Family (Re)Unions

by ShaneLucas

Copyright© 2017 by ShaneLucas

Romantic Sex Story: A loving couple, Rick and Aoife, set up a reunion of their families down in Florida for a beachside holiday. Rick is hoping to use this chance to reconnect after a long absence with his father, and help him through his own marriage difficulties. Aoife, however, finds herself drawn to her father-in-law. After a drunken mistake is caught by Rick, he decides to let his wife help his father in her own way.

Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Slut Wife   Wife Watching   InLaws   Polygamy/Polyamory   Swinging   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Safe Sex   Tit-Fucking   Voyeurism   Big Breasts   Public Sex   Small Breasts   .

“So how does this look?” Aoife turned toward her husband, one fist on her hip, posing like some clothing model for a cheap mall store. The lacy white tank top and skin-tight white shorts showed off her petite figure. Rick’s eyes lingered as they studied her, then he smirked.

“Like you’re planning to blind everyone on the beach.”

“Hey! I actually have a tan, thank you very much.” She pulled down on her shorts just enough to expose a very faint line between creamy pale skin and slightly darker pale skin.

“You’re Irish. You people don’t tan. You just get more freckles before you burst into flames.”

“Watch it, buster! My people are gonna be there, and they don’t take kindly to you haughty Americans.”

“If they start anything, I’m hiding the whiskey until they behave.”

“That’s fucking evil!”

He gave her a wink as he continued packing. Fuming at his threat – even joking about keeping whiskey from an Irishman deserved a good punch to the face – she stripped off the shirt and tried on the white bikini top. It was fairly wide, but tight, smashing her already-small breasts until they were practically nonexistent. It was cute, with yellow flowers dotting it, practical. Perfect for prancing around relatives in. She took it off and tried on option two – a barely-there, lacy black thing that was simply two strings connecting a pair of eye patches. It left nothing to the imagination, and complimented her just right. Checking it out in the mirror, she caught Rick staring. His mouth was slightly open as his eyes glided over her slowly. She decided to reserve this one for tanning and any private interlude with him. Or when she and the girls went off to tease any poor single boys.

After dressing properly again and packing her stuff, she followed Rick out to the car, watching for the telltale signs of nerves. He was hiding it well, but she knew what he was feeling. It had been over a year since he’d seen his father, even longer for her. And she couldn’t even recall what the man’s wife looked like. It was the stepmother that probably made Rick so anxious, given what they’ve heard from his uncle.

No, she reminded herself, they were coming together, so that was a good sign. All Aoife needed to do was make sure Rick and Gerald had some time alone to catch up on much needed bonding. Even if she was living across an ocean, she was still so close with her parents, and wanted the same for her husband.

Once the car was loaded, she glanced around the empty street, barely able to see even with sunglasses. The heat wave forced all the kids indoors, while the adults that weren’t on vacation were trapped at work. She listened to the local birds for a few moments, imagining the sea gulls they’d be hearing for the next week.

Rick hesitated on getting in. His look was distant, never a good sign. She risked asking, “He’s still coming, right?”

“He promised. He’s supposedly making more of an effort these days.”

“So Becky is finally whipping him into shape. Good.” She folded her arms atop the car, ignoring her burning skin. It was only eight in the morning, and already the sun had heated the vehicle as hot as an iron. But she wanted to look cute, even if it hurt like hell. “This is gonna be good for all of us. So relax and don’t expect the worst.”

It was too obvious what he was thinking. If the rumors were true, then Gerald had been cheated on by both wives. However, this one, unlike Rick’s birth mother, was sticking around. Rick had always been adamant that Gerald was a good man and father, and faithful, even if he struggled being a husband that was present. Because of this, Rick constantly worried that he was gone at work too much, as well. His schedule certainly was hectic, given that he was trying to reach a lead position in the game development company he’d fought hard to get employed with. She understood, and besides, her schedule was no better. She traveled quite often on assignments, too. She may only be an internet journalist for an entertainment website, but it was just as stressful and time consuming as the big leagues. So whenever she got the chance, she reminded him how their time apart only made their time together all the more exciting and passionate. That, and the videos she’d make of the two of them together. She still remembered the confusion he’d shown when she brought home so many nanny-cams upon moving in together.

