Chapter 1

Caution: This Fantasy Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Ma/ft, Fa/Fa, Fa/ft, Lesbian, BiSexual, Father, Daughter, DomSub, Light Bond, Group Sex, Polygamy/Polyamory, Interracial, .

Desc: Fantasy Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Nick sends his audience back to Moscow and Russia's early empire for the eventual birth of his Russian princess angel, Alexandra. Joe and Lindy's troupe and Xo's and Nick's angels make a home in a suburb of Boston, performing there and rehearsing a future performance at BAM in Brooklyn. Nick prepares a space for their next residency in SOHO in Manhattan. As always, reading the previous Tales is highly recommended. The length and complexity of the series makes it difficult to summarize. Sorry.

It became clear that Nick took my wives and my desire to vacation as an exclusive group in New York seriously. For two days and two nights none of us saw any of our friends. Weirdly since we knew they took suites in the Sherry Netherland if not next to us, nearby. It’s like they purposely dodged us.

Even with him not there, he guided our agenda.

On the morning of our departure to New York, I awoke amongst a pile of naked bodies nestled behind a young, petite redhead. Tilda’s fingers found my morning wood and guided it into her wet cunt. I thrust forward and she pressed back, and my cock went deep into her tight young pussy in our somewhat awkward sideways position. “Fuck, I love to fuck,” she moaned quietly.

I adjusted things to make things easier, pulling her beneath me and rising behind her. My fingers at the top of her pussy aided the adjustment, and remained there for vigorous rubbing. My other hand found her small, dangling tits and gently milked them, though nothing but pleasure came out.

It could be judged rude that we copulated so early that morning, waking those with us in bed. In fact we attempted to be quiet, but even whispered urging for getting fucked harder has to result, when I complied, in a bed rocked by our efforts, in nudging people awake. But our audience found it anything but rude. They found it inspiring. Fingers masturbated. Consuela hopped on Stan and rode his wood. And the hot blooded Spanish Helen clone and I traded admiring looks at our work at pleasuring our current mate and ourselves, even leaning briefly towards each other for a kiss. I added a brief squeeze of her bouncing boob before returning the hand to my redhead’s, letting Stan be Consuela’s chief nipple squeezer.

And I suppose it could be judged rude that I kept going several minutes after Stan ended his fuck with Consuela with a grunting ejaculation. Proving myself the superior stud. But Consuela had no objections against Stan’s prowess. She had cum loudly before he did after all. Satisfied enough not to claim my relentless cock after Tilda came several times, each more intense than the last. Perhaps she wanted to witness how intense it would get. When it would get to be too much. Which it did.

“Cum in me please,” Tilda moaned after her shivers quieted. “I can’t... !”

When my strokes went from hard and fast into overdrive, and my rubbing and pulling neared hurting her, it silenced her, and stiffened her, and she remained silent and stiff for nearly a minute, until her body undulated beneath me, and mine undulated behind her, and my balls at last released their seed while my cock, pressed as deep as possible, felt the walls of her cunt buzz and ripple around it. Absolutely exquisite.

“Tilda,” I murmured into her ear while I held her lax body. Having pumped out the last of my ejaculate, my nearly flaccid penis slipped out of her sodden pussy, releasing a mix of sexual juices onto the bed. “Tilda?” I repeated.

“Mmm,” she finally responded. Her head turned where it pressed into the bed and I saw her deeply sated smile and her rosy cheek. “Wow, Joe. That was fucking awesome.”

“My pleasure,” I returned as usual, and as usual meaning it.

“We should get up,” she barely murmured. “I need to give you something in my office. Shower with me?”

“Of course.”

She giggled when I lifted her off the bed and carried her to the bathroom. Her unsteady stance when I placed her on her feet showed it might have been necessary. “God, Joe,” she giggled. “You made me as flaccid as your cock.”

“Lean against me if you need to,” I offered, bending down to start the shower.

“Even if I didn’t I would,” she murmured, kissing my shoulder, the closest available flesh, and pressing her leaking pussy against my thigh. “I wish I could love you all the time like that.”

“Your poor little pussy probably couldn’t take it,” I argued, standing upright and embracing the petite and lovely redhead.

“You know what I mean,” she pouted.

“I do know, and if circumstances were different, I’d have liked that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’re a lovely and intelligent woman. I find myself enamored with you despite not knowing you all that well yet. And perhaps it would be a more fair relationship.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. We had entered the shower, and she had begun soaping me. One hand worked my penis while the other caressed my chest.

“I think when I released your libido, to actually experience what you fantasized, it came out a torrent. I don’t see it subsiding all that much. Do you?”

“No,” she admitted quietly, shyly. Her smile when her head lifted her eyes from my slowly swelling penis showed the shyness might not be so real anymore. “Like I said, I love to fuck.”

“My wives let me fuck beauties like you, but refuse any cock but mine inside their pussy, and it seems anywhere else now.”

“Admit it, Joe,” said Tilda. “You’re glad.”

“Yes,” I sighed. “I guess I’m selfish.”

“No. It’s proof of their devotion.”

“I see all the proof I need in their eyes.”

“Maybe. But it completes the proof. For them especially.”

“I guess. Haven’t you had enough of that?” I chuckled, carefully removing her hand from my half-hard cock.

“For now,” she sighed, letting me take over the cleaning, which I thoroughly enjoyed. She had a nice little body, young, yielding. Her sighs and contented smile showed she enjoyed my cleansing caresses as well.

We took our time, enjoying the sensuality of wet naked bodies in such close proximity. But since neither sought the other’s release, it didn’t last all that long.

When we dressed, we enjoyed the tableau of naked tangled bodies resting on the large bed, only Helen awake and smiling with her new sweetness. Tilda pulled me away from the vision.

She brought me to her office. Her mother smiled at me when passing through hers. Obviously she had no problem with her daughter’s sexual awakening. In fact, with the heat of her eyes, she seemed to want something similar.

“Me, Mom and Nick put this together,” said Tilda, handing me a weighty manila envelope. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Sitting at her desk, with her sitting in my lap, I carefully pulled out the contents. Atop an itinerary were smaller pieces of paper. Tickets and passes.

“It’s just a suggestion,” said Rachel, Tilda’s mother, twice her age but just as lovely, with similar features. She could very well have been Tilda’s much older sister. She didn’t look forty.

“Hamilton tickets,” I murmured, amazed. “Is that even possible?”

“As you well know, Nick can be incredibly resourceful.”

“I hope he made it up to his minion,” I said.

“I’m sure he did,” Rachel smiled. “The reservations at the two restaurants are just as difficult to get. The first one you don’t need to even dress up, but the second one you should.”

“That’s fine. My wives and I will enjoy dressing up for a night. But...”

“What?” said Tilda. “Remember, this isn’t required.”

“I wanted to bring them to Luna’s in Little Italy.”

“You can. He left you to your own devices for the middle evening.”

“Cool.” I smiled. I perused the passes to MOMA and the new Whitney Museum and the Guggenheim. “Cool,” I repeated. “I assume Nick is more than just a member to these museums.”

“Yes,” Rachel only replied. Her hand carefully touched mine. “Joe?”

“Hmm?”

“When do you plan leaving?”

“A couple hours,” I shrugged.

“Good,” she smiled. “Come with me.”

“Uhm.”

“My daughter will bring the itinerary to your wives.”

“Okay,” I shrugged, letting Rachel pull me out of the room. She kept her hand in mine, leading me to the apartment building where I currently resided, and to a ground floor apartment. Two bedrooms. She led me to the larger one.

“Rachel?” I asked as she shut the bedroom door and turned to me, and began removing her business suit.

“Hmm?”

“Are you worried your daughter will leave you?”

“Why should I? She loves it here.”

Naked, she revealed heavier and less buoyant breasts and buttocks, and a softer, more rotund tummy. The added voluptuousness contained its own attractiveness.

“You know she doesn’t have the same preferences as you.”

“She likes boys?”

“Yes. Exclusively as it turns out.”

“Oh. I suppose it’s expected. She had to be rebellious in some way.”

“Do you think that’s why?”

