Now, many readers would hope that we… lovers … (used here in the widest term) would be fortunate enough to live happily ever after.
Others, of course, would wish for the opposite.
So — what did we encounter in our journey through life?
Well, it was what most others of you suffer or enjoy — good and bad things — to various degrees!
I married Martin.
Ciaran married Minette. Minette was much happier after the name change at her marriage. Life as a minstrel was so much better than it had been as a mince pie, allowing her to slip into the use of ‘Min’, rather than ‘Nette’ — as ‘minstrel’ sounded better than ‘nettestrelle’.
Tommy and Sarah and Kathy didn’t marry. But they lived together as if they were married.
My parents stayed married.
I failed to conceive. The diagnosis was a fairly severe case of fibroids. I couldn’t work out whether the ‘mother’ in me was disappointed, or the selfish child was ecstatic. Bit of both, I suppose, really.
Min managed to have two of the three children she wanted. Both fathered by Ciaran. She had made sure of that: – she only allowed Ciaran (of the men) access when she was planning to get pregnant; condoms notwithstanding. Of course, during those times we women had to work extra hard on her to make up for the single cock, and Ciaran had to restrict his activities to getting Min thoroughly knocked-up. Early onset of menopause prevented any further pregnancies.
Sarah and Kathy planned for two each, and each produced a ‘pigeon pair’. Paternity of each of the children was a matter of speculation, as no DNA testing was performed.
Through the years that the children were young, it was simplicity itself for we adults to have our sex games, many still including Mum and Dad.
It was obvious really, that each ‘single’ enjoyed playing with both twins together. And they were so solidly into being ‘bi’ that they relished pairing-up to take on both men and women.
There was something about the twins that had all the men fascinated. All four of the men doing the spit-roast gave them all something vicarious. Only Martin admitted that he could tell the twins apart, so it was something definitely psychological for them to fuck an end of a twin, then swap to the other twin. The other three men didn’t know which was which, but the fact that they all got to fuck both twins gave each of them, including Martin (strangely enough) that psychological ‘kick’. And for some reason, all six participants got even more out of it if the men switched ends as they switched twin. Perhaps needless to say, but the twins went into raptures if Min or I sucked a twin’s pussy as those spit-roasts proceeded.
Also, Min made a point of frequently taking on both Mum and Dad at the same time. She enjoyed their maturity, and their artistry; and being ‘gay’ with Mum, and ‘het’ with Dad. And usually at those times Ciaran and Martin played with the twins, and Tommy played with me.
As the kids grew older, games had to be curtailed to an increasing degree, until it was impossible for all we adults to play at the same time. So, a pair of us would, on a rota, look after the whole brood, by taking them off somewhere, while the rest played.
Depending on your viewpoint, the kids maybe got to be boring. They grew up, and went off in different directions, unaware of the incestuous activities of we elders, and not initiating sex games between them.
When it eventually became common knowledge in the brood of their elders’ activities, they were into young middle-age, and the die was cast. In fact, they were all the opposite — opposed to ‘that sort of deviant hanky-panky’.
Two of them refused to have anything to do with we ‘elders’, and cut all contact.
One, a female (as you might expect), maintained good contact, but didn’t forgive us.
The Lefkoşa Escort rest, abided us, but were not close.
My life with Martin has been a joy, despite my quasi-disappointment at being childless. Martin was, essentially relieved that we had no kids. They pretty much always got on his nerves, although he did his turn at brood-sitting. He didn’t mind that, as at the end of the baby-sitting period, they would be given back. Strangely enough, most of us are sure that one of the twins’ kids is his, though we disagree on which one.
I have played ‘What ifs’, in my mind, with the twins’ kids. Just say that chance gave each of the men one of the kids. For example, what would the relationship be between Tommy’s and Ciaran’s? Or Ciaran’s and Dad’s? Or theirs and me? I just can’t hack it, so I give up. The only bit I do get — maybe — is if… say Tommy’s and Dad’s are Sarah’s — then they would be half-brother and sister; as well as … something else — half second cousins[?].
I know that Martin was my only option for marriage in our ‘extended family’, but we have enjoyed each other. He has this wry sense of humour (like the twins really) which he can use to poke holes in much of life — his own needs and preconceptions included. I do love him. But my love for him is like my love for our home: – it’s cosy; and does all that we require of it. But IT is not vital, I could live ‘anywhere’. My Love for Tommy is like breathing: – absolutely necessary for my life, and to live.
