Master Yoshi

We could be thrown out of a house we were borrowing at any minute if something went wrong.

I could make some mistake or other and hurt these girls that loved me.

They could make a mistake and hurt me.

Their crazy-ass relatives could decide that since I'd deflowered their precious little ones (yeah, them being 18 wouldn't matter), they could shoot me like any military sniper would.

I'd never know what hit me.

They could blow up this gorgeous house and us, just for having the temerity to refuse their plans, or send their relatives to jail, or stop some illegal scheme they were in the middle of.

They could decide I was insufficiently American, somehow (maybe being a quarter Japanese?) and that was somehow bad?

My life being Very Full with two wives, I was contemplating a third, because why not, I loved her and she loved me and that somehow was enough?

In the Anime world, and in what I'd read of Japanese culture, the concept of 'childhood friend' was a well-entrenched thing, as well as arranged marriages. Japan had lots of plural marriages until the 1890's. Then, they banned it due to just blindly copying a lot of British laws so they could be more like Britain in general.

Did I have a problem with it, though? What would I have said about someone else doing what we'd done?

Hell, I had seen other people in this sorta thing, only older, usually, didn't bother me a whit, what they did was their business. If anything, I was happy that they were getting away with loving each other despite what the world might say about it.

Joanie and Carrie seemed very okay with the idea, it was their idea, they'd been set up for some unknown-time-period to be married to the same man, or to join another plural marriage, as just their fate in life, a normal lifetime.

Would they change their minds sometime? Anytime soon?

It was only less than a week since they'd been rescued from their own mothers trying to sell them off for profit, seemingly, though there had to be a lot more to that story than I was told. Or, really, maybe they knew from early in their lives that they'd be livestock, and at first they accepted it, but then they learned the rest of the world doesn't operate with violent racism and women-as-property.

It sounded from their conversations they were okay with part of the transaction, just not with the who, or the lack of any real choice in the matter, or with the violence, or... yeah, there was a lot to reject in that, but very little of it was down on plural marriage as undesirable.

My mind kept going.

Would Tallia decide that she really didn't want to be with us?

Was I someone who could, or even would want to, stop her from going, if I loved her enough? Or, if Carrie or Joanie decided to strike out on their own instead of being with me, would I stand in their way?

Loving someone is setting them free, I'd read. That sounded hard if you really, really love someone. I wouldn't have chosen to set my Mom free. Or, even with his faults, my dad.

Did this make me less of a 'stand-up guy' as I'd told Rob, if I claimed I loved them all, yet if they told me they wanted to go I wouldn't interfere in any way?

I couldn't stop them, actually. I could try to persuade, maybe? Would I be justified?

Getting in the way - that'd be wrong on so many levels, I'd be like their racist family.

I could stand and say, 'please don't go' if they ever did want to. I wanted what was best for them, what would be best, I hoped, but it was such arrogance for me to presume to know what was best for these amazing, brave people.

So...

The end result was, I had to live more in the moment. I couldn't think too far ahead, I'd just have to cope with what was given, and if that included the tragedy of them leaving, I'd... make a space for them in case they wanted to come back.

About 10 pm, Carrie came in and sat on the bed next to me, a t-shirt covering and yet not-covering a fully and enticingly nipped-out chest. "You done reading? We're waiting."

I closed my book (as if I was reading) and followed her, turning out the lights and seeing no light under the door of Tallia's room, so she was probably asleep already. Or, not.

Part of my heart was tied to her, wondering about her feelings, if she was awake and listening to us walk down that upstairs hallway.

Getting in our room, Carrie shut the door and pulled off her shirt, folded it onto her dresser, and pulled down her panties and put them there, too.

I said, "Ah-ah, no!!! You're trying to thwart me! Cleverly keeping your underwear _off_ the floor, preventing me from tripping and falling into your lady parts."

They burst out laughing.

The bathroom light was on but the door almost shut, to give us a night light. "Is the light on, on purpose?"

Joanie said, "Last night I could really have used a little light, we'll try it tonight. I want to watch, too, and vague shapes isn't what I want to see."

"Ah."