Relaxing as he watched her be adorable, he asked, “Ready?”

“Let’s get this party started!”

Rick drove down the interstate, unable to stop stealing glances at his wife’s legs. Long, pale, propped up on the window edge with the shorts riding up her hips. Glorious. And dangerous, considering he was driving eighty miles an hour. She glanced over, red lipstick contrasting greatly with her fair skin. Those lips spread in a wide smile.

“Eyes on the road, boy.” Then she tipped down the glasses and asked, “Or are you hoping to have a little fun with me?”

“We almost wrecked the car last time.”

“No, you almost wrecked the car. I was busy trying to contain your mess inside my mouth.”

“I’ll have you know I had a stellar driving record until I met you.”

“Bully for you. None of my other boyfriends ever crashed because of me.”

Now it was on. “That’s because your boyfriends either stuck to rural country roads with the only other traffic being tractors and sheep, or exclusively rode in taxis. Wait, you said one of your girlfriends drove off a freakin’ mountain.”

“Almost went off. She stopped in time.”

Now that he had that image to sustain him, he was able to pry his gaze off her and focus on getting to New Smyrna safely.

Since they’d had to foresight to plan the reunion between holidays, and chose to start on a Monday, the city wasn’t too busy. He took a detour to drive past all of the beach access points and hotels. A week before the big get-together, he’d visited the town again to choose the best directions for everyone to follow. The house was just over a mile away, though his boss had promised the ocean was easily visible from the second floor. After taking in the sights - and stopping for a small pizza at a small place no bigger than a food truck – he followed the GPS to the house. When he’d come by the first time, the place’s front hedges were untrimmed and overgrown. He merely glimpsed it down the driveway, checked the mailbox to be sure it was the right place, and hurried back home. Since then, a landscaper had stopped by, giving the entrance a more sophisticated style. And damn was the place bigger than expected.

“I’m gonna kiss your boss for this,” said Aoife.

Staring up at the small, Mediterranean-style mansion as he pulled into the drive, he said, “So am I.”

There were two cars already parked a grey minivan and a Ford Sonota. His father liked to splurge on rentals, usually a hotrod or class BMW, so neither could be his. And considering how bad his uncle was with directions, most or Rick’s family was likely to be behind schedule. They got out of the car, grabbed a suitcase each, and headed to the door. Neither had reached it before a very large redheaded man flew out in a wave of obscenities. The man’s accent was so thick that Rick wasn’t certain he was even speaking English, only that he was quite pissed at his daughter. The man’s face was as red as his beard.

Then he spotted the newcomers, and his anger evaporated. “Lassie! And I see you dragged your boyfriend along!”

The man lumbered over and wrapped two very thick, hairy arms around Aoife, lifting her off the ground. When she was set back down and caught her breath, she said, “Seamus, this is my husband. We’ve been married for five years.”

“Aye, what’s it matter. If he’s the only man sharing yer bed, it’s all the same. Come ‘ere, boyo!” Rick got the same crushing treatment as his wife.

With his ribs suitably bruised, Rick stepped around Aoife’s uncle and headed inside to face whoever had arrived. A couple of teenaged girls greeted him in the kitchen, already having lost interest in the house and returning to their phones. He found Seamus’ wife, Lily, talking with another couple he didn’t recognize. Since Aoife had roughly a hundred aunts, uncles and cousins, he just assumed they were part of the latter group. He greeted them, accepting Lily’s much gentler hug than her husband’s had been. She wasn’t a tall woman, a bit stout yet shapely, and had clearer blue eyes than her husband’s side of the family. Her two daughters had the same, along with the deep brown hair of their mother. The last time he’d seen Bree and Gloria was at the wedding, when both were still in grade school and fairer of skin. Now, their heavy tans matched their hair color.

“What was all the bluster about?” he asked as he shook the hands of the other two cousins. The man introduced himself and his wife as Wesley and Dana.

“Oh that. Just him being an old-fashioned git, as usual. Ignore him.”

“Rather hard to do that.” They all chuckled in agreement. “Anyway, picked out a room yet?”

