her knack for spotting relationships not yet 
in the journals, a skill the surfer chick honed on the 
little stuff in tide pools. She published it at Scripps 
using longer words.

Although she was a new faculty member, she'd had 
inquiries from both Florida and Texas hinting at 
accelerated rank. She was partial to remaining in 
Hawaii, however, for the waves. Now wise enough to 
avoid the deceptive beaches, early morning breakers 
were still her escape.

She remembered that day with the sister and brother, 
deciding that she could write a book about starfish 
that could engage the casual beachcomber and satisfy 
the scientifically curious. Now they even sell the damn 
thing at Walgreens right by the primary-colored shark 
T-shirts. The clerks don't have a clue that the author 
once worked that very register, but she never mentions 
it when running in for new flip-flops.

It was a day of other memories too. Over those years, 
Suzie met other siblings capitalizing on family 
vacations. Most pretended that they weren't related, 
but Suzie could tell in about four ways. If they wanted 
her to think they were just lovers, she'd let them.

At the tide pools, the girl had told her how she'd felt 
the man's through his pants and then held her brother's 
for real. These two were just siblings who weren't 
experienced enough to pretend. That's why she'd trusted 
them with her magnifying glass.

She remembered how they got the brother to peer down a 
coconut crab hole and then, whispering "Palm Creeper," 
each crept a hand up his thigh. Toby held very still. 
They didn't pull down his wet cotton for the longest 
time.

Susan approved how the girl with pale and pubescent 
breasts made her eager brother wear the rubber she'd 
unpackaged.

The sibling lovemaking spoke of smoke and fire within a 
battle. She would deflect some of her brother's forays, 
absorb others and then strike back with wide-eyed 
passion. As the sister had forewarned, however, he 
would vanquish. He swept across the battlefield, 
demolishing. The girl cried, but Susan knew it was a 
necessary sort of cry. When the boy hesitated, Susan 
signaled it was OK. The girl's shudder worked her hips 
further into the sand.

The expended siblings had drawn her back to doze with 
them. Susan had kissed her friend, a woman at last. 
When the girl lifted the beach blanket to see what sort 
of depression she'd made, Charlie Chaplin Susan 
pretended to measure the excavation, her own hips, the 
girl's, and a coconut, concluding that it must have 
been the nut. The brother, enjoying the pantomime, 
didn't catch his sister's look of pride, albeit 
subjugate and painful.

When Susan took the boy, again and again she molded his 
frenzied exertions into common triumphs, small but 
shared. It's not just about hormones, she wanted to 
say. The brother at last submitted, letting her match 
their orgasm to the waves. He looked up with 
realization.

The girl had approached to watch Susan's face. Susan 
knew that she'd noted the little stuff too. Afterwards, 
Susan held the sister as her own.

They ate carrot sticks for lunch and hiked back to the 
car, brother and sister hand in hand. Susan thought it 
was so sweet. When the path split around a palm tree, 
it was the girl who tugged her brother to follow on her 
side. How interesting, Susan thought now, that she 
can't remember their names, but she remembers how he 
followed. The girls kissed goodbye.

Before she became serious about kelp, Suzie ventured 
into the palms many times. Some called how she fucked, 
"Riding the Big Kahoona". Susan didn't regret those 
years; college just got to be more important. Now she 
enjoys just the tide pools. She's retaped her 
magnifying glass handle many times, but the Swiss lens 
remains good as ever.

THE END

****

Holly on the Web

Wherever you found this story on the web, thank you to 
the server. My problem is that I've no systematic way 
to update the various servers. As literary errors (or 
just poor word usages) are made know to me, I'll repair 
that which is salvageable on 
http://www.asstr.org/~Holly_Rennick/. My website's not 
much graphically, I admit, but HTML isn't my native 
language.

You can contact me via the site's message form, that 
HTML code by the smart people at ASSTR.

I won't be changing the story significantly, so if you 
didn't like it before, that much will remain the same. 
But if you did like it, an update may read a bit more 
cleanly.

Holly

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 26