Triple Secs

"Hey, is that wild club in Roseland still running?" Eduardo asked. He punched his smartphone for maps and hours. "Yes! Hey Mama, let's go party and get crazy and get you laid or something."

He wanted me to get laid? How cute!

That Roseland place? The one I had banned them from, back then?

But the first few wines had loosened me up.

"You can stand some noise and dancing, just mindless fun, right Mama?" Ramón asked. "When was the last time you just let yourself go?"

Let myself go? I had not had time for that.

"You WILL have fun tonight, Mama," Tomás insisted. "You WILL cut loose and enjoy yourself, even if we have to drag you, kicking and screaming, into and out of the fun. Right, guys?"

My other sons nodded. I noticed. I tried not to worry about them. Or me.

The club was disappointing. It was the IT place back when, but it seems everyone who was IT then was still IT now, only older, better dressed, fatter, even more superficial. Age without experience or maturity. Feh.

But I danced and drank and danced and peed and drank some more and sniffed stuff up my nose -- I was not careful -- and danced more, and cried.

My boys took me home after I had cried long enough.

"Everybody there, all so desperate, and me too," I self-commiserated.

"Mama, Mama, you were the most beautiful woman there, the most alive! Forget those clumsy drunks dancing on your feet and drooling on you. None of them were good enough for you. You were always the best woman ever," somewhat drunk and stoned Tomás said. Somewhat more drunk Ramón and Eduardo agreed. They were younger; they should have held it better.

A few more drinks went down. Ramón lit incense and a joint to wash down the drinks. I was not feeling so bad. Or maybe I was. I say three of Karlo sitting with me on the couch, holding me, comforting me. Karlo!

The evening was hot, one of those nights we wanted to be a Lake Tahoe for a cool swim, skinny-dipping in Emerald Bay; that was fun! But so hot in here. Eduardo was the first to lose his shirt, then Ramón and Tomás -- oh, look at those muscles, those chests.

I was hot too. I took off my flowered blouse. I think I looked good in my black lace bra. Karlo, I mean the boys, sure seemed to think so. They stared. The three Karlos, I mean my boys, licked their lips at me!

Somebody put salsa music on the sound system. We danced and drank and puffed and danced, danced close, real close, and we got hotter. Tomás was the first to lose his shoes and trousers, to dance barefoot in his blue boxer shorts. Then Ramón in those tight red briefs, oh my! I slipped my skirt off before Eduardo joined us. He was shy. He only wore a jockstrap. Oh no!

And we danced fast and slow, close and closer, hot and hotter. Then my pretty black lace bra was gone, and Eduardo and Ramón were nursing at my breasts just like they did when they were babies -- but they were not babies now. And Karlo, I mean Tomás, was nuzzling my butt. My butt! A lot of my butt was there because I was only in a thin thong. And Karlo, I mean Tomás, was kissing my ass and licking between my cheeks.

There may have been more drinks. I think we were all naked now. Karlo's cock was at my mouth; I sucked it. Then another Karlo's cock was there, and I sucked it too. And then another in my mouth, and one in each hand for me to feel and stroke and fist and strengthen.

"Karlo, I feel so empty!" I cried. "So empty since you've been gone! Karlo, I need you to fill me like you used to fill me. Please, Karlo, please fill me!"

"We'll fill you, Mama," voices said. Echoes of Karlo's voice! Right in my ears!

Somebody carefully put me on our bed, Karlo and my wedding bed, and I laid there naked with my knees up and my thighs wide open, what Karlo always called my creamy thighs, the creamy thighs he loved to spread and kiss and lie between and warm. To spread me. To fuck me.

Karlo kissed my lips. Not my mouth lips; my pussy lips. And my pussy. And my clit. And then another Karlo licked all around my secrets, and I felt so warm and loved. And then another Karlo. So much of Karlo for me! So many of Karlo's lips and tongues and strong hands holding my knees open and my breasts close, oh so close, and mouthing me, oh such kisses and licks!

"Oh Mama, you taste so good!" Karlo said, and said again, and again.

But then Karlo put me there funny, on my hands and knees. And his fingers rubbed cold goo into my ass. What? And then I was rolled over and I felt Karlo beneath me, and my cheeks were spread, and I was sitting on him, sitting on his long hard cock, right up my ass like we did at special times. Oh fuck! He held me in his lap, impaled. Oh fuck!

"Lie back on me, Mama," Karlo said, or was that Tomás? But I laid back. Then Karlo climbed on top of me, or was that Ramón? Karlo kissed me, and felt my breasts, and he felt so good, especially his kisses, and his insistent hands, I spread my thighs. His cock came into me. I was almost filled.