“No, we wanted to wait for the hosts. The master bed is yours, no question, but if you have any suggestions...”

“Nope. Pick any room. If anyone wants to fight over one, go it out back. I’d rather not get blood in the carpet.”

She assured him she wasn’t going to let that happen, and he left them to search for the stairs. He heard Aoife’s entrance, as the teens squealed, but not as loudly as his wife. The rest of the tourists followed suit. With a smile as he imagined them all hopping about and giggling with Irish accents, he clambered up the stairs with the heaviest suitcase they’d brought, and sought out the room his boss had said was the best. It awaited him at the end of the hall. Opening the door to the master bedroom was like revealing the gate to paradise. Where the hall was of dark woods and mood lighting, the room beyond was nearly as bright as outdoors. The glass doors on both walls were open, the breeze blowing in, turning the white silk curtains into dancing ghosts, while a second set of much heavier curtains were all shoved and tied into the corners. The whole room was bright, with a white ceiling, yellow walls, light brown furniture and trim, and off-white carpet. It was double the size to all the other rooms, with its own bathroom and a porch that wrapped around the corner. Quite the first impression his boss had promised.

So was the woman coming out of the bathroom. Barefoot, hair damp, followed by a billow of steam, she paused as she saw him. Her skin-tight jeans and low-cut tank top clung to her, revealing a rather striking shape. Her mouth spread into a wide smile as she recognized him. He failed to do the same for her.

“Richard! It’s been ages!”

“Y-yeah.” She was the third one to hug him, and the most pleasant. She had spritzed perfume on, which mixed nicely with the shampoo she’d used. She brushed it off her shoulders as she leaned back, still touching his arms.

“Sorry, but Gloria spilled a coke on me earlier, and when I saw the shower in there, I jumped in to clean off. What?” she said with a sideways glance. “God, you don’t remember me.”

“I’m trying. Really.”

She took a step back and sized him up. “Well, it has been a few years. And while you’ve gained some muscle, I lost a good amount of weight.” She posed and twirled around, letting him admire the results.

Then it hit him. He recalled her voice, which bore a very weak accent and slight scratch to it. “Jessica?”

She laughed. She really had changed, and though she hadn’t been unattractive before, the look was more punk than country girl now. Gone was the bright red hair, replaced with a black dye, the bottom highlighted in dark purple, and allowed to grow far longer than before. She’d shaped her eyebrows and dyed those, too, and even used enough makeup to hide the strip of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She also seemed more ... confident.

Of course, she had been rather confident during his wedding. That memory made him take a step back to keep his distance.

With a smirk, she said, “Oh, I’m not going to bite. You made it quite clear that I have to go through your wife to get to you.” That gave him a rather interesting image. “So on that note, I take it this is to be your room?”

“Y-yep. Aoife and I are definitely taking this one, and I’m willing to fight everyone for it.”

“No need.” She sauntered past him, pausing and leaning in to add, “Now I know which room to sneak into when the wife is out.”

He tried not to watch her leave, but she was exaggerating the sway of her hips, drawing his attention. Aoife greeted her just past the door and came in, mouthing, Oh my god, as she smiled at him.

“She’s looking hot,” she said.

“That’s your cousin.”

She shrugged. “We’re essentially the hillbillies of Ireland. I’m pretty sure my grandparents are also my great aunt and uncle.”

“You all need therapy.”

“No we don’t. We got Guinness.” She tossed her suitcase aside, spun around, and plopped down on the bed, arms and legs spread out, heaving a long sigh. “You take the clan to the beach. I’ll just stay right here for the week.”

Since that had looked fun, he took a running leap onto the mattress, landing so hard that she nearly flew off. Caught in a fit of giggles, she crawled on top of him and kissed him.

“This is going to be a fun trip,” she promised.

Down below, they heard several more people arrive, all speaking in the flat accent of a typical American. His family was here.

“I hope you’re right,” he said.

Gerald Goldman hefted two overstuffed suitcases into the house he silently prayed was the right one, and felt relieved to see a very large drunk redhead standing not far off. Seamus was even bigger than the last time they’d met, but no less affable. He took the suitcases from Gerald and tossed them to his daughters, ordering them to find the Americans a good room. With a lot of hemming and hawing, they obliged.

