Chapter 26

“Been staying out of trouble?” asked Malcolm.

“Trying, trying,” said John as he slid onto his bar stool. Malcolm settled onto a barstool on the tending side of the bar and began to prepare John a gin and tonic. He already had a Manhattan in front of him. “Anita and I fooled around for a while, then I catnapped for a bit.”

“So, where’s the lovely Anita?” asked Malcolm.

“Probably with your wife, getting dressed. I decided I wasn’t all that tired, so I came down here.” John looked around the room and eyed a folding photo frame at the end of the bar. One picture showed a young man and woman, the other was of Caroline and another, younger woman. “Who’s the picture of, your son?” he asked.

Malcolm leaned over and pulled the frame closer. “That’s Jerry, my son, and his girlfriend. She’s his fiancé, they’re engaged now.”

John looked the picture over. “Good looking kid. Looks fairly big.” The picture showed a large young man of about college age, tall and heavily muscled through the chest, wearing a Speedo swimsuit and swim goggles around his neck, with one hand holding a large trophy of sorts, and the other around the waist of an incredibly busty blonde in a lime green bikini. He was soaking wet, and they were standing by the side of an indoor pool. He was also as bald as a cue ball.

“He is,” admitted Malcolm. “You tried on one of his shirts earlier. He’s a senior at the University of Indiana, on the swim team,” he explained. “We think he’s stopped growing, but he stands around 6-3 or 6-4.”

“I suppose that explains the goggles and bald head. Does that really cut his times down?”

Malcolm shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe. I personally think it’s all psychological myself. Other than that, I think it’s a lot of horsecrap, but what do I know. He only shaves his head when he’s got a big meet.”

John smiled. “Well, if he earned that trophy he must do okay.”

“Oh, he does, he does. He’s ranked highly in the national standings and even has a shot at the next Olympics. He swims the breaststroke, middle distance.”

John tapped the photo of the girl next to Jerry. “I see that he specializes.”

Malcolm looked blank for a moment, then caught on with a laugh. “Yes, she is quite something, isn’t she? I don’t know if you can tell from the photo, but she’s almost as tall as you are. I think that’s why she started going out with Jerry, she could wear heels and not look like Godzilla standing next to him. The secret truth, though, is that there is no truth in advertising. You are seeing an excellent example of the frontiers of polymer technology in action.”

John looked closer and said, “What nature’s forgotten, stuff with cotton? So how do you know all this?”

“Well, I know it’s a cliché, but she’s working her way through college as a stripper. Jerry took me to her show once.”

“You’re right,” said John. “That’s so cliched as to be trite. It ranks right up there with the hooker with the heart of gold.”

“Oh, she’s a nice enough girl. She says she plans on stopping once they graduate and marry, and we have no reason not to believe her,” remarked Malcolm.

“And that’s how you know it’s silicone? You saw her in her show?” asked John.

“Actually no. Jerry brought her home last summer and I saw her sunbathing topless out by the pool. As you can imagine, she has little modesty where her body is concerned. It’s excellent work of the sort. Scarring is almost non-existent, but they’re a just a bit too round and firm for my taste. Still, Jerry seems to want a girl just like the girl who married dear old Dad.”

“Malcolm, that’s much more than Caroline carries around,” commented John.

“Oh, not Caroline,” said Malcolm. “Jerry’s mom, my first wife. She wasn’t plastic, but hers were still almost that big.”

“Divorce?”

“Car crash.” Malcolm noticed John’s look of dismay. “It’s all right. It’s been almost twenty years.”

“So, who’s the woman with Caroline in the other picture?” asked John, changing the topic. In this picture both women were sitting on a low stone fence outside of a large Victorian house in the bright sunlight. Both women were wearing sun dresses, Caroline a halter-topped button-front print, and the other woman in a tube top with a wrap skirt. Both women showed extremely generous amounts of leg, and in the case of the shorter blonde with Caroline, an abundance of cleavage, as well.

Malcolm glanced at the photo. “That’s Caroline’s younger sister, Debbie. She must be about thirty-two, thirty-three now. That was taken a few years ago, at our house on the Keys.”

“That’s right, you mentioned you were heading down there shortly. Nice looking place,” commented John. “You stay long?”

“We like it. We’ll stay till it gets good and warm up here again, maybe the middle of June or so. Normally Caroline and I drive down slowly and pick up Debbie along the way, while everyone else drives through directly. Debbie stays with us for a week or so before going home. She uses up her vacation on the cheap, and Caroline gets to see her sister.”

“You don’t mind?”

Malcolm glanced at the picture again and slid it back to John. “John, take another look at that picture. I should mind having to put up with that?” he asked.

John looked closer at the picture of Debbie. Other than in the bones of the face, she looked nothing like her sister. She was considerably shorter and somewhat heavier than Caroline, as well as being blonde. Still, on further reflection, he thought she might be of a similar build as Anita and Phoebe, short and curvy, although carrying perhaps ten more pounds of admittedly nice padding. And she certainly seemed to dress the part for the Jenson household. The tube top was pulled scandalously low, exposing the dark tops of her nipples, and her wrap skirt was pulled back far enough that John could almost imagine that she was a real blonde.

