Work Out Build Up

Thank you to burkdm for proofreading.

---

I turn the dial and the machines spring to life with a droning rattle. Laundry is a Sisyphean task. There is always another basket, always another set of sheets, always a special jacket that needs to run down to the place on High St. I turn around and there is another basket and a basket behind that basket and an empty basket that is beckoning to be full. Still, I imagine that I am happy.

The next step for this batch involves thin hangars and that becomes my chore. The motions find their place in the rhythm of the machines. Once they are dry, I will cart them upstairs to the laundry cave, and from that to the final resting place in closets and drawers, until they decide that the cycle must continue. At least I don't have to do the ironing part. That has been delegated to someone else. I take care of the carrying tasks, it seems. Once the kids are a bit bigger, then we can start having them do more chores that involve carrying things. It's really the only reason people have kids. We'll all be happy when they can mow the lawn.

A pair of arms snake around my waist and spin me around. I'm surprised, so I have no answer to it other than a moment of disorientation and a giddy thrill as a shock of red hair brushes under my site line. Then I'm pressed against the washing machine and I don't think I'm being assaulted. Attacked, maybe, but in a very, very welcome way.

"Troy and Louise have the kids," Saoirse purrs as she keeps pressing me back, "Shut up and fuck me, Rachel."

"I wasn't saying anything," I say. My own hands are now wandering, down until they grip her ass and pull her close. Our combined strength gets us over the lip and we are now resting more than we are standing.

"And you weren't fucking me. That's a problem. Don't pretend it's not."

She's not shutting up either, so I have no clue what to do right now. I settle for pulling her up a bit more until we're level and I am gazing into the vast glades of her eyes. Then they are closed and she's kissing me like a ravenous bear. I kiss back. She likes that. I like that. Everyone likes that.

Time has softened us in some ways. The harsh lines are gone from my stomach, although I can still feel the slab underneath. Louise has finally grown a respectable set of boobs to match her hips. Troy has embraced his new, daddlier shape with a surprising amount of enthusiasm. And Saoirse's chest has found in itself even more places to grow and swell. Her breasts press against mine and I am already ready for everything she can think of. I assume it involves touching and holding. Maybe sex if I'm lucky.

I am. Her hands are fumbling and overeager, trying to undo the drawstring and not doing a very good job of it. The motion is practiced, but she's choking. I have to help. I don't. I'm much more preoccupied with her shirt, riding that up and getting it over her chest, exposing her bra. Hers is one of the simple ones, and it's still a bit too tight. That's a problem that has never gone away.

She sighs as it snaps out of place. That is the wonderful first bit of relief I give her. It might be the best one, really. Then I hear my pants go and I think I can do a bit better. Saoirse whimpers and works her lip. I think it's mostly a show. Mostly. Not entirely. A little bit. She's flushed and hungry and I can't escape the rumble of the dryer under my ass. It gives such a wonderful vibration that resonates with my core.

My length hits her stomach and she shivers. We go through the same fumbling dance as she tries to get her pants around her ankles and everything out of the way. That's a bit easier for her but the fingers are still too eager.

"Shut up," she says, "Just shut up."

"I still haven't said anything," I hum. I lean into her neck and start kissing. If I'm not talking, then there are probably better things I could be doing with my mouth. Saoirse starts raking her nails softly across my back. It's not quite rough. It's not quite soft. It's what I like and she knows it so well.

"Couldn't even wait until the kids are gone," I say, "Just had to have me."

"You or Troy, honestly. You're not that special. Louise is good with her strap, but it's just not the same, " she says. She's riding me now, nothing penetrative or deep, she's rocking against me and I feel her start open and weep for me. I mimic the state as a clench in my core pulls a bead from my tip. She shivers again.

Saoirse finally musters up the strength to lift me and set me on the dryer. I can't escape from my perch. I don't want to. I'm staring down at her, deep into the valley of her cleavage and that is still incredible. Not quite as pert and perky as they once were, but their appeal was always in their goliath weight. She pushes me back even more. I have to shimmy and shake so she can get me even more free. My length is pressed against my stomach, so furiously eager.

"Don't tell me you aren't feeling it either," she sighs, "Ever since Ash started having nightmares, the bed's felt so empty."

