This fascinated me -- if Jong-Fast, who is 21 and a writer herself, still can't bring herself to read her mother's dirty words, maybe my kids will never read my erotic stories.

But their grandma does. Yes, in this multigenerational smut family, even my mother has gotten in on the act. This conservative woman in her 70s, who had never even looked at a Penthouse in her life, has suddenly developed a great interest in my writing. The first story that I tentatively showed her in a magazine earned only the comment "Wow, that's almost ... pornographic!" But within the year she was reviewing all my stories for me, providing helpful insight on characters and questioning factual sexual information: "Do people actually do that?"

Of course she has to hide the stuff from my father.

I made my collection of erotic books and magazines available to my two sons not long after the Playboy incident, pointing out the shelves where I kept them in case they wanted to read them, and gave each of them the gift of "Changing Bodies, Changing Lives: A Book for Teens on Sex and Relationships," the best book around about sexuality for teenagers. Actually, I made everything available except one book, which I hid: "Macho Sluts" by Pat Califia. I can't remember why, and today it's on the shelf with the rest, but I think at the time that I read it I was shocked by it (and loved it), and somehow thought this one book might be too much for my kids.

Not that they ever read these books. They're teenage boys -- they want pictures, music, action. I'd like to think my kids are growing up reading Henry Miller, Susie Bright, Pauline Reage and Robert Olen Butler, but it hasn't happened yet. I have pointed them to Web sites like Scarleteen and Go Ask Alice, and I know they've passed the information along to friends, so perhaps some interesting sexual words are being absorbed in spite of everything.

There are problems with complete honesty with kids. Noted conversations from the front: "Mom, would it be OK with you if I have some friends over after school on Friday and we make hash brownies?" Answer: "Uh, no." And another: "You know, boys, I believe that everyone is born bisexual. Whether you grow up to love women or men or both, it will be OK by me." Answer: "Oh, yuck, Mom."

Still, the erotic-disclosure conflict remains for me. My son's "Details" magazine subscription arrived earlier this year, and as I was flipping through it before he'd seen it, there it was -- an excerpt from my story in "The Best American Erotica 2000" -- in my kid's magazine. I debated: He'd probably never notice it if I didn't show him, and, yes, it included X-rated writing. But I'm human, and my name was in his magazine, so I showed him. I think he blushed a little bit after he read it, but still, every parent knows you've got to impress your kids with your coolness when you get the rare opportunity.

My oldest son is 16 now and hardly even looks at magazines like Playboy, preferring to spend his time reading about snowboarding and music. Is this healthy? Was it healthier, not to mention sexier, to grow up repressed, as I did, shocked into eroticism every time I got a sneak peek at something dirty? I lived through that and ended up as an adult who sees the world through a sexual haze, never tiring of writing out all of my wildest fantasies. My mother grew up in a repressed era and ended up as a senior citizen who gets a secret kick out of erotic stories. Will my kids be jaded by things sexual before they're 21, or will all of this openness mean less agony and healthier relationships for their futures? Only time will tell, but I hope for the latter. In the meantime, though, I look forward to the possibility of their acquiring their own brand of grown-up outrageousness, and hearing them say to their own teenagers someday about me, "Your grandmother writes smut."

Private Life Romance, relationships, and the personal side of Table Talk