Jezebels Ch. 3

She turned her back to me, wiggled her ass to snug my cock between her thighs, and sighed. She was asleep in seconds. I felt breasts against my back and reassuring hands. Becky's arm went over my waist.

Light was filtering through the drapes when I felt the bed move. I feigned sleep as all three of them arose. I heard whispering and giggling, doors opening and closing.

"Wake up, sleepy head," Mary said loudly. "Breakfast will be ready shortly."

When I went into the tiny dining room, breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, and coffee was ready. We ate and visited before returning to the living room. Again I sat in the straight chair and they sat on the couch, holding hands with Becky in the middle, but this time we all were naked.

"Jack," Monica began. "Let me answer the questions again. I'll be faithful, whatever definition of that word you choose to give. I'll be obedient, loving, and I'll have your children, and yes, Jack, I very much want to do this. That's a strong yes."

"That's three unequivocal yeses from us, Jack," Mary said. "What's your answer?"

I didn't speak because the word caught in my throat.

"Well, Jack?" Becky said.

Monica leaned toward me and wrapped her hand over mine. "Please say yes," she mouthed.

"Yes," I gasped.

Mary leaped on me with the others right behind her. We ended in a pile on the floor, hugging and kissing and crying. Yes, even I shed a few tears, which, I presume, were for joy. I will say this. While the word yes hurt like hell coming out, it felt damn good now that I'd said it.

When we'd settled down, I said, "Now what?"

"We need to set the rules and finances before we finalize our arrangement," Becky said.

"And the basic rule is that Jack is the mighty pasha and we are his obedient and horny harem girls. Or is it all right to say that you're the husband and we're your wives?" Mary said with a wrinkled nose leer.

"Tell us the rules," Becky said.

"Rule one is that you're my obedient and horny wives. Any problems with that?"

"Not the horny part," Monica said.

"We like that. What else?" Becky asked.

"Rule two is communication. Every day, we'll sit and talk. It's more important than sex. We can talk about anything and everything - finances, work problems, children, sex, you name it - but we'll talk, and there won't be any lying."

"I like that."

"Me, too," the other two said.

"What's the third rule?"

"We'll be faithful, or to put it another way, no cheating. That means no fucking, blowjobs, anal sex, hand-jobs, kissing, touching or being touched, or other physical contact with any male or female outside of the four of us without my express permission."

"Wow. The old, tight definition."

"Can we use our vibrators?"

"Yes, and you can enjoy each other any time," I replied. "What I don't want is a relationship that might pull the four of us apart. That could be any relationship that's sexual."

"We may need to buy a dog or two," Monica quipped.

"Are you serious?" I asked.

"I'd never leave you for a dog," Monica snickered.

"Or anyone else," I said firmly. Monica was only teasing, but I wanted to make a point and they all understood that. "I'll be faithful, too," I said.

"Oh, no. We don't want that," Mary exclaimed.

"No, we don't, Jack," Becky said.

"Why not?" My surprise was evident.

"It's psychological, Jack. You're a man, and a man needs to feel that he's free to pursue women," Becky explained.

"We want to come home at night because you want to come there, not because you feel tied down," Mary said.

"I like that. It is good psychology," I said.

"Becky's screwing her boss," Monica said. "Can she continue it?"

"She told me, and I told her to break it off," I replied. "If this rule becomes too restrictive, let's talk."

"What do you mean by 'too restrictive'?" Monica asked.

"I don't want any of you to regret coming home either," I answered.

"All right. I've got a situation," Monica said.

"Tell me about it."

"I'm having sex with one of my customers."

"Would you lose the sale if you ended it?"

"No, I wouldn't. It's not like that. He's seventy-two."

"Mr. Charles," Mary interjected.

"That's right. His wife died last year after a long illness and I felt sorry for him, so I went to bed with him. Well hell, actually, I seduced him, but that was easy. We don't really fuck that much. It's mostly cuddling."

"Do you love him?"

"Yes. Like a father or grandfather."

"I don't know," I said. "I may have a problem with that. He may be seventy-two, but he's male and single."

"You're serious about this faithfulness, aren't you?" Mary asked.

"Yes, I am."

"You're not going to swap us or give us to your friends?" Monica queried.

"No."

"It'll be strange, but I think I can live with it," Monica said.

"We'll help you, Monica," Becky said solicitously.

"That'll be the blind leading the blind," Monica quipped.

"No, it won't. I won't have any problem doing it," Becky replied assuredly.

