The Slumber Party Ch. 18

Julia began spending two or three nights at Arthur's little apartment, reacquainting herself with her husband in every way—physically, emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually. She wouldn't say that things were perfect between them, but they were good enough—far better than the last several years of their marriage. It was comfortable to be with him; she knew him so well, and he knew her so well, that there was little need to explain the little things of daily life that you might have to do with a new lover. And Arthur did seem genuinely contrite, perhaps overly so; at times she wished he wouldn't seem quite like an eager puppy doing everything in his power to ingratiate himself with his mistress.

So the only real obstacle, as far as Julia was concerned, was how to explain the situation about Rod.

Well, there's nothing like taking the bull by the horns. Just come out with it, girl. What's the worst he can do? Chide me—and Isabel and his own daughters—for being sluts and run away? Very unlikely, after all the effort he's made to come back into my arms. Still, it's a lot for anyone—especially a man—to swallow. Men are so possessive.

But Arthur in some ways anticipated the showdown by remarking—after a vigorous evening of lovemaking that involved not one but two bouts of anal sex—in a plaintive voice:

"Julia, where do I stand with you?"

She was winded after Arthur's manhandling of her, and not entirely prepared for a long, difficult discussion. So, lying prone and looking over at him with tousled hair and glowing cheeks, she said:

"Arthur, I think you know."

"No, I don't know!" he whined. "You've not really said."

"Arthur, dear—" she began.

"Do you forgive me?" he cried almost angrily.

Julia in turn became a trifle miffed. "No, Arthur, I don't forgive you—not yet. I probably will someday, but not now."

"So . . . then what?"

"Look, Arthur," she said, scrambling to a sitting position, resting her back on the headboard and letting Arthur gaze at her naked bosom, which he was doing avidly. "Things have changed a bit."

"I know that," he said impatiently. "Our relationship can never be the same."

"No, that's not what I meant. It—it's about the situation at my house."

Arthur didn't like that "my," but what could he do about it? He had no claim on the new house that Julia had moved into. But that single word made him feel so isolated and abandoned that he almost choked up. But he managed to say:

"What do you mean?"

"It's about . . . Rod."

"What about him? He's Melissa's boyfriend, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," Julia said heavily. "But—but he's also involved with Audrey . . ."

Arthur gasped loudly.

". . . and Isabel . . ."

Arthur expelled a choked cry: "What?"

". . . and me."

There was a stunned silence, and as Julia looked at her husband she saw a man pitiably unable to comprehend the simple words she had spoken. She wouldn't have been surprised if he threw a fit and ordered her from the place, but for the time being Arthur simply lay on his back, gazing up at the ceiling in utter befuddlement.

Then, slowly, a smile spread over his face. Turning his head toward Julia, he said in a tone of wonderment:

"That's some young man."

Julia let out an immense sigh of relief. Well, all hope is not lost. She grinned back at her husband, saying, "That's one way of putting it."

"It almost," Arthur said with immense hesitation, "sounds like . . ."

"Like what?" Julia said, although she sensed what Arthur was going to say.

"Well, um, like a harem."

Arthur looked away from his wife, in case she was offended. But all she said was: "Yes, I suppose you could think of it like that."

"Now wait a minute," Arthur said, moving himself up to a sitting position. "How exactly did this happen?"

"Oh, it's too complicated to explain. Let me just say that, as far as I'm concerned, Rod's attentions happened at a pretty critical time in my life, and they've made me feel a lot better about myself as a person and as a woman. He's a dear, sweet man, and I love him."

"You love him?" Arthur said in a mixture of amazement and dismay.

"Yes, I love him," Julia said emphatically. Then, reaching over to take Arthur's face in her hands, she kissed him firmly on the mouth and said, "I love you too, Arthur."

"Do you really?" he said softly, eyes filling with tears.

Oh, God, don't go all weepy on me. "I do, Arthur—in a very different way from the way I love Rod, but I do love you. You must realize that."

"I think I do."

"Good," she said, letting him go and leaning back against the headboard.

"So . . . where does that leave me?" Arthur asked.

"Well, that's a good question," Julia admitted. "I guess it makes sense for you to, um, move in with us."

Arthur said nothing for several moments. He was looking down at his own chest, brooding. "I'd like that—but only if the others, and especially Rod, go along." With a bit of self-pity he added, "I don't want to be where I'm not wanted."