Rachel only shrugged before lying on her bed, her legs spread. Her well coifed red bush looked welcoming, so I crawled between her short, thin legs and brought my mouth to it.

“I won’t have her bring men here,” she finally said before moaning. She tasted more mature somehow, richer, more complicated. She also had a surprising abundance of juice. I suppose it shouldn’t have surprised me by then.

“What about you?” I asked between tongue laps.

“What about me?” she moaned.

“Do you bring someone here?”

“Yes!” she shouted, I assumed for both the pleasure of my sucking her clit and to answer my question. “She got that big Scottish woman her job.”

“She’s a stripper?”

“Used to be. She owns the place.”

“Making money off men’s piggishness,” I chuckled.

“Exactly,” she moaned. No chuckle.

No more conversation, just louder and louder moans and almost a keening noise when I made her cum. Removing my pants and underwear, I moved up over her. “Your shirt too,” she asked.

“I thought...”

“Like Nick, your body and your smell turn me on. Please.”

After removing my shirt, I guided my glans to her readied cunt lips and pushed. She had just as small an opening as her daughter. She must have preferred narrower dildos or slim vibrators.

“Slow,” she ordered.

“I know,” I replied.

She smiled. I leaned down. “Just one,” she said. I gave her what she wanted, a short, soft kiss. She smiled when it ended. “Perfect,” she moaned as I pushed deeper. After glancing down at my gradual penetration, her eyes focused on mine and never left.

“God, you’re deep and thick,” she moaned when I finally fully entered her.

“You okay?”

“I’m perfect,” she smiled.

“That you are,” I said.

She chuckled. “You’re sweeter than him.”

“Is that good?”

“Yes.”

I brought her fingers to her clit before bringing mine to her small, deep red nipples, caressing them as carefully as I fucked her, at least at the beginning.

It became gradual, but I did intensify and quicken my thrusts. She demanded it. She needed it. Her first orgasm had her clutching my ass with her other hand, the one not strumming her clit. The second had her legs doing the clutching. By the third, I pounded into her and she pounded back until she held tight and she keened tightly into my ear. A few quick thrusts and I joined her, filling her with what she needed, a particularly able multitude of spermatozoa.

Only then did she loosen her hold on me. Only then did she pull me into a second kiss, longer and much more loving then the first. It ended after her tongue tapped at mine. She giggled when our lips separated. “Thanks, Joe,” she grinned.

“My pleasure,” I obviously replied. A moment later, slipping out of her and lying back, with her surprising me with her intimacy, lying along my side and caressing my chest, I asked, “A boy or a girl?”

“Hmm? Oh. I don’t care.”

“Perhaps you could indoctrinate the boy against the pigheaded.”

“Perhaps, but he’ll be stuck with that weapon.” She caressed my wet, flaccid penis. “It’s an innately aggressive tool.”

“Needing a compassionate and empathetic guide.”

“Is that you, Joe?”

“I hope so. I never aggressively pursued women. They seemed to pursue me for some reason. And men’s aggressive talk, that objectification, never set well with me. Even if I agreed a woman had a nice ass or tits or whatever, I figured she was much more than that. The few friends I ended up with weren’t the ones I irritated by objecting to their objectifications. The assholes amongst us tended to continue their repugnant attitude towards women by calling me a pussy. I suppose I returned the objectification of sex by thinking of them as dicks.”

We laughed. We kissed. Briefly. She sighed, “Better go.”

“We could do this again,” I offered while getting up and getting dressed.

“You think it took?”

“You’re ovulating?”

“Of course.”

“Then most likely yes.”

“Then no, Joe.”

“Of course.”

Again she surprised me by pulling me into a kiss once I finished dressing. She remained naked, probably intending to shower, and I enjoyed her petite, mature body one more time. “I’m already losing my attraction to you,” she explained afterwards.

I nodded, understanding. Sort of. However microscopic and normally unnoticeable the event may have been, the penetration of egg by spermatozoa, Nick knew, and so, it seemed, did those I impregnated. Rachel knew she no longer needed me.

I had company again for my second shower of the morning, an amused Shira, my usually lesbian black mortal wife. “Rachel, hunh?” she chuckled. “I’d do her.”

“Then do her,” I chuckled back.

“I might,” she smirked.

“And I won’t stop you. But her lover might.”

“Her lover?”

“An ex-stripper who owns the strip club Sheila works at.”

“Then I bet she’s hot too.”

“And tough.”

“Probably. We should meet her when we get back. I’m sure you won’t mind.”

“I love Sheila’s striptease,” I admitted.

“Just Sheila?”

“She’s pretty amazing. And maybe I should remind you I have the hottest wives on the planet, including you.”

“Is that how you’re getting out of that?”

“Yep.”

“Fine.” We kissed. Naked. Wet. Arousingly sexual. Shira grasped the result. “Want this used?” she asked.

“I’m good. You?”

“Yes please.”

She turned and lowered her back, bringing her pink pussy into view. Her hand stretched out beneath it. I gave it my cock and she guided me in. Being a bath and a shower, she could stand on the sides and bring herself to perfect height. It actually had indentations and textured rubber. Yes, Nick, the utterly sexual eternal, knew it would be useful for this very thing. It even had hand holds doubling as washcloth holders on either side of the shower spout, although, with Shira’s supple body, once I entered her, she curved her back and held me behind my neck, pulling me into a kiss. My hand held her at her pussy, fingers pressing on her clit. The other hand worked her luscious breasts. And for some reason, probably her utter hotness which never failed to turn me on, it became a quickie. She came. I came. Despite having cum not long before and several times before that.

“So,” I said afterwards, cleaning what I had just made sticky, “Three gorgeous wives and you’re looking for more?”

“Don’t forget about Salomé,” she reminded me.

“An impossibility,” I chuckled.

“I was teasing,” Shira admitted.

“Really?”

“Maybe not. I don’t know. It’s just...”

“Suddenly reticent?” I asked. Honesty had never been an issue with her or any of my wives. We based the health of our relationship on communication.

“No. Sorry. It’s just weird and a little ironic, considering my wives are mostly older than Rachel. Zhen’s our age, but...”

“Shira?”

“Of course you know that,” she giggled. “Okay. It’s a fantasy. I always wanted to play with an older woman. Like middle aged. Mature but still sexy.”

“A Milf,” I chuckled.

“Yes. Exactly. A popular fantasy lately.”

“Not just lately I don’t think. Especially a young man seeking a skillful guide. Instead of two fumbling, naïve lovers whose first time is all too experimental.”

“For you?”

“Not exactly. Maybe the first time. I mean the first time I ejaculated into a woman. Fortunately my first lover happened to be exceedingly smart even if she had hardly any more experience than me.”

“But she wasn’t a virgin?”

“Nope. A boyfriend proceeded me. Short-lived.”

“Because he failed to consider her pleasure.”

“Yes.”

“And you did?”

“She insisted.”

“Did she?”

“I might have helped when I managed to recover enough to ask her about her disappointed look.”

“That must have removed her disappointed look.”

“Among other things.”

Along with a gentle slug, she laughed. “Always the cocksure asshole.”

“Except when I’m not.”

“True,” she smiled and kissed me deeply.

“Have fun?” asked Helena smugly when we finally emerged from our shower.

“Always,” her mortal wife smiled lovingly.

I shrugged and pulled Helena into a deep kiss. Zhenzhen and Eva followed, not soon, because I took my time kissing each of them.

“Get dressed,” Eva smiled, slapping my naked ass.

“Yes, ma’am,” I bowed slightly.

“Asshole,” she chuckled.

“But I’m your asshole,” I rejoined.

“Our asshole,” Shira said.

“Our asshole,” my other wives agreed, and kissed her like I had kissed them. It was extra sexy because, though she had gotten somewhat dressed, she had yet to cover her amazing, thong panty clad ass. Yum.

“So,” I asked my wives, “what do you make of the itinerary?”

“Nick wants to keep track of us,” Eva answered.

“I agree,” I responded and my other wives nodded. “Still...”

“It sounds great,” said my adorable Chinese wife.

