Trailer Park Buns: A Dirty Taboo Sausage Party

This book is a work of fiction. All characters and events are imaginary and any resemblance to actual people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters are over the age of 18.

I lie alone in my new, too-small bed, wriggling around because I can’t get comfortable.

Squeaking springs and stuffing lumps in the mattress make it feel more like a trampoline than a mattress, but I draw the covers to my chin and try to get sleepy. Don’t want to appear wide-awake when Greyson comes in. My skin is already way too heated.

Tonight is night number one of the new living arrangements.

Thanks to Dad’s recent job loss, we’re all crammed inside a fifth-wheel trailer in need of a pressure wash.

Less than a week ago, we had a proper double-axle with three separate sleeping bunks. One for my dad and mother. One for me. Another for my brother Greyson. Even though my other brother, Jericho, stays with his girlfriend in a similar trailer in the park, he crashes on our couch sometimes. He’ll hang out during the day, too.

In this pink shell of a home we have now, there are only two bunks. One for the rents and a single one for me and Greyson to share. There’s no couch at all to sleep on—at least nothing wide enough. Hell, we don’t even have a proper table for the kitchen. Just a counter and two rusty stools.

My drawstring sweats and T-shirt are going to have wrinkles in the morning, but the bunk is so hard, I can’t exactly help it.

I’m just glad there are no pink flamingos on the sheets.

I wish the single mattress was a double. Sharing a single with Greyson is going to suck.

It’s not just that Greyson has been kind of inappropriate with me in the past—and so has Jericho—but so have all my brothers.

They’re always grabbing my boobs and squeezing them or giving me spankings.

I argue or giggle, but sometimes just sigh and let it go. If I tell them to knock it off, it only encourages them. Considering I tend to be really unsure of myself, I’m not exactly firm with them. They usually just smirk and look at my butt with overly happy expressions.

Okay, so I know that’s weird. But it’s not like I live in a normal family. I’m used to living without boundaries.

My brothers are good fun. I like them a lot—I even look up to them, even if they don’t know how to keep their hands to themselves.

I used to blush when they complimented me. Those are some sexy big boobs, Hope. Your ass is totally fuck-worthy. I’m kind of used to it now, but it still leaves me at a loss, even if it’s nice of them to say because I’m kind of insecure.

My sisters seem to think they’re too big for me. I don’t fit into my clothes well, and they always stick out too much, but my brothers’ non-stop compliments and ogling of my rear end have made me feel better about myself, even though I don’t admit it.

Do they say those things to tease me, I often wonder…or are they trying to boost my self-confidence?

Sometimes they tell me I’d be dynamite in the sack, and if I’m in a good mood and joking back, I laugh them off.

I say, “Oh, you guys!” and I’m abashed, but on the rare occasions I’m in a sour mood, I frown and whine and tell them not to talk to their little sister that way.

I’m too meek, and they’re too unconcerned with rules to listen. They usually just poke and smack my ass (or tickle me), feeling me up while I’m distracted. I always wiggle away, and the inappropriate behavior returns to a simmer.

After what feels like an hour, Greyson finally makes his entrance.

He strips off and climbs under the covers with me. I had faint hopes that he would leave his boxers on, but Greyson and Jericho always sleep in the buff, I realize. And it’s a very hot night. I’m sweating already, and my brother’s body heat is going to make it hotter.

Stupid pajamas feel so out of place.

Greyson spoon-curls me and notices my pajamas.

“You’re insane,” he says. “It’s boiling in here with two people. Take