Chapter 9: Lunch with Mrs. D

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OUR DESTINATION THE FIRST DAY was the Tuolumne Meadows campground in Yosemite, with a slight detour to have lunch at the farm with Mrs. D at her invitation. Persephone said it was an invitation but I heard "command." We left the city early enough so we wouldn't have to rush, Hebe at the wheel, Oscar the Mountain riding shotgun, and Persephone between Rick and me behind them...

The low conversation between Oscar and Hebe in the front seats lulled me into a doze even before we got off the bridge, while Persephone tapped away at her phone and Rick stared out the window. I slept almost all the way to the farm. I was sweating a little when I woke up. The Jeep's air-conditioning wasn't up to the challenge of Valley heat.

As we got close to the farm entrance I caught sight of Harry standing a little ways back from the road in the orchard, close to his property line. He gave us a cheery wave as we went by. Hebe ignored him, and I didn't feel cheered by his greeting. My unease was compounded when Mr. Z's Tesla passed us going the other way right before we turned off the highway into the farm. He gave us a big wave just like Harry. His driver and security guys ignored us.

Mrs. D was waiting in front of the main house when we pulled up. She enveloped Persephone in a hug and held her tight. She released her only when Persephone gave a little wriggle. She hugged the rest of us, one by one, although she couldn't get her arms very far around Oscar. After she hugged me she put her mouth to my ear.

"Sam, I want to talk to you later."

I looked a question at her, but she shook her head.

"Later, Sam."

"Sure, Mrs. D."

With that, she invited us in for lemonade. Mrs. D noticed when Rick paused and looked at the swimming pool, blue and shimmering in the bright sun. She laughed.

"Before lunch, Rick?"

He almost jumped with joy.

"Sure, Mrs. D!"

She surveyed the rest of us, hot and a little flushed after the trip with the Jeep's air-conditioning straining to keep things livable, and figured out immediately we all needed the pool.

"I'll join you," she said, and she drew her knit shirt over her head, no bra, her pert breasts inviting our inspection. With that invitation it was no trick for the rest of us to join her.

I began to wonder if we'd ever make it to Yosemite by nightfall. The water was just the right temperature, the sun hot, the women attractive. I glanced at Oscar. His smile might have meant anything, but if I was any judge he had his eye on Mrs. D. She'd sampled the Oscar chorizo more than once, Persephone told me.

Neither of the girls was in the mood for anything more than a quick dip and cool-down. Not so Oscar and Mrs. D. We were treated to the sight of Mrs. D between Oscar's beefy thighs as he sat on the deck at the side of the pool and spread his legs and Mrs. D did her best to get as much of his impressive cock as she could into her mouth. We all clapped when he spasmed and she swallowed and swallowed. Persephone added, "Yay, Mom!" Oscar raised his arms in triumph, and Mrs. D turned to us and gave us a broad smile, some Oscar drips at the side of her mouth.