Chapter 46: Thanksgiving Morning

"Did you get any sleep at all?" smiled Marta when Margie woke her and Joe up early Thanksgiving morning, around sunrise, excited by her poem.

"I nodded off a couple hours," answered Margie.

Joe chuckled, propped his head on a large pillow and guided Marta to rest her head on his shoulder. "Go ahead Little One."

Margie explained the inspiration, telling them of her conversation with Joe's mom and her dad and how she sought further conversation and when not found decided to write her thoughts down. "It started as an anarchy of impressions, but they coalesced."

Sweeping Up
By Margie

In sweeping up after the party
Pressing bristles into floor boards
The grooves and wear unburdened
Of the layer of past dust
And grit settled within
I discovered where I've been.

Piles of whispers, murmurs, conversing
Tones and shouts and screams
Ready to be dust bin inhabitants
Twinkled with facets
Of jewels hidden
By their puny size.

I discovered the gleams
Caught my mind's eyes
And reflected silence: the shine
Unbidden dreams churning
In a gray matter cauldron
Heated by harried friction.

Blinded at first and disturbed
I focused seeking clarity
And the cause for apprehension
And felt clues with all senses
Slivers of disjointed memories
Needing comprehension to cohere.

Hands blackened as they dug in
I didn't care about the soiling
Only that I couldn't wet fingertips
With my tongue's saliva
To enable the miniscule fragments
To adhere and emerge from dust.

I sought tools and discovered where
A place dust becomes past words
And dreams gleam allows
Imagination to become a forge
Where thought's material form
Anything and I needed tweezers.

Plucking out the jewels
They came out extended
Like a taffy pull stretched
As long as the memory needed
Sometimes beyond arm length
And the strength to pull.

Pull I did and succeeded
Sweating pearls of exertion through pores
And fell back on my back,
Slammed my head against the boards
And the numbness of my numb skull
Aided in the cohesion.

I lived a life of utter strife
At least that's what I saw
Or felt or smelled or tasted
Or heard: torrents of arguments
Drowning in seas of sobs
A flood of me and everyone else.

Time had no command
I saw a life connected
Only by similitude of fights
My mother's eyes turned to stone
As if I'd been born Medusa
But the effect needed catalyst.

She tortured me with disbelief
That my childish anger cleaved
Her and husband into separate beings
He left because of my torture
Or my shameful and frightful seduction
Of her one and only true love.

And her new man threw daggers
As I spun in place on my wickedness
And his aim rarely missed the target
Not the edges of my spread form
Not where audiences could ooh and ah
But directly into my heart.

And the man my mother claimed I sent
Into exile and another's arms
Used weapons of a different sort
Cat's paws with claws extended
Cat's fangs bared and tearing
Already torn muscle and veins.

And my mother again moaning
Moans that had expressed rapture
My supposed evil had stolen
Now only voiced the pain
My words as fists had caused.
Her word fists made me moan.

In tears I pulled a nearby thread
And found a similar parental cast
And yet tearing and eyes tearing
Had no presence there instead
Words caressed and tickled
The chest and neck and head.

Father one collecting phrases
Of idiotic clichés reformed
Into silly knots and bow ties
weighted by his thick soft voice
Seemingly serious and yet
Flung at me made me laugh.

Of course I started it but
He managed to build it bigger
And recast it with lively flare
And even had retracted paws add
A favoring touch and fanged
Mouth a lovely sweet breath.

And sisters at play with mother
Lost in juvenile exuberance
Obviously infectious when mother
Became one of us and even
Second dad found no faults
Doubled over in mirth.

But raising up another line
Found fear of hand and word
Slapping me so many
Sizes of hands and races
Black and brown and beige and heavy
Turning cheek and brow blood red.

Afraid of another and needing it
The pull extended beyond means
Seemed to never find an end
And instead of further pulling
I gave it a glance and knew
I never wanted an end.

I beheld love and wondered
Why it could extend so long
Having met it only recently
And saw the thickness of each moment
Minutia of time held eternity
Within the narrow strand.

