Chapter 81

“I respect you,” he murmured. “and your views. I think of you as an equal. I respect your brains, and all those big words you like to use. But I also want to rip your clothes off and have sex with you until you scream and cry and see God.”
—Lisa Kleypas, Smooth Talking Stranger

30 DECEMBER 2019

I lie here in bed watching Desi sleep. She’s curled on her left side with her butt toward me. We spooned there for a while last night. But people change positions when they sleep together. Someone who says they cuddled with their lover and didn’t move all night probably woke up in a pool of sweat, unable to feel their arms. Or anything else. Sometimes we just lie next to each other holding hands, sometimes she lay half on top of me. For a while she spooned against my back. It got too hot under the covers to hold each other so we ended up just lying there in our own favorite sleeping positions as if the other wasn’t in the bed at all.

She’s not the most stunningly beautiful woman in the world. Not a Playboy model. If her boobs get any bigger, she’ll seriously consider reduction surgery. I know her mother struggles with backaches and has since she was a teen. Desi doesn’t have that big a frame to hang them from. She’s proud enough of them to flaunt them in costumes and school, but they aren’t what define her. Objectively, her ass is a much better feature and one that I’ll cuddle up to often in the future. But it’s what’s inside Desiree Whitcomb that makes her beautiful. She’s happy. She’s free. She’s self-determinate. She’s independent. I think I’m being redundant. It’s her spirit.

I know she’s too sore to make love again. What’s it been? Like twenty times in three days? And she was definitely a virgin when we started. I’m thinking a nice long massage and a hot bath when she wakes up. I want to tell her ... show her that she means a lot to me and I’ll try to never lose her in the shuffle of girlfriends who want their share of time with me. I think Desi will be with us—with me—for a long time.

We spent a lazy morning, ordering breakfast from room service. Riley and Riko knocked at eleven and told us we needed to be out by noon, to take our bags to the car (costumes were already gone), and that they were going to make sure their crates were ready to load. We managed to get packed and stood for a long time looking at each other before we finally got dressed. Just as we were headed for the door, there was a knock.

“Hi,” Joan said. “Um ... Everything go okay?”

“Happy birthday, Joan,” Desi managed an instant before me.

“I’m sorry to bother you but Beca said I should pick Jacob up from here. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. We have to be out of the room now or I’d invite you to stay and use it,” Desi said.

“You’re sure?” Joan asked. “It’s okay? I mean, this is your special time. I was bummed out that I couldn’t be with you Thursday. Dad’s turn for Christmas, you know.”

“We missed you,” I said.

“I’ll bet. I don’t think you could even say who was here. Brittany said it was awesome.”

“Yeah ... Wait. Brittany? She wasn’t here. Was she?” I stumbled.

“Ha! Got you!”

“You must have had a good week! Either that or being eighteen has turned you into a smartass.”

“My ass has always been smart enough to cuddle up to you,” Joan said. Then she sighed. “Let’s go have lunch before we go to my place and I have to read the fucking induction letter. Or better yet, let’s foil their plans and not go to my house until tomorrow. They can’t deliver the letter on my birthday if they can’t find me.”

“Should have had them send it to your Dad’s house in Chicago.”

“Dad already called me and said a duplicate had arrived there. My parents are listed as shared custody with both addresses.”

“Hey, doesn’t that mean you are out of custody now?” Desi asked as we stopped at her car. “You’re a free woman.”

“Free if you don’t count being indentured to the government for two years. What a fucking shit pile.” I’d dealt with the various stages of Emily’s induction, including the moments before she left when she was determined not to go. I wondered if everyone went through this when they got their letter. Kind of like the five stages of grief or something. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Like the premeditated murder of our youth.

We did delay getting to Joan’s house by going out for lunch and ice cream. Joan’s demeanor lightened up as soon as Desi kissed us each goodbye and gave me a firm order to provide for Joan as her slave as if Joan was Desi. Joan got a glint in her eye and I figured she had some ideas.

I couldn’t have guessed what she was planning.

We pulled up, not in front of Joan’s house, but in front of Beca’s. Joan pulled me along to the porch and rang the bell. Beca answered.

