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===================
It's Another Family Tradition
by Canadagander
- - -- - - - -
Writer's Note: This piece is a sequel to the previous story of Sam and
the
Powell women entitled "It's A Family Tradition." If you haven't
already
read that one, I recommend that you do to get acquainted with Sam, his
wife Callie, and her sisters. In any case, I hope you enjoy this
story. It
was fun for me to write it. Consider the usual warning: this story
contains sexually explicit content. Do not read it unless you are an
adult.
- - --- - - -
My wife, Callie Powell Taylor, comes from a lineage of Powell women
with
some most unusual traditions. As you may recall, last summer Callie
and I
were chosen to initiate our eighteen year-old niece, Sue Ann, into the
pleasures of adult womanhood with a week of instructional and
recreational
sex at the family cabin retreat. That is a rite that has happened with
every Powell girl since Callie's grandmother's generation.
Six months after that initiation week, I thought that I had performed
all
my in-law duties toward the sexual traditions of the Taylor/Powell
family.
I should have known better. On the second Friday in February, I
arrived
home from an exhausting day of court appearances, and late client
visits
at the office. Callie greeted me with an especially warm welcoming
kiss,
and handed me a gin and tonic, one of the all-time great refreshments,
in
my opinion.
"Hi, sweetie," she said. "We're not expected for dinner at Momma's for
another hour yet. Go sit in the living room and have your drink. You
look
like you could use some wind-down time, Sam."
I didn't argue. I flopped into my favorite over-stuffed chair, rested
my
heels on the coffee table, clicked the remote to watch CNN, and took
generous swallows of the G&T. `Life doesn't get any better than this,'
I
thought. Callie ambled into the room with a know-it-all smirk on her
face.
Plopping the mail on the table next to my chair, she said with a
teasing
tone in her voice, "Here's the mail, Sam. The usual stuff - bills,
catalogs, and advertisements. But there is an interesting letter on
the
top. Looks like you've got some sort of invitation. Now I wonder what
that
might be?"
I looked down at the mail. There, right on the top of the pile of
catalogs
and window business envelopes rested a cream-colored, almost square
envelope, the kind that wedding invitations come in. Curious, I picked
it
up to examine it more closely. There was no return address either in
the
front corner, or on the back. The postmark was local (Augusta, GA).
The
neat, rounded handwriting, with tiny circles for dots on the `I's'
appeared decidedly feminine, and the brown ink was a dead giveaway. I
tried to recall what female clients I had served recently (by that, I
mean
in the lawyerly sort of way).
"Well, Sam, aren't you going to open it and find out who it's from and
what it says?" Callie inquired in her buttery-soft Georgia twang. She
had
that `cat who swallowed the cream' sort of grin.
I suddenly got the feeling that Cat already knew both who and what,
like
so many things that women first share with one another, and then later
spring on some unsuspecting male. Since she was so interested in my
opening the envelope, I tried to tease her by showing my indifference.
"I'll read it later, Cat." I casually tossed the envelope toward the
coffee table on which my legs were resting, but shot an air ball that
had
the card curving in a spiral down to the carpet. Giggling, Callie
retrieved the fallen missile, and then straightened up with the letter
in
her extended hand. I could feel the warmth in my blushing face, but
tried
to recover my composure.
"Nice try, hotshot," she said. "Come on, Sam. Open your invitation. I
know
that you'll like it."
"Why is this invitation addressed only to me, Cat?" I asked, as I
slipped
my thumb under the flap of the envelope. "Why not both our names?"
Cat decided to sit on the arm of my chair with her arm around my neck.
She
looked at me with that `what a dumb thing to say' look. "Sweetie," she
said, "This party doesn't work that way. We each get invited
separately,
and I've already opened mine. Just read it, and then I'll explain."
I opened the envelope and extracted a folded note card of high quality
stock. The note was printed with that fancy raised ink used for formal
invitations. There was no signature on the note, so there was no way I
could identify the sender. I read the following message:
"The ladies of the Powell Family Heritage Association cordially invite
you
to participate in the 2004 Powell Family Scramble. This tradition has
been
celebrated in the Powell family for several generations, and
contributes
to the bonding of all members of the family, both blood relatives and
their married spouses."
There was a small piece of computer printer paper with additional
instructions:
"Your rendezvous location is the Holiday Inn Resort Hotel on Jekyll
Island. You will meet your two Powell family partners 4:00 PM Friday,
Feb.
27, at the address below, and return the following Monday morning.
Enjoy
the weekend, and respect the tradition of discretion."
Callie grinned when I showed her the note. "Well, congratulations,
Sam.
Now some other Powell women will get to appreciate you almost as much
as I
do. I'm going to Savanna that weekend, by the way. I wonder whom the
committee has worked out for our partners. Whoever they are, I'll bet
we'll have a great time."
"Ah," I replied. "I think I get it, Cat. This Powell Family Scramble
is
another one of your family's zany sex traditions, like the initiation
of
Sue Ann, isn't it? What is this one about, and how does it work?"
"Well, Sam, my grandma Powell felt that after a woman gets married,
she
doesn't always get to express her sexuality when or how she'd like to.
For
the most part, that's OK, `cause if she's made a good choice in the
man
she weds, then she gets enough sex of the good, loving kind, and she's
happy with that. But it's only natural for a human being every now and
then to feel itchy to try something new or different. You know, the
longer
you have a thing, the more interested you get for an alternative."
"You mean like a guy and his car, for instance, or the kind of cooking
you
eat routinely at home, Cat?" I asked. "So the Powell family has
created a
solution for trying new partners outside of the usual married
routine."
"You got it, Sam, only in this case, it wasn't the family that created
the
idea. It was a she. On her tenth wedding anniversary, Grandma Powell
decided that when she reached thirty, she would get a taste of another
man. But she didn't want any tangling affair or embarrassment to her
family, so she came up with the idea of asking one of her
brothers-in-law
to spend a weekend with her and a girl cousin, unbeknownst to their
husbands and his wife. The clever part of her idea was having a
threesome.
That made sure that the weekend was just sexual fun, without any
possible
romantic affair getting started between either woman and the
brother-in-law."
"And I gather that her little escapade grew into a family tradition,
Cat,"
I added.
"That's the way it happened, sweetie. When Grandma Powell returned
from
her little party, she told her sisters to try it for themselves. They
did,
and the idea kind of just grew. But I'm told that early on, there were
so
many scheduling hassles, that Grandma Powell and her sisters finally
decided on one special weekend every Leap Year. Kind of prevents the
thing
from getting to be too much of a habit. That's the way it's been going
on
for over twenty years now. Only, now, of course, most of the husbands
at
sometime or other get invited, so the idea of a secret getaway has
kinda
got lost over the generations. We all know what's goin' on, just not
with
whom and where."
"So that's how the tradition got started," I replied. "And its chief
objective is to give a married woman the taste of another man, but
without
the predictable risks, as well as keeping it within the family.
Fascinating. And it must be working for all you Powell women, because
I
don't see an unhappy marriage among all of you. Will this be the first
time, like me, that you went to one of these Scrambles, Cat?"
Callie blushed. "Actually, Sam, this one will be my second," she said.
"My
first Scramble was in 2000, just before we moved from Boston. I told
you
that I was going to a family wedding."
"I had no idea, Cat. Your family traditions are positively
incredible."
