Myra Bakewell walked up silently behind her daughter at breakfast and sniffed. She shook her head sadly and then came around into view. "Darla, you had sex with the young man but you're not smiling this morning. Not as good as it should be?"
The teenager was aghast. "I—I don't know what you're talking about. We just . . ."
"Darla, when a woman has had sex she gives off a perfume that some other people can smell. Since you didn't shower this morning you do, and I can so I know you did. Now stop being silly." She took out two coffee mugs and filled them, sliding one to the girl.
Darla accepted the mug with a rueful look. She sighed and replied, "I—alright. We fooled around and I got excited and then he came before I could. So you're right, it wasn't as good as it is supposed to be. It never is."
Myra gave her daughter's arm a comforting pat. "Poor baby. You have all the attributes of an easy woman but the enjoyment."
"I'm not a slut!"
"I didn't say you were a slut; I said you were easy, like I am." The mother's face curled up in a wry grin. "But the first difference between us is that I cheerfully accept and enjoy the fact and you still have issues. Another is that you fumble around in the back seats with boys and I take pleasure in the arms of men. Experience and practice make such a difference, Darla."
Darla almost spewed her coffee across the breakfast bar. "Men? As in plural of man? Mother, does—does Daddy know?"
"Of course. We're totally open about it with each other. Besides, all my lovers are long time friends of ours, just as their wives are his. But not swingers, sweetie, call it an extended family, a group marriage. No strangers need apply." She made a face into her cup and reached for the sweetener.
Darla kept drinking as she tried to come up with a response. Thinking about it, the idea wasn't terribly hard to imagine. Her mother at forty-two was 'a fine figure of a woman' and her lean, fit father started each morning with a 10K run in the dark before showering and leaving for work. That term 'long time friends' brought to mind a picture of a group of unusually attractive people in their comfortable suburb who were all offspring of the Summer of Love Generation, so she had no real reason to disbelieve the story. But this was her mother.
"Don't be." Myra sipped her coffee again and nodded to herself placidly.
"So, if my problem is that neither I nor my dates have enough experience to have good sex are you suggesting I should go looking for a—a sugar daddy?" There was just the slightest hint of a curl in Darla's lower lip.
Myra laughed out loud. "I'm not sure you meant that seriously but—well, my teenage years were the same sad story you're living. By the time I got to college I was about ready to give up on men completely. I tried flirting around with other girls without any luck until I found myself in bed with one of my professors. She was wonderful. It was the first time I'd been able to climax during sex. To make a long story short, I fell totally in love, mad mooncalf love. I had all sorts of daydreams about moving in with her and being her bride forever until the day she invited me home for dinner and I found out she'd been happily married for twenty-five years and had children of her own in college. But Esther and Paul were not only kind to me; they were affectionate and loving. The next fall I moved in with them instead of the dorms and the first night they pulled me into their bedroom for a three-way. They put me in the middle and—well, it was a night to remember. I learned a lot from both of them over the next three years and then after I graduated I went to work for Raytheon, met and married your father and the next thing I knew you arrived."
"So, where do I go to find my own Paul and Esther?"
"Funny that you should ask."
Monty sat in the breakfast nook nursing a mug. Frank had told to the barber to reshape his shaggy mop into something more 'romantic and soft—maybe a little vulnerable'. That was followed by a trip to a spa's tanning beds and hot, wet compresses intended to clear up any and all blemishes before the party started. The experience had been interesting as had conversation on the way home.
"Mr. Leu—I mean Frank . . . ."
"Call me Dad. I've been trying to be for years, now."
Monty relaxed. He'd wanted to do that for a long time. "Dad, I'm not really comfortable with this idea of being crawled over."
"Perfectly normal, Monty, objectification isn't in a man's natural makeup. I think for women it's part of their default state but about the age of five or six we start getting annoyed with the grandmothers and elderly aunts pinching and talking baby talk to us. They stop and we don't get it any longer. But back when you were too small to remember, ladies in their forties would pat your face and head and pinch your cheeks. Then you'd flash them a huge smile and they'd just melt. Keep that in mind. It's just that New Year's Eve they won't be patting your head and the cheeks they'll pinch aren't on your face. The big smile, though, should stay. Make it a slightly shy, vulnerable smile with your chin lowered and your eyes downcast. You might even try a half smile. Go to your room and practice in the mirror for a while. Have Molly coach you."
