Chapter 10: Froggy

Our Meyer Boulevard house, the basement part, had always been sort of the unofficial HQ for the Three Mouseketeers. It was centrally located, the house, between Froggy’s and Trish’s. Plus Wandy always had snacks for us. And a welcoming manner.

I won’t say Trish was the Brigadoon General of our operation, but Froggy and I usually ended up doing what she wanted. It’s probably because of the maturational thing with the females of the species.

Anyway, she progressed from Doctor’s Office to more interpersonelle things quite smartly. It’s rather extraordinary what her active imagination got us up to.

But when she graduated us to intercourse, it was just Trish and me. Not that she was mean about it to Froggy. She would lend a cheerful hand or mouth from time to time. The actual act, however ... well, Froggy became a spectator for that part of the afternoon’s entertainment. Although she had him practice putting on condoms just as much as she did me. “In case some poor damsel goes soft in the head, Froggy.”

The mater and Auntie Pru had grilled Trish pretty thoroughly on condoms. She told them, “Yes. Plus the Pill.”

It was the evening of my Meg Gibraltar Triumph. I had enthralled and impressed Trish and Froggy with my client aplomb and my product knowledge. Trish grinned at me, straddled me, took me home, so to speak.

Froggy sighed, “Trish, whenever will you let me...” Plaintive tone. Might have felt sorry for the lad had I not been otherwise occupied.

Trish winked at our best buddy, “After Birdie and I are married, darling. I’ll be expanding my list of serious boyfriends.”

Froggy gasped, “Open marriage?”

“For one of us.”

Distracting natter, even in the best of circumstances. But Trish squeezed and squished herself around me, brought me back into focus.

After the conclusion — rather successful, by the by — of the Birdie & Trish Extravaganza, the three of us took a shower. Then back to the sofa, no porn for now, just the idle chit and chat of three lifelong pals.

Then Trish’s watch chirped; she’s the type, just like Ms. Sloane, who sets her life up for regular alerts. She grinned at Froggy, “Hmm, 7:30, just enough time. Fly me to the moon, honey.”

Dinner at 8.

She lay down on her back, head in my lap, and winked up at the Man of the Hour, “No hands, Froggy.”

No matter how much Trish has had me practice over the years, honesty — which is sometimes the best policy, or so people say — requires me to admit that I’m no match — head between her thighs — for Froggy. How do I know? I’m a keen observer of the humane condition and I pay attention to when Trish compliments him.

“You’re the best, Froggy.”

“You make me cum so hard, Froggy.”

“Keep going, Froggy.”

Froggy this, Froggy that.

A pleasant dinner at a pleasant table. I took inventory: the Sisters, Peggy and Pru. Wandy, their age, and pretty sparkly. Trish, completely at ease in the conversational stream. Always has been, not the least bit worried about The Look from Auntie Pru or my sainted mother.

Who, the sainted one, smiled at Trish, “Spending the night, babe?”

Trish nodded, finished swallowing the fish, “Yep. Unfinished business with Himself.”

Another smile, “Monkey business?”

“The monkiest.”

My face felt warm and I was reminded of the yellow panties that Trish had tied around my ... myself right before we dressed to come upstairs. Froggy grinned, “Tighter.”

Trish giggled, “Right you are. There.”

Auntie Pru, thank you, Auntie, changed the subject, looked at me, “Ms. Sloane said you did well today, honey.”

I nodded once, modesty ablaze in that simple gesture, “Thirteen knots.”

She and my mother exchanged a glance. Which, for some reason, they often do when I say something.

The mater arched an eyebrow which I interpreted as meaning, ‘What?’.

I illucidated, “In a hangman’s noose.” Nodded to myself, there.

Another glance.

Trish, as she so often did, translated, “Meeting was on the 13th floor. Birdie didn’t share his encyclopedic knowledge of trivia.”

My mother nodded improvingly, “Kept his fucking mouth shut.”

Auntie Pru, said, “Well, done, lad.”

Wandy nodded.

Trish patted my lap.