She kissed me tenderly. "Believe me, Sam, I was not bored or
disappointed
with your lovemaking. All that I was doing was satisfying some normal
human curiosity, and perhaps acting out some fantasies. And that's
what
will happen this year for you, too. And, just like with Sue Ann, once
the
weekend is over, nothing more happens." She giggled. "At least for
four
more years, that is."
"And you have no problem with me spending a weekend with two other
women?"
I asked.
"Of course not, sweetie," she replied. "After all, I'll be going
somewhere, too. We're husband and wife, and best friends, Sam, but we
don't own each other like property."
"So with whom will I be at the scramble, Cat? I don't want to sound
particular, but I am more than a little curious as to whom I have sex
with."
"That's part of the fun of the Scramble tradition, Sam. You don't
really
know with whom you're going to be until you arrive at wherever you're
told
to go. There is a secret committee of the last generation Powell women
who
match up the partners. I have a suspicion that Momma Powell and Aunt
Jess
are both on the committee, but they won't admit it."
She giggled and grinned mischievously. "But it wouldn't surprise me,
Sam,
if one of your women is Sissy. There's another sort of a tradition
that
when a Powell woman has her fortieth birthday, she can drop hints on
men
she'd like to get linked up with at the next Scramble. And believe me,
sugar; Sissy has been dropping lots of hints. She was interested in
you
before Sue Ann's week, and afterwards, she definitely has the hots for
you."
"You know, Cat," I said, "I seem to recall that Sue Ann said something
last July at the cabin. It was something about her mother and me
getting
it on together, and you shushed her up. Was she referring to this
Family
Scramble thing?"
Callie kissed my cheek. "She was, darlin'. Wouldn't that be
something -
you getting to screw both momma and daughter. You sure are a lucky
man,
Sam. Now go get cleaned up. In thirty minutes, we'll go to Momma and
Poppa's."
While showering and shaving, I pondered over this zany proposition,
and
whether or not I should participate. My legal and logical mind
conducted a
debate with my lustful body over the issue of extra-marital pleasures
vs.
the risk of consequences. My testosterone-driven lustful side kept
visualizing Sissy's luscious breasts with large, begging-to-be-sucked
nipples, along with the rest of that sensual body of hers. My logical
mind
countered that extra-marital sex is dangerous. Then my legal brain
argued
that there was a precedent. After all, if doing it with Sue Ann in the
summer was OK, how can that be any different from doing it with her
mother
in the winter? By the time I had slapped on some after-shave, I was
convinced. I would do it, especially since Callie approved without any
reservation, and she was going to scramble with another man as well.
Fortunately, the following two weeks were quite busy, so my mind was
not
permitted to fantasize too much about the Scramble Weekend. However, I
did
manage to do some shopping for surprises and treats for my unknown
partners, to help spice up the recreation. Finally, the Friday morning
of
the Scramble Weekend arrived. As I left for work, I kissed Callie
warmly.
I have to tell you that I still had some ambivalent thoughts as I
placed
my suitcase in the trunk of my car and waved goodbye. But, to be
honest,
by the time I had merged onto the expressway, I was imagining how
Sissy's
ass would look in thong panties. On certain matters, males have short
memories.
At 3:45 in the afternoon, I gathered up some papers to make it look
like I
would work at home over the weekend. I stuffed them in my attach‚
case,
and left my office to drive to the designated address of my fellow
scramblers. In the reception area, I said goodbye to Jody, the
receptionist/para-legal in my office. She also happens to be a second
cousin of Callie, but four years older. Her middle name is Pearl,
keeping
with the Powell tradition, and she displays that sauciness I find so
attractive in the Powell women.
I said to her, "I'm taking off a little early, Jody. I want to get a
head
start on the weekend."
"A head start - that's kinda cute, Sam," said Jody, smiling teasingly.
"Well, I'm sure that your Powell women will oblige you with the head,
but
just remember that you're there to please them. Hold your tongue,
except
for special moments." She grinned, eyes daring me to reply.
It suddenly dawned on me. "Jody, are you by any chance going somewhere
special this weekend?"
Jody's eyes widened with mock curiosity. "Special, Sam? Special how?"
"I think you know, Jody. Well, I hope that you have a great time
scrambling, but don't spend all the time laying about."
Jody laughed, accepting that her tease had been one-upped. Not to be
outdone, however, she got in the last dig of the day. She asked, "By
the
way, Sam, why are you taking work home? When are you going to find
time to
do it?"
"Oh, I'll squeeze it in," I replied, trying to be as nonchalant as I
could. "The social activities this weekend are no big deal. `Bye now,
I've
got to get home."
"Liar," Jody shouted, as I went out the door, bound for the Holiday
Inn on
Jekyll Island.
It was unseasonably warm for Georgia in late February, and the
extended
weather forecast was for five days in the high 70's on Jekyll Island.
On
the drive to the designated pickup address, I speculated whether the
women
would take along a skimpy bikini, for possible beach trips. The
designated
address turned out to be a house in a new Augusta development, where I
had
never been. I rang the doorbell, and an attractive woman with medium
length brunette hair expectantly opened the door. She was unfamiliar,
but
I recognized the Powell breasts and long legs. I judged that she was
in
her early thirties, and thought her to be very attractive. Her ample
bust,
hips and shapely legs were elegantly displayed under a black,
sleeveless
knitted dress with skirt a few inches above her knees. I was invited
inside, and sitting on the sofa in the living room was a lovely woman
whom
I did know. Sissy saw me, and squealed with delight, rushing up to me
and
giving me an affectionate wet kiss.
"It's you, Sam!" she exclaimed. "How wonderful to see you. I got my
wish
for the Powell Scramble. Oh, Sam, I'm so excited! Let me introduce you
to
my Aunt Gladys' youngest daughter, Mary Pat Carter. Mary Pat, this is
Sam
Tonnelli, who is married to my sister Callie. My daughters and Tanya's
girls all call him The Hunk. Sam, Mary Pat is the third member of our
Scramble party."
Mary Pat blushed while extending her hand. I took it and squeezed
gently.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Sam," she said. "I've heard a little about
you
from my momma and Sissy's momma. Sissy and I are excited about going
to
Jekyll Island. I haven't ever been there. I think we're going to have
fun
the next couple of days."
"Well, Mary Pat," I replied with what I hoped was a sexy smile, "It
will
be my pleasure to try to make it so. Shall we get going? We can get
acquainted on the way down."
The drive from Augusta to Jekyll Island is a little over three hours,
so
we had plenty of time to become familiar and get in the proper mood.
Being
a lawyer, I pride myself in putting people at ease when we first meet.
Mary Pat was nervous at the beginning of the drive, but, by the time
we
had passed Savannah on I-95, she was relaxed and laughing at Sissy's
earthy jokes, even adding some sexy innuendos of her own. We shared
the
fact that this scramble was her first, like me.
Mary said, "I've been married eight years now, but Jeremy, my husband,
was
working in Greenville, North Carolina, up until last year." Through
the
rear view mirror, I looked at her sitting in the back seat of my
Explorer.
She lowered her eyes suggestively. "I've been looking forward to this
weekend for some time now. My momma has told me some of the goings-on
that
she's done on her Scrambles. Land sakes, she let loose!"
Sissy was riding in the front seat next to me, and turned her head to
speak to Mary Pat. "Well, then, honey, let's have our own fun, just
like
your momma. Mary Pat, you and I are going to make good use of our boy
Sam
here. You just start imagining the kinds of things that you want to
try,
and we'll make it happen."
