Chapter 1: A Crowded Head
Caution: This Coming of Age Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/ft, ft/ft, Teenagers, Consensual, Heterosexual, Fiction, School, Incest, Brother, Sister, Polygamy/Polyamory, Exhibitionism, Oral Sex, Petting,
Desc: Coming of Age Sex Story: Chapter 1: A Crowded Head - Suffering from anxiety and panic attacks, Art is a hopeless wreck after his first week of college. Annette and Morgan encourage him to keep his class notes in a sketchbook and to draw pictures of his classmates so he gets to know them. It opens a world of possibilities as classmates become models, models become friends, and friends battle the system to right an injustice. And Art emerges an unwitting leader.
I’m not a very good lover. For that matter, I’m not a very good boyfriend. Or brother. The only thing I seem to be good at is painting. That might even be the reason I’m not very good at anything else.
I’m Art. Arthur. Pen to my lovers—short for Pendragon. It’s our own little fantasy.
Lovers. Annette is simply the sweetest, most caring, most loving person in the universe. She taught me the difference between a wet dream and a wet reality. We call her Lady Annette of the Lake—my Lady for short. I’m so in love with her that it makes my eyes water. And Morgan. We were born exactly a year apart. My dad has a strange sense of humor and slipped the names Morgan and Arthur in on my mom without her realizing what he’d done. My Lady and I call her Fay, short for Morgan Le Fay. Fay has always been beside me from the time I was born. She always knew when to comfort me, crawl in bed with me, tell my stories that I couldn’t put in words. On some level, I think we always knew—that our parents always knew—that we would be lovers. But we needed Annette as a sort of catalyst to tie our dreams to reality.
Of course, we have parents and grandparents who are all involved in our lives. The families have been close for many years. Apparently, there was some question years ago as to which grandfather was going to end up with which grandmother. I bet that’s quite a story. My mother and her mother have a strange ability. They can see auras. And it’s not just like some psychic metaphysics. The light from people affects their eyes to the extent that they both wear dark glasses most of the time. Mom’s gotten to the point that she can look at Fay, Lady, and me without turning her head, but she still squints her eyes. Gramma warned her that she’d have trouble with Fay and me when we hit puberty. I guess our auras kind of went wild.
Annette’s Grandma told her she didn’t need to read auras to see the special bond among the three of us. It was right out there in the open.
That bond. I don’t know what I’d do without Annette and Morgan. They get me through each day. You see, I don’t talk much. Never have. Words ... I know words! They just get all clogged up in my throat when I want to say them. That’s why I paint. And draw. I can’t put my dreams in words, but I can put them in colors. Fay and Annette are working with me so that I can function more normally in public because we just started college together. I’m trying. Honestly.
I guess I’m a real project.
“Is it done?” Fay asked. I stepped back away from the easel and looked critically at my newest painting. I nodded.
Fay padded around the easel and leaned against me as she looked at what I’d painted. She’d been studying business psychology at her little desk in our studio. When we opened up the wall between what was Fay’s room and what was my room, we ended up with much more space, even with Annette moving in with us. We had the big bed, closets, dressing table for the girls, and dressers in what used to be my room. We were cozy, but not uncomfortable. What used to be Fay’s room had plenty of space for my painting, two desks for studying, and a small but comfy sofa the three of us could cuddle on while we read our assignments.
Or just made out.
Having a big bed that we all crawled into naked at night didn’t mean we spent all our time there. I guess we kind of did at first. Annette moved in with Fay and me as soon as the wall was opened at New Years’. We almost didn’t make it to school the first day. It was just so ... How could I get out of bed with Fay and my Lady taking turns sucking on my cock? And we couldn’t leave either of them hanging. It was overwhelming.
And then I had to draw.
I had to. I tried to tell them how much I loved them, but I got so frustrated with the words that the only thing I could do was draw a picture. I used colored pencils and drew a sunrise over the desert. My life, without them, was a desert. They brought the sun. Only when you looked carefully, you could see that the sand dunes of the desert weren’t really sand, but formed my lovers’ bodies intertwined.
I had to take the sketch to school to show Ms. Clayborn. This was what I had to paint next. Annette kissed me lovingly in the school parking lot and gently took my sketchbook from me.
“I’ll bring it to the studio after last period. I think we’re still on detention,” she said. “Don’t get distracted in class, sweetheart. I know you can focus. I’ll be waiting for you in the studio.”
That pretty much set the pattern for the rest of our senior year. Fay was in college, but living at home with Annette and me. We have awesome parents! We got through it and I added another painting to my collection.