John looked up at Malcolm in surprise. “You mean she ... you and Caroline and her sister?” he asked.

Malcolm leaned over the bar and nodded. “She is the most outrageous and oversexed woman I have ever met. Let me tell you a story.”

“I first met Debbie at her wedding, back when she was in her early twenties. I didn’t think much of her one way or the other, especially since she and her husband moved to California. Then a few years later she divorced him and moved back east to Myrtle Beach. Caroline invited her up for a week and things got crazy.”

“I was sitting where you are, and she came down to dinner one night and sat down next to me, between Caroline and me, right there,” said Malcolm, pointing at the barstools next to John. “Now you have to realize that she was wearing this really short skirt and a fairly sheer blouse, looking really good, you understand, and Caroline was looking pretty interesting herself, too. So anyway, Debbie gets a little tipsy and wobbled on the stool and put out her hand to steady herself and grabs me right by the crotch. I’m sitting there next to two beautiful women with a hard-on to pound nails with, and she falls and grabs my root. So, the next thing I know, she says something like ‘Now that’s something to be proud of, Caroline.’, and Caroline starts joking back with her.”

“The next thing I know, she fondles me briefly, then sits back on the barstool and starts joking with Caroline about her ex and comparing him to me, and all the while I’m simply sitting there like a bump on a log. She’s saying how she wished she had had this all those years ago, and Caroline’s egging her on jokingly. When I’ve had enough, I tell her to put her money where her mouth is. Enough of this nonsense. So, what does she do? Before I can say anything, Debbie grabs my zipper and puts her money where her mouth is, so to speak.”

“Holy shit!” exclaimed John. “And Caroline didn’t say anything?”

“Well, she squawked a bit at first, but I really couldn’t complain without getting hurt, so to speak. Caroline got into it real fast. The next thing I know, she’s kneeling behind Debbie, and has pulled her panties down, and is fingering her from the rear. Ever since, she’s been part of our little group.”

“Wow!”

Malcolm refreshed their drinks and settled back down in his stool as Jeanine brought in a small tray of appetizers and canapés. “Dinner will be in about forty-five minutes, gentlemen,” she announced. “Phoebe sent these in, unless you’d like me to provide something else?” She smiled in what John thought was a rather hopeful manner.

“Well, John?” quizzed Malcolm. “Guests first, I would say.”

“Hmm. I must admit, our conversation does have me primed, so to speak.” Turning towards Jeanine, he looked her over and enjoyed the sight. Today’s maid costume consisted of a low cut strapless and backless top, a skirt so short it failed to cover her ruffled white panties, and black fishnets. “Perhaps Jeanine would like an appetizer?” he asked.

“I’d love one, Mister Andrews.” She undid John’s zipper as he swiveled to face her, then bent at the waist and began to suck the tip of his cock as she exposed the turgid length to the air.

Malcolm watched briefly before standing and coming around to the front of the bar. “Excuse me John if I find this rather inspirational.” Malcolm unzipped his own pants and pushed them down his legs. His uncircumcised prick stood forth proudly as he stepped up behind Jeanine and lifted her skirt and petticoat up. John decided that her panties must have been crotchless because Malcolm simply grabbed his cock and pushed into the fellating maid easily.

This was a novel experience for John. He had never participated in a two-on-one fucking before and enjoyed it quite a bit. He reached down and unzipped the back of Jeanine’s dress, allowing her breasts to hang freely, as Malcolm pushed her skirt to her waist. The shock waves Malcolm was sending through Jeanine with his thrusts drove the bent-over girl further into his crotch, pushing John’s cock down her throat at each shove. Jeanine, however, was not distracted from task, and continued to suck heavily as she fondled the guest’s nuts. In short order, John spewed down the girl’s throat as she sucked him dry, then she leaned backwards into Malcolm to finish him off. He didn’t last long after she reached between her legs to manipulate the cock invading her cunt. She came in time with Malcolm.

Finished, she politely stood and curtsied, then skipped off to the kitchen. John and Malcolm simply smiled at each other, then repaired their clothing. Malcolm sat down on the stool next to John and they resumed their conversation.

The wives came down about fifteen minutes later and both men blatantly stared as they entered the room. Anita sashayed up between them with an extra flounce to her hips, then pirouetted between them. “Does this meet with your approval, husband dearest?” she asked.

“Wow!”

“Good. God, but I feel horny!” she proclaimed. Resting a hand in each of their crotches, she evaluated John and Malcolm. Patting her husband, she smiled, then turned to Malcolm and began to unzip his pants. With a sweet but impish smile at John, she pulled Malcolm’s pants down his thighs and stroked Malcolm’s uncut manhood. “This should do,” she said. Then while John watched wide-eyed, she proceeded to climb atop Malcolm, still seated on his barstool, and promptly straddled his cock. “Just what I needed,” said Anita as she positioned herself.