Becky came in a moment later, still texting one of her friends. When she saw how Seamus hugged her husband, she ducked behind him, keeping her distance from the jovial Irishman. If Seamus was insulted, he showed no sign of it. George and his wife didn’t share in Becky’s reservations, at least. Gerald’s brother and sister-in-law, who had never met Aoife’s family, greeted the man openly, along with the others. His nephew, Chris, was a bit more reluctant, at least until he saw the two girls in small shorts come back downstairs. That was when the boy became outgoing. Another young woman followed the girls, looking more like she was heading for a rock concert than the beach. Seamus began griping about her hair when his wife shushed him.

At least the initial greetings went well. Now all he had to deal with was his own son. The last time they’d seen each other things had been somewhat tense. Gerald still regretted his attitude that day. Work had been stressful, as had coming to suspect certain unpleasantness about his marriage, and he’d been a little gruff with Rick. It was time to make amends. If only he had an idea of where to start.

Rick came down the steps as Gerald entered the living room and smiled. “Hey, Dad! How was the trip?”

“Not too bad.” Keep calm, he thought. Pretend like it was only yesterday they’d spoken. “The flight almost got delayed, but it was worked out quickly.”

“That’s good, that’s good. Ah, Becky...” He froze, staring at his stepmother for a long moment. Then he shook it off and held out a hand. “Great to see you again.”

“How long has it been?” she asked.

“Two years,” said Gerald. “We really have to come down to Florida more often.”

“Actually,” said Rick, “there’s been talk that my company is moving up to northern Georgia. Nothing’s set in stone, but Aoife’s website has a satellite office in Atlanta, so she can move without a problem.”

That would put them living only four hours’ drive from Gerald. He immediately grinned at the prospect. His smile widened as his daughter-in-law ventured down. Like usual, her legs were bared for all to see, and Gerald had to struggle not to stare. After a moment, he realized why his son had frozen upon seeing Becky – the ladies had the exact same haircut. His wife wasn’t a natural blonde like Rick’s, but had recently started dying it after a friend encouraged her. Then she cut it just below her shoulders and had it curled. With their thin frames and skin that rarely tanned, the two women could now pass for sisters. The only difference was Becky had more of an hourglass figure than Aoife, who still looked all of fifteen. They both noticed it, too, and took pride studying each other’s style. Rick and Gerald shared a chuckle as they stood by and watched.

After a few minutes of small talk, Becky excused herself to use the restroom and get situated. Aoife slung her arm around Rick’s and leaned in to whisper, “So, now I bet you’ll wanna roleplay with me as your stepmommy.”

Rick blushed as he tried to ignore her. In Gerald’s mind flashed a quick fantasy of that, except Rick wasn’t the one starring in it. He quickly dashed the thoughts as George and Caroline came over. Chris followed with one of the girls his own age, a cut brunette who stood a few inches taller than the boy. Chris’s gaze immediately checked out Aoife, albeit quickly.

The girl interrupted their small talk by asking, “So when are we heading to the beach?”

“I think we’re still expecting two more groups,” said Rick.

Aoife waved a hand to brush it off. “Forget it. My parents are probably taking a bunch of detours for sightseeing, and I wouldn’t be shocked to find Aunt Mallory and her brood already at the beach, not caring a wit about us.”

“She did say something like that,” said the girl.

“See, and Bree’s one to trust on this. So let’s get going.”

Gerald was a bit too excited for this, though he didn’t let it show. Becky had been coy about what kind of bathing suit she was going to where, not even letting him see it. And, if he dared to admit, he was curious about Aoife’s choice, as well. The other women, even the ones his own age, were quite attractive, too. He may have just breached 50, but he wasn’t dead yet.