"You've had two others," I say. I spread my legs a bit and it's a bit easier for her to find a configuration she likes.

"And they're not you. And if you're there, that means Ash has Troy. So now I hate one of my kids, like all moms secretly do. That little runt took my man and my Rachel. "

If any of that was said without the little audible smirk, then I would hate her. But she's been in the rotation to chase away the nighttime scaries. I'm just the favorite.

Her hand touches me and it's my turn to shiver. It has been somewhat difficult for all of us now that we have to sleep in different beds. It's the routine at this point. One part out of the whole does not complete us. And we're not used to quickies. We like long sessions, roles changing and switching, pairing off and coming together. We have the ramp up down, ready to go at the drop of a hat, but it's the other part that we're bad at.

Saoirse's trying, though. She has us aligned and she's the one setting the pace. I try to hit the moment, but she's faster than me. She takes me, just the tip at first before she has to widen her stance and get the right way. She moves my legs and takes them wider. There's a bit of a burn to the motion, but it settles int a deep warmth. I am inside of her and she has me wherever she wants me and that is glorious.

So little prep this time before she is moving in earnest, half of me disappearing before it comes right back. She's wincing with the motion, but the need overrides the pain. The pain might even make it better. There's been times where I've been overeager with Troy and I've liked that strong twinge to bring me out of the session. Then I slow down and get used to it, but Saoirse decides that whatever is waiting for her is so much better than whatever discomfort she has. She grabs my ankles and takes them high.

She's into it now, slamming her hips against mine. The vibration from the machine under me helps her just as much as it helps me. The rhythm makes up for the lack of technique. I rattle in her and she rattles over me. I hit spots in her and she angles as best she can. She's not used to the position. She understands the principle at least, but not the practice. And it's still the best I've had over the past few days. Troy and I got interrupted by Victor's art project and then Trisha wanted to play before Louise and I could get a game started.

There has been so much less time now for us and our needs. But it gets us all frustrated and pent up and feral. That's almost worth it. It's a concentrated pleasure that only comes out in bursts. Her hand is on my chest, just gripping and rolling while I cradle the back of her head and hold her close. She can't make too much noise. Neither can I. The dryer can only do so much. But she's being good and so am I. Only pants and huffs and little growls that barely escape the gap between us.

She's gone. I'm gone. There is only her embrace over me and the strong grip she gives. There is only the feeling of her panting breath as it grazes my chest. I feel her tighten and shake, legs still strong, every part of us working together to reach a single pinprick of time where everything else is obliterated. It is close for me. It is close for her. Saoirse darts through the gap and finds me, kisses me and drags us both into the event horizon.

I catch glimpses of her tongue against mine as she desperately thrashes against our climax. She shivers and twitches at the same time I pulse and rock. I fill her. There is so much contained and packed and I finally have the smallest release I can. It's better than nothing and it's nowhere near enough for either of us. She moans into me and I do my best to make it quiet. I'm not quite worried about the kids, we can lie to them and pretend this is whatever we want. Troy and Louise would certainly see this and get incredibly jealous. Then they'd have to jump in and the kids would be unattended and none of them are quite old enough to get that level of freedom.

Saoirse stars collapsing into me. She's strong, but not that strong. No one is. I'm leaning on her and she's leaning on me and we're barely standing together. The dryer is trying to buck us off and break its chains. If we collapse into the floor, then we're not getting up.

"God I needed that," she said, "I need more, but I don't think we can get it."

She hums and sighs and rocks back into me. She really does want more. She really needs more. I absolutely need more. I'm hard and ready and now I have to hide it again. I sigh. It's terrible. We should have maintained our childfree life forever and descend into hedonistic ecstasy until all of our minds are reduced to aimless euphoria. The afterglow always has such wonderful ideas that only seem good for the moment. But in that moment, they are perfect. Saoirse has nestled into my chest, into my neck, breathing in the numbing pleasure until its suffused our shared existence in this tiny, noisy room.

"Take off your pants," she says.

"They're already off," I say. I lean in and nip at her neck.

"All the way off. We can't really walk out and have family friendly fun reeking of sex. Why do you think I corned you in the laundry room? Are those clean?"