The process added discipline to my painting, as well. I painted seriously for two hours every day in the art studio at school. Having that time set aside and always there made it possible for me focus on other things during the day. As soon as class was out, I could focus on painting. If it weren’t for Annette and Morgan—and Ms. Clayborn—I would probably have failed my last semester of high school because I would have spent all my time drawing and painting.
Eventually, though, high school ended and it seemed like no time at all before I had to face my first week at Dryden University of Art and Design.
“College has you really upset,” Fay said as she examined my new painting. I was just glad it was Friday and I’d only had one class. I could come home and paint. It was different when Fay looked at a painting than when Lady did. Annette attacked it from different angles, looking at it fresh each time her eyes came to rest. Morgan simply stood in one place and let it wash over her as she immersed herself in the story. They were both enthusiastic, but different in their appreciation.
“No. Yes. Maybe. It’s just ... I ... different from high school. When does Annette get home?” I stuttered.
“I see,” Fay said holding me. “She’ll be home soon. You thought we’d all be together and here we have different class schedules and you don’t know anyone.” I nodded my head. Being with all those strangers without anyone I knew was stressful. “At least you have that required English writing course together. And you really don’t have to do anything in the Liberal Arts seminar but show up and listen. But we have different majors and there will always be different schedules to deal with. We need to make friends with classmates like you did with Rob last year.”
“Wish he was here,” I said. Rob had become a good friend in high school and helped keep me focused. We even double dated after his girlfriend got comfortable with both Morgan and Annette being my date. Fay chuckled.
“Can you blame him? If Annette and I had decided to go to school in Timbuktu, where would you have gone?”
“So, when Karen decided to go halfway across the country to college, where would Rob decide to go?”
“Timbuktu.” We laughed. “It’s okay here, when we’re home. I ... hurts ... there.” Fucking words!
“We’ll have to give you as much loving here at home as we can so it will carry you through at school,” Fay said. She kissed me and in that moment, everything else faded away. One of my hands cupped her butt cheek and the other crept up to touch her breast. Our kiss deepened and I fell under my sister’s spell. “I need a break from psychology,” she sighed. “Can you think of anything we could do for half an hour or an hour together?”
She didn’t wait for a reply, but led me to our bed and quietly undressed me as I pulled her clothes off. In a few seconds, we lay stretched out on the bed, continuing our kissing.
Everything I know about sex, I learned from Fay and Lady. I know how to use a computer. I type papers and I have email. But poking around on the Internet just never appealed to me enough to learn how to do more than basic searches. I tried to look at porn once and it was gross. It wasn’t anything like what my girlfriends told me they liked. So, I just try to do what they enjoy.
I’m not very good at it. In fact, I’m pretty much panicked about sex whenever we have it. Which, I guess, is quite a lot compared to most of the guys I know. I mean, we’ve all lived together and slept in the same bed since January of my senior year in high school. We’ve had sex together in some combination most of the 240 days since then. And each time I think of either of these most incredible women in the world wanting to make love with me, my heart starts at such a rate that I can hardly breathe. It’s almost like trying to talk. Why do they even want me?
When Fay pulled me into bed my heart started racing and I cursed my cock for getting hard before we’d even settled down. There were so many things she liked and I wanted so desperately to please her. Fay loves to kiss. Maybe not quite as much as Lady, but a lot. That’s fine with me. I treat her mouth like a delicate wine that you are supposed to sip and not guzzle. I roll her flavors around on my tongue, trying to identify everything I can about her. Did you know that a lover’s mouth tastes differently depending on what part of your tongue is in contact with hers?
Lady loves to just play with the tips of our tongues touching. Sometimes we dive in and out of the other’s mouth, but we spend a lot of time just playing with our tongues touching the tips and the lips. It’s sweet. Not just like a nice thing... damn words! ... I mean she tastes sweet. Like honey. Only not that sweet. Isn’t there a word for this? She likes to kiss like that, so I make sure I spend a lot of time kissing her softly and not trying to probe deeply inside. Not like with Fay. Morgan likes to have as much of our tongues in contact with each other as possible. Her kisses are a little saltier and that expression that says ‘pucker up’ could be what happens when we’re really deep in each other’s mouth and get a little sourness on our tongues.
I don’t care. A kiss is a kiss is a kiss. Except they’re all different. If I didn’t have to paint, I’d kiss all day. Maybe I’ll just paint the color of our kisses. I’ll kiss the tip of Lady’s tongue and the depths of Fay’s mouth. I just try to kiss the way they enjoy.
