I woke to find myself blissfully on the receiving end of another blow-job. Looking down, I could see that it wasn’t my wife at work on me, but Robin, who was showing me that she was just as talented at giving head, if not at listening to good common sense. We were very quiet, and I noticed that the weather outside had almost completely subsided, and the fire in the fireplace was nearly out. The room was noticeably cooler. But not where Robin’s hot little mouth engulfed me. She was slow and steady, her mouth and hand determined to get me off, without shaking things up too much, and eventually she got her way. Then she climbed off of our bed and moved a few feet over, back to the other bed. I fell back asleep; almost convinced it was a dream.
* * *
I woke up slowly, sticky from the humidity and heat, my head hammering from too much alcohol, and my mouth as dry as the Sahara. I could hear voices nearby and pulled the pillow over my head to block out the vicious light.
“Looks like someone is waking up,” I heard pronounced.
“I wonder if his owner is as well.”
“Jill!” I heard my wife admonish our friend.
I realized I had a bad case of morning wood, and without a half-bottle of tequila in me, I wasn’t the exhibitionist I had been the night before. I moved the pillow from over my head down to cover my waist, which got me soundly booed.
Sitting up and looking at the group I was entertaining, I was glad I was covered with the pillow. The view alone was almost enough to put me over the edge.
All three of the women were in the kitchen, and all were topless, wearing towels around their waists, and nothing else.
“Glurgh aarrhg, uuunh,” I mumbled. I wasn’t a morning guy.
“Dan is down cleaning up the brush and mowing the grass between us and the water. Jack is scouring the area for our clothing, most of which the wind had its way with last night, and is scattered across 30 acres. Wouldn’t you just figure?” Sheri answered, as if she understood my grumbling.
I staggered out of the bed and made my way to the bathroom where I waited patiently for my erection to subside enough to pee through it. I read the plaque above the toilet reminding me, “If it’s yellow, let it mellow, if it’s brown, flush it down.” Just below that was a reminder to keep toilet paper and other paper items out of the toilet. Foregoing the morning flush, I splashed some water on my face, rinsed my mouth with someone’s mouthwash, picked the junk out of my eyes, took two deep breaths and went out to face the world. My staff was still semi-hard, in appreciation of the scenery.
“You’d think he’d be in a better mood. God, for how many years has he scoped out our tits? And now with them on full display, he’s like the Grinch.” Jill pronounced, leaning back against a counter with her arms crossed, which put those yummy looking tits on proud display.
“Look! You got him to smile! He’s alive!” My ornery wife teased.
“Water. Food.” I grumbled, while they laughed at my misfortune.
“You’d think he’d be bouncing off the walls. If I gave Dan a BJ like Sheri laid on this one, I could probably get me a new convertible.” Robin chimed in.
“If you gave Jack one, I’m certain he’d buy you one, before I kicked his ass!” Jill teased.
“Jesus, Robin. Don’t remind me! I was so wasted. That good tequila sneaks up on you.” Sheri pronounced. “I’m not in the habit of giving public blow-jobs. It must be that damn Te-Kill-ya.”
“Amen to that. I’m switching to rum tonight. Tequila makes my pussy sore,” Jill complained, almost getting a spit-take from me.
I could barely believe what I was hearing. I’d known these people for at least three years. Both women had been in our wedding party. I’d never heard half as much sexual discussion as I heard in that kitchen before someone placed a stack of hot-cakes in front of me.
Robin couldn’t leave well enough alone. “If you get as drunk tonight as you were last night, I’d be surprised if that was the only hole that was sore. As a matter of face I wouldn’t be surprised if it was at least twice as sore,” she said, with a nod toward me.
We had honey for the hot-cakes, kind of an odd combo to me, but I was ravenous and it hit the spot. “What should I be doing this morning,” I asked, slowly coming to life.
“Me!” Jill cried out.
“No, Me! Me!” Robin argued.
I was still a little slow on the take. Looking on in awe as the two gorgeous ladies vied for my attentions. I could feel myself responding to the idea.
“Down boy. They’re teasing you. Take a dip in the lake, you stink of booze. Then take a ride up the trail and see how bad it’s going to be getting out of here,” Sheri told me.
I’m sure I looked like a little boy who’d had his candy snatched out of his grasp.
“Aw, don’t pout,” Jill told me while she moved behind me and leaned her breasts against my head. She gave my shoulders a gentle massage. “Maybe when you get back we’ll let you lather us all up with suntan lotion.”
Robin giggled. “Right. You’ve already promised that to both the other men.”
“Hey,” Jill argued, “First, there are three of us, and second we need to get covered more than once a day, don’t you think?”
“True, true.”
“Where’s my towel?” I asked, looking around.
“You snooze, you lose. There’s a limited supply so we’re washing them a few at a time. You don’t need to worry anyway. Of course yours would be one of the trousers that managed to stay local. You won’t want to head up that trail in just a towel anyway.” Sheri informed me.
“You don’t need a towel for a dip in the lake,” Jill reminded me. “So stop staring already, and get to it, or we’ll put the eye-candy away.”
I turned on my heel and headed out the front door.
“Wait up, I’ll walk with you, I need to check on Dan,” Robin said, chasing after me.
We could see Dan at work with a gas weed-whacker down near the waterline. The path down had a decent slope to it, but not enough to make the walk difficult. The path was stone and looked as old as everything else, and just as solid. There was grass, real Bermuda grass, for about 10′ on each side of the walk, and then a stretch of 5 feet of plain dirt to the side of that, then more grass. It looked odd.
“Dan does that to keep everything else from overgrowing the grass. I think its overkill. He sprays a couple of gallons of Roundup on it every couple of months all summer. I figure it can’t be good for the environment.”