Saoirse is probably the smartest out of all of us. She reaches over me and takes what seems like something that would fit her. She gets something for me and we are presentable. Nothing obscene happened and everything is pure. We start another load in the washer and I think that's enough work for the day. The rest can wait. Besides, it's a holiday. I've already done way more than has been expected, but it needed doing. Saoirse gives me my freedom back. I kiss her cheek and she kisses mine. Then there's a pinch on my ass and I'm tempted to throw her back to the washer and have another little row that would certainly justify another set of laundry. But we're responsible parents to some degree. That means we have to go in and relieve our betters so that that can sneak away and fuck. Maybe in the shed out back if they can wade through the snow.

---

"Maty and mom are back. Everyone be asleep," commands Louise. I hear everyone scramble. Saoirse rolls her eyes. We keep walking. The strength is back and everything is steady. We were off being good, pure little noodles.

We come to our living room. It's a mess and it's supposed to be. We have had the time to take down the Christmas tree but I think we can wait until after New Years. Maybe even Valentines if we collective decide to be lazy. We also haven't made an effort to pick up the gifts from their loosely split piles beneath the tree. The comatose bodies also don't help.

Louis is prone on the couch, in perfect napping position. Trisha has somehow managed to sprawl herself over the coffee table and I don't even want to guess what she was doing beforehand. Troy's on the ground and giggling, but I guess he's asleep too. Victor's sitting upright with his eyes closed, so he's most of the way there. And poor Ash is confused and thus poor Ash is frightened. Then I show up so everything's comfortable and safe. She toddles over to me and that means I have to pick her up. So, I do. Then she's happy and clingy and I can never put her down.

"I guess we can disappear again," says Saoirse, "I think everything's fine here."

"No," says Ash, and her word is law. She holds me tighter and I will never, ever put her down. The ground is scary. Troy gives a tried laugh and that means the game's over. Louise rolls back up, Troy pushes his glasses back where they belong, Victor goes back to playing with his Snapbots and Trisha is having a bit of trouble getting off the table. She's committed to the bit. I sit on the couch and Ash has no objections. That also puts her closer to Louise. It's all working out according to her plan. Louise gives me a kiss on my cheek and that's my plan as well. Ash gets one and everyone's happy.

The presents are still in loose piles and they will remain there forever more. Victor and Troy have a good dent in assembling all their super cool robots that are in no way lame and none of the pieces have been swallowed by either of them. Trisha's bike has unfortunately not gone on any adventures except for a fun tour around the kitchen that only broke two plates. To my chagrin, old Mr. Fangy is still Ash's favorite. New Mr. Fangy failed to steal her attention and I still have to share. Although, new Mr. Fangy is rather fetching. Maybe that's actually a present for me.

"When are Gigi and Baba coming?" asks Victor. The urge to swallow the candy-colored plastic rises up in him, but Troy's staring him down. Ash clings tighter to me, although I don't know why. She likes Gigi and Baba. We all like Gigi and Baba. He snaps an arm on and the purple one's complete. We wait for a moment before he dives right in on the orange.

"This afternoon, big buddy," says Troy, "And then you're sleeping over."

He holds up four fingers on his hand and I'm knocked out of the betting pool. I think Louise is going to take it. Victor just has to ask that question two more times before lunch. Ash tightens against me again and that's part of the reason we're doing this grand experiment. The alone time is a plus and I'm definitely taking that for what it's worth.

Trisha's even more excited. She knows the plan and has not shut up about it, but it was etched even deeper into stone and that means more things to be excited about. She's heard that Gigi had a forge at one point and she's determined to fire it back up. I am not the most responsible parent at the best of times, but glowing metal and open flames seem like a bad thing to have children around. Victor is much more concerned about his progress. We should have gotten him more. He'll be done before the new year and he'll go back to being bored out of his mind.

A chime goes off from the kitchen and Troy's the one to respond to it. I have an Ash to care for and we have the others more or less on lock. He's amazing and I'm so glad I've found him, bound him, and keep him in my bed. The dad noises he makes as he gets up are a bit much, but it's better than the dad sneezes. They get me up in the morning.