It was dark, but still warm when we checked into the Holiday Inn
Resort
Hotel. February is definitely the off-season for Jekyll, and there
were
only six or seven other cars in the lot. To my surprise, the girl at
the
check-in counter did not even raise an eyebrow that we were a
threesome.
Sissy registered under her Powell name, and claimed that she was Mary
Pat's sister, and I was Mary Pat's husband. The clerk gave Sissy three
passkeys and directions to our suite. It was on the second floor, with
its
own private balcony off the sitting room, overlooking the beach. The
moon
glistened silver on the Atlantic Ocean, and small white-capped waves
broke
on the sand. Inside, the suite had a sitting room with a wet bar, one
bedroom with a king size bed, and a spacious bathroom with a large
Jacuzzi
tub and separate shower.
Sissy must have noticed the uneasy feeling in both Mary Pat and me, as
we
stared at the large bed. She set down her luggage, and proceeded to
pull
back the red bedspread with white flowers and palm trees.
"Help me with this damn thing, Sam," she ordered. "We sure as hell
won't
need this for the rest of the weekend, will we?"
That broke the tension, and Mary Pat giggled. "Sam, you don't get to
pick
which side of the bed to sleep on. You're in the center. I'll take the
window side, Sissy. You get the bar side."
"Speaking of bars," I said. "I noticed that there is a raw bar in the
lounge. Let's get in the mood with some margaritas and oysters on the
half
shell."
Both women agreed, and we were soon seated in the quiet lounge. There
were
only three other couples besides us in the place, and the waitress was
grateful for more customers. I ordered drinks plus a dozen oysters for
our
table. Talk about your male ego - I was delighted by the envious
stares of
the men in the lounge. You could almost read their minds asking, `what
has
that guy got to have not one, but two beautiful women with him?'
I decided to make them even more envious, and perhaps get Sissy and
Mary
Pat warmed up. After the waitress had served us our margaritas and the
raw
oysters, I raised my glass.
"Here's to making the 2004 Powell Family Scramble a resounding
success," I
said. I took two sips, one for each of my dates. "And now I have a
request
to make. It has always been my fantasy to be with a woman in a
restaurant
and feed her raw oysters. Sissy, you first."
Her eyes brightened with the concept of the fantasy. She smiled at me,
then leaned forward, her mouth open and her eyes closed. I garnished
one
of the oysters with the special house sauce and leaned across the
table to
give Sissy a French kiss. She pulled back in surprise, but I held her
chin
with one hand, placed the oyster shell on her lower teeth, and tipped
up
the shell. The raw oyster slid from the shell down to the back of her
mouth, almost gagging her. She blinked, then rolled the oyster around
in
her mouth, and swallowed. She concluded with a ladylike dabbing of the
corners of her mouth with the cocktail napkin. I heard some audible
sighs
of envy from the bar crowd, including some female ones. I repeated the
oyster feeding with Mary Pat, who touched my cheek while she slurped
the
slippery oyster over her lips and down her throat. More sighs and
groans
from the spectators.
I turned around to face my audience and gave the old arms extended,
shoulder shrugging `it was nothing, fellows' gesture. Two of the
couples
grinned back, and began to applaud. Sissy threw back her head and
laughed
earthily at the reaction.
"You are a very sexy man, Sam. Now, let's give them something to
really
talk about. Mary Pat, let me feed you an oyster, like we're two
lesbians."
Mary Pat giggled, and she played her role to the hilt. The two women
were
seated side by side in our booth, and Mary Pat looped her arm around
Sissy
and held her open mouth about a foot away from Sissy's to receive her
oyster. Sissy dramatically stuck her middle finger in the sauce dish,
and
then dribbled sauce on an oyster. Everyone in the room stared at the
two
women as Sissy tipped the shell over Mary's lower lip. Mary Pat
noisily
slurped down the oyster, after which Sissy stuck her sauce-covered
finger
in front of Mary's mouth. Holding Sissy's hand with both of hers, Mary
slowly drew Sissy's finger into her mouth, and licked it clean.
Awestruck
silence prevailed in the room, but I noticed some women squirming and
licking their lips with arousal.
We quickly devoured the twelve oysters. They were followed by another
round of margaritas and a second dozen oysters, all lustily poured
into
Sissy's, Mary's, and my mouths by one other. I was reminded of the
classic
Tom Jones movie scene of the lovers eating and becoming aroused.
"Mmm, those were delicious, Sam," Sissy murmured, after she consumed
the
final bi-valve. "You know, when Tanya and I were just beginning our
teens,
our Uncle Jake insisted that we learned how to slurp and swallow a
whole
raw oyster. He said that it was a very important skill for all girls
to
learn. I never knew why he said that, until a few years later. That
was
the first time I experienced a boy coming in my mouth."
"I was told the same thing, Sissy, but by my Uncle Billy Ray," added
Mary
Pat. She smiled, and looked directly into my eyes before she
continued.
"He also had me practice picking up a hard boiled egg from the table
and
carrying it to my plate, using just my lips. He said that once I
learned
how, I would be guaranteed a date to the high school prom."
Sissy and I both laughed at Mary's story. "Ladies," I said, "The more
stories I hear about your uncles, the more I realize how much we
husbands
of Powell girls owe to them. I hope that one day, Sue Ann and,
perhaps,
some more of her cousins will tell similar stories about their Uncle
Sam.
Sissy, your daughter is one fine girl, by the way, and that initiation
is
one helluva family tradition."
"Yes, it is, Sam. And I happen to think that all us Powell women have
made
our husbands happier because of that tradition. And you should be
proud,
Sam. Sue Ann thinks that you are the hunk of all hunks. You should
have
seen the glow on her face at Momma and Poppa's on Kiawah Island
following
her week with you and Callie. All her girl cousins and even Momma
Powell
tried to get her to tell us what happened. But she never disclosed a
thing, apart from the tattoos that she was showing around."
"All of them, Sissy?" I exclaimed.
Sissy's mouth curled into an `O' of astonishment, then burst out
laughing.
"You mean there were some tattoos that her bikini covered up, Sam? You
naughty, naughty boy!"
"Well, let's us do some naughty things this weekend, Sissy and Mary
Pat.
I've been fantasizing for the last two weeks, and I've got some things
to
give to you."
"Well, bless my soul!" Sissy exclaimed. "Sam Tonnelli, I do believe
that
you are ready to do some serious tom-catting. And here I was wondering
for
the last month how we were ever going to persuade you to come without
Callie. Callie said that it took you quite a while before you would go
along with Sue Ann's initiation. What's made the difference now,
darlin'?"
"Let's just say that last summer I was initiated as well as Sue Ann,
Sissy. There was some fantastic sex that week, so what kind of guy
wouldn't jump at another opportunity like that?" I looked at Mary Pat.
"And now that I've met you, Mary Pat, it's more than an opportunity.
It's
a dream come true."
Mary Pat tilted her margarita glass to gulp down the remaining third
in
one swallow. With her other hand, she reached under the table and
squeezed
my thigh. "Sissy, this man seems too good to be true. I think it's
time to
take him upstairs and see what he's like in bed."
Sissy and I followed Mary Pat's orders, and soon we were inside our
suite.
