A Tiroir is a Drawer

It wasn't just looks, though. I'd been turned over in bed by a couple of the girls, and though I was strong (my chinese pushups had surprised me with that), the girls were strong, too!

In the Before, I'd seen bodybuilder competitions, or magazine covers, of guys (and some women) with veins over their muscles, ripples and a total lack of subcutaneous (underskin) fat, so all the little striations showed.

The muscles on these people weren't that extreme. There was still a softness there. But the shapes were good, too - proportions were right, etc.

Gym class had people that could Really Really Jump, high, for volleyball, and keep going fast, or do spontaneous cartwheels and pushups just to warm up. It wasn't just the guys, it was the girls doing that, too.

Everybody had more energy than I remembered, far more than my Earth. It reminded me a little of a kid jumping up and down when they were excited, just working off excess energy.

Remembering the women, the mothers, I had noticed details there, too.

I'd seen neither significant wrinkles nor prominent fields of freckles on anyone. The one Black girl I'd seen that had freckles had them very faintly, and I only noticed because I had a Black roommate in college who had them and he'd commented on them and showed me.

These women's breasts, even when they were older, didn't really sag that much. That wasn't normal, either. I wasn't objecting, but it's impossible to not notice that. Granted, the National Geographic aboriginal women whose breasts were down to their waistline, they were naked all the time.

People in this verse weren't naked all the time, it was just Around Me.

So, I was figuring out, the exception was the saggy boobs, not the rule. Some of that day's visitors were obviously grandmothers, but their boobs weren't that saggy either - some were less saggy than their middle-aged daughters!

Some oddity of their disease resulted in a continuing renewal of their skin, tightening of ligaments, high and tight breasts, and a continuing urge to be active.

I'd seen two scars. One was a red line on a woman's belly, and she was holding a nursing-age baby (6 months or so). I didn't know what c-section scars looked like, but I guessed that was one. I didn't ask, it just didn't seem polite.

With so few other scars, it must be that the disease that renews skin replaces scar tissue with new fresh skin, too.

I had to wonder if any of these gals had their hymen grow back. I'd vaguely heard of that happening, but it was a distant memory and without an internet, I couldn't really check it.

There weren't many computers on this planet.

They had some computers, don't get me wrong. What I saw in this world's chemistry text (a 'science at work!' picture) showed something similar to early 1960's punch cards and tape reels.

Telling the girls to wake me at midnight but to masturbate before they woke me, I drifted off and felt warm and happy, wrapped in warm skin - boobs on my back and my hand over a breast in front of me.

I woke at the appointed time to kisses and a sucking on my cock, and then quickly a girl descending to ride me cowgirl. I complied and had the other one put a nipple in my mouth, so I had both happy sensations.

For my rider, too, an orgasm came to her fast, but I soon followed her, shooting up into her spasming pussy as I held her forcefully down to me with an arm over her back and my lower hand down her ass and pressing so hard on her tailbone I wondered if I was getting anywhere near her butthole.

She relaxed and pulled off, and the girl on the other side threw a leg over and started riding me, too, just for a minute or so until it got to be too much and I had her stop.

Sinking down by my side, the girl who'd ridden me got off the bed and I could hear her going inverted, and quickly another girl, from the bunk (and whose name I didn't know) took her place next to me, her cool skin against mine feeling fresh and sweet. She kissed me, I kissed back, told her to wake me at 3, and goodnight.

Sure enough 3 am meant another ride and another spurting happy.

== Chapter: Sunday Morning ==

Six am, and another ride and a 3rd spurting happy. I waited just one more hour, falling asleep again, and the last of the four rode me reverse cowgirl in the dark so I didn't even see her face. I had seen her before we went to bed, but I didn't know who was who, exactly.

It didn't matter. Sex is sex, and it was GOOD sex!

We were due for another whole day of people coming over to wish us Tiroir Abundance, starting at 8, but the doorbell rang at 7:30 and I knew it wasn't going to be a relaxing weekend.

