Chapter 8: Honeymoon

Wendy was the one that coined the term ‘Honeymoon’ the last week of the summer before Tracy and her college classes started again. She was sixteen and going to be a college sophomore studying computer science. She would get reclassified as a junior at the end of the fall semester because of all the college courses that she’d completed while in high school. She loved all the technology stuff, and had thrived in her summer internship at Retail Solutions. She negotiated with the school for some college credits for the internship, too; which turned out to be a turning point for her academic promotion.

I brought her flowers at the end of that week in August. I had learned my lessons about such foreplay, reminded with Penny’s help. There were other lessons that were more physical. Penny liked tutoring me in every last detail over and over again.

I thought that I’d died and gone to heaven. Wendy’s hormones ruled the day and night. She was constantly horny, and was happiest when my cock was buried inside her and we were in the process of discovering yet another way and place where she could have an orgasm. We fucked in every room and niche in my house, and I mean each week – not just once to say we did it. One night, she wanted to fuck on the hood of her new car while it was parked with mine in the front of the house. We did and didn’t get caught, although we laughed a lot. Tracy spotted for us.

Tracy had been spending more than half her waking hours at my home, usually in my bed. Wendy liked that, too, since when I was in recovery mode Wendy had an alternative source for orgasms – another hyper-horny teenager. The two of them were in love and in lust. They were discovering all the things that two girls could do together, a process that had started shortly before she ran away.

The girls came to me one day with the not-surprising finding that they were hypersexual. They liked that another name for that phenomena in women was that they were nymphomaniacs. They liked to fuck and enjoy sex of any kind 24/7. Wendy was especially proud because there was no evidence that the diagnosis would diminish with age. She told me that she’d told a couple of her other friends that she’d been with at school that she was a nymphomaniac just to see their reaction. They were appropriately shocked to her delight.

Wendy and Tracy cemented their friendship relationship by becoming consummate lovers. If I wasn’t around or busy or in recovery mode, they were usually naked in my bed in some sexual position that would yield mutual orgasms. True to form, as young women with exceptionally high IQs, they studied the details of how women made love with other women. They knew the basics about fingers, tongues, tits, and holes, but they wanted even more. They turned it into a college course, complete with text books, Internet articles and videos, and, of course, a study of many porn sites featuring multiple females fucking and in lust with each other.

I applauded their efforts since I was but a lowly male with attendant and limited recovery powers. I had upped my game with the teens and Penny, but I still felt limited. On an exceptionally good day, and having taking a cocktail of pills – supplements, vitamins, and prescriptions that the girls had derived from other Internet research – I might attain five orgasms in a day. My record was six.

Along with Tracy, Penny became a frequent and welcome sleepover visitor. She loved Wendy and me, and we loved her. After interviewing her regarding symptoms, Wendy decided that she, too, was hypersexual. The difference was that she dubbed herself a ‘nymphomaniac MILF’. If I had to work later than usual, I’d often find two of them bringing the third to orgasm in a sapphic display of exhibitionism for me. If they’d gone through the orgasm stage for all three, they’d be naked or nearly so on my back patio catching the rays of the late-afternoon sun beside the pool.

I tested by talking alone with each of the women whether any of them were feeling I was inadequate, biased in the application of my sexual skills with them, or overly focused on some sex act versus another, or overly focused on only one of them. Other than the absence of Tracy and Penny from the house on some days, they assured me that I dispersed orgasms to them equitably and in a loving manner, and that they had no suggestions for me other than to build up so I could fuck them more, more, more. They were happy, although each mentioned in half-teasing tones that they wouldn’t mind my having more capacity and cock.

Wendy described herself to me one evening that she’d gotten home early, cleaned house, and prepared our dinner, as a ‘dutiful wife’ – a term she’d read in a book. I allowed as how, if that were the case, then I was the ‘dutiful husband’.

That brief exchange between us led to a multiple-day discussion about expectations and duties in a relationship. I already knew that Wendy was a bit of a contrarian, but in the expansion of this exercise to all of us, I learned that Tracy and Penny were, too.

I learned that I should not take any woman for granted. My new mantra became, ‘Do Not Assume’. Do not assume anything about them without checking in some way first. I don’t have to ‘ask’, but I can observe their behavior in relevant situations.

Wendy used the example of the flowers that I occasionally bought her to make a point one day. “How did I react the first time you brought me flowers?”

“You jumped my bones and kissed me for a week after.”

“So, you knew I liked flowers?”

“I thought so.”

“The flowers were a symbol, does that give you a clue?”

“A symbol that I love you, which I do.”

“You got it in one. Yes. If you brought me flowers every day, that specific idea would get stale. But you find ways to tell me that you love me many times in many ways each and every day – and yes, occasional flowers are very nice. I love them, and you need to find ways to do such things for Tracy and Penny even though they are special visitors to our house.”

I teased, “Are orgasms as good as flowers?”

Wendy rolled her eyes, “Usually better. Those don’t get stale or wilt, either.” She laughed.

After we’d made love and extracted orgasms from each other, we continued the dialogue about our relationships.

I told Wendy, “I don’t quite know how to define a relationship with a sixteen-year-old. You’re kind of a blank slate and I don’t want to screw up your mind with the way I think or think that I should think ... or telling you how to think. You should be exploring options for the NEXT sixteen years, not buying into any one model for anything, including a relationship with me.

“I love you, and would hate to see you leave, but I want for your long-term happiness and joy, so I’m counting on you to find the best way for yourself. Since you’re brilliant, I think that’s more apt to happen than if I intervene. I’m always here for you, to be your anchor or to just be a source of advice or a sounding board for your fresh ideas if you want it.”