“It does,” said Helena. “And he left tomorrow pretty much to us.”

“Which is good, because I want to take us to Luna.”

“Sounds good,” Eva smiled. The others didn’t respond. “It’s a really nice old Italian restaurant in Little Italy. Nothing fancy or pretentious, but really nice.”

“Good,” said Zhenzhen, “because we can be in the area. I know of an amazing dim sum place in Chinatown.”

“No surprise there,” Eva chuckled and hugged our diminutive wife.

“And our last evening, we’re getting dressed up,” I remarked.

“We know,” Helena smiled. “Which means shopping that day for some hot new gowns.”

“I’ll have to wear my tux,” I shrugged.

“Of course,” Helena replied. “And we’ll need to wear whatever we find on the rack. But we’ll still visit a fabulous haberdasher Father knows and get you some custom clothes.”

“Clothes?”

“Yep. A suit or two. But also shirts and shoes.”

“Is that necessary?” I asked. I hadn’t needed anything fancy since wedding Helena. Visiting the Opera in Paris might have required it, but I had been backstage. An occasional dress shirt and nice slacks had been worn on occasion, but nothing more elegant. No ties for instance.

“I think you will find it necessary,” said Helena. “I think there’ll be more fancy dinners along with fancy cocktail parties. Even serious business meetings. I think you will more and more represent Father.”

“And he cleans up rather nicely,” Eva remarked.

“Yes he does,” Helena grinned.

“I can’t wait,” said Zhenzhen.

“Me neither,” said Shira.

“I could be snarky and say I can,” I grinned, “but I get to see you three clean-up well as well. So I should get my garment bag.”

“Already done, husband,” Helena smirked.

“It seems I hardly ever need to pack for myself these days,” I pouted, remembering our departure from Cass Lake, and a similar task, feigned that time, of impregnating a needy woman while my wives packed my things. “I suppose that means bikini briefs and my speedo. Except we won’t be swimming.”

“You know we like you in boxers,” Helena chuckled. “But you seemed to have missed one of the items.” She grabbed a paper emblazoned with “Manhattan Plaza Health Club” on it.

“Then speedos,” I laughed.

“Goody,” said Zhenzhen cutely.

“Goody for me too,” I waggled my eyebrows.

Zhenzhen blushed and my other gorgeous, sexy wives chuckled.

“Not enough that you see us naked in bed?” Shira commented.

“Nope,” I shrugged.

As it turned out, our morning of swimming on the last day of our vacation ended our time away from the others. And I had absolutely no reason to complain. Seeing so many amazing bodies, of angels of course, but also my lovely mortal friends kept me excited, obvious in my speedos. Embarrassment kept me in the pool. Stan as well. Angels teasing us, caressing us beneath the water, didn’t help matters.

All the minimalist bikinis (only Lindy and Nick’s current older Chinese companion, and Xo’s angels, except Zhenzhen, chose one-pieces, though they still looked amazing) also made clear the several pregnancies. My wives of course, and the Helen clones, revealed slightly convex abdomens. After three months, it remained subtle, just more obvious in the revealed flesh and in comparison to the others.

“All yours?” asked Stan, standing with me in the shallowest part of the pool that still hid our obvious erections.

“Except Tash,” I shrugged. “Nick impregnated her.” Tash wearing a bikini actually surprised me. Black of course, she looked incredible in it with her long lean body. After swimming, it didn’t surprise me that Naomi swathed her in sunblock, with a high SPF count I imagined.

Stan, with his muscled v-shaped torso, an Adonis of the Lakota, and I, with my most normal flesh, at least somewhat tanned from our summer at the lake, sought bravery against embarrassment. An unspoken agreement, just a nod, and we emerged from the pool. The ladies applauded, as did Vance, whose eyes consumed Stan. That brought a punch on his shoulder from his Lakota lover, but I doubt he was any less guilty of studying the man. Every lady at the pool studied him, as did some men. It helped lessen my embarrassment, although I actually got over it. After all, every tight fitting speedo, and even loose trunks at the pool sported proof of excitement. Only a completely asexual man could not respond to the incredible abundance of pulchritude on near naked display.

I sat with my wives, and beside a surprising guest. Maria, my beautiful blonde Dutch bisexual lover, had decided to visit. Earlier, after she giggled at my stunned reaction to seeing her, with me still in the pool, and embraced me and kissed me thoroughly, she whispered, “I’ll explain later.” Sitting beside her, “later” arrived.

“You texted about staying at the Sherry Nederland.”

“It reminded me of you,” I shrugged.

“I’m glad it did. It also provided me a place to pounce.”

“So this was a trap all along,” I chuckled. “How did you know... ?”

“Christa has Helena’s number.”

“Of course.” Christa, Maria’s middle aged lover in a threesome with Christian, being completely enamored by my first wife, probably had her on speed dial, or whatever it’s called these days.

“Helena gave me Tilda’s number, and Tilda kept me in the loop.”

“Helena explained our need to be left alone?”

“Of course. That’s why I arrived yesterday. Shira’s delicious, by the way. Helena invited me in your bed tonight. If it’s okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay. But what about Christian?”

“Christian’s not a problem. He knows I’ll return to him. He’s completely in love with with me. He knows you’re his only competition and my love for you can only be physically satisfied all too occasionally. Christa on the other hand was a bitch about it.”

“She’s just envious,” said Helena.

“I agree,” Maria frowned. “But it makes it harder to love her. She can be so selfish and jealous, even if we all know where her true love lies.”

We nodded, remembering her soulmate living in Madison, Wisconsin.

“How’s our son?” I asked her, rubbing her taut, subtly convex tummy.

“Hardly any trouble at all,” she smiled, “for now. And whenever he makes himself known, it just reminds me he’s a piece of you inside me.”

“Maria?”

“I love you Joe. Deal with it. I do. I’m okay. I have a loving relationship with two people. Even Christa is a wonderful lover most of the time. There may be levels of it, with Christian practically worshipping me, and my love for him secondary to my love for you, and Christa probably tertiary in her feelings for me and especially for Christian, but when we’re together, we’re together. Understand?”

“I do, actually,” I smiled.

“Good, because I can’t afford this very often, and I want it to be just you and me.”

“Maria.”

Maria chuckled. “I’m referring to my side of things, not yours.”

“How long can you stay?”

Her grin expanded on her lovely face. “I like that choice of words. Not ‘when do you leave?’”

“I like that you’re here.”

“Me too. Except I would say ‘love’.”

“Me too.”

That had her beaming.

“So, how long?” I reiterated.

“Through the weekend. I’m leaving out of Boston.”

“Cool,” I replied.

“Very cool,” she agreed.

Sitting in lawn chairs made it awkward to kiss, which was why we hadn’t kissed several times, waiting for us to begin to actually leave the rooftop pool before we embraced and kissed each other thoroughly.

“You’re coming with us,” Helena told her when the kiss ended.

“Where?” Maria asked.

“Shopping for fancy dresses for our dinner tonight.”

“And sexy,” Eva added.

“And a visit to a haberdasher,” I shrugged.

Maria’s excitement turned to confusion. “You expect a tailored suit by tonight?”

“He has his tux he wore at our marriage,” Helena explained. “It’s the only really fancy duds he owns.”

“And you’ll be dripping when you see him in it,” Eva added.

Maria giggled and nodded. “I understand.”

Must be a woman thing. I still didn’t get why I needed anything fancy beyond what I already had.

A Buzz clone dropped us off a few blocks east on Madison Avenue. He and his limousine had been our means of travel from the beginning. I never knew why Snake had so many drivers who looked so similar to each other, despite ethnic and race differences. But being big and bright and aware had a lot to do with it. Bodyguard had everything to do with their job description.

We went shopping. Mind numbing shopping. At least every time my amazing looking wives and Maria entered a larger store or a small boutique, the salespeople practically bowed attending to them. Of course they looked exquisite and sexy in everything they tried, so it never was all that bad.

Everything cost too much in my humble opinion, but our last stop as far as my ladies seemed the most extreme. Accessories. Especially purses. Some cost as much or more than the dresses they finally found. For a relatively small piece of designed leather. It made my head spin.