"But what about Mr. Charles?" Monica asked.

"If I give you permission to continue, do I give Mary and Becky permission also? Then is it one man each, or two, or three?"

"I don't want permission, Jack. I'll be faithful," Becky said firmly. "If I find a man or woman I want, I'll talk to you first and abide by your decision."

Mary squirmed like a four-year-old in church when I looked at her. "Well, Mary?"

"I love you, Jack. I'll spend the rest of my life with you. But. . . ."

"Where is this going, Mary?"

"If you had a loved one who had an addiction, a horrible addiction worse than heroin or anything, wouldn't you have sympathy for them and want to help them?"

"Your cocksucking isn't an addiction," Becky said.

"Yes, it is. I really need to have a cock in my mouth, to feel its hard silkiness, have the thrill as it pumps into me, the taste of that sweetest cream."

"Oh, for God's sake, Mary, don't you think you're being melodramatic?" Monica said disgustedly.

"No, I'm not. It's that important."

"You want permission to suck someone else's cock?" I asked.

"Well, Jack, two some-ones really."

"We'll buy you a pacifier," Monica snorted.

"Oh, great. I get a pacifier and the bitch gets a dog," Mary barked.

"Mary, be quiet," I said forcefully. She looked properly contrite. Becky had been silent, but her eyes had sent me messages. I appreciated the help. "All right. Monica, you can continue with Mr. Charles, and Mary, you can keep sucking the cocks of those two some-ones. No other exceptions. Understand."

"Yes, sir," they both replied.

"Anything else about sex?" I asked. They all agreed we could go to the next subject. "Children. I want to wait a year before we do anything. By then we should know if this is going to work out. If it does, I'd like more children."

"I'll have them," Mary said brightly.

"We'll all have them," Becky said. "How many do you want?"

"I was thinking two each. That would give us nine children."

"No, Jack," Monica said. I thought she was referring to her comment she only wanted one more, but I was wrong. "If we have nine children and four adults in the house, that's thirteen, and thirteen is an unlucky number."

"One of us can have three," Mary interjected.

"We can work that out later. Mary, is Jim paying child support?" She turned beet red. "What's wrong?"

"Jim had our DNA tested and found out that Jimmy isn't his child. He must be Del's child because I was only fucking the two of them." She shrugged.

"So Del fathered two of the three?"

"No, Jack," Monica said with a sigh. "Del didn't father Tiffany. I'm not sure who did."

"Good," I said. "Then there aren't any other fathers out there. I like it that way."

"I knew you'd like being a father," Becky said smugly.

"You're right. I do. I want to be the father of all of them, and that includes Veronica, Tiffany, and Jimmy. Now let's talk about finances."

Becky said, "Can I tell you where we are?"

"Go ahead."

Becky was an accountant and she had organized their finances. She retrieved four copies of their budget from her suitcase while Mary refreshed our coffee. Becky had been preparing the income taxes for all three of them. She had a balance sheet and three years cash flow for each as well as combined. I was surprised at their collective net worth, although much of it was Becky's. She was tight with a dollar. Monica had the highest income since she was in commission sales.

"What impact is my no cheating rule going to have on your income, Monica?" I asked.

"None," she said with a grin. "I'm a good salesman, Jack. I don't need to fuck my customers. Mr. Charles is the only one I'm doing."

Becky had a projected cash flow, including purchasing a new house. She recommended a partnership to own it, since all three of them would be contributing.

"You haven't included any contribution from me, Becky," I said.

"I didn't know, Jack."

"I'll tell you about it later. Have you looked at houses?"

"I like the old Tabor mansion," Mary said.

"Me, too, but it's out of our price range," Monica replied. "Anyway, it needs a ton of work."

"Funny you should mention that house. I was over there last week looking at the place. I like it," I said. "The repairs won't cost as much as you imagine, particularly if we put in some sweat equity."

We planned and schemed about the Tabor mansion. The place was about sixty years old and on a good sized lot in an older neighborhood. When Mrs. Tabor died, the place was dilapidated with dying shrubbery and zero drive-by appeal. However, it was structurally sound and had a lot of square footage.

"I'll call my realtor and make a bid," I said. They listened intently as I talked to the realtor who was handling the sale. I made an as-is cash offer with a quick closing, which is the kind estate's like.

"Jack, we didn't expect this quick time-frame. We don't have the cash," Becky said.

"Don't worry about the financing," I said.

"Jack?" Mary said coyly.

"Yes?"

