If you're not of legal age, stop reading this. I would appreciate it if you would grow up and get to be 18 already. I'm getting tired of sending you away.
Shoo! Scram! Beat it! Uh, maybe that was a poor choice of words.
June and I had been married for five years when we took our driving vacation. Usually we climbed on an airplane and went to some city or another, but this year we had decided to take the car and just drive. We didn't even have a plan, we'd just make it up as we went along.
It was a fabulous vacation. We started in Niagara Falls, went to a little artist community called Niagara on the Lake, through the Adirondack Mountains, through Montreal, up to Quebec, and back to the states. Each day we would drive 3 or 4 hours, until we got tired, and then decide where to stay. The only thing I didn't want to do was drive 7 hours out of our way to let my wife visit her old college roommate Maria in upstate Maine.
In some old pictures I saw Maria was about 40 pounds overweight, had bad hair, and didn't shave her underarms. June even told me Maria had a real shithead boyfriend. Great. Still, my wife had roomed with her for two years at Penn State, and they got along super. So, fine, I would waste hours driving there and back, and a day while they told stupid college stories. Fine.
We pulled up to the farmhouse where Maria lived. It was already late in the day when we first saw the tiny house. It couldn't have had 6 rooms altogether, and was in a general state of disrepair. Maria came running out at the sound of our car. The farm was so deserted, our car was probably the only thing making noise for miles.
She screamed at the sight of June, and as I got out of the car, came around and gave me a hug, saying she had heard so much about me. During that quick hug I realized Maria had lost weight. A lot. She now had a slim profile, with small breasts and small butt. Her hair looked nice as well. Her complexion wasn't exactly cover girl smooth, but was just fine. Obviously the last ten years had been good to her.
We went into the house. Maria was so proud of it, because she "owned" it. Well actually the bank owned it, but she had a mortgage, and therefore it was "hers." I had been right, the house was tiny, with a living room that barely fit a couch, chair, and TV, a kitchen where two people couldn't work at the same time, and a dining room with 4 chairs and little more than a card table for eating.
We went into the living room. June and Maria talked. And talked. And talked. It was all stuff that was great memories to them, and completely meaningless to me. But they were having a good time, so I just sat and listened. After an hour or two Maria began to prepare dinner. June went into the kitchen, I stayed in the living room and flipped on the TV. June brought me a beer.
The girls talked all through dinner, and then we went out on the front porch. Like most farmhouses, it had a porch that wrapped around nearly the entire front of the house, and a porch swing suspended from the rafters above. It was the only place to sit, and the three of us squeezed into it. I was on the left end, then June, and Maria was at the other end. After another 30 minutes of conversation, Maria got up and went in to reload our beers.
When she returned, she stood in front of us for a while, then said to June "I feel bad. Here we are reminiscing and telling sorority stories and Mike is totally bored. Let's try to include him, OK?"
Now June really didn't care, because there were plenty of times when my buddies would come over to the house for cards or to watch a game on our big-screen TV and she wasn't included. But she said "OK," just to be polite.
Maria motioned for me to slide down, and she sat next to me. I now had a woman on both sides. Surprisingly enough, we immediately hit it off -- the three of us, I mean -- and talked about everything from politics to religion to movies to my own college days. Now I saw why June liked Maria so much. She was so easy to talk to, and there was just a soothing vibe about her.
As we talked it got later and later, until it was past midnight. As we sat there I occasionally put my arms along the back of the bench. I could feel Maria's hair brush against my forearm from time to time, and I would give June a hug every now and then. I finally nudged June and told her we had to go and get a motel room somewhere.
Maria said "Don't be ridiculous. You'll stay here. It's late, you're out in the middle of Maine, which is to say nowhere, and if you're lucky enough to find a place you'll have to spend money to do it. You'll stay in the bedroom, and I'll sleep downstairs on the couch." She didn't have to say that it was the only bedroom. Her logic was impeccable, though, and June and I agreed, although we felt guilty about kicking her out of her bedroom for the night.