My own sweats and underwear shed and folded on my dresser, I crawled into the middle and set to getting hugs and kisses from Carrie, letting my hands go wandering, and generally having a good time since I kind of knew how this thing was going to go based on the previous night.

Carrie liked a little harder with the nipple stimulation, and had a lot more relaxation about being eaten out than I think Joanie did.

Carrie actually came!

My amazement at being part of this, that I could give her this golden moment, this perfect happiness of orgasm, yeah... I LOVED that!

She pulled me up afterwards and we relaxed, before she licked her way down my body and did basically the same thing to me that Joanie had.

Like before, she kept her mouth clamped on me as I came (despite my odd-crazy random sharp hip motions), murmuring with urgent, "MMMmmm" sounds as I spurted. At the end, she moved up to Joanie and they shared the result via another chaste kiss.

I said, "You know, of course, that you two kissing is seriously sexy, right?"

After Joanie had gotten some, Carrie said, smacking her lips, "_AND_, you know she's my sister, right? I mean, Pa and Rachel's been tellin' us since wee-small that we'd have to get busy with each other, or with some other woman, when we get married, so get used to the idea, 'taint bad just part-uh-life.'" Her voice came back to normal. "Yes. We know he and our moms were twisted and wrong. We actually know, from some attic papers, that we're not actually sisters, pa wasn't the father for either one of us. Still. We grew up most of our lives, since about age 10, with each other as sisters. Plus, we read enough books to know what real life is like."

"How?"

"Boxes of books in the basement. He didn't... They, didn't know there were so many books. We read them twice and kept it going until we'd read all 788 of them."

"Ah."

"So the sex with her thing? Maybe someday, but we like... we both like, You, sir."

"Sorry if it seemed like pressuring you."

"Sir, don't sweat it. We're figuring this out. You barely know us, in our home life personas, at least, our real selves. We've talked at practice, workouts, for years, but until now, we hadn't shared much."

I was fading and yawned.

Carrie pulled up the blankets and Joanie got the light in the bathroom, and we slept.

== ==

In the morning, just after my alarm went off, the door opened and in walked Tallia.

Now, Tallia had sometimes walked around the mobile home house in the summer (with no A/C) wearing a half-shirt that showed abdomen, and shorts, and I saw her in a conservative one-piece swimsuit once at the pond. Mostly we menfolk weren't allowed to swim at the same time as the girls (per Marta), so Jane, Brenda, Tallia, and Marta got to go first, then they'd come back and say we could go.

I mention this because Tallia decided to come in wearing one of the same half-shirts that she had once worn for hot days, and boy-shorts underwear. She was carrying three glasses together of OJ with little umbrellas in them.

We laughed at the umbrellas, and she said the bar in the back room didn't have any alcohol, but it did have a shaker, some glassware, and a box of umbrellas. I had to wonder what a drink that had this actually would taste like - and said that out loud (after thanking her profusely for the service).

She replied that if I wanted to try testing out some alcoholic stuff, we should get Marta to buy it for us since she was only 20.

We sat up, then got up out of bed to drink our OJ. I was SUPER attentive to them as they got up, their pert, nipply boobies making my brain hyper focused on The Yummy.

Carrie's pointed slightly upwards. The oh-so-suckable big-nippled beauties Joanie had?

I wanted more than OJ!

On the other hand, I was sporting wood, so I was hesitant to get up, instead pulling the blanket over me as I sat on the edge of the bed.

Carrie came over, not quite handing me my OJ, dangling it just out of reach so I'd have to stand up and show all.

Tallia was still holding the tray, standing near the back wall, and she said something about leaving. Carrie said, "NO. Sir is required to treat all members of this house equally, including giving and allowing proper respect, such-as we're giving him."

I hadn't understood this was in the 'rules', but it made sense. I pursed my lips and calmly stood, "I'm sorry, ma'am, I do appreciate the OJ, and I hope I can give you... respect, too."

My pole was Right Out In Front, UP and HAPPY and very much at a 45-rock-hard position.

In fact, as I stood, my own eyes went down, and I watched the blanket dragging off it make it 'twang' slightly back and forth as I stood.

Carrie was watching me, and looking at my schlong, making no mistake on where her gaze was. "Sir can inspect my boobs anytime, and I believe the standard is, fair play makes for fair mates."