Molly had approved. "All the girls were charmed by that when you were a baby. They'll be even more charmed now that you're eighteen."
"Will it keep them from bringing out the harnesses?" Monty's forehead wrinkled in anxiety.
Molly laughed. "Oh, everyone always brings their harnesses. Whether anyone will want to use one on you will depend on their mood. Elsa Mestersmed probably will. She's taller than you are and weighs nearly as much—in all the right places! And if she brings out King Dong consider it a compliment. It means she thinks you're man enough to take it so don't be a sissy. No protests or snivels, understand?"
"Oh yeah! That thing widens eyes at these gatherings, both the men's and the women's. One night she wore it and the two of us doubled up on your mother. Talk about a night to remember . . .. Anyway, just relax and go with the flow. She's never had anyone refuse a second ride."
"Lisa keeps giggling at me and muttering something about 'man-scaping'."
"Mm-hmm. Saturday morning she's going to take the clippers to you. We'll leave the forearms and shins natural but everything else gets smooth."
"Everything? No way. She's not coming anywhere near my crotch with a set of clippers. I can really run when I'm motivated."
"Oh, stop it. If it makes you feel better I'll take care of that part. I used to do myself all the time before I had electrolysis. You will be smooth and very young-looking that night, Monty, but at least you won't be waxed like the girls."
Lisa felt her cell phone buzz and when she saw the number answered immediately. "Hi, Darla. Merry Christmas. What did you get?"
"Oh, you know. Stuff. How about you?"
Lisa thought about that. Was she ready to tell everyone? Was there any reason not to? "I got Monty. We're getting married after graduation in June."
"What? Monty? Monty Kingsford? I didn't—girl, you can't get married, yet. What about college? What about a career? And—and teenage marriages never last."
"We're going to college. He's going to Brown and I'm going to Bryant. And I didn't say we were going to start having kids or anything; we're just getting married. That way we can have sex every night and not have to stress over it. Now, what did you really call about?"
Darla hemmed and hawed and then meekly asked, "Your parents are having a New Year's Eve Party, right?"
"Yyyyyeaaaah . . .?"
"Uh, Mom says she's bringing me."
Darla could hear the glee in Lisa's voice as she responded.
"And did she say why she was bringing you?"
"Dar, I didn't hear that. Come on, did she say why you are coming to my parents' party?"
"Girl, you'd better get over here."
Darla joined the couple in the breakfast nook. Across the table redheaded Lisa was plastered against Monty. The brunette looked at her friend's sparkling eyes and Monty's rueful face, took a huge swallow of the black brew and sighed.
"I—I'm still trying to get my head wrapped around this. After all these years living next door to each other, you and your mom suddenly just moved in with Lisa's family? And you two are getting married? And what about your mom?"
Lisa grinned wider. "She's been my parents' mistress for years."
"M—mistress? Wait, don't you mean your dad's mistress?"
"Nope. Mom swings both ways just like Gwen does. I—I'm learning to, sort of."
"Yeah, well, I just found out that mine does, too. It can't be that yucky, I guess, but I never expected to—you know—have it so close and personal? Anyway, about this party, give me the bad news. I'm already sitting down."
Lisa frowned. "We're gonna get laid. How is that bad news?"
Her boyfriend elbowed her. "Lisa, be nice."
"No, really. Look, we all hook up. It's just sex. We know that. No 'death 'til us part', no drama-queen sighing in the night, just sex. If it feels good and you're safe, do it. Only your mother found out it didn't feel so good. So she prescribed a night with a man who knows what he's doing. And if 'man' is good; 'men' must be better. How is this bad news?"
"Yeaaaah, right!" Darla was dubious. "And these men are really that good?"
Monty drawled, "The women sure are."
Both girls giggled. "Dar, do I know from personal experience? No. But—Christmas day Gwen decided that we needed a lesson on the right way to do anal sex? So she and my dad stripped down and showed us? Yeah, squick city! But I couldn't tear my eyes away? He so worked her over? And when he stuck his cock up her butt and pumped her she loved every minute of it. So, if my father is any example, yeah, girl, they are just that good."