Stepping downstairs about 8:10 after having showered and shaved, I felt refreshed but wanted a good breakfast. We had donuts on the table (the first people had brought them), so we chatted with Jane's parents (always a Mr. and Mrs. to me, it was going to be hard to change) and Rich, greeting people as they came in, paused a while, and left.

I wondered what Rich's perspective on all this was, all the nakedness and potential for sex.

He rolled his eyes.

"Dude. Sure, getting sucked would be nice. I like the feelings of tongue on my cock, sure. But, not much happens. I might only get a quarter hard, not enough really, and then no matter what happens, the rubbing doesn't do much. I don't come after that. It could go on for a long while, but nothing happens."

"What about if ..."

I almost had given it away. I remembered the name of a chemical that had been around on my world - boner pills. They'd make you hard, and if it lasted 4 hours you had to go get an antidote, whatever that was. Trouble was, I didn't memorize what the chemical was. Names don't help. Damnit. And, I couldn't very well ask Rich if they had boner pills, he'd look at me weird.

My memory from the before was kind of weak when it came to pharmaceuticals, but I remembered that the boner pills I'd heard about had something to do with nitrates. That is literally all I remembered about them, but maybe it would help people. Or, maybe it didn't really help people because of some other reason, I didn't know. Some things I could have found out, had I known the info was important.

On the other hand, I was 'young' in this universe, I could take some classes or hint to someone to do research in that area and maybe help out. I wasn't sure it was my role to be the savior of this universe, and given the infinite nature of the multiverse helping out this one might or might not 'mean' anything.

Rich's comments about boobs (as we talked) were on an artistic level; he liked how they had different curves and shapes, and despite mostly being a geek, he could appreciate how paintings and drawings captured them.

He was taking an art class to fill out his electives and his assignment was sketching body parts. Most of the class, he said, had picked faces, or even just eyes. A few of the hardcore artist girls, who'd had art before and already knew how to draw, picked hands.

Drawing hands realistically, he said, was Hard - Seriously Hard. Proportions, shading, it either looked right or it didn't.

Some girl commented about his drawing and he had her sit while he drew her boobs, getting really close to the nipple and trying to capture the bumps and texture on it. The thing was, it kept changing shape as cool air would breeze through the room from someone else walking in the door - it was a moving target!

His denials about being into art ("just taking it for the credit") were belied by my knowing him in another life, where he'd drawn vast numbers of elves and orcs and cars and trees, all manner of stuff. He'd died in a car crash right after college, so my world never knew what he could have done.

I regarded any time I got to spend with him as a gift, I treasured him as a friend and it had been hard when I found out later that he'd passed away about a year earlier at that point, without anyone telling me.

A lot of my friends had died, it was the consequence of living long enough.

This Rich, I hoped, would do great things. This universe was so different in so many ways I didn't worry about warning him to not do this or that thing to avoid his accident, it just was incredibly unlikely to duplicate.

Thinking back on his high school work, what he'd shown me at least, I could remember his sketchbooks. He'd had amazons, or slave women, or warrior princesses - all with giant swords held overhead. In the backgrounds he'd had lightning bolts, horseback riders with flowing hair and giant nipples, all the things we'd interacted with weekly in our Dungeons and Dragons campaigns.

As that girl moved on, Rich started in on other women, mostly focusing on breasts and nipples, since he had plenty to choose from.

Once the women saw he was trying to sketch them, they would move closer (at his frequent request) to help him get the details right.

I loved the whole thing - and desperately wanted to suck on some of the nipples he was drawing!

One lady, the mother of a girl that had graduated but who said she knew me from St. Albans, told me to suck on them so Rich could see how they responded. Would I?

Hells-Yes! It generated quite a few hoo-ha's among the people there, but I didn't see any kids and figured it'd be okay.

Once sucked-on, her nipples went way, way out, and Rich held up his sketch pad so he could capture the curves with an almost-life-sized profile-tracing. The crowd was far less focused on me, once they saw him holding up the pad next to her chest and trying to capture it, than on any prurient aspect.

People were just pretty friendly all around, and wanted to wish all of us well, the girls individually with kind smiles, and me, with a kind of slight grimace that told me they thought I was going to have my hands so full I wouldn't know what to do next.