My angels had no problem with the excessive expense. Even Zhenzhen, who I thought grew up in a modest mindset enjoyed it and ignored every price tag. The mortals struggled with it. Helena insisted her father could afford anything. Being eternal with millions of minions combined to make him immeasurably wealthy. But I think the clothing seduced them. Both preferring their own sex, or in Maria’s case, equally attracted to men and women, seeing the angels in incredibly sexy and elegant outfits removed any resistance. They didn’t bat their eyes at the excessively priced purses.

After a wonderful and overabundant late lunch at the Carnegie Deli (fortunately we had a late reservation at the fancy restaurant) we headed east to a small and deceptively modest haberdashery. Three generations ran it. The oldest looked to be in his eighties. His son was middle aged. The grandson couldn’t have been any older than me. Their similar looks, Eastern European Jewish, told of resistance to gentile wives. The two ladies there seemed to confirm it. The one sitting behind an old fashioned cash register had to be the old man’s wife. A combination of affection and teasing between the elder generation couple confirmed it to me. And a young woman sat beside her fitting the ethnic mold. A stronger affection and no teasing towards the young man suggested newlyweds, and a following of tradition, with the young wife taking over the business side of things from her grandmother-in-law.

I loved the place immediately, no less because I got treated seriously without fawning. They even cracked jokes at my expense, especially the old man. He couldn’t forgive my father marrying a gentile, let alone my lack of being bar mitzvahed and my general lack of faith. But he actually could, of course. He had a sparkle in his eyes that revealed his teasing. I loved the irreverent attitude towards customers of the old Manhattan, which we had also enjoyed at the Deli, and mourned its passing art.

The youngest, probably still considered interning, did the several measurements of my body. His father recorded them. Grandfather walked around with Helena and Eva, showing the fabrics. Maria wandered on her own oohing and awing at other fabrics, sometimes bringing my wives and the old man to view her suggestions. Zhenzhen and Shira sat together watching the measuring, amusement never leaving their faces. Sometimes Maria brought a swatch to them. Of all of us, she seemed to enjoy this most.

Towards the end of the measuring, a small older man entered the store bearing shoe samples and one of those metal measuring tools for feet. The three samples encompassed three styles and three colors: brown, black and oxblood red. Tasseled slip-ons, plain oxfords and some fancier lace-ups with leatherwork around the lace holes. Actually it sort of encompassed more styles, with either pointy or rounded toes.

Meanwhile a group took up the decision-making. Maria joined the original three, as did father and son joining grandfather. Remarkably it turned out the youngest had final approval. Precocious taste I presumed. Sometimes the group would shift to me, bringing swatches against my face. Again they looked for the young man’s nod. After suit fabrics, shirt fabrics followed.

Clearly I had no say in the matter. But I didn’t protest. I trusted my wives and these highly professional men to decide what would look best on me. The cobbler waited as patiently as I did for decisions to be made. It would help determine the shoes.

I asked the little man about that. “Wouldn’t slip-ons or ties be my choice?”

“Not necessarily,” the man replied, his accent surprisingly elite and erudite. The haberdashers all sounded like New Yorkers, Manhattanites to be specific, subtler than Brooklynese, and yet harder, an innately succinct accent. “Sometimes the sleeker lines of a slip-on improves the look, or the quirkiness of a tassel. A plain top or a bit of leatherwork. Sometimes the long toe or the rounded one. But mostly you’re right. Of course the color is everything. Brown with brown and black with black. Oxblood’s a good compromise, but even that isn’t always necessarily true. Black works with gray for instance and oxblood wouldn’t. What do you prefer?”

“To tell you the truth, I left preference at the door. I leave decisions to the ladies.”

“Wise of you, especially with them. Your wives I heard.”

“Except Maria,” I pointed to the pretty blonde.

She turned to us and smiled. “I wish,” she said.

The little man shook his head.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I know. It makes no sense to me either.”

“It isn’t that,” he said.

“It isn’t?”

“You seem like a really nice guy. I can tell you truly care about these women. I’ve witnessed men wear gorgeous women like fancy suits or shoes. Mistresses or trophy wives. And unless the women are too clever for their own good or too dumb, I see the pain of their submission. The shame. The humiliation. I can tell, and not just because of their overwhelming beauty, these women here deserve utter respect. That includes Maria. And you give them that. And they return it, so you must deserve it as well.” Laughing at my shrug, he explained, “I just ... I don’t think I ever been so envious of a man.”

“I’d envy me too. It’s been amazing to say the least.”

“I imagine. Or maybe I can’t. Or maybe I will, and hope my wife doesn’t notice me imagining.”

We laughed.

“You have a good relationship with your wife?” I asked.

“The best, considering how long we’ve been together. Unlike most any other relationships I know about, it hasn’t completely lost its spark. She’s an Irish lass, as fiery as that suggests. She fights me like a tigress, but luckily loves me like one, too.”

“Children?”

“Three daughters. Two got blessed by their mother’s looks, and, less blessed, their mother’s temper. The middle child took after me, poor thing. But she’s lovely nevertheless in her way. She’s my apprentice,” he added, proudly.

“I hope I don’t sound patronizing towards your profession, but you seem quite educated.”

“No offense taken. Self-educated mostly. Genius level IQ. But I was my father’s son, so I apprenticed with him, and took over when he became sick, dying too young, I’m afraid. Broke my mother’s heart, both his death and me becoming a simple cobbler. She thought I could do better, but I disagree. I love my work. And my intelligence wouldn’t have made things better. Writings my gift. Poetry.”

“Published?”

“Four books. Been working on my epic since forever. It will be my fifth. But of course I haven’t made a cent on any of them.”

“Not interested in teaching?”

“Instructing a bunch of brats how to not make any money? No thanks. That’s for my wife.”

“What’s she teach?”

“Philosophy.”

We laughed.

“Where?” I asked.

“Hunter. Full professor,” he replied proudly.

I tried on various jackets of various styles. The last one was my choice, a white linen jacket I decided to take with us. It had matching pants, which I bought as well. I ended up with three other suits: black, gray and brown. I had to admit the fabrics looked amazing. And they all had a similar style with a narrow lapel. Several shirts included various shades of white, an azure blue and black. Ties matched jackets and shirts. A couple belts as well. And my new cobbler friend would make me two pairs of shoes, Oxfords, black and brown, with nothing fancy about them, including modestly rounded smooth toes. Lowest heals possible. I needed no more height.

“Stop at my shop if you want copies of my books,” the cobbler asked me.

“I’d like that,” I smiled.

Just two storefronts down, we arrived at his place, even more modest than the haberdashery. He grabbed his books and signed them. I perused his selection. An amazing pair of cowboy boots with exquisite leatherwork caught my eye. They even looked long enough to fit my extra-long feet. A petite, mousy young woman stood beside me. Plain, yet pretty, with large hazel eyes that shone with the intelligence inherited from her parents. “You like?” she asked.

“They’re beautiful, but they could never fit me.”

“Want to bet?” she smirked.

“Sure. The cost of the boots,” I chuckled.

“An expensive bet,” she grinned.

“No doubt,” I chuckled again.

“Sit.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They ended up fitting me perfectly. They even had low heals, which I prefer. Commenting on it she, nodded. “It’s by design. The size presumes a man of your height who probably doesn’t wish any more height.”

“Makes sense.”

When she knelt to remove the boots, which showed hidden strength, she asked me sotto voce, “Why do I crave you so much?”

“Am I not your usual type?”

“Actually you are. I like tall, slim and intelligent. But the craving, it’s deeper.”

“Like in your womb?”

“Yes.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Like attracting breathtaking sexy beauties?”

“Something like that.”

“And you’re skilled enough to keep them.”

“Their pleasure is mine,” I explained.

“Ooh,” she moaned.

I glanced at Helena and the cobbler in discussion. He nodded and approached us. “Take him to the back room,” her father said.

“Daddy?”

“It’s okay.”

