Chapter 11

About four o’clock Monday afternoon, the doorbell rang. I was working out with Sheila, and Mom was engaged in one of her favorite activities: teasing us. She had finished her workout and showered, and was wearing one of those worn-out rags she insisted on calling a shirt along with a pair of Levi’s cutoffs. She might — or might not — have been wearing a bikini.

Hearing the bell, she went off to answer it. As I was finishing my own routine I heard a female voice say, “Good afternoon. Is your mother at home?”

Sheila and I quickly exchanged looks, jumped off the machines, grabbed short wraparounds and ran to where we could get a better look at what we both expected to be a funny situation.

Standing at the doorway was a lovely woman with brown hair and blue eyes. Even from where we were lurking we could see the sapphire sparks flying from them. Behind her was Kris Mitchell, obviously trying to get the woman’s attention and failing miserably.

Extending her hand, Mom said, “Hi! I’m Kate Callaway. Please excuse my appearance, but I guess I am the mother around here.”

“Honest, Mom, it really is her!” Kris insisted from behind. “I tried to tell you that Mrs. Callaway, Sam and Sheila look like identical triplets except for the color of their hair and Sheila’s eyes.”

Mrs. Mitchell appeared to be in a state of shock as Mom led her into the family room. On the way, she nodded quickly to Sheila and me. We took the not-too-subtle hint and retreated to the kitchen to make tea and tea sandwiches. Actually, we had gotten pretty good at it. We had a platter ready in only about the time it took to prepare the tea.

When we rejoined the others, I passed the sandwiches while Sheila set the tea service on the coffee table in front of Mom. I guess I was sort of happy when Mrs. Mitchell’s eyes widened at the sight of the food. For her part, Mom gave us a quick wink.

Looking at Kris’ gown that was on a hanger, Mom asked Sheila and me to help Kris change. Since the gown seemed to be the subject of the visit, it would only be right to see what it looked like.

Anyway, we left the women talking while we gave Kris the full treatment: a soak in Mom’s baby swimming pool, a massage with musk oil ... Oh! I almost forgot. We also shaved off most of Kris’ pubic hair, leaving the same dense patch right above her slit. Now lest you get the wrong idea, I really did ask Kris if she wanted to be shaved. Of course she was sort of out of it at the time as a result of the marvelous massage Sheila was giving her. But I really did ask. I did learn that she was a real blonde, too, not one from a bottle. Her pubic hair was substantially darker at the time, verging on brown, and surprisingly for a blonde, it was really spread out on her groin.

When she finally rejoined the ranks of sentient humans, her first move was to feel her groin. I almost laughed when her eyes widened as she realized what had happened. Fortunately, she didn’t freak out. Instead she just asked, “How does it look?”

Instead of answering, I just opened my robe and replied, “Pretty much like this. What do you think?” Since she was the only member of the court who wasn’t a cheerleader, she had never seen me bare before. At the same time, Sheila opened her wraparound and stood beside me.

Seeing that we were both tanned all over, her eyes widened and she asked, “What do the guys think when you...”

“We don’t,” I interrupted. And it really wasn’t a lie, either. I don’t think that being regularly fucked by my brother and occasionally by my dad was what she had in mind.

At that she just shook her head.

Then we proceeded to dress Kris. In addition to the gown, there was a bag hanging from it that contained all the rest of the outfit, starting with a lovely lace bikini. I eased it up her legs and slipped it in position around her hips. Finally, I fluffed a bit of her pubic hair over the top of it.

Kristin had been watching the whole thing. When I fluffed her pubic hair, her eyes widened and she exclaimed, “Of course! Sam, you’re the cheerleader who always wears the blue bikini, aren’t you?”

She paused for a moment and then added, “And the bit with your pubic hair showing at the top is no accident, is it? You do to yourself exactly what you just did to me, don’t you?”

All I did was grin and shrug.

When I went to slip the gown over her head, all she was wearing was the bikini. Before I could do anything, she looked down and said, “Where’s the bra? How will it stay up?”

At that comment, Sheila and I began to howl with laughter. But I moved close, took her in my arms and melted her with a kiss. As I did, though, I began to move my nipples against her luscious tits. I knew exactly what the problem was and so did Sheila. Kris was a 17-year-old junior, and also quite tall. I guess she was a fraction of an inch less than five feet nine. For some reason, it’s quite common for tall girls to be a little late in developing on top. Both Sheila and I were; in fact it had only been in the prior few months that I realized I actually had a nice pair of tits. Clearly, this realization hadn’t come to Kris yet. Like the two of us, she would have worn about a B cup covering perfectly formed breasts.

“Sweetie,” I finally replied, “what do you think your tits are for? They’re there to hold your dress up. What else would you ever use them for?”

At that crack Kris broke up and we finished dressing her. The final touch was the slightest bit of lip gloss and a sapphire choker and bracelet whose stones exactly matched the blue of her eyes.

Stepping back, Sheila and I just shook our heads. Kris was a knockout. I said before she was drop-dead gorgeous and she was. And still is, for that matter. Our closets had sliding glass doors that were mirrored, so all we did was to turn her around so she could see herself full length.

“My God!” she gasped. “Who is that?”

“That’s you, Kristin Mitchell. Who the hell do you think it is? And you are outrageously beautiful!”

With that we escorted her back to the family room where things had calmed down substantially from when we had left.

Getting her first glimpse of Kris, Mom said, “Kris, show your mother. See what she thinks.”

The way the room set up, Mom was looking in our direction when we entered, but Mrs. Mitchell’s back was to us. She turned in her chair at Mom’s words, saw Kris and just gasped. Then she started to cry. “Kristin Mitchell,” she sobbed, “I thought you were utterly gorgeous the first moment I saw you, but I never dreamed you would be as beautiful as you are today. Young lady, you are utterly exquisite!”