Martin is much the same with his sisters. They are the pillars that support the roof of his world. I am mere decoration in that world. We each accept our places in the other’s world, and are content. We do not desire to be, in the other’s world, what they already have. So, all is calm and with no jealousy. However, there is still passion, which we both treasure.
Throughout our lives, Tommy and I have remained ardent with each other. Still, even after all these years, He only has to pull me to Him with those huge hands on my nipples, as He slides into my already soaking pussy — and I start cumming. I dread getting any further into menopause, as I hate the thought that I would fail to cream and cum in squirts for my Tommy.
Even at her age, Mum still enjoys being stuffed with a stiff cock; though now she has first to fill up with some sort of lube. And her preferred cock is Ciaran’s, but she still enjoys the other three men. But I believe that it’s the mother’s love for Ciaran that has increased her need for him. She is lucky with him, though. He’s as enthusiastic about his getting his hands on her (so to speak) — as she is with him; and having his cock sliding vigorously in and out of her. Her sexual stamina has decreased in recent years, so she isn’t as orgasmic as she used to be, and becomes sated after three or four a session.
Dad tries to spread himself around all the women, although his sexual stamina has also declined. Apart from Mum, I am the only one he sleeps with now (as in sharing a bed to cuddle and sleep in). We still shag wherever is convenient. Where the sex between Tommy and I is still usually hot, sweaty, and often almost violent; but with Daddy, however, when we are together to sleep, our sex cannot be termed (in any way) fucking.
Certainly, we engage in intercourse, and it is very satisfying to both of us, but I cannot think of it as anything other than ‘making love’. We will lay next to each other, and, most of the time, we start off by Dad gently licking my nipples as I gently stroke his cock. We are not trying for the ‘Guinness Book of Records’ in any way (unless of course it’s for the longest time making love).
We spend hours, just cuddling, and stroking, even licking and sucking. But the orgasms are, more or less, a by-product of our gentle pleasuring of each other. I can’t remember, for instance, Kıbrıs Escort that we have, recently, done an over-under sixty-nine during one of these one-on-one love fests. They are far too energetic for the goals for which we aim. Now, a side-by-side sixty-nine is always so relaxing. For example, during those, I will slowly lick Daddy a few times, then maybe lightly suck him, then nuzzle him, kiss him; then go back and do those things again, but in a different order. And as I am doing that, he will be kissing, or licking my mons, or very gently licking or sucking my clit, or my vagina — but not trying to get me all hot and squirty.
Of course, I am not saying that we do not have orgasms, or that we don’t groan or squeak through them, or that I never get squirty, because we do — I do — and my God[!], they can drive me to distraction. I have hurt him, a number of times, by squeezing his balls too tightly, or even biting his cock when an orgasm sneaks up on me. And he has hurt me on occasions when he has crushed me to him when I have brought him to a surprise orgasm. It is during these times that I really appreciate Daddy’s Love for me, and mine for him.
But of course, we do still enjoy fucking each other when we do the group-thing; and there is the love of perversity in most men, as Daddy and Tommy really enjoy spit-roasting me. I believe it’s the ‘brother’ thing: – the two brothers fucking the same woman — at the same time (and, at that ‘same time’, the woman is the hot little daughter [Daddy’s and Tommy’s opinion, as well as mine!] of one of them). I know I get a hell of a kick out of being fucked by two brothers at the same time. And, frequently, Daddy just has to take the bottom, in an over-under sixty-nine with me, as Tommy fucks my pussy. Daddy loves the pussy juice showers he gets. He enjoys the challenge of trying to drink it all as I squirt it out, but he hasn’t succeeded yet. Apparently, that is the one time he feels he can still ‘cum like a fire hose’.
I still love Daddy washing my hair for me while we shower. I still feel I missed out on so many years where he could have been doing it. No doubt if we had, I would have lost my virginity when I was younger, which might have made a difference with Tommy’s and my relationship.