Her surprise equaled mine. When her attractive, expressive eyes returned to mine, they looked pleading.
“Would you ... I mean ... I’m so plain.”

“I disagree,” I said, rising and taking her hand. She guided me through a cloth curtain into the bowels of the little shop, into the workshop area, and even deeper, through a narrow door. An office. With a bed. Almost a cot.

She practically shoved me onto it. She skimmed off my jeans and my boxers and took hold of my cock, half-hard. Her small mouth took in the glans. “Ooh,” I moaned. Her eyes smiled up at me. Even more when I removed the rest of my clothes. While licking and sucking my glans, and her lips caressed its edges, she blindly removed my tennis shoes and socks and pulled my pants and boxers off.

“I want to see you,” I said, pulling her delightful mouth off me. I neared complete hardness, and completed it watching her strip her modest clothes. They hid a luscious body, firm yet perfectly rounded, a voluptuousness that suited her petite size. “Wow,” I approved.

“You ... like my body?”

“Any man would.”

“Not many men have.”

“We’re a foolish gender. I think you’re prettier than you think you are, but if you could walk around naked, men would line up to be with you.”

“I’m not into doing chains,” she giggled, straddling me and reaching down to aim my cock.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

Lowering, her pussy took in my glans. An abundance of natural lubricant became a necessity to breach the narrow passage.

“Ungh,” she grunted. But before expressing my concern, she moaned, “So good.” And as she gradually moved my cock deeper into her tightness, more positive words emerged. When my glans tapped at her cervix, I had entered her completely. A perfect fit, if a bit fat for her at the moment. Tall and slim fit her preference naturally as well as visually.

“So fucking good,” she moaned, clutching me to her while rubbing our pubic bones together. Releasing the embrace, she leaned back and looked up lovingly at me. I leaned down to kiss her. She lifted up, recommencing the slow rhythm with less restraint. For the time being, with her on my lap and our lips crushed together, opening to let our tongues play, allowed only about three quarters of my cock to enter her. Breaking the kiss probably came from her wanting me deeper again, as she sighed with pleasure when I once more tapped at her cervix.

But I wanted both. I wanted to kiss her and enter her fully. So I slid back and laid back and curved my back so we could kiss again while she rode me with increasing speed. My hands took hold of her wonderful breasts, full and heavy, but appropriate to her small stature. Dark red nipples stood out like small half capsules. Her deepening moans expressed their sensitivity. I wanted to taste them and feel their texture and give her even more pleasure, so I bent my back even more. I had to support myself, taking my hands out of play, while I suckled those nipples.

Her ride became harder, faster, more urgent. I lost contact with her nipples and decided to lay back. I could watch her bouncing boobs. I could reach down and grasp her supple ass cheeks. Fingers slid between, wetted by her abundant lubricant. I pressed one into her anus. It spurred her even more so I fucked her with it, feeling my cock slide through the narrow membrane.

I let her rush to orgasm spur mine. When she reached it, stiffening and ending her ride, I clutched her and fucked up into her rapidly until my balls released their content into her quivering cunt.

“Perfect,” she murmured.

“I agree,” I smiled.

“Do you think ... we could go again?”

“With some help.”

She understood. My loose flesh slipped out when she retreated, her lips kissing my torso along the away.

“Turn around,” I suggested.

She looked up at me to be sure. “Spermy pussy?” I imagined she thought, but she saw no worry about such things and moved her dripping sex over my mouth. Again I had to bend my back to make it work.

The sixty-nine lasted long enough for me to make her cum. My cock had hardened minutes before, and her attention to it lessened with the intense distraction.

Moving her onto her back, I rested my knees between her legs and placed my glans at her eager entrance and pushed. Her short, strong legs embraced my butt, pulling me all the way in her still tight sheathe. “I could feel you fill me full all day long,” she moaned.

“If that were possible,” I chuckled.

“I’ll take what I can get,” she murmured pulling my head down for a kiss.

It became a long fuck, with at least three orgasms on her part. After the first, we changed to doggy style, letting me admire her ass, as perfect as her tits. She climbed again to orgasm, and I quieted my strokes to enjoy the shuddering surround my cock before returning to the relentless hard and fast fucking we both enjoyed.

The finale of shared orgasms ended up taking longer than expected with how relatively quickly her second orgasm happened during this particular session of fucking. Her orgasms hadn’t been quick or easy, but had been intense. I think that second one surprised both of us. The third one took much longer, but it also built higher. “Fuck!” she yelled at last just as I let loose my sperm. We undulated together, with me pulling her tight against my groin. Her big eyes wide, her nostrils flared, her cheeks rosy, her lips lifted in a soft smile, she actually giggled. I must have had a similar expression. Awed.

“I can see your charm,” she murmured and pulled me into a kiss.

My flaccid penis leaving its wonderful new home signaled the end of our lovemaking. It didn’t end reluctantly. Both of us reached satisfaction in this extremely brief relationship. As we dressed, she commented, “I think I’ll find a lover now.”

“He’ll be a lucky man.”

“And he better make me a lucky woman.”

“You haven’t had many lovers.”

“Just two. They moved on.”

“Stupid men.”

“Yes. That’s why I helped them move. But ... I could see your desire when I stood naked.”

“You have an incredible body.”

“You convinced me. I mean, compared to those women...”

“You compare well.”

She giggled. “Thanks. You’ve spurred my confidence.”

“You seem pretty confident.”

“Except when I’m in the presence of a desirable man. I think my shyness makes me look even plainer than I am.”

“A handsome man may look past you, missing out.”

“Handsome isn’t all I look for in a man. I like them tall, because it suggests a tall cock,” she giggled. “And I like them smart, because...”

“You’re smart.”

“Yes.”

“Like your father.”

“Actually a lot like my father.”

“You write poetry?”

“Yes.”

“Published?”

“In magazines. I’m putting together my first collection.”

“I want copies.”

“Of course.” She went to the computer in the room and soon the printer printed. Looking at the name beneath the titles of the poems, I chuckled, realizing we hadn’t exchanged names.

“Hello Caitlin,” I said. “I’m Joe.”

“Hi Joe,” she grinned and kissed me. “Do you know why I like them smart?” she asked.

“Because they’ll know to please you?”

“Not necessarily, although it would be a prerequisite. Smart women know to insist on their pleasure, but smart men not necessarily.”

“Like handsome men, they can be too egotistical about it.”

“Yes. Exactly. But fucking isn’t all that happens in bed, or out for that matter. It usually doesn’t take all that much time, except with you, maybe. The rest of the time, I hope I’d be interested in what he has to say.”

“And vice versa.”

“Yes.”

“If I’m here again, and you haven’t found a lover of any permanence...”

“Yes Joe. Of course I’d fuck you,” she sniffled.

“What’s the matter?”

“I didn’t think you’d ask that.”

Embracing her, I kissed her teary cheek before kissing her mouth. It lingered long enough for me to regain hardness. She giggled when the embrace ended, stroking me. “I do effect you.”

“You’re great kisser and a hot babe,” I replied.

“Good to hear,” she grinned. “And I’m glad I’m leaving you with something to remember me.”

“What’s that? The poems?” I asked.

“The boots, silly.”

“You’re one impressive lady,” I approved. “But what can I leave you?”

“Uhm,” she giggled, rubbing her belly.

“Oh right,” I chuckled. “You okay with that?”

“Couldn’t be happier.”

“Good to know.”

“If I’m not?”

“Right time of the month?”

“Yeah.”

“It should take. Let me know if it doesn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I’ll actually be here soon, in New York City. We’re doing shows at BAM and then setting up residency somewhere in SOHO I think.”

“Very cool. Tickets?”

“Of course.”

“Cool.”

When we returned to the store, I saw her father’s concern turn quickly to a smile. I’ll never understand this minion thing. I noticed the boots had been boxed, along with smaller boxes. Obviously my ladies had found things they liked as well. “I see my daughter gave you some of her poems,” he said proudly.

“As good as you?”

“Almost, but she will be better,” he replied honestly.

“Despite me reminding him about Keats and Rimbaud,” his daughter smirked, “he still insists talent needs aging like a fine wine or a great whiskey.”

