Geoff and Marie Go Visiting

"Of course, my little tart," I answered. "I'll get Marie and Angie to follow us and we'll stay with you until you're ready for us to leave."

"And will you come tomorrow, when I move out?"

"If that's what you want."

"It is," she declared, emphatically. "I need you three there with me when I leave that part of my past behind. Megan has a surprise prepared too."

I was puzzled. "If you know, how is it a surprise?"

She giggled happily. "The surprise is for Eddie."

"Ohhhh," was all I needed to add to that.

We lay cuddling for ten more minutes and then used the bathroom and dressed. Well, I dressed and Lucy put her knickers back on. Lucy went to find the others and I went in search of more coffee.

Again it was my wife who eventually tracked me down. "Lucy seems happy," she remarked, shuffling contentedly onto my lap and snuggling into me. There's a definite pattern to women and my lap. I like it though, and see no reason to argue when they park their bottoms there.

"Indeed, my precious little gem. I have always found her to be a very cheerful person."

"Well-fucked happy," my wife clarified.

"One does ones best," I observed, modestly. "And she is very fuckable."

"Yes, she certainly is that." Marie conceded. "Should I be concerned?"

I considered her question. "She wants the two of us to christen her studio too. Does that bother you?"

"We keep breaking the rules," she replied, ignoring my question.

"Maybe the rules are wrong," I countered.

"They were your rules," she pointed out.

"Then they are almost certainly wrong. Good God, woman. Have you learnt nothing in forty years?"

"Are we going to have sex tonight?" She asked.

"I hope so."

"With Angie joining us? And Lucy?" She persisted.

"If you're okay with that."

"Then you have my permission to help Lucy dedicate her new studio to her muse, master and pimp."

"Ah. She mentioned that did she?"

"Virtually her first words when she re-joined us. Megan seemed pleased and I thought Charles was going to burst a blood vessel, laughing."

"Is Charles enjoying our visit?" I asked.

"I think we've worn him out,' Marie confessed. "He was asleep when I left."

"The others?" I had noticed there was only one partially dressed woman with me, rather than four.

"Angie has taken your instructions to heart and is laid behind Charles, stroking his cock while he's asleep, and Lucy is paying the down payment on her rent to Megan the way only Lucy can." I could imagine!

I checked my watch and despatched my wife to fetch the remote control for the TV and she resumed her rightful place on my lap as we watched the ladies match together. It was nice. Marie, recently having rediscovered that she was attracted to women, could now take an open interest in admiring some of the more comely players on the field. We both agreed that one of the prop forwards, for all her sturdy build, was a very attractive girl.

I assume that was what prompted Marie's next question. "If I asked Wendy to join our coven, would you fuck her?"

I contemplated. "Would you invite her without discussing it with me first?"

"We're discussing it now," she pointed out.

"Your six friends were effectively single. Margie and Sue are unattached. But Jane and Wendy are different. Ben sees us as almost family and Wendy's daughter and our grandson are extremely close. How would Colin feel if he found out that Gran, Grandad and 'Grangie' were banging his girlfriend's mum?"

"Knowing Colin, I think he'd be delighted. He hates to see people unhappy. Especially women. He's a lot like you that way," she added, thoughtfully.

"God help him then," I countered, only partly in jest. We paused to admire our favourite forward make a twenty metre run. It took three opponents to take her down.

"Colin doesn't live with us," my wife noted. "It isn't as though we'd be having sex with her while he was in our home."

I agreed. "But it would be obvious we were suddenly 'friends'." I argued.

"But she's lonely and she needs friends," Marie insisted. "It's just that as well as having someone in her life to talk about things she can't discuss with a teenager, Wendy needs convincing that she's an attractive woman."

"And by that, you mean I should sleep with her. What if she isn't comfortable sleeping with you though?"

"She doesn't have to."

"But those are the rules," I remined her.

"You said that the rules were wrong," she fired back.

At that point, Angie strolled into the room, found her clothes, picked them up and folded them neatly. "Charles is taking a shower," she explained. "There isn't room for four." She sat down opposite us. "That looks cosy. What are we talking about?"

"Nothing," I said.

"Wendy," Marie contradicted me.