Wendy kissed me with lots of tongue, always a way to get me on her side of any discussion. We let our tongues tangle in the air between us, an act that turned on each of us. Wendy said, “And you also love Tracy and Penny, right?”

I sighed, “I do. I guess that I love multiple people.”

“Good, because so do I. In traditional relationships you’re only allowed to love one person: your partner or mate or spouse. We are non-traditional. We’re also working at giving unconditional love to each other.”

I said, “You mean that I don’t put conditions on you to love me?”

“Exactly. I try not to do that to you either. In a traditional relationship, I’d love you so long as you were faithful to me alone. No sex with anybody else, and no emotional entanglements. We’re unconditional. You don’t seem to mind that I have sapphic relationships with Tracy and Penny.”

I cautiously said, “I mind only to the extent that you feel comfortable in those encounters. I don’t own you and don’t want to own you, but I do want to support you. If I think you’re making a false step then I’d probably raise the issue with you.”

Wendy said, “You know we’re not exclusive, then. You have a choice of three females to make love with most nights, and you might even discover more.” She grinned.

I countered, “And you have a choice of me or Tracy or Penny, or maybe someone else.”

Wendy teased, “I don’t always choose you.”

“Nor should you. You should go with what you’re feeling your need is. I think that each of us offers something different to the others.”

Wendy lay back and spread her legs, exposing the pussy that I’d just plundered and left a hefty deposit in a few minutes earlier. She teased, “I offer you my teenage pussy that loves your cock deep in it spitting out gallons of jizz, my bounteous tits for you to motorboat in, a mouth that loves to suck cock and even be fucked, a mind that thinks about having sex almost every second, and words to any of you that qualifies as dirty talk that would make an Irish seaman blush.”

“And I love all of that, plus I love the rest of you that you didn’t mention.” I kissed the tip of her nose.

Wendy threw herself into my arms again, “God, I love you so. You always say the perfect thing to make me feel special and completely loved.”

I had a ‘health check’ talk with Penny a few days later. The teens had just started their college classes and were off comparing notes from two classes they shared.

“Penny, are you feeling all right about everything going on with the four of us, especially me. I love you and want you to feel loved, complete, and safe. Am I loving you the way that you want to be loved?”

Penny swooned, and got up from her chair and came to sit in my lap. She only wore a monokini and I was only wearing thin athletic shorts, so when she moved around, her breasts were at just the right level for me to kiss, suck, lick, and love, and her pussy was doing a number on me with her lap dance.

Penny kissed me. “I am so fine that I worry some days that it’s all a dream that I dread waking up from. I don’t know how I could go so long without a man in my life, and then you show up, and then my whole thinking about the teens changes.”

“Changes?”

“Well, until about three years ago, they were best friends and smart ‘little’ girls. Somewhere around thirteen, they suddenly became smart women. Of course, the school system had started to dance around them because they could digest a complete high school course in one to two weeks, acing all the exams and then able to teach the course better than their teachers. It took me a few years more to stop thinking of them as kids that I had to mother.”

“They’re fine young women,” I said firmly.

“And I love them ... and when I realized that, I also opened up myself for other loving relationships. I’d kissed a lot of frogs and none of them were turning into princes – until you.

“Wendy and Tracy started experimenting with sex together and with a few of the brighter boys in their classes about two years ago. As you found out, they weren’t virgins when you met them.

“Tracy came home from her first encounter with you and told me about you, and also many of the things that Wendy had shared. I had to pause and remember that young Wendy was really an adult disguised as a teenager. I retracted my mothering talons that I was going to strangle you with, believing for a few hours that you had seduced the teens into perverted sex. It didn’t immediately occur to me then that it could have been the other way around.

“Tracy set me straight, but then I almost couldn’t believe her about how nice you were, what a talented lover you were, and how solicitous you were about the teens and about helping Wendy. Of course, she showed me the pictures of her abuse, so I knew that was real. I’d seen other bruises on her from that man, but she wouldn’t let us do anything. I’d come to believe that no man could be that helpful, compassionate, empathetic, caring, and helpful without having a second agenda involving sex, dominance, and control – and then you joined in getting her under guardianship and then you got her a car and made sure she was all set for college again including spending a shitload of money on her for clothes, the car, and everything.”

I just listened to Penny without responding.

Penny went on, “And then I met the real you. I believe in our auras interacting, as I told you. I’ve been in love with you since that day. So, when you ask if I’m okay about everything, the answer isn’t only yes, it’s hell yes. Please don’t change anything, or at least anything basic about our foursome. I want more of everything.”

“You don’t mind the teens being sexual with me ... or with you?” I asked.

“Hell no,” she grinned at me, obviously with lechery on her mind. She added, “And just to be clear, I love you and I love everything that we’re doing.”

A thought occurred to her. She continued, “If you worry about my new sexual relationship with Tracy, don’t. I check with her constantly and she loves it as much as I do. I’ve given her all kinds of ‘outs’ and she hasn’t come close to taking any of them.

We chatted some more, and also about the elements of the relationships between the three women and me.

I finally took stock of myself at four months into my relationship with Wendy, Tracy, and Penny. I was a changed person. People at work had noticed. My regular customers had noticed and commented.

I had more self-confidence and self-assuredness. The word ‘shy’ no longer applied to me. I think I was smarter, or at least willing to display my talents without getting all macho or arrogant about them. My patience and tolerance for B.S. had improved. I was more polite and conversational, and outgoing. One younger woman that was a client told me that I was more ‘loveable’.

I had another major event occur as the end of September neared. The list of house-transforming projects that I had fundamentally came to an end. The house was ready to sell.