Chapter 17: Monday, Changing the Harem

Morning Mouth

I woke to the slow, deliberate slide of a warm mouth around my cock. Amy’s tongue pressed flat against the underside, her lips sealed tight as she took me in inch by inch. Her ponytail brushed my thigh with every bob of her head. She kept the rhythm gentle, almost reverent, like she wanted to savor every pulse and twitch.

When my hips flexed and a low groan slipped out, she knew I was awake. Her eyes flicked up, bright with mischief. She pulled off just long enough to grin, spit already glistening on her chin, then drove back down. This time she didn’t hold back. She forced herself deeper, gagging wetly around the thick head until her nose mashed against my stomach. Thick strings of drool spilled from the corners of her mouth, coating my balls and soaking the sheet beneath us.

The obscene sounds filled the room—wet gulps, choked gasps, the slap of her lips meeting skin. Denise stirred first, rolling onto her side. Claire’s eyes opened a moment later. Both women lay still, watching. Denise’s hand drifted between Claire’s legs; Claire’s fingers found Denise’s nipple. They kissed slowly at first, tongues sliding, then deeper, hungrier.

Amy kept working me, throat convulsing, saliva pouring down my shaft in heavy rivulets. Every time she pulled up for air, another rope of spit connected her lower lip to my cock. She plunged back down, eyes watering, throat squeezing tight.

Denise broke the kiss and climbed over Claire, straddling her face. She lowered her dripping pussy onto Claire’s waiting mouth, then leaned forward to bury her own tongue between Claire’s spread thighs. The two women rocked together in a slow, wet sixty-nine, soft moans vibrating against each other’s cunts.

My balls tightened. Amy felt it. She pulled off, lips swollen, and wrapped her fist around the base of my cock. She stroked hard and fast, aiming at her open mouth. Thick ropes of cum erupted across her tongue, her cheeks, her chin. She swallowed what she could, then turned, grabbed a fistful of Denise’s red hair, and yanked her upright.

Denise’s mouth left Claire’s pussy with a wet sound. Amy crushed their lips together, pushing my load into Denise’s mouth. They kissed messily, tongues swirling, cum spilling down their chins and dripping onto Claire’s stomach. When Amy finally pulled back, both women were panting, faces shiny with spit and seed.

Amy settled back against the pillows. For once, she wasn’t joking.

“I really want to thank you two,” she said.

Denise’s expression softened. “For what?”

“For everything.”

Amy looked from Denise to me. “These last few days have changed my life. I came here because Lauren asked me to take care of Mike. I thought I was doing something for her. But you both ended up taking care of me.”

Denise reached over and squeezed her hand. “That’s what friends are for.”

I nodded. “She’s right.”

Amy swallowed and smiled. “I mean it. If either of you ever needs a favor, you call me. Doesn’t matter what it is.”

“We’ll remember that,” Denise said.

Amy climbed out of bed. “I think I’m going home today.”

I looked at her. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “I’ve got a house of my own, remember?”

There was something almost normal about hearing her say it, and I realized that normal was probably exactly what she needed.

At the bedroom door, Amy paused. “Thank you,” she said again.

“You don’t have to keep thanking us.”

“Yes, I do.”

She opened the door, stepped into the hallway, and then turned around with the same mischievous expression she’d worn when she’d first woken me. “Oh, and if Juanita comes by...”

Denise raised an eyebrow.

“Tell her I still have my sorority paddle at my house.”

She said it as casually as if she were reminding us about a forgotten umbrella.

Then she laughed, waved, and disappeared down the hall, leaving the three of us tangled in the ruined sheets.

Lunchtime

I pulled into Betty’s driveway just after noon, the summer sun already baking the pavement. Denise waited on the porch in a thin sundress, the fabric clinging to her tall, slender frame. Her long red ponytail swung as she hurried down the steps to meet me. Behind her, Betty appeared in the doorway, curves filling out a simple blouse and skirt.

Denise reached me first. Her mouth found mine, hungry and open. Her tongue slid against mine while her hands tugged my shirt free of my waistband. Betty joined us on the lawn, pressing close, her heavy breasts flattening against my side. She kissed my neck, teeth grazing skin, while Denise worked my belt open.

We moved inside, a tangle of mouths and hands. Denise peeled her mother’s blouse off, exposing the lacy bra that barely contained Betty’s large tits. Betty unbuttoned my shirt, palms sliding over my chest. I reached behind Denise, unzipping her dress; it dropped to the floor, revealing her bubble butt and the trimmed red curls between her thighs.

Clothes littered the hallway. Betty’s skirt and panties joined Denise’s dress. My pants and boxers hit the carpet outside Denise’s old bedroom door. By the time we reached the bed, all three of us were naked.