Then Karlo said, "Raise up a little, yes, just like that, Mama," or was that Eduardo? Karlo always called me Mama so I know it was him. And his cock was in my mouth again. And I sucked.

The Karlo in my pussy set up a rhythm with the Karlo in my ass and the Karlo in my mouth. We rocked forward and back. The Karlo in my pussy was most energetic. The Karlo in my mouth was fat; I felt bulging veins. The Karlo in my ass was rock-steady, but I felt his urge, and I knew he would cum first, and he did. The Karlo in my mouth sped up and soon filled me with the semen taste I knew so well. I sucked more, to harden him again.

The Karlo in my pussy kept going and going. I know his cock felt the cock of the Karlo in my ass, felt that right through the thin membrane separating my holes, my depths. Karlo was fucking Karlo right through me. How could that be? Oh Karlo!

The Karlo in my pussy worked harder, faster, just like always, except I usually did not have Karlo in my ass and pussy at the same time, and my mouth too. I felt the Karlo on my front cum in me, spraying in me, filling me. The Karlo in my ass came again. The Karlo in my mouth came again. Oh, Karlo! Oh, magic!

Of course it was not magic.

We were stoned and emotional. We woke up together in Karlo and my wedding bed, my and my three sons, naked, quite fucked, quite wrong.

But it did not feel wrong. Not right, either, but not like a mistake. We crawled out of bed in some sequence to pee and shower and dry and try to put our minds together. We did not get dressed right away. After the showers, after some coffee with rum in it, after some leftover donuts, we went back to bed.

I had a good weekend. So did my boys. I will not try to justify anything. We love each other. They fucked me mindless all weekend. That was just what I needed, a good bout of mindlessness. I know they are not Karlo, but yet they ARE Karlo, the Karlo I loved so much. They are the boys I love so much. Our love is forever.

They are all back in their new homes now. I do not know how their girlfriend situations will go. Their lives lie ahead. So does my life, now.

The redhead waved for another cocktail. She eyed the patrons. Every face tells a story or ten. The tidy young brown-eyed man across from her peered into faces. He looked at the redhead.

"Three sons. That's a lot, all at once. At least you could keep some control over them. Hey, you're the Mom!"

"Not all Mamas are strong, y'know," the redhead replied. "Sometimes we're born with strength, sometimes we learn it, and sometimes it gets forced on us -- be strong or die. I could not to die, not with the boys. I had to be strong. But see where it got me?" She waved at the Trianon Clubs three-pointed decor.

"Something got YOU here too," she told the neat fellow.

"Sure. My three big, beautiful, bullying sisters."

*** Triple Play ***

***

There is an easy way to tell my sisters and my folks were devout Roman Catholics who practiced the Rhythm Method for a few years -- until Mom got tired and made Dad get a vasectomy if he ever wanted sex with her again. We kids were all born with the minimum delay, ten months apart, just long enough for the next to be planted and cooked. We should have been named for popes. Bren and Cyndi were always in the same school grade; I was a grade behind them and Alicia was a grade ahead of them.

Dad and Mom kept their high-school letters, his for football, hers for softball. They wanted their old glory to continue flying, for my sisters and me to rule the world of team sports.

My sisters were great at that. Tomboys from the start, they kicked ass forever, and by the time Bren and Cyndi were freshmen and Alicia was a sophomore, they just about owned the state college ballfield. Alicia pitched knuckleballs that nobody could touch. Utility outfielders Bren and Cyndi could hit any ball that neared them, hit it far and gone.

The league was their plaything. But they did no grandstanding. They supported their fellow ball-girls to the max. Really great team players.

I was not so social. I did not like teams, being subordinated, being bossed.

I thought American football was stupid, crude, and good only for head and skeletal injuries. But that is how you made buddies, networked, linked. You might make stockbroker if your brain was not turned to goo, or used-car salesman otherwise. No other team sports appealed to me. Most featured too much slamming into people.

So I went field-and-track, especially field. I loved cross-country. I could practice by running for hours, partly focusing on breath and posture and all that, but mostly listening to digital audiobooks on my earbuds. Literature, lectures, and lessons. And a little phone-sex-type porn, of course.

My big, beautiful, bossy sisters looked down on me for bypassing total jock-dom. They had always thought I was a wuss, the little kid who was not quite good enough to be good. Sometimes I was just their servant boy.

"Hey Daryl, when you gonna grow up?" Bren would tease.

"Hey Daryl, can't you do anything but run away?" Cyndi taunted.

"Hey little brother, you grown any pubic hairs yet?" Alicia tortured me.

