Hi. My name is Chloe, and I've read what Dad wrote about my Thanksgiving weekend at home with him and Mom.
"Tearing up her freshman dorm?" "Breaking hearts left and right?" Where does Mom get this stuff, anyway? I'm not a heartbreaker, and I don't dump people left or right or any way at all. That's not how I want to be treated, so I don't treat other people like that. Cute daughter? Well, yes, some people consider me cute (she said, modestly). They think Sylvia, my roommate, is cute, too. She and I look a lot alike, except she's blonde and I'm brunette.
Several of you asked Dad what happened at Christmas, and he told me I had to write it since it was my story. So, it's my turn now.
Where to start? Well, on the train back to school I let myself doze and I got all warm and toasty and even a little tingly as I remembered kisses from Mom and Dad and tongues and lips and how they wound me up tighter than ever before and then I tipped over into that rush and glow and it was so good I wanted to scream about it.
I didn't, but I bet I looked pretty goofy afterwards. Mom and Dad didn't seem to mind. Dad had covered my face and neck and boobs when he came all over me, but he and Mom weren't even done yet! I don't think they know how much I can hear from their room when they get noisy. It was OK. I was busy myself right then, once more before I went to sleep.
Back at school, Autumn Quarter, from midterms a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving until Christmas break, was, well, a bitch, to put it plainly. My papers--I had two of them--were due two weeks before finals, which meant I had a week to finish. I'd done all the research pretty much; all I had to do now was write. Dad had one rule about writing: "Start at the beginning, Chloe, and go through to the end and stop." I don't know how many times in high school he told me that when I complained about term papers, and I can hear him saying it now. He's a writer so he ought to know, right?
Anyway, that first week back went pretty quickly. Except that most nights I fell asleep with my fingers busy as I remembered how warm the fire felt on my bare skin and Mom's soft lips caressing mine and how my palms loved holding her firm boobs. I hadn't touched Dad, not there, anyway, at least not yet, but I wondered how he would feel.
Friday afternoon I was finishing the final proof on my second and last paper and was about to e-mail it to the instructor when Sylvia came back from the library and banged open our door.
"Hey, Chloe! Want to go to the cabin with me and Ryan tomorrow?"
Ryan was right behind her. Big grin on his face. Thinking what he was probably thinking about made me a little warm. Why not, I thought to myself. Next week was Dead Week, classes were over, pretty much, so it was going to be a grind. Why not have a little fun and blow off some steam first?
"Sure, unless you two want to be alone?"
Sylvia came over to my desk and took my face in her hands.
"Never. We both want you to come."
"With us, I mean."
Hah. That's what I was figuring. Did I want to? Well, yeah, actually. I felt the start of a tingle. I looked over her shoulder at Ryan.
"What about you?"
"I really want you to come, Chloe."
"Ha ha, Ryan. Very subtle."
I looked at Sylvia again. The tingle I felt was a little stronger.
"You sure, sweetie?"
She kissed me.
"You bet, Chloe."
"OK. When are you leaving?"
"After lunch, OK?"
This time it rained all the way up to the cabin. No sunning on the rocks, topless or not. I shivered when Sylvia opened the cabin door and I stepped inside. No way I was taking off my clothes this time.
"Chloe, help me bring in some wood, will you?"
I followed Ryan around to the woodshed. It was freezing and by my third trip I was soaking wet, even with my rain parka. The good news was that we now had enough wood inside to go through the night, if we wanted to.
An hour later, things were looking up. Ryan's fire crackled, my dry clothes were soft against my skin, I'd piled our stuff in the corner, and the stew Sylvia was heating (thank god for prepared foods!) was making my stomach growl and my mouth water. I almost said, "drool," but it wasn't quite that bad. Yet.
The shivers had turned to flutters in my stomach, and they weren't food-related. Look, I'll just come out and say it: I'm a virgin. I mean, I've never had a cock in my pussy. I've had some other experiences, though. I may not have gone all the way, but I've sure had fun getting part of the way "there."
One thing I can't deny. I'm kind of focused on that "all the way" thing. Not obsessed about it, no way. No. Some girls snicker when they talk about it. What's the difference, they say, between a guy's dick in your mouth and one in your pussy, anyway? There is to me. At least I think so. Well, yeah, maybe I am obsessed about this after all. A little, at any rate.