They may have been right.

They had big presumptions in their speech - that they knew me well from school or St. Albans or scouts or whatever thing I'd been in with them - and I had to just kind of go along with it.

My back-of-mind worry was that I'd be too nice to people that had been mean to me, or be curt or short with people I should be super-respectful or nice to, well, that was only solved by being pretty formal with everyone and hoping they recognized that I had to keep it that level for the party.

Life would hopefully be more simple once we got to Toronto, where everything would be new and I could be easily excused for not knowing basic shit that everyone around me assumed was true.

My own hometown stores were a mystery!

The 1986 aspect of this was that the world wasn't online shopping or giant big-box stores, it was a ton of mom-and-pop, or more often mom-and-mom shops. Driving through downtown one day, I'd seen this one even had a camera store!

I remembered a store somewhat like that - I'd gone there several times. They'd only sold cameras and photographic equipment.

Everything in that place would be obsolete in the next two decades on my previous Earth. There could be no 5 to 50 megapixel digital SLR's waiting to hit the market by Christmas, they didn't have computers, that I'd seen, no discussion of them at least.

No digital stuff would be hitting the markets, not for a long time.

I would have worried about global warming on this Earth, but it was decades off even worrying about, given the depopulation and demographics crisis.

One woman's demographic crisis was another man's heaven, and I was the beneficiary viewing hundreds of bare naked beautiful athletic female bodies in their entirety!!

Gorgeous people walked through that house.

So much of what we call beauty translates to youthful features - thin, athletic, lack of scar tissue, clear skin, no wrinkles, breasts firmly pointed skyward.

Youth WAS beauty.

Maybe they had different ideas?

I asked Mike what beauty was; he talked about proportions and carried it to a comparison with architecture, like the Parthenon in Athens, widths and heights being a third of this, half of that, etc.

He had no idea.

Mike had grown up in a world where everyone was beautiful, compared to my Earth.

Amy was sitting near us and had the same opinions, more or less, but added that beauty had to include the function as well as the form, and that function included someone's abilities.

Could that person perform ACTS that were beautiful - gymnastics, math, poetry, storytelling, science, art, engineering - as skills? Could that person be a caring husband and father?

She didn't actually come out and say fertility. That might have been to not offend Mike or any other people near us. Amy did add that performing athletic acts of grace, strength, or endurance were beautiful, and made a person's body even sitting in one place, beautiful because we'd _know_ what they could do.

I agreed with this in a cursory way by adding that one of the reasons breasts were beautiful for me was that they made milk and babies were the epitome of cute.

Amy asked what the word, 'epitome' (e-pit-o-me) was..

I said, "platonic ideal of something, sorry, SAT word" and passed it off and we went back to greeting people.

Losa came back with a dictionary (she'd been listening in) opened up, a big one, and showed me there was no such word.

The thing is, she was right. A word that I knew to exist, and was highly confident of the spelling of, wasn't in this world.

I did my best to shrug. "I'm an idiot. I probably misread something."

She then went searching for 'essaytea' (SAT), as a type of word, and I knew I was in trouble.

My resemblance to this version of Kevin? Perfect, physically, I was more-or-less in his body, though how Morgg had gotten me to this universe, my newfound Earth home, wasn't something elaborated upon.

The things I didn't know were huge. I'd been lucky so far to not earn disapprobation from blatant bad acts - to them - because I had shit assumptions about this new reality's culture.

I had to shut up more! Oh My Goodness, did I need to shut up!

About then it was time for me to go upstairs for a 'break'.

Even reveling in the sensual overload that was just one of many sex breaks I took, I couldn't avoid going back downstairs and possible discovery for being a fake.

I had to come up with a suitable explanation for why I made these mistakes, something better than, "I'm an idiot".

Coming back out of my room again greeted by those downstairs, I waved, then went back up and around to see my sister's room, where the gifts were being stored.

It was FULL.

There wasn't room to do anything, volumetrically. We would have to work a long time to clear the backlog from my study, Mom and Dad's room, etc.