"Oh, you should definitely do her, Geoff," Angie declared. "Poor cow. Husband just fucked off and left her with that adorable little girl. No wonder she's got low self esteem. A good porking would do her no end of good." She sat back with a mischievous grin.

"Thank you, dear," I retorted. "What about Colin?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she riposted. "He can't pork her; he's only fourteen."

"Angie..." I glared at her.

"No," she said, firmly. "Wendy is unhappy. Lots of people are unhappy, I realise that. But we know her, she seems nice and we should help her because she's Mia's mum and because Mia is Colin's friend."

"Even if I agreed with you," I argued, desperately. "How do you even raise the subject?"

"Oh, that's simple," Angie replied. "We'll just set Lucy on her. She's a force of nature. Wendy wouldn't stand a chance."

"I think I shall ring her tomorrow," my wife mused, giving me a look that brooked no argument. "See if she wants to join us all in the pub after work on Friday."

I resigned myself to my fate. I had no objection to the idea of having sex with Wendy. She was a magnificent, bounteous, amazon of a woman. If the girls could convince her that sleeping with an old fart like me would be good for her self esteem, who was I to deny her. I went back to the game; that forward was really something.

The rest of the afternoon was pleasant enough though less exotic, though perhaps only marginally less erotic. Megan and Lucy brought a fully dressed Charles back into the room and settled him comfortably back on his sofa. Lucy curled up with her head across his lap and Megan sat beside him, smiling contentedly.

"You seem to be a man of rare good fortune," Charles commented, regarding me thoughtfully. I conceded the point.

"Your wife, your betrothed and your plaything," he observed. Lucy sighed and made herself more comfortable. "Are women of singular looks and talent and yet." He paused to choose his words. "Despite you lending them to me, instructing them to please me... They still seem to cherish you. Why is that?"

"You misunderstand," I corrected him. "However it may have sounded, the girls weren't obeying my orders. They were doing something they wanted to, knowing that I approved," I explained. "Marie is fond of you, Lucy is grateful for you letting her stay here and Angie needs me to push her past her normal boundaries. My only contribution was to not object. Something," I pointed out. "Something that you, Charles, should understand."

Megan leaned in and kissed his cheek as he considered my words. We sat, quietly, paying token attention to the match until the doorbell rang. As the only clothed, able bodied person, I was the obvious candidate to collect our meals from the door. I ferried the insulated packages to the dining room while the girls quickly set the table and opened both bottles of wine.

I guided my friend through to join the women and helped him to the head of the table. Megan sat to his right, Lucy to his left. I sat opposite him, Marie to my right, Angie to my left. Rather than a traditional Sunday roast, Megan had ordered a beef wellington with horseradish mashed potatoes, and green vegetables sautéed in garlic butter. The ladies were at ease in their near nudity; Angie having, just about, covered her bare breasts with some pointless scrap of translucent fabric.

The men, well, we did them the courtesy of admiring them. The conversation was surprisingly normal, by our standards at least. Lucy expressed her gratitude at being offered a place to stay. She was a little overwhelmed when Megan corrected her. Not a place to stay; a home.

I shared the photo that Mike had sent me, showing Eddie with his new friend. "He rejected Lucy for HER?" Was Charles' incredulous response. Lucy was more sanguine. As far as she was concerned, Eddie had made his preference clear. In her mind she was already single, with an entire team of people willing to love her and a wealth of emotions that she needed to set out on canvas. That thought also reminded her. The day we christened her studio, she was determined to make a mould of my genitalia, while I was erect.

"How many castings are you intending to make?" I asked, in all innocence.

"A dozen or so in latex or silicone rubber for your Harem, or the Coven as Marie refers to us." I shrugged. That seemed a lot but, what the hell.

She fell silent for a moment, as though calculating. "And then I thought, because it's such a nice shape, I'd do a limited edition of signed epoxy castings, about a hundred, each numbered and with its own unique marbled pattern."

Everyone stopped eating and stared at her. "What?" She seemed defensive. "He only has to make a squiggle. Not his actual name, for pity's sake." She shook her head. "I was going to ask him if I could add a drop of his semen into the epoxy to infuse it with his essence. I could double the asking price then." She looked around the table at each of us in turn. "Well, think about it, anyway," she suggested to my wife and I.