Tallia's face went from slightly pink to deep red, though her smile was big and her expression said something like, 'I'm getting away with something'.

The OJ glass wasn't big, so I asked for and got permission to use the restroom.

Well then.

Business done, teeth brushed (after OJ it felt odd) and dressed/packed, I went downstairs to find the girls had started breakfast ahead of me.

Tallia stopped in the middle of the kitchen, not moving, in my path, and there was no doubting what she wanted. I dropped my pack and gave her the kind of kiss she so obviously wanted, a hug to follow it, and a thank you for basically everything.

Walking to school (yet a different path, absolutely no faster and seemingly for a reason I was never to know), we chatted about whether we should hurry up with our schoolwork just in case we really did have some kind of trouble appear.

I was in the dark, they'd already started working ahead.

This meant I'd have to get moving, too.

== ==

Getting home that night we noticed that there were cars in the driveway - Marta's and Mack's.

What followed was a hard conversation to have with them.

In response to Jane telling Marta what had really been going on with Zeke and Brenda, Marta had come to me and asked for details on a bunch of the happenings around her house, really her property, that had been completely disregarded or outright disbelieved by her and Mack over the years.

I gave them all the details I remembered, and then went upstairs and got my laptop, where I could access a journal I'd kept. I wrote in it sometimes when something odd would happen, it helped me predict the various evils Brenda and Zeke would try.

Some of the writing felt like a relief, doing it, to help me analyze what crap I was getting.

I'd had an adventure encrypting the files (not all the same password) and making sure I could switch from homework to my journal without needing to see the window I was typing into.

Marta wanted to read all of the entries, which I could extract to online docs if I wanted to, but I didn't particularly want to share things that involved girls at my school that I found attractive in various ways, nor the ways in which I wanted to have brenda and zeke (siblings) perform various psychopathic tortures on each other until, well, forever.

Instead, I read it aloud, fast, to make sure it was obvious I'd written it at the time. It was upsetting to recount, the details of tricks they'd pulled on me and Jane, sometimes individually and sometimes together.

The retelling was also cathartic, and being away from that location gave me some small amount of closure. Really it was the start of closure, I'd only been gone less than a week, but I had a reasonable suspicion that it would be forevermore-and-gone.

Marta was visibly upset and shaken that she'd been so consistently deceived and manipulated, and aghast that the punishments she'd meted out to me were for imagined wrongs created by her brain damaged kids (in my humble opinion).

I suspected, and I told her this, that Brenda was the genuine psychopath, and that Zeke had been someone she liked enough and who was handy to back up her shenanigans. Still, he had a temper, and when she pissed him off he took it out on me or Jane, though usually the only physical bullying was with me, I didn't see much if he tried stuff with Jane.

It might have been that if he tried anything to hurt Jane, I would have... Gotten Angry.

Jane filled in some blanks for my descriptions, and I filled in ones for hers, so we were solid.

I loved the fact that we could stand together again, like in the ancient days with Mom and Dad when we'd play family games together and tried to band together to beat Mom, who somehow always won. Mom was wicked smart, and dad wasn't a slouch but usually played family games somewhat tipsy.

We had to get to our homework, so we let them go, and I got good hugs from everyone.

== ==

So, how do I describe a world changing event?

That event was making love with Carrie. She won the coin toss.

More than that, it would be a night alone with her, since Joanie was going to let us have some alone time and sleep in the other bedroom.

We started just kissing, rolling around, and not being hurried. She said she didn't want to feel hurried, so I said fine and let her set the overall pace of kissing, etc. I didn't care how fast we went, I wanted her to have the best possible experience. Basically, I had the intuition that if she had a good time, she might want to do this _again_, and that would Absolutely Benefit Me.

Thus, she got any little things she wanted, and I was Very Cool with that.

I gave her an orgasm, better than before in that I was really sure it was going to happen, and it lasted longer for her, too, not just a couple of seconds but longer than that and something I felt happy that I could help her with.

It's a beautiful feeling of power and privilege to be able to lick someone to orgasm, I decided.

Carrie put down a dark towel on the bed just in case she bled a lot, which we both knew could happen.