What, me worry? I was not competing with them. I wanted my scholarship to be academic, not athletic. I did not care that cross-country led nowhere -- nowhere I wanted to go, anyway. I wanted Ivy League, not Class B state college colors.

One thing. Team jocks got the girls -- or guys. Teams had groupies. Almost any team player could snap their callused fingers, male or female, and see fans flock to them, tongues dragging like pathetically horny and willing puppies. Cross-country did not have cheerleaders or groupies.

So I ran a lot and I got my track letter, yada yada. But I did not get laid.

The early spring break in my last semester before college (yes, I was accepted by Princeton!) clobbered me because my sisters came home, full of athletic glory. They had played decent-enough basketball over the winter. The women's baseball pre-season would start after break. They had a long week to do something else.

I became the "something else."

My youngest, closest sister stepped into my bedroom. Her eyes idly swept over my bookshelves, posters, stacks of electronics, neatly made bed, no piles of dirty clothes, et fucking cetera. Then she turned on me.

"Hey Daryl, how goes that running stuff?" Bren asked, not too unkindly. She was closest to me. That was like being closest to a minor goddess, but still...

"It keeps me off the highway. And, y'know, Princeton..."

"Yeah, yeah, brag about it. They play that faggy touch football there, right? And they do track so you can still run away from stuff."

I did not mention that her career, and our sisters' careers, would likely be as junior or state college coaches. Or porn stars. I think I see overlap there. They could have Main Street. I was headed for Wall Street, and significance.

"How you doing with the girls, kid?" Even a minor sports goddess gets to the point. Yikes.

"Oh I'm fine, just fine" I felt a need to be emphatic.

"You get anyone pregnant yet? Or even had the chance?" Like I would say!

I would exhale on my nails and buff them on my lapel. If I had a lapel. Instead, I just looked dumber.

"Uh huh. You ever sucked a tit? You ever even SEEN a real tit, in person? Other than when we're in a hurry in the bathroom at home?"

"Hey, quit that!" Do I lie and brag, or does she worm the truth from me?

"Uh huh. And no fucks, either. You ever cum except by your own efforts?"

This was getting too personal. "Well, there was Shari Nye." Yeah, I thought I would brag. "We had some good times."

Bren sniggered, "Sure, Hand-job Shari. She grabbed anything stiffer than soggy asparagus. Stuck her tits in anyone's mouth, too. And her mouth anywhere else. If you went any further than tits and hands, you've got diseases from half your senior buddies. And their big brothers" Ouch.

I said nothing. Bren leered at me.

"But you've got nothing to worry about, right? No STDs for MY little brother, oh no. You're so clean, huh?"

Our slightly less minor goddesses aka my older big, beautiful, bullying sisters arrived on the scene.

"Hey guys," Bren announced, "little Daryl here is still a virgin."

"No, not in OUR family," the most goddess-like Alicia proclaimed.

"How can you graduate without being fucked?" Cyndi asked. Rhetorically?

"Hey, stop right now!" I whined. "My sex life is not your business!"

"Oh no," said senior minor sports goddess Alicia, "we have our family reputation to protect. We three, your sisterly betters, have not suffered from virginity for a long time. Not with men, not with women -- but we don't do wusses."

"Except you, maybe," Cyndi offered.

"You mean, do him ourselves?" Bren asked.

"Hey, he can't be worse than Uncle Lennie," Alicia said.

"Okay, so in principle, sure," Cyndi said. "Now if we had Lenya or Spinks or Big Bonni Bush here, they'd take care of him pronto. But it's only us here, and we don't have time to recruit a local for him. So I vote for education."

"Educate him beyond what he sees in that online sex shit, right," Bren said.

"Maybe, if we train him right, he gets continuing education," Alicia mused.

"Hey, am I a piece of meat?" I protested. "I'm just raw hamburger at the discount grocery, huh? Fuck no! I am my OWN man! I am--"

"Oh, shut up, kid," Alicia ordered. "We'll figure out what is best for you."

Oh fuck, I hope not.

"Mom and Dad won't be in till late -- they're on an actual date, not like anything our little wussy here ever had," Cyndi said. "Let's start on him now."

Bren sniffed. "Shower first." She sniffed again. "For all of us. You guys already worked up a stink." Another sniff. "Let's hit the big shower."

She peeled off her Godzilla t-shirt. Her sports bra concealed little but was immediately dropped to the floor. "See, Daryl, tits. TITS, Daryl! Real ones. Here, want a taste? They're a bit sweaty now. You should learn the flavor."

She aimed her bit, beautiful, bullying boobs at my face. I tried to move away but the bigger minor sports goddesses held my head there. Cyndi even pinched my mouth open as Bren's right nipple hit my lips.