"No Ruslana," he says to the dog, "you don't get this. It's chocolate. You'll die."

The dog boofs in response. She does not care. Human food is really for her and it is a grand injustice for it to be so out of reach. Troy keeps her at arm's length and that's the end of that. Then she whines and gets a treat. One for dogs, not for people. I bounce Ash in my arms.

It is a good moment I've made in the dead of winter. Everything's haphazard and scattered. Troy's unshaven and scruffy. Louise has one of my shirts on and I think there's a mustard stain on the belly. Both Saoirse and I have obviously just had sex. The kids haven't put away their toys and the dog is running around begging for food like we've been starving the poor girl. It's the best moment I've had in a while. Louise kicks me in the thigh and puts her legs in my lap. Ash considers it and clambers to the new grasp and I get to spread out more. Louise kneads my crotch and I close my eyes. We stop there before anything more can happen because we have restraint and other things to do and a set of mostly pure souls that we have to keep untainted.

We are all warm and sticky and in need of a shower, sluggish to the point of creating a self-fulfilling fatigue, sunken into noise and play and a good long break from work. No one wants to move knee deep in snow, especially not the trucks. And I'm not having my guys work in the cold. Ice is a terrible thing for tires and knees. So, we have nothing to do and I can't get enough, even if I've had a few angry phone calls about rescheduled moving days.

"Turnovers are done," Troy calls, "Saoirse, you're in charge of drinks."

"Apple, please," says Ash. Louise gives her another affectionate peck. Ash says 'no' a lot, but she also says 'please,' so it's a balance. Victor doesn't respond right away and Trisha's off playing assistant. I don't move. I never want to move from the moment.

---

"I'm really sorry, Rachel," says dad, "I know you all were looking forward to some alone time, but we're snowed in."

"Hi Gigi," says Ash through my head. He gets the message and says 'hi' back. Ash is placated and goes back to making Mr. Fangy and Ms. Bitey have some adventures involving a toy car that is much too small for them. I lost the plot several seasons ago.

"No, I get it," I say, "I was debating on calling you. I'm pretty sure Saoirse's going to explode when she hears."

"Poor thing. Did the kids like the gifts?"

"Yes and thank you for not getting them knives. I trust Victor, but I think Trisha would get a bit too stabby."

"Always a wild card. I'm watching the weather, and the truck's going to come by soon. That should get most of it. We can probably take them for New Years at least."

"I'll break the news to them. If they don't come for my head, they're going for yours."

"I can be the bad guy. I haven't been one of those in a long time. "

"What are you going to do? Hug them to death?"

"Yes. If that can be done, then I can figure it out. And Baba can help. It'll be a massacre."

"How gruesome. Tell mom I love her. And don't worry. I'll survive. Probably. Maybe. Might want to look into a nice suit for the funeral."

"Love you too Ray. But I can't wear a suit anymore. I've gone too wild."

"Bye-bye, Gigi," Ash says. She even waves at the phone. In her defense, there have been times when that works, but this is not that kind of call.

He's gone and I'm here and Ash has gone back to making a wolf drive a car. That seems like something I want to do as well, but I have some bad news to break. Ash gets up with me, sticking like glue and making sure that I am safe. Mr. Fangy sits in her hands, some of the fur on his belly worn down to stubble. He's patchwork now, but it seems to suit him. He's had no complaints. They both toddle after me.

We're all a little more put together than we were in the morning. Everyone's had a shower and/or a bath, depending. A few of those were even shared. Troy still hasn't shaved, but that's also fine. Louise is getting the bed made. More of the housemates have come together to make it whole, although Ruslana has decided to nap right in the middle of our living room and we all have to move around her. Victor, for the most part, is decent about it for a five-year-old. Trisha, less so, but she makes it up in raw enthusiasm. Saoirse's made herself scarce so she might be put in the corner when we have the time.

"Bad news," I say as the eyes all turn to me, "Baba and Gigi are snowed in."

Troy stops the dishes for a moment and sighs. There is a collective wave of tantrums and meltdowns that break over all the faces, some mastered better than others, but the disappointment hits me like a physical wave. Not mine, oddly enough, but I had a crumb of sex this morning.