"Oh, Arthur, don't worry about that. I'm sure they'll all be delighted to have you."

"I hope so." Then, as if suddenly shifting gears, "There's just something I don't understand. Well, several things, but one thing in particular. I'm not surprised that Audrey has shacked up with Rod—she's always been a bit wild. But Isabel? How did that happen?"

"Well—"

"I mean, Good Lord, Julia, I always took her to be the Queen of Spinsters, and proud of it! I assumed she'd never—"

"She hadn't," Julia said shortly.

"Then—then how, and why? Is Rod some kind of Svengali, that he managed to lure her into his bed?"

"Well, it wasn't quite like that. In fact, Isabel wasn't quite what she claimed to be. She may have been a virgin until Rod, um, did her, but that doesn't mean she was entirely devoid of certain feelings."

"You mean," Arthur said delightedly, making rubbing gestures in the direction of his groin, "she . . .?"

"Yes."

"A lot?"

"No, not a lot. But enough to get the cravings out of her. She did have the cravings."

"Well, that's a relief! So she wasn't the Ice Maiden she presented herself as being?"

"No, at least not in the privacy of her own home—or her own bed."

"Well, whaddya know," Arthur said, vastly amused by the image of Isabel vigorously pleasuring herself when no one was looking.

"Arthur, don't make fun of her," Julia said severely. "There were reasons she was that way." And those reasons have a lot to do with the way I was: "wild" doesn't even begin to cover it. "And I don't know that she's still entirely comfortable with intimacy, although she clearly cares a great deal for Rod. He's been very good to her."

"I bet he has," Arthur said, not intending to sound snide but coming off that way anyway.

And so it happened that Julia introduced to the others the idea of Arthur moving in. Arthur was resolute in keeping away from the session, as he didn't wish to put anyone on the spot if they really objected to his presence in the house; but no one did. And it was clear to several of the women that Rod in particular welcomed Arthur's advent, and for an obvious reason (the guy had better help me deal with this quartet of eager females).

The process took several weeks, and Julia spent several evenings at Arthur's place to help him pack up. He didn't have much in the apartment itself, but had plenty of other material in storage nearby. How much they could actually get into the house was a delicate question; some of it could come in, but Julia figured that some of it would have to remain in the storage unit.

The task was done by a Friday night in April, and everyone had an ample meal of pot roast and fixings to celebrate. A cherry pie topped the festivities. Everyone seemed a bit tired, and most were assuming an early night; but then, as the assembled members of the household were lounging at the dining table, Melissa piped up with:

"So who's Daddy going to sleep with tonight?"

"What?" Julia exploded. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Oh, Mom, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Melissa said, as if speaking to a dim-witted child. "You've had him to yourself night after night. Don't you think it's time to—um, share him?"

There was a deep and abiding silence. Arthur looked spooked as if he'd seen a ghost, and Julia was fit to be tied.

"Who exactly did you have in mind?" she said acidly.

"How about Aunt Isabel?" Melissa said blandly.

Everyone turned their eyes to Isabel, as she sat calmly sipping the last of her coffee. Looking up as if surprised that the conversation had been addressed to her, she replied with equal blandness, "I won't say no."

Melissa let out a little scream of delight and amazement. "Oh, how wonderful!"

Arthur interceded. "Um, I don't know about that. Maybe—maybe Julia should decide." The last thing he wanted was to offend his newly won-over wife.

Julia looked alternately at Isabel and her husband. She seemed exasperated, but then she burst out into unaffected laughter. "Oh, all right! If you two don't mind, then why should I?"

Arthur was feeling light-headed. Turning to his sister-in-law, he said, "Isabel, you really . . .?"

"I said so, didn't I?" she said.

Arthur just swallowed, not quite believing this turn of events.

"Well, off you go, you two!" Melissa said encouragingly. "No time like the present!"

Both of the parties in question got up from the table—Isabel gliding unhurriedly up the stairs to her room, Arthur following stiffly and awkwardly behind. He gave one last look of apprehension at Julia, but she blew him a kiss that said: Go to it, my man!

Anyway, Julia reflected, it was her night with Rod, so she was going to be well occupied herself.

