Past, Present and Future Ch. 07

I turned on the shower, took off Tony's heavy necklace, laid it by the sink. I saw Marcy eying it. Her hand moved half an inch towards it.

"May I?" she asked, tentatively.

If I could share Tony, I thought, I could share the necklace too, if only for a moment. I picked it up, stepped behind her, fastened it behind her neck as she looked at herself in the mirror.

Her hand came up, touched the complex links, ran a fingertip over them. The awed look on her face was amazing; looking at her expression, I realized how I felt about the necklace myself.

I kissed the top of her head gently. She leaned back against me. Bare-on-bare again, but I could see that this was just friendly. I put my arms around her, clasped them over her stomach, gave a small hug.

"Wow!" she breathed softly. Her eyes in the mirror were misty as she looked at our reflection, smiled sadly.

"It's so pretty, Steph."

"I know." I wasn't going to get all possessive with Marcy. Not over this.

I stepped away and retrieved my necklace before getting into the shower. Marcy followed.

That she was as petite as she was pretty made it less awkward at first; we weren't squished against one another. Once we'd turned about under the water, after we'd soaped up a couple of washcloths, we suddenly paused.

I thought there had been a pretty clear, if unstated, expectation that we'd be washing one another. Why else would we both be in the shower at the same time? But our hands stopped just short of touching.

Marcy's dark eyes turned up to mine. I could see her lick her bottom lip. Both of us took a deep breath at the same time. Seeing it, we giggled together; wordlessly, our hands moved forward, began stroking suds over the other's body.

Was it sexual? It certainly had Sex with a capital 'S' written all over it -- two good-looking young women rubbing soap suds over each other's naked bodies. How not? But, right then, it was more friendly than sexual - social grooming, bonobo-style, hold the fleas, side order of soap. I tried very hard to keep it so in my mind.

The washcloths helped. I paused, looked down at her, felt enormously tempted to drop the cloth and begin spreading the soap over her soft skin with my bare hands. But that would have bent the needle, nailed it firmly at 'sexual'; I wasn't entirely sure I was ready for that last big step. Oh yes, oh very yes, I was happy with having been in bed with Marcy last night, with having shared her as a sex partner. I shivered inside at how gut-wrenchingly amazing her kisses and boobs had felt. But that wasn't where I'd hoped this was to go today. I kept the cloth, even when Marcy started to focus on soaping my chest.

I really did.

At first.

Well, at least until Marcy, an impish expression on her face, moved her hand away from my body and deliberately let her washcloth fall around our feet, began running soapy hands over my tummy, my hips, up to my breasts.

Marcy kept her eyes turned from mine, said nothing, just kept industriously washing my girls, slippery bare boobflesh flowing under sudsy bare palms and fingers.

Screw principles.

My chest and tummy tight, nipples hard as pebbles, I dropped my own cloth, pumped more soap into my palms and began moving my hands over the small cutie crowded against me. Her skin felt like satin - soft, smooth, enticing. She smiled slightly, wiggled at bit at the feel of my fingers, pinched my nips softly, shifted her hands to the small of my back and pulled me to her for a deep, lingering kiss.

The touch of her tongue on mine set off a rising, demanding clamour of excitement within me. Leaning down, my hands swept over her shoulders, down her back, clasped her bum, squeezed her to me.

Her tongue floated over my lips, around my mouth, down to my jaw, my throat. I leaned back against the tiles, still cool despite the hot water and steam, tried to maintain my grasp on her shorter frame.

Marcy pushed me back and, hand under one thigh, lifted my leg up. I squirmed happily as fingers from her other hand traced the length of my sex before dropping my leg.

"Marcy..."

She looked back up at me, closed her eyes as water fell onto her face like a heavy rain. I bent down again, kissed her, felt the water cascade around my head and neck, felt soft lips draw mine in, nibbled, sucked gently.

I felt her breasts shift against mine. Marcy giggled, louder now, pushed me back, stood tall and, cupping her breasts, held them up against mine, nipple to nipple in the rain. Her hands moved, tracing her own stiff buds around mine and I joined her in laughter.

I leaned down again, my hand on her stomach, her abdomen. Marcy's face went surprisingly serious as my enquiring finger slipped between her legs. She dropped her boobs, lowered her mouth to my own bosom, sucked in a nipple and nipped it gently with her teeth. Water running over her face made her cough slightly. I groaned softly as she pulled away, pulling and stretching my nipple between her lips. I felt a fire burst out inside me, expand and grow - surging hot, demanding.

