Chapter 15: Rhonda’s Wild Ride

Mark

With the charity run mom’s season was effectively over and she was all too happy to stay at home for a while, and after a year of ever more turbulent events we quite enjoyed a lull in our lives and mom and I could finally live a life as lovers. With our rampant and ill-advised drive for experimentation finally tempered our sex life had become a bit more boring, but a hell of a lot more rewarding.

Shortly after seeing off Nadja Fedorova on John’s private Citation jet, Rhonda had visited and was taken up by mom on her offer of giving her some pointers on the intricacies of anal intercourse. This evolved into a long lesson for both mom and me on how to prepare her properly for it, followed by a practical test under Rhonda’s supervision. Mom being mom had of course called repeated ‘practice sessions’ over the next few weeks. One of the upsides of our more sedate encounters was that mom didn’t hit her vulgar streak in those, which was a nice change.

At least once a month Meri stayed over for a night or two. She too had given in to her curiosity about trying to take in a guest through the backdoor. Despite me being as gentle as I could she decided that unlike mom she didn’t really like it all that much. Not that it kept her from making use of my services in other ways during the few sleep-overs she had visited us for.

Having learned our lessons from the year gone by we were always all three in those encounters. Nobody was left out.

Lydia

Rhonda, who was a regular visitor to our home and somewhat unofficial guardian angel of Mark’s and mine relationship, took me aside one day and showed me a lingerie catalog.

“If you want to keep up that home nudist shtick of yours you should buy yourself a couple of these,” she said and pointed at several open-cupped bras on display. They were like normal bras but more or less cut in a way to leave most of the breasts exposed.

“Do you think mine are sagging?” I asked and looked down at my exposed chest.

“Not yet,” Rhonda replied ominously. “Yours aren’t as a susceptible to gravity as mine or Meri’s, but even a marathon runner’s tissue will go slack one day, especially if you leave them unsupported for such a long time. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you with any clothes on.”

I chuckled. “It’s actually not a daily thing anymore,” I said. “But I knew that you’re coming to visit. I would be a bad host not to give you an excuse to ditch your own shirt, wouldn’t I?”

We both had to laugh at that.

“And how’s the love life, if that isn’t too blunt a question?” Rhonda asked.

“Now that I have my wild tendencies out of the system? Couldn’t be better,” I said. “Although, I have to say, I’m still worried a bit. Mark is still eighteen and you know how often guys need it at that age. What will happen when I go to altitude training in January?”

“You’re worried he’ll turn to Meri?”

“On the contrary,” I said. “I’m worried he won’t and I’ll come back to be greeted by a messed up pile of pent-up hormones. He’s the sweetest lover you can ask for, but when he’s been celibate for a few days, for instance when I’ve been away a week for sponsor events, he jumps me like a horny dog.”

“That’s the down-side of having slowed down a bit, isn’t it?” Rhonda said. “You’ve gotten used to a higher standard.”

I nodded, slightly blushing.

“Sit them down, explain what’s on your mind and then let them take it from there. Don’t urge them to take each other to bed. Let them decide themselves.”

“So in essence there’s nothing I can do,” I realized with no little amount of consternation.

“Not entirely,” Rhonda said. “Your telling them honestly what worries you is the part that you can do. Your main mistake, and that goes for Mark as well, you always presented your preferred solution yourself.”

“I would have sat them down, told them about Mark being too desperate sometimes and I would have told him he can take Meri to bed without having to worry about me,” I said, the penny finally dropping.

Rhonda grinned. “Now you’ve got it. Just present the problem and let them work out the solution.”

“Sometimes I admire your patience Rhonda,” I told her honestly. “All the way since Barcelona, you’ve basically been in one huge honking therapy session with Mark and I. Why do you do all that for us?”

I was surprised when Rhonda let out a deep sigh.

“We didn’t have that kind of help, John and I. When I learned of your secret I swore to myself that I would go through hell and back if I needed to, to make sure you wouldn’t have to live through the same problems we went through.”

“You were even more messed up than we were?” I asked, not quite sure if that was even possible.

“You have no idea,” Rhonda said calmly. “John and I were in complete denial. I ran from him like you ran from Mark two years ago, only I didn’t have someone who went to bat for me, like Mark.”

“What did he do? Mark never told me much, just that he cornered John.”

“That’s a story best told over a glass of wine,” Rhonda said with a chuckle and I went to fetch us one.

“It was three weeks or so after you had abandoned the London marathon. I was sitting at the reception desk and Mark came stalking in, staring daggers at everyone. He was looking so pissed off, I nearly pushed the panic button under the desk. He slammed his hands down on the counter and said to me, I quote: Listen, Lady, if you don’t want your poodle, or whatever else shits on your carpet at home, turned into a pile of mince meat, you better tell me where I find that manager of my mom. Pronto!”

I just stared at her, my mouth hanging open. Rhonda however laughed.

“Well, I eventually got your name from him and then I called John and told him a well-spoken gentleman wanted to see him. You should have seen his face when Mark marched into his office. He told me later that Mark had read him the riot act and he was quite impressed by the audacity of the young man.”

“That’s when John found out I had lied to him,” I remembered and felt ashamed when I was reminded of those seven months.