Eventually, the day wore on and I managed to look chipper and thankful to those who came by. I thought I saw some of the same people I'd seen before, but I couldn't be certain.

I figured out one set of familiar faces: one girl that had been a break-tryst the previous day came back with their parents and adult siblings, which just added the oddball of seeing other people with very similar faces to hers.

My dick was getting red and a little sore, so I told June to skip the last two 'breaks' at 6 and 8.

Later in the day, I realized I'd missed going to Mass that morning. I had wanted to go, but obviously there were more important obligations.

We closed the door at 8 pm with just a few stragglers, though the place was still really clean since in the last two hours everyone who came over saw that we were cleaning and pitched in to help.

There's nothing like seeing a naked grandmother-aged person vacuuming your carpet and giggling at another grandmother's swinging boobs as the second one lifts an end table.

Some sights were going to be hard to forget.

As an older guy in a younger guy's body, the sight of old people's nakedness didn't upset me much, it was the way I was, the way I'd had hints that other people my age were, hell, I'd even seen some porn with old people in it.

Looking down from the stairway at the empty house after all the activity, it struck me that porn was something I'd probably never see again. At least, not internet porn. I might find 'normal' porn, but it was hard to guess at that.

I was tired!

I took another shower, a last one before bed, and was happy it was Amy and Jane in bed with me for the night. Faces I knew, bodies I could relax with.

Women I cared about.

We talked briefly and I went right to sleep. I'd been worried about what would happen with their discoveries of my odd vocabulary, my odd behavior, but they just let me roll on my side and fade fast into the comforting mental thickness of sleep.

== Chapter: Monday Morning ==

School the next day was to be the second to last before the girls returned to their own classrooms, and then Coira would be going back to her job, or more likely, devote her full-time to doing stuff around our house to help Mom - including writing thank you notes for all the gifts.

I was drained from the previous day and mostly kept to myself.

One thing was sure: I was popular!

Everyone greeted me with a smile, and I smiled back widely; my tiredness wasn't depression, just fatigue.

Stories of what happened at the receptions were circulating on the lips of the people I passed, how everyone was naked and could you believe it and wow what a house rule!

Jane reported at lunch that two people had slipped on the ice outside our house and had been hurt but not seriously. I was really concerned, and my mention of putting salt out to melt the ice was greeted with a half eyebrow raise enough for me to cite chemistry.

Her response was that it was incredibly old-timey thing to do, she'd never seen anyone actually do that.

I really had to shut up.

== ==

My last day with the girls by my side at school had some traditions to go with it.

One of the traditions was that my Tiroir would walk me around introducing me to other women in my classes with me. Girls wanting an introduction would stand with their left elbow up to horizontal, sideways, like they were leaning on an invisible bookcase. My Tiroir would then come up behind them as I approached, reach around to place their left hand on that girl's stomach (really just below the belly button, in a symbolic move of 'blessing') and right hand on her shoulder, and say their name.

I would shake hands with them, and if they were interested in being a Secondary, they would say something like, "I await your second grace, sir."

At first I thought they were saying, 'second glance', but it was second grace.

Almost everyone said it. Where it came from, who knew. Some things are just traditions.

== ==

Going to school the next day, I thought I'd be alone and back to my old self. This was not the case.

Instead, the girls had organized that one would spend the day with me each day, rotating, to ensure I had someone with me at all times. I liked this part, because I did get horny in Trig class and mentioned to Kat, with me that day, that I'd like to have a 'sex break' at some point.

I had meant, lunchtime, or something.

She started packing her books away. I leaned over and asked why, and she said, "Kev. You want sex. We can do that, right now. No person in this building will stop you from leaving class to go have sex. EVER. You're with me, it's obvious what we're doing. Come on. You know this."

I packed up, too, figuring why not, and we left, heading for the conjugal room. We used a condom to do a collection, for the money.

The next step was to carry it up to the Health Center all the way on the other side of the building, but I also wanted to go back and not be too late to chorus, which was right next to us. Both of us paused in the hallway for just a second.

Kat called to a girl walking near us, going the right direction, "Mindy?"