And then there are their nipples. They’re very sensitive. But they like different things. I remember the first time Annette pulled my hand under her sweater and let me touch her breast while we kissed. She likes to have her whole breast held and her nipples harden against the palm of my hand as I gently rub. I was lucky the first time. I didn’t know what she liked and was so caught up in my own sensations that I didn’t pay much attention to what she wanted. But her breast fits so perfectly in the palm of my hand that it was natural to do what she liked. Fay is different. She likes to have her nipples attacked, sucked on, and even pinched. She had to show me exactly how she liked to play with them or I’d never have guessed. My quiet gentle sister screamed when I bit lightly on her sensitive points.
Annette loves to have me pet and touch every part of her that I can reach. She wants as much skin contact as possible. And anywhere I touch her pleases her, as long as I’m not too rough. She loves it when I kiss all over her back and bottom and legs. Morgan is a little ticklish and doesn’t like light touches. They make her squirm. She likes it if I bite her shoulder blades or her bottom.
She especially likes it when I suck on her clitoris. I commented on it once and she said, “What girl doesn’t like her clit sucked and licked?” I guess that must be true. Annette likes it, too, but she likes it when I lick all the way up her slit from her little butthole to her clit. And she likes it when I have a finger in her while I’m doing it and just scrape along the topside of her vagina a little. If there is something in Fay’s vagina, she wants it to be my cock. She wants to be ‘as full as possible’ when she comes. I like that, too. Fay really gets charged up when we’re making love and she pumps back and forth as hard as I do. She likes me to be on top with a lot of my weight on her. I know I can’t just lie on her because I’m too heavy and she can’t breathe, but she likes feeling me pressing down on her.
Lady likes any position for lovemaking. I’ve noticed she especially likes being on top so she can control how deep I am and how fast we go. She can draw out our copulation until I think my eyes will cross by just slowing down and speeding up while we are joined. She says she wants to feel me in her for as long as possible. I love to look up at her and tease her nipples with my fingers or my tongue. She presses her breast down against my lips to get me to put as much in my mouth as possible. She isn’t huge, but I can’t get her whole breast in my mouth.
I don’t understand why either of them wants me. They make love to each other and I just know they find all the secret spots they love. After all, they’re built the same. They understand how their clits feel and where their tongues should be. They both have breasts and love to rub them together. I look at them while they make love sometimes and think they are the most beautiful creatures in the world. All I want to do is hold them in my arms and create a little bubble around them where they can love each other and hold each other.
And then they open their arms to me and I join them and they kiss me. I feel so much love in those kisses that I feel like I’m joined to them in the same skin. I try harder to please them and do all the things they like when we make love.
I just wish I was a better lover.
“What have we here?” Annette giggled when she came into the room. “Two hot sweaty lovers sleeping in each other’s arms. I wish I was a painter so I could capture that picture.”
I opened one eye and held out an arm to our lover. She was already stripping off her clothes and slipped into bed beside me. Fay didn’t want to wake up and cuddled closer so she could put her arm over me and hug Lady.
“You two stink!” Lady laughed. “We need showers before dinner.”
“I might have used him all up,” Fay sighed. “Can I make it up to you?”
“Mmm. Just cuddle me.” We wiggled around so we could get Annette between us and sandwiched her. “Now I’m going to smell as yummy as you do. What inspired this little afternoon delight while I was slaving away listening to medieval poetry?”
“Pen was feeling alone and stressed about college,” Fay said. I just stayed quiet. Anything I could say I’d put on canvas. “We wanted to be together. I remember last year when I was cut off from home and Pen and had to live on campus. I felt the same way.”
“Do you feel less alone now, my Pendragon?” Annette asked me, lightly brushing her lips across mine. Her tongue slipped out and lightly licked my lips. I nodded. “You taste like my lover,” she whispered. “Kiss me again, Pen.” We kissed. I could feel Fay’s hand between us, fondling Annette’s breast. I cupped My Lady’s butt in my hand and Fay rocked against it. Our kiss was deep and heartfelt, exploring each area of our mouths. Annette moaned softly.
“Dinner is in fifteen minutes,” I heard Mom call from downstairs. It was nice that she always gave us a warning—in case we were involved in something we needed to put away. Or something.
“We really need that shower,” Fay said as she rubbed her mons against the back of my hand again. She rolled away and extricated herself from the covers. Annette kissed me one more time and gave me a light shove. We all headed into the bathroom to shower.
“Well, how was your first week of college?” Dad asked at dinner.