Earlier, I had ordered room service to deliver champagne and hors
d'euvres. I thought this moment was the appropriate time to give my
two
partners their gifts. I opened my suitcase, and handed each of them
identically wrapped packages from an Augusta jewelry store. Both Sissy
and
Mary Pat squealed with delight when each opened her box and discovered
an
ankle bracelet with one small diamond and a delicate gold chain. I
said,
"I wanted each of you to have a memento from our weekend here. Later,
you
can wear it whenever you want to feel extra sexy. Now let's drink some
champagne, and then I get to put on your new bracelets."
Sissy threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. As she rubbed her
pelvis against my leg, she gave me a long, wet kiss. Our tongues
explored
our mouths for at least a minute. Then I received the same kind of
gratitude from Mary Pat. All three of us sat together on the sofa, and
sipped our bubbly. It was Sissy that made the first overture to move
on to
a sexier phase of the evening. She stood up and handed me the bracelet
box.
She said, "Sam, honey, I want you to put your bracelet on me. But for
that, you've got to take off my stockings. Unzip my dress, please, and
then it'll be easier."
I did as I was told (what male wouldn't?), and Sissy wriggled the
tight
dress over her head to stand before me in a pale beige underwire bra,
matching boy-leg lace panties, and thigh-high hose. I recalled seeing
the
same lingerie on a model in the Victoria's Secret store window at the
mall. Except that mannequin did not have breasts and derriere anywhere
near Sissy's class. She caught me admiring her voluptuous body, and
smiled.
She placed her left foot on the sofa cushion, between my legs. "Sam
Tonnelli, stop ogling, and please remove my stocking," she directed.
"It will be my pleasure, my lady," I replied, and I leisurely and
softly
slid my fingers up her calf, past her knee, and onto her soft, white
thighs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mary Pat staring at my hands
and
Sissy's pussy, all the while one hand was rubbing her breast. By this
time, my fingers had reached the elastic top of the stocking, but I
deliberately let my hands overshoot so that my fingers lightly brushed
Sissy's panties. They were already moist. I let her feel my knuckles
rub
against her labia for a few seconds to further stimulate her, then
slid my
fingers inside the stocking to begin to peel it off Sissy's leg.
It took only a few seconds to have the stocking rolled past Sissy's
knee
and over her foot with a final tug, but my fingers had done plenty of
stimulating. Sissy was sighing with satisfaction, and her right hand
slipped down between her legs to rub her panties. I took the bracelet
out
of its box, and fastened the tiny clasp on the inside of her ankle. As
a
final flourish, I lightly brushed my lips over her thigh, about where
her
stocking top had been only moments ago. I repeated the process with
Sissy's right leg, and by the time that two stockings were in my lap,
she
was getting flushed, and breathing more heavily.
"And now it's your turn, Mary Pat," I said softly. "Let me take off
your
stockings and put on your bracelet."
She blushed and stammered, "But this dress is cut so low, and is so
tight,
that I'm not wearing a bra, just pantyhose. If I take off my dress,
and
you take off my stockings, I'll be naked."
"Then I'll take off my underwear, too, honey," Sissy declared. "Then
we'll
both be nude for Sam to admire." Without hesitation, she unhooked her
bra
and tugged down her panties. "Now let's see your boobs and pussy, Mary
Pat."
Mary Pat blushed, but stood up to unzip her fitted dress. She reached
down
for the hem of the dress, which was just above her knees, and pulled
the
garment over her head. Tossing the dress onto a chair, she moved to
stand
in front of me. Grinning and stretching out her arms to display her
breasts, she announced, "The rest is up to you, Sam."
I didn't hesitate to strip off Mary Pat's pantyhose and encircle her
ankle
with the gold bracelet. Once the jewelry was in place, I paused a
moment
to admire the two naked women standing side by side in front of me.
Mary
Pat was about the same height as Sissy, yet her body made her appear
taller, because she was slender with more angular body curves. Sissy's
breasts and body were more mature and voluptuous, decidedly female. I
felt
like I was looking at two nude paintings somewhere in a museum - one
done
by Renoir, and the other by Modigliani. Each was different, but both
were
exquisite. I couldn't help myself. Impulsively, I grabbed Sissy's ass
cheeks, pulled her body into my face, and kissed her pussy
affectionately.
She held my face tight against her pussy lips, and moaned softly as I
licked her labia and tongued her clit.
I continued to eat Sissy's pussy until she stiffened and gasped with a
small orgasm. After getting herself aroused, Sissy gently pushed my
face
away. "That felt really good, sugar," she said. "Now it's your turn,
Sam.
Off with the pants and shirt."
I removed my shoes and socks, and then tackled the shirt, tie, and
pants.
Sissy took a few steps to reach me, and gave me an open-mouthed kiss,
her
tongue darting into my mouth. Then she slipped her hands under the
elastic
band of my boxers, and slipped them past my hips. Needless to say,
between
seeing two sets of naked breasts and neatly trimmed pussies and
Sissy's
hands in my crotch, my cock was decently aroused. She gently lifted my
balls and stroked my cock until it was fully rigid and pointed toward
her
head.
"You have a very handsome cock, Sam," she whispered as she kissed me
on
the cheek. "I don't think I could ever say no to a man when he's got a
hard on. I want you to fuck me, but first eat Mary Pat's snatch until
she
comes."
I kissed Sissy tenderly on the lips, and smiled at Mary Pat before
pulling
her body into my face as I had done with Sissy. The two pussies each
had
distinctive aromas and textures, and I reveled in being able to use my
lips and tongue on both. By then, I was fully aroused, and that
yearning
feeling was boiling in my groin. I licked and tongued Mary Pat's labia
and
clit in earnest, and she quickly responded.
"Oh, God, that feels good!" she moaned. "Don't stop, Sam. I want to
come.
Please make me come!"
I rose from the sofa, and took Mary Pat by the hand around to the side
of
the sofa, which divided the sitting room. I backed her into the arm,
until
she had to lie on her back on the seat cushions, her legs draped over
the
upholstered arm. Smiling into her eyes, I lifted and spread her legs
over
my shoulders, and pressed my face into her open pussy lips. At the
same
time, I massaged her breasts and tickled her nipples. She moaned with
pleasure when my tongue contacted her wet clit, and she thrust her
hips in
rhythm with my tongue movements.
While I continued oral and breast foreplay with Mary Pat, I felt one
of
Sissy's hands cup my balls and the other squeezed and stroked my cock.
I
sensed Mary Pat's arousal climbing, and I flicked my tongue more
energetically in and out of her vagina, until she was writhing and
moaning
to bring off her climax. It took about a dozen more flicks of my
tongues
and pinches of her nipples to bring her to the edge. Suddenly, her
body
stiffened, and she screamed with her orgasm. I kept on licking and
sucking
until she pulled her body away from me.
"Oh, please, no more!" she begged, gasping for breath "Please, Sam, I
can't take any more."
Having excited Mary Pat to her climax, along with Sissy's experienced
hands expertly massaging my cock, got me close to my own limit. I
removed
myself from Mary Pat's legs, and tossed the seat cushion from the
overstuffed chair onto the floor. I grabbed both of Sissy's shoulders
and
not too gently pushed her down to the floor, her bottom resting on the
cushion. Sissy was as aroused as I was, and she eagerly bent her knees
and
spread her thighs wide. She held her arms open, inviting me to mount
her.
I knelt down between Sissy's legs, and pointed my rigid cock over her
wet
vagina. Sissy smiled tenderly, and her hand guided the head of my cock
past her lips. There is something very special about that sensation
when a
cock first penetrates a lover's vagina. I could feel her vaginal
muscles
reflexively respond to having my organ inside her by contracting to
pull
my cock deeper. I wanted Sissy to be pleased with our first fuck, and
I
proceeded slowly and tenderly, letting her mind and body set the pace.