She groaned in return as my finger found her bud, circled, slid past to explore her cleft. She shivered as I delved deeper, finger twisting inside her opening, thumb on her clit.

"Stephanie!" she gasped.

I found myself panting as her talented tongue swept from one nipple to the other, heard a ragged moan deep in my chest as her hand clasped my mound, squeezing, dragging it and my labia below back and forth, a finger barely resting on my own pearl.

Her head came up, streaming with water, and I covered it with my own, seeking a deeper kiss, a closer bond. Our tongues swept over each other like mating snakes.

Marcy growled as my finger moved deeper, found her G-spot, pressing gently, pulling softly. Her belly began to shake against my wrist. Shuddering, her orgasm began. I could see her face change as the delight hit her; I yelped as her thumb pressed on my clit, drawing it up and down under its hood. My own orgasm hit me like an ocean of joy, shifting me, rolling me, sweeping over and over and over, wave after wave.

The two of us clung together, panting now. I fumbled for the water, turned it off. Her hands stroked my breasts and another orgasm hit me, softer but fuller. I sagged, might have fallen had the small girl not used her cheerleader-honed muscles to hold me up against the shower wall.

It faded, slowly. I opened my eyes to see her grinning up at me, wet hair plastered across her face and ears.

"Um, wow!" she whispered, barely audible above the sounds of scattered waterdrops falling around our ankles.

"Wow yourself," I smiled, bending for a soft kiss. "I never thought..."

She giggled. "Me neither, Steph. But, you know? I'm not complaining."

"No."

"No."

We dried each other off. One thing Tony insisted on having were great, big, fluffy towels.

"Do you have a hair drier?"

"Yes."

We dried our hair, took a hairbrush into the kitchen. I put the kettle on while Marcy sat on a bench and went to work. A few minutes later, I put the teapot down on the table in front of us, purchased the brush from her with a small kiss and took over.

Being the only girl in my family, I'd never brushed another woman's hair before. It was fun, I thought. Also, I found in an odd way that I liked the sense of control it gave me. No, not power, certainly nothing dominating or pushy, but I was in charge, in this case, in charge of providing more pleasure to my friend.

A full 100 strokes later, like my grandmother always stressed, her dark, bum-length tresses were shining, glistening in morning sunshine streaming through the wall of windows. I put the brush down, wondering where Tony was. I glanced at a clock -- no, not all that late. I would wait before investigating.

"My turn," Marcy said, taking the brush and nudging me to sit down.

Her spare hand lifting from underneath, the brush moved slowly through my hair, over my neck, my shoulder, down my back. Then again, carefully, smoothly. I sighed with contentment, tried to sit up straight. When you think about it, there are few things in life as sensual as having one's hair brushed - there's a reason women love going to salons. I was however finding this even more enjoyable than when a skilled, professional stylist did it; a beautiful and bare Marcy raised it to an entirely different level.

The brush made a soft thump on the table as it was laid down. I smiled and leaned back into the arms coming around me, pulling me back into a soft hug.

I started, for the arms were not Marcy's now. I felt Tony's beard brush my neck, felt his lips nuzzle my ear. His voice was soft, loving.

"Good morning, Stephanie."

I turned my head up and back, pursed my lips and was not disappointed. Tony is one of the better kissers in the world and he put his all into this one.

"Good morning, sleepyhead! Did you get some rest?''

Dressed in his usual early-morning white cotton pants, he grinned, chuckled, stepped over to Marcy and lifted her, squealing happily, up into a gentle bearhug. Holding her off the ground, he kissed her face a dozen times before letting her down.

"I slept very well, thank you." He grinned again. "I cannot for the life of me think why I might have been so sleepy."

Our laughter was, I thought, a pretty good reply.

+

After breakfast, the normal routine would have been for Tony and me to spend Saturday morning doing homework. Today, I waited to see what he had in mind.

He looked outside, stretched. "Have either of you checked the weather forecast?"

My phone was close to hand. "Sunny, clouding in the late afternoon, high... Oh, wow! High of 22 degrees!"

"Unseasonably warm," he smiled. "We'll see what it actually looks like later. Meanwhile, Stephanie, I have some homework to do and I think you do, too. Marcy, did you bring anything?"

Her head hung down for just a moment.