“Pretty cool,” Annette said. “I’ve got this unbelievably tough prof for poetry survey. But the rest of the classes will be okay.” She grinned at Dad. She was the only one who had a class with my father.
“I’m so glad I don’t have any of the intro classes this year,” Fay said. “You guys must be dying in that Liberal Arts seminar. Do you have Henderson? He is soooo boring.”
“That’s a class to see if you can stay awake,” Dad laughed. “I fell asleep when he made a presentation to the faculty.” Annette nodded, but I had a different prof for that requirement. I had his name written down somewhere.
“What about you, Art?” Mom asked. I looked at her and at my lovers.
“Wanna quit.” I couldn’t get anything else out. It was all jammed up in my throat. I didn’t want to go back to school. I wanted to stay in my room and paint. I didn’t know anyone there. I hated it!
“Arthur, what’s the problem,” Mom said gently. I looked at her but I couldn’t say anything. It was ... There were ... so many people! I looked at my sister, pleading for her to talk.
“Arthur is feeling alone and isolated, Mom. He only has one class with Annette. He hasn’t seen anyone else he knows on campus all week. And the number of people is overwhelming. It’s really stressful.”
“Damn it!” Dad said. “We should have seen this coming. I’m sorry, son. It just didn’t occur to me.”
“I should have known,” Mom said. “What can we do?” Annette leaned close and hugged me.
“It will be all right,” she whispered. “Trust me, my beloved. We’ll make it work out.”
I left a perfectly good pork chop on my plate and fled to my studio.
Color. Push color into the black that surrounds. Chase it back! More color!
“I didn’t realize how bad it is, Pen,” Annette said as she held me in front of the canvas. “You’re so comfortable and open and loving with Fay and me, I forget how hard it is when you are in a room full of strangers. We hardly had any classes together our senior year, so I just assumed you didn’t have a problem.”
“Rob,” I said.
“Yeah. And there were others who you at least knew. Remember, you didn’t really know Rob when he walked to class with you that first day. You thought he was going to steal me away from you,” she laughed.
“It was ... In high school, I knew people. I didn’t talk to them, but I recognized them. I knew who to avoid. I don’t know anyone on campus.”
“Maybe that’s where we should start,” Fay suggested from the bed. We were all ready to go to bed, but I’d stopped to look at my angry, frustrated painting. Lady and I joined Fay and the two sandwiched me between them. We had a big bed, but I spent most nights with both of them lying partly on top of me. When I was in this position, I felt secure and happy. Nothing could bother me. I turned my head and kissed Fay lightly.
“Start with recognizing people you see every day,” she said. “Right now, they are just a big blur of unknown faces. Maybe if you cataloged the ones that you see most often, you’d realize they aren’t all strangers.”
“You mean make a list of them? I’d have to talk to them and ask names.”
“No you don’t, sweetheart,” Annette said. “Just spot them and make up a name. ‘Girl with blue hair, ‘ for example. I think this is a case where it would be acceptable for you to carry a sketchbook to classes. Don’t get so involved in doing portraits that you don’t listen to professors, but when you identify someone, say, that always sits two seats away from you, do a quick thumbnail and give him a name. You might even find some models.”
It was an interesting concept. Of course, what I heard was ‘carry a sketchbook’ and the rest of it sort of floated past as a good idea. We had a family meeting and Fay explained the idea to Mom and Dad. They’d been firm about me not sketching during classes, but nodded their agreement as Fay talked.
“It might work,” Mom said. “Arthur, you simply have to stay focused on your class and not on your drawing. Can you do that?” I shrugged and then nodded.
“Well, we can’t afford to hire a companion to go to all your classes with you. Son, we’ve talked about what goes on in your head and it isn’t anything to be ashamed of. People cope differently with different abilities. We’ve always avoided getting a doctor involved and trying to get you okayed for disability assistance. No matter how the laws are stated, that kind of thing follows you around all your life. We’ve wanted you integrated normally as much as possible. But if you are at a stage of not being able to function in class, we’ll do whatever is necessary, son.” I didn’t think most people would even describe my condition as a disability. I was just terminally shy and overwhelmed by people, wasn’t I?
“I’m still concerned that you will become so immersed in drawing that you won’t listen,” Mom said.
“Here’s an idea,” Dad said. As a college professor, himself, his ideas were something we’d listen to. “Why don’t you make it part of your notetaking? Associate things that are being said in the lectures and discussions with a quick sketch of someone you want to remember.”
It all seemed to be a good idea. I’d just have to see if I could pull it off in class.