“When he came back out with Mark all it took for us was exchanging a look and we knew what was up with the two of you.”

“How did you and John work it out? Not about Mark and I, but your own problems,” I asked.

“Almost not at all,” Rhonda said, and I could see her mirth disappear in an instant. “One morning they found John. He had downed a bottle of whiskey and at least a hand-full of sleeping pills.”

I gasped.

“His best friend finally got John to open up why he had tried to off himself. And bless his heart, Bill wasn’t grossed out when he found out about us. Instead he eventually helped us much the same way we helped you. Mind you, we weren’t going to St. Kitts & Neves. We went to a Ranch in Minnesota.”

I giggled with her.

“But that’s when the shit really hit the fan,” Rhonda continued. “You think you went overboard with your kinkiness once you had opened up to each other? I dialed it up to eleven. There was no shit crazy enough that I didn’t try, and John the dear heart went along with everything. That was until one day Bill showed up and ripped me a new one. After John’s suicide attempt he had sworn to me that, whenever he got those thoughts again, he would talk to someone.”

“And I guess that Bill was this someone,” I said and took Rhonda’s hand when I saw she was tearing up.

“I had run roughshod over John and nearly pushed him to the brink again,” she said, sobbing silently. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

“Bill and we are all from wealthy backgrounds and an associate of Bill brought us in contact with Andy Ruetli,” she continued, having restored her composure. “And even he needed four months to sort us out.”

“Who is that?” I asked her.

“A psycho-analyst and therapist. He runs a private clinic-slash-castle-slash-resort in Switzerland specializing in sorting out the messed up love lives of rich couples, triples and whatever other crazy combinations people with too much money can come up with. John and I as brother and sister didn’t move the needle much on the weird-o-meter there.”

“And you were there for four months?”

“You have to keep in mind, I was quite messed up then. If there was any kind of sex that was vaguely legal, I wanted to try it. And try I did – everything, which sort of was the point of it.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it,” a voice from behind said. “But curing an out of control sex drive with even more sex does sound a bit weird to me. You sure that wasn’t just a guy living out his own effed up fantasies and have people pay for the privilege?”

The voice belonged to Mark and he had heard at least the latter parts of our talk. He greeted Rhonda with a peck on the cheek and went to get a glass for himself, no doubt to make sure not too much of that wine would end up going down my gullet.

“To say Andy’s methods are somewhat unorthodox is a massive understatement, but he’s an absolute genius and a miracle worker. That guy can dig into your subconscious thoughts like nobody’s business. John and I thought the same as Mark. We thought he’s just a crazy-ass rich guy living out some perverted fantasies. To the contrary, everything he did had a purpose, even if it took us days to find out why.”

“Like what?” Mark asked.

“For instance I was not allowed to leave our room without being blindfolded. I was in there for four months, but with the exception of our room I have literally seen nothing of it,” Rhonda recalled.

“Someone’s getting wet,” Mark replied dryly and got a questioning look from Rhonda. He casually grabbed my naked pussy and held up his hand to show her it was wet. “You’ve just told my better half that there’s a place where she could traipse about blindfolded all day.”

“Oops,” Rhonda said and giggled.

“But what purpose did that serve?” Mark asked her. “I mean, for mom that sounds like a place where she would leave an endless trail of pussy juice behind her, but I don’t think that’s a very common fetish?”

I gasped and blushed about his dirty talk. Rhonda just laughed.

“In my case it was two-fold,” Rhonda explained. “I was overbearing, always taking the lead and dragging poor John along with me. That was no longer possible as I could now do almost nothing without his help. It required him to take the lead.”

“And you couldn’t do that exchange looks thing of yours,” Mark guessed.

Rhonda nodded. “That was the hardest part. I always just exchanged looks and expected him to understand my meaning. Well, we had to learn to communicate clearly. Funnily enough, now fifteen years later, we can actually mostly communicate with looks.”

The penny dropped and I slapped my forehead.

“That’s what I did,” I gasped. “The day when I nearly ruined it. Before switching from Mark to John I had looked up to him as a way of waiting if he was okay with it. A simple ‘mind if I hand you over to Rhonda’ could have changed a lot.”

“Not everything, but a lot,” Rhonda agreed.

Rhonda

I saw it in Mark’s eyes first. The whole thing intrigued him.

“You’re interested, aren’t you?” I asked him. Lydia looked at him as well.

“Not for the near future,” he said, shaking his head. “Mom’s season preparation starts in six weeks. But next off-season for two or three days ... Mom could live out a few fantasies and perhaps the guy could give us some pointers here or there.”

“I’m over my wild period honey,” Lydia reminded him.

“No you aren’t,” he replied dryly. “You’ve sated your kinky desires for now, but they’ll be back at some time. And Rhonda explained it to you. I have no problem with you trying things as long as I can be part of it, and there I could. In the public space, I can’t.”

“He has a point,” I agreed. “In there you can try whatever you want and Mark can take part in it. Nobody gives two hoots that he’s your son or that you’re an internationally known athlete. It would also compress all your experimentation or wilder kinks into a short time and you can go back to basics for the rest of the year.”

“Unless everyone in there is blindfolded there’s still the chance someone could recognize me and sell a juicy story to the press,” Lydia argued.