As Arthur followed Isabel into her bedroom, he stood like a statue as he watched her undress slowly and carefully. She had been wearing a long print dress, and she turned her back to Arthur, unzipped the dress, and let it fall to the floor. Then she unfastened her bra, tossed it on an easy chair, and then stepped out of her panties. Turning around, she let Arthur gaze upon her naked flesh.

Arthur's heart skipped a beat. "Omigod, Isabel, you're so lovely!"

He himself undressed in absurd haste, stripping himself in under a minute. He was already immensely hard, and Isabel looked with quiet approval at his erection as she floated in his direction, took him in her arms, and pasted a kiss on his mouth. That gesture—from a woman who, during all the years of his marriage to Julia, had come across as holding a grudge against him for the very circumstance of being a man—was incredibly stimulating to Arthur, whose cock pressed quiveringly against Isabel's belly as their bodies united in the kiss.

Then, slipping out of his grasp, she fell to her knees and put his cock in her mouth.

Once again, Arthur stared wide-eyed at the scene, now fully believing he was in a wonderful dream. But the reality of Isabel's actions was all too apparent, as within minutes she had Arthur just about ready to burst from the ecstasy of the sensation. In the months since she had made her body available to Rod, she had learned a lot about male desire, and she didn't wish to bring Arthur to climax just yet—not that she would have minded taking in his gushing emission into her mouth, but she had other ideas for the moment.

She stood up and led Arthur to the bed. She lay down on her back with legs spread and raised, silently urging her partner to do whatever he wished. Arthur, dutiful as always, plunged his face into Isabel's hairy sex and lapped up the juices that were already flowing there, seizing her bottom in both hands and nuzzling, licking, and biting with expert skill until Isabel arched her back, clutched the bedsheets spasmodically with both hands, and let out a shriek to signal her shuddering climax.

Arthur gave her time to recover before mounting her. He did so carefully, not sure how much experience she had had. He couldn't possibly know that Rod's large member had done its work well, and she easily accommodated him as Arthur felt the transcendent pleasure of his cock being enfolded in this woman's largely untouched sex. He hardly took note of her as his wife's sister; she was simply an immensely desirable woman who wanted to satisfy him just as much as she wished to be satisfied by him.

This initial coupling was understandably a bit frenzied, and Isabel let him into herself both front and back before settling in on a long session of sixty-nine that resulted in several orgasms on Isabel's part before Arthur sent his seed down her throat. They collapsed in exhaustion after that.

The next evening, Melissa once again became the provocateur.

After everyone had watched an entertaining but insubstantial romantic comedy, she gazed around at the crowd and announced, "I guess it's my turn to be with Daddy."

Julia instantly turned beet red. "You are not sleeping with your father!" She had already had enough of the cat-who-ate-the-canary expressions of her husband and her sister that morning as they came down to breakfast.

"Oh, Mom," Melissa chided, "I'm not going to do anything with him. I just want to be with him—I've missed him."

Julia eyed her skeptically but felt that she was in a helpless position. So she turned to Arthur, saying, "Is this what you want?"

Arthur was already sweating with nervous tension. "Um, gee, I don't know . . ." he said indecisively.

Julia looked at the two of them. She literally threw up her hands and said, "Oh, for heaven's sake, do whatever you like!" And she stormed out of the room.

The others watched her stalk up the stairs. After a suitable interval, Melissa held out her hand to her father and said, "Come on, Daddy, let's go."

And now it was Audrey, Isabel, and Rod's turn to gaze at this unconventional couple as they tripped up the stairs.

In Melissa's room, Arthur stood even more awkwardly than he had done with Isabel the night before. But his daughter took things into her own hands.

"Daddy," she said briskly, "will you turn around? I have to change into my nightgown."

"Okay, dear," he mumbled, then added, "You know that I just sleep in my underwear."

"Sure, go ahead," she said. "It's nothing I haven't seen before."

They both managed to undress with their backs turned to each other, and Arthur slipped into bed, wearing only his boxer briefs, while Melissa in her nightgown sauntered to the other side of the bed and slipped in.

She was admittedly a "Daddy's girl," and she had always found him more friendly, welcoming, and affectionate than her at times overly stern and dictatorial mother. What she liked best of all about him was that he didn't play favorites: he gave no indication that she was in any way less charming and appealing than her more obviously beautiful sister, and he made clear his approval of her sharp mind and winning personality. They had always been comfortable with each other in a way that Audrey had never managed to be.