We changed the subject to our plans for the wedding and returned to enjoying our meal. For dessert there were individual warm pear frangipanes with brandy ice cream. By the time we had finished, not a morsel was left.

We helped to tidy the kitchen and, after sitting and chatting for a little while longer, my three companions dressed and we left, making a short diversion to return the restaurant's delivery boxes. I picked up their home delivery menu on the way out. I was mortified; our meal must have cost our hosts over three hundred pounds. My 'expensive' wine from M&S seemed a bit pathetic by comparison.

As we drove home, they discussed, without inviting input from me, my plans for the evening. Apparently, while I pleasured each of them individually in my bed, the other two would discuss the details of our wedding ceremony. We hadn't decided on a date but we needed to have the costumes selected very soon so that we could give the students who were making the outfits the design brief for each guest for their course-work. Lucy was intrigued at the idea of creating some scenic backdrops for the venue as well as helping with prop design. I was content to be well out of it.

I'd swallowed one of my little chemical helpers as soon as we got home so, leaving my wife and Lucy to look on-line for inspiration, Angie joined me in bed. "Angie. I promised you a special treat if you earned it. You've earned it today, with Charles. But tonight would you be disappointed if we just made love? No toys, just you and me? Then we can find enough time to really explore your kinky side."

"It's a deal," she agreed, unbuttoning my shirt. "You, me and the toybox can wait for another day. I'm okay if it's just the two of us for now."

I helped off with her top and we kissed for a while, me savouring the feel of her lace covered breasts against my chest. In time, we wanted more so we finished undressing ourselves and I led her to the bed. She sat me at the edge and knelt between my thighs. "I'm doing this because I want to," she reassured me. To be fair, I intended to return the favour, because I also wanted to. Isn't it nice that we have balance in our lives.

Angie's oral ministrations were affectionate rather than porn-worthy, intended to show her love rather than display her ability to swallow my entire cock. When she finally took me over the edge, there were no theatrics; no swirling my cum in her mouth. She just quietly swallowed my sperm, cleaned me and looked lovingly up at me. Angie is a complex character. Strong, assertive, wilful even. But behind that was a vulnerability, an uncertainty in social interactions. But with Marie and I, she relaxed totally.

Pulling her to her feet I made her swap places and I knelt in turn, between her thighs. I repeated her own words to her before I leaned in to taste the nectar between those lips. For ten full minutes I knelt there, kissing her thighs, her mound; running my tongue along her labia and, briefly now and again, tantalising her clit.

As soon as I felt myself harden again, I knew it was time. I stood up and stretched (I'm fairly fit, but the years, and rugby, have taken their toll) then joined her on the bed. We made ourselves comfortable, Angie having decided she wanted 'snuggling' from behind. I indulged her. It isn't the best position for vigorous sex. It isn't the most visually stimulating; but, for screwing someone you love, it has a special languorous intimacy that I cherish. There was no rush for us to climax. My cock was perfectly content to slip slowly back and forth in Angie's slick tunnel.

I realised that I was getting close and started to use my hand on her clit. She stopped me. "Take your time, Geoff," she murmured. "I've come once already. This is nice as it is. You need to learn that sometimes we need the intimacy as much as the orgasm."

I think I understood. So, instead of our customary race to the finishing line, we kept a slow, tender rhythm until I couldn't hold back any longer and spurted inside her. "See," she murmured. "Wasn't that nice. You came and I could just enjoy the experience without arsing about having to fake an orgasm. This was much more satisfying."

We lay for another ten minutes, just talking, before Angie left for the bathroom. I got up and used the shared bathroom then, wearing just my dressing gown, went downstairs. Marie and Lucy were studying our TV, where Marie was casting the images of Star Wars costumes that people had shown an interest in for our wedding. Lucy was trying to decide what outfit appealed to her.

I gave Marie a pointed look to suggest the it was her turn upstairs. She shook her head. "Angela is going home tonight and Lucy tells me we're dropping her off at her place. I'm happy to wait until bed-time."

Lucy smiled and shook her head too. "If you want me, I'm yours. But I'm content that I've had my ration for today. Tuesday, however, Marie will be at the shop. Would that be a convenient time for you to model for me?"