What could I do. I sucked.

Bren was quite suckable. Salty and sweaty, yes, but suckable. I sucked.

My head was moved to the other nipple and I sucked some more.

"Hey, not so hard, they're not chew-toys," Bren whined. "No teeth; more tongue; more licking around and not sucking; then gentle sucking; then harder when I force you. Got it? Yeah, like that. That is better. Mmmm..."

My head was returned to the first tit and my right hand was placed on Bren's left breast. "Fondle but don't manhandle," Alicia instructed. "Not yet. Don't get too excited yet."

"No finger-pinching, kid. Go easier there. Yeah, that's about right. Now center my tit in your palm and rotate, not too hard, but yeah... Mmmm..."

I think I was getting the hang of sucking and fondling tits. I could keep at this awhile, slow I guess, like in those girl-on-girl videos. Not the weird ones.

Yeah, I could keep at that. But I was rudely yanked away.

"Okay, we got you interested," Cyndi said. "But we need to clean off. All of us." Her Zombi-Rama tee, sports bra, and pants and panties, were already on the floor. So were Alicia's Baby Ruth tee and accessories.

Naked Bren looked at me. "You are way overdressed."

Naked Bren nodded at her naked, beautiful, bullying big sisters.

I was attacked. Three strong naked women picked me up and skinned me like a newt. I overrode my self-defense instincts and did not resist. I would not have resisted even if they were NOT my big, beautiful, bullying sisters.

Becoming not-overdressed took about fifteen seconds. I was returned to a standing position on my clothes-littered bedroom floor. That did not last. Alicia's hand circled my enlarging cock and tugged. I followed.

The goddesses err I mean girls had convinced Dad some years ago to convert the garage into a gym complete with big shower. The gym gear got stored when the goddesses went to college but the shower remained. That is where our naked procession led.

"First lesson," Alicia ordered, "is how to touch a girl. Like this." Her hand on my wrist forced me to gently stroke her side, her belly, her big beautiful boobs, her shoulders. :Yeah, something like that." Her hands cupped mine under those incredible boobs. "Easy with the thumbs, there."

"Next lesson," Cyndi said, "is how to touch a girl's head. Like this." My hands were moved from Alicia's shoulders to Cyndi's, and gently up her neck, my thumbs brushing her cheeks, then soothing her forehead. "That's right. Now, with juice." She squirted shampoo into my hand. "Start at the top and rub."

I recalled more videos, and also how I wash my hair, so I rubbed in the goo and massaged her scalp. "Mmmm, not bad. More in back," Cyndi purred.

I soaped and massaged all three scalps. Boobs sometimes pressed into me.

"Hey, don't forget armpits. They're real important," Bren said. She pulled me closer. "Lather-up first, yeah, good suds like that. Now clean me." I got her pits nice and clean. Upper arms, shoulders, and boobs got clean, too.

"Now for more intimate sanitation," Alicia said. She filled her hands with suds. "Over here, kid." I came. No, not THAT way, not yet. But I WAS stiff. Especially when she soaped my cock and scrotum and shoved a handful of suds up my ass.

"Gonna clean you right out, kid. Bend over," Alicia said. I bent. She scoured me with the shower hose nozzle. Wow. "And now me. You do the suds. Just don't get any in my pussy." She bent in front of me and spread her cheeks.

I had seen this in videos. I sudsed her buttocks nicely and pushed some into her anus. My thumb just happened to do the pushing. "Hey, easy there!" I rinsed my thumb and sudsed her butt some more, rubbing nicely, and the back of her thighs, too. Then I hosed her. She jumped.

"You little shit!" She grabbed me and stuck an un-soaped thumb up my ass. "Just do what you're told. Your education has only begun." I got thumbed again. It did not bother me too much. My erection grew.

"Now the other sanitation," Cyndi said. Suds lathered in her hands. "Dicks are easy. Pussies require care. Like this." She laid a thin layer of lather in my hands. "Now watch and follow." She fingered her pussy, but not deep, only to her hair-outlined labia. "Your turn." I was gentle. She went, "Mmmm..."

My cock was rather stiff by now. Alicia looked at me. "Let's get this out of the way." She knelt and sucked me. Fancy sucking, straight sucking, hard sucking, oh fuck! I came in her mouth.

She swallowed everything. It was a lot. I was young and well-hydrated.

"Okay, THAT is taken care of. Now we have time for the next lessons."

I was taught to smoothly towel dry a woman; where to rub harder or less; how to finish a scalp massage with a towel; how to pat-down hands, feet, arms, and legs. Especially legs. Legs must be dried just right. Butts, too.