Dar just sat there, dumbfounded both at the idea that parents would show their children how to fuck and that sodomy might be fun. After a long while she drew a deep breath. "So—just how many of these really good men are going to be on me Saturday night?"
"Well, not your father, obviously. And I think Monty will be too busy. Hey, don't kick me! So, I don't know. Maybe four or five? Maybe all nine? They're not like the guys at school who come and are gone. Monty's already learning to be multiorgasmic like the men are and they can screw one woman to orgasm and then march right along to the next all night long. Last party the horndog here did me so well I fell asleep afterwards and woke up the next morning still on the sofa. So I don't know if all the men do all the women or not."
"And it might not be just the men," Monty added. "Remember we know at least three mothers who swing both ways and I kind of suspect they all do. Your mom did say that all of them bring harnesses to every party."
Darla sat with eyes like headlights. "As many as nine men? And the same number of women? In one night?"
Lisa's mouth was a little 'o'. "Damn, get laid eighteen times in one night—well, if they take it easy . . .."
"We most assuredly will!" Molly walked into the kitchen and ran her fingers through girls' hair, "because you three are our newest dear little lovers and we want you to have the best possible time. However, everyone will not get to you the first night. But life is long and there will be many more parties for love. And Lisa, you are wrong. It isn't just sex. After a while you will understand that in the end, it's all about love—for all of us."
Darla squinted in concentration. "Ms. Leupold?"
"Call me Molly, honey."
"M-Molly, we're the next generation?"
"And now that we're all eighteen, we three are the first, uh, apprentices?"
"Then each party in the next year there will be more of our friends, uh, initiated in this group? And since they'll be the new ones, they'll be the ones getting the marathon fucking?"
"Mm-hmm. And the fun part is that next time you, too, will be doing the sharing instead of being shared. So while you're being done tomorrow, keep that in mind."
And with a grin, she left them alone.
Darla shot a worried look at her friends. "And you two are looking forward to this?"
Lisa's face was wry. "Honestly? I've been having flashes of butterflies in the stomach ever since mom announced that I was to the star attraction at the Solstice Party. But I got given a few chemicals that help a lot and I did have a great time last party so I sure I'll be hot and ready for this one. It's just that there is a difference between getting laid by one of the guys at school and one of our old family friends. I'm not sure I'm ready for that but I'm not backing out."
Monty nodded. "Same here. If Lisa hadn't pumped me full a whole range of 'instant foreplay' potions there is no way I could have done her in front of her parents, my mother and a whole bunch of people I grew up around but she did and I did. I suspect that we'll get dosed this time, too, and as often as they think we need it. Probably we'll eventually get used to it. And you have to admit it does add variety to one's sex life."
Darla's jaw dropped. "Instant foreplay? You mean there really are such things? I always thought aphrodisiacs were a myth."
"Uh-uh! Believe me, kiddo, these work. A couple of shots up the nose with this stuff and fifteen minutes later you're ready to jump the guy's bones, any guy."
Early in the evening on New Year's Eve, a reluctant Darla was being gently pushed into the bathroom after the earliest dinner she could remember.
"Mom, please? I'm really uncomfortable with this."
"I know and I understand. But the reason we're starting so early is to overcome that reluctance. However, I'll try and be fair about this. Honey, I promise that if your first lover doesn't absolutely ring your chimes, I'll get dressed and take you straight home and we'll never push you into anything again. But you also need to be fair about this and trust me. Just do what I say and it will work. Now don't forget this."
She handed her daughter a disposable enema. Darla scrunched up her face in revulsion but before she could protest further, Myra put a firm finger on the girl's lips and repeated, "Do what I say and it will work."
Thirty minutes a clean and cleaned out Darla emerged from the bath dry, brushed and wrapped in a warm fuzzy robe. Her lack of makeup and worried expression made her look vulnerable and even younger than she really was. Her mother nodded approvingly.
"Okay, sugar, come sit here on the sofa. Here's a Harlequin romance for you to read and while you're reading, I'll hook you up to this."
Darla looked at the device in her mother's hands, a small box, two wires and two electrical pads. "What is it?"