I told Mom and Dad that Sylvia and I "weren't like that," which is true, but it's not like we haven't fooled around a little. I mean, where do you think those pictures of my bottom and kissing in the pool that I sent to Mom and Dad came from, anyway? Plus, Ryan's cock isn't the first one I've seen, hard or soft, and Dad wasn't the first guy to come all over me. There was Paul last year, and David earlier, and they were fun. I'm not complaining, but there's no need to spend any more time on them right now.
Dad wasn't the first person to eat me crazy, either.
So, I may not be Little Miss Experienced, but I've had a good time learning what I like to give and what I like to receive. All in good time, I say, and this weekend was shaping up to be a good time. For what, I wasn't sure yet.
My tingle was back, along with a seriously warm feeling in the right spot. What I'm trying to say is that I was getting really hungry, and not just for Sylvia's stew.
Another hour or so later the cabin was warm and we were warm and fed and happy once again. We were working on our second bottle of red when I stood up.
"I have an announcement."
It was the wine speaking, I think.
"I'm going to get naked."
Ryan and Sylvia's look was priceless. Then Sylvia grinned. Ryan adjusted himself. That was promising, I thought. Sylvia's grin turned into a smirk.
"You go, girl!"
So I got naked. Stretched, hands behind my head. Twisted from one side to the other. Not trying to show off, really. OK, maybe a little. Mostly I was trying to make like a cat. I felt the muscles in my neck and back pull and the tension started to melt. That felt seriously good.
"I'll join you."
In a moment, Sylvia was just as bare as I was and she stood and stretched with me, our backs extended, our boobs out, our arms as high as we could get.
Ryan? His tongue was halfway to the floor and in his loose sweats he was signaling his approval in the traditional male manner. Good.
Sophie and I paused to look at each other. Great minds think alike, and it must have been Ryan's best wet dream to be attacked by two gorgeous (if I may say so) nude women who were kissing every inch of his bare skin they could uncover.
We ended up in a laughing heap on the rug in front of the fire, Ryan's sweats and boxers around his ankles, Sylvia's hand on his erect cock and mine on his chest as I did my best to get my tongue down his throat. Smart boy that he was he'd decided resistance was futile, and his hand on my right boob was doing very welcome things for my tingles.
After we sorted ourselves out things got even better. I'm kind of hazy on what happened later that evening, to tell you the truth. I guess the wine hit me kind of hard. I knew I was safe. Ryan and Sylvia wouldn't hurt me. That's what made me want to do stuff--knowing that they wouldn't go any farther than I wanted to go.
Relishing the wet tongue between my legs, flicking against my clit, circling my lips, stabbing me oh so sweetly; returning the favor, first with Sylvia until she arched and tensed, then with Ryan, his cock warm and stiff with skin so smooth and soft, full and round in my mouth.
Getting hotter and hotter as Ryan thrust and thrust lion-style behind Sylvia. Her grunts and growls and moans and my fingers working my clit winding my spring like nobody's business until I was so tight I burst. The scream came from nowhere and forced itself out and I let it go where it wanted to.
Sylvia back between my legs later on, my clit loving her tongue, my pussy clamped on her two fingers until I was lost and gone and so warm and so relaxed I never wanted to move.
Waiting beside Sylvia on our backs, fingers linked, watching Ryan powering between her legs again, feeling each thrust as Sylvia jerked and tensed. Then Ryan's hot splashes on my tummy as he emptied himself over me.
Giggling. Maybe it was me? Ryan? No, guys don't giggle. Sylvia. It must be Sylvia. Catching. Laughter, both of us. Weak as a kitten.
Ryan again, fat and smooth and warm in my mouth. Pulsing once more, not so much this time, as I swallowed. Cleaning, licking, letting him slip out when he got small again. Sylvia holding me tight from behind while he finished, her hands warm and making small circles on my boobs.
Sleepy. On my side facing the fire, Sylvia spooned against me. Her hand warm on my hip. Ryan behind her, I think.
Memory of movement in the night. Small noises. Whimpers, a moan. Without conscious thought my hand went between my legs once more, tracing up and down, circling my spot. Wanting harder, then softer, faster, slower, bursting through just as the movement beside me became frantic. Afterwards splayed, wanton, open to the air. Almost hoping someone would fill me. Almost.
Then it was cold again. Fire almost gone. Bundled up, the three of us, using every blanket in the room.