Denise gave me a playful shove. I landed on my back on the familiar quilt. Betty climbed over me immediately, her soft belly and heavy breasts settling against my torso. She kissed me deep, her tongue exploring while her hips rocked instinctively. Behind her, Denise knelt, spreading her mother’s ass cheeks. She leaned in and dragged her tongue along Betty’s slit from behind, tasting the older woman’s growing wetness.

Denise reached between Betty’s legs and wrapped her fingers around my cock. She gave two firm strokes, checking my hardness, then angled the head upward. Betty lifted her hips, positioned herself, and slowly sank down. Her pussy stretched around me, hot and slick, taking every inch until her ass rested on my thighs.

Denise stood, swung a leg over my head, and lowered her pussy onto my mouth. I licked upward, parting her folds, tasting her arousal. Above me, Denise reached around her mother and pinched both nipples hard. Betty cried out, a sharp yelp of pain.

“Why did you do that?” Betty gasped, still impaled on my cock.

Denise kept her fingers clamped on the stiff peaks. “I know it hurt. But did it feel good too?”

Betty went still. Her inner walls fluttered around my shaft while she considered the question. After several long seconds she answered quietly, “Yes ... it felt good.”

She began to ride harder, lifting and dropping with increasing force. Denise released one nipple and started slapping the heavy breast, open-handed smacks that made the flesh jiggle. She tugged and twisted the other nipple, alternating pain and pressure. Betty’s moans grew louder, her hips slamming down faster.

Denise leaned forward and kissed her mother, tongues meeting above me. Then she resumed slapping, harder now, while pulling and stretching Betty’s nipples. Betty’s breathing turned ragged. Her pussy clenched rhythmically around my cock as the orgasm hit. She screamed, body shaking, juices flooding over my balls.

The tight spasms pushed me over the edge. I groaned into Denise’s pussy and pumped thick ropes of cum deep inside Betty. Denise rocked on my face, grinding her clit against my tongue until she came too, her thighs trembling, her juices coating my chin and lips.

Denise slid off my face. Betty collapsed forward onto my chest, kissing me sloppily, her breath hot. Behind us, Denise circled around, knelt between my spread legs, and began licking. Her tongue dragged over my balls, up along the base of my cock still buried in her mother, then lapped at the cum leaking from Betty’s stretched pussy. She cleaned every drop she could reach, swallowing audibly while Betty and I continued kissing above her.

Thinking about the Future

The afternoon at work passed without producing much of anything.

I sat at my desk with reports open in front of me, answered a few emails, attended a meeting in which I contributed almost nothing, and spent far too much time staring at the same paragraph without absorbing a word of it. My mind kept circling back to the strange life I had somehow fallen into.

Seven women.

Even thinking the number made the whole situation sound absurd.

There had been a time, not so long ago, when the idea of having seven women in my life would have sounded like something out of a fantasy. Now it was simply the reality waiting for me when I went home. Yet even that description wasn’t quite right anymore. They weren’t a single, obedient group gathered around me. Four of them, especially, seemed increasingly determined to find their own paths within whatever this arrangement had become. Lauren had set the first pieces in motion, but whatever existed now was becoming something none of us could have predicted.

And I couldn’t decide whether that frightened me or comforted me.

I thought about Claire most of all for a while. There was something about her that continued to pull at me. She was like a wounded bird that had somehow wandered into my life and decided, however tentatively, that I was safe. I wanted to protect her without making her dependent on me. I wanted to help her find the confidence she had never seemed to possess, while knowing that too much pressure from me could just as easily hurt her. I cared about her. That much was undeniable.

Then there was Betty.

I still wasn’t entirely sure what to do with my feelings toward her. She was Lauren’s mother, which made everything complicated before we even considered anything else. She had been so generous with me, so willing to take care of me when I was barely capable of taking care of myself. I cared about her deeply, and the last thing I wanted was to become another source of pain in a life that had already given her more than enough of it.

But every thought eventually came back to Denise.

How much I loved her.

That realization had become impossible to avoid.

I tried, for perhaps the hundredth time, to find some neat boundary that would make loving Denise acceptable. She was Lauren’s sister. Lauren was dead. I was her widower. Those facts seemed to demand that there be some line I shouldn’t cross.

But what exactly was that line?

Was loving Denise a betrayal of Lauren?

I didn’t think so. At least, I hoped it wasn’t.

Lauren had known Denise better than almost anyone. If anyone understood the kind of person Denise was, it had been her. And Lauren had been the one who had started all of this in the first place, deliberately surrounding me with women who would keep me from collapsing after her death. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Somehow, the woman who had planned so carefully for my life after she was gone had left me in a position where I had fallen in love with her sister.