Aoife grumbled as she sat between to Jess and Bree in the backseat of the rental minivan. Her aunt had wanted to surprise the boys, so she’d made them take separate cars on their own, while the girls all piled into the van. Becky was the only exception, sticking with her husband for now. Aoife was still covered up, as were Lily and Gloria, the youngest of the lot. She had put on a pale green sundress that was easier to take on and off without looking like she was performing a striptease at the beach. In opposition to her modesty, Jess had only her shorts and black bikini top on, while Bree left her shirt open. Both girls were younger than her, yet taller and shapelier. She regretted going with the white bathing suit today, even if she did get a bit embarrassed while trying on the black one earlier.

The beach allowed cars onto it, even with children running about, acting like mobile speed bumps. Lily, having grown up in sheep country, was used to having obstacles in her path, and managed not to squash anybody. They found a patch of beach in the shadow of a hotel that wasn’t yet claimed, and parked the van up where sand met grass.

“This is so cool,” said Gloria. “Why aren’t there many people here?”

“Too hot and a storm moving through,” said Aoife. “It’s supposed to hit in an hour or two, but the weather does whatever it wants over here. So we may get nothing, or a downpour in five minutes.”

“Let’s hope not,” said Lily. “Ah, the boys are here. How about we let them setup while he try out the water.”

They poured out of the van just as the two cars with the rest of their party came to a stop. Rick and Gerald were the first ones out. Gerald immediately opened the back door for his wife, even holding out a hand for her. Rick still did that on occasion, and now she saw where he got his manners. She caught Becky’s eye and gave a mock gasp while pointing at her in accusation for stealing her outfit. The woman wore a very similar sundress, only beige and with buttons down the front. Becky pretended to size her up and found her wanting.

As Rick smiled at her, Jess came up and took a step forward, almost obscuring her from view as the harlot waved at her husband. “I’m right here, hussy,” Aoife hissed.

“Hmm? Who said that?” The woman shielded her eyes as she panned the area, pretending her elder cousin wasn’t standing two inches away with her boobs in her face. “Oh, wow.”

Aoife followed her gaze toward a rather striking and tanned woman in a red outfit that barely covered anything and framed the rose vine tattoo that curled up her thigh and ended just above the side of her breast. The woman looked like a fitness model, especially with that haircut – short on the back, long in the front. Unless her companions were out in the water, she was here alone.

“You have good taste,” she said. She preferred geeky or classy girls, herself. A woman like that typically intimidated her, especially when she was single.

“So,” Jess said quietly, “if I can arrange a threesome with her, you’ll let me have your husband for a night, right?”

“God, what is wrong with you?”

“Seriously?” They turned to see Bree leaning around the back of the van. That girl always did have way too good a hearing. She came over, keeping her voice down, “A threesome with her and Rick, or you and her?”

Jess smirked. Aoife rolled her eyes behind the sunglasses. “Ignore the pervert, already. You’re just encouraging her.”

“I swear, Jess. If you do such a thing, I’m making porn videos with Gloria and become an Instagram model. You two will be responsible for pushing us into a life of debauchery, remember that.”

“But I know a lot of people who’d pay good money for that,” said Aoife. “Just wait until you’re both eighteen.”

“Now who’s encouraging who?” asked Jess. Bree gave a mock scream and stormed off.

As the ladies went down to the water, followed by Chris and cousin Wesley – both of whom had been hired as pack mules, apparently – Aoife turned and blew her husband a kiss. He happened to be standing right next to his father, so the gesture wasn’t clear on for whom it was meant. The guys pointed at each other, then themselves, and she just shrugged while taking off her shirt and shorts. Jess likewise stripped down to her suit and tossed her shorts at Rick before dashing off, with Aoife in pursuit.

There wasn’t so much frolicking in the shallows for the guys to enjoy watching, not with the McBride clan. Within minutes, it looked more like a battle royale, causing quite a few passersby to stop and watch the group of pale women grapple and body slam each other deeper and deeper into the ocean, until they could only dunk or pull their opponents under. Blood was spilled, swimsuits were torn off, and a lifeguard even approached, then wisely went the other way. An hour later, they were a bit thirsty and called a truce. All in all, it wasn’t as brutal as the typical reunion. That may have been due to Aunt Mallory not having arrived yet. The gentlemen, who had long since prepared their little campsite, had yet to venture too close to the water.