In the bright morning, sleepy at first but fast waking up with Sylvia's lips on mine, wet, warm, her tongue greeting me. Throbbing, our hands busy on each other, Ryan watching. Afterwards I was awake, watching the sunlight splash on the sofa. Boneless after my peak. Sylvia's mouth leaving mine as she turned over on her back and opened to Ryan and he straddled her and eased himself into her wet hot mouth.
I got the news on the first day of finals. Holy cow! We were spending Christmas at Lake Tahoe this year!
If she'd taken a partnership when it was offered back then, by now Mom's bonus plus share in the profits would have been in the six figures, Dad told me. As it was, her bonus was something just under the mid "fives," although he wouldn't tell me exactly how much, and they decided to splurge.
Lake Tahoe, yeah!
Oh, and there was more. Dad told me I could invite Ryan and Sylvia for part of the time, if I wanted to and they wanted to. After my last weekend at the cabin with them, I did. I wondered what Dad and Mom were up to, but when I asked Dad he laughed and told me to ask Mom. So I did.
"Congratulations, Mom! On your bonus, I mean."
"Thank you, sweetie."
"Are you sure about having Ryan and Sylvia there?"
"You bet, Chloe."
"I mean, Mom, I've gotten pretty close with them, you know?"
"That's OK, sweetie. Really. You're all adults. Your dad and I aren't going to say or insist on anything."
Another pause. Something that sounded like a giggle.
"I mean, anything, Chloe. Your dad isn't the jealous type, you know?
"Mom? Is there something you're not telling me?"
This time she laughed.
"Chloe, there's plenty we don't tell you. Parents have their privacy, too."
She stopped for the longest minute.
"Mom, still there?"
"Oh, yes, sweetie. What I mean is, our little adventures last summer and at Thanksgiving aren't the first time your dad and I have experimented a little."
She laughed again.
"I'm not going to tell you what we did in college, either."
I know kids are supposed to be grossed out hearing things like that about their parents, but I wasn't. Quite the contrary, in fact.
"Mom? A hint, OK?"
"Sweetie, I mean it. We have our privacy just as you have yours. Our friends do, too."
"OK, I'll tell you this much. Remember when you stayed with your grandmother a couple of years ago while we went to the Caribbean with Mr. and Mrs. James? Remember? We showed you some photos."
Oh, yeah. You bet I did. Especially the ones of them skinny-dipping.
"Well, we did more than skinny-dip together."
My turn to pause. I giggled.
"Pretty sure Ryan and Sylvia might like this."
"Remember, sweetie. Nobody insists on anything, no expectations from anyone, right?"
"Good luck on exams, Chloe."
Thank god for Finals Week care packages. Sylvia and I made out like bandits. Ryan not so much, but we shared. We were munching away one evening the three of us when I told them about Lake Tahoe. They jumped at my invitation. Turns out Sylvia's family at the last minute decided to spend the holidays with distant relatives in Sweden (huh? brrr!), and Ryan's folks were going to Florida, so Ryan and Sylvia were going to come up for a couple of nights just before Christmas, then fly to Florida on the 26th to be with Ryan's family.
I told them about my conversation with Mom and her talk of "experimenting."
"Guys, I want to be clear about this. Things might get a little weird, you know? Maybe nothing happens, maybe something does. No expectations, no requirements, right?"
Sylvia looked at Ryan. Ryan looked at me. Sylvia answered for both of them.
"Chloe, you already know we like experimenting. Ryan does, especially. He's seen you and he's seen that photo of your Mom that you keep on your desk."
"Yeah. The cabin, too."
Sylvia poked him. Leaned over and kissed me.
"How do you feel about it, Chloe, really?"
I felt a tingle. I knew how I felt about it. No expectations. No requirements. Just possibilities. I hoped she could hear the smile in my voice.
"I like it."
It was snowing the afternoon of December 23rd when we picked up Ryan and Sylvia at the airport and drove to the cabin. Well, it was really more a chalet than a cabin. I mean, when the "cabin" has a huge kitchen, a sauna and a gigantic hot tub, a full set of skis for eight and several pairs of snowshoes, in my book it's a chalet, not that I've had that much first-hand experience with chalets. By the time we'd finished unloading their stuff, there was no visibility outside. According to the radio the airport was closed, and everyone was advised to stay off the roads to let the plows do their work.
That was OK. We'd stocked up with enough food to last a week, and the power was still on. No worries for us.