"It's called a Slightest TouchTM. Now drink this and relax." Myra handed the girl a glass of water, attached the pads to her ankles and pushed the power button.
Looking dubious, Darla opened the book. It wasn't particularly steamy but it was languorously romantic and as the minutes passed she found herself becoming more and more excited and aroused. Was the book or that thing her mother kept adjusting to blame? After a while Myra put the control down and went to get dressed, returning shortly in a sequin covered sheath slit on each side to the hip. It was obvious she wasn't wearing anything underneath.
"Getting all hot and bothered, dear?"
"I-I'm all wet."
Myra leered down at her daughter. "Perfect. That's the entire idea, Darla. Now, let's go get you made up and bedecked for the party."
"You didn't say get dressed."
"Well, of course. What would be the point?"
Made up, adorned with some of her mother's more flamboyant jewelry and still wrapped in the robe, Darla sat in the back seat. To her surprise, her mother climbed in beside her.
"We'll leave the Slightest TouchTM on you until we get to the Leupolds' but we'll leave it in the car. You'll look silly wearing it inside. But since we don't want you losing that lovely heat you've got now, you need to use this stuff." She pulled out a small squeeze bottle, put it to her nose and sniffed in the mist. "It's called PL-6983, Darla, and it is a real, proven aphrodisiac. You won't actually notice the effects because you're already horny as a three-balled tomcat but on someone who isn't it takes about fifteen minutes to work and it's good for four hours. That should take you 'til midnight and I think that will be plenty. Here."
Following her mother's example, a resigned but anxious Darla gave herself a dose up each nostril. "It doesn't smell like anything."
"No, it doesn't. For everyday sex I prefer the Slightest TouchTM, but this stuff is great when we travel and I'm feeling a little out of sorts. Normally, I don't need it but it's a good thing to have around. And it will really help you younger ones get tuned into the fun and games!"
"So, what's going to happen?"
"The first hour is socializing. You meet everyone, get kissed, fondled, groped, etc. until it's time for the drawing."
Myra laughed. "Yes, you three are the door prizes for the night. All the men except Frank and your father will draw for you and Lisa. That will set the order for your four lovers for the night. And of course the women will draw for Monty. Everyone not having sex with you will be free to canoodle as they wish until their turn comes. It will be very steamy."
"Four men. Four men old enough to be my father?"
"Sugar daddies, baby. Older men are best, unless young ones are really well schooled. In the coming year we will have to train up your peers within the group so that when you leave for college you will have very satisfying love lives. So much better than just turning you loose and hoping for the best."
Arriving at the Leupold residence, Mr. Bakewell drove around to the rear and parked next to the French doors that in the summer opened onto the pool. Tonight they were closed tight against the cold but the bright lights and the flicker of a fireplace inside promised warmth in abundance. Myra switched off and removed the Slightest TouchTM and turned to her daughter.
"Keep the robe on until you're inside. The three of you will spend the first hour near the fireplace, of course. We don't want to ruin the mood with shivering and goosebumps. And remember my promise. If the first man isn't the best you've ever had, you go home. But darling, from what you've told me, I don't see that happening."
Indoors, Darla reluctantly let her mother take the robe to hang up and blushed as she hurried over to her equally naked friends. To her amazement, Lisa knelt on a cushion with her hands behind her in a wrist to neck restraint, a pretty chain dangling from two clamps that firmly squeezed her nipples.
In response to Darla's startled look Monty made a wry face and responded, "She's decided she's really into this bondage stuff. I can see this becoming an issue after we're married."
"That's silly!" Lisa snapped. "Dar, you ought to give it a try sometime, especially this one. It pushes your boobs out and makes you sit up straight to flaunt them. And anyway, no-one's asking you to be tied up, Monty. All you have to do is tie me down and use me. Being helpless is hot."
Michael Bakewell beamed at the trio. "And they flaunt so well, Lisa." He stroked her hair and leaned down to caress each breast in turn, then flicked the chain making her gasp.
"You sure you don't want to do me tonight, Mr. Bakewell?"
"Oh, I'd love to, Lisa, but since you two girls are door prizes, there is a risk I'd draw Darla and we don't do incest. So I'll just wait until the next party, presuming I don't get crowded out by a flock of panting admirers."