“And you disagree?”

“No. It’s good to get better.”

“Definitely,” I chuckled with her. “So ... phone numbers?”

“Taken care of,” said Helena.

“Good,” both Caitlin and I said.

“You don’t think it’s weird your wife is happy about that?” Caitlin asked me.

“I do,” I shrugged. “But I’m getting used to it.”

“And you get permission to fuck around. Not exactly bad for you. Or is it?”

“No. Never. I cherish every woman I’ve been with.”

“I can tell.” She pulled me into one more kiss.

“Can I get some of that?” asked Eva.

“You’re hot, but no. I guess I’m thoroughly heterosexual.”

“Too bad,” said Shira. “Even if you hide it well, I can tell you’re hot, too.”

“Compared to your lovers?”

Shira shrugged. “My wives let me play with others. They get to play, too. But only with ladies. We only allow Joe between our legs as far as men go. And you look delicious. Imagine four sets of lips, and many, many fingers caressing you while Joe fucks you into oblivion.”

“Uhm,” the petite cobbler trembled a little, “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that,” Eva chuckled, and everyone laughed except my newest lover.

“Lover,” I said to her. “They’re not teasing.”

“Oh,” she blushed.

Before we left, the small man informed me, “I put a draft of my epic with my books. And an itinerary of my readings.”

“And your daughter’s?”

“She often reads with me. But yes, hers too.”

“Cool,” I said.

After we left, filling Buzz’s limousine’s trunk even further with our purchases, we headed south, to West Broadway in SOHO. We exited the limo in front of a gallery which immediately associated itself with Snake by being called “Serpentine,” and having the signage a bas relief similar to the drawing on Nick’s business cards. Inside, the moderate sized gallery smelled of new plaster and subtle, lingering paint. Several of Xo’s and Nick’s angels greeted us. Paintings and sculptures appeared to be by one artist. They all featured beads usually found on handcrafted necklaces. The beads looked unique enough to be handcrafted themselves or deliberately bought for their uniqueness. Paint of various shades had been applied heavily over them, the way expressionists, whether abstract or of the earlier German school, applied paint. And yet these weren’t purely abstract or non-objective. In fact objects, despite the slapdash approach, had remarkable clarity and detail. Women and men. Animals. Landscapes. Flowers. Some had a darker tone, like Rembrandt and his ilk. In those, the images, even the non-human ones, looked ecstatic, as if in the thralls of orgasm. Some even had a sexual theme, though never quite explicit, but even those that didn’t had that feeling about them. Other painting had a lighter tone, like Whistler’s paintings, and carried a sense of calm. Post-orgasmic calm. And the beads? They served to make everything more three dimensional. Even the sculptures had that effect. Male and female nudes and animals, less realistic then the paintings mostly because they appeared not quite finished, as if the objects tried to pull themselves out of the marble or clay or metal block from which they had begun, but in an ecstatic way or a calm way, the latter perhaps awaking from a most pleasant dream, most likely sexual in nature.

“Wow,” I said, stirred by the art immediately.

“You like it?” I heard beside me. A woman stood there, old but well preserved, with long wild gray hair streaked with remnants of the black that had been there originally. The voice had been Nick, who stood beside her, his arms draped over the tall woman’s shoulder, though shorter than Nick or I. Few women reached our height. “Joe, this is Dominique.”

“Call me Nicky,” she said, her voice deeper than expected, though somehow clearly feminine, and with a richness suggesting a long lifetime of cigarettes or other combustibles, the latter made obvious when she handed me a thick spliff.

“Thanks,” I chuckled, but before I could bring it to my lips, she embraced me and brought her lips to them instead. I had to bend my neck for it a little, but didn’t mind.

“Wow,” I said again. She kissed great. Lots of experience I imagined.

“I’m not lured to you like the others,” she said. “Go ahead and puff away.” She let me inhale the sweet smoke. It expanded in my lungs like only the best marijuana can. I managed to hold it in without coughing. Only after I released it did she continue. I handed the joint to Shira. “My old body no longer delivers eggs. But I’d still like to fuck you. You and your wives.”

“Dominique’s a bit of a slut, and omnivorous in her tastes,” Nick explained.

“Strictly carnivorous, this bitch is always in heat, and always pouncing on prey,” she crowed, squeezing my package.

I laughed, along with my wives. “Got a full bed tonight, but we’ll be back.”

“Sounds like a promise,” she said to Shira before pulling her into a kiss.

I looked to Eva for a response. Old people had been a burden to her. She shrugged and mouthed, “I think she’s cute.” Cool.

“Speaking of coming back,” said Snake. “Follow me.”

He led us through double doors set towards the back on the south side wall. I noticed to my left a glass counter and some book shelves before I exited.

“Art books, poetry, plays and graphic novels, ours included,” he said to me as we entered. “Snacks and liquid refreshments at the counter.”

“So you have an audience captured in your other enterprise. Smart.”

“Before they sit, yes,” Nick shrugs. “During intermission, a door opens to let the patrons out to the street from the theater. And at the end as well.”

The space impressed me. Extremely high ceilings allowed for ramped seating, arranged in a thrust configuration, as well as fly space to hang lights. “The advantage of a warehouse space,” Nick explained.

“The gallery had much lower ceilings.”

“Original as well. It had been the office space of the warehouse.”

“Is it still? I mean the second floor?”

“Yes. My import/export section, and things which concern New York City specifically.”

“How else have you used this building? Lofts?”

“Of course,” he grinned. “They will be ready for us, just as this theater will be ready, when we’re ready. Actually two have been made ready.”

“Let me guess. One houses Nicky.”

“Indeed. Convenient for her conquests. The other will be for guest artists when they show here.”

“And Nicky’s amazing work?”

“Another seduction,” Nick chuckles. “Our little publisher, the one which is at this very moment readying the first of my books, has produced a beautiful, glossy coffee table book of her work. Being the curator of my gallery, she will be present for customers. She can show them her book, and those she’s interested she invites to her loft to see them on display.”

“Why isn’t she well known?” I asked.

“Her brilliance only manifested itself over the last few years. Those beads she uses had been her main thing before, creating necklaces and bracelets. And that only happened when her husband divorced her, taking two of her children with him back to Montreal. The oldest...”

“Yours?”

“Yes. He stayed loyal to her, but left to study not long after. Lucky for them, she married a wealthy man willing to sustain her and to pay for his schooling.”

“And her lustfulness?”

“That also came after she became alone. A young man triggered it. Good sex but lousy intimacy. She liked the youth, but not the conversations, so she sought a night or two of fucking, and that’s all.”

“Preferring young men?”

“And young women.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“She has friends. I’m hoping one of them will become more when age makes her less appealing.”

“I hope so, too. And the breakthrough?”

“A little encouragement on my part. She always painted, even before the divorce, but thought it amateurish and withheld it from the public. Even when it got better. I suggested adding an actual necklace to a portrait, and things exploded from there.”

“Your visits didn’t result in other production?”

“She had her tubes tied after the third child. Though a loving mother, her sensitive nature made it difficult raising them. Not so much the son, my son, but the daughters that followed.”

“So ... Losing him?”

“She insisted. He’s quite brilliant. And creative. He wanted to go to MIT to stay relatively close, but his interests and talents demanded a west coast education. Los Angeles to be specific.”

“Hollywood?”

“Exactly. Cal Tech north of there for his bachelors, but he ended up at UCLA.”

“Animation?”

“CGI. We should get going. The ladies need time to become elegant.”

Two hours before our reservation at the fancy restaurant. I nodded.

The restaurant surprised me. So small. Every table taken. Every customer dressed to the nines. Just light enough to see that. The posh maître d led us through a narrow passage, past all the tables, with just enough room for hips to sway and hands to swing, and through a lifted curtain, as elegant as the rest of the décor and the customers, and to a small, old fashioned elevator. A beautiful young lady operated it, bringing us slowly to the second floor. She let us off into a lighter room but just as elegant. Everyone else was there. Just my wives and Maria and I remained. Maria’s blush remaining on her cheeks and her careful walk explained our delay. We couldn’t quite wait for the night to renew our sexual need. And she got the full treatment from my wives while I fucked her. And she tasted every one of them through the long fuck. The elevator operator cum hostess led us to Nick and the Chinese ex-ambassador at a round table.