She
was an experienced and energetic lover, and we alternated between
slow,
short strokes with only part of my cock sliding into her, and hard,
deep
thrusts that had my balls slapping against her buttocks.
I felt myself on the brink of coming, but I bit hard into my lip to
restrain myself until I could sense Sissy's orgasm erupting. It
happened
quickly. I heard Sissy moan more loudly and felt her belly and hips
shudder, just before she screamed with her orgasmic ecstasy. I felt
her
nails dig into my back, and she lifted her hips off the cushion with
each
thrust of my cock. That was all it took for me to explode, and I gave
out
a gurgling growl as I came. I ejaculated three times into her vagina,
each
splash eliciting a gasp of pleasure from Sissy.
We both tried to force some more sensations through additional
thrusts,
but both of us were physically and emotionally spent. I had been
supporting myself on my elbows and knees, but I was too weak to
continue
to do so, collapsing my body on top of hers. Sissy wrapped her arms
around
me, and we lay entwined together for some time. Eventually, we both
had
regained most of our composure and breath, and I rolled off Sissy's
body
to lie alongside her on the rug. Sissy giggled and knelt over me,
moving
her nipples back and forth across my mouth. I grabbed her shoulders to
make her halt, and sucked firmly on one nipple, sometimes giving it a
playful nip with my teeth.
"Oh, sugar!" she said. "That was glorious! Just imagine; the very
first
fuck we have, and we both came at the same time. You are terrific, Sam
Tonnelli."
"And so are you, Sissy," I said, after discharging her nipple from my
mouth. "You are positively terrific. But we are neglecting Mary Pat."
"No you're not," came Mary Pat's voice from the sofa. "I was enjoying
the
show you two put on. It got me so turned on that I played with myself
and
had another orgasm. I'm spinning down as well."
I rose from the floor and grabbed the champagne bottle. "Why don't we
relax together on the bed, where we have more room and a nice soft
mattress?" I said.
The three of us adjourned to the king-sized bed, where we leaned
against
pillows supported by the headboard. I was in the middle between Sissy
and
Mary Pat, and I put an arm around each of my two naked women. Sissy
passed
the champagne bottle back and forth, and Mary Pat became the dispenser
of
veggie pieces and cheese cubes from a snack tray. We sipped the wine
and
ate snacks while we gaily chatted for about half an hour.
By then I was refreshed, and my libido started to kick in once more.
Taking turns, I kissed Sissy, then Mary Pat, on the lips, followed by
a
suck on a nipple. The women were recovered as well, and Mary Pat began
to
lightly scrape her long nails across my chest, centering on my
nipples.
There must be a direct nervous link between my nipples and my penis,
because shortly after Mary Pat began to touch me, my cock started to
swell
and lengthen. Mary Pat noticed my response to her stimulation
immediately.
"Well, bless your heart, Sam," she cooed. "I do believe that little
ole
cock of yours is coming back to life. Sissy, this time you can watch,
and
I get to have fun with Sam. Slide over to my side, sugar, and let's
get
started."
I moved to Mary's side, and she knelt between my legs to place her
head in
my crotch. She smiled and winked at me, then began to massage my cock
with
her hands. That soon had the desired effect, and my shaft was becoming
more rigid and erect.
"Show me how well you learned to hold an egg with your lips, baby," I
said. "Lick and suck my cock, Mary Pat. Get it nice and hard for your
pussy."
"Oh, I just love sweet-talking lawyers. You sit back and enjoy. I'll
know
when you're ready."
Mary Pat definitely knew how to excite a man's cock with her tongue
and
mouth. I was especially turned on when she would lightly run her
tongue
all the way around my cock, just behind the glans. Another wild trick
was
tracing her fingernail in the crevice in the head of my cock, which
stimulated considerable pre-cum from its orifice. Sissy supported Mary
Pat's work on me by going to her cosmetic case and returning with a
jar of
Albolene cream. Callie had introduced me to this stuff, and it is ten
times better than any of the other lubricating lotions and gels.
Mary Pat stopped her cock sucking and sat down on my legs with her
knees
outside of mine, effectively pinning me to the bed. She grinned at
Sissy,
took a generous dollop from the jar, and proceeded to insert some of
it
into her vagina with her fingers. The remainder was massaged onto my
cock,
and she started to slide her fingers up and down on my shaft. She
began
slowly and teasingly to masturbate me, while I played with her breasts
and
nipples with my hands. Then Mary Pat's rhythm grew faster, and her
fingers
squeezed my cock more firmly. The sensation was terrific, amplified by
the
fact that my legs were immobile under the weight of Mary Pat's body.
It
felt like a cross between torture and pleasure, and my balls and cock
were
on fire, like I was going to come any second.
"Oh, God, that feels good, Mary Pat," I managed to croak out. "Let me
fuck
you, please. I want to come inside of you."
Mary Pat's eyes brightened with desire, and she raised her body until
my
hard cock was under her vagina. She slowly slid her lips over my cock
until all of it had disappeared into her pussy. I let her set the
pace,
and she raised and lowered her hips to have my cock rub against her
clit.
My hips began to thrust up and down in harmony with her motions on my
cock, and Mary Pat sighed, then moaned ever more loudly as she
approached
her climax. I felt myself ready to explode, but I wanted Mary to come
with
me. My mind and body were totally wrapped up in the pleasure/pain
moment
that happens just before you come, when I heard Mary screaming.
"Now, Sam!" she cried. "I'm going to come! Fuck me. Fuck me hard!"
That was all it took. I spurted my semen into Mary Pat with two hard
bursts, and then crumpled in exhaustion. Mary Pat continued to thrust
her
hips to extract the last of my potency and achieve a second orgasm.
She
succeeded, and then collapsed on top of me. Our bodies were slick with
sweat, lubrication, and our own fluids, but we were totally satisfied.
Gradually, our breathing returned to normal, and Mary Pat stirred and
rolled off my body to climb out of the bed.
"God, that was sensational, Sam," she exclaimed. "I am one satisfied
woman. And, Sissy, isn't it kind of a turn-on to watch another man and
woman fucking?"
"Ladies," I said. "I wish to thank both of you for one of the greatest
evenings I've ever had. I'm sorry, but, please, don't ask me for any
more.
Raw oysters can only do so much. I am totally drained for the night."
Sissy gently kissed me on the lips. "You have nothing to apologize
about,
sugar. You made tonight very wonderful for Mary Pat and me. Now let's
all
rest, and we can think of more ways to scramble tomorrow."
We pulled the top sheet over the damp bottom one, and pulled a blanket
over the three of us. I felt so satisfied, lying on my back, with a
beautiful and sexy woman snuggled on each side of me. I whispered,
"Sleep
well, Sissy and Mary Pat. You Powell women are every man's fantasy."
When I woke up the next morning, I was alone in the bed. The pillows
on
either side of me still had a faint fragrance of Sissy's and Mary
Pat's
colognes. There was also the musky scent of sex permeating the sheets.
But
even stronger was that wonderful aroma of morning coffee, and I could
hear
a woman's voice singing in the running shower. I stood up, did some
morning stretches to unkink my muscles, and put on a new Japanese
style
silk robe, purchased especially for this occasion.
Following the trail of the coffee aroma, I went into the sitting room.
