Chapter 228

“Da mihi castitatem et continentiam, sed noli modo.”
(Make me chaste and pure, but not yet.)
—St. Augustine, Confessiones, VIII, 7

LIVY THOUGHT SHE’D WAKE ME UP by rushing into the bedroom at six. What she found was Rachel and me near another climax. I give my tall thin wife credit that she didn’t interrupt until she heard the gasps that indicated we’d made it. Then she slid into bed with us and held us tightly.

“How did you get here so early?” I asked. “Did you leave at four?”

“No. I left after our briefing last night for the meet next week. I got here about eleven but Nanette attacked me before I got past the second floor and told me I couldn’t have you till morning. She made the delay worthwhile.”

“And now what?” Rachel asked stretching. “Are you crawling in to join us?”

“No. I’m stealing away my running partner. Nanette is waiting by the door,” Livy said. “Go get ready, Jacob. I’ll comfort our lover for her loss.” I rolled reluctantly out of bed and headed for the bathroom as Livy lowered the covers from Rachel’s beautiful body and petted her as they kissed. If I didn’t hurry up, they’d be too involved to go running in a couple of minutes.

We put in a 10k that Nanette and I could keep up with. It was nowhere near the pace that Livy raced at. Her time in a race was pushing the thirty minute mark. She’d already qualified for Team USA and was competing in a four-country invitational in LA next week. Her competition would include the world record holder from Ethiopia.

After our run, Nanette begged off joining us for a shower and was scooped up by Emily for some aftercare. Livy and I found the master bath refreshed with towels and the bed with clean sheets. I needed to kiss Rachel again for that. Livy and I stepped into the shower and each other’s arms.

“How are you holding up with all the stress of training full time?” I asked.

“About the same as you,” she laughed. “When we chose to participate in these special National Service Occupations, we didn’t realize we were choosing the hardest jobs in the service. I’m still glad we did, though. Look at the opportunity I have!” I finished rinsing the conditioner from her hair and slid my hands down her lean frame to her butt. “You have to stay out of the pooper today. I’m too close to a race to risk soreness, injury, or loss of control.”

“You know, I love to make love with you in any way I can,” I said.

“Well, if you can point that thing down a little farther, you’ll find a warm welcoming place for it,” she said. She leaned forward and rose on tiptoes while I slotted my cock in her pussy from behind. Then she sank back onto me with a sigh. “I always come back from a run horny,” she whispered. “There just aren’t many people in camp that I’m willing to fuck in the shower.”

“But there are some,” I laughed.

“Well, yeah. But I like this one best.” It was clear, though, that neither of us was going to reach a climax in the shower, just because we were too relaxed and chatty. We liked spending some time like this, but were ready to dry off and hit the bed.

“How’s school going?” I asked. While Livy’s main occupation was running, that simply couldn’t be done all the time. The service required a minimum load of college classes or trade training for occupations that weren’t full time.

“Good. I have an interesting class this term on social justice. I can’t believe how far behind we still are in this country. Did you know that twenty-five percent of the prisoners in the world are in America? We have so far to go. Add a plank on prison reform to your party.”

“Damn it! No. I can’t do that. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still have a movement toward prison reform. I’ll do some investigating and talk to Congressman Travis when I meet with him in Houston.” I made a mental note to ask Amanda to get me information as I kissed my way down Livy’s flat stomach to her puffy pudenda.

“Texas would be a good place to start. It has one of the highest incarceration rates of people serving or eligible for National Service. Over twenty percent of our three million in prison are between eighteen and twenty-one. Oh, God! Yes! Lick my clitty!” That was the end of our conversation on social justice.

After her first, Livy flipped over on her hands and knees and I pushed into her from behind. Of my eleven wives, Livy was the only one who seemed to prefer this position, though Dana also liked it. I don’t know why I thought of her. She wasn’t one of my wives. Of course, Livy usually liked me to get her off in this position and then slide up to her asshole, which wasn’t going to happen this time. Instead, I just kept plunging into her from behind as she manipulated her own clit to two more screaming orgasms before I filled her with mine.