I suppose that being childless, and hence not having any child turn against me because of the ‘hanky-panky’ has let me remain at a good emotional level; although Ciaran and Min’s two are the ‘friend’ and an ‘other’. But then it was fairly easy for them: – no incest on Min’s part, just the … ‘swinging’ … to come to terms with. Even if they did despair when ‘Daddy’ fucked both ‘Aunty’ and ‘Gran’ (me and Mum), in the same bed, ‘at the same time’.
My Gran is still hanging on — well into her nineties now (she knows about us now, and, needless to say, doesn’t approve).
One day, Tommy and I were visiting her, while we still lived together before my marriage, and something came up that broached our … um … ‘family affaires’; and she just grouched, a bit, that it was all because of we two ‘getting involved’ that sucked all the others in to it.
“Just thank your lucky stars, that your Dad wasn’t about,” she said looking at Tommy, “because you young fillies” she said looking directly at me, “would have to put up with him trying to slide his gnarled old willy into your sweet little fannies.”
“You’re joking, Mum!”
“Oh no I’m not, Thomas. He was always one for the ladies. How do you think that there came to be so many of you, and you as the tail-end-Charlie?”
I spluttered, “Oh, come ON, Gran. Even back when you were young, when people moved about like scuttling beetles and they hadn’t discovered colour in the world, …”
“Cheeky little mare!”
I giggled, and continued, “you must have known that it takes two to tango?
“And I think that Girne Escort you liked tangoing with Grandad!”
Her eye twinkled a little at that, and she gave a little wry purse of her lips.
“Well, maybe I did, at that. Just things are so different now, with access to easy birth control.”
What’s a Mother for, Anyway?
It was at this point that Tommy and I had one of our silent ‘expression’ discussions: –
K Direct look at T, “Well?”
left eyebrow raised.
T Eyes wide, eyebrows “What?”
K Eyes flicked to Gran, “Would you?”
lower my left
eyebrow, raise my
T Slight frown, slightly “What?”
K Looking at T, eyebrows “Really!
raised, longer glance Would you?”
at Gran, look back,
both eyebrows flicker
up and down, a
couple of times.
T Slight frown, slightly “Me?”
pursed mouth, right
K Slow, slight nod. “Yes.”
T Eyes wide, eyebrows “Really? My
raised, slightly pursed Mum?”
K Slow inclination of the “Why not? I
head, slight smile. shag MY Mum?”
T Looks at Gran, slightly “Dunno! Would
puzzled look. she?”
K Slight lift of left “Give it a try.”
inclination of head
T Slight devilish smirk. “Fuck yeah!”
This whole discussion took a few breaths to complete, then Tommy went and picked up Gran.
“Come on Mum. Fancy a little bit of fooling about? Karen and I will take it easy on you, it being your first time and all?”
“Thomas, don’t be ridiculous! Put me down.”
“If you think you could be embarrassed, Karen can just watch, this time? That’s right, isn’t it, Kari?”
“Oh, yes. You’d be very welcome.”
“Thomas! I am warning you!”
“Aw, come on, Mum! We are always happy to welcome another hot woman into our games, aren’t we Kari?”
“Mmm!” and I grin and nod enthusiastically.
“Thomas! Put me down this instant! And stop this ridiculousness. I am NOT going to join in with your sordid little games. It may be OK for all of you — but I am DEFINITELY NOT interested!
“Do you hear me?” — as she slapped the back of his head.
Tommy looked at me, expressionless.
I pursed my lips; partially closed my eyes; and slowly ‘shook’ my head in a ‘Forget it’ gesture.
Gran wasn’t interested, and we shouldn’t alienate her.
“OK.” Tommy sighed, and lowered Gran to her feet again.
“If you change your mind, let us know.”
“Ridiculous boy! Don’t think that I missed that you were stirring the pot; and I don’t appreciate — you — for egging him on. OK?”
“OK, Gran.” I conceded defeat with very good grace. It wasn’t intended to be serious anyway.
Needless to say, she never joined us, and as I said earlier, she doesn’t approve. And I suspect she wouldn’t have, even in her youth.
Well, I think that that is all for now. Who knows what the future holds? We are of an age where we will start losing our contemporaries, let alone Gran and Mum and Dad.
So, cheerio, and try to live your life as best you can, and please try to spread hurt as little as possible. There always seems to be more hurt than love in our world, so when you have love — treasure it, in whatever form you find it!