"Are you fucking the realtor?"

"Yes."

"Is she better in bed than we are?"

"Never, but she is better than her daughter."

"Her daughter?"

"How old is she?"

"Eighteen. The realtor's forty-one," I replied.

Suddenly, naked, horny women surrounded me.

"Come on, Jack."

"We're going to bed."

"It's my turn," Monica pronounced as she grabbed my hand.

I swatted her twitching ass cheek on top of the spot that received the hardest spank. She squealed and jumped in the air. "You better be good," I said as I wagged my finger at her.

"You better have made your will because I'm going to fuck you to death," she countered saucily.

Becky lay down on one side of us and Mary on the other. Monica lay back, grabbed my cock, and pulled it toward her pussy. Her expression said this wouldn't be sex; it would be war. I eased into her and we began. Her eyes never closed and the demanding, challenging expression never left her face as she thrust and twisted under me.

I pulled out and smiled down into those hot and haughty blue eyes. She stilled. Her eyes softened and a tiny, sweet smile appeared below them.

"Hi, Monica Collins," I said. "I understand you're a woman who needs a man to own her."

"Not needs. Wants. And not any man. A special man."

"So, when he comes along, you'll go to him."

Her eyes twinkled. "No, but if he's the one I want, I'll let him take me."

"He'd be a lucky man," I said.

"Yes, he would, but with the right man, I'd be lucky, too."

"Have you found such a man?"

"Yes. You."

"Have I taken you?"

"Yes, Jack, you have. I'm your little slave girl now," she said lovingly.

It was a long fuck that started slow and ended hard with her legs around me as I lost myself in her charms. Becky had been right. A properly chastised Monica was a hot and ready woman, one hell of a good fuck who moaned happily when I shot my load in her. When I rolled off Monica, Mary replaced me between Monica's legs to slurp out that which she so dearly loved, and Becky climbed on top of me. She wiggled until my semi-hard cock was buried inside her pussy.

"I don't want to fuck, Jack. I only want to feel you in me." She giggled. "My God, I haven't told a man that since I was fifteen."

She said she didn't want to fuck, but she started rotating her pussy on my cock and it was hard again in no time. I let Becky do the work. As I played with her delectable body, I heard Monica orgasm again from Mary's insistent tonguing.

"I love fucking you, Jack," Becky whispered huskily. She stopped moving and stared down at me with a powerful intensity. "I love you," she said softly.

"More Mary," Monica groaned. Mary laughed salaciously.

Becky bounced on me until we came together and she collapsed.

"Goody. More cum," Mary said. The bed moved. I felt Mary between my legs licking where Becky and I joined.

Monica squirmed until she was pressed against my side. She kissed me and whispered, "I love you, Jack. We all do."

"We most definitely do," Mary said contentedly.

I dozed off with the three of them hot against me.

***** Sometime later, we were in the kitchen. "Where were we?" I asked.

"You were telling us about fucking the realtor and her daughter," Monica quipped.

"We were talking about housing," Becky corrected. "How did you know about this house?"

"I keep at eye out for old homes that can be fixed up and sold for a profit. I've done three of them so far."

"Tell us about it, Jack. We haven't seen the inside," Mary said.

I described the house in detail. It was custom built in the 1920s in Southern Victorian style with a wrap around veranda. It had a partial basement containing about 2000 square feet, two floors of about 3000 square feet each, and an unfinished attic. The bathrooms, electrical, and plumbing would have to be replaced. There wasn't any central air-conditioning. The old garage, which was detached, was beyond repair. The trees were in decent shape, but the shrubs and grass needed replacing. But the place was structurally sound, made of heavy hardwood and without any insect damage. The hardwoods in the floor and certain walls were irreplaceable, and the lot was big.

As I talked, Monica sketched. She was good and soon we had a working drawing.

"I'm impressed," I said as I looked at her sketches. "Do you paint?"

"No. I draw dirty pictures sometimes," she replied with an adorably lecherous leer.

"How would we do this?" Becky said.

As we talked about the house plans, hands were on me. The touches weren't sexual. They were loving. I touched them the same way.

When dinner time came around, I said, "I'm starved. Let's head on out to the restaurant."

They passed looks among themselves before Mary spoke for them. "Jack, could we eat here?"

"Why?"

"We brought a lot of food and we wouldn't have to dress," Mary continued.

"The truth is we're saving money," Monica said. "Particularly me. I'm a spendthrift, and I've got to save more. I've got to make a home for a child and I need to plan for the future." Her eyes burned into me. "Having another child scares me, Jack."

