Chapter 193

“Between death and taxes, choose death.”
—Aaron Rubin, Financial Adulting

9 APRIL 2022

It’s almost nine and I just got out of bed. The second time. The first time I woke up, my cock was sandwiched between Donna’s ass cheeks, hard and ready. I nudged at her a little just because it felt so damned good and found she was ready as well. She opened her legs and I slid into her from behind. We don’t often make love in that position and the change was exciting. So was having Beca licking up my balls and shaft to tickle Donna’s clit. Just wow!

Once I finally got out of bed with my two lovers, I thought I’d get dressed and go for a run but Nanette caught me. She dragged me to bed with her, Brittany, and Sophie. Not like she had to try all that hard to get me to make love to my three wonderful wives.

It’s strange. They’re my wives now—or as close as current laws allow them to be. I have eleven wives—officially—but last night, Remas and Cindy were absolutely all over me. And each other. That was after I spent the day licking and fucking with Desi, Em, Rachel, and Livy. After all, we’re on our honeymoon.

And part of that was looking for a place to live. We actually found a couple of potential places. The big decision looks like it will come down to ‘rent or buy?’ We need to spend some time on our finances and figure out how actually being a plural domestic partnership works as opposed to owning a limited liability company where our patronage money and contract money is paid. I think Sophie is spending more time working with an accountant than she is dancing these days.

So, there wasn’t a huge amount of reaction to our concert for the president Wednesday night. Most of the comments on our feed were positive. The lamb entrée served after our performance was tasty and I didn’t feel like we’d been sacrificed to provide it. The recorded version, complete with the president’s introduction, went out Thursday morning.

Now we need to head back to Indiana this afternoon. The honeymoon’s over, as they say. The difference is that all those of us who aren’t yet in service will be living together now. Neither Brittany nor Cindy has to return home. I’m sure they will, just to keep relationships positive. But we live together now. I’m still trying to get my head around the idea that the eight of us living at Donna’s are married to each other. I still hear a whisper of the Old Man in the back of my head that wonders how I managed this without being thrown in prison. And then I slide into Cindy’s tight little pussy and he just fades away in the midst of cardiac arrest.

Well, I guess we need to pack things up and go home. What a concept!

I still wondered at the lack of response amongst our peers when we returned to school on Monday. It was like no one either knew or cared that we’d just done a concert at the White House. On the other hand, there were a few people who planted themselves at our table at lunch to talk about our wedding. Cellphones were out with pictures being shown of the ceremony, our apartment in DC, house hunting, and a few in the White House.

“I still can’t believe you did it!” Carol, our Vivaldi soloist, exclaimed. “All I have to do is look at the four of you together and my panties get all sticky. And then I think, this is only a third of you. Was that really a picture of Ms. Levy at your wedding? The teacher who fueled the fantasies of every boy who ever took her class—and most of the girls? And she’s your wife? Oh, God! What I wouldn’t do to put my face between those breasts!”

“We’ll have you over to dinner one night,” Cindy said.

“Yeah. You look really tasty,” Beca added. Carol just squeaked.

Of course, I didn’t think we’d really do anything with Carol, though I had to agree with Beca’s assessment. I could well imagine eating... Geez! I must be getting as bad as the girls!

There wasn’t time to dwell on either fame or sex. The spring concert was coming up on Thursday and even though neither Cindy nor I had solos, we still needed to rehearse with the orchestra. And even though Carol had the lead through the entire Vivaldi piece and David played with her through the third movement, I played the mandolin with her in the second movement. I wasn’t playing guitar at all in this concert, but rather mandolin and viola da gamba. That kind of pissed me off since I still considered myself a guitarist more than anything.

But I didn’t have time to get complacent. The week after the orchestra concert, Cindy and I would have our first official deputation assignment. We’d be playing a forty-five-minute senior assembly at Bishop Dwenger High School. I mostly knew them as competitors in cross country. We’d be playing at ten-thirty Friday morning the twenty-second and answering questions about the National Service reform. The following day, we were scheduled for a concert in Marion that would be a full two hours including intermission. This was a lot different than playing a live stream for subscribers who expected us to perform something new every time. We had a core of pieces we set and a group of pieces we played to expand on the core for different concert lengths. We were still experimenting a bit, but tended toward the livelier pieces, like our tangoes. Of course, we’d end each performance with our rendition of Mozart on Fire.