Behind the sofa was a tea trolley, loaded with a silver coffee server,
a
glass pitcher of orange juice, and a plate of baked breakfast goods.
Mary
Pat was sitting in the easy chair, buttering an English muffin. All
she
was wearing was a royal blue silk shorty robe. She had loosely tied
the
robe at the waist, which exposed all of her legs and pussy when
sitting in
the chair. It was tempting, but I wanted coffee more.
"Good morning, Sam," she said brightly. "It appears that Sissy and I
really did wear you out last night. You were out like a light. I've
been
up for an hour, and ordered room service. There was a very nice young
man
who served us. I put his tip on the room tab."
"If you showed him what I can see right now, Mary Pat, that would have
been sufficient gratuity."
Mary Pat giggled. "No, I was standing and all covered up, Sam. All he
saw
was a little cleavage and some bare legs. He did seem to appreciate
it,
though."
We continued our light conversation while I rejuvenated myself with
juice,
a croissant and coffee. While I was buttering a second croissant,
Sissy
came into the room, wearing a towel like a sarong. A second towel was
wrapped around her damp hair, and draped over one shoulder. Sometime I
must ask Callie to show me how women do that trick. Mary Pat and I
said
our good mornings to her while she went to the trolley and buttered a
croissant for herself. She sat on one end of the sofa, and I refilled
our
coffee cups before sitting on the other end next to her.
To make pleasant conversation while nibbling and sipping, I remarked,
"You
know, I think that a woman looks her most beautiful when she first
gets
out of bed after she has had good sex the night before. There's
something
about the look in her eyes and the softness in her movements at that
time.
It's different for guys the morning after. We need to shower and shave
before we look presentable."
"Well, you do need a shave, Sam," Sissy replied. "But that robe is
pretty
sexy. What do the Japanese letters say?"
"Good question, Sissy. I have no idea. I picked this one out because I
liked the pattern and color."
"Then let's pretend that it says `after a shower and a shave, what's
underneath is prime stuff," said Mary Pat. We all laughed at her joke.
"Okay, Mary Pat," I said, "I can take a hint. Give me fifteen minutes
in
the bathroom, and then let's get dressed and go exploring the island.
It
looks like it's going to be a fine day."
By 10:30 we were dressed and in our car, ready for a day on what I
consider one of the real jewels of the state of Georgia. Near the end
of
the nineteenth century, some of the rich New York moguls pooled their
money and bought the entire island to build opulent "cottages" that
they
called hunting lodges for their families' late winter vacations. The
Jekyll Island Association lasted until the Fifties, when the island
became
the property of the state of Georgia, which assures that it will not
be
overrun with high-rise condo developments, or similar God-awful
corruptions of the environment.
This was Mary Pat's first visit to Jekyll Island, so Sissy and I
showed
her our favorite places on the tiny coastal island. We began by taking
the
tram tour of the historic district, which is a collection of restored
mogul cottages, some of which are open for tourists. The centerpiece
of
the district is the Grand Hotel, an old white, yellow and green wooden
multi-storied structure built in the Victorian grand resort hotel
tradition. I felt like J. P. Morgan, as we dined on its sunny,
wooden-decked veranda. That particular Saturday, the hotel was busily
prepping itself for an afternoon wedding and reception, and the three
of
us engaged in people watching.
When we had finished our deli sandwiches and sweetened iced tea, we
drove
down to the South Dunes beach. The tide was just receding, so the few
beachgoers that were coming that day had not yet arrived. We took off
our
shoes at the stairs going over the dunes and walked on the beach. This
was
the first really warm spell of the season, and the sun felt especially
good as we waded in the cold ocean water and searched for shells in
the
sand. The three of us all felt in high spirits, like colts let out to
pasture after a long winter in the barn.
"This sun is too nice to pass up," said Mary Pat. "Let's get a jump on
our
tans this year and go down the beach behind those dunes, and lie in
the
sun for a while."
Sissy protested, "But we didn't bring our bathing suits, Mary Pat."
"So we strip to our bras and panties," Mary Pat argued. "If anyone
does
notice us from the beach, it'll look like we're wearing bikinis. And
Sam's
boxers will look like his trunks. Come on, don't be a coward."
We found a secluded spot behind the first rise of the dunes, sheltered
from the ocean breezes but still in the sun. I spread out a hotel
blanket
I had taken along, and we all stripped down to our underwear. The
girls
began by lying on their stomachs to tan their backs. After about five
minutes, Sissy got up on her knees, satisfied herself that no one else
was
around, and took off her bra.
"No tan lines this way, except for a thong," she said. "You ought to
try
it, Mary Pat."
Which she did, and I was treated to admiring two lovely female bodies.
Both sides, since Sissy commanded that she and Mary Pat roll over
every
ten minutes to assure an even tan. By the second rollover, I was
dozing on
my back, and the idea of breasts and bellies next to me on a beach
triggered lustful thoughts until my boxers were raised like a tent
from my
erect cock.
Mary Pat noticed my condition and changed her prone position so that
her
head was above my groin. She gently kissed my sun-warmed belly, and
kneaded my hard cock through my shorts.
"Sissy, this hunk has got his equipment armed and ready for more
action,"
she said. "We've all had enough sun for the first day, so let's go
back to
our hotel room, and have some playtime."
The two women didn't bother to put their bras back on, just slipping
their
dresses over their slightly pinked bodies. Once back in the privacy of
our
room, Mary Pat immediately unzipped her dress and stripped off her
panties. She beckoned Sissy and me into the bedroom.
"Sissy, let's both of us suck Sam's cock, and then I'm going to let
him
fuck me doggie style. I'll eat your pussy at the same time."
This idea had two eager participants, and Sissy was out of her clothes
in
a flash to join Mary Pat in helping me struggle to get my pants and
boxers
off while I had a raging erection. They soon succeeded, and I was
rewarded
with the double treat of having my cock licked by two tongues at the
same
time, while I lay on my back in the middle of the bed. I groaned with
the
pleasurable sensation. All at once, Sissy stopped her stimulation, and
pulled Mary Pat away from my groin. Her eyes were bright with
excitement,
and she wore a mischievous smile.
"Mary Pat, I want to see Sam jerk off before we let him fuck us." She
grinned at me. "You'll have to do it, Sam, or no more pussy for that
good-looking cock."
Sissy and Mary Pat pushed me onto my knees, and then they sat up,
propped
with pillows against the headboard to watch me. The open jar of
Albolene
was still on the nightstand, and Sissy slathered some on my cock,
which
was now fully erect and swollen.
"OK, Sam, start thinking of something really exciting, and shoot a
load at
Mary Pat. We both want to see you come while we turn ourselves on."
I had not expected this, and my initial reaction was one of inhibited
embarrassment. But the eroticism of the moment, with three naked
bodies
each masturbating, captured me. It was a real ego trip to observe two
women staring at my erection, desire crackling in their eyes, while
their
fingers played with their clits and labia. The whole scene had my cock
and
groin throbbing with sexual tension, demanding any form of release.
I began stroking my cock, and I visualized the time last summer at the
cabin when I watched Cat and Sue Ann getting it on together. After the
first half-dozen strokes of my hand, I was wholly into this unusual
scene.
All you guys reading this will understand that there is that certain
moment when you are masturbating, that your whole being is transported
to
a level of excitement from which there is only one way to return. All
I
wanted at that moment was to make myself come, and for these two women
to
be pleasured by it. I cupped my balls with my left hand, and began
jerking
off my cock with my right.