Rick was standing not too far off holding a towel for her as the beleaguered women staggered from the arena. He had left his shirt behind, showing off a body that wasn’t very toned, but she knew the muscles were very taught underneath the soft skin and thick brushing of hair down his chest. Something about his genetics just never let him get that six-pack he thought she’d like. In truth, she preferred this look over the muscle-bound jocks that were surrounding them. He wiped her face with the white towel, staining a patch red.

“How bad is it?” she asked.

He leaned in to study her face. “Not broken. What did you say to Bree earlier to earn that?”

“She was just making a point clear. Hey, don’t stare at my aunt.” Rick glanced down quickly as Lily struggled to contain a breast after one of the straps on her one-piece had been ripped. Gloria was still in the water, trying to put her top back on. That, too, had been Bree’s handiwork.

Thunder rolled overhead. The clouds weren’t covering everything yet, but that made it somehow worse. The humidity was shooting up as the sunlight seemed to grow brighter in a desperate act to remain supreme over the day. Rick was sweating as he walked her back to where they parked.

“It’s not going to last long,” he said. “But the heat today is maddening. I think it’s getting to my dad already.”

She spotted Gerald sitting under an umbrella, drinking a beer. Like his son, he was rather fit, except unlike Rick, it showed. If it weren’t for the thick dark grey hair, he could pass for a man nearly half his age. Sweat tricked down a sculpted chest that had very little hair, and she found herself watching it fall lower and lower toward his navel. It took more effort than she liked to tear her attention away and back to the man’s face. He really did look a bit haggard. Perhaps the trip had been harder than he was letting on. Becky, who was working her tan nearby, was the picture of relaxation.

Until a second peal of thunder tore open the clouds, sending cold rain plummeting onto them. There was almost no warning, no light sprinkle to give them a heads up. The sun was even still shining on them. That just turned the place into a steam bath. As tourists ducked under umbrellas or into vehicles – nearly all of them forgetting they’d come here expressly to get wet – Aoife followed Rick into one of the cars. She sat on his lap as others piled in, since Wesley had apparently locked his car. Gerald sat next to them in the driver’s seat while his wife and Bree were in the back. In only seconds, as she adjusted her position on Rick’s lap, she felt something pressing up against her. She shifted her hips, earning a small groan from her husband. It was going to be awhile before she could get any more than that from him, so she relished the moment, trying not to let anyone else notice.

“Well, that was disappointing,” said Becky. “Maybe we should’ve gotten an earlier flight.”

“If we did, hon, our trip would have been a bit more unpleasant.”

She blushed, then explained, “I’m still getting over a bit of the flu. I gulped down a lot of medicine this morning, to keep from getting sick on the plane. It’s made me a little ... tired, you could say.”

“I’m sure the beers aren’t helping.”

“Oh, they’re helping, all right.” Everyone laughed at that. She, too, was a bit flushed, with bruises under her eyes that the mascara couldn’t quite hide. Aoife hoped this trip wasn’t too much for them.

“Maybe we should head back for the day,” she offered. “Relax inside. We have five more days after this, so no need to push it. Otherwise, we’re gonna be at each other’s throats by Wednesday.”

“No thanks,” said Bree. “You old folks go be geriatric on your own. I’m swimming until lightning strikes me down.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll make a beautiful corpse. Maybe Chris will even give you CPR if you work it.”

The girl stuck her tongue out at her and hopped out of the car. Aoife then opened her door and called out to Seamus and Lily, “We’re heading back to see if the others have arrived.”

Her aunt had slipped her shirt back on. It was white, and already wet enough to see through. She may have gotten a tad heavier over the years, but the weight had been distributed just right, enhancing all the best parts of her. Several guys nearby were sneaking glances at her. Lily, not caring at all, smiled and said, “Be careful now. We’ll be back by dinner.”

Aoife closed her door, then took note how both of the men in the car suddenly turned away. So they, too, failed to be subtle about ogling her aunt.

“That Lily sure has some knockers on her,” said Becky.

