Chapter 12

I think the turning point was when...

No. Wait. This whole story is full of turning points. The coincidences in our three lives had brought us to turning points dozens ... hundreds ... maybe thousands of times. So there was no primary turning point.

So what I should have said was that one of the turning points I actually saw and recognized AS a turning point, was when Lynne blinked, and kind of stuttered: "We're all naked!"

Now I don't know if I, being a man, just got used to nudity a little quicker than a woman would, or whether I just didn't want either woman to cover up, seeing as how I was enjoying the view. So I said "It's all right. I've been thinking of becoming a nudist anyway."

Lynne looked confused and her mouth opened and closed.

"Well," I went on. "It just seemed as how what with you two being my women, if I become a nudist, of course you both will too. So we can just start practicing now." I smiled widely, as if I were proud of my creativity.

"On good grief!" yipped Jill. "The guys at school are horrible and even they aren't THAT bad!"

"The guys at school don't know how to make their women behave," I said sagely.

Long story short, thirty seconds later I was being attacked and tickled by two naked women which, I'm proud to say, was my whole objective in the first place.

Maybe I was going to be able to make this work after all.

If I was one of those perverted horn dogs who writes erotica on the internet, I'd probably say, right about in here somewhere, that after they stopped tickling me, (mostly because I fought dirty and started goosing them and pinching the good parts) that Lynne taught Jill how to give me a blow job, and then relented and let me fuck Jill's metaphorical socks off.

But of course that's not what happened. What actually happened was that Lynne stopped laughing and got down to negotiating. Basically she said that being interrupted was no fun, and that it wasn't polite. Jill got all shame-faced and promised not to spy any more. I tried to get them both to kiss me good night, so that I could cop some more feels, but they knew what was up by then. Jill wagged her naked ass at me and said "You have to wait to touch this, you dirty old man!" Lynne, when Jill wasn't looking, wagged HER naked ass at me and mouthed "I'll be back."

She did come back too, and she was a LOT better at this fellatio stuff than that girl back in high school was, let me tell you. She wasn't ready for me to cum in her mouth, though, so when I told her I was about ready, she just climbed on top of me, slotted my prick in her pussy, and sank down on it just as I started spurting.

"Ohhhhh," I groaned. "I love this as much as you do."

"No you don't," she said tensely, her eyes staring at my twisting face.

I didn't understand the entirety of what she meant then ... but I found out later.

Things actually calmed down after what I called "The Duke incident." Years later if one of them was complaining about something I'd ask "Is this as bad as the Duke incident?" They'd usually smile, sigh, and say "I guess not." Both women had to work together to break Duke of cold nosing them. Once he'd gotten a whiff, he seemed to want to get another one every so often.

Two weeks later our crew of twenty-five high school kids got together for training. They were a mixed lot of boys and girls. They all went to school together and knew each other. Jill asked if she could call herself the foreman, because she didn't want to compete with kids her age. With some trepidation Lynne agreed. I was appointed the roving trouble shooter and Lynne was referred to as "The owner."

Jill actually handled herself very well. She had graduated, and tried hard to be more mature than the high schoolers. About a third of the pickers were in the same category, but all they really cared about was making some spending money to take to college with them in the fall, or whatever. Jill showed them what to do and then had each one try to pick as many apples as possible in five minutes - correctly - which opened a lot of eyes when she told them how many apples this crew would be expected to harvest over the three weeks that we had arranged for the trucks to be there. There were some sober looks passed around, but nobody quit.

The only glitch came when the first truck showed up and the driver said his instructions were to collect the trucking fee up front. Lynne called the company and the guy she talked to said that was how they did business unless the contract specified otherwise. It was a low blow, because they knew they had her over a barrel. The problem was that her barrel was too empty to pay for all the trucks that would be showing up. Later, when her customers paid, her cash flow situation would be great, but it was going to break the bank to get the apples shipped.

I had some money saved up from my tax business. Lynne said she couldn't take it, and when I argued she said it would mess up the relationships in the house, which were already messed up enough (her words, not mine.)

"Look at it as a simple short term loan. I'll even charge you interest if it will make you feel better."

"I don't want to deal with this right now!" she moaned.

"We need to send the trucks. With my money we can do that. It's a no brainer," I said.

"I don't want to borrow money from you!" she whined.

"OK, then, sell me part of the business," I said.

She had no choice, and didn't have either the time or patience to do the numbers. I suggested a ten percent stake. She said that was OK for now, but she'd have to figure out later what my input was really worth and she insisted that I share in the profits. I'd have said anything to get her to accept, because I knew we were all screwed if that trucker left.

After that, the actual harvest went fine. The kids got better as they got experience, and had no trouble filling the trucks. When the inevitable goofing off happened, Jill ruled with an iron fist, snarling when she had to, but usually just reminding the offenders that they were wasting time.

Lynne cooked, and meal times were wonderful, because all these kids loved to eat and all of them knew great food when they got it. Lynne, an expert pie maker above all else, made fresh apple pies out of whatever variety of apple was being picked that day, so that the pickers knew what their work was going to boil down to, at least in some cases. And, along with their pay, the harvesters could take home as many apples as they wanted for their parents to use fresh, or can or freeze.