“Darlings! I’ve been waiting for you!” she shouted. She jumped up to wrap her legs around Joan’s waist and kiss her. “Happy, happy birthday,” she said. “I love you.” Then, without Joan letting her down, she leaned over and kissed me just as hard. “I love you! It’s almost 2020 and I’m in love!”

Beca certainly lightened our mood further. She grabbed her little bag and we went to the Miata.

“How’s this going to work?” I asked. “You want me to walk?”

“Just get in and buckle up,” Beca said. Once I was in, she crawled in on top of me. “Hang on to me tight, baby. It’s a good thing it isn’t far!”

Joan was careful driving to her house but I definitely hung on tight to Beca.

“What time are we expecting people for your birthday party, Joan?” Sharon called when we entered the house.

“Six.”

“Can you help get ready? I want to clean the TV room before your guests get here.”

“Mom, we meet there every Saturday. It doesn’t need anything extra. You don’t need to keep me occupied. I’m taking my boyfriend and my girlfriend to my room and making love all afternoon.” Sharon stuck her head outside the kitchen just in time to see Joan drag the two of us to her room and shut the door. She locked it.

“All afternoon?” Beca squeaked. I noticed she didn’t question making love. How is this supposed to work?

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Joan said. “I just want to be with the two most important people in my life.”

“We’ll make love with you, baby. Won’t we, Jacob?”

“Um ... yeah. I mean. Anything you two want.”

“He’s so compliant, isn’t he?” Beca asked.

“That’s because Desi signed over ownership of her sex slave for the day. He has to do whatever I say.”

“Shouldn’t a sex slave be naked?” Beca asked.

The two girls attacked and I admit that I only struggled a little when they tickled me before letting them get me down to my boxers. Then Beca told Joan all about Thursday night at the deflowering of Desi.

“Did you check to make sure?” Joan asked, referring to Desi’s cherry.

“My face was this far away,” Beca said, holding her fingers about four inches apart. Then slowly she inched her fingers together until there was no space between them at all.

“Was she tasty?” Joan asked.

“Oh, yeah. And the cherry was definitely intact. For about two more minutes. Then I, myself,” she said as she pulled down my boxers, “took hold of this very shaft and positioned it at her entrance and pushed.”

“Oh, Beca! You touched... ? You’re touching him.” I was trembling as Beca stroked up and down my shaft.

“Yeah. Would you like me to position this at your wet opening and push him in?” Beca asked.

“Yes,” Joan whimpered. Beca let go of my cock and turned to look at me.

“Stay!” she commanded. I nodded.

Frozen in position by her command, I witnessed one of the most erotic sights I’ve ever seen. There was a severe risk that my teen body would betray me and spray without being touched, just from watching the two girls together.

They kissed and touched and undressed each other. Completely. I never thought about how different it would be for two girls to undress each other than how a boy undresses a girl. I guess that was part of it. A boy would undress the girl. These two cooperated in everything. Beca unbuttoned her shirt and Joan pushed it off her shoulders and down her arms. Joan wore a back-fastening bra and reached behind herself to unfasten it, but Beca moved it with her chin as she kissed down the slope of Joan’s breasts until the nipples were revealed and she could suck on them. Joan immediately whined from the stimulation of her sensitive little nubs then bent to return the favor to Beca’s tiny titties.

I realized Beca wasn’t quite as tiny as she’d been the first time I’d caressed those breasts. She’d never be a big-busted woman but there was definitely more than a little swelling lifting her nipples away from her chest. I almost broke my position to go suck on them.

Both girls wore jeans and took turns getting them off, including their socks, leaving them in just panties. Joan’s were white cotton panties that had a pink flower just above her pussy. Beca’s were black and silky and conformed tightly to her shape. By this time, the girls were on the bed with the cover pushed down. They lay kissing each other, hands exploring their lover as if they needed to map a new country. And the map included things that were concealed beneath the panties. Joan was on the far side of the bed from me and her panties were the first to be flipped off her toes and onto the floor while both her hands were beneath the waist of Beca’s panties, firmly planted on her butt.