The Vacation Wife by David Stone (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

down, Marci whimpered, then a new fever took over. She lunged towards Susan, taking her in her arms. They fell back and rolled on the carpet kissing, hugging, and stroking each other. It was an epic display of love and lust and eros. Harold and I, now alone on the sofa, watched these two naked women rolling on the floor, both of us incapable of movement or thought. We could see their inflamed lips and pink centers as their legs wandered over each other. I was sure this spectacle rivaled the Big Bang. Much later, I thought that was a pretty clever comparison.

Susan and Marci settled down and made cooing sounds at each other, whispering sweet nothings. I only caught snippets, like “When did you know?” and “I’ve always wanted this”. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself and felt a fresh drink might tide me over until I figured it out. I tapped Harold’s knee, making sure it wasn’t suggestive, and nodded to the bar.

“I think they’ve got that sorted out,” said Harold, as I handed him a stout bourbon and water.

“I agree with you, but I’m not sure what I’m agreeing with.”

Harold laughed. “Yeah, that was a bit vague. Sorry. What I mean is, they’ve sorted out how they really feel about each other. Their love now has a physical dimension. They no longer have to pretend otherwise.”

“Does Meg love Gail?”

“She does. The first time they made love I was there. Meg was Marci in that case. She’d never been with a woman. Gail took her to the other side, as it were. If Gail hadn’t been married to Emily, she might have moved in with us. But Gail truly loves Emily too, plus they have a son. You know that story.”

I watched Susan and Marci climb into the pool. They had held hands walking over and looked lovely together. They enjoyed a quick rinse and joined us at the bar.

“Hey guys!” said Marci. “I guess you know I’m a dyke now.”

“Marci!” said Susan, toweling off. “We’re not dykes!”

“You could have fooled me. I could swear you just had your tongue in my twat.” She laughed and Susan gave her snarky eyes.

“Drink?” I offered.

“One more can’t hurt,” said Marci. “How about a gin and tonic?”

“That sounds good,” said Susan. “And some water please.”

I was enjoying the bartending and wondered if I should install a proper bar at home before remembering we didn’t really drink much there. I felt this elective probity was cause for celebration and poured everyone doubles.

“Jesus,” said Marci, taking a sip.

Susan stood next to Harold and put an arm around him.

“How are you doing, Harold? You boys must feel left out.”

“Not at all,” he said.

I glanced at Meg and Greg on the sofa. They were now lying next to each other naked. The back cushions had been tossed over the side, and it was like they were on a proper bed.

“I think Meg and Greg are warming up,” said Marci. “What’s it say on the program? Are they next?”

I thought that was funny. It was true, without a program, it was difficult to keep track of who had been with whom.

“Let’s move back to the sofa, guys,” said Susan. As we approached, she took Harold’s hand and led him over to Greg and Meg. A discussion ensued, then Greg and Meg were standing. He moved into mover mode, rearranging several sectional pieces into what appeared like a super-sized bed. I now understood why people bought sectionals.

There was room for four to lay on the result without congestion, but this wasn’t where they were headed.

Susan whispered into Meg’s ear, then called Marci over. She gave me a look, and I gave her a shrug meaning to convey she could go with the flow, whatever that flow was. She conferenced briefly with Susan, then Marci laid on the bed. Greg crawled over to lay beside her.

A ping of terror crept into my spine. There was no else in my body for a ping of this nature to go. I gathered all my resources to assess the situation. Marci was about to make love to Greg. This only momentarily obscured the fact that Susan was about to make love to Harold.

Once they were all lined up properly on the bed, Meg came over, took my hand, and gave it a squeeze. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known what my hand was doing. She leaned in my ear. “Let’s just watch.”

I was glad to hear this. We sat next to each other on the remaining piece of sectional not employed in the bed setup. I handed her the remains of Susan’s drink, which had barely been touched, and took a big sip of my double bourbon.

I didn’t know where to look. Susan was holding Harold’s cock as he fondled her breasts. They were whispering and quietly laughing, breaking only for intermittent kisses. Susan raised a leg over Harold’s thigh, turning on her side. I saw his hand descend between her legs as he began to finger her. Her rump started to respond, moving back and forth over his hand. From our angle, I could clearly see his fingers disappear, reappear, and so on. They were now kissing intently, and, by the looks of her elbow, she was pumping his cock with more purpose.

On stage left, Marci and Greg were taking their time. She was lying on her back. Her legs were raised and separated but absent the digital action Susan was receiving. Greg was fondling her breasts as she held, but did not stroke, his cock. In her hand, it didn’t look like it could possibly belong to a human. He was kissing her neck and cheeks and, frankly, she seemed to be enjoying it. I could see she was breathing heavily.

Meg’s hand reached for my cock. She gave it a squeeze and then asked, in a whisper, if I was okay. I kissed her instead of replying. Her tongue was warm and sweet, and her gentleness was soothing.