Saturday wasn’t just filled with a lot of sex, though all through the house the family frequently brushed against each other, petted, and kissed each other. We were getting ready to scatter the next day. Donna, Nanette, Cindy, and I were flying to Houston. Rachel and Livy would be on their way to Los Angeles for a week. Joan and Beca had talked about using a few days to consult with Joan’s father, Ray, in Chicago. Desi, Brittany, and Sophie would be in rehearsals. Emily would be tied to a desk making sure the logistics of moving three deputation teams around the country and having all their travel, equipment, lodging, and venues set up and ready to go for each performance.

We needed to pack. For some reason, we needed to have spa treatments, haircuts, manicures, pedicures, and any other cures we could think of. Oh! That massage! We had the rare treat of all going out to dinner together at an Indian restaurant on D Street. Emily, of course, had been the one to make reservations early in the week. It was the fourth of February and we’d all be scattered around on the fourteenth, so we decided to make this our Valentine’s Day treat.

The food was good, the company was loving. And I was approached a dozen times by influential Reformist Party members. I didn’t realize the restaurant was so popular with them. After a long relaxing meal, we each grabbed a handful of fennel seeds and headed home.

The idea of twelve people piled in a single bed might scream orgy to some minds. What it really means is a hopeless tangle of bodies lying partially on top of each other and partially hanging off the bed while we tried desperately to get one more touch of each of our lovers. Oh, there were kisses and pets and gropes, no doubt. There might have been one or two orgasms, besides mine. It was rather unexpected, shooting up Desi’s back as she rocked her butt that cradled my cock.

We weren’t comfortable sleeping that way. But no one was willing to let go of the person they held to find a more comfortable place to sleep. We stumbled out of bed early, some of us falling out. We crushed each other in the master shower, more interested in sliding against our lovers and collecting little kisses than in the necessary shampoo and conditioner. Eventually, we all managed to find the clothes we’d laid out for the day and went to the kitchen for breakfast.

We gathered all our suitcases and instruments at the front door. Donna, Nanette, Cindy, and I went down the line of our wives and made sure each had been kissed thoroughly. Then we loaded in the van that arrived for us and went to the airport for the start of our next concert tour.

Houston was a pleasant change from the cold damp of Washington, DC. It was only in the mid-sixties, but that felt like spring to us. Our driver and official mini bus met us at the curb and drove us over to the Hampton Suites in downtown Houston. He said it was downtown, but as we drove, he pointed out the towers of four other major business centers in the massive city.

“Lucky you came in on Sunday. This time Monday, this is an eight-lane parking lot,” he said. “In order to make your first performance at ten tomorrow, I’ll be picking you up at eight.”

Houston has a dozen schools with over three thousand students, meaning graduating classes of about eight hundred. We were going to try to play an hour-long concert/presentation at each of them in five days. Then, on Friday night, we’d play a two-hour concert at the home of the symphony, with a second performance as a matinee on Saturday. Then we’d fly to San Antonio while our bus driver made the long haul in our bus with the instruments.

First, there was settling into our room with two queen beds at the Hampton. We were all pretty tired after the almost sleepless night before, so we agreed some nap time was in order before we tried to find food. I stripped off my clothes and fell back on one of the beds, asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

Wake up blow jobs are always a treat. And don’t think I don’t give as well as get. My wives have made it clear that just because my appendage sticks out and is easy to reach it’s not the only one that likes wake up attention. Even if I just give a breast a little loving attention as a wake up call to one of my wives, she’ll cradle my head against her chest and sigh, if not start to become so aroused she wants a full-on playtime. And if I can manage to get beneath the sheets, move her legs apart, and begin a light tongue bath of her privates, she’s likely to wake up in the throes of orgasm. And need to run and pee really badly!