We were in high school and had homework. We had rehearsals. We had performances. And Nanette, Sophie, Donna, and Emily made it clear that what we didn’t have was a mother. We all had to pitch in and do the housework, cooking, cleanup, and maintenance. Maybe you think girls are naturally neater and cleaner than guys. If that is your opinion, you obviously haven’t lived with seven of them. It seemed we all had our own little obsessions. Even me. I hated it when the bathroom sink was left a mess. It seemed like I was constantly organizing bottles of lotion and makeup, wiping hair out of the sink, and cleaning hairbrushes. Emily shared some of my obsession, I suppose having developed it with me while sharing a bath while growing up.

Beca developed an obsession with having clear and clean kitchen counters. Even the toaster—which I would have just left plugged in on the counter—had a little garage she parked it in when not in use. Donna wanted clean sheets and towels more than once a week. Cindy hated dust as it made her sneeze when she was playing the flute. There was always a fifteen-minute period in the evening that the vacuum was running.

I was surprised that Brittany shared some of Beca’s kitchen passion. She loved to cook but never left a dish unwashed in the process. If she used a bowl to beat eggs for an omelet, then she washed the bowl while the omelet was cooking. It drove her crazy to find dirty dishes in the sink.

Those first two weeks of actually living together full time were filled with learning each other’s quirks and passions. I’m afraid as hard as we were working, our loving was mostly limited to cuddles and sleeping on each other’s shoulders.

“Jacob, have you reviewed and signed your taxes?” Sophie asked as we were preparing to leave Friday morning.

“Oh, yeah. I suppose I should do that. When are they due?”

“Today.”

“Oh, shit.”

“I’m not your accountant. I took care of the business taxes and coordinated with the tax man, but you have to file your own income tax.”

“Isn’t there some kind of family filing we have to do?” I asked. Shit! How were taxes for a plural domestic partnership figured?

“Not this year. We weren’t registered for 2021. That’s just something else we have to deal with now that we’re...” Sophie’s voice faded off and she looked far away. I wrapped her in my arms.

“Now that we’re a family,” I whispered in her ear.

“I never let marriage figure into my plans,” she whispered as I nuzzled against her neck. “I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to adjust. I do love you. All of you.”

“Of course you do,” I said. “We just have to deal with the messy parts as well as the fun parts.”

“Some of the fun parts are pretty messy, too,” she giggled, reaching back to stroke my cock. I pressed it against her as I hardened. “Do we have time?” she whispered. “Time to get a little messy?”

“Sophie, I always have time for you. I want you. I want your lips and your tongue. I want to caress your breasts. I want to part your legs and play between them. I want to hear you gasp your orgasm and call my name.”

“Here. Now,” she said as she worked at my belt. She fell back on the sofa and pulled her skirt up and her panties down. “Don’t wait. We haven’t much time. I haven’t felt you in me since the last day in DC. Part my legs and play in my garden. I want you now, Jacob.” By the time she’d finished her little spiel and parted her inner lips with her fingers, I had my pants around my ankles and was leaning forward to touch the tip of my cock against her wet entrance. “Push! In me, now!” I gladly obeyed and for five minutes we were a frantic mass of pounding wet noise. Her smooth pudenda sucked at my cock and I delivered a load I didn’t realize I’d been carrying. She screeched and I caught a glimpse of Cindy, Beca, and Britt standing in the doorway watching.

I fell forward on Sophie and we tried to suck whatever moisture was left in our bodies out through our tongues. Beca cleared her throat.

“Go! You have to get to school,” Sophie said. She pushed me up and I tucked my sloppy cock directly into my trousers.

“This isn’t over,” I hissed. “Not by a long way.”