That said, she didn't know exactly what would happen here. I mean, it's pretty shocking for a girl to be even in the same bed with her father—let alone . . . She didn't finish the thought. Oh, what could really happen? Maybe we'll just cuddle a bit and go to sleep. Anyway, Daddy may be a bit tired after his bout with Isabel. I heard plenty coming from her room last night!

So she had no compunction in sidling up next to Arthur and urging him to wrap one arm around her. It was a very nice feeling and she felt warm and protected.

But she couldn't help raising a delicate subject.

"Oh, Daddy, you've been very naughty," she said.

"I know I have," he said lugubriously.

"Running off with that girl, who was barely older than Audrey!"

"I know, I know, dear," he said wearily. "And I've apologized to your mother until I'm blue in the face."

"I guess you're wearing her down. At least she let you back into her bed!"

"Melissa!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist that." Then, after a pause: "You really don't mind that Rod, um, you know—?"

"No, not at all. I really like him. But I'm surprised you don't mind. I mean, he is—or at least was at the start—your boyfriend."

"Yeah, well, I actually like to share him. I know he loves me. Anyway, I'm not sure I could satisfy him all by myself. You know what I mean?"

"Yes, I guess so. I just hope you four women don't wear him out."

"Well," she said, snuggling closer, "maybe you can help out a bit!"

"What on earth do you mean?" he said, feigning indignation.

"I think you know exactly what I mean," she said.

And then she reached down to touch his cock.

Melissa was already pressing her breasts against her father's chest, and she could sense that something was happening in his lower regions. She just wanted to check exactly what it was.

"Melissa, please, you shouldn't do that!" he said, alarmed. But he made no actual move to stop her.

"Oh, Daddy, don't worry," she said soothingly. "Maybe you're sore from Isabel?"

"I am, a bit," he said gruffly. "But—"

"Do you mind if I just see what's down here?"

And before Arthur could protest, Melissa had pushed the blanket back and peeled down his underwear to reveal his erection.

"Daddy, you're hard!" she said with faux naïveté.

"Melissa, darling, you mustn't . . ."

"Oh, Daddy, what's the harm?"

And with that, she fastened her lips on her father's cock. She had sensed that it wasn't quite as large as Rod's enormous member, but it was large enough that she could only get a few inches into her mouth. She used both hands in the process, one to pump the shaft and the other to play with his large sac of testicles. As he groaned, both with pleasure and with a conventional sense of moral outrage, she continued working with her lips, tongue, and hands to make him harder still.

Then, unexpectedly, she stopped. Looking at her father meaningfully, she whipped off her nightgown, revealing her nudity, and squatted over Arthur's groin. With care and precision she seized his cock in her hand and guided it directly into her pussy, her eyes fixed on his the whole time.

Arthur watched in disbelief as his cock disappeared into his daughter's sex, inch by inch, until it was swallowed up entirely. He let out a choked gurgle and then gazed up at Melissa, devouring her breasts with his eyes while unconsciously reaching out and holding her hips, at times her bottom, with both hands. She moved up and down on that cock slowly and deliberately, covering it with her own juices; gradually she quickened the pace, her body making slapping sounds as it collided with Arthur's belly. She tossed her head like a crazed maenad as she rode her father mercilessly—and then, eyes wide with shock and amazement, he sent bolt after bolt of his seed deep into his daughter, and when she detected his emission shooting into her she squealed in delight and kept pumping until she had coaxed every drop from him.

As she collapsed on top of him, Melissa felt a tremor run through her father's entire body.

"My God, Melissa," he whispered, "what have we done?"

"Oh, Daddy, it's no big deal," she said with a smile. "It's not as if I'm going to get pregnant or anything. It's just a different way of loving you—and I do love you, and I hope you love me."

"Of course I do, my dear. But still—"

"Trust me, there's no need to worry too much about it." There's this guy named Grant who fucks his mother repeatedly, so what's the fuss?

It was all too plain that Arthur wasn't convinced, but he allowed his daughter to remain on top of him, and he had to admit that feeling her weight on him and stroking her bare back were rather nice. She in turn gave him little kisses on his face and neck that both tickled and stimulated him.