"Why?" I asked.

"Forget about all the time and emotional stress if you can. Do you know how much it costs to raise a child?"

"My parents raised ten and Mom never worked," I replied. "We kids did."

"I want Tiffany to have the best," she replied.

"She will. They all will," I said. I put my arms around her. She put her head on my chest and her arms around my waist. She burrowed there as I stroked her naked back. "It's tough being a single mom, but you're not single anymore. You've got me."

She looked up at me with soft, sweet, slightly damp, and oh-so-sexy blue eyes. "Oh, Jack," she murmured.

That's when it hit me. I was as good as married. Marriage! The fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse. Fidelity. Commitment. Marriage. Wife. Oh, shit! I'd really stepped in it!

"Are you all right, Jack?" Becky asked solicitously. She joined us, wrapping one arm around me and the other around Monica. Mary did the same on the other side. I was glad they were there. They kept me from falling over.

"I'm fine," I squeaked. "But I need to sit down."

With their help, I collapsed on one of the dining room chairs. They cooed and clucked around me. One brought me a drink, another some hors d'oeuvres. Reassuring hands were all over me.

"I'll start the gas grill," Mary said. She disappeared toward the patio and Becky started dinner preparations.

Monica straddled my legs and stared into my eyes. "Are you sure you want this, Jack? Are you sure you want three women to comfort and console? To love and cherish in sickness and in health?"

It wasn't my brain that replied. It was my heart, or maybe my cock. "Yes, I'm sure. Completely sure."

"For how long? Six months? Or until someone better comes along? Or until some rich beauty snares you in her trap? How long, Jack?"

"Until I die of old age in my own bed surrounded by my three wives and my children and my grandchildren."

"Thank God," she gasped and clutched me tightly to whisper in my ear. "I need you, Jack. Don't be afraid to make me tow the line. I'm worth it. And no matter what happens, please, oh, please, don't ever leave me."

"I won't leave you, Monica." I gently pushed her back so I could see her face. "And I am strong enough. Have no doubt about that."

"I don't."

We kissed like we'd never kissed. Sweet and tender. Loving. The kind of kisses Mary and Becky gave me. Kisses that said more than I want your cock. Kisses that said I love you. Becky was standing behind Monica. She'd stopped her preparations to watch us. Her face was soft, her eyes passive and tender, and that soft smile was on her lips.

"I'm slaving over a hot grill and you people are getting off," Mary complained as she bounced into the room. "Are you all right, Jack?" she asked.

"I've never been better."

"Want to tell us what happened?" she continued.

"I felt the bonds of matrimony being snapped around my fragile neck," I said sardonically. I saw their expressions. "Was it that obvious?" I said.

"Yes, Jack," Mary said as she restrained a laugh. Her face contorted. She snickered, tried to hold it in, and exploded in a gale of laughter. "You should've seen your face, like you'd looked into the face of Death and he smiled at you."

"I'm glad you're enjoying my pain," I said.

"You were funny, Jack," Becky said.

"I'm sorry I started this, Jack," Monica said. "But children need love and attention and money. Gobs of money. It did frighten me. You know that I wasn't playing a game with you, don't you?"

"I know. It pushed a hot button in me, that's all. Do you live on a budget?"

"Becky's trying to put me on one, but I'm resisting," Monica replied.

"Before the weekend's over, I want you to sit down with Becky and draft a budget. I don't want you spending a dime without her knowledge and permission."

Monica spun around to glare at Becky. "Did you put him up to this?"

"I didn't. Cross my heart."

"I'd rather have a collar around my throat than my pocketbook," she retorted.

"You'll get both," I said. "Mary, how about you?"

"I'd love a collar."

"I meant about money."

"I'm good with money, Jack. I'm not as tight as Becky, but I'm a whole lot tighter than Monica."

"I've got a combined cash flow based on budgets for the three of us, Jack," Becky said. "I even brought my laptop to make changes."

"We'll do it after dinner. Right now, I'm starved and cooking steaks is man's work."

"Everything else is woman's work," Monica quipped. Those blue eyes were teasing, not challenging, me.

"True," I said, grinning at her.

The steaks were cooked to perfection, as was everything else. During dinner, we talked about fear. Fear of commitment. Fear of being in a relationship forever. Only Mary didn't admit to those fears. She said that when she met me, she knew I was right for her and her friends. After dinner, I started on the dishes.