I whispered Mom to a near stranger
And held her tall form trying
To squeeze her into my heart and found
She simply stepped in and shared it
With my first father and a new one
And my first lovers and others.

I wrapped this thread around me
Twirling in circles in joy
Until it formed a new skin
Joining with my old skin
Restoring warmth I never felt
Until it became me and made me

Know it had always been me
I just needed to be reborn
In the womb of reflected love
Of me for me and for others
Who loved me unconditionally.
Who I loved unconditionally too.

And so it goes I found my heart
Despite the ravages it had been
Within the dust of my sweeping up
A duty I performed reverently
For the company I find so dear
Even their offal's full of gems.

Applause and tears and hugs brought Margie immeasurable joy. "So Mom welcomed you to the family," Joe remarked.

Margie continued her complete smile. "You listened! Yep. Me and the rest of the harem. It's an open invitation."

"Did you tell Mary?" asked Marta.

"Not yet. I thought it could wait for Thanksgiving dinner. Speaking of which, I need to work on my speech."

Joe smirked at the bundle of energy. "Always lacking in tradition aren't we?"

"Why's that?" asked Margie. Marta also looked curious.

"As father provider and elder, my dad always spoke the Thanksgiving blessing."

"Even after he..." began Marta.

"Of course. It's a chance for us to demonstrate our continued respect for him."

"Sorry," said Margie.

Marta met Joe's smile with hers. "No, Little One. We'll have two blessings this evening, the oldest and youngest, both wise in their own ways."

"I'll let him know," Margie bounced off the bed.

"It's early my love," Marta reminded her. "Maybe you should nap at least."

"I just feel so ... blessed."

Joe chuckled. "Me too. Try to relax and catch some Z's, okay?"

"I'll try, but..."

"I know, my delightful force of nature. Go ahead and check if they're awake. Like me, mom and dad tend to wake early."

"Thanks."

The night before a tired Joe risked not fulfilling his husbandly duties. After tapping his quicker semen with her mouth to assure a lengthy fuck, Marta saw the problem. He nodded off. She woke him gently, letting him know they could celebrate another night when actually married.

Groggily he responded, his desire to fulfill his duty slowly building his energy. "My love, I know we'll have a lifetime together just the two of us and with others we love, but I want to make love to you for the last time as a single man and woman and the first time as man and wife. I want to linger over your luscious body as if it would be the last time and the first time. It has to happen now, because tomorrow morning we'll be struck by the immense responsibility of entertaining a lot of people and making them feel wanted and welcomed in our loving home."

And so they commenced making love. Both explored the other's body. Joe worked Marta into a frenzy, giving her as many orgasms as she could stand before and during fucking. He knew he had only one more cum left and she knew too, so she only lightly teased while studying him.

Marta spent most of the fuck riding him knowing it would lengthen it. They could keep eye contact throughout. Joe could manipulate her zones easily. The slowness kept her from getting too exhausted. Times when she reached an orgasm, he lifted into her with speed, easing back as soon as she came.

Finally he guided her onto her back and fucked her missionary style, their eyes and genitals remaining connected throughout the transition. 


"Cum for me Joe. Fill me with your love!" exclaimed Marta. Joe let go of resistance and pounded into her. "So good," she muttered loudly.

A couple minutes later he ejaculated mightily into her abused hole. She felt the hot rush of semen, but having cum enough, especially the last time before they turned over, it didn't provide her with a final one. However seeing his body writhe with pleasure pleased her as much as anything had that night.

As predicted, after Margie's delightful if impertinent waking of them, the immensity of the next two days struck them and quelled any libidinous need. Joe left Marta in bed, kissing her gently on forehead and mouth, dressed for jogging and went to Mary's bedroom door.

Hearing sex, and Mary the obvious center, he chuckled and went down to make coffee and reheated waffles, greeting Margie waiting by the guest room door and his mom and dad when they emerged heading with Margie to the family room.

Less than a half hour later L joined him in jogging uniform. She drank the rest of his coffee and grabbed a sweet roll. "If we don't get going, I'm going to realize how much I'd rather be upstairs in the arms of my lover."