One Big Happy Family

Moving day finally came. Just like Lenny had said, a truck pulled up and hauled off the stuff we wanted to take over to the new house. Not much really. I left everything behind that I didn't need or that would look crappy in Lenny's house, and that was pretty much everything I had other than my clothes.

Goodwill picked up the leftovers. There is always a market for crap.

Troy had never seen the trophy house. When we drove up, I could see in his eyes that he knew Lenny was in a different league and he knew why I wanted to get out of the grove house.

After we were all moved in, we had a little talk. Lenny had it figured out. We would each have our own bedrooms and Lenny had put locks on all the bedroom doors. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights, I would go to Lenny's bedroom. Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday was Troy's turn. Sunday was a day of rest.

If I wasn't in the mood, I could say no just by staying in my bedroom and locking my door.

I said it was fine with me.

Troy knew it didn't matter what he said. Hell, he was probably thankful for any time with me.

We settled into our daily routine. Weekdays, Lenny and I headed off to work and Troy stayed home and did household chores, unless he was doing a magic show. Weekends, Lenny and I usually went to the club to work out, while Troy stayed home and took care of any chores he hadn't gotten to during the week.

We mostly ate at home, with Troy cooking, but sometimes Lenny and I would go to a nice restaurant and maybe a movie. Most weekends, Lenny and I would go to the beach or the mountains after our workouts or do something else special.

It's amazing how much there is to do in Southern California. Not just the beach, dessert, and mountains, but all the shows, sporting events, amusement parks, and wacky little towns, like Eagle Village.

There are people and food and clothes and customs from all over the world (and some that seem to be from other planets). On the other hand, Southern California is full to overflowing with people, which is a big old drag. You go to a cool beach on a hot day and there's no place to lay your blanket. You get on a freeway to go somewhere great and it takes two hours to go 20 miles.

I guess that's the nature of the beast. Places you would want to live are full of people who want to live there too. Places that no one lives in are, well, places where no one wants to live.

At night, we had our sex schedule. Three nights a week, I went to Lenny's bedroom to suck his cock and be played like a musical instrument.

Sometimes (just to show that he could), Lenny wouldn't touch my pussy at all. He would work his magic hands over every other part of my body and end up at my tits, where he gave me a thundering orgasm just by playing with my boysenberries.

It would usually go something like this. He would start with a head massage and work his way down to the soles of my feet and back up to my head, working carefully around my breasts so that he never touched them.

By the time he was done touching, squeezing, and caressing me everywhere else and he was finally ready for my breasts, they were swollen and puffy in anticipation. He would put a forefinger and thumb on each nipple and squeeze both nipples at the same time, slowly increasing the pressure until he was pinching them as hard as I could stand. I closed my eyes and thought of nothing but the electric sensations radiating through every part of my body.
He held that pinch until I had goosebumps everywhere that I could get goosebumps. Then he released the pressure slowly, never letting go of my nipples as they went back to their normal shape. Then Lenny pinched them again until he was back up to maximum pressure. After he held that intense level for a few moments, came the slow release. Then the slow build up, the hold, and the release. Over and over again.

During this exquisite cycle, Lenny never rolled my nipples from side to side or pulled them away from my body. My nipples were completely stationary as he squeezed and released, squeezed and released, sending jolt after jolt of electricity through my body.

My pussy was dripping wet and throbbing, even though he never touched me down there.

When my legs locked and my feet lifted off the bed, Lenny knew that he had me where he wanted me. He pulled my nipples as far away from my chest as they could go and twisted them like he was adjusting a thermostat. And, in a way, he was.

Holding them in his vise grip, he turned both nipples patiently to the left and then slowly to the right. Or he twisted both nipples toward the center of my chest. Or twisted them both to the outside.

My nipples were burning. There was no longer any distinction between pleasure and pain. With every twist, I wanted to cry out. With every twist, I wanted more.

Soon, my arms locked at my sides and my whole body began convulsing. I planted my feet. My hips lifted off the bed as my vagina was seized by a dozen giant contractions. I lost control of my hips as they bucked up and down.

I saw that light behind my eyes and I held my hips high above the bed as my body trembled and shuddered.

I screamed loud and hard as the release finally came and orgasm after orgasm rolled over my body.

Other times, Lenny would work my pussy with both hands and never touch my nipples. I think he wanted to prove to me that he was the maestro and that he could play his instrument (me) in many different ways.

When Lenny focused on my pussy, the tingling was concentrated in my hips, thighs, and legs, but the contractions were deeper and longer than when he worked my nipples.

Most of the time, Lenny used my whole body. He finished his performance with one hand high and one down low, like he was playing two instruments at once. This was my favorite, as I turned into a mad woman and lost control of every part of my body.

Sometimes, I locked my legs off the bed; sometimes, I flailed my legs in the air.

Sometimes, I grabbed the bedsheets with my hands; sometimes, I beat my hands on the bed.

Sometimes, my hips bounced up and down; sometimes, I held my hips high off the bed.

Sometimes, I closed my eyes and threw my head from side to side; sometimes, I lifted my head off the bed so that I could watch him play me.

Sometimes, I gasped and panted; sometimes, I begged him not to stop.

The only constant was that I screamed like I've never screamed before or since.

Yes, I loved the sex. But I was sad that Lenny never fucked me (or kissed me). He wouldn't even let me sleep with him. After he was done making beautiful music with my body, he sent me back to my room and locked his door. Still, those were my best orgasms ever, and that is saying a lot.

Remember that girl who told me that no guy could ever please a woman the way she could please herself? Lenny proved her wrong three nights a week.

The other nights, I either stayed in my room or visited Troy.

Mostly, Troy and I just cuddled, but sometimes we had sex.

For a while, our sex was Troy spanking me while he fucked me doggy style, then him crying while I held him. I felt damn guilty. I'm sure that cuddling him comforted me more than it did him.

Eventually, Troy went back to sucking my pussy and playing with my tits. I know I deserved the spankings, but I liked the pussy licking a whole lot better.

I think Lenny kept Troy around because he liked the house being taken care of and dinner being ready when he got home. Troy was a live-in maid and cook. Also, maybe blow jobs three times a week was enough for Lenny.

And Troy? My guess is that he was hoping that I would eventually come to my senses and dump Lenny.

Really? Troy knew what a great house this was. And he could hear me screaming myself senseless three times a week under the maestro's spell. Did Troy really think I was going to leave the trophy house and the maestro for the grove house and Troy?

Guys have this hopeful gene. Like when a beautiful woman goes into a store and the pimply nerd behind the counter does everything he can to please her because, somewhere deep inside him, his hopeful gene is telling him that if he is really, really nice to her, she might fall in love with him.

No matter how many times he tries and no matter how many times he fails, he will always be a dutiful slave for every beautiful woman who needs his help.

That's why I usually wore a see-through blouse when Lenny and I went to a fancy restaurant. That way, if the guy at the front desk told Lenny that there was a long wait, I had Lenny wait outside while I talked to the guy. We were always seated within five minutes—usually immediately.

It was the same way with Troy. I treated him like shit and he kept coming back for more, hoping that the princess would fall in love with the frog.