I tried to keep my eyes open, to see Mary Pat's expression, but the
nerves
in my body would not permit it. The throbbing in my cock grew with
each
stroke of my hand, and I began to breath heavily and moan with
excitement.
I could hear words of encouragement from both Mary Pat and Sissy, but
it
was unnecessary. I moaned loudly, and felt my balls tighten. With my
cock
pointed straight at Mary Pat's face, I erupted, shooting several
streams
of semen. The first landed on her neck and breasts, while the second
splashed her open mouth and chin, as she leaned forward toward me.
I continued to kneel in front of Mary Pat and Sissy, recovering my
breath
and composure after my orgasm. Mary Pat grinned at me and wiped up my
cum
on her face and chest, offering her fingers to Sissy for licking
clean.
Then she knelt in front of me to lick my now softening cock. Her
tongue
felt wonderful.
"That was a total turn-on, Sam," said Mary Pat. "Now you catch your
breath
and watch me eat Sissy's pussy until she comes. Feel free to join in
and
fuck me when you're ready."
Mary Pat slid her body over Sissy's reclining torso, and buried her
face
deep into Sissy's pussy. Sissy encouraged her by running her fingers
through Mary Pat's hair while thrusting her hips up and down. Her
groans
and murmurs of tenderness revealed how effectively Mary Pat's tongue
and
fingers on her breasts were arousing Sissy.
Just as it had at the cabin with Cat and Sue Ann, the spectacle of
Sissy
and Mary Pat having sex together overwhelmed me with loving and tender
thoughts about them. Even though I had been invited by Mary Pat, and
my
cock was hardening with second desires, I was reluctant to intrude.
Sissy
and Mary Pat were both givers and takers to and from each other, and
it
would have been selfish of me to satisfy my own lusts until their
intimate
communication had reached its satisfying conclusion.
But Sissy had other ideas for the pleasure of the three of us. She
smiled
at me and said, "Take Mary Pat now, Sam. Fuck her and make her come
while
she is doing me."
I did as she directed, sliding my now hard cock into Mary Pat's wet
vagina
from the rear. Somehow Mary Pat sensed and understood that there was a
bond between Sissy and me, and at that particular moment, it was Mary
Pat's pleasure to communicate that bond. Each time I would thrust
deeper
into Mary Pat, she would more earnestly suck and lick Sissy's clit and
vagina, as if she were an extension of my cock. I know that this
sounds
preposterous, but then sexual experiences seldom can be related well
to
someone who was not involved. You'll just have to take my word for
it - at
that moment, there were three sexually excited bodies and mutually
bonded
minds on that bed, and each of us reached our personal climaxes at
nearly
the same time. I came in Mary Pat; she climaxed from my orgasm; and
Sissy
jerked and screamed with hers seconds later.
The three of us continued to have fun and great sex together for the
remaining time on Jekyll, and I saw how the imaginative and playful
sex
had changed Sissy's and Mary Pat's spirit, as well as mine. Now I
totally
got the concept that Callie's grandmother sought - scrambling actually
was
a re-creation of that joy of sex for the sheer pleasure of it. Our
activities for the remaining time on the island were just like what
honeymooning couples would do anywhere; only there were three of us.
One
of the most amusing times occurred that Saturday evening, when Mary
Pat
revealed how her Powell genes ran true to form in female earthiness
and
saucy tongue.
We decided to go to dinner in the Grand Hotel Victorian dining room.
The
ladies' dresses were modern sexy and short ones, and I wore my green
blazer and slacks, but otherwise you could imagine yourself back in
the
heyday of the Jekyll Island Club, with ladies in full-length gowns
with
trains, and the men in formal attire. From the soft plush carpeting to
the
heavy silver place settings on the starched white tablecloths, the
ambience oozed old-time elegance.
After finishing a multi-course dinner, we peeked into the ballroom,
where
the reception for the afternoon wedding was in full swing. Sissy
counted
six bridesmaids and groomsmen throughout the many couples dancing
waltzes
and slow foxtrots played by a seven-piece orchestra. The father of the
bride, dressed in tails with black tie, happened to be returning from
the
Men's Room, and he noticed us observing the festivities. He was the
quintessential glad-hander, and that night he was showing off to any
audience he could find.
"Hey there," he boomed, as he placed his hand on my shoulder and
grasped
my right hand. "Y'all want to come in? There's plenty of booze and
food.
Hell, there oughta be; this spread is costing me over two hunnert big
ones."
By the time he stopped talking, he had pushed me into the room,
heading
for the bar and buffet. Sissy and Mary Pat trailed along, and Cal
(that
was what he insisted I call him; all his good buddies do), soon was
chatting to them while sneaking peeks down their necklines. He ordered
us
all champagne, and while the bartender filled four glasses, he asked
where
I was from, and what did I do. When I replied that I was an attorney
from
Augusta, his eyes returned to my green blazer. You could tell that he
was
putting two and two together, and he calculated six - I must be a
member
of the Augusta National Golf Club, sponsor of the Masters tournament.
This
made me someone special to Cal, and I didn't try to correct his
misconception. I made every effort not to show the Land's End label on
the
inside of my blazer.
Once we got our glasses from the bar, Cal hustled us over `to meet the
little woman, and my daughter the bride.' As much as Cal was babbity,
his
wife, Victoria, was every bit the snob. She immediately mentioned
their
last names after Cal's first name introductions.
"We're the Langford's, from Savannah, the historic district of course.
My
maiden name was Dalton, of the Macon Daltons. Hmm, Tonnelli. Are you
any
relation to the Tonnellis of Beaufort?" (The first syllable is
pronounced
just like the word beautiful, if you want to be in the know.) "Let me
introduce you to my eldest daughter, Eleanor, and my new son-in-law,
Trask
Dunwoody. Trask is on the governor's staff in Atlanta, you know,
following
the Dunwoody family line of state politicians. After the honeymoon,
they
will be residing in their new home in Fairmont Hills, a gated
community in
North Macon."
"Yeah," Cal interrupted. "The down payment on the damn thing set me
back
three hundred big ones. But that's OK; Trask's old man has ponied up
for
the annual dues to the country club there. Say, Sam, old buddy, you
wouldn't want to invite me up to play a round at your club, would you?
I've always dreamed of playing that sixteenth hole. Is that green
really
as tough to read as the TV guys say?"
"Really, Langford," his wife went on, "It's rather vulgar to
monopolize
the talk to golf, that silly sport. We must be boring these lovely
ladies
to death." She turned to Mary Pat and gave her a toothy smile. "That
is a
fetching dress, my dear, ahem, what there is of it. Where in Augusta
did
you get it? This one that I'm wearing was made especially for me at
Boldt's in Savannah."
Eleanor, the bride, showed as much snobbery as her mother. She also
smiled
at Mary Pat, who stood next to me, holding my arm affectionately.
"Daddy
didn't say, Mr. Tonnelli, but I assume that this lovely little lady is
your bride. How long did it take you to come up to scratch and make
her an
honest woman? I declare, I sometimes thought that Trask would never
pop
the question. And since they call you Sissy," she said, turning to
her,
"You must be her older sister."
Sissy stiffened, but to my relief she said nothing. Mary Pat, on the
other
hand, had had enough of these condescending remarks and boasts. She
flashed her best smile at me and pecked my cheek with her lips. Then
she
mimicked the thickest red-neck pine woods accent that you ever want to
hear.