Emily and Dorian McBride were at the house having martinis when they arrived. Gerald was glad to see them again. They hadn’t met since their kids’ wedding, but Emily kept in contact with him and Becky over the years, especially during the holidays. It was she who’d been the greatest help during this last year. The woman with long, curly blonde hair and a smaller stature than even her daughter came around the kitchen island and hugged them all. Dorian followed suit, except with a handshake for the men. He was as tall and freckled as his brother, but without the gut or beard. His red hair was a deeper shade, too, and lightly greying. Aoife ran up and flung herself at her father, letting him twirl her around once before handing her off to her mother.

“Great to see you again,” Dorian as he shook Gerald’s hand.


Aoife and Becky left after a minute and headed around the corner. Rick handed him another beer and said, “She’s taking her to her room for a quick nap.”

“That’s good.” He could use one, as well, but smiled to keep up appearances. If Rick noticed how exhausted he was, the boy would be too worried to enjoy himself. And since his in-laws were here, he’d want to impress. Still, it proved rather difficult. Between staying up most of the night with Becky to keep her company as she fought her nausea, and the stress of trying to patch things up with his son, Gerald felt a little queasy himself. After three beers and the sweltering heat – even if he’d been outside for less than two hours – he was already swaying on his feet.

At least it was fun to catch up with Dorian and Emily. Both had proven to be quite internet savvy, and Dorian had finally found his stride as a professional photographer. He pulled out an iPad to show off his latest spread, featuring quite a few outrageously beautiful people of all ages. At first, he wondered if Emily was ever worried about her husband spending time with naked women in some rather secluded locations, but the man appeared more satisfied with the pictures of seniors. The black-and-whites were stunning. Before long, Gerald was asking to buy canvas prints. Emily, who ran an online store for various kinds of artwork, was more than happy to take his order.

An hour later, he was bracing one hand on the kitchen island. One more group of Irish relatives had arrived, Mallory, he believed her name was. A rather buoyant and energetic woman, she was definitely from Dorian’s side of the family, considering her red hair and husky frame. She had four adult children with her - three men and a young woman who looked nothing like the others. Where most of them had blue eyes, hers were almost gray, and she had short black hair that looked natural. The rest sported red or brown hair. He was curious, but preferred not to risk asking.

“You okay, Dad?” Only then did he realize he’d been staring at the girl and barely seeing her. He turned sluggishly toward his son.

Rick leaned in close, staring into his eyes. He recalled how his son used to get heat sick so easily, and now here he was, a few drinks in and unable to take a little sun.

He smiled and nodded, taking a step back. “Fine, fine. But uh ... I’m going to find a place to rest. Guess it’s time to find out ... if any of these rooms are soundproof.” Damn, he thought, it’s hard to even talk normally. He could hear the slur in his voice, the slight lisp in some of the words. Yes, he really needed to lie down in some quiet, dark spot.

“Upstairs on the right at the end of the hall. That’s your room. Go ahead and take a nap.” Rick glanced at the group, shaking his head. “Doesn’t look like the rest are going to be done for a long time.”

“You married into one intense family, I’ll say.” Now, the slurring was even worse.

Rick smiled at him. “Not like ours is much better. Where’s Becky?”

“Oh, she took a break some time ago with your wife. Probably to quiz her about you.”

“Great. Well, go on. I’ll cover for you.”

Gerald patted his son’s arm, then wobbled toward the hall, nearly spilling his drink as he set the glass on the nearest table. It was slightly difficult to even find the stairs. Yet even inebriated, he could appreciate how well designed the house was, with its dark cherry wood walls, oak trim, and rough-hewn ceilings. Outside was a house ripped from a tropical paradise, but inside it was like going to some secluded cabin in Colorado. It reminded him of family vacations, when Rick still enjoyed the outdoors. He could tell the boy was really trying to enjoy himself on this trip, both for Gerald’s sake and his wife’s, and the father couldn’t be more proud. At least his son was determined to be a better husband.