'Model': Now there was a innocent enough expression; slightly less so if you prefixed it with the word, 'penis', for accuracy. Presumably, once the casting was done, my erection wouldn't be allowed to go to waste. So, two birds, one stone; cock casting and studio christening all in one visit. Mr Efficiency, that's me.

I dressed and made us a light supper and we ate once Angie re-joined us. At nine o'clock we left our planning session, having given Lucy some ideas to work with, and I drove her home. Angela and Marie followed us. We shared a bottle of wine, Angie sticking to the one glass, while Lucy showed us the unfinished works in her studio. She pointed to a stack of half a dozen propped against a wall. "I can't finish those," she commented in a flat tone. "I started them while Eddie was pissing me about, but my outlook has changed since, well, you know, and I'm in such a different place now that I don't know where the next brush stroke goes." She picked one up and examined it critically. "This isn't art," she decided. "This is an emotional breakdown on canvas." She made to throw it away. I stopped her. She looked at me in surprise.

"It's an asset," I reminded her. "If Eddie gets a solicitor and he bids for a share of your works, give him these."

"But they aren't finished," she protested.

"Would Eddie know that?"

"No, but..."

"So," I pointed out, gently. "Keep them. If Eddie plays silly buggers and demands a share of your work as marital assets, you can honestly say these were painted while you were together, the judge would be impressed and you unload these on Eddie."

"But they are shit," she argued.

"And where would Eddie go to unload this shit?"

Her eyes widened. "The gallery in town," she gloated. "If Eddie tried to sell them there, Carl, the owner, would check with me for the provenance. I'd tell him the truth and he'd sell them off cheap as unsigned, unfinished, unattributed works; he'd have to. Both to keep me sweet and keep his reputation." The three women exchanged malicious smiles. "I almost hope he tries it," she added. "I'd love to put one over on him one last time."

We stayed with her until ten, when she declared that it was time for us to get away and for her to go to bed. Eddie was, fortunately for all of us, still notable by his absence. We left, agreeing to return before eleven the next morning, and Angie dropped Marie and me off on her way home. The two of us followed Lucy's example and went straight to bed.

As we cuddled up close, we each asked the other, almost in unison, "Are we still okay?" The fact that we were both concerned more about our spouse's feelings than our own, suggested that we were. Then my wife slipped her nightie off and lay back down next to me. What followed convinced me that we were fine.

The next morning, Angie collected us after breakfast and we arrived at Lucy's house about quarter to eleven. By then, the two guys in the van had moved most of the boxes with her clothes out of her bedroom and were starting to empty her studio. They refused our offer of help so we made them a cup of tea and retired to the kitchen out of their way. We were still there twenty minutes later when Megan arrived.

Accepting a coffee from Lucy, Megan produced two brown, official looking, envelopes from her bag. They were both addressed to Eddie. The first one she held up had a large figure '1' in the top left corner. "This," she explained. "Is Eddie's formal notice that you have begun divorce proceedings and letting him know that, to comply with the legal requirements, you are now living apart, effective from midnight tonight."

She turned her attention to me. "I liked your suggestion that Lucy keeps those depressing unsigned works to hand. We have included our proposals for the fair division of assets and advised Eddie to seek his own legal advice. If he gets greedy, we will have to try to agree a compromise or go to court for a Financial Order. In either of those cases, those works could come in useful."

She held up the second envelope, appropriately enough with a figure '2' in the corner. This document," she announced, cheerfully. "Informs your soon-to-be ex-husband that you are waiving your right to occupy, granted by the trust set up for Alison. Your daughter, the de-facto owner, has retained me to act on her behalf to put it on the rental market."

She gave a beatific smile that lit up the room. "As Lucy occupied under the terms of the trust, there is no tenancy agreement. Eddie's name appears on none of the utilities so, as far as Alison is concerned, he can pay the commercial rental fee, and stay, or piss off and live with his girlfriend. He certainly hasn't a leg to stand on if he thinks she'll let him live here for free, now that Lucy has moved out."

"What will you be asking for the rent?" I asked, just out of interest. She told us. The rest of us sat, slack-jawed, gaping around the table at each other. "How much?" I admit, my voice came out in a less than masculine squeak. She repeated the figure. "That's more than the fucking mortgage would be," I pointed out, then begged Megan to excuse my language.