We all ended up in the hot tub that night. The tub was indoors, just inside the sliding door to the deck. Nobody (in California, anyway) wears a swimsuit in a hot tub, and trying to watch everyone at once to see who was checking whom out kept me really busy. Dad clearly appreciated Sylvia's curves, and Ryan was doing his best to not ogle Mom and failing miserably. I could tell she knew and I saw the beginnings of a smile once or twice, but she kept quiet.
In fact, she got her own eyeful of Ryan and I'm pretty sure she liked what she saw.
We got out after a while, dried off, and hit the sack, or our separate sacks, even if Ryan, Sylvia and I decided we'd sleep in front of the fire.
Nothing happened that night. We were all too tired.
"Mom, I don't know what I want."
Today was December 24th, tonight would be Christmas Eve, and we were having an early cup of coffee in the breakfast nook, the sunlight reflecting off the snow outside after yesterday's storm almost too bright for comfort.
"I mean, I know I want to do things, um, but I'm not sure."
I was trying not to whine, but this had been spinning around in my head since even before Thanksgiving. I'd put it out of my mind, especially during my last visit to the cabin with Ryan and Sylvia, but now it was back.
"Does it matter if I'm a virgin? What does "virgin" mean, anyway? It's not like I haven't done stuff, you know."
I knew I was sounding like a little kid here but I didn't know how else to say it. Mom was grinning, except I knew she wasn't being mean. She was Mom, and she loved me. She reached to take my hand in hers.
She squeezed my hand.
"Chloe, of course it matters. What you want matters."
She looked out the window for a minute.
"Are you a "virgin" even if you've done stuff? Do you care? Is that how you see things? See yourself? Are you looking for a label?"
I thought about that for a minute. One thing I love Mom and Dad for is that they never ever let up on me. Oh, sure, they set limits, but they always insisted that I try as hard as I can, even as they stood back and let me work my way through whatever it was. I hated that. Until I loved them for it.
The more I turned the "virgin" thing over in my mind the more I realized I cared a lot about it, yes, but I was starting to see that I got to decide what was important and how and where and when and who. No labels. Not any more. Just me, Chloe, and what felt right.
I decided I would know when it was the right time, and from now on I wouldn't worry so much about it.
"Last one there's a rotten egg!"
With that, Dad set off on skis through the forest. He was heading slightly uphill toward an angle of the ridge behind our chalet. He was moving quickly now through the powder that fell overnight, but I was pretty sure it was going to be a slog before we got there. No matter: I was rested and wound up and ready for anything.
Mom was right behind him, me behind her. Ryan and Sylvia hadn't moved from their deck chairs in the bright sun, coffee cups in hand, even when I'd challenged them to join us.
"You guys going to veg out the whole time?"
"Nah. Just this morning. We need to catch up on our sleep."
Ryan elbowed Sylvia and wiggled his eyebrows. She shot him a "down, boy" look, but I could tell she was thinking about some more "sleep" herself.
Let them be, I thought to myself. More Mom and Dad time for me, and I set off.
Dad got there first, of course. Mom second, and I brought up the rear as usual. My heart was pumping to beat the band, the air so cold and clear and delicious you could bite it, and I did. Is this what exhilaration feels like? If so, I wanted more. It was different from arousal, so self-centered and self-contained. No, this was outward-reaching and I could feel myself expanding into the trees, the rocks, the sky.
I came back to earth when Mom hugged me tight. Our lips were cold at first touch, then warmer and wetter. At the touch of her tongue I withdrew and burrowed under her parka and sweater to kiss her neck. She whimpered until I returned to her lips and invaded. Some serious heat here. Even more when I felt someone press against me from behind and Dad's hands cupped my breasts. My nipples liked that, even through the layers of wool and nylon separating them from his palms.
I went on kissing Mom for a moment or two, the filling in their sandwich. It was Mom's turn to cup my breasts when I turned to kiss Dad. That felt just as good, and I wriggled against Dad to show him how much I liked being in his arms, too.
The three of us were grinning when we finally broke apart. First Mom then Dad kissed my cheek.
Dad took an exaggerated deep breath, his back arched.
"Nothing like exercise outdoors, right?"
Mom and I hit him, one from each side.
I stopped dead when I reached the deck after stacking my skis against the house. Dad ran into me from behind, his hands on my hips. In a couple of moments he pressed himself against my bottom once more as he realized what he was seeing through the window.