I had one nagging concern, I'd raised the previous afternoon - that we didn't have any condoms.

This condom conversation was walking home from track practice, out on the sidewalk where anyone walking by could overhear.

No one in our small town was walking down that sidewalk, and we weren't bellowing, but I laughed at myself about how it seemed wrong to just talk about this out in public.

I mentioned this to them, knowing it sounded irrational, and we all laughed since we were _married_. If there's anything that gives you permission to talk about birth control, it's being married.

Anyway, they said that we didn't need condoms because they were due to start their periods (being very close in timing) in the next 3 or 4 days. The surprise that shouldn't have been a surprise was that since the wedding happened on or about the closing part of their fertility window, the very act of being safe about 'consummating' the marriage required they wait until at least 4 days had passed.

The pendant get-to-know-you idea fit into this very nicely also.

As for the next month going forward, she said, she'd gotten a prescription for the pill from the same doctor who had examined their bruising at the police station.

Most of the bruises had faded, I saw, with only a few being green and healing up. Carrie said that they had mostly laid off the beatings in the last week beforehand because things were getting close for them leaving with Duke and neither Duke, Pa, nor their mothers wanted unwelcome questions from wedding pictures including bruises.

Back to the night.

So, we get all set up, and I asked if she wanted to be on top, to control things better, but she said, NO, she might not have the courage, and besides, that's not how it's done, it's supposed to be, the man on top.

This was a conversation for another day for sure, and she'd come already, and I was ready and licked-slick, as she said, so I positioned and waited, holding myself carefully. She corrected that and said she wanted me full against her, weight on, give me all of who you are, and she said, "I'm not made of glass, I'm a grown person" so lie on me, full weight, full contact, full person.

Okay then.

I was a virgin, too, and she knew that, but we didn't have any problem figuring out what was what.

Getting a final nod and with her taking a deep breath and holding it, gritted teeth, she nodded to me and I pushed up, sharply.

This push broke through her hymen and made her scream (though the other girls knew this was coming) and it echoed in my ears briefly while I waited, motionless, for her to open her eyes again.

My motion had stopped after the jolt, but I waited, calmly, and kissed her cheek and held her, and told her that I loved her, and that I was there for her, whatever she needed.

After her breath slowed down and evened out, we got to moving again, and I found out what the hell sex is about. OH MY GOD, SEX IS GOOD!!!!!

Yes, you all, you're thinking, sure, of course, how could you not know this.

Rocking in and out in larger gentle but firm motions I discovered that my suspicion of it being about the 'pretty good' level of fun was Entirely Wrong.

We stroked on, her pushing and pulling on my lower back, and kissing me intermittently, until our hard-breathing and moans matched each other's and we had to smile at the similarity.

There was no worry, in this house, with these other people in other rooms, about being 'quiet'. We just didn't worry. At least, she didn't, and I took my clue from her. Carrie was good at telling what she thought both with and without words, so, yeah.

We both got a big happy. That doesn't mean she orgasmed - she didn't - but the smile on her face made me know that wasn't her goal. She wanted ME to orgasm, for sure, and she encouraged me, telling me things in a stream of consciousness that was... explicit.

I could say I lasted a long time, but her grip on me was so tight, the hot-wet-perfect friction, the amazing surrounding enveloping-boobs on my chest, and her eyes in mine, yeah, that'll push a guy to come sooner, maybe. I didn't keep track, but it was probably closer to 4 minutes of actual pushing, after the maybe 2 minutes of initial push then wait.

There was the option, in my head, of doing what the porn stars did on videos I'd watched: Pull out, spray her abdomen with white cum ropes, and listen to her make breathy 'oh, yes' comments about it.

I didn't want that. More than that, she was telling me, "Come for me? Come, make this thing be perfect. I want to feel your cock in me, sliding up, and pulsing with your cum, pulse in me, Sir, pulse and make it Perfect?!? Oh, god it feels perfect, make it finish perfect, yeah..."

(etc.)

My groaning cum was almost a yell, a not-giving-a-damn yell with lots of N's and R's and G's and uuuuuuhhh's in it. I'm not sure it's something I should try to spell correctly.

After?