Chapter 22: Labor Day Wetness

The first Monday of September, of course, was the federal Labor Day holiday. For the four parents, it was a welcome break from the routine of their daily work. Marc had been deeply buried in a state-sponsored engineering project. An elderly (mid-1950’s) major highway was becoming unsafe as improperly constructed overpass bridges were unexpectedly nearing total failure. He and the other civil engineers in his firm were at maximum effort trying to get the plans for new bridges done for construction to start before the winter weather.

Abbie was worrying. It seemed in just a few weeks that the tight black curls on his head were becoming speckled with gray. And she disliked the new forehead wrinkles that showed the strain he was under.

But their state had learned from the example of California. When earthquakes wrecked the San Francisco–Oakland Bay Bridge (I-80, 1989) and the Santa Monica Freeway (I-10, 1994), the state offered huge bounties for speedy repairs. In both cases, these critical arteries were restored in record time. Marc would take home a triple salary if he and the other engineers could beat their deadlines to get the new design plans to the construction companies.

Abbie and Shari were doing everything they could to help him. Abbie drove Marc to and from the office. Shari packed him a tasty lunch to eat at his workstation. They splurged on a “hot tub” jetted spa for the backyard. It cost about $7,000, but the hot jets of bubbling water were supremely relaxing.

And if Marc got a little too warm, he would hoist himself up and sit on the edge with his knees wide apart and his lower legs and feet still enjoying the bubbles. Abbie would swim up in front of him and slurp up his cock for a quick blowjob.

Officially, there were six molded seats around the sides. Most of them had spouts arranged to push a mixture of hot water and soothing bubbles against the back and butt of whoever sat there. If the users were friendly, though, eight adults could fit inside, with only a modest amount of hot water splashing out over the sides.

Unsurprisingly, all four Korhonens were visiting (and soaking) on the Friday evening of the holiday weekend.

“God, this is amazing! Anton, can we get one?”

“I don’t know, it was how much?”

Abbie told her, and they were disappointed.

“Unfortunately, we just spent $2,200 building a sauna. Which we enjoy, but this spa is on a whole ‘nother level. I guess Anja and I will have to go down on Commerce Road and start hooking.”

“Mama!”

“Well, maybe not. Abbie likes us, she will let us come over and use the tub once in a while, I hope.”

“Of course, Irina. You just have to follow the rules.”

“OK, Abbie. What are the rules?”

“No glass containers. No alcohol. Nobody under age 18. No peeing in the pool. No come in the pool; you have to swallow. No swimsuits. Most of all: love, sweet love.”

“I wonder if we can get a sign made up,” mused Marc. “Listen, folks, I need to admit, I am totally worn out. It’s been the week from hell, as Abbie can explain. I’m going to take a leak and hit the sack, and I’ll see all of you for breakfast, say, 9 o’clock. Abbie, please stay out here with our guests.

“Good—”

Anja jumped up and sat beside Marc.

“Just a minute. I want to come to bed with you, no, just to rest. I’ve asked Abbie and Curtis already, they don’t mind. It’s a good night to cuddle, is that OK?”

“Really? You’re sure?”