"No. But I left some of my paints here last time and I could work on that landscape you liked."

Tony smiled. He liked the view and the artist had talent.

"Or I could practise some cheerleader routines. Wanna help?"

I looked at Tony. Despite his white hair, he worked out regularly, had broad shoulders and immensely strong arms. Maybe he wasn't as young as Marcy's fellow cheerleaders, but he'd be strong enough for just about anything. Then I thought of the scars on his legs, of the sturdy cane by the front door, something he needed some cold days.

"Um, might not a good idea, sweetheart," he grinned. "I'm not quite as... limber as I once was."

"I suppose," she smiled. She leaned up, kissed his cheek. "But you do make up for it in many ways, sir."

"Do you have something you can do while Stephanie and I are studying?"

"I'll paint, maybe. And I think my laptop is in my car. I'll be OK. I'll try to be quiet."

"Fine."

+

Tony closed the lid of his laptop a couple of hours later.

"Enough," he said. "I think I'm done with schoolwork for a bit."

I wasn't about to argue. The reading assignment I'd been slogging through was dry as a mouthful of soda crackers. I closed the book, looked around and found Marcy curled up in an armchair with Pi in her lap. Her eyes were closed and I could see a pair of earbuds in her ears; her hands slid gently over the cat's fur as she swayed gently to some unknown tune from the laptop on the floor by her feet.

I looked at Tony. He looked at the dreaming pixie, smiled, ran his fingers through my hair and pulled me in for a gentle hug.

"How's Stephanie?"

"Good," I replied. "Good. But what time is it?"

Tony looked over my shoulder at a clock on the wall. "Almost noon."

He turned, looked outside. The day was bright and sunny, with a few fluffy clouds drifting slowly by.

"A nice day," he said thoughtfully. "It's still warm. Hmm. Would you two be interested in a picnic?"

"This late in the year? Dressed like this?" I ran my hand in a gesture over my naked body.

"Well, looking at the thermometer, it's warmer outside than in here and there's no wind that I can see. You should be perfectly warm. We won't be too far from here if it turns chilly."

I looked outside. Why not? One last chance...

"I'll convince Marcy while you make lunch," I suggested.

"I was going to suggest that," he grinned, "but wait a second."

All he wanted — typical Tony — was to walk around me, examine me, enjoy the sight. A hand swept a buttock, trailed over my hip and waist, came up to cup a breast as he leaned in for a loving kiss.

"There," he whispered. "Thank you. I love you."

I smiled back, leaned up for another kiss, a stronger, longer one. The hand on my boob squeezed softly and I rubbed my tummy against his groin. That Marcy was in the room, would see us two steps in front of her if she opened her eyes, no longer seemed to matter to me.

"And you, too, Tony. With all my heart."

.

Marcy opened her eyes, smiled at me when I knelt beside her, touched her arm. She took the earbuds out. "Hi. Homework all finished?"

"All we're going to do for now. Tony's packing a picnic lunch."

Her eyes moved to examine the weather outside.

"Now?" She looked at my bareness, then hers. "We'll freeze!"

I pointed at the thermometer.

"It's really sunny and even warmer than it was supposed to be, Marce."

I could see sudden reluctance in her eyes, something that had nothing to do with the season. Marcy had become accustomed to being nude at Tony's farm, used to his grey eyes constantly on her, examining, admiring. But even after last night, it was clear that the thought of being very far from her clothes still made her nervous.

Well, it had been that way for me too at first. I tried to reassure her.

"We'll be nearby, on the farm."

She picked up Pi, pulled the cat into her, hugged her softly. I could see the gears going round in Marcy's head as Pi began to purr.

"It's just us here, Marce. The crops have all been harvested and there's no reason for anyone else to be around." I tried a reassuring smile.

I was surprised when her hand stretched out to my throat, a finger lifting and running along under Tony's silver necklace.

"It's really pretty, Stephanie."

Her eyes turned to mine.

"Thank you for all this." She waved her free hand around the room.

"You should thank Tony, dear."

"Did I hear somebody take my name in vain?" his voice said from directly behind me.

Pi and I had a small competition to see who could best rub against his legs. He laughed, petted both of us, then stretched out a hand and helped me to my feet before turning to the small figure in the chair.

"Lunch is ready." He hefted a sizeable picnic basket. "Bring your appetite."

Marcy smiled cautiously. I could see the scene replaying in her mind, her agreement just hours before: Whatever pleases him...