"Wahl, hunnee," she drawled, "Ah do believe there's bin a sorta
confusion
heah. The truth o' the matta is that none of us ahr wedded to the
otha. We
each got summon else back home neah Augusta. Sissy an' Ah have
double-wides in the same traila pahk, an' we only just met Sam, heah,
in
the WalMaht this week. But he's been godawful gen'rous, and been so
sweet
to take us down heah."
She was a perfect comedienne, who waited for the effect of her parody
to
sink in before continuing. I could barely keep a straight face, and
Sissy
was already shaking with the giggles.
"Ya' husbin surely has bin gen'rous to you, too, ma'am," Mary Pat
drawled
on, looking at Mrs. Langford, and then turned to Eleanor. "An' y'all,
too,
Miz Trask. Ah thenk it positively ahdohable that both momma and dotta
catched theirselves rich men. So tonight, ah hope that y'all both do
the
right theng to show yer gratitude, lahk Sissy and Ah inten' t'do with
Sam
heah."
"And what might that be?" Mrs. Langford managed to hiss out between
her
teeth, her mouth frozen in a polite smile.
Mary Pat grinned mischievously at Cal and Trask before turning her
eyes on
the mother-of-the-bride. "Jus' get to bed earleh, and fuck his brains
out." She playfully tapped Cal on his arm. "Lan' sakes, y'all got that
much comin' to ya. Y'all have a good time, y'heah?"
I hustled my two women, now giggling audibly, out of the ballroom
before I
lost my composure and doubled over laughing. From behind me, I heard
Mrs.
Langford's final remarks. "Well, I never! Langford, don't you dare
invite
anyone else to our nice party, do you hear me?"
Once outside, the three of us convulsed with laughter, until tears
were
running down my face. When I finally calmed down, I told the two women
that I was holding them to Mary Pat's pledge, once back in the Holiday
Inn.
Sissy tried to imitate Mary Pat's accent. "Lissen, suh, us double-wide
sluts heah in Gawga allus keeps our word. `Sides, heah in Dixie, it's
only
propah to remove the brains of a Yankee lawyah from Hahvahd."
And let me tell you, Sissy and Mary Pat put forth their best efforts,
until I was beginning to think that sexual lobotomy was a real
possibility. I was one tired, but happy puppy that night.
We slept late on Sunday morning. The sun was promising a gorgeous day,
and
we ordered a picnic basket lunch for another day on the island. This
time
we rented bicycles at a place next to the hotel, and we pedaled the
length
of the island on the bike trails until lunch. After sating ourselves
with
wine, bread, cheese and fruit, we stretched out on a blanket under the
early spring sun and snoozed until almost three o'clock. On the way
back
to our hotel, Sissy got the idea that I should give her and Mary Pat a
bikini line hair groom. After picking up materials at the local CVS,
we
had a silly and fun time in the room with bikini wax, Albolene, and a
huge
dildo that Sissy had brought with her. Both women insisted on
comparing
the oversized, but synthetic tool vs. my natural equipment under what
Sissy called `ideal laboratory conditions.' My macho pride was
salvaged
when both Sissy and Mary Pat diplomatically declared the real thing to
be
superior to the plastic monster, on the basis of my cock being able to
ejaculate in their vaginas.
For our final night out, we drove to mainland Brunswick to a tiny,
hole-in-the-wall restaurant, where we were told the best Low Country
Boil
was served. For those who are unfamiliar with this dish, it contains
potatoes, half-ears of corn, shrimp, Anduoille sausage, and some white
fish, all boiled and simmered with Cajun-like spices. Eating these
goodies
is not a tidy spectacle, but there is nothing tastier with cold draft
beer. The restaurant also served wedges of warm home-made pecan pie
topped
with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Like the song from `Carousel,' our
hearts were warm, and our bellies were full after that meal. As we
departed, the waitress told us about a nearby roadhouse that had a
live
local Zydeco band, where we drank more beer, stomped our feet, and
learned
some Cajun lyrics.
It was after midnight when we were back in our hotel room, and all
three
of us somehow understood that our feelings for sex for that night was
ambivalent. None of us knew quite how to draw this weekend to a
fitting
close. Finally, Mary Pat said the words, as she symbolically unclasped
her
ankle bracelet and placed it in her purse.
"This weekend has been something very special for me," she said. "I
came
with the expectation of just enjoying good times and recreational sex,
but
you, Sissy, and you, Sam, have made it more than that. I think that
I'm
going to start bawling like a baby, because we'll never be together
like
this again. I love you both so much."
I kissed Mary Pat on her cheek, tasting the salty tear that had rolled
down it. "I think I understand what you are feeling right now, Mary
Pat,
and I feel the same way. This weekend has been extra special for me,
too,
and likewise Sissy, I'm certain. I suggest that we just undress and
cuddle
together under the quilt. No more sex. Let's each of us close our eyes
and
imagine that we are back together with our spouse, with whom we share
our
whole lives. At the same time, we can feel how closely bonded we are
to
each other at this moment. That will always be one of our secret
treasures."
And that is how our evening ended. I lay between Mary Pat and Sissy,
all
of us naked. Their warm, soft bodies, with their beautiful curves,
felt
wonderful to me. One by one, we fell asleep, gently stroking and
touching
the body next to us, yet each thinking of someone else, who belonged
to
us, and who completed our lives.
Monday morning, we were silent and introspective while we re-packed
our
suitcases before checking out. It was as if we each had something to
say
to the others, but we couldn't find the right words. The Powell Family
Scramble of 2004 had come to an end. Never again would the three of us
share times together like these. Our sexual appetites for variety and
new
experiences had been satisfied, but we knew that it was time to resume
to
our chosen lives with our permanent spouses.
It could have been a very long and bittersweet ride back to Augusta,
with
the three of us feeling the way that we did. Fortunately, however,
Sissy
spotted a billboard on the side of I-95, just south of Darien. It
advertised a `Nude Caf‚ - We Bare All.' The idea of a topless coffee
shop
was too much of a curiosity, and we stopped to gape and ogle. Somehow,
the
sight of virtually naked women serving us coffee and heated Danish
sweet
rolls at 10:30 on a Monday morning touched our silly bones, breaking
the
spell of melancholy that had captured us. For the remainder of the
ride
home, we could chat, laugh, and feel relaxed and refreshed.
I dropped Sissy off at Mary Pat's house, kissed them both
affectionately,
and drove alone to my house. By the time I had unpacked and started
the
laundry, I heard a car pull into our driveway. It was a Lexus SUV,
which I
didn't recognize. Callie stepped out on the right side and retrieved
her
suitcase from the back. I must admit that I winced a little when I saw
her
lean back into the car, obviously giving someone a goodbye kiss. She
waved
and watched as the car backed down the driveway and sped off. I
wondered
what she was thinking, as she walked up to the front door.
When she saw me standing in the hallway, Callie squealed with delight
and
ran into my arms.
"Oh, Sam, it's so good to see you!" she exclaimed. "I was thinking
about
you all the way back. Well, maybe not quite all the time. Now,
remember
the rules, sugar - you don't tell, and I don't tell."
She then grinned at me with that special look for me. "But I'll bet
you
had some real good times, didn't you?"
I hugged and kissed her with as much tenderness and warmth as I knew
how.
"Yes, I did, Cat. The Powell women and their traditions are truly
something special. But you will always be the most special Powell to
me."