There were quite a few rooms on either side of the upstairs hallway, though there was a good chance half of them were only imagined. He fought to walk straight without teetering, and did quite well. At the end, he turned toward his door, which was slightly ajar, with only a weak lamp on. The shades were drawn, so heavy that they blocked out any trace of the blazing sun. On the very large and comfortable-looking bed in the dead center of the room was someone sprawled on their stomach, facing away. It took his eyes a moment to register the slightly-curled blonde hair and pale sundress. In the low, brownish light, her tan looked even deeper. He almost called Becky’s name, but worried his speech would be so bad as to embarrass them both. She was lazily typing on a small laptop, looking at old Victorian houses, it seemed. He wasn’t quite sure, as he paid it very little attention. What held his gaze wasn’t what she was doing, but where her skirt had hiked up one thigh, exposing the swell of her butt and hint of black panties.

He felt his erection growing already, finding himself shocked at just how eager he was. It was more than just a hard-on, however. He craved her, right then and there.

Instead of just going for it, he risked breaking the spell. “H-hey,” he said softly.

She gave a brief glance over her shoulder, hair covering most of her face. The hall’s light was shining directly in her eyes, making her wince and turn away quickly. “Hey,” she mumbled back. “Having fun?” She, too, sounded a bit tipsy.

“A bit. Missed you.”


His dick was throbbing as she repositioned her legs, shifting the fabric to reveal even more. Closing the door behind him, he shambled closer. Then, without allowing himself to think anymore, he brushed one hand along her calf. She giggled and gasped at the same time, a throaty sound that drove him wild with hunger. His other hand grazed her left leg, both rising higher and higher, pushing away the skirt to expose her rump. Without a word, her legs parted a bit more, a silent invitation to continue. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto bed, placing his knees on either side of her legs. His hands pressed harder as they rose ever higher, massaging her back. His body began trembling in anticipation, forcing him to brace one hand on the mattress. With his fingertips, he traced a curving line between her shoulders, causing her to shiver. Then they gripped the zipper of her dress and pulled.

Becky buried her face in the comforter as she said, “Something’s gotten into you.”

He wanted to say that he was going to get into her, except he knew he’d flub it. So he kept silent as he lowered his lips and gently kissed her back, over and over, following her spine to the nape of her neck. His fingers unlatched her bra as he lowered his weight onto her, his crotch pressing against her butt to show just how far he wanted to take this. She gave a shuddering breath, offering no resistance. So this is what their marriage counselor meant by being more spontaneous and aggressive.

His hand slipped into her dress and cupped the small breast pressed against the mattress as his hips began to move on their own accord. Her rump pressed up against him, encouraging him. Breath quickening, heart racing, he wasn’t even going to get his pants off in time if he didn’t rip them off immediately. He got up on his knees quickly and began fumbling with his belt as she started wiggling out of her dress and began pushing her panties down. With his belt and pants undone, he hopped off the bed, grabbing and pulling her underwear with him. Even in the dim light, he could see the wetness dripping, causing her pussy to glisten. He dove in as his pants and boxers fell, burying his mouth into the moist lips between her thighs. She gasped loudly, arching her back. His tongue slipped in, relishing the taste. She squirmed as he found the bud that held her pleasure, and he pressed on, letting his ravenousness take control. His own arousal was painful in the best way, but he couldn’t hold on anymore. Kissing her back, sucking on the skin, following her spine once more, he slid his body on top of hers until he felt the tip of his dick nudging her. Taking a moment to guide himself in, he plunged as hard as he could, crying out as she did the same.

There was no more time for teasing. No chance to find a rhythm. He braced one hand on the bed, the other on her shoulder, and began pumping, faster, harder, thinking of nothing but the pure pleasure. Becky held the comforter in a death grip, even biting onto it as she grunted in tune with his thrusts. There was no sense of time. He wasn’t sure if he had been going for only a few seconds or an hour. Without thinking, he leaned down and bit her shoulder. She responded by wrapping her legs around his hips, hooking her ankles together, and reaching back to dig the nails of one hand into his hair. He buried himself as deep into her as he could go, with as much force as he could muster. She endured it all.

He was nearing the cusp when he noticed a detail that was missing. A familiar pair of moles on her shoulder weren’t there. It was forgotten in only a moment. His mind just gave up.

Until the door opened. It was quickly followed by a loud thud.

“What the fuck! Sorry, Dad! I didn’t...” Rick froze, as did Gerald. His son was holding his head as if he hit it, his free hand gesturing down the hall, then into the room. “Becky was downstairs. Who...”

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