I again smiled at her in encouragement, saw her mental shrug, saw her shoulders relax a bit. Marcy wasn't ready for that symbolic, dismissive taxi ride home just yet. She put on a brave smile and rose to her feet.

"Stephanie says a picnic?"

"Yup. I know a good spot nearby; it should be nice and warm."

"No bugs?"

"Not this late."

He looked at the two of us, added. "You'll probably need shoes, though."

+

While it was certainly warm enough, the countryside looked much different than it had this summer, the fields barren now, the sugar beets which had filled them until a week ago gone to candy heaven. There were still patches of colour, stands of maple unwilling to surrender just yet, but most trees were bare and the countryside looked far more open than I was used to. I noticed the odd nervous glance from Marcy. I understood it; we were fairly exposed, more so than ever before.

"Trust him, hon," I whispered, as much to myself as to Marcy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her nod.

Marcy and I walked side by side, the basket swinging between us, heavy with lunch. I could feel Tony's eyes on me, tingled with how good that felt. I ran a finger over the necklace, felt the weighty symbol of his generosity shift on my skin as I walked.

"Tony," Marcy called over her shoulder, "Why are the girls doing all the heavy lifting while the big, strong boy only has to carry the blanket?" I giggled loudly and her head turned to mine. I'd asked the same question my first time here and knew what was coming. I wondered how she would handle it.

"That,  pretty lady, is so that I get to admire those two spectacular derrières in front of me."

Marcy almost missed a step. I thought her blush just about matched the one I'd had the first time he'd answered that question.

Tony's laughter joined mine and, a few seconds later, Marcy saw the point, joined in. Women are pretty, men like to look and our agreement played to both of those.

Tony, wearing sandals, a pair of casual slacks and a well-pressed linen shirt, looked like a model for a high-end clothing line. Marcy and I were together wearing one necklace and one ring more, one shirt and one pair of slacks less. I smiled at the warm sun on my shoulders, breasts and tummy, looked back at Tony and extended the smile for him, felt my heart quiver at his return grin.

I stretched out my step, felt the flow of air on my sex, wondered at my initial shyness when first here. I looked at Marcy beside me, found myself admiring the sway of her breasts as she walked. At first it was just an appreciation of how pretty they were, firm, shapely, with delicious nipples. Then I remembered how those perky orbs had felt in my hands and smiled for a very different reason.

I hadn't anticipated this, not at all, but I wasn't going to object. Not now.

"Around the woodlot, please." Tony's voice brought me out of my reverie. "Take the left fork."

I'd thought we were going back to Tony's special place, a clearing near the middle of the woodlot. Instead, we followed the remains of a collapsing, half-rotted split-rail fence, one perhaps dating back to pioneer days, woodlot on our right and fields on our left.

"Oh!" Marcy's small cry of pleasure beat mine by a second as we came around a corner and saw what awaited our picnic.

A new-mown hay field sloped gently down, leaving us atop a slight rise, a small pond or dugout at the bottom. The noon sun was high and warm, its balmy rays reflected off the water, warming the spot still more. Tony spread the blanket on a patch of grass by a major sugar maple tree, one still bright with leaves. On the other side of the pond, fields stretched away into forever. A few cows grazed quietly and, in the far, far distance, I could see a tiny green tractor pulling some sort of machinery as it circled a field.

Tony smiled. "Warm enough for your two?"

I nodded. With the sun beaming down, it was very comfortable. I sat down on the blanket, pulled off my shoes and wiggled my toes at the sky with a sigh of contentment.

Marcy joined me, shifted to let Tony sit down between us.

His hand came up my back, lay across my bare shoulder. I could sense his other arm was clasping Marcy. He hugged us to him, gently.

"Thank you for coming, ladies. It's a nice day, made better by your presence."

Tony's gratitude was seemed genuine as the pleasure I figured he was getting from his hand, now stroking my behind. I leaned my head on his shoulder, saw Marcy do the same. We sat that way for some minutes, admiring the peaceful scene.

Tony squeezed us both, dropped his arms.

"Time for lunch."

Leaning forward, he opened the basket, set aside a couple of containers before pulling out a bottle of wine and a white serviette. Draping the latter over his left arm, he turned headwaiter solemn and bowed almost formally.

"If you would care, gentle ladies, to examine the menu, I would be pleased to arrange the beverages."