I went to the car and dragged our suitcase up to the second floor. The house's only bathroom was up there, as was the small bedroom and an uninsulated attic. Maria had converted an even smaller second bedroom to her clothes and junk closet. The bedroom had a really big mattress, but because the room was so small, it took up nearly all the space. There was just about a two foot aisle down one side, with another two foot aisle at the foot of the bed. A dresser filled the remaining space at that end of the room.
I went back downstairs and took my position between the two women on the swing. Maybe because of the number of beers we had all had, or maybe because it was so calm and peaceful, we all just sat quietly. Before I knew it, both June and Maria had drifted off, their heads resting against my shoulders while they dozed. I felt totally at peace, myself.
But as I felt myself drifting off, I gently shook them. I didn't know how cold it got at night in Maine, even in summer, and I didn't want the three of us sleeping there all night. We went in to the house to prepare for bed.
As we walked inside, Maria said "Now I see why June is so in love with you. You're so mellow. You're so, well, comfortable."
"Thanks," I said. "I could say the same about you. She's talked about you ever since we've been married. I've wanted to meet you all this time." It was a lie, and now I felt guilty about it.
We went upstairs, Maria came with us and grabbed a nightgown to take back down with her. June and I somehow managed to undress in the cramped space, and then climbed under the single sheet that covered the bed. Maria had folded a blanket on the floor in case we got cold. June wore a T-shirt and some pajama panties, I usually slept in the buff, but because we were in someone's house, I left on my boxer shorts.
There was a knock on the door. "Come in," June said.
Maria's face peeked around the corner. She asked "You guys need anything? You OK?"
"We're fine," I answered. "But I do have a question. Why do you have such a huge mattress in such a small room? And just for yourself. I don't get it."
She walked into the doorway. She was dressed in a thick cotton nightgown that hung to her ankles, covering every square inch below her neck. Except that you could see where her tits pushed it out, it was totally unsexy. Well, maybe a little. Her tits bounced as she moved. "Oh that's left over from Jeff," she answered. "Jeff lived with me until about three months ago. We split up. He already had the mattress, and brought it with him when he moved in. When he moved out he just took his clothes and stuff and left it. It really does take over the room, doesn't it?"
"So that explains it," June said. "We thought maybe you held parties up here. Or rented it out as a trampoline to gymnastic groups, or something." We all laughed.
I patted the corner of the bed. "Sit down," I said. She did.
We started talking, and by god another 40 minutes shot by. We were just, as the Gumpster would say, like peas and carrots, we got along so well. Finally Maria said "I really have to sleep, now. I'm going down."
It was June who surprised me. She said, "I really feel bad about kicking you out of your own bed. And by the way, how long have you had that couch? It's as lumpy as hell. Why don't you stay up here with us. It's a huge mattress, after all."
"Oh no, I couldn't," she said. "The couch will be fine. It's only for one night."
"No really," I interjected. "You can stay here, there's really plenty of room. Come on."
"Well..." she said. "Well..."
"Aw come on," June said. "We always used to talk about how we slept with the same guys. We just never did it at the same time." They both cracked up. "Anyway, this time we'll actually be sleeping! You know, instead of, ah, sleeping." They laughed again.
Maria gave in. June and I moved over to the side, and Maria lifted one side of the sheet. Again I had a woman on each side of me. It was delicious, but I hardly expected anything sexual to happen. It just didn't feel that way.
Both women cuddled to me as we lay there. June intertwined her arm with mine. Across the mattress Maria turned on her side to face both June and me. We talked some more. At one point June said, "So here we are Maria. A threesome, in bed with my husband."
Maria replied, "I know. This is one variation I don't think we ever talked about, you know?"
"Yeah, my husband sleeping with another woman. And I'm in the room too!" she responded. The talk began to take a sexual edge to it, and June asked Maria "Have you ever, you know, actually been in a three way?"
.... There is more of this story ...