“Explain please,” I asked Nick. “When we arrived, it looked like a mistake. No room for us.”

Nick laughed. “We’re VIPs tonight, Joe. We’re the entertainment for the first floor customers. I imagine they’re disappointed.”

“Disappointed at seeing the most luscious women in the world looking even more luscious than usual?” I asked.

“True,” Nick chuckled. “But no stars. No media darlings. No famous politicians. This is their sanctuary.”

“After the parade.”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “But no recording of them allowed. Anyone taking pictures would be kicked out, missing some of the best made food in the world.”

“And if they’re finished?”

“Permanent exclusion.”

“And outside?”

“You noticed the two food trucks.”

“The limo unloaded us between them.”

“Gives distance from intruders. They’re always there in the evening. Inside the trucks are brief chaperones who surround the celebrities when they arrive and leave. But they have to request it.”

“Wow. A lot of effort. Must be expensive.”

“And these people can afford it. And they get their privacy and amazing food.”

I nodded, glancing around for stars, and seeing some familiar faces. It amused me they looked as awed as people they passed probably looked at them. A couple tables held more cocksure stars though, who must have invited angels to their table. The Irish twins sat at one. Alexandra and Chanda sat at another. I’m sure the twins would give the men a fun time. I’m not sure if the cocksure men with the Russian and Siamese princesses could handle them. Alexandra could be especially intense, but the much more diminutive Chanda could equal her, especially when they were together.

The food was amazing, and plentiful unlike stereotype foodie restaurants. We tended to linger on it, enjoying every mouthful. Easy conversation kept us longer as well. The late reservation helped, and eventually two youthful thirty-year-olds joined us. The maître d and the chef, longtime partners. Soulmates.

By the end, no strangers remained. The twins had left with their new companions. Alexandra and Chanda hadn’t. I hadn’t noticed Salomé sitting with an amazing looking African man, as handsome and regal as her and taller, until they stood, took hands and walked up to us. After introductions, they hurried away, obviously horny.

I shared crème brulé with Angelique, who had hopped onto my lap.

“I missed you,” she said.

“Me too,” I replied.

“Liar. But I forgive you. Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“The honeymoon. The bonding.”

I smiled at my wives who smiled back. “Yes. A solidarity of four.”

“Five is stronger.”

“What are you saying?”

“Nothing.”

“Angelique?”

“At least you didn’t call me slave. I don’t want you as warden anymore.”

“Something realer?”

“Yes.”

“What about Lindy?”

“She’ll still be wardeness and collaborator.”

“But...”

“I still love her.”

“But...”

“It’s gotten to be too much. I want to come to her to work, not just continue being with her.”

“And what does she want?”

“The same. You didn’t notice her at the theater?”

“I saw her with a couple.”

“Jennifer and her husband. She leads the Aerie Dancers. He’s head of the San Francisco Arts Board.”

“Jennifer’s bisexual?”

“And her husband. They share a male lover.”

“And seek a female one.”

“Yes.”

“And Lindy’s applying?”

“Already applied. I joined them the first night. Missed the second.”

I nodded. “But it couldn’t help being temporary.”

“I think Lindy wants temporary. If nothing else, it keeps you available.”

“But not you.”

“I shouldn’t ... I don’t ... If I’m too clingy...”

“I can’t say yes.”

“I understand,” she sniffled.

I lifted her head and kissed her. “It’s not what I meant. It’s not for me to approve you, to join us as sister wife.”

“But ... would you?”

“Yes.”

That made her smile. “Tonight?”

“Of course.”

“After we go dancing. I love watching Lindy at a dance club, and I bet Jennifer’s equally amazing.”

“Ladies?” I asked my wives.

“Sounds like fun,” Helena replied.

My other wives eagerly nodded, as did Maria. Except Eva, who gazed at Angelique, catching her eye.

“Uh-oh,” I thought.

Those two ended up pairing up for most of the night. Luckily they looked to be having more and more fun. Helena leaned into me early on and said, “Eva’s the first and only real hurdle.”

“More than you?”

“She’s the toughest of us.”

I nodded, remembering Eva’s approval of Zhenzhen and Shira. It helped she lusted after both. But it had been her who seemed to make the decisions, or at least made them clear and final.

“And what do you think?” I asked my first wife.

“I think she’s amazing.”

“Me too.”

“I know.”

We kissed after that. My ever loving and ever permitting wife. In my ear she whispered, “Maybe, since you and I already approve, we should leave her with our other wives.”

“And where will we stay?”

“Dominque’s?”

I laughed. “Better call her. Her bed may already be occupied.”

“I did. It isn’t.”

“And Maria?”

“With us of course. I’m kind of partial to her as well. Unlike my other wives.”

I nodded. “Not jealous.”

“No. It’s the distraction. You two have this almost mystical connection. It’s annoying to them.”

“But not to you.”

“I think it’s cool,” she shrugged.

“It might piss off Christa even more. If it was just you and me with Maria.”

“And Nicky.”

“That wouldn’t matter.”

“Probably not. Only if Maria tells her. And I think she’s too sweet for that.”

“Unless Christa insists.”

“Which she probably will.”

“Probably.”

We shook our heads. Both of us liked Christa. She just couldn’t quite get things right. Couldn’t allow herself contentment. Couldn’t accept what she needed to accept to get there.

We danced to the throbbing beat of EDM, the current disco music. I danced with several angels. There I could watch skilled dancers improvise. Lindy. Miwa. Eva. Jennifer. Vance and Gerry, his Lakota lover. Samantha, the young Chinese American dancing phenom without her much older mentor and lover, the legendary Barnaby. “I guess he’s too old for late night dance clubs,” Sam shrugged and went off to seduce, without consequence, another male with her sensuous dancing.

I ended the clubbing with Maria and a highly sexual dance. She embraced me afterwards, feeling what she wrought pressed against her abdomen.

“I made that?” she yelled over the loud music.

“Yes. Shall we make use of it?”

“About time,” she giggled.

After nods to my wives, except Helena who joined us, and a kiss with an ebullient Angelique, suggesting she would be my wife as well, we stepped out of the loud disco and into the quiet night. West Broadway, and Nick’s new building housing Nicky’s loft, wasn’t far, so we waved off the Buzz clone and walked.

North of the gallery, Nicky buzzed us in and opened the large door of her apartment on the third floor. A walk up on that side, it actually had its own old elevator on the other. She looked as if she’d been working all evening, and the smell of plaster and paint confirmed it. An old terry-cloth robe covered her body. “I was waiting for your arrival. I need to shower,” she explained.

“Do you mind if we start without you?” Helena asked.

“Mind?” Nicky purred loudly and laughed. Her eyes studied Helena and Maria before ending the perusal at the roll at my crotch. “How could I possibly mind?” She dashed off to her bathroom.

The four poster queen sized bed looked fitting for her if not the room, with its bare white walls. Empty hooks suggested she usually surrounded herself with her art, currently hanging downstairs.

“Hurry,” said Maria. Both she and Helena only needed to unfasten and unzip to remove their dresses. Only panties and sexy hosiery remained, held up by garter belts. They removed the panties. Helena lay down, her head towards the foot of the bed, and Maria lay down over her, in a sixty-nine configuration. I made as quick a work as possible removing my clothing. I knelt behind Maria. Helena pulled my erection into her mouth for a quick suck before placing it at Maria’s juicy folds. I pushed deep, slowly. “Yes!” Maria approved before returning to sucking my wife’s cunt.

I kept her pale pear-shaped ass steady while thrusting hard and deep. My wife worked on both Maria’s clit and my balls. It didn’t take Maria long to cum. I powered through it. Maria managed to make my wife cum before a second, larger one arrived.

At that moment I felt something cold and slick press against my asshole. I looked back and saw Nicky with a large, complicated grin holding a vibrator. Her skin looked a bit loose, and her breasts drooped, but they held their rounded shape, and she barely carried a paunch. When the vibrator buzzed, instant orgasm. I pushed deeply into Maria, my cock throbbing within shivering surroundings. “Fuck,” Maria growled. I grunted in agreement.

Post orgasm, my lovers made room for me to lie on my back. Nicky lay over me and we kissed. Lips caressed my penis carefully until it began thickening and becoming less sensitive. Then tongues came to play. From Nicky’s moans within our long kiss, I could tell her sex got similar treatment. When my lovers deemed me ready, a hand placed my glans at Nicky’s readied cunt and it entered surprising tightness.

“Turn me over,” she moaned.

I held her and turned, keeping the glans somehow inside her.

“Fuck me,” she growled, her hands grasping my ass cheeks.

Thrusting deep, I continued thrusting, hard and steady. A hand reached between us to caress her clit. Two lovely heads appeared. Two sets of lips clasped Nicky’s nipples. Removing a hand from my ass for a moment, she moved Helena’s face up to kiss her. Her legs circled my ass. My knees brought me to a higher angle. “Unh,” Nicky sounded approvingly with each thrust. She steered Helena back to her nipple and Maria to her mouth. But Helena retreated. I soon felt why. A shape slipped below my cock. It began to buzz in Nicky’s anus, affecting both of us. I fucked harder and faster. I took over orally pleasuring her nipples. She writhed beneath me, tightening and moaning deeply until becoming tight and silent, shaken by orgasm. Slowing my thrusts, I savored the buzzing, both of the vibrator and Nicky’s pussy. Her legs released, spread wide. I remained inside her barely.

“You didn’t cum,” she murmured.

“Nope.”

“Keep going until you do.”

“It may take a while.”

“As long as you like,” she smiled loosely.

“How do you want it?”

“Like this,” she said, and pulled me into a kiss.

And so it went, slowly and slowly building. Minutes. Hours. I don’t know. We kissed until her next orgasm arrived. My mouth moved to her breasts after that. My fingers kept constant work on her clit. She seemed to like holding my ass, because her hands stayed there. Fingers sometimes played at my anus, sometimes entering it shallowly.

Beside us, Maria and Helena made love. We noticed them and they noticed us, smiles our communication. They did leave the bed to use the bathroom. Helena carried the vibrator, cleaning it most likely, because it became part of their love play.

Eventually, inevitably, my balls demanded release, taking over my head and my body, making my thrusts fast and wild. Only then did fingers playing at my anus become one entering deeply. It knew where to rub. When my orgasm arrived, hers hadn’t quite, so I kept fucking and stroked her clit harder and nibbled at her nipple until she came, the most powerful of the night. She relaxed completely afterward, with an occasional shiver, but mostly inert. Barely conscious, I think, but smiling.

“I knew you’d be good,” she purred.

“You inspired me.”

“Right,” she smirked, glancing at my gorgeous raven haired Greek wife spooning behind Maria.

When my penis slipped out, she moved from beneath me and onto her side, clutching her legs.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I keep cumming a little. Almost too much. Almost too intense.”

“Sounds about right,” Maria giggled, reaching for my penis.

“You’re kidding,” said Nicky, noticing the grab.

“He hasn’t fucked his wife yet,” Maria explained. “And I haven’t ridden his mouth.”

Nicky shook her head and sighed. “Let me help, then. Nothing better than feeling a cock harden in your mouth.” She slowly, languorously shifted around until her lips took in my penis, just beginning to expand. “Mmm,” she commented, “I love my taste.”

“Let me try it,” said Helena, moving over bodies until she lay on her side and lifted Nicky’s upper leg.

“Gently,” Nicky requested.

“You do have good taste,” said Helena, causing everyone to laugh.

Even with Nicky’s well-honed skills, it took a while for me to gain full hardness. Once achieved, Helena hopped on, and Maria straddled my face. “I’m not done with that delicious pussy,” said Helena, and Nicky crawled over me, her butt high and her mouth low, helping me pleasure Maria. And Helena as well, squeezing her tits.

It didn’t last long. It had been a long night after all, including a long time making love. It lasted long enough for Helena to build an intense orgasm. Normally, after so many ejaculations, I would have not have worried about one final one, but I’m not exactly normal. Closing my eyes, I brought every mind to share Helena’s ecstasy, magnifying it, multiplying it at least times three, but actually exponentially. It became too much for everyone.

I awoke to Helena rearranging bodies. “Did you pass out?” I asked her.

She nodded and smiled and gave me a lovely kiss. “Lie back,” she said. With her great strength, she placed Maria along my side and, curiously, Nicky draped over me with her head near my penis. “She’ll awake with your beautiful piss hard-on. Sucking it will awaken you. You can give her cunnilingus Joe style.”

“And one last ride,” I added.

“If she can handle it.”

“Nick’s essence?”

“Of course.”

She slid off the bed. I slept before she returned.

As planned, I awoke being sucked, and pulled down the older lady’s pussy onto my tongue. When Nicky orgasmed, she squeezed my cock almost too hard. Releasing it briefly, she straddled it and guided it in. “I wish it were mine,” she sighed, kissing me. This time my hands on her butt did the controlling. Taking hold of the loose skin, though firmer I imagined than most women her age, I pushed and pulled, squeezed and released. She only controlled the angle, lifting up. I enjoyed watching her flopping tits before taking one into my mouth and then the other. Her ride quickened under my guidance, until she took control, bouncing atop me. When the orgasm took hold, I pressed her hard against me.

After a gentle kiss, she asked, “Did you cum?”

“No. but I’m okay. Actually I need to piss.”

“Of course,” she giggled, a raspy, sexy sound. “And I need a smoke.”

She lifted off my cock, leaned down to give it a goodbye kiss, and slid off the bed. “Coffee?” she asked me after swatting my passing ass.

“We’d like that,” said Helena. “Breakfast?” I heard her ask before entering the bathroom.

After pissing, I decided on a quick shower. I noticed the door opening and shutting. By the end of my shower, I saw Maria dabbing her pussy after peeing. “Wanted to wait to flush.”

“Thanks,” I grinned, giving her a kiss.

“I don’t think I’ve had a better day ... or night.”

“It was pretty great,” I agreed.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“It’s enough.”

“I’m glad.”

“That last orgasm...”

“Yeah.”

“That was you?”

“Yeah.”

“Incredible.”

“I promise two more. Two more finales.”

“About all I can handle,” she giggled.

We gazed into each other’s eyes.

“It’s enough,” she repeated.

“You’re always welcome.”

“I know. I thought I could wait. For our baby to be born and for me to be ready for our next. But the urge ... Like a junky needing a fix. I didn’t want to resist. I didn’t have to resist. Christian ... I promised to marry him when I get back.”

“A condition?”

“Sort of. I wanted him to know how important he is. That I wanted to share the rest of my life with him. He’s my lover and my friend, the way a husband should be. You’re more, Joe. I feel so connected to you. So comfortable. So excited.”

“Did he give you a ring?”

“I put it away. It has no place here. Only you.”

“Even my wives?”

“They’re amazing and delicious, but no.”

“Another reason we can’t be together.”

“Except when we are,” she grinned.

“True,” I laughed. “So when’s the marriage?”

“Soon. Before I show.”

“Understandable.”

“It’s almost cruel that if I did show, the whispers would be all wrong.”

“His choice.”

“I’m glad they’ll be yours.”

I could only nod.

When we left the bathroom, we headed to our clothes. “No,” said Nicky. “I want you naked until you leave.” She and Helena sat naked together at the counter that divided the kitchen from the rest of the loft. They ate bagels and drank coffee. Two other stools had hand towels covering them. “There’s coffee and bagels and lox and whatever you want to add,” she informed us.

“Sounds great,” I said. And it was.

All great things come to an end. After kissing our new friend, and dressing of course, we headed to our suite uptown, greeted my wives with kisses, mine the longest with my newest wife, Angelique, and gathered our things. With Buzz assisting, we filled the trunk of his limo full of bags, and the back of the limo with wives and husband. He drove us north. Home.

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